The Aladdin's Cave

Hi, thanks for stopping by! The dictionary defines the idiom “The Aladdin’s Cave” as “a collection of interesting and beautiful objects”. Likewise, my website is a potpourri where you can browse and read from a variegated collection of articles on sundry subjects. Be prepared to stumble upon pieces ranging from noodles to analytics and from novels to friendships. Like what you read? Thanks a ton for being such a sweetheart. Don’t find it up to the mark? Well, blame it on back-breaking expectations ;) Jolly Reading!

Tag: Humor

I try.

Recently having renewed my annual subscription to host this website, I was determined to post something this month. Still am, I guess – hence, this post. But I had a very different idea for what this post could be. It could have gone in many different directions, but I can tell you that this rant wasn’t originally in the cards. Anyway,  dear reader, just know that I try.

The work week having come to a satisfactory end, I was taking stock of all my writing stuff on this happy Friday evening. The usual paraphernalia, you know:

  • See what drafts I have in progress 
  • Check if I scribbled something remotely inspiring on a virtual or physical sticky note
  • Rummage through my handbag in case there’s anything intelligible / legible on a tissue paper tucked away in a little pocket (okay, I admit I am a little desperate)
  • Go through all list apps and writing apps and messaging apps on my phone (I have sent some okay-ish texts to myself in the past, and I firmly believe that there’s absolutely nothing that lists cannot help us with)
  • …………..

Scavenging for writing prompts, I was in my happy place. (It might interest you to know that the mood of this place is quite whimsical. Sometimes, this very place is the sole cause of my despondency. But today, things seemed to be looking up).

So I come across a notepad in my writing folder on my laptop. Last modified on May 23 of this year. At 9:29 pm. I start to feel a little excitement building inside of me. My heart brimmed with gratefulness to my past self (precisely, to the Meenakshi of May 23, 2018) for being of such a huge help). For having jotted down some beautiful musings that had been patiently waiting for me to rediscover them. (You see, I am usually quite happy with my memory but writing is one area where it seems to have deserted me. I constantly stumble across leads of all sorts that I barely remember jotting down).

Oh, almost forgot to tell you the name of this file – it’s important, folks. It says “Let’s See”.

Wow, what an interesting name. C’mon, it’s not because I am biased toward my file or my past self (who, for all we know, could have been a literary genius that particular day). Wouldn’t you think that it has so much to offer – the possibilities? Must have been thinking some pretty deep thoughts on that summery night of May 23. I am reasonable. I knew it couldn’t be Marcus Aurelius’s “Meditations” level thoughts but still – it had to be something. After all, I titled it “Let’s See”!

So I open it. And? Well, zilch. Not even a single sentence. Forget sentence. Not even a single word or a letter. I mean, what is there to see here? I wasn’t expecting too much. Would have been delighted with a couple of cringeworthy rhyming lines or just potential character names or a half-baked book review that nobody even cares about. No judgement whatsoever. But a misleadingly titled file with absolutely nothing to offer? Not done. 

See What, Exactly?

I don’t get it. I really don’t get my past self’s or current self’s writing game. Gotta do better.

But I tell you, I try.

(Note to future self: Consider file size before you get too excited. 0 KB files won’t take you very far).

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Washed Your Credit Card?

You know how they say you never know what life’s going to teach you next? Please don’t ask me who says that; I just know that many people do. Yeah, and they are quite right about it too. Here’s what life chose to teach me this past weekend – you can put your credit card (CC) through a wash cycle, and it will (probably) live to continue paying your bills. If you have read my blog before, I know exactly why your super-critical mind is telling me off at this very moment – ‘Huh, first she drowns her Nexus phone, and now she bathes her credit card’. Well, let me tell you that I took a good two-years-eight-months break between these two unlucky washouts. Now allow me to get back to my informative story because I think this one is going to take a while.

Like all of you, I have my usual pick of alibis (been traveling/busy/sick/lazy) for ‘not been able’ to have done my laundry when I should have. And then, ‘really not been able to have done it’ much later after this ‘should have’ date. As a result, there had been bucket-loads and bagsful of clothes demanding immediate attention for a while.

