August - 2011

August 01, 2011

Beginning of a new month. And like all new months (and years), something inside me tells me to create a goal list. Goals and I go back very long. I have been making lists since 1947 and I haven't been able to finish a single list, since 1947! What a coincidence. Anyways, as they say, "koshish karne wale ki kabhi haar nahi hoti", today while driving to work, I decided that I would make a goal list for this month. Rather than making long plans that never fructify, I will make small, measurable

So here are the goals for August.

1. Write at least one blog post each day on this blog. I do maintain a few other blogs (all of them as not famous as this one) and though I do update them occasionally, they dont give me as much pleasure as this one does. So the goal is, to update this blog, atleast once each day, for rest of the month.
2. Stop eating out. I have been maintaining a rather complex excel sheet that keeps track of where my money is going. My top three expenses each month, month on month, have been Misc (this is where all my gadgets, gifts etc go), Petrol and Eating Out. I know I cant stop buying gadgets. I know I have to buy fuel to be able to reach office (my office does not pay for my travel. Boss, are you reading this?). And I can easily cut down on the Eating Out bit. It will save me some money (which I desperately need) and help me reduce weight (again, I desperately need to do that as well). All the coffee shops in and around Delhi would hate me for this but a man's got to do what a man's got to do.
3. Travel. Thankfully, my work makes me travel a lot. But then travel is one of those things that a man cant have enough of. If all goes as planned, I am supposed to goto Goa and Mumbai this month. Both trips are for work but I will try and squeeze in some bit of personal travel post the Mumbai trip. So anyways, the resolution is that each month, I have to have to make one trip (of at least two nights) somewhere that is not related to work.
4. Secret. Jevgr n obbx ol raq bs guvf zbagu. Gbbx vafcvengvba sebz uggc://jjj.anabjevzb.bet/ naq znxr Nhthfg zl Abiry Jevgvat Zbagu. Gb or ubarfg, ba qnl 1, V qbag ernyyl unir n fpevcg be n cyna. Ohg V jvyy jevgr n 50, 000 jbeqf. Naq yvxr Zngg (Phggf, bs gur Tbbtyr snzr), fnlf, qb rirelguvat va fznyy fgrcf naq V jvyy jevgr 1650 jbeqf rirelqnl. Hint: Rot13.

And thats about it. If there is more, I shall add on here. Or maybe push them to September. Right now, let me try and close these 4.

Taare Zameen Pay

One of those days when I left home really early. I was in Mumbai and had to meet someone for a breakfast meeting at 7. Since I no longer stay in Mumbai, Neo lent me his car and I was driving from his place. It was to be a thirty minute ride through a city that is more alive than anything else. It had just rained and the entire city was washed and had that damp look about it. The roads were clean, the air fresh and there were puddles of water all over. Not the mean ones but the cute ones. I could see life all around me. Kids trying to reach their school, vada pao vendors trying to make a living, little boys cleaning autorickshaws, sporadic traffic on the road. It all looked like a movie. And I was shuffling FM channels, the way I do all the time, hoping to catch a song that I like, still hoping for a better song. With so much of shuffling, its actually funny that I even get to hear some music. So anyways, some station was playing Taare Zameen Par from the movie, well, Taare Zameen Par. The movie is easily about 5 4 years old (it released in 2007. checked on IMDB) and the song got really popular back then. Those days I hardly paid any attention to it. So its a surpise that I actually stopped my fidgeting on this song and heard it. And as the song reached its high point, the chorus, I was so overwhelmed with the beautiful picture the song was painting that I got this lump of the size of a football in my neck. Ofcourse boys, I mean supposedly grown ups dont cry, I couldnt shed any tears but I would have, if I dint fear a public outcry and declaration of a national calamity over it. Obviously I am an emotional fool and I get carried away easily. Also, the tradition of wetting eyes runs deep in the family. Its one of those traits that I have acquired from mother side of family. Of course I have all the bad traits ;P.

