Category Archives: Ads of My World

How I forgot my delicates and Rupa came to rescue.

Overconfidence and I are chaddi-buddies, we go back a long way. I can’t help it now, it’s in my genes (mental note – pitch the idea of jeans with an in-built underwear).

I find packing my stuff for travel a chore, so I delay it till the 11th hour, just to make it more challenging and exciting (1% of you will have a I-know-that-feeling smirk on your face, yeah, wipe it off, because we forget at least 1 item every time).

This time, I flew without my briefs (and boxers).

Not a big deal you may think, airport has those stores, but dear readers you have to keep my thrifty behaviour also in consideration. Also, paying Rs. 900 for Benetton boxers makes less sense when you can get Jockey for just Rs. 300 (5% of you are nodding your head in agreement, yeah, we are cheap and we know it).

So I touchdown Bombay at 10pm (yes, 10% of us still call it Bombay) and after checking into my hotel I take an auto, my instructions were clear – take me to any mall/market where I can buy underwear. Imagine how awkward the conversation would have been if we had more women auto drivers. #EqualityIsScarySometimes

My knight in three-wheeled chariot took me through silent alleys and deserted lanes (so much for a city that never sleeps) to JB market. I hopped from one shop to another, finding Jockey was a joke in these modest shops where Rupa, Shilpa and Sheeba ruled the shelves.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, I knew how packed my schedule for next three days was, and I knew how much I love my hygiene, especially waist down. So I did what the title suggests… (15% of you may remember Rupa Frontline ads. As kids, our favourite underwear joke was – Rupa ki underwear pehenoge toh Rupa kya pehnegi… gosh, we were dumb).

In a matter of hours, I was standing in front of a mirror, wearing one ill-fitting, ugly pastel coloured, snug in a surprisingly comfortable fabric. Those ugly ads at the back of auto rickshaws from my childhood became the harsh reality of my adulthood. A humbling experience this, it taught me one thing – that even if you stay at the best of hotels, concierge can’t help you with such brief hiccups.

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And no, I’m not talking about the ones who criticise you to make you better. I’m not talking about friends who pull your leg when you fail. In fact, maybe it’s not about other individuals. Unfriend the little pesky non-believer in you if you have to.

The reasons for doing so:

  • These are people who never had their own “Everest”, so it’s not just that they don’t believe in you, they are probably incapable of understanding you. Isn’t that the first premise of any friendship/relationship?
  • Their doubt is contagious. Even if your will is as strong and determined as Mohd Ali, sometimes these naysayers punch you out with their expert negative logic (secret: they put weights of their failed past in their boxing gloves).
  • They sometimes make sense. And that’s the most dangerous part. If Edmund Hillary had a friend like this who constantly told him drop the very risky plan to conquer Mt. Everest, it would still be a virgin peak. Men who like to be on top, gimme 5!
  • They will always be there to say, “I told you so” and if your dreams are big you’ll have many failures; you don’t want that kinda negative energy around you when you are already down.
  • If you could time travel, you’d know these people won’t do anything spectacular with their lives. They would happily be the puppet of time/situation/peer pressure/so-called-righteousness/system/government/dysfunctional family and of course luck.
  • So unfriend them today, because an year from now you would regret not taking an action even though a great post warned you about these demons who feed on your dreams.

Good night.

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He types HAHAHA with a straight face and sends emoticons when he runs out of words.

He woke up on a Tuesday morning and realised that he was late for work. Not late like ‘holy shit, it’s 10 am and I’ve missed a meeting’ late. Real life is not that dramatic you know. He was late by his ideal and a very ambitious wake up time, understandably so, because he missed his ideal ‘go to bed and sleep’ time, by a couple of hours. Sigh! His smart phone really makes him do dumb things.

He isn’t known to make great decisions and he goes to sleep again, because that’s how he competes with his failures, big or small. It’s 10 am and now he is late for real.

