Campus 2 Corporate

The sun used to rise with me, but there were days when I didn't even see the sun light. Now, I sit here in this garden. As always being very specific about my seat, I chose a bench that gave me the least view of humans, because I am myself disturbed and I am in no mood to see more around me. In the garden, I see an open piece of land between checkered slabs, planted with saplings which are supposed to catch up quickly in this season. And to my shock most of them are dried, with dropped leaves and drooped branches, lifeless and ready to be plucked out and replaced. A few though, are vibrant with life and full of energy, probably, by draining others’ of their assets. Oh, yes, the corporate culture.  

If a bunch of strangers are made to have lunch together for a few years, they may end up either friends or enemies. But if a bunch of professionals are put in the same situation, they end up with a relation that is a little more than anonymity and a lot less than familiarity. Here, we can make very few friends and lose many more. Yes, I have experienced. There will be a variety of awkward situations, one ends up saying thanks to the same person he/she said sorry a few minutes ago, smiling at the same person one shouted on the previous day, and an eternal cold war. Even after having Corporate Culture's rules and manners neatly scraped everywhere in the office campus, I see people who use the time during meetings more effectively by browsing what lingers in their mouths post-lunch and picking noses, of course their own. The first half of the corporate life goes in understanding what is expected of you and the second half goes in digesting the same.

Simply, what appears weird to me and unique to people already settled here, is put into a phrase “Corporate Culture”.

Life was different back then, when I was not a part of this so called culture. The thoughts in my mind ran like this.

In spite of having a cell phone and novel always in my hands, I still had place to hold an ice cream on the way back home from college. Now I have both my hands free but no energy. I used to love rain, but not now. Because the only way I can enjoy it now, is through a glass window. I am brought into an understanding that I will be no more in a presentable way now here, if I enjoy rain in my own way.   

I feel every job on the way to my present-destination seems more than right for me. I see in people’s eyes the love for their job. A gardener cuts grass with utmost care, a soldier loves a country more than himself, a doctor cares for others’ life just like his own, a salesman explains the beauty of the product, making people realize having it would be a wonderful feeling.

I see many stars in my office, many more stars than one can see in the sky. Here is how it happens, the always-on lights on the ceiling of the office gets reflected in the few fortunate glass-panes which are unveiled of their shutters.

Everyone thinks, I am waiting to cross the road, but actually I want to cross the road, break the rules, change the juvenile society, climb the ladder and reach out to the sky, the sky with actual stars.

The mosquitoes remind me of the dirt I can write about, the crowd reminds of population, the traffic about pollution, huge buildings about so-called development, but here I am surrounded by things about which I can only rant about, but not write.

VERSATILE WINDOW

Window reminds me of my childhood days. In every person I see outside the window, I see myself. I see a 2- year old cute kid sitting on dad s bike, a 5-year old girl on the way to school, a 10-year child trying to ride a bicycle, a 15-year old unstably walking teenager, a tired-of-life expression on a woman s face and loads of traffic and pollution, of course.

As there is a Green House Effect, a Butterfly Effect, The Raman Effect, so there is a Window Effect which we have seen in “Chudalani Undi“. As Indian movies have not left anything untouched, so did they touch the concept of window in “Padosan”. There by, making it emphatic enough to be the reason for love.

Every other thing and every other person I see outside the window grabs my attention, confirming that the child in me is still alive though the human in me is dead long ago. Many times I feel the time should stop or at least hope the cab should a bit slow. The time may go slow or sometimes may even stop, but the cab does neither of them.

Some eyes meet with mine and continue till the scene passes. The language of eyes is esoteric, not all know it. I try to figure out the story in those eyes, the hidden meaning, the tired look, the reason for smile (FYI the world has changed; now even for smiling we need a reason). But few eyes just have a blank expression, leaving me in confusion whether my boring life spreads just through my sight, even without my physical presence?

Looking at some scenes outside the window I regret for not being there, may be I regret for being here. Seeing outside through the window, which protects me from the sun and the rain, I feel I am blessed, blessed for the pressure that’s putting up inside me. May be the outsiders are better blessed than I am. After all drenching in rain is better than drenching in sweat because of stress.

Only the stupidest miss a chance to open the window. It puts me to sleep in a way which even the night needs to learn. The view a window gives of a movie poster, neither does the promo nor does the movie itself.

Even though the life outside appears moving, it is we who are actually moving, moving with the speed of light, not knowing the barriers that lay ahead.

An open window can heal anything. The cool breeze from the window sweeps away the tired expressions from my face. As I pass the air blows coolly at some places and hotly at others, just like my mood this too is unstable. It is not mistake of the breeze (not mine too) but of the surroundings.

The view from a skyscraper shows all other beings smaller, giving you the pseudo superiority complex from its muchiness. People compare broken heart with broken glass, as if a complete glass resembles a happy heart. May be the one who phrased this thought felt human heart is as transparent as the glass. But we all know what the truth is.

The cleaners of these windows hang from great heights trying to clean an imperfect 3-inch thick, unbreakable glass, making the lilliput life outside clear and blurring my own life.  I can see the trees moving, but the wind can’t reach me, I can see people laughing, but the sound can’t reach me, I can it raining outside, but the drops can’t reach me, I can see kids dancing, but the music can’t reach me (that is why I call it imperfect), may be it is me who can’t reach out to them (may be the imperfect is I am).

While the window of the cab shows a lively life, the window of this skyscraper shows a stagnant life. The life I see outside the window of a vehicle is what I miss in a glass-paned building and in my own life because my mind is shut in an opaque window.