Found here. Via this.
Hello Neo. Hello sgMS.
This trip to Mumbai was unlike all other trips to Mumbai. There are two threads, if I may, that bind me to Mumbai. Neo and sgMS. This trip, both of them weren’t around. Both are as different as chalk and cheese and yet they are more important to me than anyone else in the world.
Neo and I went to MDI together and despite being in the same cohort, we were never friends. I knew him, he knew me and that was it. Time changed and we moved on. Somehow he landed in Mumbai for his naukri and I hopped around Chennai, Delhi and other such cities before I reached Mumbai. Mumbai has always been like that enigma for me. It has attracted me since I don’t know when and yet I never had the balls to go there by myself. Now that I was in Mumbai, I had to find my way around and unravel the mystery. I had to meet people and make friends – not that I had issues with it. I have always been very social. So, the first set of people that I met was classmates from MDI and there was this guy, Neo, amongst those.
sgMS and I are like that happy accident that you wish you met at every other crossing. To be honest I don’t even remember what our first conversation was like. But I distinctly remember when I first saw her. And I knew that I wanted to be with her. No, it was not really love at first sight but I knew we could be good friends at least. She is a typical Mumbai girl and has lived in Mumbai all her life. And like all Mumbai women, she knows how to dress well, carry herself around and has that confident air about her. She has this amazing smile that can move mountains. Her eyes are so brilliant that you could look into em for ages and get oblivious to the very concept time. Her hands, though tiny and fragile are that strong that if she held you, you can weather any storm. Nothing can trouble you when she is around.
Neo was like any other fresh MBA. Opinionated, well read and aware of the world around him. And he was like no other man that I had met. He hadand still has really bad personal hygiene standards. He is lazy. He avoids all work like plague. He abhors taking responsibility. He was everything that I wasn’t. He was everything that I dint want a friend to be. And yet somehow, we became friends and got close. We realized that both of us loved to travel and loved the rush that being on the road gives you. We started heading out to small trips out of Mumbai and before we realized we were living for the weekend when we could head out of the city. There were times when we dint even know where we were headed till we reached a fork on the highway. And even there, we would toss a coin and decide. That time passed like a blur and we went to places that are not even on the map, leave alone, had amenities. We dint seem to agree on most of the things and we have had our share of arguments. But with time, these trips and the arguments, the friendship developed into something that cant be explained with words. People even started cracking jokes at us for our “love hate relationship”. Both of us loved to hate each other. We still do. Bastard.
sgMS on the contrary is miles away from being a MBA material and that’s probably why she knows more about life and people than most people I know. Very pragmatic and very good at what she does. She is probably the goddess of cleanliness and orderliness. She hates any kind of kachra and does not hesitate in lashing with her mile long tongue if she spots anything amiss. She is calm and has that serene air about her. Compare it to my excited-all-the-time countenance. If I am yin, she is the yang. She complements me. Completes me. It’s as if when God was making me, he took a part of me and carved another human out of it. sgMS. Individually we are great at what we do but if we could be together, we could redefine awesomeness. That’s how “made for each other” we are. But then she and I had the weirdest relationship in the history of mankind. She knew that she liked me but she hated the way I was. It was a classical battle between her heart and her mind. She obviously gives more heed to her head and we aren’t together. I on the other hand, I loved her. Still do. And I knew that if we were to end up together, I would have a tough time with my parents and other such societal shit. Again this was a typical heart and mind battle where my heart refuses to let go.
Neo loves Mumbai more than anything else that we humans are capable of loving. So much so that he has declared to himself and everyone around him that he would not leave this city ever. What is strange is that Mumbai is an epitome of everything that he dislikes – hunger, poverty and humidity. And yet he loves the city. More than even Milind Gunaji. Mumbai, though is a city that he has adopted (or the city that has adopted him, as he says), he knows it as if he himself was the chief architect and planted the buildings, the alleys, Marine Drive and other such landmarks of the city, at his whims. Everything that characterizes Mumbai – the dilapidated buildings, the tiny alleys, the food joints, the Parsi cafes, the crowded local trains, the Marine Drive, anything – Neo seems to know about the history and importance of each tiny speck, in the grand scheme of things. I at times wonder if those stories are genuine or are cooked up. Even if they are cooked up, they make for a fascinating earpiece. If only Neo wasn’t lazy, he could have written it down and shared with the world. In it, we have a sure winner on our hands and a bigger hit than any other piece of text written about Mumbai. Someday I need to cajole him into writing an anthology about Mumbai. And for the same, maybe I will ask him to use a Pseudonym (Bajirao Singham?).
