Category: sgMS

Andy, Red and Nidhi Kapoor. sgMS. And Poker.

Today evening I was home and had nothing to do. I took out time and wrote that longish rant on freedom. And while writing the post, I read about Shawshank. And then I read some quotes and saw a few clips online. And then I got the movie and saw it.

While I was seeing the movie, a few really interesting things happened. For starters, it gave me insights into how I live my life viz a viz the inmates at Shawshank. And more importantly, it gave me insights into what all could be still done with The Nidhi Kapoor Story (tnks) to make it better. Let me use bullet points to talk about this further.

  1. So far the story is about three characters, Nidhi, Renu and Prakash. The entire story is not really narrated by someone, as Red does in Shawshank. What if, tnks was narrated by someone. I dont know if this will make the material any good but it would be exciting for sure. It would also mean that I would have to rewrite a large chunk of what is already on paper. But then, I have a responsibility towards the readers of tnks and I have made them a promise and I would re-write as many times as I think is required to get the story in a readable shape. If not for twists and turns, I want people to have a good time while reading the book. So, over the next few days, I need to figure out the way forward.
  2. Apart from the change narrative and the plot, the scene from Shawshank where Andy, Red and their gang is painting the roofs with tar, it gave me yet another gimmicky idea for marketing tnks. After all, beneath the damn bald (ing fast) head, I have a marketing brain on my shoulders. Its early days to talk about it here but I am really excited about it.
  3. Live life from each character‘s perspective and then write it. And not as a journalist with a third rate publication. But as a real person. What emotions would someone go through if her favorite pets are killed? What emotion would a guy go through when the love of his life is fucking his best friend? What emotion would the reader go through while he is reading about the unfaithful girl? So on and so forth. 

I know am not taking the story forward with these things but I am definitely putting shape to the ideas that I had in my head. And I believe that it would do a world of good. That’s it for Nidhi.

Apart from Nidhi, the other woman that occupies my head a lot is sgMS. I will talk about her now.

So, today, something interesting happened. I met this really old and really good friend for coffee. She knows me in and out and I really thank my stars that I am friends with her. She made me realize that my fascination for sgMS may be misplaced and I need to move on. She made me realize that if she is happy without me, actually enjoying her life without me being around, I have no right to interfere. What if she was brought on Mother Earth for me!

So, since its something that I can control by myself, I have decided to flip the switch and have decided to move on. And try and find some real love. I mean I know I cant find real love but I would let these accidents happen now. I would live. I would be free. Remember the post I made yesterday about freedom?

I know I have made this promise to myself at least a hundred times earlier, if not more. But this time, its for real. Andy, in Shawshank says, Get busy living, or get busy dying. Here is a poster.

Its one of THE most powerful set of words ever written. All this while, I was busy dying. Now, this day onwards, I am going to live. And get busy with it. And there is no place for sgMS in that busy life. But then the fact remains that she is above everything else. She defines the beginning. And she defines the end of all my endeavors. She is that important. Whatever we shared for whatever duration, was special and I feel blessed to have had that. But like every good thing, I guess the relationship has served its purpose. And I need to move on. And I would. 
Finally, the third thing that I want to talk about today is poker. 
Since I left my job in July, I have spent a large chunk of time playing poker. With real money, online and offline. And with moderate success. But then I realized that I was getting addicted to poker. Like I get addicted to all forms of games of chance. I promise that as a part of this get-busy-living phase of life, I would take a sabbatical from poker. I would read about it alright, I would talk about it, but I would not play. Except the coming week.
That’s if for the time being for an update and a blog post. This is also the third post in as many days. A welcome change, since I hadn’t written for a large chunk of this month. Do check out the FB page for The Nidhi Kapoor Story and Like it if you like what you see there. 
P.S.: This is like a daily diary on steroids. Writing, fiction, fact, inferences, thoughts et al. Four days on the trot. Lets see how long do I continue it this time. 

Occupational hazards of being an event manager

Last three years, apart from dabbling into other small time things, I spent most of my time as an event manager. And as an event manager I planned, executed and managed events of all sizes. From audiences as small as 5 guests to crowd as big as 20,00,000 over a period of five days, I managed it all.

So first things first. Unlike other “office” jobs where you are supposed to just play the role of an email jockey, you need to be out there on the ground and be a live witness to all the “action”. In most cases, rather than being a mere witness, you end up being part of the “crime scene”. I did not mind any of this action; on the other hand, I loved being at the middle of all these crime scenes. And more time I spent in the middle, more time I wanted to spend. It was like an addiction. The way you get addicted to dope, I was getting addicted to spending time running shows and getting things in place.

Panorama, from an iPhone,of an event that I managed last year

Now that I am not actively working on events and I have time to zoom out and look at my time as an event manager. And I realized a few truths about myself. And most of them can easily be classified as occupational hazards!

Here’s is a quick list.

