Kuch Kuch Hota Hai

If Karan Johar can make Kuch Kuch Hota Hai and Javed Akhtar can write Kyonki Fighter Hameha Jeet-ta Hai, main kyon nahin kuch likh sakta?

Hasratein hain. Khwahishein hain. Sapne hain.
Talash hai manzil ki.
Nikal pada hoon ghar sey. Bhataknay ko.
Sapnon kay pass. Apnon sey door.

Kuch hai to sirf ye door tak jaati lambi sadak.
Chal raha hoon.
Kabhi savariyon par. Kabhi apne kadamo par.
Kabhi kama kar. Kbhi udhaar par.

Raste main chand meel kay pathar mile.
Kuch acche lage. Kuch par main ruka.
Kuch pay log ruke they. kuch par logon nay roka.
Kuch nay kuch kisse sunaye. Maine kuch kahaniya.
Kuch der baatein hui. Kuch der chala silsil.

Kuch der baad fir kuch sapna aaya.
Fir chal diya.

Kuch der kuch log saath chale. Kuch der akela chala.
Kuch kahaniya yaad rahi. Kuch kisse bhool gaya.

Akela nikla tha. Kuch der kuch saathi mile.
Kuch kuch der saath chale. Kuch beech main kahin aur chal pade.

Bas rah gayi ye sadak.
Ye raaste.
Woh anjaai manzil.
Aur khoob saare sapne.

Kuch feedback?

Look Ma, Am Jogging!

Finally after 27 years of existence and denying that I need it, I was forced to start jogging.

People define jogging as the art of slow running, on a track, in the community park where members of the opposite gender are in abundance, done supposedly to stay fit, in reality, to ogle at all the eye candy around, hoping to strike a conversation and ending the jog with your latest "friend" at the juice shop. I have seen umpteen conversations starting with words as obtuse as, "hey your shoelaces are open" and as daring as "nice shorts".

Jogging is also the sport that was made famous by Forrest (of the Forrest Gump fame). Everyone remembers that "Run Forrest Run" incident. I am not as blessed or as talented as Forrest is but I do share some similarities. The love for Vanilla ice-cream. He was forced to. I do it by myself. Anyways, I dont know what I was thinking when I got into this argument about fitness with Neo. And since he is quick on his feet, he challenged me if I could lose 4 inches by his wedding. I, being myself, had to accept it without any thought.

So, one fine day, I was blissfully hogging onto french fries and sipping onto a diet coke at a McDonalds when I suddenly realized I couldn't breathe. I am 27. Been the sporty kinds. Have actually won medals in races and all that. I somehow fatafat stuffed all the remaining fries in my mouth and gulped the rest of the coke in one quick motion. And then I called for help. The call was more of a tribal dance and war-cries. And unlike the movies, no heroines were in sight. Not even the cleaner came forward. I somehow managed to stay alive. I eventually had to sit at a coffee shop and wash down all the food with a vanilla ice cream before I could start breathing normally again. And that was the day when I decided that I need to get fit. And win the bet. Wait, after I finish that ice-cream.

I started exploring options. I collected pamphlets, phone numbers and reviews for dance schools, swimming pools, tennis/badminton courts, gyms, yoga instructors, even Shilpa Shetty's DVDs, cricket clubs and organic juice shops. And then I started the process of elimination.

Dance classes - too far and too expensive. And average age of a participant was 13. Imagine being called an uncle at 27. Last time I danced, I was in college and I was thrown out in exactly seven minutes of warm-up sessions.

Swimming pools refuse to accept me as a member. I dont know why.

All tennis and badminton courts are shut because they are preparing for commonwealth games to happen. I mean why are they shut? Cant they come up with better excuses?

Local gyms are interesting but its difficult to be semi-naked around fat aunties who are more interested in checking out themselves in mirror than working out. When they are not checking out themselves, they are comparing their vital stats with other fat aunties and are looking for affirmation. And worse is that they insist that they are the only ones who have the rightful ownership of the treadmill, stepper and the bicycle. Dare you touch em.

Yoga is another interesting story. I dont mean to offend anyone but the instructor was getting too "touchy" for my comfort. I know who I am and my preferences are straight. As a rod.