sgMS probably loves Mumbai more than Neo does. Though with Neo’s unwavering determination, I couldn’t be sure. Her love for Mumbai probably stems from her lineage – her family has been in Mumbai for more than three generations. She was born and has grown up in Mumbai and knows the nooks and crannies like the veins on the back of her hand. She knows where you get that best pao bhaji, where is that perfect place to sit and stare at the sea, what gully to take to reach Bandra the fastest, what store to go to buy that perfect gift, which is the most happening night club, what shop would give the best bargains and other such things. And the best part is that she is not just attached to Mumbai per se but she is very fond of her motherland of Maharashtra and her culture. Her love for all things Maharashtrian is legendary. She is proud of all the great Marathas – from Shivaji to Ambedkar to Mangeshkar to Tendulkar and all the Kar’s of the future! She loves all the festivals that bring the spirit of Maharastrians alive – from Gudi Parwa to Ganesh Chaturthi to Bhau Beej to Diwali. And she loves to gorge on all the typical Maharastrian delicacies – from Kaanda Poha to Vada Paos to Puran Poli to Modaks and everything else. If there could be a title of The Official PR Agent of the State of Maharashtra, sgMS would do a wonderful job.
The comparison and contrast between the two faces of Mumbai – Neo’s and sgMS’s could go on forever. Both of them have made me experience their respective sides of Mumbai and I cant disrespect either by attempting to pick one. Too bad they don’t know each other well and they couldn’t compare notes – it would have made an engaging battle of opinions, if not anything else. Neo would sit with his back to the chair, legs on the table and arms folded behind his head. sgMS would be standing on her feet, her arms making those gestures that only she can come up with and her eyes more animated than her face. Neo would use things like "but hear me out", "you don’t like me", "kise pata chalega", "trust me" etc. sgMS on the other hand would say things like "you are kidding me", "balls" etc. And since both of them have really really strong opinions and both of them hate to lose, I dont think the argument would end but it would make for an awesome sight.
There is so much more that I could talk about here. I could talk about Neo, sgMS or Mumbai. Or about all three of them. But I honestly believe in the power of things that are left unsaid after a long monologue. I'd let the readers decide who this piece was about. To close this, I'd saay that Mumbai to me is thus this place that the thrifty Neo loves and fancy sgMS adores. With the two of them with me in Mumbai, I experienced life like I had never done before. Thank you guys. Thank you Neo. Thank you sgMS. Thank you Mumbai.
Neo and I went to MDI together and despite being in the same cohort, we were never friends. I knew him, he knew me and that was it. Time changed and we moved on. Somehow he landed in Mumbai for his naukri and I hopped around Chennai, Delhi and other such cities before I reached Mumbai. Mumbai has always been like that enigma for me. It has attracted me since I don’t know when and yet I never had the balls to go there by myself. Now that I was in Mumbai, I had to find my way around and unravel the mystery. I had to meet people and make friends – not that I had issues with it. I have always been very social. So, the first set of people that I met was classmates from MDI and there was this guy, Neo, amongst those.
sgMS and I are like that happy accident that you wish you met at every other crossing. To be honest I don’t even remember what our first conversation was like. But I distinctly remember when I first saw her. And I knew that I wanted to be with her. No, it was not really love at first sight but I knew we could be good friends at least. She is a typical Mumbai girl and has lived in Mumbai all her life. And like all Mumbai women, she knows how to dress well, carry herself around and has that confident air about her. She has this amazing smile that can move mountains. Her eyes are so brilliant that you could look into em for ages and get oblivious to the very concept time. Her hands, though tiny and fragile are that strong that if she held you, you can weather any storm. Nothing can trouble you when she is around.
