Hello, new life. I kinda love you already.

When I was a kid, the afternoons used to be long. Mom and dad would return only in the evening, and I would have the whole day stretched before me. Of course, I didn’t know the value of all that time then, but I did have a few things I loved doing.

One of my favourite pastimes used to be pedaling my little yellow scooter back and forth in our porch when the cars were not parked inside. I would do it for hours. Making my tiny feet push against those pedals and go taka-taka-taka across the length of the corridor. I would think of many things then. Or maybe I didn’t. Sometimes I just hummed one of the latest Bollywood numbers.

Another thing I loved doing was plucking the ripe, green leaves off the Gulmohar tree outside our house, adding water on it, squishing it under a stone, and making chutney! I would sit on my favourite blue plastic chair (I’d know it was mine because it had a shiny Betty and Veronica sticker on it, right in the center), and I’d just keep grinding the poor leaves under an unfortunate stone and make a dangerous amount of chutney that no one in their right mind would ever even attempt to eat.

But one of my absolute favourite hobbies was to listen to Westlife, Backstreet Boys, and all the other popular ‘90s bands on my cheap Aiwa Walkman, and note each and every word they sang in my ‘Songs Diary!’ Then sing it over and over again, in front of the mirror, copying Britney Spears’ expressions.

Now when I think about that time, I can’t believe I’ve come this far since then. When I think of that version of myself, I can’t believe that was me. And yet, it was.

I am a working class professional in one of the best cities in India. The IT hub. The ‘Silicon Valley’. The city which has the good weather, the good jobs, the good places, the good culture. I have begun my fourth week at work. I’m learning new things, trying to absorb everything like a sponge. I have begun to almost love some of my co-workers, who are rapidly turning into good friends. A couple of them, one absolutely crazy, and one not-so-crazy, have been especially encouraging and helpful throughout. I cannot imagine office without them. It’s a cozy environment, not much different from a classroom, where you love everyone for their specific qualities and idiosyncrasies. I love having lunch with them, where everybody is random and where we can take a break from work and exchange a few jokes.

I went to I-Bar with some of them this Saturday, and we went bonkers dancing to all the Hindi songs we love to love, and the ones we love to hate. We danced so much, and for so long, I woke up the next day with sore muscles.

I even found a good PG to stay in, with a roommate, who is sweet enough to accompany me outside when I don’t feel like eating PG food, and who offers me alphonso mangoes she got from Bombay :) And this is just the beginning. I can’t believe it has only been 20 days. I feel like I’ve gone through a time warp in this time. A new city, new home, new friends, colleagues. To think about how nervous I was on my first day at in Bangalore. (Will I find a good place to stay? Will the work people like me? Will I be able to do what they ask me to do?) It’s almost amazing how smooth this transition has been, and how comfortable I’ve started feeling in this new skin. It is incredible to think how things just start falling into place one by one. In the beginning, I used to just tell myself, “Take it easy. One step at a time.” And now it seems like I’ve crossed quite a distance without even realizing it.

(View from my new balcony)

Today has been one of the best days here so far. I got up way before time, took a leisurely hot water bath, had breakfast, plugged in my earphones and played Queen’s OST (Man, Amit Trivedi!), and walked to the bus stop. I always smile seeing all these people around me walking hurriedly to catch their buses. I read the work tags hanging around their necks. Accenture, TCS, iGate, SAP. All these young people, in their prime, including me, just starting off with our lives, with our dreams. I feel so united with them. Crossing the road, though always a tricky business, was relatively smooth today. I barely waited for the bus for 5 minutes and even got a seat! Oh, the joy. Otherwise, on some days, the buses are packed, with you barely managing to stand in the teeniest spot you can find, jostling with the other women, trying to reach into your purse and managing to find exactly fourteen rupees without falling hard on your ass, or on the road (since sometimes you have to stand precariously close to the door).

I reached office way before time. I knew exactly what I had to do during the day, and I think I was having a good hair day! What more could you ask for? But wait, it gets better. My boss, who is supportive and very approachable, told me I am performing really well at work. My insides were inflating like a balloon, but I think I managed to say ‘thank you, sir’ very gracefully. He told me he thinks I have been working for a quite some time. Now THAT, is the perfect ending to the day. But right now, I have a lot to learn. A LOT. So, without focusing on the feedback much, I would just like to take baby steps, and improve every day. Bit by bit.

