gutteredspace

If life was a fairytale

2006-06-29T20:09:00.000+05:30

The following incident is true, as told by a friend, and re-told here, by me.

Let me tell you a story today. The story of ‘Goldilocks And The Three Bears’

Once upon a time there was a little girl called Goldilocks who lived at the edge of a great forest. She was called Goldilocks because she had beautiful curly blond hair which gleamed like gold in the sunlight.

One morning Goldilocks was playing by the meadows, when she got bored and said to herself, 'I'll go exploring in the forest.' She looked back at the house to make sure that her mother wasn't watching then ran off across the meadow and into the forest.

Goldilocks wandered deeper and deeper into the forest until she was completely lost. She felt very frightened and was about to cry when she saw a strange little cottage amongst the trees. Goldilocks tapped on the door but there was no answer. Then she peeped in through an open window. There was no one at home so Goldilocks climbed inside for a look around.

Inside the cottage a fire was burning brightly and a table was laid for breakfast with three bowls of steaming porridge. It smelled delicious and Goldilocks realised how hungry she was. 'I'll just try a little bit to see how it tastes,' she said. First she tried the biggest bowl but the porridge was too salty. Then she tried the middle bowl but the porridge was too sweet. Then she tried the little bowl and the porridge was just right so she ate it all up.

Near the fire were three chairs. Goldilocks was tired so she decided to sit down. First she tried the biggest chair but it was too high. Then she tried the middle chair but that was too high as well. At last she tried the smallest chair but it was too small and broke to pieces.

In the corner of the room was a twisty staircase so Goldilocks decided to climb to the top. She found a bedroom with three beds and of course one was very big, one was middle sized and one was small. She tried the biggest bed but that was too hard.

Then she tried the middle sized bed but that was too soft.

Then she tried the smallest bed and that was just right.
It was so comfortable that Goldilocks fell fast asleep.

Goldilocks didn't know that the cottage belonged to Three Bears and they were on their way home. Father Bear had been collecting wood for the fire. Mother Bear had collected a basket of blackberries. 'I do hope our porridge is cool enough to eat,' said Baby Bear. 'I want my breakfast.'

When they came in they went straight to the table to eat their porridge.
'Somebody has been eating my porridge,' said Father Bear.
'Somebody has been eating my porridge too,' said Mother Bear.
'Somebody has been eating my porridge and eaten it all up,' cried Baby Bear.

Then Father Bear noticed his chair. 'Who has been sitting in my chair?' he roared. 'Who has been sitting in my chair?' said Mother Bear. 'And who has been sitting in my chair and broken it to pieces?' cried Baby Bear.

The three Bears went upstairs.
'Somebody has been lying on my bed,' said Father Bear.
'Somebody has been lying on my bed,' said Mother Bear.
'Somebody has been lying on my bed,' cried Baby Bear, 'and she’s still there, fast asleep.'

The three Bears looked at the little girl. What was she doing in their cottage? Goldilocks woke up with a jump. She thought that the Three Bears were part of her dream and pinched herself very hard, but the Bears did not disappear. Now she was very frightened. She jumped out of bed, ran down the stairs and out through the door of the cottage. She ran and ran, not stopping for breath until she reached her own house with her mother waiting at the doorstep. She never went exploring in the forest again.

Ok, now the story is over. Go to sleep. You have to wake up early tomorrow for school? Hearing which, the 3yr old asked,

“Mummy, if Goldilocks could run back to her house now, why didn’t she simply go back when she was lost? ”

Sometimes it takes a little kid to do a reality check on life. And remind us that there is no such thing as a fairytale.

Bread & Butter

2006-06-20T17:57:00.000+05:30

I’ve spent a pretty good part of my working life (approx. 4 years) telling, correcting, clarifying, elucidating, disclosing, illustrating and explaining to people (read relatives and fat Punju aunties in Delhi who happen to be my mum’s friends) what exactly I do for a living.

I’ll tell you where the problem lies – not too many people know about “copywriters”. Plus they start thinking too much and come up with own genius interpretations.

So let’s clear the Top 10 career questions of my life, ok? Ok.

Q1.
So as a ‘Copywriter’ you write taglines is it? Most common example thrown in these days is Surf Excel, Daag Acche Hai.

