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“Death is a great leveler”…. was something i had read and heard while growing up. Personally, i never could  understand the meaning of this statement. I mean, sure when people die, they are reduced to ashes and returned  to the very elements that they are made of. But what about this statement, philosophically. It was beyond my intellect, or perhaps i never paid too much attention to it. Well, until now that is.

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This weekend, i attended the cremation of yet another colleague of mine. Someone whom i had become close to, despite being only just over an year in my new office. Well, time doesn’t matter, does it ? When you meet some people, you connect instantly. There is a friendliness, a familiarity which you can’t really lay a finger on, but you know you can talk to this person, trust the person. And she was like that.

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“S” was like that. Office is a place where we spend almost 8-9 hours of each working day. That is easily 45 hours a  week. A week that has only around 100 hours of active time (including weekends minus sleeping time). That’s a lot of time. So an office colleague whom you trust and connect with, is almost like family. A lot of people don’t have such families in offices, places where people are more professional or simply don’t care. That was not the case here. To me, she was almost like family. I could talk to her, and i could trust her. And often she would reassure me, about things in life in general.

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I am not gonna go into the history of what happened to her, but sometime this September she fell ill. What seemed like a regular backache, turned out to be a case of recurring cancer. Things got worse, and in two months she died. We visited her in critical condition on a Friday, and we cremated her on Sunday. That fast. And this after, i had talked to her a week before, and we had decided to meet up at her home for some chit-chat. She was bored of the illness. Perhaps she knew her fate, but she never gave up. She was still cheerful whenever we talked to her, me or my team-mates, never for once giving the impression that she was suffering from something more than just a minor flu. All the time, till she stopped talking. And there wasn’t much time after that.

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It’s a great loss. But that’s an understatement. Such losses cannot be measured. She has a husband and a young girl (in class 5th), who was very attached to her. She has parents who have now seen the death of 2 out of 3 of  their only daughters. One cannot even begin to understand the loss.

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Something similar happened 2 years back in 2014 too. Yet another colleague of mine, a guy named “C” died of  tuberculosis. We had both joined our previous job together, straight out of college, and hence there was a friendship. Even though our thoughts didn’t match much. But all of a sudden he fell sick, and before we or our office-mates could even realize the severity of the situation, he was almost in ICU, then on Life-support and then death, within a span of 48 hours. We were there for a large part of that last 48 hours. But he could not be saved. A lot of it was pure negligence though on his part, but that is all in hindsight. He left behind a newly married wife and a new-born son who he could not even hug once in life. How do you even come to terms with that?

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We, at office did everything we could that time. Arranging from money to transportation of the dead body to his native place. The family went away and it was over. But a person who was alive was now dead. How do you even comprehend that? Funny isn’t it, how we say dead body once a person dies, while he has a name before death. Death robs us of the very thing which we spend so much time and energy building, when alive.

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Nevertheless, i left that city and that place shortly after that. A mutual friend of mine had urged me to write something then, but i could not muster the necessary words. But now, nearly 2 years after that incident, another one of my colleague is now dead. She sat beside me and worked. And now she isn’t there. One can argue over what she could have done for herself, what her family could have done to save her. But that is all in hindsight. Nothing brings her back.

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There on the cremation ground, while we cremated her, it was then that it hit me really. The meaning of it all.

“There are different kinds of people among us. There are rich people and poor people. There are good men and bad men. Some may be clever and others foolish. There are happy men and unhappy men. But all these distinctions and specialties last only as long as we are alive. Once we are dead all must certainly crumble to dust. Death has no distinction between the good and the bad – The poor and the rich – the kind and the beggar. Death comes to everyone one day or the other. That is why we are called mortals. In a way, death can called the great leveler as one that levels all distinctions. There is no way by which we can prevent death. All get defeated by death. People run after glory, power and riches without remembering this. They fight over silly little things. A man may be a great fighter. But he is fighter only as long as there is life in him. Once that life leaves him, he is turned to mere dust which everybody tramples on. Death makes all of us equal.”

