Lights Out

Those moments between the time you switch off the lights and go to sleep..

When your mind wanders into every dark alley of memory that you'd put off limits all day..

When a thought you thought to be forgotten, waves back at you to say it's forgotten not..

When you lie down for the first time in a long time, but your heart starts racing off..

When the heaviness on your chest makes labour of every breath..

When you stretch and release the tensions of everyday life, and an involuntary invocation of 'amma' stains the relief with melancholy..

Those moments between the time you switch off the lights and go to sleep..

How I wish I could sleep with the lights on..

Weight of the matter

Gravity warps time. Clocks tick more slowly the closer they are to a massive object. Time, in the presence of great weight, bends.

Perhaps the same is true of the burdens we carry.. sorrows, regrets, what-ifs and failures. Their emotional gravity bends our perception of time. What precedes it seems distant and hazy. What follows it feels tainted, never quite the same again. A blotch on the lens that makes the world more ugly.

And the more we delve into that one painful memory.. the deeper we go, and the more it grows. What begins as a passing ache, swells with time and pulls everything into its orbit. Until, finally, it becomes something enormous. Unmovable. A black hole in our psyche.

In its presence, neither light nor lightness can escape... A bottomless abyss where we lose the ability to measure moments clearly, and to live in the moment, completely. We vaguely remember the tipping point, but don't know how long we've been falling and where we'll reach. 

I wish I could have ended this piece on a more promising note.. something on how time bends but never breaks.. and how something that bends on one side, may also bend on the other.. that there is light at the end of the tunnel.. Maybe someday I'll write an addendum..

The Mean Streets

These streets don't remember your name

These streets don't remember your name

You go in or you go out

You go right or you go wrong

For them, it's all just the same

These streets don't remember your name

Cry a slogan, sing a song

Wait a while or run along

Fall in love, stay in grief

Or drown in shame

For them, it's all just the same

These streets don't remember your name

For everything you hold

Or choose to let go

Everything you hide

Or choose to show

You only have yourself

To credit or blame

These streets don't remember your name

Ok? Ok.

The one question I’ve been asked time and again over the last 15 days is “Are your ok?” or some variant of it; either a question or a statement of hope – “Hope you are fine”, “Hope you’re holding up”, “All well?”. Initially I tried answering it with a statement that was truer to my state of mind at that time of the day instead of just pasting a generic reply. I ended up giving curt replies to some really close friends and a long heartfelt response to some acquaintances who were just checking in. But I honestly don’t know how to respond to that question anymore.

What is ok anyway? What constitutes as ok? That I feel hungry and thirsty at regular intervals? Whether I’m going to the office or not, or whether I’m able to sleep or not. I do all of these. Sometimes consistently, sometimes not so. I still go online (although the frequency has gone down), and I still send out memes or put up stories that resonate with me. But there are still times when I don’t remember anything on my way from the office to home. One minute I’m fine and the next I just think of a song or a sentence or a memory and just... zone out or cry it out.

I knew the clock was ticking. I knew this day would eventually come. It’s like watching Sadma for the second time. You know how it ends. You dread it but you watch it. You think you’re prepared for it. But the sheer severity of the situation still overwhelms you. You still cry. You still feel lost. You still believe that you’re stronger now that you know. But no. That’s not how Sadma works... Neither in film, nor in life.

To say that I’m ok would be as untrue as saying that I’m not ok. There is no right answer to this question, but I still thank you for asking. In an age where ‘Happy Birthday to you’ has been reduced to ‘HBD’ and condolence messages are high-five emojis being repurposed as folded hands, I thank you for taking that extra time and effort to type a message or call me. I may not always have a reply, but I’ll remember that you asked.

A Permanent Pain

For four days, I’ve been nursing a spasm in my right arm—a dull, constant pain that would occasionally spike, reminding me not to move my arm this way… that way… or even that way. The pain dictated every aspect of my day—how I walked, how I slept, how I wore my t-shirt, how I sat at work, how I played with my daughter, how I drove. I tried managing it with massages and hot fomentation. But after a while, I realised I was starting to make peace with the pain.

I began restricting my movements, expecting the next painful reminder. I started sitting differently, eating differently, sleeping differently, even walking differently. That’s when I knew I needed help. It wasn’t anything complicated—just a visit to the doctor, followed by a course of painkillers, muscle relaxants, and heat therapy.

Today, I woke up feeling different. Confident that I could go for a walk, if not a run. And I did. It felt so good that it almost felt better than before.

I guess that’s the thing about pain—it feels permanent, crippling, and all-encompassing until it’s not. The key is knowing when to bear through it and when to seek help.

An Accidental Adventure

After a long day at work yesterday, I was going back home and while crossing a busy intersection, I banged into an Activa. It was a minor accident but these two guys insisted that I park my vehicle on the side and started demanding money for the repair. I told them that it was a genuine accident and that neither of us were breaking any rules. The Activa looked pretty new and it must've been covered by insurance. But they kept insisting that giving it for repair would mean that they wont get it back for days and that I would have to pay. And then the crowd started trickling in. Any accident in India will bring in a crowd and every idiot becomes a mediator. "Paise deke baat khatam karo!", "Police ke paas jaoge to aur kharcha hoga" etc and bull shit. At some point, I felt like ppl had started ganging up on me. That's the other thing about India. In any accident, the guy with a big or more expensive vehicle is the default culprit. On one side, we have an Activa and on the other side of the ring we have the RE Classic. Obviously galati meri hi hogi. 

