... And miles to go before i sleep...

It was the funniest, craziest, awesomely insane decision that I would have ever taken. To my surprise, though, I have absolutely no regrets for having done so. my mother and two of her sisters had decided to go visit my place in khandala. I was asked but I had cordially turned down the offer. I felt I could do better here. My cousin urged me to come along and she said we’ll get back the next day. It was 4 in the evening in any case and it would not hurt too much to go there for twelve odd hours and get back the next day. So, in a matter of ten minutes I packed and we upped and awayed to Khandala.



That would be my pool-side. The most serene places I have known. Just sitting around here doing nothing much is the most euphoric feeling ever.

Anyway, so we reach the Khandala station at 7:30 or so and its purple… the sky is this shade of purple I have never seen. The temperature is just perfect and its raining just enough to wet you but not drench you to a sticky gloom.

The three cousins and I decide to walk it to my place (a fifteen minute uphill climb) and the three sisters decide to take the auto. Alls well as we reach home and comfort ourselves with hot coffee and toast. I realize soon enough that I should meet my sweet-heart, Karishma, while I am here and so I promptly call the lady. Little did I know that I was going to be invited over to breakfast with her and that too at 7:00 a.m for she had her class starting at nine… ugh!

A note on Karishma: Kash (for I call her so…) has been my friend for the past 6 odd years and nothing has ever changed the kind of bonding we shared. She did her BMS from Jai Hind and an MBA from S.P.Jain Dubai. Now placed with TCS and is being trained at Khandala’s North Point Training center (which by the way is a mind-blowing place.)

We seldom meet and barely talk but we have never been blank about what the other is up to. Quite amazingly, we meet up at weird places like we did this day. This is how the most beautiful day of my life went…

As planned, I wake up bright and early at 6:30 and get dressed up. It was odd because I had to be presentable and at the same time I could not screw my formal attire up in the rain. Never the less I was ready to leave and sure enough the lady calls to check whether I would be keeping my appointment or not. I had never heard of the place I was supposed to go to and at seven in the rains, in the middle of a bloody forest, I was not to find any mode of transport or the faintest sign of human existence to even guide me through my unknown path. ‘no sweat’ I thought and walked straight out of the gate armed with an umbrella. Rustic Highlands was what I had to head for and from the bare minimal that I knew, I took the direction I trusted my intuition to show. Then began the wildest, most breathtaking walks I have ever taken.



This was the road that lay before me as I breathed every bit of fresh air my lungs could facilitate.

I them came across a board that showed me direction to ‘North Point’ and I was happy that I would at least be seeing her. (I really doubted that I would make it in time, or make it there at all!)



This is the sight of North Point from where I stood and I did not know then that it was three kilo meters away from where I saw the board. I still walked on. The fog got thicker and the road steeper. The air became crisp and the light spray on the face with chilling gusts just felt heavenly. I know I sound insane ranting about it but I could possibly write a book on how I felt as I inched to the top.



I have never liked trekking but for something like this….. What can I say?

After 45 minutes of blissful agony I made it to North Point and that, sadly, was not the end of my trial. I lost my way in the jungle that the place was and there was no one to even guide me to the reception. In the process, though, I took the trip round this magnificent estate. At one point I felt I wanted to take a job in TCS only to be trained here for a month.



This here, is the view offered by the lobby in the reception area. This is where I met Kash, all formally dressed. She looked gorgeous as always.

We met her friends and I had a brilliant breakfast and some amazing conversation. Half an hour later she had to get to class and I had to head back home. Considering my mother would be quite shaken not to find me around, I’d better minimize the time lapse. She offered to call for an auto but I had to walk back…. Had to!

These are some more pics I took on the way back.





This is the whole estate…. Splendid!



A small waterfall on the side of the road that lead down to Rustic Highlands. The whole way was dotted with these on the side every few meters.

I must have walked twelve kilometers overall and it was totally worth it. The scenic beauty and the weather. The falls, the rain, the mist, the thin air compeling one to breathe harder with each step and of course this killer of a smile….



Totally paid off!

Retrospective Introspection!

I rediscovered this term today after having used it a long time back. Its so self-explanatory and apt for what it is meant to convey.

I met Sanju mam today and while speaking to her, I spoke of this innate ability in me to step out of character and watch myself for a while. Through all the pain and anguish and anxiety and hate and love and euphoria…. Just observe it all happening and smile and say thank you to the lord for the knowledge he has thus provided in the form of an experience. That’s what I call retrospective introspection. It was a beautiful day of happy jokes and a mind-blowing weather. Sanju mam is to be hospitalized and I hate to think of her in that bed. Wanted to cheer her up so I felt like spending time with her. To my surprise though, she was quite cheered up and was more kicked about the ‘vacation’ that was coming up. Love that lady, I tell you.

Then I decided to take a look at my place at Juhu. I walked in and opened the balcony. The gust that came in from the sea side just about blew me off. It was such a beautiful sight. Actually it was too dark to see much but all I could hear was the sound of an angry sea and the constant and consistent rhythm of the pouring rain. The trees swayed in silence and the rustle of the leaves was almost lulled by the sound of the breeze sweeping all into a deep endless slumber. I stood and watched through an abyss of nature’s night-out. She was on a roll to say the least. It sounded like a rain-forest in the middle of Amazon. It looked that way too. I could hear myself breath and think. I wanted to sing but breaking that silence would be criminal so I decided otherwise. It was late and I had to tear myself away from that bliss. I could’ve just stood there wondering about myself and all that surrounded me. That was the perfect time for it… Retrospective introspection.

I Rote To Ruth

I don’t know why I titled my blog so. But it sounds cool. In fact, this is the first time I wrote a letter to someone and what an experience. To pull out a pad and scribble words onto the blank papers, is absolutely irreplaceable by fingers tapping on a keyboard. The sight of a bright white envelope and the four lines of an address is again a superior high as compared to a single line of something@somethingelse.somthing.

After I had finished writing it, I was filled with the laziness of a lion to go and post it. I mean, the post office is a 1½ minute trot from where I reside but NO… lazy. My father then made me go down to the bank SIX TIMES over and I’m not joking. I took it as providence and the sixth time around, I decided to post it. The whole thing is so much fun. Walking over in the pouring rain to a deserted post office where the government servants sit around behind their counters with the expression of a disinterested munshi on a holiday. “Can I have a five rupee stamp please?” I ask. The lady shows me her palm like a traffic cop and opens her drawer. It takes like 20 years for her to pull out a stamp and shove it to my side of the counter. She then slunk into her chair and almost slept off till I asked for glue. So the lady snarls and takes another 30 years to go in and get some gooey looking blue substance which felt like solidified mucus… Yuk! So I stick the damn stamp and walk over to the red post box. I was overwhelmed and as I pushed the envelope down the throat of the red dormant beast, I had the warmest feelings running through my heart and I felt myself smiling. I even whispered ‘take care, Ruth’ as I let go of the envelope. I felt the rain hit my face with gentle slaps and the breeze caressing each one very gently. I walked home and realized how nice it feels to write the old fashioned way. I’m sure to write a few more now. More than writing it’s the effort and love that goes into going to the post office and stamping and the best part is letting the envelope drop into the many of its own kind. Each one having something to convey. Each, as filled with news (good and/or bad) and affection as every human being in a crowd.

