Up-Dates

A week or so gone by since I last wrote. The reasons being, lots of project work and lots more of project work. Unaccountable hours spent on the chair, staring at the screen, coordinating the motion of the hand that holds the mouse with the eye-movement. The mind rattling off ideas, the gut discarding many while the limbs are still working with those ideas that were filtered through all tests of logic and intuition.

I have come to realize that the field I am in requires a lot of intuition. Recently we studied the methodology of de-layering an advertisement. There are a number of steps that go into doing so. But then again, behind each of the methodically theorized steps, there lies an element of intuition. Like, if we are to judge the objective of the ad, there is no way that a judgment made by two individuals will concur. This is where the intuition kicks in. Paradoxically; the intuition only works when you have enough experience in stripping ads down to its element and getting it right. Conclusion being, you might not get the damn thing right for the first few hundred ads, but you will get there. Or so I would love to believe.

Anyway, back to project updates… there is a film marketing project which I am not allowed to talk about (G14 classified!) since the film is in its making and we are to design the marketing plan for it. That’s about all the information I can dispense. Then there is an assignment where we have to work on consumer insights using certain techniques called laddering and collage (and no, I’m in no mood to explain its working. If interested, call me.) Another kick ass project is to make a power point presentation about any subject. This is obviously for the power point training sessions we’ve had over the past six weeks. It has finally come to an end and what comes now is even better… animation. How cool is that?! So, the presentation topic I have chosen is, very narcissistically (pronounce that correctly in one go and I shall bow down and pray for thy tongue), ME! Trying to make an innovative kind of a resume. Let us see how it works.

Oh, I almost forgot, this weekend the class is going to Kune, a hillock between Khandala and Lonavala. It’s a ‘self-actualization experience’ trip, but haha, we know better now, don’t we? So definitely looking forward to that one. I have half-a-mind to go to my place in Khandala, ‘while we are at it’.

Went to Tavern this Sunday. Van, Ankit and I. It was quite obvious we were missing Mickey but more so, Muffi, our regular buddy at Tavern. He now resides in the land of opportunities… the States. This chap would not spend a moment without howling at the lead guitarist of Queen and head banging at a U2 track. Right hand holding the butt of a dying cigarette, left hand high above his furiously nodding head, his index and pinky stretched to the extent of breaking the skin in between them. Man, Tavern felt empty. Just while we were discussing this, Van’s cell goes off and there is Muffi at the other end! What can I say? It was a surprise for a second but somehow, it faded into the obvious. It always happened with Mickey and me. He would call to rescue me from the tightest situations and depressed evenings by just landing up at wherever I am and calling me and saying… ‘Come down man, I’m outside your gate…” Always! He always would be there when I wanted to get out. Sigh!

Work beckons and I shall answer the call. Have some presentations to make this week and wind up before we set out of the city. Cheersh! :)

A Night in Heaven

As the silent night presides over the meetings of the stars and watched the moon perform, the heavens lit up in celebration for an evening given away to the request made by one of its fans from the planet down below. The noise of the impatient ocean takes but a while to fade itself out as the guests of the ‘fan’ arrive to greet the night with ‘spirits’ most called for.

Humor takes turns to bless the spoken words of each individual and the laughs adorn the mouths of the rest that hear the one speaking. Jokes fly around and giggles and chuckles transform themselves into mind-numbing laugh riots as a bolt of spirit trickles down the throats of them that were present there. From the closed room to the open balcony. The crowd of few (six or so), moves in and out frequenting the high of the spirits consumed (inside the closed room) and interwoven with an admiration for nature’s ultimate creations (in the balcony). The night still feels no older than it was two hours ago. The ignorant owl and a bat or two fly past not understanding why the good humor is fading and bouts of emotional anguish are taking over. Some moved to tears and others to empathy and all moved from mood ‘happy’ to mood ‘what the fuck, am I here for?’ An arrival much less expected but still well made sends all of the (moods) above in a tizzy. Otherwise an acquaintance of the host, she meets all and normality makes its way back into the wary interiors of the flat. But little did the ‘fan’ of the heavens know that his little dream had been granted and even as he downed another glass, he grew on to the night and the guests.

