Ode to an Office

An incomplete poem I started writing long time back. It's about an office I worked in...

It was not a long time ago,
That I got an opportunity
To add my spirit of usefulness
And contribute toward an exercise in quality.
There exists a Gothic building,
That stands like a figure imposing;
To know more about this den,
Let's start meeting its merry men.
Guarding the door is a sentry gentle,
He neither smokes, nor chews beetle.
But he has got quite a curiosity,
And asks questions with feverish tenacity.
If you want to get through the gate,
Better come early, or you'll surely be late.
After climbing up the stairs few,
You are greeted with a solemn view.
With computers black, people sit in rows,
They work with perpetually quizzed eyebrows.
Work is not the reason for this gloom,
It's just that on the right is the boss' room!
It would not be safe to talk about
Some of these merry men,
Should they come to know of this,
They'll surely knock out my brain!
So let's go only to the harmless men,
They are nice, they are timid, they are sane.

Apathy

It’s not without a lot of hesitation that I have decided to write this down. By the end of this post you may find yourself cringe, you may feel guilty; you may also find your sensitive side violated. This is the expression of what I have observed over the years on public transports, bus terminals, government offices, and even in educational institutions like schools and colleges. There is a thick fog of apathy hanging determinedly across all these places, enveloping them in a maze of indifference, the walls of which would not thaw or dissolve.

Let me relate an experience that I go through sometimes on my way to work. There is a girl, about twelve years old, who gets on the same bus as me, with her father. She’s dressed in school uniform, wears spectacles, and has a white gauge of bandage firmly taped over her left eye. It’s obvious that she has sustained some sort of injury. The bus is generally crowded then, being peak office hours. I have noted with horror that no one offers this little girl a seat. She sways to the rash driving of the bus, latching on to the edge of the seat to prevent herself from falling over.

The bus is so packed with people at this time that she or her father can’t move beyond a particular point. I generally sit on the last seats. I tried to call her over and offer my seat, but she couldn’t even begin to reach me. Too much of jostling was something that she couldn’t afford with an eye in bandage. And I could sense the others seated near her, shifting uneasily in their cozy seats. They were feeling unsettled that someone far away from her could offer a seat while they couldn’t bring themselves to do that. Some looked out of the window fixedly, pretending they had no clue what was going on.

But I got my reward. The girl smiled sadly at me, as if to thank me for at least trying to help her.

What is it with us? What stops us from carrying out random acts of kindness? The other day when I was having tea at a tea-stall with a colleague, a beggar came with her child. She wanted to buy a cake which cost Rs. 3.50. She had only Rs. 3. The shopkeeper refused to sell it. I took out the cake and gave it to her. The other people at the shop stared at me as if I gave away my purse or cell phone to her. My colleague commented that they earn more than us! I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions.

Withering With Work

The 14th Kolkata Film Festival is on. My friend is watching movies left, right and center! When she was in the office with me(she quit just a few days back), we had made plans to blend our love for movies with our office schedule, so that neither suffer a set back. Then she quit suddenly, got herself a delegate pass and is now bathing in the delightul waters of world cinema. I'm trying my best not to allow the wood of my desk to enter my soul and deaden it.

I have always wondered why do I have to sit at my desk for a stipulated period of time when I can easily do the required work at my own convenience. Guess that is the special privilege for which people do freelance work. I have plans to quit full-time jobs and doing freelance work in the future too. I don't think creativity, that is so important in the type of work I want to do, happens to you or me at a definite time. You may sit for hours at office and write nothing of any value and finish that task and more at the dead of the night, when you have this crazy urge to do things.

That is what we should all respect - the will of the mind to work at some times and to be idle at others. If we do not follow the statutes laid down by the mind, we are more likely to be unhappy, discordant and depressed. Working when you don't want to, not only affects your work in a negative way, but also drills out your life force. There may be afternoons when you just want to laze and loll. If you are handed with a tableful of files, it does no good to your motivation. What it does is, that it makes you bitter and rebellous.

There are more important things in life than sitting at your desk in an air-conditioned room and earning money to secure your and your family's future. Yes, that is very important as well, and that needs money. I don't shy away from this very realistic fact and that is why I advocate freelance work. Freelance work not only pays your bills but also leaves you ample time to mull over the greatest gift that you have - life. Life has so many vistas waiting for us to explore and the only roads we know well lead to our office or the bank.

While it may seem odd to people around you that you do not a 'proper' job, just ask yourself if you live for them. If the answer is no, you have every right to live life the way you want. Just make justified choices and take calculated risks. I'm not saying I have been able to practice what I'm preaching, but I'm working towards living life my way. I want to do things that want to do. I don't want to spend a life securing the future and then realising, that in an effort to ensure the destination, I have forgotten to enjoy the journey.