Somehow I’m glad to have changed my opinion about snail mail. Thanks for the motivation Ruth.

Break Through

One has achieved something after a lot of perseverance and a hell lot of patience. I must admit that I was almost fighting a battle with myself. A battle to stay put and wait till all that I was denied is given to me. A tall order some might say, but I knew it had to be accomplished. I was directioned and I held on to a desire, a desire to follow instinct. A desire to learn how to make profession of hobby. To become an ace in my territory of my choice. And this is where it begins. My tryst with destiny. After trying a lot of things (which I shall not mention), I finally made it through the Xavier’s Institute of Communications. I’m joyed and more relieved to know that there is a chance that I belong here (In the ad industry that is).

Some beautiful lines (extracts from Ullyses) that inspire me at this point and maybe always will are…

…I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
Life to the lees. All times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone;…

…I am part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherthrough
Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades
Forever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make and end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things;…

…To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought…

…There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail;
There gloom the dark, broad seas…

And most importantly of all…

…but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield…

Thank you lord for the notice you have taken to prayers unmouthed but sincere… and continue doing so for all that need the light. Thank you!

Bring it on already!!!

This heat is now being a pain in the …. Ummmm…. You know where.

I mean, it’s about time the rain gods woke up. Usually Bombay is hit by the damn monsoon in the first week of June and for whatever reason the heat is getting quite unbearable…. My sentiments are best reflected by the song that just played on my play list and it’s a bloody pleasure to listen to it after such a long time. In fact, the band’s name reminds me of the good old Nerul days when they used to call me ‘Blind Melon’ and invariably it would be followed by ‘Deaf Tones’… haha. So this is how I feel in the words of Blind Melon…

NO RAIN… L

All I can say is that my life is pretty plain
I like watchin' the puddles gather rain
And all I can do is just pour some tea for two
and speak my point of view
But it's not sane, It's not sane
I just want some one to say to me
I'll always be there when you wake
Ya know I'd like to keep my cheeks dry today
So stay with me and I'll have it made
And I don't understand why I sleep all day
And I start to complain that there's no rain
And all I can do is read a book to stay awake
And it rips my life away, but it's a great escape
escape......escape......escape......
All I can say is that my life is pretty plain
ya don't like my point of view
ya think I'm insane
Its not sane......it's not sane

So now that I nagged and winged all day,
I do expect there’ll be rain…
There’ll b rain…. There’ll be rain…. There’ll be raiaiaiaiaiaiaiain!!!

Haha, sowy for adding that but it goes with the tune yaar so Maaf hai!

Up-dates

God, it’s been a while since I got this time to write something and get over the Ahemdabad trip. It’s brilliant how the people have really taken efforts for staying in touch with each other. The Y! Group and the sharing of photographs and videos and incessant calls and sms and the works… I feel if it weren’t for the techy stuff, this trip would have been a blur in all our memories and faded by now. On the flip side, the charm and excitement of receiving the snail mail is a different high altogether, right?

So what has one been up to lately…

Interacting with Mrs. Sanjaya Misra on a regular basis is quite entertaining and thought provoking. I loved it when she took me with her to this meeting with Schredar Dunkan (may be wrongly spelt but I need not mention that categorically). It was about a training course they are looking out for. To train their employees in terms of team work and assertive thinking and communication skills and may be some stress management kind of stuff. It was a pleasure to be amongst the shirts and ties that walked around the place. I have never been fond of corporate life but it’s just too ubiquitous to be hated. Theek hai… no fondness, no regrets either.

XIC entrance, my last resort in educating myself with the fine art of ad making…. (Bull shit, no one can teach ad making but ya, the course is hands-on and bloody intensive). Got through the writtens and now have GD and if filtered from the lot, PI. So that’s on the cards. Praying to get through.

I have been meeting up with friends everyday and it’s a bloody high too meet different people from your life, one at a time. Lovely. Tavern still rocks, the smoke still dances, the booze still flows and the laughs and shouts and quaint lyrics still blurt out of drunken moths in complete devotion to the lords of rock!

But do not get me wrong, I’ve been a nice bacchha also! I’ve been going to the office whenever I can and traveling to the suburbs for work and running errands and not fussing about it.

It has been a beautiful life and it sure will continue to be! pakka! Promise!

my trip to Ah-MAD-a-(not so)BAD!

Back after ten whole days. Feels good to smell Mumbai. There was this one decision I made which really happened to craft my thoughts (if not change my life), and that was to take this trip to Ahemadbad. MICA, one of the most renowned institutes in the field of communication held this wonderful workshop for an age group ranging from 16 to 24. it was an experience and quite a motivating one at that.



This was the very flight we (my cousin harsh and i) flew by.

Ten days of complete madness and a real organized one, followed. The campus was absolutely mind blowing. It’s a shame, I only have some videos so cant show u that here, but this is a picture that shows the road that connected the main classrooms and the various hostel buildings.



And it was two in the morning when I clicked this one. Trust me, the campus was anything but empty. There was a 24 hour canteen and a 24 hour comp lab and a 24 hour library so people could work all night and they did. It was hot most of the time but still the public was quite chilled out. Enough of advertising MICA but I really loved the place. Some how it hurt me a lot to see that I tried and I failed at getting in there and doing all the things that these students did. Writing jingles at four in the morning, doing TV commercials for fun sake, writing scripts, chatting over coffee and cigarettes, the works and all at unholy hours. Just missed it. ‘sigh’

That would be the group outside McDonalds... amazing each one of them

Anyway, Raunika Sethi, the most calm and matured 24-year-old I have ever come across. The coordinator of the entire workshop. She had a wild persona and god knows she just inspired me to no apparent end. The lady had an aura of complete excellence and she perfected the art of commanding respect. I swear I would have fallen in love with her but I respected her too much to have considered such a base thought. She was a sweet heart.

Raunica, you are the best

Speaking of sweethearts… Ruth Saldana. Man, what a lady… a complete laugh-riot-package-deal. I mean, unholy hours and late nights would not inhibit her sense of humor in the least. Doing her BA with literature was a turn on enough and then she had to go and speak impeccable English. Complimented by the tangential jokes which only I (probably) understood and a machine gun like reply to joke and joke to reply session happened. One crazy instance is when this kid sits behind Ruth and me and starts listening to us rolling in laughter. With a poker straight face, the kid asks, “Ruth, why do you laugh so much?” I had half a mind to turn and whack the kid for all his sins he has ever committed but all I heard was Ruth laghing a little harder. Incessant jokes continued and at this brief moment when Ruth takes a break, the kid says “ok… now… close your eyes… and take a deep breath… and do not laugh anymore!” That would be the cue for her to burst out in splits. Poor guy died of abashment. Then there were the Ruth-isms which for the life of me I cant remember. One was ‘dogma: single word for son of a bitch’… and this comes up in the middle of a classroom session. Could not control any part of my body when I heard this. And then there was the ‘prof-with-funny-pronunciations’ syndrome. Cant really explain how we did it, but we spoke in phonetics. I mean, the hight to which written communication can go, chatting in phonetics?!! Crazy… but Ruth oh Ruth, so much fun.