By this time, I was tired and restless. I'd not been feeling well and just wanted to go home. So I tried to fold and offered 500 bucks. They said no and insisted that I accompany them to the Honda showroom and let the technician give an estimate on how much it'll cost. I dunno why but I agreed to go with them. One of the guys sat behind me to ensure that I didn't run away. All through the way, I kept making a mark of any police vehicles  around me or police men on the road. There was this constant fear of the what-if. What if they take me somewhere secluded and demand a ransom? What if they take me to an ATM and insist on being there while I withdraw the money? Like I said, I don't know why I agreed to go with them.

Thankfully (and in retrospect, luckily) they weren't that diabolical. They took me to the Honda showroom and as expected, the guy there said that it'll cost 800 bucks in just labour charges, even if there is insurance. i knew this was hogwash. They seemed to have ppl towing their line everywhere they went. I had an eerie feeling and so as a reflex I put my foot down and said Let's go to the Police. Neither of us have committed a crime. It was an accident. Let the police decide on further course of action. This unnerved at least one them - the driver. I could sense that he didn't want to go to the police. But I persisted. 

We reach the Sayajigunj station and there are four other guys waiting there for us. These guys obviously worked as a gang and this wasn't their first hunt. One guy was the good cop (aap bade ghar ke lag rahe ho, kyun police-volice ke chakkar me padte ho? 800 ki baat hai. Nipta lo!). The other was a bad cop trying to rattle the cage ("500 me kya hota? Main yeh patthar se tera bike thok dun? Fir bolunga ke 500 me theek kar lo. Chalega??"). And then there were two guys who didn't have any script lines but were just there to make it look like a crowd. I tried to maintain calm to the best of my ability. "Yeh dhamki mat do! Har police station ke bahar CCTV hota hai. Sab kuch camera me aaega". Do all stations have CCTV cameras outside? I don't know. Thankfully neither did they. The bad cop calmed down a bit. And that's when my cavalry arrived. 

My brother-in-law came straight from him office, walked up to me and just signaled me to enter the station. Didn't say a word to them. This confidence of going inside the police station further unnerved those guys. It takes a certain amount of bravado to march into the police station in this country. Suddenly, we seemed to have the upper hand. My brother-in-law knew someone who knew someone at the station, went straight to the inspector and told him what happened. Thereafter i was called in and i gave my side of the story. And finally, the original duo was called in. Now I saw genuine fear. They obviously had something to hide. They didn't want the police to get involved. The inspector asked us if a settlement could be reached. I again offered 500 but this time they agreed. The inspector asked me again if I'm sure that i want to settle the matter. That I'm  legally not liable to pay anything. But I was just exhausted now. It'd been an hour already and I just wanted to get it over with. So I agreed to pay 500. The inspector asked us to go downstairs and sign on some sort of settlement receipt which stated that we have agreed on this and that nothing else needs to be done. I confidently walked out and was ready to pay the money but now the guys were really backtracking. They didn't want any documentation to happen. Maybe he didn't have a valid driver's license, maybe he had some other pending matters with the police.. I don't know.. I don't care.. and just like that.. they walked away saying that they don't want any of my money.. and just like that I walked away as well. No money paid. A free bird trembling from a mix of exhaustion and adrenaline.

Not everything teaches you a lesson, but if you want to learn, you probably will in any situation. So what did I learn today??

• Trust your instincts. If it tells you to call a bluff then call it. You won't always win, but at least you'll lose on your own terms and decisions. 
• It's not about the size of the dog in a fight, it's about the size of the fight in the dog. Inhale. Exhale. Don't back down. If you're sure that you've done nothing wrong then you don't have to worry. Of course this being India, this won't work all the time. Quite often the innocents also suffers. But that's a gamble that needs to be taken. 
• Aag ko paani ka darr banaye rakho. Just because someone is shouting at your face, doesn't mean you shout back. More often than not, the trolls only want you to react and come down to their level so that it becomes a level pigsty. Resist the urge. Keep calm. Diffuse what you can. 
• Always know whom to call in your time of need. Family works best. Especially if you know that they are connected. In this country, who you know pretty much defines what you can do. 

P.S.: Now that I've slept over it, I've woken up wiser. I can clearly see what all I did wrong. I shouldn't have gone with them unaccompanied. It was stupid and reckless. I should have had a little more faith in the police (and my brother-in-law). Had I gone straight to police the matter would have gotten sorted a bit faster. But then again,it wouldn't have resulted in this post. 

An ode to mother tongue

A mother tongue is a language that a person has been exposed to from birth or within the critical period. Hence, despite being born in Gujarat and having lived my whole life here, my mother tongue continues to remain Tamil. This is despite the fact that I don't even know how to read and write Tamil. This is despite the fact that I think in English and am most comfortable conversing in it. This is despite the fact that I enjoy Hindi movies more than Tamil (Thalaivar remains an exception, as always).

