Feed me

Feed me, feed me a heart and the conjurer o’me will show you a ghastly trick.

Feed me, feed me a start and the traveler o’me will show you a journey from primal being.

Feed me, feed me a line and the spinner o’me will show you a story hatched.

Feed me, feed me a wish and the dreamer o’me will show you the hope lasted.

Feed me, feed me a chance and the grabber o’me will show you my flag masted.

Feed me, feed me a life and the human o’me will show you why god acted.





I the IT Guy, nibbles that remained untold

Forgive me, I am prone to semicolon overuse;
Forgive me, I deliver against the order of nature;

My wife, please don’t mind me on the night when I come early, but yet experience insomnia till 3 in the morning;
My girl in office, you also please don’t mind me on the day, when  I come to office in my overnight hood;

It shouldn’t be an issue if I am addict to nicotine and caffeine;
It shouldn’t be an issue if I don’t  live, I just exist as a machine;

Don’t get surprised if you see me as a mess;
Don’t get surprised if I don’t have a policy to save tax;

You always wonder why I am not available on my phone;
I always wonder why always “I am stating my name after the tone”;

After all this is me I the IT guy;
No matter how hard I try;
Old habits cease to die.


IT Aunty

By far I the IT guy has been my most viewed blog post, so keeping in mind the relative success of that post, I am penning down my experiences about the great industry once again that has opened the floodgates of employment in the modern times. The only flipsyde is that I have switched the sexes, and changed the relationship status of the protagonist. So here is how a married woman spends her typical workday as employee of an IT company in India.

Note: The office hours are considered as 9 A.M. to 6 P.M. , and supposedly lunching practices can be observed between 12:30 to 2:30 for half an hour.

0800 hrs: The cab driver is honking rapidly, he is waiting for a female employee, who actually told him 15 minutes ago that she would be in the cab with in next five minutes. The driver is twenty minute behind schedule, and today he will definitely be struck in the jam at toll plaza near ambiance mall; but how could she leave before she finds her ID card. Ah she found her ID, but now her hair are slightly disturbed, so the cabby is obliged to linger for five more minutes at least. The engine started and wheels rolled at 0807 hrs; courtesy IT aunty.

0854 hrs:  As anticipated the cab is stuck at Mahipalpur, driver has tuned in to 98.3 Mirchi FM. RJ played Jalebi Bai, and the innocent driver committed the sin of humming one line of song along with the radio. Suddenly he started getting chastised for playing bawdy songs when girls are sitting in the cab. Now the point to note down is, there were three passengers in the cab, two guys who actually were enjoying the song before the rebuttal began and third was the aforementioned woman; where does a girl come from? The so call girl my friends is the IT Aunty in her own dreams.

0917hrs: The cab has arrived in front of the office, while signing off* the driver, she gave him a look of “you will burn in the fires of hell” type. I would like to devote some words on the luggage she happens to carry then. One handbag which is larger than the schoolbag of a 4th grader (I hope you know the size of the mentioned schoolbag, due to the controversies surrounding it), one laptop bag, one handicraft bag which contains a Tupperware™ case, that incidentally happens to contain four small boxes of lunch. The special attraction today is a poly bag which is the home of a coconut oil bottle, as she had shampooed her hair today. So for complete nutrition of her silky locks it is essential to oil them after they dry, after all she is out IT Aunty.

The story of the handicraft bag: Once in a while some NGOs visit our office, with some
handicraft stuff, reportedly made by under privileged children, and essentially overpriced.
The money earned by selling those products in turn is deployed for the well being of poor
children.Over time she and her fraternity had bought so many of the bags, that the NGO has
stopped visiting our office, because the amount of money they earned was so much, that no
child is under privileged in their NGO.

0933hrs: She leaves her seat for washroom, with the handbag and the poly bag. The happenings inside the ladies washroom are censored, as I don’t want to turn into an adult stuff blogger so soon, but my other “Unmarried” female anonymous sources  have told me that she oiled her hair, gave them a new style, and did some other girly stuff. Then she caught hold off another girl who unfortunately was known to her, checked her makeup as a veterinarian checks a sick buffalo, gave some silly tips, and at last decided to take matters in her own hands. At 0951 hrs a girl who resembled the models in Haryanvi song videos was found roaming in the company premises. Do you know who her beautician was? Our IT Aunty.

