I have nothing to add

Hotlinked from Flickr

Charlie Munger made this term famous. The "I have nothing to add" one.

And as I embark on the journey of the lifetime, something that I can do just once in this lifetime, something that I have been looking forward to since I was a kid, something that has taken so much planning and has been marred by so many obstacles, something that is scary and exciting at the same time, I have nothing to add.

Its so funny, its not funny. Really. I have been writing about all sorts of stupid things all my life and here when I am just about to leave, I have nothing to add.

When I am back, may be I have something to talk about. I may take notes. I may not. I dont know. But right now, I am blank. Blank as a blank canvas that is starting point of all the great masterpieces. Call it recency or whatever, I can not stop thinking about what Red said when he was finally allowed to leave from Shawshank.

"I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain...”

However there is nothing similar between Red and I. The journey Red is talking about and the one I am about to embark upon, they have nothing in common. And yet I can think of this one quote only. Funny how us humans are.

So, if you are reading this, do wish me luck. I may just come of age by the time I am back. I may write my own Bildungsroman once I am back.

Till then, so long!

The curious case of missing comments / viewers

For someone who's been writing for almost ten years now, I have a surprisingly low count of regular readers (the exact number is here). And subsequently, lower count of comments on the blog.

I mean its not really surprising, considering that I am not really popular (even in my friends' circle). And if I was interesting or funny or intelligent or a loud mouth or opinionated or smart or an eloquent speaker or a photographer or a social media expert or well endowed or well versed with history or connected or rich or something similar, people might have read my blog. But I am not any of these. In fact I am like Hugh Grant in Notting Hill and "...even my mum has a tough time remembering my name...".

Thing is, all this while, I did not matter if someone read, commented on the blog. After all this blog is more like a conversation with myself, on things that I find interesting (or things that catch my fancy). But now that I am trying to get my first novel out, I need to solve this curious case of missing comments. Simply because I need people to read what I write and give me feedback on how/what I write.

So here is a quick list of reasons why people might not be reading this blog regularly...

1. I am Joe Nobody and since this blog talks about my life, my boring life, no one is interested in it. 
2. I am an average writer. Or may be I am a bad writer. Or may be I dont even qualify to be called a writer. And thus reading this blog is not the best use of their time. 
3. There is no "theme" to this blog. I write about a wide range of things (poker, writing, travel, getting old etc) and most things I write are my conversations with myself and hence people dont want to read an ill-informed guy talk about a million things, to himself!
4. What I write do not make sense. Worse, whatever I write does not provoke any thoughts in those who read. Its like eating bland food. You stuff yourself with a lot but you do not enjoy the process of eating. You know that you have had a lot, but you dint enjoy it. That.
5. May be, I do not know my target audience and thus my product has no real market per se. A typical marketing problem. And just to put things in context, I am a post-graduate in marketing.
6. I dont market my blog. 
7. People do not have time to read blogs. They are happy with 140 characters. And blogs by celebrities. And other such people.

There may be other reasons why people do not read my blog but at this point in time, I can only think of these 7. 

I mean, to be honest there is nothing on this blog that someone would want to read on a regular basis. If I wasnt myself, I would not read it! Most people (out of 100 odd that come everyday on this blog) land here by either searching for some lyrics or hunting for startup reviews or using complex queries that somehow point to my blog. Or something frivolous like that. Chasing multidisciplinary expertise has its own disadvantages I guess.

Of course thanks to this blog, I have had the opportunity to meet quite a few people that I wouldn't have met otherwise. But like all mortals, I want tangible gratification and all that. And for (an aspiring) writer there is no better gratification that readers and comments from those readers.

May be over the next few weeks, I would try and get people to start reading what I write. Not because I am hungry for gratification. I mean that is a very important reason but also because every reader that reads and shares his/her feedback helps me improve and makes me aware of my mistakes and makes me a better writer. Remember that thing I wrote about Anton Ego?

And starting with this one, any advice anyone? Why do you think I dont get traffic on my blog? Why do you think I dont get comments?

P.S.: If you want to point about grammar and long sentances, I am working on that. I still think in Hindi and translate in English before I write :(

We risk very little...

Anton Ego, the critic from Ratatouille!

In the words of Anton Ego, of the Ratatouille fame...

In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations. The new needs friends. Last night, I experienced something new, an extra-ordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto: 'Anyone can cook.' But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere. It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau's, who is, in this critic's opinion, nothing less than the finest chef in France. I will be returning to Gusteau's soon, hungry for more.

