Men are from Mars

This blog is dedicated to my friend. Promises be kept, no names shall be unveiled!! J

So what is it that makes someone say that Men are from Mars?

The other day as I was wrapping up my work in office and one of my friends pinged me on the google messenger. I dreaded that it would be yet another of his cribbing rant and would delay my escape strategy from my 2X2 office cell. I conveniently chose to ignore it for it sometime but the google guys, intelligent that they are, presumed it to be a 'severity 1' issue which needed my immediate attention and decided to highlight it by a bright orange mark on my otherwise blank windows blue screen. To avoid any further speculations I decided to examine it but to my astonishment it just said - “I am so tensed”.

I wondered what the matter was. Past few days had been difficult for him in office. Every presentation that he churned out created magic during meetings. He was the young manager of the company ready to take on new challenges, develop new solutions, and create new perspectives. All he wished for a chance to prove himself. His unbridled enthusiasm was infectious. Then why was he kept out of most meetings, most report work, most conference calls he didn’t know and I wondered too. He was bored and wanted to quit. I wondered if he had caught on with a fight with his boss. Being cornered had made him even more fickle minded. He had once revealed that if it would reach his tipping point, he would just put down his papers. But where would he go he didn’t know.

I frantically typed back to ask but no reply. He had just vanished. I slammed the enter key when it asked me “What do you want the computer to do?” Damn this Windows! It asks the same question over and over again and with newer multiple choices. “Shutdown, log off, standby, restart” – this it asks when I had already declared that I need to “Shut Down” after clicking on the “Start” button – another euphemism. I could have as well pulled off the power cord - skillful entanglement of the cord around my sandal heel and a small jerk – that would put an end to all this irrelevance. But I just let it be.

I rushed out to call him but instead a woman rattled in indecipherable Tamil which seemed to indicate that his cell - a) was switched off b) was out of range c) was busy d) wanted me to dance to his weirdo caller tune before she would allow me to talk.. okay may be not the last one..

What on earth could have happened! I hoped he could be located somewhere. Even in this time of crisis, I carefully hid my id card as I ran across the road to fetch an auto. They seem to have a profession detector which induces them to spell the auto fare proportionately. My trick didn’t work though but nevertheless I boarded the flight err auto...sorry the fare charges always seem to confuse me.

I was almost out of my breath as I climbed over to his place. The door was ajar. He sat there on the sofa with a mystified look staring at the ceiling with the television showing some random channel, or so it seemed to me. The office id was lying below the centre table which I assumed was thrown away so hard that it had gotten to the other side and toppled down. On one side lay a stack of pillows on which he rested his legs. The keys, the laptop, the shoes, everything and anything in that room seemed to be out of place. His eyes were red out of worry& pain of the future that lied ahead.

I didn’t know how to break the silence. When I had finally gotten enough courage and I began to ask, he cut me sharply. “Damn you ignorant lady, you fool, don’t you know!! Fifteen minutes for the day to end and we still need to pull one more down. Else get used to trailing like losers. This is a war and there is no prize for runner ups. Huh!!”

That day I understood two things -

The first being why and why on earth is Cricket called THE religion of India.

And the second being that you guys will be guys…. damn you guys. You are really aliens from Mars!!