Between 1000 hrs and 1215 hrs: She argued with somebody for a chair and after switching the chairs realized that the other chair was actually her’s. She opened a biscuit packet dropped half of them while opening, pretended to offer the remaining ones to her colleagues, ended up finishing the whole packet alone, and then fretted over her ever increasing weight. She switched on her laptop, had a vision that she forgot her password, called the system maintenance department, fought with them over the phone for resetting her password ASAP, as she has to do a lot of work. When the password changed she logged in, marked her attendance (most efficient resource when it comes to marking attendance and applying leaves), checked some funny mails, and then broadcasted them thorough out the ODC**. A fresher in that ODC was suggested to work very hard, put his best efforts towards learning new technologies.He obliged by saying thanks, and he got some extra line of codes to do in place of customary your welcome. The persona that made the career changing suggestion is our IT Aunty.

1235hrs: Two humans of female variety are on the front of food cashier queue, and there is an important discussion going on about what to have in lunch. At the back queue size is growing exponentially by the minute. After five minutes the decision is out, they have opted to eat at the other outlet today. O my dear IT Aunty, you are so full of surprises.

1243hrs: She took the food coupon by overpowering and ignoring others who were living in the hope of getting a food coupon by following the principle of queue. She pushed and glared a whole lot of individuals to reach at the top of hierarchy, the food counter. At present she is arguing with one food vendor for extra pickle, and she is advising other one on how to make good grill sandwiches, completely unknown of the fact that the raita (Yogurt dish) from her plate has dripped all over my shirt. At last I also had my share of blessings from IT Aunty.

1315hrs: It is good to have a walk after having food, so she decided to have a stroll. As she does a lot a drudgery on daily basis, and she is not that young (although she has maintained her youth if you ask her), she gets tired she decides to occupy the stairs for a while for having a nice little chit chat with her friends. Meanwhile I am off to my friend’s PG*** to change the shirt, after accepting the apologies of IT Aunty; did I had another choice nien, remember I the IT guy, I never have a choice.

1430hrs: I came back after changing shirts and she is still on the same stair. She rationalized her stand on the raita incident once again, made some remark on my new shirt, and off she goes to her cubicle, to conquer the world. IT Aunty the IT worker.

1630hrs: Now that she has actually managed to work for ~7200000 milliseconds, she has the right to go for evening snacks. So I will spare myself from repeating the words as most probably the history would repeat itself in the cafeteria. IT Aunty is very consistent with her demeanor to quote the least.

1715hrs: She calls the cabby and inquire about the possibilities of leaving early. When she gets a negative reply, she calls the other driver (read husband), to pick her up and drop her home. The hapless fella can’t deny, he will drop her home, and then will come back to his office. Yet he as a faithful servant sorry husband is expected to be home before 9 o’clock and take her out for a dinner, because after having a hard day at work she can’t cook.

Between 1720hrs and the time till driver comes: She will read some feminine stuff on some fashion website, tell her superior if any that she is leaving (yes they don’t ask, the are kind enough to tell). She uses the office phone to make some personal calls in a professional way, and she says goodbye for the day.

When I see her departing, I croon a famous number by La’s

There she goes
There she goes again
Racing through’ my brain
And I just can’t contain
This feelin’ that remains

There she blows
There she blows again
Pulsing through’ my vein

And I just can’t contain
This feelin’ that remains

There she goes, there she goes again.

*It is a procedure of signing a slip at your drop off point, that signifies that driver hasn’t kidnapped you.

**Offshore Development Center, where you can get your work done by paying below minimum wages.

***The literal meaning is Paying Guest, but in Haryana, India the word means the mazes “Jahan Insaan Jata to Apni Marzi Se Hai, Lekin Aata Ya to Makaan Malik ki Marzi Se Hai, Ya Uski Security Amount Jabt Ho Jati Hai.”

Suspense: If any body of you have noticed that she brought her own lunch but yet she bought meals from cafeteria, that is the reason of her ever increasing weight. Finish the lunch, before the lunch is her mantra.

I the IT guy

Hello brothers. As I write almost 700 million people work in the same industry as me, and from my statistics at least 66% of them are male (counted by sex not by sexual orientation); hence the figure comes out to be ~462 million, that is the number of brothers I have even though many of them will be as old as my uncles, but we shared, share and will be sharing some incidents, thoughts, and accidents, which are as universal as GMT. I attempt to write the plight in this manner:

I the IT guy,

I got selected into a company from a campus drive, so many were picked that the leftovers were the real privileged ones.

I the IT guy,

I always hoped and wished secretly that I will get my training at my preferable location as my seniors, but my wishes were declined as part of some heavenly conspiracy. Yet I booked my flight tickets with a zeal that can rarely be matched.

