Mode C is as much for Calvin as it is for Chaos, as much for Cool as it is for Cold, as much for Class as it is for Crass.

Mode C is a way of life, the Calvin way of life which I am so fascinated by as to keep trying to make it my own way of life. But what exactly is Calvin's way of life, you ask...and I say that there are no clear answers to this one.

I strongly believe, however, that almost all the seriously critical fundamental concepts of life, they are just the bogies under Calvin's bed that he is afraid of. Everyhting else...Miss Wormwood, Susie, Mom and Dad, and of course above all, Hobbes...aren't they all merely the means that he uses to attack these bogies?

It is nothing, therefore, but the perspective of each of these players on the stage of Calvin's dramatic life that helps him fight these bogies and move on in his own unique way...listening to all but doing only what finally makes sense to his own individuality. This is what comes closest, I guess, to the Calvin way of leading one's life...

Friday, December 30, 2011

The End-of-Year Post


As another year comes to a close, it is time for many to look back at what has gone by and for others, it is the occasion to plan and look ahead in time. I am not too sure where I stand. For me, memories are as important as the anticipation of what the future holds. While I do not have any misgivings on being able to change my fortunes too much through New Year resolutions, at the same time, I am not taken up by crying over spilt milk or taking my pom-poms out for whatever I may have been able to achieve in the past.

Having said all that and created the background, let me still go ahead and talk about some 5 things on what the year 2011 had been in my life first (for records, if not for anything else, you see :-)).
  1. I completed the first year in my 30's...wasn't so bad actually :-)
  2. Since Priya's marriage in December last year, I have stayed alone for more than a year now (the longest such tenure ever)
  3. I managed to finally close my education loan that I had been carrying along for more than 5 years now.
  4. The family did not keep too well as far as health is concerned, what with Papa breaking his leg yet again and Baba being taken for the worse.
  5. I set in process the efforts to find my "someone special"
And now that I have set the ball rolling anyway, let us get the crystal ball out and look at 5 things on what the coming year may look like (again for record, if not for anything else, you see :-))
  1. I am going to get a change in what I do for a living...the stagnation is too much to bear now.
  2. I do not intend to stay alone for any more time. I am going to ensure that parents have no choice this year but to move in with me.
  3. Without making any unrealistic promises to anyone (including myself), I shall be fit.
  4. I am going to make efforts to be more social this year...all long lost friends are going to get the shock of their lives when they find me banging their doors down once too often this year.
  5. "Someone special" shall find her rightful place in my life.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Crossing the line


There is a very thin line between expressing concern and trying to establish authority and more often than not, one is interpreted as the other, not just by the recipient of this concern/authority but at times, also by the proponent of it. There are things that one doesn't like about a situation and is concerned about, especially if the situation invloves one's own self or some one/thing one is very attached to. However, while expressing this concern, it is seldom that we realize how close it comes to assertively sitting in judgment and actually wanting things to be done in a particular manner without arguments and deviations.

At times however, it is purely concern and experiences related to similar situations that guide such behavior of the proponent. Depending upon how sensitive the recipient is to the assertion of someone else's authority on his/her way of life, all of it may incorrectly be treated as undue and unjust. Taking a call on who is right or wrong in such cases is never easy, especially if the words do not match intent (as is the case many times) or if the intent (and the words) crosses the line.

The next question, of course, is how does the problem get solved. One of the things that such a situation leads to, undoubtedly, is frustration all around. The proponent is frustrated because he/she is concerned about the way things are going on and wants to put across his/her point of view (albeit a bit too strongly in some cases) about how the situation can be changed. The recipient is frustrated becase he/she can not accept someone else taking over his/her life and feels suffocated with the entire undermining masquerading as advice (albeit being extra-sensitive and over-reacting in some cases).

It does require more than some ordinary common sense and maturity to solve this and unless both parties put their palms together, there is no clap that is going to be heard. While it becomes important for the recipient to don the forgiving hat and look benignly at the well-wishing intent behind the whole thing, it is equally, if not more, important for the proponent to realize that it is not just the intent that is important but the way things are communicated can completely change the context and make even a good thing appear bad in a space of minutes.

What this translates practically into is that the proponent, while expressing concern and wishing that things were done in a different manner, needs to exercise restraint and know when and how to put things forward based on how sensitive the recipient is. Similarly, the recipient needs to give out a longer rope than normal and yet communicate his/her take on the situation in very clear and unambiguos terms.

Unless such situations are treated in a mature manner (and I may be doing the mistake of wanting things to be done a certain way myself by saying this), emotional volatility can often take an exponential upswing and grievously reduce the chances of happy and peaceful co-existence for both the proponent and the recipient.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

The December Nostalgia


Ever since I started having an understanding of what goes on around me, I have known that the month of December every year is time for the annual family gathering. December 26-27 of each year has always been the time slotted for the Hari Kirtan organized in the memory of my late Great Grandfather. Baba started this on the passing away of his father (on December 27) and following the year after Babuji's passing away, this has been a regular fixture of what I know as my childhood.

When I was a kid and all of my cousins were yet to be impacted by the travails of a busy, nuclear, and urban life, we used to get together, if not at any other time during the year, at least once during the Hari Kirtan. The timing was just right for my uncles and aunts to take their annual leaves and visit their hometown. The normally lean period between Christmas and New Year with easily obtainable leaves from work and the winter vacations in schools was utilized to the hilt.

While the grown-ups alternated between organizing and attending the Hari Kirtan and catching up with the news in each others' lives, the kids used to have the room farthest from the Kirtan venue, all to themselves. This does not imply that we were not the religious type but we were just too young to understand what the "Hare Krishna Hare Krishna" signified. For us, it was just a big distraction from the fun and games we could participate in, now that there were more than a dozen of us together.