I feel so good writing after so long. Even though I worked for ten hours today and I am dead tired. A blog post was long, long due. Please excuse the disjointed post. I tried to contain the scattered thoughts into cohesive sentences. I have a lot more to share. And I will be back soon.

P.S. I still sing in front of my mirror acting like a big-time pop singer. Some things never change, do they? :)

Sunday mornings

(View from our college campus)

So I know that very, very soon I’m going to be sent out (correction: thrown out) to face the ‘real’ world. I will always be busy, always be running about, and weekends will be so precious I would probably sleep them away. I won't have views such as the one I've uploaded above. Which is why I want to write about today morning. In general, about Sunday mornings on the campus. Even though I have missed a LOT of Sunday breakfasts because I hardly ever get up before 12 o’clock, but still, I am writing about the ones I have managed to get up for.

I was supposed to wake up at 8: 30, but I snoozed my alarm a couple of times and ended up getting at 9. I brushed my teeth, tied my hair up messily into a pony tail with my scrunchy, tried to wipe off the leftover kajal from the previous night, wore my Buzz Lightyear pajamas and my Wonder Woman tee-shirt, and left my room. I hummed ‘Your Protector’ by Fleet Foxes as I walked along the smooth hostel corridor, climbed down the stairs and got out of the gate. It was a crisp, sunny day and the breeze was cool and pleasant. I was happy I had my favourite black jacket along with me. 

Chattu was already there, and he gave me a toothy ‘good morning’ grin. We happily hoppity-hopped towards the mess while I told him about the latest developments in Dr. Meredith Grey’s life. The mess area is decorated with red lanterns and posters as part of promotions for upcoming college events. We entered the mess and started stuffing out plates with poha and aloo parathas. But the butter was over. For me, parathas without butter is almost sacrilegious! But I could make do with jam and pickle. We gulped them down and had a cup of tea. After we were done, we filled another cup of tea and sat outside the mess and looked at the beautiful view. And that is why I love Sundays. Sitting in the sun with cups of tea in our hands, gazing lazily into the distance with our pajamas on, and not rushing off to class or discussing an upcoming class assignment. You can just sit, and talk. Or not. Just sit silently. I WILL MISS THIS!

I just love tea. Even more than coffee. My mom never denied us from having tea, and since my family needs to have those daily cups of morning and evening tea, it’s not surprising that I like it so much. It is so comforting, and familiar. Be it in a kulhad, or in a plastic cup, I can have tea anytime, anywhere. Plus, for me, tea means a break. Snack time. Evening. Talking. Anyway, the best part about a Sunday is, you can go back to your room and sleep till lunch!

I have been listening to some Assamese songs by Papon. Have been particularly hooked to Raamdhenu, which means ‘Rainbow’. I’ll try posting the meaning of the lyrics later on. They’re beautiful. I want to travel after the exams. I want to go to Mcleodganj and Dharamshala, and Arunachal Pradesh and Bhutan. I want a job which I would like. I want to be in a city I will like. I want to earn money and get gifts for myself. And everyone else. I want to join Aerobics classes, and learn to play an instrument. I want to start exercising. I want to start eating healthy.

I just realized the possibilities in front of me. I can live on my own, and own a pet. Okay not a pet, but I can own a potted plant which I can keep on my window sill. I can have lace curtains and a bookshelf. Ooh, I can have this café cum bookstore which I would visit on weekends and sit and read. I can have a cheap roadside restaurant I could go to when I would be trying to save money. I can learn how to play an instrument. I can learn how to cook. I can make work friends and talk about work things and go on trips with them. I can take leaves and travel on my own money! I can whine about bigger problems than assignments and marks. I can whine about work issues and not getting leave to attend a wedding and not getting raises. I can whine about the maid taking too many leaves, or the rise in the prices. I will be, in the truest sense of the word, independent! Oh my god!

Okay, no more planning. A lot has to be done before that. A lot! I need a job, first of all. Fingers, toes and body crossed. Be back soon!

