While waiting for bum ke neeche aag lagna...

Post start time: 1:40 am

I have never quite talked much about my every day life here, those mundane days when things follow their boring well-set patterns and nothing is overtly emotional or outburst-y. For me, somehow this blog has always been a place to pour out emotions and sadly normalcy never found a place here. But you know what? Mundane is good. Coz mundane is what makes 99.5% of our lives and we better learn to make peace with it. 

There is a lot happening currently in terms of lifestyle changes in one's life....the kind that sounds an alarm bell once one reaches the quarter-life. In simple terms, the gym happened. A best friend from schooldays and a MICAn senior on the very same day (eerie na!) extolled the virtues of "weight-loss = looking awesome + feeling awesome + getting attention from boyz" so much that one was convinced beyond doubt that thou shalt live without having a life, but thou shalt not miss gymming.

And so has begun 'The 40 Day Challenge'. 40 days and nights of healthy living. 40 days of working out in the gym, having healthy breakfast every morning, eating fruits everyday and only home/self-cooked food for dinner. (Oh God! Please don't let this jinx it...now that I have gone and  announced to the entire world readership of 22.) "Now why 40 days?" you would ask, dear reader..so here it is. The challenge will end with a celebration of much awesomeness (since weight-loss = looking awesome + feeling awesome + getting attention from boyz) along with one's birthday!!

So every day, these days, I walk down my lane for like 40 seconds, proudly carrying 2 bags - one chugging along the laptop and the other -  the gym wear, cross the road and enter the office building (Ok. This statement was sheepishly added to tell the world that I stay 1 min away from office. Which. Is. A. Big. Deal. Ask any Mumbaikar). 

Now office gym gets limited "hunk footfalls". (Actually Hunks: Non-female ratio is pretty bleak in my office - but one tries to work around the situation). But then it was identified that hunk footfalls is a critical success factor in the successful execution of 'The 40 Day Challenge'. One needs this for  constant motiovation and more so in the case when the one's body shows the tendency of shedding not more than 5 gms/day and hence any self-motivation is a goner. So, after a few days of careful data analysis, it was derived that hunk footfalls are highest in the evening hours coupled with excellent timing of good TV shows (one shamefully does not own a TV and has to do by watching cricket matches of critical importance - including the World Cup Final at neighbour's place). After much calculations of the day's work-loads, work hours and gym timings of the said hunks, one tries to strategically coincide one's timings (while appearing to be highly casual about it) just so one can blissfully huff-puff-sweat on the very next treadmill while the said hunks can throw deplorable sighs at ones measly running speeds. Such is life and all that!

Oh btw, 2 new mckinsey guys, consulting a team whose performance was going down the drain (and more so after paying hourly charges to the said guys) are seen frolicking around in my office these days with an air of well - "consultants". Difficult to probably define. But yeah, once you see it..you get it. And what is with their diet coke consumption? As if they have signed a bond while taking up the job - 'Thou shalt replace all body fluids with Diet Coke with immediate effect'.

Any way, on the work front November was Sweet! :D

My brands (my babies actually) did much better than before (2 of them, with all modesty, did brilliantly!) and my team did fabulous. And so here I am staying up late in the night, pretending to work on a ppt for a v. v. imp meeting tomorrow while munching on Kellogg's Special K cornflakes like a chivda (and an expensive one at that!) 

And that is all that has been happening in my life for the past few days. 

Hoping to keep up with 'The 40 Day Challenge' - shall keep updating about it.

And now I shall return to my ppt that's been shouting out for attention since some time as the proverbial 'bum ke neeche aag' finally lag gayi hai.

Post end time: 2:30 am

Difficult to Digest...

Reader's Digest. It was the ultimate reading delight while I was growing up. Like the Holy Grail of grown-up-ism that one wanted to achieve in their teens. A monthly magazine subscription with MY name on it!! And one that arrives in a very 'official' looking envelope - that was possibly the only mail I received in that age.

