Category: Rant

I feel Purple

Image Credits: Jerome B

The mood I am in, if someone asked me to describe it, I would say, I feel Purple. Dont ask me why. Though Purple is the color of creativity or ideas or something to that effect (a reason why CLA logo is purple), I am far far away from all such constructive pursuits.

I feel someone has sucked all the energy and vigor from me. Though I am suffering from fever, cold and cough and even a task like breathing is taking a lot of effort. So much so that I am wondering how cool would it be if we could recharge the batteries and then not bother about breathing, eating, peeing etc. In short, I really hate it when I am unwell.

I have noticed that in last few years, I get unwell at regular intervals. I have always prided in my immune system. I had stomach made of steel and I could eat anywhere and anything and still digest it. I dint have to wear any warm clothes even in peak winters. I could tolerate any extremes. But for last few years, I think after I went to MDI, my systems got fucked. Not that I do drugs or booze. I dont even smoke. But then something went wrong and I am now sick often. I need to do something about it.

Apart from that this is unrelated but I have been listen to Jo Bhi Main from Rockstar on a loop since morning. Hear it. Absolute bliss.

Har Ghar Kuch Kehta Hai

Har Ghar Kuch Kehta Hai
Ki Iskay Andar Kaun Rehta Hai
Jo itna Gandha Banda hai
Ki Ghar Paint Karne ki Sochta Hai

The first two lines are from an Asian Paints jingle. The last two lines are my contribution, for the sake of this blogpost.

Of all the things that you can subject your home/house to, the worst of them all is painting. Of course its required. You must flush out the old to allow the new to take its place. Change is the very nature of, the nature. Of course you ought to clean your home every Diwali, after all God Ganesh and Goddess Lakshmi and Goddess Saraswati like residing in clean places.

Painting is actually not bad. If you can live with some occupational hazards. And before I go and talk about them, please note that these could leave a permanent mark on your psyche and next time someone uses the P word, you may try and attack them. At least I have reached the point where I can no longer tolerate any painter anywhere within 100 feet of me!

Of all the million fuck ups that may happen, some of the most potent ones are…

A. The fumes of the paint. They say if the paint does not smell bad, it not a good paint. And since most Indians consume they-says too literally, paint companies, I think, put in extra effort to make the paint smell bad. Really bad. I mean I do enjoy the smell of petrol at a petrol pump and all that but paint, uh!

B. Dust. Everything gets coated in white dust. You know how things and places look when it has just snowed? If you’re a five year old, you may play with it and use it as a chalk board and make smileys and scribble your names in it. You can get your legs and arms smeared with whiteness apt for princesses and polar bears. You could even put some in your hair and pretend as if you are 40 and your hair is graying. I mean there are multiple ways to find comfort with dust. Sadly, I dont think I can call a truce with dust. There is so much of dust all over the place that if you made bricks out of that dust, you could erect the great pyramids of Giza all over again, right here in my home!

C. No place to sit. Since the paint that you use to paint on the walls and doors, is the industrial quality one, you are scared that the tiny droplets of paints would spoil your electronics, bedsheets, sofas, clothes, shoes, crockery, rugs, toothbrushes, teddy bears and other things that are important to you. And to save on the damage, you cover these things as if they are the newly wed brides and put them in hiding. And when you want to sleep, you realize that you dont have the mattress. Wait, you dont even have the remote to the AC. And there is no bottle that you can fill water in that you are used to drinking in your sleep. And no, I aint got no teddy bears at home.

D. Disruption of normal life. You make plans about how you would lose weight because #sgMS asked you to. You get up at 5 in the morning, go for a walk. Reach work early. Come back earlier so that you may sleep early and go for a job the next morning. And once you reach home, you realize that only place not claimed by painters is barely enough to allow you to stand on one leg. But hey, look at the bright side. You could learn how to sleep while standing. I bet, not many people in the world can do that!