Then there were the sundry mad people who made lots of jokes and fun and the usual stand alone types. Then the ones you cant stand and others who are too sweet and touchy to make jokes or pass funny comments on. But all in all, it just changed a whole lot of things for me. Not to mention my experience with hospitals and doctors, considering my cousin decides to play football with a plastic bottle at 3 a.m. falls and dislocates his left shoulder. Lost out on a couple of days but nothing to regret. I learnt to deal with lots of sudden decision making and I guess I did score pretty well at that. Got back home on the 1st of June and had some amazing memories rolling in my head ever since. Some other pictures that I randomly took are here.



That’s Roxie, the laziest German Alsatian ever. he slept in class and inspired us a great deal.



Ruth found a fried frog basking in the sun (if I may say so)… yeah, the frog is dead and crispy.



That’s times of India news press… HUGE!



That is the only auditorium in the country to have a floor seating and its in MICA… bottoms down!



Raunak with a golden voice sings an Abhijeet Sawant number… Indian Idiot!



Harsh returning home with a broken limb!

Mr. Zeeshaan and Radhika, the two extreme wackheads stand together... killers i tell you

Mr. Accident: Pratik was the man... 'i will jump from the sky for you darling'

Ritu was the cutest and funniest of the lot and also a majorly cathartic sadist i must say. loved her

our man Ritesh knew nothing better than what he is doing now... the buddy I can never forget

Amul almost hired her after she sang her 'Doodh Malai' hit single... Jagrit, muahhh!

Elvis + Leonard Cohen still is not = Phalgun 'Venky' Reddy... i will kill for that voice man!

RED EYES

Have you ever seen smoke dance to a squealing guitar? Have you ever seen a flash of light so bright, it almost blinds your faith in wonders? And then when you turn around to look, it’s a single stick with a sulfur tip that’s putting the end of a white stick of paper filled with a ‘deceiver’ on fire. Raging hands shaking high above numerous heads. Droopy eyes. Heads reaching for the floor to enhance the effect of the ‘hit’. Bear hugs and love expressions. Crying teary eyes, cribbing, bitching about the bitch. Lyrics pronounced in religious dedication. Unbeaten concentration on the playing of a non-existent guitar in the hands of many. Sluggish feet making their way to the rest room. Some to the smoke vender. Couples cuddling to prove no point of consequence. Loud laughs. High fives. Muffled words. Slurry sounds of unborn thoughts that die in the mind. Dead hopes, dead desire, dead smiles. A violent crisscross of base sounds and drummers beating their lives onto dead skins till they feel they can tear it. Mind numbing jokes. Beer. Cold drafts of air from the A/c over head. Lack of sensation. Lack of control. Lack of logic in finding meaning to what or why one really really BELONGS here. More beer. Nostalgia. Déjà vu. Visions. All three of the above in the same flash of a split second. Reluctance to go home. Compulsion of having to go home. The fight between the two antagonistic sensations. Suspended animation. Some more Beer. Red flames glowing like stars from a different universe. One, more personal than the one you are living in. and of course, more and more beer!

God I love Tavern.

And Jal is an amazing band... since van is a big jal fan, went to see 'woh lamhe' and 'adat' (performing live in bandra) but couldnt get in.... actually did'nt need to. after that was tavern. great fun.

I had written this article a while back when I had just gone through with my t.y.b.com exams and I really like it. i am also publishing this in the annual magazine this year (of Sydenham) but I thought of putting it up here none the less. Ok… I admit… confession if you will… don’t have any inspiration to write lately so…

TEXT BLUES

I was surrounded by zombies. They feared something, something strange and silent. i knew the shaping hand of providence was closing in on my future and the magical touch was just a silent acquiesce away.

They sat silently. They had a motive to achieve as they stared at black letters on white sheets, smelling fresh with the chemical used for photocopying. It is strange how one person who was possibly sleepy while he was listening to this lady (who does not know what or why she is speaking) is scribbling the letters dropping out of her mouth onto a piece of paper, which suddenly becomes a bible for those masses who never went to 'church' all year. What were they trying to achieve by being atheists for 11 months and suddenly having their sins catching up with them? It is commendable though, these zombies pull it off to say the least.

Those few weeks before the exams may be the glorious festivity of a hated event called “studies”. And the venue, as hated as it may be, is the otherwise haunted, library. The cult gathers at 8 am sharp and the prayers begin with a consistent chant... 'Oh fuck, I’m so screwed!!’. A few discussions with fellow 'believers' rekindle their faith. They open the untouched holy books of unknown subject with fear and spite on an equal balance. The reading begins and the next ten minutes are filled with a religious dedication towards the commitment they have made to this religion for the past 20 years or so. But as I said, ten minutes; then comes along Satan with his overpowering charm. Every one of the seven sins put together in the words that drop out like gospel hymns for these zombies to follow as their new bible… actually they simply revert to their atheism when they here him say “come on guys lets go for Chai!”. The “holy bibles” go for a fantastic toss and the “harrowed” individuals want to go for tea breaks.

It’s not too long (just about two hours) before the pangs of guilt strangle the necks of our refreshed students and they decide to head back to the Mecca. The books open themselves as if it was a favour to mankind to have been read by the youth of our country. Eyes wander on chapters and the “out of touch” memories of the kids can support no data other than the page numbers and chapter headings. Now the fine play of food aftermaths kick in. Drooping eyes and divided concentration make fine excuses for going no farther then where they have stopped (which again is a page and a half). Soporific chants lull them off for a 2 hour knock out and the fearful laughter of friends and screams of the disgusted parents jolt them up in frenzy. Heavy amounts of water and large quantities of mint and chocolates are consumed before faces are washed and we resume. Books spring to life and pages turn like an unprecedented dance of fright and random motions of the hand over letters flow through minds of young bloods. They push to remember as much as they can. Bullet points, paraphrases and highlighted headings are inter woven with thoughts of failing and irritations about why the girlfriend slept off without saying good night to the lover, the night before.

The crows mark the forthcoming of a regretful evening of a wasted day. The realization of not having grasped even 10% of the amount perused is a wake-up call but we decide to press the ‘snooze’ button and get home unperturbed by materialistic thoughts of taking exams to get a degree for getting a job and earning large pays. Sometimes, thoughts of this sort are like reality checks. Questions like ‘Where am I going?’, ‘What am I looking for?’, ‘What’s my future in this field?’; ‘Do I even belong here?’… start making sudden and irrational sense. The questions remain unanswered and the night passes off like a kink in the flow of time. the dawn of a new day of stress, toil, turmoil and pain and friends, food and tea breaks; the ratio being 2 hours is to 8 hours. The same old guilt, the same additional 10% and the same deep, philosophical questions end the day’s disgust.

