The dress code dilemma

Remember this?

Sid’s first day at work. Sid, from Wake up Sid. Well, that’s me every Monday morning.Well apart from the negligible minor physical differences, I'm Sid at that very moment, every Monday morning. It goes on till Friday. No, my dad does not own a MNC, but I feel exactly what Sid feels right then. Out of place. No, not because, IT ain’t cool. But because of the dress code. 3 out of 5 days, every morning, in the lift, I am, the only one among 18 people, to be dressed in tee-shirt and jeans. It’s been 2 years, since I’ve been working here and I try to avoid formals as much as possible. Why, because I find it uncomfortable. Till this date, it hasn’t affected my performance or that of the team’s. But the Windsor Ramanujams and Louis Mukul Phillipes would flatly disagree.  The 5 minutes that I spend in reaching the 11^th floor has got to be the most critical of all the minutes in my entire day. Hey, I don’t even wear tees with writings like this or like this. Mine’s a simple, non-sky-blue colour, pure cotton, round neck tee-shirt. That, along with a pair of non-comfort fit jeans, has the power to change the contour lines on their faces from plains to volcanic mountain ranges.  And it’s in no way obscene. There is no skin show or a baal ka dukaan open either. Why then, am I constantly reminded that my dressing sense may be counterproductive to business?

At client locations, folks come in shorts and flip flops. Some come along with their cats and dogs. Some of the smartest minds of the industry work there. If they aren’t particular about us being in formals for client meetings, why then should I dress my arse in pleated, dark coloured, trousers and my feet with shiny black leather for normal days? Considering, all I do is sit behind my cubicle, interacting with clients, on phone or through mails, why then should, the security at the gate, send me back home, for not wearing a tie, on a hot Monday morning.? Are such strict measures really necessary?  In fact, I still don’t understand why any boss would fire someone like her, on grounds of bad dressing.

As long as the employee’s clothes aren’t a source of distraction at work, or a topic for water cooler gossips, or don’t influence market ka-booms, I don’t see why an IT company like mine, should have a stringent dress code.

I wish i didn't remember

MORAL DISCALIMER: Doing drugs is uncool. Doing someone, isn't.
What i've written is a result of boredom. Replicating events
mentioned below would probably get you in jail, or worse still,
in hell.

STATUTORY WARNING :Contains profanity and Mary Jane.


9:30 pm
A girl in her early twenties opened the door. Dressed, in a white sleeveless shirt and denim jeans, she was unmistakably pretty. Had I not met her before, I wouldn’t have guessed that she was from Kerala. Guessing her ethnicity was as difficult as guessing that John Abraham was half malayalee.
“Hi Madhan, come in.” she spoke with a husky voice, the one that causes butterflies to flutter in you.
As, I entered the doorway, past the husky sounding keralite, into the drawing room, I was greeted by smoke. But strangely, it didn’t bother me.
“Varoo kanna, varoo (come kiddo, come)” said Suraj, my colleague from work. A typical mallu who lived life large. I envied him with all my heart. I had always envied malabaris like him. Another one in college, whose name meant the same as Suraj. He was sitting beside another girl whom I hadn’t seen before. Probably a friend of Meera, the one who opened the door.
“Vaa (come), we’ve been waiting for you man. What took you so long?”
“I was busy. Had some work.” I lied. I didn’t want them to know that I was just spending time in my own misery.
“Madhan, you should have come with us to Fusion. It was great fun.” said Meera, as she grabbed my hand and led me to sit between her and the other girl. “Here, meet my friend, Dia. Dia, this is Madhan.”
We shook hands. I couldn’t help but notice her eyes. They were sunk in their deep and dark sockets. As though she hadn’t slept in ages. She had a beautiful face, and beautiful skin. Perhaps, in a different place, at a different time, she would have been a head turner.
The setup was simple, two beds, were adjoined to each other. Couple of newspapers were spread out. An ashtray rest in the centre of the newspaper. Judging by the bottle of signature on the floor, and the smoke in the room, I figured that the three had been drinking whisky and smoking joints.
“Here you go” said Meera as she handed me a large and a joint.

