Shut up!

“Shut up!” can be such a rude remark.

It is a remark generally meant to terminate a conversation. One which denotes anger, frustration, boredom – to the extent that the speaker is asked to stop speaking.

Note that I stated “generally. They could also mean something quite different.

I was chatting online with one of my friends yesterday– a person I have met a sum total of twice and also talked about two times, but whom I consider a friend nevertheless (I tell her all kinds of nonsense – something she tolerates rather kindly). We were generally chatting of this and that and meeting for a cup of coffee some time in the coming days when I mentioned, out of politeness, that I hoped I was not being a pain. After all, she was a working professional and surely had more important things to do than make plans to hang out, sipping coffee with Yours Truly.

Her reaction surprised me.

“Shut up!” she typed.

And as I read those words, I realised that "Shut Up!" could represent something more than anger, frustration or boredom.

It could represent affection. Affection tinged by irritation, maybe. But affection nevertheless.

It was not the first time I have been told to shut up. Something tells me it is not the last time either.

But I am not sure I have ever liked it as much as I did yesterday.

Happy birthday

She is an year older today.

They say age brings wisdom. And patience.

They say she needs both.

Perhaps she does.

What she does not need is a lesson in honesty.

Or in being outspoken.

Or in being there for her friends.

She does need to work on her grammar.

But she does not need lessons in spotting news.

She needs to control her temper. Definitely.

But she does not need to be taught to be sensitive.

Nidhi Singal.

Colleague. Creative Thinker. Close friend.

Spotter of news. Blog entry sensor.

She is an year older today.

Some say she needs to change.

She shows no sign of changing.

And that is good.

Only words?

Words can be quite wonderful. And it was mainly thanks to a stack of them that I had an absolutely wonderful day yesterday. And it had seemed fated to be a terrible day. I woke up late, was not happy with some of the writing I had done and frankly, did not feel inclined to go to work. In short, one of those days when you feel pretty miserable and really sorry for yourself.

And then I got an SMS from one of my friends in Mumbai. We chat frequently but have never actually met. Still, she felt I had helped her out with something (I had only read something she had asked me to) and thanked we rather warmly for it. Suddenly, it did not feel too bad a day after all. I virtually floated around the house, shot myself into appropriate attire and proceeded to the workplace with a good deal of dash.

Things there were, well, a trifle chaotic. And to make things worse, one of my colleagues reacted just a bit sharply to something I said. But just when I was getting worked up and had changed my IM status message to “I wish I could be rude,” another of my online friends sent me a message “Don’t be silly. You could NEVER be rude.” A few minutes later, another one had come up with: “Stop wishing for the impossible,” and had given me a virtual hug! Suddenly, my grin was back.

It was strange. Although it was a far from perfect day at work and things kept going wrong, I did not feel too bad because my friends seemed to pop up and say nice things to me – I was dubbed “a silly sweetheart” by one who had not deigned to reply to my last seventeen text messages, and another had me in splits with her usual loony wit in the evening. I got late for dinner ordered at the office and found a friend waiting patiently for me with her own half-eaten meal, saying “I waited because you don’t look nice eating alone.” And when at the end of the day, one my best friends smiled and pointed out that I was looking rather nice in a shirt that I had feared had been on the bright side, my day was made.

I always keep pointing out that I do not have too many friends and yet, yesterday they all seemed to have come together by some coincidence to make sure that what would otherwise been a lousy day for me turned out to be a lovely one. And they did not actually do a lot – they just said a lot of lovely things and seemed to do so sincerely.

Words can be awesome. Didn’t the Bee Gees sing : “It’s only words, and words are all I have to take your heart away.”

All? I have got news for you – words are more than enough to take someone’s heart away.

Calling Hollywood?!

A friend and I spent yesterday evening walking around Connaught Place, trying to spot ourselves on a couple of maps on cellphones. I am sure half the people who saw us must have thought that we were off our noodles – two people staring intently at phones, miraculously avoiding potholes and traffic and muttering things like “It does not work here,” “You won’t believe this, it shows me in the river,” and, most often of all, “Hell! I cannot see myself. Can you see yourself?”

Being the creative (read “seriously nuts”) type, I wondered how it would have seemed if what we were doing had actually been used as a promo or trailer for a film. The results were pretty spectacular. Just read the following one sentence at a time in a deep voice with suitably dramatic music!

"Delhi. Connaught Place. 7:30 pm.

Two people. Two devices.

One application.

Their target: themselves.

On a map. On a phone.

An app will rise. A technology will fall.

And finding your way will never be the same again.

Nidhi Singal. Nimish Dubey.

Nokia N95. Nokia e61i.

GMM studios presents

A Mobile production.

A Cell film.

The Last Days of GPS

Search. And you will find yourself.

Coming soon to a device near you."

I think this has the makings of a blockbuster - it has gadgets, technology and of course, a helluva cast (two Nokia phones!!). Yes, you can contact me if you want to make the film. I have no objections to parting with a more detailed script for a million bucks. Or heck, even for a N95 8GB, although I would actually prefer an iPhone. Call me, Hollywood!

Someone out there...

It's strange when someone can sense the way you feel.
When you are upset. When you are sad.
When you are happy. Heck, when you are just plain irritated.

You don't have to say something or even speak a word.
They just sense it.
They even sense it over the phone.

It can be scary.

You see, someone out there knows exactly how I am feeling.
Someone can read me like a book.
Someone knows the way I think. Or react to a situation.
Someone out there knows that an entry to this blog will be posted even before I post it. (I am ready to bet on this!)

Scary, isn't it?

Well, not really. Because all this also means something else.

Someone out there is my friend.

To depend or not to depend...

It’s nice to be able to depend on people. You know, you have a shoulder to lean on (and cry on, when the water taps in the eyes get busy), an ear or two that will listen to you, and so on and so forth. There’s just a little problem with that scenario – what happens when the aforementioned shoulder, ear(s) and the person who possesses it decide to move away?

The champions of independence will always bleat about the need to “stand alone and do your own thing.” It is magnificent theory. And like all magnificent theory, utterly impossible to implement. You do end up depending on other people – and not always for friendship. It could be for your salary, a lift to work, or hell, even a cup of tea in the morning. And however trivial the thing you depend upon a person for may seem, it sure hurts when it is not around. I actually feel strange when my cat does not come running to greet me when I come home (she manages to miss me about three times a week, the ungrateful swine!).

There’s no harm in depending on others, but there often comes a stage when you start trying to compromise on other things just so that you can make sure that the person you depend upon does not go away. And that path, of course, leads to professional and personal hell. Don’t tell me about it – I have made enough trips on it to qualify as a tourist guide. All I can tell you about it is – it ain’t pleasant. There is only one thing that is worse – having no one to depend upon!

Depending on other people may be a necessity, but it can be dangerous especially when carried too far. It’s a two-edged sword and hell, it cuts both ways.

Now, excuse me while I go get some bandage – I think I am bleeding.

Yeh India ka cricket hai?

I have been seeing Reliance’s “Yeh Indian ka cricket hai” TV commercial featuring a number of kids, for a few days now. And I must admit that it evokes conflicting emotions in me. As a writer, I love the ad. It’s great copy. Even the presentation is excellent – much better than the asinine “we will play on buses in Mumbai traffic” ad from Nike. It’s great fun.