Ans.
Yes and no. I occasionally do write Baselines. But mostly try writing ads.

Q2.
So tell me, you just sit all day and write taglines?

Ans.
Yes. My boss forces me to sit in a corner and finish my target of 200 taglines a day. After which the biggies of the company sit and figure what tagline they can put in which ad/product.

Q3.
So you wrote Daag Acche Hai?

Ans.
NO

Q4.
How, how do you think of a tagline? How does one think of so many taglines?

Ans.
We stare at the packs and products all day long and wait for something to hit us. Its called divine intervention.

Q5.
So you help companies figure out their Copyright Issues?

Ans.
This one’s a bummer. The first time someone asked me this (rather threw this theory on my face) it took me a few seconds to come back to reality and think of something to say with a straight face.

Q6.
So which library do you work in?

Ans.
Excuse me! Double bummer. What’s the connection with a library and someone who is a copywriter? Apparently assumption was that I sit and copy/rewrite manuscripts and books. Cool.

Q7.
You’re a journalist? Which newspaper?

Ans.
Hmm. The one that you don’t subscribe to, thankfully!

Q8.
You are a writer? You are writing a book?

Ans.
Yep. I’m writing a book on world peace
(world peace is often substituted with anything else that comes to my mind at that precise moment)

Q9.
Do you paint the hoardings?

Ans.
Whoaaaaaaaaaaaa. Don’t ask me, don’t ask me. I can barely draw a straight line.

Q10.
You work for companies that have those people who climb up hoardings to put them up/paint them.

Ans.
This by far, has been my favourite. No words, no justifications here. Some people have better imagination than me. Maybe I should offer them my job.

Mumble Jumble

2006-05-24T20:28:00.000+05:30

I'm back after a well-deserved holiday. And before any one out there thinks I went on a holiday, well, not really. All I did was take a nice mental break. From work, bosses, blogs, boyfriends, fattening foods, life. Its quite nice and I would recommend it to absolutely anybody and everybody. All you need to do is switch off your mind and stop getting affected or bothered by anything.
Obviously it does have its flip-side. Like in case of sudden work-related emergencies, one might need to put the switch back on and think. But with me, no such casualties happened. So this entire month, I didn't read a single newspaper. Spoke to my mom sparingly. Barely ever met my boyfriend (I've noticed half my issues in life dissolve into thin air when I don't have to have too many conversations with him). Stopped surfing the net. And hardly accepted any briefs and did any real work.
Did a lot of reading though. Read my entire Tintin collection all over again. Then finished off with Shantaram, The Tipping Point, My Name is Red, the entire Adrian Mole series and more. Also went off to Goa for an ad festival.
So far so good. So now, what do I write about? Recently Spazsim Chasm did this quiz and I got inspired. So then she picked up the letter 'M' for me. Basically I've got to think of 10 things that begin with 'M' and how am I associated with it. Easy Peasy. Here goes.

1.
M is for my name. Although there have been many moments in my life where I've hated my parents for naming me what they have (well, my name’s the easily tease-able variety), I absolutely love it. My consolation lies in the fact that at least I’m not called Neha, Pooja, Priya, Shweta and so on. No offence meant to people with these or similar names. They are all good, but it's just that I rather be stuck with a tease-able name than compete with 5 people in your class who share your name.

2.
M is for Mind Games. And as a woman what can I say, I just love playing them.

3.
M is for meteors. As a kid I was fascinated by the universe and the planets and meteors. I read enormously on them and often dreamt about them.

4.
M is for Malpua. For the un-initiated, that's a kind of Mithai. And it's my favourite kinds. I can eat a whole pan full of it in an hour.

5.
M is for Monkeys. I love them. I love chimps and orangutans and the whole lot. I wish I had a pet monkey.

6.
M is for Mondays. And don't we all hate them?

7.
M is for maintenance. Well, I like the good things in life. Who doesn’t? But that comes at a price of being labeled as ‘High Maintenance’ by my guy buddies. Anyways, who cares?

8.
M is for money. The one thing that makes us all who we are. And all those people who say money isn’t everything go get a life!

