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!
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.
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.
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
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
Thank You!
No no, this is not about that new movie that has recently come up. This is about the world and life in general. Though I always want more and want to be rich and want to contribute meaningfully but I have realized that I have a wonderful life. I am no rock-star but what I have, millions of people would give their eyes to get.
Just want to thank life and people who make it so wonderful.
So why the sudden realization? This is not sudden sudden. I am sure I was subconsciously aware but it came up to the surface while driving to work today. It was windy, it was raining and there was no traffic on the road. With the steering wheel in my hand, I felt in control. For once I believed that I was the master of my destiny and I could go anywhere and achieve anything (although its a different matter that, exactly 45 mins after the flash of brilliance, I am in office, playing email jockey and sending off emails in all directions).
So while driving to work, I realized that there are so many forces that have conspired to give me the pleasure of driving in the rain and enjoying the way I did. Starting with my parents (gave me birth, sent me to schools, took care of me), nature (for giving us brilliant weather, mornings, rains, clouds, sunshine etc), forces of universe (for putting me at this place at this time), capitalists of the modern socierty (for creating music that I played in the background) to the democratic and socialist soceity (for giving me the freedom to move around and giving me awesome roads in Delhi), to myself (for chosing to remain happy despite to many things that I am yet to achieve).
Thank You everyone for everything.
Just want to thank life and people who make it so wonderful.
So why the sudden realization? This is not sudden sudden. I am sure I was subconsciously aware but it came up to the surface while driving to work today. It was windy, it was raining and there was no traffic on the road. With the steering wheel in my hand, I felt in control. For once I believed that I was the master of my destiny and I could go anywhere and achieve anything (although its a different matter that, exactly 45 mins after the flash of brilliance, I am in office, playing email jockey and sending off emails in all directions).
So while driving to work, I realized that there are so many forces that have conspired to give me the pleasure of driving in the rain and enjoying the way I did. Starting with my parents (gave me birth, sent me to schools, took care of me), nature (for giving us brilliant weather, mornings, rains, clouds, sunshine etc), forces of universe (for putting me at this place at this time), capitalists of the modern socierty (for creating music that I played in the background) to the democratic and socialist soceity (for giving me the freedom to move around and giving me awesome roads in Delhi), to myself (for chosing to remain happy despite to many things that I am yet to achieve).
Thank You everyone for everything.
King of Wishful Thinking
If there is one term that defines me, its this. The King of Wishful Thinking. VK08May spoke to me today about this.
Here are the lyrics ...
Wow! I mean imagine being able to write like that. The King of Wishful Thinking!
Here are the lyrics ...
I don't need to fall at your feet
Just 'cause you cut me to the bone
And I won't miss the way that you kiss me
We were never carved in stone
If I don't listen to the talk of the town
Then maybe I can fool myself..
I'll get over you.. I know I will
I'll pretend my ship's not sinking
And I'll tell myself I'm over you
'cause I'm the king of wishful thinking
I am the king of wishful thinking
I refuse to give in to my blues
That's not how it's going to be
And I deny the tears in my eyes
I don't want to let you see.. no
That you have made a hole in my heart
And now I've got to fool myself..
I'll get over you.. I know I will
I'll pretend my ship's not sinking
And I'll tell myself I'm over you
'cause I'm the king of wishful thinking..
I'll get over you.. I know I will
I'll pretend my ship's not sinking
And I'll tell myself I'm over you
'cause I'm the king of wishful thinking
I will never, never shed a tear for you
I'll get over you
If I don't listen to the talk of the town
Then maybe I can fool myself..
contd ...
Wow! I mean imagine being able to write like that. The King of Wishful Thinking!
Hello Mr. Email Jockey
[Start Rant]
I hereby present myself with yet another title. Mr. Email Jockey.
I heard the term first time on a flight. One Chinese executive, working in Hong Kong was talking to an entrepreneur from Australia and while talking, one of them dropped this term. I instantly developed a liking towards it. It had just the right ring to it. It aroused curiosity. I ensured that you get into a conversation. And most importantly, it said a lot about what I really do.
So who is an email jockey? Someone who sits on his laptop and blackberry and fires away emails at the speed of light. Someone who is so overawed by the volume of email that he doesn't get a single minute to think on things. Someone, on his day off, misses all the "action" that email jockeying entails.