An RD issue - coming at a princely price of 38 rupees (subscription price, 42 rupees - stall price) was indeed a luxury for middle class families when I was in school. Silly how time changes quickly and one doesn't even bat an eyelid while ordering a veg burger in college canteen at a price twice that. 

But RD was good education and every good education comes at a heavy price - and so my parents spent hundreds on year-on-year subscriptions on what they thought was a wise investment for their bibliophile daughter. Little wonder, to this date, I have never thrown away any issue of RD (firsthand or other-wise) that I ever laid my hands on. It is a treasured possession in my book-shelf sitting proudly next to other literary classics.

RD opened up a whole new world and culture that was quite alien initially but welcoming nevertheless. If Enid Blyton took me to English countrysides with picnic baskets in hand and having tea and scones on lazy summer holidays...RD brought along a pragmatic outlook of the out-spoken American lifestyle. 

It was quite dizzying initially - there was crime, suspense, love stories, life crises and day-to-day humour. What made RD different, was the fact that all was very REAL! Nothing was left to imagination - those were stories that had happened to real people just like me - only sitting on the other side of the world. Also the fact that RD wasn't a children's magazine but one for a mature audience meant that it wasn't a watered down, over-simplified version of life stories.

To say that I wasn't up for a lot of rude shocks while reading RD would be an understatement. Especially the medical crises section - there was always this one story on a victim of a grave medical problem and his/her battle to stay alive. I still remember so many of them and especially unforgettable is Lee's Story. I still remember crying myself to bed that night on reading the story was a boy named Lee who was suffering from cystic fibrosis. His battle for a normal life against the fatal congenital condition gave me the glimpse of real life heroes at a very early age. What made it all the more poignant was the fact that the story was written by his mother. I guess I was in 7th std then and spent a sleepless week accepting the fragility of life.

I don't really remember when and how, but I stopped reading RD's. In a hurry to grow up I somehow forgot the one thing that really made me grow up. Today after all these years, I found the October issue of RD in a colleague's hand. Even without me asking for it, he offered me the copy. I guess the joy of meeting an old friend showed a bit too much on my face. But it felt like the friend had changed....45 advertisements in 180 pages!! Infact I stopped counting after 45 and there were still more to go. With dwindling readership, one can imagine the kind of firefighting that even a good content needs to put up to survive in print media these days...the media management major in me understands that. But a little girl whose first ever glimpses of real world around her were through the windows of Reader's Digest feels like shedding a tear.

I don't think one can quite put into words the relationship one shares with a good book. Great memories. Amazing life lessons. Learnings that go a long way into shaping the very you. How do ever say 'thank you' to a teacher like that? How do we share this feeling of gratitude towards perhaps one the best teachers in the world - a humble book? May be the answer lies in treasuring those lessons all your life and revisiting that old teacher that sits snugly on the book shelf, time and again. After all every teacher loves a student dropping by, once in a while, for a visit...

Goa...of Mical Bar & Mario Miranda

I have been trying ways to put this across gently. Without much damage to my reputation, you see. What the hell...I'll take the risk..label me crazy but I went to Goa and did NOT step on a single beach and yet came back having a fantastic experience of an altogether different side of this tiny, green, crazily warm place called Goa!!

I was in Goa for work-related stuff and the frenzied schedule did not spare much time for respite. May be that was an excuse and I could have really spared some time had I wanted to. But Goa in a hurry? Sounds like a stale fish curry! Not my thing...I preferred not visiting any beach rather than rushing through them without appreciating..simply to tick them off my list. You see...appreciating Goa needs to be a leisurely, slowly intensifying experience...like gentle love.. 

The hotel where I stayed had a small store dedicated to this guy. Mario Miranda.  

The Mario Miranda
- the man behind those popular TOI cartoons...
- the man behind those quirky Bombay portraits... 

- and most famously, the man behind the popular walls of equally popular Cafe Mondegar in Mumbai. 

Needless to say I stole time from work, sometimes even wee hours in the mornings to go through the immense treasure-hold of books by Mario Miranda in that tiny little souvenir-cum-bookshop in my hotel lobby. Reading and understanding Goa from the seasoned eyes of a local...his portrayal of the life in Goa gives a rustic and all-new perspective quite different from the touristy stereotypes..