Arrivederci, Mumbai

Two days back I was going to Thane in a local train and a long distance train was running on top speed on a parallel track a little distance away. That’s when I saw them. Two boys emerged out of an opening in the engine and started to walk on the roof of the train. I couldn’t believe it. They were laughing, thrilled by the risk involved in what they were doing. One of the boys moved ahead and sat at the very edge of the train with his legs dangling, and the other one followed and sat behind him. They were screaming in utter abandonment, their hair and tee-shirts fluttering crazily in the wind. Their arms were raised in the air, and it reminded me of DiCaprio in Titanic. They were clutching each other, looking ahead and just laughing.

I could not stop looking at them. How happy they looked. How close they seemed. I so wished I had my camera at that moment. It just brightened my day. And when I saw them, I was listening to The Shins, and the image went so well with the song I was listening to (New Slang). It is funny how we can just forget all our problems and worries in the sheer happiness of moments like that one.

Today is my last day in Mumbai. I have mixed feelings. I can’t wait to sleep on my bed (which is not prone to breaking after every few days) and feel my soft pillow under my head. I can’t wait to eat all the home food, and meet my family. But I know I will miss this place. It has been a bittersweet experience. More like a saccharine sweet and a tangy sour type, actually. Some days have been unbelievably good, and some days have been the worst ever. The past two days I have just been shopping. Linking road, Hill road, Colaba Causeway, Fashion Street. Chattu and I went to Gokul last night. And there, just sitting there with him, talking about ‘work’ and stuff, I felt so grown up. I could not stop smiling. I can officially live on my own now. I don’t need anyone else. I have proved that to myself, at least. The only thing I need now, is to start earning. I cannot wait for that to happen. Having my own money to spend, on myself, and everyone I love. That’s precious.

But now I am thinking about all the things I will miss. I am going to miss the announcements on the railway stations “Overhead wires panchees hazaar volt te pravahita hai. Gaadi cha tapavan nu jaan leva ho shakte. Kripya gaadicha tapavan nu pravaas karu ne.” (Okay, I don’t know Marathi so pardon me if I got that wrong.) And I will miss the surge of relief I felt every day once the train would reach Dadar and most of the people would get out. Which reminds me, I bought a tee-shirt from Colaba which says, “Darr ke aage jeet hai, Dadar ke aage seat hai!” :D

I’m going to miss the clawing, screaming, pushing aunties who were ready to stampede their way in the trains all the time. Okay, I won’t miss them all that much. But I will miss the innate Mumbai-ness of the places. The Victorian architecture in South Bombay, people living in orange tin boxes, the pretty churches in Bandra and Christmas decorations everywhere, the salty smell at Nariman point, the hustle bustle at CST, the little trinkets people sold in the locals.

Right now, sitting in my empty apartment, I am realizing how lonely one can feel in this city when you don’t have to run about all the time and do not have friends to keep you company. The loneliness can be haunting. I’m going home tomorrow, but I am taking a huge part of Mumbai with me, and leaving an even bigger part here. A part of me at Andheri station, a part of me at the Mc. Donald’s besides it. A little part of me at Marine drive. A little part of me in this flat. And a very special part sitting on a roadside pavement talking about parallel universes in front of Bombay Blues.

It has been one of the most challenging, and ergo, one of the most satisfying experiences in my life so far. I am looking forward to home. Looking forward to the winter chill and fog. Looking forward to the new year. Bring it on, 2014 :)

This is my December

This is my time of the year. I still happen to like that song, by the way.

Guess what? Music can really soothe your soul. Fleet Foxes, Imagine Dragons, Coldplay, Porcupine Tree. Ahhh :) And what is better is to put earphones on and not care how you sound caterwauling :D 
I went on a sort of movie-watching rampage after my internship got over. I finished reading the Hunger Games part one in a day and watched the movie at night. Can’t wait to read the next two parts. I guess I will always be a sucker for fantasy fiction. Then I watched Half Nelson. Man, Gosling, he never fails to amaze me. Watched Annie Hall next. How come I had never watched his movie to the finish? What a movie. So progressive. I’m a fan of Woody Allen. I really liked when he said “I feel that life is divided into the horrible and the miserable. The horrible are like terminal cases, blind people, crippled. I don’t know how they get through life. It's amazing to me. And the miserable is everyone else. So you should be thankful you are miserable. Because that's very lucky, to be miserable.” Haha, what a man! Then I watched Lolita. I couldn’t read the book completely because I thought Humbert Humbert is really sick. But the movie was good. Especially the man who played Quilty. Very nice. And then I watched Michael Moore’s Capitalism: A Love Story. I had no idea how these big corporations had sucked the blood of the lower and the middle classes. You should really watch his movies. He’s a crazy genius.