1. You learn to live with a perpetual depression. I dont know about others but after every major event where the event ends on a high with dinner, I get majorly depressed. I get sad. So sad that I want to bury myself neck deep in sand somewhere and not do anything. Not even sleep, sleep anyways wont come because you are so high on adrenaline after an event well done. You just lie on your bed, staring at the ceiling and waiting for a kick in the butt.

And I can clearly see a pattern. Every time, without fail, after an event, I get into a major depression. Most of my colleagues get drunk after an event and by the time they wake up next morning, the previous evening is all foggy and I suspect that leaves no room for depression. But for a teetotaler like me, events can be hazardous. The very thought of writing this post came to me after a large event that I did a few weeks back. Never got around to writing this that time.

Funny, while I write this, I can sense a tiny amount of depression creeping up on me, for, I haven’t really been at the center of action for some time now. Its one of those things, you cant live with or live without.

2. You get addicted to a state of constant excitement. Ever read about junkies, alcoholics and gamblers? Why do they keep going back to their poison? Not that someone forces them to. They crave for the rush that they get from that next injection or that next vodka shot or that next bet of a thousand bucks. The outcome is not important. What is important is living in the moment. The moment when that drug hits your blood stream, or when all the attention of other gambler is on you and you are supposed to bet a lot of money. That rush. You get addicted to it. You know its taking you on a downward spiral but we are humans. We give more importance to immediacy. We want things now. There is no time for later. We can deal with consequences later. Time is unlimited. We would fix. But right now, let me order just one more peg, play one more hand, do another event.

You get the drift? Ok, compare it to driving an open top car at high speed on a long road without any bends. You can see mountains in the distance and there is no trace of humanity on your right or your left. Its you, the road, the open roof car and that wind in your hair (even if you are bald). Or compare it to writing. Like when words magically appear on your screen without you planning for those words. When a small note expands into a long narrative. When you forget that you had to meet the love of your life for breakfast and you cant not go to meet her. You dont want to stop the dance your fingers are doing on the keyboard? You cant decide. That!

And if you dont get the drift, try stopping an alcoholic friend from his next outing and ask him to explain. He may do a better job.

3. You become superstitious. I am the kinds who thinks that the concept of God is created and popularized by weaker people. Yeah, judge me. And yet, before every event, I do my bits of stupid rituals to ensure that event goes well. I know that I have done my homework well and I have planned for contingencies. I know that I have backup of the backup of the backup and I have my entire team on standby. I know that there are way too many variables than I can not control and yet I am prepared for every eventuality. But then I want that extra element of help. Like the weaker people that I spoke about. I want the event to go well. So what do I do? I create my rituals. And I participate in them religiously, despite no apparent evidence of those rituals of being any help.

What rituals you may ask? There are plenty. The evident ones are bowing and saluting to the stage where the speaker would talk from, apologizing to my crew in advance for eventual outburst of profanities and emotions while the event is running, holding onto my breath when an AV is beaming on screen.

Thankfully this superstition did not transition from an event day to my daily life. Actually I dont know if it has transitioned. Did I bowed reverently to a car before I starting driving. Or did I pray to water god before my dip in the pool? I dont remember. I’d take note next time.

4. Blatant disregard for hotels and their opulence, grandeur and snobbery. And of other such fancy places (office complexes, expensive malls etc). Since my work often required me to walk into these places at all hours and in all states of dress (and undress, shabbily dressed etc), I got used to hostile glares from hotel staff. At first it is intimidating but then you get used to it to a point that you enter in the Dont Give a Fuck Mode and you start operating on auto pilot. This disregard has stayed with me even after I stopped working on events and that is why I am perfectly comfortable walking into a five star lobby with broken bathroom chappals and tattered clothes.

Of course your very presence makes other patrons uncomfortable, but then like Col. Jessep’s “…sleep under the blanket of very freedom that I provided...”, I provide these patrons with an opportunity to enjoy an active social life by planning and executing an impeccable event.

So, I believe that I am justified in the disregard. Of course there are causalities but then which battlefield does not have em?

5. Sleep deprivation becomes your secret superpower. Most people, when sleep deprived, cant think straight. I, on the other hand, thanks to my stint as an event manager, am totally comfortable with less than four hours of sleep every day. In fact ability to operate efficiently even with few hours of sleep is like my superpower that most people dont have. You see, I did not work for a big company and we did not have events everyday but there is so much happening all the time that you ought to be on your feet all the time. And since its a small company, you are expected to do everything at the same time and don multiple hats. Some may argue that its about managing time well but trust me its not. You have to be physically alert. All the time. And that means, no sleep.

In fact, a confession. I miss this secret superpower more than anything else now that I am not working on events. I need my ten hours of sleep now and the day I dont get my ten hours, I am drowsy and I am irate. I just need to get the sleep mojo back. How? 

