my blue dog

Getting up late. Lazy tea with newspaper. Long cardio at the gym. Social afternoon with friends. It was just another Sunday, and i was happily breezing through it. Almost in cruise control mode. I knew 'what next'. And i like my days and life like that. At least most of the times.

So there I was in an electronics mall. There is mall for everything these days. (Shimla always has had a Mall road isn't it? how weird?) Its true. I'm a self confessed part lunatic. I just gave you a quick deco. So where was I, yeah.... in front of the PS3 playing some game, coz my friend was shopping for a laptop and I was happily whiling away till 'next'. I felt a tug and threw a glance sideways, to find a 4 year holding the last few buttons of his shirt in a michael jackson kinda posture. "But... hang on... hold it (not that) can i finish this game please..." He ran away in his MJ avatar and i guiltily followed with a face longer than a horse. My able friend had already taken MJ to the Men's and i was left to admire the freshly arrived Macs.

Macs are yummy, and they look extra glossy in these places. Obviously i was tempted into moving the mouse, pressing a few keys. I pressed g m a i l . c o m + ctrl enter. (2015 now) And there it was, a message in my inbox. A mail from an old friend. A mail from a friend. But friends don't email each other do they. And the oddity of it struck as a surprise, both pleasant and tentative at the same time.

I read it twice, and then twice more. 2 cups of shock mixed with 500gms of disbelief, smeared all over my inbox. It stank and it was ugly. We'd been friends for long. Way too long. Distant and platonic. I know platonic is difficult to digest, but the distance of a few thousand kms and her being a gf and then being married to the same guy should cut it. Guess what. It didn't.

When a relationship is stale, the blame game looks at targets like you were in a paint-ball arena. Anyone and anything gets hit. Here I was standing in front of a giant apple monitor, reading that email in big text and still trying to grasp its ends. A bolt out of the blue reading "we can't be friends..." . No because. No explanation. Use your imagination. Like I had to. Just that, for you it is not as shocking as it was for me. I stood there for a few minutes with a thousand thoughts in my head, it did seem like a longgg time. The sun did not go down as quickly as they show in music videos. My fingers reached for the keyboard, only just below where my chin was at, at this point.

"You know best.
  regards."

Tagged

I've been tagged by Sony.

It's a game of blog tag. Where bloggers tag fellow bloggers with an assignment, and the blogger then has to tag someone else. My friend Kavita (Sony) tagged me and I'm tagging you.

The house rules:
* Each person tagged has to write random facts/habits about themselves.
* Those that are tagged will have to write a post on their own blog (about their twelve things)
* At the end of your blog, you need to choose two other people to get tagged and list their names.
* Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

***************
So here are mine:

1. I think I have acrophobia and i feel like jumping from traveling vehicles sometimes. Its more like a 'what if'.

2. I love horror movies, my collection has over 30 horror flicks :)

3. I love soccer and i could kill for Arsenal.

4. I am quite emotional (like the crying during the movie, and drinking water to hide it types)

5. I am learning to photograph well. And there is just soooo much to learn.

6. I think life is too short. And we should get a second chance.

7. I am a big time procrastinator. (For instance i started this 2 weeks back)

8. I rate people by their values, and then by their sense of humor and then by their looks.

9. I miss having a gang of chaddi buddies.

10. Life is tougher living in my Jacket. Being a doctor, pilot, architect would have been so easy and cliched. I am glad i am stuck here.

11. I have missed out on travel big time so far. I am 31 and i don't have even 31 good travel experiences. But i have promised myself to balance that part in my life. I believe people really grow when they travel. And my new car helps :)

12. I will start writing soon. Keep watching this space. (Not 'this' space doofus, my blog i meant)

I am sure this list of 12 would have been 6, had i not been single.
hehehe

have fun guys
life is short

No Reservations

Well there's a she Chef (catherine), her niece. Only the niece coz her mum liked to talk on the phone while driving. The suitor. And a good attempt to weave a story with these three characters. If you guessed the plot already, great! Its not about your IQ, its about loving your chef.

Few observations I made watching this rather enjoyable movie. And I thought I should share.
In the first half of the movie, Zeta Jones (oh my my) meets her niece after a very long time. They say a perpendicular hi, coz the little one is lying on a hospital bed. The only thing she loved in the world was now dead. Zeta Jones breaks the news.

NOW!! Next thing you see is that the strict chef is back in her restaurant. Trying to rub out pain with excessive work, and smoke out those tears. She goes back and meets her niece the next day. Shocking for me. Its a 6-7 yr old girl, who lost her mum. Her world is upside down. The little thing cant even decide what to think, or where to start clutching at thoughts. Past and future both rushing through in front of her blurry eyes. And she's left alone? W-T-F!!! Never ever would that happen in India. The cultural difference pointed out here is stark. Even if there's not a relative with the little one, there'd be a family friend, or even the eye witness who saw it all.
But no baby this is America, the little one must 'understand'. About individuality, and personal space and emotional needs of her aunt too. Cruel and cold, but great survival science me thinks.
Your views are welcome.