In other news, I cannot believe my internship is over! In hindsight, it seems as if it flew by, but it was really crawling when I was counting the days. There was a point when I was utterly demotivated to work because all my efforts were not bearing any fruit. And it was a bitter, bitter pill to swallow. To work on a story all day and not seeing it in the paper because there were better or more important stories. It is a feeling every reporter goes through, and it can really deflate you like a balloon.

But then my sister reminded me of something my granddad used to tell us, “Karm kar, phal ki chinta mat kar.” Roughly translated, it means “Do your work, and do not think of the outcome.” And then my mom told me the same thing. It doesn’t matter that my stories are not coming out, I should not take life so seriously. Plus, the entire process of doing the stories itself has taught me so much. This has been probably the best internship I could have had. Worked in a healthy environment, got some good work to do, met some really nice people, got to travel all over the city. Seriously, I was not even expecting so many experiences packed in under two months. I have seen the dark side of Mumbai. The underbelly. The dirt and grime. Not to mention, a lot of crime. (That rhymes!) I have walked in lanes so narrow I felt they would cave in on me. I have smelled places so bad I felt I would faint. I have witnessed various cultures, people and lifestyles all in one city. And the biggest achievement, the oh so many lunches I had alone. I have always hated eating alone. But now, I think I can eat in a roadside restaurant without being self conscious. When hunger takes over, comfort takes a backseat.

Also, I always start smiling to myself now when I look at policemen. I’ll always have a special invisible bond with them, no matter where I go. I have met some interesting ones, some really good ones, and some really oh-my-god-will-he-ever-talk-sense type, but I’d have to say one thing. The Mumbai police force is good. I’ve seen cases being cracked in a day. Some impossible crimes being solved with the most ingenious methods. Then you should see them gloat. It’s almost cute the way they gush over when they talk about how they nabbed the criminals. It’s really interesting to see how the cases unfold though. The biggest thing is that I never thought I would be able to handle this. And I did. Now I feel like I can work in any beat. I can’t believe I’m saying this! I think I have grown up!

Okay, now this post is going haywire, so I shall write about my challenges in point form.

1.  The huge amount of courage it always took me to enter police stations and handle the stares. The curious eyes always seeming to ask ‘Okay what is SHE doing here?’ ‘She looks like a kid. She’s a reporter?’ ‘She doesn’t belong here! Go away, little girl! This is a dark place where bad things happen. Go on, go to a candy store.’

2. The infinite amount of patience it required to sit outside the officers’ offices, when they acted important, when they were busy attending their never-ending ‘meetings’, when they had more important things to do. When I waited for hours, only to hear “I cannot tell you anything about this case. You should talk to Mr. So and so. And Mr. So and so is on chutti.” Grrr. Why, god why?!

3. Visiting a crime scene after a murder or a suicide and talking to people about it. Just how are you supposed to start a conversation with a random passerby about someone else’s death? It took everything it had in me to approach a stranger and talk about it. Most of the times, they stared at me wide-eyed, dodged all my questions and ran away.

4. When I had to try all the tactics in the Handbook of rookie reporters to get information out of a cop. Stern expressions. A confident voice which said ‘I’m not going till you give me all the information’. Puppy eyes. Shadowing a cop relentlessly till he had to give me something out of sheer exasperation. 

5. Realizing you never find any other female crime reporter anytime you visit police stations for a story. And that it is such a boys club. And that police officers are so much more comfortable talking to men, rather than a skinny little girl. They even joke around with them. Sigh.

6.  Sitting in Marathi press conferences, blank and uncomprehending. Then leaning over to a fellow reporter and saying, “Um, could you give me a teeny tiny idea of what the heck is happening?” And many time, telling the cops, “Could you puh-leez be kind enough to talk in Hindi?” and grinning.

