Songs of the not-so innocent

You meet many people in the advertising industry. Smart, crazy, rude, lazy, ambitious, clueless... it takes all kinds of folks to make the ads that you skip. The rarest are the genuinely nice ones, the men and women who smile in the face of unreasonable deadlines, threadbare resources, client changes, long hours and low pay.   The nicest person I ever had the privilege of working with died in a hospital bed on Wednesday. He was wheeled into the OT for an operation to clear 3 blocks in his heart. He survived the procedure, regained consciousness and met his near and dear ones. Then, he suffered a sudden heart attack and met his maker. Life was not gracious to this devout man of faith. It did not allow him to grow old, nor grant him the chance to see his kids grow up. It made him live in poverty, suffer a number of cruel personal challenges and watched impassively as he worked backbreaking hours in a thankless job in an ungrateful industry.  Death did not shake his hand in ...

A funny thing happened to me today. Not in the 'ROFL' way of course. If you want some of that, check out this David Squires cartoon in the Guardian. Jordan Henderson's expression is so perfectly 'WTF', it cracks me up. I could use a few laughs right now and anything at Liverpool's expense is warmly welcome. No, this 'funny' was more in keeping with the world-view that I've become accustomed to seeing. No rosy tinted glasses here. This morning, a soon to be ex-colleague texted with the exciting (for her) news that she'd resigned. Her song had a familiar tune. She had joined the agency with stars in her eyes, only to have them go supernova and collapse within a year, put off as she was by the meaningless effort, politics and lack of purpose. We'd got talking a handful of months before the lock-down and I encouraged her to take advantage of youth and pursue more interesting dreams. This, she had done. As seems to be the tiresome fashion these d...

When I started writing here in 2007, it was to journal my experiences. Moving abroad for further studies, it now feels like every day delivered a fresh discovery or epiphany. From bedbugs to roommates, cooking to washing up, finding a job to coursework, those were interesting times, rich in material. On slow days, there were a shed-load of opinions to hold forth on. I was in my early 20s after all. Life has taken many strange twists and turns since that first post. The strangest of them all is the diversion called COVID-19. Whether it remains a one-way road with occasional shoulders remains to be seen. Being remarkably resourceful apes, we cope as best we can. The virus does not seem to be our asteroid, but there's no way to know for sure.  In any case, experiences or adventures, pleasant or otherwise, were always thin on my ground. Now, they are practically extinct which means this blog is gasping for air. Never one for erudite arguments, well-constructed write-ups, literature ...

Saturday, 21 st March 2020, 10:30 am: I packed 2 haversacks, wiped down the kitchen, hung some washed clothes on the line, closed all the windows, switched off the gas main and the internet and took one final look around the house in Mumbai. The saxophone case stood upright in a corner of the room. “Take it next week ” I remember thinking. Still without a mask and covering my face with a handkerchief, I entered a largely empty train. I distinctly recall tensing up when a person sitting opposite me coughed slightly, but made no effort to find another seat. Dadar was quiet, too quiet for a Saturday and one reason for this was the fact that interstate MSRTC bus services had been suspended the previous day. As always, I’d had no idea and my timing remained exemplary. The Mumbai-Pune taxi rank was empty, every last moth-eaten, rust bucket of a car on its way out of the city by then. Having no choice, I negotiated the fare for the last seat in an Indica. 20 minutes later, the ...

Yesterday, I watched Amazon's All or Nothing: Tottenham Hotspur - a sports documentary that gives us more than a glimpse of life within a Premier League Club and I have to admit that it is a much needed project*. 99% of fans, me included, hold opinions on teams we follow, don't follow, football in general and let rip every chance we get. Our views have been shaped by what we see, i.e. the performances and results, and what we read, i.e. media stories. All or Nothing blows most of what we think we know out of the water.  Let me get this out of the way - sure, the documentary has been 'edited' but that's only to be expected, considering anything you watch, barring live videos, is chopped and changed to fit within a flow. Even so, there's a lot to understand. From the impact of player injuries (Kane, Son) to the complicated, dog-eat-dog world of the transfer market (Eriksen, Bergwijn), there were a number of interesting revelations for the person on the street. An...

