Having just relaunched a news website, and discovering several glitches that need fixing, the mind is preoccupied. Not just with solving the current problems but also ensuring that these don't recur in subsequent changeovers.
The editor of the news portal complains how I haven't had the time to chat with her and, perhaps, congratulate her. But little does she know that I am merely the midwife: having delivered one child with whom I cannot be attached for too long or too deeply, it is time to move on to the next delivery.
There are babies queued up, waiting to be born. This is, after all, India. And changing times mean there's actually very little time.
Loving detachment, remember?
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
JurassicFest
2900 sweaty bodies rubbing against each other on a sun-soaked beach
Sand in their shoes and God knows in which orifice.
Beer being knocked back with no हिसाब ... and blending with every other spirit besides.
Rain dances, never-ending nights, incestuous agency employees forming multiple alumni associations at the same time, pretty young things in tiny skirts accompanied by sulking, bearded guys holding them on a long leash...
There are many ways to look at Goa - depending on your current age and state of mind. To the under-30s, subsidised by the Advertising Agencies Association of India, this was GoaFest at its best.
To the over-40s/50s/60s, jaded by the continuous bickering on the split between media and creative agencies, this was not GoaFest but JurassicFest. Dinosaur-like agency heads, supposedly respectable figures, squabbling on a public forum - it couldn't get worse! Nor could it have been more appropriate that the principal sponsor of the fiery panel discussion was the ABP Group, whose corporate line (crafted way back in 1997) is 'Power of Words'. (Words, is an anagram of sword - did you know?)
At least there's consistency: scam ads still win awards.
But, sandwiched between the crowds, one can be alone. Really alone without being lonely. That's when it strikes you it's the 20th and 21st of April and that the last time you were here was the 20th and 21st of July. And then you wonder whether you can ever get back to Goa with someone you really want by your side (not those thrust on you by the coincidences of corporate conferences). Just someone with whom you can wander the wet, winding roads, watch the sun go to sleep, awake each others' senses till your smells intertwine. Soon, you hope, before life takes another turn.
But then you wake up and set out to walk the beach while it's still unpopulated. And then you come across this:
And you wonder whether this road is best not taken.
Sand in their shoes and God knows in which orifice.
Beer being knocked back with no हिसाब ... and blending with every other spirit besides.
Rain dances, never-ending nights, incestuous agency employees forming multiple alumni associations at the same time, pretty young things in tiny skirts accompanied by sulking, bearded guys holding them on a long leash...
There are many ways to look at Goa - depending on your current age and state of mind. To the under-30s, subsidised by the Advertising Agencies Association of India, this was GoaFest at its best.
To the over-40s/50s/60s, jaded by the continuous bickering on the split between media and creative agencies, this was not GoaFest but JurassicFest. Dinosaur-like agency heads, supposedly respectable figures, squabbling on a public forum - it couldn't get worse! Nor could it have been more appropriate that the principal sponsor of the fiery panel discussion was the ABP Group, whose corporate line (crafted way back in 1997) is 'Power of Words'. (Words, is an anagram of sword - did you know?)
At least there's consistency: scam ads still win awards.
But, sandwiched between the crowds, one can be alone. Really alone without being lonely. That's when it strikes you it's the 20th and 21st of April and that the last time you were here was the 20th and 21st of July. And then you wonder whether you can ever get back to Goa with someone you really want by your side (not those thrust on you by the coincidences of corporate conferences). Just someone with whom you can wander the wet, winding roads, watch the sun go to sleep, awake each others' senses till your smells intertwine. Soon, you hope, before life takes another turn.
But then you wake up and set out to walk the beach while it's still unpopulated. And then you come across this:
And you wonder whether this road is best not taken.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
One for None
I work in an organisation that has 23 conference rooms in the building. That's right... 23!
And yet there's one particular room that's not available to anyone because it's booked all day, all week - apparently by one person who, officially, sits in the open area on that floor along with others of his ilk. But since he wants to work out of a room, and isn't entitled to one, he books this conference room and moves in with bag and laptop.