And then it happened this Saturday night: Gunjan officially ran out of clothes (another good reason to not be allergic to shopping). It was one of those ‘laundry today or naked tomorrow’ kind of situations, you know. It was then that we finally decided to wash anything that says machine washable, and then some others too. Armed with a generously loaded laundry card, detergents and fabric softeners, we hauled bags full of rags (and some fineries too – because we are too lazy to wash them by hands) to the laundry room. Gunjan and I started dumping the clothes in the machines (er, took three of them), and by the end of this activity, we realized that the last machine was quite unsatisfactorily filled. You know, it was one of those annoying situations when you just hate the asymmetry caused by this one under-loaded machine. Not getting a wash worth a dollar and seventy-five suddenly seemed to be a really big deal, and we simply could not ignore the pesky imbalance. To remedy this situation, I rushed back to our apartment upstairs to see if there was any washable linen lying around that had slyly escaped us earlier. Even after putting together a little pile of semi-dirty stuff, it seemed that my imaginary scale (mentally weighing the three washing machines now) would still be a little off and I was having this compulsive need to correct this misalignment. I reckoned that the trousers that I was wearing wouldn’t mind an early wash, so I changed in a flash and threw my trousers in the pile too. With this newly acquired somewhat-filthy plunder, I reached the laundry room again, and we hugged and celebrated the much-awaited gurgling and rumbling of the (perfectly-loaded) machines in action. (Judge me all you want until I find out your crazy idiosyncrasy and judge you back!)

Two episodes of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. later, we rushed down to transfer the freshly clean clothes to the dryers. Now, imagine my shock when I saw my American Express Credit Card and my Discover Card sitting helplessly amongst the wet clothes. Oh, how I rued hastily stuffing these two cards in my pocket two hours ago when we had stepped out for a bite. I really don’t know why I can’t simply carry my wallet for these quick things (or at the very least, carry just one of these cards). And Gunjan – oh, he who is such a devotee to all things bearing magnetic disks and magnetic strips – oh, poor thing – I really must stop doing this to him. I don’t have the heart to describe his horror on witnessing this sight. Let me just say that at this point, I would have gladly accepted the vexation caused by a trio of unevenly-loaded machines than that caused by a pair of freshly-washed CCs.

Washed Your Credit Card?

Accidentally in Machine

It’s not like procuring a new copy of a CC is particularly challenging. But this blatant display of such shockingly irresponsible behavior did cast a pall over the joyful laundry session. Gunjan was too disturbed by the treatment meted out to the cards to say much – more so, after I pulled out a $20 bill from the pocket of the trouser that I had hastily added to the load. Even though I should kick myself for this third unintentionally-washed item, I will admit that it contributed in making his consternation complete and rendering him totally speechless. Hence, I had mixed feelings about this uber-hygienic albeit heedlessly-laundered bill. With dented spirits, we completed the drying part of the laundry session and ended the day with clean clothes but no hopes (for our cards).

Then, instead of resting on the seventh day (Sunday), I stepped out with two spotless but potentially dysfunctional cards (to test them out) and one not-so-spotless but functional card (as a backup). I picked a few random stuff (say ‘n’ of them) in Jewel-Osco, pretended to forget one of these n items in the cart and proceeded to pay for the (n-1) goods with one of the speckless CCs. As the sales assistant requested me to swipe my card, I was already fingering the backup CC in my other hand. The ‘payment approved’ message alleviated most of the nervousness that I was feeling, and gave me high hopes for the other unlucky CC. Not choosing to celebrate too soon, I duly acted out my part of forgetting the nth item in the cart, and now presented the second CC to make this payment. It suffices to say that this transaction elicited distinctly different reactions from the payer (who switched from a gloomy to a remarkably celebratory mode) and the sales assistant (who could hardly comprehend the reason for the payer’s joyfulness, relief and sense of achievement over this most mundane chore).

Thanks a lot, if you have stuck with me and my CCs through this rather long post and I sincerely hope that you never have the misfortune of laundering your bill-paying instruments. But in case you do, remember my story and stay hopeful. Even though I do not have the evidence to make a blanket statement like ‘Voila! Credit cards are waterproof’, I can say from experience that all may not be lost, and visiting a store to use a squeaky clean CC is definitely worth a shot!

Oh, in case you are wondering, the $20 bill managed to survive the wash too! 🙂

Take care!

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The Exotic Tadka!

Hello People!

Two to three months back, I started to draft this article dealing with the topical subject of the monotonically increasing prices of tomatoes. Totally flabbergasted by the high headedness of tomatoes, I had titled the article ‘The Tomato Exoticism’. Since it lay in my draft folder for quite some time, I had feared that this one too would lose relevance and share its fate with the other members of the sad group of expired articles. But thanks to our very dependable government and the inexplicable mayhem of inflation and wroth economics, this article still stands relevant! And at the risk of sounding cruel, one could almost say that the article even got a shot in the arm because the onions joined the tomatoes in an expensive game of one-upmanship. Yes, and that’s how the humble, commonplace, unsung ‘Tadka‘ acquired its nouveau exoticism!  (For the uninitiated, a ‘tadka’ is an amalgam of tomatoes, onions and a few spices added in oil and is imperative to a plethora of Indian/Indianized dishes.)

