Category: Rant

The Partying Predicament

Fact. I dont go to parties.

Why? I dont know what to do there. I dont drink. I dont enjoy crowded places. I dont have the balls to be able to strike conversation with strangers. Wait, I dont even wear shoes that allow me entry into most party places. If I am allowed entry, I can’t dance. As they say, I have two left feet.

But I do love music. But then I am too much of a Delhi guy. So my music better be Hindi. Or may be Punjabi. Which is often a problem in Mumbai. Too hip.

Funny because I am in the entertainment business and nothing like parties if you want to understand the entertainment business.

Why this post? I went to a party last night. And for a change I wore shoes. White one at that. Saboot here. And a party where I stayed till the end. Well, almost. And where I danced a bit. Whatever my two left feet could manage. The only step I know. The Bhangra one. Where you point a finger and move it up and down. Oh, you must check out those Bhangra Empire vids on Youtube.

Thankfully the first place we went to played some Hindi music. And Punjabi. The kinds I’ve grown up listening to. The like of Kawa Kawa, Kaala Chashma, Gori Naal Ishq Mita etc. Rarity in Mumbai if you ask me. But then Mumbai is one of those places that always had this harmonious coexistence of polar extremes – rich vs poor, celebration vs hardwork, house vs punjabi. You get the drift.

The point of the post is that while the DJ played some hindi remixes (of Kishore), I realised a few things. Here they are in. In no particular order.

  • I miss company. I miss people. I miss “my” people. My refers to people that are mine. Where I am on in their VIP / Favorites list on their phones. I miss things that I could do with friends. Places I could travel to with friends. Impromptu drives I could go on (Addendum: Need a car for that Mr. Garg). One look back at life I realise that I haven’t done too much. Most plans gets cancelled for some reason or the other. And I believe that busy is just another work for having things low on the priority list. So, I dont have too many “my” people. I have tons of connections that I could do things with. But I dont have too many people that I want to go back to. And the ones I have, they’re married, with kids and thus busy. And I am too old busy to make new friends. So, in all, it sucks. I think I belong but I dont. Anyhow. Big deal.
  • There is all sort of music in the world. The kinds I love. The kinds I want to groove to. The kinds that I play on loop all the time. Like the recent favorite – Aazadiyan. And then, and then ladies and gents, there is Kishore Da. You play a song by Kishore Da and you are teleported to a different zone like no other. Which is amazing. I wish I could see him perform live (which I know by experience is probably half as cool as recorded music). The closest I’d ever come is this.
  • The concept of shoes suck. I have no clue why they make the shoes mandatory to allow people at fancy places. What does it say about a person? Rather, what does it hide about a man? More on this some other day. 
  • The youth of the country (and not so youth) is MAD about partying. Both places I went to, I could see hundreds, if not thousands of kids, youths, oldies binging on alcohol, dancing and making merry. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the jubilations and fumes from other drunk people around them. Guess that’s the point of alcohol. Or maybe they faked things well. To someone like me (who wants to make people happy, give them joy and make money from these things), the realization was a cool one! 

What next? Well, next time I am invited to a party, I am going to say an emphatic no. Unless it is SUPER important to/for someone I know that I attend the party. As I move onward (and hopefully upward), I need to find sanity in life and make time for more important things – partying is definitely NOT a thing that I want written on my epitaph.


When is the next post? When? I dont know. Subscribe to the feeds 🙂

P.S.: Before last night, I can’t remember the last time I went to a party. May be a new year’s party in 2014. Yes, I am that old boring.

Untitled – May 14, 2016

Yet another in string of long-time-no-post zones (last post was 20+ days back). Need to write more and do more. More on the more bit in a bit. Wah wordplay ;P

So there are quite a few things I want to talk about in this post – after all been sometime since I posted. And beware, this will be a longish one. In case you want to read. Get a coffee maybe?

P.S.: If you do read these posts, please please do tell me. I need to know if you do. I am actually thinking of writing a monthly newsletter to people who care (and to people who I want to care for me). Let’s see what I do about it. But do let me know if you want to receive it. Here is a form that you may use.

Without further ado, rants for the day…

A. Work
So work is going ok. In 3 short months since I started (and 15 long months since I quit my last full-time job), I’ve seen ups and downs already. I have won clients, lost clients, clients have disappeared, someone has taken money and not delivered and everything in between has happened. I’ve been lucky and I’ve been unlucky and nowhere else has “this too shall pass” been so accurate!

