This is part 2 in a series. You may want to read part 1 first.
Prakash observed that the office was not big compared to the opulence and grandeur of the living room that he had just crossed. An impressive polished teak table was placed in the middle of the room. Behind it was a window overlooking the garden, it had lilac chiffon curtains on it. A shiny iMac on the table was facing that window. There was a pen stand that had immaculately sharpened pencils, sharpened ends facing up, in it. Next to the stand were loose sheets of paper, fluttering under the constant waft of air from the aircon vent write above it. They were held back by a figurine of Sheldon Cooper, the character from the TV series Big Bang Theory. It was a picture perfect setting for a writer. The writer could walk upto the desk any minute and start scribbling out his best seller. And then Prakash saw it, the typewriter, perched up on the other end of the table. And a sheet of paper hanging out of it. The paper had something typed on it. It also seemed to have crimson spats on it. From where Prakash was, the spats looked like dried blood stains.
The wall on the left had a floor to ceiling high bookshelf, filled meticulously with books,
mostly on film, television, biographies and other such popular titles that people merely collect, to show off, and not read. The shelf was designed like that in libraries. Wooden shelves, spaced at regular distances, and without a glass door. On the
other side of the table, along the right hand wall was a huge bright yellow couch, enough to become a makeshift bed if required. And placed between the table and the couch was a huge gramophone and an envious collection
of vinyl records stacked as neatly and orderly as the books in the
bookshelf were. Looked like Nidhi Kapoor had a fetish for all things
retro. And she was orderly in her approach and everything was neatly stacked. Any amateur people-watcher could tell that she was at least a borderline case of obsessive compulsive disorder and Prakash was no amateur.
There was a oval rug on the floor between the door and the teak-wood desk. The rug occupied most of the empty space on the floor. Looked like an expensive piece of accessory but it had soaked in a lot of blood and had become messy. Renu, when she entered the room behind Prakash and Praveen in a hurry, had stepped on this rug. Renu was wearing her regular Kolhapuri chappals and if she wasnt numb with what she saw, she wouldve felt thick sticky liquid on her feet. Since she had stepped back to hold on to the frame of the door, she had left a distinct U shaped mark of her Kolhapuri chappal on the rug and at the entrance of the door. The red U mark pointing towards the story unfolding in front of her.
When Renu came in, on the rug, she saw lifeless bodies of two dogs and a cat. And not just lifeless but the murderer had used these poor animals as a canvas to show off his or her creativity on. A pug, that probably suffered the least when it was killed, had its neck twisted at an unnatural angle. The eyes were still open and were staring at the entrance. The brown skin had turned dark with all the blood that had dried. The jaw was open and the tongue was cut by its own teeth, probably, the pug was trying to breathe once its neck broke. The other dog, a bull dog, had suffered the worst fate. It had multiple stab wounds on its body and one of the pencils from the desk was stuck into its face, right below one of the eyes. It was lying on its back and and a huge blot of blood clot was visible on its entire belly. One of the legs was amputated and the bone was sticking out of it. The cat had deep cut on its shoulders. The white fur had turned red and the head was split open to reveal pinkish mass beneath the white and grey lumps of hair.
Dead bodies of all these animals, or whatever remained of them, were stacked close to each other and they looked like a heap of flesh and bones, gathered carelessly in the middle of big puddles of blood on the rug. And Renu was probably so disturbed because she loved pets. She herself had a cat at home. The cat at home, she called it Felix, was her only companion in fact. There was no dearth of suitors, she was young, very attractive and on the fast track to being successful. But for some reason she kept everyone at bay. She did have a few people that she would get sloshed with and then get one of them back home for the night. She probably wanted a similar arrangement with Inspector Prakash, get him drunk and invite over to her apartment. But right now, she could not think of anything else. Her gaze was fixed onto the heap of dead bodies and she seemed to have lost her speech. Tambe, when he saw her slump had rushed to help her but Prakash had stopped him from going.
"Hmmm... When did you discover this?", Prakash asked no one in particular, but everyone knew that the question was addressed to Naveen Kapoor. Prakash was as composed as if he was in the familiar garden where he went for his morning yoga sessions.
Naveen was clearly uncomfortable in the room, made more uncomfortable by Prakash's indifference and Renu's trauma, he said, "I dont know Inspector. We found these today morning when Nidhi came into her office. Poor girl is still in shock. Cho, Ceaser and Cookie meant the world to her. She would take care of them as if they were her children".
Tambe stared long and hard at Naveen on the children remark. Prakash looked at Tambe and then turned back to Naveen and continued, "No one at the house saw or heard anything? The security guards? If someone had to kill these animals, they had to get access to the house. And dont dogs and cat make a lot of noise? There is no way someone maimed these animals and no one heard a thing". More than anything else, Prakash was talking to himself. Tambe knew it instantly, he and Prakash had been together since Tambe moved to Mumbai, from Satara, another district in Maharashtra. Tambe was a beat constable there and he had been promoted 4 years back.
Naveen said, "These were very friendly dogs. They did not bark even if you took their food away. They have been, had been, with us since Nidhi was in school and she had trained them well. Of course Nidhi's father, late Nishant Kapoor, was a famous actor in his days. He always had money and time for these things. And the guards, they are not allowed in the house. Their only job is to remain outside the gates and control the maddening crowds that throng our home incessantly".
"Mr. Kapoor, I asked if someone saw or heard something. I am not interested in the life and times of Kapoors", Prakash said curtly. He apparently had no time for vain indulgences of Kapoor.
"Are there more dogs, cats or other pets in the house? Did you interrogate the guards?", Prakash was getting impatient and wanted to get over with the case as soon as possible.Even thought this looked like a petty crime where a few pets have been butchered but the way they were executed methodically, in cold blood, was making Prakash skeptic.
"No. No. I havent had time to ask anyone. Nidhi discovered this... mess and she's gone in shock. She is upstairs in her bedroom with her mother and her assistant Payal. I have been tending to her. It was only when Payal reminded me to call the police, I spoke to Raj Saab", replied Naveen.
Rajkiran Sharma was the commissioner of police and he had instructed his office to give this case to Prakash Mohile's station. Everyone knew that Prakash was a no - nonsense officer and was least likely to get influenced by the high profile nature of the case. He is also known to keep his distance from the media. So the unnecessary leaks could be kept in tab.
"Hmm.. ok. I would want to talk to every member of the house, including the servants. I want to spend some time here by myself. Please wait for me outside till then", Prakash said, while walking towards the table. He continued, "Tambe, take Renu Maam out of the room and get someone to get her some water". Both statements were more of orders, rather than requests. Tambe was used to these but Naveen Kapoor wasn't. He started to revolt but decided against it. He did not want to be in the room with dead bodies anyway. Naveen started to go out of the room, paused momentarily when he saw Renu on the door. Renu was still staring at the
mangled bodies and seemed to be shivering.
Naveen said, "You know Inspector, this is exactly how I found
Nidhi, right here on this door". And with this, without waiting for an
answer, Naveen side-stepped Renu and walked out.
Moment
he was out of sight, Tambe muttered, "Sir, something's wrong. Naveen is not
as worried as he wants to appear. But who would kill these poor
animals. They had a far far better life than most of us anyway. They
live in air conditioned rooms with enough food to feed five families,
and access to doctors that take more money per visit that we spend on
medicines in our entire lives".
"And this is why someone killed them Tambe. Lets
stop chitchatting and go through the crime scene. But
first take care of Renu maam please", instructed Prakash.
Tambe headed towards the door to tend to Renu who looked visibly shaken. Before Tambe could help Renu, she realized what was happening around her. She got up by herself and walked out. Tambe followed her out. Prakash silently saw them depart and turned towards the table again.
Prakash liked to work like that on most of his cases. He'd take one long, hard, unbiased look at the crime scene to acquaint himself with it. Then he would talk to everyone who could have had anything to do with the victim or the crime scene. Finally he would just let everything simmer in his head and wait for dots to connect. Every new evidence added another layer of connection between the dots and he kept on breaking and making these connections. And finally he would get the answers. Answers to even seemingly impossible cases. His repertoire of successful cases included confiscation of a large stash of illicit drugs and the famous hit and run by son of a leading industrialist. In both these cases, they did not have a single clue. Only a crime scene and tyre marks on a dusty road and a grainy footage from a cctv in the other. And yet Prakash was able to close those cases.
He was always called in when there were cases that seemed too complex for the police force to handle. Of course nothing in his countenance gave that away. He was rather small, compared to other police officers. He would be about 5 feet 8, very fit and was almost bald. He kept his head shaved and no one could tell that he was 34. He came to Mumbai with his mother and sister when he was ten and the city was still called Bombay. His mother was a successful theater actress in Pune, some 160 KMs from Mumbai. His father, a school teacher and their's was a love marriage. But right after Prakash was born, the daily grind of the household got to the nerves of his parents and they had started quarreling occasionally at first and then almost everyday. His mother harbored the desire to be a film star and father liked the small town life on the outskirts of sleepy Pune. Differences became so much that Prakash's mother decided to move to Mumbai with the kids in tow. But reality hit harder and sooner than she had expected. Her only appearances on screen were a few sightings in the background scenery and a couple of side roles as character actress. She, like others, turned to alcohol, in attempt to find solutions and success. Even that dint help. And when Prakash was all of fifteen, his mother committed suicide, depressed about girls half her age getting meatier roles than her. Even in her death, she did not get any mention in the newspapers. By this time, Prakash's father had moved away from Pune and a young Prakash could not trace him. Prakash came back to Bombay and put all his energy and time into his and his sister's education.