As a voyeur cloud floats past, it smiles at the couple locked in an unbreakable bond of facial expressions. The heat of two bodies coming closer, raise the temperature of their thoughts and feelings. The first sensation of a tender peck on the mouth and the desire to feel it again takes over. The desire manifests itself in actions now no more governed by the conscious mind. The spirits or the desire itself, one may blame it on either, but the fact remains, that what followed was unprecedented. The fingers on the sides of the waist crept behind the body as the arms took their place. They gently smiled as the noses rubbed and the breath of one intoxicated that of the other. The lips were sealed, mutually, but once again and no room was left for questioning this numbness. The time flew past and yet stood still as the embrace loosened for a while, only to be a little tighter the next time around. The fluid still flowed, the smoke still continued to blur the images of the mind and reality itself was no less of an illusion.

The night stretched like a tired housewife who has just about finished her chores and is craving to lie down and yawn as she delves into the deepest slumber. The moon, sets in the sky after wishing a magnificent good night to the two who lay on the bed and even as they watched it cross behind the great coconut palm, they thanked the stars for being around, while they held each other. The world could possibly come to an end but the two lay in no regret even if it did. The sense of living was complete. The pride in dying would be a bonus but the musing soon faded out as the day faded in. The reality of the world beckoned them to rise, and follow the day as it progressed. The only hope one had was not to let this night be just a page in the enormous history of eventful logs. One hoped in hell as one would soon find out, it was a night only to be written and forgotten about… forever.

A dream is not to be lived; the beauty of a dream lies in the fact that it is not reality. For the one time that it did change forms, it now remains as a memory of the dream, which is even more beautiful.

Back To Nostalgia

It has been months since I went back to my engineering days and remembered anything from there. Abeer, though, has an awesome post on ONE of the MANY incidents and activities that have taken place on the other side of ‘the gap of Mankhud’. Albeit, this was after I left the engineering clan and shifted to a humble graduation in commerce. This is a post I had written when I was surrounded by the memories of Nerul and I personally love this piece for its sheer honesty and expression. And there are these conversations that keep comeing back to me like sunlight through rainy days. I really want to post this one with Abeer. It probably has faded through his memory but it was a turning point in my life and I bloody well remember it.

DISCLAIMER: the words are close to what they actually were, though modified to make its reading more… erm… reader-friendly?, if I may say so myself. Plus, I had written this some six months back, and it just reflects the fact that I will never regret the decision I had taken then.

Revert

I stubbed the cigarette and gave out the last puff of smoke high above my head only to blur out the bright, shiny moon. The air was crisp, motionless and even unforgiving cold. The guitars of David Gilmore cried softly in the background. The solo of “comfortably numb” had reached the part I loved most when Abeer’s voice broke through annoyingly. “The bugger can really play man!” he said with a tone that even priests could swear was something they never heard of a true devotee.

“Ya, you bet, he’s a god”

“Are you through with your assignment work?”

“No, got a little frustrated with repeating the same drab over and over again, just came out for a smoke. How about you?”

“Almost done. I should get through with it by four in the morning.”

“Its already 2:15 pal, you’re quite fast I must say.”

“No my dear, you’re slow! What is it with you anyway man? You seem to be all annoyed a lot more than usual, why?”

My roommates and I shared a strange relationship. We never spoke to each other about our personal lives. Some times we made it seem as if we had nothing to talk about besides our daily routine. But within ourselves we knew we all had a story. Not necessarily dark and unpleasant but still something that was not suitable to share – at least that’s what I would like to believe. But still, it was not true that we did not care about one another. The four of us made a good team. A perfect example of spaced out closeness. This probably was one of the most rare moments when someone bothered to ask why the other was not upto his optimum. Most of the times it was left unnoticed and sometimes even the person were left undisturbed but no helping hands offered to the drowning… never… until now.

“Tell me this, why did you choose to be an engineer? What made you pick it up?”

“Oh for F$#% sake, don’t even start with this…”

“No tell me, why an engineer…?”

“Frankly, I don’t know. I took it up because I had to. It was providence if you will”

“Humm. I want to go back. I don’t feel this is anywhere close to my future. Not the one that I picture at least”

“Dude, I think you need some sleep, you’ve gone mad!”

“No, I’m serious, I don’t feel at home, it’s so uncomfortable”

Abeer had this weird question mark on his face. It did not make him look lost, just surprised. He could relate to what I was saying but he just wanted a clarification before he jumped up and gave me a lecture about not being a quitter, or so I was expecting him to do.

He spoke with a calm voice but a mellowed feeling of anguish in it. “You cant just quit, its two years, its just a bit too deep into the quicksand for you to pull yourself out now man… do you realize the consequences?”

