elvis has left the building

In the past few days, I have been scooped hollow. I have been with some friends for eternity now but there is a mass exodus happening.

I have written about most of them but a recap never killed anyone now, did it?

Muffi: left early last month or so for the states
Mickey: died last month
Soniya: killed herself

And now for the additions

Manas: old college friend since junior college days, left for London this week.
Atit: left for Dubai this week for business.
And yesterday, Saurabh: again, for Dubai but for studying.

A note on Saurabh Kothari: he joined Green Lawns High when we were in the eighth standard. Standing at six feet odd and weighing a good eighty Kgs this man was tenderer than coconut shake. One shy, timid little mouse sitting in the corner seat managed to make no friends in the early days of school. I had a rather sad social life where school was concerned and I finally found a partner in crime there. We managed to exchange a few words and shifted places to sit with each other and then chatted till the cows came home. I never knew anything could shoot out of this little chat up but I was so wrong. Soon in the vacations, the school took a trip to Mauritius and we both signed up. And then with the journey what began was a relationship I can not forsake for life itself. We enjoyed every spoken word with each other. In fact I was amazed at the matured sense of humor this man had at times (meaning to say, most of the times he cracked himself up with these sad one liners and poor quality, downright pissing off jokes…. They worked like a charm I tell you!) We have ever since been the best of buddies and, at the cost of sounding damn blah-dee clichéd, have stood through each others thick and thin. He was one of the few who believed in my ability to make it big some day. He knew inside him that I am going to excel and God knows, he still feels the same. He never says it out but he will lecture me on the smallest of mistakes and make sure I take note of it if not follow his advice like gospel. The night before last, I was dead tired with some work at home and still I went to his place and decided to stay over so that I could go drop him at the air-port. I swear I was cut to half when I saw this man walk away with his oversized luggage. I lost a part of me. Even though there are chances that the fellow will come back in a year but still, a year is too long. After Mickey and Soniya, any moment is too long. The man loves the sea and loves winters and rain; sad part is, none of these are available there. At least not where he stays. Ok the note overshot but so have my feelings at this point. I can’t imagine Worli sea-face without his long talks about ‘getting serious in life’ or ‘ice-cream is bad at snowman’s’ depending on the mood of the day. So varied, so damn flexible. Sure miss the bugger. All the best pal!

Spoken Silence

Another song that I heard recently over the radio had me ticking…. I mean, it told a lot about our nature, our tendency to miss out on the ‘unsaid’. Little whispers in our heads are either killed or they die a natural death from asphyxiation. Voices suppressed and made unheard. It could vary; compunctions, euphoria, fear, philosophy, guidelines, orders, ethics, denial, disbelief, belief, choice… and what have you. The predominance of a psyche is a murderer. We refuse to turn around and sit back and listen. A movement of the eye, a gesture of the fingers, a turn of the head… touch… all just walk by us and we sleep through it. Funny part is, when we get into trouble we ask for miracles to bale us out of the crap; pay attention asshole. There were Divine interventions to help you not get into the damn mess in the first place.

But digressing from digression… this particular song is about hearing beyond the spoken word. It happens with people who are close to you and those who seem to be far away but are really not. It could be mere co-incidence but in the past few days I have felt myself listening to voices with a little more respect. I know it is something a lot of us do but I also know that most of us don’t. It was a thought in my mind and this song comes along and plays itself on the radio… see what I mean, confirmation of divine interventions. Haha.

When You Say Nothing At All

It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart
Without saying a word you can light up the dark
Try as I may I could never explain
What I hear when you don’t say a thing

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There’s a truth in your eyes sayin’ you’ll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me if ever I fall
You say it best when you say nothing at all

All day long I can hear people talking out loud
But when you hold me near, you drown out the crowd
Old mr. webster could never define
What’s being said between your heart and mine

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There’s a truth in your eyes sayin’ you’ll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me if ever I fall
You say it best when you say nothing at all

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There’s a truth in your eyes sayin’ you’ll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me if ever I fall
You say it best when you say nothing at all

No title for this... creative block!

