Alone, but not Lonely!

“Mumma, I need to go to the toilet. Please come with me!”- this is what the hazel-eyed, brown-eyed boy would say to his mother. He was scared of the dark. Funny thing was, he wasn’t scared of ghosts, he was scared that he would be trapped in the toilet for some reason. And he couldn’t think of anything that he would do inside if ever such a travesty struck.

“You are big boy, beta. 7 years old and a grown-up man! I get scared standing outside. Don’t you think I should sit inside here, safe, away from the darkness outside,” argued the mother. She was a smart woman (as if there is any other kind of women. They are all smart. Haven’t seen otherwise!).

The boy would go talking to himself or humming a song. He was always averse to the idea of being alone; actually, he was more averse to the idea of silence; the deafening eerie silence that actually gives you the impression of not being alone, but being lonely.

He grew up to be a gregarious young boy. Always talking, not only to others but also to himself. It was his way of reassuring himself that he was not alone.

“Pray like normal people once, will you? You don’t have to talk to God like he is a person”, scowled his mother. She didn’t understand that the boy was not only alone, but he was also lonely. And if the entity that accompanied him was to be called God, then be it.

In all this, this guy, who grew up much more, with premature grey, found the best remedy. He surrounded himself with a lot of friends. Oh so many of those! Constant chatter it was, whether it was with them in person, or over the phone. He very well could have run an entire call center! And talk he did-of his life, of other’s lives, of the various ideas that his head spun. People grew used to him, habituated to his constant banter.

The greys increased. The boy realized that it was during the time when he was lonely and quiet and talking to himself, he was at his best. He loved himself, not in an asinine, narcissist way. He loved his own company. It took time, but he realized that he was his best friend.

Today, he thinks back- he was never lonely, he couldn’t have been. He was only alone!

And, well, I was always there with him, like I am now, when he is typing!

Write? Yeah, Right!

Has there been a time when there’s one thing you think you are good at and then someone comes up and gives you a “reality check”? Well, I just had my share of being brought down a peg or two. I might be good at a lot of things (abysmal at many more), but there is one thing I hold close to my heart-it is my writing. I know by this time you all might be going like, “Constructive criticism, heard of it?” Yes, I have. And to be honest, some of the stuff I write is pure crap. But then there’s some that could be graded as average, if not good. So, I put my foot down and said to myself, “To Hell with them! I will write till my fingers bleed (hyperbole, inspired by many Bollywood films)! Be it verbose vomit! I don’t care!”

I am sure someone amongst you is a dancer, a singer, a musician (thanks to the plethora of talent shows on prime time television), a cricketer, an actor, and so on. And maybe that’s what you think you are, but you aren’t. You are probably the butt of all jokes at the cricket try-outs; maybe the bellowing of the buffaloes has more melody to it than your aalaaps; maybe the motionlessness of a stone is more entertaining than your wriggling and twisting your torso; or maybe John Abraham’s face (or ass) has more expressions than your face (or anything else for that matter!). But all this shouldn’t come in your way to doing what really makes you happy! If you think you are a Madhuri Dixit or a Meryl Streep or a Tendulkar or a Picasso or whoever you think you are, don’t stop thinking.

Think, but with conviction. Don’t lie to yourself. And if you are going to lie to yourself, then please don’t take yourself so seriously. You might not be the next big thing, but hey, in your own little world that you can create for yourself, you already are!

So do what you think you do well and let this be a message to all the snide people out there- that for better or for worse, they have to put up with your antics. And all said and done…I continue to write…(crap, maybe!)

Thesis on Friendly Behavior and Creatures Termed as “FRIENDS”

Man, famously known as the social-animal (despite his many anti-social elements), loves to be surrounded by a throng of people, whom he more often than not mistakenly calls his Friends. We study in this thesis the purpose and peculiarities of these creatures, their importance in one’s personal life, their detrimental effect on one’s health (smoker befriends smoker paradigm) and the mother of all questions- who are friends after all?

