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