Being Shyam

It's about people now. Perhaps the first time I'm writing about people. I want to write about Shyam. Full name Shyam Vallabh. Quite a podgy guy. Disheveled hair. Laziest I've ever met. Never comes out of his house. Rather never comes out of his sofa. He looks and moves around like a potato. And he remains lies at the sofa that resembles a couch.

What an intelligent guy he is? I don�t know if such a laziness attributes to his intellectual ability (I'm a hyperactive but dumb guy) but that's what he is. His sitting position in that couch and his facial expression of absolute bliss can only be matched by Stephen Hawking. His friends fondly call him Shyam Hawking.

He is passionate about very few things in life. But his understanding of those is paramount. His recent statement when I was in a deep depression will linger on for life. Considerate people are always unhappy. It's only the inconsiderate people who are happy. But the considerate ones get the lasting peace. Since then I've presumed that I'm an unhappy but a considerate one. I don't if that's true. But that thought gives me solace.

His smoking style has a stylish overtone to it. He closes his eyes while inhaling. He drinks quite fast. And eats only junk food. He detests nutrition. Often gets cold.

He keeps quitting his jobs and joins new ones. But every company he goes to and leaves don't get any better. I'm amazed at the speed and the panache with which he quits jobs.

I have this uncanny knack of comparing myself with the ones known to me and feel either good or lousy. With Shyam, the feeling is kind of mixed. Just as indefinable as Shyam is. I envy him for his lack of attachments. I loathe him for his laziness. I admire his genius. I detest his lifestyle.

But what can I do? Perhaps he has a similar note to write about me too.

Looking back

What is happening to me?

I just wanted to take a break from my work and do something else. What? Writing? No prizes for guessing.

My spirits are high. I seem to have recovered from all the bad things happened to me for me in the first two months of this year. I've come to terms with my father's condition. I don't think of my girl (or ex-girl) often. Other domestic problems seem to be coming under control. But what's preventing me from giving my hundred percent to my work? Why am I not in my energetic best in work? Why is my battery down? What will charge it up now?

I think I'm still under-estimating my new job. Just moving here from the very high of my previous employment, I thought my current job would be a walk in the park. I can just enter here, floor my team with my abilities, impress my boss with my ideas, conquer the role in style with ease. And then I'd be a star in the company. Just like how I was in my previous job.

Far from it.

None of what I described in the previous paragraph happened. Though I entered, with my confidence to the brim, I was swept away by the enormity of the role. I was confronted by some titans in the company who dumbfounded me and my current team isn't as simple to manage as my previous one. My previous team hero-worshipped me. So they put up with whatever I did. I must humbly accept it now. If they had a choice they wouldn't have agreed to half the things I did back there. I was so intellectually arrogant to even realize how foolishly I was using them to drive my own agenda.

This falling down with a thud was badly required for me. Just kind of a reality check. But am I completely back to my reality so that I can begin afresh? I'm afraid not. Looks like this roller-coaster ride isn't over yet. I'm too busy just picking up the ropes out here and running fast enough to just stay here. Where have my senses and the little of grey cells gone?

How silly of me to think that if only I were in Infosys I'd have become a star overnight! Is it just that I'm surrounded by average guys who continued to hero-worship me that I got thoroughly blind-folded? Forget all that. Now what should I do to get over this? I don't think I'm really such an average guy to be brushed aside. I've got to pick up the elements and move on. Rather run on.

Though I consider myself a good writer, I always stumble with ending my essays. To keep up the tradition, I'll not end it well either. I've written a poem titled "I'll grow." I don't know how nice it is. I've never liked my own poems. My poems are just as bad as my essays. I want to write a novel to see if they're any better.

I'll sign off with the same note. And the same hope.

I'll grow.