The DVDs are interesting but I couldn't bring myself to spend that kind of money on watching a no good page 3" celebrity" do awkward poses in red tights. And imagine the horror of my parents if they see me seeing that DVD. Jayadaad sey bedakhal kar dete mere gharwale.

Of all the options, am left with Yoga or Jogging. Yoga is fun and all that but it requires you to get up at 4:30 (in the morning) and reach the place by 5. Do it for an hour with people who are on an average double my age. Am thinking, wont it be fun to get yoga guys and dance guys in one room and experience the generation gap live?

So I finally du out my running shoes and started jogging. Its been a week since I have started jogging. I havent noticed an iota of difference to my fitness/health/girth/stamina but I remain hopeful. Please keep me in your prayers. After all I have to win the bloody bet. Just over a month to go.

Written while munching onto an McAloo Tikki Burger at a McDonlads. And no, Ronald is not paying me for this post. It would be nice if he did.

Unsubscribed

Now that I am moving onto something totally different from what I have done all my life, time is ripe to vet out the old and bring in the new.

Starting with Google Reader. With a heavy heart, I am unsubscribing feeds from advertising agencies. When I was in advertising business, it made sense to listen to shameless self promotion on agency blogs. Then I removed all those blogs that showcased latest from the ad world. Next came all the brilliant design blogs. And then all the commentary on things like design, illustration, copy, planning, subliminal messages et al.

What remains is Value Investing, Poker, VC, Entrepreneurship and newspapers from around the world. So sorry social media fans, newspapers are still important. Nothing beats a thorough analysis and thoughtful reporting. More on this in another rant!

My shared items are here.

I can only do so much if I want to do those things well. I realized this while working on the profile. I like being jack of all trades and I intend to continue doing that. Lets see what else do I subscribe to now!

India Gate: The Majestic

Title: The Majestic
Equipment: Nikon D40
Date: 31 Jan 2010
Place: India Gate. Last Weekend.

Dance of Democracy

Title: The Dance of Democracy
Equipment: Nikon D40
Date: 31 Jan 2010
Place: Lal Quila. Last Weekend.

That Thing You Do

I am getting that feeling. Feeling that thing that indicates that happiness that you always craved for, that always eluded, is around that corner that you never cared to turn around from.

Post title inspired from that song that catapulted that group to the top of famedom.

Books, Walk, Photographs, India Gate

Been tied up for last few days. So much so that I dint have time for myself. Please don’t ask what I was doing. So when Radhika invited me to her birthday picnic (yes, a picnic, with a picnic basket, sandwiches, a bed spread to sit on et al), I accepted immediately. Her idea was to meet at India Gate, spend some time there and head to some place for lunch. Sounded interesting. And since it was a Sunday, I decided I shall goto Darya Ganj before the picnic, buy few books, click some pictures and then meet the gang for the picnic.

And since I dint have an camera, borrowed Kunal's Nikon D40.

I took the Metro and a bus to reach Red Fort. I wanted to go inside and revisit the museum. I dont even remember when was the last time I went inside. May be some other Sunday. I walked from Red Fort till Ramlila Ground. Google maps tell me that it was about 3 KMs but it seemed longer. Took me well over couple of hours to do the entire routine - walk, stop, bargain, buy, click, walk, stop, walk.


View Larger Map

I passed through the Sunday market opposite Red Fort. Apart from regular paraphernalia, shoes - Nike, Converse even Vans were being sold for 300 bucks apiece. I mean imagine a Vans pair in India for 300. I wanted to click pictures, talk to the hawkers about it but the crowd was maddening. I was not moving, I was being literally pushed in the direction of the crowd. With prices so cheap and so genuine fakes, who would not want to buy those shoes?

Reached Asaf Ali Road somehow and then starting clicking. More than clicking pictures, I was interested in books. Thing with Darya Ganj is that you dont know what is on sale. And you dont know if you are going to get what you are looking for. You have to be in the exploratory mode. You need to sift through mountains and rows of books. You need to be patient and you should be willing to come back disappointed. This time I was lucky. I ended up buying some 9 books for all of 350 bucks. Most of them are cheap fictions. The kinds that you read in one sitting and get over with. The ones that help you keep boredom away. And the funny bit is that I bought most of the books for their interesting covers and titles.

