A good week of work. A better weekend of fun.
Part One.
The year seems to have started on a good note. I actually woke up, looking forward to going to work, all days of the last two weeks! Surely 2009 is a good year – this doesn’t happen to me usually.
Last week was great – got some work done. Started a few new things, closed a few old ones. Monday and Tuesday went past in an all-employee meeting that deserves a whole new paragraph. : )
New people, old friends, a few broken bones (not mine, thankfully) and a lot of dancing.
This was the first time I was in one of those conference/off-site/come-ye-all type of ‘work’ gatherings, where the number of women was more than 1% of the total population! Now I’m not the touch-me-not variety, but if you’ve been part of sales conferences and junta get-togethers you’ll know what I mean. Picture this: 40 men on a cruise. Almost all of them, getting drunk and dancing away to sleazy (for me, atleast) dance numbers and hard core (not Hard Kaur – she’s too hip) Punju tracks (aside: the worst is where there’s a bunch of these guys doing the ‘sapera’ - snake charmer and ‘saanp’ – the snake, of course, jig to EVERY bloody track! Gives me the creeps, seriously!) You’re the ‘single female travail-er’ – in which case one of the two things could happen to you, depending on a.) how you look, or b.) how you network, or c.) how much you care. You could either get totally alienated or get all the (un) wanted attention and cringe and want to wither or slither away. Thankfully, and I desperately cross my fingers as I say this, the bunch of people I’ve been working with for the last few years are the most easy-to-get-along-with and fun while not being too overbearing. Basically, be and let be types.

Nonetheless, coming back on track, this was the first time there were about 10 women in all and after the initial ‘oh-no. this is not my kind of music’ pretense, all of us hit the dance floor. Well, actually, you can’t avoid that if you’re either being dragged onto the floor by one of the girls or are hiding, quite unsuccessfully, behind the foliage to only hear your name being called out, rather unceremoniously, almost akin to the roll call at suicide-squad practice, on the PAS (or whatever that thing a DJ uses is called!). So finally it was about 8 or 9 of us dancing away, totally oblivious of the world. Tracks ranging from the near classic ‘gur naal ishq mitha’ (which I think means love’s sweeter than jaggery.. Delhi girls to help please) to the uber new ‘my desi girl’. Being the multi-linguistic bunch that we are, even Telugu and Tamil hits weren’t spared. Not that I cared. It was euphoria at its newest best. Never ever have I been so uncaring of my surroundings and just let myself go. I remember one of my good friends telling me that I’m always so ‘in control’ of myself and that I should let go once in a while. (Well, his recommendation was experiencing a liquor-induced high. Only, the medium I chose was quite different). Don’t want to write more about it and limit the feeling to a mere expression. In all, a great (albeit back breaking, thanks to jumping in stilettos) night followed by a surprising morning where a couple of people asked me if I was still hung over?! I guess everyone who’s used to seeing the ‘oh. I don’t dance’ me, thought the plausible explanation for my aberrational behaviour was booze. Pity. These lowly mortals. Someone went as far as telling me how to get rid of a hang over. ‘Drink lots of water’ the wise man recommended.

I stifled a curse, metamorphosis-ed it into a smile and said, ‘I don’t drink.’

(To be continued...)