In the second half of the movie we see a family coming together. Formed of people who met barely a few weeks back on life's crossroads. Almost stumbled into each other's life. Like an accident, a divine one. As if God decided that these 3 people who's past was rather thin and future rather blurry, who are no more than nomads in the Manhattan jungle must now be joined through a social fission reaction. A family album formed out of thin air.

So is this is sign of things to come. A 35 something she chef meets a 40 something he chef and they find a girl who could have been their daughter had they married at the right age. The process does not matter. The end result matters. Happy family like all others. Looks like all other happy families in the park. How you got here does not matter.

Tear jerkers seems to another new trend in american movies. I felt it this was dubbed in hindi, it could do very well in India. Full srk an karan johar style. True. Really. See it. It is ful of desi cliches. And yeah that reminds me, i've been noticing a lot of cliches in videshi movies. Next blog should carry a list.

Speechless

Its a brave attempt, if nothing else. And if you ask me, a lot else in it to grab, pick up, turn over, think about and put back before you sigh (i did).

I am a sucker for unconventional cinema, and by Indian standards this was surely one. And of course there was curiosity in how Amitabh would play such a part, and what is the Indian Lolita portrayed to be. Mr. Verma sure did a splendid job. Its not an easy subject, and its bloody tough to please the hypocritical Indian sensitivities.

There was no sleaze, no sidey stuff, no embarrassing moments. (The kinds when you cough and shift in your couch, say something stupid to cover up the moment quickly)

A man falling in love for a young ling. Is it ridiculous. I cant say that. As far as I know one should savor feelings which are true, and honest as a crystal. You cant scheme up love for someone. Unless you are a Japanese Robot maker. But otherwise, it happens all the time. All around us. We are just a bunch of cowards to ridicule attraction, nature's simplest law.

What we should really ridicule is balding uncles asking friends' daughters to sit on their laps. Hair dyeing aunties who don't seek couple counseling, but seek benefits from their gym instructors. This movie is a tight slap for those hypocrites. This shit happens. And a brave man has dared to show it on a big screen.

All emotions are handled as they truly could, without dramatization or accentuation. No hoo ha, no 'bartan' throwing. The faces say it all. How would the wife feel. Her new world brother. How does a guy emote who cant decide between the strength of his new found love, and the richness of his past relationships. Its all very tricky, and tough. And those artists did a splendid job at portrayals.

losing my mind

Beliefs are tough to shake. They cement themselves over time. Like the layers of salt on the quay. Though sometimes all it takes is one incident, one fact, one day's events to offset all.

I've always felt nice and strong and important, when my friends would tell others - "this guy never gets drunk... never". So usually its me driving back others. In charge of the night. The 'father' for that or those evenings. It's a messy job this one. Involves talking to cops sometimes, helping people find the nearest bathroom door in a millisecond, convincing a zombie on why not to drive, tucking up people in bed, closing the door to temporarily-suspended-morality, and yeah sitting alone later and cleaning up the place before finding a place to sleep. It all sounds pretty lonely and cold. It is.

Ok I'm no superman. I do feel giddy sometimes. I've felt my head hurt, in the night and the next morning. Visited the bathroom with my wrong side in the pot many a times. I've felt my reactions... my foot on the brake become a little late. But then that's it. I 'knew' all that. What was happening to me, how i was feeling. And how much more of that would i allow myself. I've never broken into 'english' or done things which i would not find myself suitable doing.

I never allowed myself that. To let go. To dive in. To lose my mind. I was known to be a strong headed scorpion (i hate this cliche' really, i think its created by one Ms. Goodman... from early teens people start telling you... oh you are a scorpio... hmmm... you must be like this... and over time you start believing that boxed view... nice try Ms. Goodman ). Unemotional, stone-hearted, cold and therefore scary ... read as fear-of-the-unknown. As my reputation grew, people's inclination to change it reduced.

And then it happened. One fine evening, I just lost it. I don't know why. I don't know which. Empty stomach, the quantum, the variety, or my new state of mind. (yea.. screw you Ms. Goodman i'm no more a scorpion, i refuse to be one. Or may be this happens when you turn 30 and realise that the jacket you've been happily wearing all your life is not only dated, tattered, and is a bad fit... but is also not the dress code for the next party)...

But I did not know what had happened... not until the next afternoon... I woke up with a very heavy and throbbing head... already late for a shoot... stood under the cold shower for a good ten minutes... and tried to remember the sequence of events. Oh no no... this cant happen to me... rewind rewind... play... blank again... trying for the fifth time now... rewind rewind and blank again. My player was showing no recording for the last eight hours, though they were not all gobbled up by sleep. Hmmm... sigh... the wall has been breached... the record has been shattered. When people used to tell me they don't remember anything from last night, i used to laugh at its incredulity. I used to think of it as an excuse, as a convenient lie.