Since childhood, we have heard and read about weird things breaking long standing curses (e.g. a kiss from a princess has been known to turn a frog into a prince!!). Hence, I’m doing my bit here. Since the government seems to be in no hurry to rein in the runaway prices of the tomatoes and the onions, I think it’s only fair that I should take a chance and and see if this post can break the curse.

My dadi (paternal grandmom) was a beautiful, rosy, chirpy woman who doted on the whole family, more so on her grandchildren. She loved nibbling on sugar-sprinkled tomatoes or on tomatoes roasted over charcoals and would invite us all to share. I wasn’t too enthusiastic about it then but in retrospect, I realize how stupid I was! Yes, I should have had my fill of tomatoes and onions while I still had the chance!

Given the current state of things, you stand the danger of being labelled a snob if you discuss more than three tadka-based recipes at a go. Yes, I even heard about the addition of a new filter (viz. ‘Sans Tadka’) to some recipe-sharing blogs and websites. The ‘haut monde’ has deigned to include this topic in their chit-chat and the freeloaders have found a new zeal to look for their next free meal. Visiting the vegetable market no more remains a quotidian activity. You don’t just stroll in with a friend and pick this and that, not caring twopence about the pennies and dimes jingling in your pockets. No, Sir! This undistinguished chore has lately been exalted and now demands respect, inspires anxiety and even extorts a prayer or two!

With these staple items acquiring the status of edible gems, we have taken another giant leap towards anarchy. And I hope I have not disappointed you by not providing a solution to this problem because no, this one does not have a happy ending. Let’s just pull off what we’re best at – making peace with things.

So what is it gonna be this time? This time, it’s gonna be unsavory Arrabbiattas and insipid Rajmas!

Hang in there and take care!

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The Nexus 4 Redemption

Hello Friends!

I admit that my capacity to dilly-dally before actually posting an article (if at all) is quite impressive. But in this case, I am allowing an aberration. And I have a sound reason to do that. If this post saves the life of even a single phone, the effort will be worthwhile.

We all have our own phone stories. Quite often, more than one.
So here’s my story:

Yesterday night, I did the unthinkable. You see, one second my phone was on the basin and the next second it was in a bucket of water. Just like that. Slipped and slushed! I must have had about two minor heart attacks in that one second! I scooped it out, as fast as Flash, but the sight of my dripping Google Nexus 4 made me want to go and drown myself somewhere. Maybe in the same bucket! 🙁

Okay, another thing – Gunjan almost worships electronic gadgets. I love them too – we all do – but he is really, really devoted to them. I contemplated not telling him about it as I suspected that he might seek to initiate criminal proceedings against me. But my conscience didn’t allow me keep mum because I owed at least that much to my Nexus 4. It needed to be attended to. And quickly so. And by the right person. Not by someone who could have been so careless as to let it soak in water!

So, mustering all my courage, I broke the devastating news to him. I can’t describe what he went through. He was positively distraught. And I was not wrong about the criminal proceedings. He was looking daggers at me, feeling totally betrayed by such alarming irreverence. And I, with the guilt of my heinous crime weighing me down, held my head low and stared numbly at my phone.

And about the braveheart – prima facie, my phone looked just fine. The touch worked as beautifully as ever. The display was as perfect as it comes. But we still weren’t too hopeful. Neither would you be if your Nexus 4 was leaking from every little port! 🙁 And then came the blow. Gunjan tried to play ‘Payphone‘ (no pun intended – we were totally not in the mood 🙁 ) using PowerAmp but it seemed that ‘Maroon 5‘ had lost their voice! Dejected, Gunjan declared that the bucket of water had rendered the gadget as useless as a bottomless bucket.

Having hit a dead end, we did what we all do in such situations – resorted to Google. We looked up a few YouTube videos and out came the tool boxes. After a lot of tedious trials, we pried it open. The fine assortment of ICs, buttons, sensors, chips – which make Nexus what it is – lay before our eyes. I admit that it’s not meant to be treated this way – you don’t wedge apart Google Nexus 4
. It’s nothing short of a violation. But then, you don’t even drop it in a bucket of water!

