Work Is Not Enough

I never thought I could do so much work in one go. I think work should ideally be distributed uniformly across many dayz in such a way that you have ample time to take a nap or two in between. I am a senior software engineer, and working my ass off in a way so that I can easily get demoted to a junior one, or even an intern level. (Naah, I’m not that bad, I’ve heard higher you move up the ladder, more managerish you become and lesser you have to think or do. So, think reverse.). That is my funda but these people just won’t listen and give me more and more work. And I see so many people around me behaving in such a critically busy way (as if they’re missing an Indian train) that I even have started feeling proud telling people that I am busy. Some people got real offended as they thought I am trying to avoid them. That is the problem in not saying “I’m busy”, term too often. So I’ve made it a point to repeat these two golden words at least twice a day just for the heck of it. Aakhir image ka sawaal hai. Kabhi na kabhi to banana padegi yaar.

And I’m working late nights. I almost dozed off in front of my boss today trying to prove that I’m actually working hard. He didn’t believe me, such an ass he is. But bosses round the world are famous for that and I have no hard feelings for him. I actually tried my best to sympathize with him and tried to prove that all is not bad, unless the whole system failed and my whole life rotated right in front of me. He tried to blame the team and I tried to defend them, the people who made the system. I tried to blame it on something else, but he was just not duffer enough. Darn. I again pitied him and forgave him for his ignorance almost instantaneously. I think he should learn to be more of a manager and should donate what is left of his brain to Mr. George Bush, and then maybe both can be of at least some use to their country.

Somebody had told me long back that you shouldn’t mind people who are angry and yelling. He was yelling that he’ll not let me go back to India. I told him not to worry about that since I will go back anyway. I left when I saw he didn’t recognize the sense of humor in my voice and almost spilled his coffee on his shoes. Well that’s ok because I wasn’t kidding anyway. I was just hoping that he would think that I’m joking or something, and later on I would tell him straight from flight that I wasn’t. Hell of a plan that was.

But somehow, I still feel that work is not enough. I still have time to talk to the people I want to. I am writing this blog already. Was never short of time so as not to pick up and play my guitar at least once everyday. I can check my personal emails, and even write replies. I have time to chat with my few close friends, to eat food and drink coffee. I have enough time to burn my lungs thoroughly and there was never more time to get pissed off at things so confidently. I have not yet stopped taking bath and using deodorant. I still brush my teeth and comb my hair. And so I’ve started believing, no matter how busy you are, you always have time to do the things you like ( or some cleansing things which you have to ). Simply, work cannot be enough, its just never ending facet of our life…. I guess.

Anyway, I’ll leave now, I’m quite busy you see…

Happy Birthday Party and a Deep Thought

Sometimes I think I am a very versatile guy. On one hand I attend full contri bevda bachelor party with a newspaper, namkeen with kate huye pyaz on top, a few beer and daroo bottles, and a couple of hopeless guys eager to swallow every last drop of alcohol they can. While on the other hand I attend a full fledged family happy birthday parties, with as much as nine families (ok, I usually don’t count, but there was nothing else to do), and kids of all possible ages.

It creates a kind of confidence in you, looking forward to a family life full of decency and veg jokes, that you just can’t. The mere aura of the room looks so enticing, that I wanted to eat a full large pizza, just to keep me busy so that people don’t sympathize with me. A few people did try to console me for my pathetic situation (that is, being a bachelor), but didn’t say more than “feeling bored, huh?”, watching me work all the way on my pizza. Although I did hear a few comments like, “Ha ha, you’re next!!”. But I figure its just their usual way to remind themselves again and again of their happy and fulfilled life, and pull more and more freedom out of people. Of course ;).

So what do you do when you get invited to such family parties? I usually get indulged in some deep thoughts like which beer to buy next, or when would we next go to a beach to see all those blondes taking sun bath. There is ample time to do that at such places, although I did had to pass on a few mature comments like, “yes, I’ll have one more drink”, with no reference to alcohol, and really great thoughts like, “Yes, investing in real state is the best”. Believe me.

And I don’t know what is it with family people eager to finish up everything they have at their place to eat. “Arrey, aur le lo thoda sa, nachi to bach jayega”. Arrey wo to apan bol nahi paya ki, “Aunty chinta mat karo, apan ghar le ke jayega”, nahi to people would tag me for a typical cheap bachelor forever, more because I called them aunty. I have never seen bachelors doing such stuff in a daroo party except may be for the alcohol they have. That too is not possible because alcohol is just never too much in a party, and so we are spared by such terrible thoughts of alcohol wastage or “alcohol abuse”.

And you automatically get promoted to an uncleji kind of guy with so many kids around. Kids were shouting “Uncleji”, and it really brought tears to my ears. I look myself in mirror, and I look like 15 year old kid with may be some extra fat here and there, but these kids break my heart.

With my neck deep in work these dayz, you know, I had to get out of that place right after finishing my pizza. Hey, don’t give me that look, I know what you are thinking … you’re thinking “Ha!” … ;)

But as I stepped out, I just couldn’t get the happy look at birthday girl’s face out of my head when she cut the cake and everyone sang the birthday song. I just wondered when would be the next time I can become so happy. And probably the last time I was so happy was when I was cutting that cake myself, with family, friends, colony kids and relatives from other cities used to come and sing Happy Birthday for me. They were awesome dayz. I wonder even if a trip to goa would give me that level of innocent happiness.