I was late…

I was late…
Late to notice the quick replies,
Late to notice those gawking eyes,

Late to understand that awkward talk,
Late to understand the carnal mock,

Late to drool over those uneven teeth,
Late to be fooled by that blabbering geek,

Late to blush over those cheesy lines,
Late to crush beneath his romantic rhymes,

Late to realize that,
‘Now it’s too late..’
Late enough to know that
Am no more his slate.

Hmmmm…
I was late!

‘Embarrassing Playlists’.

The sound,

The lyrics,
The season,
The mood,
The rational music
And the irrational rude
I know it’s not the overall gist
But yes,
That is my playlist.

Today it’s Sinatra’s ‘Funny Valentine’
Sometimes Dylan’s ‘Tambourine Man’
Even Rehman’s Taal hits the tone
And Jagjit Singh’s soulful Gazals makes me mourn
Yes, Oh yess
That is my greasy list
Well what can I say?
That is my playlist!

I don’t have one
Maybe each for a sunrise;
They are lame
Weird
Sad
And everything away from wise.
But C’mom
Who are we kidding
We all have our share of…
Embarrassing PLAYLISTs!

Do you…?

Do you just wake up-

In the middle of night
Thinking…
About what are you exactly thinking
In a stream of thoughts
Just narrowing down
To a gigantic waterfall of uncertainty
Do you…?

Do you feel that anxiety-
That sweat dripping down your forehead
Ohh shutup…it’s not the summer!
It’s that twist in your stomach
When someone asks your last piece of brownie
But you have to smile
And say,
‘Yeah sure, why not!’
Do you…?

Do you feel like a lost puppy-
Swirling up and down on a roller coaster
Gasping for breath
Hearing the backseaters enjoying the ride
And being bewildered
Is my species not supposed to be here?
Do you…?

Do you feel love-
And still not feel love
Like that first drizzle of monsoon
Which always gets hashtagged as #FirstRain
And is not suppose to wet you
Just come by.
Do you….?

I know you do;
But do you know, you do?

Thank you ‘Red Lipstick’!

‘It is waste of money’, ‘Ma’ said

‘What’s with the colour?’, grunted my Dad
‘Show-off’, screamed that little fowl animal named brother
But it only made my decision more stubborn further.

Only if they had an idea,
What that little piece of cosmetic did to my soul,
How it amplifies my being by a sheer red stroke,
Encourages me to buy the richest of brands,
Even if my fashion street leather purse is left all but broke.
So thank you, Red Lipstick.

Be it matte or glossy everything is fine,
Once onto me, they judge me;
Call me names and try to cross the line.
But none of those voices bother me anymore
I take you out of my little ‘make-up’ pouch
Dab you a little more in my selfie camera
And walk with my chin up, head high, to take onto the world;
And churn it up with my glittery shine.
So thank you, Red Lipstick!

You take me out of my mediocrity,
Let me enjoy that extravaganza,
Feel that rush in my blood;
To be the forbidden queen,
Cursed with a sombre herd.
I understand the delusion,
I understand the tricky nuances,
But what when the delusion breaks
And am stuck in the midst of those turning glances.

Irrespective of the gloomy uncertainty,
I still crave for the awe,
Not knowing if it’s really me
Or a shadow of you that I saw.
Hence, I still crave for that mystical glam
Those turning tables, giving all that damn.
So thank you,
I mean it…
Thank you, Red Lipstick!

I KNOW I KNEW THAT GIRL…

She smelled her orange books

She sipped her over sweet Chai
She mingled with her bangles
And cringed at overrated cries
Drama was her thing,
Be it a lost wardrobe
Or a dead John Snow
Afterall, she managed to stop the traffic over the most trivial
And searched for love in a Noah or even a tuned piano
I know I knew that girl…

She was a purpose without a trail
Running behind seasons
Being the only unaccompanied rainbow
In that void hollow sky
Doing the regular
Dreaming the extraordinary
Almost ready,
Still not knowing whether to jump or whether to fly.
I know I knew that girl…

After the blush on, the tights
The wandering fictional tales
And the high vodka nights,
It’s possible that she’s lost;
With a hope to never be found,
So I thought I know i knew that girl…
But possibly the girl doesn’t know herself anymore!