Every day is a deja vu and the guilt goes to a penultimate tightening before the grip breaks your back bone and you have no option but to reverse the 2 to 8 ratio and make the 10% to 100% absorption. You ignore your girlfriend and the thought of failing is sinful. Eyes water and dare not droop. Food is kept to bare minimum of rice and veggies. Page numbers matter no more and photocopies are handled with perfect honesty. No Satanic interventions and no more distractions to feast your tired eyes on. The nearing of judgment day is time to wash out your sins and bathe in the holy waters of knowledge. The exams are a revelation of a toiling farmer ready to harvest (in this case the farmers decided to use hybrid variety that matures in a month). They (exams) arrive in chariots of fire and you are ready and armed. The soot of the midnight oil is the artillery you posses. Pens raging on the battle field. Printed questions thrown ruthlessly at you by your adversary. The bell sounds like the war horn and the raging bulls attack. Every bit stuffed is regurgitated with utmost precision and the battle culminates with the defendants left in doubt of their victory.

This is the story of a normal student… a story about a young mind fixed in a matrix called education and a small protective world known as a college. The concepts that bind the mind are a matter of legible volumes of unwanted information jammed into the system for a small rapid fire round and then forgotten for the rest of their lives.

Well, I’m through, I’m tired and I’m glad. The legacy is thus passed on to the next batch of degree aspirants… for me; the hunt was more interesting than the kill.

VALENTINO BLUES

“Nothing in our lives is ever going to come easy man!”

This is a quote from my close buddy in fear and sorrow, Valentino AKA Van. Let me give you a quick history of the man. Van is a Chinese born and brought up in India. Did his schooling from a convent and passed B.Com from Sydenham. But most importantly… he was born in 1982… like me and other ill-lucked, jinxed souls like me. This year is defined and tagged as “the darkest year” in the history of mankind. This is the theory we hold: nothing will ever go our way and nothing has ever gone our way in the past. (I have reconfirmed this from all 82’s and they concur). Van started working in the stock markets and for the two odd years he was there…. well, nothing went his way. Now he has finally given up and that too because he has ‘no more money to lose’. By the way, all that I put under quotes are his words. We met today (like we usually do) at the famous Muchhad Panwala, now termed as “Nainas” after the boutique that stands there. This was also Van’s idea so that when we say “nine ‘o’ clock, Nainas”, it sounds a little better than “Nine ‘o’ clock Muchhad Panwala”. Anyway, we met and discussed our run down lives and the daily issues and minor glimpses of the rather usual bad lucks. But today was exceptional. We laughed over these things like there was no tomorrow. No cribbing. Just laughing it all off. Then Van starts with his theory.

“God hates me. He keeps telling me, nothing is going to come to you. You want it, earn it. Never buy a lottery ticket. No use. I mean, we’ve all heard of ‘work hard, party harder’ but for us… ‘wanna party? Work harder, bitch! Wanna party hard? Don’t push it!’”. He went on with his screw up for the day when I asked him what happened. “My aunt is coming down from Taiwan. So I asked her to get me a graphic card. What do you know; they ran out of stock that day only. Had to settle for something lower. What the hell man”. Lots of laughing. “I’m sure they have a surveillance team in place up there man. Every time Van asks for something, make sure he gets none. Imagine, a place like Taiwan, a demand like a normal simple graphic card…. But no. ‘Empty stocks quick, clear clear clear’…. Van demands, shop keeper says ‘Sorry, no stocks’… phew, mission accomplished… high fives”. I died laughing. So did he. And this is not where he decides to stop. “Even the stock exchange has a Screw Van Squad in place. Picture this: small room, few computers few men. Sitting, cracking jokes, lighting cigarettes, all going fine. Van hits a deal on his machine… finished. Red alert alarms go off, battle stations…. Sell sell sell till the price drops to a 50% and let him square it off…. Van shouts SHIT…. Mission accomplished”. It was unbelievable, the way he was just laughing about these things. And no exaggerations, this is how bad it was. The market is sky rocketing till he punches a deal. Boom! Kaput. And to top it all, they others even joke about it saying ’82 kahi ka!’

“Screw that”, he continued while I regained balance and some breath. “I go to a lounge bar at Bandra with some friends and I see this Chinese sitting in the corner staring at me. I think it was Henry Tham and he knows my pop quite well. So even after six months, he’ll bring it up and well, the rest as they say is history”. Sure enough, at that very instant some dogs started howling like wolves on a full-moon night. Van comments, “Yeah, weep and the world (you belong to) weeps with you”. There was no stopping this guy tonight. Then some other friends joined in and topics shifted base. It still circled around bad luck and jinx… simply because the other two were also 82’s.

“the Chinese believe”, he spoke with words as profound as sermons but facial lines far from the concept of seriousness, “that there is harmony created when the good and bad, darkness and light and other such opposites are in a balance. The forces of the universe are in perfect equilibrium….”. he stopped for a drag and let smoke out of his mouth like a cloud of thoughts and continued, “Bloody hell! The only reason why anything good is happening in this world is because I balance everything out single handedly!”. A crazy roar of laghter filled the place up and woke this poor bawa family on the first floor of the building that had Nainas on the ground floor. “no seriously, the week when I was finally making some money in the markets, the tsunami killed millions… co-incidence you think?… no way. The yin yen never fails my friend”. We were now on the verge of getting a little serious and probably had stood enough to make our legs tired. But all that was happening was not feeling fine any more. I guess hee took the vibe in account and simply said “f@#! it…. some day God shall take a break and we’ll have our days in place... may be next year”. We had the last laugh and shook hands while each parted though I was still with Van because he was dropping me home. We took ice-cream and went to our humble abodes to retire in contemplation of all that went on in our minds… simultaneously.

The real reason for the post is, this kind of a conversation actually redefined the word ‘catharsis’ for me. It was quite a serious issue. All of us have been going through this phase of thrashed fate. I don’t want to discuss the issues in depth but know you this, they are no laughing matter. I guess this is a better way to talk things out with some friends and not have them run away. I know how it feels when you always have had a calm approach until you can hold back your angst no more and you want to talk. The slightest notice of an outpour in the offing and the other ‘friend’ starts hunting for obvious exits. Don’t know if I should and can blame someone for doing so, but I have never done it. Can’t turn a deaf ear. Even if I can’t help someone out, I still listen patiently, indifferently also (need be). Catharsis is no excuse for comfort but a deterrent to say the least. Anyway, its times and people like these that really show you a different perspective of life. Nothing comes easy to anyone but as our friend Albert says, “I don’t care how big your problems are, mine are bigger”. Here’s to the man who chooses to see fate as something having a good sense of humor unlike most who say it has bad sense of timing. Here’s to Van. Pleasure to have a smiley in flesh man. J. Floyd concludes:

Where were you… when I was burnt and broken?
While the days slipped by from my window, watching.
And where were you… while I was hurt and I was helpless?
For all the things you say and the things you do surround me.
While you were hanging yourself on someone else’s words,
Dying to believe what you heard…..
I WAS STARING STRIGHT INTO THE SHINING SUN!

