Travel – Page 2

Untitled – 19 Feb 2014

Its been sometime since I posted something here. I mean I have been posting things but they have been more of updates on the book. At least the last four posts have been about the book. Here, go see the FB page of the book.

So, remember those heydays of blogging where one would post things regularly even though they didn’t have anything to talk about? Where updates were more about mundane things? Where I wrote because I loved writing? Lemme get back those days.

So today, I dont have anything to talk about. The post is called untitled and I dont have anything special to write about. Lemme try and write without a reason.

Lets get started. With the last few days. They’ve been really interesting. I got to travel to Bali for free (got an opportunity to freelance with my ex-employer) and I had a ball. When I had a dopplr account, I would log in all my trips and miles. Now that is gone, I don’t know where to log these things. I merely save the boarding cards and hopefully someday when I am old I would try and look at these boarding cards, I may feel good about these trips. When I was quitting my job to write full-time, I had thought that I would miss the crazy travels. But as luck would have it, I have travelled more since I quit. Thanks heavens for that.

Next up, the book. It’s done. I mean the first draft. I now need a publisher to help me get it out in the market. Lets see when that happens. But I am happy to have finished the draft. I had no clue that I could write one full-length book. Took a lot of coercion and motivation but I finally did it. You may read about the journey here.

The other exciting thing is that two very important couples are having babies. One in Mumbai and one in the US of A. The very fact that they are having babies makes me nervous. The very concept of babies is nerve-wrecking. Its like getting a new life to the world. I dont know where my life is headed and here are people, getting babies in the world. And these are intelligent, smart people. Their decisions have been informed and planned. All the best to the couples and the babies on the way.

Talking about where life is headed, the reason for move to Mumbai, the book, is over. I need to now take a call about the future. I absolutely hate this bit, the one where I am supposed to plan and all that. But I have to do it. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Next few days, I will try to figure out something that I could work on. And then go wherever life takes me. The thing is, whatever decision I make, I know that on one side is chase of glory and that illusive shiny goal. The other side is a life of mediocrity. More than anyone else, I am the judge and I am the jury. Worse, I am the executioner.

The other trouble is that I dont know what that goal it. I merely have vague inklings. Maybe its not for me. Maybe all the ambition that I believe I am full of, its of now use. I dont know. I have conflicting thoughts right now. Maybe in a few days I get some clarity. Hopefully I would.

Anyhow, the next thing is that I have started to play chess in my free time. Read free as transit and waiting. I tried reading but I could not. I can definitely not write. And I cant talk as its almost too noisy all the time.

Finally, if there is one blog that you ought to subscribe, even at the cost of others, I’d recommend James Altucher. He’s my spiritual, mental and emotional guru. Ever since I have started reading him, my life has changed for good. No kidding. Read a few posts and you would know what I am talking about.

Oh, I am starting a new project. I call it the newsletter. The plan is to curate links and text from the world wide web and send the curated list to friends that I think would want to read. In fact I want to claim that if you are marketeer in the Internet era, you better read the list. The idea and inspiration comes from something I did when I was at CLA, where amongst other things, I curated cool things that the agency people ought to know. I am merely expanding the scope. This is a list of things that every thinking marketeer and entrepreneur needs to know.

If all goes well, I would send the first letter out this weekend. If you want it, please subscribe here.

Email Address *

And thats about it! For this edition of untitled. Hope you enjoyed it!

I have nothing to add

Hotlinked from Flickr

Charlie Munger made this term famous. The “I have nothing to add” one.

And as I embark on the journey of the lifetime, something that I can do just once in this lifetime, something that I have been looking forward to since I was a kid, something that has taken so much planning and has been marred by so many obstacles, something that is scary and exciting at the same time, I have nothing to add.

Its so funny, its not funny. Really. I have been writing about all sorts of stupid things all my life and here when I am just about to leave, I have nothing to add.

