It was my last day in office yesterday. And last days in office make you realize so many things - like how you can discuss your 'last days' and know you aren't talking about impending death. That's a nice feeling. Then there are the gifts. They are so many, they are so varied, and they're all so wonderful. Anything that comes free and with a finality is always beautiful; unless it's death. Then you really can't have much of an opinion about it. And even if you did, who'd listen to you?
Anyway, I came into office as merry as a monsoon cloud. I was so pissed that my attitude needed diapers. So, to anyone who asked me, 'Is it your last day today?', I was tempted to reply,'Yes. Will say hi to that maggot in the coffin I'll be moving to.'
This 'last day' business reminds me of something that happened to me earlier when my office had shifted to Hiranandani, the BPO (B standing for blah)-saturated business park. I was outside the ATM, looking and feeling very bohemian chic, when this guy decides to get chatty. He smiles cordially and in a bid to make conversation asks: 'Software?' I nod and reply: 'Pirated.' He didn't laugh because I think he was 'software.' And aren't they above such pedestrian wit?
I shall discuss the gifts now - I got curios and books ranging from Calvin and Hobbes to J Krishnamurthy. I also got extremely stylish tops and stoles and accessories - the subtle reminders that the look I sport ain't 'casual chic' anymore..it's plain sloppy. (Point duly noted.)
Then there's my legal training that keeps acting up off and on. So I made sure that all my friends write something for me, anything that I could use as documented proof on judgment day. As expected, no one jotted down sentiments like, 'If I get a million dollars, you'll have half.' But, I'll treasure those notes all the same, until I can learn to forge their signatures. Most of them have horrid handwritings though. (intentionally, might I add.)
AND finally, I got the best type of goodbye from my pals - brief, choked, and incomplete. Fair enough, because our association isn't exactly a full circle yet. When does longing for a memory really end, if you think about it.
I reached home with all my gifts and looked through each and every one of them, holding them to...I don't know, feel a kind of goodbye. But it didn't happen. Because, I suppose you leave behind people; not the friendship you had with them. That sticks to you wherever you; like the potential for queer questions: 'Is it your last day today?' or maybe even, 'Software'?