... a telephone. He goes and checks the latest model and plans available. Man goes to the showroom and offers to pay upfront. Man is denied a phone because he does not have a PIN number for the debit card or a "paid utility bill, not older than three months" in his name.
Man goes to bank, demands a PIN for his debit card. Bank says PIN is despatched. Man says he has not received yet. Clerk checks and says it has been despatched to his permanent address in India.
Man wants to go out. It is so damn chilly outside that the very thought of "becoming a penguin" to go out puts him off. Man wants to go out of the city for new year. It rains. Man looks out of the window at 4 in the afternoon and wonders "Whither the sun?"
Man wants to charge his gadgets, but his round plugs won't go into the square holes. Man attempts to find a charger, but none in stock.
Man wishes everyone a happy, fun-filled and a satisfying year ahead and rolls off to sleep under the warmth of his blanket.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
The chilly winds...
... of England seem to have the sharpest bite of them all. A week into the UK and I already feel the woollen I have will hopelessly fail to insulate me – when I am outside, that is. In the inside of the house, the office, and the mall I visit in between walking from one to the other, there are heaters working tirelessly to make the people feel warm and cozy.
The walk to the office is a pleasant one – early in the morning, thanks to a disciplined colleague who works smart – the shops in the mall are just about opening as we walk past them, the heavenly smell of cookies and bread emanates from the brunch shop, a couple of people nod a silent “Good Morning”, as we walk the entire diagonal length of the mall, window shopping the huge stores, brandishing their merchandise at a re-worked price for Christmas.
One desk beside me, the large glass windows (or should I say walls) stretch themselves over the parking lot, and beyond it, one can see a palatial structure with a dome – that’s the Indian restaurant, Jaipur – the closest to authentic Indian food you get around Milton Keynes comes from these kitchens, they say. One can also see the traffic emerging out of the railway station, which is just in front of the office building. The cars, I won’t even talk about them – BMWs are driven as taxis. More land is allotted to the parking lot than the actual office space. The sun, when it shines, bounces off the glass windows, and reflects off the shiny roofs of the cars below.
Outside, the leaves have bid goodbye to the trees, and those which have managed to hold fast have turned a rusty brown. People walk around hugging their dark overcoats tighter around themselves. You can’t make out who is smoking unless you look at their hands and find a cigarette between their fingers. The landscape outside has a touch of wilderness with all the brown and the earth. Even so, the guy next door, scraping frozen dew off his car windows, brings hope that it might be a white Christmas after all.
The walk to the office is a pleasant one – early in the morning, thanks to a disciplined colleague who works smart – the shops in the mall are just about opening as we walk past them, the heavenly smell of cookies and bread emanates from the brunch shop, a couple of people nod a silent “Good Morning”, as we walk the entire diagonal length of the mall, window shopping the huge stores, brandishing their merchandise at a re-worked price for Christmas.
One desk beside me, the large glass windows (or should I say walls) stretch themselves over the parking lot, and beyond it, one can see a palatial structure with a dome – that’s the Indian restaurant, Jaipur – the closest to authentic Indian food you get around Milton Keynes comes from these kitchens, they say. One can also see the traffic emerging out of the railway station, which is just in front of the office building. The cars, I won’t even talk about them – BMWs are driven as taxis. More land is allotted to the parking lot than the actual office space. The sun, when it shines, bounces off the glass windows, and reflects off the shiny roofs of the cars below.
Outside, the leaves have bid goodbye to the trees, and those which have managed to hold fast have turned a rusty brown. People walk around hugging their dark overcoats tighter around themselves. You can’t make out who is smoking unless you look at their hands and find a cigarette between their fingers. The landscape outside has a touch of wilderness with all the brown and the earth. Even so, the guy next door, scraping frozen dew off his car windows, brings hope that it might be a white Christmas after all.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Westward Ho !!!
The lights below were as if someone was holding a mesh of golden beads, shining away in all their glory. Wait, was that the Sayyaji Rao Road meeting Urs Road at KR Circle?
It was indeed one road meeting another at a roundabout, but from 2000 ft above the ground, you would not know for sure. For, the first illuminated aerial view of the city of London reminded me of my own Mysore, decked up for Dasara.
I'm in the UK now, on company assignment. I arrived over the weekend, and have settled well, thank you. Work might not permit me to blog on company time, but I do have unsupervised internet access at home, so Shru, the comments shall freely flow now...
It was indeed one road meeting another at a roundabout, but from 2000 ft above the ground, you would not know for sure. For, the first illuminated aerial view of the city of London reminded me of my own Mysore, decked up for Dasara.
I'm in the UK now, on company assignment. I arrived over the weekend, and have settled well, thank you. Work might not permit me to blog on company time, but I do have unsupervised internet access at home, so Shru, the comments shall freely flow now...
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