FOUR, AND COUNTING

Feb 2, 2004
Three kids woke up at the unfamiliar house of a friend, took turns at the shower, drank a cup of tea and grabbed a sandwich at the stall down the road, and headed off on foot to "join work". It was an unknown city. It was a new adventure. It was scary. It was exciting. Hands and knees trembled, beads of perspiration fused, forming a stream that charted its own course down their backs. In their mind, dreams danced the tango to the beat a racing heart. But each masked his inner fear with a joke, a laugh and inane conversation. Small talk masked jittery nerves. It also felt "cool". Student life had ended. Welcome to the corporate world.
Upon arriving at their destination, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (at least each believed himself to be in that frame of mind), they were told by the receptionist that the Admin Dept was on leave. Welcome to the corporate world, indeed! They each now had a whole day to do their own thing. But each of them pushed wanton thought out of ntheir head, and congregated on a common objective: find a house. The day was spent exploring unknow streets and locales in the company of a betel-chewing, stale-tobacco-smelling chappie dressed in a stained shirt and patched trousers, sporting a Rs 6,000 gold-plated watch.

Feb 3, 2004
The early-morning routine was the same as the previous day. This time, however, the hallowed Admin Depty was working. After being asked to fill up a mound of forms, and then introduced to people in the department we were to join. Hellos-and-Hi's exchanged, we were again left to our own devices. And again, the latter-part of the day was spent in the exalted company of the same gent as the previous day. He looked like he'd not gone home at all, let alone showered, or brushed his teeth. On the plus side, we rejected some 4 examples of architectural accidents.

Feb 2, 2008
I woke up at 10:30 am: familiar bed, familiar room. Yelled for tea. Snoozed. Came to life when my man-Friday brought a steaming cup of brown liquid for my consumption. Pushed a little canine off my chest, getting a glare and a growl for my troubles. Switched on the telly, and gaped at the moving images. Cursed the cable guy for switching the frequency for 'Star World'. Grumbled when the door bell rang and the caller asked that my car be moved, as construction work had to begin above the ground it covered. Checked my phone for messages. Found one from a colleague seeking permission to take the day off due to ill-health. Answered in the affirmative. Fielded a call from some unknown voice enquiring if I wished to arm myself with a credit card. Request Denied. Showered. Drove to work along familiar roads, noticing a hoarding that had sprung up overnight, featuring a scantily-clad siren directing the passer-by's attention to a new brand of perfume. Yelled obscenities at some hapless pedestrian who'd decided he'd tempt fate by racing wheeled-traffic with the muscles belonging to his hind limbs. Steered into a large gate emblazoned with the name and logo of my employer. Handed the keys to the inhouse valet. Strung a dog-tag with my name and designation around my neck, and headed to my assigned desk: one I've occupied for the better part of 4 years. Answer e-mails from bosses, delete unwanted notifications and inter-departmental memos, call up Admin to ask if reimbursements have been credited. Sign a leave application from a member of my team.
I'm now a four-year old veteran at this place. The place is, in spirit, the same one I walked to four years ago: familiar faces, familiar sounds, familiar problems and solutions.
I've now been here four years. It's different: new faces, new responsibilities, new problems promising new headaches and obstacles.
The old and the new merge.
It's a normal day at work. Boringly routine and run-of-the-mill. Nothing extraordinary. Worryingly mundane.
Surprisingly exciting.