Translation to Russian
It happened at an awkwardly appropriate moment. Exactly when discussing the abundance of professional choices with Klaus I encountered one more direction to enlarge my collection. Through the mailing list of Delhi trainees I got to know about an urgent translation into Russian to be done by the day after and within next 10 minutes I got the job. And as often happens to me what appears as a pass-by love for the others come into my life to shake its fundamentals.
Next fine morning an a/c cab came to pick me up and deliver to CII’s office in Gurgaon. I was not the rush of a bus or the desperation of getting an auto which non–presence made me realize the difference, but rather my hair that has got in the habit of being curled by the sultry air outside, sweat-prone bus situation or the wind swift and reckless as an Indian motorcyclist. I was looking at my reflection at the height-long mirror at the bathroom of the office and realizing that my straight-today hair share the confusion.
The CII office is located in the very business heart of the city as befits such an institution: the surroundings consist of formidable glass-and-concrete buildings of futuristic shapes with well-recognizable names of international and national grands haughtily inscribed on them. Well-maintained flowerbeds and neat shrubbery are framing the pathway to the doors of the sanctuary. After passing a number of security posts we entered a seemingly endless room with numerous boxes separated by partitions – full of looking alike in their emptiness desks, chairs, computers, and piles of folders. Saturday appeared to be a day off.
The huge clean and well-isolated windows of the office overlooked a seemingly dust-and-nose free area around. The tables at the box I was sitting at were full of books on sexy business topics and glossy business magazines which money-smelling pages have not yet profaned by the fingerprints and a marker’s traces. By the very air in the office one could sense the spirit of tangibility and hard-core achievements. A sudden burst of nostalgia stroke me as I recalled the time spent at Nestle and PointPassat, my much anticipated and then so easily abandoned bright corporate future.
The day passed by like one moment: I was getting home by night, again in an a/c cab –still playing a role of a corporate employee. The one-day assignment made me feel miserable as much as happy: how else is anyone who just earned 1,5 month salary within one day supposed to feel? Everything about business domain that I again encountered that Saturday: language and working style, sort of objectives and activities - appeared so familiar and comfortable to get back to. Shall I, a lost sheep, get back indeed? Yet, as I am realizing now the lure appeared to be very misleading. The new wave of the identity crisis was very short-lived... I remember, when I was discussing my tentative ideas on the master thesis with Paul Gooderham he expressed his position very nicely, yet very clearly, “You know, I would be rather interested in reading your thesis, rather than writing it with you”. So, I can say that I’d rather remain a reader or a user of economic and business reports, than author those. Yet, the paid translation now and then can be discussed separately ;o)
Next fine morning an a/c cab came to pick me up and deliver to CII’s office in Gurgaon. I was not the rush of a bus or the desperation of getting an auto which non–presence made me realize the difference, but rather my hair that has got in the habit of being curled by the sultry air outside, sweat-prone bus situation or the wind swift and reckless as an Indian motorcyclist. I was looking at my reflection at the height-long mirror at the bathroom of the office and realizing that my straight-today hair share the confusion.
The CII office is located in the very business heart of the city as befits such an institution: the surroundings consist of formidable glass-and-concrete buildings of futuristic shapes with well-recognizable names of international and national grands haughtily inscribed on them. Well-maintained flowerbeds and neat shrubbery are framing the pathway to the doors of the sanctuary. After passing a number of security posts we entered a seemingly endless room with numerous boxes separated by partitions – full of looking alike in their emptiness desks, chairs, computers, and piles of folders. Saturday appeared to be a day off.
The huge clean and well-isolated windows of the office overlooked a seemingly dust-and-nose free area around. The tables at the box I was sitting at were full of books on sexy business topics and glossy business magazines which money-smelling pages have not yet profaned by the fingerprints and a marker’s traces. By the very air in the office one could sense the spirit of tangibility and hard-core achievements. A sudden burst of nostalgia stroke me as I recalled the time spent at Nestle and PointPassat, my much anticipated and then so easily abandoned bright corporate future.
The day passed by like one moment: I was getting home by night, again in an a/c cab –still playing a role of a corporate employee. The one-day assignment made me feel miserable as much as happy: how else is anyone who just earned 1,5 month salary within one day supposed to feel? Everything about business domain that I again encountered that Saturday: language and working style, sort of objectives and activities - appeared so familiar and comfortable to get back to. Shall I, a lost sheep, get back indeed? Yet, as I am realizing now the lure appeared to be very misleading. The new wave of the identity crisis was very short-lived... I remember, when I was discussing my tentative ideas on the master thesis with Paul Gooderham he expressed his position very nicely, yet very clearly, “You know, I would be rather interested in reading your thesis, rather than writing it with you”. So, I can say that I’d rather remain a reader or a user of economic and business reports, than author those. Yet, the paid translation now and then can be discussed separately ;o)
posted by Olga Tikhonova | 5:07 pm
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