So the song played and I was drowning in my emotions. One part of me wanted the song to get over as soon as possible and the other one wanted it to keep playing. Forever. May be for next few minutes that I could tolerate it. But then like most things in life, I dint have a choice with this song either. Like other things, the song ran its length and something came over to replace it. Isnt it funny, that our entire lives, we try to do things that would make us, our names, our work, our legacy permanent and when the day you bid adieu to the world, no one notices. I mean they take a note and they talk about your glorious achievements and illustrious career, for exactly three minutes. Imagine summarizing seventy years of your existence in three minutes. Ok, enough of rant. So the song got over. I was left with that itch. That despite it being such a brilliant song, how could I miss it! The itch that I had to scratch and hear the song once more. Somehow I had to. I dint have it on my laptop or on my music player (BB 9700 :D) or in the car, the only way to hear it was to download it off Internet. But then what about the damned meeting that had been planned for more than 4 months? And these are exactly the situations where God likes to plays his funny games. Makes you want to believe in his existence. Turn into a believer. Get you to goto temples, mosques, churches or whatever sanctuary.

So I wanted the song badly and I had no access to it. I hoped that it would be on some other station. I flipped stations and, yes, you guessed it. It was there! It was fucking there on some other station. It was playing. The way I wanted it. Without me making an effort for it. Without me praying to God.

Taare Zaameen Par is such a brilliant song. You must hear it. For best results, put it on a loop, put on some really nice headphones, turn off lights, set the AC to 24 and close your eyes. If it doesnt touch your soul, give you goosebumps and elevates your spirit, I will do anything you want me to. Anything. And I am not kidding.

Thanks Prasoon Joshi, Shankar Mahadevan and every other unknown name who played a part in making of this song. Thank you so much for giving us Taare Zameen Par.

Crib crib crib!

Disclaimer: Post full of rants and I might use profanities. Parental discretion advised.

So I have been panning a trip to Mumbai for a while now. And for some reason or the other, the trips been getting delayed. Been more than two weeks now. And every-time at the last minute. This time, I had even packed my bags and called my driver to drop me to the airport.

It sucks to work for someone else. It sucks to be at the mercy of others and it sucks to let others take control of your life. If you cant plan simple things like travel to friend's places, it couldn't suck more. Of course you may argue that once you grow in life, you would have more time. I have one word answer to that. Balls. Ghanta (for the noes who appreciate Hindi).

So, Hugh, of the GapingVoid fame, says "Life is short and one day you're no longer going to be here; that's all the motivation you need". And this is exactly why I hate to work for someone else. When I am 40, when I cant lift my limbs, I dont want to look back and regret about things that I could have done and I could have achieved. Like that carpe diem thingy, life for the damn minute. If you were to die today, after this minute, what would do in this minute? Work for someone else? Wait for a meeting to start? What for someone to rub his ego at your cost?

And yes, the kid in me wrote this post. Anyone got any problems with it?

Zindagi Na Milegi Dubara - 2

Dilon mein tum apni betaabiyan leke chal rahe ho toh zinda ho tum
Nazar mein khwaabon ki bijliyan leke chal rahe ho toh zinda ho tum.
Hawa ke jhokon ke jaise aazad rehna seekho,
Dariya ke jaise lehron mein behna seekho,
Har ek lamhe se tum milo khole apni baahein.
Har ek pal ek naya sama dekhein ye nigaahein.
Jo apni aankhon mein hairaaniyan leke chal rahe ho toh zinda ho tum.
Dilon mein tum apni betaabiyan leke chal rahe ho toh zinda ho tum.

- Javed Akhtar

Credits to NV for typing this out!

Zindagi Na Milegi Dubara

Jab jab dard ka badal chaye,
jab gum ka saya lehraye,
jab aansu palko tak aaye,
jab ye tanha dil ghabraye,
humne dil ko ye samjhaya,
dil akhir tu kyu rota hai,
duniya mein yuhi hota hai.
Yeh jo gehre sannatey hai,
waqt ne sabko baatey hain.
Thoda gum hain sab ka kissa,
thodi dhoop hain sab ka hissa.
Aankhey teri bekar he num hai,
har pal ek naya mausam hai.
Kyu tu aise pal khota hai,
dil aakhir tu kyu rota hai

- Javed Akhtar

Credits to RK30Jan for typing this out!

The near near death experience

Note: This was originally written on 27th May. Never got around to finishing it. Forced finished it today.

Last night (on the night of 26th May), while driving home, I had a near near death experience.