From the games of Antaakshari and Passing the Parcel, to impromptu jigs and song renditions, those were the days. We were part of a big joint family despite each of us having our own nuclear set-ups. Baba and Amma used to pride themselves on the way the household filled itself during the five-six days around that period, with each and every room, nook, and corner taken up by someone or the other, voices of merriment coming from everywhere. There were no hassles that anyone had with all of us willing (and even wanting) to sleep on the husk covered floor with blankets being shared in the most chilling of winters. Unlike today when the most hardened of us have gone soft, the communal spirit then used to take care of all discomforts, in an absolute and complete manner.

Once Amma passed away in 2007 and subsequently as Baba started losing interest in many things (including his work as an advocate from which he retired at the age of 85), things started to change. In fact, things were already a little different with most of my generation already out of colleges and making a living in some remote city or another. It was getting more and more difficult to see all of them every year but it was still some consolation since I could see most of them, even if once every alternate year. For me, going to Buxar in December was still a part of routine because Papa, Mummy, and Baba would be there irrespective of whether anyone else came in or not.

Baba's health went from good to bad to worse very rapidly this year, so much so that for more than 3-4 months, he was bedridden and had almost lost the will to live. He is better now and can sit up for stretches of an hour or so, and can even walk from one room to another. However, for the purposes of treatment and in order to be close to doctors and medical facilities, Baba was shifted to Banaras to Bade Papa's house about six months ago. Ever since the ill-health, Baba has lost whatever focus he had and the only thing he seems to continue to be excited about is my marriage, whenever it takes place. To expect him to also worry about the Hari Kirtan would be asking for too much.

Baba always wanted to keep doing this, at least for his life time. Since it was the memory of his father that he used to celebrate, he never wanted to give up. As I was speaking to Mummy last night, I was joking with her as to why she did not ask me to come to Buxar in December this year and was playfully teasing her about how she has forgotten me ever since Priya got married. She told me then that in all likelihood, there is not going to be anyone home this time for the Hari Kirtan which would probably not take place at all.

I always knew that the intensity of the occasion has been going down and with Baba being in Banaras, it would be hardly of any import this year, but I had never brought myself to realize that it was well and truly over. I could hardly reconcile to the fact that the transition from one generation to another had failed...as Mummy told me that there was no one willing to take over the responsibility of organizing such a big scale festival (apart from the Hari Kirtan, there is also a Bhandaara organized where a lot of guests from the village and the town are fed the choicest of delicacies).

I am confident that my generation, all my cousins look at the last week of December fondly and associate it with happy memories. It is all about galvanizing them into taking the onus of running with the tradition for at least some more time...not keeping the next generation away from forming their own experiences, making their own memories of our roots. There is hardly any time for it this year but even if it is the first New Year resolution that I make, I want to try my best to do something about it the next year and if Hari is with me, I am sure that His tales will be sung again in Buxar very soon.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Self-destructing in 5 seconds...


This is your mission...should you choose to accept it.



Mission Impossible it is, what with escaping from a Russian prison, breaking into Kremlin (of all places for an American to break into), jumping about outside the glass walls of the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world and chasing cars in the Dubai sandstorm, and finally driving at break-neck speed supposedly on the roads of Mumbai. A collage of some really fast-paced action sequences with not too much of a plot to speak of, Mission Impossible's latest franchise impresses as an all-out entertainer.

Brad Bird brings a fresh perspective to the MI series and instead of following the established formula of a mixture of intrigue and action, he tilts this edition towards a very tight, action-packed succession of sequences that leave the viewer with hardly any time to breathe or think about the plot or the supposed lack of intrigue in it. Making excellent use of the image created by Tom Cruise over the three editions of the MI franchise, Bird deviates from the one-man-army heroism that Ethan Hunt is known for and in the process, adds some more central characters and subsequently, some more jazz to the proceedings.

The plot is simple enough with a former Russian nuclear strategist turning rogue and managing to get away with Russian nuclear launch device and codes. His objective is to start a nuclear war between Russia and America by ensuring the first strike and the mission of Tom "Ethan Hunt" Cruise and his team is to stop him. A pretty linear plot is embellished with twists and turns, if not to the story, then at least to the sequences with even a simple entry into the safe house (in the form of a rail wagon) being made quite interesting with the treatment it is given. Urgency is palpable and the turn of events fraught with a sense of daredevilry that is bound to appeal to audiences worldwide, cutting across cultures and sensitivities.

The acting department is managed effectively by Tom Cruise who breezes through playing the character of Ethan Hunt that has probably added more to his career than any other franchise (notwithstanding even Top Gun). The support cast is starred by the irrepressible Benji Dunn (played by Simon Pegg) who provides much of the comic relief to the movie. Paula Patton playing Agent Jane Carter and Jeremy Renner playing Analyst William Brandt seem a little awkward in their roles and get overshadowed by Tom Cruise's portrayal of Ethan Hunt. The sheer charisma of Ehtan Hunt, or the chutzpah of Benji Dunn does not appear to be matched by the other two characters.

And oh...Anil Kapoor has a blink-and-you-miss-him role in the movie; criticized by many for the sheer foolishness of the character he plays (Brij Nath, an Indian billionaire and owner of a telecom company in Mumbai that has access to the satellite which is to be used by the Russian villain to launch the nuclear missile). Remember however, that this is Mission Impossible and not Ram Lakhan and the person we normally think of as a hero is but a fringe player in the much larger scheme of things...the huge franchise that Mission Impossible is. His mere presence (and not a completely inconsequential role at that) in such a franchise is indicative of the fact that India is too big a market now for even Hollywood to ignore.

