About not knowing

Every single time you leave with a suitcase, you come back with a much heavier one filled with life’s unknown treasures. Sometimes those that teach you to smile a little more, cry a little better or love a little stronger.

Some tell you to plan your trips and others tell you to take it as it comes. No one talks about the Unknown that you discover within yourself as you explore a country or a city.

This last year has been the year of ‘the Unknown’. Mostly struggling to deal with Unknown forms of emotion, places and ideas. 

The beauty of the Unknown lies in its energy that keeps you awake all night. It is the frustration of not being able to solve something that turns into the sweet realisation of just being in the moment of turmoil and letting the whirlwind of passion pass through your spine.

I wonder if I could ever get used to this unsettling feeling, this anger that I don’t know something and am unsure if I will ever be able to resolve this cyclonic thought. 

For what has cost me my hair and I think a little bit of a memory, this year has taught me to smile at these Unknown essays of life as they appear in different people and places.

From meeting someone in the bus lines to getting ready for a meeting in the airport bathroom. From finding love in a forest to meeting peace while walking under the stars, there has been a smile buried under every stone.

I am loving not knowing what’s coming tomorrow and loving it even more that I have stopped planning for more than the day that is today.

So trust me, when I say, all you can plan is a tan and travel shall never cease to surprise! 

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In the midst of a rather interesting TM Krishna talk did I realise, why I was struggling so much when I began to loose my voice. 

TM Krishna defines the voice as a piece of oneself. 

It is strange, but over the past few months, while fighting the rather weird side effects of Thyroid, for the first time I realised the slow progressing feeling of it over my voice. The feeling of losing my voice. Sometimes struggling to speak or being heard. There is nothing more frustrating than not being heard when there is an idea bursting to explode into experience and the voice is a barrier.

When you work with sound and revel in the joy of being able to edit waveforms; You know what sound is. You develop a rather close relationship with your voice and with that of others too. You feel you have touched a person beyond what meets the eye. 

That that little piece of a thought that was born sometimes in my head and sometimes in my heart; It travelled along with blood, visited every little nerve and then was born out of the depths of my stomach. From within. It is as much a piece of me, as is every precious creation by the unseen force. It is more than what you see of me or understand. 

And hence that voice that you hear, is not a mere sound. But it is a piece of me that was born for you. 

Born because you were able to touch my heart and mind in a way like no one else. I’d like you to know that this little piece that is more precious than ever before now, was shared with you for you mean the world to me and I appreciate that you have been sharing your voice with me.
Voice – a piece of me. I wish I never have to part with you. 

The personal demon

So turning 30 or 34 is not too bad. Infact I feel that it is a great thing.

I feel that it has a lot to do with knowing exactly who you are and being okay with the personal demons inside you. So while you have been taught to keep this demon sedated all these years, now is when you start to make friends with it. You are okay if this demon (as an alternate identity) accompanies you to the bar with the girls or goes on a trip with your colleagues or is sitting with you at lunch in the company of other who are yet to learn about their personal demons (because they are much younger).

What is amusing about this situation is that some people in your life have never seen this side of you. And when you do show them a little trailer of what it could be like, they flip and flop on the other side of the river bank. They beg and plead you to put this demon away. Now, what they do not understand is that, this demon unlike the jack in the box has no box to go back to. It is going to stay. Forever.

So while others in our lives are dealing with this rather semi-sarcastic, overtly frank and upfront demon inside us, what we really start enjoying is the stories that this demon is capable of weaving. The demon inside is so creative (yes! more creative than you usually are), that for ever situation it is ready to experiment, think out of the box and do a little bit of ‘not so ordinary’.

It is hard to deal with repercussions of this funny fellow at play, but it is worth a try.

Have you met you demon yet?

The Others

When you grow up in a nuclear family, you  never treated as a child. You seem to go from knowing ‘almost everything’ to everything.

That’s how single children grow up. They are decision makers before they know. They are managers before they can write checklists and they are mothers to everyone around them as they never got a sibling to pamper. 

