Crib – 922

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.

Introducing #tumseNaHoPaaega

So, this is going to a long, whiny, cribby post where I am going to talk about work. Which, if you follow this blog, you would know that I hardly do (I crib often but I talk of work rarely). And now that I am gonna talk about it, I am going to pour my heart out. I will be a whiny old man and I will crib like I do it for a living. Also, I started writing this post yesterday, did not have it in me to end it then — got too depressing. And no, I dont need any consolation.

P.S.: This post is in three parts.

Part 1
Today, I lost this pitch that I knew I was going to win. Team and I had poured our hearts into it. We had worked hard. I even visualized how that would it look like when I am actually gonna go it, as they preached in The Secret. You know, if there is one thing that I was ever sure of, it was that I was going to win it! It was like a done deal.

Just that it dint happen.

Most times I am not the kinds to cry about the times I lose. This time, I cant stop the fucking tears (literal tears, it still doesn’t hurt enough I guess that I bleed my eyes out) The pitch was super important for a lot of reasons. To start with, it was the first time we actually had a shot at doing something substantial after almost a year of failed attempts at generating new business. Plus it would have been such a big piece of business that it would have meant a runway for almost 3 months. 3 may sound small to you. But to me, at the scale and level that I operate, each day is a battle. Plus it would give me the confidence that I could be an outsider and do well. Plus this time I had a friend who could tell me where I was fucking up and where to correct the damn course. And despite her help, if I cant win a pitch, I dont think I can ever win one.

Not winning it also means that I let down myself, my investors, team, vendors, friends, believers and a host of other people (in that order).

The funny thing is, there is no rational reason for not getting the project. It just dint click. Like you know, at times you plug on something and it just doesn’t start?

Of course I can console myself by saying that I, we did everything that we could and there are things that you cant control. Well, that talk is for losers. The fact of the matter is that on the day shit was supposed to go down the wire, we were not good enough. And I am told that being great, good enough or shoddy is directly correlated to your inherent talent, amount of hard work you put in, the hustle and that bitch called luck. Luck. Well, it confuses me. There are times when she sleeps with me and gives me the best orgasm ever. And there are times when I do all I can to woo her and she wont even look up at me.

Coming back, probably we werent good enough. And that is non-negotiable. Thing is, for me, work is personal. The two, personal and professional dont exist in silos. To me there are no boundaries. I exist to work. My purpose is to create great work. Try at least if not deliver greatness. If I am awake, I am working. If I am not working, I am thinking about work. If I am not thinking about work, I am asleep. And if I am not asleep and not working, I am dead. It is that simple.

There are two places that I can go from here. Down the valley of despair. I could hide myself in a cold dark room and not come out of it for months. Or I could take lessons and move on and come out stronger, better and all that. I think I’ll the middle path. Start by crying and coming out on the other side.

Lets see. Thanks for tolerating the post.

Wait. You think the damn post is over? It is not. Because I was busy with an event while I was writing it. And something just happened that made the hole bigger and I will have no other option but to jump in.

Part 2
So, I am at a project venue. And I am a small part of a big team that is working to pull this project off. And the team has fucked up big time. And as always, I am trying to sort the muck that has been forced upon me. And I dont like it. I want to do things my way. Do less work but do good work.

More than not liking things, at the event, there was a big big goof up under my watch. Because of something that I was not responsible for. Of course, it was a team effort and if someone from my team has failed, I am responsible for that. I had to go and apologize to my team, clients and myself.

Dont want to get into details but you can read more at…

Just when I thought I’d be ok after the loss, show chud gaya.

What a fucking day man. What a fucking November. And this year.

It sucks to be me right now.

— SG (@saurabh) November 17, 2017

Right now, I feel like shit. So shitty that I dont know what to do or who to talk about. I want to bury myself in a pile of quilts in a cold, dark room with no communication to the outside world. Update. I did that. After I checked out of the event venue, I got into the next hotel and did that.

Part 3
And this is where I announce the launch of a new hashtag on my blog. #tumseNaHoPaaega. It will evolve as a collection of things and places and opportunities where I’ve fucked up. All those posts will be tagged #tumseNaHoPaaega and will be accompanied by the following image.

Why? Because this one dialogue says more than what an entire book can! For the uninitiated this is from this movie called Gangs of Wasseypur and if you need context, see this.