Neo was like any other fresh MBA. Opinionated, well read and aware of the world around him. And he was like no other man that I had met. He had
sgMS on the contrary is miles away from being a MBA material and that’s probably why she knows more about life and people than most people I know. Very pragmatic and very good at what she does. She is probably the goddess of cleanliness and orderliness. She hates any kind of kachra and does not hesitate in lashing with her mile long tongue if she spots anything amiss. She is calm and has that serene air about her. Compare it to my excited-all-the-time countenance. If I am yin, she is the yang. She complements me. Completes me. It’s as if when God was making me, he took a part of me and carved another human out of it. sgMS. Individually we are great at what we do but if we could be together, we could redefine awesomeness. That’s how “made for each other” we are. But then she and I had the weirdest relationship in the history of mankind. She knew that she liked me but she hated the way I was. It was a classical battle between her heart and her mind. She obviously gives more heed to her head and we aren’t together. I on the other hand, I loved her. Still do. And I knew that if we were to end up together, I would have a tough time with my parents and other such societal shit. Again this was a typical heart and mind battle where my heart refuses to let go.
Neo loves Mumbai more than anything else that we humans are capable of loving. So much so that he has declared to himself and everyone around him that he would not leave this city ever. What is strange is that Mumbai is an epitome of everything that he dislikes – hunger, poverty and humidity. And yet he loves the city. More than even Milind Gunaji. Mumbai, though is a city that he has adopted (or the city that has adopted him, as he says), he knows it as if he himself was the chief architect and planted the buildings, the alleys, Marine Drive and other such landmarks of the city, at his whims. Everything that characterizes Mumbai – the dilapidated buildings, the tiny alleys, the food joints, the Parsi cafes, the crowded local trains, the Marine Drive, anything – Neo seems to know about the history and importance of each tiny speck, in the grand scheme of things. I at times wonder if those stories are genuine or are cooked up. Even if they are cooked up, they make for a fascinating earpiece. If only Neo wasn’t lazy, he could have written it down and shared with the world. In it, we have a sure winner on our hands and a bigger hit than any other piece of text written about Mumbai. Someday I need to cajole him into writing an anthology about Mumbai. And for the same, maybe I will ask him to use a Pseudonym (Bajirao Singham?).
sgMS probably loves Mumbai more than Neo does. Though with Neo’s unwavering determination, I couldn’t be sure. Her love for Mumbai probably stems from her lineage – her family has been in Mumbai for more than three generations. She was born and has grown up in Mumbai and knows the nooks and crannies like the veins on the back of her hand. She knows where you get that best pao bhaji, where is that perfect place to sit and stare at the sea, what gully to take to reach Bandra the fastest, what store to go to buy that perfect gift, which is the most happening night club, what shop would give the best bargains and other such things. And the best part is that she is not just attached to Mumbai per se but she is very fond of her motherland of Maharashtra and her culture. Her love for all things Maharashtrian is legendary. She is proud of all the great Marathas – from Shivaji to Ambedkar to Mangeshkar to Tendulkar and all the Kar’s of the future! She loves all the festivals that bring the spirit of Maharastrians alive – from Gudi Parwa to Ganesh Chaturthi to Bhau Beej to Diwali. And she loves to gorge on all the typical Maharastrian delicacies – from Kaanda Poha to Vada Paos to Puran Poli to Modaks and everything else. If there could be a title of The Official PR Agent of the State of Maharashtra, sgMS would do a wonderful job.
The comparison and contrast between the two faces of Mumbai – Neo’s and sgMS’s could go on forever. Both of them have made me experience their respective sides of Mumbai and I cant disrespect either by attempting to pick one. Too bad they don’t know each other well and they couldn’t compare notes – it would have made an engaging battle of opinions, if not anything else. Neo would sit with his back to the chair, legs on the table and arms folded behind his head. sgMS would be standing on her feet, her arms making those gestures that only she can come up with and her eyes more animated than her face. Neo would use things like "but hear me out", "you don’t like me", "kise pata chalega", "trust me" etc. sgMS on the other hand would say things like "you are kidding me", "balls" etc. And since both of them have really really strong opinions and both of them hate to lose, I dont think the argument would end but it would make for an awesome sight.
