If only

A broken heart, in a damaged cart
A baggage that doesn’t leave
And all I wish with every breath
If only time could retreat

A dormant flame, a prolonged pain
Perturbs me in my sleep
She closed her eyes with a wry smile
While I slid down to defeat
The morning kiss, the awakening bliss
Gave way to departing feet
And all I wish with every breath
If only time could retreat

No unfilled promise, no darkened blemish
Could further make me weak
Whilst I trot the path endowing my thought
Well packaged in deceit
Their flowing tears their growing fears
Fuelled my winning streak
Although I wished with every breath
If only time could retreat

A thousand smiles no lonesome cry
Their social eyes could meet
With the flowing hour, demising valour
A pretentious mirage I seek
Their broken hearts reflect my thoughts
As my lonely pride just weeps
Oh how I wish with every breath
If only time could retreat

The spark of conceit went down on its knees
My shameful image did meet
And in a moment the past sneered by
And triumph faced defeat
A confused vengeance, seeking repentance
Unworthy life I’d lived
And now I wish with every breath
If only time could retreat

A broken heart, in a damaged cart
A baggage that doesn’t leave
And all I wish with every breath
If only time could retreat

Ishq da Dhaaba

Zindagi jhand hai phir bhi ghamand hai, charo aur ladkiya hai phir bhi haatho mein………. hai.
Sheher mein rehta to ghamand ko kayi baar thes pahunchta. Yehi soch kar mai wapas apne gaon Chamiyatown chala aaya. Socha koi dhanda shuru kar lunga. Sheher ne do hi cheez sikhaya tha - ghodo par betting aur doosro ki setting. Betting ke paise abb setting se doogna karne ke vichar se mai gaon mein ek pyaar ka consultant bana.

Bhaai maamla simple tha. Launde ko chahiye laundiya aur laundiya ko chahiye launde par inn me se kisi ko nahin aata tha patane ke fundey. To mai inhi masumo ke maseeha banke pahunch gaya.

Abb gaon mein TVC, radio spot, print ad, poster, dangler, loha lasoon prakaar ke advertising to hoti nahin. To mai bhopu lekar shuru ho gaya

Deviyo aur sajjano
Suniye suniye aur sunte jaiyye
Intezar ki ghadi hui khatam
Mohabbat ke kaksha mein abb aap aayenge pratham
Ameer ho ya gareeb
Hamesha hoga koi na koi kareeb
So kholiye dil ka darwaza
And say shaava shaava
Kyunki aa gaya hai aapka maseeha
Ishq da dhaaba

Iske saath maine bajaye gaon ka most romantic gaana “Khulla hai mera pinjra aa meri maina, chura na aise ankhiya ladne de naina, Haaaaaaaaaaan”

Mere pehle grahak the Humraaz gang ke leader Abbas Stepneywaala.

Abbas – aur hero dhanda kaise chal raha hai
Me – bas bhaai dua hai aapki
Abbas – yaar bas bhaai se dua hi lega ki kuch dega bhi
Me – hukum kijiye bhaai

Abbas Bhaai mere table par padey kuch ex and y Miss Chamiyatown ki photos ko dekhne lagey.

Abbas – yeh laundiya jawan lagti hai, kitne ki hai
Me – ji pachhis ki
Abbas – sau ya hazar
Me – ji matlab
Abbas – abbey pachhis sau ki ya pachhis hazar ki
Me – ji yeh pachhis saal ki hai
“Abbey rate bata”

Me(clearing my throat) – sir mai date set karta hun rate nahin
Abbas – abbey kamaal karta hai. Dukaan ka naam hai dhaaba aur jab khaane ka daam poocha to mana karta hai

Me - ji aapko galat faimi hui, mai yahan ladkiyo ke saath setting karwaata hun. Agar aapko kisi se pyaar hai to mai aapki setting karwa sakta hun.

Abbas (disappointed) – bhakk saala. Pyaar. Abbey pyaar to humko har doosre din hota hai. Aur setting to hum khud ki karwa sakta hai. Ladki ke ghar do hazar bhej deta hun. Maani to theek, nahin to uthwa leta hun.

Me (in a very phati huyi condition) – sahi karte hai bhaai. Aap mahaan ho bhaai. Par kya hai har koi aap jaisa nahin hai na. isliye unki madad ke liye maine yeh dukaan khola hai.

Abbas bhaai left with dejection. Pehla grahak disappointed. Bad omen. But himmat nahin haara maine.

