Hush hush.. darling

Love you Gwen! I remember watching you in the 'Don't Speak' video back in my school days... I thought you were the coolest chick ever! You had a unique whacky style, you hung out in a zip code of your own and didn't give damn 'bout anyone else... You were (and still are) an awesome rocker-gal!

'Don't speak' is about how two inseperable friends finally drift away from each other. It happens to all of us, doesn't it? People check in and out of our lives all the time. Some give us memories we'd jealously guard forever while some others would make you wish you'd never met them at all.

Here's to Gwen's retrospection:

You and me, we used to be together
Everyday together, always...
I really feel that I'm losing my best friend
I can't believe this could be the end
It looks as though you're letting go
And if it's real, well I don't want to know

Don't speak
I know just what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't tell me cause it hurts
Don't speak
I know what you're thinking
I don't need your reasons
Don't tell me cause it hurts

Our memories.. well, they can be inviting
But some are altogether mighty frightening
As we die, both you and I
With my head in my hands I sit and cry

It's all ending
I gotta stop pretending who we are...
You and me I can see us dying...are we?

Don't speak
I know just what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't tell me cause it hurts
Don't speak
I know what you're thinking
I don't need your reasons
Don't tell me cause it hurts
Don't tell me cause it hurts!

Hush, hush darlin'.. Hush, hush
Don't tell me tell me cause it hurts
Hush, hush darlin'.. Hush, hush darlin'
Hush, hush don't tell me tell me cause it hurts

Yap Masters

Ever wondered why men never listen to what women say? Simple. Because we yap too much. To add further anguish to agony, we don't just beat around the bush, we take 'em poor men for a royal-safari-ride around an entire friggin' jungle. Why go far, take this very blog as a shining example. How many times have you muttered to yourself - 'why doesn't the pompous lass just come to the point!?!' What prompted this post was one extremely annoying incident in the train this morning. This motormouth-of-a-woman was faffing to the hilt about her righteousness at the workplace. On and on she rattled - 'bout how her boss was one mammoth pain-in-the-arse, 'bout how she told this prick of a colleague to back off her territory, 'bout how she challenges the HR with intelligent questions, 'bout how some Vikas-guy is as adept as a limp monkey and blah, blah, blah. I didn't bother to listen to the rest of her moan-marathon. I had tuned out by then. On came my earphones and the rest of the journey was spent in casting occasional glances at the loud, stupid woman to see if she was done boring her audience to death. No such luck, she was still jabbering loudly, evidenced by flailing arms, her rotund eyes ablaze and eyebrows shot-up to their highest-attainable point. The only reason she's still alive is because it was illegal to kill her right there n' then. I know I sound like some Nazi by-product, but this obnoxious woman simply got on my nerves today (very few people have that kind of an effect on me). Left me wondering how the she managed to stand her sorry self.

Moving on to the more pressing point/moral of the story. To all the women around the world - You may be the most successful dame in your profession, you may look like a billion bucks or may have the entire freakin' world eating outta your pampered hands, but forget this not - For mankind's sake, STOP YAPPING! Beyond a point, that is (Cause a tight-lipped person is a more irritating phenomenon). State your point briefly and then wait for a response. I guarantee you will get it.

Oh and BTW, this only applies when you're talking. Not blogging. So don't book me for hypocrisy!

Other Side of the World

This song always brings those traitorous teary-drops to my eyes. Yeah, I have my emotional-fool days too. The mood is sombre & KT Tunstall's throaty, melancholic voice is just the perfect backdrop. Why do people listen to sad songs when they're sad, thereby compounding their misery? 'Cause misery loves company, doesn't it?

Over the sea and far away
She's waiting like an iceberg
Waiting to change,
But she's cold inside
She wants to be like the water

All the muscles tighten in her face
Buries her soul in one embrace
They're one and the same, just like water

Then the fire fades away
But most of everyday
Is full of tired excuses
But it's too hard to say
I wish it were simple
But we give up easily
You're close enough to see that
You're.... the other side of the world to me

On comes the panic light
Holding on with fingers and feelings alike
But the time has come to move along

Can you help me?
Can you let me go?
And can you still love me
When you can't see me anymore?

Then the fire fades away
most of everyday
Is full of tired excuses
But it's too hard to say
I wish it were simple
But we give up easily
You're close enough to see that
You're... the other side of the world to me.

The Domino Effect (not the pizza, silly!)