Do watch it on youtube here. This is writing at its finest. This is voice-over artistry at its best. This is story telling at its peak. This, this has to be one of the most powerful scenes I have ever seen in any movie.

So, the why do I want to talk about it?

Couple of reasons.

A, I loved the writing. So much so that I wish that I had written it. I am selfish like that. I hope that Nidhi's story turns out half as good.

B, I am at a point in The Nidhi Kapoor Story where I am questioning the damn reason why I even picked up the project in the first place. I dont know why would someone want to read a cliched story of an actress and a police inspector. In fact, I am sure if someone gave me the book, I wouldn't read it myself. I am actually worried that its going to be so bad that I would become the laughing stock of the entire town. And I am going to be scarred for the rest of my life (or whatever is left of it). Its going to be so bad that I may not want to write my personal blog either after all the Antons blast me for my badly written first book.

But at the same time, the little speech by Anton gives me a lot of heart as well. Like he says, all critics, they "risk very little". And "the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than [their] criticism". I am filled with hope that my little Nidhi Kapoor story has some meaning in the large scheme of things. Even if its helping me put a tick mark on my bucket list.

And not to discredit these critics, I think they have an important role to play in the entire process. An honest critic and critique could give that nudge that an artist requires to bridge the gap between being good and great. Anton was being harsh because, like he said, "If I don't love it, I don't swallow". Loosely interpreted, it means that if he does not like what he eats, hes overtly harsh at it. And this makes chefs try harder to please him. Similarly a good book critic can actually help bring out the best in a writer. I think in all these years since I have been writing, I have not had a critic to help me, to nudge me, to prod me.

In fact with Nidhi Kapoor, I am looking forward to getting other people to review my work. Thankfully most of these first critics would be my friends and hence I assume that I'd have a pretty long leash with mistakes. Lets see if I can get an Anton Ego to help me make the story any better.

And btw, here's a deal. If you think you want to play Anton, please do let me know.

P.S.: I cant seem to pronounce the name of the rat movie, even after trying so many times. And no, not wrong pronunciation, my tongue falters and I pronounce it as "rat-tat-tool-lee".

Dear Shikhar Dhawan

Dear Shikhar Dhawan,

To start with, I love your batting. Really do. And I love your body language, your raw masculine appeal, and despite being a heterosexual male, your mustache. So much so that I wanted to grow mine to ape your style. Never before a physical trait of an individual has impressed me so much that I was willing to ape it. Your's I was. But thanks to paucity of time, I could not.

I am grateful I could not.

You know why I am grateful? Because I am ashamed of you because of what you did on the field today and I dont want anything to do with you. Afterall they say a man is known by the company he keeps (or people he chooses to emulate).

Shikhar, I am also ashamed to have you as a part of the team that represents India, my country. A country where guests are greater than the God himself. A country where guests are welcomed with open arms and open hearts. What you did today was not something that a true Indian would do. If I could, I would throw you out of the country. And never let you back.

Shikhar, it was totally uncalled for. I understand that you are young and restless and emotions run wild while you are on the field. I know all the media frenzy and attention from young damsels can ruffle you. For a minute I am ready to even consider that they are masters of sledging and they could have instigated you in the first place. But Shikhar, we do not stoop down to their level. No sir, we do not. I guess while you were growing up, you did were not taught moral science. Which school did you go to again? I bet you skipped all the civics and moral science classes.

Someone may dismiss your actions as an immature act of a child while at play. But Shikhar you can no longer afford to be a child. You have a great responsibility on your shoulders. You represent India at the highest level of a game that everyone follows. Everytime you twirl that mustache of yours, millions of younger Indians take note. And your every action is like a fodder to young and impressionable brains of the next generation. I hate to see young Indians becoming ruder and irreverent while growing up. Shikhar, for a minute imagine your younger brother doing that you while you are playing a friendly match in your galli.

Anyway, despite claiming to be a writer, I am a man of few words. And most of my words are rants rather than fact based editorials. So anything I add henceforth in this letter would only be gibberish. Just that I want you to know that while the match was on, I frantically prayed that we, India, lost the match. And I sincerely hoped that the blame fell on your head. So that someone could put some sense into you. Someone has to. It sucks that people like you are free to roam around like loose canons.

And as a planner, someone who watches how the world is moving, I am really worried about the young India that we are creating. Being aggressive, brash is great. But being rude for no reason or without provocation is not. Even if we are instigated, there are other ways to settle the disputes. You know, we definitely need to aim for the stars but we must not forget our roots.