I can very well entertain myself, plan my life and solve my own issues (and others’). There was no concept of, ‘how will I tell my mom!?’ Because mom was more friend than mom. Dad was the sibling. Ya! you sort of try and substitute a lot of roles to these two people you have available. To my luck, I also had a dog. But he had his own interests so he shuffled between being younger brother and chaperon.

Well, because you are never a child, you jump from going to school to living life as an adult pretty instantly. There is nothing like teenage etc. You travel, work in various cities and start building new families in different cities/countries.
After 34 years, several jobs and a divorce; you have what I like to call the ‘significant others’. And don’t be lost in the cliché, for these are men and women of different age groups who make your life and you. 
There are older friends who are more buddies than guardians and younger ones who are more like kids you nurture. There are the alter egos who one enjoys talking to so much that you take notes through the day as you have to tell them all the details. Then there are some friends who tele-transport themselves to you just when you need them. And of course you have 2 lovely 64 old parents ( read kids!).
Life has a way of giving you your family. Sometimes the old fashioned way, I just prefer the modern way of living, you see!

Growing Up

‘Growing up’, they say is not easy. It is almost like losing a few layers of you everyday. Becoming a simpler version of you. It is amazing how you find yourself, only when you are standing in a crowd. Often when you are traveling with a bunch of people and suddenly find you can’t relate to either of them and yet can flow with them.

During a recent trip to Hua Hin (Thailand) with colleagues, I found myself peacefully cruising through loud and ambiguous conversations. While aimlessly walking through the night markets, I realised that one day I would like to sell little pieces of creations to people and feel happy that I have made way into their lives. Probably serving pancakes by the beaches or on top of a mountain is what will make me happier than ever before. Finding homes in different parts of the country and the world came easily to me, but for some reason this trip made me come closer to the gypsy sleeping in my heart. While I did open my mind to those who made little sense to me, I found meaning to life’s complex ways while cycling by the coast in Hua Hin. I realised that life was much like this cycling experience, while you keep paddling through, thinking how many kilometers more to go, it surprises you after every turn and gives you hope for another magnificent view.

As someone special called me, ‘the jaded version of me’ – Yes I agree. I am jaded, I feel less of yesterday and today is just a cloud. I feel lighter than a few days back and I can fly farther than I think I could a few moments back.

This is what trips do to you. They take a little piece of you, polish it and place it back into your mind forever.

crimson

Dear Crimson,

Once you were crimson. The color that  I saw, as I opened my eyes to a 10am sun. I would try and hide it under the sheer cotton covers, but it would remind of the conversation from the previous night and I would be inspired to wake up and dream. Dream with my eyes wide open, smile as if you stood in front of me and understood my silent thought. The silent thought carried itself through the room and hid itself in the coffee plunger. It would release itself when I poured the freshly brewed coffee in my cup. I would sit by the window and wonder, if you ever understood how crimson my heart grew when it thought about you. It was an intense feeling of pain, yet I would hide it behind a smile. I still do. But now I know that its not the same crimson you. So i feel free. Free to let the tears roll. Free to let the dream sweep itself away and leave my body. I refuse to hold you close. Refuse to acknowledge the presence of my dream. I wish it were light like a cloud. I wish it would just carry itself to another land and never return. But it prefers the cosy corners of my mind and the rather dampen eyebrow. Its built its nest so close to my heart that every thought still reminds itself of how it ran around you before it made its way further into the sky.

If you were to leave my mind, I’d like you to know that you were loved.

xx -a

Life is an event, you cannot plan…

Everything that can go wrong, does.

Everything that you think you have thought through, will never go right.

Things that you are most confident about, are sure to dupe you and show you the middle finger.

Such are life and times of the experiential marketing team.

I have worked in radio, studied film and spent some time working with the educators. A year and a half back, I happened to take up a role in events that was not clearly defined and still remains ambiguous. Ever since then my days have been a combination of confusion, learning and high energy all rolled into a tornado of drama that beats any Bollywood fiction that you might have watched.