I am actually making decent money (though I need to make a lot more and I define decent as being able to pay for expenses at home and yet having something in the bank) and doing some ok work. Need to upgrade what I do and make more more than decent. Of course its tough.

Decent is happening because am juggling two things and it’s not easy. No, I am not saying this because I want this to be glamourous about what I do. But because I love both things. I can’t choose one over another. Call it lack of focus but I can’t. One is live experiences (events, travel, adrenaline rush) and Two is communication (brands, behavioural science, communities, platforms, social, networks, people and such). I wish there was a way to marry the two.

To do more than decent, I will have to put more than decent effort.

Anyhow. The point is not work. The point is that I am now seeing my limitations as an individual and as a professional. I’ve always taken pride in being the supercool and super-great guy who can do everything but now I am realising that I am not as cool as I think I am. Lemme give an example.

I have realised that I am super good (may be even great) with getting things done. I am a great manager and I can deliver. But I suck at ideas. And I suck so bad that I can’t crack new clients if I dont take external help. Funny because I believe that no one wants brilliance with ideas – they rather want predictability in delivery. But then to be able to get the client on your side, you need to show your prowess with ideas. And I suck at it. It’s almost like a vicious circle. Almost. But it is.

I spoke of this problem to friends and mentors. I was told to hire talent. But who would want to work for a nameless, directionless dude like me? I haven’t won any awards, I have no portfolio to show (which clients are also surprised about – after all I’ve been a pony all my life and haven’t done any award winning work), I have no contacts in the industry, I dont inspire people. I can’t mentor. I can’t teach. I dont offer any reason to anyone to work with me. Unless they are desperate. Or delusional. And no, I cant pay. No I am not whining – just putting facts on paper.

So what is the way out? I dont know! Do you? Help me!

The other example of my limitation is the constant struggle to grow. Thing is, all my life, I’ve worked with agencies with deep pockets (CLA had a rich client when they started, Gravity had years of experience and SWL was profit making). I’ve always had a structure to support me. I was not responsible for paying salaries. This time, there is nothing except the thin air beneath my feet. So that sucks.

There are more things I can talk about that talk about my limitations but guess you get the point. I am not as cool as I think I am. And I need to accept it.

I shall at some point write a longer post about about and my operational issues (BD, Hiring, Delivery etc) and strategic issues (Why am I doing this? What is my objective? What is the big picture? The purpose etc). Some day!

B. Yoga
I restarted Yoga with Shameem. And like last time, shes ensuring that I dont aggravate my hernia. It’s been 5 classes and I know that my body has deteriorated so much in the last year. And more importantly, just like work, Yoga is making me aware of my limitations (the physical / mental / emotional ones).

And it’s humbling to see an old man do asanas with ease and grace while you struggle to even get into the formation. Simple thing like touching the toes without bending the knees seems like a task (and there was a time when I could do it as if I did not have a spine). But I shall get back to shape. I like being active and I need to get back.

So I hope I continue going to her. I know that these are tiny steps towards reaching my #lifeGoals of running a marathon and climbing the Everest. And may be other goals as well!

C. Kindness of strangers
The most recent fan mail for #tnks came from a 70-year old man, a retired banker, from Telangana. He used the kindest words ever and I was so touched, so thrilled that I wanted to get the second book out that day itself. Of course the book is long way from completion but I do aim for a end-year release. Thank you Sir for writing in. Hope I dont disappoint you with Book2.

Then, Rana Sir gave me another advance yesterday. I will use his advance to work on the next book and get the Hindi edition of #tnks out.

Then, last week two people (unrelated to each other) sent me two separate “feelers” about trying to put some sense into me.

First, this lady read the blog and without knowing me personally took pains to write to me to tell me about specific things that she has inferred from the blog. She thinks I whine a lot and I am concerned about my fitness. She may be right about fitness but I sincerely think that I dont whine as much. I could be wrong – lets see. What do you think?

And if I do come across as a cry baby, I need to send out better vibes. I can’t change my situations but I can change the way I look at them (glass half-full). So, thank you N. Hope you see a measurable change in how I write and the vibes I send out. Hope you continue to read. And I will summit the Everest.

The other person sent a longish whatsapp message. Again telling me of things that I need to improve on. I am on it. Thank you A.

