The Hills Are Alive

In continuation to last week's poem, another to prove that (Surprise ! Surprise!) HR Folks do have fun! 

Thought I would start with pictures of the place and people who made that picnic so memorable! Sitting at my window on a rainy Saturday morn watching the misty spray caress the gently swaying trees, the birds shaking the moisture from their feathers and sipping on rum and coke! Heaven!!!!! What is it about rain and memories?

Special thanks to Niranjan Kudalkar for providing the photographs and all the other special (young) people named in this poem who were fun to work and play with!

P.S. Niranjan's sexy (?) feet appear in the third photograph but don't let that distract you from the wonderful scenery in the background!

THE HILLS ARE ALIVE

Come Saturday, HR team at the office bright and early,

For once, not their usual selves, mean and surly.

Today, they would not walk the thin white line,

Today, beer would be served on the dot of nine!

Between Lilian’s sandwiches and Antonio’s puffs,

Breakfast was consumed without much ado or fuss,

The eternal battle of the sexes began on the bus,

Sometimes it got so loud, one needed ear muffs!

Pooja and Hema trilled in contrasting styles,

Chithra and Ruth contributing across the miles!

Pradnya, Lilian and Shilpa kept up a racy pace,

When it comes to men, they had to win this race!

Not to be outdone, the strong male crescendo rose,

With Bharat lip-syncing and striking his sexy pose,

Sunil, Kunal and Niranjan saved the ego and the day,

Met the challenge and made those women pay!

Amidst the rolling hills, cotton-candy clouds and foliage,

The gentle breeze chimed and rang in the cocktail hour.

With inhibitions shed, began the game of truth or dare,

Extreme efforts were made to strip and lay lives bare!

(HR to introduce game in training schedule and see if we care!)

In the wilderness Anna’s biryani and chole was consumed,

With not too much stomach turbulence we presumed.

Swaroop, our Bengali Babu, felt the scene was not arty,

Had a power nap and rejoined the chillar party!

Suddenly, the weather decided to do a two-point-zero,

Helter-skelter, charge and run for the nearest safe haven,

It was taking no prisoners and no time for a hero,

Unfriendly fog rolled in, rain began its pitter-patter, craven!

In all that misery, Paradise beckoned, a miniscule tapri,

Steaming hot onion and corn bhajiya and adrak chai,

Tasting better than anything you would get in Capri

But it was time to leave and say thank you, bhai!

Spirits were not dampened, no worry about where our map lay,

Melodious singing began with renewed vim and vigour,

No trouble here about goofing up and cutting a sorry figure,

Minor disappointment, though, no holiday on Monday!

Antonio

17/09/2011

HR Folks - as if all you didn't know why you are where you!!!!

HR FOLKS

HR folks are not as nasty as you think they are,

Just another different species of humans by far,

It is not true that they are from another planet

Or they hate Starship Earth and those who man it!

They administer psychometric tests with clinical precision,

Leaving one’s fateful soul with its first surgical incision,

At Recruitment, they set the giant wheels rolling

You do not have a clue for whom the bells tolling!

Yes, they are metrosexual guys and charming gals

Pretending that you will be forever best of pals

With winning smiles, fluttering lashes, reassuring stock phrases

Stay far from this bunch or you will get obsessive crazes!

Then proceed to the interview with the man in business

Seems he is the epitome of cool, collected and coziness

For a minute, do not think he can be conned, this carefree fop,

He and HR BP are in cahoots and playing good cop-bad cop!

The entire gang has played you like a string, fast and loose

They are setting up the gallows and tightening the noose

As you sign the dotted line, they are rubbing hands with glee

Welcome, welcome, enter, enter, no exits for you to flee!

The Induction gentry now take up the limelight, centre stage,

With presentations that could drive you to unredeemable rage,

They pump you up, fatten you and prime you for the big race

Till you are ready to murder them with arsenic and old lace!

Then reams of forms to fill in, you are in HR Ops domain,

Leaving you bereft of free will, self-respect will not remain

They keep recording away with keyboard, uncaring mouse,

Makes you want to run to your allegedly unloving spouse!

Then the Communication guy needs details intimate,

He watches and waits and hangs very attractive bait

Ride a tricycle, love kid cartoons, anything excites him

This one is all kiss and tell, attempts at evasion are slim!

They have you photographed, fingerprinted and recorded,

And pass you to Comp and Ben, just another minor statistic

To be benchmarked and tossed around with figures galore

How they confound management is another tale in folklore!

                        Come appraisal time and your life’s an unholy mess

                        Year after year, they pay you less and less and less

                        All reasons are cited – performance, recession, stagflation

                        Sending your collective  emotion in downward deflation!

           

                        Well, if you still find HR folks, strange, detached and bad,

                        They are thick-skinned , sometimes glad, sometimes sad

                        They soldier on, they must carry on, their spirits cannot sag

                        For venting frustration, they are your favourite punching bag!

           

Antonio

Hello Uncle - a poem about a scary uncle

Hello Uncle

Hello Uncle was no mean shuffler

Around his neck, a bright red muffler,

At the height of a thousand Mumbai summers,

He stared long, piercing and hard at all comers!

No doubt he was a man of great culture,

Knowledge was carrion to this grave vulture,

His bookshelves offered great tomes, delicious savouries,

An upright piano, music-soothed brow tickled the ivories!

English Lit, medical journals, medicine homeopathic

Dealing with matters psychosomatic and psychopathic

Atop his shelves, embryos floated in formaldehyde

That was the scary bit, his joy and vicarious pride!

Even the greatest from their pedestals must fall,

When clamouring bowels give the clarion call,

Much to the muffler-shuffler’s immense chagrin

Instead of water, he carried a can of kerosene!

Children ran from his lean, mean and hungry look

Not willing to play his game by his word, code or book

They hurried past his door, no time to ask why Hello, Uncle

They ran hard and fast, no time to say Goodbye, Uncle!

Antonio