Baba

न किसी को रूठने का मौका दिया 

न कभी मनाने का 

न कभी पीठ हिमाला बनी

न कभी पेट पर नन्ही उँगलियों से नाम गुदवाये

न कभी सर शान से ऊँचा हुआ

न कभी बोझ से पस्त हुए कंधे

न कभी कोई हाथ गुस्से से उठा

न कभी कोई सर सहम के नीचा हुआ

न कोई नेकनामी किसी का सरमाया बनी

न कभी बदनामी किसी के हाथ लगी

पीढ़ियों के सच को हमने झुठला दिया

न कभी तुम बाबा बन सके, न मैं

Na kisi ko ruthne kaa maukaa diyaa

na kabhi manaane kaa

na kabhi peeth himaalaa banee

na kabhi pet par par ungliyon se naam gudwaaye

na kabhi koi haath gusse se uthaa

na kabhi koi sar sehem ke neechaa huaa

na koi neknaami kisi ka sarmaaya bani

na kabhi badnaami kisi ke haath lagi

Peedhiypn ke sach ko humne jhuthlaa diyaa

na kabhi tum baba ban sake, na main

Tamasha

घर बदला, शहर बदला, ठिकाना वही रहा

मैं जहां भी रहा, मेरा पता वही रहा

दुनिया आइनों की, दरो दीवार आईने

आइनों के बीच, मेरा चेहरा नहीं रहा

यूँ तो दुनियादारी भी ज़रूरी है

पर इस की फ़िराक में, परीशा ही रहा 

लोग आये गए, हुजूम निकल गया 

क़िरदार बदलते रहे, तमाशा वही रहा

तुम सा बनने की पुरज़ोर कोशिश की मैंने

कुछ तुम बदल गए, कुछ मैं वो ही रहा

Ghar badlaa, sheher badlaa, thikaanaa wahi rahaa.

Main jahaa bhi rahaa, meraa pataa wahi rahaa.

Duniyaa aaino ki, daro deewaar aaine.

Aaino ke beech, meraa chehraa nahi rahaa.

Yun to duniyaadaari bhi zaroori hai.

Par iski firaaq mein, parishaa hi rahaa.

Log aaye gaye, hujoom nikal gayaa.

Qirdaar badalte rahe, tamaashaa wahi rahaa.

Tum saa ban ne ki purzor koshish ki maine.

Kuchh tum badal gaye, kuchh main wo hi rahaa.

Eternal Sunshine of a Spotted Mind

I stand on my terrace and look across to the terrace diagonally opposite to me and there's my neighbour playing with his dogs there. He's got two lovely daughters and a wife laughing away as the dogs chew on the ball and on each other. I stand there staring at them enjoying a normal sunday afternoon. It looks like a perfect picture of happiness, everything a man could ask for. Everything i should be envious of. But i wasn't.And that makes me wonder what is happiness after all. Why is that one man's idea of happiness is not exactly the same for the other!

My friends take vacations abroad. My friends are getting new hobbies and newer kicks in their life. Somebody's learning guitar, someone's learning to dance, to trek, making films, updating their FB profile with most awesome status messages. Things that make them happy, things they want to do. I'm doing none of it. Not that i want to do any of it. I'm sitting here writing this purposeless post.

Most of my friends have already bought a house. Some are planning their first baby. Some are contemplating buying their second car. Most of them have their life figured out. Or at least some goals, short term and otherwise, set. I don't exactly envy them.

Coming from where i am coming from, i should be thankful for what i got. For where i stand. But i am not. I don't know what i want from life. I dont know if i am given another chance, i'd do anything any better, any different. i don't even know if i know any better. I try to envy people who read self help book and find the meaning of their life. Who attend healing seminars and find peace. Who read Rumi and Rajnish and find the purpose of life. The Karma and Chakra of life et al. But i don't .