D. Travel Book
A new project. I have decided that I will start work on the travel book. With Vivek. He is my travel partner (apart from R & gang and sgMS) and in one of the random WhatsApp conversations it popped up that we ought to do a travel blog together. And here I am. I’ve added it to the list of things to be done in this year. Lets see when we get around to doing it. I suck at travel writing and I know I need to improve on it. It can only happen with practise. I did write one (on Udvada) and I will write more as I start going out to travel. If… if only he finds time to meet me.

So that’s all I have for the day. But before I disappear again, here is a pic that I took at a Starbucks. *drops hint at Vivek*

Over n out!

P.S.: I will try to make the next post soon! Do fill in the form at the top of this page.

The Delhi Dislocation

So I am in Delhi. Been here for almost three days and haven’t stepped out of the house since. I merely ate, slept, crapped and Netflix and chilled with self. I did take a few work calls but I kept those to minimum. And as a result all the work that I had to do has piled up the way cars stall on a highway after an accident. And because I can see work piled up like a long line of cars stuck on the highway, I dont want to work at all. Am stuck in that vicious circle. And I dont know the way out. 


Anyhow, today I’d had enough of home and I had to step out. The nearest Starbucks — the place where you can sit for hours and work — is about 20 KMs away from my place. And though I hate going too far away from home for work, I had no other option. 


Fat forward. I am parked at the Starbucks CP. And I am trying to fix things. And how do I fix things? By writing. The other thing that I typically do to fix things is go for a drive. But then I dont have a vehicle and I am tired of begging from friends. And I can’t afford all those self-drive cars. Like they say, #FML. Let me not crib and do the other thing that I dont have to borrow for – write! 

So I am in Delhi and unlike other trips to Delhi, this time I haven’t called anyone (called = made an attempt to meet friends et al). I want to be with myself and fix shit in my head. The ones I am meeting are the ones that can’t wait – perils of being self-employed.

Thing is, last few months have been crazy (not work wise but emotions wise) and I needed a break from the madness. One option was to take off to an unknown land and meet strangers. I could even go to a familiar place like Panchgani or Goa or something. But then I looked at my bank balance and decided not to. Thus the only place that I could escape to, without spending too much, was Delhi.

However, little did I know that Delhi no longer gives me the peace, the sukoon that I craved for.

I’ve always known in my head and heart that I may live anywhere in the world, I will always remain a Delhi Boy. And and East Delhi Boy at that. For things like bhai, feel, bhasad, jugaad et al define me. I am as unpolished as they come – I like to wear socks and chappals, I like to scratch my arms and head at public places, I like lounging on a chair, rather than sitting with my back straight. I am loud. I am a showoff. I like attention. I am embodiment of everything that a Mumbai girl (aka sgMS) hates. And no, I am not apologetic about it. I am proud of my roots. I dont have any deep cultural ties to any religion or a location, except Delhi. Delhi is me, I am Delhi.

I knew I could count on Delhi. Anytime. Everytime I needed a break, I could scoot away to Delhi, meet old friends, get in a car, blare the car music system at are you crazy levels, drive fast, get into petty arguments and yet find the peace of mind. I could go for walks with locals, go to far away malls with friends, even hop to Gurgaon when I wanted to feel good about how I dont do the Delhi-Gurgaon grind anymore.

There was no ailment that a trip to Delhi could not fix. Even the craving for sgMS is a tad less when I know that I am not in a 20 KM radius of her.

However, this trip I realised that in the last few years, between all the Delhi – Mumbai trips I’ve severed my ties with Delhi (the bonds with Mumbai are shaky at best). The friends are still around, things are still the same, there is that familiarity with the place but I no longer get peace here. I am as restless as I am in Mumbai. I continue to get those cravings to search for that promised land where weather is perfect, things are the way I want, and I have a life of abundance.

Couple this with my permanent bone against the Bandra house.

Thing is, I am finally rootless. I dont know where to go, where to sleep, where to go to find peace. I am lost. And I dont know where is home. And I dont know what to do about it.

May be home is between soft, white, cold sheets of a hotel where the AC is always at a perfect 22 degrees. I love the feeling of being in perpetual motion. I love airports more than I love home. In fact, when I worked for Gravity, the best bit was all the airports and hotel rooms that I was supposed to live out of. I loved the muted opulence and pseudo-luxury. I loved the distance that the staff maintained while I was there. I liked how at a press of a button, things magically appear. May be, next time I need a break, I’d book myself into a 5-star and switch off my phone! May be. I shall try next time.

P.S.: Of course I need money to be able to afford a lifestyle like that. And by God, I will.

