Losing my Baggage Tags ------

The Joy of being a S##%#% #@#%# - in NYC.

It should read, the Joys of being a Stereotypical Tourist in NYC.

Visiting the Big Apple, the first thing I noticed was the look of unhesitating scorn that seemed to be there to greet me every time I side stepped a local. The first few times were unnerving, but slowly, surely, I warmed up to it. 

There really isn't any point in being a tourist in the City that never sleeps and not bump into someone who's in a hurry, because the only ones who are figuring their way out, the only ones who are ok with being a little late, the only ones who are ok with stopping a bit for the sights are the ones who don't belong here. I started to look forward to that gaze, I felt comfortable being quietly mocked for being a misplacement, for being recognized as a temporary presence. It is a strange re assurance when you get treated the way you expect to be treated, even if it isn't pleasant.

But then like with any other truly great city, and this one, probably is the City of Cities, the borough to emulate, the street to follow, the park to recreate, there is a transformation. Towards the end of my first week being here, the scowl that unnerved me starts to appear on a face that I know well, my own!!!!! 

As I get accustomed to being here, to be pushed into the subway in morning rush hour, to talk to the varied accents that line up all the " May I help you " counters all across the Manhattan and the Subways, to truly appreciate the maddening adrenaline that seems to be self-generated at the Crossroads of the World, I also start seeing in me, a mutation,

A mutation, of sorts, that is, I am no longer, the smiling, greeting, in my “30s” young - ish man from anywhere but here, I am become Hostility Itself,

I no longer, have a pleasing smile on my face as I enter or exit an elevator, just the condescending glance at all those who alight in floors lower than my own accompanies me everywhere.

And not all is bad, I have a sense of purpose to myself, I walk with a clear sense of objective, from getting groceries to coffee to attending an all-important meeting, I walk everywhere with piercing precision. I've become an expert at hailing cabs, a skill that will serve me well, everywhere from Singapore to London, from Bangkok to Berlin.

From those days when looking at everyone around was my favourite way of killing time while traveling in a bus, a train or any other public transport, I've now been trained to avoid eye contact all together. It’s amazing, New Yorkers excel in avoiding eye contact in public and possessing a laser like focussed gaze in private, multi - skilled, you asked ?

I learn, I learn, at about the end of my second week, I am all set, I now, have initiated my journey to be a true member of the Big "A" and like then the expected happens, I need to go back !!!!!!

Sigh.....let’s start unlearning (bits of it at least).

Musical musings - Stories in a song

Just the other day, early morning, I woke to singing something I hadn't heard in a movie, in an album, on the ipod, my laptop ----- nowhere. " Naveli Panihariyan " ----- words which I only partially understand, it took me a moment or a little more to realise it ------ Stories in a song, was no more just a wonderous experience, it was part of my being , a little bit of who I am.

To take a step back, for the unitiated ---- " Stories in a Song ", a 2 act, 7 point narration takes the audience through the various cresecendos that Indian ( largely north Indian ) music has seen over the last - oh, a mere 4000 years or so. Geniuses like Anish Pradhan and Shubha Mudgal made sure that this lovely event would never ever be a one time watch for those who partake in it.

Without going into detail - where else could we imagine that in a space of just under 2 hours ----- a journey that moves from vedic chants to mujras to geets to Qawwalis to bidai songs to a full fledged nautanki to Opera ( Yes, Opera ) to hindustani classical to Remixes ( and the aforementioned two in the same narration ) to finally culminating in an almost forgotten but always delightful Kajri ( in an akhada no less - watch to know more ).

And the artists ---- and I deliberately don't refer to them as actors or for that matter singers ---- because either would be an inadequate discription. Artists who through the strength of their talent and ( am sure ) the extent of their efforts trully brought a hall, an audience, a menagerie of emotions together, please you, the artists take a bow.

Some of these do deserve the honor of a mention. Ketki - the soulful nautch girl and the gutsy bahadur ladki. Namit - the extraordinary voice that took pitch to a different pitch ( experience it, and you would know how limited an exposure he got in his exceptional performance as Ranbir Kapoor's best friend ). Pia - let me leave it at saying " watch the 5th narration ", you would know what I am talking about.

