Another Day at Work

“Sorry, I didn’t get your name,” she said with an accent that sounded a little too normal than what is heard in this part of the world.

Mentally, I was in the vacant space between two very interesting tasks I had listed for my workday. Physically, I was in a crowded cubicle in a cloistered corridor in a cramped floor of a marketing office. Hey, the world itself is crowded and the planet is cramped, what am I complaining about!

I was expecting yet another of the continuous stream of pretentious agency folk that were filing along this corridor over the past couple of days. They had no choice as it was the only path to the coffee machine and I had no choice as there was no other seat vacant on the floor. Sometimes, the voices carried over from the closed meeting room next door, perhaps when someone wanted a quick escape from all the storm in the teacup inside. Strong, confident, assertive and the kind of adjectives that self-help writers attribute to successful orators could very well have been written about these voices. I was later told that none of the content was nearly decently good. Sigh! And so the hours drifted noisily by.

In all this flurry of activity, the voice this morning was, well, different. For one, it wasn’t carried from the bad acoustics of the room next door, it was right next to where I was. And neither was it any of the ‘pitch’-tones people assume when they hijack the stage in this line of business. It just sounded like the tone one uses to ask for directions to the nearest metro, or to the nearest coffee machine, maybe. It was authentic. I looked up and saw a lot of people talking animatedly and located the face behind that one voice. 

Locks of ruffled golden-brown hair falling around her face, dark eyes, sharp features- well, everything traditionally considered beautiful. All stereotypes, but then again, what made it all any good is how effortlessly she carried it off. Her beauty, as it appeared, is her brains- A strong, independent young lady indeed. Born a century or two ago, she could have been the chosen muse of a maestro or a poet. Now, she’s a fine woman making her way in business.

My friends-those that know my idiocies and idiosyncrasies- tell me that I’m bad at writing poetry. I must admit, I managed to pen only two decent verses over the years. But I tried today yet again; I gave up in an hour. Then I realized I could always write good prose as I had for years now… in classrooms, in exams, in business. “Why not!” I thought, “a tribute it would be.”

Later in the day, I found her business card on a desk near mine and picked it up. It looked minimalist and well crafted. ‘Co-Founder and Business Head’, it read. I turned it around and found the following two lines:
She left him for a better writer.
She left him a better writer.

 Talk about serendipity…

-Mach

Gurgaon, Oct'16
Location: Gurgaon, Haryana, India

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

We are the roles we play

“All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts….” -Act II, Scene VII, As You Like It, William Shakespeare, We are defined not as a set of characteristics or traits, not as a sealed package by others. Instead, everyone sees us for the discrete, granular roles that we play in their lives. The ‘package’ that we see in our own heads is our own perspective of all the roles we play in the lives of all the people we know. You may be a caring child, a sincere student, a loyal friend, a passionate lover, a dedicated employee, a pleasant boss, a doting father and a responsible citizen: each of these roles call for a set of characteristics and need you to act in a manner that suits the roles you choose to play. Ain't that why someone we hate from the guts is liked by some others, why some fall in love with people that just don’t care, why some people buy goods t
Read more

Adiós, señoritas

T hey are leaving. And I doubt if I would see them ever again. Strange is this knot in the heart and the gut. And despite the intensity of feelings and thoughts that would rage inside me, I was hopelessly tongue-tied when in their company. Hell, I couldn't even muster enough courage to say anything beyond a feeble ‘Hi’.  To think that just a year ago, I was unaware of their existence-any of them- happily lost in the quandary of life, like a kid playing in a sandbox. Yet, here I am, writing this piece while I should be sitting by them, pouring my heart out. There are a million things I so want to tell them. Right Now. I even tried going to them. But then I couldn't go even within a few yards of them. I do know that this is my last chance- what I don’t say now will stay buried inside me forever. Perhaps, life had handed me lemons quite a few times before, and the sour taste of those lemonades still lingers inside me. Perhaps, I’m just not brave enough- a coward. Perhaps… Des
Read more

Exploring the Joy of Fountain Pens: My Beginner Collection

Last year, I fell into this rabbit hole of fountain pens, quite serendipitously. At about the same time, I had changed jobs and found myself between a rock and a hard place. A lot of things transpired between then and now and while my fountain pens and journal kept me company along with cute cats on Instagram, I couldn't find the time or the space in my mind to share my experiences on the interwebs.  But lately, I realized that I was stressing myself out over things I can't control. And while I fixed a few, there have always been new and very demanding challenges popping up. So, what the hell! Here goes nothing.   Join me as I introduce you to my cherished beginner fountain pen collection, showcasing a range of exceptional writing instruments. Among the many choices available, the Pilot Metropolitan was my very excellent entry point. Its combination of sleek design, reliable performance, and affordability makes it a perfect choice for those new to the world of fountain pens.  
Read more