The War Of Words

The 55 year old man, who looked like 30!

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Thu, 23 May 2013 18:17:00 +0000

For the uninitiated, I work on the fringes of the entertainment industry and I often get those occasional brushes with people from the "industry". Today, while working on a presentation for a client, I met this 55 year old man who looked not a day older than 30. He had skin as taut as a bow loaded with arrow ready to fire, back at a perfect 90 degree angle to floor and a head full of hair as black as ~~a swan~~ coal. He started talking about what all could we do for a client and he recommended Bhangra amongst other things. He did push for Bhangra as an option because apparently he has been practicing and teaching it for over 30 years (this is when I asked him about his age!). Anyway, at that time I dismissed it as yet another suggestion and got busy with yet another gossip session in office.

Later in the evening while I was writing the actual presentation, I was looking for videos from his recommendations. And I stumbled on to this.

And I was swept off my ~~feet~~ chair. I mean I have seen men perform Bhangra and people dance away in those wedding processions on the road but this is nothing like I have ever seen. I mean this comes close but the Bhangra Empire vid blew me away. I could not, in my wildest dream, imagine that Bhangra could be an art form and could be performed on the stage.

For me Bhangra was limited to throwing your legs and arms out, with as much fervor as you could and and as far as you could and then keep flinging em over and over again, till you either hit someone or you get tired. At least thats what my limited experience with it tells me. I think I'd throw in some disclaimers here. Dancing and I are like two poles. Each knows that the other exists and publicly acknowledges the presence of other and yet maintain the distance. I do trip on music all the time but dance and me are like enemies. I cant dance to save my life. But on rare occasions when I do am forced to dance, I look like a chicken with both legs tied, to the neck!

Of course I have known quite a few awesome dancers over the course of this long life that I have ~~spent~~ wasted but dont think any of em knew Bhangra. And like I do with most things, stereotyping tells me that since I havent had a lot of Sikh friends, I dont know any great Bhangra dancers. Oh btw, now that I am talking of Sikhs, I have this secret whim that if I was the kinds to adopt a religion, it would be Sikhism. Love their ethos, culture and history. There's more but I dont think I am qualified to talk about religion and philosophy and thus I shall put a break on this bit. But let me talk about Bhangra and my new found obsession with it.

So Bhangra is like a free flow movement of the entire body, synced with really peppy and upbeat music, mostly from percussion and wind instruments. When done well, there is this rhythm to the movements and you can see that the dancer is in sync with music. The dancer must feel one with it. It looks like a karmic dance where movements, body, the music, the beats, the musicians, the dancers all become one. It is where the world converges. The feet probably move on their own with the music. The dancer wont even be controlling the movements and yet it falls at the right place at the right time with the right beat! Its probably the fastest way to get in the zone. The dancers look as if they're in trance. The kinds induced when you are happy and you're living in the moment with no worries of the past or the present! Oh, and it looks like a fun way to lose weight.

Wait a minute. Did I say, lose weight? This is interesting. May be, just may be, Bhangra is the answer to my weight loss drama. I have tried a wide assortment of things and it would not harm to throw in some Bhangra in it. And I think Mumbai, being such a big hub for Sikhs, is bound to have some dance schools that teach Bhangra. However, I want to understand that if I can actually make a serious attempt at it, at my age. I mean this is when the bones start disintegrating and the fiber and muscles start losing their volume. Will it be safe? There are no definite answers but I think dance is one of those things that are worth risking everything you have.

Need to add this to my todo list for the year. As soon as Evernote resets my upload limit for the month. Its the worst thing that can happen to an ardent Evernote user. In the meanwhile I shall start hunting for some Bhangra schools in Mumbai. You know some? Please let me know. Or may be I can try and ask the 55 year old man, who looked like 30!

P.S.: Like I said yesterday, I have changed the look and feel of the blog. The basic structure remains the same but the new theme has lot more white space and smaller fonts for readability. It also has a larger text area for text. The menus are small. I dont like the header and the descriptor. I want to work on it. Wish I could design and blogger allowed n00bs like me to adapt a new design.

But I shall live with this for a few days. If I feel good, I'd keep it. If I dont, I would probably port to a tumblr or a wordpress. I'd feel bad about it - I have been writing on blogger for almost ten years now. And wondering, how long you've been reading my blog?

21 May 2013 - A Day in Life

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Wed, 22 May 2013 18:06:00 +0000

Credits: mspittal | Original Image

I told myself that I would write 1000 words a day. I have done that previously as well and I don’t think I did it for more than a week. This time, its been 2 days. Today is the third day. For records, I call it 1000WADv2. And since I work best on external motivation, to help matters, I have wagered with a friend. Every day I don’t publish 1000 words, I give her a 1000 bucks. And every week I write for seven days, she will give me 1000 bucks. 7 to 1 odds.

This means two things. One is that I will publish everyday and add to all the digital noise around us. Along the way, I will write short stories, rants, reviews, trolls etc, all in the hopes of getting good at the craft. I mean there are no guarantees that I would get better but I want to. With every passing day I see writing as an easy alternative to my issues. Second is that I would write more than I would publish. This means that I would think more and write more. And I would work more and write more. And I would reflect more and write more. And I would stop talking and write more. Write more. You know what I am hinting at?

So today I had initially thought I would rant about my bald head and aging bones. But today has been an interesting day. I learnt three interesting things about myself. I mean I have known these at the back of my head but I havent been able to see the picture painted so clearly on the wall!

One is that I really think that minimalism could be a way of life that I may find peace and happiness in. Like one, same pair of denims for 6 days and one suit for formal occasions, one credit card, one telephone etc. Much like that George Clooney movie where you could pack all you own in a travel suitcase. This guy, is an inspiration. More on it later (in a different blog post).

Second is that I am awesome. I am not being a egomaniac or megalomaniac here but the realization that dawned onto me when I was part of a long and boring meeting where 9 adults were sitting across a table and were trying to justify their respective jobs. In that meeting I realized that I am actually very good when it comes to what I did at CLA and what I do now. I really needed this gratification, its been a patchy ride last few months. 2013 isn't turning out the way I had envisioned it.

Third is that I can not tolerate the heat in Delhi. Nothing new, I have already ranted about it a million times on social networks that I hang out on, but its time I decide to do something about it, rather than merely ranting about it. I promise myself that this is the last year where I am forced to be in a city. By the next summers, I want to achieve location independence wrt to my work. I dont know how would that happen but I would NOT be reeling under the torturous heat of Delhi.

