Apoorva in Amsterdam

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Say something

My friend

You are so quiet


As you




Your privilege


Please know

There’s no happiness

On our planet

Without justice



If you accept violence

(Or derive happiness from it!)

One day

(In the not so distant future!)


Will be subject to it


Your sweet ambrosia

Of personal happiness

Will taste awful

With the stench of misery

All around you


There’s time

There’s (almost) always time

Say something

Say something

Because your voice

Is usually heard


If you are silent

In despair

Say something

If you are silent

Because you’re complicit

Say something.


This year

In much fluster did my time pass this year

I saw as half-empty my glass this year


Much to their chagrin they caught me smiling

My frivolities left me en-masse this year


You probably ran into some cold souls too

We’ll see them again at the Midnight Mass this year


Some let me down and I was betrayed by some

Should’ve spent more time with Amrita Das this year


Bitterness can make one lazy as hell

I spent summer lying on the grass this year


What do we say of the world we live in

I watched gold turn to brass this year


Are you broken? You didn’t even write, Apoorva

A poem for Sinterklaas this year

मेरा साथी

मेरे साथी ने हसीं बाग़ को कुछ वीरान बना डाला

जो महज़ आदमी थे उन्हें हिन्दू, मुसलमान बना डाला


कुछ यूँ बुनी इस मुल्क़ की एक नयी हक़ीक़त उसने

जो सदियों मेज़बान थे, उन्हें मेहमान बना डाला


हम तलक तब पहुँचतीं थीं बस प्यार ही की बातें

अब बहन को बहन की नफरत का सामान बना डाला


मैं ये नहीं कहता कि पहले ऐब न थे वतन में

पर हालात ने इन्हें मौत का फरमान बना डाला


हालात-ए-क़ौम को देख कर क्या मुस्काएंगे मेरे ख़्वाजा

मेरे खोटे-से सच को भी अरमान बना डाला


मगर तुम्हें इससे क्या? तुम तो परदेस बस गए ‘अपूर्व’

ये कैसी चोट है जिसने तुम्हें इंसान बना डाला?

Navigating the road ahead: Limericks for Change Agents

Christmas is done, a new year is here
For us change agents, the message is clear
Things that have previously worked really nice
Will, alas, no longer cut the ice
We need to shift into a whole new gear

I thought I’d write an essay on the subject
But that idea I had to quickly reject
Innovation is the theme of our time
I must, therefore, resort to rhyme
Hence these limericks – however abject

We almost always have a lot to say
To our own web of words, we often fall prey
Our models and tools we wish to flaunt
But to listen to them, is what our clients want
So let’s talk less and listen more, OK?

For excellent UX you need empathy, we propose
And where does empathy come from you suppose?
To be empathetic, we must relate
Curiosity and diversity celebrate
And divergent views welcome, not oppose

It’s tough to disagree with those who pay our bills
Easy to hide the core issues and focus on the frills
But challenge and provoke we must
This is the path to gaining their trust
They’ll appreciate the “value –added” and the thrills

A safe environment for ourselves we must provide
Where for being who we are, we aren’t cast aside
Where to take a risk is OK
And what we feel, we can say
Where our feelings too have a place of pride

Finally of ourselves we must take care
Carve time out to learn, to reflect, to heal, to repair
To enable change is a really tough role
And into it we put our heart and soul
But to our body and mind, we need to be fair

I have shared in these verses what I have found to be true
Hope this lyrical manifesto was found useful by you
And if to react you should choose
I would absolutely love to hear your views
For now, I must bid adieu.

Each year, in mid-August

Each year

In mid-August

I think about how

I should have held on

Just a little longer 

To those beautiful long days

In May and June 

I should have walked more 

In the Amstel Park 

Felt the late evening sun 

On my face 

Grabbed more beers 

In the Heinekenplein 

Lounged around a bit more

At the Sarphatipark 

How will I endure

I am already thinking

The cold gusts in October

I will meet on my way back from work

The three annual throat infections 

Which will each take 

Two weeks to heal

When it will be pitch dark at 4pm 

And the pesky drizzle won’t stop 

I think I know

What I will do this time 

I will speak my mind 

Not pretend to be someone else

I will stay warm 

Through appropriate clothing

And by allowing

People to be warm towards me

I will over-celebrate Amrita’s birthday

(I hope she agrees to this!)

Watch Arsenal’s mid-week games (!!!)

And freely use expletives 

Make Yash laugh

And laugh a little


Friend at Work

Do you have a friend at work?

Not so long back I read somewhere that our engagement at work is strongly affected by whether we have someone at our workplace we can call a friend. It seems having just one friend could be adequate to keep us engaged. So of course I was tempted to think about whether this was true in my case. I took a trip down memory lane and did a check.

I started my career at Deutsche Bank. There I was too much of a rookie to get any love from the haughty relationship managers (the group I belonged to), and too much of an outsider to be included in the operations inner-circle (the colleagues I trained with). I was like a lost puppy. In fact the only friend I was able to make at Deutsche Bank was my boss in Chennai, and that too during my notice period when we finally had some open conversations with each other. So what was my engagement like at the bank? Well, I left within less than a year of joining.

Next was Hewitt – easily the most enjoyable part of my career. I had SO much fun there! Working there was about having this incessant quest for fun and humor. There was banter throughout the day, and serious partying in the evening (on weekdays *and* weekends). I had so many friends at work. Some closer than others, for sure, but dear friends all of them. We went out a lot, Amrita and I were invited to their homes, and we hosted some parties as well. It was an amazing time! It was also a period where I learnt a lot about the work I’ve since done in my career. I was really engaged!