When I am back, may be I have something to talk about. I may take notes. I may not. I dont know. But right now, I am blank. Blank as a blank canvas that is starting point of all the great masterpieces. Call it recency or whatever, I can not stop thinking about what Red said when he was finally allowed to leave from Shawshank.

“I find I’m so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it’s the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain…”

However there is nothing similar between Red and I. The journey Red is talking about and the one I am about to embark upon, they have nothing in common. And yet I can think of this one quote only. Funny how us humans are.

So, if you are reading this, do wish me luck. I may just come of age by the time I am back. I may write my own Bildungsroman once I am back.

Till then, so long!

The weekend trip to Goa

Panaroma – en route to Mumbai

I think my first trip ever to Goa was in 2007 when I passed out from college. Those days, after you finished your college, it was in vogue to gather the whole jingbang, go to an exotic destination for few days and hopefully create memories that would last you a lifetime. But for me, there is nothing home to write about it except the painfully long train journey and scorching heat that made us all fight for every single breath.

So since then I have been to Goa like a million times with friends and for work. And each time I went with friends, I either ate and slept or spent time in a casino playing poker. For the records, I am a teetotaler and I dont eat sea food. When I went for work, I was largely confined to the hotel I was organizing the event at. Over time Goa became a place that to me meant two things and two things only. Work. Or poker.

Now that I am out of work, the travel-to-Goa-for-work-bit is ruled out. And for poker, since I have realized in the last few ~~days~~ weeks that I am not really as great as I thought I was, I have stopped looking forward to Goa for poker. Of course I havent given it up as yet. I will play smaller games (micro stakes) and then see how things go. I can afford to lose some money I think.

So Goa, has become a place where I dont really know what to do (its sad when you order vegetarian french fries on a beach – even the waiters smirk at you). I am anyway not a huge fan of how native Goans treat people like me (more on this sometime later). So most trips to Goa are now instigated by friends. And I go there for the sake of merely going there, spending three days away from email and computers and coming back. No real pleasure to be honest. I could do as well by merely not stepping out of my place.

But then ~~this weekend~~ a few weekends back, I went to Goa and the trip was way different from other trips.

This time I was in Goa for less than 24 hours. Like all my previous trips, I did not do my regular jig of dinner at the beach, binge at the casino, long car rides at night etc. But, spent one whole evening on a beach and talked with my friends about an idea that we are working on.

The noteworthy thing is not the conversation or the dinner; but something that happened on the beach.

Picture this. You are on the beach at night getting drunk on Breezers and Red Bulls and then out of nowhere, it starts raining. And raining hard. Cats and dogs. The kinds that you are helpless against. You cant run, running would be futile, by the time you move even an inch you would be drenched. You cant stand, its raining so hard that it hurts. And there is no protection. Its you and water. Hard, thick drops of water. Falling with enough force to go deep in your skin. Tear your skin. And you touch your heart and soul. And open you. Open you for contemplation, for thinking and for lot of other such things that I dont really have words for.

I dont know why but I headed to water. I dont know how to swim. And I was not drunk. And I play it very safe. And thus I stood right at the point where the ocean and the earth battle it out to claim turf. There was water pelting on me from up above, trying to hammer me into earth. There was water splashing at my feet, sometimes reaching upto my knees, trying to drag me into the sea. And there was winds, fast enough to sweep you off your feet, trying to take me away from earth and the sea.

Three forces of nature, furious forces, all trying to dislodge from where you are. All three forces trying to tell you to go find a shelter. All three forces getting fiercer by the minute. It got really scary after some time. But I stood there. I help my ground.

And then suddenly most amazing thing happened to me. I dont know why but I let myself go. I loosened up my body. I submitted to Mother Nature. I just wanted to be one with her. I left myself to her discretion. I spread my arms and I looked up. I could not really see any child Gods at play but I could see some stars, playing hide and seek with clouds. I couldn’t see the moon but the clouds had some kind of faint glow on em, as if someone is smirking at me for being ignorant. Or as if someone was dismissing me with an all-knowing smile.