Our daughter is half Tamil and half Gujarati. She's exposed to both languages in almost equal measure, through my wife and my parents. She's five now and speaks predominantly in English, understands Tamil, shows frustration in Gujarati and speaks Hindi with a distinct South Indian twang. I really don't know what her mother tongue would be. I guess it is best for her to decide what language she identifies with the most. I am neither a linguist, nor a purist. I believe that language is just a medium of expressing one's thoughts and beliefs. As long as she has the ability (and courage) to speak her mind coherently and convincingly, I really don't mind which language she chooses to do it in. 

That said, we end up learning a lot in life, but it's always good to remember where it all started from. Because if we don't know our roots, how will we know where we stand? So, on February 21 - World Mother Tongue Day, be sure to express yourself... in the language you are most comfortable in.

Discarded Thoughts

Went to buy a greeting card
After what felt ages
And witnessed some geriatrics
Suffering from life in various stages

Some were lying there in ruin
With covers either torn or misplaced
Dogeared and wrinkled with crease
A pale shadow of what once they were

Some had a layer of dust on them
Sharing an emotion to which no one subscribes
In an age where a birthday wish is just an HBD
And a festive greeting is just a forward
Who goes to the card shop to select and buy?

For a long time I didn't
And now when I want to
I can't

Remember Remember

Remember Remember 

The 8th Of November 

The #DeMon is now 5-years old.. 

Let's take a moment to remember all the promises we were sold..

The black changed hands and retained its hue..

While the ones in queue stood without a clue.. 

The posterboy grinned from the jacket ad

For he had had his way..

Is it just a coincidence that an IPO opened today?

8th November, 2021

Once a quitter

Just about a year since my last post on this blog, which incidentally ended quite abruptly without even bothering to chart my complete recovery. Apologies for the cliffhanger ending. Happy to report that I survived. 

That said, a lot did happen during this period -- from a cancer in the family (which seems to have ended quite peacefully *fingers crossed*) to a job change (I'm a born-again copywriter now, yayy!). In the midst of all this, the blog took the backseat. 

Well, being busy was not the only reason. I realise now that I had painted myself into a corner by expecting a bit too much out of my blog. Every post *needed* to have that wow factor, infused (sometimes forced) humor, word play, 'singing' sentences etc etc. And also, each one had to be better than the last one. I'd ended up making my blog a treatise, rather than a loose sally of my mind. And it was getting tiring. Hence, the limbo.

And then two things happened in quick succession over the last two days. 

First, a cousin with whom I'd not spoken to since a long time just called me out of the blue (because, Diwali) and during the course of the conversation he told me how much he and his family liked my blogs and talk about it often. How the frequency of my blogging has gone down.. well, you get the picture.. And second, a friend shared her blog with me and I realised how beautifully and effortlessly she had expressed herself using simple, free-flowing sentences and honest & unencumbered thoughts... And I began to wonder how liberating it must feel to just wring your heart out every once in a while. Concentrating on what needs to be said, rather than how it is being said.

I am a frequent quitter. I have done this in the past as well. Taking long breaks and then finding inspirations for a few more posts before hibernating again. I really don't know how different this time would be. Errr.. so.. I'm just a boy, typing in front of you the reader, asking for your patience. Thank you.

My COVID Story

I tested positive for the Coronavirus on October 07, 2020. This is my attempt to keep a day-by-day account of my COVID journey. Will try and update this blog as often as possible.

Day 1: October 7, Wednesday

I am quite sure that I contracted the virus from office. After the Gandhi Jayanti long weekend, as soon as we resumed office on Monday, Oct 5, we got to know that our office boy-cum-housekeeping-cum-teamaker had tested positive. The news of his report set off alarm bells as he practically touched every corner and surface of the office. On Tuesday, we got to know that the front office girl also tested positive. And on Wednesday, one of my team members tested positive. I already had a sore throat so had taken a precautionary day off. Now the office finally woke up from its slumber and was closed. Everyone was asked to get a test done. 

I went to the local public health center to get a rapid antigen test done. All you need to show is your Aadhar card for the test to be done. Even before getting the test done, i started blabbering that there's been an outbreak in the office. So while i was still waiting for the result, the attendant who tested me casually mentioned that I might turn positive. And when I actually did, a part of me thought that I may have inadvertently influenced the outcome by talking about the outbreak. 

What the hell does Probably Positive mean anyway??

This conspiracy theory was laid to rest over the next 18 hours.

One of the perks of living in Baroda is a large house where I at least have space for self isolation. I shifted to the room on the second floor. As I didn't have any symptoms as such I didn't take any thermometers or O2 meters with me. Just the medications and a change of clothes.
It is important to take plenty of rest and plenty of fluids through the day. And although i took the fluid, I didn't rest much. Continued answering the work emails and WhatsApp messages. I realized my folly when I got pretty tired and burning sensation in my eyes by day end. Need to sleep more often.

