The Year : 2009

As the calendar year reaches its climax, I look back to remember the year that was.

Joy. Anxiety. Restlessness. Boredom. Excitement. Longing. Belonging. Transition. Sorrow. Guilt. Depression. Misery. Instability. Frustration. Anger. Pain. Inaction. Upheaval. Support. Nonchalance. Arrogance. Thought. Inspiration. 

This year was not my best. 

Cyber: My soul-brother
Harvey-Dent: My fellow dreamer
Kvs: My ever-present wall
A: My Best friend
Lovely Superstar: My inspiration
Miss Sunshine: My counselor in this unforgiving world
Quack: My roots
Miss Paranoia: My daily dose of jokes and fights
F: My biggest fan

For the undying love and support,

Thank You

26-11: Bullets, Love & Life

There was something different about the day. It started off with conversation and no sleep, with an ‘enigmatic connection’. It was to be a day of records, with one getting created right as the day started. A long while later, when I often wake up to get ready for work, I decided to go to sleep instead. Groggy and sleep-deprived, I had decided to stay at home and catch up on much needed mid-week rest during the day.

As the day gave way to dusk, we decided on a plan for the evening. Shiro was my place of choice, but she just wouldn't acknowledge the existence of a world outside South-Bombay. And there it was, the decision made. Bootleggers in Colaba.

Not quite familiar with the name, I Just-Dialled it up and found out that the address was somewhat familiar. 4 Pasta Lane, it said. Cabbing it from Churchgate, I reached there exactly at 1945, as promised. And she was late, as I’d presupposed. My mood was dampened by the half-hour wait outside. As I walked aimlessly outside the place, smoking away, I noticed that the street housed some apartment blocks, prominent of which was one that was called Nariman House, which I came to know of, a while later.

It was a rebranding exercise that had left this place, earlier known as “Hawaiian Shack”, rechristened as something a little more unique, considering that it was obviously overshadowed by its namesake at Bandra. After a few complimentary Bailey’s shots and a couple of rounds of wine, the colleague and friend that accompanied us were ready to leave.

We mulled the idea of heading to another place after dinner, with the Hilton on top of my list. Bootleggers had proved to be a damp squib, and even the promised Karaoke hadn’t happened.

As we paid the bill and left, there was a sudden loud blast that took us by surprise outside, as she let out a loud shriek. Laughter ensued, as we just discarded the sound as firecrackers, attributing it to the weddings season. And then another went off. And a barrage of what seemed like smaller firecrackers in quick succession. As a crowd gathered 10 meters away, we were not quite sure of what was going on. Something was amiss. People were running helter-skelter and motioning for others to move away. We just stood at the sidewalk, as I suddenly became aware that the road was completely devoid of any vehicles. People were gathering around from everywhere, and this was obviously not a safe place for any women, as the JW incident just flashed by my mind.

And before we knew it, we just watched as a mob of

more than 20 locals pounced on a foreign national in the middle of the road. Even as a beat constable tried to separate the mob from the man with his lathi to help him, things were getting heated up. Just a minute later, an obviously injured man from somewhere else was being carried by 4 men into a taxi, perhaps to a hospital. Murmurs of gang-wars were starting to surface amongst the crowd of bystanders.

I took out my cellphone camera to capture the scenes, but was soon stopped by people around. “Damn it”, I remarked aloud as I reasoned to them that these are not really everyday occurrences. We briskly walked up to an eatery up the road, called Theobroma. We’d hardly ordered our brownies and cheese cakes, when we started getting calls from people informing us that there’s been some firing at Leopold’s. In hindsight, moving up Causeway to within 50 meters of Leopold’s now seemed like a terrible decision. And there was suddenly a lot of commotion outside as we heard what was unmistakeably, an automatic weapon going off!

The shutters were downed from the outside by the security guard and we decided to stay indoors till we received further information. The next hour or so went in answering calls from loved ones and explaining to them that we were indeed safe. The staff at the diner led us out thru the back exit which led to a Parsee housing society. Now cognizant of the fact that the entire city was rocked by blasts, firing and other nefarious activity, we decided to stick around as no cabs could be traced. Only the occasional police patrol. Some concerned residents brought us water and biscuits as we sat at the stone slabs around a park and waited. We heard rumours that the terrorists were hurling grenades into housing colonies as well, and nobody dared question. Going back home would not be an option tonight, we’d known.

After a while spent sitting around on benches in the plush neighbourhood, we proceeded to one of my colleagues’ distant acquaintance’s apartment. The biggest explosion till then suddenly sent shock-waves ripping throughout; as we heard the Taj’s dome blast from what was easily a half-kilometer away. The lights of every window at the housing colony went on, one after another after another, as people were rudely awakened from their sleep.

An eventful day and night ended with no sleep again as we stayed up another night.

