Alone

They touch you

Innocuous things

Miles and miles of jungle air

Hours on the mp3 player

Biting cold of starlit nights

Gay abandon of grazing deers

Endless humidity of the coast

Adivasi girl’s shy smile

And you promise yourself

That you will write about them

Never about other things like

Staring at a mosquito for hours

Uncut nails and unshaved beard

Dirty clothes and runny nose

They say they are jealous of you

So you keep up the appearance

And you romanticize and smile

And pretend you don’t feel

The fear that fever is worsening

The shiver you aren’t eating well

And you push the thought away

That the stories mightn’t be worth shit

That nobody might ever read

The words you labor away at;

That all the lies told to family

Will only be for a fool’s errand

Some mornings you just want to hide

In the overnight warm blanket

Not face a new city, a new story

Some nights on the side of the bed

You sit in the smoke, numb and tired

Counting down to your next trip home

And then they are just that

Innocuous things

Preparations

I haven’t felt this alive for many months now. These days, I oscillate between boredom and excitement, restlessness and peace, crowd and loneliness, anger and joy, every hour. I haven’t had a dreamless night in the last 10 days and I am unlikely to have one before 28^th Sept night when the train to Jammu lulls me to sleep. I have been trying to keep myself busy with various preparations and meeting friends.

All the clichés on friendship any person has ever coined can do meagre justice to just how much love and gratefulness I feel for my friends these last few weeks. Some have questioned every assumption of mine, some have shown confidence in me, some have held up a mirror in front of me, some have planned my trip in more detail than I have, some have simply looked at me with pride and some, with wide-eyed wonder. A key part of my preparations has been to meet them so much that maybe I get tired of them and miss them a little less when I sit by the Beas alone on a chilly evening. Yeah, right! Like that's ever going to happen.

 I have been thinking of stories at every waking hour. Their structures, genres, languages, symbols, motivations, lengths, depths, characters, tempo, etc. I spend a lot of time just staring at people and thinking of possible stories. I have completely stopped reading as I have noticed in the past I get hugely influenced by whatever it is I may have read last. I have stopped writing because, well, I have a lot of that to do in the next 6 months and I might as well time my writer’s bloc perfectly – i.e. April 2013.

And then there are piles and piles of stuff to be bought. Kinetic chargers, foldable bottles, ipad keyboards, number locks, swiss knives, thermal-wear and the list can go on forever. Even in this, friends with much more experience have come forward and made it a walk in the park. I am pretty confident right now that in a remote village in Baramulla, if there is no electricity and no vegetarian food, I will still have a decent story written and a tummy well-fed.  

Just so you know how awesome my friends are, there is a promotion plan in place for the book which has not even been written yet. There is a build-up route-map which will run in conjunction with my travel and I am pretty confident it will impress the hell out of any marketing guru. I have talked to my college profs, ex-bosses and guides, mainly to hear them approve of my decision and hence draw confidence from their words. I leave on the 27^th with both – a lot of confidence and a lot of pressure and I guess I can only grow from this experience.

And then, just as i thought I was so ready I could have left immediately, Anurag Basu gave me a song on Friday that I will carry with me through the next 6 months. Very few travel songs can give you goose-bumps and move you to tears. After all, they are supposed to be just about travel, right? But Papon’s “Kyon” is a thing of sheer beauty. So visually stunning, so lyrically rich, so hauntingly melodious is the song that I just know that when I am staring at the Himalayas in Arunachal, this song is more likely to make me shiver than the sub-zero temperatures. I have proof. It managed to moisten my eyes before Bombay’s torrential rains could, last night!

And so I leave on Thursday the 26^th of Sept, with a bagful of confidence, anticipation and hope in the search of beauty and passion and magic and love.

P.S. – I haven’t had a bigger screen crush than Ileana D’Cruz in Barfi since Aishawarya Rai in Kajra Re. Its the eyes. It always is! 

Baazigar

I have put down my papers. Come September 27^th, I won’t be wearing formals for a long, long time.

I thought of writing this sentimental post on how it feels to be at the edge of a cliff, ready to jump into the unknown.. and blah blah! Then I thought I’ll just put my itinerary here and let you do the imagining.