Shikhar, finally, thanks to you, the wonderful sport of cricket has lost yet another fan.

Regards,
An erstwhile cricket fan

P.S.: Dear Shane Watson, I apologize on Shikhar's behalf.

How stupid I am

Neil Gaiman

Neil Gaiman, in this pep talk for the NaNoWriMo says,

The last novel I wrote (it was ANANSI BOYS, in case you were wondering) when I got three-quarters of the way through I called my agent. I told her how stupid I felt writing something no-one would ever want to read, how thin the characters were, how pointless the plot. I strongly suggested that I was ready to abandon this book and write something else instead, or perhaps I could abandon the book and take up a new life as a landscape gardener, bank-robber, short-order cook or marine biologist. And instead of sympathising or agreeing with me, or blasting me forward with a wave of enthusiasm—or even arguing with me—she simply said, suspiciously cheerfully, “Oh, you’re at that part of the book, are you?”

Yes. I am at that part of the book. And that's how I feel about The Nidhi Kapoor Story. 

Rockford by Nagesh Kukunoor

From left, Johnny, Selva, Rajesh, Malti, Lily 

As a guy who never went to a boarding school but always wanted to, Rockford (IMDB, wiki) has been and will remain my window in the mystic world of bunk beds and brotherhood, camaraderie, life long friendships, drooling tongues over a dogeared copy of an old pornographic magazine, slavery to rigorous routines, lusting over female teachers and all those things that the boys in boarding schools do that I will never get to know. The movie has often made me want to roll back time and pester my folks to send me to a boarding school.

Coming to the movie, the plot is very simple. So simple that you wonder if they could make a movie on it.

Rajesh Naidu joins Rockford, an all-boys boarding school and like all newcomers to a boarding school, immediately false prey to abusive bullies (read seniors). Before he could find the superhero to save him from his tormentors, he finds a friend and a sidekick in Selva (I did not remember the name, had to look it up). Now Selva is like any other side kick. Goofy, funny, irreverent and fiercely loyal to our young hero Rajesh. The superhero that would save him is the sports teacher, Johnny (Nagesh Kukunoor, also the director of the movie) who takes an immediate liking to Rajesh and becomes a sort of guardian to him. Then there is this really hot lady teacher, Lily (Nandita Das), that everyone has hots for.

The chief bully, a typical spoilt kid of a rich father, plans an elaborate prank that entangles the grownups like Johnny, the sports teacher and Lily, the English teacher. The grownups get into trouble because of these silly games. And then finally, like in all Hindi movies, the hero, our young hero, Rajesh, does his magic, things fall in place and everyone lives happily ever after.

Pretty simple. Along the way there are quite a few life lessons, cute moments, funny sequences that make the movie memorable. Especially funny are the bits where Selva does his antics, when Lily is introduced for the first time to the open jaws and wide eyes of young men and those sequences where Rajesh tries to do pull ups.

Of course movie also has one of my favorite songs of all time - Yaaron by KK. Its embedded here.



The thing with this song is that I have some of my happiest memories associated with this song. Goes back to the MDI days when I was part of the organizing committee of my college's cultural festival. This song was like an anthem for the team that worked on it. This song bonded us like nothing else. And then the singer, KK, was invited to perform at the same fest, like an icing on the cake.

So back to the movie, the hero is motivated by love, the guardian is righteous, the villain is owned by envy and the heroine, she just happens to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Actually for aspiring writers like me, we need to be able to think about characters in this manner. What rules the actions of a character. What role does that character play in the story. How does the story move forward. Etc. May be I'd take some inputs for Nidhi's story.

And since I havent seen the movie in a long time, I dont really remember other details (production value, camera, sets etc). But this has to be one of those movies that makes me warm and happy. Everytime I see it. And even everytime I talk about it. I wish they made more movies like this.

I'd say its a 4 on 5.

The movie has to be on my list of movies to see before you die. Others being Shawshank Redemption, Sholay. And if you have unlimited bandwidth, you can watch the damn movie here. But I'd rather you pay for a copy of the disc, if you can find it in market.

P.S.: This has been in my drafts folder for almost two years. Good to have finished writing this.

What I want in life. Part 2.

Note: This is part 2 in a series. What I want in life, Part 1 is here.

After struggling for all these years, I think I now know what I want in life.

Before you get excited about my new found power of thought and clarity of mind and decide to hire me to help you, here is the spoiler. There was no divine intervention that made this discovery possible. And it did not come all of a sudden. Its been cooking in my head for some time and it was about time the cookery thing got over. And, as a result, I think I now know what I want. Here is it.