Over and out!

Update (in case you care). I slept off for the most part of the day after and I am ok now. Ok enough to be little ok and write this post. But not ok enough to let go. I will prevail. Wait and watch.

Notes. The other things that I thought about and wanted to include in this post, but could not, are…

You are alone.
Show business is unlike any other. There is so much excitement and there is so much hard work and it just takes one small incident to fuck up things.
Confidence is at an all-fucking-time low man. Need something, someone to help me get out of this. I dont know what.

Untitled – 8 Dec 2016

So last night, after a long day (where I did not do much to be honest – most of the time was spent in meetings) I was in this super ranty mood. Thankfully, I did not crib much and went to read after posting just one tweet.

For the context, over the last few days I have been putting in super long hours at work. And couple that with my sickness and stupid visits to the doctor at all hours, I am exhausted. So exhausted that there is this small voice in my head that is asking me to let go. It is telling me that I can put all the dreams on a side and go work for a regular company, draw a fat salary and then whatever time I have left after the enforced slavery, I invest that into things that I want to pick up – travel, poker, guitar, fitness, pool and so on and so forth. Impact, individuality, creativity, ego, meaning and everything that I have stood for could go to hell and burn. Burn till even the ashes are burnt. Without leaving a trace of the original Saurabh Garg. I mean how bad could it be to walk around in formal clothes all the time with an identity card dangling from the pocket of that boring shirt you are wearing, while walking to the nearest Starbucks with your colleagues, everyone faking laughter over inane jokes that you would otherwise cringe at? Plus little things will be taken care of – things like coffee machine, AC, stationary, credit cards, home loans. And then I am told you get to enforce your ego on people who report to you and then there is this promise of hunger games. Plus there is some travel once in a while to all those fancy places and the best part? You dont travel like a pauper – you are actually put in a nice hotel and you are not that budget traveller holding on to every rupee (thinking twice before buying that Frappuccino because you can use that money to buy the admission ticket to a museum), ogling at airline lounges with a longing that should be reserved for a lover and most importantly, spend time taking selfies rather than gathering experiences – after all those selfies will get likes on Facebook and make your colleagues jealous and become water-cooler conversations! No?

But then, there is this another voice in my head. Smaller than the one I that wants me to go wear that uniform. This voice tells me that I have a gift. From God, from Providence, from Universe, from that thing that controls all the shit that happens around us, from that random walk of atoms or may be from the randomness around us. The gift of education, a supportive family, an environment that allows me to think, an opinion and the balls and the ability to voice the opinion. Out of 7 billion of us, dont think more than a handful are like that. And its such a crime to not do so when you’ve won the ovarian lottery.

Thing is, work fills such a large part of life that it sucks to not make meaning with what I do. I just hope that someday all these 16-17 hour days that I am putting in, they count for something in the end. I dont know what is the end. And I dont know what I mean when I say I hope they count. May be its the money I’d make – to be able to buy a star. Or may be its the impact – that I can help impact a billion lives. And I dont know when that would happen. I just want to know that all this is not worthless. I am not a mere cog in the wheel. I am not insignificant. May be it will. May be it will not. I wish I could say I dont care. But I am human. With my ups and downs and last few days have been a string of downs. I need to see a freaking light. Come on, Universe, show me a sign. Please. Your favorite child is imploring!

The year gone by has been very tough and I have slogged really hard. Harder than I have worked in all my life put together. I have made mistakes and I am definitely better than what I was this time last year. They have to add up. They have to stand for something. And the funny thing is, I dont see that happening. May be it will. Hopefully sooner than later. And then, that day, I’d look back to this blogpost and laugh it away.

Some day. Inshallah.

Till then…

Why am I #foreverAlone?

Been meaning to write this post for ~~almost~~ more than a week. As I write this, I am at an empty office, not wanting to go home (because there’s nothing to do at home) and finding excuses to delay the inevitable. So, here it goes.

Disclaimer: This is probably one of the most depressing posts that I’ve written ~~in a while~~ ever. A HUGE huge crib alert. PLEASE read at own peril. Graphic content ahead. Extremely personal. Judge me if you will but this is me. My truest thoughts and feelings. In black and white. Of course, I will try to cover up this post with an extremely cheerful one (to maintain balance – if nothing else). But before that I need to pour my heart out. And I don’t have anyone else to share with but the pseudo-anonymity of this blog.

