Thursday, December 27, 2007

'Chaand pura hai..
aur raat adhi'

Nothing else to say, but still wanted to blog...

Life is increasingly becoming a monologue....with lots of background score and occasional guest appearances.
Once upon a time two friends went camping in a jungle. After trekking for the entire day when they set up their tents, a bear attacked them. They both started running for their lives, until one of them stopped and started putting on his running shoes.

'You certainly can't outrun the bear with those shoes one '- shouted his friend.

And he replied 'I don't need to...I just need to outrun you!'

Friday, December 07, 2007

The loop of sexuality


This is not about sex! It’s about men and their sexuality; Its about retrosexuals, metrosexuals and about those who find themselves lost in between these two.

(In short its all about heterosexual males and all beautiful women reading this are free to keep their hopes high of being with me)

The old conservative, pseudo Tarzan, retrosexual Indian male has been knocked down. His bulging biceps and macho image has been defeated by the well groomed, six pack armed, designer wear flaunting metrosexual.

Men have started going to gym just to get the ‘six packs’, shopping malls have more men’s clothing stores now than what used to be there even 5 years back. And cosmetic companies have started launching products meant especially for men.

It doesn’t always appear so stark, until you put up your head for a couple of seconds during that visit to the men’s salon, and look around. Men have changed, changed their postures and look. The stooped heads and skyward facing chins have been replaced with men lying lazily on spread up chairs with face packs instead of the omnipresent shaving cream. Even salons have started to offer services which never used to be found in the men’s list, and at times it does come as a shocker, when you find the middle aged guy seated next to you getting a manicure!

Strangely this transformation wasn’t as sudden as it might appear in retrospect. I know not many will agree with me on this one, but trust me guys I know it better than you, because I was caught in it, caught in the transformation and it cost me more than a thousand bucks.

Not so long back when this idea was still in its infancy and hadn’t become so trite, I had bought a shirt- a party shirt- a pretty flashy looking shirt- a shirt which I bought under the impression that it looked metro sexual.

But every time I wore that, the chettas back in K mistook me to be one of them.

!
!
!

I still have that shirt, nicely packed and kept in one lonely corner of my wardrobe. At times when I am caught drunk and dressing up for a late night party, I take it out, have a long look at it and then put it back inside, knowing very well that not many of today’s copycats will understand its historical significance.

So now you know the ‘Bollywood’ jokers, whom most of you gals drool over as well as the industry to which they belong, are nothing but laggards who follow early adaptors.

They are there for the mediocre, and when the mediocre dance on the footsteps of those jokers, it’s called ‘The Dance of the Mediocre’!

Friday, November 16, 2007

Scene# 2:

Venue: Centre of the office floor, waiting in the small cubicle housing the photocopier and the printer.

Time: 3 pm

Plot: I am standing in front of the printer waiting for my print commands to take shape. There’s another soul standing hardly 1 feet away from me so lost in taking photocopies that he misses me coming in.

As soon as the printer starts working, he turns back in astonishment, looks at me, then looks at the printer doing its job and shouts back at me - What are you taking out? (In Bengali)

I looked at him for a second and thought-

Birbal died ages ago, but his blindmen with eyes still roam across freely and terrorise people with their dumb questions.


So I just gave him a blank look and replied- Printouts!

The futility of actions and dumbness of thought

Scene#1

Time- 9:20 am

Venue: Waiting in the queue in front of the elevator of my office building. There are a couple of elevators and the queues for getting in, generally run parallel. So there are about 30 people waiting in total.


Plot: after standing in there for about 10 minutes finally I come at the starting of the queue.

Generally in such a situation, most people keep concentrating on the electronic display by the side of the elevator door, trying to influence its speed by exerting their mental control over it, others, especially of a particular insurance company whose office is just below mine, and those who come with their female/male counterparts, happily use this time in flirting and bitching around.

So as I was waiting there in front of the queue with my heavy laptop bag panting on my shoulders, it was quite a normal scene, until a middle aged woman standing in the same queue as mine walks forward, pushes me and keeps pressing the elevator switch in frustration, probably she got fed up of using psychokinesis!

Seeing this my counterpart in the next queue, a well dressed young executive also starts pressing the elevator switch next to him.


I thought for a second of telling these two geniuses, that these elevators are manned by operators and they know very well that this is prime usage time, infact they have just 1 minute back seen the long queue waiting when the elevator last came down, and they under no circumstances are going to halt the elevator in its way out of no reason, neither is the speed of the elevator going to go up by pressing this switch repeatedly. So the entire act of pressing this switch is futile.

But then something occurred to me- one of the earliest lessons of a subject in B School which at that time I didn’t like much, called organizational behavior. And it said- average intelligence in a group environment tends to come down to the level of the least intelligent member.

Well those fat books weren’t so useless after all!!

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

The Revenge of the Nerds !


If I finish this post in one go, I’ll treat myself an ice cream.