I want to write, travel and sleep. 

And when I wake up, I want to go play Poker. Yes. Poker. That card game. I know, it sounds outrageous but I want it. And I want to do it for the rest of my life.

I no more want to rule kingdoms, buy fancy houses, drive around in cars. Really I dont. I am too old. I now merely want to write, travel and sleep when I am tired. And play a hand or two after I wake up. That's it. Its that simple.

Write. Travel. Sleep. Poker. Sleep. Travel. Write. Poker. Write. Travel. Sleep. In any order. And repeat. Repeat. Repeat over and over again.

So now that I know what I want, I ideally ought to chuck everything else and just spend my time working towards these things. I know I would start at the bottom of these disciplines and age is definitely not on my side. I dont mind the age, I am a fast learner. I dont mind starting at the bottom, I already said that I am a fast learner. Everything looks ok. Except that small hitch. The Money one. Thing is, writing and travelling do not give you money. Not even the kinds to be able to pay your rent. And knowing my track record at poker and my ability to remember details, I know poker is not an option. And I dont have the talent or seed to bootstrap these things. Sigh.

So bottom line, I know what I want in life and its a tussle between head and heart. Pragmatism and dreaming. Left and the right. Old and the young. And, the sad bit, I know who is gonna win. Remember the split personality disorder that I spoke about the other day? I think I need to add more types in there.

So what do I do without the money?

What else? Chase it like a mad dog and get back in the rat race! Too many animals. 

:(

Now that the pragmatic head has won, I know that I cant chase these things. But I can at least talk about these things to make myself feel good about em? Right? Here.

A. Writing
I am not sure if I am a good writer. I know I love the feeling of fingers dancing on the keyboard and words forming by themselves. I love getting lost in my tiny laptop screen and the large world I weave in it. I love sitting at a local Starbucks and working over the din of people around. I love lying on my tummy and typing till odd hours in the night. I love it when people tell me that they loved what I've written. I am happy when something I write entertains people. I love creating stories. I love telling those stories. But then I dont know if I am good at it.

If the number of readers on this blog, number of comments, number of interactions, Klout score, any other metric is to be believed, I am not. I am like that irritating voice on the other end of the loud speaker that continues to blare incessantly, even when the voice knows that no one is interested in listening. And increasing the volume will not really help.

If the world at large starts liking what I write, I may be able to make money from it. But I dont think that unless you become a Chetan Bhagat or a Amish Tripathi, you could be a full time writer and make money. Of course there are journalists that just write and all that but then I am not talking about that kind of money. I am talking of the kind of money that people on this list make.

B. Travel 
Travel is awesome. I can fill copious volume of texts talking about travel. But then, I shall try to be faster here.

So there are a lot of lucky people in the world who have been given an opportunity to travel for free and all that. There are ways to become that but I haven't been blessed with any of those skills or attributes that are required to become a travel-for-free kinda guy.

So alas, I would have to pay for my travel. Unless I can become a good poker player. Which is kinda tough, if you ask me. Or unless I go back to working with an events company again. The kinds that does a lot of international events. Or become one of the umpteen porters for a celebrity.

C. Poker
I dont know how to play poker. As simple as that. I just know the rules of the game. But then if just the understanding of the rules made you good, everyone would be like Sachin. I dont understand odds and I hate probability as a concept. And I have a tough time concentrating.

And if I am so bad, why do I play? Because I love the "feel" of being on a poker table.

Being the fool I am, I want to play and because of everything that I've mentioned above, I end up losing a lot of money. Money that I dont really have. Money that I hope could've been put to better use.

I am losing so much money and time on the game that I have made up my mind to quit if I dont get better at it. And how would I know if I am getting any better? I would win more often than I would lose. Its a simple metric. Update. As of 20th Oct '13 I quit playing poker. Not quit, but I am taking a break till the beginning of the next year.

The lucky ones who've made poker their profession, I am so jealous of them. So very jealous. They have money. They get to travel (for free). And they get to write about their game and all the places they travel to. If I could get lucky and make a career playing poker, it would be awesome. Because I would become that artist that I have always wanted to be (read this post). Funny how a lot of posts in the recent days have been around work and love and passion and dream. 

D. Sleep
I will not talk about sleep. Just that over a last few weeks I have realized that sleep is an integral part of what I am. It makes me what I am and allows me to dream and think and stay creative. I want it. At least 7 hours in a day.