Apart from this being an interesting day and these three lessons, there was another realization. I got this comment (from who else but Neo) on a post and that compared me to EL James. No I am not taking it seriously, vindication from audience is obviously a motive for writing, but if, what I write can ~~influence~~ confuse someone enough to make them leave a comment (even if they were pulling my leg and mocking what I write), I have a career ahead of me! Yeah, any publicity is good publicity.

So yeah, that’s about it for the day. Quite a few things happened. Just that I need to remain consistent with tracking the lesson and then may be implementing them.

Also while previewing this post, I realized that I havent changed my blog theme in ages. Nothing wrong with it but if I am planning to write longish posts, I need a design that allows people to read it. The sad thing with blogger is that I can customize it only so much. Wish there was something that was simple and yet had tons of features to choose from. Guess this is why Tumblr is what it is. Not all blogging platforms (or content management systems, if you will) get acquired for a billion USD, most of it in cash! And what an eventful year this has been for Marrissa Mayer, since she moved to Yahoo! Thats what Google has done, apart from making money and helping the world. Google ~~created~~ groomed people into awesome managers and entrepreneurs. If I had time, I would try and create a list of ex-Googlers that have made an impact by joining other companies or starting em. Would be a long list I guess. In fact that is one of the reasons I want to chase in life. To be able to groom people around me and be that catalyst that helps them grow. Again, more on this later, in a different blog post.

So, if you are a regular here, I suspect if anyone is regular, please dont be alarmed if you see a change in design of the blog in the next few days. Its only to help you read better (spoke like a true marketeer).

Guess thats it. There is nothing more to talk of. I mean there is but then I would have to get into specifics and I would not want to do that. I like this pseudo anonymous life. Until the next Day in Life update, so long!

The Blind Date. He and She.

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Tue, 21 May 2013 14:39:00 +0000

He
I have never been to blind dating events. I have always hated the mere concept of dating events. For me, falling in love is more of a happy accident, than a meticulously planned affair. In fact I live for these happy accidents - all good things to have happened to me, ever, were outcomes of these happy accidents. And like a Pavlovian dog, I start dropping at even the thought of happy accidents. But this blind date, it was a turn off even before I reached there.

I had been promised a gathering of desperate women waiting to be picked by less than ordinary men like me. And since its been some time that I have had a stable relationship, I was tempted to go. Not to mention, that dude that sits in the next cubicle, who cant talk to a woman even when she's drunk, has been to these events and even he scored. Its like a perfect place where all the social norms take a back seat and you end up a winner. Even if you are socially inept at it. How I love modern day India!

So when I got the coveted invitation, coveted because not everyone gets it, I could not decide. On one hand this was against how I thought about love. And on the other, the lure of getting home with a woman was something that I could not let go. Of course I went. There are times when heart needs to be given precedence over brain. No?

It began like any other social gathering. There were happy people all around me. Almost everyone was like fresh out of a poster from a bollywood film. Perfect teeth on perfect smiles, perfect eye glasses go along with neatly trimmed hair, sharp dresses on toned bodies. Everything looked like a conspiracy to me. I was immediately a misfit in my tattered tee shirt from People Tree (it has this amazing quote by Faiz), old denims and new shiny black leather chappals. No wonder so many heads turned and stared me down once I entered. It felt as if I am facing a firing squad and these men were trying to shoot me down with their eyes.

And amongst that bobbling sea of heads, there she was. Despite my limited interactions with the female species, I could see that she was a misfit as well. In a different way obviously. She wasn't the prettiest of them all. Or the tallest of them all. And she wasnt dressed for the occasion. But she had something about her that made every other woman wary of her. Every woman was stealing glances at her and sizing her up. Every woman clutched to their men tighter when they glanced in her direction.

Unlike other women who were dressed in expensive evening dresses she had a merely pulled up a pair of denims, which ended slightly above her ankles - the length that I wear my denims too. She was wearing a bright yellow tee shirt that had an intriguing rendition of the Barack Obama Hope poster. The tee obviously dint suit the occasion. Her countenance told me that she has been forced to attend this do. And despite this, it looked as if the entire event, the entire gathering, all the people around her were specifically planted, so that, her status as the queen bee was reinforced to us mortals. The elegant crowd gathered in the room around her, made her all the more rich and gave her all the grandeur that she deserved.

She was like that alpha species that every male ought to consummate with and to give their genes a large chance to be able to survive and multiply. She was everything that a man, primal or modern, could have asked for in a mate. Leave aside the love, the longing and the relationships. Her purpose on earth was to give the most fertile opportunity for the alpha male to advance his genes. I hate objectifying women like that but she indeed was an object. An object of desire. An object that I could have given away an arm and leg to own. To make mine. To be with.

And yet, she was alone. As alone as I was.

She
This is like the three hundredth blind dating event that I am going to. Each of the previous events has been exciting and yet boring. I somehow always become the centre of attraction, even though I dont realy try. And yet I come to my own house and sleep by myself. Somehow I just cant seem to get a date. Except that one time when that cricketer showed interest in me and then I backed off once he and I starting talking. He was as daft as a dodo. Disasters like this aside, these dating events are so much fun. Never before I have seen such a large gathering of desperate men and women trying to woo each other. Funnily, most of the time, I see the same set of people. And you know what? Most women that frequent these do's, they wear the same clothes over and over again. May be some superstition.

Not me. I dont think I have ever repeated my dress ever. Well, if a teeshirt thrown over a pair of denims qualifies as a dress. Oh, by the way, these tee shirts are my biggest weapon. The designs are so cool that more often than not, the teeshirt becomes the conversation starter. Like the one I was wearing on the last date. I had sketched the iconic design of Fairey for Obama. Wish design was this mainstream in India. I can bet that this design by Fairey must be responsible for a good 10% votes for Obama. Truth be told, I dont really care about Obama or America, just that design was brilliant and I had to sketch myself a teeshirt from it. Thats what I do in my free time. Paint my own teeshirts. Some are good, some bad but honestly, I do come up with a few masterpieces. And this one was definitely one of the best I've ever painted.

So I was wearing my favorite my teeshirt and I even had a feeling that I would be lucky and I would find that perfect guy that I've always wanted. I so knew who I wanted to be with, I could see him standing in front of me. He is about 5 feet 11. Not very tall and not very short. A typical Indian male with brown skin, I hate fair men. Masculine enough to be able to get spotted in a room full of men. And yet tender enough to know how to me, like a lady or like a toy, depending on the mood I am in. I've never wanted a macho man, riding a fast horse on a sea beach, chasing the setting sun. I really want the dude next door. And I want him to have all the imperfections that men have to have. Things that make him so dear. Just like my dad, when he would have been my age.