In Nidhi Kapoor's office, despite all the other overpowering odors of excreta, animals, burnt flesh and air conditioning, there was a distinct whiff of some variety of lavender perfume in the room. Prakash made a mental note about the perfume and started to examine the room carefully. The first thing that he went to was the typewriter. On it was a sheet of paper that had some sort of typed letter on it. He carefully clicked the picture of the type writer and the sheet of paper hanging from it, with his phone and tore the sheet away. Prakash had a blatant disregard for protocol and yet he was careful enough with anything that he could use as evidence at a later date. Most other officers would wait for police photographer to arrive and take pictures of the venue before they start with the investigation. Not, Prakash. He liked to take action and swift action at that. He knew his technology and knew that pictures from an iPhone are as good as the one from official police cameras. And no one used the pictures anyway, except the newspaper hounds, when the pictures were leaked.
He started reading the letter, written in chaste English. It was apparently addressed to the deceased animals. Tambe was back by then and he saw Prakash reading the letter in rapt attention. Tambe guessed that the letter must contain something important, or else Prakash wasnt the kinds to put too much attention into reading. He dint even read the newspaper or the official reports.
"Whoever wrote this, definitely has a knack for writing good prose. Too bad, the letter is at the crime site, or the writer could have written a few films for Kapoor clan", said Prakash and handed over the letter to Tambe, who carefully sealed it in an evidence bag. Tambe really wanted to read the letter but he wasnt good with English and more importantly he knew that while Prakash goes through a crime scene, Prakash wants everyone on their toes.
Nothing else seemed out of place in the room. The window behind the table was shut tight. The lawn beyond the window had a small swimming pool in it. The water in the pool was clean and calm and the umbrella next to the lounge chair was folded. The entire periphery of the house was covered with high walls, barb-wired at the top. Tall Ashoka trees had been planted along the wall, to afford privacy.
Prakash thought out loud, "So whoever did this, had a lot of time to go about carving these animals. There is precision of a careful planner. Apart from the foot mark left by Renu, there is no other trace left by the killer. The killer has to be somebody who knows this house and this room well. Animals are never friendly to strangers and there are no signs of any struggle. There is no way all three could be killed at one time. We can atleast get an autopsy done to estimate the time of killing of these". Tambe was trying to think hard as well.
"Look Tambe!...", Prakash suddenly exclaimed with excitement.
Prakash had reached the other end of the room where the large gramophone was placed next to that yellow couch.. Prakash suddenly bent over the gramophone and had pulled something out from the pie of vinyl records.
"What is it sir? A vinyl record? I have seen many of those a Lamington Road market.", Tambe was trying to think hard and figure out the reason for Prakash's excitiment. May be the record had some finger prints or some blood spats or something that they had missed all this while.
"An original record for Pyasa, the Guru Dutt movie. I have always wanted to own one of these. It would fit in well with my collection of...", and Prakash paused in the middle of the sentence.
Tambe was thrown offguard for a minute when he heard the mention of Pyasa. He knew Prakash liked Guru Dutt but he could not make the connection between the crime scene and Prakash's evident excitement. Before he could say something, Prakassh had paused in mid sentence and had started to walk towards the book shelf on the other end of the room, his eyes fixed at a spot on the top shelf. Tambe, being an experienced policeman realized what was important and his gaze followed Prakash's. Prakash was staring at a point on the top corner of the book shelf.
Prakash side stepped the rug in the middle of the room and crossed the entrance to the room and reached the bookshelf. He said, "Looks like someone has borrowed a book from this shelf. And a fat book. There is no way the book shelf would have an empty spot like this when every inch of available space on the shelf is crammed with books. And I can bet no one here touches any books. These are meant for display only!".
Tambe replied, "How do you know sir that these are for display. And may be a book is missing. Or someone took it on loan. What does a missing book has to do with our case sir?". Tambe was amongst a handful of colleagues who could afford to question Prakash's judgement.
Prakash answered, "Look at the shelf. All books are lined neatly as if they were lined with a ruler. There is a thin layer of dust on the shelf. Probably the cleaner did not get time today. The spot on the top shelf however, is clean. Very clean. So clean that its out of place. Its as if there was a book there and someone dragged it out of there to make space. Also people who read a lot, read more than one book at a time. And they always leave the books they are reading at strange places. My sister does that. The house is full of books and bookmarks". Prakash paused to examine the titles on the shelf.
"And look at the gramophone there", Prakash pointed and said, "someone plays it regularly. There is not a speck of dust on it. The vinyls are stacked neatly as well but some of them are not in their jackets, like this Pyasa record, and some have been left right next to the player. Its odd that a room kept as meticulously as this would have an empty space in the bookshelf".
"You are right sir. And who wants to read only biographies and film books. Where are the magazines? And our staple evening newspaper, Maha Sakaal?", quipped Tambe. He continued, "Sir, which paper does Renu madam write for?"
Prakash replied carelessly, "I dont know that. Raj Saab hasnt told me that. Its some secret assignment for some international newspaper or magazine. All I know is that I am supposed to keep her in tow for a month. And that means we have to tolerate her for 15 more days".
Tambe began to laugh. He was the kinds that had infectious laughter. When he laughed, you could see all his teeth. And laugher sounded more like a roar.
"Whats so funny that you are laughing? And we are done here. I have seen what is there to be seen. We wont find anything of interest here. Ask someone to seal this room", Prakash instructed.
Tambe nodded and flipped out his walkie talkie to call for this colleagues.
"And lets go and talk to Nidhi Kapoor. You always wanted to meet her. Right? Here is your chance. But before you talk to her, there is something very important that I want to do. That letter that I gave you Tambe, I have to ask her something about it". Prakash said and he headed out of the room. He also threw the vinyl that he was so excited about, at Tambe, who caught it deftly. Tambe left the record on the yellow couch and rushed behind Prakash.
Renu was standing outside the room, facing the door, still looking at the mangled bodies on the rug. She was using the wall to support her back and her entire demeanor seemed resigned, but in control. She tried to collect herself when she saw Prakash come out. Prakash looked at her, paused and said, "Oh yes, you! I had almost forgotten about you. Are you alright? I want you to come with me when I talk to Nidhi Kapoor. Can you do it?"
Prakash rarely waited for answers. That was his way of working. His orders often came in guise of requests, and requests in guise of questions. This sounded like a question and Renu knew immediately that this was a request.
She said, "Yes I think I am ok now. I would come along. I need to catch whoever did this. Bloody butcher needs to be punished". This was the first time Renu had shown any kind of serious emotion. So far, in her two weeks with Prakash and Praveen, she hardly let her true emotions surface. She started following Prakash with hurried steps. Prakash was anyway always in hurry and now had Tambe and Renu in tow.
And they left the room, the way they found it. Only thing they had taken from the room was the letter from the typerwriter. And the only thing they had left behind was a pointed U mark from Renu's Kolhapuri chappal on the expensive rug.
Here it is - the writer's block!
I think its a been a week since I started that little project and it was good going. Till some days back. When the writers block hit me. And I did not write then. I did not write yesterday either. And I did not write the day before. And the day before that.
I have all the excuses that the men have come up with, since time immemorial - no time, no inspiration, no ideas, no laptop to write on, no electricity at home etc.
But end of the day, all these are mere excuses and nothing else. I really enjoyed those nights when I dint sleep and I wrote. When I deliberated over each word that I want to put forth on the blog. When I searched for etymology, origins, synonyms, antonyms etc of words. When I went back and forth and changed tenses and grammar, since I suck so much at it. When I desperately tracked new visitors andgrowth stagnation in the charts. When I reply to numerous comments (for some reason I still dont get any comments on the blog, so cant track those). When I pimped the links of new posts on social networks and other such places. When I waited desperately to get feedback on what I write from friends and strangers.
Those were good days It was a brilliant week. And that week taught me that I am not as fickle minded as I think I am and once I put my head to something, I can actually do it. Good news for Nidhi Kapoor. I sincerely hope Nidhi does not meet the same fate as the guard of clock tower. In fact I hope that Nidhi would bring the good old guard back to life, if all goes well.
And there is another learning. I got obsessed with writing. Everything else that I spend my time on, ideas, businesses, talking, reading, exploring, surfing , thinking was all put to rest. I was focused on writing. The entire day, I would look for things and ideas that I could write about. And I could not wait for the night to arrive before I pen the thoughts down. Apart from writing, the other two things that have ngrossed me so much were code and poker. Thanks to my MBA, I cant code no more. And thanks to my peanut sized brain, I can not play poker no more.
But, but I can write. No one else can take that away from me. Its a singular activity that requires little or no influence from other factors. I dont need money, I dont need resources, I dont need physical fitness, I dont need a large team. All I need is little motivation and I need Google to research what I am writing about. For something like clock tower, I dont even need to research! I just need to do. To turn up everyday. And ship. A really good friend told me about how Charles Dickens wrote a lot of his work. He would publish things in a periodical and then work on the next chapters. I think I can relate to what he was doing. May be he also needed motivation, push to work. And this was his way to continue writing the longish pieces of texts. Note to self - read the tale of two cities.
Coming back, I need to get back to writing. And start writing lot more. Everyday. 1000 words.
I have all the excuses that the men have come up with, since time immemorial - no time, no inspiration, no ideas, no laptop to write on, no electricity at home etc.
But end of the day, all these are mere excuses and nothing else. I really enjoyed those nights when I dint sleep and I wrote. When I deliberated over each word that I want to put forth on the blog. When I searched for etymology, origins, synonyms, antonyms etc of words. When I went back and forth and changed tenses and grammar, since I suck so much at it. When I desperately tracked new visitors and
And there is another learning. I got obsessed with writing. Everything else that I spend my time on, ideas, businesses, talking, reading, exploring, surfing , thinking was all put to rest. I was focused on writing. The entire day, I would look for things and ideas that I could write about. And I could not wait for the night to arrive before I pen the thoughts down. Apart from writing, the other two things that have ngrossed me so much were code and poker. Thanks to my MBA, I cant code no more. And thanks to my peanut sized brain, I can not play poker no more.