I quickly got dressed and somehow managed to control the situation at the shoot. When we had a break, I had time to think about it again.

At first it took me time to decide which feeling was i going through, and which one was stronger. I felt like a receptionist with all the lines blinking all of a sudden. Fear first, i decided. The fear of having offended someone, having done or said something stupid. Its a horrible feeling. I had not had it for a very long time. I sent a few smses, safe ones... like how are you, hows the morning? And I got rather strange replies... how are 'you'? ... 'it happens' ... 'you were too funny, i totally enjoyed myself' ... hmmm i thought... time to make a call... the suspense is killing me... i made a few calls... Mightily relieved to find out that i didn't do anything stupid... c'mon you know this part... men are men are men... phew...!!!

Fear quickly left the room. Next up were Ms. shame and Mr. embarrassment. They stayed with me for a few weeks, I tried to bribe them to go away. I tried to ignore them. Tried to rationalize everything. Even tried to do the matrix hypnotism to myself - 'there 'is' no spoon' . But they stayed. Mocked and jeered at me everyday, stared back from the mirror every evening. The day I saw my videos on a phone cam from that evening, my guests felt happiest. It seemed they'd never go away. But they did. In a few weeks. Waned and waned and went away.

Looking back i'm happy. I've been through this as well. I feel light. I feel like a sport star retiring in his prime. I was proud. Now I'm wiser.

Generally...

Its 1 in the morning and I'm returning from an editing studio. Having survived the grueling 'rendering ' periods, i just want to find my pillow now. A good boy thing that, i think to myself. Only a week back i would picture myself looking down at the rotating single malt in the octagonal glass, and the sweet clinking sounds of the ice cubes... looking down ... thinking... sniffing and then indulging in a rather undiluted taste of a good single malt. This week though, is different. Last weekend shook my malting routine. (but that's for another blog).


We do so many things, so many times in order, that our eye is trained to pick up aberrations. Two bikers lying flat on old madras road for instance. As I'm slowing down i see a bleeding nose bridge, and a rush of other bikers who slowed down a few seconds ago. I park quickly. I notice a dirty shirt talking to another. I assume the guy doing the talking must be rider, to whom this roughed up helmet belongs. The other guy who seems distant, removed from this rush of things and the owner of the bloody nose bridge (and lips and chin), i calculated must be the unfortunate one on the pillion . The next fifteen seconds seemed liked a memory of a shooting star. More talking - no response - traffic builds - i remove the bike n helmet from the scene - passing car stops - hands out a bottle of water - zips away - other cars follow - night's still again. The talking dirty shirt drags and pulls the quiet one to the pavement. I'm overwhelmed by his concern, by his love for his friend. And then he screams - "where's my phone?".

On the pavement i get closer. My first question is met with apprehension and is answered by - "boss, please don't create a scene". The answering face belonged to one of the fellow spectators. Do I look like a cop? My dad would've been so proud if i had been one. But I do something he does not comprehend - advertising. He thinks working with comps means software, and thats what he tells people. I flash back to the present. "I just want to check if he is responding, where's he bleeding from". If the trance is a shock from the fall or is it the last 3 drinks that he shouldn't have downed. I'm no doctor. My friends call me half a doctor. For i have no degree, just many questions and many answers about the human body. He tells me his name, drinks a little water, and is coming to his senses rather quickly. In a few seconds he gets up, reaches for his zipper, and looks around for a bush. He finds one, just behind him. As if by magic, all the pain and suffering left the first one, and got transfered to the second one, all in an instant. He's holding his leg and crying like a baby. He probably should've said no after his fourth. I ask him to move his toes, which he does. I tell him, he just has bruised skin and muscle pain which is stinging him now. No deep wounds. No fracture. Nothing to worry. The crying stops.

During the conversation, the night ate up the fellow spectators. They had enough confidence in me to take care of these two limp-blitz-kids all by myself. Or may be they were used to such stuff. I think the latter coz we never found that phone on this relatively clean and well lit accident spot.

I'm not used to be being addressed as bhaiya (elder bro) or sir. But "Sir, Sir" is the prefix i hear for the next ten sentences and questions. "Sir I cant find my phone? Sir where are we? Sir did we fall badly? Sir is the bike screwed? and more such... They found their class teacher again, and I my mirror image from last week. I don't call the Police. I don't call the ambulance. I gathered they are better now. Scratches were not too bad. The relatives' to where they're headed will follow up on this story. So i show them the way to Indiranagar. I think i remember seeing a smile as they entered the locale they were familiar with. I breathe deep and ride on.