Doosra grahak tha gaon ka sabse coolest playboy. Naam tha Jhaikisan Sharafat

Aate hi bole “call me Jhak”

Jhak – Bhattsaab doodh
Me – Humra naam Bhatt nahin, aur naahi hum doodh bechte hain
Jhak – ha ha ha. You coming from city. Your spoken English is ssit.
Me – to aaapko koi
Jhak – yo man. English talk to me. Hindi is below aukaat.
Me – ok. So do you like anyone?
Jhak – girl name Rita, sister name Sita, mother name Sangeeta, and babuji sells pheeta. Aur usi ne mera dil hai jeeta
Me (after cracking the riddle) – babuji ne?
Jhak – Ritaaaaaaaaaaaa Rita you fool
Me – so do you love her?
Jhak – no no no. her body big. Backside bigger. I want the girl. Ma babuji want bachha. Total mamla sex mein nipta.
Me – sorry but I don’t deal with sex. I will help only if you are in love.
Jhak – abbey jaa winner kahin ka
Me (dumbfounded) – winner?!? Are you trying to call me a loser?
Jhak – abbey tu kaahe ka loser tuney to abb tak virginity bhi lose nahin kiya hoga. To tu kahe ka loser.

Yeh keh ke Jhak humara jhak marwa ke nikal liye. Sar phat chukka tha aur pichwada chipak chukka tha. Itne mein ek bewde ne kadam rakha. Andar aaye aur bade pyaar se apne tashreef ko kursi par rakh diya.

Me – ji mai kaise aapki seva kar sakta hun
Bewda – ek chicken tandoori, ek kaleji fry aur paanch naan. Aur thande mein kya hai?
Me – ji yeh koi dhaaba nahin hai
Bewde – abbey bewda maar ke baitha hai kya. Baahar itna bada board mein likha hai.
Me – ji yeh ishq ka dhaaba hai
Bewda – ishq? Veg hai ya non-veg

Kisi tarah apne gusse ko shaant kar mai uss bewde ko baahar nikaala. Thaka hara mai wapas apni kursi par baitha ki woh balkhaate huye aa gayi. Chamiyatown ki highest TRP waali Miss Baaki Sawant.

Baaki – ji my name ijj Baaki
Me – of course aapko kaun nahin jaanta. Kahiye mai kaise aapki……
Baaki – Ji mai Jejus pe bahut trust karti hun. Jejus ne hamesha mera saath diya. Jesus har dookh mein mere saath rehte hai. Jejus nahin hotey to main nahin hoti. Kal raat Jejus mere sapne mein aaye, boley aapke dukan mein mujhe Jejus jaisa ladka milega. To mai aapke dukaan mein Jejus jaisa ladka dhundne aayi hun.
Me – ji yeh to thoda tough hai
Baaki – dekjhiye agar aap meri help nahin karenge to Jejus bahut naraaz honge.
Me (dharam sankat mein) – dekhiye waise to ek ladka hai. Aaj ke yug mein wahi Jejus hai.

Baaki – kya naam hai
Me – TRP
Baaki – ji?
Me – Aaj ke date mein TRP hi bhagwan hai, wahi decide karta hai kaun jeeta kaun haara, kaun hit hai kaun flop hai. Aapke liye TRP is sabse apt hoga. Mai jald hi aapka setting karwaata hun.

Baaki Sawant khush ho gayi apni cleavage ki ek jhalak dikhakar chali gayi.Woh dekh mere totey udd gaye, saath mein ande bhi le gaye. Dil mein dhande ko aage badhane ki hui tarang.

Aa gaye agle grahak. Pyaar mein harey huye ek bhooke sher. Naam tha inka Khaskar Laundry.

Me – to Khaaskar ji, kya karte hai aap
Khaaskar – Ji mai chitrakaar hun
Me – waah lajawab. To kahiye aapko kissey pyaar hai
Khaaskar – ji pyaar par se to mera vishwas uth gaya hota, agar woh naa aayi hoti.

