Work Ledger - 1

About 6 months into the job. A place of choice, the typical into-the-job pangs. Interesting/ amusing workplace discussions, intense WhatsApp chats. Vibrant Facebook posts, nostalgia & love soaked updates. Taxes, savings, unforeseen expenses now commonplace. Life does moves on, at a cruel speed.

There are very few surprises that a job brings, there was a conspiracy but we were prepared. Conversations with friends, echo disappointments, but there is only a diminished feeling of loss, for the batch of which one is part and will be forever proud of, parades a trajectory of success. Dreams take shape, a few regularly, many in a slow motion.

Exchanges are infrequent, and similar. So are our routines now. In these routines, so many truths are vindicated. The general impatience that life is, that ideas are valued and substantial, essentialism of companionship & conversation, bearings of choices made – briefly, the summation of one short life.

The day ends peacefully, if the walk back home is accompanied with a smile and a tune in the ears. One learns and grows, yet deep inside, one looks for the constants, the answers that are never enough.

Next are the next steps, unnumbered. Probably the ones which will make it possible to be closer to something that one is close to and a home that will be called rightly so. Undoubtedly, things will make sense, they simply just will. 

Travel Journal - 1

The word travel does not invoke a beautiful memory for me as it does for most people. I have travelled well, if not far and wide. And I have not had a life changing experience so far while on road, nor have I undertaken a trip that is so unforgettable that it can be told to the coming generations.

But I have travelled, with family, with friends, acquaintances and alone. In each setting, I have had my own little stories to share, which I will recount here, in no particular order. I have travelled to many corners of India, with family on religious trips. Not religious myself, I am glad my parents decided to take those trips for their parents – for their goodwill and karma, have played a part in my making and I consider myself blessed due to their actions. I also made a religious trip of my own, to Amarnath Cave, which was a pass to visit Kashmir, a place where my mother spent some years of her childhood, of which I will always be jealous. The same year, I visited Malaysia, an eye opener trip. I was there for an AIESEC Conference, and the learning was that how very similar the youth is across the globe, in thought, action, beliefs & dreams, even though color, birth and boundaries dictate otherwise.

In my post graduation, I managed to travel in each semester. The best excursion was one after getting a job, there was nothing holding me back, saved enough, no classes or assignments and the clichéd troublesome future lay weeks ahead. I travelled to multiple places, with different set of friends and alone too. After my first solo trip, I now know how to plan my future journeys, better than earlier.

My small little voyages also include the walks across the two cities I spent the wonderful years during my post graduation and internship. If Pune has abundant cafes & bookstores and emptier streets to fancy a walk on, Bombay ofcourse has the sea and effective transport system. I transversed on foot in both a cities frequently and was delighted in the discovery of smiling faces, delectable food items & places, and the sights that are essentially captured in a click. Though I could not like Pune, even after trying, I did fell in love with Bombay and had a brush with the emotion with which Mumbaikars call it their city, the unfathomable, weathered, enchanting island of dreams.

My travels in the current decade have had lasting impressions on me, they have become a part of my aspirations, opened access to more places and have made me appreciate things in a better vein. I have had people, friends telling me their own stories. I hope to create a few of my own, that I can tell kids. How very metaphorical these trips turn out be, and when one does look back, a smile appears, a longing to get out again and to allow the air, whirl your hair. 

(Originally written for & published at wanderingvivek.com)

A Hard Goodbye

As we grow up, a set of family surrounds us, our friends. While distance always crawls up in between, you know many of your friends, you cannot say bye to, they live close by, in the same city, festivals and family functions provides enough reason and opportunities to meet and catch up. 

And while growing up, you dream of a few things. You make a resolution to get as much as possible, with available resources and time. One of mine was to stay away from home, experience unbinding time & space and create unforgettable experiences.

And on the way, I met people and made friends with them, that are hard to say bye to, now. 

I did expect to make friends, and I did. Not a few, but many. It began with sharing. Sharing a room, sharing a classroom, sharing interests, sharing capacities, sharing dreams. Studying in a residential institute for the first time, I got to know people like never before, and they became close.

I saw what I expected and much, unexpected. An invincible talent pool, people with extraordinary capabilities. I was left, even more speechless, to see people experience goodness and return it doubly. I only understood friendship, or so do I think, here.

It has become a bit too hard to loose these friends. Loose to time, loose to distance, loose to who they are. And to realise why it is hard, is even more painful, it is because of the shared experiences with them. There won’t be more time at hand, to create these experiences, at least for me.