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!

Rant on Mumbai

Yesterday I was coming back from some place at around 9 (pm). To reach home, I cross the most godforsaken place in the world – Saki Naka (the wikipedia article does not do justice to the fuckery this place is. And its worse than the place where I live in Delhi). Since I knew that I was going to get stuck in traffic, I was in a really foul mood. This is when I looked out of the rick and saw a man my father’s age running behind a bus, trying to catch it. He had a backpack and he was wearing regular trousers and a shirt. At the risk of generalizing, he looked like a clerk or some other administrative person – one of the millions in the great Indian middle-class. 

Since there was traffic, the bus was barely crawling ahead. My rick was right behind the bus and the man was literally running parallel to the rick I was in. And since the man was old, he could run only at a certain speed and the crawl-speed of the bus was more than what the man could run at. He knew and I knew and probably everyone around knew that he was not going to catch the bus. And yet he kept chasing the bus. Despite the inevitable, he continued to chase. And he did it with all the fervor he could.

As the traffic opened up, the bus zoomed ahead and whatever little hopes that man had of catching the bus went in smoke. And the man finally quit the chase. With a shrug. And then he started to walk. And there was some purpose in the way he walked! I loved it. I loved the way he went about it. I wish I had that spirit. I wish I had the grit that he had.

Anyhow while I was thinking about it, I realized a few things.

A. He was old. If my father were to run like that, I would be really really sad. And come to think of it, my father has used public transport all his life. Am sure he would have chased buses and trains while working. Me on the other hand, I have used public transport only till the time I was in the college. After that I had a bike. And enough money to hire a rickshaw or taxi or something private. I am extremely lucky to have a family that has supported me with all that.

B. While I may crib about my inability to make enough money and get sad about it, there are so so many people that have far less than what I have and are struggling with even the basics, and yet they are happy. I mean that old man. He was ok to run to catch his bus. And I am sure it must be a routine for him. And yet he was ok with it. He knows that he will win some and lose some. And here I am. Who’s never had to lose anything!

C. Mumbai is a tough tough place to live in. My life is little comfortable – I have a big enough place to live in, enough money to pay for rickshaws and Ubers, enough money to eat what I want to, when I want to, where I want to, enough to take those foreign holidays and so on and so forth. And despite all this, I feel strained. The mere existence in Mumbai is tough. At times I want to leave everything and move to the mountains – which I would’ve done if I #tnks had sold well (after all purpose, passion and success are all interlinked!). May be I would if #book2 does well. I dont know if I can be a Ruskin Bond but I would try.

I digressed. The point is, Mumbai is a tough tough place to live in! And I have been shielded from the toughness to a large extent. I do not know what dirt and grime and heat and dust is like. I just cry like a baby. I need to stop that.

D. While the spirit struggle of Mumbai is a great thing, I am not sure I appreciate that a place could put such a large chunk of humanity in such miserable conditions. And each person is trapped in Mumbai because they dont have anywhere else to go, anything else to do. The ones who’ve made it are ok, the ones who haven’t are too tired to move on. Life looks hunky dory from our Ubers and air-conditioned offices and lavish parties at five-stars and view from atop the high-rises and occasional travels abroad and fancy things that we talk while we work. But in real life, life is lot more than that. And we need to somehow learn.

If nothing, the resolve to help the ones who lost on the ovarian lottery is now stronger. Once I have reached a point when I have made enough (I dont know what is enough), I would really work towards generating employment, elevating the lives, education and health. Basically go the Bill Gates way. Some day. Not today. I could jump in today but the impact that I would have would be limited. I dont want to impact ten lives. I would rather do create a fortune and then use that to bring about change on a larger scale. Like Bill Gates! Again I am digressing. The point is that Mumbai is a tough place to make a living. And the scene yesterday made me rethink my choice to stay in Mumbai.

Oh, to end this, barely five minutes after I saw that old man, I saw another man – this time far younger, sprinting behind a bus that he knew that he was never going to catch. He was in a Jet Airways uniform and looked like a loader or helper. The he was running, it was remarkable! I dont think I can run like ever! Plus, the thing is, he would’ve walked from the airport to the junction and then must have missed his bus. Life is so fucking tough and here I am lamenting about my inability to afford a car or a better lifestyle!

Oh Mumbai – the maya nagri! It is so so difficult to love you. And even more difficult to hate you!