7. The frustration and the anguish of knowing that after travelling in unimaginable conditions sandwiched between people of all shapes, sizes and smells, you do not have enough to make a story. After spending your entire day bumping into dead ends, you have to go back to office empty handed. I felt like crying then. Because it made me question my abilities. But somehow you had to file in the story. Talk over the phone, make a million calls. But get it done.

8. The exhaustion that hits you on the way back home. When you sit by the window, with your hand over your head, listening to music, looking at the tired faces of the fellow passengers and thinking “This is not easy.”

9. Having to go through the arduous task of being in the midst of so many unthinkable things humans do to another. How they can be so heartless as to take someone else's life is beyond me. It's depressing. 

Apart from all of this, there have been some good times. So, naturally, it calls for another list.

1.  The feeling of seeing your name in the paper. A byline! Your efforts are there for the people to read. That some space has been carved out for you, amongst so many other good stories.

2.  The seemingly endless Monday meetings with the entire team. The intelligent discussions that made you feel like they are speaking another language. The story ideas peppered with jokes and leg-pulling. The feeling of being a part of a proper newsroom, where people churn out so many stories about the city every single day.

3.  The lunch with my team members S and G after the meetings. S’s home food. His silly quirks and jokes. G’s one-liners, the way he sang old hindi songs in office. His encouragement every time I felt down. His support every time I doubted myself. Making fun of certain people. Laughing at each other. Mostly them laughing at me. 

4. Asking T to go for a tea break. Sharing her dabba with her. Having tea and uttapa and cheese sandwiches in the cafeteria. Going outside the office and having masala dosa with cheese. So many cups of chai. Cribbing about the day, joking about our experiences, sharing the mutual problems and talking about college.

5. Stealing time from work and sitting at Marine Drive. That one time T and I were so bored we sat and stared at the crabs. For half an hour. And it was one of the most interesting things we had done that day.

6. The entire feel of Nariman point. The roads, the tall commercial buildings, marine drive, the cool breeze, the lack of noisy crowds everywhere.

7.  The overall atmosphere in the office after 7. Phones ringing, fingers tapping at the keyboards at top speed. The chatter, the excitement, the rush of meeting deadlines, the jokes.

8.  Sunlight. The drinks. The conversation. Crossing the road like little kids. Laughter. Abandonment. Popcorn stuck in the hair.

9. Having N to talk to. The way she entered my room when I was curled up in bed, and talked to me and always made me feel better. The way we went out to have coffee or just 'some place nice'. Having my college friends as my flatmates and knowing I can talk to them and laugh with them and meet them back on the hill again.

10. Always having someone or the other to be with. Trying out so many new places. The Little Door, Theobroma, ChaiCoffi, Bistro 1, Big Bang Cafe, Firangi Paani, Banana Leaf, Woodside Inn, Hawaiian Shack, Hearsch and so many more. 

10. The feeling of ending the day with a fulfilling story. A good story. The feeling that you contributed to the paper. You did something worthwhile. Sitting in the train, looking out and just feeling good about yourself.

I did not realize how long this post has turned out to be. And there is so much more that I have to say. Well, I’ll have to leave that for the next time. There’s so much more of Mumbai inside me that I have to share. Christmas is almost here and tomorrow I’m going out with one of my best friends to shop and roam around Bandra. Oh I am so excited! Life can be so amazing sometimes. I shall write more. Soon.

P.S. Today a friend texted me “You know, if all human beings were more like you, I wouldn’t have hated humanity so much.” How adorable is that? :)

In the city of dreams. And some nightmares.

Today I knew I just had to gather everything inside me and just write.I  turned twenty three on November 9. Almost a woman now(?) Had a nice dinner with friends. I don't really get excited about my birthday anymore. I feel nothing really. A tinge of shock and disappointment, at how I can't help getting older.

I've been listening to ‘Death is the road to awe’, the OST of The Fountain. It transports me into another realm of the universe. I just finished reading The Lowland, the latest book by Jhumpa Lahiri. What a beauty. The ending killed me. Reading Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami now. Enjoying it immensely.  