Originally written for someone. Pearl Jam... one of the great rock bands of the 90s... a Grunge Rock legend... Eddie Vedder... a most unique voice... together, they create this song... well, calling it a 'song' may be doing it an injustice... an anthem... ... You have to be there... in that bar, yellow lighting reflecting off brown wood... the aroma of beer dancing with the fragrance of tobacco... it's around 11pm and the energy in the room is happy... you are surrounded by friends or leaning against a lover... viscerally aware of how good a time you are having and holding on to it hard because you are also aware of the impending approach of the last call... ... You take a sip and let the taste wash around your mouth... and it comes up over the speakers... a switch gets flipped... suddenly, everyone, absolutely everyone is in two places at once... still there but also very far away... you are lost in the hunger of Eddie's voice... whispering the words... shivering as a ...

Some years ago, some friends and I were discussing helmets. At the time, they were on the "don't like wearing a helmet because it's uncomfortable" side. Though I acknowledged their sartorial point, I was and am very much on the other side and when asked why, had a simple answer - I may be a safe and steady bike rider but have no way of knowing if anyone else is. So, I used the helmet to protect myself from others' mistakes. A peculiar aspect of the human condition is to itch to do the exact opposite of a suggestion. So, when the authorities made helmets compulsory, there was a predictable hue and cry. Excuses were given about the expense, the cumbersomeness, the lack of need and practically anything else under the sun. The authorities have not bothered to enforce the helmet law strictly so it's common to see many a rider sans protective gear. Why am I prattling on about this? Substitute masks for helmets and we have arrived. Tomorrow is the 8th of June, 2020. ...

I am a weakling. I am helpless. I am intimidated. I am worried. That I am all of these things was brought home forcefully at 5pm yesterday. I was walking towards the local supermarket and got lost in some kind of reverie while crossing the road. So, it took a second to become aware of 3 teens on a motor scooter riding towards me. Thought they were still some distance away and could have either honked or comfortably manoeuvred around, they chose to slow down and shower me with the ripest abuse I have heard in a while. I paused to let them go by but they stopped the bike next to me. None of these guys looked past their 16th birthdays. They made no pretence of wearing masks and did not seem worried that it was them going triple-seat that was a bigger issue. Instead, they continued to swear. Without saying a word, I gave them the finger and started walking. In hindsight, not my brightest moment. The gesture caused the leader to turn the bike around and ride up close to me. Fortunat...

You know what? This was going to be yet another dour post. Fortunately, around the halfway mark I realised that it was turning into the world's most sanctimonious write-up. Like Granny Weatherwax, I can't be having with that kind of thing. Instead, I'll tell you about something amazing that happened on Friday afternoon. Under normal WFH circumstances, I'd have been plonked at my desk, slurping some tea, staring at the wall or into the laptop. Instead, I was gazing out the window, slurping beer. For this, I must thank the friend who came over to shoot the breeze. Do I hear gasps and outrage about violating distancing norms? We were sitting pretty far apart. Also, while the rest of India may be limping back to normal from tomorrow, jolly old Maharashtra - Pune and Mumbai particularly - will continue this curfew till the end of the month and possibly beyond that, in drip-fed 2-week bursts, till the man on the white horse rides up for all we know. Anyway, this is all ka...