E. Finally, it takes forever. Last memories I have of normal life at home, I was happily reading some book in my room. Though its just been little over a month since I have seen normality (was traveling for work and ever since I came back, they’ve been painting the house. They could have painted the entire Taj Mahal in this long a duration!), it already feels like a lifetime. Everything is new. Everything has changed. The TV is standing on the tin box that used to have cookies. Cookies are now kept in a plastic box that had the detergent in previous life. The detergent is now in the washing machine. The top of washing machine is stacked with my bookshelf. The bookshelf does not have books but now has screwdrivers, other tools and the phone. The phone line btw is nowhere to be seen and with it, gone is the reliable and fast Internet. The bed that you dearly love is no longer there. You have to make do with sleepless nights on the sofa. While taking a shower, you cant use the shampoo because there is no place to stack that many bottles in the bathroom. Anyways, I could go on forever. Thankfully my towel, toothbrush and undies are in the right place.

You know I could go on forever about the perils of painting your home. I really wish there was a better way to do things. And like they say in the college, welcome to Painting your home 101.

Oh, and I just realized that I havent even spoken about the money that its costing us. We could have bought a Jumbo Jet, a Jaguar and a Yatch with all this money. And would still have had some change to buy a bike or two. And the painters give you so much grief that you for a minute think that you owed them some money or something!

And in the end, next time you want to get your house painted, please rent out an apartment (even if its a small one room set) and move in there with all the things that you hold dear to you. It would, one, be a welcome change from the monotony of living in the same place for all these years and two, help you retain your sanity while your home is being painted. And three, you would have the answer to the comment that the jingle throws at you, har ghar sahi main kuch kehta hai!

To Pile On, Or Not To Pile On

This post is about a question that has been bugging me for a while. This is going to be a mother of a post! Here are case facts.

One. I, M, 29, love to travel. So much so that if I had an option, I would become a truck driver, or join a circus or something. I love to stay on the roads and love the impermanence of things when you travel. I love to see new places, meet new people, experience new things and generally not make any commitments. I have been fortunate enough to see few cities and fewer countries and more I see, more I want to explore. Of course I dont have the balls to do it now.

Two. Most of the time when I travel, it is for work. And the sad part about travelling for work is that your itinerary is defined well in advance and it hardly gives you time to explore the place that you goto.

Three. When I do extend my travel and decide to live at a new place for a few days, I cant really afford hotels and guesthouses. And the ones that are in my budget are too dirty and far from the places of interest to consider. No I am not picky at all. I mean, I am but not for things that I know are impermanent. So I end up crashing at my friend’s places. I know a lot of people but have very few friends. In fact can count them on my fingertips. So when I am in Mumbai, I invariably stay with Neo. Bangalore, SS02Sep grants me a room. The US trip, iCEcUBe and PD sponsored acco. And thats that. Apart from these cities, there is no other place that I am comfortable at. And because I dont have acco, I decide against traveling to other places. Side note for non-Indian readers (if any), AirBnB is not really a rage in India and very few people offer beds to strangers. And when they do, they at times charge as much as the hotels.

And after the facts, here is the million rupee question. When I travel, should I be taking my friends for granted and pile onto their places? Do I invade their privacy? Do I infringe upon their personal space when I go and stay with them for days? The second part, the one that bugs me more than the first, is, are all my friendships all about convenience? If Neo decides to move to, say Delhi, will I be as good friends?

I know a part of the answer. Because all these people are friends and they are mature enough to say no, I dont think I cause inconvenience. The hard bit is, how much can I stretch this arrangement? And if I cant, what is the way out?

Anyways, end of the long rant, the question remains, to pile on, or not to pile on?

And the pic above, is of a signboard in Mumbai. Clicked while I was on one of those trips to Mumbai.

Pursuit of Simple Pleasures

Last few weeks have really been maddening. So much so that I haven’t had time to even get a haircut, clip my nails, read things that I like reading and enjoy all those small things that make life, worth living. I am a romantic at heart. No, not your famous romantic, but this one. And as a result, I like doing different things and taking time off from regular humdrum of life.

I like sitting at coffee shops, staring at space, skimming through books, writing occasional blog posts, thinking about things that I ought to be doing but never end up doing, competing with brain, and doing nothing at all.