So many things that have gone wrong over the days. So many, that have gone right. So many, that never register. God knows, life is moving faster than I can recall any of it. May be it is relative but it still is so damn fast.

A friend of mine has gone and done a stupid thing like committing suicide. I will leave it there. I don’t feel like talking about it. Returning to egotistical tendencies, I am as usual buried in work. But this is worth a mention. I had to submit this project on any subject provided it was a power point presentation. That’s where I chose myself as a subject and decided to make a CV (I mentioned it in the last post I guess). So anyway, I hand over these few pics of mine to Najeshda, and ask her to do some art work on it… and man, this sea of creativity, just makes an awesome collage. You can find it here.

Have been spending whole days in college recently. All thanks to animation in 3D. Interesting class but the damn thing starts at nine and ends at eleven and the lectures are at four… projects pile up and group discussions take place for a precise ten minutes. Then what? Eat drink and be merry. Day before yesterday though, we had an awesome four hour jam session with lovely Indian songs dashed and sprinkled with select classics from the west. Incumbents in question: Kavita with a number of years of training backing her voice, Chitra, maybe not trained but a lovely voice none the less, Abhishek, a master at strumming the life into old songs and new Hindi rock. Then there was an Austin who plays the blues and classic rock like no one else. Binita, Khyati, Tanaya, Amruta, Devang, Sana, and Amisha, all fans of music joined in every song and sang aloud in a way I have never heard them. Was such awesome fun. The beauty of it all is when you get back home, there is something new to think and smile about. When one looks back at the day and thinks of all the people one has met and known, it just adds another name to the list of a well lived life. There is guilt in having spent a non-productive day but it is so trifled by the feeling of having achieved a new friend. And dear lord I sound like a desperate housewife or something so I better balk right here.

Considering the kind of write-ups I’m posting these days, I have decided to entertain guest-posts. If the humble readership of this web-page entices any of u, kindly mail me anything you would like to post.

rakshit.doshi@rediffmail.com

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.

Mumbai... Rocked! (shaken, stired and disolved)

My tube had been put on mute and all my ten odd news channels lined back to back. All I did today was flipped through them over and over and had no inclination to increase the volume to any audible level. The sights were distressing and all I saw was trains derailed, people stranded, complaining, hungry, desperate, women crying, death by the worst cause and I wondered about all the celestial injustice and divine vengeance. If at all I have learnt anything out of it, it is the value of having a family and a home which keeps you dry.

I have never been a negative person, I have never wanted to ask questions to my destiny which would have replied to me in answers uncalled for (lest I had questioned it.) but this entire ‘operation flood’ of astronomical proportions, forces me to ask unhealthy questions like “what if…”. What if I were one of the people living in places so far away that they could not be accessed independent of public services? What if I had parents that worked in remote suburbs or vice versa? What if the landslides happened in my vicinity? What if among the people who died, there were some of my own? I know it sounds as if I am not concerned about those who have lost their loved ones only because I was not one of them, but I can’t think of the situation where I would be the incumbent. I’m only too moved to think sense at this point in time. I heard of friends walking ten hours straight to reach to their places. I heard of people walking thirty five kilometers on the railway tracks to come home to a worried family. I heard of children crying of hunger and thirst and helpless parents waiting for the blessed train to take them home. It’s carnage by nature. It’s an answer in the form of a slap to the faces of all those who said “nothing can touch our city… Gujarat and UP are all too underdeveloped to be accident-proof”.

I can’t go on forever but the crux of the post is the fact that all who are reading this in the cozy chairs of their homes equipped with technology, should be more than thankful to have been eliminated from the hit-list of Mother Nature. I know I am.

Splashing Day out!