Mere wann mein hiran
Mere darkness ki kiran
Woh hai mere pyaar ka bubble
Jiske saath mai hona chahta hun double

Me – Bhaai waah, aap chitrakaar kam aur lekhak zyaada maloom padhte hai

Khaskar – Ji bas raunchypana jab hadd se guzar jaaye to gaa lete hai
Ladkiyo ke baap ke land par shabdo ke ped gaad dete hai
Me – Ji aapke aawaz ne to mujhe Rafi sahab ki yaad dila di
Khaaskar – Khamosh!!! Dobara aisi baatein mat karma, warna mai tumhe friend-list se hata dunga.
Me – ok ok relax. To naam kya hai aapke iss bubbleti kiran ka
Khaskar – Naam mat pooch. Itna pyaar hai ki zubaan par naam nahin laa sakta
Me – kamsekam tasveer to hogi
Khaskar – ji nahin
Me – kamal hai. Pyaar karte ho aur tasveer bhi nahin hai
Khakar (annoyed) – kya Majnu ke paas Laila ki tasveer thi, Kya Ranjhe ke paas Heer ki tasveer thi, Kya Bappa ke paas Bappi ki tasveer thi

Me – acha naraaz mat hoiyye. Kam se kam pata to batiye
Khaskar – yaahan se meelo durr ek gaon hai jiska naam hai
Khanak-churi. Wahin rehti hai woh.
Me – Khaskar ji. Aapka pyaar mujhe sachha lagta hai, aapka saath mujhe achha lagta hai. Mai aapki madad zaroor karunga. Hum kal ki Khanakchuri jaayenge. Ek baar mai mil lun. Phir aapki setting guaranteed.

Khaskar ji prasann huye aur jaate jaate Kishore Da ka ek geet suna gaye.

Shaam ho gayi thi. Dukaan bandh karne ka waqt ho gaya tha. Mai bas nikalne ki taiyyari kar hi raha tha ki, aa gaye ek aur grahak. Naam tha inka Toy Toota.

Toy – Ji hum Toy hai
Me – To kahiye Toy Ji kisne aapko chaabi ki
Toy – Ek Bangaali ladki ne. Naam hai Beerpina Dorkaar
Me – Waah kya madhosh naam hai. Koi tasveer hai aapke paas
Toy – Ji mere blog pe hai. Aapke yahan net connection hai?
Me – ji hai. Link bataiye
Toy – bullkiraakh.slogspot.com
Me – waah kya naam hai
Toy – achha jab aapne blog khola hi hai to mere kahani padh ke phatafat ek comment kijiye na
Me – ji zaroor padhunga, pehle aap apni kahani to bataiye
Toy – arey main kahan bhaaga jaa raha hun. Padhiye comment kijiye phir baat karte hai

Cut to 4 posts par comment maarne ke baad

Me (pareshan ho kar) – Toy ji abb to bataiyye. Koi tasveer hai aapke paas
Toy Ji ne tasveer nikaal ke saamne rakh diya
Me – Toy Ji beer ki nahin beerpeene waali ki tasveer dikhaiye

Finally Toy Ji ne apne album mein kaafi ladkiyo ke tasveero mein se ek tasveer nikal ke diya.

Allah kasam ladki to bambilaak maal thi. Toy Ji jaise jaise uske bare bolne lage, humara charitra waise waise phisalta gaya.

Kahani ke anth tak humey beerpeene waali se pyaar ho gaya. Phir humara professionalism jaag utha. Humey laga ki yeh dukaan humne doosro ke bhalai ke liye khola hai. Lekin phir humne socha ki agar dhande mein munafa na ho to dhande ka fayda kya. To humne Toy Ji ka patta kaatna shuru kiya.

Me – Toy ji, bura mat maniye par humko laundiya theek nahin lagi
Toy – kaahe?!? kaisi baatey kar rahe ho, ladki to achhi hai
Me – Kahan Toy Ji? Ladki kitni peeti hai, peene ke baad kitna bakwas karti hogi. Abb aap to samjhenge, kal ko gharwaalo ko tang karegi, phir mohalle waalo ko. Aisi ladki ke saath..
Toy – bakwas aap kar rahe hai. Uske bare bura mat kahiye. Woh meri Dorkaar hai.
Me – Toy Ji, zara apne hunar ko pehchaniye. Aap itne jaane mane blogwriter hai, aapke dil mein hi nahin album mein bhi ladkiyo ki bheed hai. Aap chahe to kya kuch nahin kar sakte. Arey aap jis par ungli rakhenge wahi pategi. In fact aapke liye mere nazar mein ek bahut hi khoobsoorat ladki hai. Naam hai Kateena Saif

Jiss tarah loha lohe ko kaat-ta hai, usti tarah ek khoobsurat ladki hi doosre khoobsurat ladki ka patta kaat sakta hai. Kateena ne patta kaata. Uski tasveer ne maano Toy ke dil ko chaata. Toy khusi se hua paagal. Dobara uske aankho ke saamne chaa gaya pyaar ke baadal.

