I hate love

At the outset, let me set one thing clear. I'm not complaining, however harsh this might sound. It's just something I came across while I was searching for some quotes. And I simply, completely fell in love with the words. Nobody, and I mean nobody, has ever been able to capture a heartbreak so eloquently. There is so much honesty and deep-seated anguish in those words: "It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain."

I loved the way the writer has described the ease in which we fall in love. At times, with that which is not attainable. We know it, and still we go ahead full-steam, knowing fully well that there is nothing but hurt and a deadend waiting for us ahead.

But let me not keep you any more. All of you out there who have loved and lost, who have seen the cruel side of love, who have vowed never to fall again, this goes out to you. This goes out to you, my dear friend, who rages within.

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defences, you build up a whole suit of armour, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”
Neil Gaiman: English born American Novelist, Journalist, Screenwriter, Children's Author, among many

There is always a first time

I just started a new job last week. It's a new place, new people, a completely new way of working. It's anything but an advertising agency... quiet, sober, serious. Never worked in a place like this. But then i thought, what the heck. There will always be a first time in everything. Incidentally, it's also the perfect timing for a change of philosophy when it comes to attacking my non-existent lovelife. A friend wrote these lines which I just decided to plagiarise.

There is always a first time

To take the first step
To learn the first word
To unlatch a cage
And free a lovebird

To scrape an elbow
To stumble and fall
To drool in deep slumber
To see a waterfall

To hide behind a tree
To watch a shooting star
To feed a hungry kitten
To lick clean a jelly jar

To discover the hidden ego
To nurse a broken heart
To try and climb with balance
First time on a horse cart

To fall in love
In hope of nothing to gain
There’s always a first time
And then another again

Energy [r]evolution

Bike in Action

I rode a Royal Enfield the other day. For the very first time! And was it an experience or what. Cool worli sea breeze in my face, the throb of the machine beneath and the fact that I was riding it. Yes, I’ve been a pillion rider before, but this experience is something else all together. By far the best experience I’ve ever had. Ok, discounting other activities.

This was simply mind-blowing. Bigger… better… sexier than anything. Suddenly all other bikes seem like such insignificant things. It’s one thing riding a CBZ or a Yamaha, or just any other bike. (sorry avid bike lovers, but if you’ve ridden an Enfield, you’ll know what I’m talking about).

I didn’t trust myself to kick-start it. Jittery and excited as I was, I was more terrified of the re-bound. Had a nasty one a long time ago, the scar still remains. So anyway, my friend did that for me, hopped up and I was ready to fly.

And suddenly I floundered! Damn, unlike all bikes I know, this one was exactly the opposite. The foot brake is the shifter and the shifter, the foot brake. I wobbled, fumbled with the shifter, eased the bike into the first gear and was just about to roll, when the bike stalled! Talk about embarrassment.

Tried it again, got a better grip this time and when I got going, wow!!! One round-trip to worli and back. Exhilarating! Wasn't that tough now, was it? Not at all. In fact, when we got back, I put the machine on its stand too, a feat I had thought to be impossible. I'm on top of the world. Thanks Viraj, you're the dude!

So, that's one more down. Another million things left to do.

I’m back in action. And my blog is all set to roll too.

Happy reading guys.

No rules, no game, right? Wrong.

How do you play a game that has no rules? No start. No end. And of course, no middle.

Simple. Your way.

My colleague made a fantastic impression on me today. I was, as I seem to be doing a lot nowadays, complaining about the sheer lack of intelligence around me. I don’t mean the been-in-advertising-for-so-many-years-and-have-a-marketing-degree-to-back-that kind of aptitude. There’s plenty of that. A little too much, in fact. I’m talking about the ordinary, commonsense knowledge and working skills that are a basic pre-requisite for any job.

Patiently, as always, my partner told me a simple thing: ‘When all the people around you are confused, when no one seems to be able to take a stand, YOU do it. Stake claim to an idea and stand by it. Mind it though, be ready to face criticism, a lot of pressure, probing, questioning, a horde of unbelievers.’

