no time to blog...

... heck, no time to even do my upper lip.

i haven’t written in ages. And i had sort of promised myself that this blog would not be an update on my life.

But, i changed my mind.

And this post is going to be just that.

Actually this post is going to be about the stuff you don’t know about yourself. So in February last year, if you had told me I’d give up my job, and start my own thing I would probably have snorted in your face.

Me? Nobody in my family has ever run a business. I’m a duffer in maths. I have as much patience as the amount of hair amitabh bachchan has. (On his head okay. Yesh...I think I’m going to throw up. I see disturbing visuals in my head) I can be extremely blunt. I cannot say no. I stress over small things. I’m a creative person not a business person. yada yada yada.

And now, I’m all of that. Give or take some. I have a business. Which I absolutely totally love. I don’t really see it as a business though. Sure, I want to make money. But I see it as something that’s freed me. I can make less money than I did, but be so much happier. I carry no angst, suffer no idiots.

And, here’s the thing, I always worry that I don't think about things. I just sort of peer down this cliff and say, “ooh, what’s that thing at the bottom”, and jump. I don’t analyse my life or my actions. I don’t do swot charts. Or weight the consequences.

And we have a really tiny office. Six chairs. Funky wallpaper. An office boy, sorry man, who talks with marbles in his mouth. And our first employee today.

I have no idea how far this will go. And it doesn’t worry me. The only thing I know is some days I wake up and realise that I don’t have to go to an office. But I have to go to my office. And I sort of just laze in bed for five more minutes and grin my head off. And stop myself from pinching me.

Gosh. I think i’m going to get my period. I would never write such a sappy post in my right mind.

rockstar

My friend ,the celebrity, goes to the golden temple.

She and mom get there early in the morning. Heads covered, feet dipped in the cold water outside, they step onto the freezing marble, and start making their way around the temple.

“Aithe aao ji...pehle a dekho.”

(Come this side ji ... first see this)

They turn. It’s a pimply, gangly Sardar boy. He must be 20. He’s waving his long limbs pointing to the right.

They politely smile and keep walking on.

But he’s pretty persistent. Now bow your head here, look up there, take Prasad from there, say your prayer here... he’s decided he’s not going anywhere.

They are polite, and because it’s a place of worship they don’t tell him, “buzz off fuck face” and bear with him. Though my friend says she was totally irritated with him. Every time she and her mom take pictures he wants to stand with them. She’s trying to stay calm and zen.

Finally after two and a half hours of having him plastered to her elbow, they reach the exit. At which point she firmly turns and says, “ Chaloji, thank you very much.”

He grabs her hand, my friend is startled, and before she can react he says, “ Manu singer bannna hai.” (I want to become a singer)

My friend is rolling her eyes in her head. This happens to her all the time.

She feels bad for the tall, lanky, pimply Sardar of 20, and kindly asks him, “ Who is your favourite singer?”

“ Miley Cyrus ji.”

My friend chokes. He continues.

“ Mai Miley Cyrus da bada fan hoon. Mainu kuch advice do te mai bhi miley cyrus banoo.” (I’m a big fan of Miley Cryus. Give me some advice so even I can become Miley Cyrus)

She looks at him, frantically wondering what to tell him. A sex change operation? Blonde hair? Barbie? Ken?

When suddenly it hits her.

“ Tusi kabhi give up na karna. Aur roz mandir zaroor aana.”

(You should never give up. And pray really hard)

here it is, rockstar by miley cyrus. oh dude!

the simple truth

Have you ever been to Bengal?

The countryside?

Dry in summer. The earth, still green but beginning to show signs of wear and tear. Little cracks on the ground.

Ponds on the side of little village roads that run for miles. Through dry patches with shrubs and lone trees.

The smell. Heavy in the air. Mangoes mixed with cowdung with smoke with open sky.

Far away, a young boy walking a cow.

Small clusters of village houses. Hibiscus growing wild. Wet earth mixed with cowdung mixed with fish mixed with yesterday’s fermented rice.

Last night, five bauls, or wandering minstrels came to our house. All of them were wonderful.

One was the famous Paban Das Baul. Who made me want to weep with joy when he sang Tomar Dil Ki Doya.

But two, they touched my heart in a way nothing has in years.

One was blind, the other was the someone I saw, and felt I had loved all my love. Kanahi Khepa and Deb Das Baul.

When they sang, I felt like someone had put me on a conference call to god. Their voices were pure, unspoilt, innocent and so beautiful.