9.
M is Mental Institutions. One of my mom’s aunts was admitted in them and when I was small, I visited her there once. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that place, the atmosphere or the general feeling that it gave me. And by the way, Bollywood does a pathetic attempt to copy them. Its not even half as in-you-face-crazy that we see in the movies.

10.
M is for ????? Can’t think of any except the obvious one – Mom. Need I say more?

What am I worth?

2006-04-18T16:41:00.000+05:30

Here I am, on a relatively lazy Tuesday afternoon, pondering over Employee Appraisals. In our office we just about got over with ours. Now the point is, why do organizations involve themselves in this seemingly ridiculous method of wasting time?
I mean lets just admit it – performance appraisals means the month of March-April is going to get spent making long lists of all the work you did in a year; getting into inane meetings with your bosses on “Key Improvement Areas” and filling some 20 million forms filled with words that you and I, especially I, do not understand.
I know for sure my bosses are fibbing. Hell, I’m fibbing big time. And the person who’s probably going to tell us how much more money we make this year would probably be busy eating Bombay duck and steamed rice and then wipe his hands with the meticulously filled-up forms.

Here’s why I think performance appraisals are a bucket full of crap:

Now c’mon, there’s this column about how much I’ve evolved in the past 12 months. And my boss is supposed to fill that. I mean what? I might have gotten a PHD degree in metaphysical studies. I may have traveled seven seas to watch U2 perform live. Maybe I adopted a child. Or had a baby of my own. There are a million things I might have done to evolve myself over the year. How the hell would my boss know that? And am I seriously going to get paid more because of the above said reasons? I don’t think so.

I have begun to believe that there are other things in the world that I would be really grateful for than some piddly amount of raise. Like, my office is a dump. It really is. It resembles a beaten down government post-office in Raipur. Or maybe Jaunpur. Am not sure. But the point is this beaten down place is what I have for an office. Plus let me not even begin telling you about my computer (I have serious doubts its one). It almost never works. It’s a 1920’s model with winword version 94. I do not have a CD drive. I cannot watch great commercials in my free time. How am I supposed to inspire myself? In this case, I better computer will be a bigger rewards than 500 bucks extra every month.
Or maybe shopping vouchers. If they can’t afford Mango, Lifestyle ones will do just fine. Imagine, a shopping voucher worth some X amount every month along with your salary. How nice is that.
What about books? I want to be able to go to crossword and buy what I want to and not pay for it. Now that’s a really nice raise.

I’m extremely pissed off/disheartened by this whole business of advertising awards and scams involved to get one. And what is more disturbing is that you and me will not get a raise, at least not a decent one that will make any visible difference to our lives, but there are a bunch of people in my office who do not work regularly. They don’t do those overnight ads. Work under pressure. Write those painful films involving celebrities. Or put up a fight, stand up for their work and battle it out with planning and client servicing on strategies and briefs. Instead all they do the entire year is scams. They’ll scam one ad after another. In their own free will and time. The normal public doesn’t even see those ads because they are published in some Urdu newsletter in Kashmir for the sake of proving to the jury that they indeed have been published somewhere. Now these are the people who’ll get the raises. Fat hefty ones. Jump a few designations to become CDs.
Why, if you take away all the normal, accounted work from me and give me a year to well, just think of anything and everything to just win an award, I too can come up with gems. Which reminds me I have a Marico brief on my desk. Should I junk it NOW? Somehow I don’t think a film with an extremely dumb and wooden wannabe Bollywood actress selling certain hair products to some Vimla in Chinchpokli will win me a Cannes. Certainly not.

Which brings me to this one question?
Who decides how much am I worth? On what basis? On the basis of a handful of awards I won because well, I didn't have to do any crappy regular work throughout the year, so I had plenty of time to win awards. Or on the basis of how many clothes did I manage to sell because people read my plain and simple Sale Ad?
It's a debate I can go on and on about.

Quick, need help

2006-03-30T16:15:00.000+05:30

All those who've successfully lost weight by hook or crook, please tell me how to. Also, I am not cut out for gymming. Just can't jump out of bed into the treadmill. On the other hand, I'm quite willing to starve. So then, what's the easiest, fastest and most delicious way to starve?

Danger. Keep out of reach from children.

