Monday, July 5

1000 words and more

this is bruce's little darling - rheanna liz jacob.
and it's her baptism. 99.76% kids cry while being
baptised but not her. she's tougher than that!

this is smools aka moolson aka mools's little hero. and like only mools can, days and nights were spent thinking of a unique name for him. and they named him Advit.
(hope I got the spelling right)
and considering I missed the naming-ceremony,
mools will only have one thing to say, "Choot, if you wanted to know his name, you should have come no!

i have moved apartments. from the awesome 1 bhk to a 2 bhk. but i did not know it would be so difficult setting up a place. both in terms of choosing the right furniture to deciding 'how-much-to-pay-furniture-that-will-be-used-
in-a-rented-apartment' the previous place was fully-furnished, I just had to bring in the white goods. so here I am with the white goods but not too sure of dark-brown furniture or not. the tata-sky has not been set up, nor the internet connection (tata photon ki jai!) I was in Bangalore, came back and shacked up with Chidu for a week and which is why this pic. 'Coz on our way back home, one night, we called up Vicky, who like the cops, was late to arrive on the scene, so we did not meet him.

The non-activation of the cables connection is the 2nd reason why I land up watching all the games with the boys. The prime reason being - it is more fun than any stadium.
(maybe, I should make a mention of the original plan - sids, vinnie, their wives and me were to head to South Africa.)
Well, this ain't South Africa, this is Vaibhav's place and Jiggy's white Armani Xchange shades!

how do they do it?

they are on facebook as much as me, some even more than me.
they are on email.
on chat. both gtalk as well as skype.
on twitter as well...

how the hell do the find the motivation to update their blogs regularly?

and not just one blog...

one for their kids...
one for their hobbies...
one for a few bucks...
one for their passions...
and what the hell, one, under an alias...

starting today, i will try my best to take out 10 minutes and post regularly...

honestly, it is not because an un-updated blog reflects lack of commitment, or a writer's block or something...
just that some very pretty people have told me that i should continue with this as it is fun read.

if it's fun for them, it sure is fun for me!

yeah! am back!

Wednesday, April 29


I hate doing this, but owing to sheer laziness have had to settle for this. What the first line means is a series of points that list down what's been going on for the first 4 months.

Finally a New year's resolution I have kept. Have done something which I never thought I would do -- have my own advertising agency.
And that too not one, but two. So born on the 9th of Jan was White Canvas Mumbai and a few weeks later 22feet.
White Canvas will be the regular advertising agency.
22feet will be a digital agency.
Mools and Deepak will be the other pillars keeping the dreams above sea-level.

To sum up, 2 agencies, 2 branches- Mumbai and Bangalore, 3 friends.

The office space in Mumbai overlooks the Mahalaxmi Race Course. Have watched a few races as well. The interiors are designed by Vishal. It's funky. It's us.

This made it, 2 cool offices. The Bangalore one has collected it's share of praises both on and off facebook.

The white Canvas appraisals (yes, we are serious about this kind of stuff) was held yet again in Goa and was fun.

Met some of my old clients. Met some new ones. Anyways, got a few retainer clients. a few more project based work and a a few pitches. Offline work looks good . Online even better.

Sorry, missed out the logic behind 22feet.
It is not the length of the cricket pitch- that's 22yards
It's not 22inches, that's the length of my.... tongue, 5 times over...
It is the average length of the human small intestine. Also referred to as the gut.
So, it's all about gut feel.
The small intestine also is responsible for digestion, food and all that.
So, it's also got to do with hunger -- hunger for work.

Now that's cool.

White Canvas. Now that's simple and needs no explanation.
In case you do, please click on the logo.

Now comes the house warming. The house I picked up in Bangalore was finally ready to move in. Vinnie's at 305, us at 304.
The interior work got over as soon as the bank balance did.
So the next logical step was the house warming.
More people came than expected.
Surprisingly, even those who were expected, did also turn up.

Saturday, January 3

Haircut, anyone?

Calendars, diaries, pen stands, car stickers, innumerable text message all scream out one thing - 2009, is here.