All these sound really stupid when you look them through the lens of a 30 year old, especially when that 30 year old is still to figure out what he wants from life and is supposed to support his family. Its sad that world does not allow for such foolhardiness.One of those things that I want to ponder on!


P.S.: Just finished writing this piece of post and when I am reviewing it, I think its an utter waste of time! But then, what else would I be doing with all the free time that I try and steal from life?

Dear Nature

Dear Nature,

Before I get into a long drawn rant about things that I want to crib today, I want to thank you. Thank you for a lot of things, including and not limited to, the wonderful life that we are very attached to, the rains that always brings the best of my moods out, the mountains that I love to explore, the cool breeze that elevates my spirits, the diversity in individuals that makes us what we are, the thumb that made us different from our cousins, the absence of the tail that helped us walk straight, the curiosity and more than that the ability to actually chase the questions that trouble us. Thank you. Really I mean it.

Now, that the mandatory disclaimer is done, today I want to talk about something that you think it was required, but I think is inane. I understand when we were nomads and hadn’t discovered fire and invented the wheel, we needed to fend for ourselves. A thick coating of hair helped us keep warm. Apart from being the protective coating, it gave us a natural cushion while we were sleeping. And some people even say that it helped us save ourselves from mosquitoes at night. Whatever your reasons may have been, I humbly want to submit that they are not really required now. With global warming and other things that have made planet warmer, we dont really need hair to keep warm.

You know what bugs me the most? The fact that I need to cut trim them every once in a while. Everyone knows that you, nature, by the very nature, are unfair. You’ve given very few people a lot of things and a lot of people nothing. So while some people have awesome hair, people like me have hairlines that are receding as fast as Usain Bolt can run those 100 meters. In fact imagine the plight when you goto a barber and ask him for a haricut. He also smirks at you and tortures you by asking the style you want to cut your hair into.

The plight bit is fine. I am used to people staring at my bald head and cracking jokes. The bit I cant tolerate is the fact that I need to maintain the hair frequently. You need to get a haircut once a month. Trim your beard once every few days. For a change I thought that let me be supremely lazy. I shall not trim my beard and let it grow. I dont mind what people think or say but since my work requires me to fly often, and security at airports in India is bonkers, I am stopped multiple times at each airport and every guard like man eyes me like I am on the most wanted list of Interpol, RAW, Delhi Police and other intelligence agencies. I am often frisked multiple times, bags searched to the seam, asked rude questions and made to strip to my birthday suits. And not to mention the personal frisking. And why all this? Because I refuse to shave, because my facial hair cant stop growing, because someone, at God’s decided to humor himself by giving us men hair.

I know I cant do jackshit about it now. I can only ignore all those wise-ass comments from barbers and continue being humiliated. But I do have a request. A humble one at that. I shall live my life in whatever way but from the next generation on, could you please do something about hair? And nails for that matter!

Yours,
One of your out of favor childs’

Secret Dairy of a Corporate Bitch

I was contemplating putting in my papers. Unlike most people I know, I am the kinds without a plan. Like Joker once famously said, “Do I really look like a guy with a plan? You know what I am? I’m a dog chasing cars. I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I caught it. You know, I just… do things. The mob has plans, the cops have plans, Gordon’s got plans …” Nah, I am nowhere close to the brilliance in thought that Joker represented but I like the whole thing about me not having a plan. At almost 29, not having a plan sounds like sacrilege of modern society and I do face the music at times. But then, I cant help it, can I? Neither could Joker. He just did things. I do things. Not working felt like the thing to do and I am doing it. I am doing not working. Whatever.

Anyways the post is not to whine about it. The post is about a question that has been bugging me for a couple of days now. Since I dont have no motivation to work, I am wasting time, energy, electricity, Internet, water etc. I ought to rather go somewhere else. For someone like me, someone who has no suicidal tendencies, home should be a the next obvious choice. But home bores me. I am tired of staring at the walls that I now intimately. I am bored of things that they show on TV. Even Cartoon Network is not funny anymore. I just cant go home. So if not an office desk and not my room, what else? The third place? That all coffee retailers in the world claim to own? Nah. I dont like coffee. I dont even like the ambiance. I want to goto a place where I could be comfortable. I could be myself. Where I can be silent. Or I may yell at top of my voice. Without being judged. Or be scared.

