My Scribble Pad
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
The Meeting (Part II)
Standing at the parking lot leaning against my bike, my mind read through what I had scribbled in my resignation letter and felt ashamed. I tried to change the outlook of the company, make it more challenging but had never thought it would back fire at one go, like you have compressed all the power that Al-Qaeda had produced to bomb US into a sling shot and given it a whip. All I had done was shotup hell loud calling an end to tyranny, based on the belief that all men are equal. It was a selfish pursuit benefiting no-one.
I had just put an end to four years of my hard work, the dreams that I had built in these four years had kissed the floor in minutes precisely like the twin towers did.
After the presentation at the meeting, I sat them down and explained the crux of the problem if at all this advertisement was made. Hearing this my boss´ visual reprimand went unheeded wildly exaggerating the effort it took him to come up with and the idea which he thought would be an earth-shattering display in the world of advertisement. Nevertheless, the board of directors thought I had a point and instantaneously set up a team to re-revise the idea and also forecast if my prediction held any good.
My grumpy old boss called me to his chamber after everybody dispersed quitely from the conference hall. No sooner I closed the door behind me, I felt the huge packets of sound waves that potentially held more than a sound level of a 100+ decibels crash on my ear drum. I didnt bother to lend an ear to his lecture on what an asset he was to this company, pointing repeatedly as this was the dreadful insult he´d ever recieved. I tried to be my mind the first 14 n half minutes of the monologue and later gave my best in explaining him that it was just my opinion and there was nothing personal. The words from the other end got wild and offensive, running my calm and patience finally out. I slammed my palm ferociously on his table and grunted out that he and his company didnt deserve me. It was an evil, spiteful thing to do but i didnt care- just like he didnt care about his act. With no hint of hesitation and guilt he asked me to clear my table in half an hour. I stretched my hand towards him threatening to hold his neck and strangle him till he reached hell, but aimed at the pen that held on to his shirt pocket. Hitting him hard on his chest, I grabbed the pen leaving a deep impression of my fingers on his neatly pressed shirt and scribbled a resignation letter. I wish if I knew the ramifications of me being an impatient and non-tolerant were being terrifically immense.
Slamming the door behind me, I walked to my cabin leaving every evidence to the neighbourhood that I was totally pissed. Shuffled the whole space to find my stuff throwing anything belonging to the company that came my way, including the mouse that slipt into halves crashing the floor. Tucking them all below my arm-pit, i walked straight to the parking area without daring to look into the eyes of any of my colleagues.
Even as this self-chastising thoughts entered my head, I felt my shoulders automatically hunching up into a ´so what´shrug. I wondered if every man was like me. Give a man a noble cause and he would fight to the death for what he believed in, but the job he had just kicked and his once honourable principles would cease to be quite so important.
I was standing quitely, wrapped up tightly in my thoughts, that a crow flew down from the branches of the oak tree and landed on the ground right beside my feet. Straight away it began tugging at a twig over twice its own body length. Over five minutes it struggled, lines of determination etched onto its beaky little face, before it gaveup and flew off to a silver birch branch four tress to the left to recuperate. The crow was me. I was the crow. And the twig was my job. Those five minutes the crow had spent tugging at that twig, well, those were the four years I´d spent trying etch my name in the corporate world. An immense stream of pain gushed into my heart and I so desperately wanted to hold my mom, press my head against her chest and pump all the pain out. Like God and McDonalds, mom was everywhere.
I didnt think about anything for the next two minutes. Realised the light has dripping, i had to drive out of this place. I knew I didnt want to go home, I didnt know where I wanted to go. Following the road I just drove where ever destiny took me. In a few minutes I was out of the city into the subarbs, that I saw a young lady, who looked like a working woman wave towards me, may be she wanted a lift or was looking for an address. But I didnt care, I was in a shit hole and I had decided being nice and being yourself never did a good. My eyes rolled down to the mirror and they saw the lady kneeling on her feet going thud on the floor. Stopping the bike, I took a deep breath, gather my mind and turned back heading towards her. Seeing the bike that passed by a few seconds ago approaching her she walks towards it."Excuse me Can I help u ?"
Well actually yeah could u please drop me to my convent?
"I had gone to the city library and due to some problems in the city there were no transport to get back. Can u help me please."
"Well sure hop in"
"By the way my name is Kartic"
"I am Devaki" she whispered.
During one of those numerous discussion we have Anjan n me decided that he will try his hand at writing fiction with "The Meeting (Part 2) ". Although this is his first try at writing fiction, I feel he has come up with a brilliant job .
If u like what he has written do let him know that.
Anjan blogs here
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