it's time to move on, dear writer/film-maker

I have a tingling in my elbows. When that happens, it usually means that I can sense what fictional characters are thinking. And something tells me that a certain breed of fictional characters - the ones that aren't really dead or alive - are tired of humans.

Ever since Stephanie Meyer came out with the Twilight series, there have been books, films, more books, more films: in short, an onslaught of fictional paparazzi on vampires, werewolves and their human hybrids. I think the Living Dead, as we shall collectively refer to them now, are a little annoyed with this (very possibly) misinformed representation of them and their lifestyle, particularly food habits.

I think we, as readers, must consider the consequences of encouraging indolent writers or film-makers in this world by consuming their uninspiring explorations into the world of the Living Dead. There can only be so much speculation about a population which, let's face it, we don't really know has decided is alive or not.

Let's turn towards a different species to excavate, create, berate, vegetate on. The secret life of cacti, perhaps? Or the reclusive world of marine invertebrates? How will we ever know what else will catch the attention of young people around the world as unpredictably as the Twilight series did, if we don't let go of the Living Dead? It is time to let them be.

the abuse of anger

What an abusive privilege it is to show anger by yelling at an employee. A sign of authority, a show of ego, an utter masturbation of frustrations which have nothing to do with the real matter at hand. Raising one's voice is quite as hurtful as raising one's hand. What is pain? Is it just the red sting after a slap?

My office is a modest 2BHK apartment in a residential building. There are usually about six people in office. An employee had decided to resign and sent an email about it to my boss today about it. Soon after, she was called into the room where he usually sits, and asked to shut the door. He expressed his shock and anger at her in such a loud voice, it boomed throughout our tiny office like a sudden explosion. It wasn't a solitary exclamation, it was an onslaught. Very soon, it became physically painful to not intervene. I am still ashamed at not going inside the room and asking him to shut the fuck up.

Hearing someone being shouted at in an extremely loud voice is akin to hearing someone's tortured cries of pain. It is frightening. It crumples your insides and you fear for their sanity and unconsciously your own. It is a physical assault, a blow that you cannot quantify, like a relentless, invisible, punching fist. 

It makes you frustrated for being in a working environment where laptops and people are so closely located to each other that it is impossible to have a solitary bad day or a freewheeling gchat with a friend. 

Working in a small company creates the watery illusion of belonging to a family. It's hard to escape this illusion. When the sink floods, you run down to call the building's plumber. When there's a full-day power cut, you pack your laptops and head to your boss's house. You all fit around one table for lunch. You know what to order for breakfast for her at Trichy, Tirunelveli, Erode, Kochi and Vellore respectively. You industriously spring-clean the office the morning of Saraswati Pooja even though you don't really give a shit about Saraswati Pooja. You steal your colleague's favourite chair and try not to laugh as he searches, annoyed, for a chair with just the right height. You take your sick colleague to hospital and force her to go home after the check-up. You tease your boss mercilessly when you spy a hickey on his neck. You carry an extra spectacle case because you know she will definitely forget hers on your trip tonight. You scold people for not putting their shoes in the right place or cleaning up after making maggi. It's not a 'cool' thing to do - it happens because you work with an average of six people in a 2BHK apartment six days a week, 8 hours a day.  

If you are someone's boss, no matter what the size of your company, I believe you do not have the right to shout at your employee. I don't care if you know more about her personal life than other bosses would care to. I don't care if you've offered her help and advice beyond your professional capacity as her senior. You cannot, cannot raise your voice at her, challenge her character, deride her friends and family, dismiss her personal choices. You cannot try to extract information from her roomie behind her back. 

I'm sorry, S. I should have stood up for you the moment he began to hit you with his voice. I should have asked him to fuck off when he approached me for information. I'm sorry I let you down.

If you happen to work in a small office or department, don't let the friendly environment dilute your outrage. Even if he is a great boss, a caring mentor, an interested colleague - if he shouts at you in a manner that hurts, frightens or threatens you, let him know. It is a terrible, burning violation of your self and there is no justification for it.  

arriving

4:23 pm: That feeling of wonder when you know that you have been in two different places in the same day. In the morning you were in one city: an entirely different experience which made a different person out of you. And then you crossed over to another city, setting on its horizon. Changing cities like a chameleon. It takes time to arrive to another place, even if you've been there before.