And I actually spotted someone like that in the crowd that day. I think he had lost his way because he did not look prepared at all for a date night. I mean what kind of man wears a denim and leather chappals to dating events? I dont think any sane woman would even look at her. Of course since I couldn't keep my eyes off him, you can guess the level of my sanity. And he had this amazing teeshirt on, it had some quote in Hindi that I was dying to read but since he never came in the 5 KM radius of me, I could not.

The way he looked at me, I am sure he found me intriguing, if not attractive. I do get these glances all the time. For some reason, everywhere I go, everyone keeps staring at me but this guy, it was as if he was writing a thesis on me. There is nothing else that explains his constant stare. Funny thing is that for once, someone staring at me wasnt making uncomfortable. In fact it was filling me with a warmth, a sense of elation that he was staring at me. I felt complete.I knew it was him that I was supposed to be with.

And yet, he was alone. As alone as I was.

May 20, 2013. Of disconnectedness.

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Mon, 20 May 2013 11:21:00 +0000

Somehow, I stumbled on to my blog(!) and realized that its been more than a month since I posted something here. Nothing wrong with it but for someone with serious aspirations of a being an author, not ~~posting~~ writing anything for a month is not acceptable. Ofcourse I can blame it on all the travel that I have been subjected to and the feeling of disconnectedness with the world but end of the day, these things dont count. Do they? After a few weeks I would look back and exclaim, "oh! between April and May of 2013, I did not update my blog for a whole month".

Anyway (thanks rediff), now that I am writing, I want to talk of my disconnectedness wali feeling - something extremely personal and yet something that I know most people like me would relate to. Of course, it is a separate matter altogether that not many people would be as lost as I am. If you know me, you would know that I have a hard time understanding logic and rationale that governs most people and their actions. So much so that I have stopped judging them (actions, not people), which is good in way but fucks up the head on the other side.

You know, most people my age are busy making mini fortunes for themselves, if not on their way to change the world. And no, no just one or two examples, but 8 out 0f 10 people I know (9th is me. 10th, you know who you are. Thanks for giving me company). And I on the other hand am stuck in the rut of mediocrity. Of course no one else is responsible, but me. More on that later. Coming back to disconnectedness, people define it in multiple ways with awesome words and languages. I have a rather simplistic definition. I define disconnectedness as the feeling that you do not have any roots to go back to. There is no place you feel home at. There is nobody that you want to sleep (and wake up) in the arms of. There is no clear agenda or purpose (or epitaph) that you are chasing. You struggle to find meaning and you are merely a vegetable and letting things chart their own course. You are just flowing.

Or may be clinical depression is a set of two words that can explain it equally well. Of course if I was the kinds to mix my miseries with alcohol and consume the diluted concoction, I could've painted a more vivid picture.

Coming back, nothing wrong with the feeling of disconnectedness to be honest. An entire generation lived with it. And died with it. People continue to adopt that lifestyle even decades after that generation died. I think I have a vague idea why. Hedonism is a brilliant concept. I do subscribe to it but then at the same time, I am from the school of thought that believes in creating something that outlives you. I believe that there is a greater purpose and a reason why you've been put here. And you have to have the responsibility towards the greater power that put you on here on Mother Earth. Kinda complicated. Hedonism and Legacy do not go hand in hand but I am trying.

Wise men and sages over the years have said that once you know of the problem, all that remains is finding the solution and implementing it. I know the problem, have known it for years and yet I cant seem to do a thing about it. Remember I said no one else but me is responsible? I need that tight slap on my face to wake me up from the deep slumber and get moving. Someone someday will have to do. Lot of friends including Neo and #sgMS tried but I did not pay heed to even her. Who else? If the most important people to me havnt been able to help matters, dont think anyone else can! Let me park this thought here. Will come back to it.

I want to argue further that this feeling of disconnectedness is actually responsible for a lot of good things that us humans have achieved in last few decades. I believe that on the other side of this disconnectedness, is the holy grail of happiness. I am assuming that once you realize what is keeping you back and you know what is it that you are chasing, you will put in your best effort and you will come up with a body of work that defines who you are. You go through this dark tunnel to come out brighter, sharper and happier. Most modern marvels are a result of people disconnected with their lives and their attempts to create things that define them. Some people get lucky and they know what their purpose is, at a fairly young age. Just that this tunnel is kinda long in my case. And the hope of things beyond this feeling is what keeps me going. Every single day. Hope could be a bitch. No?

Connecting the two thoughts above, I know that my best is ahead of me. Like I keep saying, its not a matter of if, but a when. I believe that, that when, ladies and gentlemen, is around the corner. The fuck up is, I cant seem to wait. The disconnectedness, this mid life crisis, the clinical depression is killing me. And its getting increasingly tough by the day (or is it tougher?).

But then, till I realize my purpose and I serve my reason I cant really quit either. It would be a life wasted and I am very sure my purpose is definitely NOT to waste my life in frivolity. Wish me luck if youre reading this.

April 04, 2013.

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Thu, 04 Apr 2013 16:53:00 +0000

Day 4. Not bad. Despite non regular access to Internet, I have been able to write for four straight days. This is day 4 actually.

Agenda for the day is a rant on the evolution of photography as an industry. The cameras got cheap, Internet cheaper and technology grew at an astronomical pace. From being an elitist phenomenon photography is now something that anyone with a half decent camera can do. Of course with a million photographers around, the loudest and most obnoxious ones are easy to spot. Nothing wrong with pimping what you do but then as a while the profession and the discipline of photography are going down the drain. Photography, like all other mediums hat help is express ourselves, is close to my heart and it sucks to see the state that photography is in. Every other person is either a photographer or in the process of becoming one. Wish I could do something to help it. Lol, yet another thing that I want to help. Life should've been longer. No?

So coming back, by end of his year, I would do something about it. Dunno what. But something.

Next, while I type this, I am tripping orbit DJ Killa's version of Uff Teri Ada. Apart from being a great track, the song reminds me so much of sgMS. If you're reading this, I miss you. If you're not reading this, bad for me.

Finally, I think I have come to realise why I like blogging. I'd give you guys a hint. You know it's easy talking to a stranger rather than your best friend, or writing a dairy, or confessing to a priest? Yeah? That's why.

April 03, 2013. Undo.

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Wed, 03 Apr 2013 14:15:00 +0000

Today was one of those days that I could just delete from my life. All I did today was remain in transit over two time zones. No am not too far from where I live but it was a painful transit.

But I learnt a few things that I have known implicitly but I realised them today. For starters, good grasp on English as a language can take you really far. Especially in an industry that is still not ruled by the suits. But then, like at all other places, the suits are on the prowl and its a matter of time before they screw up this opportunity as well.

Second typing on an iPhone is not as bad I thought it would be. I have used a blackberry for the longest time and was skeptic about using an iPhone. But it's been good so far.