Phase 1

27^th Sept 7:55 am – Depart by train for Srinagar, Jammu and Kashmir

7^th Oct – Reach Amritsar from Srinagar

14^th Oct – Reach Kangra from Amritsar

21^st Oct – Reach Mussoorie from Kangra

28^th Oct – Reach Delhi from Kangra

4^th Nov – Reach Mughal Sarai from Delhi

12^th Nov – Return home for Diwali

Phase 2

19^th Nov – Depart by train for Bangalore, Karnataka

26^th Nov – Reach Pondicherry from Bangalore

3^rd Dec – Reach Vizag from Pondicherry

10^th Dec – Reach Puri from Vizag

17^th Dec – Reach Dantewada from Puri

25^th Dec – Return home for Christmas/New Year

Phase 3

1^st Jan – Reach Vasco, Goa – Ideally from Anjuna where I would like to bring in the New Year if friends permit

8^th Jan – Reach Surat from Vasco

15^th Jan – Reach Ujjain from Surat

22^nd Jan – Reach Jaipur from Ujjain – Attend the Jaipur Litfest (24^th to 28^th Jan) among other things

30^th Jan – Return home for Mom’s birthday

Phase 4

5^th Feb – Depart by train/air for Bodh Gaya, Bihar

13^th Feb – Reach Ranchi from Bodh Gaya

20^th Feb – Reach Kolkatta from Ranchi

27^th Feb – Reach Gangtok from Kolkatta

5^th Mar – Reach Dispur from Gangtok

12^th Mar – Reach Itanagar from Dispur

20^th Mar – Return home for the “Closing of books” (Warning – stupid CA joke) on 31^st March

And do what, you ask?

Well, write short stories set in each of these places. The best I can.

Whatever story comes out in those 6 days in that place. Whatever that place inspires in me.

At best, I would have found peace and tranquillity and joy in my fancy new Carter Road bachelor pad!

At worst, when I go back to staring at excel sheets, I’ll know I tried my damned best.

P.S. – Watch this space for more.

What kind of a Bombayite are you?

Photo Credit - www.commonfloor.com

So, what kind of a Bombayite are you?

Are you the kind that wakes up to the sound of the trains or of the buses?

Or are you the kind that wakes up to an alarm in an AC room?

Are you the kind that gets out in the dead of night to explore this city or are you the kind that is scared stiff of this city’s nights?

And when you do get out in the dead of night, do you explore this city on foot?

Or on a bicycle or in a car zooming across the sea-link or in a train going along in its own rhythm or maybe atop a double-decker bus, leaning out of the front window?

Are you the kind that thinks this city is set on a soundtrack or are you the kind who sees no rhythm in this chaos?

And if you do feel the beat, then is it Sufi Qawwali or is it a folksy, earthy lavni beat or maybe a thumping party song?

Are you the kind that colour-codes this city as per property rates, or religious ghettos, or taxi-areas vs auto-areas, or maybe western line vs central line?

Or maybe you are the kind whose idea of exotic is someday making a trip to Mohammed Ali Road and trying its firni. Whose idea of adventure is driving through Dharavi. Whose idea of compassion is making a fancy contribution to the local temple with much fanfare. Whose idea of journalism is words like “fabulous, pioneering, unprecedented” for things that are “mediocre, copied, regressive”

Are you the kind we saw in Satya or Wake Up Sid or we read about in Shantaram or Sacred Games? Or maybe you are the kind all of them forgot to show in their work

Were you the one wrecking havoc in the streets or the one cowering at home in ’92?

Are you the one who cried himself to sleep in a distant city on 26/11 or are you the one who stared all night all bleary-eyed into the Times Now TV screen?

Are you the kind who makes this city’s essential “spirit”? That same spirit which we are told is its endurance test but actually is a recurring collective nightmare?

During monsoons, are you the kind who sees this city as a perpetually leaking gutter or are you the kind who sits by his little window with a cup of tea and romanticizes over a patch of greenery in the corner?

Are you the kind who cant bear its constant fish smell and maddening humidity or are you the kind who notices its constant breeze and the fact that one can sweat away the heat?

Are you the kind who celebrates an unexpected holiday when this city floods/blasts/goes on a strike/calls a bandh? Or are you the kind who steps out just to prove a point, even though no one cares?

