Thursday, February 14, 2013

Life and times of a secretary


                        Life and Times of a Secretary....

    I Sunita Sriram , do swear in the name of God, that I will faithfully serve the people of PSS and discharge strictly the lofty duties bestowed upon me....the words of an oath of office were ringing in my ears as I signed the minutes register on the Annual General Meeting assuming the role of the office of the Secretary of the welfare association, however there was neither a solemn oath nor a rapt and enlightened attendance as I was handed over the charge along with the list of a mammoth 27 member jumbo cabinet...even as the grocery like list stared at me, with mouth agape, I brushed it under the carpet and drew inspiration from motivational speeches like “I had a dream.. a dream to bring back the lost glory and shine to our serene...”well, Martin Luther King Jr’s words had to be tweaked to suit my motto..
      With fire in my belly, I embarked on my secretarial duties on a feverish pitch, throwing caution to the winds, aspiring to turn things around, I acted on impulse and  instincts , service and welfare the catalyst and the enzyme .
       I put the gear on high throttle and drove out of our stately mansion in my very own “Lincoln Limousine” expecting a crisp salute from the security, but heaven only knew what lay before me... the huge iron gates’ roller pins gave way and the gate came crashing down missing the guard on duty by a proverbial hair’s breadth... and there I was lifting him to the nearby hospital for medical aid... yes , my roller coaster ride had indeed started with a bang...and I was seriously down to business studying the layout of sumps, motors, electric panels and all and sundry gaining a first hand knowledge to face any eventuality...for intuition told me to be wary of the days to come and somehow the wrongs seemed to lead the way...
      I did the community proud, leading from the front on Independence day and as the tricolour fluttered in the air, vigorously , the  micro India, from the seven stately sister states to the coal bowels to the sun n sand beaches paradise and from Kashmiri Pundits to Malabar mallus to Reddy gaarus munched in tandem, on their sweets and savouries to their stomachs’ content!
         While I went about my duty without much hullabaloo , the electro mechanical devices installed in the premises thought otherwise and wanted to work demanding all the attention and seemed to have a natural repulsion towards the new incumbants! All the fresh and fiery ideas carefully crafted in the brain, to give a new lease of life to the arid land went for a toss as I was in utter distress to attend to emergencies and bailing me out of these crisis one after another were a few good Samaritans , not to forget the faithful Man Friday of Robinson Crusoe!
       But lurking in the shadows ,readying themselves for the Guerilla warfare were my nemesis, waiting with bated breath to retribute and to extract their pound of flesh, they were slowing pushing me to the wall but each time, I endured and fought back emerging braver and stronger to be my own saviour( atleast Adele’s booming voice in my headphones seemed to suggest that..)Always shooting on someone’s shoulders the detractors were constantly training their guns on me , talking about procedural and process lapses and not taking the committee into confidence on any matter, the charges and accusations flew like bullets fired from a machine gun . While I was in their firing line, my target was the pot bellied, grey moustacheod seasoned Estate manager who played games matching to the decades of service behind him. As my whistleblowing on his bad deeds fell on deaf ears, a trap was laid to catch him redhanded and he walked into it blissfully unaware, his game was up and given the marching orders.
           Then came the “No confidence motion “ against the “high handed” secretary which was defeated leading to further wrath on the parallel Government to move to the next gaming level..meanwhile I earned more brownie points in the form of pseudonyms like “Adolf hitler”,Sonia Gandhi and no prizes for guessing who Dr. Manmohan Singh would be! My family also did not want to be left behind in the naming game and my hubby addressed me as “Madam secretary”, the two ads had more in store as always and came up with “security”, “servant”, “secret ary”and the rest I just blurred it out!