Life moves on…

death

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Well, i guess you all enjoyed my last post. It was me rambling about life after marriage and all that. When you start watching episodes of “Qubool Hai”, “Kitni Mohabbatein”, “Ek Hasina thi”, “Kumkum bhagya” and what all, it gets tough for the mind to differentiate between reality and virtual-reality. So now when you open the door for your wife, you do it like three times, and feel strange that there is no background score. Now when your wife tells you something, you ignore it oirst attempt, because you think in your mind..”oye chill yaar, ad break ke baad repeat karenge fir se”. And you expect a thrilling suspenseful background music, when your “saali” calls your wife, and tells, “…aaj pata hai kya hua..”. The real problem in life is that it does not have any background music.

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But this is not what i am here for today. Today, after a few peg too many of that last remaining Old Monk Gold Reserve, what i really wanted to spill out was the unusual story of my wedding. Ji Haan, meri shaadi ho chuki hai, aur meri ek pyaari si honhaar aur susheel biwi bhi hai. To those of you, who feel that this is a repeated statement, remember that you too shall be married, and i too shall laugh then. What goes around, comes around ( i never quite understood the real meaning of this statement, but bolne me accha lagta hai).

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Waise to meri shaadi…sorry hamari shaadi ki kahaani, is like any other wedding. For details of the marriage, you can watch the video that we have. Its a long painful video, watching which can be more painful than the real thing. I mean its got all the people in it who are eating their heart out at other’s expense, its got the dancing people, and a shit load of other trivial details, which when you see now you think…”uiee maa, yeh sab kab hua”. Anyways, for this piece, i would just go over the top few crazy items that happened at the wedding, over the course of around 15 days.

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1) Kissa Train ke dibbon ka
Well it so happened, that we (the groom side) were all accumulated in the city of Kanpur. The wife side was in Nasik, some 1100 kms away. We were 12 brave souls who had voluntarily agreed to go on to this mission to bring the girlfriend back as the wife. It was not as easy as it seems, so don’t think so. Ab 12 log flight me to nahi jaa sakte (simply too expensive), so we had booked 12 seats in a train, woh bhi sleeper class me. Now they say its sleeper, but sometimes, sleeping in a sleeper is itself a battle. The problem was 6 of us were in S10 and six remaining were in S12. My uncle, who loves his wife a tad too much, took the lead and arranged us in battle formations on the platform. “Aisa hai beta, tum, tumhare papa, unke dost aur badi mausiji…aap log S10 ki line banao, aur chunni-munni ki mummy, tumhare bua ji log aur choti mausi aur unki beti, idhar S12 waali line me aa jaao. Mere peeche rehna, aur sab theek se chad jaayenge. Samaan bhi divide kar lo do group me”. I was like, “Uncle, paani le lete hai pehle”, to which he gives me a look as if i was breaking his formation and the entire mission was doomed thereafter.

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Anyways, the train came, and we were able to board the jam-packed train, thanks to our pre-train exercise. But the two groups were cut off for the night thanks to a hostile bunch of people in every nook and corner between S10 and S12. The blankets were in S12, so the S10 guys (which included me) had to sleep in the November cold without cover. The small bottle of Royal Stag was also left in S12, any attempts to retrieve it were largely unsuccessful. The next day, in total contrast was hot enough to make us forget about last night’s cold. Uncle had called “chunni-munni” ki mummy at least 10 times by the next noon. Eventually we reached though. We also ate the famous bananas of Bhusaval, but we had to survive on a strict diet of just food and water. This was just the beginning of a long mission.