Third. I am not what I think I am. More on this later but for the time being, I sincerely think that I need to see a doc about my mlc.

Four, theres this friend of mine, lets call him Remo, he keeps saying that he seems to have hit the vegetable phase. Where he's merely surviving. He's doing well professionally and making enough money and yet he's unhappy. He can't seem to pinpoint at a reason. Neither can I. Nor can you. That reason to exist, to do is missing. Hate to see him like that. Any solutions anyone?

That's it. The lessons from a day that was spent in travelling by a taxi, a plane, a boat, a bus and of course on foot. It's been a long long day. Time to retire.

And no, I did not go for a run. Lemme sleep tonight and try tomorrow morning. Until then.

April 02, 2013. You've a habit of getting late.

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 04:47:00 +0000

The first phone call of the day was from a client and first thing he said was, "please make it at 2. You have a habit of getting late". And in all the times I've met him, over the last three years, I've never ever been late.

Anyways (remember the rant yesterday about anyways?) the meeting went as expected. The client was his nasty self. I survived through it. And then the day was drab and boring. Just that I finished reading Kafka on the Shore. Totally blown by it. Will write a detailed review soon. Will restart reading On the Road now. Looking forward to it.

Other exciting thing to have happened today was the visit to my 5th Starbucks store in India, at the Delhi airport. Now I've been to all operational Starbucks store. Not an achievement I want to boast about but I love that brand and I don't mind "stalking" it.

What else do I want to write about? I thought I would restart running. The Delhi. Trip has put a break on my 3 km walk/jog/struggle routine but I want to restart it. Today I could not. Tom I cannot as I have a flight. Day after tomorrow may be. Pray for me.

That's it. Next update tomorrow.

April 01, 2013

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Mon, 01 Apr 2013 16:44:00 +0000

Day 1 of a new quarter. Or a new financial year, depends on the way you look at it. Starting today I shall try and write a blog post every night before I sleep.

Anyways, an article on rediff tells me that anyways is incorrect usage, I have been reading a lot lately. Blame it on my move to mumbai and subsequent availability of a lot of time on my hands. So last two people that I have read, and needless to say enamoured by, are Murakami and London.

Murakami, I don't understand half the things he writes. The other half, i look up. London, haven't read much of him hit did read about his life. Realised that like most other geniuses, he had a screwed up head that fucked up his social life and as a result he poured all his time and attention into writing. And we know about his writing and the impact it had.

I have been thinking about writing as a discipline a lot. And I sincerely believe I must give it a serious shot, writing as a career. Just that I am not really that great, am mediocre at best. And I am not really on any extreme of social interactions. Am not a megalomaniac and neither a social butterfly. And this may be an hindrance in my soon to be launched writing career. Time shall tell.

But as I write this, I am watching The Rock. I don't think a lot of movies have been written any better. If you're reading this, it's on zee studio. Go watch it.

P.s. this post is made on my phone. I hope to make one everyday. May have typos, bad grammar, non-existant links, and other such things. Would love to know of your feedback. Tag to track: dailyBlog.

Jack London's Credo

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Sun, 31 Mar 2013 11:48:00 +0000

Enough said!

Jack London. via isn't.

Winds were her best friends

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Sat, 16 Mar 2013 08:54:00 +0000

The other day, ~~someone~~ Dee gave me these words and asked if I could write something. Here is what I came up with. Inspired by Murakami's 1Q84. If you want to help me get over my writer's block and give me something to write about, do lemme know.

Funny thing about this working women's hostel is that no one knows how you get a place for yourself if you aren't staying here already. Most of the occupants have been here since they can remember and no one seemed inclined to leave. Called The Windchimes, the building was an old, yet solid structure that at one point in time was a hotel for state guests of the British Empire. And as a result, all rooms were large by Mumbai standards and were very comfortable. Each room had almost the same set of furnishing. A double sized bed flush to the wall, a closet to the left of the bed, a writing table and a chair between the bed and the closet. Ofcourse each occupant had given their respective personalities to their temporary abodes, by adding knick-knacks and furnishings. So each room looked familiar and yet aloof. Apart from this, the rooms and the hostel were pretty boring, except the rooms had attached bathrooms, no windows but came with individual balconies.

These balconies, alcoves couldn't be larger than 3 feet in width and yet they were considered luxury at a place like Mumbai where every inch of space is reclaimed and becomes fodder for life. But then, these balconies, these expensive alcoves were mostly wasted at Windchimes. Most of these were used to merely dry clothes and condiments. Except the corner one on the 4th floor, facing the intersection. The one with white chiffon curtains, slightly larger than required, that fluttered with the winds as if a large bird was trapped in the room and is trying to fly away with the entire house. This was ofcourse Dee's room. She was a writer of some sort and had been here since last three years. And if word on the street is to be believed, she would have spent most part of those three years sitting on the balcony amidst those flowing curtains and staring at the distant sea. She was like a permanent fixture on the balcony, always hunched on a chair, eyes fixed at some remote point on the horizon.

Dee’s room, her balcony, looked down on the intersection of Henry Road and Boman Behram Marg. Though this was stone’s throw away from the Gateway of India and the famous Taj Mahal hotel, this was not a very busy intersection. Most of the traffic consisted of two wheelers and pedestrians. Diagonally across Dee’s room, there was my kiosk, a hole in the wall actually, that sold tea in the morning to health conscious people going for their morning walks, snacks in the afternoon to children when they left from the Holy Name High School next to Windchimes and cigarettes in the evening to young men who would gather outside Windchimes, hoping to catch sight of their favorite one staying at Windchimes. Of course most women did not use the balconies and hence the “sightings” were pretty rare. Except for my be Dee. She was on her gallery all the time and yet nobody looked in her direction. Not that she was not attractive, in fact she presented a very imposing sight with the long chiffon curtains behind her and stark contrast of her long black shiny hair all over her face but guess she was too easily available and hence most men were probably not interested in the game!

Not just men but Dee somehow dint really have any great friends at Windchimes. She generally kept to herself and most of her interactions with other occupants were on a strict need basis. The house had a common mess and that fixed time at which they served meals. This made it necessary for every occupant to come down, have their meals together and engage in idle banter. Even on these occasions Dee kept to herself and barely spoke. When she did, it wasn’t really a social comment or a dope of gossip but a functional comment, like, “could you please pass on ketchup” or something to that effect. She was not unfriendly and in fact was a very pleasant company. When you spoke to her, she heard it all with rapt attention and made you feel like the most important person in the world. She would nod at the right places, laugh at every point where you expected laughter and removed all traces of happiness from her face when you expected someone to be sympathetic to what you were saying. She was great like that. Just that she was incapable of making any small talk.

