Nyaabagam Varudhe* | Part 2 of ∞

It’s been a really long while since I last came to my workplace. What with family functions combined with personal commitments on the line, as of today, I may have whole-heartedly used up and abused the yearly quota of one of the blessed flexibilities offered to my nature of job by my esteemed team: the option to work from home. Not ceasing once to be out of excuse, there always existed some reason, however mundane, genuine or grave, for me to connect from home for a couple of months.

Before the situation went out of control, my inner conscience [and my better half] started probing me and I felt incapable [read: guilty conscious] to put-up this act any longer. The same sense of integrity dragged my feet to my workplace on a fine Monday morning last week. I won’t deny, but it did feel good to be back amongst a social circle that seemed to outwardly care about why wasn’t I in the office all this while, how did my family functions go, where I absconded thereafter, and the more of the unsaid and the unknowns. In fact so much so that that Monday, I recall very clearly, felt like a holiday, considering it was dedicated to unbiased hi-helloing.

No sooner than I had finished talking to two people, it was time for lunch. I decided to proceed ahead without the others, seeing as they held other priorities. I walked down to the in-house cafeteria, ordered a meal, paid-up and stood in the queue to receive my plate. Just before I walk back to find a seat, the cafeteria has two televisions, one on each end, which characteristically runs a news channel. When I come alone for lunch, I prefer choosing a seat that faces either of the televisions, simply for the lack of facing anything more interesting. As I walked back to the seating area with the loaded plate balanced on my hands, I looked for the ‘right’ place to sit. Considering I had come for lunch at a peak time, almost all seats were taken, save one or two here and there. I chose the closest seat that suited my preference.

As I looked at the tables around me, I saw a group laughing over a seemingly jocular incident. On the other side, I saw a double-jointed table where people were splitting and sharing their lunch across. Folks who had brought homemade lunch shared their curry/ gravy/ pakodas, while scrounging on chips and papad from others who had plastic plates not unlike the one I did in front of me.

I found myself travelling back in time when I had newly joined my place of work. Put-up in a bachelor accommodation with three other girls, we had had our share of fun gossiping about the who’s and the what-not’s over a cup of home-brewed cappuccino into the wee hours of morning. My workplace bore a similar, however an unduplicated taste. A group of ten-odd people went for lunch together – few of them at the mercy of cooking at home or by a family member, while the others at the mercy of the cafeteria. The chips and papads from those plastic plates gone in a second [I still remember how I used to safeguard those], to getting some amazingly wonderful gravy on the side; the tea and coffee breaks where the work bay would temporarily vacate yet again, to the random how-busy-are-you-not-much-okay-let’s-go-for-a-walk-the-weather-is-so-nice; the work, the timelines and its success, birthdays, April Fool’s Day – every single lil detail was a cause of celebration.

Weathers change. Times change. In some cases, people do too. So why should have been my work atmosphere any different? Folks prioritized. Marriages happened. Counterparts joined the same company. People looked for a change in location, and some of them changed their jobs. Some quit, while others simply left without an explanation. And, we are all now split.

 

Nyaabagam Varudhe in Tamil literally means coming to remember. The derived meaning indicated for this post is down the memory lane, based on the theme Nostalgia.

To view the previous post in this series, click here.

Advertisements

A Pen is Mightier than Convenience

As they typically say, a pen is mightier than the sword. However, in the context of this journal, I’d prefer tweaking it slightly, to – a pen is mightier than convenience. This era of technology has bestowed us with heights of convenience – sluggish or good – in the form of innumerable gadgets, models and features, and what else not. You may call me old school, but I still happen to be a firm believer of the expression – there is nothing that beats the feeling of holding a pen in your hands.

Of course, one may argue that the time taken to finish a task on a keyboard-enabled platform is faster and appealing in its own charm and ways; however, I would prefer making the task a fun-filled experience with a pen. The sense of feeling that the process of writing with a pen can give is beyond indescribable – right from the mere elation of sticking a pen between your fingers to the mini-ditch-like pressure it creates while you write for a long period [not to forget the split-second ‘snap’ while stretching your arms], the crispy ‘crackle’ of a fresh papyrus to the ‘papery’ aroma of a freshly pressed sheet, the curves, the straights and the simply expression-filled alphabets and syllables that you could go on filling your paper with, with your own writing style, and once you’re done filling the paper[s] to your heart’s content, the sense of exhilaration it gives you while merely looking down at your work, has simply no match. Though I may not be much of a fan, it doesn’t hurt adding onto this bucket-list, that there also exist a few ‘aromatic’ refills in the market.

I don’t mean to imply that I am anti-technology. Surely, to beat the monotony of it and to help myself prevent from getting bored sooner than it may hit me, from the constant typing, I love playing with the quirky and whacky font styles, colours and alignments to keep my interest in it alive. But when you type, which seems to be a faster process than ‘penning’ it all down, the thoughts need to be pre-set in one’s mind and also set right. A momentary pause on the keyboard may make or break the rest of the write-up. On the other hand, a write-up brought to closure with a pen is nothing short of a smoothly cascading ripple. After all, the speed of one’s hands when compared to the speed of one’s thought process is much slower. Plus in this case, the thoughts just wait to be poured out and down on the piece of paper.

Often, while writing through/ on a keyboard, I happen to lose my train of thoughts that ultimately causes me to give-up my writing mid-way. Maybe my mind is not pre-set. Maybe I’m not too sure of what ‘exactly’ is it that I would like recording on my public journal. It may also be an indication of being more creative and expressive with words when I write, as against when I type. Hence, the obvious choice inclines me towards jotting down my thoughts on a piece of paper, and replicating it onto a soft copy. Some may call it duplication, some may refer to it as time-consuming, and a few others may refer to it with phrases best-suited to them; however, considering the optimist that I am, I call it spending time with what I love doing: writing. And who knows, probably now that my thoughts are already set while I [re]type all of this out, my thinking process may go faster giving rise to new[er] thoughts. This may give me a chance to expand my scope of thoughts and reasoning.

Need I say anymore to prove it any further, that all the way and hands down, a pen and a paper it is for me. What’s your preference?