We've ARRIVED baby!

Now that I've mastered the art of using the fancy automatic hand-censor tissue dispenser, the office seems to be a happier place.It's funny how these mundane objects get in the way of your office orientation, and seem to be in on the conspiracy to make you feel like an outsider for the longest time possible.Not that as new kid on the block one needs any more reasons to feel slightly ostracised.What with daily realities such as office politic-centric conversations that you cannot contribute to,inside jokes(yes apparently they have them in offices too) you don't get and after-work drinks that you're not really invited to, since you haven't yet earned the status of permanent staff,you really do have enough on your plateDo not mistake me for whingeing,because breaking into this office has been a relative cake-walk.I do get called for the lunch and tea breaks(see I'm slowly working my way up the acceptance ladder),the men are chivalrous enough to hold doors for you and I'm positively relieved that all my colleagues are the types who are well-settled and secure enough in their jobs to not try and get you disposed of at the next downsizing meeting.So it took me a week of skulking around the loos and pantry to figure out how to work the goddamn dispensers that were everywhere.I agree I hate having to be a slave to technology,but being the reasonable person I am,I came to terms with the fact that I couldn't possibly wipe my hands on my jeans tomorrow and finally today,after one long tissue-less week I caught a lady in the act of pulling out a tissue.Who knew that you just had to stick your hands at this small dot on the extreme right of the darned thing! Did anyone ever considering giving interns tissue dispenser manuals,because I'm sure there are many others who are reduced to jean-wiping.I also almost had another one of those potentially embarassing moments which thankfully nobody was around to witness....You know those coffee machines they have in every self-respecting office these days? So anyway i plopped my own large mug under the machine,assuming that ofcourse was the way to go.......STUPID ME! Apparently,it operates like any frikkin regular vending machine and comes with its own mingy little cup.

I've always wondered,what part of activities conducted in stealth. leaves me so delighted...After a month of no smoking(only due to circumstances ofcourse) I finally had the opportunity to light a ciggy since I had the house to myself...Needless, to say there's nothing quite like a cup of tea and two ciggies to set any bowel problems right.Clearing all evidence of suspicious activity,however was a downright pain....Running a steamy shower and liberal spraying of annoyingly floral room freshner did do the job anyway.It's at times like this,that you think its just easier to kick the bloody habit,but I do have these amazingly realistic visions of me being this desperate housewife type slily hotboxing herself in the loo to get her daily fix...

Water retention problems and the bloody air-conditioning in the office make me dash to the loo every half an hour,and I'm sure I'm not imagining people beginning to give me strange looks..Jesus,I do NOT have loosies or any contractable urinary tract infection, people!

I've decided that I don't like hot boy any more.He totally cold shouldered me today.I was leaving the office,and we both crossed paths,in the office parking lot and not so much of a flicker of recognition spread across that face!I mean ever heard of office etiquette and pleasantries? Even a vague nod of acknowledgement would have done the trick.Agreed we've never been formally introduced and although we sit on the same floor, we do work for two different magazines(brother-sister type publications),but I'm offended to think he might not have even realised I work in the office.Although in retrospect,maybe its a good thing that he's not like that creep I've never set eyes on and who seem to have conducted extensive studies on my name,background etc,and yelled out my name in the morning and seems to enjoy making sure he does his Good Samaritan act of the day(any other explanations for why he would randomly pop my desk and helpfully give me a blank pad for"notes",if you may"). It takes all kinds I suppose...Anyhoo,I'm going to go practise strutting my stuff to the best of my advantage,so that MAYBE on one of my many visits to the ladies'room Mr.High&Mighty will become alerted of my existence!

Your Desk or Mine?