She, unlike other people, did not have the innate need to make friends. It’s as if winds were her best friends. She could sit for hours on her balcony and revel in the company of cool winds that came from the ocean. For her it was like a process of purification where apparently the winds carried love letters from her lover who’s gone to the sea and she’s longing for him to come back. Just like Mercedes, the beloved of Edmond (Dantes). If not for the long lost lover then maybe all she wanted from life was to grow wings somehow and then fly away. Fly to that unknown Promised Land that every one of us keeps chasing throughout our lives. And since she trusted the wind as if it was an extension of her body that she could control, she could very well go on that voyage that only a few lucky ones of us get to even think about. All it would take for her is a leap out of her window, along with those oversized curtains, her long hair, and her best friends, the wind!

And this is exactly why I think I am extremely lucky to have ended up with her. She had always mesmerized me. The sight of her on her balcony was like a fairy perched up high on the roof, waiting to come down and take me her arms and make me forget all the hardships I have endured over the years. Ofcourse, there was no way for me to break ice with her. She rarely gave any attention to men and I could count on my fingers, all the times she stepped out. But since I had the advantage of owning the store bang opposite her balcony, I had a rings side view of her life. And all the men gathered at my shop anyways dint show any interest in her, may be that helped because God knows there are far more eligible men for someone like her. So every time she stepped out, I secretly hoped that she would come to me and order some tea or something. Tea, for us Indians has always been a social engagement and an ice breaker. The first we did speak, she was being dragged, I could see against her wishes, by some other girl from the hostel because the other girl had to meet a guy!

Of course, now, it all looks like a dream. Call it luck, call it fate, call it destiny, somehow we have ended up together and I couldn’t have been happier. Dee is every bit of fairy that I had imagined her to be. Probably better. As I write these lines, Dee is still hunched onto a barstool on a make shift restaurant at this otherwise secluded beach, her elbows resting on the table, one hand cupping her face, other holding onto mine with a fierce grip. At times I wonder how her frail and tiny body could have such a firm grip, like she’d not get me go, ever. Like that line from that famous John Denver song where they are talking about holding each other and never let go. I look at her hands and her serene face that is betraying her by showing off just a hint of a smile. I know she is happy. I know I am happy. I know we are happy together. We have come a long way from that intersection of Henry Road and Boman Behram Marg.

And the best part, she is doing what she loves doing the most - staring at the ocean, letting the winds play with her hair that have grown even longer since she moved out of Windchimes. Just that, this time, her secret is shared by two people. I, and the winds, that were her best friends. Indeed.

On The Road

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Thu, 28 Feb 2013 15:56:00 +0000

Thanks to Prateek, he got me this book, I have stumbled onto apparently one of the most important non-fiction books of our time. On the Road by Jack Kerouac. I started reading it today and I am stuck on page 7. I cant seem to go beyond it. There is this piece of text on that page that I cant get over with. It reads...

Image Credits: MWW

In plain text it reads,

I shambled after as usual as I've been doing all my life after people that interest me, because the only people that interest me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”

This piece of text, sounds fancy but is brilliant. The easiest thing to say would be that I am the maddest person I know of (I want everything, I dont say commonplace things etc) but I am not. I have lately realized that I am not mad or out of ordinary. I think as I am growing older I have sort of reached a compromise with myself. I will not shine like Steve did or all the other mad people I know of are on the verge of. No time for sob story, this is an exciting book and I am glad to have got a copy. Thanks once again pattice.

I then thought, if I am not mad, do I know some mad people? Are there people who inspire me and I "shamble" after? Are these the kinds that make you go "Awww"? Surprisingly the answer was not one but many. In fact most people I tend to make friends with are the kinds to have the mad trait. A small list would have Killa, my boss, Ashu, piyush, meghna, Solo from my workplace (wow! so many mad people there) and otherwise, Suds, RR, Huz, #sgMS, the other SG, Radhika, Nikita, Vijesh, Ankit, Agony Aunt in it. Ofcourse I have tons of non-mad people who are special to me, the guy who tolerates me more than anyone else, the guy I share my place with, the woman I have a recent crush on, they're all comparatively sober. What I need to do however, is transform all these people into mad ;P

Anyways, coming back, I am really looking forward to reading the book. I can easily relate the state the country is in right now to the things Jack talks about. May be I shall write the Indian version of On The Road someday. I dunno. But for the time being, I am going over the Page 7 over and over again.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Tue, 26 Feb 2013 20:08:00 +0000

Ofcourse you wouldve read/heard about Lisbeth. The "original" girl with the dragon tattoo.

If you havent, you ought to buy Stieg's masterpiece and read it.

Anyways, so, today something crazy happened. I was on my way back from some place when I saw this girl passing by. She was in a dark grey business suit (unlikely for women to be dressed in business suits in India) and like everyone she seemed to be in a hurry to reach somewhere. Very petite and long flowing hair, falling till the small of her back. Someone you cant ignore while she's in front of you. Even though she was part of a sea of people rushing to catch a train from probably the busiest train station in Mumbai, my gaze somehow landed on her. Before anything else, I realized that she was clearly a misfit in the seemingly coherent scenery. And yet, some part of me told me that she fit in there as smugly as if all the maddening crowd of people around her was strategically put in place by some old and cunning warlord. And not to flank her with all those objects, but to accentuate her presence.

Very small compared to men and women of all sizes rushing through the station, impeccably dressed in a sharp suit compared to the crumpled and unkempt attires around her, very calm and serene compared to all the madness around her. It was as if she was from a different time and place and she had been teleported just an instant ago. She was so comfortable as if she was in a board room or on a film set. I have this suspicion that if she was put in the outer space, she would be as comfortable. She walked with such ease, such control and so much self-assurance as if she owned the entire place.

Not that I ogle at women on stations but she was hard to miss. She wasn't good looking by any metric, she wasnt even the rustic kinds that I think makes Indian women so desirable. But she couldn't be ignored. She was like this electro-charged magnetic orb that was pulling all the attention to her. For the time while she was in front of me, I could not see anything else. It was blinding and illuminating at the same time. It was something that, at that instant, I wished that would not end.

And while I finally walked past her (it wouldn't have taken not more than three seconds since I first spotted, her to the time I crossed her) I could see peeking from under her shirt, wrapped around her neck, the unmistakable dragon tattoo. The kinds that you can't forget easily.

You have to see it to believe it. The tattoo. And the girl with the dragon tattoo.

Look ma, I got a writing table!

