I sit in a room with grey walls on all
sides
With what little source of sunlight,
been shut aside
It seems to me just like a box
My heart is sinking and mind-blocked.
With no source of positivity, no sign of
hope, I’m losing my identity slowly
Just like the wilting buds, in the stagnant
water on my desk, which refuse to grow.
As the clock ticks eleven, people
hurriedly flow in,
Praying this morning there is no mail in
their bin.
The slaves clean the system, all dirty
and stale
And make sure everything is in place
before London’s morning eight.
As the clock ticks eight, no sounds
heard now
The queen and her army are ready to take
charge now.
Slowly and gradually as the day
progresses
My hope for the future further
digresses.
Then falls a bomb on the Indian ground
The queen’s officer doesn't like his
mistakes that you've found.
"I am the officer not you", he would say
"Now make sure everything is done in my
way".
He makes me change all ‘caps to small’,
All ‘small to caps’, just to prove he’s
the boss.
We work in collaboration as a team, they
would say
Only to do things always their way.
Annoyed by his ways, I can’t do a thing
And curse myself for being a part of this back-end team.
Finally, when I am out of this gloomy
mood
I escalate it to someone, who sings a completely
different tune.
“Come on Pooja, this is not back-end
Can’t you see we are working
end-to-end”.
I thank God, for not getting me into the
trap
And making me understand that there is a
big thinking gap.
He is doing is job well and I'm doing mine
I might have done the same, had I been on the other side.
I return to my desk, and again start
doing the crap,
Cutting, copying and pasting more
efficiently, to prove this time I’m in his trap.
But deep down inside me, my inner voice
is mocking and telling me the truth
How much effort you put in, this work
will surely not bare your desired fruits.
And reluctantly, I sit down, looking at
the screen
Pretending to do things which to me really don’t mean.
My friend and colleague, sitting to my
left
Understands my mood, and knows all times
I’ve wept.
He knows it well that I’ve topped in
college, and in previous jobs done well,
Only to be placed among the company’s
best.
He understands that this place seems to me like a jail
Of which I’ve been trying very hard to
get out but have almost failed.
He tries to console and motivate me, and
says tough times would end
And in this gloomy gray cell, thank God
I have a friend.
Thank God there’s a team that leaves at
five
Only to remind me of the ticking time.
Three more hours left for this miserable
day to end,
"No hang on Pooja", I tell myself,
Only two-and
a half, before I go down for dinner with friends.
Finally, I work efficiently and try
wrapping up my work
Missing the tea break and the gossips
world.
The last one hour is crucial for the
queen’s man,
Not sure, what he’s been waiting for all
day, before revealing his plans.
And there rings the phone, that has been
dead all day
Its half past seven, “I hope I’m not too
late”
“No, not at all”, I tell him,
But my inner voice nays “You are just in
time to spoil my date”.
“All you have to do is update the
changes that I’ve made,
That wouldn't take more than fifteen
minutes, had I been in your place”.
All I can do is grumble to myself,
Curse myself further, for working in
this collaborative hell.
It’s already eight and the clocks
have been ticking faster now
The cab driver has been calling to
ensure, that I’ll be there before eight fifteen past.
I ask him to leave, and continue with my work.
Clocks are ticking even faster now, it’s soon ten-thirty and my phone begins to ring
This time it’s my proud mom, who
motivates me further for taking all the pains.
It’s only on submitting my work,
An out-off-office mail tells me, that my officer would be “enjoying the next three days in Spain”.
His acts only belittle and demotivate
me - for being a part of this back-end team
Disgusted and frustrated with this job,
I walk down the floor
Only to pass charts at eleven at night that say “We
are best in class for maintaining the Work Life flow”.
