Revisiting Delhi office

Visiting the Delhi office used to be almost a must-do earlier. There was no question, it was something that just had to be done. And no matter how short the visit, one always made time for it. A transfer to the Bombay office didn't mean that Delhi diminished in importance. Quite the contrary in fact.

As the number of friends across units and floors dwindled, so did the frequency of visits. Not a conscious decision, but just happened. Inching up the ladder also played its part as fieldwork trips became infrequent, more hectic and shorter, with hobnobbing with clients in the name of client-servicing taking up more and more time.

So today, when I have landed at the Delhi office after what seems like eons, it is a straaaaaaaaaange experience. It has been eons I guess. I took the walk around office as always, but maybe I shouldn’t have. There are no familiar faces. So many cubicles or their coordinates are familiar, etched in my mind with faces that seem to naturally belong there, that will belong there forever, but in reality… there are strangers there now. There are no friends to sneak upto, no hugs, no huddling together, no hi-fives, no sutta buddies, no ‘come-back-yaaaa’s.

The only people I know now and who know me are the support staff – the ill-tempered (and cock-eyed) receptionist Stella – who I used to make so much fun of, the jack-of-all-trades but obnoxiously outspoken Bihari – Ghanshyam, the part-time-pundit-part-time-xerox-guy Sharma, the slow-and-inefficient-but-infinitely-lovable-and-loving ops lady Rama, the shy canteen guy Sanjay and a handful of Accounts guys who were (and are) the most lecherous of the lot, but who one had to maintain good equations with or they’d mess up your taxes, claims and so on (or so the belief was).

And they all meet me now with such love and kindness you’d think we were related by blood. I’m for them ‘apni Taraa maddum’ who started her stint in their home ground, who floundered, faltered and took baby steps in front of their patronizing eyes, and who is now older, more mellowed and clearly changed but yet still somehow, to their relief - the same.

I guess in a way they’re proud of me – for having stuck around, for not forgetting, for returning, for being humble, for having matured. They have been privy to some ghastly mistakes I made, and I know they remember, but I’ll be damned if they think any lesser of me now because of those.

I think they too miss the people I’m missing. I don’t think I’m just an old hag reminiscing about the magic of the gone days… I think there really was something to that time and those people. There was more innocence. There was less formality. There were no walls. If you wanted infinite space of your own, you didn’t belong then, you belonged in the future which is now. They (these support people I’m talking about) back then probably earned lesser but were heard more, seen more, mattered more.

I think they miss being more than just support staff.

I am thankful for them, glad they’re there. They made my life easier back then though I didn’t realize that they meant anything. And now they don’t particularly do anything for me, but they still mean a lot. They make it worth visiting.

Anyway, no doubt you would know the feeling I’m talking about if you've been there and done that. I’m just rambling. Like always – forcing you to listen whether you want to or not. Showing you around the interiors of my cluttered mind.

Please don’t mind the mess, make yourself home.