In Vacant or in Pensive Mood

I wrote this more than a year ago, based on my experience of ordering from Wang's Kitchen on a working weekend. And today, when I ordered again from Wang's, I was reminded of that day. This was a very long Zomato review and Facebook post then.  It's a blog now. ..... I was working last Saturday (unfortunately), and as a treat to myself, I left my boxed lunch behind at home and decided to order my lunch from a nice restaurant. About an hour before lunch time, I browsed Zomato, zeroed in on Wang's Kitchen and placed my order. Since I knew I wouldn't be sharing my lunch with any of my colleagues that day with most of them on leave and one fasting, I kept my order minimal. Moreover, it being lent season, I was left with only veg options. Anyways, my order was a Veg. Schezwan Noodles. The food was delivered to my office an hour after I placed the order. No complaints here, because they had given me fair warning before I placed my order about the time it w...

One weekend, I was trying out a feature I didn’t quite understand in my computer, and so I clicked the ‘Help’ link. A popup help window opened, and as I was reading through it, I found myself constantly thinking about the technical writer who must have published it. The faceless, nameless author of the Help content would have put in several hours of research, relentlessly pursued the developers and SMEs (subject-matter experts) for information, made over a hundred calls, and sent an equally overwhelming number of mails to clarify details. At the same time, this technical writer would have also had to deal with a pushy project manager from the developing team who believes that technical writing is the simplest job in the world, pressing deadlines to the writer’s face without giving a second’s thought to the fact that he himself couldn’t, if he tried, write to save his life! While the usual claim is that the Help document looks simple and understandable, and so must be easy to write...

Once again, I managed to drag myself out of bed, bathe in heated water, dress up in a hurry, partially comb my wet hair, and finally rush to the bus stop at 6:45 am. My earrings and safety pins were still clenched in my fist, and the things inside the bag slung over my shoulder lay cluttered as I pulled out my ID card and wore it around my neck. The bus would be there any minute. The bus arrived at 6:50 am, and I boarded it with a smile, and waded through the aisle as I looked for a place to sit. Coming to two empty seats adjacent to each other, I dropped my bag into the first one, and slid my own self into the other one by the window. I opened out the closed window and immediately felt content as the pleasant morning breeze made its way in. Quickly, I organized the things in my bag, put on my earrings, pinned up my clothes wherever necessary, opened out my hair and combed it lightly. Then I adjusted my seat to just the right position; pushed back so that I could lean comfortably,...