Branding People

Me: So? Whats so great about Pepsi?

Arvind: My friends say that two guys cannot finish one bottle by themselves

Me: Rubbish..

Arvind: Really, lets buy one..

Me: Ok.. Give me one Pepsi bhaiyya

That 250 ml bottle stared at us like a challenge. I looked at Arvind. Arvind gulped, then me , then Arvind, then me ... it went for a couple of minutes.. until we were burping like dragons... people passed wierd stare at us. We realised the bottle was still just half empty. The wavey logo of Pepsi looked like a smiling devil mocking at our incompetence. More than that it was the Rs. 3 that was going to cost our misadventure. Me and Arvind shouted together, " Jai mata kiiiiiii..." In the next few minutes we finished the bottle. Hi-Fives were all around... It was during the ten minute walk back home, we realised our mistake as the burping went overboard and we had tears in our eyes..... That was June 1990... I was 8 and Arvind was 10...

Pepsi went on roping in many famous personalities from Aamir Khan till Dhoni to make a name from themselves. As per the FDI guidelines they should have been listed on the Indian bourses long back, but its the amounting loses that has sent them pleading to the North Block exempting from the regulatory hassles (Stop boring readers with this rubbish and unwarranted information). They spent most of these losses in "marketing" themselves.. branding... whatever...

I think people themselves are brands. Like this intersting conversation with another friend of mine with whom I was having (most of my conversations are interesting, else I dont have it...)..during the converation I said, "You know what, you have so many ideas and you think so much you could be... a super hero.. brain woman..hohahhao"..she responded, "ohh puleasseee, you are just cynical... you know what cynical man... if at all I become a super hero, I will pulverise your cynical thoughts with my brain waves.." the laughter continued for some time.... But I realised that we do infact brand people...

Like one of our college professorsss.. lets not take names... this "self-proclaimed" economics professor who downloaded jazzy PPTs from net and who on the click of the button while making the presentation would have no semblance of reality as to which graph will appear before the class for him to explain...this guy was called "Phantom".. Like Phantom you would never know when, where and how he would appear to make a surprise inspection..... Like the skeleton ring, he would carry the inspection sheet and would fine people..... the most peculiar thing about him were his spectacles. They were thick rimmed and covered his entire face. You could see his eyes popping out of those two sockets.....

Like Mr. Ankur Aggarwal, a renowned batchmate who was the first one to ackowledge love in our Alcatraz called "Symbiosis" was called Peter F Drucker... no not because that he was an equally astute management thinker... but once during an intellectually stimulating and stormy session on Marketing strategy (During which most of us were also strategising... in our dreams..) Mr. Aggarwal woke up from a hibernation spanning some 2 hours and asked a question that stumped even the professor who on hearing the question for a second thought that he was in a chemistry class, "Sirrr.... what is the content of fatty acid in the soap..".... the lecturer replied, "class dismissed"

Or our very own Atanu....Atanu as I have mentioned in my earlier blogs is a 6 foot dark and bulky guy...... People mistake him to be bouncer of a renowned club in Delhi. But he is not. He is a gentle giant. A cetain cynical guy in one of his satirical mood called him "Whale". For a while we despised this certain address to Atanu. But then once we saw... Atanu lying on his stomach, with his legs in the air.. flapping as if he was in water and his two hands resting his body and also typing on the laptop..... yes, he did resemble a "Whale"...

Very close a senior colleague of mine was called "Gabbar".....His mere shout could send tremors on the floor he was shouting in..... horror stories of people quitting on him shouting are still famous....I have been a victim myself on a number of occassions, but I think I turned out to be the "Achilles" heel.......

Or Kisaan.... his distinct style reminded us of a farmer who never had a good crop.... even if the Monsoon was 100% in the country, his particular patch of land would remain bereft of water......he was so distrssed that he had wrinkles on his forehead like the lines on a cursive writing practice book....

I think when we name people, there is of course a certain level of humour involved, but its because all these "named" people represent a certain emotion, an event, style, passion and wht not... people with no names are actually quite boring people... trust me... so if you do not have a name already... its time you got one.......

While walking down one moonlit night in Mumbai near Inorbit Mall, Arvind asked me, "you remember the pepsi incident"... "I sure do", I said...." "Quite exciting for us at that age...." Arvind said..... Arvind asked, "What is exciting for us at this age?"......"Mondegar", I said..... We both smiled at each other......

