Tag: postaday

Work Lunch

‘Hey, what do you think of that guy’s shirt?’

Which one? Oh, that tall, dark, almost-bald man wearing a pinstriped shirt that enhances his already-large belly?

“Er — nothing.”

‘Ok. How about that girl’s skirt? I mean who wears long skirts to work anymore, huh?’

Anyone who wants to, I guess. After all, some people find skirts are comfortable to move around in. I don’t, of course, but that doesn’t mean I comment on those who prefer skirts.

“I’ve seen a lot of people wear skirts.”

‘Oh. Is that so? I didn’t know…’ She trails off, looking around for someone else with an interesting attire.

Lunch, for me, was a constant affair of awkward shifting and stuffing my food as fast as I could. The longer I lingered at a table, the more chances I had of meeting someone I’d just ended a meeting with. And lunch hall meetings were different from conference hall meetings; they were smaller talk, more jovial. We’d just talk about women’s skirts and men’s shirts.

And as one topic ends, another blooms uninvited.

‘So listen to this. Last weekend, I was cleaning my cupboard and guess what I found? Oh, don’t just shrug. Take a guess.’

Well, judging from your pungent shirt, I’d say you found a bag of unused mothballs.

“No idea. Tell me,” I’m dying to know, in fact.

She smiles, showcasing her whitened teeth. I should’ve known what was to come.

‘Money! With a note, from the tooth fairy. You know, I love Vic. He does the cutest things. He knows I’ve wanted to get my teeth whitened for a long time. And he knows I’d never make it a priority — what with all the new house we’re buying and all that.’ She waves her hand in an offhand way, like it doesn’t matter.

Ok. So for the last half hour, you’ve built up a conversation just to tell me you’ve whitened your teeth, and you’re buying a house. Brilliant. It’s just my idea of a noon-time interaction.

“Ah. That’s nice.” I smile in return, flashing my average-white teeth. I don’t believe in tooth fairies. “I’m full. Aren’t you?”

What the Heart Wants

“Hey, you! Get your head inside, and listen to the class.”

His geology teacher bellowed, making David jump out of his reverie. He had been peeping through the window, staring at the moon’s reflection in the puddle outside his night school.

He faced her, still quite lost in his thoughts. The teacher’s half-moon spectacles gleamed under the dim light and he thought her face shone as bright as the Sirius A.

But her charm wasn’t enough to attract him to geology. His mind swayed higher above the ground, his soul soaring the skies. His deepest desires lay in the stars.

A Road Trip to Remember

Road trips are the best. For me, they bring out my most weird inclinations. Like, for instance, stooping down to the ground for picture of the sand or climbing onto the bonnet of the car to pose for a portrait. But at the end of the day when I look at myself in the mirror, I see more than sand-smeared knees and a dust covered-face. I see the shadow of a smile of satisfaction that only a road trip can leave behind.

road-trip

Unlikeable Reading

I’m reading “Tribes, We need you to lead us,” by Seth Godin. And I’m impressed with the way he’s written his text. It’s easy to read, full of matter, and so much inspiration.

And yet, there’s no excitement. At least not for me.

I’m surprised I didn’t realise this sooner, but every book I read for pleasure has a unique style and writing sense. And every book I read for knowledge lacks that element in every syllable.

Seth Godin’s book is great. I breezed through page after page without ever having to stop for a moment to appreciate the beatuty of his weaving — because there was none. His book is worth quoting, sure, but only for what he says; not for how he says it.

Then I understood why text books never get the appreciation they deserve. Who’d read a book that’s full of facts void of facets? But every school teacher insists on reading those textbooks, and likewise, every manager insists on reading “how-to-best-do” books.
The former will help get more marks and the latter, more strategies, and therefore, more money.

And yet neither of these make us skip a heartbeat, keeping us in mild excitement throughout the length of the book. These are more like medicines; a necessary evil. They communicate, but they don’t make us appreciate the art of communication. They convince because the name on the cover is already an established authority. No one questions it, no one contradicts it.

A lot of people I know who don’t like reading say so because they’ve never read anything apart from their school textbooks. No wonder they hate reading. If I had to read only titles that read “Ways to leverage your writing potential,” but have zero writing potential in them, I’d hate reading too.

But when reading for pleasure, everyone contradicts the author. Every reader, novice or expert, has an opinion to cast at the story. And that’s why writers adopt the more proven way of persuading readers. They makes us fall in love with what they have to say. Every sentence, every word choice is so deliberate that it sparks a myriad of emotions in us.

This brings me back to textbooks. If knowledge-intensive, preach-oriented books are interesting enough, perhaps more of us would enjoy reading. Perhaps then, we’d be happy to learn from what we read.

What do you think? Have you read instruction pieces with enjoyable narratives?