Aadmi apni kismet khudh dekhta hai

Had heard and read rave reviews for this movie. Aamir- kaun kehta hai aadmi apni kismet khudh likhta hai?
In most reviews, the stars were on the higher side of 3.
Friends came back from mid-afternoon shows and raved and ranted. Thought it had something to do with the beer levels. Some came back after evening shows and continued to rave and rant. This was serious. But somehow I couldn't get myself to believe them or rather get off my lazy backside and see the movie. That is, till last night.

Maybe it was fate or kismet as the movie poster, which I googled today, proclaimed.

The film is cock!! No apologies for the language. None at all.
It was a waste of an evening.
Why would anyone, I mean anyone in their sane mind think the film is close to palatable???
The story is lame with too many flaws. While being chased by the cop, why couldn't he jump into a taxi in the first place instead of running a marathon, waits for the phone to ring with instructions hail a cab??? When someone's chasing us, wouldn't we to find the quickest escape route??
The acting, well to put it into perspective, the mobile phone, a Nokia 6600, easily overshadowed anyone else's performance. Followed closely in second spot by the shadow that covered Gajraj for most of the film. Sarcasm aside, Gajraj was impressive.

Was trying to figure out why people thought it was a good film. Could come up with the following reasons;

- The hero dies in the end. (We're still not used to this in Bollywood)
- There is very little make up. (If there ever is a film where we have the hero or heroine sans make up, it has to be a good film e.g. Chameli)
- The hero dies in the end.
- It touches on a sensitive issue. (I have to say this- so many have touched the sensitive issue in so many ways and so many number of times, it's lost its sensitivity)

For all those who haven't yet buckled under pressure and watched the film, Bigg Boss 2 will give you better viewing pleasure.

Yes, I have come out of the closet. I am a Bigg Boss 2 fan. I've seen 6 episodes until now and I am hooked.
Don't know what it is about those few will-never-be's but I enjoy it.

Just have a few questions.

Who is the Alina girl? She isn't a singer, doesn't look like a dancer (read item girl), is she a TV actress??

And which item number has Sambhavana done?? Never seen her.

BB2 has become saans-bahu of sorts. Everyone claims not seeing it as it's full of losers but they all seem to be the updated about the events.

When I saw my first episode, I did ask myself -

Isn't Debojit getting any opportunity to sing in the industry?

Why is the saans-bahu lady, Ketki there? Thought she was doing well!

The Roadies 5.0 winner deserves to be. I have been an ardent fan of Roadies but missed out on the last few episodes of 5.0, till somebody told me this guy had won and I was glad I missed it.
Donno whether MTV offered him a job, like they did to most other Roadies, but my guess is that they haven't. And that's why he's here.

Ehsaan couldn't make the cut with his brand of humour it seems. Sad but true.

Isn't Zulfi a moderately-successful model?

But as I continued watching, all these questions seemed to disappear into the wind and meet with the answers, which in any case were blowing in the wind.

Now I do not care who is who and who is what, just like watching them dressed like school children and acting (or are they?) challenged.

Donno whether it is entertaining or not, but it feeds the bitch in me. And I like it.

What 'Pujo' means to a Bengali? by VIR SANGHVI

Most modern Indian cities strive to rise above ethnicity. Tell anybody who lives in Bombay that he lives in a Maharashtrian city and (unless of course, you are speaking to Bal Thackeray) he will take immediate offence. We are cosmopolitan, he will say indigenously. Tell a Delhiwalla that his is a Punjabi city (which, in many ways, it is) and he will respond with much self-righteous nonsense about being the nation's capital, about the international composition of the city's elite etc. And tell a Bangalorean that he lives in a Kannadiga city and you'll get lots of techno-gaff about the internet revolution and about how Bangalore is even more cosmopolitan than Bombay. But, the only way to understand what Calcutta is about is recognize that the city is essentially Bengali. What's more, no Bengali minds you saying that. Rather, he is proud of the fact. Calcutta's strengths and weaknesses mirror those of the Bengali character.