I never knew a city with a heavy rainfall for a whole day could probably have total turn around effect on the lives of its proud residents.

Stranded to quite an extent, three friends and I decided to walk home on this exceptional event of major city-flooding. No taxis, no buses and hell no trains. Knee high waters and noisy traffic were our adversaries. I was taken aback by the kind of chaos this kind of weather can possibly cause.

On the request of a few panic-struck students from college, the lectures post four were cancelled and kids were promptly sent back. What I saw next was the worst case of loneliness in a crowd I have ever witnessed. The students that had flown in from other cities had their temporary residence in the suburbs of this great city and dew to the torrents, the trains would not budge. Lost in the city in any case they were now lost in a college which is far away from a house that in turn is far away from ‘home’. Most of them decided to stay put and go home only tomorrow and there were few who ventured out in the quest of finding alternate means to commute back to the cozy atmosphere at home. I, for one, knew that I had to get back, for two reasons. One, staying there meant no food (something I don’t like the idea of) and secondly, I stay close enough to make it any-which-way I can. Dipti, a resident of Worli, and a classmate, tagged along as I decided to go walking back if nothing else. And so the two of us shook ourselves and walked out of the gate only to shiver harder than ever. The waters were intimidatingly deep and blood-curdlingly dirty. A customary rolling up of trouser bottoms and off we went, swishing through the mucky accumulations of heavenly outbursts. On our way, fortunately, we found two more ladies, reckoning the same fate as us and destined in the same direction too. On our request to join us, Tanaya and Khyati were way more than happy to have some company in the frightful endeavors of our foot-journey to distant destinations. So the four of us forming a clumsy file splashed through the rains and unknown water-bodies and I shred DIpti’s umbrella which would reduce our pace considerably. Anyway, who was in too much of a hurry? As I said, the entire city had turned over its head. The traffic was slower than the pedestrians and why not? The pedestrians walked in the middle of the road and the cars… you guessed it, on the side-walks. The road looked like it was bleeding cars and people just looked so lost in the face of an otherwise tackle-able problem. The frothy waters gushing out of any and every opening on the road looked disastrous. It looked like the city was draining and straining all its water content and trying to live on a waterless diet! I would have loved to take a few snap-shots of the scene but then again, pulling out a cell phone in a heavy shower is not a very good idea.

After splish-splashing for over an hour we made it from Fort to Babulnaath. The journey was quite intriguing and full of a merry cheer for all were convinced they’d get home sooner or later. Just as we were contemplating over Khyati not having called her car when she had been asked by her mother, she spots her mother in her car. We felt redemption and it was a welcome surprise as we saw her signaling us from the other side of the road to hop in. her mother on the wheel and an uncle of hers kept us on a rolling laughter spree till we almost reached home. It took us a good hour from where we were, to reach our place, which on a normal day with traffic, would take nothing more than seven minutes. All I remember after reaching home is that I ate a light dinner and passed out on my bed till I woke up with a jitter. I was wondering if Dipti made it or not for she stayed the farthest and she was going to walk it up. The most frightful fact was that she had just gotten out of a Malaria attack and it was only her second day in college. A phone call confirmed her safety and I now sit here and make a record of this unforgettable day.

I still wonder what my other colleagues from college are up to. And I also pray for those many that are now left stranded on the platforms of cold railway stations and wet streets. Mothers who are lost to their children on the other side of the city. Husbands of the awaiting wives. Children of the anxious parents who are waiting for them on the dinner table. I sincerely hope they make it back as soon as possible. Oh dear God, just can’t deal with the shivers down my spine.

Silver and Grey

The lectures in advertising are turning out to be more of a class on psychology. We have these intricate details on how a human mind reacts to different stimuli. It’s up to the copywriter how he uses, misuses or abuses this psychological trait.