So where could I go? I could go see a movie by myself. But am I the kinds who likes to be a dark hall by myself surrounded by almost adult kids coochi-cooing? No thank you. I could ask a friend for a lunch or something but then I dont think there is a single individual in whole of corporate India who has this utter disregard for rules as I have. Taking an unannounced leave on a Tuesday for my friends is actually a thing that they could make a folklore out of. One fine day when they would have become CEOs, they would speak with pride that, on a warm August Tuesday, this friend (read I) asked them out for lunch and they took an announced leave for the rest of the day. The jaws of audience would drop as if all the gravity is concentrated on their jaws and they would come out praising the CEO as if he just saved the entire human race from extinction.

What other options do I have? I can drive around the city. May be go see the Ramlila Maidan where Anna sat for 12 days. Or go see the book fair at Pragati Maidan? Or may be just go home and catch on some sleep? I think I shall let a toss of coin decide the fate. But wait, I have three options and the coin usually comes with mere two faces. Reminds me yet another gem by Joker, “You see, madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little push“.

Fiction! Part of P 0811. Other posts here.

Aug 12: Any answers Mr. Garg?

There was this time, about two-three years back when I loved to drop the word QLC in any conversation, where I was trying to score BrowniePoints. Ofcourse I totally believed in the idea and I knew that I was suffering from it. I did not see a therapist obviously. Like everyone else, whos suffering from other such delusions, I was in the denial mode. I wondered all the time, how can it happen to me.

With time, things got moving and I got busy with work. So much so that I hardly had time to sleep, leave alone reading or thinking. I forgot about it. It would pop-up once in a while on those off days when I would have time. Or at those odd times when I would think about career and future. And when I would compare myself with my classmates from MDI. The fact that they were making a bomb and I was still to reach peanuts.

Yesterday, I met this friend of mine and we got talking about life and other such things. And I realized that maybe I am not alone. There are more people, apart from I, who suffer from these things. And they lead perfectly happy lives. Came as a revelation to me! But then the most shocking bit happened. During the conversation, I somewhere said that I am almost 30. And then I realized, o crap! Am I not the age that is the precursor of the dreaded middle age, AND the precursor to, the Mid Life Crisis?

And this is when the world came down crashing at my feet. At heart, I am still a 12 year old, who loves to day dream and believes that world is a fair place. Ofcourse my mind tells me to get back to work and accept the fact that Ovarian Lottery is a reality and I am unfortunate to have lost out on it. And, the mind adds, that since I lost on the lottery, I would have to live with whatI have got and work harder to compete with the beneficiaries of the lottery (read rich heiresses, cricketers, film stars, singers, politicians etc).

Hang on for a minute. Did I just say work harder? w to the o to the r to the k? work? If I could work, I wouldn’t be wasting my time writing something that has a combined readership of exactly 1, including me! I would rather be sitting in my office, thinking about the next presentation I am supposed to write for that very demanding client. Uh! I AM sitting in my office conference room, occupying the most important seat (the one facing the wall, in the corner), seeing my fingers fly on the keyboard, pretending to think on launch ideas of cars and writing this!

I need that kick on the backside that would get that 12 year old, trapped inside my 30 year old body, out of my system and let me face the world. The way a 30 year old is supposed to face it. Which to be honest I have no clue. And unlike when I was facing QLC, this time, when I am daunted by MLC, I shall seek help. From the sole reader of my blog. Any answers Mr. Garg?

This is day 12 in a series of 31 daily blogposts. Other posts are here.

Crib crib crib!

Disclaimer: Post full of rants and I might use profanities. Parental discretion advised.