Last Monday, I was in Bangalore (because I was transporting a car) and I was super excited to meet some really good friends. I also had made plans of meeting up with some fans of #tnks (yes! there are some).

And for a change, there were no hiccups and I did all that I had planned.

In fact, I loved the day I spent at Bangalore. I am beginning to think of Bangalore as my secret love affair (the way Delhi is my identity and Mumbai is my life). So, the weather was perfect. I did not get stuck in traffic. The credit card worked, the free wi-fi was fast, I wore shorts all day long. Etc. Etc.

Started the day by spending the first few hours at a Starbucks, working. Then lunched with a really really dear friend – met her after ages. Followed by a coffee at a fancy hotel with a reader. And then the evening snack with a fan at one of the most famous watering holes in Bangalore. I even played a game of pool, that I lost terribly (I need to pick up the cue all over again and get back to the game).

After the game when the beer started flowing, things went out of control. I had one drink too many.

If you know me, you would know how much I loathe people who consume alcohol beyond their limits. And I did that. And like all drunkards, I puked all over the place. I detested it but I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Thankfully I had enough sense to not spew on my clothes or at the houses of others. It’s a miracle how I took an Uber, a flight and eventually a rick to reach home. The next 4 days that followed, were nightmarish.

They’ve been so bad and so gloomy that I want to hide under a thick quilt and not emerge out of it. And I hate it when I am like that. I do everything it takes to not go down that lane.

Brings me to the first resolve of this post. I will not ~~consume~~ indulge alcohol ever again. In any shape or format.

Continuing.

So while I drove the 1000 KMs to Bangalore and when afterwards I was sick of all the alcohol, a few realisations happened. I mean what else do you do when you are unwell? All you are left capable to do is puke, make attempts at eating (and vomiting out whatever little you’ve eaten) and ruminate about the days gone by, trying to relive the good times and creating the fantasy world where all is hunky dory? May be this is why most great poets, authors have / had a problem with alcohol?

Well, I don’t know about them but when I was down and out, I did not get any interesting plots or conversations or brain waves. Like I said, all I got was self-pity, self-loathing and the urge to dig a hole, hide deep in it, close the entry with an immovable rock, shovel it with some snow and grow a huge banyan tree over it. And stay shut in it. Forever.

Not one thought was a happy one. In fact I think the gloomy mood of the last few days has been induced by alcohol and all these sad thoughts. May be it’s a feedback loop. Whatever it is, I have to confront it. I need to pour it out. Can’t keep in my system.

One of things I realised was, I’ve left just too many open windows. And I’ve never been the kinds to leave so many of these open. It sucks to know that you agreed to help someone and then you did not get back to them or deliver. I know how it feels when something you count on does not pan out. I dont want to be to the source of someone’s disappointment. I really need to apologise to everyone. If you are reading this and I haven’t got back to you, I apologise.

Of course you judge people on the basis of their actions (not words). Thus, the second promise to myself. I need to learn to say no. Even if that makes me less likeable. I havent had a foggiest clue as to why I have this thing where I want to be liked by people?

Dont know. Moving on.

The next thing that makes me miserable is this thing about constant comparison with others. I know I have achieved less than others (self-pity alert) and you know what? I love to flaunt it! I mean I have reduced this to an extent but I am yet to stop. And honestly, I can’t seem to stop it.

In fact, as I write this, there is this thought in my head that people younger than me, people who more troubles than me, people who seem to be on their own, say SamA, think deeply about things that could impact others. Then there are people like Lalit who’ve taken their passions and haven’t waited for any vindication before launching their careers! They just do. I just whine. Like a 6-year old. For no reason. sgMS is right. I am yet to see real life and if these simple things can break me, maybe I dont have any right to believe that I can change the world!

So, thing # 3. I need to stop comparing myself. And thing # 4, need to realise that there are bigger things than I.

Next, like they say, when things go tough, tough gets going. Everyone around me is giving me a hard time for some reason. From my yoga teacher to my partner to my vendors to my clients to my team to my parents to my accountant to sgMS and even I myself am giving a hard time to me. And funny thing is, this is when I need people around me. I need a shoulder. I need support. When I dont have anything to look up to. I mean there is no unicorn happening. The book is delayed. There is no sight of the reason. There is no meaning.