It has the drawbacks: the sudden passions, the cheerful chaos, the utter contempt for mere commerce, the fiery response to the smallest provocation. And it has the strengths (actually, I think of the drawbacks as strengths in their own way). Calcutta embodies the Bengali love of culture; the triumph of intellectualism over greed; the complete transparency of all emotions, the
disdain with which hypocrisy and insincerity are treated; the warmth of genuine humanity; and the supremacy of emotion over all other aspects of human existence.
That's why Calcutta is not for everyone. You want your cities clean and green; stick to Delhi. You want your cities, rich and impersonal; go to Bombay.
You want them high-tech and full of draught beer; Bangalore's your place.
But if you want a city with a soul: come to Calcutta.. When I look back on the years I've spent in Calcutta - and I come back so many times each year that I often feel I've never been away - I don't remember the things that people remember about cities.
When I think of London, I think of the vast open spaces of Hyde Park.
When I think of NewYork, I think of the frenzy of Times Square.
When I think of Tokyo, I think of the bright lights of Shinjiku.
And when I think of Paris, I think of the Champs Elysee.
But when I think of Calcutta, I never think of any one place. I don't focus on the greenery of the maidan, the beauty of the Victoria Memorial, the bustle of Burra Bazar or the splendour of the new Howrah 'Bridge'. I think of people. Because, finally, a city is more than bricks and mortars, street lights and tarred roads. A city is the sum of its people. And who can ever forget or replicate - the people of Calcutta?

When I first came to live here, I was told that the city would grow on me. What nobody told me was that the city would change my life. It was in Calcutta that I learnt about true warmth; about simple human decency; about love and friendship; about emotions and caring; about truth and honesty. I learnt other things too. Coming from Bombay as I did, it was a revelation to live in a city where people judged each other on the things that really mattered; where they recognized that being rich did not make you a better person - in fact, it might have the opposite effect. I learnt
also that if life is about more than just money, it is about the things that other cities ignore; about culture, about ideas, about art, and about passion. In Bombay, a man with a relatively low income will salt some of it away for the day when he gets a stock market tip.

In Calcutta, a man with exactly the same income will not know the difference between a debenture and a dividend. But he will spend his money on the things that matter. Each morning, he will read at least two newspapers and develop sharply etched views on the state of the world. Each evening, there will be fresh (ideally, fresh-water or river) fish on his table. His children will be encouraged to learn to dance or sing. His family will appreciate the power of poetry And for him, religion and culture will be in inextricably bound together.

Ah religion! Tell outsiders about the importance of Puja in Calcutta and they'll scoff.. Don't be silly, they'll say. Puja is a religious festival. And Bengal has voted for the CPM since 1977. How can godless Bengal be so hung up on a religions festival? I never know how to explain them that to a Bengali, religion consists of much more than shouting Jai Shri Ram or pulling down somebody's mosque. It has little to do with meaningless ritual or sinister political activity. The essence of Puja is that all the passions of Bengal converge: emotion, culture, the love of life, the warmth of being together, the joy of celebration, the pride in artistic expression and yes, the cult of the goddess. It may be about religion. But is about much more than just worship. In which other part of India would small, not particularly well-off localities, vie with each other to produce the best pandals? Where else could puja pandals go beyond religion to draw inspiration from everything else?

In the years I lived in Calcutta, the pandals featured Amitabh Bachchan, Princes Diana and even Saddam Hussain! Where else would children cry with the sheer emotional power of Dashimi, upset that the Goddess had left their homes? Where else would the whole city gooseflesh when the dhakis first begin to beat their drums? Which other Indian festival - in any part of the country - is so
much about food, about going from one roadside stall to another, following your nose as it trails the smells of cooking?