How they do not allow you to fall at any rate, any time – in the classroom, in a relationship, in an interview, in your conduct. How they want you to stay with them, because they know you and want you to be comfortable. How they recall and appreciate what others had to say to them or did for them, and they make these conversations and experiences, the basis for lifetime conduct. How they make you realise who you are, what are your fears, what are your strengths. How they sacrifice their sleep to pick or drop you, otherwise not bothering to get up for even a class or to write an exam. How people grew up, from the funny induction program to last day. How they hold you, when you believe there is no one to do it. How they walk with you, even when you left them when they needed you.

Thanks to the placement cell, and these friends, I leave with a job. A job to keep me occupied, a job to stop the incessant tears, a job to take the empty hollow feeling away. Until the convocation hours, where one could be a kid, once again, if only for a while. 

Lavale, One Last Time

After a short and tiring third semester, we are finally back on the hill, vowing to do as little as possible, with the institute, and possibly everything that we can dream and manage to do, with the group of people called friends. Last semester was where we apparently became responsible, saw relationships strengthening and realized that yes, the next semester would be the last. 

It has begun with an unexpected turn of events, too many things witnessed in a few days itself, has led to finally giving up on the illusion of things being the best and drop the naivety, which had sent me into a frenzy in the first year at the institute. Now we see things as they really are, and they would be in coming future, what benefit we derive out of it; we have grown, in age, experience and heartbreak. 

The picture might look bleak, but there is always more good news than bad. Friends, batch mates are getting placed, we are finally witnessing what we dreamt of when we joined college. There is a lot of time in our hands which has allowed us to pursue our interests to the fullest and spend time with friends like never before. Movie marathons, listening to legendary songs late into the night, endless, warm conversations. Still, time seems to be slipping from our hands.

Another day, a visiting faculty asked us to introduce ourselves. It is quite interesting to see how over the last months at the institute, our bios, introductions, our choice of words to narrate our stories have changed. It is oddly comforting to see others finally deciding what their lives have to become after a few months, for the forces only wished to drag us according to their will, an opportunity we deny them everyday now.

And only few weeks hence, we shall wake up from the dream that Lavale is, step out of the home that was never ours and will be left, only with, silent crying hearts. 

बंबई के क़िस्से (The Internship)

My batch has been asked to submit a blog entry along with the internship report about the experiences and learning during the internship period. I am glad; the task is the easiest thing to do and would make it essential that I recount one part of my Bombay experiences, which I wanted to do over the past two months, but I was unusually lazy about it.

I just happened to be at SIMC, and similarly chose Public Relations as my specialization by a matter of chance. Knowing absolutely nothing about the industry, I sat silently in class while jargons flew and sometimes listened with awe about what the media industry is all about. I admit I took my own trips in class, when things didn’t make sense to me and I repeatedly wondered what I am doing here. I interpreted that the internship period will be a revelation for me. So, with patience, I waited for a company to pick me. Eventually one did.

I interned at Fleishman Hillard – Mumbai. I was very nervous the first day as to what will be the work be and of course, if I would be able to deliver the required. It was my first day in the corporate world, my first day at formal work ever. I was asked to write (post studying about the client) as my first assignment, I happily took it up. During the next few days, the work was slow because I was gradually being acquainted to things. Over the next one month, I was exposed to different facets of the industry, through my work & observations and the stories shared by my manager. I had a bunch of clients but a whole lot of things to do. My manager explained and helped me with every element of PR - the daily deliverables, media relations, documentation and reports, client servicing, budgets, ideas, writing and research & analysis. All these functions were inter-related, we worked according to the plans made earlier and on priority basis that is according to clients’ regular inputs.

The second month was better and livelier. As the team developed the rapport and I was able to understand the work better, the number of assignments increased and so did the number of clients. I was interested to stay back and work, because I knew I would not get to be an intern again, and learn while committing mistakes. There were deadlines, it excited me and increased my interest and commitment. The best phase of the internship was when the team was supposed to do an annual review for a client, alongside we  also prepared the pitch for a new business opportunity. It involved identifying the components that would make sense to the clients and with which the objectives could be achieved. The job was different from the regular assignments and involved my inputs in the process, so I enjoyed it. Also, there were some tasks that were tiresome and monotonous, but essential. The team understood that, so they constantly encouraged us (me and Manasi – she is my classmate and co-interned at FH), to work as we please and take breaks and not kill ourselves doing the job.  Overall the internship period indeed turned out to be a revelation. I now know more about the industry and also aware about my strengths and limitations. I know what I want from my final placement and from the next few months on campus and the months post that. 