Oxford Dictionary has a foul, defecation-like definition of friend-“a person with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically one exclusive of sexual or family relation” . First of all, it’s too concise. I mean I know they had to fit in all-so-many words in one little book, but elaborating a little more wouldn’t have killed them. Moreover, I think the definition is out-dated. Mutual Affection-honestly, seems like the writers of the lexicon, were short of words. Plus, the sexual part isn’t completely true-Friends with Benefits-ring a bell to you? (this part is strictly not based on my personal life or my affiliation with my friends. It has purely been platonic.)

(Enough about the dictionary definition! Back to the theory now! The writer has a bad habit of digressing.)

Postulate 1: Total number of friends in one’s life is a fixed constant. (Partial credit to a certain friend for helping me come up with this one!)

The “capacity of friendliness” is like the power of adsorption of a substance, purely based on the composition of subject-in the former case, it’s the person’s true, innate nature. So, if you are trying to befriend more people than you can actually handle, you will realize the true paradoxical nature of this thesis- you will feel all the more alone. Lonely, to be precise!

Postulate 2: Number of Facebook friends is inversely proportional to your friends in real life

(People who have more than a 1000 Facebook friends, please dismiss the writer as a maniac and navigate back to Facebook)

The reason why you got so many friends on “The Social Network” in the first place is that you have spent a big chunk of your life liking and tagging people and pleasing them with the saccharine and sugar-sweet life. What about the bad part? Facebook doesn’t have a Dislike button. You know why? Because then people would stop going there.

Postulate 3: A Friend to All is a Friend to None

Everybody’s friend can be your friend, but never the best one. He/She will be discreet about things until you will learn about them on twitter/ Facebook or through India TV (If you are that happening and have famous friends). Litmus test to identify such friends- ask them a question about taking a stance about someone, if they fail, then they belong to this category.

Postulate 4: You can have ONLY ONE Best Friend

This is the truest of the postulates. You might have a lot of close friends and choosing one of out of the lot, might seem like a challenge (being true in the writer’s case), but there’s always one friend who’s true to you, at least truer than the rest. It may happen that one is the best out of the lot for a time-span, then there’s someone else. So if you have the time, keep a list every month. (You are a LOSER if you actually do this!)

(Enough with the thesis! Friends are Friends, with whom you can kick-back, relax, and sip a beer (sherbet in some cases, where people are from small towns, like in the case of the writer)! Families are your inheritance- you may like your aunt’s husband or may completely detest your paternal aunt, but you have to put up with them. With friends-they are the family you choose. So do as they say in any Telebrands commercial-“Choose wisely, live well”)

Below song dedicated to ONLY those friends with whom I have laughed my heart out!

PS- +1 it on google icon if you like it, or share on FB J

Have Feet...MUST Dance

Tomorrow, when half of the world gets Monday morning blues (half because there are a few geeks who like Mondays), I DON’T. Reason-HIP HOP dance session in the evening. The eventuality of the dance session keeps me going throughout the day. It is not just because I have regaled and thoroughly enjoyed dancing since I was a kid, but I find it exhilarating and liberating. It gives me a HIGH… People smoke weed and do coke, get drunk-I don’t know how that feels, but if they feel high, I need to tell them just one thing- DANCE!!! It will take you HIGHER! (if it’s a couple’s dance LOWER, if you know what I mean!)

I am not a good dancer myself - I have a tummy that bounces when I jump, hands so frail that they can’t support my weight and stamina so less that it would put Po, from Kung fu Panda to shame. But nevertheless, I feel ecstatic watching people dance. What I don’t like is, some people performing the steps to the hilt, with annoying perfection very mechanically. Dance has to come from the heart. I will cite a few dancers from my family who don’t give a damn about the way they dance…its bad...but they STILL do it anyway.

1.       My Grandma: She is 68. She jumps with joy (literally), when she listens to music. I am saying literally because her signature step is raising her both hands in the air, and jumping with her both feet, perfectly synchronized with the music. Remember Aamir Khan from Dil Chahta Hai. They borrowed it from her.