Decided to stay in this year. As if I paint the town red otherwise. Cannot believe that its been 12 months since I went to Jindal. And like a boomerang, the lost kilos have come back. To stay.

Coming to this year. Sid wanted to go to Sri Lanka, I had no inclination. Neta was away in London so no threat from there. Vivek wanted to go out and kick some ass with his wife. Wanna know what he wants to do next year when the marriage is more than a year old. Chandru called, he too wanted to chill.

Sri Lankan altered to Goa for Sid, Neta landed in time with his wife from London and headed to Goa, no news of kick-assing Vivek.

So Chandru and me decided to take it easy.

No house-parties. No club parties. No beaches. Just treat it like any other night.

The hairy beast was in his elements. He cajoled and coaxed and I found myself inside Screen 1 at Big Cinemas, Wadala (yes, it's no longer IMAX) standing up to the National Anthem and preparing to watch the Hindi version of Ghajini. It was 9:30 pm.

We weren't the only ones who had decided to take it easy. Indeed, there is safety in numbers.

Liked the ending of the Hindi version better than the Tamil one. Asin is as irritating as she was in the Tamil one. Yes, I know she is a big star and all, I have shot with her, but somehow she does not come across as natural. There is so much effort that comes across looking fake. If you do not understand what it is that I am talking about, please refer to Genelia D'Souza in Jaane Tu....

Anyways, movie over. Back home. More chatting. More Pirates of the Caribbean... followed by some sound sleep...

Wanted to start off the new year by doing something different. Sat and thought. What it is that I haven't done in life. Bungee jumping, sky diving, swimming the list was long and endless.
But what it is that I can do, sitting at home, with the hairybeast for company...hmmm...

Eureka (sans the bath tub but fully clothed) I got it. Change the name. No longer will he be known as the HairyBeast.

Happy New Year everyone.
This year, I aim is to do some things I have never done in my life.

Thursday, December 25

Merry Christmas

With a special talent that did not confine itself to the boundaries of tempo, tune, beat and anything remotely musical, I was spared the task of joining the Mar Thoma Syrian Church, choir.
This was the first chapter of the book titled. 'Lack of talent can be a blessing. For you and others.'

This meant that Bruce and I had to play other roles. And there is no better time than December to put your kid through these testing times. Honestly, I loved it. At least back then, I did.

And for once I knew something by heart. The flow of events during the Christmas Eve celebrations.

  1. Carols in English by the choir.
  2. Carols in Malayalam by the choir.
  3. Sermon
  4. Carols in English by little ones.
  5. Carols in Malayalam by the little ones.
  6. Enactment of the Nativity scene.
  7. Carols in English by the elders.
  8. Carols in Malayalam by the elders.
  9. Cake distribution.
For 1-5, 7-9, the odds of me and Bruce making it were quite similar to the ones Dravid had of making it to the one-day team.

No. 6 could surely accommodate us.

Joseph - Possible.
Mary - Not Possible. There were pretty girls and that too many in number.
Baby Jesus - Not possible. Too heavy for one of the pretty girls to lift.
A doll from one of them would be more apt. And they know their dolls.
Animals in the manger - Possible.
3 wise men - Quite Possible.

Really did not know or was bothered to find out how these roles were assigned.
Had to get through it, quick and easy.

Joseph was chosen, excited kid smiled.
Mary was chosen, excited girl smiles, some twitch their lips, as only little girls can, some boys who could pass of as the former breathed a sigh of relief.
Mary got the doll, quite right I would say, mother brings her kid.
The animals were chosen - was still not there.
One wise man -some kid
Two wise man - bruce.
Third wise man - brijesh

See Papa, 'wise man'

Start walking the entire length of the church till you reach the front.
The rest are already there, in their positions playing a game of 'mental statue'
Join in, offer the gold, frankincense and myrrh.
Say 'statue' in your head and pose.

Choir sings.
Some enthusiastic uncle and aunty join in.
They sing better than some in the choir, who glare at them from behind song sheets.

Some more songs. Ends with a Jingle Bell... each bell jingling in a different manner, depending on who is rendering it.