But, but I can write. No one else can take that away from me. Its a singular activity that requires little or no influence from other factors. I dont need money, I dont need resources, I dont need physical fitness, I dont need a large team. All I need is little motivation and I need Google to research what I am writing about. For something like clock tower, I dont even need to research! I just need to do. To turn up everyday. And ship. A really good friend told me about how Charles Dickens wrote a lot of his work. He would publish things in a periodical and then work on the next chapters. I think I can relate to what he was doing. May be he also needed motivation, push to work. And this was his way to continue writing the longish pieces of texts. Note to self - read the tale of two cities.
Coming back, I need to get back to writing. And start writing lot more. Everyday. 1000 words.
The grand thekas of Gurgaon! - Edit 2
I wrote this yesterday and while I was writing this, I wasnt sure if I liked what I wrote. So I decided that I would re-write it. Here it is.
Meet Salman. He is barely of legal working age and despite not being as famous as his namesake actor, this Salman has a fan following of his own. He is one of those numerous waiters serving guests at makeshift "government approved drinking places", or thekas, in Gurgaon. Thronged by sparsely educated locals and highly educated employees of the multinationals alike, these thekas provide a safe haven for those wanting to indulge in their favorite spirit. And Salman knows his patrons and their whims and he knows how to take care of them.
Salman knows what snack goes well with what kind of alcohol and is quick to give his recommendations. Guests must buy their alcohol from a "government approved wine shop" and then they may choose to sit at these thekas, located often right behind the wine shops. Thekas are so comfortable that they can put cigar lounges at five star hotels to shame. These thekas offer a wide range of options to patrons. From seating in an open courtyard to rooftop seats to air conditioned rooms to separate enclosures for women to private cabins, they have it all. Of course you need to pay a premium for facilities like aircon and privacy. Not to mention things like cigarettes, lighters, snacks, cuisine from almost all over the world, juices, mixers, ice cubes, glasses and other such paraphernalia that you need when you want to booze.
Salman also has the knack of remembering his patrons by their names and their favorites. He can count about 40 guests that are regulars and Salman knows what would make them happy. This is probably why Salman is so popular amongst patrons at Knight Riders, the theka where Salman works. Even the managers and owners are not complaining as Salman requires far less motivation or supervision while he's working. Salman says he and other waiters, have just two types of patrons - rich Haryanvi villagers and second English speaking office workers.
The rapid transformation of Gurgaon from a sleepy farming village into the millennium city has given rise to a new community of nouveau riche. These men have sold their farming land to builders and developers as astronomical rates. As a result, there is an entire generation of Haryanvi young men with a lot of money, big cars, too much time and nothing to do. Needless to say in the era of globalization and exposure, these men indulge in "royal" pursuits. Of drinking and gambling. Gambling is still a taboo in India, everyone does it but secretly, drinking is the new social norm. Most evenings groups of these young brash Haryanvi men would head out to a theka and ask someone like Salman to put on some latest bollywood music. Music that would anyway be drowned by the vociferous laughter of these men.
Large parts of the land sold by farmers was turned into commercial and residential properties by the builders. And businesses, both domestic and international buoyed by the India growth story seemed to have an insatiable hunger and capacity for these office spaces. So what probably was once a agricultural land growing wheat, now that a sky scraper, made of steel and glass, that houses thousands of white collar employees. Most of these employees live dysfunctional lives (of India in 21st century) and have a lot of money and time to spend, with their colleagues at informal or formal parties. And more often than not, these groups end up at places like these, and call for Salman to get them their cheese crackers and chicken tikkas.
Funny thing is that all these wine shops are temporary in nature. They are apparently supposed to renew their lease and license every year and despite coming with an expiry date, the owners invest like anything in these wine shops. The decor, the collection, the ambiance, the staff, the service, all of it is at par with any high street shop, if not better. If you want a lesson in visual merchandising, there is no better place to learn about it, than at these wine places. Since alcohol companies cant advertise on mass media, they spend a lot of money on these shops and turn these into their marketing and communication playground.
But despite the temporary arrangement, business is good at these makeshift drinking places. Salman is not complaining. If not for this place, he would probably be an office boy at one of these companies. Here, apart from his salary of Rs. 6000 a month, he takes home as much each week in tips. He says, "On the month ends when most office going people have their pockets full of their salary, I get more tips. I love those days". And while he was reminiscing about those days, he spotted on of his regulars enter the AC room that he tenders to. Beaming from ear to ear, he put his cleaning cloth back on his shoulder and rushed to the table of another patron.
Meet Salman. He is barely of legal working age and despite not being as famous as his namesake actor, this Salman has a fan following of his own. He is one of those numerous waiters serving guests at makeshift "government approved drinking places", or thekas, in Gurgaon. Thronged by sparsely educated locals and highly educated employees of the multinationals alike, these thekas provide a safe haven for those wanting to indulge in their favorite spirit. And Salman knows his patrons and their whims and he knows how to take care of them.
Salman knows what snack goes well with what kind of alcohol and is quick to give his recommendations. Guests must buy their alcohol from a "government approved wine shop" and then they may choose to sit at these thekas, located often right behind the wine shops. Thekas are so comfortable that they can put cigar lounges at five star hotels to shame. These thekas offer a wide range of options to patrons. From seating in an open courtyard to rooftop seats to air conditioned rooms to separate enclosures for women to private cabins, they have it all. Of course you need to pay a premium for facilities like aircon and privacy. Not to mention things like cigarettes, lighters, snacks, cuisine from almost all over the world, juices, mixers, ice cubes, glasses and other such paraphernalia that you need when you want to booze.
Salman also has the knack of remembering his patrons by their names and their favorites. He can count about 40 guests that are regulars and Salman knows what would make them happy. This is probably why Salman is so popular amongst patrons at Knight Riders, the theka where Salman works. Even the managers and owners are not complaining as Salman requires far less motivation or supervision while he's working. Salman says he and other waiters, have just two types of patrons - rich Haryanvi villagers and second English speaking office workers.
The rapid transformation of Gurgaon from a sleepy farming village into the millennium city has given rise to a new community of nouveau riche. These men have sold their farming land to builders and developers as astronomical rates. As a result, there is an entire generation of Haryanvi young men with a lot of money, big cars, too much time and nothing to do. Needless to say in the era of globalization and exposure, these men indulge in "royal" pursuits. Of drinking and gambling. Gambling is still a taboo in India, everyone does it but secretly, drinking is the new social norm. Most evenings groups of these young brash Haryanvi men would head out to a theka and ask someone like Salman to put on some latest bollywood music. Music that would anyway be drowned by the vociferous laughter of these men.
Large parts of the land sold by farmers was turned into commercial and residential properties by the builders. And businesses, both domestic and international buoyed by the India growth story seemed to have an insatiable hunger and capacity for these office spaces. So what probably was once a agricultural land growing wheat, now that a sky scraper, made of steel and glass, that houses thousands of white collar employees. Most of these employees live dysfunctional lives (of India in 21st century) and have a lot of money and time to spend, with their colleagues at informal or formal parties. And more often than not, these groups end up at places like these, and call for Salman to get them their cheese crackers and chicken tikkas.
Funny thing is that all these wine shops are temporary in nature. They are apparently supposed to renew their lease and license every year and despite coming with an expiry date, the owners invest like anything in these wine shops. The decor, the collection, the ambiance, the staff, the service, all of it is at par with any high street shop, if not better. If you want a lesson in visual merchandising, there is no better place to learn about it, than at these wine places. Since alcohol companies cant advertise on mass media, they spend a lot of money on these shops and turn these into their marketing and communication playground.
But despite the temporary arrangement, business is good at these makeshift drinking places. Salman is not complaining. If not for this place, he would probably be an office boy at one of these companies. Here, apart from his salary of Rs. 6000 a month, he takes home as much each week in tips. He says, "On the month ends when most office going people have their pockets full of their salary, I get more tips. I love those days". And while he was reminiscing about those days, he spotted on of his regulars enter the AC room that he tenders to. Beaming from ear to ear, he put his cleaning cloth back on his shoulder and rushed to the table of another patron.
The grand thekas of Gurgaon!
If you've been following this blog and last few updates, here's a piece of news. The deal is off. And this does not mean I would stop writing (I did miss the post day before, I'd try not to miss anymore).
P.S. To be honest, I dont really like the way I have written this post but here goes. I'd try to re-write this again tomorrow but this is it for the time being.
So today, we had a small party thrown by one of the nicest guys I have ever worked with.
A little background. The place where I work, we have this tradition of throwing parties and bashes for all significant and insignificant occasions. Most of these parties are full of loud music, bucket full of alcohol and dirty jokes on each other. And most of the time we want to save money, so these things happen at home of a colleague. But today, since this party was long overdue and we were partying after some time, we decided to goto some place, rather than binge on food on a make shift table and consume alcohol in an assortment of glass types (you must try drinking beer in wine flute).
Coming back to the party, we went to a place called Night Riders. This is very close to one of the stations of the new Rapid Metro coming in Gurgaon. Rapid Metro in my opinion is yet another fast one pulled on the government and us tax payers by someone. More on it someday later. Right now, I am going to talk about fancy wine shops (or thekas as we know them in India).
They say that Gurgaon is probably the only place in India where you can find a modern wine shop stacked with all sorts of alcohol open at all times of day and night but you can NOT find a chemist if you need one at 1 in the afternoon. Such as the economics of the alcohol venting business in Gurgaon. If you live in Gurgaon, there is no way you would've missed these fancy alcohol shops, selling a wide range of beers, vodkas, whiskeys, rums and other spirits from all over the world.