2006-03-30T15:54:00.000+05:30

1.
Everybody and their uncles and grandfathers have a goddamn holiday. Except for me. So I while I sit in this dump of an office, that I HATE, a bunch of my friends have taken tomorrow off as well and gone off for a grand weekend. If there was any proof required that my life really sucks, this is it.

2.
This is linked to today’s holiday. The roads were *$#@ing empty.
To elaborate, let me tell you how I generally travel to work. (Btw, for those who know a bit about Bombay, my office is in Worli)
So anyways, I get into a cab around 10 in the morning. Am armed with a litre of water, some chocolates, some cigarettes, cleansing tissues and a facial mist sprayer (ya ya, go ahead, call me vain.)
Some ten minutes on the roads, I’m sweating profusely and calling myself names for not being able to afford a car with and AC. This is also the point where take off my white-rimmed, powder pink aviators, wipe my face, take out a chocolate and light a cigarette. Am stuck in a jam that’s going to take 20 mins to clear if I’m lucky. Otherwise, who knows? So might as well smoke and relax and eat a chocolate. At this point in time I cannot worry about weight issues. There are far important things to take care of, like not strangling the cab driver to death.
Then at some point, we move an inch. I shout “yay” to myself, rather loudly. Once we are out of the Masjid signal, there is a clear stretch of road, for about 10 meters. Now stop. This next signal will take another 30 minutes. By now, I am exhausted. Start drinking water. Buses on either side are spewing out large quantities of carbon monoxide, right at my face.
It’s 10.30 now. If I were to walk from my home to where I’ve reached, it would have taken me 15 mins. But never mind. Am optimistic, and have decided to have a positive attitude at Bombay traffic.
I can’t go into more details now. But after an hour, 2 almond rock chocos, 3 cigarettes, an empty bottle of water, tons of VOV Hydrating Facial Spray with special rose petals extract on my face and a million swears to everyone around, I enter my office lane.
By the time I actually enter and punch in my swipe card, its 11.30am.
Today, on the other hand, I was at work in 20 mere minutes. There was no traffic on the road. See now, had this have happened on any other day, I would take all of you out for lunch to celebrate. But not today. Today I reached a place I hate to be in simply because the whole world is sleeping or partying. Arggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

3.
Today I decided to wear some piece of garment that I’d picked up..God knows when..the point is I couldn’t get into it. I looked like a bloated puppy in it. That’s how much weight I have put on. I feel like slapping somebody and positively hate people who are thinner than me.

4.
Somebody is being very bitchy to me and going out of her way to make my life miserable. Now I can’t take names as she might be reading this. Well, if you are, then I hope you get it that you are the BITCH and you may go drown yourself in the toilet.

5.
Last night, my roommate left some food crumbs lying in the kitchen. First thing in the morning, while I’m pouring myself some Bru Cappuccino in Cinnamon flavor, I see a large cockroach on the floor, staring up at me. Now I HATE cockroaches. I am allergic to them. Countless number of time, I have fainted thanks to them. And therefore, when I see one in the vicinity, I tend to scream.
This time though, I woke up my cranky landlady. (I must remind myself to tell a tale about her. She’s a complete best-seller material) And accidentally spilled hot coffee on myself as I was jumping with the Bru nonsense in hand. Need I say more?

6.
My hair is giving me problems. Don’t ask me why. I have short, but straight, fine hair. It generally sits where its supposed to because its too limp and thankfully doesn’t have a mind of its own. Today, things have changed. It’s sticking out at weird angles. So I tried some styling-shyling in the morning. Some yummy TIGI Head banger and a blow dryer promised to make my life easier. But nobody, nobody can help when the entire cosmic force in the universe is plotting against you.

7.
My brand new electric blue brocade flip-flops are ruined. Cuz my maid doused it in water. Like I’ve been saying earlier, don’t just ask me why!

OK. This feels so much better. I have written all my troubles down on paper (read MS Word) and then crunched it and threw it away (read publish post).Thank you so much for making me realize happiness is just a blog away:)

2006-03-28T12:32:00.000+05:30

Say What?