On day 1, I took 4 tablets of HCQ 200mg, BComplex and chewed the Vit C+Zinc tablet. I didn't take the paracetamol, nor the Azithromycin during the day as i didn't have any fever. In addition I had all the kadha, haldi dudh, warm water, Guava (which contains 4 times more VitC than oranges, as stated to me by wife) etc etc. I guess I'm just plain lucky to have contracted COVID rather than my wife. Because I doubt i could have taken as good care of her as she has of me.

By nightfall, I could feel fever creeping in. So took a paracetamol to preempt the fever. Managed to sleep quite well. Surprisingly.

Day 2: October 8, Thursday

When I woke up, I felt as if it was just a normal day. But as soon as i started to walk, I could sense weakness, backpain and a throbbing headache. I knew then and there that the rapid test was not a conspiracy. That although the paracetamol ensured that there was no fever, I was still weak. I slowed down a lot. Told the office guys that I won't be able to work from home or any such shit. Had another round of meds after breakfast (thankfully the sense of taste and smell, and my appetite are all in tact *touchwood*)

On a side note, while it is important and ethically responsible to make your infection public, be wary of whom you choose to talk about it. A majority of them haven't really gone through this and will just expound advices from their echo chambers. Some just want to know how it feels like because they fear that they'll get it soon. Very few will be genuinely interested in your well-being. They'll call, share credible info, answer your questions and allay your fears. Unfortunately, you will not know beforehand who these good ones are. There will be surprises - some you never expected anything from but were especially sweet and concerned; and shocks - some you expected a lot from, but ended up disappointing you with their nonchalance. Such is life. 

Fever, headache, body pain, loss of taste and diarrhea are all symptoms of COVID19 and I've had all of them in varying degrees. Although now I'm not sure if the odd taste in the mouth and diarrhea is because of the virus or the HCQ, paracetamol and Azithromycin tablets I'm taking. 

OTT platforms are over-rated. There is only that much time you can while away in quarantine. Started reading Catch22 today. Have lost the habit of reading long content so I'm taking it slow. 25 pages down so far.

Day 3: October 9

It's 1:20 am right now and I can feel the last of the big symptoms rearing their ugly heads - congestion and loss of smell. Just when I lied down to sleep, i could feel a runny nose. This was odd because this is the first time I was feeling it since starting the medications. I've already taken 6 tablets of HCQ, 4 tablets of Bcomplex, chewed 3 tablets of VitC+Zinc and gulped 1 tablet of Azithromycin. Having a congestion now is worrying. Will try to sleep again. Wish me luck. 

3 am. This is why I hate isolation. Even under usual circumstances, I hate being on my own. Now all of a sudden every symptom or a small change in my body, is like a fragment of food stuck between the teeth and I'm the solitary tongue picking at it. Anything I feel, feels magnified. I think I'm losing my sense of smell. Tried smelling the deodorant but i could only feel the coolness of the spray on my wrist. Took one more round of steam (have one of those electric, portable steaming pots. Quite cheap and efficient for such midnight struggles), checked the O2 saturation (98) and googled "loss of smell in covid" (PRO TIP: while searching for any info regarding COVID, be sure to consider articles that are a month old at max. This is a fast evolving disease. What was true in March 2020, may not be true right now.) Eventually, I think I over thought so much that I got tired and slept off. 

Woke up at 6:30 out of sheer habit. Rough night. Cant smell the toothpaste but can feel the tingling of menthol. Couldn't really smell the coffee but could still taste the bitterness of it a bit. I guess the olfactory senses are working at reduced capacity. I too must follow suit today.

12:30 pm: I pretty much have all the symptoms now except high fever. So the doc asked me to get an HRCT scan done to find out the extent of infection in the lungs. Basically they wanted to rule out Pneumonia and remove 4000 bucks from my account. Yet to get the report but I don't see anything alarming coming out of it. Fingers crossed.

Side note: I fail to understand why a viral infection has become such a taboo in the society!!.. I have neighbors who have seen me grow up over the last three decades, and since the time they got to know of my infection they have shunned not just me but my whole family like an outcast! Their doors are always closed, they've started drying their clothes at the other end of the front yard!.. not even a courtesy call over phone to check if we might be needing anything. My family is in a self-imposed quarantine as it is morally the right thing to do. But such denigration is disgusting. Koi baat nahi. Sabka time aayega. Vaccine me bahut der hai. 

Side side note (whatever that means): I headed out after 2 days to get the chest CT scan done. And all eyes of the society were on me. Piercing at me with looks that ask "why is he out?", "Shouldn't he be inside?!". Kept my gaze low and tried my best not to raise the middle finger, sat on the two wheeler and drove away. For those 15 seconds, I got a teeny tiny glimpse of what women must be feeling day in and day out in this country and society. Exhausting. 

The CT scan showed "5% parenchymal involvement" (whatever that is) and " early changes of viral pneumonia to be considered". The mention of pneumonia triggered some alarm bells but my family doctor said that this can be controlled by doubling the dose of Azithromycin.