Hmmmm..ummmmm..Okay dismiss that.



Take two -




‘If I finish this post, I’ll treat myself an ice cream!’

Now that’s neither an exaggeration, nor an easily achievable task by two counts.




First, you should have a look at the number of half finished posts in this little word doc which I so religiously save on my comp, to have a passing idea of the number of imaginary topics I have conceived, started writing but somehow lost steam, since the last couple of months.


Second, the temptation of having an ice cream is really big for me right now. With an acute cough, blocked nose and body temperature which shadows the NSE index it’s a big deal for me to somehow sneak in a cig, leave aside the prospect of going out and treating myself an ice cream in this condition.

So..coming back to the nerds and their revenge!

Question number one: What was I doing for the last couple of months?

Answer:

Well…I discovered the gory truth about someone, took some days to digest that, lost all interest in writing, finished my first project, partied around my last week in bangalore, came back to cal, saw durga puja after three years, met some old pals and foes, kept running around the city meeting fat, bald marwaris, bidi smoking bongs, story telling uncles…..befriended a lot of fat women and finally caught a bad cold.

Question number two: How have I been doing?

Answer: Well I have been doing great. I have successfully guarded my frustration and dangerous intentions quite well in the past few weeks. Guess I am riding up the learning curve on that.

And I have kept my calm, kept my calm against the dance of the mediocre all around me.
I have kept my calm at the sight of ring/pin studded, long haired, doped teenagers around me in pubs and discs. I have kept my calm at the sound of aunties bitching when I was neck deep in work.

I have kept my calm at the sight of gorgeous young women flirting around with firangs.

I have kept my calm at the realization that the same old buggers, who used to get on to my nerves back in college, still have their old abilities.

And finally I have kept myself from hitting a doc who showed me the doomsday scenario that I’ll be an asthmatic patient when I reach 50..if I don’t quit smoking.
.
.
.
Well that’s it for now. See you next time.


Over and Out!




[And before you really start to believe that I am a nerd, lemme tell you, the idea of this post name is not mine, its my bro avinav’s, a self proclaimed nerd of not much repute]


Friday, August 31, 2007

A four letter word called 'Love'


Yhaawn!! ….

One more Yawn!!...
.
.
.
Its about 2 am in the night..and India seems to have lost all ability to break the 8th wicket partnership against England….

Okay its over now…no more yawns.

Yup as I was saying, that four letter word….

Now don’t panic. I am not going to bore you with another of my love lost monologues today....

Rather I am going to tell you a story, well three of them actually. Stories of normal people, of the kind me and you encounter everyday but never realize that they also have a story to tell, a story which can move us and make us think.

The first two stories are inspired by real life stories, of people I have known. But the real thrill is in the third and final story. Thrill because it’s so unbelievable and chilling, but again as they say- life is stranger than fiction.

But it will be some days before I can dole out that story to you, so let’s start with the first one now…….



The first story

It was about a little before noon, on the third day and I was enquiring my sales staff about the important towns and villages nearby which I can visit on the east of the town and interview some people. I asked one of them, a pretty simple looking young woman hardly in her mid twenties, who claimed to be from that area, to write down the names of all the places in Tamil, to make it easy for my driver.

And as she was busy jotting it down, outcomes my franchise and we start with our normal talk. The discussion had hardly lasted 5 minutes when she comes back and hands over the list to me. I in turn handed it over to my franchise, asking him to review it and he starts reading out the names, loud enough, until he stops and starts laughing, even louder.

Mr. Pratik, you see this village? He points out a name from the list to me and says ‘ This is her hometown, her village.’

I looked at her, with a fake smile on my face – ‘Oh ..That’s great’

Until he starts again- ‘But don’t go there and tell her name, or else they would hang you upside down on a tree.’

For a few seconds I continued with my dumb smile, with a raised eyebrow, expecting it’s some kind of a joke.

But it wasn’t. And this is why?

‘He started again- and you know why Mr. Pratik?

Because she did love marriage, ran away from her home and married a guy outside her community, the first time ever in that village………..

And has never been back there again.

And you know whom did she marry?

You see that gentleman over there, the salesman in that front counter.’

Saturday, August 25, 2007

*******

I could have said yes, looked up at him and given him some change. But I didn’t, I chose not to react, rather concentrating on lighting my cigarette and ignoring his existence as the auto stopped in yet another traffic jam.

It was one of those mornings, when you are just angry on life in general and pissed off at every creature who dares to come in your way. When you feel like you had a gun in your hand to shoot at every idiot who commits the cardinal sin of not doing his job as you would have wanted him to do and even worse comes right in your way when he was the last one you want to be alive on this earth.

I had missed my company vehicle, waited 20 minutes for an auto (and for those who know Bangalore and its auto drivers know what I mean?) and was gradually mentally preparing myself for spending an hour, travelling in a stinking public bus, listening to full volume, high pitched Kannada movies. A bus which has four television sets fixed in it and which spends more time waiting for passengers every 2 km than travelling, and a bus which will only take me half the way, from where I will have to take another bus to reach my destination.