Meanwhile rains, water from the sea, winds, everything was still playing but they were not strong anymore. They were gentle. Like they want to give you a massage. And cradle you like a baby. Like you were their baby. I suddenly somehow knew that I wasn’t going to get harmed or get hurt. I knew there was someone looking out for me. I knew I was not alone. Like a friend says, God was with me.

Except that I dont really believe in the concept of God. Whatever it was, it definitely was not a divine intervention or something. It wasn’t any hand from any God. It wasnt the light that is supposed to show me the way. Its just a stupid coincidence really. Nothing. And yet I want to read a lot into it. I want it to be some kind of a sign – like I want to hang onto anything that I can lay my hands on, when I am out of breath in the swimming pool where I spend a lot of my mornings.

So, let me park this bit here.

The second thing to have happened was that I chose to drive back to Mumbai, rather than taking the flight. We took a combination of some state highway and a national highway and the outcome was a drive that lasted more than 12 hours through roads that were as flat as steel plates, as bumpy as battlefields, as curvy as a Jalebi (there was this particular bend that looked like an angular Z), as straight as a ruler that we used in school. And then there were numerous places along the way that were so scenic that a good photographer could actually click postcards out of those places.

We passed trees, green stretches of land, forests, waterfalls and other such places that we hardly get to see at our concrete jungles. Since this was for the first time that my mind was unoccupied by random thoughts about work and life, I could enjoy these things.

We stopped at numerous such places and spend time soaking in the energy from nature at work.

There were pure shade of greens that made you feel great about just being alive. At those places, you forgot everything that is cluttering your head. You became thoughtless. They were so soothing that you felt as if you are starting your life all over again with no baggage.

There were amazing waterfalls and the water was so fresh, so clean that it could remove all the dirt from even your soul. Like that dip in the Ganges. Just that this time we were on top of some mountains in the Western Ghats. I had never expected water to be this cold. This penetrating. This sharp. This heavy. I did not have the guts to actually take a shower. A friend did.

And finally, there were clouds. Passing right through us. Its a wonderful feeling to have a blob of cold dense air pass through you. You know you can hold them if you stretch your hand and yet they remain elusive.

So the rain on the beach and the drive through the most breathtaking scenery I have seen in some time, was something that I hadnt anticipated at all. More than anything, it was the first time when I felt Mother Nature’s awesomeness. I mean I have been to mountains and other such places but I have never felt this touched. And I realized that I havent been kinds to think a lot about nature. In fact, on the contrary, I am an energy and convenience hog.

But after this trip to Goa, something has begun to change. I have become lot more conscious. I mean I dont think I can survive without AC but I will start to being that shift in my thinking. It wouldnt happen overnight. It may or may not even happen. But I will make an attempt.

I am glad that I went and great that I could see the immense power of Mother Nature. Lets see if this sticks with me.

Oh, and the biggest lesson? That ~~I am~~ we are insignificant. All the stupid things that we attach to ourselves, ego, emotions, all of it is frivolous. Over rated. And hyped. Need to start living in harmony with nature.

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.

Thank You Nilam

Forget Sandy. India, we have our own hurricane. And like all hurricanes in the US of A are named after women (why? can someone tell me please?), someone aped the big brother and our hurricane is called Nilam (with an I). Not very creative if you ask me. We had better options in Priyanka, Aishwarya, Sunita, Babli etc. Anyways so here I am in Chennai where I know exactly one person, apart from my office peeps. When I was coming here, I thought I would extend the day and hustle around for a business idea that I have been working on for last few weeks.

So I got over with my meeting, which went rather bad, and promptly decided to visit someone that I thought I could partner with. Little did I know that A, those guys are American and hence they shut down by 5 and B, there was Nilam, wrecking havoc in Chennai. I mean the impact of Nilam has been far from adverse – at max, we have had a few fallen trees, really wild winds and incessant showers. But we live in the era where media loves to exaggerate things and everyone I know plays it safe. I mean I asked atleast 5 people if they want to goto the beach and experience the true might of Nilam first hand but all of them chickened out. Guess not everyone is as frivolous as I am.