So after bringing it apart, Gunjan used my hair dryer and tried to dry out every nook and cranny in the panel. Meanwhile, the guilt-ridden me (besides appealing to every God up there) was googling like crazy and going bonkers reading forums. Do you wanna know why? Because I thought it was some kind of a freaking joke. People had suggested to bury the phone in a bag of rice!!! Yes, you heard it right! I thought that in their grief, other unfortunate Nexus-drowning fellows like me had lost their thinking faculties. But I cannot deny that the success stories on the forums kept my dawdling hope just alive.

After drying the panel as best as he could, Gunjan switched on the poor thing. Unable to accept the outrageous treatment meted out to it, the phone continued to act deaf and dumb and ignore all our fervent pleas. If I called on my number, all it did was feebly croon “Glad You Came” and that’s it. You could scream your lungs into the mic after receiving the call but the other person on the line wouldn’t hear a thing. Neither could you. And if you switched on the speaker, wildly distressing noises forced you to end the call.

Having tried out every trick in the book and devoid of all hope, Gunjan and I (so not united in grief – he was still contemplating suing me) joined the loony group and turned to the mysterious box of rice. Normally, he won’t let me keep a grain of rice on Nexus but today, we both dug in the pile, placed the violated device in the dent, covered it with rice and then closed the box. I can’t tell you how disturbingly similar the rice burial ceremony seemed to a final goodbye.

Saving Private Nexus

In a stupor, we went to sleep. There was nothing left to do but wait.

Morning came and we rushed to exhume my phone. After retrieving it from it’s purported rice grave, Gunjan put the SIM card back in the slot. Mercifully, the panel was parch dry and there weren’t any signs of seepage. He switched it on and it looked just fine. Then, with fluttering hearts, we played ‘Payphone’ again and trust me when I say this, even ‘Maroon 5’ couldn’t be as happy hearing their own song as we were. The crystal clear sound resounded in our room, announcing the restoration of the speakers.
Heady with success, we used my Google Nexus 4‘s kin (Yes, Gunjan too has the same phone and it had been eyeing me with disgust since last night) to call my number. And there – when we could both hear each other’s repeated ‘Hellos’ on the line – that truly was a ‘Dear Diary’ moment! :-):-)

Yes, the life-infusing white grains did the trick! Believe it or not, rice worked like a charm! It worked as a desiccant and healed my ailing, weeping phone. And my Google Nexus 4 is up and alive again! Bless you Google for making such a beautiful and resilient cell! Overnight, my love for the phone has increased exponentially!

And yes, lesson learnt!

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Side Please!

Hi Guys!

I guess it’s kind of an achievement for me to post something before celebrating an anniversary of my last post. Fell short by just two months..huh!!
Well, the customary thing to do right now would be to launch a horde of excuses to defend my disappearing act. But instead, let me just offer you the trump excuse – Well, I was busy getting married! 😉 Hope that explains a lot! 😛
Yeah, and about him…
Though he’s been hanging around here, heaping amazingly biased praises and egging me on since the inception of this blog, yet, let me just introduce my Mr. Right here formally!
(Don’t we all love a bit of melodrama?? :-D)
Mr. Gunjan Srivastava — My Missing Puzzle Piece! 🙂
And life’s never been better! 🙂
Okay, I do realize that the title and the content of this post seem insanely inconsistent. So getting back on track…

This post is about my first-hand experience at full-fledged driving and the ensuing intellections. You see, earlier, I always considered the driver and the car to be a single entity. You know, like a package, two-in-one sorts. It makes me look so mean but I can’t distinctly recall having ever given much thought to the ordeal a driver faces while manoeuvring and motoring his harassed vehicle through the on-road mayhem. It always felt like the invisible thestrals are drawing our automated carts.

My sis and I used to go shopping with our driver and oh, how we drove him crazy! We would screech excitedly if we spotted something interesting and no matter what be the traffic conditions, we would plead and beg for him to let us out. The combination of being so sweet and such a pro at the same time proved quite troublesome for our poor driver.

OK, that’s about then.
But when I started driving in Gurgaon a few months back, my instructions were quite curt and clear to the passengers. Here are some of them:

1) You tell me the right turn at least two turns before or else I don’t turn at all.
2) You announce the way well in advance or get ready to receive an earful.
3) Air condition usage – my discretion (You’re not the one who has to worry about the pick-up and stuff!).
4) Music – again, my discretion (Why, you’re not the one who needs all the attention and concentration!)
5) Chit-chat – Huh! (Does this feel like a picnic? Well, certainly not to me!)
6) Parking – No, I don’t have the heart to talk about this one. Just know this that it was the Achilles’ heel of my rudimentary motoring skills.