But as a cricket follower, I am a bit appalled. You see, the ad implies, that “India ka cricket” is basically all about winning. The copy implies that cricket in India involves:

1. Being delighted on getting a wicket, being abusive when the bowler gets hit

2. Celebrating if you take a catch, cursing if the catch is dropped

3. Showering wealth and praise on a team that wins, and derision and contempt on one that loses

You may accuse me of reading too much into an ad, but the fact is that all these sentiments are rather disturbing. They go against every concept of fair play and sportsman spirit. They are just not, well, cricket.

The ad in fact represents the new breed of the Indian cricket fan – one who does not really care about the nuances or spirit of the game but only cares about results. We saw this new fan on display yesterday in the India-Pakistan ODI at Jairpur when immaculate strokes by the opposition were greeted by stony silence, while outside edges from Indians that went for boundaries were wildly applauded. Of course, there was the usual chorus of boos when India lost the match. The same people would have celebrated wildly had India won. It’s interesting to note that a defeat for India always seems to result in anger, rather than sadness. The Indian cricket fan seems to have more in common with a Roman spectator watching the gladiators at the Circus Maximus, rather than a person who has simply come to enjoy a good game of cricket.

And then we accuse our cricketers of playing only for money! Well, of course they would. Who would want to play for a bunch of fans who are only fair-weather friends?

After all, yeh India ka cricket hai!

I ain’t changing!

Why do people yearn to change other people? Every darned day someone I barely know pops up advising me to change this and that to adjust better with the blasted changing world, where “change is the only constant” (yes, yes, excuse me while I yawn!). If I try to point out that...umm...I have not been doing too badly in my current form, I am told sagely that I have been lucky but that it might not last and should "learn to compromise" - after all, we have to live in this world! Yeah, big deal. As if we have a choice.

You see, I am not too sure if changing a person is actually a good thing. Because no matter how much you tweak the exterior, most people will inherently remain the same. They will only tend to mask things that make others uncomfortable. Now, kick me if I sound silly, but I would rather be around someone who curses me to my face rather than does so behind my back. Good old Julius Caesar would not have had as big a shock when Brutus beaned him with a knife if he had known that his beloved Brute thought that he was a danger to Rome and would be eminently improved by Death. (and sure, he is an honourable man, and all that kind of rot!)

I have tried tinkering with my behaviour a bit (generally broadcasting it loud and clear over my blogs) but frankly what it boils down to is – am I comfortable with it? The answer, as I get older, seems increasingly to be in the negative. This does not mean I want a licence to misbehave or act like a jerk. One does have to observe certain rules of decorum, but heck, there is a thing as going too far. Yes, I will dress formally if that be the dress code. Yes, I will attempt not to shout in public because it disturbs people. But I am deuced if I am going to sit and grin at some rectum-faced excreta in human shape and tell him he is a genius or write a bunch a lies just because the some fool has paid one of my editors a sackful of dollars for an ad.

What it boils down to is - I would rather be unpopular with others than with myself! Hey, I am only get to spend some time with other people, but I am stuck with me until I kick the bucket. I can quite sympathise with what Dorothy Parker meant when she wrote:

If I don't drive around the park,
I'm sure to make my mark.
If I'm in bed each night by ten,
I may get back my looks again.
If I abstain from fun and such,
I'll probably amount to much;
But I shall stay the way I am,
Because I do not give a damn.

Or when she said:

In youth, it was a way I had
To do my best to please,
And change, with every passing lad,
To suit his theories.
But now I know the things I know,
And I do the things I do;
And if you do not like me so,
To hell, my love, with you!

Quite!

The price my friends pay

They saying having a friend is a comfort. I am not sure that’s true in my case. I saw a pretty disgusting side of myself yesterday when I came close to cold-bloodedly ruining someone’s day because I was very annoyed with the person, notwithstanding his/her apologies.

Which made me in turn take a closer look at what exactly my friends have to put up with, as far as I am concerned: (Warning: this is not a pretty list)

1.Wild mood swings: I can be hilarious one moment, totally gloomy the next.
2.Non-stop hassling: I keep seeking attention. Crikey, I embarrass me sometimes
3.Lots of criticism: I am more comfortable with my friends. The result: they end up taking a lot of flak from me, mainly because they listen. I call it being fair, but I think it times degenerates into fault-finding on a major scale
4.Interference: I really think I should give those I like more breathing space and freedom. Why the blazes do I need to know who they are having lunch with?
5.Judgements: I have no idea why I keep passing judgement on what they do. I ain’t God, am I?
6.Self-pity: Am an expert here. Always keep moaning about the sins committed by the cruel, heartless world on Yours Truly
7.Over-sensitivity: I think I am one of those chaps who is always just a stone’s throw away from being offended. What’s worse, I tend to take offence without telling the person who’s annoyed me that I am offended with him/her, really complicating matters
8.Fishing for compliments: I think I do this a lot. Blame it on insecurity (Heck, even this blog entry seems to be begging for denials!)

(feel free to add to that list. I am sure there must be lots I have missed out! )

Yuk! I wonder why they put up with me. I sure as hell wouldn’t. Mind you, the fact that they do might indicate that I am doing a few things right.

Of course, that’s no justification for behaving like a prime donkey yesterday. I do hope I get forgiven.

The passion for improvement

It is fascinating to note how often people try to improve their fellow beings. I wish I had a penny for every time someone has said, “Oh so-and-so is a wonderful person but you know, his grammar sucks.” Of course, you can replace “grammar” with “fitness,” “attitude,” “driving,” and several other things. The principle is darn simple – a person may be very good but well, needs to work on a certain front.

Some might call this a rage for perfection. I think it is basically a waste of time and an attempt to undermine the poor chap’s confidence. Why not cherish what one has instead of trying to change what works? And especially on someone else’s recommendation? Believe me, if someone keeps telling you to change a certain part of yourself to achieve success, that person is more fond of what you could be than what you are, and therefore, deserves to be treated with caution or maybe even with some violence! If you need to change, you will know it and won't need someone else to tell you about it.

I mean, one of my oldest friends is a marvellous doctor, but keeps getting criticised for not being ambitious enough (“You should have had your own hospital by this age, instead of working for others, if you had more drive!”). He is more than content with his earnings, and likes to work with his patients and pursue for further studies – both of which he is doing. He should be content, and people should be proud of him but nah, they keep telling him that he is failure in life. There was a phase when he actually neglected his studies and tried to get investors for a health product company – he was no good at it and promptly went back to what he does best!

And then there is the person I call my best friend (although she turned down the designation, alas! But that’s another story – and maybe another blog entry) who is a perfectly decent professional but keeps getting criticised for her attitude. I mean, yeah, she could perhaps be a bit more patient and polite at times but hey, she is pretty good at her job. Unfortunately, everyone seems to be more obsessed with her “attitude” than what she does. Needless to say, she is pretty upset and ironically, this sometimes does affect her motivation to work – the one thing she is very good at!

And of course, there is the little matter of Yours Truly who has been accused of not being aggressive enough, being too meek, too quiet, too shy...I will compile a list some other day! And while I did get severely rattled at one stage, I think I have more or less worked out that I should stick to doing what one is good at rather than trying out stuff that I am uncomfortable with. I am never going to be a party animal, but heck, I think just about pass muster with a pen in my hand! It might take more time to get information by smiling politely at someone rude but that is easier for me to do than scream back at the blighter!