There is so much more that I could talk about here. I could talk about Neo, sgMS or Mumbai. Or about all three of them. But I honestly believe in the power of things that are left unsaid after a long monologue. I'd let the readers decide who this piece was about. To close this, I'd saay that Mumbai to me is thus this place that the thrifty Neo loves and fancy sgMS adores. With the two of them with me in Mumbai, I experienced life like I had never done before. Thank you guys. Thank you Neo. Thank you sgMS. Thank you Mumbai.
The King of Rivers
I have always known that I want to play some sport professionally. But then at my age and my physical fitness level, I am not too sure if I can compete on physical games with younger, faster and nimbler people. So that rules out most of the sports that are recognize universally. Had to find something else. So right now, poker seems like a good option. I am not that good with it but I think its a game of skill and if you work on it, you can improve it. Why do I think its a game of skill? Because like all other games of skill, there are a few players who consistently do better than everyone else. They have been playing for ages and there has been a gradual improvement in their game, again a hallmark of all skill based games.
But no one can refute the role that luck plays in poker. After all you dont know what those 5 community cards would be and you definitely dont know what hole cards do your opponent have. Even while playing, when you have seen the flop, you never know what the turn or the river is going to be. You need to rely on probability theory and, unfortunately, luck! And ever since I have started playing, I dont think I have ever been this lucky. I am hitting the river so often that its not funny. Its as if the God is on my side and is dealing the exact cards that I want. Its as if I am the King of Rivers and I command the cards to flip my way.
I wish I could remain this lucky for next few years when I up the ante and start playing in poker tournaments around the world. Ofcourse I am not too sure if I would ever do that but I have all the plans to give my lifelong dream a very serious shot. And no, I refuse to get in the debate about poker being a sport!
Just another Thursday morning
Wrote this on Thursday. Sounded depressing enough and dint publish. That time had decided to wait for a few days, do a review and then publish.
It’s a Thursday morning. The entire country is celebrating rakhabandhan and I am alone in my office, staring at my screen for at least an hour now. It’s about 11 and I already look like a zombie. Actually there is a higher chance of someone looking like a zombie in the morning than at nights. Took two sleeping pills last night and yet dint get no sleep. Had a hearty breakfast and yet I am hungry. I have had gallons of water since 9 and my tongue and throat is still dry. So dry that I can barely speak. The temperature outside in Delhi is low 40 (Celsius scale) and its humid like Delhi is some equatorial jungle. The ACs in office obviously do not work and yet I have this bad bad cold. The whole respiratory system, starting with the nose, going up to the head, travelling down the throat to the lungs, is choked. I am breathing with my mouth and despite that, I am breathless. The head is throbbing like someone is kicking a football under the skin of my head. Every other muscle, tissue of my body is hurting so much that I can actually count the number of muscles in my body. Reminds me of Vipassana where it took all the effort in the world to gain equanimity and track just one muscle. Here I am, with a tacit awareness about each part, each limb, each muscle, each tissue. And more. My to-do list is miles long and yet I don’t know where to start. There are three exciting ideas that I can work on but I don’t want to. I am chasing greatness and immortality through my work and I have no clue how to go about it. None of my regular methods of distracting my head seems to be working. Poker seems like a game of luck, music sounds repetitive, cant seem to focus while reading, movies are just too long, eating does not give me that contentment any more. I have tried it all and yet I cant seem to get my head sorted. If I was myself, I would have been really excited and would have had a hard time sitting at one place.
There is also this restlessness in my head and in my thoughts. I am snapping at my parents, friends, coworkers for no reason. Its like 2009 all over again when things really got out of hand. There is some kinda turmoil and I don’t know what is causing it. Everything is going well for me. I mean I make enough money to survive and take care of my responsibilities. My work, despite being bad, is better than what most other people my age are doing. My family is doing good and is thankfully sorted. My friends, though in different cities, are all doing well and I know I can count on them. And yet I am restless and I have no clue why or how. Last time around, in 2009, I left my job, came back to Delhi and then dint bother myself with things for a few weeks. This time, I am in Delhi and there is no place else that I could run to. I dont even have sgMS anymore who always gives me that peace, that contentment that I crave for all the time.