    Then came the “real” shocker, literally in every sense of the word , one of the elevators had a malfunctioning circuit breaker which resulted in a fortunately non fatal standing of hairs erect on the head of a security guard and all I could mutter was “shock laga kya???”The shameful thought of cooling my heels behind bars emerged for a brief moment which was mercifully saved by the Lord!
  One rainy night, as the residents peacefully slept in the cosy comforts of their homes, a gang of robbers were stealthily tiptoeing their way into the corridors, picking on the choicest shoes and scores of the good branded ones disappeared and it was a manic morning for the office goers  reporting to work barefooted, a la M.F. Hussain style....
and their much ado secretary went about filing an FIR with the nearest law protector’s office . A few days later the findings from the inspector went something like this.. the shoes had found their way into the flea market and those who had lost their beloved pair could re purchase from them and this piece of ‘crucial ‘ information came with a whopping fee!
  The Sundays were spent in marathon meetings and the elder Ad who is appearing for the boards was glad that the obsolete gramophone was no longer playing the favourite ”poyi padi da” song( roughly translated as ‘go and study’ ) as against ‘why this kolaveri di’!!! The never ending agenda and deliberations yielded no result and slowly my momentum was slipping, the fire had vanished and now only smoke was billowing, long gone was the service motto, quickly replaced by slogan of ‘ charity begins at home ‘ theory and as my enthusiasm waned , the unkindest cut came from the honourable“Brutus and Cassius” clan who did the fellow men proud by hatching an impeachment motion, I did not wait for the brutal stabbing and the rest as they say is history.....
   Hindsight is a very good teacher and I learnt a few unforgettable lessons :
1)Numbers matter...be it staking a claim to form the Government or in a welfare association!
2) We all wear the hats of ego which are firmly glued to our heads like adhesive!
3)We should know the “other ugly” side of our fellow members and understand the games people play
4)Go for a crash course in “Guerilla warfare”!
5)Introspect so that we will be able to write a blog post!!!
I am no longer rolling in the deep and some words such as welfare, service, community ....are deleted from the dictionary of my mind!
But I know my dad is disappointed with this outcome and he never underestimates the abilities of his daughter as a firebrand fighter  who is like a bull in a China shop and the following lines are dedicated to my inspiration...
          
A committee is like a commode,
                   Both starts with C
        People sit on it,
               There’s a lot of deliberation
       and a loud report
          And finally the matter is dropped....

this makes sense to me.....finally!  
The title  for the post is inspired from the movie ‘Life of Pi’ ...for it is a jungle out there....

Wednesday, January 23, 2013



       All rights reserved

Legitimacy of a birth gives us the utmost sense of belonging and how often has the swear word “bast****” been used to show disregard for somebody sham.
In every walk of life right from the birth of a child ,the word “original “ and not “cloned” has embryonic meaning.
Entering your favourite restaurant , how enticing it is to see the words “authentic” prefixed to the cuisine giving a gastronomical delight. As I evaluate a work of dissertation to earn my daily bread, the phrase” bonafide record”  elates me to an unknown level. I feel accountable and responsible to sign a declaration that says “whatever is stated is true to the best of my knowledge and belief”.The sedan named Verito assumes the product to be “veritable” more than anything else. There is always a pristine glory in a  genuine work of art.
  But on the other end of the spectrum is the constant fear of living in a world of duplicates. Spurious drugs, pirated DVDs,Copyright violation, blatant plagiarization , the list is seemingly endless.
  Man , in his pursuit of the legal tender has no qualms to replicate  it and produce counterfeit ,even playing with human lives by spurious drugs and adulterated food- we are a gullible prey in the clone world.
 The mad hunt for facsimile reproduction has culminated in the cloning of the human being himself as we are unsatisfied with the “original “ version by the creator.
Hypocricy. Double standards, treachery and fraud are part and parcel of our grind to survival and  “ORIGINAL” was indeed a welcome theme to the Indiblogger meet with the one and only HP and Harper Collins.

