Skip to main content

Can you please crawl out your window?

There are times truth sneaks up upon us and delivers that knockout blow; that perfect jab into the plexus that leaves us floored, breathless and clawing desperately at nothing. While we indignantly try to mouth the word 'cheat' or 'unfair', truth nods, satisfied at a job well done, notches up another one, and leaves.

This is spring break week, the annual period that universities across the nation down shutters and take off. Most campuses, buzzing with activity right up to Friday, resemble a ghost town on the 1st Saturday of spring break. Texas probably even has the occasional tumbleweed. Anyway, this being Birmingham, there's barely any difference between spring break and the rest of the year. Allowed, this is hardly the university's fault... not even the city's. But, it does clearly elucidate a point, no, dear reader ? (speaking of which, who actually reads this blog, I wonder)

Again, this being Birmingham, the day spring break is declared, the weather forecast promptly predicts rain and snow, with temperatures for the week in the high 20's. That's Fahrenheit, in case you were wondering wtf... which roughly translates into an average of -1 degree Celsius to look forward to... Oh joy !! It doesn't help that my roommates have taken off for Florida and the sun-kissed beaches, leaving self contemplating moong daal for dinner... again. (Yes, contributed by Bachelor no. 4. His consistency leads me to contemplate slaying the *%#@!%&)
And why am I not travelling with Mr. Galliano's circus, you ask ? Enter Mammon and his slave - self.

Since my degrees haven't amounted to anything so far, I've had to take drastic steps this semester, namely by applying for the most impressive Summer internships I could think of, all 3 of which were with the United Nations. I've been accepted by all of them, but before starting out on the whooping and the hand-stands, discovered that that august body doesn't pay interns. Yea... you want to do an internship, you can damn well pay for it yourself. I ask you !! Ergo, I'm still here... writing this post. And will be working this week.

So, Vienna, much to my regret, is out. Too expensive. Left in the fray are New York city and.... wait for it... Phnom Penh.

Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

Hehehehehehehehehehehe

Where will I be going ? Well... NYC hasn't let me know about its work profile yet, so until that happens, I'm waiting. Grinding my teeth all the while, I might add.

Decisions, decisions....

And about truth assaulting us and leaving ? The following conversation took place last week. Sigh...

(At work, me and other student employee, K, are talking)

G: Those are some...ahem... 'interesting' socks you're wearing (they were a ghastly shade of 'rainbow', I kid you not)

K: Thanks.

G: Hehe... reminds me of these mustard-yellow socks I used to have when I was in college (dreamily referring to my B.A years in Fergusson... and yea, I actually did have those socks... no comment)

K: Girish, you still are in college.
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
F#@K !!

Song for the moment:
Dust in the wind - Kansas

Comments

Ashish said…
I read your blog.
And mustard coloured socks.
Oh you make my Sunday.
thumbtwiddler said…
I remember making fun of the mustard coloured socks. Oooh...now I rememebr the shirt from the 60's!! heehehehe...hehehhehehe...wait wait..hehehehhehehehehehehehhehehe
Anonymous said…
Okay people, I shall not repeat. We need to let the 60's shirt go. Really... :)

As for the socks... they're still going to college too, if you know what I mean.

Popular posts from this blog

Night Boat

I usually don't write honest pieces. They're true to facts but I tend to lather my emotions and thoughts with a heavy dose of attempted humour or misdirection. This post deserves some raw emotional honesty, though.

Yesterday, 29th August, a Tuesday (or should I say, another Tuesday) was about me making choices. It was raining quite heavily when I left for office, sheeted down the windows of the train throughout the 1-hour journey to Churchgate and kept going with renewed intensity by the time I made it to the entrance, looking verily like something that had drowned in a gutter and lain there a while before being discovered by a cat and dragged in. I made the choice to go to work as I suspected my boss would be there and not because I wanted to go.

I was right about my boss but that cardiac fizz of being right flattened out rather rapidly once I realised, around 11:30 am, that no one else from my team of 20 had bothered to make a similar effort. And, some of these guys live 5 …

Drink up and be somebody

Dear Reader,

History will boldly testify that your favourite blogger is usually slow on the uptake, a state of affairs that's blooming with each passing year like a reverse-Revital. "Why this self-harshness, G", you may ask? Well...

I've been doing the Bom-Pune-Bom trips for 9 years and it's taken about that long to accept that MSRTC Shivneri, still the best bus service of them all, simply cannot (or, realistically, will not) cope with 3-day weekends. Since my job profile does not allow me to plan my travel in advance on said Fridays, I land up at Dadar, view the queue of potential passengers snaking a long way from the ticket window and mentally prepare to arrive home at the hour of morning reserved for sheepish teenagers and dacoits. The Expressway doesn't help anyone's cause thanks to truck drivers spreading themselves generously across 3 lanes and clogging the Lonavala pass to a point where the traffic jam is about 3 km long. A stretch that would tak…

Country Comforts

Part 1

With timing that was far more impeccable than their usual service, the MSRTC went on strike 2 days before Diwali over a pay dispute. I've traveled on their buses for close to 9 years and know full well just how popular they can be just before a major holiday. The chaotic crowd at Dadar is so dense, one would only need to introduce a few Naga sadhus into the mix and hey presto! we've got ourselves a brand new Kumbh Mela. Albeit one where getting out of Bombay ASAP is the only kind of salvation devotees seek. 

News and newspapers being what they are at present, I was unaware of the jolly bus crisis until Wednesday morning when a well-wisher asked how I proposed to go home for the holidays, flourishing the paper in my face with the reluctant panache of a small-town magician. Realising the gravity of the situation, I looked up train schedules and was stunned to find General category seats available on an outstation train departing later that afternoon. As far as I could see, …