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Sun, 24 Feb 2013 17:07:00 +0000

Ever since I thought I could be a writer, I have always craved for a table that I could sit on an write. A table that I could use to pen my thoughts on. A place that I could make messy, a place that I could call my own. A place where I could feel good about doing something. A place that gives me the peace of mind. A place that make my fingers fly on the keyboard without much effort. A place that becomes my escape and my durbar. And a place that could inspire me. And a place that could help me get that one story out of me.

I dont really have the best of things or best of choices but I think I finally have the kind of place that I have wanted. I am not too happy with the room that I am in but I cant ask for everything at the same time? Can I? There are people far less fortunate that do wonders with whatever limited things they have. I, on the other hand, more than I could ask for. Just need to make the most of it.

Wish me luck! Hope that 2013 is as great as I have envisioned it to be!

Launch of The Karachi Deception

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Thu, 14 Feb 2013 05:32:00 +0000

The Karachi Deception

Yesterday, was the official launch of a good friend, Shatrujeet Nath's maiden work of fiction, The Karachi Deception. This book is a fictional story about the most wanted man in India and events around him.

Thats it. Thats the plot, the story and the narrative. The book take you behind the scenes into what it takes to plan a covert mission that needs to be executed on a foreign soil. Its one of those stories that is really detailed. While reading it, the text is so real that you think you are watching a movie.

This is his first book and though I havent read the final version but I have read the first drafts. And I could not put it down. I am told that the final draft is far better than the first one. Looking forward to reading it.

If you want to buy it, its on infibeam (for Rs. 162, as on 14 Feb 2013). And no, this is not the book review.

Fancy my fancy life?

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Tue, 12 Feb 2013 14:20:00 +0000

So, when I took this fancy place on rent in Mumbai, along with it, I got a fancy club and a fancy swimming pool. Ofcourse at a fancy price. And since I work out of my home for the time being, I spend a lot of time in my fancy apartment, which it not too fancy once you step inside (that's another problem I have with these fancy apartment complexes in Mumbai). Club the two together and all my close friends think that I have a facny life where all I do is sit at home, watch tv and go swimming. Little do they know that all these are really really tough things to pull off, when done at the same time.

Lets start with swimming. Of course all those who read this blog (yes, both of you) may remember my earlier attempts at it (documented here). I am sorry to report that its been three years now and I am still a struggling swimmer. At this rate, I would still be learning how to hold my breadth in water when my great great grand kids would be crossing the English channel. The thing is, it looks easy. All you need to do, is to lie flat on your belly, move your legs too and fro and shake your arms and you are on your way. The trouble is when you are trying to move all four limbs at the same time and breathe. I dont think I can ever master that. Its been almost a week since I have been going and there is not an iota of difference in my weight (which should ideally have come down by now) or in my swimming skills. And the cherry on cake, everything that I touch starts smelling of Chlorine (despite using a soap as strong as Medimix to clean after a dip).

Now, coming to more important matters of work, I am in Mumbai to create a company from ground up. That in layman's language means that I am expected to hire people, manage them and find enough work to pay for their salaries. I would reckon its slightly too much for someone like me who hates getting into operational details. And add my compulsive introvert nature on top of it. Makes for a heady mix of dreams (that have no way of turning into reality) and harsh reality (of the pressure of making ends meet and justifying the move to Mumbai). I, being the frivlous and easy going me, dont really bother with details too much but its really tough to resist the temptation to think. And then sulk. And when you are trapped in a pseudo fancy place for home and a fancy hobby that you cant seem to master, it becomes even tougher.

So much for my fancy life. Fancy taking part in it?

The New SG.com

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Sun, 10 Feb 2013 08:40:00 +0000

One of the things for Feb, apart from the list that I made a few days, I would redesign SG.com. So far its just a blurb but eventually it would reflect who I am and what I do. It would have links to my posts, my writings, my observations, projects and other such things. And it would be something that someone could goto and get a birds eye view about me in one glance. And then once they are there, they could get details, if they desire to.

I have a design idea in my head. Lets see how it translates into action.

Hastags for Feb 2013

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Sat, 02 Feb 2013 14:11:00 +0000

Here is a long list of things that I'd do in Feb 2013.

#running - because I will take this up as a serious hobby. Thanks to @GurgaonCynic and Raj Sharma for inspiration. And thanks to Mrs. Neo and the bglsr team for the push.

#bridge - I shall try and learn a new card game apart from poker. Thanks to Arpit for the invite. While I talk about Bridge, I may goto Goa to participate in some poker tournament as well. After all poker remains a long term objective

#writing - I will finish Ghanta Ghar. If I do, I'd blame it on @Anaggh for the idea. And @Suds for inspiration.

#gravity - work. Would you know of someone who may need a vendor for marketing support services?

Thats about it. Four things. In this new year (#sg2013) I shall try and do small things, rather than plan for grandiose mansions and then not even put a brick in place.

Nine years of blogging

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Thu, 31 Jan 2013 11:45:00 +0000

Its 9 years since I started writing this blog.

This would go down in history as yet another stat, that only 2 people are interested in - one me and the other, my alterego. In twitter dialect, we would call it #uselessStat. There are more #uselessStats that I can share here - number of readers, numbers of visitors, hits etc. But then who cares. Apparently its engagement that rates higher than stats on online media properties. And on engagement parameters, if not negative, I score a zero. I have often tried to find a reason for it but I havent been able to. Engagement is zero, may be because I am not a writer (or a photographer or a social media expert or funny or sarcastic or something). Would you guys know of this? Can someone help me figure out? No, I cant pay money but I can give references and I can give credit.

Coming on to my 9 years, these have been brilliant to say the least. I have loved every bit of these 9 long years. Amongst other things, I have been fortunate to meet some great people and as a result, have learnt quite a few things. Blogging is one of those decisions that I cant stop thanking myself for (#shamelessSelfPromotion). If I had my way, I would ask everyone to experiment with it, at least once.

And like everything else that I do, I have done various experiments with this blog. Some of the noteworthy ones include...

A private blog. I made this a private blog and closed access to the world. I allowed just a handful of people. No one took a note, not even the ones I invited. I let it remain an invite only blog for a bit and then I reverted to the regular boring open-to-all blog. I reazlied I was missing the entire point of writing a blog - self expression, in an attempt of "getting discovered".
Make money from the blog. There was a time when the entire world decided that twitter is the way to go and the number of serious writers reduced. And then at the same time, the crop of new generation that spends copious amounts of time on the Internet, was yet to grow up. Those were sunshine days for my blog with lot of traffic and lot of comments. And then I got this email from Google that said I could make money. I got lured in and I tried it for exactly 6 days. I did make 60 cents, I think, but that was about it and I shut it down.
Get serious about writing. I started writing about myself and things that were important to me. Somewhere along the way, I got deluded into believing that I could bring about change with limited understanding of life and world. And I tried that by writing serious things and detailed posts. And I failed miserably. I learnt my lessons and I have moved on from that. Now I merely talk about things I see and observe.