I'm such an ungrateful bastard when i say i don't exactly care for any of it. I wish i could turn to people who care for me and tell them, i don't care if i am a let down to you. You guys invested in a wrong guy. !'d much rather have a switch off button and escape. That i'd much rather look at this circus from the distance. Or maybe i woudn't even care to watch.

I am forever told that i think too much. And that i talk a lot more than that. That i could've been more hands on, at home and at work. Maybe you guys chose a wrong person to do the job. I know i tricked you into believing otherwise. But how long will this con job go on! It's a matter of time before you will be frustrated of me and show me the door, for i can't find the escape button myself.

I wish i was living in some jungle, where even the airplanes woudn't fly overhead. Where i wouldn't know there's other world out there. I wish there was nothing more to know than your immediate sorrounding. No pressure to be intelligent. To know stuff. I can't even tell you that there are 100 times more films i haven't watched than i have. That i barely read. I have never made a painting. I have never composed a tune. I have nothing which is my own. I, like most of my generation, am nothing more than a wikipedia intelligent.

I can't write poetry. I don't have any stories to tell. I don't have epiphanies. I can't cull out instances from life and relate them to people in a way that intrigues them, engages them. I don't have the ability to suck anybody into my belief. And I know people who have ability to do that. And i don't. I wish i could.

So Fast So Furious

There’s something about being ‘fast’ that I think is over-rated. People are just way too obsessed with being fast, aggressive. Fast city, fast car, fast technology, fast person, everything and everyone ‘fast’ is to be revered, feared or respected. The Go-getters. The Winners. You got to have it all, and have it now. I mean, everywhere you go, anything you do, we want our things NOW. Instant gratification is the order of the day. Age, wisdom are passé. Something to be sniggered at. No wonder, we have so many 18 year olds hanging around in agencies who know absolutely nothing about advertising (And at their age, they are not expected to know anything about it), but man, they are smug. When you know nothing, to have a little bit of humility doesn’t hurt but then like I said, humility is passé. I wonder what these kids are drunk on. Ignorance, I guess. Because the less you know, the more you are not afraid of what you don’t. And if you are ever confronted with something you don’t know, you can always google.

People are so obsessed with getting and doing things so fast that it is mind-boggling. I mean, we got our ATM machines, and we get hopping mad if the guy in front of us takes more than 3 minutes for his transaction. We cannot wait to get in or out of a cinema hall or an airplane, as if elbowing out other people will fetch you better seats. Sheehij sent me this video and that’s when I thought of writing this post, because I so believe in what this bloke, Louis CK, An American Stand Up, Actor, Writer, Producer, Director says. We’ve come such a long way in getting things so fast at our disposal that we don’t value what we have. We are so dependent on the machine that the moment it falters even for a second, our world comes crashing down. People don’t have such expectations from fellow people. You’d be still okay with your girlfriend coming an hour late for your date, but god if your ATM machine fucks on you for a moment, you’d be cursing like crazy, like it owes you something. I have forever hated the way people think they have absolutely all the fucking right in the world to talk crap about the ‘aunty’ airhostesses of Air India. About how rude they are and how unattractive and old they are. You know what??! You are rude. Give her a fucking break. She’s your hostess, not your slave! And it is only a 2 hour journey. Your own mom or wife wouldn’t come running to you if you ring that bell so many times in 2 hours.

And this apathy and intolerance doesn’t just restrict to machines. People are critical of anybody who’s not ‘fast’. There’s something really malicious about the way one is treated if you don’t fit into their scheme of things in terms of what’s fast and what’s not. I have been a part of such maliciousness too. And more often than not I’ve been told that I talk to much, think a lot more than that. That I am not aggressive enough. That I am a drifter, not a go-getter. Too old. Too fat. Not FAST. Well, heck, I am not! And I used to be quite troubled by it. I wanted to be like the ‘fast’ friends I have. I wanted to be them. But I can’t. Because it’s not me. I don’t believe in self-help books, but one day somebody told me I’ll forever be like this, because it is me. And the day I develop a sense of humour about it, I’ll be a happy man. That was awesome advice. Now I try not to be so apologetic about who and what I am. Everyday I struggle with it. Every day, my jokes are on myself. A sense of humour is a wonderful thing. It’s helped me a lot.