Funny thing is that all the fancy wine shops have "government approved drinking places" attached to the stores, where you step inside and consume your liquor that you buy from the theka outside. The drinking places will give you glasses, ice, water, soda, coke etc to mix with your drinks. And they would give you a wide range of choice in cuisine that you want to have. Today, we ordered Chinese, Mughalai, Italian, South Indian and Tandoori food. All from one kitchen and everything as tasty as it could get.
Today was the first time when I went inside one of these. And I was blown by the ambiance and courtesy extended by these places. The waiters and managers there could speak almost perfect English to start with. The place offered excellent seating facilities with a choice of plastic chairs, bean bags, sofas, couches, roof top tables, private cabins, air conditioned rooms and what not. You could sit in an area that was like an open courtyard, or you could sit under a leafy ceiling, or on an area that had mist sprinklers or on an area that had marble grains as floor or ofcourse an air conditioned room. The ceiling of the air conditioned room was done up nicely with an intricate modern arty design. They had a separate loo for men and women. And it was actually called "Men's Loo" and was cleaner than the loos at Ambience Mall. And they had technology like LED lights, karaoke system, DJ mixing console and a projection on a wall, that was playing, pay attention here, that was playing, VH1!
It was something out of a fiction book. In Gurgaon where almost everything is unplanned and there is perpetual construction and dust ever since I can remember (since my MDI days actually), I in my wildest dream could not imagine someone creating a place for consuming alcohol, complete with all these above-mentioned amenities. And I am told that these structures are allocated by the Govt. of Haryana for a period of one year, after which they have to dismantle these and apply for all over again. I am sure that the same set of people get to run these establishments year after year but its just too much effort to come up with a concept and a place like this, if you ask me. Funny bit is that people actually sit at these places and consume liquor and I dont think they pay anything additional to get the convenience and privacy offered by these places.
And for some funny reason, all these approved eating places are named after participants in yet another sham of modern India - the IPL. The thekas are called Night Riders, Royals of Rajasthan, Super Challenger, Dares and Devils et al. Of course all these names cant really be cooked up by multiple brains. If you are the copywriter who has thought of these names, I would love to hire you. Can you send in your CV? We can meet at Knight Riders for the interview, if you want!
P.S. To be honest, I dont really like the way I have written this post but here goes. I'd try to re-write this again tomorrow but this is it for the time being.
So today, we had a small party thrown by one of the nicest guys I have ever worked with.
A little background. The place where I work, we have this tradition of throwing parties and bashes for all significant and insignificant occasions. Most of these parties are full of loud music, bucket full of alcohol and dirty jokes on each other. And most of the time we want to save money, so these things happen at home of a colleague. But today, since this party was long overdue and we were partying after some time, we decided to goto some place, rather than binge on food on a make shift table and consume alcohol in an assortment of glass types (you must try drinking beer in wine flute).
Coming back to the party, we went to a place called Night Riders. This is very close to one of the stations of the new Rapid Metro coming in Gurgaon. Rapid Metro in my opinion is yet another fast one pulled on the government and us tax payers by someone. More on it someday later. Right now, I am going to talk about fancy wine shops (or thekas as we know them in India).
They say that Gurgaon is probably the only place in India where you can find a modern wine shop stacked with all sorts of alcohol open at all times of day and night but you can NOT find a chemist if you need one at 1 in the afternoon. Such as the economics of the alcohol venting business in Gurgaon. If you live in Gurgaon, there is no way you would've missed these fancy alcohol shops, selling a wide range of beers, vodkas, whiskeys, rums and other spirits from all over the world.
Funny thing is that all the fancy wine shops have "government approved drinking places" attached to the stores, where you step inside and consume your liquor that you buy from the theka outside. The drinking places will give you glasses, ice, water, soda, coke etc to mix with your drinks. And they would give you a wide range of choice in cuisine that you want to have. Today, we ordered Chinese, Mughalai, Italian, South Indian and Tandoori food. All from one kitchen and everything as tasty as it could get.
Today was the first time when I went inside one of these. And I was blown by the ambiance and courtesy extended by these places. The waiters and managers there could speak almost perfect English to start with. The place offered excellent seating facilities with a choice of plastic chairs, bean bags, sofas, couches, roof top tables, private cabins, air conditioned rooms and what not. You could sit in an area that was like an open courtyard, or you could sit under a leafy ceiling, or on an area that had mist sprinklers or on an area that had marble grains as floor or ofcourse an air conditioned room. The ceiling of the air conditioned room was done up nicely with an intricate modern arty design. They had a separate loo for men and women. And it was actually called "Men's Loo" and was cleaner than the loos at Ambience Mall. And they had technology like LED lights, karaoke system, DJ mixing console and a projection on a wall, that was playing, pay attention here, that was playing, VH1!
It was something out of a fiction book. In Gurgaon where almost everything is unplanned and there is perpetual construction and dust ever since I can remember (since my MDI days actually), I in my wildest dream could not imagine someone creating a place for consuming alcohol, complete with all these above-mentioned amenities. And I am told that these structures are allocated by the Govt. of Haryana for a period of one year, after which they have to dismantle these and apply for all over again. I am sure that the same set of people get to run these establishments year after year but its just too much effort to come up with a concept and a place like this, if you ask me. Funny bit is that people actually sit at these places and consume liquor and I dont think they pay anything additional to get the convenience and privacy offered by these places.
And for some funny reason, all these approved eating places are named after participants in yet another sham of modern India - the IPL. The thekas are called Night Riders, Royals of Rajasthan, Super Challenger, Dares and Devils et al. Of course all these names cant really be cooked up by multiple brains. If you are the copywriter who has thought of these names, I would love to hire you. Can you send in your CV? We can meet at Knight Riders for the interview, if you want!
Can a visit to Nirmal Baba's Samagam help?
Today I had some free time. I went to my Evernote and looked at all the things that I thought I would do. Going back to 2005. And I reazlied that although I am great at planning, I suck at implmenting. No great surprises here. Thats how I am. But then of all the parkedIdeas and other such conceptual things that were supposed to make me rich, there was something very very real. With goals as tangible as money in your wallet is. The goals around money.
Being an Indian, and a lower middle class Indian at that, money has always been a fascination. Its always at the back of my mind in everything I do. Making money, spending it, wagering it, saving it, looking at it, am constantly thinking about it.
So I thought, I'd make a list of my "tangible" money-related goals over the years and see what I expected an what I got.
And since we are talking about money, I remember most of the numbers. So, without further ado, here is a quick and dirty list. Please note that I am not talking about specifics here. If you are interested, write into me and I would get back.
So, I did try and plot this in a chart. This is what I got.
Like all my analyst friends, I also believe that charts hide more than they reveal. Though in my case a few things are quite clear. Here are these...
Being an Indian, and a lower middle class Indian at that, money has always been a fascination. Its always at the back of my mind in everything I do. Making money, spending it, wagering it, saving it, looking at it, am constantly thinking about it.
So I thought, I'd make a list of my "tangible" money-related goals over the years and see what I expected an what I got.
And since we are talking about money, I remember most of the numbers. So, without further ado, here is a quick and dirty list. Please note that I am not talking about specifics here. If you are interested, write into me and I would get back.
- When? aspiration around money
- When I was a kid and played cricket all day long? nothing
- When I was in college and wrote awesome code with C? Rs. 10,000 a month (Rs. 120,000 a year)
- When I read about Bill Gates and got inspired to start something? Richest man on planet
- When I entered MBA and was told that I could change the world? Rs. 10,00,000 a year
- When I ended MBA and I realized that time to change the world has come? Rs. 50,00,000 a year
- When I got my first salary and became the part of rat race? More than what my batchmates were making (Rs. 30,00,000 a year)
- When I finished 7 years of working after my MBA, having changed 4 jobs, dragging my career alongwith? - Financial Independence (The NPV of my financial independence at INR 1 crores)
- When I retire? I dont know yet.
So, I did try and plot this in a chart. This is what I got.
 |
| Comparing the aspiration vs actual money, over the years |
Like all my analyst friends, I also believe that charts hide more than they reveal. Though in my case a few things are quite clear. Here are these...
- The greatest jump in my actual money came in when I finished my MBA. After that it has stayed on a steady growth path, except the last few years when it slowed in its growth and has come to a stand still. This may tell analysts that I fucked my career like anything and I am stuck with a glass ceiling.
- With age, people tend to get closer to their dreams and grow faster. I on the other hand have been going away from my aspirations. My growth has also stalled in the last five years.
- My thinking about money changed drastically at three points in my life. One was when I learnt that there is someone called Bill Gates. Two was when I started comparing my salary with my peers (and when they started buying fancy cars, houses etc). And three when I turned 30 (this is when I thought I would chase larger goals in life, rather than a house etc).
- If I am to bridge the gap between the two lines, I need some kind of a giant windfall gain. Ofcourse I dont have the balls to go loot a bank or something. So it has to be something that I start or something that I could be a part of. Where I put in efforts now and hope that in next five years, when the gap would widen even more, the efforts result into large returns.
Confession. Type B.
There are two kinds of people.
Type A are the ones that believe in doing. Getting things done. Doing things. Actually putting pen to paper and taking action. For them, procrastination is the enemy number one. What ever is available to them, they would work with it. If they are writers and they dont have a table, they would sit on a park bench and write. If they are suffering from writers block, they would force themselves ever harder to write. If they are artists and they dont have the brush, they would make a brush and then sketch and draw. If they are inventors and they are short of tools, they would find an alternative or even go to the extent of making the tool. For them the output is what matters. For them, output is what drives them. They need to see measurable action. They need to get the work out of their system. If its a book, they want to write it and get it published. If its a painting, they want to finish it and hang it on a wall. If they are making a building, they want to finish it and let people occupy it. If they are trying to lose weight, they want to run even if they are barefoot. Of course, all this hurry does not mean that they cut corners. Or they compromise on the output. They still give it their best shot. They are still proud of what they achieve. They would learn from the mistakes and ensure that next time when they're doing it, they dont make the mistake. They would do. They are doers. They are type A.