The direction is top notch with the editing although, despite the movie being so fast paced, ever so slightly slipping in the process to try and establish some emotional connect with the audiences. The rest of the sequences are so fast that even a couple of minutes of dialogue (whenever Hunt starts talking to Carter about her loss or to Brandt on the latter's insecurities) seem a waste of time and almost sleep-inducing. Action sequences, on the other hand, are wonderfully shot and form the high point for the movie, something that you wouldn't mind watching twice for the sheer beauty of it all. Executed to the tee by Cruise and company, the movie's action comes across as probably the best for quite some time.

The use of gadgets and gizmos is impressive to a fault. Whether it is the master key computing and figuring out the number pass codes from a huge array of possibilities, or the slightly funny and incredulous hoodwinking of the Kremlin security guard using a screen and a projector, all of them add to the fun and frolic. The background score (with the imitable Mission Impossible signature tune) is extremely effective in highlighting all the action and drama, keeping audiences at the edge of their seats for most of the time.

The Ghost Protocol having been enforced with the American President directing that Cruise and his agency, the IMF is disavowed, the stakes are high. Despite the risk of being branded a terrorist in case of failure (or death), Ethan Hunt and his team break through the plans of the Russian anarchist and save the world yet again. As Hunt hands over the next missions to his team and goes about accessing his own, one can't help but wonder as to what is next for this 50 year old (yes, that is how old he actually is, never mind what he looks like in the movie) and for the MI franchise itself.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

The Untold Saga

Growing up on Amitabh Bachchan movies has influenced a lot in my life, much of the way I am and much of the way I deal with situations has been derived from Amitabh's characters in some of his movies. He has always been the celebrated hero, of course but it is not the loud one-man-beating up-ten-villains heroism that one gets on to emulate, it is the other kind of heroism that impacted me...the untold stories of the silences, the steady, resolute look on the face, the determination that does not want itself to be sung about, the single-minded, super-achieving and yet humble outlook to any situation.

There was the other side to his heroism too, the one we all loved to admire but perhaps never thought of emulating because it simply seemed so out of reach...the one Sachin Tendulkar embodies, arguably flawless, unarguably bordering on the greatest ever. There are very few however, who dream to be Sachin Tendulkar for it appears to be only that, a dream. It is therefore, as in my case, the achievable side of the hero that we all strive towards achieving...the Rahul Dravid side of it. Achievement par excellence, no doubt...something that any and all would be proud of and yet all of it done in such unassuming a manner.

This does not mean that Sachin or those other characters essayed by Bachchan are arrogant or don't relate to the ground realities. It is just that their brand of success is too flamboyant, too Sehwag-ish to draw a pattern around. Dravid, on the other side, seems a lot like most of us. The hard worker who is super talented for sure but can perhaps not move mountains on the basis of talent alone...the one who has taken risks in his life but not out-and-out risks, only those risks that make sense and have a back-up plan along with them...the one who could not dare to give up a good education riding on nothing else but faith in his own talent...the one who built things up brick by brick with each brick joined to the other via sweat and blood, so to speak.

Dravid is the second highest run scorer in the world in Test cricket, someone who has hit more centuries than the legendary Sunil Gavaskar, someone who was requested back in the one-day team that was floundering without an anchor post his unceremonious exit from it, someone who went on to not just survive for five seasons (when other more celebrated contemporaries called it quits mid-way) but also captained two different sides in the most commercial and ruthless exhibition of cricket, and in a format that fits the least with his style of play. Dravid is all this and yet he is still the boy next door (despite, as per his own admission, being the oldest playing cricketer around in India, older even to Sachin by a few months). He is still the common man who has fought all odds to become special.

It almost gives one the goose bumps to realize the significance of what Dravid and people like him achieve in their lives and how they manage to contribute to the society in the process. Not just their achievements, but even the painstaking manner in which they have worked on to achieve the same become folklore, examples that parents give to their kids when they want them to follow the path to idealism. Dravid and his type would rate amongst the guys mothers (and fathers) would want their daughters to marry, CEOs would want to hire for the most complicated and critical jobs they have, army generals would want to trust with the post situated in the most difficult of terrains and marking the most amount of risk if it were to be compromised.

He is all that one would want to be...a clear thinker, erudite, well-read and logical, a class act at what he does, and someone who has a sense of humor good enough to crack jokes not just about others but at his own expense as well. An idol in the true sense of the word, Rahul "The Wall" Dravid shall remain an inspiration for me as much as Sachin "The Master" Tendulkar or Virender "The Nawaab" Sehwag would remain distant dreams I would want to keep striving for.

By the way, if you disagree with what I have said and insist on a different perspective, I respect that. I would only request you to read Dravid's address at the Bradman Oration in Canberra, the first time in the last 10 years that it has been happening that a non-Australian has been invited for it. The speech in video should be available on YouTube and it can be read in text at the ESPN Website

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Nip in the air

For the first time this year as I stepped out from my bath, I felt a slight chill run up my body. Of course, this slight chill shall soon be bandied by the Mumbaikars and all local media as the arrival of winters to Mumbai or if some journalist is feeling lucky, even a cold wave. For me, at best it is disappointing and at worst, a reminder of what it could have been. Having spent almost all my life (except the four years in South India and 3 years here in Mumbai) in the north of Vindhyas, winter has had a special significance for me.