The financial world is witnessing a bloodbath, as I type, that has not been observed since the Great Depression of the 1930's. Is there anything more pathologically distressing than the term 'depression' itself, you ask? Thats the sort of picture we're looking at right now. Billions of dollars have evaporated (and still are) since August 2007, when the subprime crisis first raised its diseased head. The contagion spread, and how swiftly! Centuries-old, mammoth and elite institutions are being massacred like contaminated poultry being culled on some third-world farmland. Only this time the farmland is NOT that of a third world country. It is that of the financial behemoth we know as America. The golden land of financial innovation & byzantine products (so complex that even their makers would not fully comprehend) is being brought from lofty heights to its knees. CEO's and other management hotshots who were once hailed for their financial wizardry and made to look as if the sun shined out of their polished arses, are now cowering under shadows of their own brashful actions. They have been humbled (albeit with fat-severance packages for their efforts). The entire US of A has been humbled. Mind you, I'm not anti American hegemony and hence, reveling in their miseries. Neither am I trotting around with the smug air of someone who is insulated from this mega-mess. Because I am indeed affected. I work at a global bank which, although has been shielded from major carnage, is not completely immune to headwinds swiftly coming its way. It is sailing in murky waters and all it takes is one ugly event (or a combination of many) to rock the boat. Just yesterday, one of our peers - Lehman Bros. filed for bankruptcy. And with it, around 2000 employees have lost their jobs in Powai, a few kilometers away from us. Where will they go? Do these financial biggies know the far-reaching effects of their greedy, irresponsible behaviours? When will this recklessness stop & accountability begin? When will the 'regulators' really begin to regulate?

A few crestfallen faces apart, not many are appearing to be affected by the grim situation that faces us. The bank assures us that we are safe. But I've heard that one before. And I've learnt not to bet the last dime in my pocket on such sunny assurances. Fortunately I do not have bills to pay and EMIs to repay on time that would necessitate manic anxiety and sleepless nights. But what about those who do? For their sake, I hope we sail unscathed through these choppy waters. God save us all. Oh, and PS: You can kiss goodbye to your bonuses for this year. 'Pudchya varshi lavkar ya,' is all you can plead!

Meanwhile, I have instructed my financial advisor to stop investing my money in the market for now. For a while now she's been trying (with award-worthy patience) to convince me that one should invest when markets are bearish. 'Okay,' I say for the time being, 'take the money and park it somewhere nice'. But a few months down the line, the only direction the markets are going is southwards. I have this impending urge to yell at her Jerry-Maguire-style: SHOW ME THE MONEY!! 'Patience, Avanti,' she calmingly says, sensing my unease, 'Patience is the hallmark of a successful investor!' Patience can go take a deep dive into the nearest pothole, I say. No more stock markets for me. Even if I'm a long-term-and-hence-you're-guaranteed-returns investor. I'll park my funds in a prim lil' bank. Oh, wait! Aren't they all in serious-shit too? Back to the top of this post. Did someone quip 'vicious circle'?

Atleast I can tell my grandkiddos I was THERE when the big giants were falling like mere ninepins. Though I'm willing to bet they wouldn't envy it. Or even give two hoots 'bout it, for that matter. Just like we didn't learn from our past follies. And so, history will repeat itself for this very fallacy of man.

Aaaaaaa....chooooo!

Excuse me for the unabridged release of countless bacteria into our atmosphere which, in any case, seems to be teeming with the former these days. A tormenting 4 days of nonstop sneezing, a booger-dripping nose, whooping coughs & a burning forehead to contend with - all your facial faculties are in deep anguish; even the most basal of human functions - breathing, becomes an ardous task. To add to your plight, you're looking at your worst best with a circus-clown-like-reddened-nose, frizzy hair and heavily-sedated eyes (as much as I hate popping pills for temporary effect, they were thrust down my thoat by dear ol' cooing mom along with haldi-infused-dudh.... ugh!). Funny thing is, 6 of my colleagues are inflicted with a similar misfortune. Looks like liasing with the flu is in fashion these days.

Aaaaannnd... breaking news of the week (for me atleast).... Tadaa! *I finally got my passport!* After 40-odd days of submitting countless documents, xeroxes and grinning photographs, filling out endless forms, doling out karcha-paani for the cops and eagerly clicking on the stubbornly-staid 'Passport Status' button on the website (yay Indian bureaucracy!); it finally arrived! Apart from granting me a ticket to the wonderful world, it also reinforces the fact that I'm a pure-bred Indian citizen (D-uh!). You and me already know it.. lekin sarkari stamp zaroori hai na..?