2.       My Mom’s Aunt: She points her hands skywards. And then she charges…Yep! With no offence, she charges like a bull, like a Olympic runner. However, the fun part is: she does it standing in one place, just like on an imaginary trademill.

3.       My Mother and Father: They feel the couple’s dance is in. Whether it is a devotional song, they want to Tango... But in this household, it takes 3 to tango. They pester me to teach them steps. I oblige. But they end up, moving off beat…but happily.

4.       My Maternal-Uncle: Dances as if he is in a fight with his imaginary friend. Fierce and frightening.

5.       My Maternal-Aunt: She dances with a groove. She has poise. But she needs space. And in India, where everyone wants to dance, it’s hard to make space for yourself. But not for her… She moves in circles, as if possessed. I am in tow (I am her favorite). And then we take the entire floor. Way to go Maasi.

6.       My Roommate: When he dances, he thinks Rajnikanth, he feels Rajnikanth. He does the pelvic thrusts with no or very less shame.

7.       My Best Friend: He is a non-dancer, a very gloomy, dull person. But then one day he shocked us all by jumping around here and there, wearing dupattas and Dabbang glasses. It was more of charade then a dance.

8.       My Other-Best-Friend: He loves to dance. But his problem is that he thinks that he is an amazing dancer and can perform all the steps that Hritikh can perform. But he needs a reality check..that too ASAP!

9.       Dancer Friend: She is a refined Bharat Natyam dancer, at least that’s what she claims! She is a BIG girl and thinks she smiles like Madhuri Dixit. Well, she might smile like her, but she sure hell can’t dance like her.

10.   Me: Well, as I mentioned earlier my dance repertoire is not cast in gold. I am hopeless, disoriented, sluggishly paces at dancing. But then when I dance, I feel it is a moment where I am alone, a private affair! For those moments, I experience pure spirit. A HIGH!

So people, next time you are at a party, just let go! DANCE, if not for any reason but for one- have feet, must dance!!!

(Leave your comments and share it with your friends..Spread the dancing joy!)

My DADDY Strongest

22^nd December 1989 was a day that changed mine and his life. Mine because-well, that was the day I chose to be born (Yes, I chose it. I was a premature baby) and his because- he had been waiting for my arrival for quite some time. The man was bespectacled and held me in his wintery, withered hands, unsure whether he could be an ideal father. Well, we will later find out that he could NEVER be one- because he never had played by the rules as a son, as a husband and it wasn’t going to be any different this time. My mother was happy- but she was selfishly mirthful. Why so? Because she was happier about being a mother than about having a son (Please don’t fret over it if you don’t understand it). But he was happy to have me…(and that one day I would make him proud and (since we are Sindhi) I will earn a lot of money. See, there are two things written in stone: 1. The world WON’T end in 2012 & 2. Sindhis LOVE money, however cool or unconventional they may be read Vishal Dadlani/Ramesh Taurani)

I wasn’t proud of being born into a family that had a name that people confused with housefly. So he decided and gave me a name that is now common, but he tried and I like it. My mother was unimaginative and honestly admits to having thought of simpler, commoner names than my current one. So in this naming match-we had a clear winner-Dad, whom I grew up to call Pappppa (not papa). And it wasn’t a surprise to the world when it became the first word that I learnt. My mother, I believe, would have been crushed by the betrayal of her only child. When the world starts with Maa/Mom/Aai and the variations, I broke the custom. Daughters are supposed to be Dads’, but then once it happens in a blue moon that a son & father redefine the traditional nomenclature.  It was happening once again.

My mother’s role, however, cannot be disparaged. She was instrumental in bringing me closer to my father, telling me to be like him- honest, intelligent, and most importantly, a good person. She, herself a vivaciously innocent person, always took the back seat. I gave in to her persuasion-idolized my father, and became a Papppa’s boy. Anything that happened in my life, was known to him and the rule still holds true.