He does what he does everyday, miss his exercise and breakfast so he can later crib about his not-so-healthy lifestyle taking long drags of the cancer stick. He takes great pleasure in helping irony write itself.

He sits for hours in front of a computer and stands with his head down looking at the portable screen. He is more wired to the word and less connected to himself. He types HAHAHA with a straight face and sends emoticons when he runs out of words. He leaves office early like he has to be somewhere, drives his car through the same roads, listening to the same music, going past the same houses, sheltering almost the same thoughts he had yesterday… he reaches the same destination – the place he calls home.

Wait, he just lived his yesterday again and it looks hauntingly familiar to the day before that. He lives just one day, again and again. He is a victim of routine. He wonders how did he come this far and what he has become while scrolling for answers over the internet, finding solace with other victims; strangers he can empathise with. People who are like him – stuck, confused and capable of so much more.

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Keep calm, you are in Bangalore.

So my first trip to Bangalore comes to an end as I write this post from the airport. Yes, apparently I am one of those panic buttons who reach places way too early and then are left way too much time to waste. But you can’t blame me completely for being a bit paranoid. You have to blame this city.

I was stuck in a traffic jam for three hours. It was the longest and the most chilled-out traffic jam I have ever got stuck into. All thanks to this breezy, comfortable, lullaby-like weather, Bangaloreans don’t lose it. They just go with the flow. For hours. They don’t change lanes erratically, they don’t honk impatiently, they manage very well without hurling the mother-sister magic words.

They also drive a lot of KTM Dukes *respect* and a lot of Mahindra Veritos (why?!?!) Maybe Macchas iked Jimmy Shergil’s manly avatar with a mustache (if you don’t know what I am talking about then click

Another unexpected delight that I found in Bangalore was great North Indian food at Rasovara (it’s Rajdhani; same group, same thali, same font on the menu with way too many options of Gujarati and Rajasthani delicacies, served with warmth and more options of dessert than any other Rajdhani restaurants in Delhi). It’s in the UB mall, which is Bangalore’s version of DLF Emporio with more options to booze, obviously. And one of the best products to come from Vijay Mallaya apart from Kingfisher Draught.

I’d love to talk more about Bangalore, but this is all I could do in less than 20 hours. So stories like ‘the best places to have mysore pak’, ‘dil garden garden ho gaya’ and ‘how Bangalore women respond to creepy Tinder messages’ will have to wait for my next trip.

Hope it happens soon. Next time, I will bring a big carton to pack some of the priceless fresh air of the city.

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As a nation we put a lot of stress on “Tehzeeb”. Being polite gets us in all kinds of trouble. I have seen many of my friends suffer in a bad job, because just when they were about to quit their boss asked them to stay, politely.

Our “I don’t want to hurt him/her” feelings keep us in stuck in bad relationships/friendships. Hurt that bugger, you know you want to!

By being extra polite on many instances like this you get very rude to yourself.

You deny yourself the right to happiness/ease/whatever-I-want-to-do.

All this for what? I’d rather be rude/impolite/inappropriate/selfish and happy.

This cloak of greatness that our parents/teachers/society wanted us to wear is too heavy for my shoulders. It’s reminds me of those cheap woollen blankets that keep things warm for some time but then ruin it with a lot of static charge stored under it.

I trust people who swear a lot. They are honest in my opinion and they fear nothing.

I don’t trust people who judge other people a lot. I think we all have reasons to be who we are and how we are.

There’s nothing wrong in being extra polite. It’s just not a happy choice for me.

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There are times when you cannot write. That’s when you should write even more.

Start with writing exactly why you can’t write. You will find that the so called write’s block was a demon you created yourself. Write about how it sucks to not be able to write. IT SUCKS! Write long. No need to break your thoughts into paragraph. Just un-jinx it first, you can always fix it later. Do what Hemingway did – write hard and clear about what hurts. “I can’t find time for myself and it makes me angry, *HULK SMASH*”. Write about the movie you watched or want to watch. I have free tickets to Avengers: Age of Ultron (company of hot women would get preference). Write about what you’ve been planning to do. ESCAPE!