Those of you who are of the opinion that work and pleasure just do not mix-are obviously mistaken-they make for the most heady and potent combination ever.It's like mixing your drinks -leaves you totally smashed and incapable of being responsible for any of your actions the next day. Why else do you think that the average man's kinkiest fantasies would revolve around boardroom tables and photocopying machines!There must be some benefit-reaping involved, otherwise nobody in their right senses would recommend going to all these pains only to face uncomfortable scenarios in the workplace.
Why the sudden vouching for office romances you ask? It could possibly have something to do with the fact that I may have a classic case of the hots for a co-worker.The fact that he happens to be one of those brooding,intelligent,profound writer types complete with the dark(in a hot way) thick rimmed glasses and the preppiest wardrobe ever(full-sleeved crisp white shirts with v-necked public schoolboy sweaters and cheeky slogan bearin tees anyone?) might also help in furthering his case.Did I mention that he has this poise and bearing about him,self-assured without being cocky, which I'll have you know is next to impossible to find in men today.
I pride myself on my male-spotting skills,and after many years of refusing to acknowledge this skill of mine,certain friends have reluctantly agreed,that yes,indeed,I do have the amazing ability to spot a boy with potential-one that you might not have even give a second glance to otherwise.
The second inane talent that I possess,if I may say so myself is that I serve as my own Oracle with respect to the fate of all my relationships...I know the instant I set eyes on a man, if I will ever at some point in my life make out with him or maybe even progress to a serious relationship.Ducky, would serve as the perfect object of case study.I met him on my third day of college, and we got roped into talking to each other as part of some ice-breaker game.I,ofcourse played up the cutesy act to the hilt(Hello my love for Drew Barrymore and her side-mouth talking has to be of some use)and within two hours of prolonged conversation that began with our love for dark chocolate,the lusty physical connection I guess was established.
Maybe,this is why,the mere sight of enigmatic office boy is setting off warning bells in my head,and this is also provoked by the fact that he wears a thin "deceptive" gold band.I refuse to believe that he's married, and even if he is-So what! No harm in looking right, and the reasonable part of me is also fully aware of the fact that I'm mostly doing this to create a temporary distraction for myself.
So the majority of my day is now consumed by thoughts of me tripping and falling flat on my face,on one of my many trips to the scanning machine, which happens to be right opposite where he sits.
Also, although I promised myself not to even mention the V word today,(because that would just be acknowledging the existence of this day and furthering the Hallmark ploy to fucking overthrow the world one sordid lonely heart at a time) I have to mention how indignant I was when this otherwise mousey old uncle asked me what Valentine Day Plans I had, and shook his head in sad disbelief when I told him of the non-existence of a love life let alone secret admirers.
Must drag myself to bed now,and make some efforts to look presentable for hot boy.Did I mention that I often feel like the aisle in our office is a ramp of sorts....Every time you walk down you can feel atleast ten pairs of eyes burning holes through you!*Sigh* the pressures of being a woman in the workplace...

Long Overdue...

I should be deliriously ecstatic, but the levels of restraint I'm displaying have shocked nobody more than me.Four months ago, I would have been praying for any form of communication from L, and may have even been foolish enough to mistake an excuse of so much of a FB msg from L to be some sort of god-given green signal that things were going to eventually work out. I'm well past the stage of praying and crossing my fingers every morning hoping that L would have woken up and realised the full impact of the erroneous decisions he made.Well, it happened...Today was the DAY....Yes sixteen hours ago, to be precise, L FB Inbxed me and these are his exact words:
"hi dumbo thanks for not wishing me cuz that was expected . but still hope ur doin good huh . ill wish u even after u get married ya. cuz ur still dumbo for me. hopr ur doin good tc . "
Well as you can see firsthand, he never was the profound writer, but OMG! So I hyperventilated for five minutes, mentally skimming through my telephone directory, wondering who deserved to share this earth shattering news with me.Then I started composing a reply to him in my head-one that was meant to not be overly emotional but at the same time attempted to put into words, how devastated I had been on the 12th of November, when somebody told me that they had seen him making out with a random woman. Stupid me, you say?Perhaps I was hasty in deciding to cut off all ties with him and should have atleast given him the benefit of the doubt,not to mention the scope for apologies and defence.I chose instead to believe what I heard from slimeball third party,because the stronger part of me willed me into looking at the larger picture...the one in which in which he didn't feature.
I also mustered the courage to check his Facebook profile today. I saw many random new female faces on his friends list that I never knew had been a part of his life, and I didn't feel the usual tight knot forming in my stomach-not even when I saw pictures of him having what looked like a pillow fight with one of those bitchy long-legged,shiny haired women(and that is an achievement!). It also makes me proud that I have been able to reach so far minus my usual string of rebounds.
I wish I could fast forward to a week ahead, because by then I am sure that I will be disgusted with myself for having even toyed with the idea of replying to him.
So tell me people, TELL ME am I doing the right thing? Does L deserve a reply? Should I let him know that NO i do NOT have a perfect,happening life as an uber glam magazine intern, and that I can count the days, from when I cut off all ties with him, on the tips of my fingers or would this just be me in denial paving the way for him to deny all allegations and say that his friend just wanted to ruin our perfect relationship,especially since he's always had feelings for me.
Those of you who pride yourself on being experts on male psychology, do you think L could possibly miss me and maybe like I had hoped,things are coming full circle, and he will realise that I was truly the one girl who meant something to him.OR....second, and more realistic scenario, is this just his bruised male ego,unable to deal with the fact that I haven't gone grovelling back to him and seem to be unscarred.Ponder some, and do get back to me!I promise to listen to wise advice :)