It is essential that this post also mentions the people at the organisation, for they are the sole reason for the good experiences. It is a small team, so there is a greater integration and sharing. Everybody in the office ate together; at one o’clock, the Vice President would shout from her seat, “Guys, lets go for lunch” and everybody would badger the person who refused to get up. Me and Manasi, were allowed to participate in all discussions, everybody valued our opinion. There were assignments, where we reported to people other than our managers and they, with patience and humbleness, helped us to finish the tasks and gave their polite opinions and feedback for our work.

Special mention about my manager, Abhishek Vora. He was incredibly humble and patient with me. He explained to me the fine nuances of the business, the company and the industry. He worked long hours, yet he made time to answers all my queries. Once, unknown to me, his wife waited outside, while he sat with me answering my questions.

The last day was event packed, our fun presentation, farewell to a colleague and our farewell. It was hard to believe that while we ate and laughed so much while we were together, it would not be the same from the next week, we would not see them. 

As I write this post, I make another reflection that the amazing experience would not have been possible, if I would have been selected earlier. I was one of the last students in the class to get his internship sorted, the thought never troubled me and the day I got the news, I was more content than being happy. And as it turned out, it was worth the wait.

Thank you FH Mumbai.

Old Love Letters

The first year ends tomorrow, and most of us would be gone before the end of the week. To be in a four seater room, was a blessing in disguise and none of us want to let it go. So with a heavy heart, we started to pack. To bring a smile on our faces, what did happen was that one of my roommates, found old love letters while cleaning. Who that roommate is, I leave that to you to guess.

Lessons, friends, journeys, food, conversations, celebrations, it was indeed a very beautiful love affair (Read earlier posts, too much sugar). The thirty two thousand words that went into my MS-Word Diary would be my love letter that I could read later without any pain or regret, but probably it would bring tears to my eyes.

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I am pretty excited about the internship and being in Bombay for two months, but I wish to stay back, even though it could mean a tsunami of classes and assignments, and on the top of it, the campus authorities who refuse to cooperate. But for everything not-so-appreciable, there are small little things that make the time here, but-so-good. It would also mean that another few pages are added to the love letter, an opportunity, always cherished.

A small film that had our batch's first year on the campus, brought the entire year flashing back to us. (The film is not the reason for the post, I wanted to write one for a while now) For like so many of my batch mates, I have nothing left to say, but just that, a thank you. Nobody would ever be forgotten, not because my memory is sharp, but because there would be an old love letter, lying safely with me, where your smile and your words are, for forever, recorded. 

Room No. 428 And Beyond

I have always wanted to be away from my home for several reasons. So, I got into SIMC, Pune, considerably away from Ambala. Hostel life had always fascinated me and I wanted to get into my room as soon as I reached my campus.

Room No. 428, a home away from home, as cliche as it may sound, is the place which will hold a special place in my heart forever, until some deadly disease puts its foot down. My first hostel room, and probably the second last, thank heavens that I have another year of post graduation left. 

I have been completely myself, only here at Lavale Campus, I have been happy before, but there is a serenity in that bliss over here, probably a hill can do that to you sometimes. With friends and family not to bother you, you get to explore your surroundings freely, and more importantly, to discover yourself and life.
I started blogging, I could finally swim in a pool which I need not clean before jumping in, I performed on stage for the first time, I spent an entire day at a bookstore, started regularly jogging, took a train journey with friends for the first time. Recently, became a part of a huge college fest, experienced for the first time a live band experience, embellished with the memory of me jumping and dancing on the stage with friends, topless. Finally, went to a beach after a long wait of eight years.

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Also, importantly, met and made amazing friends, talented, with beautiful hearts. Their company, support, and care have made my room and everything on this campus, heavenly. People do not like the fact that I call my room my home, for the definition vary as do the individuals. I call it my home, as it allows me to return to it, as if am going back home itself, obviously there is the bed, which doesn't ever crib or complain. Then there are the wonderful and irritating roommates, bakar, festival and apna himesh, 428 diaries is an another chapter.

Also, there are other friends also; celebrations, conversations, food, classes, everything is double or rather, the joy, with them only. During festivals and drinks trips just down the hill, the entire batch becomes a family, figuratively, we at least at that time, forget everything and dance with abandon. I do not drink, these dance sessions, other than the things that make me happy, make me high and I become a replica of a drunk guy. I become overly friendly, loud and obscene.

And most importantly, there is so much space on this hill, both in terms of hectares and the space people give you. The added incentive of beautiful weather in the evenings almost throughout the year, I do not mind rains unlike my friends; music and smiling faces (I have an affinity to locate smiling faces), make the hill, more than a college campus. A stroll brings profound joy, and similarly, the still-silent campus at night.

All the experiences, mostly good and bad, makes up the magic, the magic which the hill is to my life.