I waited for him to finish and even after he had finished. I had never heard him speak that way ever. It took me a while to digest the beauty of the concern before I replied. “What’s the worst case Garg? I lose two years, that’s all, right? And of coarse a lot of money but what am I gaining here? You can see me struggle, can’t you? You know the kind of marks I am getting. My term papers to be rewritten are way more then the number of subjects that are there in the term. I chose a path, I failed, and I want to turn around. Can I not?”

“Man, these decisions can not be made over a cigarette and some music in a night. Take a few days off and see how you are going to direction your life… correction, redirection your life. It’s a tough one but if you pull through this phase and actually get out of the muck, I’ll respect you for your courage. It takes real balls to do this and it wont be easy on your parents either.” he patted my shoulder as a soldier would when he bid farewell to a fellow who’s going home for a vacation and he, going on the line to fight the unyielding enemy.

I could see him from the balcony. His head buried in the piles of papers and graphs and files and lots of black words scribbled on the white papers. Words that made sense neither to the person who wrote them nor to the many who copied them as they were. I then turned to my pile of similar words and resented each sheet that fluttered in the coldness. I felt lost, distressed and maybe even misguided. This was not for me. This was not my war. I was in the wrong frame. It grew stronger, the feeling of damnation and horrific guilt. I wanted to run, to move faster then the death of my future that was following me. It was gaining on me and I had to divert. For a while I saw no other option but to leave two years and all the mistakes committed in the two years behind me; start afresh.

Then it hit me like a brick. I realized I was not the only one involved in this kind of a decision-making. I had a predicament called parents and an impediment called family. I had to go through a rigorous test of patience and understanding and at the same time enhance the power of explanation, for the task at hand was one that was going to strain the very fabric of my skill to justify my action. I had to be patient if I had to bring this through. And I was, somehow, ready for it.

A strange rebuke also shouted itself out in my head. I kept hearing words like “coward” and “loser” ad infinitum. The voice tried to psych me out and it succeeded but only momentarily. I knew it was wisdom and not cowardice to stop following dogma and to pursue dreams. I was not clear of what my dream was but I knew I would find it out in a matter of a few days. First things first, the nuke had to be dropped at home.

Abeer’s lights went off and his pile was cleared. Mine still repulsed me. I stared at the empty streets and saw nothingness at its very best. The riot in my mind grew dimmer and the sky that hung above me grew brighter. The sun broke the string of thoughts and the alarm in my cell phone cried out loud as if it wanted to do its job of waking me up and then go back to sleep after doing its job. I had a submission that day… I did not go, was “sick”, you know!

The Hand That Feeds

I was to write this a while ago. It had been on my mind but it just traveled to the back of it. Read Lall’s post and remembered this phenomenal man’s story.

Anna, the Xavier hostel’s MES owner and cook lives in Ghatkopar. The fateful Tuesday evening when the rains took a toll on the city, there were about 500 students stranded in college and decided to stay there for over a day. This man with his team of four or five, cooked meals for all the residents (temporary and permanent) and probably a few hundred liters of tea and coffee. For two full days, this man stays in the canteen and does this service, when he has no idea of how his family is and the fact that they don’t know he is safe in college (no phones stood the test, remember?) On the third day, this guy somehow goes home and not much surprise, finds his ground floor house submerged in six feet of water. His wife and children were safe in a flat above theirs and the neighbors helped them salvage some precious belongings and bucketed out some water while Anna was away. They knew he would have stayed back and they had not lost hope. When Anna reaches home he does the little saving he can and is quite unable to restore his life’s earnings and savings. Come day four and Anna is back in the college canteen, serving the meals to the students/hostelites. He narrated the whole incident on insistent asking by the students, and smiled a bit in complete disapproval of life.

“Your wife and kids are home alone today also? Why didn’t you just stay back and straiten things out?” asked worried faces of the students.

Anna smiled again, wiped the sweat of his face with a towel on his shoulder and said; “agar mein ghar pe rahega toh mera do bachchalog khaana khayega… agar college ayega toh mera sau bachcha khaana khayega…” he picked up the plates and walked out. What was left behind were startled faces that had no way to react to this; and rightly so.

A few days ago, Binita sang us a beautiful song in our half-hour break (which was actually an hour on that day, we had been spared early…) and it was a song that I had heard for the first time then.