It was about then that the auto had stopped in yet another traffic jam and out of nowhere he comes in: hardly in his first decade of existence, ugly and dirty, shabbily dressed, with coarse hair and a flowing nose. His sister was still performing her acrobatics on the road, hardly a metre away, among the stationary cars and bikes and autos.

He mumbled something to me, but I looked away. He tried to tap me on my knees, but I waved him away with my hand, as if he was just another filthy insect, dirtying my trousers by touching it; and kept looking at the other way with vent and cursing Bangalore’s traffic snarls.

Red lights turned yellow and his sister who looked bigger than him started running from one vehicle to another, begging for money.

As the traffic started moving, they moved to the side, onto the footpath.

He was crying, howling with anger, the kind of anger which comes from helplessness as he saw his sister approaching him and jumped next to a tree trunk and hid his head beneath his knees. His sister jumped next to him, shouting and started punching on his back.

It could not have been for more than a few seconds, that I caught this happening- pretty much unwillingly. But as I was leaving them behind in the auto, I felt a twitch in me and for a second lamented my act, perhaps I should have helped him, listened to his prayers and given him some change.

Maybe it would have helped him buy just one tenth of a meal or probably some cheap drugs for his bastard father, but it would have bought me the mental satisfaction.

The false satisfaction which comes from the belief that I have done my part, the satisfaction which you get by massaging your ego that you have done something great today by helping a needy person.

Maybe he would have still cried out of hunger, helplessness and inability to protect himself, maybe his sister would still have got raped on the dark streets of Bangalore and produced another generation of sufferers like him or maybe he would have never made it into youth and perished somewhere in the streets, unwanted and uncared….but I would have forgotten him in my false sense of glory, perhaps…….Had I acted differently that moment.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

.....

I had dreamt about this day so many times in the past one year that I have lost count of it. Dreamt with hope when that was the only thing which I could hold on to; when reason gave its thumbs down to me and when life had a question mark on its face and pointed its finger at me, threatening to pull its brake. There was nothing I could have done then, except to hold on to hope and count my days and dream of the day when all this would end.

It all kept coming back, each and every strain of all the emotions which had fired in me in the past one year on the way, in the elevator, in the lobby, the final burst of hyper heartbeats, the silent prayers and finally it all went away as soon as it had come. Within a second it was all over.

At times it’s hard to digest that something for which you’ve been waiting for so long passed through you so quickly. I knew I was sinking in as I kept looking at it, repeating the words in my mind, over and over again.

It’s a great feeling to live the moments you had wished for, wished from the deepest roots of your very existence and wished for long. The elevator had a small picture, tucked away on the top, a picture of the mother goddess, which normally wouldn’t make much sense to most of us coz we keep seeing it everywhere? But in that moment I just closed my eyes and said a silent thank.

There’s something between I and rain. We share a love hate relationship of our own, and it’s hard to gauge- only she knows when she will come and throw her bucket full at me.

Thankfully, she was happy today, drenching me only with her mug full and clicking my pictures all the way- and why not? After all she’s been witness to it all, right from the day it started..

Thursday, July 19, 2007

The Catch


The Bangalore- Chennai highway looked green & wet. It’s been raining here for some days. Thankfully, the rain gods haven’t been as tyrannous in Bangalore as they have been in Mumbai or Kolkata. But still the wind was strong and cold, the clouds were dark and rain was ominous. Rather it was a breather, a break from incessant rains for the last 24 hrs when I stood in front of the Bangalore- Chennai highway.

My driver doesn’t understand English or Hindi, he understands only Tamil, which means all that we speak to each other is at best ‘noise'.
Infact that’s what its been all about, or rather is going to be all about, for the next 2 and a half months for me- a second degree in communicating through sign languages and understanding the underlying meaning of noise. After all noise does have a meaning if only we understand the language.

My official decree is to understand customer psyche and behavior and to map the different media vehicles and their effectiveness to understand how best to reach to my target group? Its still a new business so all that I do is going to have a impact on how my brand is seen and heard and known in the months or perhaps years to come in this country. And that’s why I am currently on this vehicle overlooking this mighty highway, trying to be where my customer lies?


It’s kind of sarcastic for me to embark on a journey trying to understand people and their psyche when I haven’t been able to do it for myself, convincingly in all these 25 years. But the thought of getting away from the maddening crowd of metro city and always being on the move allures me like none other.

It’s something which has been in me for quite some time now, about a year or so, when the present stopped alluring me. It didn’t happen in one day, nothing does. Rather it was the sudden realization of this slow change which came as a bolt one day, not from the skies, but from deeper within.


I just wanted to run, run ahead into the future, a future not as bland as the present.

But alas time works like a government office, in its own pace, not willing to slowdown or pace up for us. And what’s worse? Even bribing doesn’t work.

