South Bound

I awoke with a start in the wee hours of the morning - today was going to be another one of 'those' days and she was at it yet again; attention seeking as always - sending me a reminder despite her absence. She made me feel 'me' and every morning spent with her would ensure that the day ahead would end up being nothing less than perfect.

She was made of elements that popular romantic novels described time and again in their lead female protagonists - Bubbly, dreamy, full of life and always armed with a zing that had in it a mystic aura which I believe to be potent enough to reform a maniacal serial killer from his errant ways. I had met her as a teenager and had instantly taken a liking to her. Each morning spent with her was magical - her company and her energy grew on me like no other and very soon falling for her seemed inevitable; like it was the easiest thing I had done till date.  

 

The past few days had not been good for the both of us - we hadn't been spending our mornings together the way we had done till then. I was starting off at a new position at work with which came new responsibilities and changes thereby. It was precisely these changes that came in the way of our togetherness, we had begun bickering and quarreling but it was different this time - the fighting actually made me feel better about myself.

The relationship slowly but steadily and surely began to sour, which meant that we saw eye to eye lesser,  began avoiding confrontation and let the distance and with it walls the height of The Great Wall of China grow between us. It began to seem as if what was earlier treasured and protected was now going South.    

The permanency in the feeling of crankiness, irritability, loss of concentration in daily work and snapping at random people for no perceivable fault of theirs had slowly crept into my life. This was certainly not what I wanted to spill into my life from our relationship or rather the souring consequences of it. I was exhibiting copybook withdrawal signs of a relationship gone kaput and it was only practical that I realized it before I strung on pointlessly for too long and hurt myself even more in the process.

I reckoned it was better to do it in a quick rapid motion like pulling a bandage off your bruised skin and it was the only logical way forward before I ended up more battered than I already was. With a heavy heart I looked at her with the impending anticipation of our separation and said - I will have you no more - COFFEE, We're through.

Here's a pic of her for old time's sake

 

PS: I know this is downright lunacy at its absolute peak but I`m in Caffeine De-addiction withdrawal - something had to give, right?  

  



 

Because I signed up for this

When you try to make a living in a country whose guts practically half of Europe hates and have no choice but to suck up to because it keeps them from collapsing - 90 out of a 100 times you will find yourself in Germany looking for a job opening or as is my case - looking for an internship. Now, my university has this rule that internships are firstly mandatory and have to last a minimum of half a year for them to be able to make a sizable impact on your foreseeable career path. Couple that with being an international student in a country that doesn't necessarily have a predominantly English speaking business culture and wallah you have yourself a nice soup.

The internship circus began with my grandmother lecturing me every few days on (and I'm paraphrasing) Why I couldn't be like others and simply take up campus placements like normal people but had to go to some foreign land where people use paper to clean their hinds. Amid all this hungama began my hunt for an internship which involved deciding what I wanted out of an internship - to which I was as clueless an infant who was fed a lemon for the first time in his life.  

The first step involved the preparation of a resume and a cover letter which was a whole different circus in itself bereft with abbreviated descriptions of the numerous comedies that had been a part of my experience since school, college and during my masters. I cannot not help but stifle a smile which when let loose would inevitably develop into a fit of uncontrollable laughter when I look at the last few lines of my resume each time which say - I hereby declare that all that I have stated and achieved so far to the best of my ability, knowledge and memory is true. 

The next step involved scouting company career sites to see what they had on offer and surprise surprise most German companies had a line in their long list of requirements which more or less said - English skills necessary albeit in German. I began spraying my application in all conceivable coordinates - Polar, Cartesian, Cylindrical and Imaginary as well, if you will.

The most taxing and frustrating part of the process came next - The Wait. So I waited and waited and waited some more and there was no response despite having sent out enough and more feelers. At one point I even contemplated sending this

 

Thankfully, it didn't come to that and I got a call one evening asking for a Herr Scribblings. You have to believe me when I say I wondered for a split moment why this random guy was asking for my father and that too in German, that's when it struck me that he was calling for me after having gone through the application I had sent for the position he had advertised for. Suffice to say the telephone interview went in a blitz and was completely in German after which I was invited to a personal interview which was also completely in German and the rest as they say is history.

Make way; for the Atrocious has entered the corporate world.