I am not your quintessential winner guy, but I am learning to be happy with what I am. To sum it up, I’ll use a quote from Jerry Maguire, “I don't have all the answers. In life, to be honest, I failed as much as I have succeeded. But I love my wife. I love my life. And I wish you my kind of success.” No, thanks??

What's in a name?

This is another post on me. Yeah, I am self obsessed. But I think it’s not just me, others are obsessed with me too. They can’t get enough of me. How else would you define the numerous names I have been adorned with over the years? We all give each others names, some in zest, some to just pull somebody's leg. Whatever be the reason, we just love calling each other names. Like my copy partner Anshumani is forever been ‘Ladiz’ to me!! A name coined by Nima, our boss, as she was the only ‘lady’ in our group. And then our friend Anirban, who we call ‘Baadi’(Bengali for home) because at 5.30-6 in the evening he would want to go back home, which is the utmost luxury you ask for in advertising. He eventually did go back home( Anirban is back in Calcutta). Mihir is Manchu(rian) Chanchu for his love of Chinese food. Biswajit is called Khecha, god knows why. Enough of you people. This is my blog. Let’s get back to my favourite subject.

So yeah, I have been called so many names, I thought I’ll list some down. The most common is mota-motay, take your pick, no need to explain why I am called that. Then Rohit coined the name Burger for me, which became big mac and now maharaja mac, which people love. Do I love it too? Does it really matter?? Kanishka calls me a Barrel, and a Big Slab Of Meat. Tarannum thinks I am The Thing of Fantastic Four. Not exactly flattering. But then…

But of all the names that I have been called by, the one I find most creative is given by Marina, an Anglo Indian receptionist at my last office in Calcutta. She called me PHATNOM. I love this one. Makes me sound like a superhero.

Bombay Calling

Some weeks back, I was in Bombay for a shoot. The shoot was wrapped up before the schedule and I had plenty of time left to myself including a weekend thrown in. I was anyway planning to go to Bombay to meet Anshumani. We owed each other a big bear hug for our Cannes thing. So this shoot couldn’t have been better timed. But this sudden timing also had its pitfall, that is, I couldn’t meet Mihir, Vanita, Jaideep or Megha, as either my phone failed me or they were busy with their prior commitments. Unlike most Delhiwallas, I like Bombay (But then I am not a Delhiwala anyway). I like Bombay as it reminds me of Calcutta. Crowded roads, a sea of people anywhere you look, old Victorian-style buildings (built mostly by Parsis) and its proximity to water. I had a really tiring day at the shoot which got over by 8 in the evening. Ritabrata dropped me at Bandra from where I took an auto to Khar for Rs.12 flat, (if you travel in Delhi autos, you almost feel like hugging the Bombay auto and cab guys for their professionalism). Anshumani and Timsy, her current art partner, both looked great and we went to Zenzi. Needless to say I was quite awkward at a page 3 place like that, and that too wearing the same clothes I was shooting the whole day in. So we settled down, gulped a couple of beers, and then when they shooed us out at 1, we picked up some more beer, headed home and continued our yakking and catching up on anything and everything till 4 in the morning. I was scheduled to be picked up by Ritabrata at 6.30 in the morning for a day long trek. I had no clue how I’d manage it. But anyway, he called me at 6 and at 6.30, four of us (Meenaz, Sneha, Ritabrata and me) were in his car, on our way to Tikona. Initially I couldn’t keep my eyes open in the car and was cursing myself for coming along. I was sure I was going to embarrass them, as they are all certified advance climbers from HMI or NIM. This trek was like a walk in the backyard for them, and I haven’t walked that much of late so I was tense whether I’ll embarrass them. But I guess, I didn’t. Okay I slipped like a thousand times on our way down, but in my defence, I was wearing a shoe with a flat sole and the mud was slippery due to rain :)