Finally, very rarely can a collective come together to be a genius, if the Nautanki was an exceptional effort serenading the fast disappearing art form by involving every single eye ball in the audience, the Kajri akhada too it to the next level - not only did it make the audience one with the narration but thats when me and everyone in the hallowed Prithvi theater wished the play could last an additional act, a few additional minutes or atleast an additional narration.

When you feel raptourous about an experience and yet unfulfilled ( unfulfilled because it got too over too early or you didn't have tickets for the next evening's show ) ----- you know its time

----- ITS TIME TO DO AN ENCORE AND WAKE UP EARLY MORNING WITH A SONG ON THE LIPS which you don't have - on your IPOD, on the laptop, in an album - just you.

The age of the micro - Joy

Its a funny construct - the micro - Joy but isn't it all that we in the age of the IPAD, the IPOD, the 3.5G are always looking for. The other day sitting at the airport waiting for the perennial queue of humanity to find a little place for me to board, I took a few moments to observe what those around me were doing.

This is how it goes, and the fact that those with family ( by family I mean children and spouse ) - anyways got little opportunity to do anything but follow the family around - means I exclude them from this list.

The largest number was obviously, on a call - I realize that the airport ( especially during the waking hours ) - is the one place where everyone suddenly remembers their friends, their acquaintances who they've forgotten to keep in touch with - the way I see it, the more you fly, the more you'll keep in touch with old friends - on phone, anyways - atleast if you're a plan driven traveller like me.

The next largest number, was again obviously on the phone - and for the first time in my, in my vein as a busy bee - I peeked ---- and of course, FACEBOOK - Mark Zuckerberg probably in his dreams couldn't begin to realize that what he intended to be a forum for keeping in touch would culturally change humanity ----- today we keep in touch via facebook even if the opportunity for calling or meeting presents itself, and of course, its not something we do when we 've got time anymore, its something that we make time for ------ and many of us, everyday.

And then there were a few of us, again on the phone, playing ---- from racing, to tennis to boxing to any other game that we managed to download.

But enough about what all of us were engaged in ----- what I realized that evening was ----- we don't live in a world looking for happiness anymore ----- most of us aren't looking for joy or satisfaction or happiness. What we're looking for more times than not is those small little activities that make us just a little bit lighter, a little more positive and then again move on into the hum drum of daily existence.

Maybe, that's where the world is moving towards ----- maybe, our existentialism starts when we no longer can find those little joys ----- and we start living, just a little more , when we take that moment to distract ourselves with them. And every once in a while do we immerse ourselves in the pure ecstasy of what we truly love - loving company of loved ones, watching a good movie or a good play, visiting a place we always wanted to visit, writing a post we always wanted to write and then leave the rest of our days to these micro bits of happiness.

So - Marck Zuckerberg, my friends, acquaintances, Electronic Arts, Gameloft, the airport ---- Thank you.

Graphic Novels - forever people

Graphic novels - like Jazz, quite possibly are the one original contribution that the USA has made to contemporary literature.

And then of course, just like everything else, the Japanese have adapted this creation and made it their own, made it better.

But this isn't about the USA or Japan, this is about those forever people that continue to live through many fantasies in these worlds of the graphic novel.

Just a few days ago, I tried leafing through a few web pages of a graphic novel and found myself hopelessly disinterested, the feel of the paper and print - the genius of the greats like Neil Gaiman, Joeph Loeb, Geoff Johns and the likes coming to life in our hands - the attraction is instant.

When one thinks of these characters superheroes, super villians, super side kicks and all the other "Supers ", why is it that there is a strange sense of association - we aren't like them, we would never be.

Why is it that we identify sometimes with the Bat, or the Wolf or the Big Blue - when the bourgeois isn't about any of these.

Part of us - identifies with the duality that these characters have,

Part of us - is always white and black ( while most of us is somewhere in between ),

Part of us - means for our life to have a larger than life, "Framed as a poster " kind of meaning, part of us - and we can all admit it truly really wants to kick butt.

So - as a parting SHOT -

Flying isn't about dreaming, its about thinking beyond imagination

Being a hero - isn't about being a super hero, its about being an ideal

We can be truly free not in our dreams but in our beliefs for in our beliefs lies a superhero in each one of us.

Lets Fly.

Inescapable truth - acceptance and belief

Change as the metaphor suggests is the only constant.

Yet Change is also the also the one reality that confounds and confronts anyone who dares question it.

Why Question " Change " ?

And Why not Question " Change ".