The arrival of winters, whether I was in Delhi for my schooling or job, or if I was in Patna/Buxar growing up, was marked by many distinct happenings. One of them, of course, was the grand revival of the quilts and the woolens. Dumped aside in some big box for the rest of the year, the woolens used to make their presence felt as Diwali came to pass. Starting with the half sleeved pullovers and the thin blankets and ending up at full bodied jackets and heavy duty quilts, the smell of mothballs combined with the heat trapped inside them after a day of being shown the sunlight form some of my happier childhood memories.

As I grew up, winters also became the opportunity to show off. Unlike girls who can actually heat things up in summers with their multi colored apparel extending up to multiple standards of length and size, guys hardly have options on what to wear. It is only in winters that the blazers and the jackets, the tweeds and the denim come out in full force. I started realizing this once I moved to Delhi from a sheltered Patna and became a part of the pack. The jacket that Mananmama bought me from the local Tibetan market in Patna was a prized possession then and continues to be with me, 15 years down the line. And then came the suits as well...starting with a dumb beige suit to the now-often-unused smart black suit, this sartorial journey has been a pleasant recollection for me as well.

Probably the most favorite recollection I have of winters has been the one associated with the Christmas cheer, the one I witnessed in Paris. Having heard about the terrific atmosphere pre-Christmas in the western world, I was not to be disappointed as my exchange program during MBA chanced to happen in a way as to be spread over the months of September to December. The best time to visit Europe, the winters were in full flow by the time we were starting to prepare for our journey back to India. From ice skating to my first ever experience with natural snowfall, I could see all of it and I loved every moment...cherishing every experience.

The Christmas spirit, the warmth of new year that I had seen so much in movies, read so much about in books, heard so much of...was all there. Shops were decorated as if all light and flower arrangements in the world would run out tomorrow and today was the only day left to use them. Cafes were doing brisk business, people were walking about with smiles on their faces, and even the normally stiff metro co-passengers appeared to have that sense of joviality reflected on their faces.

It was quite a contrast from the winters I had seen in Delhi, for example where it becomes a challenge and an ordeal at times instead of people actually enjoying the party. The living standards starkly different, it is understandable I guess, if those who can't afford one square meal a day hate the season that exposes them at their most vulnerable, chilling the very bones of their existence...at times to the very end. But then the other strata in Delhi enjoys the season as well as any of their counterparts elsewhere in the world. You can always find droves of people (including me and my friends) around stalls of anything hot and edible...chaat, rolls, momos... Even a simple cup of coffee with friends and family turns into a celebration of the season that winter is.

Now in Mumbai, where the different seasons simply don't seem to exist, life (just like the weather) seems to chug along in the boring monochrome. The ceiling fan operates in full gusto in my bedroom whereas cold is busy gripping the sunlight out of other cities I know of...the contrast is stark. Is there an option but to bow down to the will and designs of that eternal being who controls all this...makes all these stark differences possible, rules our lives and of all that around us with such absolute control?

Monday, December 12, 2011

Starting afresh

And I have moved...finally. I had been having problems with blogdrive for a long time now. While it was one of the better designed and more promising blogging sites at the time blogging in India was just about starting to gain popularity (I am talking about a good 7-8 years aago), blogdrive lost its way subsequently. With the larger players consolidating in the form of wordpress and blogger, the others were either forced to shut shop or, as in blogdrive's case, have a pathetic excuse for a blogging site. The servers kept going down and the blog page refused to open once too often. Finally I got the better of inertia (more pronounced because there was no single click and transfer option available and I had to painstakingly copy-paste each individual entry and more importantly, each individual comment from one place to the other) and decided to move on.

The moving exercise, as in any movement, took a lot of time and a lot of cajoling the dear old me to stay true to the conviction of the continued utility of this blog. There were so many moments in the middle when I almost junked it, what with knowing that I have not been regular with writing and not being too sure if I would be, even in the future. Sanity prevailed on all such occasions and I kept toiling at it...and interestingly, the more I worked at it, the more passionate (and not tired) I became about carrying the thing through to completion. While doing the copy-paste stuff, I was more than once or twice, caught in the tales of those days, the posts and the comments that told a story of their own. It was such a different world...the blog had, for the first time in my life, made me socially active...so much so that almost an entire batch of about 120 people (not to mention the seniors and then the juniors) actually regularly read my blog and many commented on it too with, what I can now pronounce, an alarming frequency.

The comments on each of the blog entries that invited them reminded me of so many people...so many that were close to me but now appear to be lost somewhere in the distance (Mayank, Prashant Kumar, Ravi...) so many that were just there for the fun but are now out of the radar (Yash, Vikhyat...), and very very few that were there and are still very much around. Of course, life and work and the associated stuff have taken their toll and distances were but, to be expected. But then, wasn't blogging supposed to be a solution to this? Wasn't a blog supposed to have been my way of telling the world what I am up to and wasn't it supposed to have been the world's way of telling me that it cared about what was happening in my life?

So why did it not happen the way it was supposed to? Yes, I stopped writing and consequently, people stopped coming back for updates and then, even when I wrote, there was no one to read it since they were already tired coming in and going back empty handed...they had already given up on me.

So, with the new blog (and the upcoming new year), I hope to revive this space and make Mode C at least an image of what it once was for me...a big part of my social life, a place where I could be myself and be liked for it, a place where I had my friends and foes, my fans and critics...may raison d'etre.

I begin here with a call out to all of you. If you do chance upon this place, do come back for more and do engage with me...I shall try my best not to disappoint you this time around.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Retail Therapy

Almost two and a half years ago, when I was persuaded by my sister to buy a flat for myself in Mumbai instead of paying increasingly exorbitant rents to increasingly greedy landlords (despite the recession), I never realized truly what I am getting into. Whether it was the EMI and the stretch that I would have to do to meet it, or it was the positives in terms of an integrated complex with a mall, a club house, a hotel, a school, a hospital, etc...I had not really visualized any of it.

