Author: SG

Thank you, Harshit

I started a new project yesterday. Each day, I plan to write a post acknowledging people that have helped me become who I am. This idea has been inspired by Shatrujeet‘s series, a100peopletothank. This is post 2 in the series. My series has the tag #sg100peopleToThank.

Thank you, Harshit. 
I first met Harshit (Instagram) some 3-4 years ago (I don’t recall how we connected but I do remember it was about a startup he was planning) at Starbucks, Powai (where else?). When we met, I am not sure if I were impressed by him but I did realise that he has this, unbound, ambition. I do remember that I tried to poach him. But he did not fall into my glibness and he said no. 
We lost touch for a while and then out of the blues, he asked me to meet him. 
Of course, I never say no to meeting new people (as long as meet me in a 3 KM radius of where I live). He volunteered to come to the office and we sat and talked and talked. Yet again, I did not think much of him. 
Among other things, in this meeting, he talked to me about his admiration for Shahrukh Khan. And anyone that loves SRK is automatically a blood relative! Harshit went so far as to narrate word-to-word SRK’s now famous speech (video, text) where he equates poverty with failure. SRK said, “I equated poverty with failure. I just didn’t want to be poor.” I take inspiration from this piece. And so does Harshit! And we could’ve left that meeting on this shared fandom obsession for SRK, but no.
While parting, Harshit asked me about things that I needed help on. I told him that I needed someone to do tech for an idea I was working on at the time and I needed someone to help me with growing business at C4E. 
And without expecting anything in return, he connected me to Abhinav (who has now become a close collaborator on most projects). And he helped me meet a few potential clients (I could not convert any – not his problem).
As things moved along, we started meeting frequently and I realised that he is one heck of a conversationalist! To a point that I started sharing my deepest secrets with him. And instead of making fun of me or something, he started to offer help. He started to badger me to do more. And like a great pupil, I would continue to ignore. He became this persistent voice at the back of my head that would not leave me alone if I did not deliver! 
Then one day he called and said that he wants to throw me (and some others) a challenge to do 100 pushups over the next 30 days. I said I can’t do anything to do with fitness and I volunteered that I’d rather write 1000 words a day. He agreed and asked me to write a 1000 words and post them on a public forum.
Even though I accepted the challenge, I kept dilly-dallying. And he did not stop her badgering and pushing me. I hated him from the bottom of my heart. And I felt miserable about not being able to work. Here is one snippet from my notes about a meeting with him… 
This is from my notes. I started writing the SoG series from the 27th of Oct, right after this note! Guess I’ve had enough of Harshit and Krishna chasing me!
Eventually, I gave in and I started to write a 1000 words a day. Those words took shape of Shoulders of Giants (#SoG), a series of letters to select friends where I would share whatever I learnt in the day gone by. 
I sent the first letter on the 27th of Oct 2018 (a copy is located here). Since then I have written a few (archived here). Oh, I can’t write about SoG and not write about Krishna. While Harshit gave me the push, it was Krishna that helped me give shape to the thoughts and idea behind the letters. More on these some other time. 
As I end this, I HAVE to say that the thing that I relate most to him, and what I’ve learnt from him, and what I respect him for is perseverance. He has this maaaaad perseverance of an obsessive, maniacal person. If he sets his eyes onto something, he gets it. Case in point? His Crossfit training. Since he moved to Lucknow, he is doing whatever it takes to become super fit and compete in the Crossfit games. He wakes up before 4:30 (which is inhuman), goes to the gym and sends one inspiring quote EVERY day! Every day! An archive is on his Instagram feed. That’s some consistency and commitment. If I had that kind of commitment, I would reach my lifeGoals faster and sooner!
Oh, and Harshit is a clear example of a connection that I would’ve never made if I did not go out of my way and told the Universe that I wanted to meet more people. And it wouldn’t happen if Harshit wasn’t the same! Apart from being a friend, Harshit is superconnector (has connected me to some really interesting people) and a believer in me. 
Lesson for me? And others? Go out, meet more people. And while you are at it, see this TED talk that talks about what makes a good life. Like they say, it helps to hustle 🙂 
In the end, thank you, Harshit. For inspiring me to push myself harder. And specifically for nudging me to create SoG. I sincerely wish you were in Mumbai. I would’ve loved to spend more time with him. Maybe sometime in future. I remain hopeful 🙂
Others posts in this series: April 1

Thank you, Shatrujeet!