‘Conditioned to be good’- ft. TVF Chutiyapa

Office….Female colleagues….Sexual harassment

Well, I think we all know where am heading to. But No, am not going to ‘Protest’. I have a fresh hangover of ‘On Air with AIB S2’ sketch by Tanmay and Khamba about Social media Nazi’s. It’s more like these days we cannot predict what we express or say on social sites can be trolled and used against us. Nevermind!!!

So this, young, dynamic CEO of TVF, Arunabh Kumar, has been accused of sexual harassment by few of his ex-anonymous- female-colleagues. And can you believe, just a few months/days earlier everyone was celebrating his charisma and entrepreneurship skills on magazine cover pages (He was included in ET 40 under Forty list 2016, Fortune Top 40 under 40 list for 2015 & even GQ’s List of Most Influential Young Indians, Entrepreneur List of 10 Geniuses Redefining Creativity, 2016) . It’s as they say, tables turn too fast to let us take a grip of the collapsing things around us. But still let’s not get carried away, it’s still an accusation. And am watching too much of Annalise Keating these days, so yeah he’s not a culprit until proved. Hence, he’s not guilty.

But this incident made me think about the kind of office culture we belong to. Complimenting and calling names to each other are two different things all together. Letting a girl know she looks pretty is a compliment. However, calling her sexy, bomb, item is you stretching it too far. Having a coffee in proxy time is friendly, but touching her shoulder, pressing her thighs is ‘pervert alert’. But in this hasty corporate cajoling, we really forget to notice what we are accidentally encouraging or undermining. Although these things remain unnoticed untill an Arunabh pops out around us. Ok sorry, yeah I know we agreed he’s still not guilty. At least, that’s the story his fellow comedians are going with. Youtuber/Comedian Tanmay Bhatt, Rohan Joshi, Kenny Sebastian, Sumeet Vyas and Nidhi Bisht asked for a fair trial and investigation on the matter.

Nidhi Bisht on TVF controversy

Sometimes I feel amazed at the times we are living in. We claim to have this bubble of intolerance only in our head and social media. Otherwise, why a female allegedly harassed in a prominent YouTube channel decides to be anonymous.  Why can’t she come forward and report against the person? Why did she wait for so long to come up with the issue? And let’s stop looking at the issue from a feminist outlook. Because this is no candle-light –march incident for all those opportunists, who forget the real gist in the midst of their slogan raided rallies. I have a few male friends who are exploited in the very same way. But c’mon how can a person with a moustache and muscles be a victim, right?

See……………………………….Bubble!

Reality and the picture that come across your smart phone and computer screen are diverse (Like Ram-Lakhan kinda diverse).  But than this thought comes back to me that I had read somewhere recently,

‘Is it better for a man to be bad, than to be conditioned to be good?’

And this conditioning these days for us is the social media bubble we are living in. So now moral of the story is, we don’t know if Arunabh Kumar is guilty or not. But he’s a name that will be played on for a while. And for all those Twitteraties, it will be your 140words for the day maybe even weekend!     And all you spectators, well you can continue your brunch talks – as you know this is us being conditioned to be good.

 

 

INDIAN…a hypothetical term?!?

Well am writing after a long time…

Coz nothing really inspired or pissed me that urged me to take out time to write about..
It’s like we are getting immune to the “THINGS” happening around us..
Let me clear Immune, not Ignorant!
The purpose of writing is quite obvious and mainstrean, as you may interpret it. I just was a part of a debate show, talking about ‘Are we really Indians?’… ‘ARE WE?????’
It made me laugh for a while. Like seriously??
If after 67 years of Independence, we are still asking this question, we really need a hie-five on our face with a bat!
So going back to the debate…It made me realise that no one here is an Indian. INDIAN is a Hypothetical term. People are still clinched to the feeling of caste, creed, colour, race and other such divisions. I am a Brahmin, I am a Dalit, I am a Women (oppressed), I am metropolitan….But then who the fuck is an Indian?
It’s funny when you think…
‘Unity in Diversity’…a thing on which other countries look upon to India, is a thing we still trying to figure out. We just understand the Diversity part of it and frivoulosly ignore the Unity part. People today, still belong to a community rather than a country. Patriotism is a notion confined to those 52 seconds of national anthem. You stand still, hum the anthem and then get back to the bullshit we are doing. And lemme tell you half the people standing still might not even know why we are doing it!!
Today we have created a patriotic bubble. A bubble filled with people yelling Vande Mataram and Inqalab Zindabad on every petty fights and then on top of that we have those social media revolutionaries trying to teach the so called Gyaan  sitting comfortably on a cushion, making keyboard noise…And people trying to escape this bubble are labeled as DESHDROHIS…And this is what results in deaths of liberal revolutionaries like Kalburgi, Dabholkar, Pansare and many others…
But let’s not just nag  about things. Atleast today people are moving towards the ‘Make in India’…but now it’s time to move towards ‘Make in Indian’!!!!
And as the great Rabindranath Tagore once has famously said,
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection:
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is lead forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action–
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

