When I am 80 (if I live till then) and I look back at 2015, the only thing I'd recall is that 2015 was the year when I was missing in action for a large part. Case in point? This blog! It's been a month since I posted something. The last post that happened on 11th of June and today we are on 11th of July! A month. In my heydays of blogging, I would post something every 30 minutes!

So, wassup boys and girls? (The one boy and one girl who read this regularly and the one girl who reads when she gets a break from motherhood. And the occasional surfer that strolls in while searching for something weird!)

Hope all is well with you.

For me, things are good. Could be better though. Been really tied up with the whole making money peanuts, meeting people to open more doors thing. These two tasks, when you don't have a company's name to back you up, are very sapping. So sapping that you tend to question the futility of even attempting it. So tiring that you question the very meaning of hustle. And even the re-runs of motivational shit like Steve Jobs' speech at Stanford, Will Smith's interviews about laying bricks and outrunning people on tread mill and that classic commercial by Versus fail to encourage you.

Take last to last to last night for example. I had a few meetings during the day. One of them gives me the money that allows me to afford a place in Mumbai. The other was an interview with a TV producer who may use me as a writer on a new TV show (my first). The third was catching up with a friend. And then there was this insane and expensive, if I may, travel to reach all these meetings. By the time I reached home in the evening, I was sweating like a pig. I wanted to take a hot shower and remove all the sweat, grime, dust, filth, heat from my body. I put on the water heater, stripped naked and yet, I just did not have the energy to get in the shower. Next thing I know, it's 7 in the morning and I have this severe neck sprain - because I slept on a heap of books that I was supposed to read two weeks back.

More than these books that I should've read two weeks ago, there are a million things on my todo list that are pending forever. And the biggest and most important thing on that list? The startup that I want to do. That I am told is a billion dollar opportunity. Something that I know that the market needs. Something that can set me free for the rest of my life (in terms of money). Something that can help me make that ding that I so crave for. With each passing day where I am supposed to hustle AND work hard to back up the tall claims I make to my clients, the ding seems to be drifting away. Because the thing is that you can never predict the reaction of a client. Most tend to tell me that I do a good job and typically happy with what I deliver. But then I cant guarantee.

Yesterday was no different. Like I said, I had a few meetings. One went like a dream - I was unprepared but I sailed through. The other I thought I had worked hard on and I thought I had a winner and yet it bombed. Now I dont know how to evaluate what I do. Because I am at the mercy of my clients. And their shenanigans. And their moods when I present what I have worked on.
 Thanks to such freak incidents (that are now happening with such increasing frequency these days that) I am sort of detached with the my output. Compare it to a time where I was so anal about delivery of work that I would keep tweaking things till the time the keys dropped off from the damn keyboard. Even while presenting things, I would continue to make changes. People asked me the point of making changes once I've made a deck and I would respond that I want my conscious to know that I have put in super hard work and I've been meticulous. I HATE (in caps) it when someone gives me something that is substandard. I may not be great shakes but I just can NOT (in caps) do shoddy work. Could not I mean. And no, it doesn't mean that I do shoddy work now. It just means that I am detached from what I do. My work and I have become two different things.

Which brings to the next point. Who am I? If I don't want my work to define who I am, what am I? Who am I? Unlike most my friends who have fancy things to say when they meet people (Hey, I am ABC. I am the head of marketing at DEF. Or, Hey, I am a writer who's written the book that sold a million copies but no one read. Or, hey I am a Value Investor who likes to choose businesses that make a lot of money in long run), I have nothing to say. I just do NOT know what is the damn introduction. Or may be the damn thing on my epitaph. Epitaph? The stone that you put next to your grave when you die? Where you say things like, "here lies a man who served his country well and was around when his family needed him?"

That's something that I think about a lot. My epitaph. What would it say. May be something about my crazy love for #sgMS. But I am told love is a fad and you have new love interests every year. Or it could say that I made a ding in the universe. Or it could say I lived life on my terms. Or you know what it could say?

It could say, I was Missing In Action all the fucking time!

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The Nidhi Kapoor Story

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