Sounds like a shrew, I know! But trust me, the rules have mellowed quite a lot since I spent some time behind the wheels. I used to get so exasperated. The traffic in Gurgaon frequently makes me think of an unrehearsed sports day – a day when everyone’s out on the roads with their props (read cars) with no coordination whatsoever! It’s all about heaving, shoving, cursing, coaxing, honking,barking – ya, totally maddening! But thanks to the dedicated efforts of Kush Bhaiya and Luv Bhaiya (for accompanying me on those early morning lessons), Shelly Bhabhi (for being my learning partner), my papa (well, for many things but a huge one for passing the driving gene along! 😛 ), Gunjan (for dragging me in the most awful of traffic conditions so that I had no other go than to find a way out 😛 ) and to my ‘driver saheb’ (for his patience and very handy tips, like- just ignore the honking lot! 😀 ), I can proudly say that I find myself quite useful these days!! 🙂 And what a liberating experience it is!!

And apart from this essential skill, I learnt an even more essential by-product lesson:
“Always put yourself in other people’s shoes,
If it hurts you, it probably hurts them too!”

Yep, that’s about it for now!
Happy Living, Safe Driving!
And as Gunjan reminds me only too often — (esp for us girls, with the ubiquity of these shopping places causing constant distractions!!):

“Eyes on the Road”! 🙂

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Hallelujah!

Hello, Fellow Survivors!

And congratulations to us all for making it through yet another Doomsday prophecy!

Writing this post because I’m ginormously glad to still be around — what with those in the know (or rather, those claiming to be in the know!) predicting the end of the world – left, right and centre! Wasn’t the beginning to the end supposed to begin last Saturday?? Yeah, the schedule chalked out by some moronic creatures (oops, preachers!) did list May 21, 2011 as The Rapture Day.  Praise the Lord for ignoring all this morology and letting us live!

I mean, the state of affairs might not be super ideal, weight loss pills might not be as effective (or at all effective) as they ought to be, a sane and sound system might still be a distant dream and the whole world, in general, might seem to be a shambles. Yet, whatever it is, am I not delighted to fret over these things instead of groping my way through some mystic tunnel or gliding ethereally or…er..Well, I’m not so sure about what people exactly do en route to the Pearly Gates!

Whoa! No Mr Grim Reaper (or. if you like, our very own Yamraj)! Please don’t be mistaken! I’m not complaining and for once, really, really not curious or nosy. Happy to mind my own petty businesses! 🙂

You see, it never does to tempt Providence, and so brazenly, at that. We keep cancelling bulk orders ever so often. It’s just not right. We might be asking for big trouble because we never know just when our luck will run out! Yes, I have always maintained that it’s just too risky to rub Mr. Yamraj the wrong way! Why meddle with things so totally out of our scope? Why not be contended with butting into the affairs of the lesser mortals??

I mean, there has to be a stop! First of all, we come up with this rotten idea of mischief – whereby anyone and everyone is so eager to share their two pennyworth (and much more) on the impending doom. Then, this freaking bit of an idea snowballs into this raging madness. And then, people are making money (via movies and documentaries and books) out of this whole business! Talk about being an opportunist!

OK, just picture this for a sec! What if the merciful Lord’s still willing to put up with our lot for a millennium or two but on witnessing the ongoing hype about an impending apocalypse, He reviews His original decision! What if He gets so convinced about the futility of our damned race that He decides to toss an apocalypse our way?? Then what?? All that ill-gotten money won’t buy you the Noah’s Ark to row to safety!

Yeah, so the point being — go find something else to thrill yourselves with and leave the doom alone. A little knowledge (and a truckload of stupidity) really is a dangerous thing!

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By a Blog—On its Blogger!

Marry in haste,
Repent at leisure,
That comprises the truth,
In no little measure!

Similar is my case,
Akin is my tension,
All down to my dysfunctional, so-called blogger,
Whom I don’t even wanna mention!

I chose her in a hurry,I was so rash,
And for all that recklessness, I get treated like trash,
No posts, no blogging bash,
So, naturally, no AdSense,
& I’m never gonna make any cash!

She used to put in hours,
Real long and hard,
But it was all a trap,
A ruse, a charade!

She promised to be a pro,
& did pen a masterpiece or two,
But that was in days of yore,
She just won’t dish them out anymore!