To understand Puja, you must understand Calcutta. And to understand Calcutta, you must understand the Bengali. It's not easy. Certainly, you can't do it till you come and live here, till you let
Calcutta suffuse your being, invade your bloodstream and steal your soul. But once you have, you'll love Calcutta forever. Wherever you go, a bit of Calcutta will go with you. I know, because it's happened to me. And every Puja, I am overcome by the magic of Bengal.

It's a feeling that'll never go away.....

wake up its jacob

While on this vacation I did and said things that I considered myself beyond doing or saying.

Did for the first time feel homesick. At least for the first night back in the city.

Always have put it beyond me to wake up at any hour before 12 post a night of rum, tequila, vodka and toddy.

But like somebody once said, “Everyday you learn something new”
Was definitely not the only one who was impressed at this unprecedented feat of an unaided 7:30 am wake up. Good Morning!

Had not seen Chak De (seems I was the only one) and Tashan (obviously I wasn’t in the minority here) or most Hindi movies of late. It’s not that I have something against Hindi movies but then…

Anyways, did sit through both these movies. Chak De is a mish-mash of your staple Coach Carter like Hollywood fare. Do remember a couple of dialogues but fail to place the film though. But am sure it was in the locker room of some high school American football team.
Was a predictable but watchable film.

Tashan for its part can be summed up in just one word. WHY?

Saw a lot of Malayalam movies as well.
Heard the story of the original Malayalam movie from which Billoo Barber is inspired.

Was also part of a debate where Malayalees felt they were at the receiving end when Bollywood or any other Wood paid ode to an original movie it so blatantly or at times not-so-blatantly was inspired.

Someone would copy a Malayalam movie and then a third party would copy it from them and say, “This film is inspired/ is a remake of a film made in any-other-language-other-than-Malayalam”

e.g. Billoo Barber.

Orginal film: Kathaparayumpol by the genius of a man Srinivasan in Malayalam

Remade as: Kuselan featuring Rajani in Tamil

Re-remade as: Billoo Barber with Shahrukh in Hindi. (Will see this movie for sure. Want to see a barber with outstretched arms, scissor in one hand, comb in other and a jumper thrown around the neck. In New York.)

But when ever a mention is made, Kathaparayumpol was omitted or forgotten. And Kuselan-inspired Billoo Barber was how it read.

Did not take sides in this argument.
Did not tarnish my diplomatic image. Once again. Phew!

Saw the original Gajini. Wasn’t impressed. Waiting to see Amir’s rendition.

My advice for people who like to watch movie for fun. Please buy as many of the Rs.99/- only Moserbaer DVD’s. They come with subtitles. They are awesome. I want to buy Moserbaer stocks.

Also zeroed in on 2 movies which I would like to make in Hindi.
Will ensure I mention that they are remakes of Malayalam films.
Wah! What an idea sirji!

been there...done squat

August is a month of travel.

Rain clouds have travelled towards the Eastern part of the country, primarily Bihar.
Mamata and her brigade have travelled towards the Nano factory.
Indian athletes have travelled to Beijing. (I have reason to believe that this 'come back empty handed' cry is unture. They never have, never will come back empty handed from any Olympic event. Duty free ka packets paav se thodi pakadte hain?) Congrats to the three who won a medal. And also tho those who stayed on in their respective disciplines long enough to see the closing ceremony.
I also travelled to Kerala for Bruce's wedding.

It was the first Syrian Christian Wedding I had attended. From start to finish, dessert included.
And me thinks it rocked.

- The whole ceremony took just 45 mins.
- Except the groom, that too optional, no one else is expected to wear a suit.
- The temperature on that particular days was 18000 degree celcius. Or so it seemed.
- You could wear a pista coloured shirt, with a beige drawstring.
- You don't have to tuck the shirt and wrap the growth around the waist.
- You get to learn that brandy mixes well with chilled Kalyani Black Label beer. Especially at half past nine in the morning.

God bless Tresa and Bruce.


P.S. God also bless the guy who got the cannister of fresh toddy.

space

grey house, mumbai

did i tell you?