The uncle who has to rush out for a smoke has already reached the , " ... in a one horse open sleigh..."

The Malayalam speaking ones did not proceed beyond, "jingle bells..."

The boyfriend in the choir or the girlfriend in the congregation or vice versa, while standing on their toes and arching their necks, emphasised on, " oh what fun it is to ride..."

While fools like us, wanted to get out of our sarees that was deftly modified into a robe. Get home quickly and have the awesome palappam and chicken stew.

Merry Christmas!

Saturday, December 20

yeh school hai kya?

Class 6A - Mrs. Kallur

Class 5A - Mrs. Wesley

Class 4A - Mrs. Pinto

Class 3A - Mrs. Rozario

Class 2A - Mrs. Lobo

Monday, December 15


Happened to be at Bombay Central railway station. Been so long since I've been to one. Nikunj, aka Chotu, my childhood friend from from the 'area' was down and after a week was heading to Delhi. Rajdhani jaane ke liye, Rajdhani Express.
LED displays, McDonald's, fast food counters but yet nothing had changed.
The mad rush to check the reservation charts, even though, unlike us, most had confirmed tickets. The, "where's A4?" "B8 aage hai?" "Excuse me, yeh Dilli jayegi?"
I kind of liked it. Reminded me of summer vacation. Calcutta to Kerala. Checking on lists to see where, if any, the girls are. How far away was that F15 or F17. And also how far away was the M45 and F43 that accompanied these F15's and 17's were.
The Wheeler & Co. book stall was still there. Paid my tribute, bought some magazines.

But the most disturbing factor was the security or rather the lack of it. Have we already forgotten? Settled back into our miserable lives?

Yes, as soon as you walk in through the main gate you meet the men and a woman in khaki. Seated on red coloured benches lest you miss them.
They watch you, give you a look-over, make some assessments in their heads and then either summon you for a check or let you be.

Held one of chotu's black bags (do most of also feel that bombs are placed in black bags, or is it only me?) and strutted past them. Could see one of them checking me out, waited for him to call me and get on with his routine. But no such luck.

As we had some time to kill, decided to stand near the security desk. And saw one act which made my blood boil. Just wish I had the power to go and sack the policeman.

He had called out to an individual who came and placed his bag on the table in front of the policeman or CRPF personnel. The fool doesn't even bother getting up, painfully stretches out his arm and place it on top of the bag. He then begins to feel it from top. Donno whether he was fantasizing, and for once, even if he were, would like to know. Just that i want to know what are these guys thinking.
He gives it a quick 360 degree feel-up and waves and 'ok'.

I was just standing there watching this in disbelief.

But not all's lost.

there were others to his right who had asked the passengers to open their luggage. They then either took a peek inside, or shoved their hands in and played the 'let-me-guess-if-I-am- touching-a-bomb' game.
No metal detectors. No sniffers dogs. No frisking. No whatever it is that we do in this country in the name of security measures.

Of course there was a black Labrador, who was being taken on a stroll by his handler along one of the platforms. But the only thing he was asked to sniff were the wheels of carts and light poles.

I've always wanted to ask a few questions to every security personnel I have come across, in offices, residential buildings, airports, hotels etc...

a) what is it that you are 'looking' or 'feeling' for?
b) since you are only taking a look, how does a bomb look like?
c) why do I have to not take my bag along with me under the metal detector and then have it opened and checked once again after I have passed the detector?

Tuesday, December 2

Probably the dumbest question ever asked...

Its late at night.

A day or two after the attacks.

Set in front of the Gateway, with the Taj Mahal Hotel, Mumbai or whatever remains as background.

Scene opens on Barkha Dutt talking about the death of Sabina Sehgal Saikia, senior journalist of The TOI.

She's on the phone with one of Sabina's closest friend who along with her husband and couple of freinds had dinner with Sabina the previous night and was in her room at the Taj till about 6:30 pm on the day of the attacks.

At first Barkha asks the routine questions before letting go of the big one...

Barkha: "... so, did you at any point think, when you left her room at 6:30 pm, that you would be seeing Sabina for the last time?"