Well, the lyrics that I shall post at the end of the rant are good enough to speak for themselves and not to mention, that is the kind of a mood I’m in, and these are the thoughts in my head even as I type. Games, that’s what life keeps playing with you, and it has a bloody good stamina to go on playing incessantly that way. Just when you begin to understand what is black and white of the current situations, pop comes in a dark shade of maroon, not to mention the dash of blue and green streaks across, probably thrown in by life for 'kicks'… the number of colors are directly proportionate to the complexity of your perspective on life itself. Some people chose to take on the palette and paint the canvas the way they want. Some make the most of the shades, mix them up to give a better looking shade and brush away. Others look for the right shade to set in and then pick their brushes up. And a select few who decide to pick the damn colors up from the box and make the mixes themselves. I personally like to paint with the primary solid colors that are there in the tube. If there is a wet patch on the canvas (wet from a previous stroke) the shade will form on the canvas itself, and I am happy with whatever it is. If I know that a blue looks good with a yellow, I really don’t care about that little green that showed itself up at the intersections. Yeah, that’s it! That’s how I think of life; that’s the way I can get the closest to having a philosophy in place. But then again, you never know when and how some clumsy oaf comes around and stroke his brush to try and make your painting look slightly better. Trust you me, there are a plethora of such ‘freelance painters’ around the place who have no canvas of their own but only a brush and a desire to ‘screw your painting up’. That’s why we call life “ironic”, that’s the song Binita sang and this is where I let you in on the lovely words of a new favorite song of mine… thank you Binita.

IRONIC (Alanis Morissette)

An old man turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery and died the next day
It's a black fly in your Chardonnay
It's a death row pardon two minutes too late
Isn't it ironic ... don't you think

It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought ... it figures

Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids good-bye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
'Well isn't this nice...'
And isn't it ironic ... don't you think

It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought ... it figures

Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up
In your face

It's a traffic jam when you're already late
It's a no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife
It's meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife
And isn't it ironic... don't you think (my favorite lines) :-)

A little too ironic... and yeah I really do think...
It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought ... it figures

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
Life has a funny, funny way of helping you out
Helping you out

Good Deeds

This Sunday, the group of friends (Mickey’s nearests and dearests) decided to have an amazing day, in his fond memory.

Ricky, one of his closest buddies, had flown in from Madras to pay his homage and was here for a day or two. Sunday morning at 8:30 or so, we (friends) met up at Mickey’s place for breakfast. A stunning meal of sandwiches and lots of sweets (as is madu typicality) was laid out and the bunch of us ate to our hearts content. Most of these were menu items that tickled Mickey’s taste buds and as I have mentioned earlier, this guy was a total food-freak. Mellow walk down the memory lane and the recent past all made for good table conversation and the good part was, no one was critical about the misfortune. The shock had subsided and what remained was an empty space which will remain that way for a while now. Only time can tell.

There was a sudden roar about getting late to go to Matunga, to Don Boscow School. Mansi, a close friend, had her in-laws arrange a meal for some poor children and aged individuals who could not afford meals. It was the most wonderful experience I have ever experienced. There was this chapel close by that was resonating the prayers of the Sunday mass and these two long rows of hungry starving people sitting and waiting for a meal which they did feel they deserved but could have never afforded it. We were seven friends and each one went around serving these people their delicacies; Sweets, samosas, rotis, daal and rice, humbly accepted and thanked for by each one.

I have made a vague attempt at capturing a glimpse of some faces on my cell phone and it was heart-wrenching to see them eat like they have never eaten for years or something. Usually, the organization that is involved in this kind of charity, fed about 300-350 individuals every Sunday but this time it was 500 people for reasons unknown. We prayed for the soul of Mickey and even went to the chapel to thank the lord for having given us the opportunity and the resources to have had this charity done.

I don’t know why but the entire incident left me satisfied with myself. I know it was not the contribution of money or the physical presence that was making me feel good; it was the sheer joy of seeing a smile on a well fed face. At that point, I knew Mickey approved. I could feel him smile. We drove back home and enjoyed every minute of the ride. Somewhere we all knew that we had to enjoy life in the here and now. Somewhere Mickey left us thinking and more importantly, he left us a legacy; a legacy that taught us to appreciate life as a gift and be ready to part with it at any given point in time.

That evening, Van and I decided to go somewhere and we landed up at Tavern. Our favorite hang out. The DJ played “wish you were here” and I could barely control a filled throat and a tear that cried to let itself out. I could not let it go for it would bring more behind it. So I smiled and Van made a very very apt statement then, or may be before that, I don’t remember… but he said, “We should not moan Mickey’s death, we should celebrate his life”. So we do. We drink to Mickey.