Am thinking if someone could create a small barcode scan device, make an inventory of all the books on the Darya Ganj market, put them on a website, make it searchable, you would be solving such a huge problem. Of course this needs to be fleshed out. But this is an opportunity begging for attention.

There is something about printed word. I have no clue how Kindles and iPads are going to replace books. Need some technology that integrates the feel of a book and benefits of Kindle/iPad.

Anyways once I was done with the books, nagging, talking, buying I moved to India Gate. I took an auto. Met with friends. Had good food. Did the picnic bit (finding a clean enough spot, discovering whats inside the picnic basket, had that mandatory sandwich, played some football and freezebee etc.), clicked tons of pictures (here) and drove home. Damn I love driving. Wish I could become a driver ;P

Need to talk about India Gate before I wrap this. India Gate was erected in honour of the soldiers who died in the First World War. Its very very grand. Everytime I go there, I am proud. At times, its depressing. That on one hand there are people who have done so much for the country. And on the other, there is me.

Anyways, the strange thing is that the lawns were filthy. Wonder why/how. The cops, security men around it dint allow anyone to touch the monument and yet they were fine with all those hawkers and sellers and people to leave all the trash in the lawns. Even the grass was cut uneven and the waters were stinking. Guys this is India Gate. Delhi's most famous landmark. Someone needs to talk to the agency that manages India Gate. Too preachy?

All in all one of the rare days when I dint think much. Indulged in random acts and thoroughly enjoyed. Wish there were more such days. Gave me another idea. Weekend Wanderings. Next post!

Disclaimer

If ever, I finish that book that I have always wanted to write and have been working on and off for about two year now (last time I worked on it, it was July 2009 and I called it "Living Out of the Suitcase"), following text would appear in it for sure.

I am in a bad mood. This is going to be yet another long rant. I am likely to crib like I have never cribbed before. I am likely to be unreasonable and sarcastic. I am likely to make a few chauvinist statements that might make most of you hate me till I am dead. I am going to make sweeping statements. I might stereotype people and their behaviors. I might even make racist comments. You might want to distance yourself from me. I might allegations against certain friends and acquaintances that will make them run for cover. My parents might want to disown me if they read this. Thank god they are not on social networks yet. I might fling accusations at people who fall under one of more of these categories: power-hungry, self-proclaimed-celebs, wannabe-socialites, and attention-seeking-whores. And at the end of all this, I might even deny that I ever made any of the comments I made.

Funny bit is that I like what I write. I like the process of writing. I like staring at the screen, and the way characters appear on the screen while my fingers are doing their tribal dance on the keyboard. I like the vertical line (is there a name for it? cursor?) that blinks when I am thinking what to write next. Its mesmerizing. Its magical. At times, I dont even think. The words and the narrative just seems to flow.They just pop up and somehow my fingers know where to tap and make them appear on the screen.

Haan, to funny bit is that I like what I write. I am not sure how many people like what I write. I am not even sure if I make sense. I am just betting on the law of averages and hoping that the infinite monkey theorem is true. In fact, this looks like a good title. Infinite Monkeys at Play. And imagine a disclaimer that states that this piece of text is produced by infinite monkeys in my backyard. I take no moral responsibility of whatever they have churned out.

So, yet again, coming back to the point, my writing. What about it? I forgot...

WTF !!

Agneepath Agneepath Agneepath

My fandom for Harivansh Rai Bachchan does not seem to

After Madhushala, Jo Beet Gayi So Baat Gayi , Koshish (Karne Wale Hi Haar Nahin Hoti), I am now hooked onto Agneepth.

Here goes ...

वृक्ष हो भले खड़े,
हो घने, हो बड़े,
एक पत्र-छाह भी,
मांग मत, मांग मत, मांग मत,
अग्निपथ, अग्निपथ, अग्निपथ।

तू न थकेगा कभी,
तू न थमेगा कभी,
तू न मुड़ेगा कभी,
कर शपथ, कर शपथ, कर शपथ!
अग्निपथ, अग्निपथ, अग्निपथ।

यह महान दृश्य है,
चल रहा मनुष्य है,
अश्रु, श्वेत, रक्त से,
लथपथ, लथपथ, लथपथ,
अग्निपथ, अग्निपथ, अग्निपथ।

copied from Sreeyesh's blog

And here is a comprehensive list of work by Harivansh Rai Bahchchan.