Ms. Dutt, pray tell me, if she or any other sane human being, did know that they would meet someone for the last time, wouldn't they, unless ofcourse they were Judas or did feel what our forces felt for you during Kargil, try and get them out of the situation? OR IS IT JUST ME???

 Yeh School Hai Kya?

Sunday, November 30

What is the spirit of Mumbai?

Started off thinking of not titling this post. But finally decided agaisnt it.

I feel like personally going and slapping each and every single person who utters the words, "Spirit of Mumbai"

I want them to define this spirit of Mumbai.

Is it people refusing to stay at home the very next day after an event like this?
Them rushing towards the nearest local train station or bus stop, wanting to reach their offices and sign the muster before the 'late-entry' is marked?
Or is it the apathy that allows us to carry on with life as if nothing has happened or better still,  thank god, nothing has happened to me or people I know, so screw the rest. When it happens, we'll see.

I do not think Mumbai has any spirit that needs to be celebrated.

It is plain and simple FEAR.

Fear that if they do not reach work the next day, a day's pay or leave will be deducted.
If they do not reach on time, half a day's pay or leave would be taken away.

If at all this is the spirit of Mumbai, why does it only show itself during terror strikes and not during day-to-day living?

If this indeed is the real thing, why don't we see people filling up train compartemnts, bus stops, crowding near elevators whenever a bundh has been called? 
Why isn't there any display of this 'we will not stay down'?

Any living person. no matter what his beliefs are, even a city or a nation has only one spirit. You can't have one for terror attacks and one for other occasions. 

So i guess it isn't spirit  after all.

It is an HR Manager or Admin Head.

Normally we get a heads up when it comes to bundhs, which is more than enough time for those mails to be floating around saying, "Although tomorrow is not an official holiday, we would suggest you stay at home and do not venture out. Also, no pay nor leave will be deducted."
Phew! that takes care of that.

And in offices where there is no intra mail, it generally is a memo that a peon happily passes around, which every employee reads and readily signs off.

Would really like to see a situation where we got a heads up on attacks and similar mails or memos were passed around.

Till then, it is a case of the flesh is willing (to stay at home) but the spirit is weak.

* I have never been a fan of hers. But simply loved her and her opinions. Watch on...

It will not happen to me...

These are the exact words, that resonate in my cranium whenever there were attacks of any kind, in Mumbai or elsewhere.

I need not worry about that serial blast. I was safe as I do not take the train or the bus.

The taxi, yes. The auto, sometimes. But I ask the taxi driver, “Dickki check kiya na?”

I have ticked one of the few boxes in my own mental security sheet. 

Conveniently though, never thought about my work place or my residential space being targeted.

But the attacks on the 26th of November were different.  Not just because it wasn’t yet another of those serial blasts or human bombs or anything that we had been exposed to.

But because it proved without the shadow of a doubt that it is not just the common man who is a potential target. The rich, the powerful, the ‘it will not happen to me’ kinds as well. Which included me.

Never watched as much News in my entire life as I did in the past few days. Did not itch to check out what’s going on in sports or Nat Geo or any music channel. They had me and an entire nation transfixed.  They even had the firang  media interested as well. The CNN’s and BBC’s of the world did cover it in depth. They had to after all it wasn’t just another case of brown skins killing one another. The white skins were affected as well.

I do not feel like blaming anyone. Seriously I am appalled but think it’s my fault as much as anyone else’s.

Yes, I get angry when they want to frisk me at movie theatres.

Yes, I get angry when they want to open my knapsack at malls.

Yes, it irritates me to walk through those metal detector doors. And the beeps just add to my irritation.

I’m in no mood for an argument, so will not react to those who say, “Even if I do comply, they do such a shoddy job of it anyways!”

All I am saying is that why don’t we insist on them checking us thoroughly instead of having that look in our eyes or let our raised eyebrows spell each and every alphabet in, “Fool, you think I will be carrying a bomb? I will be??”

Thursday, November 27


Why is a rich man always framed in a rape case, while a commoner 'surely must have done it'?

Why do we drop someone whenever we give them a lift?