It’s all very well to try and improve. Heck, one should try to iron out one’s rough spots (the Lord knows we have stacks of them) but should we do so if it distracts us from the things that we do well? I am reminded of one of my favourite cricketers, David Gower, who made batting look like poetry. He was forever accused of being too “casual” and “irresponsible” because he did not practice often and well, liked to be out and about town. He refused to change, in spite of being mistreated by the team management. By the time he retired, he had scored more runs than anyone else for England.

I rest my case!

Ah! The joys of neglect!

Sometimes you get the feeling that your friends are doing their best to infuriate you. It could take various forms, from casual to pretty obvious (or, make that ‘not at all pretty’ obvious) neglect.

And of course, you don’t have the foggiest notion what you have done to deserve to be treated that something the cat brought in.

What the blazes do the chumps hope to achieve through this? Honestly, I don’t have the foggiest notion. It is plain bad manners and a pretty poor advertisement for themselves. Perhaps they want to be seen as less than perfect – weird!

Ah, no prizes for guessing that I am getting the “you know that in terms of importance, you rank pretty low in my personal esteem rankings” from one of my friends. And to be honest, I am torn between the wish to give her a size 10 boot on the seat of her trousers or to just burst out laughing. Being inclined towards non-violence – officially because I am a fan of Gandhi, really because I don’t do well in fights – I am currently inclining towards the latter option.

And heck, all said and done, she is a friend. Kicking friends with size 10 boots is not a good idea. Generally.

Will I change my mind? Uh-huh! Watch this space, fellas! I can only laugh for so long. It might be kicking time soon!

Spooked by a book!

One often tries modelling oneself on leading characters of the books one reads. The lord knows that I have at different times tried to assume the airs and manners of Sir Launcelot, Psmith and Lord Peter Wimsey. I have failed spectacularly, of course, but that’s another story.

But what on earth do you do when you come across a character in a book who is just like you? Well, the person who recommended the book did say that the lead character bore some similarity to me and warned me not to identify too closely with the chap, but hell, obeying that has been tough.

I mean, apart from the fact that the lad happens to be rather handsome, likes his (sadly expired) dad and is a good baseball player, he seems remarkably like me (I forgot to add, he does not read too much either!) . He roots thoroughly for the underdog, has a keen sense of right and wrong, seems hyper-sensitive, lives with his mum, has not exactly been a winner with the ladies and has a colossal ego! And yikes, he is even the same age as me – a masterly thirty six. He also has the same number of eyes, arms, legs, ears and nostrils as me! Alas, he does seem in better shape and has more cranial fungus than Yours Truly but those are minor matters.

I was well and truly spooked. And some of my assumptions about myself took a bit of a beating too.

Needless to say, I am doing a serious rethink on whether I have as many screws loose as this feller did. Will keep you posted on progress on that front.

Just in case you are curious, the chap ends up married to a wonderful lady (the heroines are always pretty, dash it!), conquers his weaknesses and, while doing all that, manages to play a major role in having his best friend reduced to a crisp!

Hmmm....some of that I would not mind!

(No, I ain’t telling you the name of the book.)

A fraternal questionnaire

How do you tell someone that they mean the world to you?

How do you tell them that you feel comfortable when they are around? Even if you don't say so?

That the world seems a much better place when they put in an appearance?

That you can talk to them of just about anything without feeling self-conscious? (except this, of course)

That you want them to know whenever something good happens to you, because you know they care?

That you want them to notice you when you are annoyed or feeling depressed – because you want them to be concerned and cheer you up?

That you feel terribly possessive of them at times and feel just as terrible for feeling that way? (For, perhaps you have no right to be so.)

How do you tell someone all this, without appearing to be a sentimental idiot, a horribly jealous blighter or an emotional moron?

How do you tell someone that he or she is your best friend? And that the appointment comes with no medals or decorations but just a lot of headaches because you are going to bug him or her at the first excuse?

Do you need to tell them at all? (heck, if not, then how on earth will they know?)

Let me know if you have the answers.

All mixed up!

How often does one feel delighted and sad at the same time? Well, I felt both for a short while earlier today. A friend of mine might finally be getting her chance to go abroad and settle there.

That is terrific because it is something she has been planning to do for a while.

Of course, on the flip side, it means that I will not be seeing her ever again once she does go. And that is not exactly the best thing I have heard all year!

All of which translates into a rather complicated mathematical equation:

Fifty per cent of me is happy for her.

Twenty five per cent of me is sad for me.

Fifteen per cent of me is rather proud of the fifty per cent that is happy for her, as it shows I place my friend’s happiness above my own grief.

Ten per cent of me thinks that the fifteen per cent bit is a pompous idiot that is trying to appear noble, while actually being a selfish dolt.

And all that adds up to: a rather confused individual!

Boy, Kipling sure knew what he was talking about when he advised people to “Meet with triumph and disaster, And treat those two impostors just the same.” You said it, Rudy!

About a friend

It’s a strange friendship.

Logically, we should not really be friends. It’s not as if we share a sackful of interests. In fact, we differ on a lot of things. And although we have known each other for almost a decade now, we have met but a handful of times, except for a short period when we were working together.

In fact, we have been out of touch for long periods of time – sometimes not talking for an entire year. Mind you, it never got more than a year, because I always remembered to call on her birthday.

And yet, I think we are good friends. Even though she almost always forgets my birthday.

I think it is mainly because of her. She believes she has a bit of a temper but somehow has never lost it with me. And when I do call, she generally manages to get to the phone and carry on a conversation in between doing just about every chore imaginable – from cooking to washing to the Lord alone knows what!

We talk of all kinds of things – films, people who propose (and do not propose) matrimony, work (yes, we work in totally different places but still talk about work), music and well, we talk a lot about me. Because I almost always turn to her when I am feeling low. I am sure she gets depressed too, but she somehow never seems to talk about that – and she has had more than her share of problems.

I once pointed out that it was not fair. I mean, I always ended up going to her with my troubles. What did that make me?

And she said: “It makes you my friend.”

You know, I feel like putting that in my Resume´.

The sound of silence

Sometimes you don’t want to talk.

It happened to one of my friends yesterday. Extremely upset about something that had been said to her (by me? I wonder...), she had just wanted to be left alone, preferring her own company. She shook her head determinedly, blinking back tears (she will deny their existence, of course) when I offered to sit with her for a while.

She didn’t want to talk at that time. Though the Lord alone knows what we could have talked about – what can you say to a dear one who is one the verge of tears but is determined not to weep in front of you?

Sometimes words are not enough.

I met her again today and she was noticeably quieter. We chattered a bit of this and that. Exchanged notes about friends who somehow never kept in touch and walked down to a cinema hall where she had to meet someone.

The person she had to meet was late. So we just stood there. It was kind of strange. We were watching the traffic, watching people leap in and out of buses, grinning at careless motorists getting booked by the police.

And not saying a word.

It was almost a while before she noticed the silence and said, “Why are we not talking?”

I replied, without really thinking, “We don’t need to.”

And it was true. We just stood there, watching the traffic. A couple of friends on an October night. Not speaking much. And yet, at least in my case, just happy to be near someone who cared. Honestly, I don’t think she was unhappy either.

Sometimes you don’t need to talk.

Highly ‘effect’ive advice!

“Our presence should not affect you.”