        All roads , on Sunday the 20th of January 2013, led to the hospitable environs of Fortune JP Celestial and when the bloke in French beard shook my hands warmly and said” Sunita , where have you been after the Surf meet?”I knew where I “belonged”....yes to the “true to life” Indiblogger family where no one is forgotten even after a 4 month hiatus.
The first few minutes were palpable as I entered into a maze of QR codes, I had downloaded the app in my smartie but as usual it failed me with the message that read”auto focus function”disabled!!!So there I was the uncivilized barbarian in total ruins amidst the galaxy of tech saavy dudes.
with trepidation, I chose a table normally preferred by the backbenchers while the QR codes made a mockery of me. Sipping on a drink, I was anxiously waiting for a familiar wave of hand and within minutes of my wish I was joined by this gregarious person with a headphone around his neck and soon A and me were in colloquial powwow.
  Karun and Nihal had the vivacious animated crowd letting their down in style to the rocking Deep purple song we were all going gaga joining in the chorus of “smoke on the water”.
 Anoop, in his ingenious fashion had the audience in a fervent disposition and set the ball rolling with the 30 secs of fame.
 There were no “Mark Anthonys” among the 200 odd and it was proved beyond doubt that accomplished writers are poor orators and adding insult to injury were the blogger heads idolizing cartoon characters! And to top it all , I paid the price for the late registration and missed out on my 30 secs and thus remained anonymous! My desperate show of arms, without being partial to both the sides went unnoticed and I sulked. We had moved on and this time to the dreadful black and white squares. The quizzical QR game was all fun and frolic as a good Samaritan with his smart device helped me in cracking the code of quotable quotes. The frantic search for the latter half of the quote ended in a nought and the brisk and nippy romped away with the beautiful books and useful USB drives.
The event was juxtaposed with freebies thrown every now and then , an amazing shining plated Suresh won a pendrive , I cursed my receding hairline, for the very first time , and wondered why it had not ended in a “moon rise”!
  Next, we transported ourselves to a make believe world of ‘Narnias’, ‘Harry Porters’ and the like , forming into groups of 15 we mimed the characters and the audience were in splits with sheer slapstick comedy.
    The high tea accompanied by savoury chaats and cookies was a welcome break to recharge for the “fertile” presentation by the 
 Hp crew. The power of persuasive account ignited the spark in us to do our valiant bit to prevent bogus, phony,pirated, spurious duplicates taking over our lives.
   The diadem of the spectacular event was the photo op session , the bloggers had a unique opportunity to have a free run and showcase original poses , the  un imitable  back side of a blogger winning the prize. The just a minute made us all feel small and belittled  by the eloquence of a 10 year old blogger who made mythical Ravan , a hero and Ram the villain.
  The celestial show ended with each one of us richer by the experience , carrying home  a strong conviction and a load of unforgettable memories.

...and here is my trademark intro which did not see the light of the day...

Me and Indiblogger
The power of two
In a celestial world
Among the stars
We envy the original
A class by itself  
 Collin
A simple tap, bright an crisp
Versatile, mindblowing with cool sense
A spectre that Harps a spell
The ultimate ultra....
Envy x 2...
  
And this post comes to you from my Hp laptop!!!

Sunita Sriram

Tuesday, January 22, 2013


The Extract....
                        Melbourne to Madras

The Qantas flight was coming to a screeching halt on the dry arid runway of Meenambakkam and the sweet highly accented voice of the air hostess announced the arrival , rudely awakening me to harsh reality away from the lovely thoughts of my daughter , a replica of me,her Dravidian father , i cannot see her now! let alone talk to her...I slipped back the photograph into the wallet for the N th time...
A few thousand miles east, Valerine was rushing to the East India Club , she was glad that she had found her moorings back after wandering in oblivion for a decade, her mind was preoccupied with the calculation of the alimony while her heavily patterned knee length skirt fluttered in the breeze , wearing minimal makeup as always highlighting her attractive pulled eyes and cheeks , her hair brown and wavy styled to perfection , her prized possessions of two lovely daughters in tow .. yes she had discarded the garb of her dravidian avatar , finally....
On the left of the Australian coast, at her suburbian Mylapore home, Vidya was on her yearly vacation from Singapore working in a MNC bank..her amma preparing the alltime favourite Puliodare
The house was reverberating with the sound of Mridangam and Tampura, the aroma of freshly brewed filter coffee and hot idlis with sambar...
Bowing his head in reverence to his Guru as always Karthik was seen off at the door by his amma and he did his trademark salutation to the creator as he rushed to his Tennis classes at the Madurai Cosmopolitan Club...

The central theme...

Different backgrounds, cultures did not matter a bit , it was only love , a fatal attraction , blind to the world ...


A real story in flesh and blood...


  
This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India.