Don’t feel like ranting about the geeky stuff, only, its hardly geeky. On the more fun side of things, getting to know a whole lot of people one at a time and in depth is quite a rejoice. There are these after lecture sessions in random music and singing that has had a great bonding effect and I love it. I have been out of touch with a lot of my old friends and it also feels great to go back to them every once in a while which is not too often.

I am out of all topics to write on. Somehow, I am even deteriorating in terms of diction and language. Feel like I am arriving at a writer’s block, which is a depressing thought. :-(

I will try and redeem myself… today, a friend commented on a problem/issue I put forth. She said, I always tend to be in a win-win situation and I replied, quite like a sage. I said, “No situation is win-win by virtue. It is all in how you deal with it.” and then I came to think of this one liner which I made during the conversation and totally love it for all its spontaneity and its sense.

When there are too many liabilities on your balance sheet, turn the sheet around.

Love it! But your comments are as usual always welcome.

Its All GOOD!

Stability: this word has had me think to depths even I can’t fathom now. I mean, happiness after all is somehow related to or it completely is about being satiated, satisfied and ideally speaking, having no desires what so ever (but that’s virtually impossible.) May be, just may be, the secret lies in being balanced. I am quite tempted to believe that one should at least try and achieve some sort of equilibrium in their lifestyle. As impossible and Utopic the concept may be, the fact remains that it is achievable. Nirvana is a tall order perhaps but myopically speaking, achieving satisfaction is quite in our hands. It is a matter of perspective at the end of the day. I was actually unable to word this but what comes closest to what I am trying to say, is this beautiful song which can really make you realize this one thing: it’s all good. I stand by the maxim and even live by it. I mean, how much can go wrong? The panic levels rise and give way to a tsunami of more panic. Anyway, I’ll let the song do the talking for I have spoken thus much. ALANIS MORISSETTE spake here on…

"Hand in my pocket"

I'm broke but I'm happy
I'm poor but I'm kind
I'm short but I'm healthy, yeah
I'm high but I'm grounded
I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed
I'm lost but I'm hopeful baby
What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be fine fine fine
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving a high five
I feel drunk but I'm sober
I'm young and I'm underpaid
I'm tired but I'm working, yeah
I care but I'm restless
I'm here but I'm really gone
I'm wrong and I'm sorry baby

What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be quite alright
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is flicking a cigarette
And what it all comes down to
Is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving the peace sign
I'm free but I'm focused
I'm green but I'm wise
I'm hard but I'm friendly baby
I'm sad but I'm laughing
I'm brave but I'm chickenshit
I'm sick but I'm pretty baby

And what it all boils down to
Is that no one's really got it figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is playing the piano
And what it all comes down to my friends
Is that everything's just fine fine fine
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is hailing a taxi cab

BONDING!

I should have posted this long back but just did not have the time or the inclination to do so. This was Saturday last (9-07-2005) when we, the few students of the XIC met up to bond and get to know one another better. It was fun and quite hilarious too.

Initially, people converged in the college canteen and sat around chatting for a while. It was 5 or so then (the time) and Akshay comes up with “let’s go to Marine Drive” which all agreed zestfully to. But by the time we actually upped our rears, it was 7. I don’t even know how many of us were there but it was a nice crowd that we made at the Marine Drive sea face…. Good fun!

These are some hazy snaps shot in the dark… no puns intended.


Eye-to-Eye… our friend Melroy kneels down to the power of ‘Amma!’


If music be the food of love… play on…. Way to go Austin


Serious conversations happening there Akshay and Revti


Figuring out.... Divya wonders on.


Still figuring out…


Line em up!


Suzy… trying her hand at the guitar for the first time.

By the way, we plan to do something of the sort this Saturday too. How cool is that huh?

Cheers!... "clank"

It finally begins. After the entire weak of orientations with talks running the gamut from soft-skill developments to development in technology helping today’s world, we finally embark upon the year-long voyage through the turbulent seas of ADMA (Advertising & Marketing). Our lectures begin at 4 every evening and as per our schedule, they end at 8.30. Its ok, I’m not complaining. In fact I like the idea of an evening college.