Last post in May. This is mid August.
I have been lazy. That’s it! Am clarifying this lest it might lead you to assume that nothing has been going on in my life. Or the monsoons had swept me or the events of my life away. 

Since this post will prove otherwise, am wondering....

Did i tell you that I kind of got the hang of Facebook.
Scarbulous is fabulous. Though getting slightly bored of it.
The pictionary thingy is cool as well.

Did i tell you that I bought a house in Bangalore.
Interiors happening-bank balance disappearing.

Did I tell you that Bruce is getting married this month end. Super cool I say!

Did I tell you that I've gotten most people (read mallu’s) to say ‘Enthaaa!” instead of the, 

by-now-religious ‘Wassup!’

Did I tell you that the car’s finally arrived. Tata Nano is and never will the most awaited car, for sure. Every time I uttered the word ‘gaadi’ they were cussing and the ears were bleeding.

Did I tell you about this nice campaign for Deutsche Bank platinum card that's coming up.

Did I tell you that finally I shot a film I was really happy with. Nice script. Made nicer by Aamir and Darsheel, the new boy wonder. Once completed, it should be fun. You have to hand it to the kid. We shot from 11 at night to 7:30 in the morning. He did not even blink.

DId I tell you that I have promised myself to write more regularly. That is the fun of it all. These one liners will not get you anyone son, my drawing teacher would tell me.

Did I tell you what my grandmom would say, "God's given us a memory so that we can forget."

Rest in Peace Ammachi. God bless.

films

Am back. Was I away for too long?

Bumped into another of my closet readers, Purvi. 

The little one of the clan. The one I used to bully the most.

the one who would change her path if she saw me coming the other way.

The one who told me that she read my blog. Regularly. 

The one who did not tell me that I haven't posted for some time now.

The one who lied that she reads my blog.

Are the other lying as well??

Bunk that! Wanna try this first. Video upload.

Seen too many blogs, especially of creative peoples... so peoples, here goes...

Alas! i failed. Will try again. 

Namaskaar Jindal!

Finally I find the time and the inclination to post something that has been, for want of a better word, different in my life.

Hopefully, all the people who read this space, that is a total of 3, know that I had decided to take a break from whatever it is that I have been doing. A month long break. Might not seem long to a lot many folks out there but for someone like me whose longest holiday has been a Saturday and Sunday, that too one followed by the other, this is a big leap.

There were some voices in my head I had to mute before I took the decision to be away.

- Been just about 3 months since I’ve joined my new place. Is it too early to take a break? But then again, was planning to do this before I joined this place but couldn’t…why? Because I was asked to join asap.

- This is the awards season. Things seem all over the place. Although I have AJ and the boys telling me it will be cool… but then it’s never cool till you do it yourself…

Now lets tune in to the practical side of my thinking.

- I had already cancelled once and they gave me the days after much pleading.

- Screw the work! Work will happen. If not now, then later. If not by me then by someone else. I've NEVER done this and if I lose the impetus, probably never will.

So days booked, ticket booked, I was headed for a 21-day break to the Institute of Naturopathy and Yogic Sciences aka Jindal in Bangalore. This was to be followed by a couple of days at home in Kerela.

Now, ‘Why INYS?’

I have been growing, around the middle, a growth that would surely make the then bullish climb of the market a little green.

I met Vinay who had been to Jindal and on his way back left behind 14 kgs. And if Vinay can do it, so can I.

Landed in Bangalore, Friday the 21^st of December. Vinnie and Bruce along with Appu predicted to see me with then 10 days from then i.e. 31^st night. I scorned as I polished off the last bits off a grilled chicken at Empire.

Bruce, being the considerate brother he is, woke me up at 7 the following day, the taxi was waiting to drop me. Jindal here I come!

I was told it would an hour and 45 mins but that seems to be consumed pretty quickly. So here I was at the gate of the mystical place. The 'de-tox' place like some had already started calling it.