That’s when my subconscious played a trick, realizing I just can’t outrun time, I started running from everything else that represents present, and it started from the place.


**
When I was just a college grad, working in Kolkata, I used to walk back home after work every day. On one of the major crossings on the way back there used to be a huge hoarding, with just two words written on it - “Keep walking”.

It still manages to eke out a single round of sarcastic laughter from within me, and I giggle. My driver tries to look back from the rear mirror on the top, much to his amusement and points to a distant temple built on top of a hillock visible from the highway and after much struggle manages the words- ‘Sir, Temple’

***

It’s still a long way to go.. but there’s something which keeps disturbing me, a nightmare of sorts. Not very long ago, someone very special had irritatingly remarked when I did something foolish, that ‘One day you will have all the material things in your life, but you will be lost and you won’t know which way to go?’ I had replied then, that ‘Don’t worry; I will have you with me, as my guide, to help me with it

I lost her somewhere in this world of sham beliefs and promises, but those chilling words keep coming back, especially in ambiences like these-

When it’s dark, windy & raining and I am on a highway, with a driver who speaks hebrew and a tired windscreen wiper trying to show us the road ahead.

Friday, June 22, 2007

A tale of three neighbors




The Chinese are building a road till the base camp of Mount Everest. And that is being done to make the run with the Olympic torch a bit less tasking, atleast that’s what the official explanation seems to be. But as caring neighbors they hid this disturbing news from India, lest we might get depressed about the great progress the Chinese are making.

The Pakistani administration is furious with the Brits for knighting Salman Rushdie. As if the Brits really care a #$%@ about it, and as if poverty, corruption, unstable political set-up and religious extremism was not enough to keep them busy on the home front!

But the greatest tale of them all comes from India. A group of people have come up with the ground breaking theory that vibrating condoms are against Indian culture, and have already started targeting the govt. run company for coming up with such abominable product.

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

GOA

The sun was still shining somewhere behind those orange & silvery clouds above the hills brightening up the small courtyard in a bright shimmer of golden light before evening comes calling in.

The air had a sweet and moist smell in it and the cool monsoon breeze blew calmly across the courtyard in this sleepy suburb of Goa, brushing against the leaves of the trees surrounding it.

The place looked deserted, all the kids who had been playing there all afternoon had left for their homes, except for one young kid who stayed behind to spend some extra moments with his friend, playing in her courtyard.

She appeared like an angel with her small frame, hazel eyes and long dark hair. She was wearing a long white dress, which had come down right above her ankles and looked more befitting as a night dress than a play wear.

She got up suddenly from the stairs of the front verandah of her house where they both were seated; planning what next to do after the last game of hide & seek had proven to be quite tiring and a bit eerie in this atmosphere.

She got up with a strong resolution, and pointed to the cycle. Quiet excited about the new idea which suddenly struck her, but still not quiet sure whether he would like it or not? She kept looking at him with longing eyes, trying to persuade him and perhaps asking him through her eyes to laud her for her brilliant idea.

There was something special in her eyes which he couldn’t ignore. He got up and ran towards her.

They both got the bicycle out; she sat in the front holding the handle, with her legs sprouted out in the front, noticeably happy to be held by her friend and cycling while he sat behind her, paddling.

There was a strange sense of responsibility which landed upon him as if from the clouds- this was the first time he was feeling responsible, responsible for a girl who was his first best friend, perhaps the very first feelings of being a guy and he didn’t want her to get hurt by falling off from the bicycle.
He had been in this position before, the ‘Band-Aid’ on his right knee kept reminding him of that.

He starts paddling and the cycle starts moving slowly and crankily, unable to bear twice the weight it was designed for. Soon they gain some speed and start encircling the courtyard with him holding the handle from the side and paddling, and she laughing heartily with her leg still sprouted out at the front.

Smile is contagious, and soon they both start laughing with his young mind perhaps forgetting the god sent sense of responsibility for a moment. He takes a sharp turn and she folds her leg bringing them right on top of his and they both fall down.

They both were hurt, his left knee this time was bleeding and her long white dress was torn & full of dirt. There was a long and deep scratch on her left arm which she was holding and looking at with tears in her eyes.

They were still lying on the ground with the bicycle still partially weighing on his right foot. But he kept looking at her face, her cheeks had become dirty with the dirt and tears flowing from her beautiful eyes which in a moment had transformed itself from a happy and glowing one to one full of tears and perhaps blaming him for it.

They lay there for some more seconds before her mom came out, took them both inside the house, washed their wounds and administered first aid.

She was still sobbing looking at her torn dress and her wound as her mom gently held his hand, taking him to his house a couple of houses away.

As they walked, she slowly caressed his hair asking him not to cry, telling him that the wound would heal in a day or two.

But it was not his wounds that he was worried about. It was something else.

Some months later he left Goa for his hometown and never saw her again.



And even after 21 years since that day, this is the only incident which I vividly remember of Goa and of my first friend, Shraddha.