Rest of the day was quite uneventful. Didn't develop any new symptoms, nor did any of the existing symptoms worsen (Hallelujah!). Was about to call it a night when I got into a conversation with a friend of mine. Now I'm usually not in regular touch with this guy and the chat started out like a regular "heard you tested positive, how are you feeling now?".. but then, it just graduated into a full fledged info session!.. he'd recently defeated the virus and was sharing tips on how he did it. He and I have a lot in common. Similar age and we are both hands-on fathers; he is a LOT fitter and used to cycle distances I wouldn't normally even drive! May be that helped him recuperate better. Anyway, the chat was super helpful. It's so good to have someone who has been through this and has relevant and updated tips and hacks! 

Once I develop some antibodies, I too will further my services to the infected. May be this blog will help.

Days 4 & 5: October 10-11 

The oddest things happen when you least expect them to. After 2 days of symptoms coming and going in varying severities, I have had a 36 hour period where I've been... Just... Bored. No fever, no cough, no body pain, no headache, no diarrhea... Even my sense of smell is back!.. in fact, on Saturday, there was a brief period where I even doubted if I had COVID at all. I mean, think about it.. even common cold or a throat infection can bring mild fever; and everything else can be attributed as side effects of the medication that it was taking. That thought was horrifying. Almost as horrifying as that moment on Wednesday when I came to know that I am "probably positive". You see, I have been bravely facing everything since Wednesday because a part of me was actually relieved that I have COVID and that it doesn't seems to be 'that' bad, and that it'll be over in 14 days... And I'll have antibodies to keep me safe for at least some period of time in future. I know now that this doubt was, to quote Billy the Butcher, "f&£+g diabolical" and it was unnecessary. Because, a rapid antigen test is somewhat like a pregnancy kit. If it's negative, it can still be wrong. But if it's positive, it's "probably" right. 

Woke up on Sunday absolutely fine. I even did some physical exercise in addition to the breathing ones that I've been doing the past few days. I spoke to the doctor and told him that I haven't got any symptoms in last 36 hours. He said that it's a good thing and that there are an increased number of milder infections happening these days. I could be one of them. But still, he asked me to remain calm for two more days and we can perhaps do the PCR test on Tuesday (7th day) to check if I'm negative or not. I was elated. Unfortunately elations are ephemeral in 2020. 

After lunch I spoke to the security guard of my office (he too tested positive on Wednesday). He had been asked to do an RT-PCR test and his results had just come in. Despite not having any symptoms other than an infrequent cough, his report was alarming. His CT values were between 15-17. So he was having a high viral load despite not showing much symptom. I think I'll just wait for my PCR report before I start partying.

Day 6: October 12, Monday

The day was quite uneventful except for the fact that I finally took the full subscription of Disney HotStar and discovered Succession. What a beauty!... Unfortunately, that wasn't the high point of the day. 

Today is Day 6, so I'm done with my course of HCQ 200mg and Azithromycin 500mg. I only have Paracetamol, VitC+Zinc and B-Complex tablets with me. I'd stopped taking Paracetamol and by evening I got feverish again. I was sweating but had this burning sensation in my eyes. I usually get it when I have fever inside me. So I checked. 100.3!... The fever is still low grade, I have managed up to 104 in the past. But what is worrying is that I am getting fever after 5 days of medication. May be I'm not out of the woods yet. Took a paracetamol, had some haldi dudh and slept off 

Day 7: October 13, Tuesday

Woke up with 99.7 degree fever. Spoke to the doc. He too was worried that I am getting fever after all these days. Has asked me to keep a check every 3 hours today and call back in the evening. If the fever persists, we'll go for an RT-PCR to check the viral load. In the evening, my brother in law referred my case to one of the empanelled doctors in his company. The fever hasn't really spiked. Has remained constant in the 99.3 to 100.3 degree area. I decided not to take a paracetamol and just sleep it off. 

Day 8: October 14, Wednesday 

Every COVID story is slightly different from the other. I've heard of people testing negative after a week, I've heard of people serving out 21 days of quarantine instead of 14; and I've also heard of scary stories where people who were perfectly normal at the outset end up getting admitted with Oxygen support as their condition deteriorates. I've tried my best to be positive (God knows positivity doesn't come naturally to me). A part of me genuinely hoped that I'll test negative on 8th day. Doesn't seem like that's gonna happen. 

Spoke to that empanelled doctor. He said that it is imperative for every covid patient to serve out 14 days in isolation and that I may have some symptom or the other throughout this period. The PCR test would have to be done after the 14th day and see if I get a negative result. That would mean that I can resume normal life. 

Speaking of normal life, I tried to restart work life with a teams meeting where I tool stock of what the team plans to do during Navratri. Incredibly enough, this simple process of sitting through a meeting and discussing idea proved to be so exhausting. But I need to do more of this, nonetheless. The show must go on. 

Ended the day with again 100 degrees on the thermometer.

In Memoriam – S. P. Balasubrahmanyam

My fingers quiver as I type this… We think that we understand the concept of death… Its ubiquity, certainty and finality… Till it comes knocking for someone we love and respect… Someone, who may not even know us, but is an inextricable part of our life. SPB was… is one such voice… Today, when the news of his passing away started trickling in, it brought with it waves after waves of memories… of songs… of instances from my life associated with that song… Everything came crashing down…

It is impossible to summarize a career of 50+ years and over 40,000 songs with a “Best of …” listicle. So, I won’t even try. This list comprises songs that impacted me at a personal level. Just that. Not the best. Not the most famous. Just the ones that really impacted me.