Made me realize that a city, a place is all about people. The fact that I thought I know enough people there and yet I couldnt get company, sucked! If I was prepared, I would have planned for something – I would have read about it, I would have carried a camera, I would have seen something that needs seen. Or I would have idled time, seeping in scenes and smells from the new city, like I do when I travel. But this time I was caught off guard and it sucked. There was nothing at all to do.

And this is when the idea man in me said, why not look for a place where I could sit and write. I immediately ruled out my hotel. Not a lot of reasons, but this time, I was booked into a hotel where the tiny 15″ wall mounted TV was two miles away from the bed and there was a wash basin in the room. Ok I am painting a far worse picture but I think TV was indeed larger than 15″ but I am not kidding about the washbasin in the room – I did use it to dry my shoes afterall. So my room was not really inspiring as a place and there was no table and I thought I could goto a coffee shop and write, the way I do when I am in Mumbai or Delhi. So I set course for a known and famous coffee shop. I think I left my office at 6 and by 8 the driver was still trying to find his way! Google maps was acting weird and all I could see around me was traffic. And when I did reach the shopping mall that housed the coffee shop, it was shut! Why? because someone had issued some advisory about Nilam!

By this time, I had lost it and I was yelling at everything that moved, including the cow munching onto I dont know what. The I-yelled-at-following list could boast of fancy names like the KFC till-man, the driver of my car, the policeman that was trying to man the traffic, the security guard, the gatekeeper at the mall.

I realized that I was pissed off for no reason. May be because I dint get to name the Hurricane or something! The thought about cities and what gives them life and what makes them important, endearing, mesmerizing, popular, safe, grand etc kept swirling in my head. And I had no answer. May be this is why I was angry. I tried to reason with myself and discover the reason for my anger.

And then like lightening, it dawned onto me. I was hungry! I had to eat! And thats what I did. I promptly went to a Simran’s, had awesome Appams and went off to sleep, next to the wash basin that is.

The Noida Agra Expressway

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~~This weekend~~ A few weekends ago, I was in Agra for work. While going and coming back, I used the new Yamuna Expressway – the latest in the additions of expressways in India. Here are few quick comments.

Boring scenery – compared to Mumbai Pune expressway, this one is really boring. For 150 odd kilometers, all you see is flat lands with an occasional green patch. Most of these flatlands are so similar to each other that you may think that you are going around in circles, in an infinite loop! And since the scenery is boring and there is nothing to do on the road, except hold the steering straight and stare at the road ahead. There is no pleasure in driving. If I was given an option, I would not go on this road for the drive atleast. But yes, if I need to goto Agra, this has to be the preferred route!
Lack of amenities along the way. There are three places where you stop to pay the toll. And when I went, late August, none of the three were operational. This means that there is no fuel along the way, nothing to eat, no place to pee and no place to throw garbage. Hopefully this would have changed by now by its definitely scary to not have anything, if you get stuck. Yes I did spot escort vehicles, patrol cars and ambulances but I am not sure if they would come when I called for them.
Bumpy roads. For an expressway, the roads are very bumpy. There are no potholes per se but the road is not flat. Imagine a roller coaster and flatten the crests. Its like that. Like a wave. I dunno why did they do it but I am sure there must have been some pressing need to do so!
Too many stray dogs and other stray animals. Though they have fenced the entire stretch with barbed wires on either side but there are just too many stray animals on the expressway for comfort. I have no clue how they got in because they barbed wire seems taut and high enough for a dog to jump over but there are so many of them that you are forced to drive on the right lane, lest some animal comes in front of your vehicle suddenly.

Having mentioned all these things, it does take exactly two hours from Greater Noida to reach Agra and if someone asked me if I would recommend it, I would say Hell Yeah!

Gone Fishing!

If you are reading this, I am on the month long hiatus that I have been planning for almost two years. I should be back sometime towards the end of October.