Cheers!

Shifting Sands!

“So what does happiness mean to you?”, she asked me. Her face showed interest like none I had seen. She really wanted to know, which is a welcome break from the usual pseudo-isms, what I thought of happiness.

I had seen profoundness coming. 8.30 pm walks on the empty beaches can do that. It was unbelievable. We (Priyanka and I) started walking from my place at Juhu and came across the craziest noise pollution. Walked on as she fiddled with her phone and I with my thoughts. Something was on her mind or so I felt but only to realize it was a message conversation she was having with her friend bout some party they were to go for that night. Anyway, the sweet thing was she kept biting her tongue as she looked outside the small world of her own called the cell phone. Incessant apologies followed. Then we took that detour to the left of the main road that lead to the almost uninhabited shoreline. It stretched from infinity to infinity. The moon was small but bright, the stars almost looked like LED lamps… yes you read it right, we saw starS (the capital for stress) in Mumbai. I love the sound of the sea. It’s so peaceful. It’s quite a paradox/irony/funny thing (call it what you may). The sea itself is restless, the waves are mad and hence they create the world’s most soothing sounds. That is what started us both off on the insightful interview session. Happiness was the topic at hand. Can it be quantified? Can one say when one is the happiest? Can one know if this is as happy as it gets? The questions and thoughts flowed and so did wind. And so did time. We stood there for what looked like an era but it was really not more than 45 odd minutes. She kept defining happiness and I kept soliciting my idea of not conceptualizing or binding any such abstract feeling as happiness. Reasons, 1. It is abstract. 2. It is a feeling. 3. It is relative. I always feel happiness, sadness, anger, pleasure, satisfaction, attraction, prejudice; all these things are what we’ve trained our minds to think what they are. I was telling Priyanka, how a job that pays well is clubbed as satisfaction right now, then it might be clubbed under routine but happy, then maybe mundane and unhappy, then piss off and at that time the family that you dread having right now (getting married etc.) is actually your saving grace and that’s what you start clubbing under happy. It’s all relative. Shifting sands. The silence on the beach was broken only once in a while by a plane that would zoom by. I looked up at one of them, that was flying quite low and so did Priyanka. Suddenly her one hand caught my shoulder and the other pointed a finger at the plane that had crossed the bright moon. “Nature is dying while man takes no heed of how beautiful it is to be amidst it” she said. Went on to add, “God, these quiet walks can really make one think tangentially. I haven’t been like this for weeks now maybe. Work work work…” And quite on cue, her cell phone rings. “Oops! Boss calling…” she said and took the call. I figured it would take her a while so I picked her up by the arm and guided her through the traffic, got her into an auto, and already started off. By the time she hung up, she had no recollection of what happened back there. When did we get up, get out, got where we were…. Nothing. All I had to do was smile at her and she understood that it was this very instance that we had been talking about all evening. 45 minutes, just that much to break away into a world not yours and 45 seconds to bring you right back into it. You can’t stay too long where you know you don’t belong.

Usual Musings of an Unusual Day

I met a friend today after a year… after she came back from Dubai… she has done her course of MBA from S.P. Jain there.

It was the most unexpectedly fabulous moment, the minute I saw her. I couldn’t even imagine that it was a YEAR ago that I had seen her last. The warmth, the truth of having been there with each other through a lot of heavy and light things…. Just having stuck around with each other for more than six years now… amazing. I’m just short of words to express myself for the first time (probably!).

We caught up more on new times than old. What I was pondering over was, how there is a marked paradigm shift in our conversations sometimes. I mean, here there is this girl who I spoke to in the junior college years. The topics included ‘boy friend, family issues, discs’ and suchlikes. Now its ‘placements, pay, future plans, family issues…. Then, maybe boyfriends’. Funny I tell you. We grow up so fast but all at the same time. We need so many things but all our needs are quite similar. We see different aspects of life and they are quite common to all of the peers that we have. We use different words and form a jargon. All in all, what we think of ‘vast’ is not quite so. Perceptions, I might say. Clichéd piece of a write up, I know, but was really taken back by the thought. ‘VAST but still so small…. Vast Iota’. Yeah, that’s what life looks like sometimes.

And the evening closed with a fabulous Udpi dinner with an extraordinary company. When I see both these females, (and not to mention my mentor and friend Ma Sanju) the lines that come to my mind are:
“The time has come”,
The walrus said, “To talk of many things,
Of shoes and ships and sealing wax,
Of cabbages and kings.
And why the sea is boiling hot?
And whether pigs have wings”

Loved my evening. Thank you both. Karishma and Khyati. Its amazing how we talk no end and still make sense of it all. Amazing!

Life In A Moment

I stood there, staring at the red and orange colored sun as it quietly collapsed into its cozy bed with a sense of dense satisfaction… a sense of “I did what I had to do; but I do it every day anyway, still I do it and feel good” kind of a thing you know-dense satisfaction.

Well, on the exterior it all looked calm, the scene, the sky and the posture I assumed as I stood with hands behind my back and neck raised but relaxed. But on the inside it was a storm like no sea had ever witnessed. It rose with a violent “so what do you think you are going to do now?” thought-wave and moved to ferocious levels with the realization of not being able to direction the course of my life… the feeling of being scattered even torn if you will. Following the pears always seems to be a security blanket when you are really not aware of what you want to do. The “herd mentality”. A guru once said, “I am ready to accept your claim that humans are intelligent, provided you believe me when I tell you that when a human is amongst others, he is not”. Holds good for me and pretty much for all of us. Then there were the crisscrosses of statements that I had heard during a mind game that I was playing with my eldest uncle in my third cousins wedding… “Beta try doing a (some course I don’t remember the name of), it will be great for your business”. When a lady who has never seen the world or thought of it any more than a kitty party interrupts him. Says the lady, “No no, Shalini’s eldest son tried doing it but failed at it miserably. Instead, why don’t you do your…” And the words started blurring out and fading into the oblivion, as if I was drunk and some one was calling out my name as I try to figure out the voice, not the words… all just a muffled lip movement and sounds. These things that I detested then all started surfacing as I stood there.

I let thoughts pass without “thinking” them on deliberation. It is like standing on a railway platform, during peak hours and without the intention of boarding a train. You are there just to watch the “market” bustle. Then somehow the chaos is no more a cause of irritation but a stimulus to inspiration. That’s exactly what it feels like when you observe a noise in your brain, without being a part of it.

There were voices of my parents, teachers, friends… even people who I didn’t know. People rambling suggestions and some more suggestions. It occurred to me then that there was something waiting out there to come at me. Not in a bad way, in a manner to help me. There was an answer waiting to leap out and scream. But the noise was persistent; the intuition equally prominent. I was lost. And I wanted to be found. My brain felt like a radio, with numerous channels but all playing at the same time.

