I was sitting in this call centre and thinking to myself, "damn,
when does this shift get over?" and this was a daily routine, get to work
at 10 pm and finish the 9 hour shift and get back at 8am. After that
there was dull stupor induced by alcohol and cigarettes, I was happy with my
life, there was money, "The call centre pays well," mom had said with
a wry smile on her face and there were friends to make, parties kept me busy on
weekends.
"Hello, how may I help you?" I snapped back at the Avaya phone
"Sir, could you give me your Loan Account No. or a Name followed by
your date of birth," I said softly, I had been taught well and Snigdha had
always warned me,
"Never
show sympathy or disdain, just empathize."
The caller gave me
his account number and I tapped into my application on the screen and the
history popped up on the screen, the Loan Amount, the EMI history, market
credibility, the amount in the bank account and ET all. My training had
prepared me to scan this information in a few seconds and assimilate and then
prepare for my next question, "I suppose this is a 100,000 dollar
loan," I spoke rapidly as I verified all the information that was with me,
"Keep it quick and fast, this is data that needs no verification but we
are still empathizing." He said yes to everything and we started to
go about resolving his issues.
I got home around 8 am that morning and slept like a log till about 4 pm
and as I started to get ready for work, my mind was toying around with an
idea, I was a guitarist and a pro at
writing songs, my friends looked up at parties to write special songs for them
and sing them out, “Then what was I doing in this God Forsaken Call Centre !”
I took out my guitar and started etching up notes for a new song
Intro (Jab Mila Tu) :
E/---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
B/----10--8------10--8-----10--8-------------------------------------------------------
G/-----------9----------9----------9---7h--9--7----------7--7h--9--7-------------------
D/-----------------------------------------------10-9--7--------------10-9--7-----------
A/---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
E/----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
chords are C, G, Am, F(beginning), jab mila tu C Em F
B/----10--8------10--8-----10--8-------------------------------------------------------
G/-----------9----------9----------9---7h--9--7----------7--7h--9--7-------------------
D/-----------------------------------------------10-9--7--------------10-9--7-----------
A/---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
E/----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
chords are C, G, Am, F(beginning), jab mila tu C Em F
It was a Hindi song, but music is a
great unifier and translated it goes like this,
“ Like the Soul of a Watch,
That Has Forsaken Time,
Like the Sunlight in the Morning
Is Separated from the Light
That is How I am Without You”
That Has Forsaken Time,
Like the Sunlight in the Morning
Is Separated from the Light
That is How I am Without You”
I started to strum it and went into a
world of my own, an hour went by and then two and then three, without a thought
in my head except this song that I was writing for myself, my mind was in
rapture and I was thinking
I missed work that day, they were angry
all these managerial staff, the CEO and Directors, it wasn’t for nothing that I
didn’t go for work that day, one month from that day, I quit my job and started
writing songs, its about talent and finding what you are made for. (http://knowledgeisgreat.in/).
This morning I woke up and heard this
advertisement on FM, “Go To UK”, the
best strummers are from around these parts,
never miss out anything that we string out, remember Eddie Mercury, I still hang
around these parts and of course, “I am too sexy for my Shoes.”
The Royal School Of Music, just give me
an entry ! .. So where is this Royal School of Music, it must be around
somewhere, its somebody’s tip and I will get around to it this summer and with
time I shall be amongst the best.
The
realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore—that
although you thought you were following the arc of the story, you keep finding
yourself immersed in passages you don’t understand, that don’t even seem
to belong in the same genre—which requires you to go back and reread the
chapters you had originally skimmed to get to the good parts, only to learn
that all along you were supposed to choose your own adventure..................
From the “Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.”
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