I know you would miss the awesome little blog that I maintain here. Yes I am talking to both of you – my regular readers. In my absence, you may want to read TIH everyday. It’s one of those things that I would donate all my wealth to, if I end up with some wealth in life.

I want to stay away from everyone I know. No, my phone is not working and I will not have access to email/twitter/facebook/linkedin/quora etc. Whats the point of a holiday if you are constantly checking your email, tweeting what you ate for dinner, putting pictures of that club on your facebook, checking for available jobs on linkedin or trolling on things on quora?

However if the world decides to self destruct before the impending December deadline, you know how to reach me and warn me about it. Apart from that, I dont think you would need to speak to me. If you want to, just email me. I promise that once I am back, I would make it up.

Thats about it.

Wish me luck!

The Hauz Khas Village

For the last three days I have been camping at a cubby hole in Hauz Khas Village. I am trying to get some work done by a few freelance artists that work out of here. And here is the mandatory disclaimer. The post is not about work, or the artists per se, but is about this place – Hauz Khas Village.

So, once upon a time, there was actually a time when the village was famous for a lake, a few historic remains and lush green parks where young couples could go and spend quality time together (away from peering eyes of all their well-wishers).

Now, its something else. Hauz Khas Village is now known, in the Lonely Planets (and other such travel guides), for fancy restaurants that patrons of the page 3 frequent. For the kitschy stores that sell everything from replicas of famous paintings to designer dresses to overpriced paintings to artefacts that only a handful people can appreciate to antiques to bagels (whatever that is, I am told you are supposed to eat it) to handmade teeshirts to “authentic” Italian gelatos to cheap thrills to Thai massages to silver jewellery and what not. If you can imagine it, they sell it here. And most of it has the sheen and label of being the output of a famous designer or a desperate woman in some obscure place in India.

And as a result, the kind of people that frequent this “village” are poles apart from all the people that visit all the other villages that dot the landscape of this modern marvel that we call India. For starters, there are numerous non-Indians. Atleast they look non-Indians. A few characteristics common to these “characters” are nondescript complexion, half pants, ample cleavages (even men), large sunglasses (even if its 8 in the night), loose Birkenstocks (fake?), generous tattoos, braided hair, long sling bags, accents that could put the most seasoned call centre trainers to shame (fake?), frequent pecks (on cheeks to greet others of the same clan), cigarette dangling casually on skinny fingers, unnecessarily large headphones (with no player in sight). Then there are a few Indians who are the waiters at the fancy restaurants, salesmen at these stores, parking attendants and other such people. And then there are people like me, who are as lost as Alice was in her Wonderland. Who, for their lives, cant seem to make any sense out of what they see.

I am no expert in people watching and the ethnicity (and even the nationality) of most of these people elude me. They cant be Indians because the India and Indians I know would think like a million times before ~~engaging~~ indulging in such overt public display of affection. More than them, I am sure their parents wouldn’t let them step out of their homes in those dresses. I am not really traditional but what some people wear here is no less than sacrilege. But then, this is a free country we live in and everyone has the right to do what they deem fit. So I cant complain. But if they are Indians, I must be living under a rock because for some reason I have not seem them anywhere else but at the village.

Coming back to the village, there are people and sign boards that could lead you to believe that you are in some chic European market. And like it happens to me in all chic markets anywhere in the world, when I am at the village, I get very very intimidated. Scared is a better word I guess. Moment I am in the open at the village, I want to dig a tunnel through the street and hide myself in it (atleast my neck, like those pigeons when they see a cat). I otherwise believe in keeping the neck high and taking long confident strides. But when I am in the village, I walk with my head down, as if I have lost a penny and I am trying to find it. And I try very hard to not even come within an arm’s length of anything that is non male. I have no clue how would their highnesses react if I make the mistake of accidently brushing my arms against her Highness. She would shriek at me in English, but in an accent that I would not be able to comprehend and thus would be humiliated unnecessarily in public. Anyone heard that maxim? Better safe than sorry? So, avoid all eye contact and physical contact.