Neat trick... except that if we move out to another building with fewer conference rooms, then will this gent be able to work with the hoi-polloi? चलो, देखते हैं।
And yet there's one particular room that's not available to anyone because it's booked all day, all week - apparently by one person who, officially, sits in the open area on that floor along with others of his ilk. But since he wants to work out of a room, and isn't entitled to one, he books this conference room and moves in with bag and laptop.
Neat trick... except that if we move out to another building with fewer conference rooms, then will this gent be able to work with the hoi-polloi? चलो, देखते हैं।
Friday, April 13, 2007
Friday the 13th
The morning starts with an SMS that redefines old age as that point in your life when a sexy babe arouses your memories instead of your you-know-what.
Funny, I guess.
Mid-morning and I realise a female colleague is being flirted with on the email by a middle-aged, perhaps dirty, man with lewd intent.
Not funny, for sure.
Afternoon: a girl who works with me is about to leave for Amritsar to get married and has come by to say 'bye but does so by bending down to touch my feet!
Embarassing. And disgusting.
Early evening and another female colleague recounts her advertising agency days when a client booked her and two male colleagues in a hotel in Bombay that turned out to be a pickup joint.
Cheap.
Should I hate guys who do this to women? Or change the circle of male friends/colleagues I have?
Funny, I guess.
Mid-morning and I realise a female colleague is being flirted with on the email by a middle-aged, perhaps dirty, man with lewd intent.
Not funny, for sure.
Afternoon: a girl who works with me is about to leave for Amritsar to get married and has come by to say 'bye but does so by bending down to touch my feet!
Embarassing. And disgusting.
Early evening and another female colleague recounts her advertising agency days when a client booked her and two male colleagues in a hotel in Bombay that turned out to be a pickup joint.
Cheap.
Should I hate guys who do this to women? Or change the circle of male friends/colleagues I have?
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Heaven & Hell
Why do people go up to heaven?
And down to hell?
Why can't it be the other way?
There are some things that are better when one goes down...right?
And down to hell?
Why can't it be the other way?
There are some things that are better when one goes down...right?
Monday, April 09, 2007
Human Flu
Two lovebirds coo away in a cage, awaiting freedom.
A mother tending to some household chore, sneezes in rapid succession right over their cage.
And the seven-year old girl, whose birthday present the birds were (in the reluctant father's futile hope that she would let them loose sooner rather than later) stands with her hands on frail hips and admonishes: "Mummy, can't you sneeze elsewhere?! They'll get human flu!"
Life's like this only. Bless her.
A mother tending to some household chore, sneezes in rapid succession right over their cage.
And the seven-year old girl, whose birthday present the birds were (in the reluctant father's futile hope that she would let them loose sooner rather than later) stands with her hands on frail hips and admonishes: "Mummy, can't you sneeze elsewhere?! They'll get human flu!"
Life's like this only. Bless her.
Friday, April 06, 2007
The Patient Pandit
Can an x-ray machine be a leveller of mankind?
It can if it's a baggage scanner at Mumbai airport on a Friday morning.
A long queue of dusgusted passengers wait to get their bags scanned because only one machine is operational - probably because the operator/security guard has rushed off to ensure that his bowesl evacuate his backside at the appropriate location :-)
There's the businessman sending his wife to get a copy of The Times of India and then, realising it's free, sends her back to get The Economic Times as well. Slavery exists yet.
It can if it's a baggage scanner at Mumbai airport on a Friday morning.
A long queue of dusgusted passengers wait to get their bags scanned because only one machine is operational - probably because the operator/security guard has rushed off to ensure that his bowesl evacuate his backside at the appropriate location :-)
There's the businessman sending his wife to get a copy of The Times of India and then, realising it's free, sends her back to get The Economic Times as well. Slavery exists yet.
There's the college-going, backpack girl with mom in tow wondering whether this is the right queue to be in.
A suited-booted CEO-type hitting the Blackberry... at 6.15 in the morning!
And then, right at the end, unassumingly stands the man who made the santoor so popular. Not irritated, not impatient. Just calm and soothing like his music.
He goes through the pain we all do, waits in the lounge, boards the aircraft and drops off to sleep. Celebrities need to learn from him before they start pulling strings and creating cacophony.
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