Where or when, if ever, does it end?

You know that feeling when you find yourself humming some tune that you hate and no matter how hard you try, it stays stuck in your head and on your tongue for days? Or the feeling of being a stuck record, playing the same bit over and over again? In short, the feeling that you have been saying the same thing for what seems to be eternity, and that even you are bored with yourself?

But what can I do? My brightly shining lucky stars seem to never lose their dark sheen, though I am hoping it has diminished a little. Last I bitched, it was about moving to Bombay to join NDTV who were yet to give me a written confirmation but were expecting me to join on Monday, 2nd November anyway. So I landed up in Bombay the day before to start finding meself a house and all that. And they tell me day before that I will most likely be joining for Tuesday, the 3rd. And as of yesterday, they are really quite unsure when I will actually be asked to join, and that it will definitely be sometime later in the week, maybe even the week after.

So in less than 48 hours, I am back in Bangalore. Partly because I was living in a place where I was quite far from my comfort zone (the household sleeps at 9pm without giving me a key to the front door, needs a 5 hour notice if you are going to eat a meal at home, and let's not even get to other more 'extreme' bits). Partly because if I have to spend a few more days doing nothing much except twiddle my thumbs, I had rather do it in the comfort of my room in my house where I can at least play my music out loud, eat when I want and get food on demand, and when tired of twiddling thumbs, take dad's car for a drive. Partly because it is easier to kill days in your own space than in a strange one. But mostly because I was thoroughly disgusted with the disgusting manner in which I was being treated by this company. My cousin-in-law and the HR lady I was talking to professed both cluelessness and helplessness about the situation, with, I am sure, no intention to deceive.

The first thing I did after getting back is shoot an email to most senior person I know in the organisation, who was the same person who had decided to hire me after interviewing me. I must say, in all modesty and with due honesty, that despite its reticent exasperating tone, it was a wonderfully written email. Sure enough, a reply came in less than half hour, reassuring and apologising. Which is precisely why I am daring to hope that some of the dark sheen will lose its lustre. And oh, also, I have found a nice house with with nice flatmates already. So I guess hoping is not out of order here. But seriously, I am beginning to tire of flying, not just because the airport here is 50km from my house.