I could take shelter in work. But that too is stalled. Not stalled per se but needs solid intervention. I have so so so many things happening at work front. I desperately need to hire and I can’t find people. I know I cant pay well. I know I am not as inspiring as Steve. Or even Raj for that matter. And the vision that I have for what I do is very very utopian at best.

Apart from pulling up my socks when it comes to work, I need to up my game. And I am struggling with it. I talked about it last month as well. And even though its been more than 30 days since, I am still struggling. Need to end the struggle and get some real action. Real inspirational work. Real dent.

But, I am aware enough to know that its super tough. And I know my limitations. I dont know how people do things by themselves – all those entrepreneurs, scientists, athletes etc. I dont know how those lone nuts pull through things. I need to either learn from them. Or I need a Warren. Or a Charlie. Even a Watson would do.

Thing is, most of my friends are merely marriages of convenience. I do not have any close friends – the kinds they write about in books and movies. And I know secretly crave for some. I really want to be a part of a cult, some gang, something where I belong. And the belonging goes more than just a tattoo on the right-hand sleeve.

Not just the friendship bit, in general loneliness sucks. May be, just may be, I am ready for a relationship, a marriage (I know this is song for my parents’ ears).

But this feeling of loneliness is a one off thing that I get when I am unwell. So may be not. Do I want a relationship on the days that I am well? I dont know. I guess I am too old for anything meaningful. I mean I am 33 already. And if not there, then almost at the halfway mark. Why would I even bother. The way these years have gone by, the others will too. No?

Brings me to that eternal debate, the never-ending thread that holds me hanging onto and wanting to let go of everything I do – What is the purpose? What is the meaning of all this? Why do we exist? What’s the reason? Any sages? Or do I go back to Guruji‘s wise words and assume that this too shall pass?

Anyone?

P.S.: This post is not meant to be a piece of exaggeration. I really am sorry for have wasted a week of my life and a very very important one at that (I had a very important event that I missed). Unrelated, someone I know (a friend’s husband who has observed me from far) quipped that I am a high-functioning sociopath. May be I am. And may be that’s why sgMS went away. May be that’s why I dont have a Warren. May be that’s why I am #foreverAlone?

P.P.S.: No, I do not want your sympathy or attention. If you can read this with equanimity, thank you. If you can’t, please do not lend a shoulder or a glass.

Three scenes

Scene 1
A 33-year old man. Dressed in baggy denims, ripped at the knee on one side. Torn at the leg opening on the other. Linen shirt that needs ironing. Almost bald and a disheveled mop of hair on the crown of the head. An unkempt salt and pepper beard.

The guy tries to walk in to a swank building that has security guards from G4S. The building houses corporate offices of a few leading banks and other such businesses. And like any other “corporate park” the building also has a few fancy restaurants.

While the man attempts to walk in the building to meet a friend for lunch at the restaurant, he is singled out and is asked by the security guard about his intentions. And while this is happening, a few hundred characters, dressed in clothes ranging from three-piece suits in the muggy Mumbai weather to a dress that barely covered the woman’s modesty to a worker who probably was engaged as a window-cleaner to everything in between walked past by. Without raising anyone’s eyes or suspicions.

Back to the man. He calmly tells that he intends to goto one of the restaurants and the guards give him an incredulous look and want to frisk him.

Scene 2
A resident of a not-so-posh building is walking in to the lift lobby to go up to his home. The security guard at the entrance asks him to make an entry into the visitor’s logbook. When the resident tells the guard that he lives in the building and he is not supposed to make an entry into the logbook, the guard frowns at him, scans him from top to bottom and asks him, how could he own / rent a place in the not-so-posh building.

Scene 3
A not-so-young man has matched with a very attractive lady on a dating app and he is all excited about meeting her. They meet up but the moment the lady sees him and his tattered clothes and his hair, she abruptly cuts the visit short and escapes by making an excuse.

There are more such scenes that I can recount. And the dude in all these three scenes is me. And all these things have happened to me in the course of last ~~three~~ few days.

My impressionable heart and mind refuses to come out of the shock. That the world I live in judges people on the basis of how they look. I mean I’ve always known that great looks can get you ahead in life, career and all that. But this is blatant discrimination. And its not nice to be on the receiving end. I now know the reason for all the anger and frustration of people who’ve faced discrimination on the basis of their color, race, skin, thoughts and so on and so forth.