End Notes
Finally, the wishful thinking bit needs to end right now and I need to get slightly pragmatic. I know that I need to get back to zameen. So I know that I need to finish the Nidhi Kapoor Story by end of this year. And then either make one of my startup ideas to get working or find a real job. A job that may make me a corporate bitch but yet pays me money. And a lot of it. In 2014. Enough to buy comforts and not get bored. And not get bored means I would not have time to think about fuckeries in life. I sincerely believe in that "ignorant are the most blessed" adage.

How I wish I could live life in a dream where I am paid for being me. I am paid to merely exist and not move an inch. But then I am not Abhishek Bachchan or Ranbir Kapoor. I am not even a Bryan Adams. I would have to work hard. I will. Once I am over with Nidhi Kapoor Story.

But then, apart from a job that gives me a lot of money, or a startup where I make meaning, I really want to chase Kwan. The "Love, respect, community and money too" from a character in the movie Jerry McGuire. Whatever I do in 2014, I will ensure that Kwan happens. And while we are talking about Jerry, do read this post as well. It talks about what I really want to do in life. I am serious. Apart from writing, sleeping, traveling and poker that is.

And in the end, do pray for me.

P.S.: Written sometime in Sep 2013 and publishing in end of Oct 2013. 

The Summer of 69

Started writing this a few days back. Finishing it today. Not changing the tenses.

I have spent the last hour listening to various covers and live performances of the Summer of 69. Some by Bryan Adams himself. And some by other bands who are covering Adams' music. While I totally enjoyed all of those, something dawned on me. That I would never be an artist (or a performer) like that. I don’t even stand a chance. Not now, not tomorrow. Not in a thousand years. Even if stop doing everything and start learning guitar, I still wont have a chance.

Let me digress for a minute here. I define an artist as someone who creates original things - text, music, photographer etc and is not dependent on anyone else to create his output (unlike team sports and film). An artist works on his terms at his whims. And I define a performer as someone who has willfully taken up the task of entertaining an audience in exchange for a fee or a favour. Pretty technical huh? Coming back...

Its not about the guitar. Or about music. Or about the ability to sing. There is something else that these guys have, these artists I mean. These performers. They are not ordinary. Trust me they are not. Over the years, I have had the pleasure of seeing some of these performers up close and in person. As long as they are not on the stage, they are like you and me. They get hungry, they want Red Bull before they go up on stage, they seek attention, they want to sign autographs, they are greedy, they want to be paid by the minute etc. They are everything that you expect a successful human to be.

And then its time for them to go on the stage. The lights are dimmed. In the events parlance, we call it position. They take position. And then depending on the complexity of the setup and the show director, either a beam illuminates these guys or the entire stage comes alive with light. And then all of a sudden, like someone has flipped a switch, they transform from a regular human into a living thing larger than life. As large as God Himself if not more. And thing. Not being.

They know that every eye in the audience is upon them. Everyone is waiting for them to perform. Everyone has sky high expectations from them. Even if they are having an off day, they have to perform. And funny thing is, they do it. They deliver. Under all the pressure, they do it. They have this will to go out there and better themselves every time they are on the stage. And not just better themselves, they go beyond than that. They surprise people, make them happy, give them something to talk about when they go back.

Sigh! I can go on extolling their lives forever but then this post is not about them. Its about me. The sad old me. The sadder me after I saw all those videos of Bryan Adams' bestest song ever IMHO.

The obvious question that is begging for an answer is, do I want to be like him? Like them? An artist? I don’t know the answer right now.

What I do know however, is that I love the entire concept of performing like that and making people happy. May be that’s why I want to be in the show business. May be that why I loved my previous job. And may be, just may be, that’s why I hated my previous job. Let me elaborate on the love and hate bit.

The Love Part. 
So till July this year, I was in the business of events management and I got to be a part of the entourage of multiple artists. And was in part responsible for assembling a show together. It was as close as I came to being a performer, except once upon a time when I was the MC for a game of housie. At work, even though I wasn't probably the best of employees and I did cut corners, I loved being there. There were a lot of things about being this nameless individual in a large entourage. Travel for starters. In India. And abroad. Then everything I did had a tangible output. That I could see. Often, larger than life. Unlike advertising and other places where my output was merely an input for others to work on, here my work was the damn output. It was often as large as a 60' wide stage. Once it was huge, about 44000 sq ft if I am not wrong. And it was awesome to see it come to life. And ofcourse the adrenaline rush that it gave me while the show was on. It was like putting a performance, except the artist catching all the eyeballs was someone else. I did not mind it really but I wish it happened with lot more frequency.

