After 40

A couple of Saturdays ago, I dropped in to meet a former colleague and still a dear (but not very near) friend who'd emerged from a separation with a well-known actress and had suffered a near-fatal heart attack. Fortunately, he survived. Not easy at the age if 41, I'm told...

While there are several stories about this gentle lad in his copywriting days in Calcutta, there's even more hilarious stuff about another mutual friend and fellow-writer who also happened to be there that evening.

He's the kind of guy who flashed his PAN card when he asked for the bill at a restaurant. Or - and this is true - mixed up his pregnant wife and dog's stool samples while sending them to separate laboratories.

He's bright but absent-minded. Yet, pithy enough to come up with this classic: "Till we're 40, we ask 'Who am I?'; after 40, we ask 'EMI?'"

Cheers!

Wine, Women and ?

Have been planning to write on a cocktail but need a few of it before the keypad's hit.

Meanwhile, try a glass of wine Neruda-style. And lose yourself in its seductive power.

But before you start to take life - or love - too seriously, try this.

Obviously...cheers!

Happiness

A few minutes ago, a colleague (and part-time mentor) who goes by the self-styled nickname of 'Servant Leader' called after ages.

Having discussed whatever we had to on the work front, he then asked if I was happy.

My response is classified information but I couldn't help recalling an old JWT commercial from a previous life:



There's more of these classics if you search YouTube for Hamlet Cigars.

Watch them. Don't smoke though.

Cheers!

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.