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2) Kissa toote hue car seat ka
Well, the wedding in Nasik happened to be pretty uneventful. The pre-engagement party , the pre-sangeet party, and the pre-marriage parties, were all immensely fun with all my friends around. For a moment i thought, “yeh to main roz kar sakta hoon”. Scary thought that was. Anyway, so the marriage was done, and we came back by train to Kanpur. This time the seats were in AC, and we did not allow aunty to talk to uncle so much over the phone, so everything was pretty calm. Problems surfaced next day, when we arrived in Kanpur.

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Apparently mom had booked the “shaadi waali car” for the next day onward. So, there was no car available for that day. And, me and my wife had to enter the house , fully dressed as wife and groom. And there was no car. Ab biwi ko auto me to nahi laa sakte ghar, izzat ka maamla tha. So, me and my bhai, we go out in search of a car. Now this being the marriage season, getting a car for hire was like was almost as impossible as  getting sharhrukh to dance at your wedding. After about an hour of effort, we could find get a maruti omni van, which after dropping the school kids, was going for another assignment. We stopped the car, gave him some money and captured it for the next half hour. So, finally, me and my wife , fully dressed in sherwani and lehenga, along with my mausiji and chachiji and god knows who, stuffed inside that car, started for our home.

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Now it still not clear, that whether the weight was too much or the seat was faulty, but no sooner than the car started, the seat that me and my newly-wed wife were sitting, collapsed on the car floor with a huge thud.  It took us a while to realize what had happened. We were fully dressed, the car was moving at a frantic pace and was stuffed to the brink. So we could only manage to sit there on the car floor, till we could reach our home. At home, only after performing all puja and stuff, we could board down from the car. It was pretty embarrassing, with all the neighbours looking into the van for the newly-wed “bahu” only to find the “pati-patni” sitting on the car floor in a broken seat.. I quickly stuffed a 500 in the driver’s pocket, asking him to stop giggling and repair his car seat. Main nahi chahta tha ki yeh haadsa kisi doosre couple ke saath bhi ho.

To be continued…

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revital-293x300It is said that inspiration can be a great thing. It can make people endure pain, leap over obstacles and
do incredible stuff like climb the Everest, swim across the English Channel or sit through “Qubool hai” ( Its one of the numerous soap operas that run on colors or zee or star plus or some such channel i don’t remember exactly now). So, today after watching 3 episodes of “Qubool hai” on TV, i have found my inspiration to come back to this dark and dusty place, and write some bit.

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I know that the last post i wrote was way back in May 2013, and even that was just a lame-ass attempt to make fun of my own wife , at my own risk. The only comments that i see now on the side of this blog seem to be spammers who seem to love everything i once coughed up in those early morning hours of drunken stupor, and nothing made much sense at all. Sometimes i wonder if they are just coded messages , trying to sell me something. Maybe the CID can help me with that. They have that software called Neuro, which has a database of all known criminals. Maybe that might be of some help. Holy fucking crap, i have been watching too much of that TV.

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But then, inspiration to write can often be like Salman Khan’s Revital. No one believes in it, but people still try it out. So, i realized that it is my duty to share with mankind, things which can help them gear up for the biggest challenge of their lives – Being Husbands. Being Human is easy – you just buy a Salman Khan T-shirt. Being Husband – well that even Salman could not master.
A word of caution though, practice everything i preach, at your own risk. The Indian Marital Research Center after 23 years of research, could not satisfactorily prove that what works in one household, will work in other household equally.

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GuideLine 1: Never forget to make the bed.
Long time ago, when i used to be a bachelor, making the bed was a task just like taking a piss. You did it, only when you needed to, and not out of habit. Arre jab raat ko usi bed me wapas jaana hai, to theek karne ki kya zaroorat. That’s like logic. Even CID would agree to that, hai na. But NO. Once you are married, making the bed is something you are expected to do every morning after getting up. Don’t do this, and your sanskaars will be questioned. This is a sin, an absolute “gunaah”. And “gunaah” we all know is a greater thing than “paap”. And “paap” is asking you wife to do so.