Of First Times..

Nostalgic sentimentality-its the fully loaded word in every woman's dictionary...I've always wondered how much the oestrogen levels have to do in blurring our ability to be practical and rational in the face of all adversity.Maybe its this particular gift that we women pride ourselves on possessing that makes us preserve ticket stubs of the first movie we watched with a sweaty handed,acne prone teenaged boy or helps us remember the first time we let a boy put his hands under our shirt....I, for one can vouch for the fact that I ticked off a former boyfriend no end with my constant questions to the effect of "Do you remember when you first started liking me?" or "Did you ever imagine you would date me for one and a half years when you first saw me in sleazy bar with best friend?" and sometimes even going to the extent of "Baby do you remember what I wore the first time we went clubbing as a couple?".The boyfriend humoured me with answers during the initial courtship phase of our relationship, but soon (like most men) retired to dissatisfying monosyllables.How do I ever explain to any man, the excitement a woman feels when she is able to reconstruct an experience that gives her butterflies in the pits of her tummy and reduces her to an idiotically grinning buffoon, all at the same time.It's what keeps the cliched chemistry alive. We need to feel desired and attractive,like we're still capable of keeping you on your toes.The whole world and her sons could wax eloquent on how pretty/hot I looked, but the ultimate compliment that I longed for was a simple"You look nice today",from boyfriendal quarters.
Today, happens to be an all important first time for me. Not only is it my ex boyfriend's birthday, but also marks the first birthday of his that I'm not celebrating with him since the two year period that I have known him.
I'm not going to lie to you and say our relationship was a bed of roses and everything was hunky dory, hell I happen to be one of those fools who is adept in glossing over the bad times.So I am now an expert in remembering the way he would bring his mother's khichdi for me in little steel dhabbas when I was a starving hostelite or how he waited for me at the airport for three nights in a row in the wee hours of the morning as he was unsure as to when exactly I was flying in;as opposed to how I was talked into delivering oral favours on said person's birthday two years ago and had my neck scratched up by him in a particularly violent bout,not to mention being abandoned at the same airport at two in the morning.The wounds though well on their way to being healed,are still fresh, and so I keep being patient with myself,in much the same manner one would benevolently look upon a colicky baby.
On the eve of his birthday,last night,I found myself wishing him a really good birthday and year ahead and telepathically communicating a silent message across to him.I've never been one of those vengeful people, and although he seems to be okay with having erased me from his life and facebook list,I can't.I'm the girl who always needs to tie up loose ends,end things smoothly and seeks closure, but I'm finally coming to terms with the fact that sometimes you can't always iron the creases out. Do NOT mistake this as meaning that I long for a reunion a la Hollywood,but it's just that I'm stubbornly going to take my own time to be okay with the situation.
A cousin of mine explained the interesting concept of the existence of a "pain body" within all of us, to me a few months ago,when I had been freshly scarred by the abrupt ending of my relationship.It made a lot of sense,even to a person like me who's always looked down on these psychologically perfect answers handed out to us by people who seem to have solutions to all of life's trying questions.Apparently just as much as happy endorphins are addictive to all of us, we get off equally on plunging into the depths of despair, and maybe, my cousin reasoned, THIS is what made me long for ex.I was going through a particularly rough phase,having chucked up college and ex(who we shall now refer to as L) was the perfect excuse to pin all my sorrows to, because let's face it I had let go of him emotionally a long,long time ago,not to mention the fact that I had cheated on him several times during the course of our togetherness.What made me upset was the fact that he(who everybody knew had always been much more into me,and I'm not just saying this),had without prior notice broken off all links with me.It still is too painful for me to get into detailed narrations about, but this retrospective exercise was done chiefly for the purpose of marking another First Time milestone in my life.Its the First Time I'm going to be excluded from his future birthdays,and it makes me a little sad but thats just my painbody AboobackerPokrankutty playing up :) Today is also the first time in a long time that I accidentally stumbled upon pictures of L, and I found myself flinching because as always the sudden sight of his face,surprises me and almost reminds me of his existence.This,perhaps, is what is the most painful, because not so very long ago, I could tell you about his three different smiles, the way his ears looked funny from behind,how his toenails were perfect and clean,the way his forehead had three "Brahmin" lines as I liked to refer to them,and the way he liked to sleep almost annoyingly facing me(which was a reason for alot of fights ,me being the kind who preferred being spooned).I wonder if he's already found somebody to replace me, who will in time learn these things about him and if he will fight with her too over the cheesiest part of a sandwich or learn to share his food graciously!
Wherever you are (and I'm sure it involves a lot of drunkenness and weed induced happiness) here's genuinely wishing you a very very happy birthday L. As the clock strikes midnight today,my only hope is that for a moment you can close your eyes,put everything behind and remember the birthdays you and I have shared together.
Lots and lots of love x