Those were the words of wisdom that a friend mailed me when I was feeling a bit low because someone I rather liked was going away.

Now, that’s interesting! I mean, basically it implies that one should not be affected by other people. Sounds wonderful on paper. And it would yield some wonderful results. Just consider what would happen if I did not let others affect me:

1. I would not be bothered by financial matters. Hey, I am a professional and I get paid by others. I cannot let them affect me, right? Even if they pay me peanuts or not pay me at all!

2. I would become extremely popular with criminals, because I would cheerfully give them all my money. You see, I cannot let them affect me.

3. I would be a joy to work with. Colleagues could do just about everything or anything and I would just smile – cannot let them affect me.

4. I would become self-dependent. Because all my friends would dump me – after all, who wants to keep in touch with someone who is not affected by you and is not concerned whether you live or die?

5. I would become a perfect model of patience. Nothing would affect me at all.

Sounds pretty good, no?

Incidentally, I forgot the best point of all – if I did not let others affect me, I would have a much better chance of meeting God. Because you see, I would need to be dead to let others – specially those I like – not affect me.

Nice advice, luv! But know something? I am not going to follow it. You will have just have to put up with affecting me for some time!

And I am not complaining.

Thanks, fellas!

Take it from me - seeing your mum faint and fall off a chair is not the best way to start a morning. Well, that’s how my day got underway yesterday and believe me, the sight of my mum’s bleeding face did not improve matters. Fortunately, she had improved considerably by the end of the day. My uncle (her younger brother) had come over to hold the fort and things seemed to be drifting back to normal.

I was honestly a mess myself in the morning. And while my mum’s feeling better did a lot to improve my own state, so did the efforts of a number of others, who made their presence felt in the nicest way possible. To them goes my sincere gratitude.

So, without further ado, here is my vote of thanks to the following (in no particular order):

• Donna Jane Clark: For telling me to keep calm, while seeming rather flustered herself. It worked, you know! I calmed down in no time at all. And for calling me time and again to check if I was OK and for advising me on how to cook khichri. And she says she does not know what to say to people!

• Ruchi Hajela: For offering to come down and help and not letting a dwindling mobile balance stop her from calling me up twice - once to advise me to give mum lots of coffee, and the next time to tell me not to. As if that were not enough, she called Rajat too and asked him to come down and visit me. That busted her balance, I reckon. Owe you one, little lady.

• Rajat Agrawal: For offering to come down and help, no questions asked, even before I had told him about mum. Does it get better than this?

• Nidhi Singal: For patiently enduring hours of editing by me over the phone, in spite of not having the smoothest day herself. And for insisting I stay home and bravely offering to do the editing herself. Finally, for looking genuinely pleased when I did drop in for an hour late in the day.

• Pranav Kumar Singh: For six words : “if you need anything, tell me.” I will, believe me.

• Anannya Nath: For advising me to give mum Tomato or Sweet Corn Soup. Unfortunately she hates both, but the sentiment was appreciated.

• Reshma Sanyal: For ordering me to get a grip and ‘take care of the sweet thing.’ Aapka hukum sar aankhon pe, madam!

• Kalpana Sharma and Preethi Jayapathi: For expressing concern and doing something that they had not done for MONTHS – call me. I was not able to take either of their calls but they proved that out of sight was not out of mind for them. Mind you, I am going to go back to sulking about why they don’t call me in a few days!

• Someone I work with who I unfortunately cannot name: For NOT calling. I would not have been able to tolerate any arrant and idiotic nonsense today!

Thanks, fellas. You were awesome. Who says being an only child is lonely?

I saw your face in a crowded place...

I saw her a few days ago.

She was one of my closest friends. Someone I had known for more than two years. And someone I respected as a professional and a person. At one time, there was seldom a day that passed without us swapping mails or messages or yakking on the phone on just about every subject under the sun.

I have not talked to her for almost four months now. Yeah, we swap the occasional message. And sometimes when she is online, she notices me. She keeps saying we will meet some day to catch up.

We haven’t caught up since May. She is a busy person. At least for me. She does seem to be able to meet other people. Am I jealous? I have no idea. I just know it hurts. She was my friend, you know.

And there she was, a few feet from me. Walking in that style she has when she is alone – staring mainly at the road and occasionally looking up and from side to side. She had not changed much in five months – a bit tired, a bit less cheerful, maybe. She did not notice me – she was too intent on walking.

I pulled out my phone and was about to dial her number. To tell her to stop and say “hi!”.To say just how amazing it was to see her after all this time. And of course, to ask her why she looked so tense.

And then I stopped.

This was a person I had once called my closest friend It was also the person who never seemed to have time for me since May. What would be served by calling her? Maybe we would chat for a few minutes, laugh a bit. And then she would go back to being busy for another...four months, or would it be longer this time?

So there I stood like a fool, within shouting distance from one of the people I had been dreadfully fond of, clutching a phone that had her number open on it. I could not bring myself to hit the ‘dial’ button.

I just stood and watched her until she passed out of sight. Then I quietly put the phone back in my pocket, fighting an absurdly childish urge to sit down and burst into tears.

Perhaps this is what James Blunt meant when he sang:

“I saw your face in a crowded place,

And I don’t know what to do.”

Which, of course, went on to become my status message a few days later.

Do I hate her? I don’t think I do. And I think she does not mind me either. In fact, in some strange way, I think she likes me. We are always very pleasant to each other when we do swap mails or messages. She just does not have time for me.

You know, there’s a bit of me that hopes that she will finally take some time out. Some day. To see me. To just talk about everything under the sun. Like we used to.

And there’s a lot of me that knows that that won’t happen. Heck, the way things are going, perhaps we will never meet again. We might bump into each other some time, but that will be more by accident than design.

And maybe, that’s for the best.

After all, Blunt’s song does end:

“But it's time to face the truth,
I will never be with you.”

All's well that ends well :)

The last few days have been pretty hectic. Lots of things happened, out of which the most significant event has been a switch in job.

I finally quit an organisation that I had been working with for over two and a half years. What has been most eventful about this career move wasn't the move itself but the events that preceded it. After periods of discussions, arguments followed by periods of silence from some of the people I had worked closely with I was losing some enthusiasm. I did take (or tried to take) all that in good spirit but somewhere I wanted things to be alright before I moved on.

So, just a day before my last day (September 7) at this organisation I learnt that a farewell dinner was being organised for me. Frankly, that lifted my spirits like nothing else. However, there were some issues like some people not wanting to turn up as they had planned something else for the evening and that I had an arguent with someone I respect most of the time etc and these did disappoint me. Anyway...

The next day, things weren't any better. By evening, I had already had enough of people and a farewell dinner didn't seem anything more than a formality - I just didn't want to attend it. I can't even remember now or rather don't wnat to remember whatever happened after that but I landed at te venue with a former colleague (whose farewell was also happening with mine) and a few othrs. The person I had fought with also landed at the venue. The colleague whose priority certainly wasn't that farewell till a day before also managed to come. And most of all, I did get back on talking terms with someone who hadn stopped speaking to me ever since I had announced about quitting.

By the end of it all, it all felt nice. I even got an iPod shuffle which till date is giving me trouble :P But, it (a gift) certainly wasn't expected.

I felt nice by the effort everyone put up to just be there. I felt nice about the shuffle :D I felt nice that things were okay. I felt nice that I was no longer hating people.