Things kept changing and May 2009 till now, there have been many new experiences that I have had with my first home. Increased traffic, food chains refusing to deliver, having my own club house with a swimming pool, squash/tennis/badminton courts, gymnasium, etc, no cafes near my home where I could spend a lazy sunday morning (always a dream), the neighborhood's low brand appeal, the rapidly increasing rentals and property prices, the nearest multiplex although only four kilometres away taking anywhere between twenty minutes to an hour to reach, society formation and new rules that it brought along, comfort of being just three and a half kilometres from office...so many things for it and as many against it.

And then something came up. Phoenix Mills (of the High Street Phoenix fame) took up old and defunct Mukund mills right next to my place (five minutes walking distance) and decided to convert into Phoenix Market City, India's largest mall and amusement complex. From the time they announced the project through the entire construction to the opening a week back, the expectations that I have had of the mall kept on increasing.

Yesterday, I had a chance to visit the newly opened mall and boy, was I pleasantly surprised! I did expect a good collection of brands, given the size of the mall but was definitely prepared for what I saw. Anything that one could ever need in terms of shopping/entertainment was already there or in the process of being there. In addition, there were a lot of stores which were not even branded and work was in progress. Nothing seemed to be missing and there was much more packed into it than what any other place I have seen has to offer.

This was just the inside of the mall, someone said, and there is an entire courtyard that is still to be laid down. I ventured out into the courtyard and realized that it was almost twice the size of the mall (which took me one and a half hours of walking across 4 levels to just cover). What shape the place would take 3-6 months down the line had my antennae of anticipations all propped up.

With the size of the mall being so large, it becomes very important for it to be properly laid out in terms of the ease of finding a particular brand/store in the entire "market city". Once again I was not disappointed when I saw that each floor of the mall was arranged in the form of 2-3 hub-and-spoke models with each spoke representing a lane of shops. Each such lane was invariably based on a theme (all footwear brands in one lane, all apparel brands in another, etc).

While walking through all these hubs and spokes, I made a note of the stores that were either already functional or whose branding was visible (and which were at most a month away from opening). There were a lot of brands that I was aware of, some that were more boutique in nature and the mix was just right, it appeared to me. The names below are just those that could recall having seen earlier (both large and small). Many others are relative unknowns or still on their way and I am really looking forward to discover more in addition to the ones listed below:


Cafes (always wanted one of these close to my house, am now spoilt for choice)
Cafe Coffee Day, Costa Coffee, Cafe pico, Di bella coffee, Kalmane coffee, Cafe bean garu, Cafe Royal

Entertainment
PVR (the largest in India for sure, some 14 screen megaplex is what I have heard), TimeZone, FunZone, Amoeba

Restaurants/Eating Out
Mcdonalds, Cream Centre, Subway, KFC, Pizza Hut, Rainforest, Rajdhani, Mainland China, Joss, Egg Sunday, Kailash Parbat, Maroosh, Mad over Donuts, Hokey Pokey, Gelato, Bowl House, Smokin Joes, Cookie Man, Golden Tips Tea

Wellness/Health/Cosmetics
Sukho Thai, Aroma Thai, Essence of China, VLCC, Health & Glow, The Body Shop, Lush, Nyassa, Color Bar

Fashion/Apparel
Zara, Debenhams, Diesel, Veromoda, UCB, French Connection, Promod, Espirit, Alcott, Calvin Klein, Guess, FCUK, Lee, Levis, Wrangler, Luxury Boulevard, Sisley, Celio, Van Heusen, Allen Solly, Arrow, Louis Phillippe, Blackberrys, Park Avenue, Belmonte, Raymond, Lords, La Senza, Madame, Rockport, Color Plus, Headquarter, Indian terrain, AND, 109F, Biba, Bebe, Wills Lifestyle, Ayesha, Globaldesi, Only, JacknJones

Kids Fashion
Mothercare, Mom & Me, Liliput, UCB Kids, Just for Kids,

Footwear & Bags
Charles n Keith, Bagzone, Hidesign, Nine West, Aldo, Aldo Accessories, Esbeda, VIP, Samsonite, Reliance Footprint, Timberland, Converse, Nike, Reebok, Adidas, Crocs, Planet Sports, Cheemo, Catwalk, Gossip Shoes, Bottomline Footwear, Metro, Clarks, Hush Puppies, Puma, Mochi, Bata

Departmental Stores
Lifestyle, Max, Pantaloons, Reliance Trends, Reliance Hyper

Jewellery and Watches
Swatch, Titan, Fastrack, Swarovski, Cygnus, Gilli, Carbon

Others
Canon, Archies, Hallmark

Thursday, November 03, 2011

In the middle

The middle of anything is not normally nice. Whether it refers to the mid-life or mid-week, being in the middle of work or getting into the mid-management, being in the middle has its follies for sure. The past few months have specifically brought this to the fore in my case. I am 31 now, a good enough age for all uncles and aunties getting worried about my marriage and yet the same people expecting me to stay away from the serious discussions...the really serious ones, whatever that means!

I love to be with the "youngsters" and yet I am expected to behave in a particular manner that befits the fact that I have been working as a profesional for almost a decade now while the real "youngsters" still have to get out of their alma mater. I want to have my say and give my suggestions on discussions that go on in the household but am not considered mature enough to understand the implications of everything and the one all-defeating explanation of experience giving wisdom is invariably unassailable.