Somebody's Someone

Now that I've firmly decided to stick with my decision of establishing myself as a member of the non-smoking fraternity, life at the new workplace is already looking up for me. My non-conformist friends rebuke me for the hypocritical nature of this decision,but I have experienced firsthand the various downsides of being the NYT(new young thing) on the block who smokes during her numerous short breaks and is immediately slotted into the "cocky,lackadaisical and generally inefficient/incompetent" category.Laugh all you want, but all you bitchy,judgemental office hags,you know what I'm talking about!
In all fairness however, I must not fail to overlook the fact that first bad interning experience was with one of those fly-by-night "society" magazines that churns out the usual pseudo stuff which theahem "cream" of Dubai society(chiefly Sindhis) cannot seem to get enough of.Although the mother laughs at what she thinks are my highly exaggerated and melodramatic descriptions of editor from hell who I likened to Cruella Devil meets Anna Wintour,(albeit a rather stocky/dumpy/crass/Bengali speaking version with a love for garish hooker-red lipstick)she knows in her heart of hearts that I am not far from the truth.
For the past few days a questions thats been constantly playing on my mind is THIS....what if(and this could be a very real possibility) I'm just NOT one of those people who's cut out to work.People these days seem to be unable to fathom the idea that seemingly educated,liberated,exposed woman like myself could perhaps CHOSE too sit at home of her own free will. How do I ever explain to anyone that it's been my dream, since I was old enough to be told who Prince Charming was , to one day marry a man. A man who wears the pants in our marriage and who will have me gladly and voluntarily surrendering to this role of breadiwnner he plays. I don't see it so much as a power play thing, more like I've always liked being the one fussed over and babied, and I know that one day I will meet a man who completely sweeps me off my feet and will leave me PINING to fold his socks for him and wake up every morning to serve him his tea,just the way he likes.That and a cosy suburban home with three happy babies and two cats-Poshto and Billi. Cringe all you want, my friends, but I am unabashedly proclaiming that the trophy wife/soccer mom title is one that doesn't make me shudder, and I wait eagerly for the day that I become part of a couple...somebody's someone...Cheesy much? I think not.