6. Family becomes a set of acquaintances and friends become strangers. Being an Indian, two most important sets of people in life are my family and my friends. But then thanks to my role as an event manager, there were months when I just did not see my family. I would leave home at wee hours and return at an ungodly hour. I would see them in various states of drowsiness, to unlock doors for me, to pack lunches, breakfasts for me, to ask me about medicines that I may need because I have been tired and working constantly.

Friends and notion of friendship is probably hit harder. You live in the same house with your parents (even at 30, we are Indians) but friends live at some distance. And they have their respective jobs. So when you meet your friends after a few fortnights you dont even know what to talk about. That silent camaraderie that you felt when with friends, its suddenly missing. You can no longer relate to them. Things that made you laugh with them, they dont seem funny no more.

I dont have a girlfriend so I dont know how being an events manager affects your love life. Any opinions on that? I do have sgMS (ok, not her but just her thoughts) but I think my job just got me lot more closer to her – I would constantly think about her and try and guess how would she react to a certain thing, what part of my job would make her happy, so on and so forth.

7. You become an overpaid coolie. You need to work on events at different cities and countries. That means you get to travel to all these places. For someone like me who loves to travel, its a great thing to happen. But then like most travel for work, you are restricted to certain places.

There are times when I have been to really exciting destinations in different counties and all I have done is checked-in at the airport (on the foursquare app) and the hotel where I am supposed to get the event done. I dont even step outside the hotel. Most people would be ok and content with just the foursquare checkin at the airport and hotels but I am slightly old fashioned. I believe that there is so much more to a place than the airport or the hotel.

And when you are in a new city for a few days, its all easily accessible. You just need to step out. I mean you travel all the way to Sydney from Delhi and all you do there is spend four nights in a hotel. You dont even step out of the periphery of the hotel. And stuck in your room on the 34th floor, you think of all the great things that Sydney is famous for. And then you start cursing your luck. And you forget that you are luckier than most other people you know of in life and yet you are complaining and whining.

You know, its like a lot of foreplay but no action. And then the craving
for action, in terms of exploring the city you are in, is no less than
craving for action after a prolonged foreplay. If you know what I mean.

Oh, did I use the word coolie? Because while I am traveling for events, I am expected to manage and carry all the equipment and other things that an event may need. Often translates into 300 KGs of material. And all airlines hate you for that. So much so that now that I am not an event manager, they still shoo me to a distant counter that is reserved for lowly people, like event managers!

Ok, this is about it. Though, when I started writing this, I thought that the list would be longer. I was so wrong. Do you have any more things to add here? What do you think are occupational hazards of being an event manager?

And before I end this, standard disclaimer. I have worked for some seven years now and have worked for a global MNC, a start up, an advertising agency apart from an events company. And trust me, there is no job like running a show. The kind of faith your clients exhibit in you, the kind of things you do that you thought you couldn’t, the amount of quick thinking that you get attuned to, the rush, the excitement, its something that no other job in the world can give you.

I think if the book I am working on does not happen by the end of this year, I would be back at running around running shows.

Just hope, I get the damn naukri. Wish me luck.

First posted on Medium here.

RIP dear sgMS

If you know me personally, you would be aware of my stupid obsession with a certain individual, sgMS. A couple of you know who she is and what she means meant to me. For others, she has existed only as a name in my blogposts and tweets. For the uninitiated, she for me is like that long cherished dream that may not be coming true for me.

Here is a piece of news for everyone, including I. Starting today, I shall no longer crave for talk about her and move on. Atleast try to.

It’s a sad sad thing to do and I am not really happy about it but like they say, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. To be honest, I have often wished that her and my story ends like that of Anna and William but I am assured she is not staying indefinitely. Here is a clip, in the meanwhile to divert attention.

More than retiring her to inaccessible corners of my memory, I want to apologize as well for my behaviour over the last few years. I am sincerely sorry for being so blind and irrational. I have made enough sacrifices, including losing a few really good friends, because I wanted to be with sgMS. And no, I don’t have any regrets. It was amazing while it lasted. Just that I think I was harsh on friends and other around me.

Now that I am moving on, I suddenly miss all those old times. Such is life. Cant help
it, can we? There were times when I thought she and I were meant to happen. Even the stars were aligned. Talking about stars, I believe know that I am God’s favorite child. Wait a minute. I don’t really believe in existence of God but I do believe in some sort of higher power that watches us all and makes things happen. The power that would have made the chemical elements play with each other to crate mixtures and compounds. The power that made us humans possible, the power that makes the sun rise in the easy, day after day. The power that gives me the power to breathe and sustain. Sad, that that all powerful power could not help me. If ChitraGupta, God’s accountant, really exists, when I meet him, I would ask from him why I dint get to be with sgMS.

I sincerely hope that there are better things in store for her. And for me. I look forward to what’s gonna come up in next few years. This for the record is the last post about sgMS. After this, I shall retire her to oblivion. If someday in future, I get around to writing my biography, I may talk about her in detail but for the time being, RIP dear sgMS.