I just felt nice :)

September 7, 2007 - Happy happy :)

Down two friends and a hero

It’s been a strange kind of week. One of my heroes, Anita Roddick, passed away. And I also decided to finally give up on two people who had been rather close to me in recent times. Neither knows it yet – there has been no screaming or howling or any major show of temper – but I guess each will figure it out in due course.

A number of people have told me that friendship is basically about being comfortable in another person’s company. It’s about being able to have a coffee or meal together. Or having a shoulder to cry on when you feel low.

It is that. But for me, it is just a bit more.

It is a sharing of values, not just sentiment. A friend of mine represents a bit of me wherever he or she goes. In a manner of speaking, your friend is your ambassador, representing what you believe in. It is not just a matter of being able to sit together and talk for hours, although that does help. It is a matter of empathy – of knowing exactly what a person will, or should, do. Of knowing what is dear to a person. Of being aware that what you do can hurt another person.

Some people say that friends should not judge each other. I disagree. No one is above judgement. And certainly not those closest to me.

I think I can still – and I will, in all probability – talk to both of them, and in very pleasant terms too. But well, they are going to be pleasant acquaintances rather than friends. Because both have (deliberately or inadvertently) managed to do things that I think are dishonourable, dishonest and petty.

To be honest, I think they will be better off without me. Who wants to be saddled with a hypersensitive, touchy person who expects the world from them?

As for me, my status message this week said it all: I am down two friends and a hero. And I am not looking for replacements.

Mind you, they would be welcome, if they do turn up. It can get a trifle lonely sometimes.

My hero died

Anita Roddick died earlier today.

She was someone I believed in. A lady who did everything her way. A lady who turned the cosmetic industry upside down.

She believed in fair play and honesty. She started a company, the Body Shop, that laid more stress on products than on packaging. A company that sold cosmetics not by making consumers worry about their looks but by stressing the benefits of its products. A company that did not need an advertising campaign for a long time.

She belonged to the cosmetic industry. But spoke out against the big companies, accusing them of making women insecure about their looks and bodies. She told ageing women to be proud of their wrinkles. She pointed out that the supermodels who advertised products were not representative of the world’s female population.

She was an entrepreneur. But was at the forefront of protests against globalisation, saying it was resulting in the exploitation of the poor. She braved police attacks during G8 summits as she stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her friends, demanding a better deal for the underprivileged.

She made me believe that not all businesses were about making money. Or about deceiving customers. She made me believe that one could be honest and still run a profitable business. She made me believe that at least some businesspeople were more worried about the state of the world than that of the stock market.

She was my hero. And now she is dead. At 64.

Correction: she is my hero. Still.

I am not looking for a replacement.

Rest in peace, Dame Roddick.

You will be in my heart. Always.

...And another ad!

A lady of contrasts.

Likes her food. Is on a diet.

Likes chocolate. Avoids chocolate. (The diet, remember?)

Smiles when she is happy. Smiles when she is sad.

Manages to make rude words beginning with 'f' sound polite.

Always gets called for annoying meetings just as she is setting out for home.

Always attends meetings.

Should switch off her handset. Never switches off her handset.

Turns her head towards the person she talks to.

Turns heads. Period.

Unfailingly polite. Even when angry.

Pallak Arora.

TV Wiz. Hindi mag editor. Laptop lugger. Creative thinker.

Patience on a monument. Pleasantness personified. My (Mobile) Fair Lady.

Her husband thinks she needs to lose weight.

We think he needs to get his eyes checked.

For two rather depressed ladies

There are few sights as depressing as seeing two normally cheerful people in a state of acute depression. Well, that is exactly what I witnessed yesterday. Two friends of mine – one with the most senseless sense of humour I have ever had the privilege to know, another with a smile that made light bulbs seem dull – sat on the stairs of the Metro station in Connaught Place, with faces so long that one could have used them to measure cloth in store!

The reason – it had been a depressing day at work. A senior person had been less than civil in front of one of them and the other had just realised that she might be dealt a particularly unpleasant blow by an organisation that she had served rather selflessly for more than two years. The depression soon assumed global dimensions and both started wondering at just how awful the world is.

Being more of an author than a master conversationist, there was little I could do to make them feel better at that time. But well, perhaps I could have told them:

“It is a tough world out there, ladies. And it ain't pretty.

It is a world in which a madman invaded another country and authorised the killing of millions, while the rest of the world (including mera bharat mahaan) just sat and watched. It is a world in which a government could fall for signing a particular agreement but not for failing to close the gap between the rich and the poor. It is a world in which children who should in school beg on the streets and practice really old professions. It is a world in which people who try hard get the boot while those who sit on their posteriors get a[promotions.

But there are things that make a difference. There are still people who protest against an irresponsible government and media. There are people who still pause and help a blind person cross the street. Or get up to let the elderly take a seat in trains in buses. Or try to cover an event which they know will not get into print because their editor feels that it will offend advertisers.

Do they make a difference? Maybe they do. Maybe they don't. But they do their best. And by doing just that, save the world from being an utter disaster.

I remember once attending a lecture by Mr. Arun Shourie and his exhortation for honesty - “not just because it is the right thing. Not just because honesty is the best policy. But because if you are honest, there will be one less dishonest person in this utterly corrupt world.”

'Tis a world full of jerks of the worst order. Unfortunately, many of them are the top and influencing the fates of millions. But there are also a few good people around. They do try to make things better. And by their efforts, they give so many others reason to believe that one does not have to be morally bankrupt to succeed.

They may not make a difference in material terms. But in purely psychological terms, they move mountains. Because they reinstate one's faith in the essential goodness of humankind.

Just like both of you do.”

Hmmm...I wonder if that would have made them feel better? I will find out when they comment. Or when they laugh at me at work later today.

Heck, it would be worth it if it just gets them to laugh.

Ripping apart the cosmetics business

Anita Roddick, the founder of Body Shop, is one of my heroes. And this is mainly because unlike other businesspersons, she makes no false claims but calls a spade a spade. I am reading her autobiography “Body and Soul” and some of her revelations about the cosmetic industry are shocking to say the least.

She is particularly bitter about the way in which 'miracle beauty products' are being sold. She writes:

“The essential dilemma for the cosmetics industry can be easily explained. The big growth area is not in fragrance or make-up, but in skin care products, yet the simple truth is that such products can do nothing more than cleanse, polish and protect the skin and hair. That's it. Amen. End of story. There are no magic potions, no miracle cures, no rejuvenating creams. That is all hype and lies.”

And this is not a random claim. Roddick goes on to explain:

“The skin is made up of three layers – under the outer (the stratum corneum) is the epidermis, and under that lies the dermis, largely made up of collagen fibres, a fibrous protein which gives it support. When you age, these fibres are not replaced as rapidly and become damaged by the cumulative effect of sunlight, pollution, and an assortment of urban and environmental stresses. As a result, the dermis gets thinner and so the outer skin sags and wrinkles appear – in other words, you start to age visibly.

Some cosmetic companies endeavour to persuade you that they manufacture products that can supplement your skin' natural collagen supply, thus hitting the ageing process where it hurts.

No such luck...collagen molecules are simply too big to penetrate the outer layers of the skin...The plain truth is that no cosmetic product can prevent the ageing process. Nor, indeed, would one even be allowed under existing consumer legislation. Any product that could do that would not be a cosmetic, it would be a drug.”