A near death experience is when you are almost dead and you come back from the verge of that long white tunnel. Survivors (of the near death experience) often indicate that they saw a long white tunnel and a magnetic force pulling them towards the eye of the tunnel. They also describe in vivid details that their entire life flashes past by. Some people talk about how time slows down when you are so close to extinction.

I have got one word for all those people. Bullshit. Will go in the details later but right now, lemme describe briefly what actually happened. So I was on the elevated Barapulla road and I was doing about 80 kmph I think. Side note to Delhi Traffic Police. Please do not send me a ticket. So I was doing 80 on the road and was yelling out a song into the air. And was high - on music, freedom and the wind in my head. (Note: I dont booze). I took a turn and I see these two cars parked side by side on the road, leaving just one lane for other traffic. And they were not even 50 meters ahead of me. I had two options. Bang into one of them. Drive off the railing, about 30 feet down, in a drain. And since I hate getting my hands dirty, I decided that I would rather bang in them. But then, like all miracles, the ones that happened at the right time, one happened for me as well.

Somehow, to this date (almost a month since the incident), I dont know how my hands moved the steering about 900 degrees and my car wedged between the railing and the other car. I can bet my hair (or watever is left of it) that there was no space between the railing and the car and if I was in the situation again, I would not come out alive.

And no, this is not fiction. And please do NOT try this at home. Or School. Or roads.

So Long, Coke!

Dear regular readers of my blog, regular audience of my sob stories, Warren E Buffet, Neo, sgMS (remember those coke walks?), Ronald, friends and family,

Over the past few years (read ever since I can remember), you would have observed (and in some cases, tolerated) my addiction to a certain beverage and its various variants. Better known as Coke, Diet Coke and Coke Zero, this is a cola beverage. Made from water, sugar and some mystery ingredients (that apparently just two people know in the world), coke sells at about 1000 times the cost of its ingredients. Awesome business to in!

Anyways, so coming back to the point, I have finally quit drinking coke. At the height of my addiction I would drink upto 4 litres of coke and innumerable cans of DietCoke a day. Ofcourse it left a funny aftertaste on my teeth and tongue but I think I can live without it. I quit because as I grow old, I am trying to outlive myself and trying to get fitter et al. Am I saying coke is bad for health? I may be. May not be. Lets not get judgmental here.

So, with the benefit of the hindsight, I think I owe a lot to coke. The long list starts obviously with sgMS. I dont remember much now but I think she and I started bonding over coke and walks. Apart from her, coke got me access to so many other places and people that otherwise would have been difficult. Coke also gave me an escape route and a reason that I could use to avoid alcohol. Then coke gave me my sense of style (huh?) - imagine a bald guy holding a whiskey glass topped with ice cubes and coke!. Any armchair freudian analysts here?

However shunning coke creates a huge problem for me. What about all the craving for something liquid the entire day? I drink oodles of water but then there is a limit to tastelessness. While travelling, I get my fix of liquid with VitaminWater but here at home?

And since I dont really booze and I dont like citrus drinks (read fresh lime water, sodas and other assorted variants) my escape route was coke on the rocks. With coke out of the scene, I would be left sipping water and eating onto ice at parties, dinner dates and other social gatherings where you are expected to hold a glass. I need to find a replacement.

For the record and posterity, I stopped drinking coke on 15th of this month. Been 8 days and I am still going strong (despite repeated attempts of DJ Killa at corrupting me with offers to have coke at 3 in the morning). Hopefully the resolve will last for a meaningful period. Wish me luck so that I may pass through this life without another sip of coke.

And oh, one last issue! Now that I am no longer a coke aficionado, what do I do about all those coke fridge magnets, empty bottles, posters, tabs from cans, images that I have collected over the years? Any takers?

P.S.: I have made an attempt to shun coke in past as well (Feb this year). It dint last long. Lets see how long this one lasts.

Close races of the strangers kind

When was the last time you raced your car through traffic on Delhi roads? Against another vehicle? Being driven by a stranger? And with a tacit understanding between the two of you that you were racing each other? And trying to better each other?

I did it on Friday. I won. No kidding. And it was as exciting as the bungee!

The best part of the race was the inherent unpredictability of the encounter. You know for sure that you would not meet that driver ever again in your life. You would not have notes to share or stories to tell. And you know for a fact that there wouldn't be any spectators around to cheer your victory or console your loss. And you dont even know when the two of you would part ways and race would end as abruptly as it had begun!