I the IT guy,

I always aspired for those cool cubicles, state of the art machinery, and cute coffee machines, but I got state of a fart (public toilet like) cubicles, cute machinery (inefficient), and cool coffee machines (so cool that they worked as per their wishes).

I the IT guy,

I the IT guy who could never get through a single chapter before the exam is lurking around the corner, was fed with so much of Java, SQL, and C++ during the training phase that I will be sick with the programming constipation throughout my life for sure and may be afterwards.

I the IT guy,

I again hoped against the hope that after training I will be allocated to the location of my choice, but I came face to face with the real world, when I was forced to land in a city where I could not understand a word.

I the IT guy,

I recollected my shattered spirit, and once again yearned for a project where I can show my real self; but I was forcefully included in the largest team called bench. Till date, I never understood why it is called bench, because during my tenure with it, I sometimes didn’t even find a empty stair to sit upon in the office, forget about a bench.

I the IT guy,

I got a project, as I had lost all my will to work by now; I was bound to be in a project of great importance to the company, yes IT companies have their own sense of “sense of humor”.

I the IT guy,

I joined my project. As usual against my wishes I got a production support project, night shift, seat next to the project manager (PM), no girl in the project, even no girl in the 20 yard radius from my seat, no cab facility, and no night shift allowance. I still thank that all night canteen which was more than 4 KM away from my office, but with all its unhygienic food it saved my life.

I the IT guy,

I sustained so many knowledge transfer sessions, that at a point in time I could not not spell my name. Every facilitator was a performer of the highest degree, destiny’s chosen child to enlighten the lowly souls, as per his/her thoughts. I was the mere mortal who was destined to die once, but died again and again in the holy name of KT.

I the IT guy,

I pushed myself beyond limits every time but always skipped the deadline. One day I understood the real meaning of deadline, which is “only dead can reach this line”.

I the IT guy,

I listened to a strange word one day, onsite. At first the very sensation of this word was delightful, I remember those goosebumps. The word became a paranoia, a thing like ghosts; everybody talks of them but nobody has seen them.

I the IT guy,

I received my goal sheet one day and I was bewildered. The things I am paid for are not my goals, and my goals are things which can do no profit to anybody. Still for the sake of a rating I did those certifications with the help of dumps, I copied those attributes from others, and I highly rated myself in every goal. The appraiser evaluation was the negation of all the aspirations.

I the IT guy,

I work hard, but I only expect a B band as best case scenario. It is nothing like that I am skeptical of my abilities, it is only that I am afraid of the side effects of a A. I always get a C, and the hike associated with this C, contradicts with the literal meaning of word hike.

I the IT guy,

I put more overtime hours than regular hours just for a rating of 4, I got 3 same as the other dude who used to come late and go early.

I the IT guy,

I was never good with girls, and strangely I liked all the girls as beggars don’t choose. I could never muster enough courage to go and propose one of them. If I would have, deep down I know they were too smart to marry a fellow IT human being. They had their targets in managers, doctors, MBAs, plumbers, electricians, rickshaw-pullers, i.e. anyone but IT guys.

I the IT guy,

I became synonym of donkey, dog, pig, horse with time. Maybe this was the example of multitasking which I never understood during my college days.

I the IT guy,

I saw several representatives of credit card companies giving lucrative, offers outside my office. I was annoyed with them, so I decided to tell them that they were standing outside an IT company, and the very next day came with a sigh of relief. They even took their pamphlets from the wall with them.

I the IT guy,

I was not feeling good one day so I tried to go home by nine o’clock, I got an excellent remark from my lead which I still treasure, “come on man, you are an engineer, you guys finished whole Lord Of The Rings(LOTR)  series in one night, now you could not stay back for one more hour.” That one hour my friends was larger than all the seasons of “Big Bang Theory” combined.

I the IT guy,

I can talk about anything and everything with anyone and everyone, but I always avoid the word salary in my conversations. It is my darkest secret, and I don’t want it to see the light of a day.

I the IT guy,

I smoke, I drink, I struggle, I die.

I the IT guy,

I never had a choice.

Grilling Elaborated

In continuation to my previous post entitled Power of Rejection, I am presenting here the embellished and garnished version of my encounter with the allocations girl who was and is a management rookie by designation. The whole conversation went on the same track, I predicted it would go. There are three main characters in the story, Me, the allocations girl (MTA), and her supervisor(SA).

At 11 I went inside the allocations room, interrogated about the whereabouts of  MTA, and bang I was there at her desk.

Me: Hi, you called me yesterday and asked me to report at 11.

MTA: What’s your name, are you  a trainee ?