The last 15 days

Just because it’s the 1st of the month, here is a post. Also because I haven’t written anything in a while, I ought to write — isnt that what writers authors do? Also because I feel obligated to share the way world I see, after that near-death experience (I shall talk about it in a bit). Also because the year has been very unkind as far as my heath goes. And because if I dont rant, what else will I do? And because writing on this blog allows me to “express” myself. Express in the classical expression way. I have to.

Last I wrote here was some 15 days ago. Why 15? Because 8 of those 15 were spent on the bed. Why on bed? Because I ate some stupid pasta at a fancy restaurant (Aromas at Powai) and a puff at a five-star (Orchid at airport) — please fight it out gentlemen. And the other 8 were spent in gloom. Why gloom? If you know me, you’d know.

The thing is, while I was on the bed, recuperating from that bout of food poisoning, I realized a few things. For starters, I cant handle this entire “being unwell” business well. I become a prick and I am a pain in ass. And I become this monster that I believe is very uncharacteristic of me. I try hard but I cant not do it. I end up hurting people that I mean to take care of. I try to be decent but I fail at it. Guess there’s just one way to solve the thing – don’t fall sick!

So last two/three days of recuperation have been spent in trying to not get unwell. That translates into no more street food. I’ve grown up in Delhi and I had these amazing guts of steel. I could eat whatever and I could have any sort of gastrointestinal attack and could digest even a brick. But not any more. May be with age, the steel has atrophied, the acids in my stomach have stopped performing. Who knows. But I now have to look and pause and think before I put things in my stomach. From now on, everything goes. Except McDonalds. Please. That’s something I cant do without. There is something about fried batter and potatoes that I cant resist the temptation of. In fact, I start writing this at home and I am finishing it at a McDonalds. But apart from McD, I shall eat at home and avoid baahaar ka khana as long as I can.

Help me with it. And, just in case you were looking for a sign, look no further.

Source: Unknown

And on the 7th day

via: Vectortoons.com

Since I started working (full-time, post my MBA in 2006), I have never ever felt the need of a “weekend” or a break. I could work long hours and I could continue to work long hours for weeks on the go (My personal “best” is a 4-day long “workday,” without sleep and with a lot of food and gas).

Until the week gone by.

I can’t remember of a time when I was so tired exhausted with work that I needed a vacation. May be because I take tons of time off to travel and engage in a thousand projects and a million hobbies. I do multiple things at the same time and thus I use different parts of my brain at different times. Or may be because I have worked in advertising, events and startups where every day is a new challenge and work is not repetitive. May be because I have always had great bosses to work for and they allowed me all the freedom to do whatever I wanted to do. Or may be I was plain lucky?

I dont know the reason but as such I’ve never sort of ‘appreciated” the concept of a weekend.

Until the week gone by.

For some reason, the last week brought about a change. Even before the weekend started, I prayed, wished hard and I did not want the Monday to arrive. When it finally dawned, I wanted it to get over fast. Tuesday I did not want to get out of my house, but I had to. I was exhausted by Wednesday. Thursday, I crawled out of my home. I hated everyone. I was grumpy. I was rude to people for no reason. I was not me. I wanted to ask a girl out – I blew it. Friday I was literally begging for the week to end and give me some time to recuperate. And as luck would have it, Friday turned out to be the longest day. And when I finished work on Saturday afternoon, I was so elated that I could actually count it as amongst the happiest moments of my life!

Of course throughout the week, I continued to work and tried to give my best — which at times is brilliant (from my lens), most times good enough (for people I work for) and often half-baked-half-hearted attempt (for #sgMS). I could elaborate but this is a rant for a different place, different time.

You know, thing is, the world I come from, either you work or your parents set you up a grocery store or a sweets shop (Garg Kirana or Garg Mishthan Bhandar). And as such, I have inherited middle-class ethos where work is above everything else and you simply do what you are asked to do. There is no time to crib, to be tired, to get exhausted, to look forward to the weekends, to crack jokes, to be happy about life. Money is tight and there is no entitlement that helps you tide over the hard times. You work. Or you sit at your grocery store and peddle soaps and shampoos. Of course you could choose to live under a bridge and die of hunger.

With time, thanks to the world we live in, things have become easy and I no longer have to hold a steady job. I have enough work that allows me to make some money, helps me pay my bills and yet have some left over to buy things I like, travel to places I want to, get those occasional gifts for the ones I love. And I am so so thankful to the stars that have allowed me to reach such a place. I know I am luckier than a lot others. I got dealt a pretty ok hand in the ovarian lottery. And the stars dont really work for you unless you put in time and effort. So, there was never a thing about weekends. There was never a break.