Just let me know when you leave

Just let me know when you are leaving,
For me to close the door left ajar,
Lat time when you went,
It remained wide open,
We had not even finished talking,
At least thats what I thought,
I could sense your presence even with the door open,
The confluence of air had not adulterated your presence,
The open door stood stationary like an expectation,
More Inquisitive than me,
Quizzically oscillating, sometimes staring at me and then turning its attention outside,
I replied, "Dont ask me about the return...."
We sat together, giving each other company - me and the door,
Asking the same question, again...again...again...,
Just let me know when you are leaving,
For me to close the door left ajar.

Travel diaries I could never write - 1

It was in the winter of 2001, while sipping on piping hot coffee (which tasted more like boiled water with a chocolate flavor that our beloved college canteen wala called "hot coffee") I made a mention that I very clearly remember, "Yaar apna time kharab chal raha hai, nahi to mujhe Mumbai me ab tak kisi film ka hero ban jaana chahiye tha...".. Miss Nidhi Verma, the then college heartthrob giggled (like a horse) while passing through and evesdropping on my conversation.. Gupta smiled and the chorum of Abhisek, Upasna and Rachna passed the motion with absolute majority. Those days, I was quite facinated with Mumbai. I cannot explain. May be because of its larger than life portrayal in movies. The simple lives of people geting compliated. I used to wonder if the city was really magical. Those were also the days when Me and Gupta spent a majority of our time listening to Lucky Ali. The guy with a guitar in his hand and a small bag pack. He would visit unknown villages, hug unknown children, jump into poolsides with urchins, have food with earthen looking ladies and most of all sip the morning tea with dishevelled earth diggers. That was a life I aspired for. I loved the whole concept of being all alone with only strangers as company. The heart birmming with warmth of faceless people.

So, Mr. Srinivas had this wierd collage of dreams of going to Mumbai and more importantly roaming around with no travelogue. It was the ideal of mix of dreams with fearlessness. Alot of people claim that Life doesnt give what you really want. I beg to differ. I think sub-consciously, whatever you wish for, you get it. When in school, I really wanted to be in the college that I went to. In college, I wanted to move out and see the world as it was and I got that on platter. Its what you make out of it is the question. These are the times when you really move away from it, you will wonder, "ohh My god that is exactly what I wished for." But being closer to it makes you see the nuances of it and the dirtier things become more prominant making the entire dream a nightmare.

I moved out of my house on 12th June 2003. On my way to Nashik, I had mixed feelings of nervousness and excitement. My entire first year of Post graduation I was out of the college for projects. I went around many places. One particular assignment was in the interiors of Tamilnadu selling confectionaries. It was quite exhilarating. The hinterlands were wonderful and especially "barota-korma" on roadside Dhabas was mouthwatering. It was tiring, but nevertheless I was living my dream. I was in those smallish private buses that play loud music or masala tamil movies with the fragrance of jasmine almost killing you inside it. The jump out of the bus on the bus stop with a thud and thinking of people imagining you as the savior from the "gabbar " of the village ws a feeling I thoroughly enjoyed. Of coruse by the time I returned to the college, people had long forgotten me and I was being forced to seek company of people with confused identities and inflated egos.

But there was nothing to stop me. I was again out of college on the pretext of co-ordinating for admissions. That was again quite exciting. I was the last man on the list to go to Delhi. I was excited as it had been nearly 6 months since I had been home. The question papers for the admissions arrived 5 minutes before departure of trains going to all parts of India spread over numerous platforms on the Pune railway station. The question papers covered in jute bags had to portered across running traffic to the exact platforms in their allotted numbers to each team. By the time we delivered the entire bunch of question papers to each team, we realised that the Delhi team was left with fewer of them and that people would have to stay back. It was quite heartbreaking as I was stopped right at the entrance of the compartment and literally pushed out of the train. I stood there on the platform. As the oversmartness and cunningness of my batchmates dawned once again, I was left alone on that platform that day. The train moved out of the platform in slow motion. As each compartment desperately tried to make its way out of the platform, the tears from my eyes made a similar attempt. But I managed to control it. I eventually did go the next day, but entire drama surrounding it was an amazing experience.

