One flew over the cuckoo's nest.

So long I had heard of a nail biting finish, never a nail biting start. I don’t know how the end will be. The morning tea tasted different today. The voices around weren’t the usual ones. I wasn’t on the side where I was asked to produce daily job status reports and to do lists. I didn’t have anything on the ‘checklist’. There were cold stares, hesitant smiles and mixed vibrations from all around.  The workstation had posters of some semi nude women and I badly wanted to tell the world I’m straight. The million dollar question, ‘Art or Copy?’ determines your identity. I knew that instant, that I was standing at the entrance of a new world, a new battlefield and the battle is dirty. After a point, my vision does not consider the countless number of people fighting here daily. Some are dead, some are semi dead and some are alive and kicking ass. I would be considered a part of my army only if I killed a few egos, shed some blood and proved my worth.  I still cannot fathom how I landed up here, but this is where I wanted to belong always. There are a zillion questions that are unanswered. It’s day one in the ‘creative’ side. It’s day one at reality.  I don’t know what questions to ask during briefing sessions, because I’ve been the poor good old servicing fella till just a few days back. What would  my first thought be?  I’m still trembling at the thought of thinking. I have to learn to live the superficial life. Gold, silver and bronze are beyond metals now. Butterflies seemed to have made a home for themselves in my tummy over the past couple of days. New faces. Roads that do not lead me to the yellow and white walls anymore.  I feel like a cuckoo’s young one, who has been abandoned by her mother and asked to fend for herself in the real bad world. So here I go, all set in my new shining armour , with a strong shield and a sharp sword and with a hope that my pen turns out to be mightier than the sword.