They call themselves Khepa, as in mad. Beautifully, happily mad. To wander around singing. About god, nature, the universe.

And the thing is, I never had a role model. Or someone I wanted to be like. But at this ripe old age, it dawns on me. Kanahi Khepa and Deb Das Baul. They are what I want to be all my life.

Khepa. Akdom khepa.

(that's kanahi khepa in front and deb das baul behind him) And here's a video of deb das baul singing last night)

la lee lah

somedays i find everything so beautiful.

then i tell myself, "stop it you shallow person."

gene pool with a twist of lime

Continuing from you can write a book about us:

When I’m unwell, here’s how my grand mom will react.

“Put Boroline.”

Boroline???? For heaven’s sake I have fever. Get me a doctor.

But no, my grand mom is convinced Boroline is a wonder drug that works for aches, pains, fever, toothache, gas, alien landings, you name it.

This is how my mom will react:

“Drink milk. Don’t I keep telling you to drink milk? But you will never listen to me, because I’m your mother.”

“ Milk? But what does it have to do with my eye infection.”

“ Don’t argue with me. Drink milk.”

So that’s my mom’s cure for everything. And if symptoms persist, fruits, almonds, ghee get added to the list. Sometimes they all have to be dunked in the milk.

And finally here’s my dad.

“Have a drink, go to sleep.”

“But dad the doctor gave me antibiotics.”

“Okay then add some hot water to your drink.”

Now you know why I always wanted to be like my dad.

walk the talk baby

You have fifteen days to 26^th Jan.

In these fifteen days, you’ll have conversations that run like this,

“ you know I always wanted to join the Air Force.”

“ Remember, the 26^th Jan parade on TV, and how we used to watch it. Now it’s just a holiday ya.”

“I changed my profile picture to the flag.”

“Those Army guys, at Siachin, they’re doing a programme on them.”

Get my drift? In turns you’ll feel warm and fuzzy. In turns you’ll feel all cynical and grown up.

Because somewhere that’s what it’s become. Just another holiday.

So here’s what we’re asking you.

Stuff that cynical grown up into the laundry basket for a minute.

And think.

Wouldn’t it be nice to be part of a meaningful movement this 26^th of Jan. Not one where you write placards, or light candles. But one where you can actually change the future of this country.

We feed 6,00,000 underprivileged children one hot meal every day. This meal is served at the municipal school they study in, and is very often the only way to convince their parents to send their kids to school.

One hot meal. For which the parent sacrifices sending the child to wash your car or sell flowers at the signal. One hot meal. Which is probably the only nutritious meal the child has in a day.

One hot meal. That brings a child to school every day.

And all it takes is Rs 700 for a whole school year.

So here’s what we’re hoping for. If we can get thousand people to donate Rs. 700 in the next fifteen days, then thousand more kids can go to school this year.

And 26^th Jan will never be just be another holiday for them. Or for you.

To donate, you could use the internet payment gateway at www.middaymeal.com or call 022 40366866. Or send a cheque addressed to Nanha Munna Rahi Hoon, ISKCON Food Relief Foundation, 19 Jaywant Industrial Premises, 63 Tardeo Road, Mumbai 400 034. You could even call Seema at 9820842453 and have a cheque picked up, if you are in Mumbai. JUST IN: you can also drop a cheque at the rickshaw office in bandra. the address is flat 102, dheeraj grand, 15th road, bandra west, (the lane between mini punjab and bombay blues. look out for shaibaan restaurant at the start of the lane). we're up and about from 10 am to about 7pm. in case we're out, slip the cheque under the door. and we'll have it sent to School equals Lunch.

this is a message from a charity i support and work for. They are School Equals Lunch. And this is how they introduce themselves. We’re passionate about feeding children. You are more than welcome to visit our kitchens or call Seema at 9820842453 to know more, or even visit our website (www.middaymeal.com). We’d love to show you how much thought and effort goes into cooking that one meal. Whether it’s a different Khichdi for every weekday or the steam cooking kitchen we‘ve introduced, we’d love to share our passion with you.

quick shameless plug

so we decided to do something for mankind.

and here it is. notes to the young man about town. from mentalie and i.

if you'd like to be of service to a greater cause, feel free to contribute. write in to either of us, and we'll put it up (ahem, if we like it). and yeah, it would be nice if you could avoid long drawn sob stories about your ex. or the guy in class 2 who never looked at you.