It was a day like no other, a date that will reside in my memory for the rest of my life, as it was more exciting and one-of-a-kind than any I could ever plan. It brought me the knowledge that there are many that care enough to find out if I’m safe even if it is in the middle of the night, and also the unflattering knowledge that there are some that I’d considered dear that don’t even call, perhaps representative of their indifference to whether I live or die…

Chaos and anarchy are often thought to bring about suffering and misery. A life of uncertainty, a life where one cannot be sure of returning home safely at night; A life when one may just be seeing loved ones for the last time. Where life is frailer than one imagines; where one mourns for those that aren’t around anymore. And grieves when one hears stories of those acquaintances that’ve lost people close to them and wonder why the world’s come to be such a dreadful place.

Everyone talks about the pain and devastation that chaos brings with it… However, it brings with it something else as well, however short-lived it may be. It brings in us a sense of respect for our lives and those of others around us. It makes us count each second more dearly than we ever did. It makes us go one step further, to talk to those that are precious to us and tell them that we love them one more time, hoping that it isn’t the last. It makes us stand up for what we believe in. It makes us want to hold those loved ones for one last time, not wanting to let go. It brings us closer, for we are more aware that life is shorter than we’d like to think. And it makes us want to do more with our insignificant little lives…

Perfect Bride

Of late, I have been inundated with personal accounts of proposals, searches, oppositions and the entire gamut of experiences associated with marriage and a partner. Most people around me are on the search for or in the process of sealing the deal in hand, and yet coming excruciatingly short of the finish line.

There are those that have found the 'right' person, those that are not sure if the one they've found is 'right', those that are stubbornly looking for the 'right' one despite kissing a lot of frogs, those that believe there are no 'right' ones around and lots more one-off categories that would take a while to list down. The more I've heard of these experiences, the more I've realized that there are no easy stories around, simply demonstrating the age-old claim that 'ideal' doesn't quite exist.

If you've seen the reality show Perfect Bride, you know how unflattering the show is to the title. There are a few guys (of whom I'm acquainted to one!) along with their mothers, and a few girls who are all on the lookout for a marriage match. A leap ahead of online matrimony, one can witness the cut-throat world of partner searches, which is almost an enlarged picture of real-life relationships. I won't get into what drives these people to enrol for a show of this profile, for that topic would get quite damning and digress from the primary theme. I never quite took the MTV or Channel V reality shows seriously, because those shows and people don't classify as sane.

Here, emotions and words are faked with élan as people hold hands, profess love and would surely do a lot more if the mom's weren't around. The whole partner search concept is ridiculed by the way each 'contestant' hedges their risks blatantly with multiple people. And why not? The rest of the world is doing the same, without the relative discomfort of cameras and judges.

And no, the rules of "He's not that into you" don't apply here, Oprah! Even if they're into you, they're still going to take their time to accept your existence in their life. They’re going to say and do everything that suggests you’re in a relationship and then quip, “I’m not ready for you”. They're still going to keep you a stranger amongst family, friends and colleagues. If they’re on the extreme end of this scale, he’ll drop you off near the place you need to go, saying they don’t want people there to get the wrong idea. They’re definitely not going to tell their ex’s about you; ask and you’ll get innovative responses on this one. Don't even expect them to change their Facebook relationship status to committed, let alone link your name on it. And you can kiss that dream proposal goodbye. It ain't happening!

There are no "good" stories around for a reason. People have accepted the trade-off of deception and deceit over prospective pain. If you've not been able to make one work, you want that one to disappear into thin air making way for the Next Contestant. Nobody wants to have any visible residue around when the Next Contestant walks around for that all-important first glance. Whatever happened to Carrie Bradshaw's thumb rule of taking half the time you've been in a relationship to get over it.

We like our dessert better when it's not the only one on the menu. One obviously doesn't want to go home wanting if one's ordered the apple pie and they've run out of fresh apples, so having a walnut brownie option is worthwhile. Life is a race, and one wants to get where his or her peers want to faster than them. When people recite relatively "good" stories and swear by them, I encourage them to go to "Moment of Truth" (or Sach ka Saamna, the Hindi version) and return unscathed.

When I initially started talking to acquaintances about this "Hedging theory", there were quite a few of them that were taken aback at how cynical and cut-throat I made people seem. They then came back to me a while later and encouraged me to write about it, after having witnessed it in close proximity or bearing the brunt themselves. Today, that article would be redundant for obvious reasons.

Those that currently are on the lookout for someone can take solace from how they don't yet have to deal with this hypocrisy and deceit. Those that are currently with partners that are hedging can choose to practice it themselves. Those that are committed to someone, you're the smartest of the lot. You've already given in to this and accepted it as a part of your life, so this won't even raise eyebrows.

Teenage Dreams: So hard to Beat

He gets on the bus to college, the 121 route bus which ferries by every 15 minutes like clockwork. He looks like any other kid, just into college and about 18, trying to look older than he actually is. He gets on, flashed his pass to the conductor and chooses a seat near the window, while plugging in his earphones to his phone and clicking on the random play button.