But, one of those things that make live worth living!

Tally of Yes Men

Tally of Yes Men. I have never come across such a brilliant name for a music album. Yet. Anyways, so the post is not about the album or about Mr. Khosla or about Goldspot. The post is about me. What else did you expect on my blog? huh?

I was talking to a friend and he told me that best part about me was that I never say no. To requests personal or professional. And for some time, I did bask in the glory of the uncalled shower of praises and affection. But then I got stuck by this thought. The way Hancock strikes the train or the way Sachin strikes a cricket ball, the way I stump readers with my analogies. Anyways, I realized what was wrong with me.

I never said no! To anything! Not even to strangers. Not even to bad ideas. Not even to things that I know wont help me.

• Dude, I think its a brilliant idea. Lets do it. Ya man! why not.
• Dude can you lend me like a 5K? Ofcourse dear stranger. Here.
• Do you have a minute? Yes I have all the time in the world.
• Do you want to buy this shoe that you would never wear again? Oh! it will be my pleasure.
• Do you think I should try this? Yep, you should.

Not even once. Not a single time do I say no. Do I need to change things? Yes! See I fucking say yes to everything! No, not anymore! I no longer want to be in that tally of yes men!

Random bout of Inspiration

It hits you when you least expect it. When your life is all set and is on a well treaded path to economic independence and predictable success. When you are about to take off and vault to the pinnacle of your profession. When you think that nothing can go wrong. No, not think. You know that nothing can go wrong. And it hits you. At the time when you least expect it.

I am talking about a random bout of inspiration. Let me give an example to drive home the point. I tagged along with a friend to Levo. Levo is one of those fancy places where heiresses of princely estates, ameer baap ki bigdi daughters, trophy housewives et al go for haircuts and pedicures and manicures and what not. Of course I have nothing to do with a place like that and people like that but this friend of mine wanted to change her hairstyle and I was asked to tag along. So my life was all fine. You know dull and boring and predictable in the MBA-rising-through-the-corporate-ladder way and suddenly one day I find myself standing outside Levo.

While she was getting her hair done, I had about an hour to kill. And Levo had this fancy magazine rack. The top few shelves had Vogues etc of the world. But the bottom shelf had xBHP, Suburb and Platform. And every turn of the page on each of the magazine, I went wow. Lemme take them one at a time.

Suburb is this magazine that is published out of Gurgaon and is aimed at expat community in Gurgaon. Since Gurgaon is a major hub for multinationals, there are tons of expats. Here for both short durations and longer stays. The content, the editorial notes and other material was very average from a niche magazines perspective but they made a good effort to appeal to their audience. Most of their content was clichéd and boring for an Indian but I am sure most expats wouldnt have known those things and would read Suburb religiously. Here, on our hands, we have this bunch of people who are intelligent and enterpriding enough to find a niche audience that is large enough. And they have been supplying them with dope they want. Amazing!

Next up is this magazine called Platform. A typical publication for Page 3 celebs. It proclaims that it talks about Art, Design, Fashion, Words, Music and Films. Everything that gets attention of the media savvy kinds. Apart from showcasing fashion designers, it did talk about art directors, writers, photographers and other creative kinds. I think its an awesome initiative to showcase people and their work. Apart from established professionals, there were tons of snippets about upcoming artists/creatives/talents. The content reflected a very strong editor at helm of affairs. And a lot of connections and purani dosti as play. Mightly impressed by them. If it wasnt Rs. 150 per copy, I would have subscribed to it.

And last, and the best, xBHP. As a kid I remember spending hours on the xBHP forum and ogling over bikers, their machines, their rides, their lifestyles and their babes. Seeing them in print was a pleasant surprise. And that too 250 GSM paper, gloss finish, thick 200 page magazine. Beat that shit guys. I made a few phone calls to a few friends still crazy about bikes and I was told that the guys at xBHP work with auto magazines and in the words of Green Day, they are having time of their lives.

Sigh!

Anyways, coming back to the post, random bout of inspiration, so this visit to a spa in Gurgaon is that random bout that I am most scared about. Something in me is now itching to get into the publishing business and start a magazine. And the question that I have from myself is ... do I or do I not scratch that itch.

P.S.: Another post on what it takes to start and run a magazine business. Coming Soon. In 2015 ;P