You get on your desk at precisely 10. You open you mailbox. And next thing you notice is the grumbling sounds from your stomach and you realize that its 1. Time for lunch. You eat, pee, smoke, chit chat, visit the water cooler, stare at that girl you like. All in that 5 minutes break that you allow yourself. And then you are back at the station. Juggling emails from clients and vendors and team.
Next time you peek up from the sea of incoming messages and herd of outgoing mails, you realize its well past 9. And that colleague that you like and you hoped to ask out, has left for the day. And to make matters worse, you get an email from the guy who sits next to you, about how much fun he's having with that very girl.
Coming back, so email jockeying is one of those things that dint exist as a profession till about 5 years back. Advent of technology and its ubiquitous penetration has now made everyone email aware. You can now email and get married. Its really convenient and all that but for people like me, who are on the receiving end, this is one of those things that you wish, you could un-invent!
[End of Rant]
I hereby present myself with yet another title. Mr. Email Jockey.
I heard the term first time on a flight. One Chinese executive, working in Hong Kong was talking to an entrepreneur from Australia and while talking, one of them dropped this term. I instantly developed a liking towards it. It had just the right ring to it. It aroused curiosity. I ensured that you get into a conversation. And most importantly, it said a lot about what I really do.
So who is an email jockey? Someone who sits on his laptop and blackberry and fires away emails at the speed of light. Someone who is so overawed by the volume of email that he doesn't get a single minute to think on things. Someone, on his day off, misses all the "action" that email jockeying entails.
You get on your desk at precisely 10. You open you mailbox. And next thing you notice is the grumbling sounds from your stomach and you realize that its 1. Time for lunch. You eat, pee, smoke, chit chat, visit the water cooler, stare at that girl you like. All in that 5 minutes break that you allow yourself. And then you are back at the station. Juggling emails from clients and vendors and team.
Next time you peek up from the sea of incoming messages and herd of outgoing mails, you realize its well past 9. And that colleague that you like and you hoped to ask out, has left for the day. And to make matters worse, you get an email from the guy who sits next to you, about how much fun he's having with that very girl.
Coming back, so email jockeying is one of those things that dint exist as a profession till about 5 years back. Advent of technology and its ubiquitous penetration has now made everyone email aware. You can now email and get married. Its really convenient and all that but for people like me, who are on the receiving end, this is one of those things that you wish, you could un-invent!
[End of Rant]
So this is what being drunk means
So this is what being drunk means. The heads spinning and yet you feel good about it. You have that heady feeling and yet you are elated. You yell out songs at top of your voice and not care a shade about anyone or anything. You lose your inhibitions and only thing stopping you from being yourself is you.
So this is what being drunk actually means. When you are carefree. When you cant think of anything. When the mind is actually blank – devoid of all thought. Even when you are on the phone, with your best friend, all you talk, is nothing. Where there are no words. There’s not even silence. Just the noise of wind. On either ends.
So this is what being drunk really means. When you get that mental high just because you are on the road, driving a vehicle. Controlling it. Maneuvering it at will. Like a free bird. Imagine Delhi at night. The wind. Cold enough to send that shiver down your spine. And not so cold that you need layers of cloths. Awesome roads devoid of any traffic. Where you can zip around in your car. A pit stop at India Gate. And spreading your arms wide. The way birds often do, before they fly away. Imagine the flight. Wish you could take off.
Confession. I am drunk. Not on alcohol. But on caffeine and chocolate. And on the amazing winds that you get only in Delhi. And on the wonderful drive that you just completed.
So this is what being drunk actually means. When you are carefree. When you cant think of anything. When the mind is actually blank – devoid of all thought. Even when you are on the phone, with your best friend, all you talk, is nothing. Where there are no words. There’s not even silence. Just the noise of wind. On either ends.
So this is what being drunk really means. When you get that mental high just because you are on the road, driving a vehicle. Controlling it. Maneuvering it at will. Like a free bird. Imagine Delhi at night. The wind. Cold enough to send that shiver down your spine. And not so cold that you need layers of cloths. Awesome roads devoid of any traffic. Where you can zip around in your car. A pit stop at India Gate. And spreading your arms wide. The way birds often do, before they fly away. Imagine the flight. Wish you could take off.
Confession. I am drunk. Not on alcohol. But on caffeine and chocolate. And on the amazing winds that you get only in Delhi. And on the wonderful drive that you just completed.
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