“What a dolt!”.
My mom would sometimes call me that. I must admit, I never understood what it meant. It took me 20 years to finally understand what a dolt is. Like always, my mom was right in her abbreviated description.
Many a times, people ask me, what do I do? I hate that question. Elaboration time…
I just had my convocation yesterday where I was awarded a B.Tech degree by some respected Nobel Laureate. “Bachelor Of Technology in mechanical engineering”. Woo! I got placed at a certain IT company more than 12 months back. Keywords here friends…”Mechanical Engineer” and “IT company”. Nah! They are not meant to be used in same line. For the last six months of my college, I found sulking sad souls all around me. Poor mechies had got their biggest nightmares true. They were placed in IT companies.
I have since been facing those leaching eyes; uncles and aunties who are my fellow travelers in trains and flights and buses; or, the dads and moms of some pretty girl who is supposedly my fellow driving trainee. One question, “IT company? But, you are from mechanical right?”. Those staring big eyes who are fixed into the shaking heads of those disbelieving strangers scream…”What a dolt!”
Another funny question which is tagged with “what a dolt” is, “Even my son is in your company, he joined 3 months back! You didn’t get your Joining letter YET????? \’o’/”
I sometimes laugh them off. Sometimes to “What do you do?”, I answer (in my mind), “I aspire to be a writer”. Whenever I get ultrasonic inside my brain and the sound is heard outside, there are two questions which are pretty prominently asked.
The more book savvy people would go, “so, how many times have you been published?” or “Whom do you write for?”
My answer to them is “zero (._.)” and “myself? o_O”. they just shake their heads and I hear my mom’s words loud again, “what a dolt!”
People who don’t read much other than newspapers and “Chetan Sir”, smile and with great intent, bless me, “good good! So, you want to be the next chetan bhagat?” I want to put my hands on my ears and shout like Kirron Kher, “Noooooooooo!!!!!” oozing melodrama.
Anyway, One of my friends recently pointed out my wit or rather lack of it. He said, “Dude! You call yourself a writer and you don’t even maintain a proper blog. What a dolt you are, man!”
I looked down at the floor of his house to show my guilt. White marble! Hmm! But…getting yellow! It needs some serious brushing. Oh! He was preaching something about “blog” “getting noticed” “Hadoop”. But, the calcium carbonate beneath me needed cleaning, I just got lost in the paleness. :X
Oh! By the way, after puking out 150 odd poems on various pieces of scribblers, recently I came to know that what I write is not even pronounced as “Poem”. It is called “Po!” like Bachhan pronounced in his movie about progeria, “Pa!”. I am still recovering from that little catastrophe.
I hear, blogs are pronounced as “blogs” and not as “blo”…*fingers crossed*
How does it matter? “Po” or “Blo”…I am a dolt!