To add on, its funny that despite all of this bullshit in my head, I am full of hope. Hope that the greatness that I chase is just around the corner. I have started making that extra little effort that is the gap between good and great. I can see the results already. All the lucky coincidences have started happening yet again. I am the new king of rivers (a post on this in a bit) and I have won more games on river in last few days than in my entire life. I somehow know that it’s that time when it’s either now or it is never. The next few months would define how rich would I die. I would obviously either die a pauper or a billionaire. There is no other way. There cant be. Things havent been designed like that. Its in the fucking air. I can feel it. I know its coming. May it is the expectation that is keeping me awake at nights.
But then, thats not the point of the post on a Thursday. And here is the million dollar question. Is this what clinical depression all about? Frequent mood swings, sleeplessness, tendency to overeat, lack of concentration et al? Do I need to go see a Shrink?
I concede
There is this friend of mine who is probably a bigger sport fanatic than I. His wife is famous for feeding me her world famous Rajma Chawal. During one such feed-saurabh-rajmachawal session, I got entangled in this conversation about professionalism in sports and the future of Indian sports. The argument got out of hands and I staked a dinner at a restaurant of choice. I had said that India would win at least 10 medals in the London Olympics 2012. And as of today, the medal tally is a poor 1. I concede Parry. Next time I am in Mumbai, dinner is on me.
More than anything else, I am dismayed at the performance of our athletes. To be honest, none of these athletes that went to the Olympics can crib about non-availability of money, infrastructure, training etc. Anyways, what has happened has happened. Time to look towards the next one in Rio.
This is one of those things that I sincerely wish I could do something about!
Coming back to the bet, I think that
Mr and Mrs Sarkar knew about our athletes all along and the bet was just a sinister plot by to get an expensive dinner out of a kanjoos baniya like me.
the curious case of missing cases!
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| Sony Vaio Screenshot |
but then one fine day my laptop stopped working. in lieu, my office got a Sony Vaio and like all products that are designed without a thought, steve jobs would have hated this laptop, this Vaio is a classic #fail. for some reason, the designers of this laptop decided to reduce the size of the shift key and made it as
at first i coped up by typing things like i normally do - fast and without looking at the keyboard; And then run a spell check and get most of the cases right. but then it was wasting just too much time and since time is most precious commodity that we humans have, i decided to drop cases altogether till i get rid of this wretched Sony. the drop in case came not as an idea but as a reflex, a revolt against this badly designed laptop. Sony, are you listening? also, if you are, please note that conventions and norms such as qwerty order and placement of shift keys etc have been developed over the years and it takes time to insert a new radical change, like the size of the shift key. if you think customers would accept it, no they wont. sorry, you are mistaken. if i were the ceo or something, i would've asked the team that even dared to reduce the size to leave. you must do so imho. and no, am not exaggerating.
and for everyone around me, all i expect from you guys for the time being, is to be a bit tolerant about these stupid misuse of cases. i cant help things to be honest. please excuse me and please do not judge me. in return, i promise to drop
What am I doing in Mumbai?
I am in Mumbai for next few days. While I am here, I will try and do the following.
- Try and see if there is a business case of establishing a marketing services company here. It sounds like a tough task considering Mumbai is a crowded market and has tons of existing players that are fairly entrenched. But then my employer is footing the bill and I cant complain. If you can help, please lemme know.
- I'd try and get fit. I am fat and that too in an ugly way. Here, despite erratic eating schedules, I will try and control what I eat. For starters I will stop having dinners. At Vipassana, we were taught to survive on two meals. It helps in better digestion, if not anything else. And it may teach me self control, in terms of telling yourself not to eat when you have daal makhani and paranthas served to you...
- My first short story is almost done. Will try to finish it while I am here. With all the madness in Delhi, it was really tough to work on it. While I am here, I will have time on my hands to work on it. And since I have decided to try and publish it myself on Amazon, I will explore that bit as well.
So three big things that I want to do in life. Create a business, get fit and start writing. Am on my way fellas. Thats it for the time being. Do lemme know if you could help on any of these three things!