Then there is that issue of being brown, bald and badly dressed. With these three B’s there is no way I could look like someone who can afford a coffee at a half decent coffee shop. Truth be told, I actually can NOT afford a coffee at most of the places at the village but I really like to pretend that I can. I like to look in menu, bring out the fake accent and say, “nah I am not a coffee person. I like green tea” and move onto the next store. But here, at the village, where the shops talk to only the non-Indians, someone like me comes across as nuisance. And unlike most other shopkeepers over the world, rather than dismissing me politely, these guys, the shopkeepers at the village, unleash their wrath on me, as if doing that would take them closer to salvation. Even the restaurants treat me like I am a waiter that had cheated all others on the tip. I am always asked if I have made a reservation, even when I can see the damn place as empty as the space itself!

Apart from the kind of people that hang out here and the super expensive chic stores and restaurants, the last thing I want to talk about would be a general rant on the good and the bad of this place. Good, there are places that I can “show off” to my contacts that are not from Delhi. After all, Delhi may have the best infrastructure in the country, it still lacks in terms of coolness quotient. Then if I ever get a woman in life, I can get her here and let her blow away a fortune and make her happy. And finally, if I start smoking, I just need a tattoo and a Birkenstock to get access to all the stores and restaurants that have shunned me without any mercy.

In terms of bad bits, there are a few. I would not get into a lot of detail but I am not really happy that a real village has been left to the mercy of these stores and the bonafide residents are left to fend for themselves. Then I am definitely not happy about all the confused Indians. They need to realize that they need to grow up, some day or the other and take charge. No, no more public service announcements.

On a serious note, to remain impartial, here are a few highlights of the village if you ask me. TLR, Kunzum, Maati are the few stores that I actually support. TLR, apart from being a great place to hang out with friends, is doing a LOT for the Indian indie music scene. Most Indian bands (some with audience as small as my blog) perform here and get to know their fans. Brilliant brilliant initiative on behalf of TLR. Kunzum is a cafe with a twist. You go, you sit, you read, you sip a coffee and then you decide what you want to pay. Beat that. Thats changing the business model on its head. Ofcourse the place makes money by selling merchandise etc but I love the idea. Someday I would copy it. Finally Maati, a teeshirt store that actually helps the community that designs their teeshirts. And apart from these three, there are tons of cool work place (the place where I am holed up for example) that are so inspiring that you could sit here and actually dream of conquering the world. And you know what? You can get the dream to come true here! That brilliant office spaces.

Guess thats about it. I am waiting for my work to get done and it had been quite a few days since I had written. Loved wiping away those cobwebs on my fingers.

To end it, I sincerely think that Hauz Khas Village is one of those must visit places for anyone who is new to Delhi. I would definitely add this to my list of things to do, if you just have ODID. If I ever get around to doing the Raju Guide thing with ODID, a visit to Hauz Khas Village would be amongst one the top 10 things to do in Delhi for sure.

What if you lose your passport?

So this friend went on a road trip to France and Spain and while on the road, he lost his passport. Ofcourse he had two options. One was to get panicked and run from pillar to post. The other was to figure out the way to get it resolved.
So if you are abroad and you lose your passport, you need to do the following.

Lodge an FIR with the nearest police station. So before you head out to a new country, you need to have the phone numbers of the tourist police and the emergency number (like they have 100 in India and 911 in US).
Once you have the FIR, you need to goto the Indian consulate. This may or may not be in the same city as you are in. Get prepared to travel to the city that has the consulate. Here is a list of all Indian Embassies abroad.
At the consulate, you would need to give the FIR, your photographs and an identity proof that ascertains that you are an Indian. It would be perfect if you have a scanned copy of your passport but if you dont, your Indian driving license and other such documents would suffice.
And then follow the process the consulate recommends. Surprisingly, unlike the most Indian government offices, the consulate offices are surprisingly efficient and they issue either an Emergency Certificate or a new passport within 24 hours (An emergency certificate allows you to travel back to India and your passport allows you to carry on your itinerary as planned).

