I remained in yesterday
You moved on
to a strange today
The curtains lived on the edges of the day
Silent and somber watching
As deadlines rushed in & went away
The cat dragged in something
Stinking, broken and bleeding
It was but yesterday’s dream
The splashes from a butterfly fell on my days
Golden were the ways
When I flew where I wanted to
There was struggle between the identities
Me was different everywhere
Twitter, fb, orkut, buzz all agreed at my strangeness
Hunger pangs attacking the tummy
for all the secret obscenities
Pain is the most
random thing in the world.
What was stress called
when people hadn’t coined that term?
The grammar of love is confusing
Even practice may not
make you perfect
One by one they leave me
no rhyme no reason
betraying hair on my head
Burden of holding up millions of
thoughts & counter thoughts
so long bow down my neck now
A writer needs to write
A doctor needs to practice
A lover only needs to dream
Recently one my colleagues explained to me the profound philosophy of the Mayajaal of Appraisals… Appraisals are perhaps, by far the most mysterious and dreaded word in every professional’s life and this philosophy expounds the workings of the dreaded appraisal word….how THEY, the slave drivers of us slaves, have developed this philosophy…how THEY have successfully implemented it despite the best efforts of lesser mortals like us to rise above it.
This philosophy depends on a number of givens. First, those who have to leave will leave. They don’t care about whether they are leaving before appraisals or vice versa. They are driven by greater emotions to find greener pastures. This aggrieved lot usually believes that it is a grave injustice that they are stuck at such a place. Basically they feel they are much above the place and also that if they continue in the so not happening place the world might miss out on a legend. This lot also includes calculative criminals who nurse grudges and leave with a sadistic vengeance. Their triumph often consists only of the shattering slap on the faces of their detractors when they drop their resignation letter.
THEY, the makers of the philosophy also don’t worry about the lot who will not leave unless given the pink slip. This bag of loyal losers will stay put, crib, cry, mull, and even dream about the forthcoming appraisals. For them THEY create a Mayajaal of the forever coming up appraisals. Next month… next to next month… next Diwali… next year…next campaign… next promotion…next this…next that...next next…The anticipating losers happily or unhappily thus have many reasons to stick to their place. They don’t want to experiment, they don’t want to work hard (funnily enough they may anyways be working hard in the same god forsaken place). Some of them have even discovered a most innovative excuse for the prevailing scheme of things, namely – “too many changes reflect badly on your CVs.” The morons don’t realize with a mindset like theirs no one would anyways be interested in their CVs.
Stuck between the two lots of criminals and losers are the mixed bags. The poor souls who are neither here nor there, and are basically a confused lot who can’t tell black from white, right from wrong and often are the followers of the herd. In this Appraisal Mayajaal they are the lot who are struck worst as they can’t make up their mind where to look. And if and when they do break out of this confused territory they infringe the former territories.
THEY, the makers of the Mayajaal are not bothered with the first lot. THEY direct their energies in amusing the losers lot and also giving the confused mixed bags regular dosages of confusion. The Mayajaal continues to thrive. And if ever anyone falls out of the losers bracket to the any of the other two territories THEY don’t take tension because there is never any scarcity of new fools waiting to be recruited.