I am starting a new project today. Each day, for the next 100 days, I will write a post acknowledging people that have helped me become who I am. I got inspired by Shatrujeet‘s series, a100peopletothank. 

So, the first one is, N Shatrujeet! Who else?

I first met Shatru (I call him that) when I was at Creativeland (CLA). This is 2008 or 9. Don’t remember the exact year. While I was part of the planning function, he was there to develop some original content for some division at CLA (I don’t recall the specifics). My interactions with him were limited, but for some reason, I knew that he is among the more interesting ones there. I had this instant liking for him. Or maybe because he was the only other person in the office that was not fancy?

So at work, while we kept to our respective teams and reporting managers (he sat at a different area, I had my things to work on), we would often hang out together. Often, not frequent.

Mid of 2009, I moved on from CLA. So did he (dunno when).

Years later when I was with Gravity, Shatru had partnered with Gaurrav Dhar (who was also at CLA briefly, though my interactions were very limited) to work on some content ideas. For one of the projects, he needed someone with expertise in event management. He got in touch with me and we did work on some really interesting ideas.

Apart from what we were working on, this was the time when I think Shatru was writing The Karachi Deception (writing, not published mind you). And this was the first time ever when I realised what writing a book could entail. He would often talk about the progress on the story and the challenges he was facing with it. I even got to read a preview copy (my claim to fame till date)!

Those interactions with Shatru probably watered the seed that was planted in my head since I was a kid! If #tnks has happened, it is because I was fortunate to have spent time with Shatru.

So, thank you, Shatru. For all that you’ve taught me while we were working together. And now, as life has become increasingly busy for both you and me, from a distance. Case in point? I read that you’ve now reached a point where you can do a plank for 5 minutes. Which is tough but manageable with time, grit, patience and practise.

But you know what is tougher? Quitting smoking! You’ve quit smoking. Shatru, it’s the biggest change you’ve made. Biggest and tallest than them Sequoia trees! You loved your smokes so much that even now I can’t picture you without one. I mean I do NOT have a single memory of you where you aren’t holding onto a cigarette. You loved them like I love the tap-tap that the keyboard makes when I am writing something. And yet you quit. And I am so so proud and stoked. And I am inspired.

Shatru, if you can quit smoking and do those planks, I can too.

Inspired by you (and others), this April onwards, I will make my health my priority. I will stop with the Coke. And I will carry my protein shakes and almonds and others. I will not put anything in my system that fucks with it. Really. As I write this, it’s almost the end of the but. But you’d be glad to know, I started today!

In the end, Thank you, Shatru! For teaching me how to tell great stories. And for inspiring me to become better with each passing day. You are a mentor, a guru and on top of everything else, a friend, Shatru.

Good luck with Vikram and all other adventures you concoct.

By Mar 31, 2020…

Sometime in 2018, I read a story about Jim Carrey (the actor) where he wrote himself a 10 million dollar cheque and gave himself 3 years to get to it. He then kept that in his wallet and every night, night after night, he would drive up to a fancy neighbourhood and visualise that he lived there. And yes, you guessed it, lo and behold, he did reach the 10 mil mark before that time expired! 

See him talk about it on the Oprah show here.

Of course, I take these things literally. And I believe in these. And thus, I wrote on an index card that by the end of the financial year 2018-19, I will be a dollar millionaire. And I kept that in my wallet. Here. See…
Also on Instagram here.
And before you jump out of your seats, no, I am not a dollar millionaire. 
Today, the FY1819 has officially ended and I am worth a few thousand. Rupees, not dollars. Thousands, not lakhs, not millions. 
It’s a sort of anti-climax. I was supposed to be rich and affluent and wealthy and impactful and valuable and an enabler and all that. And here I am. Whining about how I did not make my mil. 
But then, like I know, this too shall pass. The feeling of being the biggest loser shall pass. 
And thanks to some insane music, it has passed already. As I write this, I am listening to Robaroo. Here. Go trip. When you’re done, listen to this. Meethi Boliyan. Among the most heart-warming pieces of art. 
And thanks to this, I have a new ambition. 
A new goal. 
That of 5 mil. By end of FY 2019-20. 
Yet again, I am gonna keep it in my wallet. Wish me luck 🙂 

#untitled – 28Mar19

This is an excerpt from #SoG130.