Are you the kind who sits in his auto in a traffic jam, abusing his life, his very existence? Or are you the kind who steps out and walks and walks and reaches home and then abuses his life, his very existence?

Or maybe you are the kind who still watches the screen in a TV shop when India plays cricket. Then again, you could have moved to a sports bar cheering for more skilful, albeit foreign, sports and sportsmen

You could also be the kind who earns 10 lacs a month and yet cant afford anything but a train ticket because in this city, a car doesnt run on rail tracks and comes with a fuel tank

Are you the kind that gets inspired by this city’s daily story of decay or are you the kind that shuts it out behind a curtain to really hear the voice within?

Are you the kind who had no choice but to come here and have grown to love it? Or are you the kind who is still pining for home and not been converted yet? Or maybe you are the kind who lived here forever but it never felt like home

Are you the kind who feeds on this city’s energy, passion and single-mindedness? Or are you the kind who feeds on this city’s paranoia, stress and narrow-mindedness?

Are you the kind whose story is defined by this city or are you the kind who defines this city’s story?

Is this city your nemesis or are you its miracle?

Is this city your Gotham or are you its Dark Knight? 

Eight

I have a weekend of doing absolutely nothing to look forward to

I am sitting at home on a friday night with no work to finish and no one to meet

So i copy paste a tag I came across on the blog of this senior from work whom I really admire

And then I write 900 words of crap

The tag is the number 8
Here goes

Eight Things I am Passionate About

1.    Indian Media – so many layers, so many sub-plots, so much money

2.    Indian Cinema – every era, every hero, every director

3.    Cricket – dreamt of becoming Sachin, then Harsha, now Neville Cardus

4.    Mumbai’s street food – yes its limited, but I am vegetarian and it serves me well

5.    Lyrics of songs – The beauty, simplicity and music of poetry

6.    Mumbai - as a city, as a muse

7.    Social sciences – it has opened up a new world to me, which my education had hitherto kept hidden from me

8.    Cars – I don’t enjoy driving them. I enjoy sitting in them. I want one for every mood, every occasion

Eight Things I Want To Do Before I Die

1.    Own a yacht

2.    Give autographs

3.    Give a speech to more than 1000 people at a time

4.    Make a movie with Shahrukh and Aamir together

5.    Find a way to capture the beauty and importance of Rahul Dravid and show it to my kids someday

6.    Appear in the primary school social science textbooks

7.    Become a Harvard scholar

8.    Spend my last years on an island owned by me

Eight Places I Want to Visit

1.    London – the city my Grandfather told me millions of stories about

2.    Pakistan – to ascertain how different/similar we really are

3.    Konya, Turkey – Prof Matthew used to talk about it. Find Rumi fascinating

4.    Andamans – I want to write a story set in the cellular jail there

5.    Iran – the home of some very courageous artists, film-makers, writers

6.    New Zealand – the unbelievably different flora and fauna that exists there

7.    Sydney – technically, I don’t want to visit the place. I want to live there. It is one of the most expensive and beautiful cities in the world

8.    New York – Well, because it is the media and marketing capital of the world. Also because it is such a crazy melting pot of cultures

Eight Things I Say Often

1.    Ok – in a very derogatory, superior sort of way. To end an argument which I feel uninterested in continuing

2.    Stranger things have happened – coz i really believe in it

3.    What The Fuck! – I work in media, I studied in MICA, I live in Mumbai. I obviously encounter wonder on a daily basis!

4.    Boss – Because ‘Bhaiyya’ is too Delhi thuggish and in Bombay, right from the autodriver to the domestic help to your actual senior, are truly, your boss

5.    Yo! – picked it up from the younger bro, makes me feel younger than I am

6.    Signal se right lena. Right hai nahi, par log le lete hain. Warna ekdum aage se u-turn maarke aana padega. Aapki marzi hai. – once everyday to the taxi driver on my way to office

7.    Boss, follow up chalu hai. Uska TOI ke saath exclusive deal hai. We will try our best – for every ad I have ever missed

8.    Kya kare boss, isse zyaada ka visibility nahi dikh raha iss month. We will try our best – for every time the boss wants to increase the target