Why do we have minutes of a meeting that has lasted for a few seconds?

Why do we want to wear full pants when you're 10 and shorts when you are 70?

Why is it a problem  when the rubber solution  is spilt?

Why is my phone  always inferior to the iphone?

Why don't we get a chance to use logarithmic tables in day-to-day life?

the big fat Arya Samaj wedding

If a picture is worth a thousand words, here are a few pages as to why I haven't been around to write.

Vivek Iyer wed Michelle Swamy on the 17th of November, 2008 and then again on the 22nd. (Sorry brother, did not carry my camera!)

Vineet Gupta wed Apsara Chidambaram on the 23rd of November, 2008.

Thursday, October 30





lowe, mumbai

moonar, kerala

moonar, kerala

SJR, Sarjapur, Bengaluru


A-401, Redwoods, Mumbai


Moonar, kerala

Wednesday, October 8

Drona mana hai!

'Drona zaroori hai, bro,' mused Goldie to AB jr who was busy trying to obtain the ultimate trim on his ultimate beard. '...For both our careers, bro..."
"Careers? What's that bro?" inquired AB jr as he rubbed the apricot scrub on his nose. (Should that be, 'scrubbed the apricot scrub?')
The story-teller in Goldie awakens as he attempts a 'jao pehle uska sign lekar aao' type delivery, "Arrey bro, it's the same thing Amitabh uncle and Jaya aunty had. The same thing that has ensured everyone knows that your surname has a 'chch' in its spelling. The same thing that has got this ice maiden to wrap up around your arms. The same thing because of which I have made you my best friend. The same thing because of whi..."
"Bas..bas...bas.. bro... " AB jr. taps out and gives in, "...take a chill-pill... ok.. lets do it..."

Determined, they set out to the nearest DVD library and issue copies of Harry Porter, Lord of the Rings, Matrix and Abhay. (Worm's Refresher Course (WRC)- Abhay aka
Aalavandhan in Tamil. Probably the worst movie ever made in Indian cinema history. And the only movie I have walked out of.)

Supplier's list;
Beginning supplied by: Harry.
Action supplier: Matrix.
Magical props supplier, including rings, bracelets, Gondolf-like wigs and swords: The Lord.

Abhay was rented out just for kicks. To figure out the scope for improvement wherein the title for the worst Indian film could change heads and rest on theirs.

I am upset because;
- the sword made an appearance so late in the movie.
-there was a mistake in the credits. Under Guest appearance instead of - Drona ka Talwar, it read Jaya Bachchan (notice the 'chch' in the spelling).
-Being a Malayalee, I was disappointed to see that the 'kaada' the Hindi speaking English nun was referring to was a wrist band/bangle which was his source of power and not the 'thattu-kada' (meaning shop where you get amazing porota-curry) which resulted in his powers.

Monday, October 6

this is my problem vol.1

This volume will hopefully kick off a series that talks about certain innovations that I have no idea why someone has come up with and moreover how someone else has approved.
All of these are either plain and simple annoying or just don't make any sense.

Volume 1 throws light on the 1/4 page or quarter page or tissue-paper-like-but-with-ad-on-it newspaper innovation.
It is that irritating little part that hangs out flaccidly from the front page of a newspaper, posing as some innovation.

Just how do you take control of it?

According to me there are two prominent ways in which people read the newspaper
a)They hold it up in front of their faces, in their living rooms, dining tables, back seats of cars etc etc.
b)When on the throne.

At first I did read whatever it was that was smeared across it but as soon as i moved on to the(actual) front page, there it would go, like the ears of a cocker spaniel.

Thought ignoring would help. Generally if you ignore something it does not come back, unless of course it happens to be a credit card payment or this tumor-like appendage hanging from the newsprint.

It is clumsy, irritating, not memorable at all -- will dare anyone to recall an ad they saw on that tissue-strip...

Here's a suggestion.
Run the ad.
Run the innovation.
Please just perforate it at the fold.
We could rip it and use it as tissue.

So here's to less use of tissue paper, more tress, a greener environment and a peaceful time on the throne.

WARNING: Download in progress do not turn page...