Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Learnings from abstinence

All the silence never went wasted. It’s been more than two months since my last post. I almost thought I‘d give up ok-write-write for lame excuses and lesser passions. Yet I am back; for indulgence sake. Yes I am.

My first post gave me the enthusiasm to chase it with two more; soon after which life caught up with me. The hazards of a career in advertising and the subsequent effects on my personal life put my priorities in a shuffle mode.

Every other day I would console myself with promises to write soon one day. Thank God, it’s finally today. Most of the encouragement came from the few who actually took pains to read it and even respond with a word of appreciation or two.

Let me be honest and upfront. I’ve always tried to manifest blogging as a matter of narcissism and righteous self-importance. But the truth is - attention, recognition and encouragement actually make a difference. It’s still okay to be truthful. Doesn’t hurt or harm. Or does it?

Monday, September 24, 2007

Rupees, Dollars and Daughters.

Okiema, I’m no mind reader. Yet I kind of know what’s running in your head right now. Sounds like a perfect title for a sizzling, hot, romantic sensation by yet another megalomaniac Indian author. That’s not exactly what it is. And the truth as it ought to be, sucks even worse.

It starts like this. One day… No. Every other day, I stumble into one of these otherwise ambitious, self-respecting blokes, whose ultimate accomplishment lies in locating an NRI boy for his daughter, sister, niece or any other girl he’s concerned for. All I have to tell these idiots is that I pity their working-class intelligence. Or better say the lack of it.

I am not even willing to talk about the wonderful women who forge these mega alliances. The platoons of aunts who, until that day you never knew existed; whose lives’ sole purpose is to find NRI Boys: The Fixers. The only thing they stop from doing is forecast the economic growth of all those concerned for the next five years and circulate them in PDF formats.

“She’s such a fine girl; see she’s so fair and good-looking; she’s good in her studies; and takes care of the house so well! She’ll surely get an NRI boy.” I’ve heard it from even before I could understand what marriage meant. It’s really sad that even Indian bride grooms need the words IMPORTED and INTERNATIONAL to become marketable commodities. Will someone ask these poor jokers why their tall, fair, well-educated, broad-minded, homely girls simply can’t marry a resident Indian?

What about those who didn’t make it to the engineering colleges; who didn’t apply to foreign universities; who didn’t get a single on-site project; and more importantly, the ones who chose to do other things in life? Yeah, the kinds who chose to become copywriters, art directors and advertising executives. Are they all expected to live single and die single?

Thankfully, I consider myself lucky to be married and this really doesn’t concern me now. Yet, I really can’t fathom how it works. Sometimes I even think we should banish all the young men from our country, so that one day or another, they can return as eligible bachelors.

If only dollar pay-cheques made men better husbands on and off the bed, I would personally advocate this “NRI Boy” philosophy to the extent of supporting polygamy. Till date, I’ve known scores of supposedly lucky girls who found themselves NRI husbands and more trouble than they ever imagined. I think all what matters is to see a girl happily-married, with a guy who loves her and who’d give his life for her. Speak up people. If the idea is about travelling abroad and getting free acco, try Google. It’s safer.

Monday, September 10, 2007


Interestingly, that's the best word that threads the connect between this post with the previous one. After penning my first ever blog, I enthusiastically mailed its links to a few friends and one of them was even prompt enough to respond with a valuable comment. Aah! A blunt jab on my ego, reminding me that my profile was incomplete.

When I decided to blog, I consciously chose a veil of anonymity. simply because I believed that the blog meant to reflect my point of view, rather than publicise my personality. As an avid reader, I've learned to respect writers for their writing and not for their Saville Row suits or Cohiba cigars.

Yet, being the obliging guy I am, I've updated my profile with what I personally think is valuable in this context.

Thursday, September 6, 2007

first night

Okeima. Its 11.30 pm, just learnt how to create my own blog. Feels new. Entirely new. I hate blogging. Or should I say I used to, or may be I'm still not sure if i like it even now.

Why the freaking hell did I even attempt this? I ask myself. I'd read somewhere that blogging cures cancer of the right brain and flash, my left brain told me to start blogging. Now, that's more lame than anything you ever heard before. The answer is I really don't know.

I personally don't approve of the idea of blogging because I don't think it made anyone any better than they were or were meant to be. I even think we are a generation of sterotypes. I'm taking no credits for saying this because some other wise guy whose name I can't recall said it already.

Blogging is the last of my list of do-nots on the sticky web. I got my gmail account after refusing to sign-up for one for almost two years. I even got innumerable invitations to sign-up and I unceremoniously dumped all of them into my trash. My neighbour's pet parakeet got a gmail account before I did. I shouldn't have waited this long. My ego's badly bruised.

If orkut was to award their users for the emptiest page, I'd win it hands down. My first ever orkut'ing happened last month to check my friends' exploits (You got it. Gossip. It feeds my demented soul). Well, to be honest I wasn't playing Peeping Tom. They asked me to check it out. I'm not guilty. Not one bit.

Now blogging. Thanks to Google, we've even got bundle offers here. Merry Christmas.

After almost god knows how long. I've really bothered to write my mind. The last time I wrote my mind, it was a resignation letter. Or, that's what I had originally intended. Unfortunately the concerned employer decided to sue me for insubordination, slander and indiscriminate use of profanity.

Well, I shouldn't be commiting anything close to morality. If you know me well enough, you know it yourself. Neither am I sure if this blog serves to entertain myself or enlighten civilisation.

"Narcissists and bloggers are brothers of a tribe."

Before you rack your mind wondering where I read it or who wrote it; I admit, it's my own. In fact, I am beginning to like it.