Monday, May 14, 2007

Scent of a Woman

The Mall
It was around 8’o clock at night that our auto finally halted in front of our last destination for the day- the biggest mall in Cochin City, situated midway along the MG road.

Before I proceed further, the ‘we’ above included me and my friend KB, who went by the reputation of being the one point reference, example and proof of all of Murphy’s Laws.


KB: I love this city dude. It has a disc, a multiplex, a mall, scores of coffee shops and hell lot of foreigners. I wish they would have made the IIM here.

I wanted to say something, but decided to just nod my head and stay silent.
Two minutes passed and he started again.

KB: I’d say we achieved what we came for. We did manage to go to all the places and market ourselves. Wot say?

I: As much as two great souls can achieve in a single day in an unknown city.
We literally went to everyplace where anyone was willing to lend us a ear, give us a place to put our posters and willing to buy tickets for our fest!

KB: Yup….And we also managed to finally get a glimpse of her maaan! The MMG!
I always knew she exists. We were just in the wrong place for the last two years.

The one in CCD was quite cool, but the chick in Subway was real hot maaan- navel rings in Kerala! that’s a first time for me!

Wait! I have to charge my phone! Let’s go to that cake shop round the corner and do that. In the mean time we can also pitch to put our posters there. I can see a lot of hot chicks seated in there.



Two Years Earlier (Yes Flashback)

Have you ever experienced this? - when you are standing in the middle of a busy crossing or shopping mall and suddenly you turn your head in the exact direction from where a beautiful looking girl is coming your way or perhaps just plainly standing and looking at you and for a flicker of a second your lines of sight become one?

I know what most people would do in such a situation. They would just turn their head away and never think about it!

But what if it starts happening with you again and again- on roads, in college, in Durga Puja Pandals, everywhere and almost everyday?

You would probably enjoy it and still never give it a second thought as to what signals your brain is giving away to you? I also didn’t.

There is always a mismatch between what we seek or desire in our subconscious and…..What we actually want or rather made to want in our conscious self?

I was lucky to get what I wanted in my conscious self pretty early in my life, academically/professionally.

But something was missing. The sudden achievement of what I wanted made me all the more aware of what I subconsciously seek or desire and missed.

It was not that I was very sure about what exactly that was? I was as confused as a 23 year old would be.

She was still taking shape, just a silhouette and certain broken images-


The Myth of the MMG and the Prophecy

I had heard a lot about the beauty and grace of Malayalee women, and should say also witnessed among the limited sample of Malayalee population in Kolkata. So as I was packing my bags, perhaps another dream was taking shape in my mind, of finding my MMG (Mythical Mallu Goddess) in my next two years in K.

But all my hopes of finding her ended abruptly, within a week of landing there.

The average girl in this city had more body hair than the sardar in our group, got dressed in strikingly fluorescent color salwar/saris, and soaked herself in coconut oil.

Yes! Coconut oil- from banana chips to chicken tikka to girls, everything had just one thing in common- coconut oil and its odor, which didn’t just put me off, but also made me feel like puking.

Now, I was not the only one in search of that ‘mythical mallu babe’, there were others in the club as well, who had come with a similar expectation and were left heartbroken within weeks of landing here.

It was about that time that our sorcerer- the resident wizard on everything mallu came up with the prophecy-
That K was not exactly the place where the MMG dwells; she lives a bit down under in cities like Cochin or Thiruvanthapuram. Go there and Thou shall find Her!

But there was no practical hope of us going there, neither was I game for it.


The next two years were both short and long. Short because it all happened so fast, as if time just flew by. And long because of the things which I was involved in or just simply happened.



Things happen and people change. By the time this incident happened, I was no more turning my head looking for that ‘someone’, my sixth sense had stopped working and I was no longer on the chase of that subconscious dream.
That dreamer in me had died many months ago, a long way from here….somewhere outside a busy and dirty railway station, on a gloomy and wet Saturday afternoon.



Back at the Mall

We both were standing outside the cake outlet. We had somehow managed to get them put our posters on their wall and help KBs phone get some much needed charge before it konks off !

There were only a few people in this part of the mall by this time, just a few tourists with their backpacks roaming around and checking out stuff, and a young couple seated on the table by the cake shop & getting cozy. The shop across had a large Adidas signage put on the entrance and side bars, with a couple of kids checking out new sports gear. There was also a leather apparels outlet just next to it, but from where we were standing, we could just see one half of it.

I turned around to see what KB was up to? It was already late and we had to go and catch the bus. I walked towards him and just as I was about to tell him that; he grabbed my hand and literally turned me around 180 degrees.

KB: Dude! Don’t miss this one!

A couple of girls had just walked out of the leather outlet across the alley. One of them was dressed in low cut hipsters, had streaked hair and a nose ring (I am sure KB meant her when he said that)

The other one was just in a simple white salwar with a blue dupatta, had dark long untied straight hair, the perfect complexion which made her face glow even without any visible sign of makeup and had big expressive eyes. The perfect feminine Mythical Mallu Goddess!