Funny thing happened last evening. Somehow, in yet another unexplainable way, my ears blocked off. So now I’m not able to hear properly and all voices and sounds feel distant and weird and my own voice sounds nasal and weirder. That's good I guess. I'm supposed to rush off for some stupid research involving a boring silky-n-shiny hair product that makes some bogus promises of parlour-like hair. I can pretend I never heard the address right and go watch a movie instead. But besides all this, I have been tapping my head and I get a noise similar to tapping an empty earthen pot. Trust me, its so addictive, I can't stop hitting myself on my head and getting stupid, cheap trills doing so.Seems my mother was right all along. I apparently have nothing up there:)

2006-03-23T16:32:00.000+05:30

This is it. This is my life. This is what made me write the next post.

2006-03-23T12:42:00.000+05:30

Job Forum

I spent the last two weeks chilling my heels in Delhi, my home. And barring the first few days which were spent attending my bestest friend’s wedding, all I did in Delhi was sleep 20 hours a day, eat tons of home food and shop. And the best part of all this is I totally enjoyed it. So much so, I didn’t want to come back to Bombay. Or rather, let me re-phrase this, I didn’t want to go back to work.
I guess what fuelled this mood more was the fact that for the last couple of months I was actually getting sick of my work. And sick and bored in a way that changing jobs will not help. After all, every ad agency is the same. It’s the same nonsense that goes on everywhere. What I want is to either quit the job and go back to doing nothing or find an alternate career.
In fact when I did come back to Bombay (I refuse to write Mumbai), I happily bunked a few days and slept 20 hours in a day again.

So the other day I forced myself to write my talents down on a piece of paper – in an attempt to at least begin thinking seriously about my career switch.

Let me warn you, its not much. Am not a superwoman. Am just an average girl with an average set of talents, much like you. Maybe lesser than most of you. So now, here they are. And what I want to know is how to use these talents to get me doing something else. And while most of these so-called talents seem stupid and a normal way of life, am sure there are hidden potential in each one of them to form in into something grand and fabulous. Something more interesting than selling unsuspecting consumers a bunch of creams and lotions and clothes that are basically crap. Just one thing, all suggestions need to be “work” that will pay me equally good as my current pay packet. I am not thinking to joining an NGO or doing charity work. There are bills to pay, and huge ones that too.
Here goes:

1.
I suffer from Compulsive Cleanliness Disorder.
If they were to re-make ‘Friends’ and pick-out real life people to play the characters, no one else can be ‘Monica’ but me. I clean, obsessively. It makes me happy and relaxed. After a tiring and frustrating day at work I like to go home and clean my impeccably spic-n-span cupboard. Or do some dusting. Am not joking. This is for real. Nothing makes me happier than seeing things in order. I go to my boyfriend’s place and clean his cupboard. The other day I cleaned his sister’s cupboard as well. On a Sunday if my maid doesn’t turn up I do all her jobs. If you were to go my house, I could blindfold you and challenge you to pick up things – and you’ll be able to find them exactly where I told you they would be. Just one thing – I have a fixed notion of how things need to be arranged / cleaned. And you can’t make me think otherwise. Another thing, I do not like interference. It’s my way or the highway. If am clearing my mum’s cupboard, I couldn’t care less where she wants me to keep her sarees. I’ll do it my way and everyone else needs to just follow instructions and shut up.
Some time back I saw this segment in Oprah Show about these two women who are professional cleaners – they go to other people’s houses and make their life clutter-free. Problem is how do you get to do this in India?

2.
I am a serial Gossiper
Now all those people who jump from their chairs now and yell “PR” to me, well, Public Relations is not going to work for me. I dwelled on that. Let me tell you why. By gossip I mean bitch. I am least interested in knowing what’s going on in your life. But if you’re not in my good books, I can write a book about you. If you are a mere acquaintance, then again I don’t care whether you are having a good day or a bad one. Sure, I’ll empathize/sympathize but wouldn’t actually be bothered much. If you are a close friend/family, I wouldn’t bitch about you. Even if you were mean to me. Ill just forget and forgive and go along my way. I have to positively not like you to gossip/bitch about you. So then, PR doesn’t work. I’ll only bring bad publicity to the clients I hate.

3.
Like most women am also addicted to shopping.
I have some 40 pairs of shoes. I wear only 10 odd ones out of those. I have a overflowing cupboard and some 3 suitcases full of clothes. I’m not going to tell you how many of those I have worn. And the days when I am cash-strapped or have run out of things to buy, I shop for vegetables. Or groceries. Or just about anything else. Just entering a departmental store or a food mall makes me happy and gives a bigger, substantial meaning to me existence.
Anybody on how to shop and earn money?