Since this is my new life, thanks to “reset” button that Mayan’s pressed and this tweet made me aware of, I shall make the most of it. Starting with burying the remains and moving on.

In few words, to sum it all, it was awesome while it lasted. And I am so sorry to have become what I was. I shall try and fix things.

On Gratitude, Restlessness and Yearning

1. The ones who know me since I was a kid, would know how huge a fan I was of Lucky Ali when I was growing up. So much so that while I was in college, I made this huge website dedicated to him (to bad it was on geocities and I dont have any copies of it). Back then, it became a reason. I couldnt stop thinking about his music and the website. I tracked every visitor and updated every broken link multiple times a day. Now, in 2012, it sounds funny and inane, considering what 19 year olds create now. But those were the days and there I was.

2. There is this show on MTV that probably is inspired by Coke Studio, which in turn is probably inspired by some other famous show from the west, that invites amazing musicians and puts them on a stage and ask them to perform their best tracks, unplugged and slightly tweaked for the live audience. And to jazz up the offering, it makes these artists talk about the music and why and how of their music. So much so that there are times you get to hear behind the scenes conversations between these guys. Nevertheless, it reveals, to some extent, what the artist was thinking while writing that song.

3. This video. And the brief interpretation of the lyrics by Lucky. And to be honest, all music by him.

4. sgMS. And everything about her. And I. And how Lucky’s interpretation/reason for O Sanam is so apt, so befitting, so true about sgMs and I. And that after all these years, the realization that the song I loved as a kid will actually become a true story some day. And my story at that. 

5. Nights in Mumbai are brilliant. You may think that the city is fast asleep, but its not. Under the covers, everyone is dreaming about something or the other. Then, there are people on the road who dont really have a place to goto and there are some who dont want to goto any place and just stay on the move (like me, dunno if everyone loves the feeling of being on the move as heady as it is to me). Each lost in his/her own world. And in their dreams – after all this is the city where dreams can come true. Some of them actually do. And each person, each dream has a story that could make you envious.

6. I, alone. With nothing but music. And a million thoughts swirling around in my head. Ranging from music to life to travel to poker to money to dreams to “holocaust to quality of cucumbers in winters“. And the sad bit is that I cant seem to find any answers to any of these genuine questions despite the Mensa membership and all that.

Club all the 6 above together (Apart from this list thing, I dont think I could have written this any better). I dont know the nature of resulting concoction but its like that amrit that makes you restless, fills you with gratitude and makes you yearn. All at the same time.

Restless because despite trying everything, there is something that binds you to her. Because despite trying everything you cant seem to get over her. Even her rebuttals, her insults, her public display of affection for everyone else refuse to work. And funnily she if of the same opinion.

Gratitude for people like Lucky Ali for cooking ups songs and stories like these. And for people on the streets of Mumbai. And their dreams. And all the efforts they put in. Everything gives you inspiration and hope to continue to work and pray that someday the hardwork is redeemed.

And finally, yearning. Yearning for achievement, for greatness, for immortality. And for sgMS.

Mumbai Part 2. Day 2. King of Wishful Thinking

Today was officially day 2 of my second innings in Mumbai. Hopefully this innings is as fruitful as the first one. Under this tag, I plan to chronicle my time and adventures in the city that never sleeps (who coined this term btw?)

So the day was not really special. I woke up with groggy eyes to the sound of someone banging the bedroom door. For a minute I thought it was an earthquake and someone is here to save me. But them I heard the maid yell something about no washing powder in the bathroom. Confused, I looked around and I realized it was not my bed. It wasnt even my room or my home. And this is when it dawned on me that I was in Mumbai, sleeping on the floor of a friend’s room. I yelled something at the maid and looked around for some water to help me wake up. No no, I dont splash my eyes with it. My machinery needs a couple of glasses of warm salt water to get started. And lo and behold, there wasnt any water, leave alone warm, or salted. There is something about water that makes me want as much as I can. I am known to have copious amounts everyday and as a result visit the John one too many times. Wait, let me go grab my glass of water.

So no hot water, unfamiliar bed and a pesky maid beating the door started my day. Note to self, once I have a house of mine, the maid will not come until I wake up (maybe after 9 AM) and if she does come before I wake up, she shall not disturb me, at any cost.

Next up was the battle to find a place to live. I mean I cant be sleeping on this floor for rest of my life. I have to find a place that I could call my own. I have thought about it a million times, the way I would do up my place, make it my den. Too bad I cant afford a place by myself. Side note, by the end of 2013, I have to have a place just to myself. So with real estate prices going up faster than petrol and gold, I had to find a place to live quick. For, every day’s delay could mean even more money to be paid as rentals. So first thing I did after I woke up, was to fill up forms on all the classified websites of the world – olx, quickr, magicbricks etc. And this is where the memories of 2007 came back. For some reason Mumbai does not want to rent out places to bachelors. Especially bald ones. I dont know why. May be its a risk profile thing, the way I had at GE for issues home loans (for example, back in 2005, if you were older than 28 and living with your parents, we couldnt give you a loan).

