Bangalore: Trail and Beyond

I have wanted to write about Bangalore for a long time now. But the handful of people who read my posts, know how little I write; often once a month and twice in a few lucky months. Once every two months, my best friend complains how spaced out are the chapters in the story I started writing in April 2016– which I was meant to complete in that month but still remains incomplete. I am not going make any excuses here, I am lazy, undisciplined and I allow life and people to affect me. That’s how, the post that I wanted to write on the Christmas weekend is being written right now.

Bangalore happened in my life at a time when things were not only not looking up lately but in fact were looking grimmer and grimmer by the day. My mother often remarks that I complain a lot. Partly, I agree; I had seen better days at a time when I barely valued them. But this time in early 2016, when I decided that I had to move, move anywhere on the map, I had a solid ground and more solid sense of desperation. In 2015, I worked on an assignment that required me to move in and out of the many plants of a pharmaceutical manufacturing unit in 45 degree Celsius when the person I was reporting to constantly reminded me that somehow my gender makes me unfit for the assignment. I ended up having a knee injury, a doctor ringing a threat of an approaching arthritis and branded inefficient for denying doing something that did not fall within the purview of the engagement. I walked with a swollen knee for 6 months and resentment that I have carried far beyond those 6 months.

For the latter part of 2015, I worked on a lot of things that required me to manipulate, the kind of manipulation that challenged the value education lessons I had imbibed deeply. The more I worked, the more I felt that the concept of ‘choice’ is being forfeited from my life. No matter what work was assigned to me, I was expected to do that without any qualms. I was expected to travel 50 kms a day for a month even when I complained of motion sickness, I was expected to work for 11 hours a day for August and September including Sundays for 1500 rupees a month, I was expected to sit through midnight on the last date of every return filing in a year, I was expected to put up that farce of sitting in office for 7-8 hours even when there was no work and ultimately I was expected to fold my hands and ‘beg’ for a small termination letter- essential to make the move official- and put up with a couple of malicious remarks. Now you see why I hate my career so much? My work took a lot of my confidence and a lot of my zeal away. In case you are regular a here, you can see why I sing no praises about my choice of career. I was desperate for change. I was desperate to make a move out of that place. So I moved to Bangalore, for professional reasons and in search of ‘mann ki shanti’ (mental peace) that an astrologer once told me I will never find. So I moved to Bangalore violating a strongly held notion that I cannot function anywhere beyond 300 kms from my family. Surprisingly, I did and so here I am putting pen to paper about my little adventure in Bangalore.

Since the story so far have stretched beyond the original estimated number of words, I have split this post into two parts. The second part which I will be posting tomorrow details on my stay in Bangalore.


Footprints in the Sand


Earlier today, I was travelling and there is something about road travel that makes me think with clarity. And I thought, if my life was a patch of wet sand then this blog captures my footprints on the sand. Every single element of this blog draws inspiration from the person that I am.

I chose the name Expressions because that is what this blog is about, expressing my thoughts, something which I rarely do vocally. I do not like beating  around the bush, hence the straight forward title and not a fancier one. Coming to the theme, it mirrors my affection for simplicity, even my favorite ice cream flavor is vanilla. Simplicity holds a distinct charm within itself that nothing can supersede.
The bio was very difficult for me to pen down because honestly I am not very comfortable with blurbs. For an entire day I kept on putting the pieces together to sum up the image ‘Me’. And I knew that it could not go on without the three things that fuel this blog, namely, my love for fiction and the analysis that follows (a lot of references come from fiction), my coffee addiction and finally the challenge that sleeping is for me (both of which give me time for writing as most of my posts are between 12 am to 3 am).

When I think of the posts or rather as the widget calls them, the concoctions, they are based on my observations and contemplations. What I see and learn, gives me food for thought blog. And yes my notorious fears and nightmares, also have pieces dedicated to them.

There are days of writer’s block, the days when I skip the Daily Prompt and choose to believe I have more important tasks to heed to, namely the Auditing and Taxation books that eagerly await my attention every day. Thus, a void on such days reflect my apprehensions about being a worth reading blogger or a versatile writer. And then there is this friend who does not have a single reading gene within her, who has failed best selling authors with her inability to read. But she has read every single one of my posts without my insistence and that is where I get the motivation to start afresh the next evening because I may not be that bad if I made her a reader.