Left my bag at the main gate with the security ( do not know whether they checked it for 'food items') registerd, paid up advance and equipped with a enema tube in hand I, oops sorry by now I had become 'The Patient" , the patient was shown his ward.

It was a small cosy single room. Attached toilet, TV with cable connection and a cupboard. Was great from me.

Though I must confess one thing. The moment I walked through the gate and had my first glimpse of the other 'patients' I suddenly felt thin. I was looking anorexic.

And that frequent, "Aap yahan pe kis liye aaye ho?" Further fanned my ego.

So here I was, after my first 2 days, complete with morning walks, juices, yoga and enemas, lying on my bed thinking, 'maybe I really do not need to lose weight!'

But Dr. Nagarjuna inscribe OBESE against my name. Yes, i was a bit on the heavier side but obese!!! The weighing scale decided to side with him and show a whopping 104.8 kgs.

Could hear a quite sigh from within, as soon I did alight from atop it.

The first 2 days were boring. I saw people walk in groups, drink juice in groups, some were even playing badminton and I did not even know anyone remotely.

It took me 2 days before Arjun came up and introduced himself to me. I did notice the occasional glances from people whenever I did pass by. It must have been the hair!

Anyways thanks to Arjun I met Ketan and then Darshan and his dad, Dr. Vaidya. Yesss!! I knew people around here.

Darshan was a Gujju boy, born and brought up in London, been to the London School of Economics, who at 21 possessed a head of a 40 year old, which he kept bobbing from side-to-side whenever he approved or disapproved anything from the contents of his lunch to the horrendous shot on the badminton court.

Having broken the ice at the dining centre, it was time to do the same at the badminton court. Mahesh happened. The soft speak, 25 kilometer-a-day-walking Kannada bloke. Through him I made friends with the rest of the gang.

The Gujju speaking British brother sister duo of Prashaanth and Dershnaa (Read it like it's written and you will know what I am talking about).

The lady 40-day old vetran at the camp, Priyanka. Who, while speaking, paused only to think of the next topic to speak. So all we heard was about her brother's wedding. Her husband. Her family. Her treks. Her job. Her brother's wedding. Her husband. Her family. Her treks. Her job.

The enunciating Ms. Raj. Who we met only from lunch onwards, as the morning walks etc were not happening for her.

Nilz and his wife, forgot her name. Actually never spoke with her, so did not know here name.

Then Vineet and his wife. From Calcutta.

Then the days seemed to breeze through. Actually no. It's not true. Atleast sessions like yoga, mornings walks etc were more comfortable as I had Darshan, my conscience egging me on.

I was losing 500-700 gms a day.

Darshan was about 500 gms a day.

Mahesh was losing more than a kilo a day.

The rest were putting on what we were losing.

More people came. They left. I was still there.

Even more people came, all the people I knew left, I was still there.

What made me think of 21 days! What?

silver lining

Gone 'til November

Well, that time of the year is approaching. And how.
Since my birthday falls in this month, would always get new Christmas clothes as well around the same time. Actually, come to think of it, I only got birthday clothes, maybe an extra shirt or T-shirt which mummy never allowed me to wear until Christmas. Smart!
Remember this one birthday, came back from school. Rummaged through the usual places – mummy’s ‘steel’ almirah, papa’s ‘Godrej’ almirah (never did figure out why the differentiation when both were Godrej and both were made of steel) And our (Bruce and mine) cupboard. Did not find anything. Went up to mummy in the kitchen. Asked her as politely and sweetly as I could. She didn’t say anything. Couldn’t wait for papa to come back and see if he was carrying a ‘plastic cover’
Till I went to hang or take off something from the clothesline. Saw this rather pale looking shirt, carelessly hanging there. Took if off, gave it a thorough look-through. Wasn’t too impressed. Till I flicked open the collar to check out the label. And there it was, white letterings embedded in a small patch of green that proudly declared – UNITED COLORS OF BENETTON.
Being the shallow human being that I was and still am, I squealed with joy. Suddenly, miraculously I loved the garment. It was, as I told mummy, UCB.
I had always seen the shop off, Park Street, whenever I passed by. Next to it was Burlingtons. There was a table tennis table in the shop. Cool looking people (or so I thought at that time) were playing the game. ‘Inside the shop, mummy. Inside the shop’I used to jump about saying. It had to be a cool shop.