What happened at this juncture was remarkable. I stopped looking. I quit the idea of trying to battle life. I thought of a word called “wait”. It had to be around. It had to come blaring out if I stopped looking too hard for it. A sudden calm whizzed past and killed the riot for good. It filled the air with a deafening silence. I started to hear myself breath. Until this moment I had no idea how different it was to think and feel. If I closed my eyes then, the world felt strangely alien. I did not belong there. I was a part of a system that was there to revolutionize existence as mankind knew it. I lied down on my back and stared at the sky as it ebbed away. I felt it within me as much as it was on the outside of me. I felt one with the openness and its very nature to be abysmal. All of a sudden my existence started having a form and definition. The thin line between life and living was erased. The whole idea of birth and reality leaped beyond the words defining them and broke every barrier of empty concepts that were built by us. I could feel myself smile. The feelings bred every successive thought and the thought brought in a feeling. A beautiful balance between logic and emotion played on like a symphony in my mind, or maybe my heart, I am not quite sure where. I lay there for eternity. Either time stood still or it raced ahead so fast that I was, by now, only a reverie to nature.

“Lets go, I found the phone!” It took her touch to bring me back. “I left it at the tea stall, nice man that chai wala, he returned it promptly”. I smiled and said, ”Great, you ok now?” “Ya, but what happened to you? I left you waiting only for three minutes and your mood seems to have changed polarity. Guess I should have left you alone earlier huh?” “Rubbish! Those were the three longest minutes of my life”, I replied.

TRIPPING

He was crossing the street with a mind that ambled far more then his feet did. He knew not why he was walking, to where was he heading or for what was he aiming. He was not even wondering why he was walking like a vagabond; probably it was a deliberate attempt because he wanted to see the beauty that lies in not thinking. The peace of mind is only a concept to most of us, maybe all of us and he wanted to experience this concept first hand. He smiled with a mild satisfaction of achieving the goal he set himself but the worry on his mind was the fact that it was still a “goal” to be “achieved” when he set out to relieve his mind of noise… of goals and their achievements. A paradox, some would say. He called it irony.

The sky hung over his head in the pale gray of his mood. The streetlights painted a dull picture on the empty tarmac, almost as yellow as an aging manuscript lying in a lonely museum cabin. There was a violent crisscross of lights and a riot of sounds all around him that faded as fast as they had made an appearance. He chose not to listen to them but only to hear them and let them pass. As he walked on he wished not to make sense of what he saw, and so he just saw everything without any relation. For a while it seemed like an attempt but then after a few minutes or hours or some such feeble measure of time, he realized it took no effort to detach himself from the goings on.

The people around him seemed to have a reason attached to every move they made. He saw the gamut of reactions that ran from a child crying for a balloon to the couple that stood on the sidewalk and screamed their lungs out at each other. The stranded bus that had suffered an engine failure, the people in the bus and the people outside the bus, they all had a motive. The ice cream seller, the pizza delivery boy, the man who dropped a coin and the lady who could not walk due to overweight, were all cribbing about misfortune… he couldn’t hear the thoughts in their minds but the faces said it all. He was still holding on to his smile, to feel the security of not being a part of this confusion that people like to call life. He proved to himself that he had a different definition of the concept. At one point he even considered it a heinous sin to conceptualize “life”.

Hands in his pockets, he trotted on and jumped pebbles and missed people walking at a pace faster then their legs could handle… only because they were pressed for time. Ipso facto, they chose to be subjugated by the mortal parameters developed to check and guide the self from running astray… the parameter of measuring ones activities in units.

The sea was never ending. The crowds shifted in a wide range of colors. The sky did the same as the evening grew to a close. The streetlights brightened the faces faded into sulky weariness. Some sensing a satisfaction of getting the day’s job done and most others worrying about the next thing they had to do. His quest for peace had broken the barrier of self-contentment and was now entering the zone of pity for the mortals who wasted away their energy to fulfill a never-ending demand, to satiate a desire that would grow on the feed. It was a strong moment of enlightenment, one packed with emotional “whys” which pricked his mind no end. The futility of life was the very essence of its rejuvenation. What a city-dweller on a normal day would call “wasting time” (evidently the act of sitting and doing nothing) was a way to understand that to direction life was never a priority as compared to “moving on”.

His euphoria was groveling in the lowly dust of reality by now. His thought of achieving peace within, simply by observing life was starting to look like a utopia, never to be reached. He glanced and stared on, gained pace and moved with more effort. His senses grew strangely sharper, his mind raced to answer the unanswerable, his body flung out in rage when he realized the quest was a dead end, and he felt his nerves shudder with fear and anxiety. He could not understand the depression that was mixed with the innocence of a child who does not understand something and asks daddy for an explanation, only, here there was no one he could ask. “Why study, what good is money, what is the use of a marriage, what do you mean when you say ‘happy life’”? These and innumerable questions of a similar degree bantered his roots, his foundations that were laid by his education and by his parents and teachers and he realized the insignificance of it all.

Sweat dripped in cold successions from his forehead and he began to run, as if trying to get as far away as he could from these questions. The zombies would not give up. The last scream of help would have been vocalized, if it were not for a strange vibration and a familiar one, which tickled his thighs.

His leg trembled and his hand reached into his pocket for answering the ringing cell phone. It was time for dinner… he had to return home… thank god.

Train the menace

It’s quite a piss off being a part of this idiotic and abashing community at times. GUJJU, the proud businessman sans manners.

I was made to go to this function hosted by a rather decent family. I mean, the host was my father’s school friend and his daughter has been engaged so there was the much required show of the occasion (as it is in all communities I guess). That was normal. The party was humble with few family and few friends (now that is unusual for the khakhra-munching clan). This was a welcome thing. For once there was good food which again is a break from the usual extra ghee highly oily excuses for a paratha or nan or roti. But the dhokla lovers had to make their presence felt. I was irritating with the kind of noise the women made while the poor singer (who had an amazing voice) was trying really hard to come close to kishore kumars voice and he damn well did… but it all got drowned in the vacant conversations about the diamond necklace and the pretty black salwaar. Pissing off to say the least man. As if the shoes and lipstick oriented small talks weren’t enough, the snazzy cell phones went off in the middle of a wonderful mukesh number (chodhvi ka chaand ho). The disgust of the orchestra playing was far more evident than my loath that remained hidden under the plastic smile I wore while I spoke to the never-seen-before, never-want-to-see-again bunch of ladies that claim to have seen me when I was like 2 feet in height or something. Then the other obvious irritation that I dread made its manifestation as expected… “so son, you finished graduation right?” and I could (try as I may to miss it) see the gleaming iris of their eyes saying ‘when is the next party announcing your engagement young man?’. UGGGHHHH!!! Get off it. At one point, I nodded at the question and promptly asked the 45-something-trying-to-look-like-30-nothing aunty, “So has your daughter, hasn’t she?” and tried replicating the same glare in my eyes. What do you know? It bloody hell worked like a charm. A quick turn of the heel and a smooth get away to the pasta counter… yeah, that’s more like it, I thought. Not to mention the other irritants like noisy mouths, smashing forks and spoons, ultrasonic high decibel laughter and the absolutely pathetic ‘leave used plates anywhere you like’ syndrome. Shit! I wanted to run so hard, it’s not funny.