What is SoG? 
A series of letters that I write every day where I talk about ideas that can help us become better. Subscribe here. You would not regret. Promise.

Here goes… 

I did not send the letter yesterday. Even though I could. I had the time. I knew what I wanted to talk about. But I did not. In fact, not just the letter, last few days have been tough for almost everything. To a point that I am unable to write. And I am unable to even think. Or operate. I have no clue why. Maybe its all the heat in Mumbai? Or maybe its something else? Is it all the work on my plate that is keeping me occupied? Or because I am not working out? The worst part? I can’t seem to find time to workout! Oh, workout for me means a leisurely walk for 10 minutes. 

Also, I am not doing so well in my head. In the sense that thoughts are swirling and “flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup, they slither while they pass, they slip away across the universe. Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind, possessing and caressing.”

I am actually at that point where I am questioning if I want to write these. One part of me says I must – each letter is an opportunity to write and thus, an opportunity to read. Plus writing every day is one of those discipline things that I must have in life. This is the thread that could define my life. Heck, define me.

And then I read how Picasso lived for 33,403 days and has 26,075 published works (see this tweet and this post). And I realised that if I can’t write a letter a day, how am I going to get closer to my mission of inspiring a billion people? 

On top of it, I got this message from a stranger (on Twitter) that said that he would like to subscribe to my letters. I don’t know if it was a random act of kindness but it did make me smile. I know that these letters touch a chord and thus the resolve to write every day got stronger. Thank you, Mr. Shah. I hope you are reading this. 

Oh, and of course responses to this letter affect my writing. And my sanity. And of course people, things, incidents, circumstances and all that affect my sanity as well. There are a few things that I can control. And a lot that I cant. Writing is one. Feedback, readers, subscribers, unsubscribers, I cant.

So yeah, I am committed to writing these. Let’s see when the next jolt comes in. Do let me know if you would want me to write something specific. 

Thank you for reading and staying with me! Here’s to 1000 True Fans.

The Fitness Inspiration

Everyone I know around me is on the fitness bandwagon.

And why not. As societies and humans evolve and you rise up the Maslow’s pyramid, you look at things that you could do to make life better and simpler and more fulfilling. And to be able to able to do that, you ought to be in the prime of your health. Health is an enabler if nothing else.

I have been unwell past few days and the impact and the effect that it has had on how I work and on my productivity has been visible. Not just to me. But to the ones around me. My team, my employers and all that. And it’s not a great feeling. And I feel so helpless, so constrained that I don’t know what to do.

And the funny thing is that every day I meet someone that has sort of transformed their lives using fitness as a tool.

Exhibit A. The marketing God.
Yesterday I met this guy who is like a marketing genius. He loved his alcohol, still loves his smokes and had this super unhealthy lifestyle that most advertising professionals have. Last I saw him, he was a fit dude. You would call him anything but fat. Yesterday? He was a transformed man. There were cheekbones, veins popping out of his arms and legs, thin frame that could not hold even a medium sized tee. At first, I thought he was unwell. But then he told me that he’s off cigarettes, alcohol and any sort of oil for more than 6 months. And that has made all the difference.

He also said something interesting. He said that food used to be an ingredient required to keep us alive (like water and air). Just that over time marketers and the vain ones have made food into an experience. And of course, if YNH is to be believed, its food that domesticated us. Not us who tamed agriculture. It’s a powerful idea if you think about it. Thank God that I am not that sold into this entire experience thing. 

