An ode to a manager

This poem is dedicated to all my friends in companies which have draconian work cultures and whose lives are ruled by demonic PHBs. Luckily, my manager is as cool as one can get and I, hence take, twice the sadistic pleasure involved in dedicating poems to their miserable work lives

An ode to a manager

Blessed be he who sings thy ode,
Breaks his back whilst tholes thy load,
Monday through friday, Nightfall through morn,
Gently smiles back at thy ridiculing scorn
He is wilted with work and darkened to coke
And yet doth he laugh at thine asinine joke
And all ye grant, a petty salary, pray be
“Thou art the symbol of grace”, quoth me
He toils day and night to earn thy praise
And feeds thine ego to win his raise
Thou looked with glee and grinned and smirked
Ere thou scowled at him when he was irked
How work goes on, no clue thou hast
Thou command no flaws, thou want it fast
Thou hast an eye for fallacies divine
He makes one error, thou point out nine.
Thou treat him akin the minions of hell
“Hail manager, thou knowest well”
Glory be thine, thy victory destined
Mankind be ruled by Manager-kind

The smart answer that I did not have… (Continued from an older post)

Well, yeah.. I didn’t get fired after all. And that pretty much sums up the annual appraisal process we have in place here. “But, that’s okay”, I said to myself. “What I have learned here in the last one year is so much more valuable than a credit entry in my bank account which would inevitably be eaten up in no time by the numerous useless debit entries above and below it.”
Now, before I could recount the numerous technical addendum to my CV (recursively defined as something you can create by copy pasting from your senior’s CV and changing minor details – The abbr, in urban myths,is believed to be indicative of the fact that copy pasting involves the extensive use of the keys Ctrl C and V), my train of thoughts was interrupted by another irreverent remark by my neighbour (how it pisses me when MS Word underlines my “neighbour” and suggests “neighbor” ).

The smartest answer I had

(This post has been censored to keep myself from getting fired )

I was sitting with my neighbor watching the 9 p.m news about the CERN Big Bang (We are mad losers with big brains, lets see if we can destroy the universe) experiment, and contemplating with relief about my Project Launch which was now possible as “Mommy! Look what I made! Its called a tiny black hole” experiment had been postponed.My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by my neighbor when he suddenly asked me “You really think it could have created a black hole ?”

Ah Ha!! Right question to the right person!! Given my extensive knowledge on the subject and to some extent,the questioner’s apparent lack thereof,I decided to deliver a brief but intriguing “Funda Session” about n-dimensional Riemannian geometry and relativistic effects of alpha-hadron collisions, whilst he listened attentively unawares of the widely held belief that all I know about the Black hole is that ‘It sucks!’.But here I was delivering an unfaltering speech about the technicalities of making a black hole and finally finishing it off with a brief note about the racist implications of the experiment and why it is called the ‘Black’ hole and not the ‘White’ hole,drawing analogies with Blackmail and the Blackberry.

Bravo!! I was pretty sure that the guy was dumbfounded and wouldn’t have noticed a single flaw in my expert analysis of the subject.After all, and most modestly, I did have bigger brains than him.(Incidentally,he was a 10 year old kid.)

The Spot Of Ink

When you write an exam and come back, its not the questions and answers that you remember. What you remember is the momentary pause, the glance you took at your neighbor’s face,the few seconds when you stopped writing and looked out of the window, when you heard the birds singing outside, and followed the rhythm of the creaking fan for a second, before you went back to writing..Life is like that.. The moments which we “live” in are actually the moments we don’t even know that we are living in.When you pause while running through the motions of life, you might not realize that, that’s when you are actually experiencing the phenomenon called life..Its not when you are writing. its actually when you pause and the ink spills, smearing your blank sheet of life, that you actually live.

The Spot Of Ink

The T’s tail hung loosely
The I’s eye looked blind
Smearing the insanity of the space
The spot of ink was left behind

Countless lines drawn,So much writ
And yet so much more to write,
A jungle of thoughts chime along
Like a thousand voices in the quiet

And yet its silent,empty,
I sink deep in ethereal waters
Gazing at the shining bubble of life,
As the impending tide no longer matters

Pause.
Life has stopped
I stop running and take a look around
The cheers and jeers echo in my senses
While I listen to silence’s sound

A moment stolen
From the vaults of time
It never appeared
But it was always mine.

Clutching it, before I started afresh,
I stopped to look, to wonder, to think
The lines, the words are washed away
All that remains, is the spot of ink.