Year # 6, Post # 740

Its been six years. Since I started writing War of Words (first post). It has been an awesome experience. Learnt lots of lessons. Bumped into hazaar people. Made quite a few friends. Improved the way I write.

Best part about writing a blog is that you can go back and read what you thought at a point in time. In fact I am surprised how consistent I have been been with my thoughts. I am confused, frivolous, random, impractical as I was in 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, and 2009.

Hope to continue writing. Hope you continue reading :)

You and I

Faster than my fingers flying on the keyboard to write that long email,
Yet slower than it takes you to read it,

Brighter than the most convincing reason I ever came up with for doing what I did,
Yet dafter than me who actually thought that you would buy that reason,

Taller than the claims of heroics I made after one of those weekend binges,
Yet smaller than my ego when you asked me to say sorry for the gaffe,

Harsher than the decree you passed upon me for being what I am,
Yet milder than the heartburn when I knew the inevitable was about to happen,

You and I are so close,
Yet so far.

To Agra and Back

No, I dint click this pic. Image credits: Stuck in Customs on Flickr

Just came back from Agra. This was my second (or maybe third) trip to Agra. And no, I did not see Taj Mahal or Fatehpur Sikri. However, I did did crib about bad traffic, fog, corrupt cops etc. And like all other visitors to Agra, I bought Panchhi Petha (for a friend) and stopped at a highway for lunch.

If I could have my way, I would make traveling my profession and become a highway-food-inspector cum real-life-landscape-photographer cum driver-of-those-trucks-without-bodies. There is something about sitting out there in open, on make-shift furniture, being served with assorted utensils and yet charged as if you were Dhirubhai Ambani himself. The food, by the way, is strictly average and service, mediocre at best. The surroundings are hardly clean and you are not sure of the ingredients that they put in. And yet you are drawn to highway dhabas as if the key to your salvation lies within.

Everytime you pass a building, staccato houses, farms, people working in distance, you wonder what their lives would be like. If they were as interesting (or mundane) as yours is? If they realized that there is life beyond their fields and little colonies? If they are content and happy with what they have and do? And since they live on a highway, what do they think of people and generations that passed through the highway? After all, all the emperors, kings, entrepreneurs, travelers, sages, adventurers, would have taken these very roads to expand their empires, see the unknown, conquer unseen lands, spread their religion, learn from new things, seek adventure. Do they realize that they are living (and going to die, in most cases) next to the roads?

Every time I am out on the highways, that lead to places of historic importance, I wonder how would life be back then. Would they have those trifle things to worry about that we have? Would they chase money? happiness? hobbies? What would they be doing to kill time? What kind of opportunities were available to them? How did they manage to build such huge buildings without modern tools and machines? What motivated them? Why is that they lived for long without healthcare? They didnt even have Internet (and Google). There are a million questions and no answers are forthcoming.

Anyways, it took us about 5 hours to cover just 200 odd KMs. It was a scratch-free ride for a change (my Santro would be happy :D) . And since I was trapped inside a vehicle for these hours (with few sutta and pee breaks), there were tons of things to think about and realize. For starters, I realized Samsung Corby sucks. Please do NOT buy it even if it is offered for free. BTW, anyone wants to buy mine? Willing to sell it for anything more than INR 5500. I paid 6500. I have the original bill and the phone is not even ten days old. Second, I discovered Pavarotti. I loved the music, the incomprehensible words and the power in his voice. I could draw vivid images of murders in saloons, bank robberies, an old godfather sitting on the top floor in a tall building and steering his vast business empire with a gusto of a young man indulging in sex. I never thought I was the opera listening kinds. But then I was never the red shoe kinds. Its ok to change. Its ok to experiment. Reinvent. The journey like every other journey was full of boring moments and exciting moments. There were times when monotony of being in a car got better of us and we dint speak at all. And then there were those few moments where I sang screamed out the music. Realized how true these lines from Bitter Sweet Symphony are

'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life
Trying to make ends meet, you're a slave to the money then you die

Every moment we live, every action is for money. Every opportunity to travel is like a break from the routine. Look forward to more such breaks. Planning to drive to Haridwar during this Kumbh. This time, I may want to take @sgElectra for a spin.