But perhaps the most memorable lines of all are the ones in which she attacks her own industry for promoting insecurity among women:

“It is immoral to trade on fear. It is immoral constantly to make women feel dissatisfied with their bodies. It is immoral to deceive a customer by making miracle claims for a product. It is immoral to use a photograph of a glowing sixteen-year-old to sell a cream aimed at preventing wrinkles in a forty-year-old.”

Needless to say, the likes of Revlon and Ponds have been less than pleased with La Roddick. But that has not changed her in the least. She remains as outspoken as ever, backing up her claims with evidence that the cosmetic majors find hard to deny.

God bless her for that.

Randomness redefined

Old is gold
But new is diamond...
...and new and young is platinum


Is that an ad? Or a new phrase with deep philosophical meaning?? No, it's just one of the many random things that I keep muttering.
I come up with such moronic ideas whenever I am frustrated about not being able to file something (arghhhhhh)

The last few days :)

I have been extremely enthu about seeing our blog getting visitors over the last few days. Ironically, I have not been posting entries at all (probably that is the reason people have been dropping by). Thanks to Nimish's regular posts, faltoodiary has been active.

It's been an eternity since I last wrote something readable. And there have been reasons:

• one of the closest friend moved overseas and informed two days before leaving,
• change in job,
• death of a very close family member - caused due to the negligience of a hospital,
• a deadline which was deadlier than even death (as always)

... and lots of other things that I can't even recollect now.

All of these happened just one after the other and hence, there was no time to assimilate and to react to any one of them. Though emotionally, I have been oscillating between feeling relieved, to getting very angry, to being extremely excited and also suffering from extreme grief, followed by worrying for no cause (do notice that all emotions have been on extremes - and that's usual me. I am so glad I am not the same person 24x7).

Anyway, I am calm now and just hoping to write more. This is one space where there aren't any deadlines to meet so you can just write for writing's sake.

Cheers :)

Yippppppeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

100 visits for our blog - :) :D :) :) :D

Just an ad!

She is rather different.

Most people love their friends and hate their enemies.

She tries to be fair. Even to those she dislikes.

If she was Caesar, she would have said that Brutus stabbed him because he mistook him for an apple.

She quit a job. Before she found another.

Professional idiocy? Or the ability to walk away from what she does not like?

She took a new job without a pay hike.

Professional idiocy? Or a willingness to put work above remuneration?

She weeps. Sometimes.

But laughs more often. And makes others laugh too.

Writes about dull facts. Talks lots of witty nonsense.

Wants to read more. Does not get time.

Wants to see films. Leaves ‘Love Actually’ CD on her computer table.

Wants to be in Singapore. Lives in Delhi.

Ruchi Hajela.

Journalist. Colleague. Co-Blogger.

Bobby. Samay. Giggle Generator.

And most important of all.

Friend.

She smiled!

A smile is a wonderful thing.

Yesterday, I got back in touch with somebody I had been trying very hard to avoid for more than a month. We had been rather good friends, but certain issues had cropped up between us – more professional than personal. The result: I had gone off on a rather snooty high horse, pretending that she did not exist. I did acknowledge her mails and messages but did so in a rather cold tone, discouraging any further communication. I would see her on the chat but would not say a word.

Was I happy? The hell I was. I was miserable. Work hit a bad phase. I tried to keep myself busy but well, something was missing. Yesterday, I finally decided to drop her a few mails, just like I used to in the past. And she responded. We were both online for a while and chattered away amiably of this and that. Of course, we blamed each other for being out of touch.

And then she smiled.

Well, she did not really smile. She just put a smiley icon in her chat. But I realised that there is nothing – nothing! - quite like seeing someone you are immensely fond of smile at you. Even in a chat. All the trouble at work did not matter. The daft contract that a stupid client had handed to me did not matter. Who cared? She was smiling!

I know I will probably argue with her again. Something tells me that she will again do something that will break my heart or upset me. Or maybe this time, I will say something rude and she will do the walking away. And then we will once more go into this silent fencing routine - me sulking, she silent. And who knows, maybe next time no one will apologise and we will just go our separate ways with our memories of each other.

But until then, what the heck, I have plenty to be happy about.

You see, she smiled!

Some poverty line!

Twelve rupees a day.

Evidently, if you can earn that much in India, you are above the poverty line. I got the shock of my life when I discovered this in MJ Akbar's editorial in yesterday's Asian Age.

Let's see – twelve rupees a day. That makes it – about three hundred and sixty rupees a month. What is the bare essentials one needs for an existence – a roof over one's head, some food and clothing? Can one get all that in Rs. 360 per month?

Well, one must! Because if one is earning that much, one is above the poverty line! No wonder the Government claims that almost three-fourth of the country is above the poverty line. If you are earning Rs 13 per day, you cannot be poor. You may not be able to afford food, clothing or any kind of accommodation (heck, even a room in a slum in cities comes for more than Rs 12 a day). You may not have enough money be able to support a family, send your child to school or even afford a doctor when one of you falls ill. But hey, you are not poor if you are earning Rs. 13 per day.

Makes you wonder, doesn't it? With such a definition of poverty, who wants to be rich!?

Forget domination, just do your best!

The Times of India today came out with a full page ad asking its readers (of course, the term “us” is used throughout, indicating we are all one happy family) to “stop basking in our glorious past” and start “dominating today.” Of course, I could go on and rant about how disgraceful it is that the nation’s leading newspaper prefers to put an ad of its own initiative before the main news, but that is a theme that can be picked up on another day.

My main concern is with the words “dominate” and “lead,” both of which are used in the advertisement – incidentally, the initiative is called ‘Lead India.’ Both are perfectly legitimate words. And both sound wonderful and dramatic.

Both also have a hidden meaning. When you dominate, you dominate somebody. When you lead, you lead somebody. Both dominate and lead indicate the presence of a follower – a person who has to be led or dominated. To be ruled. We were dominated and led by the British for almost two centuries. Do we want to do the same thing now?

You can accuse me of being obsessed with semantics. Perhaps I am. But to be honest, I am not sure I want to dominate or lead. I am one of those who believes that leading is necessary only in times of crisis or panic. In normal day-to-day life, a person should be allowed to make his or her own choices.India does not need leaders. The lord knows we have had more than our fair share of them – some good, most abysmal. What India needs is equality – of opportunity, wealth, and justice.

I don’t want India to become a superpower. There is very little to be gained by becoming a superpower, apart from the option of forcing trade terms on weaker nations or invading them. What I want is a nation where children don’t beg on the streets. A nation where a policeman does not ask openly for a bribe to do (or not do) his duty. A nation where justice is dispensed in a fair manner to all. A nation in which everyone has access to good healthcare and education. I don't want great generals, I want a great army. I don't want a superstar captain, I want a great team!

You don’t need to "get up, stand up and be counted" to make a difference. You just need to do your best. To do your duty. Not as specified in a corporate or government manual, but your duty as a human being. This is, after all, the land of the Gita (which incidentally, was written in the same “glorious past” that the paper wants us to stop “basking in”) which told us - “do your duty and do not worry about rewards.”

Domination? Leadership? You can keep it. I would rather walk with someone than force him or her to follow a certain path. And I am not going to stop “basking in my glorious past” just because a publication that values an advertisement more than news tells me to!