All she does of late,
Is try out different templates,
& the little she ever stores in drafts,
Oh! trust me, it’s the scum of the writing craft!

I wanna drag her to the court,
And make her do time,
But her sis and her uncle
Are lawyers in their prime!

What am I to do?
How long can I sulk?
To whom should i turn?
To get rid of this lazy bum?

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The Wonders of Shopping!

The best things in life,
Surely come for free,
But an exception to this rule,
Is a shopping spree!

But it’s cash well-spent,
Though it’s scorned by the gents,
They’re alien to the happiness,
We get from a much-envied new dress!

The ‘new arrivals’ section,
It surely beckons,
Clothes, shoes, bags & what-not,
We just love the whole lot!

Hang out with friends,
Find out the latest trends,
And even if you splurge hard,
Don’t fret!
Because it’s the best thing you can do with your credit card!

A sure-shot means,
To de-depress,
‘Cuz post the frolic,
You’re bound to worry less!

Use it at times,
To watch your waist-line,
When you don find it in your size,
Set the alarm for an early rise!

You can charm your heart-throb,
By getting a new wardrobe,
Do it again and again,
And never get bored!

So heed my advice,
To have a merry life,
Never ever cringe,
From a shopping binge!

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Why Move MY Cheese??

Prefatory Note:
Presently, I am undergoing a six months training at Honeywell Technology Solutions, Bangalore. This training is a part of my curriculum at VIT University, Vellore where I am a final year student of B.Tech, Electrical and Electronics Engineering.

Getting back on track, I would like to introduce you to the main motive behind writing this article.
( Well, just for the record, not every article that i write has a motive…so please don’t expect that! That’ll be putting too much pressure on a novice like me…It’s just that this one happens to have a motive! )

OK, without further ado. let me get started…
I read the popular and universal bible “Who Moved My Cheese?” by Spencer Johnson some three years back, without finding much to relate to it then. Don’t get me wrong, please! I am not saying that I didn’t appreciate the book. Just that that at the time, I was pretty cozy and comfy at VIT and except for the bally tests and assignments, life was pretty smooth. So u see, the mice n men in the book could not really get me to empathize with them.

But when I first joined here at Honeywell, everything was all new and huge and scary and incomprehensible – the way these firms generally appear in the beginning. I hadn’t the slightest clue as to why I was here! I was provided with a login ID and a system in which I was expected to log in and work (presumptuous!!!). If asked to describe my location w.r.t the main campus, it would be URA, 4th floor, P.T.Area (the blessed last seat at the P.T.Desk…:-) )

Let me decrypt that for u…
URA         – Uranus, the name of the building (yeah I know!! People here are kinda scientific!!)
4th floor    – Well, that’s just the usual thing. Nothing cryptic about it.
P.T. Area  – Project Trainee Area

So I have been at this location for the last 45 days or so…busy google-ing, struggling, kipping and even working (yes!! Finally started to get the flow of things and make myself useful :-P)
The floor and the people there, my system and my spot- all started to appear familiar and homey and the long list of complaints that I had from life (which had been significantly stretched because of the recent changes) had begin to recede rapidly. All in all, life had started to pick up a steady pace yet again…

But come 23rd March, 2010…and comes the dreaded movement of my dear cheese!!

My location was changed…
FROM : URA, 4th floor, P.T.Area
TO       : URA, 5th floor, P.T.Area

Reason : Well, my manager and my team sit on this darned floor…  🙁

Effect   : Ah…Where shall I begin???

This seemingly minor change has made my life difficult not by a very few degrees. I mean, my secluded, silent, snug spot has been replaced by one that’s just at the end of a passage with cubicles on both sides. It’s ruefully located at the entrance of the P.T.Area. There are eight trainees here and no matter whose manager or teammate walks in (unannounced, of course), mine will be the first system they’ll cast their benevolent eyes upon! Can u imagine that?? It means…adieu to the cheerful google-ing and blogging hours and adieu to all the solace and ease I had been enjoying till now.

So u see…this unexpected and rude relocation has been the source of understanding and today, I can totally sympathize (and empathize) with the poor souls – Sniff, Scurry, Hem and Haw (For the uninitiated, those four are the very mice and men I mentioned earlier, who are expected to adjust and adapt after their lives have been turned topsy-turvy in the motivational novel – Who Moved My Cheese?).
I feel the way they must have felt (maybe even strongly!) and all I wanna ask is :
Why Move My Cheese??
And if you must, then why not find a better spot??

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