The Hate Part.
Coming to the hate part, since we were in the business of saving jobs (as a colleague once said) it meant that often, my life, my thoughts had no importance. There was no free will per se and it sucked. The entire point about being an artist is that you have an art that you know you are good at. And you know there are people who will happily pay money to see you perform. Patrons, if not random people. Thats what I am talking about. That is what was missing from work. Patrons.

The Sad Sad Part.
So here it the sad sad part. And the reason why I wrote this post.

I have these million lives that I want to live within this one life. And one of those lives is definitely a life of an artist. If not an artist, of a performer. And I know that however hard I may try, I will never be one. The closet I can be, is either be a nameless and faceless part of crowd that puts these shows together. Or haul their bags when they travel around the world. In either case, it would be a compromise.

Sigh! Lemme go kill myself about it.

In case you don't see a post tomorrow on this blog, you know what did the papers did not publish. Because I was not an artist. And I was not a performer either.

Eat Pray Love

Ketut, from Eat Pray Love

The world works in a funny manner. Just yesterday few days back, a friend asked me if I have seen read Eat Pray Love, the movie. And I told her that even though it’s a story of a woman and I cant relate to her life in particular, the book and the movie are so powerful that they have the potential to change your life.

Before I go ahead, for the uninitiated, Eat Pray Love is a story of a woman who has apparently going through a midlife crisis, is depressed and cant seem to figure out her love and professional life. Sounds familiar? So, this woman in mid thirties decides that she's had enough of her miserable life and she would change it by spending the next year travelling to Italy, India and Indonesia, in search of indulgence, spirituality and love respectively. The book chronicles her adventures as she goes about the pursuit of these things. And along the way, the book teaches you how to cope up with the mad rat race that all of us are stuck in.

I am not a book reviewer per se but Eat Pray Love is among the better books that I have read. I dont know if its fiction or semi-fiction or what. But it sure is a hell of a story. The kinds that I hope my life becomes one. 

Do read the book. Or see the movie. 

So, coming back to the reason why I posted this, today the same day when my friend asked me about it, I tried to smile from the heart, Ketut's (pictured above) idea of staying happy. And it was amazing. Those few minutes that I could smile from the heart. I was calmer and I felt at peace. As peaceful as if I was walking on fresh grass, covered with dew, right in the morning. And I was at peace in a noisy rickshaw travelling through the notorious Andheri Kurla road during the rush hour.

And then just a few minutes back later in the day, when I was down and about and sulking in my room hidden between the sheets, my flatmate yelled from the hall that he'd just put on a movie on tv and if I want to watch it. I asked him which one and he says, Eat Pray Love. I mean talk about coincidences. Thrice in less than 24 hours, the world is telling me about the book and the movie. Don't I ought to take note of this, take inspiration from Liz's story and change my life, as recommended by the movie? May be.

But then the pragmatic me, tells me that its just a random coincidence and us humans are prone to seeking patterns. We also seem to trust easily the coincidences that we want to believe in. And since I am no special, I do want to believe that lady luck is on my side and will help me shine and rise. And hence I have modified my world view to give a lot of importance to these random incidents. And thus, I don't need to pack my bags and goto Italy or Indonesia.

But then, there is something that all of my personalities agree upon. That its a brilliant book and movie. If you haven't read Eat Pray Love or haven't seen the movie, you ought to do so. Pronto.

P.S.: I wrote this post a few days back. Editing it today to finish it. Over the next few days, I will try and finish all the drafts in my blogger. For the record, apart from this one, I have 137 drafts. Enough material for more than a post a day! 

Streak of last ten days

BSOD + Bill Gates! 

Yesterday, the post-a-day streak of last ten days got interrupted. Streaks are broken? Or are interrupted? I dont know. I dont care. But I did not write anything yesterday. And funny thing is that I am not feeling bad about it or something. I am just disappointed about not writing. And I am disappointed about not feeling bad. 

If I tried hard, I could have continued with the streak. I mean I knew that I was going to be out of Mumbai and away from a computer for a large part of the day. I was counting on coming back and write before I sleep. But when I reached back, I was really unwell and could not write. 

So, like everyone else who does not work, I have an excuse to fall back on. Damn! 

But anyway, the one day interruption does not really mean a lot. I just need to ensure that I continue writing a post-a-day. And for the future, I plan my time better. And try and foresee the problems that I could be in when I am writing. 

So whats next? A post on this blog! What else. Wait for it.