Its been a year of working on several brands and understanding production, technology and planning. Most of all it has been a year of mastering the art of troubleshooting. I believe those who work in events can write better disaster management books than the experts from the disaster management cell.

Having said that, I  would like to confess that this is one of the jobs  that matches my level of high energy, attitude and for the first time in my life, I crave sleep.

Those who know me well, know that I refuse to live the routine and hence the ever-changing nature of this field keeps one’s interests alive as you need to keep yourself updated with music, culture, design, technology and most importantly life.

Over the next few posts, I plan to blog the experiences that are at times more interesting and complicated than the event in itself. Life is an event and we cannot plan for it. Hence, lets just enjoy the laws of nature and go with the flow is what I would like to believe.

Believe

Believe,
Like I do in Santa,
In miracles,
In love,

Believe
For it is rare,
to do so!

Believe,
Like you have never before.

For it is only
in that imaginary corner
of your mind exists everything
that makes you happy
and who you are!

Believe in you!
& in everything that
you believe is true!

love errors

My love has no errors.

It has no definition

of the right and the wrong.

I risk every precious moment

Every word is a memory

Every moment, a decade

For when you are not there

To behold

I have stored

Something from today

For a tomorrow

That I have crafted

Just like I have

Sculpted a vision of you.

Owning & Disowning

When you move 20 times in 33 years of your life, you are a wanderer. You are constantly making places your home, be it hotel rooms or studios that you live in for a couple of years. Life adjusts itself to new windows, new beds, new keys and to ‘change’ more than routine. Your closest SOS call is Holland and you often feel as if you are living in 3 timezones at the same time. Most importantly, you go through a process of owning and disowning things and people constantly.

I remember buying a set of drawers, a microwave and a washing machine one summer and ended up selling or giving it away before the year ended. It is hard to give away parts of your life. It is hard to constantly recreate life around you. But, it also means you are constantly building something new. The process of creating is what you live for. A process that is more satisfying than living with a finished piece of art. The feeling that the painting is done, can be quite painful.

I have lived in 5 cities and 20 homes. I have loved every bit of struggling and settling. Packing and unpacking have been mastered, and suitcases are more precious than jewellery. Over the years, I have learnt to live the minimalistic way. I currently own a television, a Mackbook air , an iPad and  a gas stove. I have decided that at any given point in time, I should be able to pack my life in two suitcases and leave. 

Over the years I have changed, grown and I have realised that my tastes in life are pretty weird, but I have made peace with my quaint self. 

I crave company, and get bored of someone in a couple of hours. I can’t make up my mind if I like the sea more or the mountains. I don’t mind the rickety autos and bumpy rides. I am happy with chaat for dinner but I cannot live without a cup of coffee during the day. Sunday morning breakfast means much more to me than shopping all day.

When change becomes the way of life, you realise that it becomes extremely difficult to satiate your internal curiosity. Very little around you interests you and when it does, it takes over your life. You stop waiting for things to happen to you, life is more crazy than a roller coaster ride. So twenty homes old, I still stay curious and caffeinated, as I await today’s little surprise to visit me.

Haider – a film, a verse

Bitten by the verse and hidden in poetry, I lay a little struck by the narrative of Haider. I think there has always been magic in Shakespearean literature. It transcends you to a land that you haven’t really seen before and brings you face to face with the human mind and it’s play of shades grey and green.

Haider is a story of a son in search of his missing father and ends up being the saga of questioning the sanctity of every relationship that exists. The only one being unblemished is the one that he has lost. Shahid, like Pankaj Kapur can bring you to tears and turns those into an outburst of joy with his brilliant performance as he shifts character from being the jester (as portrayed by Shakespeare) and the protagonist.

The carefully designed casting, and the world through Pankaj Kumar’s lens is a Kashmir that we have all seen and yet feel is closer this time then portrayed ever before.

Vishal Bhardwaj I must say, is a poet first and then a storyteller and hence his films leave the melancholic taste in your mouth as the credits roll by.
The one drawback of Indian cinema has been its editing. I guess we truly need some harsh editors who will help keep the story just the right length.