After I returned from Delhi, I was again involved in placement process. The entire first year of post graduation I was out on some pretext or the other. I was known as "visiting student" of the college. My summer placement happened to be in Mumbai. Mumbai, my city of dreams. When the first time I saw Victoria terminus, my eyes gleemed with joy. I suddenly found myself super imposed on Bollywood cutouts. But Mumbai was unforgiving. The commuting, the sultry weather, the rains, untimely work, freaky bosses, depressing hostel at IIT and lack of company made Mumbai a harrowing experience. I felt like running away from my dream. As I said earlier, you get what you want, but you have to be ready to accept the entire package.

In the second year, I was a wasted force because of the change of guard at my PG. We hardly studied and most of the time I spent in computer lab "orkutting", studying for placements in library or having vada pavs with chai at thelas outside the campus. But I did manage to steal two trips to Bangalore. Both of them for the placement drive, but the second one was for Arvind my cousin. I reached Bangalore to find him in a state of mental corrosion. Bereft of enthusiasm, he was unable to connect with me as we used to in olden days. It was only on the day of my departure that I shouted at him that he was woken up from his emotional slumber and decided to take stock of his life. That one trip was monumental in getting my brother back to life. After that I made two trips back to Delhi and eventually to Mumbai - my second home.

The weather changed

It was the morning I guess when I woke up... I lie curled up in my bedsheet.. I cover myself from top to bottom when I sleep..... Its quite silly...the reason..... As far as I recall, the reason is a certain movie called , "The nightmare on the elm street".. Me and my cousin watched this gory blooddy horror movie way back in 1989... We were terrified more than anything else and it remained entrenched in my memory and the bedsheet till today is like Harry Potter's invisible cloak that protects me from evil that lurks in the night.. he he he

I was feeling cold and happy... dont know why..... by the time I finshed my morning chores, I was getting late... again...... it was that moment when I stepped outside my house..... It was definitely not the short-haired-perfect-figured-office-going-swift driving married woman that made me smile... It was the sun..... yes... definitely it was the sun...

It was different today..... not the one that will make you sweat... not the one that rains arrows of sharp sunlight that pierce through your skin... it was the comforting light that shades you..... there was a definite nip in the air..... I told Atanu as I was banged by a bike behind...., "the morning is different.. the weather is going to change...."

Its evening but definitely not late enough to get dark and so my hypothesis that there was change proved correct.... winters have announced their arrival by this early darkened sky....

May be I have changed as well.... While one goes through these emotional upheavels where one is unsure of what will eventually transpire at the end of the tunnel, you are always sure that this will end... someday.....I feel that the transformation or the change in many ways is complete..... I have in some ways figured out on the whats and hows of people around me..... It will keep changing, but I feel some premise still needs to be laid out for interaction...... how my observations will change for them remains to be seen......

But the weather has definitely changed...

Not done Mr. Srinivas

I do not hve a great fan following as far as my blog goes (and otherwise as well in fact with my new found snobbish attitude, I am only losing them like the hair on my head). But then Mr. Mishra was quite caustic with his comments on my last blog on me being "on sale". "You are getting obsessed with your depression and Madam X"... I am always open to criticism and loved the fact that I was being pointed out a grave error in my lone creative pursuit.

He was right. Over the last few months, my depression was overshadowing my writing. I am found wanting of words and the ones that are penned are nothing but re-incarnation of "morose" malencholy. Not required when life otherwise is quite depressive. I realised a few things in the process. Even though you might have the greatest talent in the world, but talent with no audience is of practically no use. A creative pursuit must be backed by an equally appreciative following. The only way talent can flower is with practice and with appreciation. You cannot be forever be immersed in your life and "dress up" your creation with your true emotions. Fans appreciate your talent in your ability to retain them by connecting with them and not by spinning out a gyrating storyline and send them on the "discovery of India". Like Vasco-de-Gama, they might just end up discovering the West Indies.

I also realised that over time my keenness to observe people was getting overshadowed by the hangover of my experiences with them. My vision was getting clouded and I started suspecting my own subjects. I found myself more interesting as I was more truthful with myself. But the truth in itself is of no use if not presented appropriately. As friends were falling off like nine pins owing to our (me and my close friends') inability to match our co-ordinates of our dynamic lives drew me closer to Madam X, who in her avatar is quite unequivocal. I wanted no one around me and she was that "no one". I have lost faith in people and it will take sometime for it to return.

One thing I will promise henceforth is that I will ensure that the quality is not held ransom to my state of mind. I will try to innovate and make the reading refreshing. My apologies for the detereorating standard. Will try to match the expectation of the few readers that I have....

Thank you Mishraji