Butt Seriously…

Friday, September 02, 2016

I am often accused of NOT being serious in life… at times the accusation is gravely ornamented with the adverb ‘ENOUGH’…

More so, in recent times ever since I have revived my weekly craving to create this digital dust on my blog site… the blame borders on HOW and WHY I keep to the lighter side of life… particularly when I reference some of my sightings – like the birds and the bees in the morning… and the fireflies in the night… and the mention of some of my friends, old and new, in my musings… in giving some colour to an otherwise discernibly respectful life that I earn… that of going to work… work… and coming back from work…

Hmmm… how disastrous can that get for someone to censure me… I feed 4 mouths (including mine) through a post tax income… and many others including my father, father-in-law, and many of their neighbours and their spouses on my pre tax income…

(For the record, both my father and my father-in-law – not to mention my mother-in-law – had pensionable jobs… and their post retirement lifestyles are fed through my pre tax income…)

And for a life after my work life… I have to work…

Now… I am accused of NOT being serious in life…???

——————–

For as long as I remember… I had this massive collection of glass marbles… the variety, that you would, as a young kid, want to really amass in numbers and have a collection of red, green, blue… and every other hue in your vast repertoire of a rainbow… the white Chabootri… and the black, we kids used to call the Cobra

One fine day, my father discovered I needed to be rid of them as I was overtly focused on amassing these through sullying my hands, my clothes, my body, my mind, my soul… in winning more and more marbles through contests and games with my friends in the neighbourhood… and when I was sleeping one fine morning… he decided to dump them all in the drain that flows through the street… with no heed to an otherwise fragile drainage system in our country…

That was the first time I remember I had put my bare hands in the drain and was able to retrieve most of them marbles… not for the marbles themselves… but for the sake of the country’s fabled drainage system… which, because of the marbles thrown into it by an irresponsible father… would have choked to further decadence…

And that night… I stank of a drainage that would not in the least, befit my brahminical upbringing…

And I was accused of NOT being serious…??? Hmmm… 

——————–

And that afternoon… when my first girl friend in life waited for a full 8 minutes for me at the back of the Principal’s room in my school, after having been invited by me for ‘a small little most important conversation of my life with her’… and I was still gathering my wits to say “Hey – I want to be friends with you”

And all she had to say was… “Aren’t we already friends?”

I did not know which way to look… for all that I knew was that my witty side of life was still in its nascent stages of evolution… and I wasn’t using a fraction of the Einsteinian 8% of my brain… so that I could come back with an appropriate repartee…

Wasn’t that a serious commitment that I thought I was stepping into with my girl friend… but for the next few minutes figuring out what struck me around my infatuation at that tender age of 15 years that I was…?

My girlfriend was pretty serious… not about me, but about her beau in college… whom she promptly married on Day 6 of having left college…

——————–

And that occasion in mid life after school when I resisted myself my first drink till I was 25 (and it wasn’t beer)… for the love of an ‘Old Monk’ at my young age – that quintessential dark rum… was but, a serious step towards a mature start to inebriation called life…

——————–

And leaving that job at Hyatt Regency Delhi without a job at hand… with a confirmed conviction that I would land up in a CEO’s role at American Express (the Blue Box) – my first real ‘Employer of Choice’… after 3 months and 8 interviews…

Was nothing less serious…

Come on… 3 months and 8 interviews… and then in the 8th and the final interview with Raman Roy (the father of BPO in India)… which lasted a precise 46 seconds in his office on the 1st floor at Basant Lok in Delhi…

I enter Raman’s office and he asks me – “What is Ravi Kodukula…?”

In all its seriousness of the question… and weighing in my gravity of wit… I had responded with a straight face… “Ravi Kodukula is a guy who can smoke a cigar with Prince Charles… a hookah with the Rana of Mewar… and a beedi with a labourer on the roadside…”

——————–

I did not land the job of a CEO… but I did land myself in what I can conveniently vouch today as one of the first ‘Call Centre Rep’ jobs in the country… circa 1992… much before India knew what Call Centres were…

And SERIOUSLY, I had worked my butt off for the next 13 years that I had spent with the Blue Box… my longest with any employer… and which is still closer to my heart…

BUTT SERIOUSLY…

“Baazeecha-e-atfal hai, duniya mere aage… Hota hai shab-o-roz, tamasha mere aage…”

– Mirza Ghalib… circa ~1830…

(The world is a playground that unfolds as a theatre in front of my eyes…day… and night…)

And if it does… How can I ever get Serious…?

Happy Weekend…

Ravi Kodukula…

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s