I refuse to give stars as those belong to the sky. If you think films are a serious business then Haider deserves a watch.

amidst a jam

In Mumbai, you get into traffic jams more often than you take showers in a day. Once you learn to make the most of them, you have mastered the art of living life in a mad city like this. You can sleep, blog, tweet, take pictures, finish work calls and most importantly stare forever in the sky.

3 days aways from the main Ganpati celebration and the whole world wants to take over the streets of Mumbai. An extremely interesting and patient cab driver drove me from home through the traffic jams this morning.

What I really appreciated was his willingness to change routes, take U turns in narrow lanes and laugh at every jam we got into. Seldom do you find such a fun person to ride with.

It is also amidst these jams that I miss my taxi talks with Xenia and wish I was with my favourite person rambling and discussing my bucket list of things I wish to do.

It is also during these traffic jams that I realise, that this city keeps making space for new people almost everyday. It really has a very big heart. I really dont know how they fit into. It almost feels like one window per person kind of arrangement. But its still wonderful.

After an hour and half, I reached work. I paid up and wished the driver less busy roads for the day..

He laughed.

That made my day!

rock bottom

One hits rock bottom every now and then when you are impulsive and a risk taker. And so it happened to me!

It happened the day before I took off to Ahmedabad for four days. I had not been home for so long. I had not been off the phone in a really long time and I needed it. It was amazing how the feeling of losing everything that one was aspiring for and this hibernation coincided. This is when I realised that home was a great detox. Detox from all the people who were making you sound like a complaining and whining dog.

It surely is required that life pushes you down to the bottom of the sea. So that you learn to breathe deep, hold it and swim right back up. I did not know what was ahead. I had no plans. I did not know what is it that I was going to be able to create anymore. But that’s when you sit and learn to be patient. Because life has a way of happening. It needs its time to marinate itself in experience.

After several hours of meditation and cushioned hours at home, I am back to the muddy, muggy Mumbai. I walk the roads as if I have never seen them before. My heart speaks a beat when a fast train passes by. I end up staring at the sky for several hours hoping the stars would have an answer. So I continue to write letters and finding my smiles in the replies.

Till the stars shine again. Life, I am waiting for you to let me know your POA.

Life happens

Life has its way of happening. It’s pace. I was in Delhi recently and I realised that if I want to juggle friends and work (that I love dearly), I need to learn to plan it all too well.

So, this time around I decided to plan a day with the best friend while I was negotiating costs with the hotel where we were hosting the event. I decided to make best friend go through all of it with me. While she was mighty impressed after several years of knowing the power of my communication skills, she felt horribly concerned about the stress it caused me. This sort of worked in my favour. I am glad that now when I miss calls or do not return emails, she will understand that I was buried under some banquet negotiations.

Now came the slightly more brave part of my trip. Meeting someone who I dint knew. Don’t get ideas! It was a client’s daughter. First I thought it was as to get a better perspective of the brand we were working on, but it turned out to be something more than anything I had expected it to be. I am still awfully struck by my power of having a conversation with anyone in this world. The kind side of this encounter was the cafe we decided to meet at. The Rose cafe.
Hidden on the Westend Marg, is this lovely place that takes you back to the little English cafés.

Lovely pale pinks and greens made that Saturday morning quite an interesting one. Rain completed my adventure and sooth my crazy meeting into one that I have chosen to store in the random box of memories.

One thing I realised is that while my skills to communicate have improved.

I am going to try and learn to be patient, but I am not too sure 🙂

nothingness

Sensuous as the feminine,
coyly peeping to be caught in your glance,
surrenders to be defined
carefully crafted from the abstract

He meditates
dives into deep waters
He extends himself
creates an experience.

Discovers the chosen emerald
sculpts with passion
embodies images with perfection
captured through memories
dreams and life.

Like footsteps on a beach
like thousands of flamingoes flying
across the burning blue sky
like shadows in green, grey and gold
seasons turn pages
paints stories deeper than the saga of romance
carrying fantasy from one to many

A form is born
The rare is born