Until the week gone by.

I really needed a break. And I actually loved my sleep last night. I missed my Sunday breakfast ritual with VG but that’s ok. He’d understand.

While I write this, I am thinking what changed over the years is wrong with me. Lemme indulge my obsession with (of?) making lists and try to list the things that come to my mind.

  • A, I am definitely older (and more depressed). And I am not getting younger (or happier) ever. So I have less physical energy, more stubborn ways, more toxins in my body, more patterns that are so set that I dont want to disturb, lesser neurons, more judgmental decisions and so on and so forth. It hampers my inability to get things done!
  • B, I am suffering from a terrible mid-life crisis and I am trying to overcompensate by drowning myself in work. I am jealous of everyone around me who seems to be happy (look at their FB timelines), doing meaningful work (that is actually changing the world and putting that ding, making money (the convertibles and automatics and third houses that these people are buying), climbing up the corporate ladder and doing well on all such metrics.
  • C, I am trying just too hard. For everything – money, relationships, achievements. And I am not seeing any results. May be because I dont know the direction that I want to move in. It sucks to work like an ass. And come to think of it, I have always talked about smart work being better than hard work. More than results, it is my inability to drive my destiny.
  • D, my inability to get things done. I mean look at this idea that I’ve been sitting on for almost 6 months. I just cant get it to work. While I sit on the sidelines, the world has taken it and went to another level altogether!
  • E, as #sgMS says, my mediocrity. Thing is, if I were dumb, I would have been content with a job that gave me some money, some respect, lot of grief, long weekends and occasional 5% raise. Or if I were brilliant, I would have had some impact on the world already (look at other 30-odd years old men – Zuckerberg, Altman, Dhoni et al. Hell, I dont need to go far. There are examples in my immediate surrounding – one of my ex-bosses, my classmates from MDI, my friends from school and college). Most people today know what they want in (aka from) life. And they are at it. Moving forward. If not fast, then one step at a time. I, on the other hand, am taking pleasure in ranting about my life. Case in point? These two tweets. 
  • F, oh my fetish with Masochism and Self-flagellation. I revel in misery I think. No wonder I dont have many friends. And funny thing is, life has been very kind to me. Really kind. I am a man of my free will. I am fat (and thus have enough food in my belly). I can afford a spacious place in Mumbai. I can take occasional weekends off. And I can dream. And I have all the things that are required to get that ding-worthy project off the ground. I want to enable people to see their purpose and do grand things – I have the opportunity to go ahead with it. I just dont do it. I dont know why. 
  • G, I leave too many open windows. More on this later. 

Phew! I am tired. And elated. Tired because I am generally tired. And elated because I just wrote for some 40 minutes (this post). And writing gives me happiness like no other thing.

And in an otherwise ok mood because I am rested. I have an exhibition to go to. Hope it is worth the time and effort. Hope you’re having a great weekend. Hope things are working out. Lemme end this with a cartoon by Hugh.

And of course, hope you (and I) do something that matters!

Over and out.

Notes to self
1. Elaborate on half-baked-half-hearted attempts and Open Windows some time. 
2. Stop using to many ands.
3. Find a solution for self-flagellation. 

Will you?

I spot a recurring pattern in life. As readers of this blog, you must have noticed it as well. No?

That I play this game of hide and seek on the blog.

And if it’s any consolation, I do it in real life as well.

There are phases when I have this spurt of activity where I get hyper active. I write almost everyday, think of ideas, get some exercise, do a lot of reading, talking, connecting and dreaming. I am in the zone. For days at stretch. I am in this Zen-like mode where nothing seems impossible and I want it all. And I work towards it. I am in the YOLO and FOMO mode and I say yes to everything. I overwork myself. To a point when I start cribbing about how overworked I am and how I don’t have time to sleep. I do so till the time I start enjoying the pain. I am on this trip where pain becomes pleasure and I want more and more of it.

Till something happens and I snap out of it.

The “something” could be as large as the AC not working or as small as wrong signs from Universe. AC is large because I am the kinds that want everything in perfect order to keep me happy. So things like AC, relatives, visitors at home, Internet etc. bug me so much that I want to kill someone. Of course Universe-conspiring-to-give-me-gifts is important as well but I sincerely believe that I amongst the luckiest people. So I tide over that.