4.
I like designing jewelry.
Often I sit with my silver jewelry chappie and tell him what kinds I want. I draw it out for him. Pick out the stones. Tell him how to place it. At times I have picked up a perfectly good piece of silver and beaten it with a hammer, much to his horror to flatten the piece and make it look different.
Now what?

5.
I can sit all day long in one place and not get bored. I can actually do nothing.
I cannot understand people who say they always need to do something to keep them busy. Bullshit. You can spend a perfectly nice day doing nothing and feeling happy at your state of joblessness. The only problem is, how does that help me make money?

This is it. This is all that I can do which makes me happy. Apart from going out partying with friends. So now, you tell me, how to do and what to do. Awaiting comments eargerly.

2006-02-13T17:09:00.000+05:30

Wired to Wierds
Part 1

I sit and wonder what makes me such a weirdo-magnet. No seriously, I am one. Almost every body and anybody I know are weird – in some way or the other. Some in a positive, funny way. Most of them in a weird sort of way. But I’m going to write about the people who have majorly contributed to this contemplative mood of mine – my roommates.

Over the last 4 years, I’ve had multiple roomies. Another way of looking at this could be that I’m the only weird one to stay on in that house while the others wizen up and move away, but let’s not go there. This post is not about me. It’s about others.

So anyways, let’s pick my ‘favourite’ one, S. She’s (well she was till she scooted off to Norway) a professor in NIFT. Teaching fashion and textiles and other such things. About 45 yrs old. Though mentally I can assure, she was more like 205. Needless to say we were barely friends. Good for me. I leave home early morning and wobble back way in the night. And therefore hardly saw her in the weekdays. So now, basic introduction done, let me tell you the juicier bits of her life. One fine day (pun intended) S announced she’s getting married. To her ex-husband. Oh, btw, she was married 2 times, both tragically ending in divorce. Point is, how can you make the same mistake thrice? How how how? Please, somebody please explain this to me. How can you think of marrying your ex-husband? I mean, if he was an ex, there has to be a reasonably big reason for that na? Then how can you on day just forget all those petty and big reasons and marry him again. Sigh. And before I forget, the ex-husband in question meanwhile re-married and had two kids before he realized his deep unconditional love for his ex-wife. Phew.
I was quite pleased. At last good riddance to bad rubbish. I wished her the very best, sat through her wedding plans in Rome, and even went shopping for exotic fur coats etc. She was going away to Norway (ex-hubby, a fellow Norwegian, stays there) and obviously Mumbai, a place which doesn’t even have a winter season so to say was apparently the best place to buy winter coats that’ll withstand the Scandinavian cold. Now see these are some of the things that I found extremely irritating in her - the complete loss of logic. Mumbai? Fur coats? For Norway?

Now last week I got a phone call from her. She’s coming back to India. Why? Cuz when she reached Norway, she realized she didn’t really want to get married. Plus, plus, listen to this – she felt he was not the same. He had changed too much. Oh girl. And so she wants to shift in with me. Take up a house and all. Being a true diplomatic Libran I evaded the question. Here’s why:
I refuse to move in with someone who:
· Is so fickle-minded
· Illogical
· Doesn’t move a finger around the house, and occasionally when my landlady would walk into our room, would blame all the mess on me.
· Cannot stand me smoking. Please I need to smoke. Period. If you don’t like it, get out of the room.
· Would preach me on my vagabond-ish lifestyle
· Would insist that if I have a late night (which I often do), I must sneak into the room, without switching on the lights so as to not disturb her and sleep. Pray tell me how the fuck am I supposed to know where my bed is in the dark? Especially when I’m drunk. Plus hello, I need to change my clothes. And I couldn’t open cupboards. S is a light sleeper and would get disturbed.

I endured with all this nonsense for a while. No more. Especially not willingly.