In this saccharine sweet relationship, we have had our melancholic moments. The fights over the TV remote control always ended up in me slamming the door and going into bed early; quarrels over my short temperament (which I, ironically, inherit from him) where he suggested I see a shrink; arguments over my career choices that he dictated (although, I never gave in). It has been a full circle.

Remember me talking about him not being an ideal father? Well, he never could and will never be able to. Because he is a FRIEND, that too a damn good one! It hit me one day, that he never imposed rishtey mein toh hum tumhare baap lagte hain ritual on me. Never did he make me feel like a dumb teenager about to make the worst choices in life. He let me be! And in fact more than that, he respected me, my thoughts and my ideas. He was the guy who told me “Don’t study so much!” during my exams, “Don’t give a damn about your assignments!” in college, “*******” something about my boss that I cannot write, “Tell me what is your problem, I can help you find a solution. Am I not your Best Friend anymore?” a day before his birthday.

That reminds me I have to wish him today... To many more fights- Happy Birthday!

You are not a Mumbaikar IF:

You are not a Mumbaikar IF:

The Maximum City, some call it Mumbai, some call it Bombay, some call it Bambai, and a lucky few call it home. I, unfortunately, don’t call it that yet, however, like a million others, I aspire to someday. THE CITY is inundated with people- people from all walks- the rich and the poor, the beautiful and the ugly, the maalkins and the naukranis, the Mercedes-walas and the Nano-walas. Yet, they have a thin thread that ties them together-dreams! If you were born and brought up in this city doesn’t mean that you are a Mumbaikar. You can’t own this sobriquet by birth or naturalization; you can neither buy it; you HAVE to earn it.  So here is the litmus test.

 You are not a Mumbaikar:

1.       If you don’t know that this city is actually a cluster of 7 fateful islands, then you should probably seek solace in the creeks that separate them or the big, blue sea.

2.       If you haven’t travelled in the local train/BEST bus in the past one week.

3.       If you haven’t seen a filmstar or small time TV star yet. Actually, even if you haven’t seen one, but have concocted a story and told at least one person, you can be condoned.

4.       If you prefer McDonald’s over Vada-Pav, it should be reason enough for you to not only leave the city, but also the state (as some political party might say!)

5.       If you haven’t yelled at some random person, early in the morning, for no fault of theirs. This is a typical Mumbai morning, where you want to start off your day with a verbal tiff, and for the brave-hearts, it generally is a fist-fight.

6.       If you don’t know what tujhya aaila means/ or if you haven’t used it and you go for the highly urbane curse words.

7.       If you haven’t walked on the pavement of Marine Drive past midnight.

8.       If you don’t know which side is east and which side is west. For example: Wadala West is on Dadar’s East and Sakinaka lies between Andheri East and Ghatkopar West (But Powai lies nowhere, that is my general frustration) And also, Matunga Road is on Western Line and Matunga is on Central line.

9.       If you don’t know that Mumbai has more taxis than NYC.

10.   If you haven’t faced space constraints. As this is the only city were the jhuggis have 8 people sleeping in a small room which costs more than an apartment in a decent-sized town in India.

11.   If you haven’t spent an evening by the ocean (either alone, or snogging your girlfriend/boyfriend).

12.   If you hate the heat. I mean I agree no one likes the sweat, but they don’t call it khoon PASINE (sweat)ki kamai for nothing.

13.   If you think there is something in the whole world that you can’t get in Mumbai.

14.   If you don’t find friends here. And if that is the case, sorry to say, chances are that you will remain alone anywhere. Beneath tough exteriors, Mumbaikars have a soft-as-a-marshmallow heart.

15.   If you sleep dreamlessly!!! It is the city of the restless…

And the list goes on…but the most important of all is the never-say-die, don’t give-up attitude that keeps the city going. The city knows how to work hard, how to party harder, how to reach out and how to march ahead. If you want anything, out of life, I am sure this is the place to be! (I hope so, at least!)