While we talk of (in)tolerance and openness and all such things, I dont get that that the world treats me like an anomaly and I cant function like a normal human being! I mean we are nothing in the large scheme of things. No one knows the reason of life and all that. We will all die someday, leaving behind I dont know what and I dont know for whom. Whatever time we have here, why cant we be and let others be? Live and let live? There is just so much to do, so much to enjoy. There are so many miracles that we ought to enjoy, rather than staring at people who are different.

Dont believe me? Go get caught in the rain and tell me if it matters how someone is dressed!

Andy from Shawshank, in the rain.

Pointless!

Source: Unknown

You see the curve? The irregular sinusoidal curve? My mood is like that. I start the day on a high. I make my bed, make a list of things to do, visualize my short-term and long-term goals and go out with all the positivity. I appreciate small things in life – sunshine, birds, trees and the sky. I observe things rather than making a judgement. I dont yell on people and I try and get all the good karma I can.

I feel like the success kid and I am all determined to take on the world!

Life looks rosy and I have this inkling that great things are going to happen to me. In anticipation I start “living” the life that I crave for (a la The Secret). And I open my arms wide and strong, ready to recieve the goodness that the world would apprantly shower on m.

I reach wherever I want to (coffee shop, clients office, borrowed desk) and by the time I arrive, I start falling into this mild, for want of better word, depression. I start questioning the very meaning of what I am upto. Things that I am doing – they dont matter no more. Where I start thinking about the reason of doing things. Where I wonder about the whole damn point of being in a world where life is unfair. Someone like me, who thinks he works harder than anyone else that he knows of, is poor and gets a raw deal all the time. Of course there are great things that has happened to him but overall, in grand scheme of things, he’s got the raw deal. There is no sex or cash, no friends, no future and nothing else to look upto. Everything feels like a futile attempt. Its like staring down the abyss.

The worst part of this feeling is that I am not alone. I know so so many people just like me. The ones who keep trying and keep going on without any hope or any possibility.

But then the selfish fuck in me pushes the pathos for others on a back seat. I concentrate on myself. And I realize that I am unhappy and I am discontent.

There are quite a few reasons for the feeling. The first and foremost is the fact that I did not get lucky with the Ovarian Lottery.
Like the poor kid on the left, in the image on the left, I have had to
climb really steep ladders while I see very average people doing better because they had things served to them on a platter.

The other thing is that I have had to work really hard for every rupee that I’ve earned while the word around me seems to get it easy!

And then my money
does not word hard. For every rupee I spend, I do not get its equivalent worth.

First bit (losing out on Ovarian Lottery) is a random luck. The second is something that
I can control and yet I cant because of the value system that I have
been ingrained with. I wish I could unlearn em. Once a middle class, always a middle class!

When this bout of self-pity gets too much, I stagger to YouTube and fire up the latest Kamal R Khan video and world starts looking bright all over again. Side note: Do see his collection on Youtube if you have time. Here is the link.

I wish I could love myself the way KRK does. In a world where self-love could be so, selfless, nothing can touch you!

But then, moment the video is over, I am back to the gloom of diminishing bank balance, lost opportunities and comparison with friends who are dollar millionaires and yet make a stupid show about their poverty – wish they accepted that they are doing well and stopped pulling legs of people like me who barely get by.

At this point, I try to count my blessings – amazing parents that are so selfless that I dont believe them at times (while I continue to cry about Ovarian Lottery), opportunity to have traveled the world, option to work for myself (and make enough to pay my rent and earn my bread, while sending nothing home), ability to choose the kind of work I want to do (not that what I do has changed the world) and so on and do forth. Side note: Did you notice all the disclaimers?

But then I realize that I am not alone. And I havent done it all. I have a fucking Jack of all trades at best and Jacks often end up as JackAsses. See that lame attempt at pun? And I claim to be an author!

I think I’d end this post with this lame attempt at poetry…

@jasuja ख़्वाब तो रईसों वाले है, हैसियत फ़क़ीरों वाली

— सौरभ गर्ग (@saurabh) December 19, 2015

P.S.: In fact, as I finish writing this piece, I am even wondering about the reason of this blog. I dont think anyone reads what I write (apart from people who land on this page via Google). And I definitiely dont go back to read how I was feeling at some point in the past. May be its just a way to vent? But to what end? Pointless. Like life!