1. Hum Bane Tum Bane Ek Duuje Ke Liye (Ek Duuje Ke Liye): As a Tamilian growing up in Gujarat. I could really relate to "I don't know what you say!"… This was a heartbreaking movie… A movie so good that I could never really manage to see this movie in its entirety since my adolescence.

2. Sach Mere Yaar Hai (Saagar): It is difficult to give voice to the expressions of Kamal Hassan in this melancholic song in the midst of a party. And SP did it beautifully. SPB was the voice for Kamal, Rajinikanth as well as Salman Khan for some of the best songs of their careers. Such versatility.

3. Hum Na Samjhe The (Gardish): One of an underrated gem of a song from an underrated movie. SP gave so much soul to these brilliant words by Javed saab. The way he wrenches out the pain of a son reminiscing his childhood is truly mesmerising.

4. Mandram Vantha (Mouna Ragam): The only Tamil song in this list, but the most personal for me. As a newly minted father, I was clueless about what to do when you have a crying child in your arms.. how to put her to pacify her or put her to sleep... They say that we always resort to our mother tongue when we are most vulnerable… So despite knowing so many lullabies in Hindi, I resorted to the only Tamil song I knew.. the way it starts is magical… and it struck a chord with this one-week old in my hands as well... she still recognizes this tune and calms down, when I sing this song… after 4 years…

5. Tere Mere Beech Me (again, Ek Duuje Ke Liye): Not one of my all-time favourites... but a song that I relate to today…

A Thought On Uttarayan

Ample space in the sky
For every kite to fly
And yet we fight
To be the only one in sight

As if the breeze weren't enough
We fill the air with sound
No force sufficient
For the world to go round

We add our bits
Window-dressing the whole
Scraping from the middle
And leaving a hole..

There's wind, there's sky, some thread and a kite
Not everything may kneel to our might
And yet we fight
To be the only one sight

Trolling the Cholesterol

God has been witness to the ferocity with which I’ve fought the urge to exercise. Multiple failed New Year resolutions, at least four ‘donations’ to the neighbourhood gym (it’s high time we start getting tax exemption for gym memberships), countless taunts (thanks mom!) and innumerable sighs & heartburns inside the trial rooms (fit people will probably never understand this pain) – nothing worked hard enough for me to workout. And then four months back, in a typically filmy style, my doctor looked at my lipid profile test results (get it done once a year after you turn 30, trust me!) and told me “Tumhe dua ki nahin, dawa aur exercise ki zarurat hai”. My body was getting trolled by high cholesterol and it was high time I strolled against it. Gym was no longer an option for me, so I hit the road. Quite literally.

We usually dismiss the things that we can’t understand or appreciate. In the initial few days, I kept ranting about how waking up early is highly over-rated and unfairly romanticized. I mean what is the fun in resisting the urge to snooze the alarm, waking up at an ungodly hour, trying one’s luck against the temperamental neighbourhood dogs and go out for a walk (I could call it a jog, but that would be lying). But every time the devil in me told me to stop, the angel showed me the cholesterol figures and coaxed me into going that extra mile. My wife even gifted me a cycle on my 33^rd birthday (talk about midlife crisis!) and motivated me to add a bit of cycling to my regime. Call it acclimatization or good old Stockholm Syndrome, I eventually made peace with my morning routine.

Slowly but surely, I could see myself going farther than I’ve ever gone before. My first 5K (walk, not run) was a thrilling achievement for me. Eventually I was confident enough to mix a bit of running in the walk. Of course, the morning routine had to be supplemented by dietary restraint throughout the day. I didn’t do anything drastic; just removed all the meals I had...errr.. in-between meals. So, there was no more room for the evening samosas, bhajiyas, sev puris etc. After all, “Balidaan to dena hoga”, right? Things really hit the next level of euphoria when I started getting compliments from people about looking fitter and leaner. Tightening the belt was never this gratifying.

But I was still wary of all my ‘accomplishments’. After all, this would amount to nothing if the cholesterol remained out of control and I continued to be under medication. After 4 months of regular workout and walking away from the sinful snacks, I got one more test done. Voila!! The cholesterol levels are down and the doctor put me off medication temporarily - provided I continue to manage my lifestyle changes.

The battle may have been won, but the war continues. The lifestyle changes must remain consistent and the tests need to become an annual affair. My true agnipariksha will be during the upcoming festive season. Saying no to the modaks of Ganesh Chaturthi, the cheese nan and papdi no lot of Navratri, and the ghughras and mathiyas of Diwali – I will have to continue walking the road less taken. The pursuit of wellness is similar to the pursuit of happiness – a never-ending journey where the road is more important than the destination.

In Memoriam: Jet Airways

In a world where everything changes, Jet was a constant – at least for me; at least till yesterday. The first flight of my life was on a Jet (circa 1995-96) from Baroda to Mumbai. I was a precocious 10-year old enamoured by the idea of my first flight… and more importantly, I was looking forward to the meal!