Not quite surprisingly Mickey called and asked me if I would like to catch a movie. 9.30 show. There is a God. This is the same guy who I had written about… the fellow who is always around to get me out of anywhere when I want out. Without me even starting to think about asking for help, he shows up with an escape route. So I sigh and say “yes, I would love to” in a tone that reminds me of the time I first got asked out by a girl for lunch. Quick goodbyes and off we were to the darkness of delight, the movie hall. Man, I tell you, the entire community should be given scholarships to join finishing school and a crash course on ethics and manners. There, I wish in hell again but I mean it… honestly.

Otherwise, all is good fun. Office is not exciting but quite interesting. Went for a day to Lonavala with a bunch of new friends and their respective siblings. Good fun there. I’ve always enjoyed making and maintaining new contacts. Especially if they are non-gujjus. I don’t have anything against those who share the same view about the clan as I do (and there are quite a few). So I enjoyed the hectic but fun day there. Pretty chilled out public so guess I’ll be around with them for quite some time now.

Oh! Almost forgot. Saurav Palit (engineering days’ friend and rhythm guitarist of our band) and assorted friends (of his) have decided to cut an album of our very own originals. Awesome! The way I see it, it’s the highest form of respect for music. Everybody listens to music, a lot of them listen to good, quality music, quite a few have a wonderful collection, even lesser than that are those who appreciate it and the absolutely few of them who dare make their own music for others to listen to. Now think about it, the kind of honor that I should be feeling in being a part of this handful. Our songs are turning out fine. The lyrics seem in place. The arrangement requires some tweaking. And recording has to be done. It’s unbelievably exciting. Frankly, I’m out of words to try and express how elated I am at this point. BREAK DUST makes a come back in style I suppose. Our bassy has exams so we miss him. But what the hell, BRAK DUST is back.

We have been redeemed it seems!

So I get this very flattering invitation to write for a friend’s blog and I do…

Its great to do a little something to have people pat your back and say ‘hey, I’d like to have you do that for me too, will you?’ and then you give it a deep thought (like you had a very busy schedule) and then nod with the slight reluctance (as if you are making some time for this person in your life and doing a huge favour). And you get a much demanded ‘Thank You so much!’ for it also. The fun part is when you turn around and say very politely ‘Ah, it was nothing…’ Makes one feel quite proud for no apparent substantial reason. Its funny, human nature. Quite funny. Trying to fake a guess when someone asks you for directions at the bus stop and you are not sure. Trying to make a serious face to grab some attention from friends. Cracking real low, downright disgusting jokes when you are with a ‘blondie’ (which happens to be your friend’s friend and is quite hot)… lots of these. They all just show our liking to being ‘something else’ quite literally. And its fun on the hind side.

So back to original motive of the post… visit me also at http://khyatu.blogspot.com if you’re not bored of me already (though the saving grace is that khyati herself writes really well). This is of course subject to the host’s discretion of putting up my stuff. Thank you khyati and I shall also follow suit. You (khyati) are invited to write in something for me too… not as formality but for the fact that you really write well… love your thoughts.

loosing my Appreciation

Today was quite a day of realization…. Actually just a very simple thing that came across as a huge change in the way we tend to miss out the nuances of other peoples’ lives.

My office (or should I say my father’s workplace where I have joined… we wrote about that earlier) is undergoing a renovation. It’s done now but when I sat there watching all the mayhem, I was observing the way these souls were toiling. The carpenters hammering away for 6-8 hours, non-stop, the painters stroking their brushes furiously and the polish-walas… well… polishing stuff. I was trying to imagine their thought process while they spoke nothing as they worked. What will the electrician be thinking while he plugs on the bulb? What’s on the glass-fitter’s mind? The kind of lives each one of them live as they chisel their masterpieces (of course on an individual level). Well, you can say I am bored and have nothing to do, which is the truth to an extent. But it’s a hair-raiser none the less. Think about it man, these guys would have been such intricate parts of all the brilliant structures that have been built through the course of history. What would stop them from boasting about their hand in building say the Adlabs multiplex or cross-roads or the huge mall at Malad and Ghatoper?

This one carpenter had just been casually chatting to the others about what a cumbersome job it was to make the shop hoardings for Big Bazaar. Just amazes me no end. The minutest details are so well taken care of. Just for a few minutes, put yourself in their shoes and think how you would feel if you were to pass I-nox and look up at the paint job that you have done. Listen to the comments about what a fabulous structure the new cross-roads is. And now, think of it as if you never cared. Never have you looked back at this design that you have watered with your sweat and hard work…. Unimaginably cruel I suppose. But that’s how it is for them. They obey the orders of their employers and do their bit, collect their wage and move on, never to turn around and appreciate their own ‘baby’. Im saying this because this is what has come from the horse’s mouth. I cant forget that unpleasant smile that this fellow threw as he stared at the empty paint can and said in a sheepish voice “kya farak girta hai saab, ho gaya, acchha laga to theek hai, bhagwaan ki daya.”

And here we are, trying to appreciate the ‘art’ of a bloody lunatic who has made random hand-prints on a white canvas… sold for a million bucks… crap! When oh when, dear lord, will we start realizing the true value of the ‘innocent artist’? Nevermind, hota hai, chalta hai, dunya hai.

A 6 a.m. walk down memory lane

This is really weird as it feels right now, I am up since 6 for god alone knows whatever reason and its quite pissing off to not be able to sleep again. I don’t know what to do and I decide to check my bloody mail for Christ sakes.

This actually reminds me of those weird days in Nerul where I would either sleep at these wee hours (6 is a wee hour for all practical purposes ok so don’t give me that funny look!) or wake up to study the bare minimal that I would. Funny times they were indeed. Journal work, morning cuppa of chai, the PL tube table lamp, anything-but-cozy bed… oh and the chilling morning breeze of December. If I look back at it now, I never appreciated the beauty of being there with 3 other sorry souls more than I do now. All I remember is waking up with this question lodged in the head like it were a part of the whisky consumed the night before – “why am I stuck in this shit-hole doing what I don’t wanna do?” then there was no answer.

So the typical day at college would begin with the slow thud of steps towards the pot. A shout out for chai to the good old Raju and off we were to the table. The next thing you see when you lift your eyes up from the morning daily, is this lanky (and I mean nothing more than 18 inches in diameter!) figure walk in with a shawl mummifying him. Shoulder-length hair; making him look like a mop used at the airports. “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!” he would say in a volume enough to put the rooster out of business, as he sits down on the sofa (the classiest piece of furniture we possessed). A very interesting question would then come up from this thin masterpiece… “You know what?.....” and then there was silence. After the long gaze at the poster on the wall, he would continue, “it’s too cold to go to college today”.