I give up!

I give up. I can’t do it. I can’t. And I hate myself for it. I just don’t have the time to do it. Or may be I don’t think its important enough for me to do it. Or may be I don’t have the balls or perseverance to do anything. Or may be I am loser. Or may be, I am a quitter. Isn’t that why sgMS left me?

Irrespective. I can’t do it. I am a loser.

Second year running, despite all the effort, intent and determination, I have failed to reduce my waist or my weight and I am going to lose a bet. Bet is not important. Important is that I can’t do a shitty thing like losing weight. Especially when for a large part of the year I had nothing else to do. Fucking kept procrastinating. And here I am. Fat, old, unhealthy, lethargic all the time.

Of course now I have something to put the blame on. And yeah, that’s what I am doing. Getting off easy by putting the blame on someone else. I am not owning upto my shit. I am merely putting the blame on someone else. My job. It keeps me busy and so I don’t have any time to do anything. Guess this is what they mean when they say that it’s tough to juggle a day job and a hobby on the sides. Hate the fact that I have to slog the entire day, sitting behind a desk to be able to make ends meet. Hate that I’ve given the control of my life to someone else, willingly, so easily. Guess this is what that Apple TVC from 1984 spoke of?

The world, is fucking unfair. Life, unfairer than that. I refuse to play thy game. I want out.

Really do.

The Marketing Madness

Dibert on Marketing

I have been up since 4. No kidding. I have data from Moves (which I love btw) to support the claim. I slept at around 10 yesterday and after whatever little fitful sleep I managed, I finally got up at 4.

Since then, I’ve walked for 30 mins, did 30 crunches (despite my hernia) and had a green tea (which makes me sick in the gut but people say it’s supposed to help). And I made a poster for my upcoming book. And I sent out emails to 20 strangers, literally begging them to cover my book in their publications, send mails to random people asking them to share the book with others and so on and so forth. You get the drift.

That’s how my day looks like these days. That’s what I do these days. And I am a teetotaler. That makes alcohol out of bounds. Guessing, of course is what I do. The entire day!

So whatever morsels of time I can save during the day, I try and think who all could I be contacting about the promotion of the book. I then add those names to a list. And at the end of day, or early next day I send out emails, starting from the bottom of the list. Remember that FIFO principle?

And no points for guessing the response rate – which (or that?) remains dismally close to zero.

But…

but…

but… I understand this is all a tiny part of hustle. In a positive way. I am learning a lot of new things. The chief one being that it’s ok to let the world judge you. All this while, in my entire life, I have not subjected myself to other people’s opinions. Even then, if there were any opinions, I took them on the face value and ignored them. This time around I think I’d be affected. I know, I know. First book is just testing waters. It’s not a big deal if people don’t like. And other things like that.

I have these endless conversation with myself. Damn!

The other side, the flip side of the entire thing is that I literally get no time to do things that I want to do. This todo list includes poker, learning a new hobby, taking it easy, meeting people, more writing, travel. The list goes on. I have come to accept that I am a lost soul and I shall remain one. I just need to maximize my time. This marketing madness is not helping matters. Only thing I get to do these days, is talk about my book for a couple of hours every morning. And thats’ about it!

And it sucks. S U C K S. Yeah, loud.

I am a fucking ~~artist~~ writer. And I am supposed to work on writing. On the craft. Not on the ancillary things like marketing. I know it’s an important part of the craft. But these days, it has become the only part. Ant that’s where my problem is! I wonder how to other writers manage this bit. May be they have money and they have large departments to churn out ideas for them? May be they don’t need marketing. I mean if Stephan King came out with a book tomorrow, he’d just have to drop a tweet and rest shall take care of itself. Look at Chetan Bhagat. He could book a front-page ad in the most widely circulated daily of the country! How do they manage? How do other authors manage?

I have no fucking clue. And I hate wasting my limited time like this. I hate doing non-productive work. Hell, in my time I could choose to sleep but that’s my decision. And I am not answerable to anyone. This marketing shit… damn. Oh, and come to think of it, I am a marketeer by training and profession. Irony!