And what an experience it was! A tray of food accompanied with steel cutlery – a bowl of cut fruits, a cupcake, a plastic cup for tea or coffee; all served with a smile by a team dressed impeccably. I hardly remember the take-off and the landing, but I remember that meal. I also remember stuffing the cupcake and that steel butter knife in my bag for posterity. I also remember my uncle looking at the stash and remarking sarcastically that there must also been have a tray to take away and me thinking in dismay “oh shucks! What a miss!”

Since then, there were a number of flights taken and a decent number of miles flown. Many competitors came and were put to use – Kingfisher had a lovely air crew (personally chosen by Mr. Mallya, no less) and some seriously good food; Indigo had quirky and smart messaging across the flight (though they were horribly stingy with that exorbitant sandwich and cup noodles); there was also this one (and sadly only one) experience with Emirates that involved a fair bit of high spirits. But Jet was always special. Jet was always a full-service airline that dispensed its service well. Whenever the budget permitted and the stars aligned, it was the chosen one and it almost never disappointed.

It is rather unfortunate that constancy as a virtue is seldom given its due. Also, unfortunate that eulogies are almost always kinder and more eloquent than testimonials. Oh well… Off you fly into that great big blue sky, Jet. You will be remembered, as firsts often are.

Apataadiya

It is no secret that kids between the age of 1 and 5 learn at a break-neck speed.. You go on a business tour for 2-3 days and come back to find your toddler saying new words, showing new expressions/emotions, and adding a whole new layer of personality onto herself. There is a dialogue in Narcos where a rich-man-gone-bankrupt is asked how he lost his money and he says "Slowly at first. And then... all at once."... Well, what is true for Escobar, is also true for most parents.

In a world where Annie Baby learns something new every day, "Apataadiya" has been a constant.. We don't know what it means exactly.. It's neither Gujarati nor Tamil (the two languages she hears the most) but we know what the word conveys.. Apataadiya means Cease and Desist!.. When she shouts this word, she wants us to stop whatever it is that we're doing — this could be something as important as feeding her or changing the diaper or something as mundane as combing her hair.. Well, whatever it is.. It cant continue beyond an Apataadiya! We have not only accepted this term but have also adopted it.. Now even we use it as an in-house term for stopping whatever is happening.. I guess kids teach us almost as much as we teach them.. The quantum of exchange may vary from time to time - but by the end of it, the balance is achieved.

It's not just a term she utters, we adopt the tunes she hums, the games she invents and even the famed head-tilt she's devised to manipulate us into giving her what she wants.. We adopt and we run with it.. We keep using it till it becomes a normal part of our being.. The way we bite and grind a tooth filling till the time it feels like a part of us.. And then comes a stage when the child out-grows that term or mannerism and looks at us in disbelief every time we use it in front of her.. Her look sometimes seems like "Dad! Grow up!“... I guess it is part of every parent's destiny to end up like Kamal Haasan doing that monkey dance in Sadma while Sridevi chugs away, oblivious of her past..

Kahaan Gaye Woh?

Woh jinhe har khushi, har aansu me yaad kiya karte the..
Jinki baatein garv se, gairon se kiya karte the..
Kahaan gaye woh jinke number muh-zubaani yaad rakhte the?
Kahaan gaye woh jinhe tum kabhi dost bulaya karte the?

Kuch shaadiyon ke melon me bichchad gaye..
Kuch naye rishton ki kishton me katt gaye..
Kuch timezones ke daraaron me dhas gaye..
Kuch roz-marha ki zindagi me phas gaye..
Jo bach gaye woh aaj sirf notifications me milte hain..
993 ke friendlist me, woh bhi ek DP me khilte hain..

Kahaan gaye woh jinhe kabhi lahu ke rishton se badhkar samajhte the?
Kahaan gaye woh jo tumhaare dil ka haal sirf tumhaare 'hmmm' se parakhte the?
Kahaan gaye woh jinke aansu kabhi tumhe rulaya karte the?
Kahaan gaye woh jinhe tum kabhi dost bulaya karte the?

The one about Festivals

Disclaimer: This is a rant post. If you don't agree with the contents of this post then please feel free to scroll away. I am only as interested in knowing and understanding your views, as you are in knowing and understanding mine.

***

I am neither a die-hard animal rights activist, nor a born-again sustainability expert; neither an arm-chair liberal, nor a pseudo-secular. I am just an average guy who finds this commoditization, gamification and dehumanisation of festivals, horribly irritating and dangerous - an average guy who usually keeps these views to himself as he doesnt want to piss over someone else's parade or get into a mud-slinging match with the easily offended zealots.

If you have lived long enough, you'd probably agree that these days all festivals sound and smell the same - sound of blaring loudspeakers or fire crackers and smell of smoke emanating from the same. Be it Uttarayan, Diwali, Navratri or Holi - mindless cacophony is a common characteristic. I talk about Hindu festivals, not because I dont want to offend the 'minority communities', but because I am a Hindu and only know a thing or two about Hindu festivals. I am sure that the situation is just the same, if not worse, during festivals across most religions.

Every festival is becoming one more excuse for personal, community and political one-upmanship. Everyone wants a larger loudspeaker, louder firecracker and spend more than the next guy, house or lane. And in the midst of all this nonsense, a sizeable part of the population gets grinded in - the infants, old, infirm, the non-humans and the ones who just want some quietude.

