Self Help – 922

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.

On dreams. And yet another project.

Today I made the first tranche of payment for yet another project. For the record, this is the third time when I am paying for a project and substantial amounts at that. Both the previous ones, sadly did not do well. Heck, what do I mean “do well”? I didn’t even work on those apart from outsourcing a few simple tid bits and paying through the roof for those. FYI and FMI, the other two projects are
Saboon (aka Made With Love) and Brownie Points.

This one, unlike the last two where I sunk money and did nothing about, I plan to get off the ground. Let me park this bit, for a bit.

Unrelated note, Neo sent me this awesome quote, which is apt here…

Build your own dreams, or someone else will hire you to build theirs. -Anonymous

So far I have spent my entire adult life in building dreams for others. I have spent countless sleepless nights working on those dreams, I have lied for those dreams, I have done things that I have hated doing for those dreams, I have almost sold my soul for those dreams and I have put in my best years to work on those dreams. And if not a major one, I have definitely made notable contributions to those dreams.

Connecting this and the thought I parked above, its about time I did something about my dreams. I mean I dont really know what my dreams are but I know that it definitely does not include what I am doing right now. I dont even know if this project is my dream. But its a step up for sure. After 55555, this is the second thing that I am working on in 2013. And unlike the previous ones, I promise myself that I would bring this to an end.

While I am writing this, I remembered, one of my ex-bosses captured me in a brilliant line. He said that I am a very good beginner but a very poor finisher (prospective employers, judge me). When I look back, I realize that not finishing has been a common theme in my life across all spectrum – relationships, work and my dreams. And its time to bring things to a conclusion, on all the three facets.

Starting with this one.

More details on this as and when I come close to the finishing it. Like always, I am looking for co-conspirators. If you liked Jerry Mcguire, you could be interested in this. Please contact me of leave your details in comments below.

Dear Diary,

Last night, I had a dream. In the dream, I was reading van Gogh‘s letters (primarily to his brother and some to other assorted people) and when I woke up, I realized that though a maintain this blog, use notepads to scribble thoughts and keep notes as text files on my computers, I have never had a diary per se. And the thought of keeping a dairy sounded interesting. Like it would be so cool to know what was I thinking on, say, 9th Dec 2007.

It goes without saying that I enjoy writing and I am big fan of recording things, may be I can put the blame on applications like Evernote, but can I (or should I) turn this obsession of writing into maintaining a diary?

Of course the answer is not easy. Here is a list of questions that I need to answer before I decide on the
diary.

Would I actually go back to the diary at a later date and read what was I thinking on a given day in distant past? Do I do that with the blog? After all I have been writing for well over 7 years now!
Will the process of writing, give me some clarity about things that are cluttering my head? Both in the long run and the short run? For example, blogging helps me put things in perspective and allows me to meet new and interesting people. Would a secret diary give me some clarity in my head?
Would I have time to record my thoughts on a regular basis? Is the investment of time worth the returns that one gets from maintaining a diary? I dont know at this stage. A blog is a no obligation method where I am not reporting into anyone and I have keep motivating myself to write every once in a while. And more so when I dont have any regular readers! With a diary, there is no possibility of a reader ever.
And last but not the least, there have been tons of notes that I have saved over the years. I need to figure a way to quickly get them at one place? Preferably on Evernote? How is this important to the
diary? They are not but then if I am going to have a diary, I would want all notes, past, present and future, at one place.

And then there are trivial things like the medium, the frequency, privacy etc.

When faced with these sort of decisions, I need to be able to put some filters in place to help me find answers. Right now, I have a very vague idea about those filters.

Anyways, coming back to the diary, I am not sure if I really really want one. The idea is tempting though. Or may be I would try recording some thoughts on some days and see how it goes.

The final answer, as of now, is No. I may reevaluate it at some other day in future but in the meanwhile I would try and get all my scribbles on Evernote.

Do you guys maintain a daily diary? If you do, what are the best practices (if I may)?

EDIT
I wrote this post as “dairy” and I realized that I have used this word like ten times and each place, it was incorrect! Thanks to N for correcting me!

The Secret Sauce

Its been quite some time that I have been thinking of what makes people tick. I mean what makes an Aamir Khan make movies and go all out to make them hit? What makes a Manmohan Singh wake up in the morning and go about governing the country? What makes a Sachin Tendulkar go out and hit centuries after centuries? What makes an A. R. Rahman create those soulful melodies? What is it that makes a soldier to toil in extreme conditions and protect our country? What makes a bus driver drive that same DTC bus? What makes a liftman shuttle between floors in a high rise? The liftman, cant even see the sun, the moon or any of those million wonderful things that the world has to offer. What is that makes all my friends and family go about their mundane lives? What the fuck … what is making me write this? When I know that no one cares what random gibberish I am generating (except Google Ads perhaps) and when I know that I this would serve no purpose. What makes human beings do things they do?

What is the secret sauce? What is their mojo?

The conspiracy theorist in me speculates that it is the want of money, fame, power, sex, acceptance, affirmation or more than one of these, that makes humans do what they do. Like I told a friend yesterday, all this (the life) is a game, we are mere players (“All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players” anyone?). We are chasing things that we think will give us happiness. For some people, its about winning the game. For some its the chase (I belong to the chase category). For some its the mere understanding that they are in the game. And then some, dont even realize that they are in it (till they reach their level of happiness/dissatisfaction).

Apart from this, I havent been able to find an answer. I have been able to spot some patterns though. For starters, the ones who seem to be exited about what they do are redefining things that they do. Warren Buffett. Bill Gates. Steve Jobs. Sachin. Michael Phelps. Name them and you would know that they are the ones that are redefining things that they are doing. They define new paradigms. They change things. They push the human race forward. And more importantly, they know that they are doing it.

And then, correlated it may seem, the thing that they do becomes synonymous with them. Sachin. Batting. Batting. Sachin. Investing. Warren Buffett. Warren Buffett. Investing. So on and so forth.

They dont seem to do it for money. Money comes as a byproduct. They seemed to have spent years honing the art/craft/science. They do what ticks them. They do what they enjoy doing. And by sheer hardwork, they have been able to get so good at it that money has started following them.

And, IMHO, the challenge is not getting good at it. But challenge is to identify it. To understand your “it”. Once you know “what”, its a matter of “when”. I havent been able to identify it as yet. I do have some clues. Do they excite me? Yes, right now, they do. Can I redefine them? I am not sure. Can they define me? I dont know. I am putting together the ingredients for my secret sauce. Mind it, my secret sauce is personal, tastes very different from anyone elses (even different from WEB’s, SRT’s etc.), satisfies just me and no one else. And most importantly, I relish it. And the best part? Even if I shared the recipe, no one would be able to steal my secret sauce. The taste remains with me.

And that brings me to these three questions. What is your secret sauce? What defines you? What are you redefining?