So till I snap out of the euphoria, I am getting things done. I am the king of the universe. But when I am out, I have this desperate urge need to crawl in a hole and wait for the winters to end. I sort of want to disappear. I cease all contact with the outside world (except my inner circle) and I don’t want to be touched. I don’t write, I don’t tweet, I don’t post updates on Facebook. I merely become a vegetable and try to exist. Of course if there’s work, I have to live per shenanigans of clients. But I try to not accept work in such phases.

I know it sucks but this is probably that aspect of life that I cant change.

I know it sucks but that’s how I am.

Of course I can blame it on my bipolarity. Or may be on the fact that I really really miss having sgMS around me. Or may be at the lack of direction that my life is flowing in. I can externalize the reasons but there’s no one to blame but me and I will have to live with it.

The thing is, despite all that, as a friend, a reader, a patron, I will have to ask you, request you, implore you to allow me to live with it. Give me my space when I need. And hope that I come back stronger and higher.

Will you?

#tnks for free?

Since #tnks is amongst the biggest things that I have done in life, I often talk about it to friends and strangers. And when I do that, invariably, I am expected to cough up a free, autographed copy of the book.

And ladies and gents, to put on record, it is pissing off!

I have nothing against signing the book. Or free copies. Just that I expect friends, acquaintances, clients, and colleagues to “buy” the book and help me! Free copies are meant for those who expect a favor (exchange, barter etc). And for those who are used to getting freebies (journalists, reviewers etc). Not friends!

You know when you “buy” a book, you contribute to the sales of the book. That pushes the book a tad higher in rankings. And that in turn pushes the publisher for the next print run. Both these things give immense confidence to writers, especially the first-timers like me.

More than confidence, it makes the writer grow balls to work on the next one (if he’s in it for the long run, like I am!). And may be negotiate better terms with the publisher (who often is very cocky and is used to getting his way with authors). Or get an advance (which is unheard of, for non-celebrity authors). Or may be secure a larger print run (which is like a wet-dream on starry night). And so on and so forth.

The funny thing is that the book is really cheap. At a selling price of about 100 bucks, the book is probably cheaper than a coffee at your favorite coffee shop or a meal at a mediocre restaurant or a movie at the most rundown cinema hall or a piece of garment that you wont even wear the second time around. If you’re telling me that you can’t spend 100 bucks to support a friend, who’s trying chase the most cherished goal of his life, God help you! And your friendship. And the friend.

To be honest, the ones who ask for free copies are not to be blamed. There are a few things that we just don’t “get” culturally (as Indians). Like music. It has to be downloaded for free from songs.pk (or some other combination of songs and pk). Or dhaniya and pudhina that has to come for free with any subzi you may buy.

Similarly we expect books to be free. Especially if they are written by friends. No?

In fact I was like you till about 2012! When Suds wrote The Lost Story, I asked him for a free copy and I refused to buy it, till Divya put some sense into me and ordered a copy on my behalf. Thanks Divya. I now know what you meant. And thanks Suds for not giving me a copy for free.

And to everyone who’s been asking for a free copy, you know, you can still buy the book. Its available on Amazon and Flipkart. And hopefully, at a bookstore near you. It’s still not on any bestseller list and every copy sold contributes to that. Which helps me as a writer.

Thank You,
Saurabh Garg

Author, The Nidhi Kapoor Story

P.S.: And no, not everyone asked me for a free copy. Some friends did buy it. Some actually bought multiple copies and gave extra copies away to their friends. Ankit, Gaurav and Parijat even supported my crowdsourcing campaign to raise money for a promotion tour. Thank you guys. Your support means a lot. Onwards to my next book!

Repost from #tnks blog.

End of the starry night…

Note: I have been acting crazy over the last few days (about ten days or so). I’ve tried to not show the crazy bit to people around me. They may or may not have noticed. But deep down inside, I know I have been crazy. As they say, the easiest person to fool is myself and the hardest to help is also self. So instead of falling in the delusion that all is well, I shall work on and fix things. 

van Gogh’s Starry Night

Since this is a very public place (and yet apart from PD no one reads this blog and I am not sure if after IM she has time to read this anymore) I will not get into a lot of details. But I know I need to fix a few things. Let me make a list of things that I would work on over the next few days.