Anyhow, in the entire episode, there are a couple of silver-linings to be happy about. A, the folks at Catapooolt have been a pleasure to work with. I can totally see myself recommending them to others. And B, I have made so many new friends. While the world at large remains hostile and friends (and acquaintances continued to desert me), I have been pleasantly surprised by the kindness that a few strangers have shown towards me. More about them in some other post, on a day when I am not feeling rotten about how I am spending my life.

Till then…

Wait a minute. Did you like the FB page yet? Did you buy the book yet? Did you tell your friends about it yet?

P.S.: That’s crib # 2 in as many days. Note to self. Watch out!

The Impending Monday

So this is what it feels like.

When tiny chores get piled up for the last two days of the week. When despite two clear days, you can’t seem to get even one chore done. When the two clear days blur and the Friday evening merges into the Saturday morning that in turns creeps into the Sunday; all without you realizing that it has happened. When before you know, the weekend is over. When the gloominess of the impending work week that you’d have to spend trapped in office sets in. When you miss your days as a free bird where you were the master of your time and the concept of work week was alien to you. When you start craving for that time as the free bird to come back; even if it meant financial insecurity. When the financial security starts feeling like a chain around your ankles and life looks boring. When you start questioning the meaning of life. When you watch Steve Jobs talk about life again and again. And when Steve says the think about looking into the mirror, you think of the ticking time bomb. When you look for reasons to clock in mandatory nine hours and try to diffuse that time bomb; even if none of those nine was spent on any actual work. When by the first hour itself, you start comparing yourself to other rats in the race. When the futility of it all hits you in the face and you cant comprehend why are the other rats so oblivious to misery of a financially secure life. When you forget the futility bit because the ~~fancy~~ paycheck that you get allows you to go to fancy restaurants and afford things that you never could. When you do buy those things, it dawns on you that you have no time to enjoy those things because you don’t have the time. When you suddenly have to go sleep by 9 on Sunday night because you dont want to be late to work the next day. Oh when you dread things like getting in late. When the little question from the poor administrative office feels like a nag from an old, sore wife. When the entire experience feels like dragging a dead relationship because you don’t want to let go; hell, you can’t let go. When the entire thing makes you depressed about it. When the fogs of depression dont let you see a way out. And when the fog lifts, you realize that life’s reduced to staring at the clock, hoping it would go faster; but the torturous clock actually ticks slower than it ought to and no one can help. When you suddenly think that may be, just may be, if you believed in God, may be He would have have helped the clock go faster. When you realize that others that believe in God are faring no better. When you see those God-fearing zombies all around you, happily walking into the doors of slavery. When you can’t understand what makes the other slaves tick and so excited about the mundane days ahead for the rest of their lives. When the gloom of the predictable eventually sets in. When you get used to it. When you become a part of the crowd rather than screaming. When, when, those jokes, those stories, those anecdotes, those cartoons about perils of Monday mornings start to make sense. When you are.. you are…

The tales of a grumpy old man

One of the things that keeps me up at night is that I am growing old. By the day, by the hour and by the minute. And with old age, I am getting grumpy, fat, unhealthy, lethargic, stubborn, headstrong and other things. And I dont like any of that. And I dont know what is the escape. I cant stop the aging process and I cant stop the side-effects. Its like being on a conveyor belt that is moving towards a destination that I cant control!

On longing. And separation. And roller coasters.

The last few ~~days~~ ~~weeks~~ ~~months~~ years have been like a roller coaster ride. Actually more than roller coaster, they’ve been like a ride on the sine curve. No no, a roller coaster. In a sine curve, you can predict the crests and the troughs. And they happen often, with regular frequency. In a roller coaster, you cant predict. You dont know long would the crest last and you never know when would the next crest come.

Thats how my life has been for past few years. Periods of extreme happiness (typically marked by togetherness – crests) and periods of extreme sadness (typically marked by separation – troughs) dotted by things in between (typically marked by longing – the slopes).

With time, these crests are getting smaller, troughs are getting larger and slopes are getting infinitely big. And this ladies and gentlemen is what I would talk about tonight. Its going to be a sob story. So please indulge.

So thing is, I am an adult. I am old by ALL benchmarks. Its been years since someone has called me a young man. And no one would ever call me that ever again. Ever. Ok? Ever. And with each passing day, the amount of time I have left on Mother Earth is reducing. The amount of time that I could spend with that special someone is reducing by the minute. Every minute I spend away from her, I am wasting that.