Then there is Type B. The ones who want to do. Really really want to. Like give an arm and a led to do. The plan is ready. Its all there, but for the tools! Or they wait for the right time. Or the right tool. Or the right setting. Or the right team. Or the right idea. Or the right opportunity. Or the right running shoe. Or the right this, or the right that. Of course if they want so many rights, there are pretty high chances that they would continue to want. They would continue to wait. They would continue to plan. Again there is nothing wrong with this. You need to have fire and log and pot and pan if you are make dinner for yourself. You cant eat your food raw. Right? You can sleep hungry if required but unless you have the salt and the pepper, you cant really eat. Similarly, you need to have the perfect writing desk if have to write your best seller. You have to have the perfect board and perfect paint and perfect brush and perfect lighting and perfect model if you are to get that painting right. After all the work you have planned for will define your life. How can you get that piece wrong? You need to have all the tools and all the perfect tools at that, before you even begin. Its one shot at immortality and you better get it right. The risk of not even attempting that shot is unreal because good things happen to those who wait. Right?
Phew. Enough of a rant. A question now. What type do you think Steve Jobs, Bill Gates are? What type would Sachin Tendulkar, Shah Rukh Khan, Andre Agassi be? What type is your boss? What type is your driver? What type are you?
I dont know about you. But I hereby confess that I know that I am type B. And trust me, I have the perfect writing table and the perfect writing chair and the perfect pen and the perfect room temperature to sit in and the perfect this and that. Just that I dont have the perfect plot! Sounds familiar?
So, I need to quickly become type A, if I am to do any of those millions things that I want to do. Project 1000WADv2 is an attempt in that direction. So far so good.
And as it turns out, I dont really have forever to live!
Type A are the ones that believe in doing. Getting things done. Doing things. Actually putting pen to paper and taking action. For them, procrastination is the enemy number one. What ever is available to them, they would work with it. If they are writers and they dont have a table, they would sit on a park bench and write. If they are suffering from writers block, they would force themselves ever harder to write. If they are artists and they dont have the brush, they would make a brush and then sketch and draw. If they are inventors and they are short of tools, they would find an alternative or even go to the extent of making the tool. For them the output is what matters. For them, output is what drives them. They need to see measurable action. They need to get the work out of their system. If its a book, they want to write it and get it published. If its a painting, they want to finish it and hang it on a wall. If they are making a building, they want to finish it and let people occupy it. If they are trying to lose weight, they want to run even if they are barefoot. Of course, all this hurry does not mean that they cut corners. Or they compromise on the output. They still give it their best shot. They are still proud of what they achieve. They would learn from the mistakes and ensure that next time when they're doing it, they dont make the mistake. They would do. They are doers. They are type A.
Then there is Type B. The ones who want to do. Really really want to. Like give an arm and a led to do. The plan is ready. Its all there, but for the tools! Or they wait for the right time. Or the right tool. Or the right setting. Or the right team. Or the right idea. Or the right opportunity. Or the right running shoe. Or the right this, or the right that. Of course if they want so many rights, there are pretty high chances that they would continue to want. They would continue to wait. They would continue to plan. Again there is nothing wrong with this. You need to have fire and log and pot and pan if you are make dinner for yourself. You cant eat your food raw. Right? You can sleep hungry if required but unless you have the salt and the pepper, you cant really eat. Similarly, you need to have the perfect writing desk if have to write your best seller. You have to have the perfect board and perfect paint and perfect brush and perfect lighting and perfect model if you are to get that painting right. After all the work you have planned for will define your life. How can you get that piece wrong? You need to have all the tools and all the perfect tools at that, before you even begin. Its one shot at immortality and you better get it right. The risk of not even attempting that shot is unreal because good things happen to those who wait. Right?
Phew. Enough of a rant. A question now. What type do you think Steve Jobs, Bill Gates are? What type would Sachin Tendulkar, Shah Rukh Khan, Andre Agassi be? What type is your boss? What type is your driver? What type are you?
I dont know about you. But I hereby confess that I know that I am type B. And trust me, I have the perfect writing table and the perfect writing chair and the perfect pen and the perfect room temperature to sit in and the perfect this and that. Just that I dont have the perfect plot! Sounds familiar?
So, I need to quickly become type A, if I am to do any of those millions things that I want to do. Project 1000WADv2 is an attempt in that direction. So far so good.
And as it turns out, I dont really have forever to live!
A ten hour long meeting
Day before yesterday, I started reading this book called ReWork by the founders of the famous 37 signals. There's nothing new in the book to be honest but it had best seller written all over it. Nuggets of one page quick-read "advice", interspersed with motivations "doodles", counter-intuitive tips that can assure success and anecdotes that dont necessarily fit in to the context. Nothing wrong with it. There is a constant demand for self-help books for the entrepreneur types (like me) and these are the people who are living the American entrepreneurial dream. Am sure a lot of people would love this book. I do too.
So, one of the important themes in the book is about talking less and doing more. And one of the things that, in their opinion, makes you work lesser, is meetings. They say that if you drag 8 people in one hour meeting, its not really a one hour meeting, but its a 8 man-hour meeting. So what you achieve in those 8 hours must be economically worth 8 man-hours. Today I entered a meeting at 11 and came out of it at 9. Of course we broke for lunch, dinner, coffee, pee etc. But the point is, there were seven people in the meeting, for all these 10 hours and there were atleast 5 people on the sidelines. Of course these 5 people are amongst the lesser equals, so their time is not important. But the other 7 people, I think they bill mini-fortunes per hour to their respective companies and by the time today's meeting ended, their companies may be staring at a fiscal crisis, if not a prospect of bankruptcy.
We invested 70 man-hours of effort today in a meeting and I am not sure of the output. I am sure that in 70 hours, I could have done so much more. Here is an indicative list...
And yes, thats it for the day. Until tomorrow...
P.S.: I have stopped using the tag 1000WADv2, because if I am going to write everyday, I dont really need the tag. However if there are times when I dont write, or there are times when I have an announcement, I shall use it.
So, one of the important themes in the book is about talking less and doing more. And one of the things that, in their opinion, makes you work lesser, is meetings. They say that if you drag 8 people in one hour meeting, its not really a one hour meeting, but its a 8 man-hour meeting. So what you achieve in those 8 hours must be economically worth 8 man-hours. Today I entered a meeting at 11 and came out of it at 9. Of course we broke for lunch, dinner, coffee, pee etc. But the point is, there were seven people in the meeting, for all these 10 hours and there were atleast 5 people on the sidelines. Of course these 5 people are amongst the lesser equals, so their time is not important. But the other 7 people, I think they bill mini-fortunes per hour to their respective companies and by the time today's meeting ended, their companies may be staring at a fiscal crisis, if not a prospect of bankruptcy.
We invested 70 man-hours of effort today in a meeting and I am not sure of the output. I am sure that in 70 hours, I could have done so much more. Here is an indicative list...
- Drive from Delhi to Mumbai. And back. One of the things on my bucket list, since I can remember.
- Log in a week full of ten hour days. This means, more than one fourth of my monthly work time.
- Write a novella. I am working on one and I could easily complete it at the rate of 300 words per hour. This post, 2700 words, took 9 hours.
- Walk 3,50,000 steps at the rate of 5000 steps per hour. Roughly about 300 KMs. Enough to reach some hill station to escape the heat in Delhi. And burn 17000 calories. Or lose 34 KGs of weight. Wow! I could actually be fit if I spent these 70 hours on myself.
And yes, thats it for the day. Until tomorrow...
P.S.: I have stopped using the tag 1000WADv2, because if I am going to write everyday, I dont really need the tag. However if there are times when I dont write, or there are times when I have an announcement, I shall use it.
The Eco Mode 2
Sometime in August of last year I made these two posts. Each of them is worth revisit. A Thursday and as a result, Eco Mode. To save time, Id summarize things here. In those two posts I said that I was very fucked up with how things were moving so slow in life and I needed to do something about it. And to do something, I needed money. And for money, since my dad is not rich, I needed to save. And to save, I needed to stop spending on frivolous things, and hence the eco mode.
Fast forward to May/June of 2013. About nine months since I first spoke about Eco Mode. Not much has changed. Delhi is hotter. I have lost more hair. I haven't stopped splurging and I am poorer than what I was back then, blame it on a few capital expenses. Yesterday I met a friend who just joined a startup and he's getting paid a tiny atomic bomb for his salary. In terms of numbers, he now makes 4 times compared to me. And he and I are classmates. Nothing wrong with it. He probably deserves it more than me. But he did open my eyes to possibilities that exist for me.
So like last time, I have decided that I would get into Eco Mode starting now. And today was a good start. I had to meet a friend and unlike most days when I take my car for any and every meeting, I took the metro. The journey in the metro sucked but it wasnt very tough. I could live with it. Of course I will not do this everyday but its manageable. Idea is to cut down on unnecessary expenses and save as much as I can.
Coming to money, I have just one savings account and just one credit card. I make all my expenses from the credit card, except tolls, parking and other small out of pocket expenses. This ensures that I have a bill for each transaction and I can verify the spends at the end of the month. And of course I get loyalty points that get me free air tickets.
So I want to take a break by the end of the year for a month or so. During that time I want to travel, probably write a book, take it easy. And I haveseven six months to go. In the next six months, here are my measurable goals...
Of course what I do with life and career is entirely different all together. More on it during one of these days in the 1000WADv2.
