Creativity, at its Worst!

Snoopy colleague reaches his limits of gossip monging and curiousity by peeping over to his neighbour's privates, only to check out "If it was really that big?". And you expect me to fall down on my stomach and laugh when the whole ad is boiled down to increased storage space on Rediff mail?

What happened to creativity in ads? How can there be ads like these made when we have classics like Prasoon Joshi's for Happydent, or the new Reclaim Your Life mantra from Safari Dicor??

Wait a minute? Was I being very finicky?? Conservative, is it, for not being able to enjoy such a dirty joke!! I can stand Kamasutra for years now, but Mail size and the Man's privates!! Give me a reason to corelate here, please.!

Cricket - o - phobia !

Scene off a canteen table. The otherwise choosy men pick up anything from the wide option of "delicacies" available and run, squabble to make sure they get a vantage position. The unlucky few curse their worst signs for having to go through the misery of sitting with their backs to the television.The ones with a good rapport with the girls, coax and please them to exchange seats. Some desperate souls compromise on the pleasures of tv viewing and go down to live commentaries on the radio.

But come Cricket world cup season and it is more of a pain for a girl, like me, to accompany the male counterparts to grab a meal. "Hey heard about this new scheme that they have come up for the pay cheque?", meets deaf ears, selectively deaf infact. Or it would be returned with a "Oh it was plum man..!", which totally bounces off the conversation. You are definitely received with necks craning over their shoulders to make sure not one ball is missed. And when there is no live telecast, damn those matches in the carribean, there are those innumerable replays, thanks to the countless channels that have resolved to mint money in the month to come.

Even if those dedicated channels do let them down, they always have their very own in-house experts, recounting tales from world cups they viewed as kids, moving on to the teenager days. How cricket was more a sport then than the game now. And then the usual argument, be it for the regional favorites or the bowler-all rounder issues, they just keep popping up always.

And respite is nowhere near in sight. Getting yourself served a meal quick is an option out on the open, for the canteen guys blink not an extra minute incase they miss out on that key stroke that would change the direction of the game. And such is their interest in the game, that any hopes of changing to anything else is minimal and bleak.

As we fight to move over to something more promising, I am down on my knees and ready to compromise. I am ready to put myself through an hour of Himesh Reshammaiyya's nasal drawl. I am keen on watching Sanskar and find out the positives of turning into sainthood. I am considering diksha as an option in life infact. I am ready to learn all the new asans that Ramdev baba has come up with for a severe neck disorder. But please, not another ball of the match.

A desperate plea. When are we getting the soccer matches back and why in the whole, bad hell does the Formula 1 season start this late?

Four friends and a flight to catch

Four friends sat on the kerb, oblivious to the pounding traffic that the internation airport was accustomed to. They were all professionals in the true sense. Some were back from work, their formals and name tags intact. One was out on an assignment which had given him the opportunity to meet the rest.

They had been different people, but had bonded. Some had made each other's life difficult in college. Some had belonged to opposing groups when ego ran high and friends were lost. Others had been the lone light for the other during difficult times. Most of them hadn't made contact in the two years that had flown by after college. The pain didn't show now.

They had had their differences; some still had them. A few drank tea while the others savoured their soups. Yet they were there together, reliving a past they had lived through soulfully. The stress that work life brought along showed on some. Others were making a successful effort at hiding it quiet. The few that were open about it shared the frustration and it found empathy from others around.

For they had been together in times when life was carefree. College life brings with it a phase of total freedom and ownership. You knew that anything that happened to you tomorrow was because of what you did today. Yet, you made sure you lived today to the fullest. There had been no politically correct statements then; If I dint like you I told you just that. Oblivious to its holding on anything coming forward.

We had all been ready for a battle had there been one. But we hadn't prepared for the one that was storming in us right now. The dreams, that had left behind sleepless nights, were safe and locked up, while we chased futile targets. We sat there as friends while a life of corporate culture lay behind us. We contemplate on what we had made of ourselves. It was all what had put unto ourselves. True!

All of us, in our own ways, looked at a distant nothing, staring at the us that we had been. We had grown up after all. When the time arrived, we silently parted ways, promising to have more such opportunities to reunite. It felt like a chance to live the real us. The us that was threatened to oblivion by the us we were all hoping to be.

Mee Mumbaikar Nahi!!

