A hard day's work...

Yesterday was my induction day at my place of work. It's one of the most reputed companies in India which has a Global presence in 63 countries around the world. I really enjoyed everyone who came to speak to us and tell us a little bit about the company in their own words; their own experiences; and what they felt the company had to offer us. There seems to be an unlimited potential to grow, and that is what I'm most excited about. If you don't fit in somewhere, there's always another place for you to make yourself comfortable in--so you can find a niche for yourself almost anywhere in the company.

My facilitator for the day was a very boisterous and enthusiastic young lady who made us all feel right at home and was there throughout the day to make sure that all of us were comfortable with what was being presented to us. She introduced us to everyone and had a lot of things to say herself which were quite useful.

The best part was how our VP came in and spoke to us in the morning, in one of our first sessions, right after the ice-breaking round where we all had to introduce ourselves (more about that later). He seemed like a guy who you could really talk to if there was anything on your mind, and not worry about what the repercussions would be. No hangups what-so-ever. And for someone who's in his position and acts like he's just another associate was very welcoming.

The ice-breaking session lasted for about half an hour--it was the first round that we had, and the most joyous. We were supposed to use the first alphabet of our name to come up with an adjective that we thought aptly defined our personalities, attaching it to our names, and then passing it on to the next person, who would have to repeat what you'd said and then do the same for him or herself , and the procedure would continue on and on, until the last person would have to recite everyone's name with the aid of the adjectives that were supplied to him--poor bastard!

We also had some wonderful people like the lady who had won a lot of prestigious awards in the organization year upon year, coming to visit us, and telling us how it feels to be an icon of the company, where your work is not only recognized by your peers, but by the big man himself--the CEO of the company.

The most appealing part of the whole day was that most of the people who had come down to spend the day with us were full of life and vigour, and it felt good to be surrounded by them; it made me feel like I could be one of them too pretty soon, if I put in the hardwork and dedication that's expected of me. Our training is going to start from Tuesday next, until which date we're all on paid leave. I've got to go and get my Pan card paperwork started for my Income tax purposes, and apply for a credit card so that I can purchase stuff online which I'd like to be sent to the States since you need a credit card number for that. Hopefully all of this should be done with within the week and I'll be ready by Monday to start work as seriously as I can.

Wish me luck!

Iron Man

His name is Kondaya. He's the guy who irons my dad's shirts, and pants, and whatever else that needs to be ironed. He also irons the clothes of the entire neighbourhood. He has a small shack set up by the side of the road, where he, his wife, and another man who he's hired (I'm not sure if this person is related to him or not, since most of these small businesses are family run), work from around 9 AM to 9 PM, if not longer. The little tables on which they iron their clothes are overloaded with bundles upon bundles of laundry, freshly washed, waiting to be touched by their smouldering hot irons. (Surprisingly, the tables are quite effective in giving the pants and shirts that extra special crease. So, not only are these cheap wooden tables cost-effective, but they're also high on quality too. Much better than an ironing board if you can believe it, which you won't, until you've seen it!)

Today--as I was picking up my dad's clothes, I noticed that Kondaya's wife had a packet of milk in her hand. I had smelt the aroma of tea coming from somewhere but couldn't figure out where they'd kept their cups, so I assumed that perhaps she was going to prepare it. That's not what she was doing--or at least not yet. She was holding the cool packet of 1/2 a litre milk to her face, and trying to dampen the sweat off her neck and forehead.

In the meantime, Kondaya was in the back searching for the plastic bag in which my father's clothes were kept. As I was taking it from his hand--I realized something that I'd almost forgotten since it'd been such a long time since I'd seen him--Kondaya has Elephantiasis. His right leg is probably five to six times the size of his left, and he walks with a slight shuffle. And yet, this man has no other choice but to stand on his own two feet, even at his age (he must be in his fifties) and iron other people's clothes, day in and day out, over and over again, for the past few years that I've been seeing him at least. He also doesn't wear any slippers, if memory serves me right, at least on the leg that's afflicted by the ailment.