Fast forward to May/June of 2013. About nine months since I first spoke about Eco Mode. Not much has changed. Delhi is hotter. I have lost more hair. I haven't stopped splurging and I am poorer than what I was back then, blame it on a few capital expenses. Yesterday I met a friend who just joined a startup and he's getting paid a tiny atomic bomb for his salary. In terms of numbers, he now makes 4 times compared to me. And he and I are classmates. Nothing wrong with it. He probably deserves it more than me. But he did open my eyes to possibilities that exist for me.
So like last time, I have decided that I would get into Eco Mode starting now. And today was a good start. I had to meet a friend and unlike most days when I take my car for any and every meeting, I took the metro. The journey in the metro sucked but it wasnt very tough. I could live with it. Of course I will not do this everyday but its manageable. Idea is to cut down on unnecessary expenses and save as much as I can.
Coming to money, I have just one savings account and just one credit card. I make all my expenses from the credit card, except tolls, parking and other small out of pocket expenses. This ensures that I have a bill for each transaction and I can verify the spends at the end of the month. And of course I get loyalty points that get me free air tickets.
So I want to take a break by the end of the year for a month or so. During that time I want to travel, probably write a book, take it easy. And I have
- Save 40% of my income. From all sources. Right now I have one source of income. I need to increase it. Thats my other goal.
- Make money from 3 sources. And predictable income at that.
- Get monthly credit card bill to 50% of the average of previous six months' bills.
Of course what I do with life and career is entirely different all together. More on it during one of these days in the 1000WADv2.
2700 Words - Of no consequence
Note: Starting August 2013, I am going to work full time to extend this "chapter" into a full length fictional story. I call it the Nidhi Kapoor Story. Do check out the website and the Facebook page.
As part of 1000WADv2, I am trying my hand at crime fiction. I wrote some 2700 words and I dint even touch the C of crime. Damn. Read on anyway and please share your feedback. Comment or email.
It began like any other day in the office for Prakash Mohile. As the chief inspector with the crime prevention bureau of Mumbai Police, his job was a tough one. For a city that more than two crore people call home, Mumbai had a very small police force of just about 41000 employees, divided into 89 stations. And with all the VIPs, film stars and industrialists that demanded constant protection from threats legit and otherwise, the force was always understaffed and overworked.
Amongst all the odd jobs that Prakash was responsible for, he was also in charge of protection net for those famous film stars. On the outside he came across as a no nonsense policeman with an impeccable service record and a clean image. He was even friendly with a few reporters on the crime beat with major newspapers. Like most mornings, today he was leafing through case files from the previous evening, hearing out the mercy pleas of kin of miscellaneous men arrested yesterday and barking instructions at his juniors. All at the same time. And not for a minute he stopped staring at Renu Sharma, the photo journalist with a nameless international publication. Renu was doing a photo essay on Mumbai police and though Mohile did not appreciate anyone interfering with the way he worked, Renu had been put in the station by the city Mayor and Mohile could not do a thing about it. Of course it helped that Renu was good looking, intelligent to talk to and obviously interested in more than merely professional relationship with Mohile.
Most cases today were as drab as they were on any other day. Same set of extortion calls, thefts, road accidents, celebrity altercations, union troubles. By the time officers spend five or so years in the police service, they become indifferent to all the miseries around them. Not Prakash. He had been in service for more than 10 years, or 10 years, 4 months and 3 days, as he liked to remind his staff every day. Every day while allocating casing to his subordinates, he would ponder on the meaning of life and unnecessary grief caused by these crimes. No surprises that he was most sympathetic to the issues of poor and helpless. And most indifferent to miseries of the rich. And as a result, he would allocate the cases of the fanciest film star to the worst of his team.
And it came as a surprise to everyone today when he kept a very high profile case for himself. Even Renu took note of it, now that she has been shadowing Prakash for well over a week now and was aware of his decisions. No body had the balls to question him, he was very clear in his head when he decided something. But then Renu did not subscribe to either fear or respect for Prakash. She was anyway known to be a loud mouth.
"So, Inspector Saab, finally you found a case worthy of your time? You are also going to chase lime light now with this stupid case of what looks like a petty theft at Nidhi Kapoor's house?", taunted Renu, while stuffing her things in her bag. She knew that once Prakash does the allocation, he wants every officer on the field.
Prakash just looked up at Renu, gave her his trademark smirk and went back to his files. That smirk, had as infamous reputation as any goon could have. Prakash used when he knew he was right and the other person dead wrong. For different people it meant different things. For suspects and criminals, it meant that Prakash has called their bluff and they were now in the bad books of Prakash. Forever. For his subordinates, it meant that they hadn't done their homework and were caught with their hands in the cookie jar. For people who did not know Prakash, it just came across as a silly smile of a tall, lanky balding old man. For Renu, however, it merely meant that Prakash was amused at the apparently smart comment by her.
Renu knew of the smirk. She could not tolerate her being dismissed like that. She egged on, "I know you like Nidhi Kapoor. Weren't you a part of her security detail when the premier of her last film was screened for the CM? There were quite a few pictures of you, her and the CM in all the newspapers. You do seem to have a soft corner for her".
"Stop wasting your time. If you want to come along, you better hurry up". Prakash said, while rushing out of the station. Renu had to almost run to reach the gates of the police station and grab a seat in Prakash's jeep. That's another thing. Prakash drove his jeep by himself. The driver was merely a watchdog and usher for the jeep; Prakash would park the jeep wherever he felt like, irrespective of the time of the day or the traffic in the city.
On the way, while they were crossing the Juhu Beach, Renu said, "Prakash Sir, we must come here sometime in the evening. I've heard the Pao Bhaji is to die for". The constables and the driver giggled softly at the overt display of affection. Prakash stared hard at them. His stare was enough to put the fear of God in anyone's head. All three of them shut their mouths in less than a second. Renu was quite amused with the scene and started looking at people milling around on the beach. She wondered why would someone come to a beach at 11 in the morning? Dint they have better things to do? Were they jobless. And then her thoughts drifted towards Prakash and the last week that she had spent with him. She knew she was craving for Prakash and despite him knowing it, he remains illusive.
The jeep came to a halt all of a sudden and Renu was almost thrown out of the jeep, if only Prakash hadn't caught her. She did not know how to react. She was still shocked from the sudden break and yet she could feel the strong grip of Prakash on her arms. "Next time, you better sit in the back. These jeeps are not your luxury cars that you girls now a days are used to", said Prakash while getting down from the jeep. The constables had alighted by then and were already walking towards the front door of Nidhi Kapoor's house.
The access to house wasn't easy really. It was a Sunday and on each Sunday, precisely at noon, she would step outside on the balcony of her mansion and wave at her fans for exactly 2 minutes. And for some reason, the number of fans eager to get a glimpse of her, in flesh and blood, only went up every week. Today as well, the road opposite her house was jammed with bumper to bumper traffic and huge crowd that had gathered for the weekly sighting of Nidhi Kapoor. Renu had done a story on this phenomenon few weeks back and had captured pictures of residences of Kapoors, Khans and other acting clans. But for some reason, Renu felt that today there was this unrest in the crowd and rather than a bobbling mass of energy that these crowds normally are, today it was cold and distant. By this time Prakash had stopped the jeep in the middle of road and was scampering towards Nidhi Kapoor's house with his team. Renu ignored her thoughts and tried to keep pace with Prakash and his team.
Prakash was trying to wade through the crowd towards Nidhi Kapoor's house and when he heard his head constable and closet confidant in his team, Praveen Tambe, mutter, "I wish even I had these many people standing outside my house for my darshan. These film stars must be bribing God to give them such wonderful lives". Prakash turned to him and said, "Wait till we get back to station. I would hang you upside down, naked, in front of the station. Then you'd definitely get some audience". Praveen blushed for a moment and he stopped in his tracks for a minute. Only to be pushed around by crowd around him. Prakash said,"Move it bhai, we dont have all day. This case was sent to us by the commissioner's office". And he rushed towards the gate, with Tambe, Nidhi and another constable in the tow.
The guards on duty today were more alert than ever. Normally they would be sprawled on their chairs, under an umbrella and would be sipping on to their teas. Today they were alert and had made a security ring outside the main door. They even had their guns, which normally were out of sight, in full display. When they saw these four run toward the house, they got tense for a minute. But when they recognized Prakash and Praveen and heaved a sigh of relief. They tried to stop Renu but Praveen signaled that she was with them. The door opened just enough to let them through and then it closed behind them, faster and tighter than ever.
And suddenly, from the commotion on the street outside, they were in an expansive and yet well-maintained lawn. It was quiet and serene inside. It was as if they were teleported to a different place, a different time. Prakash looked up at the noise reduction barriers installed on top of the wall that made the periphery of the large house. Praveen followed Prakash's gaze and understood what Prakash was thinking. In the lawn, a middle aged man was was pacing frantically around the chairs placed bang in the middle of the lawn. When he saw Prakash and his entourage, he ran towards them.
"Hello Inspector... Mohile", said Naveen Kapoor, eyeing Prakash's name badge. Naveen Kapoor continued, "I am Naveen Kapoor. Nidhi's uncle and her manager. I spoke to Commissioner Sharma in the morning only. Thank you so much for coming at this short notice. Sharma saab could not come? I was expecting him, you know."
"Mr. Kapoor. Sharma saab may not have time to chase wide geese like this. He had instructed me to visit you personally and here I am. Otherwise even I have other pressing matters to worry about. Can I please meet Ms. Nidhi now?" Prakash was clearly offended by Kapoor's demand to see the police commissioner and he cut the long monologue that Naveen had launched himself into.
"How dare you talk to...And who is she? And I clearly told Sharma saab, no photographers". Kapoor pointed at Renu and her camera.