I thought about deleting the previous post. It was written while I was in the grip of an odd mood but then again, it was Sunday evening and if that doesn't put you in a strange state of mind, you just haven't been conditioned to it. Still, it's no excuse for what was a sour lemon of a piece. Yet, I did not deal it a merciful 'delete button' blow. I wanted the bitterness flowing through that disjointed bit of writing to be a reminder. Life isn't all gajar ka halwa and vanilla ice cream so why should this blog be? Now that we've got that little confessional out of the way, let me tell you that this post is also about bitterness. Of the good kind, or so I think at least because this is a paean to beer. I have absolutely no recollection of the first time I tasted any alcohol except beer. I like whisky as much as the next guy. Rum and I get along like cousins who haven't seen each other in years; an awkward, uneasy relationship, more indebted to fo...

Sunday evening thoughts I suppose one confirmation of the oft-expressed line "man is a social animal" is the reaction to physical/social distancing. I mean the proliferation of personal video calls. People we haven't thought about for years, much less willingly interacted with, are now popping up on laptop and phone screens all over the world. Many of them happen to be school or college mates. It's nice, for about 5 minutes. The plots run a predictable course. We ask how each other is doing, the situation in one's part of the country or world, how parents, spouses and kids are and throw in the usual litany about the horribleness of working from home. Then comes a pause; that visceral moment of awkwardness accompanied by dead air. In the real world, it's the point where we appreciatively reach for the beer glass. Or, in the absence of a suitable alcoholic distraction, involuntarily make circles in the ground with our toes and tunelessly hum out loud. On W...

I wrote this as an email to a friend and was unsure about posting it here.  A couple of weeks ago, a friend asked me how I extricate myself out of black moods/blue funks. Later, an anonymous commenter on this post pointed out that one legacy of the Covid-19 experience will be the enormous strain on mental health. As I typed the email, word came out that we'd be in lock-down till May 3rd. I drafted and redrafted this piece, struggling to craft something of Value. It took me a while to understand (I am not a smart man) that articulating any solution is a fool's errand. The base ingredient of a blue funk is ripe despair but everything else in the pot comes from what is available in your mind's larder. Something that sets off an episode for me may only elicit a slight raise of an eyebrow from you and vice versa. So, if the expectation isn't that of a Wiki-How, you won't be disappointed. Besides, there's no point. Whether you think rationally or irrationally mo...

This morning, a bleary-eyed me staggered into the drawing room and found the father watching a Hindi movie called Pyaar Kiya Jaaye  Pyaar Kiye Ja on the Zee Classic channel. For a second, I was nonplussed as the scenes and acting thrummed with a familiarity I could not put a finger on. Then, it came to me. In the late 1980s, I bid farewell to my childhood friends as our family upped sticks and moved to Abu Dhabi in the U.A.E. What a sensory overload the whole experience was, even before we left the country. For one, the flight was delayed by more than 8 hours, so my dad decided we'd rent a hotel room rather than risk Bombay traffic again. As far as I can remember, we'd never stayed in a hotel before so the simplest of things like Room Service took on the kind of childishly, charming sense of wonder that I'd give anything to tap into now. I don't recall anything of the room's layout or the view. Just the service and what I ate - Salt & Pepper bread sandwiches....

Rant. Apologies.   The world is struggling with an unprecedented health crisis. One profession sees the pandemic as a heaven-sent opportunity to do something meaningful, stand up for its beliefs and use every resource at its disposal to leave a lasting impression. Advertising is not that profession. Advertising and Marketing are the nadirs of every conceivable value system you can think of. Less useful and more pathethic than narcisstic movie stars singing a song together and arguably about as evil as those terrorists who attacked... never mind... as evil as terrorists. I work in this industry and right now, a million of us have been tasked with thinking about how we can highlight the nobility of the brands we work on. Yup, at a moment in history where we are practically at war against a dreadful enemy that may have already invaded our bodies for all we know, A&M are cooking up plausible ways of making videos, press ads, digital content and other crap that reek of sanctimo...