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GuideLine 2: Never ever argue with the Wife.
Well, this is looks like a vague statement, but trust me it is not. For all discussions with a wife, are actually arguments. And in arguments at home, the winner has to be the wife always. You see, men have this stupid tendency to think over a matter practically and logically. This they realize after a marriage is totally over-rated. Logic and practicality are not the deciding points in any argument. It is the wife. So, you can speak all you want, but you cannot win. You cannot shout though, because that’s her right. You cannot throw things at her too, because that also her right. As men, the only right you have is to present your points in a gentle voice and then shut the hell up and listen. Listen but please, for if you don’t do that, it can lead to a secondary argument which totally deviates from the primary argument , till you start wondering ki “lad kis baat pe rahe the hum ??”.

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GuideLine 3: Nothing comes in between the wife and her serials.
People don’t often come to terms with this fact. But it is actually a blessing for the husbands. It is the only time of the day (except when you are in office), when you can do whatever you want. You can eat what you want (secretly). You can watch what you want (secretly on your laptop). You can even sleep peacefully if you want. They wouldn’t notice. The “shaajish” happening on “Kitni Mohabbatein” is much more engrossing for any of your tantrums. Come to terms with this, and you will be happy everyday. Plan your life around that, for a happier, more meaningful and satisfying life.

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GuideLine 4: Show some bloody care/emotions.

I know that you all do love your wives a lot. You endure shopping sprees with her, you endure emotional hindi-movies with her when all you want is the hero to punch the villain as hard as he can, and all because of your endless “pyaar” for her. But you will realize after marriage is that pyaar is an abstract thing. You feel it, but you need to show it too. So, if she does get a minor cut on her finger accidentally, what is important is that you show some emotions, shed a tear or two, maybe wash the cut with your tears too if possible. Just getting the band-aid is not enough. Maybe order her favorite food to afterwards just to make everyone happy. Likewise, if she does bump her car/bike, do not simply ask about the bike first. Its about her first, even is she is perfectly fine. Go ahead and shed a few tears. Later order some of her favorite food , just to make everyone happy.

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Well, likhne ko to bahut kuch hai abhi bhi. But as you know, the more you endure, the more you learn. So, i will stop now. I am willing to give more lectures over more secured channels like a public STD booth (not on mobile,whatsapp or gmail chats, they are all not secure as the world thinks they are). But just in case this piece of blog is ever produced in a court of law, save yourself the trouble. Yeh sab to maine aise hi timepass ke liye likh rakha hai (as i was really bored in office). I am drenched in marital bliss, and my wife doesn’t have a problem with making beds, cares a hoot about any argument, loves me more than her serials and is always understanding of my emotions. It’s all good. Shaadi-shuda zindagi maze me chal rahi hai, aap logo ki dua se. Dua rahi to aage bhi chalti rahegi, and i will write more…

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“Laal mere dil ka haal hai….lagta tumpe kamaal hai “….

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Kanpur

Tere chehre me woh jadu hai, bin dor khincha jata hu

jana hota hai aur kahee, teree oar chala aata hu…

The song played in the background as i was coming back home, from a friend’s place, in a Tempo. It was raining outside. Not heavily though, slightly more than a drizzle. There had been an unexpected change in weather that day, and it had become real cold and dark. There was a cold breeze blowing from door to door, across the partially opened vehicle, so much so that the driver and his aide had to wrap a piece of cloth around their faces, while i sat cozily sandwiched between them. The song erupted from the vehicle’s audio system, and it was somehow lighting the otherwise dark atmosphere outside.

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This was in Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh, for those wondering. And for almost all people ouTempotside of UP, the vehicle i was talking about, the Tempo, does deserve some explaining. You see, it’s a strange sort of a vehicle. Its for public transport, and by far means, the most popular means of transport in Kanpur. Its got 3 wheels, but its quite different from the more conventional autos. They are all CNG operated in Kanpur, and easily carry 11 people including the driver and his aide/side-kick, who sit at the front of the vehicle, along with one more passenger sandwiched between them. Then there are 8 passengers at the back, perched on 2 bench like seats, meant for just 3 people each. Its a strange vehicle, least efficient but highly viable, and something that identifies the city itself.