It's over a year now in this place and it surprises me that I am yet to form an impression about living in a place like Mumbai. While there are things that really amaze me like the old-world charm of the buildings and roads in South bombay(I still like calling it that!) and the way every nerve of Mumbai functions with little interference(Its wearing out with time I know), there are things that really annoy me and nullify the positives. I cant stand the horrid habit of chewing tobacco like you were on a competition with your bovine counterparts. I cant stand the art of making the world your spitoon all the more. Nowhere else have I seen such a horrendous habit(Fine I havent seen all the world. But the little suffices!). It seems as dear to a family as its heirloom. Bless their souls.!!

It was another one of those days when I was thinking about the level of annoyance Mumbai managed to throw into me, seated in a bus right behind a true Mumbaikar. The vehicle hadnt halted a micro second that the crowd poured out, like water gushing off the dam flood gates. With time I had realised the futility of trying to be a part of the mad rush. A nanosecond wasnt as precious to me as it was for these "hard earning" citizens. I could afford to wait for the bus to empty and take my space to get off.

Another attitude of the modern Mumbaikar that irks me is their total negligence to traffic rules. Pedestrians top the list of citizens ignoring traffic rules. Any mondane Mumbaikar would walk off unstopping from one end of any busy road to the other, cutting right through traffic, with the least concern to the oncoming vehicles. What they fail to realise is 1.Their waiting for their turn would ensure faster traffic outflow from the signal. and 2. They are not participants of some reality program that the world is watching. As I stand there amidst a bustling traffic, opposite an equally or most probably doubly busy train station, waiting for the green to turn red, and find my way across, people pour over all around me and walk ahead. The honks pound as drivers try to wade their way through this ocean of walkers. And the heights of irony was these 'concerned' citizens giving me the dirty look for standing there and obstructing their right of way.

I remember this particular rule that the municipal corporation of Bangalore had come up with, back in the late nineties, when I was in school. They imposed a heavy fine on this act - They even christened it 'jay-walking'. The traffic congestion on M G Road had come down drastically, as pedestrians slowly treaded along the footpaths, in search of a zebra crossing. Mumbai is desperate for desperate measures.

I definitely dint lose much from the two extra minutes I spent at the crossing here - It gave me more time to admire the citizens of this city. Once on the other side, I walked towards the bridge that would take me from the Industrial sector of the area to the residential part of it (OK! For those unaware, The east and west of a region was initially meant to zonalise the area and separate the industrial commotion from the residential peace. Not that we follow what is meant to be). If no other positive effect has come out of my frequent trips to the gym, I am fine. Because one thing I am carrying forward in life is climbing stairs, and doing it with a higher purpose than getting to the top. I usually skip steps and make sure I dont spend more than half a minute in going up the 50 odd steps out there. The fleeting adrenaline rush gives me a good feeling.

As I approached the foot of the stairs, I noticed a traffic jam of different sorts here. Fine, not everyone shares the same opinion about this little ritual of mine. I waded through traffic and was half the way up when a spree of competitors razed up, past me, reached the top and gave me that sarcastic smile. A smile of victory. Its not a city specific phenomenon I know, but what was it with men and not letting women overtake them? It was a road for God's sake.

This brings back times in the Textile city. H and me on the bike and zooming past sluggish men on their bikes, evading a confrontation at home. The minute realisation dawned on them that it was a bunch of college girls, who had just taken over, the Bull is up and razing. Phew.! Kids! I would say. It's a global phenomenon alright.

With a knowing smile on my face, in return to their glance, I walked up and over the train station. It was the usual, buzzing with sights and colors of any road-side market place in Mumbai. They sold everything from pirated cds to t-shirts and trousers. Numb to all of this now, I walked ahead, when a slight agonising moan from one end of the walkway distracted my attention. It was an old lady, hunched with age. The cause of her moan was two saggin bags on both hands, loaded with sweets for her grand children, probably. As she struggled to inch forward, tugging her goodies along, another sigh escaped her frail body. She slowly looked up to ensure she was on the right way, and to judge the battlefield still left ahead.

Observing all this, I had walked a few paces past her, when something made me stop. What was I doing, walking past, like I had a million dollar business to catch up with, when she was here struggling? I stopped. Unsure if I was doing the right thing, I retraced my step back to meet up with the old lady. I bent low to meet her line of vision and extended a hand towards one of her bags. In a soft Hindi I had rehersed in my quick trip to her, I asked her if I could carry her bags till the end of the walkway, to make it easy for her. By the end of the statement, my left hand was clutching the handle of her bag on the right, waiting for her to smile, aquiese and let go of her grip.

