Money comes in one way and goes out in ten!

This day be money counting day. The more i count the less there is...

Money comes in one way and goes out in ten!

This day be money counting day. The more i count the less there is...

Nu job

Been on the rampage... feeling like a headless chicken... this job hunt is getting serious. Will setle don i hope, you see i am writing in fits and starts.

The same time around in 2004 it didnt even look like i was gonna have prithvi, and now, he's all of 1 year and a naughty little angel trying hard to keep himself on the floor. He's learning to walk now. What ever he does is a sight to watch.

Emotions

I have often wondered if it would be good had I been given the power to control my emotions and to dictate to my mind what I should be doing ,saying or thinking...Even in the presence of friends who make me wriggle in my chair because of the language they use to express themselves and about the things they say (what I would term) to gain attention... How do I stop them.. How do I tell them that they can say all they want to but not to me.... Would it ever be in my power to convey to them what I feel without hurting and warding them away.. I would like these people much better without the things they say.

Its probably a deficiency that can be treated with some TLC. This has to be administered like a life saving drug very much like the attenuated virus strains that function as the antidote or kill the virus cultured in lamb brain or chick embryos.. Delicate, yet vital.

Well I think I am gifted to know some of the finest people in the world who are true to themselves and all they call beloved...

 

Guilty and not loving it...

My friend of few weeks walks in and finds me gaping at the terminal hurriedly gulping down leftover breakfast at 9.00 PM in the evening....

I must compliment his choice of words.. He sounded like the pre school instructor who is a nightmare to me even today..."You are not supposed to eat in class" these words were deafening as I heard them and the several echoes thereof from 1975...

I remember those two miserable Marie biscuits and that horrible glass of milk (without sugar) that was given to every unfortunate kid who went to the "Guild of service" All of 3 years I could not understand how the very same place could be fun and drugery at the sametime... We loved to go to the Assembly rooms and watch ABBA and Benji and how I used to hate to go to the preschool right behind...I swore several times to kill the man who invented preschool...the sadist...

So this guy who caused me death by embarrassment had come along walking half a kilometer just to say he was sorry we had ended a conversation abruptly....

I felt so bad that i lid my food and ate the rest of it in the cold misery of the cafeteria....

I have done this too...

The phone rings and you pick it up... By the way you are working at this very conservative mill owners administrative office and ofcourse this is based in Coimbatore and the mill is in one of the "nacikanpalayams" and of course your Boss the MD is a "Naickan" but very respectfully referred to as "Naicker"

Your responsibilities include generating the monthly payslips of 500 odd mill workers and a bunch of accountants and stenos for each of the Units this mill has and ofcourse any other assignment that the Naikers children may wish to have done with the computer...apart from setting up the Naickers private library at the Naiker bungalow in race course... Some other exciting things such as compereing Dog shows too...

And yes the phone was ringing and you picked it up and you have a cotton merchant on the other end asking for an appointment with the Naiker to show off his new merchandise, This guy Pujara, the only english speaking fellow in the entire family despite his age and looks things he is the most eligible bachelor that every woman will fall for...Never mind his vanity, he is as brilliant as one bale of cotton.. deseeded... You are done with him and yes he gets his appointment and we see the last of him(for the day)

The phone rings again, this time its some guy in the Marketing world, a Paresh Psomebody, talks to you about meals on wheels and how good the food is and if you'd like to order lunch someday.. You say thankyou politely meaning to end the conversation... But no Paresh wants to talk to you as he is lured by your only gift... your voice... his imagination runs wild and he thinks you are this beautiful miss fair, slim and tall and stylish wearing tight leather and uptodate. He nags you till you get him an appointment with the MD.

Paresh arrives on the said day and asks for the receptionist and you stagger out of the lunch room, tripping on moms old saree you were wearing and pulling the oversized blouse in position... He asks for your name and you ask him who he is and carefully tell him that you are out having lunch without the slightest difficulty and tell him that you will be back in the office anytime then..with no hesitation whatsoever..The phone rings again and this time it is the Naiker himself...You passout...