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Nevertheless, this piece of writing is not about the Tempo, but about the city itself that it identifies with. The city of Kanpur. You see there is an old saying that goes as, “Change is the only constant”. Well, whoever said this, definitely did not visit Kanpur. Because, nothing here changes at all. Roads are constructed with enthusiasm, and de-constructed with more enthusiasm, just to leave the city in the same state as before. The same holds true, for buildings, shops and all that is worthwhile. The road from Lucknow airport to Kanpur city, roughly about 70 kms, has become much better now. But as soon as you enter the city, via Koylanagar(yeah you heard that right), you see that nothing in the city itself has changed. There are some under-construction roads and fly-overs which seem to be there, every time you visit the city, at precisely the same places.

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Then you come to my area, which is called Kidwai Nagar Chauraha(Interesting fact: There is a Kidwai Nagar in the US too). This is pretty much the heart of the city, and a very big area. You won’t see the road though, as the entire area is but a huge Tempo-stand. Tempos standing, Tempos waiting and Tempos broken. You need to tell people, that there is actually a road behind them all, leading to my house.

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Around this area, nothing has changed at all. There used to be this samosa center  called Janwadi. Hugely popular since last 10 years. Still the same. The prices have gone up though. The boys selling samosas, still the same, have now grown up. The barber shop where i got my first haircut, is still up and running. I cried a lot that time. The man is old now, but he still does a decent job. Diamond Shoe Palace, where we used to get all our shoes for school and outside, still the same. The owner still the same. Huge, hunk like, but now with grey in his hair. Still a great seller. The jalebis of Krishna, still as delicious as ever, on Sunday morning breakfasts. Triveni Market has still failed to expand since last 20 years. There are more shops in front of it now, than inside it, and still it is hugely popular. On the other hand, the other market called Chaalees Dukaan, literally meaning 40 shops, has survived riots,fires and everything worse, and has still managed to look the same. Even the Falooda shop, on the road opposite, is the same. Its the same Falooda, which we used to enjoy so much in our school days. Still bloody same.

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A bit far from my place(4kms, which is a big distance in a small city), things are still the same. The Govindnagar shops, the road bridge, still as crowded as ever. Fazalganj still has the same sardaar selling tyres, the shop is big now. Devki Cinemas, still plays B-Grade Hindi movies. And all around it, are coachings of all sorts, from IIT-JEE to CPMT and what not. This was where we came everyday for 2 years, 10 kms from where we used to live, in our school days to prepare for IIT-JEE. We had so much fire in us back then. We thought the world would dance at our feet. But now, the only fire that still burns, is the Holi Fire, every year, on Holi Eve, the festival of colors  at various places across the city. The enthusiasm to play with colors has gone down a bit, but you can still see children enjoying the festival of colors with full gusto, and childhood rivalry.

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Then there are some things which totally bring a smile on your face. The JK Temple, which is pretty much the only place to must visit in the city, still stands tall, and pristine white. It brings a sense of pride each time you pass it. The zoo, which was always more of a botanical garden than a zoo, still boasts of the same feat. The city has become richer over the years. Cars like Volkswagen and Renault have made it to the city. But the city has this strange urge to spell everything in Hindi  So the Volkswagen showroom spells something like “falkwagan” in Hindi  And that was hilarious. The city never stops amusing you.

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The song in the Tempo changed to

Tum hum pe marte ho hum tum pe marte hain…“.
I was close to my destination. The rain had almost stopped. It was cold now, but the wind had receded to a gentle breeze. My chain of thought was broken and i quietly started walking towards my house. Nostalgia is like a dream. You eventually do come out of it. The next day was hot and humid again.

It was time to leave the city once again.