Exhibit B. Shatrujeet Nath – the popular author!
I haven’t met him in a while but his Facebook post told me that he can now do a plank for like 5 minutes. In the world of planking 5 minutes is like an eternity. Last time I tried a plank, I herniated my intestines. And Shatru is someone who loved his cigarettes and old monks. Oh, he’s off the smokes as well. It’s been a year now. Fuck! Mad! Respect!

Exhibit C. Someone who’s not fit.
There is this friend who just started on this super amazing, life-changing opportunity. And when I met him yesterday, instead of being ecstatic about things, he was unwell and miserable. Physically. Not in the head. And the reason was that he’s unhealthy. And not because he smokes or whatever. But he loves his food. And eats whatever moves. As long as it is vegetarian. And all the food that he eats gets accumulated and fucks with his systems.

Exhibit D. Saurabh Garg. Hello 🙂
If I am to get close to my life mission, I HAVE to live long. And not just live long, but be healthy. And I have so much inspiration around me. There are these Silicon Valley icons that I respect and want to emulate (Kevin, Larry, Sergey, Peter, Tim and others) and yet I can’t seem to get going with a fitness routine.

I have so many friends that I am surrounded by, that believe in fitness more than anything else. So much so that it is central to their existence. Abhinav, Amol, Ashima, Bhaargav, Harshit and others. You talk to them and all they can talk about is how it’s imperative to work on the health and nothing else. They get up early, do their workout, eat well, take supplements, sleep on time and all that.

I even have a few strangers that have been egging me to run with them. And yet I can’t do it.

I have so much motivation around me that I should just start running and never stop. You know, like Forrest. And yet, for some reason, I can’t seem to get a regular workout done. I have tried and failed to continue. I fucking need that zabardast toofan to get me out of my slumber!

Come on, Universe!

Feels like home!

As I write this, it’s 7:18 AM and I am at Starbucks Powai outlet. There is yellow lights, the smell of freshly crushed coffee, AC at 22 (I guess) and not another soul here. Except for the Baristas, of course. And for all that it’s worth, it feels like home. Really. More home than the place I live at. Or the place I lived at for years in Delhi. They were right when they said they would create the third place that people would keep coming back to. I keep coming back to it.

I don’t live close to this one anymore and thus I don’t really come here often. I go to a different one. And even though I am there literally every day, I still don’t call it home. This one, the one at Powai gives me that feeling that a home is supposed to – safety, warmth, belongingness and other such things. The funny bit is that this place is not very comfortable and is always crowded with rich kids and fancy people. I can’t stretch my legs. I can’t lie down. I can’t wear comfortable clothes. But despite all those things, this place, ladies and gents, feels like home.

Thanks for reading.


Oh, as I write this, the only thing swirling in my head is that I must hate my current place so much that I find comfort in a strange land and with strange people. May be. Any shrinks reading this? 

Sleepless.

The unthinkable happened yesterday.

I got a call from my landlord asking me to pay my rent that was overdue. No, the rent was not overdue because I could not pay. I have the money. But because there is a cash component in the rent that requires me to withdraw cash and send someone over to his office and deposit the same. Haha, cashless economy. And of course, I could not find someone to do that! Thus the snafu.

So the landlord called me and was curt when he spoke to me about it. I don’t blame him. If I were him, I would do the same. I would probably be rude as well. He wasn’t. Thank God for that.

This call is not the point. Neither is the fact that I am late.

The point is, I haven’t been able to sleep since then. Because I am rattled that I owe some money to someone and I haven’t paid them on time. Fuck these middle-class values that are so deeply ingrained in me.

I am so rattled that its 2 AM and despite the long, tiring day I had, I am unable to sleep. I had to get up and get this out of my head. I can’t seem to stop thinking about the call from my landlord! And no, I am not exaggerating! I just couldn’t sleep! And not that I am getting thrown out of my place anytime soon, the landlord is very kind. But this is unsettling af. To a point that I had to get up and dump my thoughts on the blog! Darn.