In other news, I’ve managed to cross off one of the things on my wish list. We all went to Goa after the exams! It was exactly what I needed. We loitered around the beaches, played with the sea waves, zipped zapped zoomed all over Goa on our hired scooters and drank and ate and danced and did everything possible in three days. What a holiday! We used to come back at 4 or 5 in the morning, crash on the beds like there’s no tomorrow, get up late, have a lazy, delicious breakfast and then just rush to the beaches. I love the sound of the beach. It’s one of the most joyful sounds in the world.

It has been two weeks since I came to Bombay and started my internship at The Indian Express. Honestly, I don’t even know how to describe the entire experience. I live in a 3BHK with 3 of my other friends and a couple of strangers (who are now kind of friends as well). I travel by the local trains every day, Andheri to Churchgate, which were so alien to me fifteen days back. Now I don’t even have to bat an eyelid before hopping on a train. I see the red stripes and the ‘ladies’ symbol and BAM! I’m on it in no time. It has become so routine, so normal, so …necessary. I sit at the window seat, plug in my earphones and tune myself out till I reach my destination. The office was overwhelming the first day. It is located at Nariman point, one of the most commercial and developed places in Bombay. The building overlooks the sea, and Marine drive is right outside. That place excites me, thrills me. Every time I have to go to CST or cross those iconic landmarks or look at the skyline, I can’t help smiling. This is one of the best cities in the country! I am in Bombay! I’m working here! I’m living here! It is really happening!

Talking about work. So they have put me in the Crime beat as of now. When I was told that, my mind went like, “Oh my god, I’m done for. How will I ever do this?” But my superiors/mentors/colleagues are so helpful and encouraging. I feel like laughing when I compare them to my previous internship superiors. They are patient with me, they tell me where to go and how to go and what to do. I call them for the silliest reasons and they guide me through it. In the past two weeks I’ve done 2 suicide stories, 2 accident stories, a murder story, a couple of press conferences, and several small 100-word reports. And it has been a ride. To think that I had never gone inside a police station before in my life, and now I visit senior inspectors and police officers almost every second day. I was petrified at first. Lost. Blank. Ignorant. But slowly, I started getting the hang of it. I would give myself a pep talk. “I’m a journalist! It is my right to ask for information, and they owe it to me. These are public records and they are bound to tell me what people need to know. Just go and talk to them. They can’t throw you out.”

Some days, however, they almost do throw you out. Not literally, but they may snap at you, ignore you or pretend they are not who you think they are. They have more important things to do, cases to solve instead of talking to some newbie reporter. And I understand that, which is exactly what makes this job so challenging. I have had police officers who have made me wait for hours only to tell me they have to go somewhere urgently. It is mind numbingly demotivating. But you've got to get your story, by hook or by crook. It makes me question my own capabilities. Am I good enough for this? 

I admire the energy of this place. Not only my office, but the entire city. Everyone is busy, and everyone walks with a purpose. No one stares at you, no one tires to touch you. No one even has the time to look at you. Which is why it is liberating to work here. It is not odd to come home at 12 in the night. I know girls who come later than that. This place is for people who are really just trying to work and make a living.

The stories done by the other people in my office are sometimes so good I wonder how I will ever be able to reach that level, but I know I can if I push myself hard enough. I’ve seen good days, and bad ones. Some days were so frustrating I almost cried in the toilet. It is physically painful when you travel and walk in the heat for hours and you don’t get any information for your story. I have often wondered what I’m doing. If I want to do this. If I’m meant to do this. But I can figure that out for myself later. Right now I’m just glad at how much I’m getting to learn every single day. I’ve travelled in buses where there has been no place to move and where passengers are somehow dangling at the door, their entire body hanging outside precariously. I’ve travelled in loud, noisy, hot, crowded trains where I have stood for so long my legs have lost all feeling. I’ve gone from one place to another looking for the scene of crime, only to be met with ignorant faces and disappointment. I've eaten at small roadside shops alone. I’ve gone hungry. I come home by 10:30 at night. I change, have my dinner, read a few pages of my book and I’m out in minutes. But I know that at the end of my internship, even if I don’t report groundbreaking stories, this will all be worth it because it would make me tougher. Stronger. Build my character. Every time my report gets edited, I get better at writing it. I learn every day. Maybe this is all to compensate for all those jobless, useless, idle days I have spent sleeping and watching reruns.