Me: Ishaan Arora, Trainee.

MTA: Ok, come back after one hour, I have a meeting now.

When I left the room there were two thoughts in my mind, why on this already polluted and corrupted planet did she call me at 11 when she had a predefined appointment; and Who made the photoshop,because in her FB profile she was looking cute and in reality she was nowhere near to a suave persona. So after one hour:

Me: Hi.

MTA: Can I know why you rejected yesterday’s project?

Me: I don’t wanna be in that particular typo stuff. I wanna code, I left a job where my office was at a distance of 2 KM from my home, and I used to get annually INR 1,00,000 more  than my current salary. I grasped J2EE in a month and implemented a dummy using it during my training days, about which I didn’t know a bit before. It is just because of my love for coding I said no to my previous job.

MTA: This is not the way we work in here, even when I joined I wanted a recruiter position, but I am here(stuck) in allocations for two years. We should take up every opportunity and prove ourselves in that, then we will be worthy of demanding for the work that we would like to do. So, I want you to go and report to the manager you met yesterday, and embrace the rejected thing.

Me: Sorry I understand but I can’t take up this particular typo, I will accept coding in any form, and in any shift.

She hung her gloves and redirected me to her supervisor, who looks like a Zombie in broad daylight.

Same questions were asked and same answers were used to counter them.

SA: If you don’t report to that manager today, we will put you on hold i.e. Forced Leave, No Salary.

Me: I want coding, I can wait for it.

SA: We can’t, we don’t have any coding stuff. Either accept this or go on leave.

Me: Gimme some time to think over it, I will revert on Monday.

SA: You have time till 4 o’clock today, go now and report to me then.

Me: OK, …..sigh sigh sigh sigh…., I don’t wanna be a part of this thing.I will come everyday and mark my attendance here.

Then she made a call to an HR, explaining all the stuff and saying that 4-5 people are saying no to a project because it is of a particular type, and then she discussed something in Tamil. What I couldn’t figure out that why she was boiled up while speaking in English and why the temper converted into a laugh when she switched to her mother tongue. Well I will crack this puzzle soon because I have plenty of time for these petty issues. I was happy to know that some more people have the courage to take the stand and I am currently The Last Samurai, in context of that project.

SA: MTA(Nickname) come here.

SA(to MTA): Now you take the responsibility of these matters yourself and don’t send people to me. GO frame a mail explaining the whole situation about these guys, and send it to X HR and mark Y HR on it. Demand for strict disciplinary action i.e. Force Leave.

MTA( to me): OK, now HR will give you a call, and you need to have a word with them.

Me: Please update my number, as you always call me on my roaming number.

I made her update my number, get out of the grilling chamber, and never expected a call from HR today, because I knew these guys are apathetic.

Now I expect a call tomorrow, if it comes I will write my next blog under Profo category or else we will move to Kerela again.

Today’s quote has been provided by my friend who also had some strange experience with allocations people at Delhi, so here it goes.

These allocations people are worst people of this world.  My Friend*



*The one who must not be named, else I will not be able to tweet again, forget about blogging.

Power of Rejection

Well contrary to my initial beliefs and the supportive statements made by the guy from allocations department of my firm, I got a project call today, that too from the account of largest mobile phone company of the world. Ohh my, I was a happy guy then, luckily I was on the railway station itself (I thought of going in the noon previously) and within one hour I was at Sipkot, one of the largest IT parks in India.

But they say in this mean world no one can tolerate too much happiness, alas it  was a project of production and support. Moreover after listening to the job profile you can’t consult with anybody, you have to say yes or no then and there. It’s famous about my firm that seldom anyone gets a project within 3 days of joining the *home office*, but I got one but not the one which would be in accordance to my likings, so the lucky one got screwed up.

Once I am screwed I will screw, the basic tactics that I have adopted from holly-wood movies was the next card I played. The project manager was pretty much confident that all the new guys and gals (How can I forget the Vizag girl, green dress and brown eyes) will reply in an affirmative tone, and he arranged an initial induction session quickly, but in the middle of that boring session I used the aforementioned power , and then the facial expression of Mr. PM reminded me of these lines:

Smoke on the Water, a fire in the sky. Deep Purple

Now I have a session with an allocations girl tomorrow, perhaps she will grill me or at least pretend to do so for rejecting one of the best projects in the company because it is their per-recorded term, and after all every rejected thing has a value, but I am felicitous because she is a Miss and nice one (Courtesy Facebook).

At the end of the day I am Resting in peace and rejection is not fatal, exceptions excluded.

*Name Changed to hide the identity of the victim.