So I filled all the forms and it started the flurry of endless calls from brokers and “agents” who would talk more and hear less. They assumed I was someone related to Mr. Mallaya and had all the money in the world. But moment I told them that I am a bachelor, they would leave me alone, the way Mr. Mallaya was left alone in the last few days of Kingfisher (disclaimer: I am a shareholder) and have excuses as funny as, “my wife’s calling me. can I call you back sir”.

Finally someone, sent specially by God agreed to show us a place. Went to see it. Like if but was too expensive to afford. Such is life! Sigh!

In the meanwhile, it was time for lunch. Went ahead and feasted on amazing sandwiches and french fries. Next up was recee to a site that a friend is considering for his business (disclaimer: though its his idea and his money, I am helping him with the venture). Post that I had to drop him to the station to catch his train. A little adventure ensued.

Dropped him somehow in time and went ahead to meet another friend. This one just got promoted to a CD post, which is an achievement, considering he’s got just 5 years of experience under his belt. Discussed few ideas and a lot of things with him. May get to work with him on something that we want to paddle to business schools. If I get to, it would be awesome cos he is one of the most intelligent and creative people I know and then I would be talking to college kids, something that excites me.

Dropped him and went to another friend’s place who fed me her world famous Rajma Chawal. She is thinking of a venture as well. I like what she is thinking of. Dont have a lot of money but made my first angel investment (on her business). Left her place and got caught by a cop. The car I was driving, dint have papers. Had 300 bucks in the wallet. Gave 200 bucks to him. Yes, a bribe (Arvind Kejriwal and his cronies, are you reading this?) and drove back home. I wish I had the political contacts to get away without having papers and all.

And I am home, writing this and planing for the day tomorrow before I sleep. And yes before I sleep, I shall brush my teeth. Something’s gotta change, now that I am in Mumbai (more on this soon).

Finally, no I did not miss sgMS. And, yes, like they say,

I’ll get over you..
I know I will
I’ll pretend my ship’s not sinking
And I’ll tell myself I’m over you
’cause I’m the king of wishful thinking

I am the fucking king of wishful thinking.


P.S.: How many times did I promise something in parentheses on my blog and actually did it? Someone’s keeping a tab?

Hello Neo. Hello sgMS.

This trip to Mumbai was unlike all other trips to Mumbai. There are two threads, if I may, that bind me to Mumbai. Neo and sgMS. This trip, both of them weren’t around. Both are as different as chalk and cheese and yet they are more important to me than anyone else in the world.

Neo and I went to MDI together and despite being in the same cohort, we were never friends. I knew him, he knew me and that was it. Time changed and we moved on. Somehow he landed in Mumbai for his naukri and I hopped around Chennai, Delhi and other such cities before I reached Mumbai. Mumbai has always been like that enigma for me. It has attracted me since I don’t know when and yet I never had the balls to go there by myself. Now that I was in Mumbai, I had to find my way around and unravel the mystery. I had to meet people and make friends – not that I had issues with it. I have always been very social. So, the first set of people that I met was classmates from MDI and there was this guy, Neo, amongst those.

sgMS and I are like that happy accident that you wish you met at every other crossing. To be honest I don’t even remember what our first conversation was like. But I distinctly remember when I first saw her. And I knew that I wanted to be with her. No, it was not really love at first sight but I knew we could be good friends at least. She is a typical Mumbai girl and has lived in Mumbai all her life. And like all Mumbai women, she knows how to dress well, carry herself around and has that confident air about her. She has this amazing smile that can move mountains. Her eyes are so brilliant that you could look into em for ages and get oblivious to the very concept time. Her hands, though tiny and fragile are that strong that if she held you, you can weather any storm. Nothing can trouble you when she is around.

Neo was like any other fresh MBA. Opinionated, well read and aware of the world around him. And he was like no other man that I had met. He had and still has really bad personal hygiene standards. He is lazy. He avoids all work like plague. He abhors taking responsibility. He was everything that I wasn’t. He was everything that I dint want a friend to be. And yet somehow, we became friends and got close. We realized that both of us loved to travel and loved the rush that being on the road gives you. We started heading out to small trips out of Mumbai and before we realized we were living for the weekend when we could head out of the city. There were times when we dint even know where we were headed till we reached a fork on the highway. And even there, we would toss a coin and decide. That time passed like a blur and we went to places that are not even on the map, leave alone, had amenities. We dint seem to agree on most of the things and we have had our share of arguments. But with time, these trips and the arguments, the friendship developed into something that cant be explained with words. People even started cracking jokes at us for our “love hate relationship”. Both of us loved to hate each other. We still do. Bastard.

