NO Priya, this isn’t suiting the occasion, the color is bright as a happy hike mail, the pale green curves of the template cannot be used for all occasions, the background isn’t dark, ok Rachna I will ask Ranjeet to change this accordingly, but how did all that happen???...
Neha was busy scripting the mail of 'Ignore Apply for Leave' and sat bemused by the talks of Rachna and Priya.
Nithesh had the news in his mind and his words stammered while he talked to the candidates over phone losing his usual fluency, zeal and command over language. He remembered his constant hanker for my hinDi ( groundnut chutney) which I promised to get from my next home trip.
Hi all,
We regret to inform you all about the sad demise of our colleague Mr. Shivakumar SD this morning. Please assemble at the B wing at 10 AM for a condolence meeting. May his soul rest in peace.
Regards,
Team HR
People did not care the errors the mail had scripted itself to explain all that I was not – hardworking, smart, professional, and all that. Vinuttha reading this mail in her feminine shock and concern, a quick recall of her feeding lunch, her anger at my last few morsels unattended, my arguments, my take on perception, human mentality, objectivism, wrapped her thoughts before she turned to Sudhanva who ran short of his silence, his face not revealing the paining shock of the loss of the independent candidate in his government, his silence screaming out, of loss, his brain wept analyzing the series of data collected by his thoughts. Vidhya was numb like a kid that just saw her brother left for his boarding school after the summer vacation. She talked to Vinuttha and Sudhanva for a while and called Sanoj for the obvious reason.
Laxmi dropped her big lunch box the moment the news trickled down to her brain, she sat anesthetized, she just didn’t speak. My mime of woow woow woow with my hands held high with end fingers curled to take a shape of cat limbs...reminded her.... her tears smiled in cry for she lost me – the only human being who almost matched her height. Avinash threw his chair and rushed to his stress mitigating habit. He smoked 3 in a row. He voiced nothing nor silenced anything. He along with Badri gathered with Laxmi and Vishalaxmi. They did not discuss and their silence argued. Nitendra joined them. ustad hodaa said Badri in grim voice of distress. His voice revealed his tears. Ravikumar rushed in.Tanveer said bunching all his grief into a sack of one word -- Nouna... ( Shit.. !!!)
Puttu, Kiran, Satish gathered at our bay, there was noise and kiran did not complain. They voiced some usual stuff that people usually talk when one die. – He was a clever, a serious, and all that. Balaji forgot his daily quote and did not care his care. Varun, Jeevan, Anita, Ravin followed him.
Lokesh came at 11 AM carrying Pooja on his bike, shouting at the BMTC bus driver who smooched the break in passionate lust in the middle of fast moving traffic. Lokesh entered office with his usual witty smile. His brain did not respond to the news he heard. He was terribly taken aback, he shouted ‘I just spoke to him yesterday night’ – He couldn’t believe what he heard. He was hurt and his body language showed it all. He blamed everything that he thought was the reason for my death. He left office to run his new wheels straight to my house.
Pooja stood, as a reward to the place below, the exaggerated fragility of her presence against the sky--flaunted the fastidious coolness of the gardens and entrance door from which she came. She had no annotations even in her furtive peace. She spoke no word (an unknown relief from no victim). Project work enveloped her, she paused for a sec, saw the ‘time’ and……. Continued with the work.. Vinya read the mail again and recalled the editing I had once done to her article in GRANTHA, her face advertently forgot her usual smile this time.
Sastry ponderously pronounced a mail on me and Time like Ellsworth M. Toohey. Anu was innocently happy for a moment, for his brain thought that I have resigned and have taken an editorial job, and then the parachute of his creative brain landed in the reality of thick wild forest of life making him feel as the rest and walk towards our bay. While he walked, he looked down to watch his feet crushing a surface that responded, gave way and conceded faint prints to be left behind. Zakir felt the death of an enemy warrior on the other side of war field – a war in which we were invited to fight nothing. And he wasn’t happy. Deepak Alur – a man who has the silent contempt in the shape of his mouth; the planes of his gaunt, hollow cheeks; the cold, pure brilliance of the eyes that had no trace of pity. A face that was the abstraction of strength made visible making every girl feel, a convulsion of anger, of protest, of resistance--and of pleasure, was talking to his calm and strange feeling of loss flavored his words of no sound.
Govind was unavailable for his comments.
And the rest enquired who exactly Shivakumar SD was, and they signed an obituary in return to the person who they got the information from. It read... RIP (Rest in Peace).
And the rest enquired who exactly Shivakumar SD was, and they signed an obituary in return to the person who they got the information from. It read... RIP (Rest in Peace).
And the day ends.
I purchased life and I paid...
as all others even I died..
The new day, the fresh air, the soothing touch of heaven from the rays of young morning sun, the husbands, the mothers, the fathers, the siblings, the boy/girl friends, the care takers, the intellectuals, the night romeos, the physical pleasure, the family tensions, the complexity in the requirements, defeated me and my death...
The people I did not meet and those I did, I don’t regret...
I remember them all.. and they forget..
