There is no city more singularly depressing than Delhi. There is no job more singularly depressing than my job. There is no building more singularly depressing than my office. There is no view more singularly depressing than the view from my office balcony.
The same route to the same office, the same road seen from the same balcony with the same traffic and the same flight of pigeons next to the same cemetery, the same work day in and day out. It is enough to drive the sanest man insane. Couple this with my constant need to break free and the yearning for home, and the resulting trauma that is inflicted on my mind is simply staggering.
The initial euphoria that I came with, the enthusiasm to live in Delhi and experience the city as well as living alone, have all but dissolved into the thinnest of crevices that the air we breathe provides. It is instead replaced with a dry drab greyness that clouds the senses and threatens to envelope my very existence with its mind-numbing monotony.
I thought that events held out hope for me after experiencing the adrenaline rush. It felt good attacking clients and trying to sell something that just felt interesting. But 3 months have passed and I am not too far from the starting post with my legs all tangled up and stumbling. The passion has long been replaced with procrastination. The finish line is neither visible nor achievable. Like all my other projects, personal and professional, this one too shall never see the light of day. It is doomed to failure and has been from the very start; I just didn't see it then.
Am I even cut out to be a part of this corporate rat race or am I just a wild card entry who is meant to run in another completely different lonely race alone?
A sales call told me today, "Mr. Venkataraghavan, don't tell me you're a loner." Little does he know how much I prefer the solitude of a solitary existence and how much I truly detest people.
There is no city more singularly depressing than Delhi, except Mumbai maybe.