Was reviewing this and I figured I suck when it comes to ending the blogposts. Need to do something about it!

Dil to Bachcha Hai Ji

Who else but Gulzar could have penned down words like Dil To Kachcha Ha Ji. Its been long since I saw this awesome a play of words. My new fav song!

Movie: Ishqiya (wiki, IMDB)
Lyrics: Gulzar
Music: Vishal Bhardwaj

Aisi ulji nazar unse hatt ti nahi
Daant se reshmi dor katt ti nahi
Umar kab ki baras ke safaid ho gayi
Kaari badari jawani ki chatt ti nahi
Walla ye dhadkan bhadne lagi hai
Chehre ki rangat udne lagi hai
Darr lagta hai tanha sone mein ji

Dil to bachcha hai ji
Dil to bachcha hai ji
Thoda kaccha hai ji
Haan dil to baccha hai ji
Aisi ulji nazar unse hatt ti nahi
Daant se reshmi dor katt ti nahi
Umar kab ki baras ke safaid ho gayi
Kaari badari jawani ki chatt ti nahi
Ra ra ra ..

Kisko pata tha pehlu mein rakha
Dil aisa baaji bhi hoga
Hum to hamesha samajhte the koi
Hum jaisa haaji hi hoga
Hai zor karein, kitna shor karein
Bewaja baatein pe ainwe gaur karein
Dilsa koi kameena nahi
Koi to rokey, koi to tokey
Iss umar mein ab khaogey dhokhe
Darr lagta hai ishq karne mein ji

Dil to bachcha hai ji
Dil to bachcha hai ji
Thoda kaccha hai ji
Haan dil to baccha hai ji

Aisi udhaasi baithi hai dil pe
Hassne se ghabra rahe hain
Saari jawani katra ke kaati
Piri mein takra gaye hain
Dil dhadakta hai to aise lagta hai woh
Aa raha hai yahin dekhta hi na woh
Prem ki maarein kataar re
Taubah ye lamhe katt te nahi kyun
Aankhein se meri hatt te nahi kyun
Darr lagta hai mujhse kehne mein ji

Dil toh bachcha hai ji
Dil toh bachcha hai ji
Thoda kaccha hai ji
Haan dil toh baccha hai ji

The music reminds me of the glorious times of Hindi music when instruments were simple and artists were masters of their craft. Must hear for any Hindi music fan.

I dint type the lyrics. I copied em from here.

Random Ramblings on a Runday

Its been some time now that I have abused one of my fundamental rights. The right to freedom of speech. And since I am bored right now with nothing at all to do, here I am.

What do we talk about today? Number of trips to Shipra Mall? Amount of oil/ghee I am consuming with food? My new favorite song? Or the fact that I finally figured where my guitar was? Or about the National flag on my desk? Or that Ganesha statue? Or the gullak that I bought day before? Or about that friend who apparently knows everyone?

Nah not interesting. Should we talk about sugar prices? Or about Amar Singh? Or about Indian hockey team? Who still fail to get to the front page of any national daily? Or about Amitabh Bachchan who manages to become a lead story even if he catches cold?

Or should we talk about all the gyaan that I have accumulated? All those funny ways people abuse emails? Or all the self doubt that has shrouded me in last few days?

Nopes. Not interesting. Damn this post is so not happening.

Ads on War of Words

I know I had said that I would never put ads on this blog. But then, as they say, never say never, Akshay (@akshaysurve) told me about his awesome startup - Ads4Good (@ads4good, FB). And it was so compelling, I had to put a banner.

Please click on the ads on the right.

And please spread the goodness. Its totally worth it. It takes one minute to sign up, another minute to complete the profile and few clicks to embed.

This page has all the details. And no, I am not being paid for this. Though Akshay and I do help each other from time to time on things.