Prakash said, "I know what you asked him. She is with us and she will be present while I am here. I can assure you that she will not click any pictures but she will stay. If you like it, we can stay and meet Ms. Nidhi. If not, we can go back to the station and wait for Mr. Sharma to get free and come and see you".
"I dont believe... Ok. She is in her room. Lets go there", Naveen started to argue but then thought better of it. He rushed towards the house.
The house was an impressive structure, shaped like a Pantheon. And thus it was tough to guess the number of floors. But the elevation looked like as if it was a three story structure. Prakash, Praveen and Renu started following Naveen Kapoor. Prakash nodded at the third policeman and indicated him to guard the main entrance. The policeman went off towards the main gate to the house.
"Who else lives in this house Mr. Kapoor?", asked Prakash.
"Here? Nidhi, her mother, her assistant, a couple of servants. That's about it. I live in a building in the next lane. I come and go as and when Nidhi or Nilima, my sister and Nidhi's mother need me.", replied Kapoor.
Prakash stared at his back and continued, "What about all those guards on duty at the main gate? Where do they live?"
"Oh, those, they dont live here. We've hired a security agency and four guards work here on 6 hour shifts each. So total of 24 guards. There is a room for security guards towards the end of the lawn. They use that room for wash and change", Kapoor said, pointing a finger at a small room on the far end of the house. From that room, someone with an intent and powerful set of equipment could keep an eye on the house and the entrance, without getting noticed.
Prakash whistled and said to no one in particular, "24 guards? For one woman? And when shes not even at the home most of the times? Why are we wasting our time here Tambe?". Tambe knew that he was not supposed to react. This was how Prakash worked.
Kapoor, as if he did not hear Prakash, continued. "Nidhi is the biggest superstar in the Indian film industry. Her last 3 movies have gone on to make more than 100 crores each on the box office. We have to be very cautious. Even the guards are not allowed inside the house. And the house has a biometric access system".
Kapoor put his thumb on an electronic scan pad, entered a string of numbers of the pad and opened the door for the group. He said, "please come in".
Renu all this while was seeping in the scenery around her. Nidhi Kapoor was obviously rich and had a fine taste. The house had been done nicely. The reception hall, or the drawing room, was rather large for Mumbai standards, with a nice chandelier hanging from the ceiling. She frowned at it. She thought chandeliers were a thing of past and nobody used them anymore. She hated it when she was proved wrong. Each wall had a certain character to it. Each wall told a different story. The one of the left was full of photos of Nidhi Kapoor, framed in wooden photoframes in all size. It was like a rectangular mesh of wood with pictures of Nidhi Kapoor stuck in the mesh. The one on right probably was where Nidhi Kapoor showcased art and pictures from famous artist friends. It also had life size posters of old movies, from the time when posters were actually sketched and coloured by hands. Renu wanted to steal that Sholay poster. She made a mental note of it.
There was a sofa set underneath the chandelier that could seat a mini procession and yet leave room for more people to sit on. The tables behind the sofa set, had curios, apparently gathered from all parts of the world. The whole place had a sense of symmetry to it. Like someone had used a ruler to put it all together with great care. While she was wondering about the meticulous brain that had designed the hall, she realized that she was left alone in the hall. She saw the back of Tambe dissappeaing behind an open door on the left. She scampered towards that door and yelled out loud, "wait for me!".
She rushed in the room and immediately stepped onto something sticky on the floor. And she froze at her place. Her eyes opened up wide with amazement. Or was it horror. Or may be shock. She could not pinpoint what emotion was at play and had left her stunned with her jaws hanging open. She could feel all the energy drain out of her system. Her head began to throb and she could imagine a lump, size of a cricket ball, beneath her scalp, aching to burst out of her head. With great difficult, she took a step back and grabbed the door to help herself from falling like a heap of potatoes.
Renu was not weak hearted at all. She had seen her share of gory crime scenes as a criminal photo journalist and she had earned the reputation for having guts of steel. Crime scenes that made the most experienced of policemen empty their guts out on the sides, she worked those as if she was strolling in a park. But she was not really prepared for, what was unfolding in front of her eyes. In what looked like the office of the famous actress, Nidhi Kapoor.
To be continued...
Others parts
Part 2, Part 3
As part of 1000WADv2, I am trying my hand at crime fiction. I wrote some 2700 words and I dint even touch the C of crime. Damn. Read on anyway and please share your feedback. Comment or email.
It began like any other day in the office for Prakash Mohile. As the chief inspector with the crime prevention bureau of Mumbai Police, his job was a tough one. For a city that more than two crore people call home, Mumbai had a very small police force of just about 41000 employees, divided into 89 stations. And with all the VIPs, film stars and industrialists that demanded constant protection from threats legit and otherwise, the force was always understaffed and overworked.
Amongst all the odd jobs that Prakash was responsible for, he was also in charge of protection net for those famous film stars. On the outside he came across as a no nonsense policeman with an impeccable service record and a clean image. He was even friendly with a few reporters on the crime beat with major newspapers. Like most mornings, today he was leafing through case files from the previous evening, hearing out the mercy pleas of kin of miscellaneous men arrested yesterday and barking instructions at his juniors. All at the same time. And not for a minute he stopped staring at Renu Sharma, the photo journalist with a nameless international publication. Renu was doing a photo essay on Mumbai police and though Mohile did not appreciate anyone interfering with the way he worked, Renu had been put in the station by the city Mayor and Mohile could not do a thing about it. Of course it helped that Renu was good looking, intelligent to talk to and obviously interested in more than merely professional relationship with Mohile.
Most cases today were as drab as they were on any other day. Same set of extortion calls, thefts, road accidents, celebrity altercations, union troubles. By the time officers spend five or so years in the police service, they become indifferent to all the miseries around them. Not Prakash. He had been in service for more than 10 years, or 10 years, 4 months and 3 days, as he liked to remind his staff every day. Every day while allocating casing to his subordinates, he would ponder on the meaning of life and unnecessary grief caused by these crimes. No surprises that he was most sympathetic to the issues of poor and helpless. And most indifferent to miseries of the rich. And as a result, he would allocate the cases of the fanciest film star to the worst of his team.
And it came as a surprise to everyone today when he kept a very high profile case for himself. Even Renu took note of it, now that she has been shadowing Prakash for well over a week now and was aware of his decisions. No body had the balls to question him, he was very clear in his head when he decided something. But then Renu did not subscribe to either fear or respect for Prakash. She was anyway known to be a loud mouth.
"So, Inspector Saab, finally you found a case worthy of your time? You are also going to chase lime light now with this stupid case of what looks like a petty theft at Nidhi Kapoor's house?", taunted Renu, while stuffing her things in her bag. She knew that once Prakash does the allocation, he wants every officer on the field.
Prakash just looked up at Renu, gave her his trademark smirk and went back to his files. That smirk, had as infamous reputation as any goon could have. Prakash used when he knew he was right and the other person dead wrong. For different people it meant different things. For suspects and criminals, it meant that Prakash has called their bluff and they were now in the bad books of Prakash. Forever. For his subordinates, it meant that they hadn't done their homework and were caught with their hands in the cookie jar. For people who did not know Prakash, it just came across as a silly smile of a tall, lanky balding old man. For Renu, however, it merely meant that Prakash was amused at the apparently smart comment by her.
Renu knew of the smirk. She could not tolerate her being dismissed like that. She egged on, "I know you like Nidhi Kapoor. Weren't you a part of her security detail when the premier of her last film was screened for the CM? There were quite a few pictures of you, her and the CM in all the newspapers. You do seem to have a soft corner for her".
"Stop wasting your time. If you want to come along, you better hurry up". Prakash said, while rushing out of the station. Renu had to almost run to reach the gates of the police station and grab a seat in Prakash's jeep. That's another thing. Prakash drove his jeep by himself. The driver was merely a watchdog and usher for the jeep; Prakash would park the jeep wherever he felt like, irrespective of the time of the day or the traffic in the city.
On the way, while they were crossing the Juhu Beach, Renu said, "Prakash Sir, we must come here sometime in the evening. I've heard the Pao Bhaji is to die for". The constables and the driver giggled softly at the overt display of affection. Prakash stared hard at them. His stare was enough to put the fear of God in anyone's head. All three of them shut their mouths in less than a second. Renu was quite amused with the scene and started looking at people milling around on the beach. She wondered why would someone come to a beach at 11 in the morning? Dint they have better things to do? Were they jobless. And then her thoughts drifted towards Prakash and the last week that she had spent with him. She knew she was craving for Prakash and despite him knowing it, he remains illusive.
The jeep came to a halt all of a sudden and Renu was almost thrown out of the jeep, if only Prakash hadn't caught her. She did not know how to react. She was still shocked from the sudden break and yet she could feel the strong grip of Prakash on her arms. "Next time, you better sit in the back. These jeeps are not your luxury cars that you girls now a days are used to", said Prakash while getting down from the jeep. The constables had alighted by then and were already walking towards the front door of Nidhi Kapoor's house.
The access to house wasn't easy really. It was a Sunday and on each Sunday, precisely at noon, she would step outside on the balcony of her mansion and wave at her fans for exactly 2 minutes. And for some reason, the number of fans eager to get a glimpse of her, in flesh and blood, only went up every week. Today as well, the road opposite her house was jammed with bumper to bumper traffic and huge crowd that had gathered for the weekly sighting of Nidhi Kapoor. Renu had done a story on this phenomenon few weeks back and had captured pictures of residences of Kapoors, Khans and other acting clans. But for some reason, Renu felt that today there was this unrest in the crowd and rather than a bobbling mass of energy that these crowds normally are, today it was cold and distant. By this time Prakash had stopped the jeep in the middle of road and was scampering towards Nidhi Kapoor's house with his team. Renu ignored her thoughts and tried to keep pace with Prakash and his team.