So I have been panning a trip to Mumbai for a while now. And for some reason or the other, the trips been getting delayed. Been more than two weeks now. And every-time at the last minute. This time, I had even packed my bags and called my driver to drop me to the airport.

It sucks to work for someone else. It sucks to be at the mercy of others and it sucks to let others take control of your life. If you cant plan simple things like travel to friend’s places, it couldn’t suck more. Of course you may argue that once you grow in life, you would have more time. I have one word answer to that. Balls. Ghanta (for the noes who appreciate Hindi).

So, Hugh, of the GapingVoid fame, says “Life is short and one day you’re no longer going to be here; that’s all the motivation you need”. And this is exactly why I hate to work for someone else. When I am 40, when I cant lift my limbs, I dont want to look back and regret about things that I could have done and I could have achieved. Like that carpe diem thingy, life for the damn minute. If you were to die today, after this minute, what would do in this minute? Work for someone else? Wait for a meeting to start? What for someone to rub his ego at your cost?

And yes, the kid in me wrote this post. Anyone got any problems with it?

Tally of Yes Men

Tally of Yes Men. I have never come across such a brilliant name for a music album. Yet. Anyways, so the post is not about the album or about Mr. Khosla or about Goldspot. The post is about me. What else did you expect on my blog? huh?

I was talking to a friend and he told me that best part about me was that I never say no. To requests personal or professional. And for some time, I did bask in the glory of the uncalled shower of praises and affection. But then I got stuck by this thought. The way Hancock strikes the train or the way Sachin strikes a cricket ball, the way I stump readers with my analogies. Anyways, I realized what was wrong with me.

I never said no! To anything! Not even to strangers. Not even to bad ideas. Not even to things that I know wont help me.

  • Dude, I think its a brilliant idea. Lets do it. Ya man! why not.
  • Dude can you lend me like a 5K? Ofcourse dear stranger. Here.
  • Do you have a minute? Yes I have all the time in the world.
  • Do you want to buy this shoe that you would never wear again? Oh! it will be my pleasure.
  • Do you think I should try this? Yep, you should.

Not even once. Not a single time do I say no. Do I need to change things? Yes! See I fucking say yes to everything! No, not anymore! I no longer want to be in that tally of yes men!

Random bout of Inspiration

It hits you when you least expect it. When your life is all set and is on a well treaded path to economic independence and predictable success. When you are about to take off and vault to the pinnacle of your profession. When you think that nothing can go wrong. No, not think. You know that nothing can go wrong. And it hits you. At the time when you least expect it.

I am talking about a random bout of inspiration. Let me give an example to drive home the point. I tagged along with a friend to Levo. Levo is one of those fancy places where heiresses of princely estates, ameer baap ki bigdi daughters, trophy housewives et al go for haircuts and pedicures and manicures and what not. Of course I have nothing to do with a place like that and people like that but this friend of mine wanted to change her hairstyle and I was asked to tag along. So my life was all fine. You know dull and boring and predictable in the MBA-rising-through-the-corporate-ladder way and suddenly one day I find myself standing outside Levo.

While she was getting her hair done, I had about an hour to kill. And Levo had this fancy magazine rack. The top few shelves had Vogues etc of the world. But the bottom shelf had xBHP, Suburb and Platform. And every turn of the page on each of the magazine, I went wow. Lemme take them one at a time.

Suburb is this magazine that is published out of Gurgaon and is aimed at expat community in Gurgaon. Since Gurgaon is a major hub for multinationals, there are tons of expats. Here for both short durations and longer stays. The content, the editorial notes and other material was very average from a niche magazines perspective but they made a good effort to appeal to their audience. Most of their content was clichéd and boring for an Indian but I am sure most expats wouldnt have known those things and would read Suburb religiously. Here, on our hands, we have this bunch of people who are intelligent and enterpriding enough to find a niche audience that is large enough. And they have been supplying them with dope they want. Amazing!