I have had reasonable success at work, getting ahead of the curve thanks to some fortuitous circumstances and some kind seniors. I have been pretty fortunate in getting the kind of responsibilities that I have, learning the kind of things that I can, achieving the successes that I do. But what is up next? Does life stop here or is there more to achieve? Of course there is, much more but as some will say, all in its due course. But how do I explain that to my ambitious self that does not want to wait for this time to come, whenever it deems fit to?

I want to reach the next level right now. Age and associated assumed lack of experience, peer band parity, HR policies, nepotism, and sheer lack of meritocracy can go back to the stone age and red-tape-infested cobweb that they belong to. Is it too much to ask (and that too in a world that is so competitive) to be given recognition that matches the responsibilities assigned to a person.

What answers do I have to give to my often-cynical mind that keeps asking me as to the stage when the functional role gets translated into a job role? Even companies that are considered evolved in their thought processes have a delay of about 6 month to a year before they shift someone to a higher job role after that person having moved to a higher functional role. Is it too unfair to ask that if you do not consider a person worthy of getting a higher designation, more recognition, better prospects, then why would you assign more and critical work to him and why would you have expectations of him that you would normally not have from a peer of his?

But then there is the other perspective to think of, too...as is always the case. Am I really thinking about what I do as some sort of God's gift to mankind? Is there really something in me that deserves that extra recognition? What is wrong with the efforts of those that are my peers from an age, education, or career point of view that can excuse a lower standing for them than what I supposedly deserve? Am I just over-estimating my contribution and significance? Is there, after all, some merit in why things are the way they are and not the way that I want them to be?

Monday, April 04, 2011

World Cup Cricket 2011: The Glitter

As he stared in the distance, the whole country stared with him. He kept looking at it till it disappeared above the horizon and then all hell broke loose. He didn't know what to do and neither did any of the others who were staring with him. The deed was done, the task accomplished...what next? How does one start believing that what had been elusive for so long is finally within reach, in the hands. His hands...hands of all others...hands of the chaiwallah chotu who had been given a day off that for once, he was not spending nursing his jagged palms. In fact, he was beating them together to join the cacophony all around him.

His eyes seemed dreamy and his smile was so unsure...quite a contrast with what was the situation a moment ago. Grit and concentration had given way to a sheepish grin. Even the teeth were showing through as his partner jumped on to him...elated, overjoyed, as incredulous with it all as he was...he didn't know how to react. The others were celebrating too, jumping on to each other, opening champagne bottles at some places, exchanging the few leftover drops off some soft drink bottle recovered from the trash at others. They were all united though, in their celebrations. He had won, his partner had won, his team and his nation had all achieved one of the biggest wins of their lives.

India...champions of World Cup Cricket 2011. Doesn't it sound surreal...even now? The celebrations are still going on, parties are giving way to other parties and blue tees, though replaced by formal striped shirts, have made sure that the color blue is retained at least in the stripes. Every new day brings with itself a new realization of what it means to be the world champions and not just for the people who made it happen, the 15 crorepati team members of the Indian cricket squad, but for millions of others who took it upon themselves to make sure the country won. They performed pujas, skipped offices, reduced their social lives to nothings, faced the brunt at home as they made others skip episode after episode of the popular soap opera...all to watch 11 people running after a small little ball.

The celebrations, though they still continue in one way or the other, were the loudest that night. Loudest and the most emphatic. The rich paraded the cities in their cars, moving downtown in bumper-to-bumper traffic, sticking their heads out of the sun roofs or just sticking out of the windows for the not-so-flashy-car-owning variety. They were carrying flags, playing loud music streaming out of the radio stations, all party songs...shouts of Indiaaaa Indiaaaaaaaaa were everywhere.

The others were shouting too. If not through the stylish cars that they could never dream to own, they had their own ways of feeling a part of the joy that had spread out to them too for once. They could not wave the tricolor (would rather afford clothes that they could wear to protect their modesty) but would still smile at all passers-by and encourage them to fly the flag high up in the air if they were just holding it in their hands. Their eyes were their means of celebration, eyes that were gleaming with pride...eyes that seemed to say that it was not eleven men on the field who had defeated some serious odds to emerge victorious...eyes that were claiming their own share of the spoils...eyes that were smiling, participating, goading on.

As I turned to sleep that night, the image that stood with me was not the one in which Dhoni stood imperiously, having hit the winning shot...not even the one where the master was lifted on to his team-mates' shoulders and paraded around the stadium with the tricolor...not the one in which the Boys in Blue lifted the big one...The World Cup. The image that I had in my eyes as they said a silent prayer to appreciate the joy this night had brought with it...was that of three kids standing in front of a road-side restaurant.

They had probably just finished their routine of serving customers, washing utensils, cooking rotis, etc...or perhaps they were still doing it and had taken a quick break to come out for a minute. They were standing there hand-in-hand, happiness written in capital letters across their faces. They couldn't have seen it on TV, there was none around but would definitely have heard it...on radio, from people who would be bothered enough to tell them the score. They knew for sure that India had done it...that they had done it. As they saw cars flash past, luxury celebrating amidst their misery, their faces were hopeful...hopeful that now that India has won the world cup, they stood a chance as well. Their misery can also end if India's wait for the world cup can end...what if it took 28 years...it will be faster now. The world moves faster now, their lives shall move even faster and they will win again...this time their own personal cups.