In truth, I was going to post this with the usual dash of attempted humour. A rather mild interaction/altercation with a family member this morning has made me reconsider. So, what follows is pretty straightforward piece about my experience with social distancing. Who the heck am I to say anything on the subject? Fair point. I'm no hermit nor one of those wild-haired, acutely introverted geniuses popularised by Hollywood. I'm just a guy who has lived by himself since 2013. I've never employed any househelp for cooking or washing up, for the usual mix of irrational and rational reasons but mostly because I dislike: - Spending a lot of money - Juggling timetables - Awkward, accusatory effort evaluations When I rented my small but charming 1 BHK, the usual dream/delusion was also very much alive; that I'd meet a girl, we'd fall in love, move in together and get married eventually too. I'm just glad I didn't hold my breath on that one. Ergo, I have not ...

A friend of mine believes that homes have feelings and personalities. That her particular 12 X 12 feels abandoned when said friend leaves for work in the morning and that she's thinking about finding a roommate just to assuage the lathe and plaster's feelings. Quite. Though I dismissed the idea at the time, rather scornfully I might add, I'm starting to reconsider. Now, I know what you're thinking. The whole work-from-home scenario is getting to this guy already and he's hitting the holy herb rather hard. Neither is true. I'm the consumate professional regardless of geography and live a clean and healthy life. Also, there isn't any herb around and the virus will probably affect the supply chain, so that's a bummer. Yesterday, the kitchen sink started acting up. I've lived in this house for 8 years and it has always behaved beautifully. Until now. The water simply refused to drain. Even after enthusiastic use of the plunger, it just gurgled resen...

So, here we are, individuals, families and nations, brought together yet asked to stay apart. COVID-19 may be the first proper global experience of our generation. Be it SARS in China or Ebola in parts of Africa, most epidemics have always felt far away. We knew there were people suffering but were we really affected by the scale of their problems? I doubt it. Things like plastic pollution, bush fires, glacier melts, deforestation, coral reef deaths and whatnot happen to other people in other places and have not affected us Indian city-dwelling folk much. Weather getting hotter? Let's get new airconditioners, darling, one for the bathroom too, while we're at it. Oh sure, India has suffered yearly bouts of dengue fever or chickenguniya but in my mind, the last scary epidemic was the Plague of 1994. While Surat was the epicenter, Maharashtra saw the maximum number of cases then. It's also seeing the highest number of coronavirus cases now, so I guess the state really does ...

Let's talk about agendas. In a week which saw Ajax (Dutch Champions & Champions League semi-finalists), Celtic (Scottish Premier League Champions) and Arsenal (led by Pep's protege i.e. the automatically brilliant Arteta) dumped out of the Europa League, a great many articles reporting Manchester United cruising through into the round of 16, did so begrudgingly. The press does not like Ole Gunnar Solskjaer and are doing whatever it takes to drive the mob towards a dramatic conclusion - his sacking and the arrival of Pochettino.  The pictures being proliferated are rather cunning. These include OGS not being worthy of managing a team with the heritage of MU; not experienced enough at the highest level (references to managing Molde and getting sacked by Cardiff); lacking tactical nous (probably a valid point for now); his eroding authority vis-a-vis the "star" of the team, a certain Mr. Pogba, and so on and so forth. The media does not report news. Journalist...

One of my friends has a natural affinity for sports. A fortunate god-given ability to simply get on the field or pick up a racket and be good at it. Nay, better than most people. His greatest passion is football. Not a weekend TV-watching, console-playing type either. No, he likes the blood and thunder of an energetic kickabout. He was a key midfield cog at a prestigious Pune club for years, represented India in 5-a-side tournaments, supports Arsenal madly (bound to pay off in spades now that Arteta is in charge) and once famously opted to find a beach football game in Goa while friends lounged around drinking beer at a shack nearby. Blessed with innate sporting ability he may be but said friend's body has reached that state of middle age where it doth protest a bit too much at his enthusiasm. Christiano Ronaldo reputedly posseses the fitness levels of a 23-year-old at 34 but our man's body is stubbornly behaving like a 36-year-old's. Coincidentally, my friend is also 36...