After our stopover in Navi Mumbai for breakfast, I slept in the car for some time. And then when I opened my eyes, the view of the Bombay-Pune Expressway was so good that I couldn’t sleep anymore. But the best was yet to come. Tikona Fort (3633ft, also known as Vitangagad) is the dominant hill fort in Maval in Shaihadris. It is located near Kamshet around 125 kms from Mumbai. The 3500 ft high hill is pyramidal in shape and hence it's called Tikona. There is a lake at the summit. It’s a small weekend trekking destination for seasoned trekkers like my friends, and for Pune Symbiosis and such college types who hoot and make weird noises and whoop at the summit, “its amaaaaaaaaazing!! BEAUTIFUL!!! I feel close to HIM from up here!!(yeah dude, wonder what will you say when you are at Mount Everest…woohooo, I feel so close I can smell HIS ass from here). Hahahaha. Priti, not criticising, just joking! ;). Sneha took most of the pictures and they look good. Meenaz was guiding me throughout.

Bombay monsoon

Like Bombay, like Calcutta

At Leopold

The Lion, Singh and Khanne :P

Bombay-Pune Expressway

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly...in that order :)

Meenaz

A sadhu's retreat, complete with his private swimming pool

A temple, on the way to the top

Sneha and Ritabrata

Our we-feel-so-close-to-HIM moment :P

And yeah, i got another tattoo done :)

The good, the bad and the ugly

Finally broke my jinx of not posting after 20 days :)

A friend of mine won the Cannes Young Lion contest and she was in Cannes sometimes back. She is an avid blogger as well. Interestingly the very next blog she wrote after coming back was not about the advertising greats she met there or what a great learning place it was. She wrote about the perfect looking people she saw there. “Beautiful faces, perfect figures, fashionable dresses, shoes and accessories. even beautiful dogs.” as she put it. She further wondered what makes people good looking. Can’t be genes, or else how amongst siblings, one looks great and the other, well, not so great, to put it mildly. Years back, a friend of mine came to my place for the first time. When he saw my two elder brothers who are 5’10”-5’11” tall and handsome, he exclaimed, “'your brothers are good looking and tall, how come you look like this?” I said, guess my parents ran out of resources by the time they were making me ( I am youngest of the five siblings).

One of my friends, also an overweight guy, once told me about this incident which happened to him. He was driving and he tried to over take a car and ended up creating a mess of a traffic jam. The guy in the other car looked at him and said, “you shouldn’t be driving, You should be jogging.” and sped off laughing. Sure the kid must have gone and told all his friends about the joke he cracked on ‘the fat bastard’.

Looking like how I do, it’s an everyday battle with people. I know it’s just in good zest but who likes to be in known as ‘that fat guy’ when they are referring to you. Hell, I know I am short, ugly and now fat. But I don’t need constant reminder. Or the worst is when they say, “No…you are not fat, short and ugly. You are CUTE!!” Or SWEET. Now I hate nothing more than those two words. It is comperatively ok if you call me fat and ugly. But please try not to compensate by calling me ‘sweeeeeeeeeeeet”. That’s so urghhhh!! Hell, That’s what you say to describe Danny Devito. So I know what exactly you are reminding me of. So do I need that reminder? Thanks, but no thanks.

I, Me and Mine

Finally gave in to my perverse desire to be heard and read . I call my desire ‘perverse’ because I know being in advertising, and being around some really good writers I have to be mad to ‘write’ down my thoughts, feelings or mindless ramblings and make them public. I don’t at all have the ability to write, and I seriously admire the quality in people who can so beautifully articulate their thoughts. I have been writing down my thoughts on anything and everything for some time now, but never have had the courage to show them to anybody. But I gave in. This is the one of the most courageous things I have ever done in my life. I don’t know if anybody will ever read them. Fingers crossed :D