The Ugly Duckling

Lift beeped and announced ‘Ground floor’. A harried set of voices welcomed us there. The company cab that transported the hapless souls from the far flung office block (SEZs can be someone’s poison too) to the mainstream one, had ditched yet again. “Good I drove down today, lucky me!”- I thought to myself. But then I saw the lines of dejection crisscross Mr. S’s forehead as he looked at the mayhem. “Do you want me to drop you at the other building, I stay right beside it and coincidentally I got my car today.” “Oh that would be really helpful!” – He said. His eyes brightened up with hope. “No problem. Please come along. But disclaimer – I have an old loyal car that responds just right to my brusque veering and heavy stomping. Definitely not fancy as its past prime but nevertheless a trusted confidante. I am still working on detaching myself from it and moving onto a new one.” – I rattled on gleefully.  “I had promised my daughter that I would spend the evening with her. But

Tap! Tick! Tip! Tap! Click! Clack!  Hunched over the formidable notebook’s glaring screen, I continued to hammer obsessively at the overused keyboard. Psychedelic letters twirled and impish buttons played peek-a-boo with an exhausted mind.  The heavy-eyed Sun meekly lumbered back to his hideout taking away the cacophony of animated voices engaged in frantic debates and dissonant beeps of conference calls. As the eerie ‘Quietness’ spread out its soothing wings in an almost deserted floor and took flight; camouflaged introverts started peeping from behind their monitors and smiled to themselves.  Finally it felt at home!  The cries of the petulant muscles and grumbling bones kept getting louder than ever. “Hmm! Maybe I could do with a coffee-break!”- I thought to myself.    As the machine vroomed and whirred to pour out yet another steamy cup spiked with caffeine; I peered out of the large glass window at the busy World which was still rushing, tripping and spee

To be in the land of Netherlanders and not guzzle down a draft of fresh ale would be akin to snoring away in the freezing Iceland when ‘Aurora Borealis’ lights dance in the dark sky :-) Spluttering, choking and still falling flat while enunciating “ Scheveningen ” … My epiglottis continues to glare at me bewildered! Leaving behind a legacy of shattered umbrellas which were slashed ruthlessly by the Wind Gods of the land and truckload of shoes; torn after the long walks and maddening race to signal the disinterested bus driver who swerved around the signals callously. It was tough being in the cycling capital of the world and not know how to ride one (I still reminisce the look of horror on the faces every time I revealed my tiny woeful secret!). Ahh! Probably I should stuff in a few more Dutch drops (assorted Liquorice) into my mouth to avoid being marked as a drop-out. Beyond the tall green foliage and meandering sandy dunes of Hague; it