I’m out in the industry. Even if temporarily. I need to learn how to swim against the current, lest it takes me away with it. I’m aware of my own inadequacies, and I have to work against them. Against my own fears and shortcomings. This is really the time to figure myself out. To make something happen. To do something that matters. This is my time.

Ahh, Delhi. It's good to be back :)

Guess where I’m sitting right now? Yep, in my office! It’s been 12 days since I started interning at Tehelka. It feels so weird to tell people, “Hey I’m at office. I’ll get free by 6.” Wow. It sounds so grown-uppy. Since when did I have to tell people I’m not free and have ‘work’? Work? Is it really work? I guess it is. It may not be super-significant, life-changing, altering-the-course-of-events-in-the-universe work, but it is work nevertheless. A magazine company is like a huge piece of machine that never stops functioning, and though I may be a tiny cog in the entire set, I am a part of it alright :)

I’ve primarily been working on a one-page section called  Master Takes that gets featured towards the end of the magazine. It may not be something that you cannot live your entire life by without reading, but it is a lot of fun to do. I got to interview a lot of interesting people, and compiling and editing everything they say in a 100 odd words can be more challenging that you might think it is. Going up to people and asking them to talk to you can be even more daunting. But it pays off. I also covered a festival at the India International Center and going to the Commonwealth Book Prize at the Oxford Book Store at CP tomorrow. So yeah, things are not as bleak as they could have been.

As interns, we are on the last rung of the hierarchical ladder, and something we find ourselves barely dangling, struggling to keep up with everything that happens in the office. Pardon me to use the recently used and joked about analogy, but this place is like a beehive. Phones are ringing; phone calls are made every few minutes; the writers typing furiously on their keyboards; the designers designing the pages, eyebrows scrunched in concentration; the editors often have a war of words on certain topics and story ideas; news channels spew relentless news stories on the big plasma screen. It was very difficult for me to accept that my boss does not look at me or greet me with a smile because that is how it is at the workplace, and not because she is miffed at something I did. (I am ecstatic now when she smiles or says hi)

It was a little overwhelming in the beginning. Calling people 30 years elder to you by their names, trying to not get affected by the fact that no one even looks at you or acknowledges your presence when you enter the office and sit down meekly at your desk and look around. Or having to realize that this is not college where everyone would be enthusiastic to get to know each other. They come, do their work, and go. They live their lives seriously. They mean business.

This does not mean they do not enjoy. They have their own fun moments, teasing the others, laughing, cracking jokes. And the good, witty kind of jokes. Not the juvenile ones that people crack at college. I feel stupid looking at them and grinning, obviously not being able to join in the conversation. They are good people. I can’t help but notice the look of satisfaction on their faces when they see their stories printed in the magazine. I want to have that. Some of the people here are so knowledgeable and good at what they do, I feel like it would take me years just to come to that level. But I will. I know I will. I like to work in the features. I might just continue this in the future.

I feel lucky if I get work. And when I don’t, well reading blogs, articles and 9gagging helps.

But you know what is awesome?

I live in Delhi on my own with my friends. It’s the kind of freedom I never thought I would get to experience. Living on your own, buying groceries, getting the house cleaned, cleaning and washing sometimes, taking care of work, food and mood swings and adjusting with each other. It all gets really tiring but is really exciting at the same time. 

When all 6 of us are back from our work, we bitch about how bad our days were and fight about whose was worse. We sit in the balcony, order pizzas and chatter on about senseless things. We sometimes cook for each other, we tease, make fun, and sometimes go bonkers laughing. We sometimes go out walking, take random rickshaw rides, eat like there's no tomorrow and have illogical discussions late into the night. It is amazing to come back to a house full of friends who you can just flop down on the bed with and talk to. Or with whom you can go out and roam around the city, trying out all the cheap street food and buying things we would need in the house. A house where you have your own space, where you can stretch out and read a book, or go to sleep whenever you want. And it helps to have friends who will hug you when you cry and cry for no reason in particular. It helps even more, when you have friends who will hold a guitar like a monkey and dance around the house with it.

It is unlike anything I have experienced in life so far. It’s great. I love it. I know these are one of the best days of my life, and they are passing by, a tad too fast! I want to make the most of these. And I know I will. For now, just taking it one day at a time. 

It's great to be a Delhi-ite for the next one and a half months! :)