Monday, March 14, 2011

Nagpur Diaries



India started off this cricket world cup, like many other tournaments in the recent past, as favorites to win it. Some may say that this was guided not by the talent or form of the team but more by the sheer financial muscle of the Indian cricket board and consequently the media hype surrounding all its activities. Whatever be the reason, India have been the favorites and playing at home, with this being the last world cup the great Sachin would play, the really tall batting order (at least on paper), and of course the spin friendly subcontinent tracks have all been reasons used to justify India's expected fortunes in this tournament.

So far, the progress of the team has been quite steady in the tournament, helped, in no little means, by the way the tournament has been structured and the way India's matches have been scheduled. India has already played the minnows and beat them (not too comprehensively though, raising a few eyebrows enroute) and tied a game with another big contender, the set-on-revival-course England. Almost through to the next stage (pre-ordained of course given the format of the tournament), India met South Africa at Nagpur on Saturday, March 12 in a game that was supposed to be the first acid test of a team that has, in such a matter-of-fact manner, put its claims on being world champions.

This was the background with which I and a few colleagues from office were viewing the upcoming match. Having already made our train reservations to Nagpur, we were frantically looking out for tickets for the match. Things turned to desperation and we turned to desperate measures, buying tickets at 6X premium and actually feeling pleased about it. Slight goof-ups and certain presumptions also meant that we didn't have confirmed train tickets while coming back. Expecting the wait-listed tickets (wait list 6 onwards) to get confirmed with time, we were quite gung-ho about the entire idea of the weekend trip to Nagpur.

And it was time as the whole lot of us found ourselves at the CST station of Mumbai on Friday evening, ready to set off for the Orange city. The start of the journey itself was fraught with events that were quite unexpected. The boss had got extra tickets and one of us had latched on to it, getting last minute wait-listed tickets and the rest of it. Having reached the platform with all of us, he realized at the last moment that the boss's train was re-scheduled and he was not sure if he would make it and if he didn't make it, so wouldn't our guy's match tickets that were with the boss.

Our guy was of the hardened material, though and he took the plunge and got into the train. It was real good that he did, for though the boss didn't manage to come, he ensured the tickets came through and what an extra-ordinary turn of events this resulted in for him and for the rest of us!

As we touched base at Nagpur station amidst the early morning cool breeze, the signs were all there and it couldn't have started any better. Thanks to one of us, who had arranged for a guest house, we were soon refreshed, fed, and ready to take the stadium on. A party shop in Bandra had completed our wardrobe and get-up and we were all set with the tricolor painted on our faces, glowing glares, multi colored and shaped wigs, etc. We had bought Indian flags on the way and even had a couple of posters enticing ESPN and Star to cover us during their broadcast.

Entry into the stadium and our stand was smooth considering the early start we were able to manage from the guest house. The stand itself was awesomeness personified, right behind the bowler's arm and at reasonable altitude, arguably the best place from which one can watch live cricketing action. And what action it turned out to be! It just seemed to get better and better and we were witness to some brilliant batting by India, another masterful century by the little master, some hard hitting by Sehwag.

The peak was built up over such a long time and at such a pace that when the fall came, it hit us real hard. Right from the moment we had got hold of match tickets till the time Sachin was at the crease, things were going in only one direction...up. And down it came after that but how! 29 runs - 9 wickets...the last over by Ashish Nehra...the heart-breaking loss...

As if this was not enough, we realized that the tickets we were counting on to get confirmed did exactly the opposite of our expectations. With the e-ticket automatically canceling itself, we were left without any tickets for our journey back. With our hearts heavy after the Indian defeat, we did not want to spend any more time in Nagpur than necessary and decided as one that it will be better to try getting back to Mumbai as early as possible instead of trying to figure out some other options that will add to the time and more importantly, the money.

So it was that except for the lucky colleague (who, by the way, won a contest in mid-innings, getting a tee and goodie bag for it, got himself snapped with South African fans of the fairer variety, and finally even came on TV when despite all our efforts, we didn't) of ours, we found ourselves in the sleeper coach of the train begging people to let us sit down for a bit. Our friend, of course, got to fly back on a cheap ticket even though he did not even have a wait-listed ticket to begin with...all backed by one of the weirdest stretches of good fortune I have ever seen.

By the time we reached Mumbai, we were completely done in by the heat, dust, discomfort, and all associated perils of the journey back. The only thing we did not feel was boredom, thanks to the amazing gang we befriended on the train who not only happily shared their seats with us but also chatted and played with us all the way through.

Battered and hardened, as we made our ways to our respective homes with drooping shoulders and hoarse voices (what with all the Saccccchhhhiiiin....Sachin shouting), I thought of the team that was played out to be invincible before the tournament started and which was considered so vulnerable now with every day, every match bringing out some new chink in the armor. We will all get back to work the next day I thought, shrugging off the travails of the Nagpur trip slowly and surely. Will the Indian team also get over the pedestals they have been placed on and then thrown out of, all of it in such a hurry? Will they get back to believing in themselves and not the hype surrounding them? Will they stop being blind to their faults and finish wallowing in the make-believe world their fans would want them to be a part of? Will the day we were just witness to turn out into being just another day for the Team in Blue or will it be the day that made a difference...ye sab dekhenge hum log!

Friday, February 25, 2011

Languor

It is a strange phase of life to be in. Ever since I moved to Mumbai, I have been fortunate in getting to stay with family since Priya was also posted in the city. She has had a big influence in my life right from when we were kids and she used to somehow convince me to do all the right and wrong things exactly the way she wanted them to be done. I had branched out since then and throughout my stay in various hostels and cities and friend circles, developed my own quirks. As we started staying together (for the first time since we were kids) about 3 years ago, Priya must have found it difficult to reconcile to the changed persona of her brother...not that she didn't try...in fact, she would be at her wit's end trying to make me do things a particular way or stop me from doing them in another. At some occasions she succeeded, at others she failed...thankfully, the ones she succeeded in also included convincing me to purchase my flat which has been the most logical investment decision I have ever happened to make.

