Thursday, July 08, 2004
Livinghigh was here at 7:29 PM /

Born to Budget

I think of the Budget and can actually see that cliched image of a Re 1 coin rattling on a dark floor. No one for company, but so much riding on its back - heads, or tails? I suppose every market analyst in the country (and many more abroad) look at it like that - or perhaps hardly in the same quasi-poetic kind of a way. It's money.

It's bloody shitty hard work.

Bloody shitty hard work, combined with a lot of hardcore adrenaline and testosterone run amock, screaming instructions, checking newswires, correcting tickers, and in general, screaming bloody murder, if not half a step away from actually committing it. The rush of a newsroom - I adore it, and miss it, and deplore it, all at the same time. After i stepped out through those momentous portals of Chennai, I longed to walk through and live through those taxing times, and yet, always hated the idea of having a blood anuerysm at the tender age of 22. So the Fates listened to part of my prayer, and gave me a cushy job with all the perks and a relatively good pay packet, minus the rush of adrenaline and the head rush, heart flush that Nelly simulates so admirably on his bike.

So, I'm left to plumb events like Election Day and Budget Day to dress up in an official-looking, crisp white shirt and grey flat-front formals, and run my fingers like crazy on the keyboard, even as I'm gulping in huge amounts of oxygen from the air to attempt to balance the steady rise of adrenaline. It's a losing battle I'm half-heartedly fighting, of course, but I know I love it, all the same. Another hour probably would see a blood vessel or two on my forehead popping tiny rivulets of gorgeously red blood onto the floor, and yet, when it's all over, and I'm just sitting at my computer with nary a thing to do, I start wishing that the goddam blood vessel would just go ahead and POP!

Excuse me while I get a glass of water.


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