Thing is, all my life I have lived debt-free. The last big loan I took was for my MBA at MDI. And that was in 2006. Since then, the only money that I’ve ever owed to anyone has been either credit cards (which are great to give you some liquidity for a few days) or business loans (I still owe some a lot of money to a lot of people I’ve borrowed from, for work). In either case (cards, business loans), I understand my obligations. I know that there is an impending deadline and I know that I will pay the money back. Was the same with rent. But I know I missed the deadline. And that has set in motion a chain of events that I am not sure how to fix!

Fuck I have lost lakhs and lakhs on business ideas that I thought could work, people that I thought were sincere, cancelled hotel bookings, expensive gadgets that I don’t need and even on friends that I thought would pay me back when they could. And more. And yet, I’ve slept like a baby. I have not given money a second thought ever. Even when I had close to zero in my bank, I did not bother. I knew something would work out. It always does. Not this time.

You know, time and again I am reminded that my relationship with money is warped and I need to fix it. For multiple reasons.

  • A, I don’t understand money. At all. I thought that it was a mere tool to conduct exchange. But clearly, it is a lot more. 
  • B, I want a lot of it but I don’t know where to go get it. 
  • C, I know its not important (it is important but not worth obsessing over. Its just a tool) and yet a lot of my mindspace is occupied with it. 
  • D, I wont know what to do with it, if I had all the money in the world! 
  • E, I don’t even know the utility of money apart from buying comforts. I mean money to me means freedom – to do things as per your whims. And to say no to things that you would not want to do! What else is it? 
  • F, The kind of life I live (and plan to live), I am not sure if I would ever want to buy a house. And if I am not buying, and renting is the only option, how will I ever live with peace? Pay all the rent in advance? 
Of course, I am privileged to have access to enough money to live a fairly decent lifestyle, so what if it is in Ghatkopar – it is still a modern high-rise. I sincerely don’t know what would I do if I had to live like most other Indians do. I’d probably give up :(. The thought itself is scary. 
To a point that I have this renewed commitment to do whatever it takes (saam, daam, dand, bhed and more) to make all the money that I can. So that I don’t ever have to get a similar call from anyone. Ever. 
Oh, and one more thing. If I have to be that ruthless dude that can make the dent in the universe, how am I to survive if a simple phone call can rattle me so much?
Any ideas? answers? tips? 
–
Saurabh Garg
3:51 AM, 20 Mar 2019,
Mumbai.

#untitled – 17Mar19

There is nothing specific that I want to say. I write this because I have nothing else to do. I mean I do have a few million tasks to do a few thousand projects to work on and a few hundred conversations to make and a few billions to make. But right now, I am not sure if I want to work on any of those things. I do however want to not waste the time and consume something that just allows me to not get bored. Plus today is a special day. Plus there are so many thoughts in my head that need taming. Plus I am so restless that I need meditative things to be able to not lose sanity. I need music from Lucky Ali and Rabbi Shergill and Silk Route and the ilk. You know, the one that I grew up on? Or from Bob Dylan, if you will. If I were any different, I would get drunk. Or get high. Or get slow. Or whatever. Something that soothes me. Something that pats me on the back and tells me that all would be ok. And gives me that big bear hug that puts me at peace.

No no. I am not in need of medication or therapy or something. Alls well. Just that I need to be able to find ways to make enough to chase that I want to pursue.

Chalo, over and out and lemme go find out something that adds meaning. Meanwhile, see this.

A new writing project – Secret Diary of an Uber Driver

Lately, I have been using this app called Headspace to meditate and get sleep. While meditation is a guided “lesson” in one or more disciplines of life, sleep is where I listen to bedtime stories that have soothing voiceovers, ambient noises that humans like when they sleep and calming non-commital stories. You know how those old nannies would sing a lullaby? You know soft kitty, warm kitty? That!

So, one of the sleep stories on Headspace is a mid-night scene from a Laundromat. In that, its the story of a boring room where people come and wash their clothes. And while they wash, the machines make this rhythmic sounds that are sleep-inducing. I don’t know the science but they work! In the story, they talk about people and that’s when it hit me. What if I wrote a book, a collection of stories about people where they are at a certain place for a short time and reveal a small part of their lives. And that’s it!

Lets park this here. Call this A.