He looks around, flashing a rehearsed scouting gaze that he's mastered, which could pass of as a nonchalant glance. He notices a pretty girl sitting two rows ahead of him, and another slightly overweight girl that had a cute face diagonally opposite. He remembers having noticed the pretty one before, and it seems like she knew a couple of people from his class. She seems way too well dressed and made up to be traveling in the bus. And people like her didn't take the train either. They got their drivers to drop them off to college or take the taxi everyday. She was the kind that stayed at Malabar Hill, the type that had rich parents who gave their kids wads of cash to spend every week. The kind of cash that had that inimitable stench that only black money does, and comes in non-sequential bundles, which old businessmen had stuffed down their pyjamas or worse.

She hung around with those rich spoilt brats in class. The kids that roamed around in their dad's second or third car, the ones that had managed to get their drivers' license delivered to their places while underage, without even getting off of their backsides, just because their dad had thrown some money at the touts at the RTO. The power of money, he promises himself, would be his soon, and girls like her would be all around him when he got there. His longish gaze is interrupted when someone slaps his shoulder. It is one of his classmates, taking the seat next to him.

"Forget it! Way out of your league", he starts almost snatching the thought out of his friend's mind instinctively.
"Why not?” he says. He is in an argumentative mood today. "Maybe she's smarter than them. And she really gets bored listening to those guys brag about how fast they drove their car at Marine Drive last Sunday. Maybe she wants to have a real conversation with someone!"

"Those types never get bored of those guys. She would be dating the most popular idiot among that bunch of guys and even her parents would be glad that she's dating some rich guy. After all, nobody that stays at Napean Sea Road made any money of their own; they were all 'born with a silver spoon'. And girls like that are only into stuff like that", his friend states matter-of-factly.

"Well, just wait and watch. I can get people like her in 5 years time", he says plugging back the earphones into his ears. As Chad Kroeger rhymes about being a Rock Star:

"When the girls come easy and the drugs come cheap,
We'll all stay skinny coz we just won't eat,

Hang out in the coolest bars...
Every good golddigger's going to wind up there...

...I'm going to trade this life for fortune and fame,
I'll even cut my hair and change my name"

She looks out the window, with the wind in her hair. Today's not out to a good start, as she's taking the bus to college, a break from her routine. On most days, she gets dropped by her dad on his bike on his way to work. She always insists he drops her off on the street adjacent to her college, claiming that her friends are all waiting somewhere there. Her dad suspects that she isn't really proud of being dropped on a bike, but he's never brought it up. After all, he was the one that insisted she get an education from one of those elite private schools whose fees could easily sustain a small household in the suburbs in Mumbai. He would probably not mind if his daughter came home to him, a few years from now, informing him that she wants to get married to a boy of her own choice whom she knows, preferably from a wealthy background. In fact, he secretly hoped that would happen, ridding him of the burden of going searching for a suitable match in his circles like a commodity. After all, he wants her standard of living to be much higher than his ever was.

She gets off the bus, slowly and gracefully. She catches the stares of two guys getting off behind her. She's not taken aback; she's used to the attention she’d been getting for a few years. During her growing up years, the neighbourhood boys would never let her play with them, until she turned 12, when they started to plead her folks to send her to play. She’d been uncomfortable with the sudden change then, but learnt to get accustomed to all the interest she sparked in the opposite sex.
Her parents have never stopped her from spending on herself. And she knows not to be extravagant, while retaining a certain elegance about herself. It is easy getting lost in the world of girls around her, all dressed and acting similarly. They all watch MTV and Channel [V] religiously, and ape those attires and accessories unfailingly. Nobody was ever different, or bold.

And she wasn't one to get caught up with last season's style. She maintained her 'own' style statement, picking up from magazines instead, those that didn't quite cater to teenagers like her, but to the 20-something woman. And with her attitude and poise added to this, she maintained a constant array of admirers in college, ranging from the staring-type to the more daring-type. The ones she chose to hang around with were indeed those rich spoilt brats with no character. She hated and loved it both at the same time. She loved that she could be with people, for whom money was not an issue of concern in their everyday life. It took her mind off her own family's financial issues. And at the same time, hanging out with them made her suffer from low self-esteem because those kids were also the most frivolous. They always made it a point to judge a person on where they stayed, what brands they owned and what places they visited.

She plugs in to her iPod. She notices that she knows one of those guys from somewhere. She's seen him in college; he's just another guy. She's never spoken to him, but he seems the sharp, grounded kind. It could pay to keep in touch with people like him; he'd at least know how to treat a girl with respect. She catches him off guard as she casts a sideways glance his direction and makes eye contact almost accidentally. She presses the Play button in the centre of the iPod dial, and catches Savage Garden playing... Affirmation

"I believe we place our happiness in other people's hands
I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side,
...I believe your most attractive features are your heart and soul"