By then another figure would immerge from the room with the sound of dragging slippers. His voice, a deep sleepy hiss, like it were scraping his throat as he spoke with utmost disgust… “What time lecture?”. “Eight thirty”, I would reply digging my fork into the double-omelet I got the man to prepare. Yes, I would be caught eating quite often through the day; Almost as often as this man cribbing about losing his PC chuddy. This is when soul number three (affectionately addressed as the 3/5thling) would make an entrance. One hand dug in his pajama pocket and a walk which would seem to show as if this fellow hadn’t slept at all. He would walk up to either of us and the first words out of his mouth would be “taari paase taitris chhe?!” or some such comment that you wouldn’t be able to relate to if you tried for three lives back-to-back. After a point, one would get used to it and let it pass. Quaint table talks and the respective tea, bournvita and coffee would be consumed with corn flakes and/or bread slices with butter. Once in a while, it would be ‘2 eggs, sunny side up’ and an occasional Maggi (there I go with the food again, but I must say, it was one of the few promising things) would be the morning breakfast before each headed to their rooms to get dressed for visiting the Alma Mater but once again.

Each day from here on would be a different one but don’t want to go there anymore. May be I can describe it as ‘hell with happy memories’. Somehow, I really don’t mind reliving them. Ya, I don’t.

Here I am, on the road again,
Here I am, up on the stage,
Here I go, play the star again,
Here I go, turn the page.

(Hale Metallica!!)

Wokie dokie, 8:30 now. Need to get back to mundane life. Guess I’ll make some more notes about the fabulous set of experiences at Parimal Appartments more often. I’m sure I’ll have inputs coming in from the incumbents too, wont I?

scewd but true... it flows from nowhere to anywhere

its quite pissing off when you make a blog and no one reads it...

anyway, nothing too great to report (maybe just to myself) but the fact that i am working really hard to keep myself occupied... constant travelling to the suburbs of this wonderful city, taking the best transport ever administered in the country (the local train) and getting fried in the Mumbai summer attack is not really the best idea for spending time but well thats the best i can think of so far. that is the only way i can get out of the house actually. office is one more get away but sitting in one place is not very adventurous i would say. the godown has got its own certificate of being the biggest tandoor of its time so i avoid that completely. still work becons and work has to be done.

so there is dadr (*the shop) matunga (the godown) pedder road (the home) and Santa cruz (umm... the home... part 2). shutteling between these is good fun and a training session in travelling on intuition without the need to actually think where im going. seriously, it is so mechanical with the trains that i could commute to these places blindfolded. its good fun meeting up with my friends in cruz and my mentor, friend, philosopher, guide and critic mrs.misra. always around to give me some work and keep my otherwise warped head in good use. i have never been understood by a non family member in such short time lapse, ever. someone who comes out of no where and becomes an integral part of your life. who makes you think differently and gets you to change your perspective about yourself. mr. ghalla is another one of those head-stron unforgiving creatures who still has the odasity and the nerve to stick around with me for almost 7 years now without a chooch.

so this time i decided to get these two absolutely powerful influences to meet each other. both had heard about the other to the point where they could sware that the next statement i would make would be coming from the respective counterpart. and as i had imagined... they hit it off quite well too. god knows but i enjoyed the fact that i was left out of the conversation. every once in a while i would come in with an expressive 'hummm...' and shut up again. aahhh! i could go on about it for hours but what the heck, im too bored to describe the whole 3 odd hours in detail... not a woman u know...(with all due respect to the entire clan of the said armless millitants).

since i am making note of people who have influenced me, another name that comes to my mind is my very dear chinese friend...Valentino aka van. love the guy for his smile-through your troubles-and-they'll-pass-you-by-in-disgust attitude. he has always been this unasking buddy. then there is the very emotional but still absolute fun guy... mukesh bihani aka mickey. a wonderful man with the most charming personalities i've ever come across. i cant resist but to make note of this rather facinating fact; everytime i have wanted someone to talk to or get out of the house just to quit feeling clostrophobic, i wouldnt even have to make a call... i have just made a wish and this man's name flashes on my cell phone screen asking me if i am free and want to go for a ride. absolutely amazing. Not to forget his ability to chance upon the most gorgious women to have him fall in love with. Sonia is an absolute cause of anyones diabetese. an inspiration to think possitive and never give in... hats off babe. Ankit Patel: the man of a thousand opinions. a mentor as far as acads and fun are concerned. methinks this very qualified and i-will-die-with-a-book-in-my-hand kind of a guy has the most remarkable sense of humility and consideration. practicable and sensitive... again, what a man.

there are so many of these people who have influenced my life and as cliched as this blog might read, i still want to thank each one of the individuals who have been an inspiration to me. the only reason why i mentioned these names is because they are the ones i've been hanging out with for the past month or so. the others have just been there on the phone and the net and so on. not that i value them any lesser but... aaahhh its too complicated. i love you all... always will.

back to original crib about people not reading my blog... screw it, i think this is good enough to keep reminding me of what a lucky lucky individual i am... thank you lord.

the sage speaketh once again!

Sundays are becoming quite spiritual for me. Maybe not in the real sense of the word… I mean the perceived sense of the word at least. There was another session of good old “satsang” today too.

I got to learn something more about the being of a ‘sadguru’. It is quite essential and sometimes enormously helpful to have the ‘right’ teacher. By right I mean a mentor who you can connect to. It is only faith in the actions of his words that one learns to imbibe and apply. It could be anything, business, service, spirituality or even something as simple as music. We tend to have our focus quite divided amongst the things we want to do and those that are expected to be done. In that case you wouldn’t want to call it ‘focus’ but you know what I mean. The essential part is not ‘defocusing’ yourself from the distractions (that’s quite easily preached and hardly practiced) but the fact that you can ‘refocus’ your energies in that one mentor that you choose. That makes it simpler to set goals and more importantly achieve them.

I remember the time when I wanted to learn how to play a guitar but I never could. The academics always eclipsed the extra-curricula and as a result I never could take any formal training. Then came along this friend who knew his bare little about guitaring and that’s where I understood the concept of chords. Then I moved on to watch him play and then picked up a couple of chords from his progressions until I reached a level he had achieved. Now I had to move on and before I could regret the fact that I would have to wait for someone to take me further, I found another friend who had a lot of knowledge about chord-note agreements. This is where I learnt the fundas of rhythm setting and tuning. I exhausted his share of teachings just by copying him and practicing my own variations. I grew and grew till the point where I started figuring out my own tunes and understanding music in a more panoramic perception (if you will). The point is, I imitated each of my gurus without a doubt in his ability. All I could see was his dedication to his guitar and my responsibility towards my aim. I was ‘focused’ if I may say so. And this is applicable almost everywhere. Each time you are in the midst of a situation (not necessarily a very grave one) you have to picture this mentor dealing with it. Compare notes. See how you can imitate his action and with a complete faith in your action, face it… there is barely any chance of you going wrong. So there we have it… gyan for the day. But seriously, this kind of an approach is the most practicable approach to life in general. It leaves a lens behind that allows you to broaden the sight of your so-far-perceived horizons. Works for me at least…

Everyone must blink their eyes every once in a while to prevent tears from coming in…. think about it.