Mario's Goa

Goa..of the Portuguese and the Konkanis...

Goa...of the Sunday Churches and Kunbi marriages...

Goa...of those lively and colorful markets and colorful lives of the simplest of humankind...

Mario Miranda makes one realize that there is so much more to it than the sun, sand and beach-shacks...

Oh...and I HAD to buy this. (2 copies!!) 

Finally, I have come to believe that everyone has a favourite in Goa...the beaches, cheap booze, flea markets, relaxed-afternoon-naps-under-the-beach shacks-with-chilled-beer-in-hand, Zante's cashewnuts (:P)! Do you have a not-so-obvious Goa favourite? Come on...share along. We can always do with one more reason to love Goa, can't we?

Dear readership of 21,

Silly how I cannot bring myself to write in spite of great many things to write about. The Opposite of Writers' Block - something like a Bottle Neck.

Anyhow. There are stories and stories and stories I wish I could pour out on this blog right now. Let me start off making a list of things to clear some of my cerebral clutter.

1. My oh-so-awesome Europe Trip...ok, UK trip...but Scotland, Ireland & London man!!
2. Latest obsession - Pygmalion & other works of George Bernard Shaw (He is half Irish, half British...no points in guessing my UK trip hangover is far from being over)
3. My first impressions of the Rosogulla land  - Kolkata. Oh! and how I stayed at the country's first Floating hotel aptly named Floatel on Babughat opposite the marvelous and majestic SBI HQ office and a mere hop-skip-jump from Eden Gardens Stadium!!
4. Staying alone...Staying alive.. in Biryani land - Hyderabad
5. And finally since my work involves some bit of traveling, I am contemplating writing my own version of 'The Terminal" (Desi Tom Hanks anyone? Feel free to contact me :P)  

And so deadlines and hectic schedules be damned. Here I am..making a start all over again to make peace with my blogging alter-ego so as not to piss her off and shoo her away for months at end like last time.

Its nearly office time...and I hate the fact that this post doesn't really have any purpose other than a quick 'hi, wassup world. me still alive, ok bye.'

So a post this is! And  I promise to update to my lovely audience of 21 followers and any other misguided random lurker...thou shalt blog regularly from this day onwards...till death and/or bad internet connection do us part.

Amen.

Asian Paints Ad...Ver Rutuja1.0

Kabhi aisa ho jaye ki hum office hi na jaye..
ghar baithe hi anokhi ek picnic manaye

khidkiyon se kare baate, pooche hawaaon ka haal-chaal..
"kya chahiye rangeen parde?" unse hum karein sawaal

kitchen ke bartanon se bhi aaj ho jaye baatein do-char..
cheeni ki meethi chhuri aur achar ki tej-khatti dhaar

tapakte hue nal ke aaj aasoon poch le..
geyser ki garma-garmi se bhi sulaah kara de

bedroom ka aaina kitni baar bulaye..
aaj phursat se usme apni parchhayee taak le

jab arse se balcony ke paudhe sirf hari pattiyan ugaaye..
tab toh phulon ki gowd bharai ki aaj maang kii jaye

darwaza chup chap jab door khada reh jaaye..
aaj uski bhi dosti deewaron se kii jaye

ek hasi aaj is ghar me bhi baaton..
kabhi is ghar ko waqt aur pyaar se sawaron

kuch na keh kar bhi ghar bahot kuch kehta hai
har ghar yeh kehta hai...andar isme mera apna rehta hai!

Adhoore Khwaab...

choti aankhen dekhe bade khwaab
mushkil sawaalon ke mange jawaab
khwaab dekhne par na thi pabandi
ziddi mann chahe unka hona puri

Missed Call

She wanted to look her best for him.
Kajal, silver bangles, bright orange kurti.

Decked as Indian summer she made her way to office,
Like autumn leaves, her face paled on knowing he had called in sick.

***