Anyways, November is here. December will soon follow suit. Donno why things have to change when you become older. Earlier we would do anything to get into the coolest of places to usher in the New Year. Someplace Else, CCFC, Ricky Diwan’s party and what not. And more often than not, we never managed to be there and do that, so would settle for what they now call, ‘House Party’ Andalib’s aunts flat. Lots of us friends. Some booze. Food. And if someone was lucky enough to have a girlfriend, she and maybe, just maybe, some of her friends. And today when procuring or buying an entry pass is no big deal, when I speak with most of them, they all have the same thing to say, “kuch nahin yaar, ek house party ka program hai”
Shit! life has changed!.

greyate

So here I am attempting to post a blog after a long, long time.
My first from within the walls of Grey.
Am working my butt off so writing it in format that proves the point.

THINGS I LIKE ABOUT THE PLACE

- bigger room
- not sharing with it anyone…even pappu
- 32”LCD
- my own secy, won’t have to molest Mavis to get work done.
- u can’t smoke inside cabins
- you cant eat inside one too
- samir and anju
- rooftop cafeteria/dining hall
- the infocell. I name a book and they have it. So much for mohananan and his mallu talk.
- the proactive work weekend
- the awards drive
-winning the Audi pitch

THINGS I’M NOT SO FOND OF…

- missing my sea view
- you can’t eat in cabins
- the canteen food. lowe anna’s food will beat the daylights out of this guys food.
- the energy around. HR tells me, I have to drive it. Phew!
- not winning the 7UP pitch.

Donno why, but suddenly lost the enthu to type. I’ve just blanked out.

The 2 departments that shocked me where the Films and the HR. Out-bloody-Standing!
Not to forget the interactive division. Sudhir’s the man!
Been working more than I’ve ever done in my life.
Been pitching at a pace that will put Javagal Srinath to shame.
Javagal Srinath of the ‘I-will-only-pitch-short’ fame.

So far it feels good. The vibes seem nice. Just a tap here, a pat there to ensure some things fall in line.

Rest in pics…

Juleh ( meaning Hello in Ladakhi)

H2Ooooooooohhhhhhhhh!!!

Serving my notice period in Lowe.
Relax! Don’t have that feature film script yet. Not even one that stars Himesh!
Come to think of it, haven’t yet cracked the 30 second format. 3 hours is a long way off.
It only means I’m joining another advertising agency. Am moving to Grey Worldwide. (The latter half of the name ensures that it sounds international.)

Have 2 films to see through before I take a break and then join.
First film: Titled ‘Little Monk’
Client: Havell’s (of the electrical fittings fame)
Location: Ladakh (Wow!)

Second film: Titled ‘Verdict’
Client: Greenply (of the sardar bachcha speaking in Tamil fame)
Location: Bombay

So here I was on the late-evening flight to Delhi. Sitting in the Jet lounge with Priti sharing a Coke, bump into Vinnie. He’s all excited about meeting up with A. R. Rahman, missing his flight and being able to use his coupons to upgrade to Business Class.

Landed in Delhi. Picked up and driven past sleazy hotels. Stopped outside Hotel Grand. Didn’t expect much. But like most unexpected things in life, it turned out to be fabulous. Never see a bathroom so ‘tasty’

Early morning flight to Leh. 6 o’clock if I’m not mistaken. And like always I wake up late. Priti is angry. She leaves to check out. I run behind apologizing profusely.

Board the plane. Meet Shivi and his gang. Showed some solidarity. We had to. There were about 9 Indians on that flight. There were skiers. There were trekkers. There were snow jumpers. They were foreigners.