And that’s about it. Losing a passport is a very common thing and happens to a lot of people. If you DO lose your passport, its not the end of the world (unless you tear it away yourself and you are seeking refuge :D). Just follow these 5 things and you are sorted. And if you do come back, please get me some postcards!

At the cost of repetition, here is a checklist before you head out to a new country for a road trip.

Always keep a scanned copy of your passport on the internet. Use services like Dropbox to ensure that its easily accessible. In fact on my Dropbox, I have this folder called legal that has almost all the legal documents that I may need (driving license, PAN card etc) at any time.
Always carry a cheat sheet about the places you are going to visit. I use this sheet that I made for myself. This is one printed side of an A4 and has all the things that I may need – emergency contact numbers, hotel numbers, airline PNR, address of the nearest Indian consulate etc.

That’s it!

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 😀

The itch to travel

If I ever make my CV, I would include travel as one of my hobbies. To be honest, travel to me is more than a mere hobby. Its a very serious passion and I take it seriously. Thankfully I work at a place that makes me travel about 15 days a month. The way I travel is not really ideal but I dont really complain because if I was the complaining kinds, I wouldn’t have seen all those countries and all those cities that I have been to in last two or so years.

WROTE THIS BIT ABOUT A WEEK BACK
So today in the morning, I was getting bored and was generally checking my Dopplr. It tells me that the last trip I made out of Delhi (not counting the daily trips between Delhi and Gurgaon) was in December of 2011. And its been more than one and a half month since I went out. No wonder my heads spinning and I am moving around in circle.

Last few days, some restlessness had set in. I had no clue why. One of the ways to cure that itch would be to travel. I need to plan a trip out of the city somehow. And sooner the better.

WROTE THIS TODAY
Now that I am back from the Chennai/Mumbai trip, I can safely say that it was indeed the lack of travel that was fucking around with my head. Of course there are other things but now that I am back after a good three day trip, I am far better.

And ya, like I keep saying, I am destiny’s child. After I wrote what I wrote a week back, I got an unexpected call for a meeting in Chennai. And then once I was in Chennai, I got another unexpected call for a meeting in Mumbai. And the boring trip turned out to be an amazing time that I spent with Neo in Mumbai. I mean not that I partied like crazy or something but we lazed around, ate awesome stuff and made that mandatory trip to Sunny ka dhaba on the Pune Expressway.

Next thing I am hoping that destiny would shower on me, is her. Lets see when.

Untitled – 28 Jan 2012

As I write this, I am sitting at the Chennai airport. I have had a whirlwind day. Woke up at 4 to catch a flight, fought with an aunty who liked throwing her feminine side to people at 5, caught a flight at 6:30, landed in Chennai and navigated my way through the alien language, wrote a presentation about a project I had no clue about, delivered that presentation and rushed back to the airport to catch a plane to Mumbai. In the entire day, I hardly had time to breathe. I mean I did tweet about mundance things, installed foursquare on my phone, go out for that leisurely lunch at Sarvana Bhawan and bought a Grappo Fizz and an ice cream from Spencer’s and created time to write this blogpost. But I had no time to think of things that otherwise bother me. sgMS to start with. Despite all the time that has elapsed since she and I spoke I still cant get her out of my head. Then there are things related to work. I am losing hair at the speed of light and am still poor. On the other hand, every Tom, Dick and Harry seems to be minting money as if they are the modern day incarnation of Scrooge McDuck! Then there is some shit brewing up at home. I dont even want to talk about it.

Anyways, the point of this post is that I have reazlied that I am the thinking kinds (MBTI – thinking) and more time I have on my hands, more I think. And more unhappy I become. May be the immediate solution to all my vows is actually finding something that can keep my head occupied for good. Something that makes me trapped in the rut so deep that I spend all my time wading through the shit. Something like what a bank teller does. Sits on a seat and attends to queries all day long. Now, if I had a degree that made me fit to be a teller!

P.S.: I wrote this in Chennai. Now as I hit the publish button, I am in Mumbai, waiting for Neo to come pick me up.