In Search of GANDHI ?!?!

Well, if you think searching a needle in a haystack is tough then you might want to rethink..

Because there is nothing more difficult than finding a ‘Gandhi’ in 21st century! No kidding.

But what do you expect more. If when asked people what’s on 2 October and you get a “Arre bc Dry Day hai, stock bharke rakho pehle hi..” kinda reply. So searching GANDHIGIRI or any of Gandhi values for that matter of fact is like sheer waste of time. Instead watch Humshakals on repeat!

No don’t do that, I take it back!!!

But the question is not where is Gandhi? It’s why the hell are we searching Gandhi? And why just on one day which probably don’t even have anything to do with his great work. Why remember him on just one day? and why is it that we have to remember him at all? Is it because  he is fading away somewhere in those worn out history books and libraries?

During this expedition, when  I asked my friends what did they think about Gandhi, there were a lot of unexpectedly violent reactions. Like real violent reactions. They were on a hardcore Anti-Gandhi campaign. But amusingly most of them are definite Modi fans!!! (*tucking my head inside a pillow and laughing hard*) This is like saying, i’m an atheist but I think God is great.

But on a serious note, two days of my expedition throughout Bombay, the only place I could find Gandhi was on the Fort book stall and the ‘Mani Bhavan’, a place at Grant Road from where Gandhi started his first wave of freedom movement. It’s a well maintained and decent place that one must visit if in Mumbai. You  might even get chills once or twice while tour. But once out  of the door, into the real world, it all goes away in a spur of a moment. And you are back to the traffic, the crowd, the honking vehicles, and the delayed train schedules.

Well, in the pre-independent era people’s day might have started with a breakfast brunch over how to throw the Britishers out and might have ended with having dinner with the satisfaction of planning on how to throw the Britishers out. And in between the day if they get time they would have some really really serious discussions on how to throw the Britishers out…

But today people are in a race with themselves. They don’t even know where their next stop is, or whether if they want to stop. You are expected to have education to prove you’re smart, not just smart but you even have to outsmart everyone else. You need to have a job to satisfy your basic needs and of course or else no one is marrying you. If that’s not enough, you need to make sure you have brick and cement block that people call home in any corner of the city for all of the above gimmick to work. With all this going on, do you really think people have time for Gandhi? Or they want to think about Gandhi??

The answer is an obvious NO. It’s a chaotic time we are living in. Having a full charged mobile phone is an enough sentiment for a person to be thrilled and have goosebumps today. You don’t need a movement or GANDHIGIRI to be a true nationalist. Wearing white clothes on Independence day and crying while watching ‘Rang de Basanti’s is bountiful of Patriotism in today’s era.

Mahatma Gandhi famously quoted,

“Be the change that you wish to see in the world.”

I think that’s the part  we have got exactly right! We are the change, and hopefully it will be exhilarating.

Those Orange Pages…

Turning through the pages you come to a point where the tinted characters of the story start talking to you. Every reader must have experienced this.

We seldom realise how much we get from these books. Apart from the knowledge and history, it’s the journey that we are able to be a part of. The orange pages that hold, the told and untold chapters of infinite lives.

I miss those tea stains, I miss getting lost in those mysterious plots…
I miss being in love with those fictional characters,
those late night cravings to know who the fuck is the murderer!!
And most of all, I miss being a part of so many stories, said through those orange pages.

The difference between reality and fantasy vague and you start searching for a ‘Noah’ in every guy, or become a ‘Sherlock’ for every lost paperclip.
Everything you feel is either written or said or carved.
Like you are reliving something that’s already been lived!
A cliché intertwined in a bundle of more hundred clichés…