A final note to TOI: ‘Domination’ is not the only word that begins with ‘do’. Some of the words that begin with those two letters are distinctly unpleasant – dope, doofus, doormat...

Does track record matter?

“Have you seen his/her track record?”

Those were the words that were offered by the head of an organisation as a rationale for the selection (and retention) of one of the most unprofessional people I have seen in recent times. The person had served in a number of very well-known organisations but still seemed to know appallingly little about the job, and worse, seemed more inclined to grab a pay cheque and run, rather than work.

Still, he/she had a good track record. Evidently, that gives one licence to do just about anything and get away with it. Because hey, look at their track record! Someone who has worked in such high-profile organisations cannot be an ass!

Is that so?

I would beg to differ. There is no organisation in the world that does not have its share of prime idiots. In fact, I would go so far as to say that a person who has worked in a smaller organisation is likely to be far more efficient or hard-working than one who has been in a high-profile organisation, simply because the former work so much harder. I have seen a team of three people generate far better content for a magazine than a team of about ten people working in a much bigger organisation. The reason? Well, the three worked much harder while eight of the ten in the other organisation were too busy avoiding work! And yet, if someone looks at their professional profiles, it is probable that the eight who did no work at all would be considered as having a better track record than the three who did.

If this is management, give me a break!

This is not to say that all those who work in well-known institutions are dumbos or all those who work in smaller ones are models of efficiency. All I want to say is that you cannot really judge a person solely by his or her track record. Actions always speak louder than words, especially those on your resume (heck, who writes anything bad in their resume, anyway?).

All of which reminds of a Hindi film in the 1980s called Jalwa in which Naseeruddin Shah plays the role of a police officer who has been taken off a sensitive case. When he objects, his senior tells him, “The new officer has more experience.” Naseer’s response: “Sir, insaan aur achaar mein kuchch to farak hota hai!” (Sir, there must be some difference between pickle and a human being!)

I rest my case. I have nothing against a good track record or stacks of experience. But I would trade them all for someone who is sincere and actually works, rather than pretends to.

David vs Goliath, October 29, 2000, Gaza

All your armies, All your fighters,
All your tanks and all your soldiers.
Against a boy holding a stone,
Standing there all alone.
In his eyes, I see the sun,
In his smile, I see the moon.
And I wonder, I only wonder.
Who is weak and who is strong,
Who is right and who is wrong.
And I wish, I only wish.
That the truth has a tongue.

(Poem by Qaseem Qaseem in tribute to Faris Odeh - the boy throwing the stone at the tank. For more on Faris Odeh, read the blog entry below. Picture taken from www.intifada.com)

When the odds are overwhelming...fight!

"It doesn't matter what you do, things won't change."

How often do we hear those words, advising us to just grin and bear something that is wrong simply because "the system is too corrupt," "no one really cares," and "what difference will it make?"

Similar words were perhaps said to twelve-year-old Faris Odeh on October 29, 2000, when Israeli tanks rolled into Gaza. He was forbidden to go out from his house because there was fighting outside. Bullets and shells were being fired. His father threatened to thrash him if he so much as stepped out of the house. His mother begged him not to go out.

Faris went out into the street. But he did not go unarmed. He went with all the weapons he could find. And when he came within range of the tanks, he unleashed them.

Faris Odeh threw a stone at a tank.

He threw a lump of stony earth against one of the most deadly fighting machines made on the earth. One that was made of several layers of reinforced steel and iron. One that had enough firepower to destroy his entire neighbourhood. Hoping to damage it with a stone was like hoping for an echo after dropping a rose petal from Mount Everest.

Still, Faris threw the stone. He could have stayed indoors like many other Palestinians. He could have shut the doors and windows and pretended nothing was wrong. Or maybe even wept silently in shame, and participated in a protest march on another day. Because no matter what he did, things would not change. Israel would not leave Palestine. The tanks would always be able to come and go as they wished.

But he didn't. The tank was on his land. And he would not tolerate its presence. So he went and fought with all he had – a little pile of stones.

He knew the odds. He knew he could not win. Still, he fought. He dared to light a candle in a whirlwind. Because anything – even certain death – was better than suffering in silence.

Cynics will point out that while Faris was brave, the stone he threw did not really make a difference. Israel is still in Palestine and can send in tanks whenever it wishes. They could not be more wrong.

By that one gesture – that one stone thrown at a tank – Faris inspired thousands of his countrymen. Rare is the house in Palestine today that does not have a picture of the twelve-year-old boy confronting a tank with a stone in his hand. He did not drive the tanks out of his land, but he gave his people reason to believe. And he showed the world that no matter what the odds, one can always fight.

The next time you feel something grossly unfair is happening, see if you can do something about it – sign a petition, send an application, donate some money, file a case in court...anything. And if someone tells you that it won't make a difference, just think about the Palestinian boy.

Whatever you do will have more chance of success than Faris Odeh had when he faced a tank with a pile of pebbles that day in Gaza!

(Faris Odeh was killed in Isreali gunfire ten days after the stone-throwing incident, and is revered to this day as a martyr of the Al Aqsa Intifada. Every year, Al Awda presents the Faris Odeh Activism Award to those who have stood up against injustice.)

Give up...move on...be happy :)

The title says it yet again (I realise I no longer enjoy reading or writing looooong stories and hence, would describe what's happening in my life in one liners). Well, this is going to be my style for the next few days till I really have many things to talk about.

The ‘win-win’ syndrome...and its pitfalls!

I was watching the ongoing India-England series when an advertisement grabbed my attention. It was Shah Rukh Khan (complete with overgrown cranial fungus) bleating about how the team was focused on ‘jeet, jeet aur sirf jeet’ (victory, victory and only victory). It was all part of the promotion of a film titled - decidedly eccentrically- “Chake De India” (yes, it rhymes with something rather coarse but then hey, the director was asking for it when he chose the title)

But it set my rather ‘umble mind ticking – is focusing on victory enough? On paper, that sounds good. After all, winning is rather important – to the victor go the spoils and all that sort of rot. And if one can focus on victory, surely success is assured.

Uh-huh. Neat. There’s just one teeny little problem.

Your opponent (s).

No matter how much you prepare to pulverise him, her or it. No matter how determined you are to win, the person or team standing in your way will always have a chance to stop you. All you can do is your best. And hope that it is enough. Not doing your best – now, that is criminal. And focusing purely on victory can actually take attention away from doing your best. Quite simply because sometimes you come out on top even though you know that you did not really do your best. If you are focusing on victory, you will feel that you have achieved your objective and celebrate, but the truth will be that you just got lucky and need to work harder.

All of which makes me realise that Baron Pierre be Coubertin (the lad credited with being the father of the modern Olympic Games) got it right when he said:

“The important thing in life is not victory but combat; it is not to have vanquished but to have fought well.”

Another problem about the winning-is-all-that-matters attitude is that it tends to make one focus on oneself and not accord any respect to one’s opponent. These days, it is common to one see people snarling at those they assume are their rivals, whether in sport or romance or profession! A bit of respect would surely not hurt. As one of the most memorable pieces of advertising messages about the Olympics said:

"You are my adversary, you are not my enemy.
For your existence gives me strength,
Your will gives me courage,
Your spirit ennobles me;
Though I aim to defeat you,
Should I succeed, I won't humiliate you.
Instead, I would honour you,
For without you, I would be a lesser man."