Eight Books I Have Read Recently

1.    Chinaman by Shehan Karunatilaka – beautiful book on sport and life in Sri Lanka

2.    Hamlet’s Blackberry by William Powers – Awesome insights on how to not become a slave to technology in today’s world

3.    The Meaning of Sport by Simon Barnes – easily the best book I have read this year.

4.    Sea of Poppies by Amitava Ghosh – very imaginative, engaging story-telling

5.    The Fourth Estate by Jeffery Archer – coz I read it once every few months

6.    Lucknow Boy by Vinod Mehta – an insider’s look into the Indian media world

7.    Death in Mumbai by Meenal Baghel – the story of Maria Susairaj. Good journalistic work

8.    Adventures in a TV Nation – Micheal Moore’s inside look on a reality show that shook America

Eight Songs I Can Listen to Again and Again

1.    Subah Hone Na De from Desiboys – Sorry, but I am in love with this song

2.    Wahan kaun hai tera from Guide – SD Burman’s voice and a very melancholy mood makes this song very close to me

3.    Maaeri by Euphoria – too many memories, too many associations

4.    Somewhere only we know by Keane – MICA nostalgia song I

5.    Anjani raahon mein kya dhundta phire by Lucky Ali – MICA nostalgia song II

6.    Wicked Game by Chris Isaak – Doubles up as a great love as well as make-out song

7.    High Hopes by Pink Floyd – What lyrics, what guitar!

8.    Sultans of Swing Live at Alchemy by Dire Straits – What drums, what guitar, what a voice!

Eight Things That Attract Me to My Friends

1.    Open-mindedness

2.    Talkativeness

3.    Willingness to trust

4.    Willingness to argue your point till either one drops dead

5.    Sarcasm

6.    Looks

7.    Knowledge of things I have no clue of

8.    Artistic pursuit

If They Were To Meet Again

If they were to meet again
And Yash Chopra was directing it
There would be melodious music and a long Mangeshkar alap
There would be plenty of nostalgic smiling and awkward glances
There would be a strong gush of wind and the Alps at the back
Their spouses would be oblivious and their kids would later fall in love

If they were to meet again
And Mani Ratnam was directing it
She would be crouching under a cloak and the rain would be pelting down
They could be anywhere and still it would look like they were in Kerala
He would be holding a cup of tea with the rain spilling it drop by drop
And they would fall in self-destructive love, all over again

If they were to meet again
And Karan Johar was directing it
He would be wearing rim-less glasses and reading a book in a NY tube
And she would be wearing the same colors as he is, albeit in a new look
And as she enters the tube, a strong wind would blow and she would know its him
And his daughter would have been named after her

If they were to meet again
And RGV was directing it
It would be in a Mumbai local train during the rains
He would be smoking and she would just look at him
The camera would focus on her ample bosom and his ample chest hair
And there would be an old Rangeela song playing at the back

If they were to meet again
And Anurag Kashyap was directing it
He would stumble out of a night club all stoned
And there she would be in all her rambunctious finery
She would look at him, turn around and land a passionate kiss on her new guy
He would fly into a rage and bang this prostitute named Democracy

If they were to meet again
And Sanjay Leela Bhansali was directing it
She would be in her Carter Road penthouse, chilling in a fancy saree
And she would see him by the sea and run to operatic music
With candles and curtains wreaking havoc all over the house
He would ask "Does he make you laugh?" She would say "Doesnt make me cry atleast!"

But he is, as she puts it, a filmi idiot
And none of these things will happen when they meet

They will meet on a hot summer afternoon in a corporate office
She would be in a purple UCB tshirt and he in a light, sky blue shirt
Her crazy hair would have gone berserk with humidity and anger at this city writ large on her face
He would be laughing smugly about something and would fake surprise at running into her
She would talk about her fucked up life and he would show off his latest designation
And then they would part - thankful that it happened and thankful that it ended

The Definitive Hindi Film Heroine Ranking - The Colour Era

While my friends are busy ranking B-schools and FMCG companies, I do the absolutely mundane. Havent seen the Meena Kumari/Suraiya/Madhubala/Nargis era and hence not included them. Click to see a bigger image.