ABN AMRO Dubai was lovely too. Within the HR team, it was a trusting and caring environment. My boss and my HR colleagues picked up on my weakness for food early on, and used it effectively to humor me as well as indulge me! The only time I’ve cried at work was here, and I had the license to do it. I count individuals from that team among dear friends.

ABN AMRO in Amsterdam – this I see in two parts. Before the bank’s break-up, we were like a happy family. We’d hang out together, go out a lot, and I also had a chance to visit homes of several colleagues (not standard here in The Netherlands). Still get invited by some friends I know from that time, and can still have honest conversations with them. The part after the bank’s break-up was more sedate. It was like we were mourning something. Wait, was that the reason I left the bank?

HEINEKEN. This is interesting. I had people I could have a laugh with, and a couple of generous confidantes who’d take me out for Lunch every now and then, but I can’t say I had a BFF. I think I was older and more cynical, and probably didn’t make the effort. Also this was a phase in which I was not very communicative so I think people didn’t really know what to do with me. The funny thing is that I am *now* (after having left the organization) friends with many lovely people I worked with at HEINEKEN. Some still work there while some have quit.

There are many friendly people I work with at my current workplace but I don’t have a friend at work yet. I might be close – but I know I have to make the effort. The way we work means that we don’t get to interact with the same people everyday. This is a problem, but also a blessing in a way because your engagement is probably not a function of that one friend. I find myself really engaged any way!

What have your experiences been like in this respect? I’d be curious to hear from you.

A collage from college 

So watching some old Hindi songs on YouTube, I started wondering about what it would have been like if some of the leading ladies of 60s-70s Bollywood were in College around the time I was at Stephen’s.

Waheeda Rahman would be this elusive, introverted being who’d only hang out with this one friend she went to school with. Plus she would probably be in Philosophy so you’d only have one elective lesson with her each week. She would look in your direction once every two months. So your unit of measurement for pretty much every thing would be two months.

Saira Bano would be extroverted and overwhelming. She’d buttonhole you in the main corridor as you’d be heading for the cafe – and tease you about the way you look, the way you speak, the way you walk. Next time you’d take a longer route to avoid her, but she would suddenly emerge from the Chapel and catch you off guard. You’d be scared of her but then she’d be the only woman who would ever talk to you.

Sharmila Tagore. Sigh! Always surrounded by her pals from Welhams (where she would’ve been School Captain) and Doon, there’d be just no way to get to know her. Then one day, via a Mayo friend, you’d get invited for a party she’d be hosting in a South Delhi farmhouse. She wouldn’t speak to you during the party, but the food would make it worth the long trip.

Sadhna would be from another city. She’d attend classes, hang around a lot in the library, and do meaningful extra-curriculars like the Social Service League – so you wouldn’t get to see her much. But one day, in a compulsory Hindi class you’d show up for to kill time, you’d read a Bachchan poem and smile at each other. That would be your only interaction with her for the three years.


कुछ रसीदें मिली हैं
नीले कोट की जेबों में
रखूँ संभाल कर
काम आ जाएँ कभी
कहीं पता नोट करने के
फिर ध्यान आया
अब स्मार्टफोन्स में
सब नोट हो जाता है
और वैसे भी आजकल
अपने घर का पता
कौन बताता है.

At the château

What I’ve learnt from life I’m applying at the château
Loose ends of my brain I’m tying at the château

A forest simmers on low heat, an iceberg freezes and unfreezes
A slow death my metaphor is dying at the château

Did I cook up my data? Did I overstate what I heard?
Thankfully no rumours of people lying at the château

We heard a plea for empathy, there was a call to humanity
Not everything is landing, but they’re trying at the château

I did the story well and nailed my conclusion
But questions on correlation had me crying at the château

They looked at your mind-map, and admired your thought-bubble
A lot’s in there – there’s no denying – at the château

This is primary research and it’s grounded in theory
Fads and fluff – nobody’s buying at the château

They arrived well prepared, set to strut their stuff Apoorva
But on warm eye-contact from friends, they’re relying at the château

All good

He had been up since 11 am but could only leave the house at about 5. It was still very hot outside but at least the sun was less vicious.

Hedges lining the manicured Mayo campus were burning in the summer heat. The Cricket field looked lifeless, and Bikaner Pavilion desolate. All the glorious buildings looked sadly under-appreciated during the school summer holidays.

He entered Gibson Pool from the back – where the massive filter was. It was uncool to use the main entrance at the front. Many staff children were already there. Laughing. Chasing each other. Screaming challenges.

He was never short of witty words when he was with the boys, and he was never able to say anything when there were girls around. Today was no different. He couldn’t even look at them in the eye. Like he’d be charged with assault if he did!

After swimming, he walked with a friend to Praveen Fast Food Corner just outside the campus. They had a Dosa each, and discussed political alignments among the staff children. Apparently one of the groups was far too arrogant.

It was past 8 by the time he got home. Chitrahaar was on TV, and Sunny Deol was looking surprised at Amrita Singh’s musical abilities. The next song involved Manoj Kumar refusing to let his hand move away from his face.

Dinner time. The Dosa was still sitting tight in the tummy, and nobody in the family could know about it! It was going to be a struggle to finish the mandatory two chapatis before he’d be allowed to eat rice. He somehow managed to do it.

Almost time for the football match. Italia 90 had not been terribly exciting thus far. This game was no different. So he decided to read another P.G. Wodehouse. That guy knew how to write!

He felt hungry again so he made a jam sandwich for himself. No sign of sleep so he picked up his grandfather’s Philips transistor and went to the rooftop. Lying on the cool stone roof of Jodhpur House he looked above. His friends always seemed to know where the constellations were. (Or were they making it up?) He didn’t have any idea. He only saw stars.

As he took the first bite, All India Radio decided to play Main Zindagi Ka Saath Nibhata Chala Gaya. And he thought to himself, “Man! This is good.”