And do not give me that rot about ‘no one remembers losers.’ What about Leonidas of Sparta and his stand at Thermopylae? What about Rana Pratap at Haldighati? What about the Rani of Jhansi?

It’s not all about winning. Believe me.

To pee or not to pee: that is the question

The title says it all.

Saturday morning at work - with a couple of stories yet to be filed, a few more pages yet to be designed and a few more complaints yet to be heard, the question in title seems far important at the moment than anything else. After all, Saturday is the day when our office building would not get any water supply :P

Well, I got to know that this is going to be dry Saturday yesterday itself when I read a notice put up next to the lifts. Later on during the day, a colleague of mine jumped into office saying "you know there wouldn't be any water tomorrow"!!!

Anyway, I had almost forgotten about it until today morning while on my way to office I got an SMS from another colleague wishing me "a lovely day at Sahara", no water at Sahara - the desert and no water here. What a parallel, I must say. Just made my day aah, so amazing. Anyway, it has just been a few hours since I have landed in office and there are a couple of more hours to go. The only compensation is that you aren't the only one here.

My Idea of Perfect Love

Everyone has his or her own notion of perfect love. Well, mine was the one between Modesty Blaise and Willie Garvin – the duo from Peter O’Donnell’s Modesty Blaise series.

They were not married. They did not make any romantic declarations. Nor do anything remotely romantic – no candlelight dinners, no flowers, no passionate kisses, no twisting in the sheets....nix!

No, they were just there for each other. Time and time again. Whether it was getting the other out of a spot of trouble, tending to a wound, or just terminating the lives of some ladies (and many gentlemen) who had dared harm one of them. They thought on the same lines, quite often not even needing to talk to communicate – a look sufficed. It was a relationship that very few people (if any at all) understood. They were not lovers in the strictest sense of the word, but were closer than perhaps two lovers ever could be. To her, he was “Willie, love” and to him, she was always “Princess.”

Willie Garvin perhaps summed it up best in the first book of the series (Modesty Blaise) when he was asked if he did not feel bad about seeing Modesty Blaise in the arms of another man:

“I’m a different page of the book to Hagan (Modesty’s lover at that time).But if you come right down to it, I bet he’d rather be where I am than where is.”

Aye, that’s love all right. In my book, that is.

Some people want to be Prince Charming. Others aspire to be Casanovas. Still others dream of being tall, dark and handsome (and these days, utterly unshaven) hunks.

Me? I would be content to be someone’s Willie Garvin.

Friends :)

Anu (Model, Varno Ma, Mudit's darling - I run out of the names we call her), Me, Rohit, Mudit

(From left to right)

Friends :)

Donny, me, Alex, Isha and Buddha

(From left to right)

The Personal vs Professional Debate

Should one judge a friend by what he or she does as a professional? It is a question that has puzzled me for years. I really envy the people who go about claiming that they keep professional and personal issues apart. For my part, I have failed spectacularly in doing so.

This has been particularly the case over the past few months. My relationship with some of my closest friends has been strained purely because of what they did on a professional level – things which ranged from rank insensitivity to grossly irresponsible behaviour. My other friends told me that I was being stupid and that I should not really worry about what a person does as long as it does not affect my personal relationship with him/her. But is that really possible?

Two of the foundations of friendship are trust and mutual respect. How on earth does one respect someone who goes about doing something that might harm other people or even society in general. Yes, one can excuse such extreme behaviour if the person involved had no other choice – one has, after all, to survive. But if the person does something wrong cold-bloodedly and what’s worse, thinks that he/she has actually done the right thing...well, that’s different, isn’t it?

Of course, there have been the usual accusations against me – who am I to judge others, especially my friends; why don’t I trust my friends blindly; why should I worry about what my friends do as long as it does not affect me, etc. To all this, there’s a straightforward answer – I love my friends, but I also detest anything that I feel is fundamentally wrong. And truth be told, I would find it very difficult to like somebody who I felt was involved in something that harmed others. Call it an exaggerated sense of honour, call it being holier-than-thou, or what you will; it is just the way I am. For me, personal and professional lives can never be separated because, hey, they involve the same person. How on earth can you like someone who has a very nice nature and is impeccably behaved, but files false reports in publications without any qualms?

Yes, I do love my friends, but I do not subscribe to the ‘love is blind’ doctrine. I prefer to keep my eyes open, thank you very much. And I would rather have a few honest acquaintances around me than a bunch of loyal but professionally dishonest friends.

“I am good!” Duh...

“Hi! How are you? I am good!”

I wish I had a penny for every time I have heard that daft bit of conversation. The standard response to how one was used to be “I am fine,” but for some reason, it has since graduated to “I am good.” Now, the fact is that while one of the dictionary meanings of “fine” is “in good health and feeling well,” “good” has no such meaning. In fact, when you say a person is “good,” you seldom mean that he or she is in good health. You are more likely to be referring to his or her character or nature or their ability in a particular skill.

So, why the blazes do so many people bleat “I am good,” when asked about the state of their health? What do they say when they are ill? “Hi! I am bad”?

I know the defenders of modern speech will be up in arms and will holler that I am raising a non-issue and what one says matters little as long as the meaning is conveyed. And that is a fair point, especially when one is dealing with complex terms and jargon, but I fail to see how saying “I am good” is more convenient than saying “I am fine” - the latter is in fact a shorter sentence! “I am good” reeks more of a statement of character than of health.

Of course, I am sure that, stupid and irrelevant as it is, it will continue to grow in usage. Maybe a year from now, we will hear “How are you? I am excellent!”

Trust us to muck up a simple language!

Hoping for a Good Year

I tend to consider my birthday as a New Year’s Day (hell, my year begins on that day!) and so, after I had counted presents (and told seven different friends how it felt to be 36) , I sat down and did something that I have done religiously for more than a dozen years now – went through the twelve months that had just passed, searching for highs and lows and trying to see if there were any lessons to be learnt.

They were perhaps among the most event-filled months I have lived in for a while. In purely emotional terms, this was a year I would love to forget. In October 2006, I was very close to four people. By July 2007, I could not trust any of them (although I remain on talking terms with three). I also ended up reducing my involvement in an organisation to which I owed a lot and one that I never thought I would leave. Twelve months is a long time.

Of course, there were positives. I think I did some of my best writing (which is not saying much, really) in the January-July 2007 period. I read a lot, spent more time with my friends, made a few new friends, and rediscovered some old ones. I also rediscovered my love for music – something I had lost way back in 1999.

And there were quite a few lessons to be learned too. A friend said I need to be more assertive and should seek, rather than avoid, confrontation. Another says I should also stop being shy and self-conscious. A third suggests that I stop under-rating my work and stop being ‘such a modest blighter.’ Other suggestions included thinking less, partying more, reading less, developing a taste for alcohol...feel free to add to the list. Just remember that it is rather difficult for a 36-year-old to change.

Not surprisingly, all the turmoil of the past few months has made me steer clear of making any resolutions for my forthcoming year. Yes, there are things I would like to do and words I would like to say, or like to hear others say. Most of all, I would perhaps like to be able to trust one person the way I trusted four barely a few months ago. Will it happen? I don’t really know. And to be honest, I am not too optimistic. But while I can make no resolutions, I can perhaps hope.

Twelve months, after all, is a long time.