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JK Temple3063198557_7798068d34

 

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InchByInch

DISCLAIMER : This Post of mine has nothing to do with my own Office Life. This is just a piece of literature, and in no way represents my own feelings towards my own office life or career. SO please do not misunderstand this post, and simply enjoy it. Thanks

I don’t know what to say really.

Three minutes to the biggest battle of our professional lives…
…all comes down to today.
Today’s your performance appraisal day.

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Either we heal as a team…
or we are going to crumble.
Inch by inch…
project by project…
till we’re finished.

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We are in hell right now, gentlemen
Believe me ..
and
we can stay here
and get the shit kicked out of us
or
we can fight our way
back into the light.
We can climb out of hell.
We can climb out of this shit job.
One inch, at a time.

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Now I can’t do it for you.
I’m too old.
I’ve spent way much time here than i oughta’ have.
I look around and I see these young faces
and I think
I mean
I made every wrong choice a young man could make.
I uh….
I pissed away all my money
believe it or not.
I chased off
anyone who has ever loved me,
anyone who has ever offered me a better job.
And lately,
I can’t even stand the face I see in the mirror.

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You know when you get old in life
things get taken from you.
Your position in your job…
goes to that new face who always smiles at the boss.
That’s, that’s part of life.
But,
you only learn that when you start losing stuff.
You find out that life is just a game of inches.
So is your fucking job.
Because in either game
life or your fucking job
the margin for error is so small.
I mean
one half step too late or to early
you don’t quite make it to that top rating.
One half second too slow or too fast
and you don’t quite catch it.
The inches we need are everywhere around us.
They are in every break of your daily job
every minute, every second.

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On this job, we fight for that inch
On this job, we tear ourselves, and everyone around us
to pieces for that inch.
We CLAW with our finger nails for that inch.
Cause we know
when we add up all those inches
that’s going to make the fucking difference
between WINNING and LOSING
between LIVING and DYING.
between that TOP RATING and NEED IMPROVEMENT.

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I’ll tell you this
in any fight
it is the guy who is willing to die
who is going to win that inch.
And I know
if I am going to have any life anymore
it is because, I am still willing to fight, and die for that inch
because that is what LIVING is.
The 21 inches of monitor in front of your face.

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Now I can’t make you do it.
You gotta look at the guy next to you.
Look into his eyes.
Now I think you are going to see a guy who will go that inch before you.
You are going to see a guy
who will sacrifice you for his job
because he knows when it comes down to it,
you are gonna do the same thing for him.

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That’s how our job is, gentlemen
and either we heal now, as a team,
or we will die as individuals.
That’s our job guys, our daily, frustrating hell of a job.
That’s all it is.
Now, whattaya gonna do?