Despite all these failed experiments, thankfully, for whatever reasons, I never fell in the trap of publishing pictures of cats talking in bad grammar or publishing top ten lists about every obscure thing on the internet or participating in trolls on the Internet. I though, however, want to create a photoblog, a travel blog, a writing blog and a poker blog. May be sometime soon.

But this has remained an individual's blog for all these years and will hopefully remain that. A place where I talk about things that interest me and things that I am keen on. I do chase serendipity like crazy. There are times that my interests have a broad base and this is when I get to meet interesting people. I believe that the concept of happy accidents is a brilliant thing. And the blog has helped me get involved in these accidents often. In fact one of the key reasons to continue with writing, despite almost no new visitors, is the hope that some more lucky accidents would happen.

Thats about it. Ideally there should be a cake cutting and all that but I think I will leave it for the 10th anniversary. Come to think of it, 9 years is a long long time. When I started, I would have been 21. I had no clue I would continue for this long. Pat on the back, Mr. Garg.

Oh, btw, is it 9th or the 10th year? I started in 2004!

Lowest point of my life

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Sat, 26 Jan 2013 17:21:00 +0000

Alert. Extremely personal. If you know me, read on. If you dont, please dont judge me by this. If you dont care, treat this as fodder to your voyeuristic instincts.

So ever since I can remember I have always wanted to be rich. And when I say rich, I want to be filthy rich. So much so that I want to conquer the Antilla and get more famous than Bill, Steve or Warren. I always belived that money for me is like a means (not n end) to achieve larger goals.

Mukesh Ambani's Antilla

Little did that I know that in pursuit of money, I ~~am becoming~~ have become a slave to money. Its on my mind all the time and I cant think of anything but money. I keep track of every rupee I spend I try to cut corners and save as much as I can. Guess nothing wrong with it but today something happened that opened my eyes.

The incident, I will not go in the details, happened and I lost 2 lakhs. No fault of mine or anyone else. It just happened and the money just away. I mean I will get it back on Monday most probably but as of now I am down by 2 lakhs. No, I did not lose it in poker and neither did I misplace it. It just happened. And I go so furious about it that I almost broke my laptop and seethed in anger for a good part of the morning and evening. I yelled at my really good friend and I squarely blamed him for the fiasco (and I live with this guy FYI). I cant say he was not at fault but I was equally at fault. I was surprised at myself for the way I was reacting and talking to my friend. As I write this, its making me even more awful about the entire thing.

This has to be the lowest point of my life. I have never felt so bad and so small about things.

But lesson learnt and time to move on. The amount may not be small by any standards but its definitely not that big that it makes me lose my calm and boil my blood. Its one life and we have a very very short span here. Cant waste in getting angry over trivialities.

Like these guys said...

From now on, am no longer a slave to money and its allure.

Moved to Mumbai

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Thu, 24 Jan 2013 18:44:00 +0000

Though I have been here for more than a month now, today, in true earnest, I moved to Mumbai. Now I have a room that I can call my own (ofcourse could be larger, airier and better), a bathroom that I am happy about (spacious, no pests and clean), an Internet connection (that is working great as we write this) and a nice and quiet locality (yes there are a few hidden gems here and there in Mumbai). Apart from this, there are a few more things that I need - a table to sit and write on, a ~~bigger laptop~~ Mac and a set of awesome headphones.

So now, starting today, I have exactly six months to justify my existence to myself. In these six months, I have to achieve a few tangible goals (catalogued under sg2013 tag) and a few intangibles.

Thats it. I shall be more regular with writing now (one of the goals for 2013). In the meanwhile, if you are reading this and you still dont have my Mumbai number, do let me know and I shall text you. Wish me luck!

Oh, and one more thing, I am still accepting gifts

Lance, I am with you.

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Sat, 19 Jan 2013 06:11:00 +0000

I have always been big on sports and sportsmen. So much so that I have always had this voice at the back of my head that wants me to be a professional athlete. For me, sports are unlike any other human pursuit, for, it is while playing when the true character and strength of an individual is revealed It is while playing that a person can grow individually and in stature. And most importantly it is while playing you can test your limits. Limits of endurance, hunger, achievement and so on and so forth.

Sportsmen, similarly are an awesome lot. They are like average Joe's who have that dream to do something great. And it is by their sheer grit, determination and hard-work that they do go the extra mile to achieve their dreams and take that shot at glory. Isn't that what ~~life is~~ movies are made of?

Lance Armstrong

Amongst a long list of illustrious athletes that I admire, Lance Armstrong will always be close to the top. Not because of those 7 Tour De France titles but for all the other things that he has done away from the bicycling arena (the Livestrong Foundation). Reason is more personal that grounded in rational thought. His foundation gave strength when I found myself alone and continues to do so (a really really really good friend suffered from the disease and is back to being normal now. There's another friend who is on her way to recovery. She would be back to being awesome soon, inshallah). Thing with being alone is that you have people around you and you have all the hopes that the medical advances give you but end of the day, deep down inside, you are left alone to struggle with all the nightmarish thoughts. And this is when you need someone to hold on to. Some call it praying to God, some call it belief, some call it divinity. I dont know what metaphor to use but it would have been really really tough without it.

Coming back, Lance is someone who I've always looked upto. I dont know much about the sport but I know that winning 7 titles, back to back, is a near inhuman feat and it must have taken a man of great strength to actually do it. I have always taken inspiration from him and have wanted to touch greatness, like he has done. If I was the kinds to maintain a desk with pictures on it, I would put Lance on it, along with Steve, WEB, sgMS and few more other people. May be soon. Lance, in other words, is my hero. And I am thankful to him for his mere existence and his efforts.

So, today, when I woke up, I loved the feeling. Don't really like waking up early but today was different. A stupid dream was interrupted by a phone call. In that dream I get a boil on my sole and I show it to Mujeer Sir, who is normally quite. He looks at it and starts laughing at it and asks me to stop trying hard. And this is when the phone rang. So when I woke up, I was loving the feeling that I was alive. It was about 7ish in the morning and there was this dim light in my hotel room and it was slightly cold, the kinds that gives you goosebumps. There was this standard white hotel quilt and as array of pillows with different densities. I was comfortable and I was sleepy-awake-sleepy. I even had a message from sgMS sitting in my phone. The world was perfect. And I was raring to go, take it on, head on and work on something grand, just like Lance and other heroes.