sgMS on the contrary is miles away from being a MBA material and that’s probably why she knows more about life and people than most people I know. Very pragmatic and very good at what she does. She is probably the goddess of cleanliness and orderliness. She hates any kind of kachra and does not hesitate in lashing with her mile long tongue if she spots anything amiss. She is calm and has that serene air about her. Compare it to my excited-all-the-time countenance. If I am yin, she is the yang. She complements me. Completes me. It’s as if when God was making me, he took a part of me and carved another human out of it. sgMS. Individually we are great at what we do but if we could be together, we could redefine awesomeness. That’s how “made for each other” we are. But then she and I had the weirdest relationship in the history of mankind. She knew that she liked me but she hated the way I was. It was a classical battle between her heart and her mind. She obviously gives more heed to her head and we aren’t together. I on the other hand, I loved her. Still do. And I knew that if we were to end up together, I would have a tough time with my parents and other such societal shit. Again this was a typical heart and mind battle where my heart refuses to let go.

Neo loves Mumbai more than anything else that we humans are capable of loving. So much so that he has declared to himself and everyone around him that he would not leave this city ever. What is strange is that Mumbai is an epitome of everything that he dislikes – hunger, poverty and humidity. And yet he loves the city. More than even Milind Gunaji. Mumbai, though is a city that he has adopted (or the city that has adopted him, as he says), he knows it as if he himself was the chief architect and planted the buildings, the alleys, Marine Drive and other such landmarks of the city, at his whims. Everything that characterizes Mumbai – the dilapidated buildings, the tiny alleys, the food joints, the Parsi cafes, the crowded local trains, the Marine Drive, anything – Neo seems to know about the history and importance of each tiny speck, in the grand scheme of things. I at times wonder if those stories are genuine or are cooked up. Even if they are cooked up, they make for a fascinating earpiece. If only Neo wasn’t lazy, he could have written it down and shared with the world. In it, we have a sure winner on our hands and a bigger hit than any other piece of text written about Mumbai. Someday I need to cajole him into writing an anthology about Mumbai. And for the same, maybe I will ask him to use a Pseudonym (Bajirao Singham?).

sgMS probably loves Mumbai more than Neo does. Though with Neo’s unwavering determination, I couldn’t be sure. Her love for Mumbai probably stems from her lineage – her family has been in Mumbai for more than three generations. She was born and has grown up in Mumbai and knows the nooks and crannies like the veins on the back of her hand. She knows where you get that best pao bhaji, where is that perfect place to sit and stare at the sea, what gully to take to reach Bandra the fastest, what store to go to buy that perfect gift, which is the most happening night club, what shop would give the best bargains and other such things. And the best part is that she is not just attached to Mumbai per se but she is very fond of her motherland of Maharashtra and her culture. Her love for all things Maharashtrian is legendary. She is proud of all the great Marathas – from Shivaji to Ambedkar to Mangeshkar to Tendulkar and all the Kar’s of the future! She loves all the festivals that bring the spirit of Maharastrians alive – from Gudi Parwa to Ganesh Chaturthi to Bhau Beej to Diwali. And she loves to gorge on all the typical Maharastrian delicacies – from Kaanda Poha to Vada Paos to Puran Poli to Modaks and everything else. If there could be a title of The Official PR Agent of the State of Maharashtra, sgMS would do a wonderful job.

The comparison and contrast between the two faces of Mumbai – Neo’s and sgMS’s could go on forever. Both of them have made me experience their respective sides of Mumbai and I cant disrespect either by attempting to pick one. Too bad they don’t know each other well and they couldn’t compare notes – it would have made an engaging battle of opinions, if not anything else. Neo would sit with his back to the chair, legs on the table and arms folded behind his head. sgMS would be standing on her feet, her arms making those gestures that only she can come up with and her eyes more animated than her face. Neo would use things like “but hear me out”, “you don’t like me”, “kise pata chalega”, “trust me” etc. sgMS on the other hand would say things like “you are kidding me”, “balls” etc. And since both of them have really really strong opinions and both of them hate to lose, I dont think the argument would end but it would make for an awesome sight.

There is so much more that I could talk about here. I could talk about Neo, sgMS or Mumbai. Or about all three of them. But I honestly believe in the power of things that are left unsaid after a long monologue. I’d let the readers decide who this piece was about. To close this, I’d saay that Mumbai to me is thus this place that the thrifty Neo loves and fancy sgMS adores. With the two of them with me in Mumbai, I experienced life like I had never done before. Thank you guys. Thank you Neo. Thank you sgMS. Thank you Mumbai.

Anatomy of a bad day

So this is how a bad shitty day looks like. And this is a long post. After all I am going to talk about 24 hours!