I dint know how it began, but a second later she was screaming on the top of her shrill voice.'Chor! Chor!'. I also dint know if the voice was really that loud or it was my racing mind that had amplified all of it. As I turned around to access the damage, I saw glances walk past me, a question in their eyes. I felt her hand loosen my hold off the bag and walk past quickly. As I stood there, shaken with what had just happened, I saw her turn back to give me a last complaining glance. Stealing my grand children's cookies..??

For once I was happy the citizens of Mumbai were not much of the interfering sort or concerned human beings. Else I would have landed up in a hospital near by and the next day's headlines would read something in the lines of 'Considerate citizens save an old lady from theft.','The young woman thief, working in a software company tried to lure the old lady to part with her belongings.','Citizens beat the hell out of the robber and make her confess that she was deployed by a distant wing of Dawood and was trained in multiple arms handling.'.

Was it my mistake? I ask myself again. Do these Mumbaikars need ten bomb blasts rocking the city in an hour or a flood draining their belongings, to show their compassionate side? Wasn't there something called Humanity that should be alive in us at all times? My Mistake!!

The first citizen of India

A quiet gathering of twenty odd somethings stood up as the National anthem sounded over the sound system. A few hundred kilometres away, the President of India joined other dignitaries on stage to sing the same anthem a millionth time in his life.

An hour back, the admin department had deployed the best of its troops to the cafeteria, to set out the stage for the occasion. I except all these learned engineers to be enthusiastic in listening to the scientist turned president speak. Lets keep some chairs in hand. Just in case. The Head had thought out aloud.

Half an hour earlier, a few last minute lunchers gobbled their meal up. They saw men armed, waiting to take their tables away, and make room for more chairs. They had to rush.
The Head checked his watch, the hundreth time in the last one hour. It was acceptable that the president was delayed and would be half an hour behind schedule. All these dignitaries are forever running late. But what happened to the great minds working in this building.? Did they have a fore thought that the president would be late? Would they come pouring in when the dignitaries arrived? I hope there is no mad rush. He was glad he was doing all the thinking in his head.

It was an hour into the function when the Head returned. After the welcome and introduction, the podium had been handed over to the president. He was well into his discussion about India and emerging technologies. The Head particularly liked the idea about a collaboration of all technologies - information, communication, biotech and nano - to form a system that works for bettering the standard of Indian living. A great thought.

Another prospective thought was about a change in the primary education syllabus, that ensures that children of tomorrow do not lose the creativity that's inbuilt, let a trade of between grades and originality take over. It looked like a root cause for many issues plaguing the generation coming up - the education system.

It was a good question this school kid asked - What was the First citizen's opinion about the brain drain that has been tormenting us for the last whole decade. Look at the positive aspect, he said. He quoted all those who have stayed back to make a difference. It was afterall an issue about our attitude and thought process. Why look and lament about those who have left us when there are ones that have stayed back for us. And to think that there are 2 million Indians living outside India!

After the National Anthem was sung, with all heads held high, the few who had come in to witness this occasion left, while in the other city, those gathered waited for the president to leave. It was a mere five minutes before the cafeteria lay silent. There was only the sounds from the kitchen, preperations for the evening snacks where in full swing.

As the Head sat on one of the seats in a distant recess, while his troops started putting the seating arrangement away, he thought. His mind went racing back to a time, when there this same canteen had been over flowing with people. Those who had made the terrible mistake of leaving their seats in their respective floors later than the others, where left with just enough space to stand and witness the proceedings. There was dancing, to tunes from the latest bollywood, and singing and a lot of cheering. Smiles lit all faces and a jolly mood was in.
He couldn't remember what the event was. But those who couldn't find space to sit then had come back to him with a complaint. The arrangements were bad. The company dint like us participating. This was the event that had forced him to ensure things went right today. He had made sure all the four hundred had place to sit or stand comfortably. Then what had gone wrong?

Why dint these minds of tomorrow find it not important to listen to the President speak, when he himself, a mere mortal, with a level of IQ much lesser than these that earned billions for the company, was excited all day?? Why were their priorities so misturned that a speech about their own country, delivered by their own president, at one of their own company campuses not require a trivial hour of listening time??

They are the future. The tomorrow of the country. God Bless!!