The lectures began with this fabulous lady addressing us (who also happens to be our course coordinator), Mrs. Anita Sharan. The first half of the lecture relating to the history of communication had a fabulous start and it progressed into mind-blowing facts about the evolution of communication over the years but sort of got heavy towards the last 45 minutes. Trust you me, all of us were imagining every possible food item we could order in the half-hour break. I, by the way, was fantasizing about vada-pav and chai!

At 6.30, lecture part-2 began. This time, it was even more interesting. We went into the nuances of digital technology and stuff and the power point got over quite soon. And as such, we were done for the day. But madamji decides to get done with the election of the class representative. This is how providence progresses.

Mam asks people to volunteer and a couple of them who were the willing victims stood to make their ‘pitch’. It was all fun and games and a laugh riot as we kept nominating names and pretty eligible ones at that. But mam then decides to ask me to make my pitch which makes me shit bricks. It was quite unexpected and I had no idea why she did what she did but I played on. Quite frankly, I don’t remember what I said but I know it was to do with my hobbies and it definitely had a word about my passion for networking and my innate quality to pull off good P.R.giri… so I returned to my seat shivering (and I have no idea why, because I never had any sort of stage fright.) maybe because I had to make something up on the spot. I thought of it all as a joke while other members were pulled up and made to repeat the process. I knew the choice would be difficult because the people who were coming up were those with either a work experience or a business of their own. I guess about 10 odd people were ‘made’ to volunteer (including yours truly) and then the voting began. My best hopes were these guys who, as I said earlier, had tremendous work-ex and they were all quite neck-to-neck. When I was pointed at, I was expecting to have the same number of hands or maybe lesser to vote for me. Wonder of wonders… there is this sea of hands that reach the ceiling with a great fervor and I am literally turning red in disbelief (I could feel blood gushing to my face) and I was humbled with a sense of pride. Mam doesn’t even bother counting them hands and I stood there not knowing why there was so much faith in me. It was a lot of mixed feelings taking over then. I was astounded to say the least and I was diving in pride. I was happy and I was also shivering with the sheer load of the responsibility that came on so suddenly. Took a while for me to sort of get over the shock.

What followed was one of the best discussions about propaganda, advertising, brand building, strategies in advertising and reasons why ads work and don’t work. Mam spoke with complete conviction and I for one, wanted to bow my head in prayer and respect to her knowledge and analytical skills in determining what went wrong where and with which brand… what a lady. The class spoke and there were these short arguments, criticisms, difference of opinions and a whole lot of gyan, just floating around. It was a mind-blowing class (if I may put it in the basest of words.)

It was a brilliant day and it was another day that assured me of my belonging. After quitting engineering, I keep looking for these signs to guide me and assure me that I am where I am supposed to be and where I want to be. It is absolutely essential for me (and maybe everyone else) to know that the 3 criteria above are coherent and that they concur perfectly. I am happy as much as I am afraid of goofing-up. The one thing that mam said after class put me a lot at ease. She said, “I knew it that you would be their choice, I was wondering why you did not volunteer yourself”. Just goes to show the trust of an accomplished person in an amateur’s ability to lead. Just the thought of it is a comforter. Thank you Lord for another experience that is still un-arrived.

Pathetico Ridiculum! (spell to ward such things off... hope it works)

Sometimes it’s so astonishing to observe how people can be so damn judgmental at times. An aunt of mine was reading the morning paper and she came across this picture of a home that had a caption which said something like – look beyond the home and delve into comfort – or something like that and she found it less of a house than a ‘museum’. So she very bluntly makes this remark about ‘how can someone call this kind of a décor, practical, silly oafs of the modern day…’ etc.