  • 0600. The alarm kicks in. You are awake before it rings because you have been getting very light sleep for last few days. You can see the alarm ringing but you are so tired, mentally and physically that you cant move your hand to shut up the alarm.
  • 0615. The alarm is still ringing. You can now fidget and move your hands around. You try to locate your phone, the phone doubles up as the alarm, the eyes are still groggy with sleep and you cant see clearly. In distance, you see a silhouette that has to be your phone. You make great effort to reach it. only to realize that its the TV remote. You curse and fling the remote as hard as you can. It lands 5 millimeters away. In the meanwhile, the alarm is still ringing. You give up and shut your eyes.
  • 0630. Its enough. The alarm has been ringing for more than half n hour now. You get angry at yourself and you throw your blanket and locate the alarm. You get up, locate the phone, which has somehow hidden under the pillow, shut the damn thing off.
  • 0631. The alarm rings again. You realize that you hit the snooze button rather than dismiss. You carefully, slowly, find the dismiss button and shut the alarm. Go back to sleep. 
  • 0830. You realize that you are late for work. And for the pitch that can potentially win your company 10 crores of business.You curse your luck and life and drag yourself out and try and get ready. Of course your favorite shirt is gone for ironing and you have to wear a boring shirt that you otherwise detest. You try to find your lucky charm and your pen and you cant. Since you are late for work, you skip breakfast. You dont even say bye to your ma. But you do miss the time when you called sgMS everyday before you left for office. Obviously, now you dont.
  • 0845. You reach your car parking to realize that there are a million cars parked behind your car and you cant take your car out. You make rounds to neighbors and plead to remove their cars. 
  • 0907. Finally all cars blocking your way are out. You call people in office and realize that the dependable kids in your office were partying last night and they havent done anything for the grand meeting. You wish, for the millionth time that you had people that you could trust.
  • 1017. You struggle for an hour in traffic and reach the client’s office for a meeting that was supposed to start at 0900. It may be put on record that the distance is mere 7 kilometers but the traffic makes the five minute journey a long drive.
  • 1105. The meeting hasn’t even started. The client is busy doing God knows what. 
  • 1155. You are still waiting for the damn important meeting to happen.
  • 1220. The client emerges from the depth of his office and he apologizes profusely for the “little delay”. Just when you thought that the endless wait has finally ended and you were about to get up and move towards the conference room, the client says “oh I forgot something. I would be back in a minute”.
  • 1245. You are still waiting for the minute to get over. 
  • 1248. Mysteriously, the client is back the moment you type this. Hands full of Samosa, chai and jalebi. Dunno hows he juggling the three things together. Ushers your and the team into a conference room.
  • 1249. Before you could present your stuff, fucks your happiness over the “mundane”, “kiddish” and “juvenile crap” ideas that you have presented. Does not forget to add “please take this merely as a feedback”. Even without reaching the second slide of your mundane presentation.
  • 1250. You are out of the meeting room. These were the longest two minutes of your life so far. You hope to eat something nice and end the bad morning. The boss wants to say hi to some old friends. He asks you to wait. 
  • 1315. Since you dont have any old friends, you cant say hi to anyone. You call your boss and ask him how long will he take. He says five minutes. Which translates into an hour, which thankfully you know, since you have been working with him for two years. You step out of clients office and go buy a Red Bull and some chips from a nearby petrol pump. You go sit on a traffic intersection and munch onto the chips. Thinking about sgMS and knowing that she would be eating a dabba from her mom.
  • 1400. You get a call from some HR consultant, with bad accent, and she promises you a job with a “leading media conglomerate”. When you tell her the money you expect, she hangs up, without saying bye. The boss is still nowhere to be seen. 
  • 1530. The boss emerges. You head back to office. Only to go for another meeting. But you have to drop the boss to office because he is too lazy to drive his own car.
  • 1630. You reach the other client. The meeting drags on forever. The agenda of the meeting is about peanuts and biscuits.
  • 1730. The meeting is still on. You are still debating the quantity of chocolate chips in the biscuits.
  • 1930. The meeting that you thought would go on forever finally gets over. You rush to the parking lot because you need to reach office and write another presentation. It needs to be presented the next day.
  • 2010. You reach office and get started on the presentation.
  • 2100. You have no clue. And you are staring at an empty document. 
  • 2230. You are still staring at the empty document and powerpoint because you cant think of shit. Your brain died after the afternoon when you were waiting for your boss to get free from his social calls.
  • 2330. The thoughts and screens are still blank. You give up and decide to go home. 
  • 0030. You reach home. Thankfully there’s no traffic around and you reach in record one hour. 
  • 0040. You gulp the dinner that has gone cold. Since you have been coming home this late most days, you dont even bother heating the food.
  • 0045. You try shuffling channels on TV and they are showing the worst movies ever. You fling the TV remote. You recall the episode of the morning when you couldn’t find the alarm.
  • 0050. You are fucked up in the head and you dont know what to do. You scroll through the address book on the phone and try to find someone who you could speak to at this hour. You realize that most of your friends are either married or they dont care. You fling the phone in the general direction where you fling other things, including the TV remote.
  • 0100. You sulk and sleep because there is no one you could call and talk about shit that the day has been. For first time in the entire day, you miss the fact that you dont have anyone to call your own. Not even #sgMS. 