Because that’s all there is to life. There is no deeper, no higher meaning. We are happy accidents that happened when some chemicals played with others and randomly decided to mate. Or amalgamate. Or whatever. Bottom line, I am old.

And despite being old, I refuse to grow up. I refuse to understand why is it necessary for me get rooted to a place. I like moving around. I love the freedom I have. I am proud that I do not have a predictable schedule. And so on and so forth.

To age, the never-settle-down attitude, add one more thing. The on and off relationship that I have with sgMS.

Remember I spoke about roller coasters in the beginning of this post? The relationship is like the roller-coaster. I enjoy it in general but I think I’ve had enough of it now. I want to be on a highway. With her ofcourse. Thing is, although everytime I go up, I bloat in the anticipation. Everytime I fall down, I am left moaning in agony and everytime I am on the slope, I glow in anticipation. But I think I’ve had enough of excitement. Everytime I roll down a peak, I almost fall off. It takes serious effort to cling on. And I try to. But I dont know how long would I be able to do so!

Soul searching 102

There is no place in the world for jack of all trades. At least not in India. Everyone wants to hire an expert. Someone who’s been there and done that. Someone who thinks in a silo. Someone who has never dared to venture out of their comfort zone. Someone who’s a conformist.

Sorry to say but the world (at least the bit around me) does not reward the ones who try things. Its like a negative spiral. You fall into once and you can never come up again!

So, you see, I can crib. Crib for like ten hours. For ever if I have to. About how tough I am finding to find a naukri. I always thought that with my (almost) fancy degree, it would be a walk in the park, in any kind of economic environment, anywhere in the world. But now I realize how wrong was I. I have never been more wrong. So wrong that I am left in the lurch. Lurch may be too harsh. But I am definitely not happy.

But like most experiences, this one has taught me a few things. Here is a list…

1. When you are falling, you fall like a hot knife through butter. You just go through everything between you and rockbottom. Its thin air and you fall fast. I went from extreme happiness and carelessness to bouts of anxiety in less than two weeks. All this when my first book is almost ready to hit the market.

2. You are alone. And like Steve says, you’re naked. There may be God but he has his funny ways. I am not fond of him anyhow. Apart from you, no one else loses sleep over what you’re going through. They may want to, but they cant. Sleep is like that monster that makes everyone a slave.

3. You are not anyone else’s priority. Everyone would want to help, commit to help but help would be half-measures. Not because they dont like you. Not because they dont want to help you. But because they have other priorities. And you’re second-fiddle at best. In fact I can put myself in others’ shoes. How often has someone asked for my help and how many times did I actually help em? not enough! You reap what you sow. So may be, going forward, will help as many people as I can.

4. Dont take things for granted. I have been a happy-go-lucky dude all my life. So much so when people around me were buying houses and cars and making millions of rupees in their cushy jobs, I would laugh it out loud. Now, for some reason, it has started to suck. The dwindling bank balance has started to bother. Not being able to pay for drinks and food when you step out, it sucks. Everyone, including friends and family, treating you like a liability is even worse. Again, its about you. You being alone. And all that.

5. The world around me is transactional. You give me something and I would give you something back. And everyone wants to emerge as a winner. On top. Nothing wrong with it. Darwin knew this long before any of us could even comprehend. Either you fight and you come on top. Or you slither away to obscurity.

6. If you are nobody, nobody wants to talk to you. Not friends, not neighbors, not strangers, not prospective dates. Not prospective employers. When I had a naukri, I would regularly get calls from everyone wanting to hire me. And since I’ve been in the job market, no one wants to hire me! Sigh!

So.. What else? I dont know. I mean I know but I am not going to talk about it here. May be on the secret blog. Or evernote.

Yeah. This is it. For the time being. Of course all these are first-world issues. Since I’ve been blesseed Lets see how many of these sessions can I do before I either succumb to pressure. Or find a way out. Either way, this will stop. In the words of Chris, this part of my life, I call it “~~internship~~ being fucked up in my head.”

Of course I chase ~~happiness~~ happyness all the time. But right now, this part, this part of being fucked up, sucks like hell. Need to find a way out. Soon.

Hope I dont forget these. Once I get a place of my own, this is something that I would pin to my board for sure.

P.S.: Here is Soul searching 101.