Why, I ask, is it so important for us to know and react to someone’s subjective likings? Is it so crucial to make an ‘I-know-it-all-and-u-never-will’ comment on every issue? What I realize is that a lot of us do it without knowing why we did so. Then it is forgotten. You see a man crossing the road in a peculiar manner and you shoot your mouth off, ‘what an ass, he’ll die if he walks this way’. You see a fellow sitting on the footpath and your mind starts making note of how stupid the man looks on the road… the fellow by the way is a college going good looking individual, not just any man. We want to judge the world at the drop of a hat. It’s really quite a mystery to me, as in, why should not a person, sit back and rethink a judgment before he makes one or at least before he vocalizes one. After the judgment becomes vocal one will put everything on the line for justifying one’s point, even after realizing that he had wrongly judged whatever he voiced last.

Actually, it brings me to a parallel thought. If a lot of us do this (and I for sure, don’t) then we are all a subject to such judgments ourselves, right? Which means we are also conscious of everything we do and don’t do just so as to be or not be judged? Things like first impressions and obnoxiously nauseating amounts of decency some people show in their first acquaintances is quite a favorite to many. I personally feel that observing vis-à-vis judging is so much more fun and politically correct. Plus, it saves you a lot of trouble when you don’t talk about someone else doing something weird for some unknown reasons. Just see that last statement. No parameter in judgment-making is a constant. In fact, more than variable, they’re unknown. We all might want to agree on one thing I suppose, most of the time, all that we have judged often changes its course. And then we change our views. Recall, how many times we have heard statements made by old pals which start with “You know, the first time I saw you, I thought….”.

I just went through the above and I realized, I sound like Dale Carnegie or someone… sheesh!

The Beginning

My first day, in the post graduate course. My first day, in a Christian college. My first day, in the direction I have decided to go in. My first day, in the institute where I have earned my seat on account of good self-representation.

There is an inexplicable high of energy flowing through me as I write this account. I entered Xviers with absolutely no anxiety but an equivalent amount of thrill and determination to go ahead and make my mark in the field I have chosen. I shall spare the rant about how advertising is my dream. What was or rather is important to me is that I felt redeemed today. It used to send depressing waves down my spine and into my stomach, the thought of all my pears having finished post graduation or are in the last year of PG from kickass colleges around the country and many of them happily placed with large MNCs. Some, so deep into business, that they failed to figure as pears. Some married off. Some about to be. Being stuck trying to attain a degree for five years non-stop is no laughing matter I tell you. Lesser, the fact, that I jumped fields like Tarzan jumped trees. And not to mention the colleges. But it’s all good now. I felt like a grown up all of a sudden this evening as I sat there listening to the Father speak in impeccably propah English. The English was an added bonus, for no exception to the fact that each one spoke like they were Brits born in India. The coordinator then took our batch of 60 (pronounced Six-tie… I love it) to our classroom and addressed us as ‘the crème de la crème’ for we were 60 out of the 400 odd who made it through three, stringent processes of filtration. There were moments of complete fear as they spoke about the kind of project work and time dedication that the course would demand, but those were minor details. The penalties scared me out of my wits (for missing deadlines and remaining absent etc.) but as I said, mere details. Nothing comes for free and nothing comes for pure, unadulterated frolic.

I stand here and now,
With eyes smiling and tears shining,
Looking into the sky in an endless glance
And capturing each passing cloud and making it shower its blessings
For I am a happy man today.
I have come to achieve the pleasure of being amongst those who belong here with me.
To reckon my fate with the souls who are thinking the same thought as I.
I wait and run all at the same time.
I know it is here and now for I can hear the call of calm.
The time …to stop running around and start running ahead.
…To stop looking for direction and start looking into one.
…To stop asking for help and start preparing to help myself.
…To stop worrying about unknown perils and to start taking them up as challenge.
I am here now.
I am going to be there, then.
I know I am moving and this time I know where.
And I thank the lord,
As I stare up in the sky.
In an endless glance.
I have arrived…