Silicon slave – Part 1 : Welcome to my life

Part 1: Welcome to my life

I say, beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, and not rather a new wearer of clothes.

– Henry David Thoreau

Sunny and carefree days, alcohol flowing down the throat, laughter drowning the silence and the camaraderie shining through the bleak future, my college days were truly great. I had friends, back then, friends with whom I shared adventures as frequently as I share, nowadays, ‘important’ files with my colleagues, day in and 9-5 day out. Sitting on the 29th floor and sitting behind the thick glass walls, I survey my vista, the sprawling city of Bangalore waiting to be run through, and I wonder, where did I screw up? And how? And why? And what the fuck? 

At once, I feel sadder than I already am. I feel lonely, sitting amongst the hundreds of other formal clads, and I have none of the friends I had, still remaining. In front of me, on the table, rests my office laptop, on which I am typing this now, instead of doing office work. I look out again, the city lays calm under a blanket of fine Bangalore weather which never seems to be too hot, except only today. The time is 11:30 AM and I am suddenly gripped by a thought. 

Let me call my friends, be right back, let me see where they are and what they are up to in life…

I called 5 of my old buddies from college. 2 did not answer. One fellow cut and replied, ‘In a meeting, what’s up?’, and the fourth one cut and did not message back. The fifth fellow, it said that the number I was calling was unreachable at the moment. FTS!

‘What?’ My colleague lifted his head and turned towards me. 

‘Fuck This Shit!’ I shouted unintentionally loud and stood up, stiff with anger.  

On the floor where I work, about 54 people sit, each in their cozy cubicle, and all of them turned to look at me, when I said what I said, loudly. I did not know what to do next and the sudden onslaught of gawks knocked me off my chain of thoughts. 54 people and a total of precisely 108 eyes were staring intently at me, I could even see that some of them were sipping their hot coffees while they sat back in their chairs and braced for some sort of an embarrassing entertainment about to go down. 

I felt I had a lot to say, but all I could say were some noiseless and imaginary words which escaped my pursed lips, unnoticed. My college days zipped by in a blur, the laughter, the alcohol, the recklessness, the lust, the love, oh the age of the youth! And I could not help, consequently, but to think about my long lost dream which I so proudly used to bring to light whenever somebody used to ask me about my plans after graduation. Yet, here I was, dressed in formals, bleating with the others, moving directionless, spiritless, and lifeless, sending around files which meant jack shit. I surveyed the 108 gawking eyes, and could find not a single eye which even remotely displayed a glint of concern, or care. All I could see in their stares were silent anticipation for some entertainment, leading to some quick forgettable office-laughter. 

I sat down, for I had nothing to offer them, and nothing to offer myself. I felt lost, more lost than I had ever been. I felt like a total loser in life. I peered over my cubicle and noticed that the 108 eyes were now back to their fixed computer gazes. Nobody gave a flying shit about mental health, this I understood very very clearly yet again. My mobile phone started vibrating on my desk, and I noticed that it was one of my college friends who was previously ‘in a meeting’. I cut the call and sent him a message,’ In a meeting, call you right back.’ 

My office buddy sitting next to me rose and said to me,

‘Coffee?’ 

I said, ‘Okay’, and followed him into the office cafeteria. 

‘Dude. One more time you do that, that’s all, The End. This is the second time you are doing it this week. One HR warning wasn’t enough?’

I did not reply, I instead stared out the glass walls on the 29th floor. The sun was a little higher now, and Bangalore was sizzling under its spears. There were absolutely no birds in the sky, not even airplanes jetting the sky, it was a pale cloudless blue sky with a bright sun looking down on us all.  I remember thinking, whether the sun would ever truly shine on me; while the rest of the city was enjoying its grace, I was tucked away inside the artificially lit, artificially made boxes, which in turn make the artificially made buildings, which in turn are part of the artificial Silicon Valley of the East, inhabited by artificial, artificial techies of lost dreams. 

I asked myself that day, as my colleague brewed strong coffee for me, whether I would ever muster the courage to do what I wanted to do. There was no reply in the air, just the smell of fine Arabica blend coffee distracting us all from the fact that we were corporate slaves. With the coffee in hand and a colleague in tow, I made my way back to my cubicle, and saw that my laptop was bleeping with a Skype call. I had to attend it, and just like that, another meeting, another day and another dream went by, and nothing had ever changed. 

Part 2 is out!