You’ve seen Forrest Gump? Essentially, the entire movie is in a flashback as Forrest sits on a bus stop and narrates various slices to various people. Let’s call this B. 

On my way back home yesterday, I was in an Uber and I had this long conversation with the driver on Punjabi music (see tweet). In that conversation, the driver told me about the kind of people that sit in his car. From a couple that the driver thought was faking it, to an old man that shed tears for some reason, to a student running late for her exam, to so many more. Each ride, he said, was a story! And while some may come across as commonplace stories, I am sure there would be many that would be worth telling. And worth listening. And worth spreading. This is C. 

Now, if I club A, B and C, what if I worked with the driver to write a series of short stories about the people that travel in these cabs? Each of these is inspired by the riders. Each of these has some element of truth. And then there is fiction. And the element of storytelling.

What do you think? Would you read? Would you share?

Oh, I call it the ‘Secret Diary of an Uber Driver’.

Lemme know!

PS: I know you may be thinking of privacy and all that. At no point, we would use any personally identifiable information when we write these stories. 


PPS: Why would I do this? As a writer, I need practise. And while the daily SoG and Book2 are happening, I need to flex the muscle. And this is a pretty interesting way. No? 

The Mosquito Net

It is 0651 and I am at a Starbucks outlet – the only one that opens 24×7, close to the airport. I am here because I could not sleep last night. And why is that? Because there were way too many mosquitoes at home and I did not have a repellant. While I dream of becoming an assassin that can survive the jungles and all that, I cant sleep in a room that has like 10 mosquitoes. Talk of a guarded life and all that. Salute to the ones that can tolerate the menace of the blood-sucking monsters. Literally. They take your blood away. And no, it is not cool how they do it. Bitches. 

The other reason could be this ongoing restless in my head. You know how everything is ok and yet you think someone is missing? That! 
I mean I have nothing to be alarmed about. Work is not really smooth but I have enough to live in comfort. Health is not the greatest but I am recovering. I am not making an impact but I think I am at this point where I am sort of beginning to accept that I may die an insignificant death. I am not an artist and I don’t have the luxury of time to be one. I regret that I wasted so much time while I was young. All those years that I spent chasing dreams for other people were meaningless. The opportunities that I am creating for people that work with me, I wish someone created those for me when I was younger. Ok, enough of a rant. 
The funny part is that I am unable to sleep even though I took R14. And I got this head massage last night (that is supposed to help me sleep better). Plus, I am on this non-stop trip to meditate and make my head denser (again, one of the side benefits is that it relaxes you). Plus I ensure that the room is cold enough. But then the mosquitoes did not get the memo I guess. And the demons in my head (if I may call them that) probably got the memo but decided to toss it in the bin. I am sure they would’ve missed the shot (after all they are in my head). 
The good part (of course there is a good part) is that I am at Starbucks. And that means I got some work done. For example, I wrote and sent #SoG100. I am writing this post. I will write a short note on #tnks that I can send to studios for adaptation into a film. Etc etc. 
You may ask, if you couldn’t sleep, you could’ve worked at home. Why waste money on travel and expensive, tasteless coffee? 
That’s the other thing. Despite all my attempts in all sincerity, I have come to realise that I can’t work at home. Last two days I have just wasted time on TV like a sloth and ate like a pig. 
I MUST spend as less time as I could at home. Before this bout of unwellness (lol), I actually was using my home to merely sleep. Life was following a routine and things would happen on autopilot. Life was that predictable that I was a sitting duck if someone wanted to kill me. But why would they? I am worth nothing. 
But thanks to this in and out trip to a life of routine, I now EXACTLY know what they mean when they say that routines set you free. I loved it when I knew that I will be at my desk at wework at 7 and will come back home and sleep once I am done with my work. I could pack in a lot more. I could get so much more done. I had my time to myself and everyone around me could slot their life per my whims. The ones that wanted to meet me, made an effort to fit in. The ones that I wanted to meet, I’d make an effort. Life was good. 
All was ok till I went to Goa and fell sick. Since then, I have been stuck with a bad bout of unwellness (lol x 2). Plus I was kinda busy with a project for the last 20 odd days. Now that it is over, I think I will get back to the routine. And will start focusing on the health. Starting today. Let’s see how it goes. Step 1 is to get back to a good diet. I will need a few days of detox to get back to good eating habits. I am trying to fast today. I know I can – I ate enough over the last 7 days to actually get a bulge in my belly! All I need is to have enough water. 
So yeah. That’s about it. 
January was a good start. 
February was when I got derailed. 
Maybe I will be back to grind in March.
Wish me luck. 
And until next time… 
As I end this, time is 0722. #randomStats