And like everyday, I started sipping onto my water and grooving to my morning playlist and was generally checking on the world when I realized that Lance has done a no holds barred interview with Oprah. And in that video, he has confessed to using banned substances to help him win Tour De France. And as I saw it, with each answer I started to got numb. They were direct, easy to understand, pointed questions. And Lance was supposed to answer in simple yeses and nos. And with each one word answer, it started to suck.

For all these years, I was happy being part of the group of people who just stay on the sidelines and keep their true opinions with themselves. But for Lance, I would be vocal, if someone asked me for an opinion and I would live in the world of denial. For me, Lance was a God, who could do no wrong. I dint go around to wearing yellow bands and showcasing my devotion to Lance and foundation. But Lance was/is an important to me. With his confession, the entire thing about him came crashing down around me. From a giant who worked hard and pushed his personal limits, for an instant, he was left on the sidelines as someone who took the easy way out when he could choose to take the road less travelled. From being a winner, he is now the biggest loser that the world has seen.

I dont know how the world would react to it, for me, Lance its a loss beyond comprehension. I feel cheated and it sucked as if I lost in a race that I was participating myself. You were that important to me Lance. You were my role model. If I could I would have modelled my life on yours. And it sucks to know that it was all a pack of lies. I have no clue why would you do it. I am sure there must be some larger reason, than merely winning the race. May be you were fighting against the unpredictable life, by using its own methods or whatever. May be you were greedy. May be you were not. May be you were blinded. I dont know.

But like a delusional disciple of a cult religion, I refuse to see the reason and I want to believe that there was more than what meets the eye. End of the day, Lance, you have my support. I am with you, always will be. You are still my hero. You are still someone who has been able to push boundaries that no one else could. You are still the epitome of human endurance and strength for me.

And, thank you for everything.

After a while

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Mon, 14 Jan 2013 09:13:00 +0000

Warning: Random ramblings ahead.

So, when was the last time when I let my fingers dance on the keyboard? I think its been a while. A quick look at the archives tell me that I last wrote on 4th Jan this year. After that its been a busy busy time. Not that I am flooded with work. On the contrary there is nothing that I do the entire day. Come to think of it, I could have learnt how to stare at goats and learn the art and science of bursting clouds. But then there were other pressing matters at hand. Matters like trying to find a home for myself in Mumbai. That I think has been resolved for the time being. The place where I will now live for atleast next 6 months is a quintessential Indian phenomena. It looks awesome from the outside but once you step it, its a piece of shit. It is expensive and yet not done tastefully. It is neither big, nor small. It lacks character. Character is a funny thing if you ask me. There are two kinds of people, the ones who have a character and the ones who dont. The ones who dont have a character are easy to handle. You can dismiss them without any remorse on your part. They are parasites who are merely wasting the precious resources. They live like vegetables, going through the motions and waiting for their time to end. The ones who have a character are tough cookies. Character could be good, bad, interesting, boring, opinionated, freckled, cohesive and so on and so forth. I tend to believe that having character is important What character is it and how is it is of no relative importance. It immediately sets the men apart from boys, as the cliche goes...!

She

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Sun, 13 Jan 2013 18:06:00 +0000

One of my things to do this year was to get over sgMS. I have been trying really hard but for reasons unknown to me, she, refuses to go away.

Any antidotes anyone?

Substance Abuse!

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Fri, 04 Jan 2013 07:22:00 +0000

My addiction to (and experiments with) things like Coke and Red Bull have been documented time and again, on this blog and elsewhere on the Internet. And no wonder I am told that I am an addict. In my defense. To be honest, there is no problem in being an addict, its just that its a drain on money (both coke and Red Bull are expensive indulgences) and apparently they are hazardous to health. But I am the kinds that goes by empirical evidence and since there is no documented evidence as such, I refuse to hear the conspiracy theorists and regularly give in to the temptation and consume as much sugar water and caffeine as I can afford.

But then I realized that I am on the wrong side of the bell curve now and I need to try and do things that would make me an outlier (read live a 100 years). Like the current fads in India, the health and fitness fad is in vogue and is attracting attention by the buckets. And being a marketer's delight, I cant stay away from it. So I thought may be, 2013 could be the year when I make myself a better individual. And to start with, I could focus on tangibles like health. Common sense tells me that I need to stop the rampant substance abuse that I am so used to. In fact one of the resolutions of 2013 is to get fit and ~~run~~ finish a marathon by end of this year. Ofcourse running requires lot of stamina and running a marathon requires training, determination and a huge willpower. I, to be honest, have none of these things but I hope to work on these during this year.

Thus, since 2013 started, I have not touched coke or red bull. Part of the reason is health, part if money (Mumbai is an expensive place) and a huge part is test of determination and willpower. Imagine me ignoring that water droplet trickling down the shiny metal case, that little pop when you pull the flip tab back, that rush of fizz when the can just opens and that anticipation of ice cold coca cola going down my throat. I'd say impossible. But I'd make the impossible possible. Its been 4 days and I havent felt any real need. Except that I am low on energy the entire day. Let me talk about that!

When I was consuming it, all the sugar and caffeine gave me abundant energy to engage in million things that I am working on all the time. So much so that I could go three days without sleep. Avoiding these two things has had a stupid side effect on me. The entire day, I am low on energy and sleepy. A feeling that I hate like no other. I have tried alternatives like no-sugar coffee, green tea, lime water etc but nothing seems to be working so far. I am as sleepy as I was in those financial management classes, back in college, which I dont even know why I took!

Funny is that while I was in Delhi, I dont think I had these issues as I slept very little and yet I was so full of energy the entire day. And yes there was a time when I was off these two substances an yet I had all the energy. Guess something is wrong with Mumbai. Apart from this bout of lethargy, there are funny rashes all over the skin. I only consume bottled water and prefer eating simple food. And yet my body is not accepting this place. Dunno how. Dunno why.

Maybe I need to get back to substance abuse soon. Dunno. Any tips?

Goals for 2013. 1000 words a day.

noreply@blogger.com (s4ur4bh) — Wed, 02 Jan 2013 13:50:00 +0000

Some numbers. An average fiction book is about 70000 words. There are 365 days in a year. And it takes about thirty minutes to write 1000 words. If I was to club all these together, I get the magical number of 5 books a year. Thats amazing. For someone like me, who has been a struggling writer since 1982, publishing even one book would be like a dream come true. And here I have the opportunity to get 5 books done!

All I need is little bit of perseverance and little bit of push. I am willing to write 1000 words a day but I have external locus of control. Who, then, wants to volunteer to give me that nudge?

P.S.: Over the next few days I shall talk about my goals for this coming year. So the posts would be small, to the point and will hopefully have tangibles! I am using #sg2013 to talk about it, here and on twitter.