And thats it ladies and gentlemen, for the time being! And no, this is NOT a piece of fiction. This is inspired from real life incidents.

Romancing the city of Mumbai

There is something about Mumbai that makes it special. As special as your first love is.

I mean, as on last count, I have been to at least 34 different cities, across 4 continents and yet there is something, something about Mumbai that keeps calling me back. Back to its arms, the hug, the embrace, the womb, if I may. You know, its like that illicit love affair that you know wont take you anywhere and yet you cant get out of. Wait, you can get out, if you try. You just dont want to. Coming back, in my case, I think the reason why I keep coming back, the obvious suspects are Neo and sgMS. And may be all those amazing memories that I have, of times, people and places that I have enjoyed while I was living in Mumbai.

This time, on one of those impulse trips to Mumbai, as I was landing in Mumbai, I realized something that I had never noticed in the past. Funny how you still notice new things about Mumbai even though you have been here a million times. Mumbai looks amazing at nights. Amazing because I dont have a better word to paint the picture. Its as decked up like a bride is on her wedding day. Probably better.

The city is showered with amber lights. For some reason, that’s the
only
colour of street lights in the entire city. May be it is easier to spot,
cheaper to install/maintain or whatever but the effect is, all the
more,
electrifying. Things get accentuated when they are under the amber
light. You
actually begin to notice things that you never cared to even glance at.
Take street boards for example. The boards that have pincodes and the
official names of the roads on
them. The blue ones. Before I saw them with amber tint, at night, I dint
even know
that they existed in the first place.

You see a different side of Mumbai at nights. The roads are not as narrow as you know them from your “interactions” during the day. They are wide. Wide enough for you to zip around in your car and actually overtake other vehicles. The pesky rickshaws and taxis from the day, are parked in perfect neat rows along the sidewalks. All the filth and garbage you try to avoid during the day, is mysteriously gone. And so are all the signs of life. The beggars, the hawkers and the urchins that create that constant cacophony during the day, are all sound asleep and only sound that they make at nights is when they’re snoring.

And then, when most people are off to sleep, when everyone but the romantics are still awake, the ones who love the city
the most, come out. The cops, the whores, the chai and cigarette sellers on bicycles, the omelet hawkers, and the romantics. The romantics, the ones who just want to be left alone with their love. The city of Mumbai.


P.S.: Of course Mumbai never sleeps and you can get stuck in traffic jams at even 2 in the night. But then, that’s select busy intersections. Right? And at least the romantic in me refuses to believe that Mumbai never sleeps. It does. See it for yourself next time you are out. At night.


P.P.S.: Trying too hard 😀

Then and Now

Lemme try a new style. For the lack of imagination and better words, Id call this, Then and Now. And ofcourse this is about sgMS. I am thinking that I should start a new blog all together and call it “Letters to sgMS” or something. May be. But for the time being, here is the post. 

Then
Wake up. Think of her. Think of all the things that I could do. Make a plan of action of things that I could do during the day. Look forward to the day ahead.
Now
Wake up. Sulk. Go back to sleep.

Then
Call her moment I leave for work. Even before I lock the doors to my one bedroom existence or step into a rickshaw. I know that I would meet her during the day eventually but still, call her moment I am out.
Now
Wait for her call, message, email, something. Hope that something from her comes my way. Of course I cant call or send messages. All I can do is write things and then hope that someday she reads these. I know that these would lose meanings when (and if) she reads these but then I can only try.

Then
Reach work. Boot up my computer. Message her that I have reached. Get a feedback on what I am wearing. Share my office gossip with her. Hear her office gossip. Play music that she likes. Tell her about the music that I am playing. Take requests even though she may not hear them.
Now
Reach work. Regain sanity after a two hour drive. Ignore what I am wearing. Do not participate in gossip. Try and play some music. Shut the music before the first song is over. Sulk.

Then
During the day, after I have done some work, take a break and go get a coke for myself. Take VP or Rr with me for a walk to the coke shop. Talk to them about whatever. Try and bring her up in the conversation without anyone knowing about it. Miss her.
Now
During the day, do nothing. The entire day is a break. No coke. Miss being with her. Miss talking about her. Miss talking to her.

Then
Look forward to the evening when I would actually get to spend time with her. Even if its at any of those coffee shops.
Now
Dread the fall of the evening. Once its evening, wonder what to do. Kill time wondering. Get dejected and head home. Struggle through traffic for two hours.

Then
End the day, alone on my bed, trying to sleep and thinking about her. Conjuring up dreams of she and I living happily ever after.
Now
End the day, alone on my bed, trying to sleep and thinking about her. Conjuring up dreams of she and I living happily ever after.