#Untitled – 21 Feb 2019

This is a short post. I am writing this as I take a break from the madness of an event setup. I dont do this normally but life hasnt been normal lately and now that its in this spiral, I better do all things that are typically not normal. Wow thats some gibberish. Anyhow. So I am at this event. This is among the largest events I do each year and the audience has atleast 100 people that are worth 100 crores. Each. Not kidding.

And each time I come here, I make a promise to myself that I will go back and do something that will make me as rich (as the attendees), if not more. And since I’ve been doing this (2016), I am yet to do it 🙁

Each time I do this, there is a bittersweet feeling.

Bittersweet because there is so much excitement at the prospect of doing an event. And then there is sadness that I am so so far from money that its as distant at the Everest.

Bittersweet because there is so much excitement about the a new show. Each event is a new show. Each show is new. And same. And yet different. And anxiety that you may not get to do this event next year!

Bittersweet because there is so much excitement about the things at stake while working on a project of this scale. And there is sadness that after this is over, that jolt that I need will go hanging for another year (assuming I get to do this event the next year).

Bittersweet because there is so much excitement because after each event you go back home with a new set of friends that in normal course of things, you’d never meet again. And there is this matter of chance that you’d bump into those people at some other juncture in life! And there is sadness that your regular tribe, your crew, your family, the people you are used to seeing next to you arent around when you are fucked with some crisis.

However a few things do get clear each time I do this. Chief of those is that I love this business like no other. The excitement of running a live show is unparalleled. If I ever choose to deviate from the mission that I am on with C4E, I will go and become a freelance event show director / producer. Really.

Talk of life goals, eh?

#Untitled – 17 Feb 2019

There is this ajeeb is sadness and I have no clue why. I wish I had a car that I could take to the hills. Or to the beach. Meet some strangers, get pally with them, talk of new things and not worry about the baggage that I am hiding in the boot of the car. I don’t know what’s the source of this sadness. Is it that I don’t have anyone to hang out with. Or is it my lack of tangible achievements that makes me sad? Or maybe the fact that I’ve been unwell for last so many days. Or maybe its trip of sad songs that I am on. Really. Sad songs make you sad. Happy songs make you happy. I mean look at Punjabis. All most of their music is happy and they ARE the happiest bunch around.

Or maybe because I haven’t written in the last few days. Or maybe because I faced this soul-crushing rejection a couple of days ago. Of course, rejection is not new to me – I have been rejected multiple times in the past for multiple things by multiple people and in multiple situations that were both controllable and uncontrollable. And yet when I play, I want to win. I don’t like to lose.

I am not sure which one it is. But one of these is at fault. Or maybe something is at fault that I can’t seem to put my finger to. And I don’t like it. No, not the sadness. Sadness is ok. That’s part and parcel of life. But the fact that I can’t put my finger to it 🙁

I am so sad that I don’t even know how to explain it to you.
If it were a colour, it would be what? Pale yellow?
If it were a song, it would be Tanhayee. Or maybe Kyon Main Jaagoon. Or that last scene and the sad riff from Kabhi Haa Kabhi Naa? You know that right?
If it were a cartoon character, it would be snoopy.
And if it were a piece of text, a poem, it would be this!

P.S.: You know the funny thing? On my daily letter (subscribe now), I wrote about how happiness is a great lifehack! Lol! Irony just turned in its grave.

P.P.S.: Wrote this yesterday but couldn’t get around to publishing it. I thought it was too depressing. Reviewed today and no, it’s not that sad or depressing.