Again, long time huh? :) I went through the blogs of all my dear follower friends, and was saddened to see, that, like me, most of them have not updated their blog. Well, they might have their reasons, just like I have my own. Chintan, if you ever read this, please add me to your invited readers' list. I am a huge fan of your articles. But sadly, I guess it is now open for invited readers only. I am trying since 1 month, but I have no idea how to contact you. Mirage, drag that asshole to the court for copying your contents :D Aliza jee, add in your invited reader's list, NOW! :(. TOSM, if you ask me, you still are "very much you" :). RED, God doesn't have ego clashes :P prey! :) And yes, fill your cavity! And last, but certainly not least, my dear Soumya (Hope you don't get offended by the "dear" word now) :), I loved your Honest posts. I Wish you and Cal live a happy life ever after!
I didn't go to office for two days. I wasn't feeling like. There is nothing/no one in the office that motivates me to go. The concept of having office friends around after office hours is gradually diminishing. People here barely talk something other than work, let alone spending quality time after office hours. I have never lived my life like this, so it makes things difficult at times.
Flat shifting. Another cruel joke faith played on me. I was very much happy with my old fashioned but convenient flat. But thanks to my father's surprise visit. I hate surprise visits. Specially when they are from my parents. That So called sucky device called mobile started showing my mother's number at an ungodly hour of morning 5. The first thought that crossed my mind was, "Is everything okay at home?" I prayed to God for the first time in my life. But alas, I should have prayed for myself instead. As soon as I picked the phone, my mother shouted, "Beta, we are outside your flat. Please come down!". I literally went numb at that moment. I mean come on! This is not fair! I might have been awarded some world record for cleaning my flat in about 2 minutes and 30 seconds, which includes hiding all the underwear, shorts and other not-so-showable stuff, all the bear bottles, cigarrate packets, putting new bed sheets, spraying room with at least 2 full sized air fresheners and what not. Anyway, mother, being a women kind, was suspicious about the sudden freshener's fragrance in my flat. But since I am good with the words, that part went well.
One look at the flat and my father was like, "you can't live in here. End of the discussion. Period." I rebelled, gave my reasons of staying in that flat, but he was determinant. I hate his contacts and reputation. He made only ONE call and my new flat was arranged within 2 hours. No brokerage, No deposit. But now, instead of paying 7 grands, I will have to pay 10 grands. Well, it sucks. But considering that flat and locality, I guess it is worth it. Being a poor son of a rich father has its own advantages and disadvantages. I took 2 days leave from office, but my father shifted my luggage within 4 hours. Since he had some meeting to attend, my parents left on the same day. Since I wasn't feeling like going to office, for remaining 2 days, all I did was to wander in the city.
I went into the restricted areas of Mumbai. I went to Dharavi, the biggest slum area in Mumbai. At the entrance, there was one police constable who stopped me, saying that this locality is very dangerous. I just smiled and said, " I will manage". At the worst what could happen? Loot? Murder? My life is not that cheap that somebody can take it without my permission. And scariness? It's a feeling that I have abandoned long ago. When I am not afraid of death, I am certainly not afraid of anything else in this world. So I went to observe life. Life of the people who barely manage to live. Who don't care about these glorious flats in a 10 story buildings or locality. Whose only aim is to survive for the day. I went deep inside the slum area. I saw children who were hungry and diseased. Adults, who were carrying weapons, who have entered into the life of crime, because they tried so hard for an honest work but the fucking government can't even give them a job of 100 rs/day. I met with young women, whose husband/family forced them into the heinous job of prostitution. Their beauty, or even worse, their gender has now become their curse. But I observed one thing, at least they all looked happy and satisfied with their lives, no matter how hard it is for them to survive. Again, I just smiled. When I wander in the elegant and sophisticated localities, where people travel by Porsche or Mercedes, all I could see is depressed faces or fake smiles. They seem so irritated, stressed. That makes me think, can money really buy happiness? What about satisfaction? You can't buy it. It has to come from within.
We are so busy in finding the answers that we don't actually understand the questions.
I didn't go to office for two days. I wasn't feeling like. There is nothing/no one in the office that motivates me to go. The concept of having office friends around after office hours is gradually diminishing. People here barely talk something other than work, let alone spending quality time after office hours. I have never lived my life like this, so it makes things difficult at times.
Flat shifting. Another cruel joke faith played on me. I was very much happy with my old fashioned but convenient flat. But thanks to my father's surprise visit. I hate surprise visits. Specially when they are from my parents. That So called sucky device called mobile started showing my mother's number at an ungodly hour of morning 5. The first thought that crossed my mind was, "Is everything okay at home?" I prayed to God for the first time in my life. But alas, I should have prayed for myself instead. As soon as I picked the phone, my mother shouted, "Beta, we are outside your flat. Please come down!". I literally went numb at that moment. I mean come on! This is not fair! I might have been awarded some world record for cleaning my flat in about 2 minutes and 30 seconds, which includes hiding all the underwear, shorts and other not-so-showable stuff, all the bear bottles, cigarrate packets, putting new bed sheets, spraying room with at least 2 full sized air fresheners and what not. Anyway, mother, being a women kind, was suspicious about the sudden freshener's fragrance in my flat. But since I am good with the words, that part went well.
One look at the flat and my father was like, "you can't live in here. End of the discussion. Period." I rebelled, gave my reasons of staying in that flat, but he was determinant. I hate his contacts and reputation. He made only ONE call and my new flat was arranged within 2 hours. No brokerage, No deposit. But now, instead of paying 7 grands, I will have to pay 10 grands. Well, it sucks. But considering that flat and locality, I guess it is worth it. Being a poor son of a rich father has its own advantages and disadvantages. I took 2 days leave from office, but my father shifted my luggage within 4 hours. Since he had some meeting to attend, my parents left on the same day. Since I wasn't feeling like going to office, for remaining 2 days, all I did was to wander in the city.
I went into the restricted areas of Mumbai. I went to Dharavi, the biggest slum area in Mumbai. At the entrance, there was one police constable who stopped me, saying that this locality is very dangerous. I just smiled and said, " I will manage". At the worst what could happen? Loot? Murder? My life is not that cheap that somebody can take it without my permission. And scariness? It's a feeling that I have abandoned long ago. When I am not afraid of death, I am certainly not afraid of anything else in this world. So I went to observe life. Life of the people who barely manage to live. Who don't care about these glorious flats in a 10 story buildings or locality. Whose only aim is to survive for the day. I went deep inside the slum area. I saw children who were hungry and diseased. Adults, who were carrying weapons, who have entered into the life of crime, because they tried so hard for an honest work but the fucking government can't even give them a job of 100 rs/day. I met with young women, whose husband/family forced them into the heinous job of prostitution. Their beauty, or even worse, their gender has now become their curse. But I observed one thing, at least they all looked happy and satisfied with their lives, no matter how hard it is for them to survive. Again, I just smiled. When I wander in the elegant and sophisticated localities, where people travel by Porsche or Mercedes, all I could see is depressed faces or fake smiles. They seem so irritated, stressed. That makes me think, can money really buy happiness? What about satisfaction? You can't buy it. It has to come from within.
We are so busy in finding the answers that we don't actually understand the questions.