Then there’s my current roomie – P. A fresh MBA graduate from one of the many mushrooming MBA schools around the city. Trouble is she really wants to be a writer. She’s been sitting on my head, wanting to show me her “work”. Wants to meet my boss as well. Just one problem. She’s got her grammar all wrong. Says stuff like “My mom said me.” “I said my boyfriend”. “Will you say her that?” You get the drift? The word “say” and her various forms exist big time in her dictionary. Everything is a “said” No tell, told, saying, telling, speaking etc. And I have to listen to that kind of English all the bloody time. Gawd. How on earth do you expect me to recommend you as a budding writer? Do you think I want to lose my job? And she, like most non-advertising people think my job is to sit on a desk all day long and well, think. Sweetie, who do you think writes all those boring and stupid brochures and leaflets that you toss away in the dustbin? Your pop-in-law?
Dear god. What did I do so wrong in my past life that you’re punishing me like this. Just one decent roommate - is it too much to ask for?
To be continued…

2006-02-13T10:06:00.000+05:30

Go on, pour your heart out...

A boss like you is hard to find
Just my damn luck that you are mine

Working with you has given my life meaning
I mean to drive over you as you're leaving

I'll keep working for you as long as you desire
Because with this crappy pay I can never retire

Ps. Shamelessly borrowed from the net. You're welcome to write your original limericks:)

2006-02-03T17:21:00.000+05:30

Tailor Tales

On my way back home from work yesterday, I indulged in my favourite pastime. Observing tailor-shops and looking at the salwar-kameezes hung outside, on their display windows. Which then triggers off a train of thoughts. Looking at the patterns, designs and the stitching, I often try and imagine what the person wearing this would be like. Would she be tall, thin, fat, lean or podgy? To be honest, basics like size and height, one can pretty accurately guess – one look at the kurtas and you can tell (approximately, I presume). But what lies beneath that thin tall woman? What would she be like? How would she look? She likes to wear deep purple colours. Does that mean she likes all things purple? What cold be her other favourite colours? Does she like her veggies to be purple too? Brinjal?
I also try and assign religions and castes according to the heavy embroidery showcased. My due apologies to people off all castes and creed – I have nothing against heavy, shouting-out-loud prints or work. I am just following general perceptions my dear.
Like if it is anything gold, silver and zari, I automatically assume its Mohammedans. Shiny, plasticy stonework threatens to be “Gujju”. Leopard prints and other similar animal-printed stuff are strictly for Sindhis. I can go on and on. I can even imagine the jewellery they wear. If the signal is too long and I have ample time to scrutinize Deepak Tailors, I even imagine what their spouses would be like. Paan chewing housing brokers. Or the guy at HDFC bank trying to suspiciously sell me yet another credit card. Maybe a door-to-door salesman. I have to admit the area I pass through on my way home will hardly cater to extremely well off clientele.

At times I’m ashamed. I am not supposed to judge people by the clothes they wear. But then again, don’t we all do that all the time. Which then makes me wonder – what if someone in the car next to me starts judging me in a similar manner? They might not have to think too hard on how I look and stuff, they can see that right? But my tastes in jewellery and men and food and profession? Ok, this is scary. I should stop doing this.

2005-12-12T16:03:00.000+05:30

My version of the Visa Ad

A neat and clean desk space
Great accounts to work on
Heaven sent rent
Lifetime rights to pick up anything from Aldo, anytime, free of cost
Edible canteen food
Good skin day
Great hair day, everyday
Six-pack abs, irrespective of how much you drink
Superb driving skill
Road sense
Ability to disappear from a scene if wished to
Power to eradicate foot in the mouth disease
Getting a salary every month, sitting at home, doing absolutely nothing!

There are somethings money can’t buy. For everything else, there’s Mastercard.

2005-12-09T15:42:00.000+05:30

Pronunciation blues

Is it po-tay-to or po-tah-to? Same for to-may-to and to-mah-to. Somehow, when I say to-mah-to, it sounds either too uppity-up Brit or someone who speaks wrong english!

2005-12-08T12:47:00.000+05:30

It’s a super boring Thursday, and I am trying to look extremely busy and neck-deep in work! (It’s an essential part of my job-list everyday!)
So anyways, was trying to figure out what to write. Actually, to be honest, I’ve been trying to figure out what to write since yesterday! So for the lack of anything better, shall make a list of my achievements in these 25 years of existence. Mind you, its not a small list. And yes, there are many things in here that most of you are probably dying to do!