Now that Priya is married and I am staying alone (she stays just a couple of flats away but living separately all the same and it is quite different), things are slowly taking a turn. Most of the evenings she does drop in or I go to her place for dinner, but mostly it is "main aur meri tanhaai" that inhabit the flat that Priya had so painstakingly and lovingly helped build. Knowing her, I was sure that she would get over it and start to build her own home the way she wants and she has done exactly that. In the process however, I have remained constant...without change, stuck in some sort of a limbo.

I would so love to have my parents come and stay with me and not many months pass before I bring back this topic with them. However, it is not to be as of the moment and I understand their point of view. Getting uprooted from where you have spent so many years of your life and moving to a completely new place with more strangers than acquaintances is not really easy...getting into the perils of settling in a new work place has been stopping so many of us from resigning from our existing jobs...things are no different there. So I am alone in this big bad city and it sucks. As it is, I am not of the partying around town age (not that I ever was) and as such, the merits of living in a bachelor pad all alone in a city like Mumbai are lost on me. Friends are great, work is fine, movies, plays and musical concerts are aplenty but it is not the same...not at all.

The one solution that everyone (really everyone, right from uncle, aunts, and their fifth cousins) has been doling out in good measure is the "get married" one. I know it is about time and a lot of friends would be more than happy to tell me just how much about time it is...given that since last June, I am already in the fourth decade of my existence on earth :-). I also know that it may solve to a large extent, the situation that I find myself in. Not that getting married would have me hitting all the party spots in town but at least there will be company and who knows what we might make of it. Plus it's not as if you decide to go the marriage path one day and get married the next. There is a whole lot of process here too and I have no idea as to how long it may take. This process, too is so complicated and you never know how much of yourself to expose and how soon. Ideas of honesty and frankness appear good on paper but practical stuff may be completely different. You never know if and when you know enough about someone and you never know if and when you should let out enough of you for someone to know who you really are.

And thus I keep thinking...is marriage the only solution or one that is sustainable? I am not too sure considering there are things that need to really click even post marriage in order to build the same degree of closeness that one has with family. All of it will take time and will happen in due course, marriage, settling in...the works...but the question is whether till then or beyond then, it is going to be all morose and isolated or can I make it better? I am sure that there are ways of making it better, it is just that the effort required does not seem to be worth it. The languid inertia that I find myself in seems to be taking a lot of doing to be lifted up.

Right, so now that we have all of this sorted (or unsorted...depends on the way you look at it), let's move on to more interesting stuff. The World Cup is underway and despite a pretty lackluster first week, it is getting into the more interesting phase where the bigger teams clash with each other. Tickets have been impossible to get, TV coverage is not too bad and considering that the IPL follows, I think that the bug I have been talking about thus far is covered as of now. So cheers to India...de ghuma ke :-)

Friday, January 28, 2011

Keeping busy

It is sheer boredom and the fact that I can postpone whatever little is occupying me at work currently, that I am here on the blog. What a waste, really that it has come to this! Started out as something that would record my life the way I see it, that would note my observations, feelings, thoughts, and ideas...Mode C was meant to be so much more but it was all of this only once upon a time. I have been busy since then and more than that, have been enjoying reading stuff online too much to bother about writing any.
 
There have been many things that have happened since I last wrote which is to be expected given the last time I wrote a post was some 7 months ago. My sister got married, I finally graduated from the small car to the mid-big sized car segment, the team I manage at work grew to five really smart people (Well...four smart ones, excluding me), I went on a regular exercise - good food course, went off it and saw myself bloat, and have now been back on the course again.
 
All these apart, the world is the same place as it was with its share of the strange and the mundane, joys and sorrows...the killings and plunderings co-existing with the winnings and achievements. With Manoj entering the family and Priya moving on to complete the family of her betrothed, I get a lot of time to sit alone and introspect...not too much of it though, considering that Priya continues to stay in the same building, even on the same floor as I do (which is a blessing, really).
 
Whatever little time I do get though, is spent on some good deal of mental reasoning, idea formulation, rationalizing and cross-questioning of thoughts, and at times, even their dissolution. Random thoughts...will India win the world cup for Sachin or vice versa...what is the purpose of my life, just to make a living, reproduce and die or to actually create something that carries my name and legacy forward...how and when will I be able to convince my parents to come and stay with me permanently...is the IPL only a random money making, extravagance showing game for the rich-beyond-means or does it bode well for the sport of cricket...and does it really matter as long as I am entertained not just by the cricket but also by the disgusting show of financial muscle...who and how would my life partner turn out to be and is it right to go the route of arranged marriage with no background or compatibility check possible and does it really matter...when would my venture finally see the light of day, if at all and what would it be like, the multimedia restaurant or the Home Office or the Fin Mart or something completely different...
 
There are no clear answers. Heck, there aren't any clear questions in the first place. All that's there is time, more than I can gainfully employ. I do keep randomly spending it quite nicely though. There have been some really good concerts that I have been to recently (the morning and evening concerts at Janfest on the 26th of Jan were specially nice and brilliant, of course, was also the time when both Manish and I lost our hearts to Gwyneth Wentink, the Harp player from Netherlands). I need to start getting back to theatre...participation may not be very active but at least as an audience...and when will I finally be able to play the guitar well (the three month lessons during my summers in Cal are all but forgotten)
 
I must catch a movie today. Keeping busy certainly helps.