Landed in Leh. Awesome airport. George and his team came to pick us up.
Awesome drive. Was told about ‘ACCLAMATIZATION’ by Shivi. Read about ‘ACCLAMATIZATION’ in the airport. Tried to pronounce ‘ACCLAMATIZATION’ couple of times. Landed in hotel. Hit the bed. Woke up chirpy.
ACCLAMATIZED finally!

George told us that we should try the River Rafting. I said Yesss! Yess! YES! Priti wasn’t so sure. Apart from the fact that I did not know who to swim. We have a shoot that we should complete, death by drowning notwithstanding. And Uddhav’s said that I could die by water. Anyways we decided to go. Gopi and Shruti wanted to come along. But their respective Bosses proved to be Level 9 rapids they couldn’t negotiate.

Cut to a day later. 6: 55 am. I’m out in the lawn. All ready to go.
Rajesh had told me a million times, ‘Brij, bus will come sharp at 7: 30. If you’re not there they will go’

Priti peeps down from her room to see me already there. She rubs her eyes and looks again, I’m still there.
She too comes down. It’s 7:25 am
Tick. Tock,
7:30 am.
Tick. Tock.
7:35 am.
Tick. Tock.
I went down to the dining room, joined Shivi for breakfast.
Some toast, omelets and coffee later its 7:45 am.

The bus has shrunk to an Omni. And is still late. I squeeze in, the driver calls me fat once we reach the town corner and shove us inside a bus.

Then we begin to wait… waiting for it to be 12 people strong.
Finally, 2 guys come in.
We’re 12. And we’re off.

A long winding road and about 2 hours later we reach Chilling. Other buses, Omnis etc await us. Get off the bus, try to find a place to pee and fail. So decide to ‘go’ when we hit the rapids.

Grab a life jacket. Put it on. Wrong size. It looked like a bra. Certainly didn’t feel like one.

The group is summoned. Instructions hurled. I listened intently. Probably, the only time in my life. And boy am I glad?

So we were divided into teams of 9 and shoved into the rafts. The guide, called Babu shifted a few seats. ‘Good fo balanse’ he said.

A few dry-runs (no way! cold freezing ones) and off we were. All set to take on a Level 3 rapid. It was the most we had to negotiate on this expedition. We huffed and we puffed and up came the rapid. We huffed and we puffed and before we knew, it knocked out our stuff.

The raft capsized, and like crumbs of bread chucked by little boys, we popped into the river.

I fell off and started to go down.
First thought: Shit! Am too fat for the life jacket to support.
Second thought: Should have listened to Uddhav and Priti and not come
Third Thought: The film won’t be completed.

And suddenly as if these thoughts had not only left my mind but body, thus making me light, I started to rise up.

As I started rising, I was getting ready to see the sky and remember the Nepali guide’s command, 'If you paul, don’t look at pish. Look up at sky’
I kept going up. I kept going up. Only to come face to face with some dark object over me.
It was the raft.
It was upturned.
I was underneath it.
I was going to die.

Started reaching out. Hand went to the side of the raft. Felt the life-line rope on the sides. Grabbed it and slowly slid from beneath the raft to the side. Kept looking up at the sky and not the pish. From the corner of the eye I saw babu standing on top of the upturned raft. He saw me. There’s still chance.

He came across. Thought he was going to pull me up, but instead attached something onto the side of the raft. He asked me to let go. I refused. He gave the strap held in his hand a mighty yank. I lost my grip. The raft turned over upright. I was looking at the sky. Hands beating about for the life-line.
Finally managed to grab hold of it.

This time, no letting go come what may. Babu came over and tried to pull me into the boat. A small puny Nepali boy trying to hoist in a fat, wet mallu (not Shakeela)
It took him 15 deep huffs and 3 tries to finally get me back on board.

So the non-swimmer in the group was the 1st one in.
Slowly the oars came back in.
Followed by shaken and stirred people.

Finally we were all back. And we had more than an hour to row.

This is a Level 3 rapid. We had a couple of Level 2’s.