I understand the importance of festivals - they feed the economy, bring us together as a family and community, and give us a much-desired break from work. But can't people be a little more civic, sensitive and considerate of everyone's situation? Cant people just think for a while before bursting loud firecrackers into the night and that too near hospitals? Cant people understand that washing the streets with animal blood is not a good idea?

***

After-thought: They can't and they wont. People only voice their minds over social media, they seldom change it there. I have pretty much resigned to the fate that festivals are only going to get worse with each passing year. They have become an occupational hazard of being 'human'.

Discomforting Replies

We live in an unfairly segmented and segregated world. There are grid lines running everywhere – lines cutting across the rich and the poor, young and old, ‘upper’ and ‘lower’ castes… and at a very fundamental level – man and woman. And each one of us is part of and (to various extent) party to this unfair world. Some bring down the average by continuing to do despicable things (and finding new ways of doing it) while others bring down the average by just being average – being part of the quiet masses that accept, normalize and thereby encourage the aforementioned dastardly acts.

The past month has been quite difficult. Every wall I scroll, every feed I read is full of women finally finding the courage to name and shame the perpetrators – men who have taken these women and their silence for granted; the privileged who have misused and abused their privileges. Most of these perpetrators are now buckling up to weather the storm; and weather it they will because most of them are too well-entrenched and well-connected to be uprooted or isolated. I read these articles, posts and tweets and feel equally complicit (if not more). Because although I may not have harassed, objectified or exploited women in public or private life, I have been a spectator – and largely, a mute spectator. And while there have been occasions where I have expressed my displeasure of the ‘dude-bro’ culture to the dudes and the bros; but these occasions have far too few to merit an exoneration. And I firmly believe that I am not an isolated example. I am sure that like me, there are many men out there who must be reading these allegations and thinking “wow! Thank God I’m not one of them”…. Just ask yourself in all honesty… Am I?

Have you seen something like this happen at home, office or public places and remained quiet? Have you seen the women of your house being cut short in a conversation, being told that ‘this is not an area of your expertise’, or ‘you will not understand these things’? Have you been part of a dude-bro gang at office where people have bragged about their latest exploits, name called a female colleague who did not respond to their not-so-subtle cues, attributed a female colleague’s success or promotion to her gender rather than her work? Ask yourself these questions and reply to yourself. Your replies are important to you, not me. I have enough uncomfortable replies of my own that I need to deal with and live with.

The past cannot be changed. But it should not be rationalized and accepted as well. The past needs to be acknowledged, evaluated and duly addressed so that it remains in the past and doesn’t get repeated in the future. Because, despite the outrage that is being expressed today, despite the wrongs that are being called out today, despite the courage that is being shown today; if the future doesn’t change. Then, shame on us.

The World Needs Changing

Most of us in our 20s have this urge to rebel against the system, to challenge the societal norms and to change the world. Somewhere down the road we realize that getting a college admission is difficult enough; changing jobs is difficult enough; finding love is difficult enough; and staying in love is even more so. The rebellious 20s and its steady demise is a well-documented phenomenon. What is not that well-documented is its resurgence after parenthood.

Parenting has been in existence since the birth of mankind. Still every generation believes that it can better this art; that it can learn from the mistakes that it sees around it (as well as the ones it must have endured) and ensure that the same are not repeated. We all want to be better parents – and we all believe that the only way to be better, is to be different. So, after the euphoria of childbirth wanes, we arm ourselves with a mental checklist of what we ought to do… and more importantly, what we ought not to do. So, suddenly, swaddling becomes old school, diapers become chic, mother-toddler classes become as important as college, and every (and I mean, e.v.e.r.y.) vaccination mentioned in the pediatrician's file becomes inevitable and crucial. We all cringe a little when we see our parents parenting our children – forgetting that they did a pretty good job (well, most of the time) with us in the first place.

In our quest to not repeat certain mistakes, we make some new ones. We reinvent certain wheels and rediscover certain fires (always the hard way, mind you). And through it all, we unduly stress ourselves by setting non-SMART goals for ourselves as parents – goals that are neither Specific, nor Measurable, Achievable, Result-oriented, or Time-bound. We will try and breast-feed for as long as humanly possible. We will vie (and save) to send our children to that snobbish uptown school that we loathed as a child. And on a personal note, we will try and keep the child away from screens for as long as possible.

The last one kind of fell through for us a few weeks back. One fine day, our Precious decided that she’s not going to have any food without entertainment. I remember of a time, not too long ago, when singing a song or reading a book with a funny accent did the trick; but the queen decided that she’ll not be so easily entertained. We tried and tried while the Cerelac went cold… and then, finally, out of sheer frustration, we did something that we never thought that we’d fall for – ChuChu TV. And while Precious now passively finishes her bowl, our conscience constantly gnaws at our innards. Now I don’t know about my better half, but I have made peace with this fact that screens are going to be an integral part of Precious’ life – one can only delay the inevitable, not prevent it altogether. Onto the next item on the list then. After all, the world needs changing.