Tuesday, 26 May 2015

Work it Boss

"Don't play the odds.
  Play the man."
               - Gabriel Macht aka Harvey Specter

I have been working for several years now. Working for a living I mean.
The transition from being a person to a professional wasn't an easy one.

There was this one person I always feared.
That person was around me constantly; at presentations, interviews, reviews, conference room, quite possibly everywhere I was trying to break a professional sweat.

She was an uninvited shadow, always bigger than myself, always daunting and commanding.
I would instantaneously feel weak in her presence, reduced to meek efforts to redeem myself.

I was never myself around her, she was like my professional step-sister. Never on my side.
She made sure to turn work into an insipid job, I felt like a slave to her.

You know that feeling when your boss suggests something that will lead to a 'meteoric' rise on the success graph but is actually a plan set to doom, and your insides want to just shout out a 'No' with wild fervour?
She made sure my head would only nod in agreement along with the room full of sycophants with shifting loyalties. People so manufactured and fake, that if I replaced them with blow-up dolls, the office would function perfectly for a year without anyone ever finding out!

I don't know, what was it about her, but I was subjugated by her invisible strength.
From there on, saying yes to my seniors when I really want to scream out a vehement 'no', complying to baseless rules that have no place in the bay, sharing my point of view which was really the managers view, became normal place.

I'd be lying if I said that I din't gain anything out of it.
She had her ways to compensate.

I received the occasional pats on the back, and the seniors would offer the idea of packaged dreams during reviews.

But this was short-lived. I had become 'them'.
My ability to remain undeflected in purpose and unswayed by criticism was giving up on me.

The individual of integrity that i once knew myself to be had now become a furniture in the corporate living room.
Before i realised, i was drinking out of their palms.
Caving in to the disgusting cocktails my managers loved at office parties, announcing my betrayal to my beloved Ballentine's!
This had to be the last straw.

I had to put an end to this.
I had to confront her and ask her to leave me alone.
I couldn't possibly let her rule me and take away my spark.
She needed to go.

I took her to the restroom, the perfect place for confrontations. You know it. We have seen Suits and Ally Mcbeal.
I stood across the mirror, my hands pressed on the the basin slab.
I stared at my reflection. My professional tormentor was none other than my fear of rejection and my inhibition.
She was me and I was her.
There were no words spoken, just a silent gaze of agreement.
An agreement to not be a sheep in the herd any more.

And so it all changed.
I walk in to work everyday now, fearless and sure.
My integrity and my passion is my Suit, and I always dress to kill.

I am the boss of me now. And so should you be.
Stay True. Leave an impression.

*Inspired by Gabriel Macht's character in Suits and his recent campaign for Ballantine's.
Both exquisitely fine! :P

I am Wearing:

Oval Shades: Faballey
White top: Forever21
Metallic Neck Piece: Sarojini Nagar
Stole: Goa flee market
Palazzo: Sarojini Nagar
Watch: Cartier
Slip-on Flats: Forever21

Tuesday, 12 May 2015

Into the Blues

Dedicated to Astha and Sidharth,
for your clothes are the yin to my yang.  

There is nothing wrong in conflict.
She said.
She was a strange soul, clumsily finding her way into the woods.
She trespassed every place she was asked not to.
She avoided every road that was illuminated.

Perhaps she wanted to find herself falling in an endless pit of adventures.
Her very own Wonderland. Her very own rabbit hole.
Books can be harmful, you see. Fiction,
even more so. 
It makes you believe.
But she was no Alice. She was real.
She was afraid.

She expected a real fire, even if it meant blazing in her own glory to ashes.

So every time she went out free falling, for another vertigo rush, in the middle of getting somewhere and nowhere, she would panic.
That's when Wagner's 'Ride of the Valkyrie' would resound in the valley.
Yes, she was known to be dramatic. It was either that or dub-step!

She believed that if she could overcome gravity, even if for a millisecond, she'd have achieved nirvana, she'd become her own Goddess.

So she found herself holding the hand of another. More clutching for dear life than holding.
 The another completely clueless of the catastrophe that ensued.
The another mesmerized by her madness, and she by another's balance.

She believed that they could be safe now, but she was only dragging another down with her.
You can't hold on to something when you are falling, it's bound to be a mess.

It was clear to her, as the ground approached her swiftly. She was doomed.
That's when the unthinkable happened. She stood there, levitating, few meters from the crash.
Another had succeeded. He peered into her madness and she was a Goddess for what seemed like a blink, but to her, an eternity.
He could do it because he was rising while she was falling. 

And when they crashed, they did so with a smile.
And just like that, out of the blue, another became her own.

You can hear them every now and then, as they dash for their adventures with a ravaging zest.
The trajectory of their falls consumed them so much that they would forget about their bruises from the collisions, almost instantaneously.

Are they lovers? I can't really say.
They are simply chasing away each other's blues. 

I am Wearing:

Silver choker- Dilli Haat

Watch- Cartier
Aztec print Shrug- Vajor

Blue Crop top- Astha & Sidharth (ANS)

Buttoned Maxi Skirt- Astha & Sidharth (ANS)

Slim tribal belt

Photographer- Himanshu Rai

Tuesday, 5 May 2015

A Shape-shift Tale

"I paint with shapes"                 
   -Alexander Calder

She was not made of desire, saccharine kisses or mid-summer dreams.

She wasn’t a thing of beauty, because she did not know what ugly was.

 She was free within the periphery of her dreams.

She was lost, said some.
But that didn’t worry her because freedom was not her concern.

She was a prism, and their voices would permeate through her and take shape into colourful patterns which lit up her imagination and her ceiling in the stillness of a dark night.

 She trapped everything that didn’t make sense and turned it into abstract art.

She wasn’t the sky, she was the stars that tessellated it.
 Her spirit was so massive that it had to be fragmented into zillion, relatively smaller, but still massive, pieces of shiny trinkets.

She became the softness in the moonlight, she was the peak of a hill.

She had angles, one too many. It was difficult to fit her into anything.

So she started fitting things around herself instead. She was God’s interior decorator.

She was unfazed, unchallenged, and absolutely amorphous. 

Ironically, she was geometry.

I am Wearing:

Geometric Neck Piece

Off-shoulder top with piping: The PinkCandyCloset
High Waist Cotton Pants: KOOVS
Platform Candy Color Shoes: DoneByNone

Photographer: Himanshu Rai

Editing: Rashi Kalra