Everyone was excited. Everyone had been scared. Even those in other rafts. Priti had been swept away. She was one of the last people back.

There was a lot of chatter. And not all emitting from our teeth. A brief while later, Babu tells us proudly, 'I purposely capsize the raft. If no capsize, no fun. No story to tell friends.'

One word for him, Fool!

(That's me trying to squeeze the life out of him)

I do not know wot to title this post…

Jaywant books North Point (Will explain relevance later)

My postings have become as irregular as the streetlights in the lane leading to my apartment. And since I have acknowledged it in a public forum, I am absolved of all duties towards rectifying the situation. Much like the errant MLA.

Anyways, screw that!

Shit! This has been some month. Really it has.

Lintas India has been bought over by Lowe Worldwide for tons of dollars.

Prem Mehta’s decided to split the spoils between all employees.

The consultants aren’t happy about it.

But I’m not going to write about anything’s that’s not happy. At least not in this post.

So am making the point size small...

Friday was the day.

It was 'OUR GOOD FRIDAY'

Priti was called to receive her cheques.

12 in all.
She came back quietly.
But I thought money talks. And so much money is entitled to a 6 hour speech.

Nikhil was next.
He didn’t come back quietly.
Now money was talking. And how.

Ashwin, Jaywant, Pappu and the rest followed.
Do not know the order in which they went.
Do not care. Now!

I went along with Jaywant.
Entered the board room and was greeted by the ‘happiest-finance-man-giving-money’ ever – Mr. Kabra.

We hugged.
I signed.
12 receipts.
Received 12 cheques.
Lots of money for me.

I came back quietly.

Everyone else was shouting.

Felt like hiring them to shout for me.

Now I could! He! He!

The party began.
The entire team headed to North Point

(The one Jaywant Booked. Smart Boy! Yeh loh 10 lakh inaam…)

It was raining.
It was fun.
It was a lot of money.

Got back.
Got myself a PSP. A digital compact camera.
And now planning to buy a house in Mumbai.

YESS!!!

What I want to be when I grow up and other stories...

'What do you really want to be when you grow up Brijesh?' i asked myself staring at the foam covered reflection on 'this-is-shaving-day.'
Stared a bit too long so had to shake myself back to real time. (Which reminds me, the newly installed Real Player isn't working. Time to go back to the Old Faithful -- Windows Media Player)

Clean-shaven, in a taxi, on my way to work. Did not indulge in the ritualistic 'doze-till-the-brakes-startle-you.' It kept coming back - What did I want to become when I grow up?
What is the legacy I wanted to leave behind?
Too profound perhaps. Too early, for sure. Too much for me.

Do i want to leave behind numerous betas or DVD's with impeccable transfers of 30,40 and the odd 60 seconders? did i really want that?

or would I settle for unpolished metals adorning some old rickety shelf in a 'bored' room? do i really want this?

maybe i should settle for a suffix that engaged most of the alphabets? VP & ECD? NCD? WWCD? CCO?

i got it. finally. i want to be Md. Khan. (Hell No!) Let me rephrase it.
I want his legacy.
i want to leave behind a legacy like his.
i want what he has achieved.

it is my belief that the only legacy we can truly leave behind in advertising is people. seconds will run out, lalitaji's will die out and most certainly, metals will fade out while people will live out...

i see something like this happen in my very own group. it is simply amazing. i report to a force, yes force, called Priti. Am sure she hasn't set out like the way i intend to (and it has nothing to do with the lack of facial hair and hence a foamed covered face that stares at bathroom mirrors)

she will certainly leave behind a legacy that will outlive her. Her ads. Her metals and definitely the icons she's helped create.

this is it! this is the kind of legacy i want to leave behind.

spoke to friend about it. "Accha hai bhai!" he said. "par pehle kaam toh kar"

the taxi screeched to a halt.
the security guard at the main gate shouted, 'card!'
someone from inside the elevator shouted 'full...next one'