There you go. You just broke a month and a half long writer’s block on the blog. Congratulations.

2014 in review

The stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 1,800 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 30 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Stay a kid – a professional advice.

Companies come up with various slogans to motivate their employees – ‘aim ahead’, ‘think big’, ‘do or die’, ‘Life? LOL! Work hard, bitch!’ and other million cliches.

Well, in my experience (5,38,923,205 hours of lost sleep, 68,305 cups of black coffee, 96 smirks of ‘what were you thinking’ and 5 and a half years of ‘Where the hell did my weekend go?’) I think there is only one concrete advice – stay a kid. Why?

  • They don’t cling on to their failures
  • They are honest, thus fearless
  • They don’t feel awkward/nervous just because their shirt has a coffee stain
  • They are resourceful – remember playing hand cricket with a handkerchief rolled into a ball?
  • They are not afraid to ask for help
  • They are their own stress busters
  • They are never not curious
  • They don’t take all of it too seriously

I think we were more equipped to handle life as a kid. We were born with an ‘I Don’t Give Up Fun’ attitude (yes, content has been tailored for PG 13 audience). Then gradually, we learnt the art of giving into the set norms of a grown-up life. We took responsibilities a bit too seriously, and seriousness, as a way of life. When was the last time you didn’t seek validation from your boss? Think!

Suddenly earning money became a chore, a medium to pay your credit card bills. Deadlines became sacrosanct and those lines on your forehead, prominent. I feel we’ve got it all wrong.

Money should be earned so we can fuel our inner child’s wishes. It’s more fun that way. So next time when they transfer your salary into your bank account, get up from your seat and throw an air punch or a hi5 (no, that’s done and dusted) maybe a wink with one finger pistol shoot gesture towards your colleague or a simple woo-hoo. You get the picture.

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Want faster downloading of clarity.

I waste a lot of time weighing my options. The eternal battle of what I want now and what I want most takes a toll on me.

While one thought and all its possible  consequences buffer, a new desire pop ups in the mind.

Way too many seeders around with torrents of unsolicited advice; make the matters worse.

A big bucket list becomes a burden when priorities are not clear. It’s like having a book mark tab of URLs you want to check regularly, but you just can’t find time to do it.

Keep your distance from leachers. They are exceptionally good at screwing your bandwidth with their negativity and lack of ambition.

Find hotspots; it can be time with your friends and family or time alone. For me, early mornings in the park are magical.

Of course, most importantly, get a better connection. To your soul. Develop a sixth sense. Listen to that meek voice inside your head, no not the logical one, the one that feels wrong, but so right at the same time.

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Hey Writer’s Block, you must be one crazy hot chick, because apparently, I like hitting you again, and again, and again.

Anger has always helped me in writing, but lately, I have been a monk. So…

In order to write more I need to be inspired, but lately, I haven’t been moved by anything.

Being in love gives you a lot of fodder to write, but lately, LOL!

Being a professional has made me more and more dependent on a brief. Someone telling me that my writing is supposed to talk to someone in a certain tone in order to achieve a specific objective. It’s not as boring as it sounds. It’s quite exhilarating actually. But one thing that it surely does is that it kills your originality and your self motivation. That hunger to write, that itch to express, that obsession to pour your heart out on paper. All of it is clearly missing.

Writing for myself is becoming increasingly difficult as I keep writing for brands. Over the years I have been trained to detach myself from my work and kill it mercilessly if it’s not good. This training to edit cold and omit colder has bereft me of novelty.

Do I have a plan?

Yes, I will keep cribbing about my writer’s block till I hit the zone where words torrent from subconscious and my fingers dance over the keyboard to compose the most beautiful of stories.

And I need to get a better mobile internet connection. Depending solely on a wifi device kills the momentary inspiration to scribble.

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