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It was a pretty shitty Sunday afternoon. It had rained the whole of last night and now the sun after the cold rains had been piercing each and every hole in the apartment in a particularly fierce way. The room itself had been spinning wildly ever since eyes opened in the morning. There had been one crazy shit-hole of a party last night at the apartment, one that had started at 9 pm the night before and ended at 9 am in the morning with alcohol still pouring in and crazy men still standing. The room could not take it all and as a result had been spinning crazy for most of the men.
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The Saturday before had been a particularly long and slow and boring and stretched. Even when it started at 9 am..it still stretched beyond the usual standards. Jarvis had to be taken to the RTO for its registration. Thought that would take a lot of the day…but it was done in two hours. They checked Jarvis and noted down its body details and we were OK to come back. It had rained on Friday too and Jarvis shone with its garnet red pride in the bright yellow sun. The number came in by the evening as dark clouds hid the sun again. Dan and Vanessa had gone for a leisurely stroll in the evening leaving Jarvis back to rest for the night. It was cold dark and windy and there was a party being planned at the apartment. Pretty usual Saturday night stuff. No one knew that the night had something else in mind
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When Dan came back to the apartment..after kissing Vanessa good night..the party was just starting. Bottles of blue liquor lay sprawling on the floor and the smell of fried-chicken filled the air. It was going to be one hell of a party, Dan thought. Now, most of the people who were at the party were friends with Jack, who shared the apartment with him. And Jack had this awefully huge social circle of juniors, ex-flatmates, and crazy office guys. And against popular wisdom, Jack had invited both his group of college juniors and his group of office colleagues to the same party. No one thought much of it at that time, but in hind-sight that was the single biggest mistake of the night.
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Of course there were other mistakes as well. Like finishing up all the liquor by 2am, and then going out to bring more bottles of liquor. Like going up to the roof top and shouting on top of their voices. And like, breaking into a fight when all was well and the party was in full swing.
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No one exactly remembered what had really happened that night. Some were drunk and passed out. Some were scouring the kitchen for whatever food they could get at 3am. Some were still craving for more liquor. And amidst all, some were arguing. The voices had been high the whole night, so no one really paid much attention initially. Until, they heard the bottle break. Everything seemed to stop for a moment, as pieces of shattered glass spread in the air. There was a loud shattering noise, and the next sight that everyone saw was blue-black blood oozing out of the head of one the guys. The guy, who had hit him, still had the broken bottle in his hand, and his eyes were fixed on the bleeding half-dead guy, still in a fit of rage, venom spitting out of his mouth in the shape of foul words. The guy who took the hit, was a junior and he just dropped on the floor, with his head turning the whole floor into a pool of blue-black blood. As for the others, they were just spell-struck for a few moments. Almost as if, time froze.
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I broke into a cold sweat. I was in my room, on my bed. I was severely dehydrated. And when i saw that black and blue blood, all over on the floor, i woke up screaming. It was a terrible dream, i thought. It was Sunday afternoon and the sun was piercing each and every hole in the apartment in a particularly fierce way. The room was still spinning wildly. The dream just seemed so real, until, i got up and walked outside to the drawing room and saw that terrible scene…

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Violent Dreams

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Well, when people leave, they leave. What prompted me to write this was the fact that today, one more of my colleague, is leaving my team, to pursue his career somewhere else. While its not at all a bad thing to do, it does leave behind this strange emptiness, which i cannot really explain. I know from tomorrow, the guy on the opposite side of my open-cubicle wall will no longer be there. While i wasn’t particularly close to the guy, we did share the occasional tea, coffee, evening snack, a game of Table Tennis, more recently a game of carrom, and of course the usual bitching about our bosses, and i know that from tomorrow, he will not be there to share.

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The person next to me, is leaving too. Come mid of June, i will have another empty chair and a powered-down terminal next to me. I was more fond of this guy, as he belonged from UP NORTH, from where i belong, and had the same good-natured-humour that i think i have. It would be really cruel when he leaves.

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And its not that people haven’t left before. Our team strength when i joined around 4 years back, was as much as 26. We wouldn’t fit into one meeting room. Some had to bring their own chairs, some had to stand. Now we are down to almost 9. No one has to stand now. But people are still leaving. And its getting cruel now.

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Come to think of it, people always leave. People leave in a relationship. People leave in a friendship. People leave in an organization. People leave life. People always leave. When a person leaves in a relationship, it ruins lives. It ruins individuals. When people leave in a friendship, it is depressing. The world gets lonely. When people leave life, well we move on slowly. When people leave an organization, well we still move on. We forget people. That is one of the most amazing gifts that mankind has. We forget people. We forget anyone who is not infront of us for some time. And that is important. Or else we would have never moved on with life.

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Life is hard, especially when people leave. For the people, who are left behind. There’s a void. It will be filled eventually. But it will be there staring at you for some time.

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Will there be a void when i leave?

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The organization?…..i suppose not.

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Life…..well maybe.

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To be clear, am not really depressed or anything. These are just thoughts that are in my mind, while i wait to go lunch now and i know, there will be one person less today.

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Adios…

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