Wish You Were Here (Pink Floyd)

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell, Blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have you found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.

I take A Bow!

I realize I have had the first thousand hits on my blog from the time I had installed the counter. Hence I shall take this moment and opportunity to wave my hand at the dearest visitors and send my humble “thank you” to you all.

No seriously, its been a brilliant experience to have been read and the fact that most of you’ll come back, is sheer inspiration for me to write and rant some more. I always look forward to a comment or two and I am generally not disappointed. So again, thanks to those who have been commenting quite regularly and for those who don’t bother… START COMMENTING… :)

See you around…

Happy Birthday Ayesha

Ayesha

I am guilty as charged.

Today was the birthday of my little munchkin of a friend, Ayesha. Little because she is about six years younger to me and munchkin for reasons that are for me to know.

A note on Ayesha: A Sydenhamite ever since her junior college and now in the BMS faculty, Ayesha has lived up to be beyond a typical Sydenham-girl. She is a fantastic communicator and a brilliant mind at planning and leadership. An avid reader and a mistress of good diction, she has been a case study for me and in her words, I have been her ‘mentor’, but I would say I have only been a guide most of the time. (The world looks different when you are looking up to it.) She has been an active entity with the Annual Magazine Committee of Sydenham and has worked her way up to being the next chairperson of the committee in nothing more than two years of her being in there. On a more personal note, she has been one of the most matured and ‘before-her-time’ individual, I have ever come across. I truly admire her honesty, respect and empathetic nature to boundless lengths and I really love her for her take on life, its teachings and its earnestness.

Here’s wishing you A Happy Belated Birthday. I love you kiddo and may God shower you with all that you want, love and most importantly deserve. :)

A Tribute

You know what the worst experience in life is?

To hold up the dead body of your best friend on your shoulder, carry him to the funeral alter and set him ablaze. Yesterday (2nd Aug, 2005) was the longest and I hope the worst day of my life. I lost my best friend Mickey to a sudden heart-attack and the worst part is, none of us still know why it happened. A healthy, well built, handsome hunk who loved life more than anyone I can imagine, lost his most priced possession-his LIFE and we lost our most priced gem.

I have been a friend to Mickey for almost ten years now. The school days where we had an estranged childhood, the both of us, bonded well on that front. We were the only friends the other had. Universally disliked or may be just never ‘in the group’, we had our own fun in school and this guy transformed once we were out of school. He was the most kind, understanding, and extremely giving person. Someone who taught me that life is not for worrying your way through it but to live it the best we can. He taught me how to dance, how to dress well, what perfumes to buy, where to save money without compromising quality, and most importantly, how to be a nice guy and smart all at the same time. An over-enthusiastic party animal, a major movie buff, and a hard-core foodie. This chap was a one-man party package. And all of twenty-three. He had three dream; owning the fastest bike, having the fastest car and making shit-loads of money. On the face of it, these are the most common desires of all young individuals, and that was what was special about him. He was just another young blood and he admitted to it in style.

I’m not in a condition to talk about him too much, especially in the past-tense. I can not digest that this one heck of a healthy bugger is no more going to be eating out with us, or just meet up for half an hour for his dose of smokes. I can do but little to pay tribute to him and this post is a prayer to have his soul rest in eternal peace. You beat us to it once again man! God bless you!

Mukesh Bihani (12-01-82 to 02-08-2005)

…ONE SWEET DAY (Mariah Carrey feat. boys-II-men)

Sorry, I never told you, all I wanted to say.

Now it's too late to hold you.

'Cause you've flown away, so far away.

Never, Had I imagined, yeah, living without your smile.

Feelin' and knowing you hear me.

It keeps me alive.

Alive!

And I know you're shining down on me from Heaven,

Like so many friends we've lost along the way,

And I know eventually we'll be together.

One sweet day.

Picture a little scene from Heaven.

Darling, I never showed you.

Assumed you'd always be there.

I took your presence for granted.

But I always cared

And I miss the love we shared.

And I know you're shining down on me from Heaven.

Like so many friends we've lost along the way.

And I know eventually we'll be together.

One sweet day.

Picture a little scene from Heaven.

Although, the sun will never shine the same,

I'll always look to a brighter day.

Yeah, Lord, I know, when I lay me down to sleep,

You'll always listen, as I pray!

And I know you're shining down on me from Heaven,

Like so many friends we've lost along the way,

And I know eventually we'll be together.

One sweet day.