How My Corporate Job stimulated My Passion for Fiction writing

Thirteen years in the corporate world have been a fascinating journey, filled with deadlines and technical jargons, but what I never expected was that this environment would plant the seed of fiction writing in my mind, eventually leading me to hang up my corporate boots and embrace writing full-time. It's been ten years since I made the switch, and even today, I look forward to each day spent weaving plots and developing characters. I loved my role as a Corporate Communication and PR professional, which I started as a part-timer and eventually transitioned to full-time. 

One of my key responsibilities was curating content for SPIVibes, our company’s monthly newsletter. The biggest challenge? Convincing my techie colleagues, who weren’t exactly wordsmiths, to contribute articles. As Editor-in-Chief, it was my job to make their technical content more engaging and interesting. Filling eight pages every month was a constant challenge. We decided to introduce a section dedicated to birthdays and anniversaries, but as the company grew, we had to discontinue this due to the sheer number of employees. Every month, I found myself collecting materials, following up with people for articles, and working under tight deadlines to ensure the newsletter went out on time. And if the news wasn’t there? I had to create it. 

Apart from the monthly newsletter, I took care of internal communication, sending out press releases, organizing press conferences, arranging media meets with the top bosses, events, quarterly All Heads meet when the top brass visited our India office. It was through this constant exposure to employee interaction, content creation, striving to make it both interesting and informative, that the seed for storytelling was planted. Over time, I found myself observing people more closely, trying to understand their unspoken and unnoticed motives. This curiosity led me to write my first short fictional story. I shared the first two chapters with Michelle, a colleague from the admin and purchase department. From that point on, every time we met, she would ask, “When are you sharing the next chapter?” So there was an audience—someone wanted to read what I had written so I wrote. 

Over a period of time, I realized I enjoyed fiction writing more than reporting facts. The office was a goldmine of stories—ambition, friendship, gossip, office politics, affairs, jealousies, and the intricate web of relationships that made the workplace so dynamic. Every office conversation, every heated discussion, every quiet moment in the conference room, and even those awkward exchanges were rich with potential subplots for my stories.

Note to myself: Observe situations, observe people closely, understand their hidden motivations, jealousies, office gossip, look out for conflicts in personalities, and give wings to your imagination.

All that glitters is 22 carat gold

 

We Indian women are crazy about possessing gold. We hold 11% of the world’s gold reserves, and yet yeh dil mange more—the skyrocketing gold rates be damned! We love gold. Brides are decked up in gold. They shine like gold. Gold is offered to God as a bribe or as a gesture of gratitude. Would God be happier if you gave real gold instead of fashion jewellery? We believe  so. At festivals, goddesses adorn only gold ornaments. Gold facials give you a gold-like glow. People kill for gold, and gold smuggling is quite rampant. We even eat gold—gold dosas in Bengaluru. We love all things gold-plated, real gold Zari on our clothes, all that glittery, golden magic.

Gold is no longer just the fancy of women; men want it too. The gold shops are crowded as always. Malabar, Tanishq, and the like are busy serving delicious frothy coffee along with gold. People are accumulating gold, and our love for it is only growing, along with the rates. Malabar is my favourite coffee shop—their frothy coffee is yum.

Earlier, gold was streedhan, an investment, a security for the married woman. But now there are so many other options—property, stocks, mutual funds. But gold is gold. In the wake of a wobbly stock market, it can be said that gold can never be bearish—unless you're walking alone on a dark street.

Recently, Indian women don’t wear as much gold. They equally love costume jewellery for the variety it offers and for its affordability. But still, we buy gold on every possible occasion, though we know it will ultimately be transferred from one locker to another. We also love wearing gold-plated or imitation jewellery that can fool people into thinking we're wearing 22-carat gold.

Once, at Kushal’s, a well-known store for costume jewellery, I was trying on a gold-looking choker. I was in a dilemma about whether I should buy it. Sensing my confusion, the store guy said, “Madam, it looks like you’ve just walked out of a Tanishq store.”

“Okay, pack it then,” I replied. I sealed the deal, giving myself a mental pat on the back for buying a necklace that looked worth five lakhs for just two thousand. It was a smart deal. This is what I call customer satisfaction for both the seller and the customer.

I remember a few years ago in Chandigarh, around noon, a neighbour aunty was haggling with the vegetable vendor outside her house when two bike-borne men stopped in front of her. One of them distracted her by asking for an address, while the pillion rider grabbed her thick gold chain and fled. Startled, she shouted, “Meri 45 gm ki chain le gaye, koi pakdo!” (They stole my 45-gram gold chain! Someone catch them!) The neighbourhood women came rushing, offering sympathy, and equally envious of the woman for flaunting her 45-gram gold chain. More women joined.

A few minutes later, the same bike stopped near them. Before anyone could understand why the thieves were back, one of them shouted, “You made us take so much risk for this fake chain.” And then, he hurled abuses, throwing the chain at the woman. They left. The woman’s face turned golden, her eyes cast down. The fake chain had let her down in front of her neighbours. Real gold wouldn’t have. 

Images for representation only (Source - internet)

Tale of Every Public Toilet

If I were asked to name one thing that stood out from my trip to Japan, it would undoubtedly be its pristinely clean public toilets. Whether in trains, small stations, shopping malls, or remote platforms, clean and well-maintained toilets are available everywhere, and they’re free to use. It was a delight to see that there were no wet floors, no broken locks, and the taps always had running water. I was even struck by how some public toilets in Japan were cleaner than those in people’s homes. The same can be said for other countries like Europe, the USA, Singapore, and Turkey. However, in Japan, one exception Kawaguchiko, a heavily tourist-dependent town in Japan, had filthy toilets littered with tissues. Tourists throng this town to sight Mt Fuji. In response, the government built a barrier around Mt. Fuji to restrict the influx of tourists to the city. This led to fewer visitors, and consequently, the toilets became cleaner. 

While the issue was tackled effectively, it raises the larger question: why are some countries able to keep public spaces clean, while others like India struggle? In India, the story is different. Public toilets are often filthy, a problem exacerbated by people's disregard for cleanliness. There’s a disheartening trend of people flushing items like socks, napkins, and hand towels, which only worsens the problem. It’s easy to blame the country's high population density, but the issue is more deeply rooted in apathy and a lack of hygiene awareness.

Cultural norms in countries like Japan and the USA foster a deep respect for public property. People clean up after themselves and maintain order in public spaces, including restrooms. In fact, children are often taught to clean their classrooms and toilets at school. This cultural emphasis on cleanliness and hygiene is ingrained from a young age, leading to a collective responsibility for maintaining public spaces. In contrast, India lacks this strong civic sense. Many people avoid public toilets altogether, particularly women who prefer to hold their bladder rather than face the unhygienic conditions. I, too, would choose hunger and thirst over using a train toilet.

The challenge in India isn’t solely about the lack of infrastructure or the country’s history with open defecation. People’s general apathy toward public property, combined with poor sanitation habits and insufficient hygiene education, contribute significantly to the problem. If both parents and schools can encourage a shift in values toward cleanliness, respect for public property and hygiene, habit of cleaning up after themselves - we might just begin to see the same level of respect for public spaces that countries like Japan and others enjoy.