KB: Let’s go and talk. I am not going to be just a spectator this time. (Grabs my hand and starts pulling).

Suddenly I was feeling alive again, as if I was looking at someone I always knew. As if I had met her somewhere, watch her run after a local train in a busy platform, watch her smile at me with her palm above her eyes to beat the sun and then seated by the window and tying her hair as I stood and watched her go away.

As if God just pressed the slow motion button that minute inside that mall, my vision was foggy- I could just see her and only her, smiling & walking towards me ……….and hear some faint fumbling sounds (which I later realized was my friend KBs)


KB: Hello! I am KB and this is my friend Pratik. We are from…….

KB pretended to talk to both of them, but kept looking at the other girl with streaked hair and the nose ring.
His words kept reaching my ears; but I was just mesmerized, watching her as she stood next to me, slowly running her fingers through her hair until suddenly she pushed her hair back and a whiff of air went across my face.

Wait a minute! I know this smell. What is it? Why am I suddenly feeling so dizzy!
Why is she smelling like Coconut Chips?….No- Coconut Oil!
And why is the smell becoming so intense?

I looked at her hair for a second time, trying to kill my doubt and saw/smelt something which I had missed in my mesmerized state.

Coconut Oil!







3 minutes later we were walking out of the mall.

And an hour later we were on our bus back to K, with KB talking to his gf on the phone perilously close to my ears and my thoughts running back to another crazy night many months ago in another unknown city.

Thursday, May 03, 2007

Blog Visitors

I should be writing about my homecoming to Kolkata, after all a visit after a year is worth writing for!
And of the boringly long two month vacation, it’s a bit frustrating- waiting for your professional life to kick start, with nothing more to do than to hop around shopping malls, get drunk in park street, sleep, watch tv and just kill time !

Or about the weekend visits to the disc or the night club, or about the pathetic experiences of being conspicuously single in a group of couples and roaming around town alone!

But that’s too much to write about in a single post, let’s keep it for a later date.

Today I will rather talk about something more interesting- my ‘Blog Visitors’

A particular person from Germany has been searching the words ‘Shiladitya soupda’ and visiting my blog and spending quite sometime here.

And that happens to be the name & nick of my very dear friend and ex-colleague from IIM Kozhikode. But sadly I have just mentioned his name once in my entire blog.

Some of the most regular and vigorous readers of my blog are strangely from China and Russia, that’s really amazing! I never knew I had such a varied reader base - as these visitors view this page in chinese & russian, Not english !

A particular soul from Mumbai has been searching the words ‘IIMK Living conditions’ and scanning my blog to know about the same.
Well my dear, living in IIMK is like living in a resort in Kerala, don’t think twice about it. If you have a call from K, I can assure you of one thing, its going to be the best two years of your life!

And now the most interesting of them all, a particular visitor from Juhu Church Road, Mumbai seems to have developed a particular liking for the post ‘Pyar ka side effect No.9574. and has also mailed the link of this post to his group of friends….as far as Australia. That’s a great compliment, I must admit!

Parting Thought: Many thanks to everyone for visiting my blog and spending your precious time here! But kindly do let me know how you feel about them by commenting in the comments section.

Adios

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Sleeping Awake ~

I wrote this post about a year back, but I always had an eerie feeling about it! Somehow something was wrong......I never could fully connect to the very words I myself had written down- There was something about this post which kept disturbing me, everytime I saw it. Until yesternite, when finally I discovered that perhaps I was just ahead of my time.
Something which I had written a year back makes more sense now than it ever did....to me !


Why is it that we keep nurturing those dreams which we know are never going to come true?When the night stretches too long, and you are still awake. When the roads outside have died out and the night is so silent that you actually hear yourself breathe.It’s so late that the Bacardi has stopped kicking. But it’s still too early for the hangover to clear fully.It’s in this particular aperture, this moment of temporary blankness, when the world stops flashing its images at you, when you are neither asleep, nor awake, neither drunk nor sober that this alternate dream world immerses you in it.She lies beside me and whispers in my ear. I can feel her warm breath on my neck. I can taste the moisture on her lips. I drown in her aroma. I can feel our heartbeats becoming one.

It’s a world where the distances between us had ceased to exist, where unspoken words make more sense and a quiet smile means more than being on phone for hours. I just wish that this was for real and that I never wake up. I can die a hundred deaths for just one night like this, lying next to her in her arms and her, in mine.And then suddenly you wake up with the sound of wings flapping outside your window as pigeons take their first flight of the day and you realize that it’s already past dawn. And all you have is a couple of hours before you re-enter and take charge of the other dream state which we call life!

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Pyaar ka Side effect No. 9574

Act: 1. Scene: 1. A class in Brand Management in one of the top B schools in India.