1. Find that office (or a place where I could sit and work). Fast. Super fast. I cant work out of home. Even though I have a fancy table and an ok chair to sit on. Starbucks is fine but I no longer want to spend 200 bucks every hour. I have a couple of options. They are not ideal but I shall exercise those options and see which one can I close. 

2. Do something about my fitness. I just do not like the way I look. I need to loose (or lose?) that fat around my belly. There are so many things that could be done. I have to finish a marathon before the end of this year and apart from buying running shoes, I haven’t done shit about it. It will change from today. I will go for a walk, if not a run every day from today. Irrespective of the city I am in.

3. The longing for sgMS is making me super crazy. I know I can’t be with her and I know I can’t live without her. Everything I do is meaningless without her. There are times when I question the very reason for doing things (writing etc). I will no longer worry about it. Let the reasons take a break. I am just going to assume that she’s around and do my shit. More on it on the secret blog.

4. There are couple more things. I will not write about em here. Too personal. Too private.

Apart from these, other things that often trouble me are my attempts to improve the way I write, my quest for learning and the never-ending chase of money. I am thankfully doing pretty ok for the time being (I am learning about writing, have enough money to feed myself for the next 6 months and learning new things everyday). I am moving ahead in my own little silly ways. The only thing hampering em is the general gloom that I have subjected myself to. Like I said, I need to get out of it. And I will do it now!

Oh, I am working on a new business idea. And this time, I have a partner who’s been there and done that (started and exited a successful start-up). So, things will have a higher probability of working out. Look forward to it. More in a few days when we are closer to the output.

That’s it for the time being.

P.S.: The very damn act of writing this is so therapeutic. I often wonder why I write a blog when I very well know that very few people read this on regular basis. And in the process of writing, I am making my life public. More public that those cricketers or film stars. Just that they have people who care about the color of underwear they’re wearing. And in my case, the person I love the most, doesnt even care if I am alive. Or dead.

Anyhow, I dont know the real reason why I write. I just think that writing helps. Like I said, its therapeutic. And if you’re reading this, thanks a ton. It really is gratifying to know that people can read through long personal rants. 

More as and when I have newer updates.


P.P.S.: Why did I put van Gogh here? I dont know. It felt like the most natural thing to do.


P.P.P.S.: I have made similar list no less than a hundred times in the past (too lazy to post links) and every time I have failed to keep up to them. Let’s see if this time I can.


P.P.P.P.S.: The other change that has happened to me is that I no longer care about the perception that my acquaintances have of me. The realization happened as a result of this long rant on the events industry. May be read it, if events business interests you.

Dear sgMS

Dear sgMS,

I dint mean to write to you this soon. I am supposed to show little restraint, little caution, little more control over what I do and how much I miss you. You know I am supposed to move on and all that. And anyway, I just wrote a letter to you last week!

The thing is, I am at a place that has something that reminds me of you. Actually not just one thing. But a lot of things. Its like the universe is conspiring against me or something. To get me close to you.  Lemme talk about those things.

Starting with the fragrance that the hotel uses. This hotel has Lotus Flower as their signature smell. Now I dont know much about fragrances and perfumes and all that but I know that the perfume is uncannily similar to the one that you use all the time. So much that everytime I use one of those free things that come in the room, I go rushing back in your arms. Living with you. Breathing in that smell off you. Holding your hand, traveling with you to a new place. Remember that ten-page long letter that I wrote you before we went on that trip?

Then there is this entire thing about me being at a very chilled out place and not having you for company. Every time I do some mischief, pull a prank on people I am with, I am left searching for you and hoping that you would be around to see me smirk like a mad man. I would crave for that dismissive nod of yours that says so much without saying anything at all. Something that only you can do. Something that I think is one of your superpowers. Something that I miss sorely. 

Then ofcourse there are millions of tiny nicknacks that I think you would’ve loved to buy. Of course, to this date I cant guess what your taste is like but I have a vague idea of things that would pass your scrutiny. You remember how towards the end of that trip, I actually got good at guessing the trinket that you liked? I wanted to point at things that I think you would like. But I couldnt. You werent around you know.

And last, the fact that the room has pristine clean bedding, just the kind that you prefer. It is so  perfect that you probably wouldnt have stepped out of the hotel! Neither do I want to for that matter. And when I miss you, and when I dig my face into those soft pillows, every time I curl up in the bed craving for your company, that whiff of that Lotus Flower takes me back. To you. It reminds me of you. Of your company. Of your greatness.

God, I miss you. I really do.

Please come back.

Love always,
SG