Much ado 'bout trite, you think?

Looks the flu hasn't done anything to abate the gibberish-twaddling that has become staple on this blog. But then again, yehi toh zindagi hai.... the shit must go on! ;-) Adios then! Until my next prattle!

The King

My 3rd visit to Lalbaugcha Raja (LR) was as joyous (and draining) as the previous two. Though I'd gathered enough memories from earlier visits, I wished to go again this year as LR was into its 75th year. Another excuse to beckon me to the place! The amused guy at the ticket counter tried to spook me with ominious numbers - 200 people, he said, with an evil grin. Nearly 200 people bought a ticket to Lower Parel (abode of LR) before me. And I was at the ticket counter at 4.30 am. Truly, Mumbai never sleeps; more so during Ganesh Chaturthi.

Gates of the Lord: 5.50 am. As the 'prophetic' guy at the ticket counter indicated, serpentine queues of teeming people, lined up to have a darshan (even if it meant a mere peek-a-boo) of their favorite God, greeted us. The queue extended to almost a kilometer from the deity. Nearly a thousand people before us. All charged up & raring to go.

Hurdles extravaganza: Not a single soul walked obediently along the stipulated rows. Everyone - youngies, middlies and oldies alike jumped over/crawled under rods with surprising agility & pace, as if they were being chased by a pack of wolves and their lives depended on how fast they sprinted over/under the barricades. Noteworthy mention goes to the aunty in the green saree - I salute thee and thy zealous, gold-medal-worthy leaping skills! In a similar outfit, I would've turned turtle.. and then some more.

A glimpse of the Lord: Mera number kab aayega? (Response: Shrill plea from behind, 'Chala chala, pude chala!' Really now, did you think I was gonna squat & set up a camp here? I AM moving as fast as the person directly ahead is!).

Almost there. (Chala, chala...still).

I failed to take a snap of the Lord up, close & personal. It was too crowded to even lift my hand nigh to click a hasty picture. Plus, you had these annoying volunteers (see harassed guy in sweat-soaked yellow shirt, to the left) growling, baring their teeth at you. Didn't want to give any more fodder to these snarling pitbulls.

Out. 7.30 am. Not bad at all, considering a normal wait would be around 3-5 hrs. We did it in 1 and a half!



GSB Ganpati, Wadala: In its exemplary, golden splendour. Visited the place after Lalbaug. The darshan took a paltry 5 mins in comparison here.

Reached home at 9.15 am. Crashed on the bed and didn't open them eyelids until 2 pm.

Good Deed for the Day

We used to perform this daily chore in school - compile a list of good deeds we've done every single day and note them down in our 'moral science' notebook; then sketching a few flowers, butterflies and confetti next to the same as 'decorations'. Didn't we try our best? Be it helping out mom in the kitchen or helping Uncle George with his heavy shopping bags to his 4th floor apartment, we were all at our spiffiest best. But the days of yore are long gone. Soon we became immersed, and then one with the all-devouring madness of this chaotic city. "I don't have the time yaar!" is the most perfunctory pretext everyone's hurriedly mouthing. On one such manic day when spare time was on its usual business of evading me, I was suddenly stopped in my breakneck stride by a man. An old man. Now this is probably going to sound too storybookish/ Ekta-Kapoorish/ much ado about nothing etc. etc.... but I did the oldest good deed in the book today. No prizes for guessing which one... yeah... I helped him cross a busy road this evening. "Will you help me, beta? I can't walk fast," he said. Naturally, I awww-ed and oooh-ed in my head (Finally! Someone thinks I am capable enough and my twiggy-self won't just collapse halfway down the road) and agreed instantly. Holding my hand and trusting me, he slowly followed me, doddered a bit and crossed the road. No shrill sitar/trumpet sounds in the background, no thumping claps, no streaks of tears generated by the old man/bystanders (what did I think this was... some '80s Bollywood flick?). Instead, he simply had this grateful look on his face that I kept with me for the remainder of the day. Placing his wrinkled hand on my head and face, he repeatedly said, "Ganpati bappa tujhe aashirwaad de!"

Amazing isn't it.. how small, seemingly inconsequential things like these can make you gloriously happy for the rest of the day?

So, if you want to know the true effect of performing a 'good deed' for someone on yourself, its simple. Just look up the dictionary meaning for 'happiness'.

Oh, and prefix 'ultimate' to it.