Of aunties and jobs.

Home comings are usually followed by hazy mornings, unkempt hairs and some bumpy, loud vsits of my er.. so many relatives and almost everytime when the elderlies are done with their cribbings of respective kaam waalies, comparision of saree prices and match-making small talks, the attention diverts to their younger cohorts. Which puts into picture,  the life and times of this young flambouyant blogger.

Apparently as a kid, he had a fetish for pressure cookers. While the respective Jain aunty ke kids whined for GI Joes, he was cool with banging cookers on home floors. What concerns him the mosts is that ‘this’ is perhaps the only thing with which he is remembered amongst his mom social circle.

Jain Aunty: dekho kitna bada ho gaya hai ye ab. Kal tak nikker mein cooker cooker chillata ghooma karta tha, hain naa? Ab enginner bann gaya. Job kahan lagi?

Me (dipped in samajic maryaada waali tone): Jee, banglore mein job hai. Mu Sigma.

J A: ohh achcha. Kaunsi company hai?

(side note: Not that she did not hear it right. If you are to be working in any company other than their husband’s or Infosys, this was inevitable.)

Me: Jee aunty, MU SIGMA. Business analytics role hai.

J A: er.. mmm <blank blank> ye kya banati hai sonu?

Me: (Don’t. ask. ever): ye kuch BANATI nahi hai aunty. We analyse the data.. mm err.. provide soluntions <blank blank>

J A: <blank blank>

J A: Tum IIT walon ko to achcha kaam milna chahiye naa waise.

Me: Give me that dagger. now.

* Jain was obviously a fictional prefix unless I was ready to be lynched next time. But her son did get a job in some regular IT firm. I hope it was Satyam.

And this post-job sem is pretty chilled out. People are so inactive and lazy that they could also be giving cold complexes to the refrigerator salesman at Iceland. I mean, the last industrious thing I did was filling the ‘about me’ entry for the batch yearbook. That too, I went numb at my 15 years hence plan.

To be honest, my only responsibilities back home have been studying, washing the car at weekends and getting mother dairy poly packs every morning. With me in hostel, the last two had gone. And now the very idea of a company trusting (and paying) me with its internet resources for some useful number analytics sends me to jitters. Leave alone managing a life in a distant city. And killing the “what in 15 year question”.

If stupidity were a sport, I would be on the cover page of every magazine. Front page. Full color. Some time back this was the e-mail I received from the academic section.

Dear Rohit,

You have applied for change of course from EC
662  to EC 654. But according to our record you were never
registered for EC 662. So, your request for course adjustment
could not be processed.

Anyways, all that is history now. I have successfully changed courses, assured mom that I won’t be surviving on maggies and mailed my confirmation to the company I would be crunching numbers for. Yes this is what the analytics lingo is. And now I would retire to sleep with my over exploited Winamp playing the Billu Barber’s Khudaya Khair