I think today there is lot of information if one knows where to look for it. What is lacking is application of that knowledge. Or in the absence of that, an excellent packaging of what scantily exists in the mind.

It's simply a matter of changing the rules. Or, creating them.

Bittersweet symphony

I met up with a friend for lunch last week. A very dear friend, well, my ex-boyfriend actually.

We were incommunicado for over a year. Just couldn’t bring myself to talk to him. And then suddenly, about a month back, we got back in touch. (He’s married, not sure about the happily part though.)

As I waited for him outside a pre-decided restaurant, thankfully not one of our earlier haunts, I was plagued by lots of thoughts. Disturbing thoughts. How will I face him? What will we talk about? Should I ask about his wife? How much has he changed? How much have I changed?

He turned up 20 minutes late. Well, that’s a start. At least some things were still the same.

We went inside, we ordered, we exchanged pleasantries. ‘Yes, work’s fine. Keeps me busy.’ ‘You’ve put on weight.’ ‘No it’s ok. I can take a longer lunch-break.’

And all along, a part of me sat on the third chair, waiting. For the fireworks, the dry mouth, the sudden thumping inside, the racing heartbeat, a warm glow.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

It was heartbreaking to realise that the feelings I’d had for this person had just disappeared. Yes, I’m fond of him still. But all my love just vanished, like it never existed. Not a shred of my emotions existed. It was like they were just a figment of my imagination.

Slowly the realisation dawned. He’s a friend, just a friend. Just another friend.

Should I be relieved? Should I be disappointed? I don’t know. Tell me readers.

Staying Sane

It's been a month, and I’ve made no progress on my space in the cyber world. That’s cause I’ve been busy trying to scrape out an existence here.

Work’s been a killer, but that’s how it goes. As every seasoned advertising professional gets to know sooner or later, advertising is indeed 99.9% perspiration and 0.1% inspiration. Though there are days, when you doubt the numbers. Is it really 0.1%, and not less?

A junior, budding fellow in the office last week was doubting his career choice. Doesn’t give him the same kick and pounding feeling inside as he had hoped he would get.

Was he echoing what I’ve been too scared to face myself? Something’s missing. Some spark that would push me, without fail, to get to work every single day. Off late, it’s an effort getting out of bed even.

So what did I do? I sat down the guy on the bright sofa in the office reception, and gave myself a pep talk. Don’t give up. Every moment of disheartenment, every rejection, every re-work will eventually get vindicated by that one job that is sufficient for you to get the kick of your life.

Think, not that tomorrow is another day, but that today will be better. It’s another opportunity to work upon and perhaps, just perhaps, get it right this time.

Stay on it. Stay sane.

Getting started (finally)

Sounds like the title of a software programme's handbook.Or the first page of the instruction manual of a new techie contraption your cubicle mate pulled out from a bag. Something you have absolutely no idea how to use. (Though I really wonder if people today need manuals. Everything is so simple, so easy. Or so they say.) Just last week I got a friend to explain to me what 'Bluetooth' is and how it works. Call me outdated, call me slow. That's what I am.

Anyway, getting back to the subject on hand. After having stayed far behind all the excitement that blogging is, i've peered through the dust and finally decided to start a page of my own. A lot of hesitation precluded this step and I did it in the privacy of my home, not wanting to make a fool of myself.

I was among the last in my college gang to get an email id. The last in my office group to get a mobile phone. (Still don't possess a laptop or an ipod.) The last to start chatting online. And today, yes, also among the last to start a blog of my own.

Yes, yes, i'm a relic of the bygone era. Suddenly realising that the more I tried not to become like my parents, the closer I ended up resembling them in their behaviour and mindsets. Wary of all things new. But still curious.

Well, but the deed is done now. And I've officially become a blogger.

Getting started.