Woes Of An Office Going Bachelor!

This is a post I wrote a few years back and was published by Sulekha.com.

My halcyon night is over. Nightmare is about to begin. The incubus of the “snarling traffic” looms large on me. The horror distinctly writ large on my face. The painful morning ablutions and the harrowing experience of attending the “Nature's Call” (bearing the impressionist view of my inside, with regards to the oily stuffed Paratha, Dal Tadka and a pint of Hayward's 5000 I had at Medchal road Dhaba last evening) makes my life a more constipated one. The prologue is over, stretching the next histrionics of searching an ironed pair of cloth. “Gosh!” there is none. “How can I be so stupid?” I strongly detest my perennial amnesia and negligence bordering on remiss. How long did I try to desquamate this Bohemian outlook?

My first jaunt of the day starts with the search for a dhobi. Steady on the motorbike, electrified hair standing out as if I had a small stint under the Van de graph generator, wrapped around with unironed clothes, one pair of trousers hanging from my neck ducking fleeting glances and furrowed stares of the passersby. After combing the neighbourhood, I finally met a dhobi and got my work done. Hurried back to my nest and scampered into the bathroom for a French bath. Buddy even French bath needs water! It's 9 'o clock and according to the society rules the end of morning water supply. Scurried down to the ground floor for another hunt. This time the hapless person is the chowkidar. After lots of pleading and soliciting, I finally managed to woo him and turn on the water supply for a few more minutes, but that made me poorer by 10 bucks.

Eventually a baton-holder of the so-called glamorous yet unexciting IT industry, a software engineer is ready to make a move to his office which happens to be in a different “District” (Rangareddy) altogether. Till now I was disillusioned by the internal speed breakers which bear the direct repercussions of my own nonperformance. A still larger and an external impediment waits to waylay me. It's the glut of traffic that's heading towards Begumpet. The flow of traffic resembles the gushing out of river Ganga from the Gangotri glacier. Relentless and unstoppable. It's my turn now to be a part of the rocky and bouldery journey parrying the rapids and circumambulating the rugged countenance of the slithery traffic.

So my imminent journey starts. This journey has its own enigma. A charm dangerously inviting. To add to the woes, the inhabitants of Hyderabad have very insignificant traffic sense. The slithery traffic, ceaseless honking of autorickshwas, purring of the state transport buses emitting loads and loads of obnoxious gases asphyxiating the already polluted atmosphere. The array of noises emanating from the rickshaws in Hyderabad ranges from a tinge of mellifluousness to the Caw-Cawing of an ugly raven (ones which are fitted with those black ravenous hooters). You can feel the gust of wind when a zooming Fiero or CBZ passes by, making you a bit jittery and for a fleeting second forces you to wonder whether you are traveling on a normal tarmac or an airport runway. The propensity of the youth in Hyderabad is to touch the higher echelons (Speed 80-100) of the speedometer leaving the dregs to the mercy of the middle-aged. A harmless 40 in the speedometer is the most harmful one never know who whacks you from behind. Jumping the gun (here the gun is the ubiquitous Red Light which stands as a sovereign and silent witness to the collapse of the traffic-rules by the “Gung-Ho” unruly mob), two-wheelers in full throttle, altercation of pedestrians, gasping of the puny Luna and Moped sandwiched between the gigantic Hyderabad State Transport buses, cacophony of sounds, paunch-studded policemen embezzling money from two gentlemen (their demeanor astutely suggests that they can hardly commit any trivial crime, leave aside breaking traffic rules) whereas the raunchy drivers go scot-free -- all these are the salient features of the Nawabi roads of my dearest city.

Guys strutting their stuff snugly placed on their two-wheelers trying to vicariously molest the office-going babes. The ogles had such intensity that they can even strip a heavily adorned torso. These “stripping stares” hardly differentiates an emaciated figure with a lascivious lissome form as long as it's the opposite sex. The “reciprocate stares” were always a blend of scorn and indignation. You can witness all these cameos during the sojourn from home to office, which makes the otherwise hackneyed journey a defining one.

The “capability of procreation” is phenomenal for the Hyderabad roads. Every morning I wake up to wage a war with the increasing number of vehicles on the tarmac, and as a result the time taken to cross the stretch from Begumpet to Panjagutta increases in geometric progression. The incessant honking of the omni-present autorickshwas and the careless drivers of the two and four-wheelers makes me sweat profusely under the helmet.

The scalding heat and the snail-paced traffic adds to the woes of a well-dressed software engineer. Slowly and steadily, a narrow slimy tract of sweat started to adorn the back of my shirt leaving behind big patches of stained blobs. Somehow huffing puffing I reached the Lifestyle flyover where the traffic was blocked by a fracas erupted between two elderly people. Unmindful of the waiting traffic, they tried to manhandle each other wasting precious time of the office-goers. And to my befuddlement, people perched on their vehicles happily witnessing the two street-smart senior citizens fighting for their democracy in the most undemocratic manner. The situation came under control when a policeman intervened and pocketed a handsome tip from both the contenders. When I made a cursory glance at my watch, I realized that I traveled the stretch between Shoppers' Stop to Lifestyle in one hour. Luckily, there were no further hiccups before I reached my office. By the time I reached office, the fragrance of my deodorant had given way to a putrid smell… and a nauseating sojourn to office had given way to an even more fiery reception from my boss… I was late…