Prakash was trying to wade through the crowd towards Nidhi Kapoor's house and when he heard his head constable and closet confidant in his team, Praveen Tambe, mutter, "I wish even I had these many people standing outside my house for my darshan. These film stars must be bribing God to give them such wonderful lives". Prakash turned to him and said, "Wait till we get back to station. I would hang you upside down, naked, in front of the station. Then you'd definitely get some audience". Praveen blushed for a moment and he stopped in his tracks for a minute. Only to be pushed around by crowd around him. Prakash said,"Move it bhai, we dont have all day. This case was sent to us by the commissioner's office". And he rushed towards the gate, with Tambe, Nidhi and another constable in the tow.
The guards on duty today were more alert than ever. Normally they would be sprawled on their chairs, under an umbrella and would be sipping on to their teas. Today they were alert and had made a security ring outside the main door. They even had their guns, which normally were out of sight, in full display. When they saw these four run toward the house, they got tense for a minute. But when they recognized Prakash and Praveen and heaved a sigh of relief. They tried to stop Renu but Praveen signaled that she was with them. The door opened just enough to let them through and then it closed behind them, faster and tighter than ever.
And suddenly, from the commotion on the street outside, they were in an expansive and yet well-maintained lawn. It was quiet and serene inside. It was as if they were teleported to a different place, a different time. Prakash looked up at the noise reduction barriers installed on top of the wall that made the periphery of the large house. Praveen followed Prakash's gaze and understood what Prakash was thinking. In the lawn, a middle aged man was was pacing frantically around the chairs placed bang in the middle of the lawn. When he saw Prakash and his entourage, he ran towards them.
"Hello Inspector... Mohile", said Naveen Kapoor, eyeing Prakash's name badge. Naveen Kapoor continued, "I am Naveen Kapoor. Nidhi's uncle and her manager. I spoke to Commissioner Sharma in the morning only. Thank you so much for coming at this short notice. Sharma saab could not come? I was expecting him, you know."
"Mr. Kapoor. Sharma saab may not have time to chase wide geese like this. He had instructed me to visit you personally and here I am. Otherwise even I have other pressing matters to worry about. Can I please meet Ms. Nidhi now?" Prakash was clearly offended by Kapoor's demand to see the police commissioner and he cut the long monologue that Naveen had launched himself into.
"How dare you talk to...And who is she? And I clearly told Sharma saab, no photographers". Kapoor pointed at Renu and her camera.
Prakash said, "I know what you asked him. She is with us and she will be present while I am here. I can assure you that she will not click any pictures but she will stay. If you like it, we can stay and meet Ms. Nidhi. If not, we can go back to the station and wait for Mr. Sharma to get free and come and see you".
"I dont believe... Ok. She is in her room. Lets go there", Naveen started to argue but then thought better of it. He rushed towards the house.
The house was an impressive structure, shaped like a Pantheon. And thus it was tough to guess the number of floors. But the elevation looked like as if it was a three story structure. Prakash, Praveen and Renu started following Naveen Kapoor. Prakash nodded at the third policeman and indicated him to guard the main entrance. The policeman went off towards the main gate to the house.
"Who else lives in this house Mr. Kapoor?", asked Prakash.
"Here? Nidhi, her mother, her assistant, a couple of servants. That's about it. I live in a building in the next lane. I come and go as and when Nidhi or Nilima, my sister and Nidhi's mother need me.", replied Kapoor.
Prakash stared at his back and continued, "What about all those guards on duty at the main gate? Where do they live?"
"Oh, those, they dont live here. We've hired a security agency and four guards work here on 6 hour shifts each. So total of 24 guards. There is a room for security guards towards the end of the lawn. They use that room for wash and change", Kapoor said, pointing a finger at a small room on the far end of the house. From that room, someone with an intent and powerful set of equipment could keep an eye on the house and the entrance, without getting noticed.
Prakash whistled and said to no one in particular, "24 guards? For one woman? And when shes not even at the home most of the times? Why are we wasting our time here Tambe?". Tambe knew that he was not supposed to react. This was how Prakash worked.
Kapoor, as if he did not hear Prakash, continued. "Nidhi is the biggest superstar in the Indian film industry. Her last 3 movies have gone on to make more than 100 crores each on the box office. We have to be very cautious. Even the guards are not allowed inside the house. And the house has a biometric access system".
Kapoor put his thumb on an electronic scan pad, entered a string of numbers of the pad and opened the door for the group. He said, "please come in".
Renu all this while was seeping in the scenery around her. Nidhi Kapoor was obviously rich and had a fine taste. The house had been done nicely. The reception hall, or the drawing room, was rather large for Mumbai standards, with a nice chandelier hanging from the ceiling. She frowned at it. She thought chandeliers were a thing of past and nobody used them anymore. She hated it when she was proved wrong. Each wall had a certain character to it. Each wall told a different story. The one of the left was full of photos of Nidhi Kapoor, framed in wooden photoframes in all size. It was like a rectangular mesh of wood with pictures of Nidhi Kapoor stuck in the mesh. The one on right probably was where Nidhi Kapoor showcased art and pictures from famous artist friends. It also had life size posters of old movies, from the time when posters were actually sketched and coloured by hands. Renu wanted to steal that Sholay poster. She made a mental note of it.
There was a sofa set underneath the chandelier that could seat a mini procession and yet leave room for more people to sit on. The tables behind the sofa set, had curios, apparently gathered from all parts of the world. The whole place had a sense of symmetry to it. Like someone had used a ruler to put it all together with great care. While she was wondering about the meticulous brain that had designed the hall, she realized that she was left alone in the hall. She saw the back of Tambe dissappeaing behind an open door on the left. She scampered towards that door and yelled out loud, "wait for me!".
She rushed in the room and immediately stepped onto something sticky on the floor. And she froze at her place. Her eyes opened up wide with amazement. Or was it horror. Or may be shock. She could not pinpoint what emotion was at play and had left her stunned with her jaws hanging open. She could feel all the energy drain out of her system. Her head began to throb and she could imagine a lump, size of a cricket ball, beneath her scalp, aching to burst out of her head. With great difficult, she took a step back and grabbed the door to help herself from falling like a heap of potatoes.
Renu was not weak hearted at all. She had seen her share of gory crime scenes as a criminal photo journalist and she had earned the reputation for having guts of steel. Crime scenes that made the most experienced of policemen empty their guts out on the sides, she worked those as if she was strolling in a park. But she was not really prepared for, what was unfolding in front of her eyes. In what looked like the office of the famous actress, Nidhi Kapoor.
Others parts
Part 2, Part 3
May 24, 2013 - 1000 Words a Day v2
Today is day 5 of the 1000 words in a day, edition 2. And so far I havent missed a single day. Early goings though. Today I have a few decisions to make. While I was writing this post yesterday, I was done with the text in about 800 odd words. I had to stretch the post by some words. Thankfully I could manage with that disclaimer at the bottom but I know that I am not being true to the cause. The idea is not write 1000 random words (like those infinite monkeys) but to work on the craft.
So there are three options really.
A is that I write a post everyday and close it in as many words as required to do justice to the post. So it could take 50 words, 100 words, 500, 1000, 1500, 5000. Whatever. Knowing myself this means that I can find a backdoor when I want to be lazy. I would write 100 words and get away with it. And then use the 100 word post as an excuse that I did the job. Do I want this shortcut? No I dont.
B is that I publish 1000 words, even if it takes more than one post. So each post could be less than 1000 but collectively I publish those 1000 words. That means I give due justice to each post and then if required write more than one posts. Nothing wrong with it but my experience tells me that the one on top is the only one that gets read. The others below is, are ignored. And this means that the rest of the posts that I write on a certain day get a step-brotherly children. But then anyway most of the people that read my blog, do not look for a specific post. So this can work out. And this is a good way to hone the writing skills. I can say whatever I want to say in as less words and as many words. And write about more than one thing.
C is to ensure that I write posts that requires 1000 words or more to write. This means that a lot of things that I want to talk about get sifted out automatically. This includes things like random observations and other things get excluded from my posts.
Wait, may be I can club A and C. I will ensure that I write a 1000 word thing everyday and if there is something special that makes me want to write about it, I can write it in whatever number of words required to finish it. So there could be multiple posts each day!
What do you think? I will ponder over this for some days and then decide. For the time being, I think I would go with B. I would write a total of 1000 words, even if it spawns more than one post.
So there are three options really.
A is that I write a post everyday and close it in as many words as required to do justice to the post. So it could take 50 words, 100 words, 500, 1000, 1500, 5000. Whatever. Knowing myself this means that I can find a backdoor when I want to be lazy. I would write 100 words and get away with it. And then use the 100 word post as an excuse that I did the job. Do I want this shortcut? No I dont.
B is that I publish 1000 words, even if it takes more than one post. So each post could be less than 1000 but collectively I publish those 1000 words. That means I give due justice to each post and then if required write more than one posts. Nothing wrong with it but my experience tells me that the one on top is the only one that gets read. The others below is, are ignored. And this means that the rest of the posts that I write on a certain day get a step-brotherly children. But then anyway most of the people that read my blog, do not look for a specific post. So this can work out. And this is a good way to hone the writing skills. I can say whatever I want to say in as less words and as many words. And write about more than one thing.
C is to ensure that I write posts that requires 1000 words or more to write. This means that a lot of things that I want to talk about get sifted out automatically. This includes things like random observations and other things get excluded from my posts.
Wait, may be I can club A and C. I will ensure that I write a 1000 word thing everyday and if there is something special that makes me want to write about it, I can write it in whatever number of words required to finish it. So there could be multiple posts each day!
What do you think? I will ponder over this for some days and then decide. For the time being, I think I would go with B. I would write a total of 1000 words, even if it spawns more than one post.
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