Many rounds later…
“Kaunsa number hai Madhan? Kuch yaad hai?” asked Dia.
“Fuck, who cares re..” I replied, as the fumes escaped my nostrils, to form another face of Mary Jane hovering above Dia’s head. It had been hours since I smoked my first joint. I passed the chillum to Dia. “I’m beat guys, I feel so freakinn lazy.” It was true. I was too lazy to lift my head off Dia’s lap. She didn’t seem to mind it anyways. Girls, I thought to myself, they can be the sweetest creatures at times. Dia was, I don’t know, I had never been with a girl like her before. I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she really was. I loved the way the smoke escaped her lips, slow and sexy. I was turned on, even in that intoxicated state, the horny bastard that I was. Suddenly she glanced down at me.
“Dude, stop checking me out!”
“Why, does it bother you?”
“Hell, yes. It’s like you’re eyes are some smoky x ray machine or something.”
“Dia, you know, you are very sexy, but in a beautiful way. Had I not been so fucking beat in your lap, I would have kissed you.”
“What makes u think I would have let you to.”
“Cos I’m one helluva kisser and am sure you’re one too.” I replied barely even looking at her.
Later, I realized I shouldn’t have said that. We shouldn’t have gotten so close. It was wrong on my part.

1:00 am
I couldn’t button my shirt. The buttons were ripped out. I wanted to leave, I wanted to run away as fast as possible. Dia was shouting at me. “What happened dude? Are u going to tell me or not?”
Boy, she didn’t look that good now. I was thirsty. I wanted water. There was none. I gulped down some red bull. Suraj was asking me not to go, but he was too lazy to stop me. I opened the door, Just then Dia pulled me by the arm.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I don’t know, I have to go.”
“Like this?? This is not good”
“No, this is fine. Don't care about me. I’m going, let me go.”
She then moved closer, her left hand on my face. I looked away and pulled myself away, opened the door and stepped out.
“None of this happened. All this is crap. I need some oxygen, I don’t want to hurt you Dia. Goodnight.” That was the last I said before heading out into the dark night hearing Dia scream something about me being a fucking prick. Slowly her voice faded away, as I approached the street lights.

“Men reveal what they think when they look away, and what they feel when they hesitate. With women, it’s the other way around."
-fromGregory David Roberts, Shantaram

Life aint a love story

STATUTORY WARNING: Contains profanity and ethical hedonism

It’s like those days, when u feel something pathetic is in the air. It’s like those days, when u feel nothing is working out the way you want. You’re addicted to it, its consuming you even though you’re breathing the air in. Consciously, you know you’re killing yourself softly, but its way out of your control. It’s your brand of heroin, yours and yours only.

Some fight over, what to call it by. Some ponder over its necessity in one's life. There's no consensus though. Lives have been lost over it. I will lose mine, you will lose yours too. There are those, who go through it so many a time, always ending up beaten, lost and hurt.

Aware of it all, why is it that we still crave for it, deep inside (if not openly), in the darkest places of our heart, for that 1 drop of, poison, drug, passion, madness?

There are times, when the human mind is certain, about what it wants and what’s good for it. I say at times, because more often than not, the decisions we make, regardless of right or wrong, are made on a sub conscious level. I think a lot, too much actually. I didn’t think twice this time, I knew what I wanted, and I fought for it. There were signs all around me. Signs which worked against me. Paulo Coelho, you were wrong. The world wasn’t helping me to attain what I wanted. At every step, every move of mine, I was thrashed down. My strengths amazed me, such madness, such will power, I kept moving forward. These are times when u need your friends the most. Fuck, they couldn’t reach me. Some who could, said it’s a lost battle, said I’ll be burned down. Hell, they didn’t know shit! Fuck them!!

to be contd...

Judgments would be made, over the words written above. Mis-interpretations galore... I open up the space to hear everyone out... for it is you to whom I look up for guidance... For I have to keep my head steady, before I’m consumed in this labyrinth to eternal bliss...

P.S: Telling any of your friend to fuck off is uncool...l am sorry.