Next up is this magazine called Platform. A typical publication for Page 3 celebs. It proclaims that it talks about Art, Design, Fashion, Words, Music and Films. Everything that gets attention of the media savvy kinds. Apart from showcasing fashion designers, it did talk about art directors, writers, photographers and other creative kinds. I think its an awesome initiative to showcase people and their work. Apart from established professionals, there were tons of snippets about upcoming artists/creatives/talents. The content reflected a very strong editor at helm of affairs. And a lot of connections and purani dosti as play. Mightly impressed by them. If it wasnt Rs. 150 per copy, I would have subscribed to it.

And last, and the best, xBHP. As a kid I remember spending hours on the xBHP forum and ogling over bikers, their machines, their rides, their lifestyles and their babes. Seeing them in print was a pleasant surprise. And that too 250 GSM paper, gloss finish, thick 200 page magazine. Beat that shit guys. I made a few phone calls to a few friends still crazy about bikes and I was told that the guys at xBHP work with auto magazines and in the words of Green Day, they are having time of their lives.

Sigh!

Anyways, coming back to the post, random bout of inspiration, so this visit to a spa in Gurgaon is that random bout that I am most scared about. Something in me is now itching to get into the publishing business and start a magazine. And the question that I have from myself is … do I or do I not scratch that itch.

P.S.: Another post on what it takes to start and run a magazine business. Coming Soon. In 2015 ;P

Thank You!

No no, this is not about that new movie that has recently come up. This is about the world and life in general. Though I always want more and want to be rich and want to contribute meaningfully but I have realized that I have a wonderful life. I am no rock-star but what I have, millions of people would give their eyes to get.

Just want to thank life and people who make it so wonderful.

So why the sudden realization? This is not sudden sudden. I am sure I was subconsciously aware but it came up to the surface while driving to work today. It was windy, it was raining and there was no traffic on the road. With the steering wheel in my hand, I felt in control. For once I believed that I was the master of my destiny and I could go anywhere and achieve anything (although its a different matter that, exactly 45 mins after the flash of brilliance, I am in office, playing email jockey and sending off emails in all directions).

So while driving to work, I realized that there are so many forces that have conspired to give me the pleasure of driving in the rain and enjoying the way I did. Starting with my parents (gave me birth, sent me to schools, took care of me), nature (for giving us brilliant weather, mornings, rains, clouds, sunshine etc), forces of universe (for putting me at this place at this time), capitalists of the modern socierty (for creating music that I played in the background) to the democratic and socialist soceity (for giving me the freedom to move around and giving me awesome roads in Delhi), to myself (for chosing to remain happy despite to many things that I am yet to achieve).

Thank You everyone for everything.

Hello Mr. Email Jockey

[Start Rant]

I hereby present myself with yet another title. Mr. Email Jockey.

I heard the term first time on a flight. One Chinese executive, working in Hong Kong was talking to an entrepreneur from Australia and while talking, one of them dropped this term. I instantly developed a liking towards it. It had just the right ring to it. It aroused curiosity. I ensured that you get into a conversation. And most importantly, it said a lot about what I really do.

So who is an email jockey? Someone who sits on his laptop and blackberry and fires away emails at the speed of light. Someone who is so overawed by the volume of email that he doesn’t get a single minute to think on things. Someone, on his day off, misses all the “action” that email jockeying entails.

You get on your desk at precisely 10. You open you mailbox. And next thing you notice is the grumbling sounds from your stomach and you realize that its 1. Time for lunch. You eat, pee, smoke, chit chat, visit the water cooler, stare at that girl you like. All in that 5 minutes break that you allow yourself. And then you are back at the station. Juggling emails from clients and vendors and team.

Next time you peek up from the sea of incoming messages and herd of outgoing mails, you realize its well past 9. And that colleague that you like and you hoped to ask out, has left for the day. And to make matters worse, you get an email from the guy who sits next to you, about how much fun he’s having with that very girl.

Coming back, so email jockeying is one of those things that dint exist as a profession till about 5 years back. Advent of technology and its ubiquitous penetration has now made everyone email aware. You can now email and get married. Its really convenient and all that but for people like me, who are on the receiving end, this is one of those things that you wish, you could un-invent!

[End of Rant]