Bungee jumped
Changed a baby’s diaper
Lied to a government official
Lied to many government officials
Done a striptease
Hugged a tree
Said ‘I Love You’ and meant it!
Taken an ice cold bath
Screamed as loudly as I possible could have
Gotten drunk on wine
Seen a total eclipse
Wished on a shooting star
Kissed a complete stranger
Had a candlelit lunch
Given more than I could afford to a charity
Stayed up all night long and watched the sunrise
Patted ducks
Taken a sick day off when I wasn’t ill
Had a cake fight
Slept under the stars
Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
Had amazing friends (And still have them!)
Lost weight
And then gained more
Survived a fatal accident that I shouldn’t have
Broken someone’s heart
Wrote articles for a newspaper
Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when I knew someone was looking
Spied on a crush
Hugged a photograph to sleep
Used my roommate’s loofah as a toilet cleaner to get back at her
Had seven straight tequila shots
Eaten ducks
Got a fellow student fired from class
Lied to get out of trouble
Eaten sushi
Picked up and moved to another city to be with someone I loved
Picked up and moved to another city to start all over again
Taken a martial arts class
Loved someone I shouldn’t have
Gate crashed at a party
Been to weddings of people I don’t know, just to eat food
Gone without food for 3 days
Read, and understood my credit card report
Recently bought and played with a favourite childhood toy
Baked a cake from scratch
Got my navel pierced
Kissed someone so passionately, it made them dizzy
Bounced a cheque
Eaten shark
Been on a trek
Crossed a lake on a rope
Cast my vote for someone I couldn’t care less about
Played in the rain
Kissed in the rain
Played in the mud
Nursed a broken heart
Walked on the beach at midnight
Lounged around in bed all day
Fit three weeks miraculously into 3 days
Felt truly happy about my life
Bitched my boss out
Dyed my hair
Had suicidal thoughts
Para glided
Stolen silverware, plates, cups from a restaurant because my apartment needed them
Skipped all my school reunions
Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt
Read ‘ Love Story’ many times over
Cried each time I read it
Won a bet
Fired a rifle
Taken a holiday all by myself
Appeared on a TV show
Performed in front of 1000 people
Slept in a car all night
Written and memorized my wedding wows
Lied to close friends
Cheated in a card game
Waited up all night for a loved one to return
Raised a pet
Secretly wished harm to someone
Smoked up

i can go on and on, but seriously, i just remembered some deadlines!

2005-12-07T13:16:00.000+05:30

My faith in technology is restored. A dear friend of mine happily taught the uneducated me to delete the unwanted! God bless tech savvy people.

2005-12-06T14:23:00.000+05:30

Double Trouble

If ever I had doubts of being technologically challenged, its cleared now. The genius me published the same blog twice. And then spent some time wondering how to edit a published blog. Anyone can help?

2005-12-06T14:19:00.000+05:30

Here’s the BIG story. I’m absolutely, positively sick of my work.
Damn, damn damn!
What makes things worse is that there’s no way I can quit this damn job. After all, there’s a zillion bills to be paid. Not to mention, retail therapy, which is now the only reason why I exist. Thank god for departmental stores! Yipeeeeee. Anyways, coming back to what I was saying. I tried everything under the sun – cried bucketfuls for a miracle to happen! ; made pacts with god – when the artworks go I’ll quickly run to Siddhivinayak and offer my prayers for the millions who have to bear the brunt of my creative advertising ; even tried bribing the servicing floosies – treat at Marriot if you don’t brief me on this job. And then lightning struck. The genius in me crawled out. In fact I am thinking of patenting my brainchild and then earn millions!
Here’s the deal – the least you can do to show and prove to me that you truly truly understand my pathetic situation, is to collectively ensure that my client goes bankrupt. And shuts shop. It’s simple logic – no more monster client, no more work blues.
Take a pledge now – Thou shall not step into Westside or contribute a khota sikka towards their profits.

2005-11-11T15:41:00.000+05:30

Humble beginnings

So this is it. Finally done. Signed up for my own blog site. Yay!!!Now I have a safe place to tuck away all that I want to write and all the bad things I want to say about my bosses and my work! Deed done, let’s begin.