Dooba Dooba
If ever I was to sing something to impress a woman, with my bathroom singing skills, if there is a song that I would choose, it would be Dooba Dooba by Mohit Chauhan. Ofcourse I am not comparing myself to Mohit, I don’t even stand a chance. The song is that brilliant that if you give it to a donkey, the donkey could weave magic from it, I am afterall slightly better than one.
Its a really old song, from the time when I was still a kid and had some hair on my head but the song is still sounds as fresh as it did way back when I first heard it.
Size Does Matter
The entire city of Delhi is on sale. And I wait for this time for long months. So that I may actually go and shop. So last week, lured by the crazy discounts, I made my way to the shopping malls. I was hoping to buy brands that I could have never bought on a non-sale day. The first store I stepped into, I realized that I was at the wrong place.
I have the most weird size that a man could have. I am not young, not old. I am not thin and I am not fit. I am not L and I am not XL. As a result, most things that I buy are either too tight or too lose. No wonder people look down at me, even when I am dressed in my best. In fact there have been times when I have been denied entry to places (clubs, restaurants etc), not because I could not spend money that these guys would have charged, but because I look scary.
All this while, while I was growing up, things dint matter at all. But now, when I am old (and alone), these things do. Time to take charge and get into some size. Any size.
I have the most weird size that a man could have. I am not young, not old. I am not thin and I am not fit. I am not L and I am not XL. As a result, most things that I buy are either too tight or too lose. No wonder people look down at me, even when I am dressed in my best. In fact there have been times when I have been denied entry to places (clubs, restaurants etc), not because I could not spend money that these guys would have charged, but because I look scary.
All this while, while I was growing up, things dint matter at all. But now, when I am old (and alone), these things do. Time to take charge and get into some size. Any size.
A mess called Gurgaon
For work, I travel to gurgaon almost everyday. And I have been doing it for almost three years now. so much so that I am at the verge of breaking down. I can no longer tolerate this place. Here is a list of issues that I have against Gurgaon.
- Its too far from my home. Takes me atleast 90 minutes either ways, if I am lucky. Most days its about 120 minutes of ordeal through heavy traffic and angry drivers. The good part is that there is so much traffic that I am supposed to use clutch and brake after every 2 milliseconds. I think its Gods way of punishing lazy bums like me. Imagine all the muscles that I am working on, everyday. My legs must be that strong that I may even defeat Usain Bolt, or even Paan Singh Tomar in any race they chose!
- Traffic on the Toll Plaza. Its legendary, how bad the traffic is and how mismanaged the entire thing is. You could come in at any hour you wish to, you would have to wait for atleast 15 minutes on the toll to be able to get moving. On Mondays, its like a black hole. You can get in the toll lane bt you cant get out. It’s a never-ending stretch. If there is one thing that I could fix as God, I would not do anything about poverty, hunger, malnutrition etc. these are simpler issues with easy answers. I would rather fix the mess called Gurgaon Toll. I’d get more disciples and bribes. May be even bomb it if I could. Not a bad idea, come to think of it.
- Civic conditions. I have been “subjected” to Gurgaon since 2004 when I came here for my MBA. Its been 8 years and the place is perpetually under construction. In 8 years, you could have built Rome all over again, make three lifesize replicas of the great Pyramids and erect Taj Mahal in Noida, Mayawati almost tried. China could even create a new Earth altogether and hang it in the solar system if they wanted to. 8 years is a lot of time if you ask me.
- Amenities. There is not one day when we don’t get power cuts. Wait. There is not one day when we get power. Cuts will happen if there is power. Apart from power, there is never any supply of water. We have to rely on private water tankers. Even at 8 in the morning, when I come in, there is no electricity and hence no ACs and hence all the frustration. If I ever kill someone in Gurgaon, it would be because of the fact that my head got over heated cos of the damn power situation.
And then there is the traffic in city, the rudeness of residents, the brashness of taxi drivers, the incompetence of policemen, the vanity of rich businessmen, the wealth of land owners who sold it all to builders, the arrogance of of the uninformed and worst of all, the compulsion of someone like me who has to work, to pay the bills.
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