A very radical view that one may present is the fact that under the excuse " Change is the only Constant ", unnecessary fads consistently present themselves as the new reality.

Truth is - Truth is the only constant and the world changes to revolve around it.

Truth - once understood, once accepted, once freed from its perceptive shackles is the only constant that would drive change, beliefs, behaviour and morals.

One must also understand this constant to find acceptance in one's own being.

An example :

A universal truth that may be proven many a time especially at the work place - there's almost never a scenario when one may utter a lie and not have to utter another one connected with the first lie.

A localized truth especially relevant to conflict - my reality is different from your reality because I am different from you - now acceptance of this truth results in acceptance of every change that may come with it.

Again,

A common misunderstanding - truth differs from person to person, no, it doesn't. Reality could, circumstances could, behavior could - but not truth.

All truth are true whatever the circumstance - the only thing that differs is the morality behind the truth.

Change is not constant, neither is reality, neither are taxes - the only constant is Truth.

In truth - we believe for believing in truth makes us true believers.

Imagining Memories -

"Eyes like twinkle twinkle star " - and imagine watching these eyes light up, light up brighter than the star from somewhere around here which sustains life.

They light up and those familiar sights which may not be any more than what they seem, or maybe far more than what meets the eye.

For she - only she - when she looks at those sights she doesn't glance at what they are but she reminiscences what they mean.

In the embrace encouraging air that unspoilt hill stations always spread in plenty, she walks down the crowded street, smiling looking at the old shop selling sweets, looking appreciatively at the hopeful street seller keenly glancing at her watching out for a faint flicker of interest.

She stops at a small door, small, far too small for anyone with anything more than humble proportions to ease themselves in and as she walks in she knows that its not just her memories but her taste buds and her senses, all await not just a delicious but also a nostalgia filled mouthful.

They keep twinkling both with relish and with joyful memories and she shares the most delicious of meals with me by her side. How wonderful would that sight be"she in her school uniform stopping by on her way home just to enjoy a meal before a meal.

She talks to me about how she had the best jalebis in the world - and she watches me devour them just as she says so.

A mouthful of red - a tongue burnt - and a memory re-energised. She says kwai - and the look of what that could do to me - reminded me of the "bridge on " .

The constant twinkle makes me want to be there - makes me wish to be with her through those days of education enforced skirts and forever conspiring, life affirming friendships.

And through it all - the three of them, friends through many lunches and condiments, I watch them sit on the hidden walkway looking at the valley below, holding each other - both for love and warmth - a smile breaks on my lips as I imagine - imagine memories.

What's the Hurry - there's always tomorrow

A close friend of mine once told me "everything that may be pushed for tomorrow can be delayed enough for it to be no longer needed done ".

Funnily enough, it holds more true than not.

" If only ", " I wish " - aren't they all words which make us rue a decision we took to not take any decision. " If only, I bought a house then ", " I wish we could get a right car at the price ", " I wish I had more time for myself ".

But then what - but for a moment when its uttered, it goes no further than a lament, on what wasn't - almost translating to us doing something about converting our lament into our pride.

There's many a curious thought that comes to mind when it comes to rationalizing procrastination.

They vary from telling ourselves " there's no time ", " I've something more urgent to do ( which almost always translates to " let me not to do this " and very rarely " let me do this next ) ", " this isn't going to change anything ".

Bringing a workplace reference to the same thought - Mcgregor while discussing theory x and y - quite possibly had the same reference to context when he categorised those in theory y.

This day and age, most of us, in all our honest ambition are driven by our unending drive to succeed , for oneupmanship.

Everyday, we're driven by what we want to achieve professionally - so much so that not only we strive to turn tomorrow into today but we try to many a time turn someone else's tomorrow into our today - sometimes with means which are less than ideal.

What, if anything indeed - holds us back from achieving the same level of proficiency when it comes to personal existence.

Truth is, we're more a creation of our personal circumstances, of our friends and family than of anything that we encounter at our workplace and yet if we were to truly measure our efficiency, our versatility or our purpose when it comes to our growth as the multifaceted human being we are - its always comes somewhere invisible in our speeding sprint of priorities.

Can we ever be a versatile professional if we are a uni dimensional person ?

Can we ever appreciate an organisation's vision when we don't attach enough importance to having one of our own.

Finally,

Can we ever truly excel if our person continues to accept and compromise - lets all look within,

who we are is what we become.