Its still early morning and people keep entering the classroom in silence with ruffled hairs and red eyes, some have just got up from sleep 5-10 minutes back and some didn’t sleep at all for the entire night and will probably do so after the class. Most scramble for the nearest place they get to unload their books and be seated. The smarter among them look for strategic positions where they will be safe distance away from the Prof’s questions and watchful eyes.


Prof: Today we will explore internal branding. But before that let’s first define what Internal Branding is. And who is going to tell me that? (Starts looking around the class and points to a random guy)

Yes! Chintamani ! Tell me what is Internal Branding?

Random Guy: Sir I am not Chintamani. I am Amit.
(Before he could finish the Prof stops him.)

Prof: How does it matter? Tell me the answer.

Random Guy: Internal Branding is branding to your internal stakeholders like for example your employees.

Prof: Perfect! And why do you think such a thing is necessary in the first place?

(And starts explaining to the class)

What happens in Diwali? Or Holi? Your mom makes laddus. And you have to go to the market to get all the ingredients. But what do you get at the end of the day? Only broken pieces, because all the good ones are for the guests.

What happens when guests come to your house? They get tea & snacks in costly cutlery. But what do you get? Tea in a cup with a broken handle or a broken edge.

And why is that?

Because we always believe in giving the best to ‘Bahar ke log--
Hum to Ghar ke log hai…hum-e kuch bhi chalta hai !’

And this is the price we pay for being the internal stakeholder- The Ghar ke log

Arre isse toh acha hai ke we become bahar kaa admi…isn’t it?

(The class nods in acceptance)

And that’s what happens in a corporate environment also. And to overcome that we have internal branding, which means treating your internal stakeholders at par with external stakeholders and making them all ambassadors of your brand and of your brand value & philosophy.



Act: 2. Scene: 1.

Our hero is looking quite angry, standing on his balcony and smoking his umpteenth cigarette for the evening. It’s already well past 11:30 p.m and he has been trying to call our heroine for the last 90 minutes but without any success.

Night time is the only time they get for each other, to talk and to romance. All day they both remain busy with classes and other work and with all kind of people around them it’s hardly possible to spend more than a couple of minutes over the phone. It’s only at night by about 10p.m that they both literally lock themselves up in their rooms and quietly sit talking for …….about an hour.

But the last couple of days weren’t like that. She has been really busy with her project and returning home late, which means having dinner late, which in turn means that she has been retiring to her room pretty late. Add to that the fact that she is not really a ‘Night raider’ like him and follows a strict lifestyle and goes to sleep by 11p.m, after which its really not physically possible for her to stay awake and talk with him.


He had called her up today at 9p.m when she reached home. She had asked him to call her up in an hour. But when he tried calling her up then, there was no response. She might still be busy with her dinner or other chores- that’s what he had thought and waited for another 10 minutes.

But by 10:10 her phone was busy, he kept on trying initially after every 2 minutes, then every 5 minutes, and then every 10 minutes. But it was still busy. Generally she doesn’t waste much time with other calls at this time, hardly for a couple of minutes, but its well over 90 minutes that she has been with this call now. And even if she calls up now, it’s only going to be a courtesy call with just about enough time to squeeze in a ‘Good Night’ before she falls asleep.

Finally his phone rings at 11:56pm. It’s a missed call from her asking him to call back. But he doesn’t move. The phone rings a second time. He responds this time, calls her up.



Hero: Hello!

Heroine: Arre my school friend called up...

Hero: You must be feeling asleep. Go to sleep. Goodnight. (In an angry tone)

Heroine: Arre ! why are you getting angry on me? Did I say I wanted to sleep? Or I am sleepy? I called you to talk to you. But if you don’t want, then it’s okay. You always get angry on me.

Hero: Yeah I know. Within two minutes you will feel sleepy. You are already yawning. And if you are really not sleepy, then talk to me for half an hour.

Heroine: It’s true that I am tired and sleepy but I am still talking to you na? What can I do if this is the only time I get with myself?

Hero: I have been trying to call you up for the past couple of hours. Didn’t we have a pact of keeping this time only for ourselves?

Heroine: What can I do? My school friend called up after more than 3 years. She is getting married and she called me to invite. She was so excited about it that she just kept on talking and talking and I couldn’t say her NO.

Hero: Thik hai I understand. But what for 2 hours?? Couldn’t you finish it by half an hour or so?

Heroine: She wanted to talk to my folks and her folks also came online. We grew up together and are family friends so she started talking and personally inviting everyone and then she handed over the phone to her folks. It was really not possible yaar!

Hero: Hmmmmmmm…!

Heroine: And it was really not possible for me to disconnect the call in any way. I couldn’t just tell them that ‘please call me later; I have an important phone call to attend from my boyfriend, that I can leave everything in the world but not him!’

Hero: Oh I see! Great! You did right. Absolutely right. Anyways Goodnight.


Internal Branding Lesson for our Heroine:

We all know that you want him to be understanding and sensitive to your feelings and consider him to be your closest friend. But don’t punish him for being an internal stakeholder. Don’t hurt him for loving you. You cannot expect him to be understanding until and unless you yourself are understanding and sensitive towards his feelings and needs.



Internal Branding Lesson for our Hero:

Welcome to the club. You are a boyfriend and that means you are an internal stakeholder now. You will never be treated at par with others, and will always get the raw deal. But that’s part of the package, if you want your love; you have to be understanding and a bit flexible.Don’t be so demanding always And girls really don’t like angry young men anymore!

Either you be her boyfriend and wait for her call every night and talk to her for 5 minutes or be just another friend and call her up once in 3 years and talk to her for hours- The choice is yours!


Epilogue

Now out of all the couples in this world, our Hero & Heroine should have known about Internal Branding, coz they both were MBA’s. But perhaps they didn’t or even if they did, they failed to apply it to their relationship.

And as our Hero (Really don’t know how the Heroine feels?) later realized that perhaps it’s really these weird marketing concepts which decide whether you end up in a comedy or in a tragedy.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

The Horseshoe Nail Salesman





For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.




So Always keep a healthy supply of horseshoe nails with you.


Just FYI (For your Information)

During World War II, this verse was framed and hung on the wall of the Anglo-American Supply Headquarters in London, England.

:)

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Bacheha-Ye aseman (Children of Heaven)


Name: Bacheha-Ye aseman/ Children of Heaven (in USA)
Release Date: 1997
Written & Directed by: Majid Majidi
Cast: Amir Farrokh Hashemian (ALI); Bahare Seddiqi (ZAHRA)



Just one word: Terrific!

This is the first time I watched an Iranian film and fell in love with it. It’s a movie about two little kids and their lost pair of shoes and it has the potential to put to shame 99% of the movies we have been able to churn out in the past few years.

The last time I saw such splendid performance from a kid was from ‘Apu’ in the ‘Apu’ trilogy by Satyajit Ray, and perhaps that’s the reason I liked it so much- To see the world from the eyes of a kid, a kid from a lower middle class/poor family and the strong emotions which bind them and the small little things which make them cry.

I remember once crying for a pen, a costly pen which mom had bought for me and I lost it on the first day in school, and how frantically I kept searching for it even after school in my classroom and then hiding it from my parents.

But the scene which I liked the most was when Ali & Zahra communicate by writing in their notebook sitting next to each other and pretending to study under the watchful eyes of their parents.

Perhaps Indian film makers should also learn that you don’t need big budgets, or copied plots from Hollywood movies or stuntmen from Australia or scores of naked women or people dancing in the Swiss Alps to make a great movie.

All you need is a heart.

Sunday, March 04, 2007

This ...is....Sparta !!

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Saturday, March 03, 2007

The Fool Circle II

The placement week has ended and it has left me heavy with a lot of last minute mugged jargons and numbers But more importantly it has left me introspective, trying to answer all those HR questions which most Fortune 500 companies would ask you in their interviews or application forms:

What are your long term goals? How do you see yourself 10years from now? What is your purpose in life? Tell me about your strengths and weaknesses?

And every time I sat answering these questions I knew something was wrong. Its not that I can’t faff, infact I can do that quite gracefully, anyone who knows me can vouch for that!

But what troubled me was that I really didn’t have a clue as to what my long term goals are in material terms? Now I am not talking about spiritual or Meta physical goals. I am talking about numbers, about the real world material stuff. I don’t have any idea as to which organisation I would like to lead or how much bank balance would satisfy me?

So as most MBA’s would do when they don’t have a clue to what they are looking for (and when google is of no help either), I widened my search and started analyzing my behavior and all the incidents which keep happening with me and all that I have desired or wished and chased in the past 25 years of my life.

And what I discovered is both amazingly startling and chilling.

Thursday, March 01, 2007

The Fool Circle

'Well not too far away in the future a day will come when I will also complete my 6 terms here and get a diploma and a farewell party and also a convocation ceremony and I don’t know how my emotions will run then? '

http://pratikchowdhury.blogspot.com/2006/02/this-one-is-for-my-seniors-here-at.html

That day in the future has arrived and I am standing on the doorstep of this dream called IIMK, probably looking at the K’ hills for one last time and saying my best wishes before I start on the journey ahead.

And I am not sad, surprisingly- rather I am grateful that it went on the way it did with all its bitter sweet memories. I am grateful for all the fun, for all the friends and acquaintances, for all the gyaan, for all the KLPD situations I was in, for all the close shaves and near catastrophic situations, for all the parties, for all the chat sessions, for all the tragic/comic romantic episodes, and for all mindless things which one does in a B school!

But of all I am most grateful for the lessons it taught me with failures, with unsuccessful stories, with being on the wrong side of the fence, and getting the raw deal. Perhaps it has made me hungrier and perhaps made me realize that my journey has just begun and I have a long-long way to go before I can look back with pride and say ‘What a life it has been!’