Toy – yehi yehi chahiye mujhe. Aap bhagwaan ho. Mohabbat ke farmaan ho, nahane ka saaman ho. Mujhe isi ladki ke saath setting karni hai.

Toy Ji ko maine kiya setting ka waada. Toy Ji khush hokar chale gaye. Humne bhi apne dukaaan ka shutter down kiya. Subah jaldi uthna bhi to tha. Aakhir Khaaskar Ji ki setting bhi to karwani thi. Par dil khush tha, kyunki aaj mujhe mere dhande ki taakt samajh aayi. Mohabbat karne waalo abb to tumhaari shaamat aayi.

…………………………to be continued

The Love Cartridge

Chapter 1 - The Last Bullet

Day - Friday, June 13, 2008
Time – 9:30 PM

Shopkeepers close down the shutters as Harsh drives a black Alto through the narrow cramped lanes of Birsanagar. Not the best lanes for people who love driving. Harsh steers his car in a narrower lane and parks it there. He walks down the narrow lane and climbs up a flight of stairs. As he unlocks his door he senses the presence of another soul. His intense eyes frantically looks everywhere. Unable to spot a shadow, he enters the room..

He picks a bottle of Old Monk and drops in a few tablets in it. Pulls a chair. Turns on his laptop. Composes a mail.

To: neha_luvsu@yahoo.com
Subject: Where are you? :( :(

Hey, m sorry

BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A bullet pierces Harsh’s skull. His corpse lies flat on the floor. Blood spilled on the laptop and on a photo frame that enshrined Harsh’s and Riya’s most special moment.

Neha removes her black hood and comes closer to Harsh’s dead body. She looks at the photo frame and empties the cartridge on Harsh. She sets his apartment on fire and leaves.

Chapter 2 – The Assured Bullet

Day – Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Time – 6:30 PM

“Yeh fiza itni madhosh hai
Kyunki isme tumhari saanse basi hai
Yeh sham itni khoobsurat hai
Kyunki isme..............”

“Stop it Harsh, mai mazak ke mood mein hain hun”, Riya screams agitatedly. Harsh quietly rises from his kneeling pose and sits beside Riya on the bench.
“Abb jaane bhi do, kuch na kuch raasta nikal aayega” Harsh consoles Riya
“Kab raasta niklega. Tumhe to jaise koi fikr hi nahin”
Harsh caresses Riya’s soft hair and says “Fikhr hai, bharosa rakho, mai jald hi kuch...
Riya looks at Harsh. Tears roll down from the corner of her eyes to the corner of her cheeks.
“Monday ko papa mujhe Munger le jaa rahe hai. Wahan unhone ladka pasand kiya hai. Brahmin hai. Wahin shaadi karwa denge”.

Harsh hugged Riya. “Don’t worry sab theek ho jaayega”, Harsh tries to comfort Riya

“Tum log kahin bhaag kyun nahin jaate” Neha screams from behind.

“Neha tu yahan?” Riya asks curiously
“Sorry Didi, friends’ ke saath aayi thi, aapko dekha to bas aa gayi” she says as she kissed Riya on her forehead.
“To Harsh, mai yeh keh rahi thi tum didi ko bhaga ke kyun nahin le jaate”
Riya interrupts “Bewakufi ki baatein mat karo, papa maar dalenge”
“Kuch dino ki baat hai didi, Harsh aapko bhaga kar Kareli le jaayega, wahan kuch din reh lena.”
“Papa dhund lenge” Riya interrupts
“India ke map mein koi Kareli ko dhund nahi sakta aapko Kareli mein kahan se dhund lenge.” Neha smirks as she retorts
“Ek baar hum Kareli pahunch jaaye, wahan koi humara baal bhi baaka nahi kar sakta” Harsh assures

Riya and Neha look at Harsh. His eyes provided assurance.
“Tumhe chutti mil jaayegi?” Riya inquires
“Chutti kisey chahiye? Tum par aise sau Tata Motors kurbaan”

They hug each other as Neha leaves them to have a private moment.

Chapter 3 – The Planned Bullet

Day – Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Time – 9:00 PM

Vikrant parks his car as he answers his phone.
“Hello Vikrant, Harsh bol raha hun” Harsh’s tensed voice spoke from the other end.
“Kya hua Harsh pareshan kyun hai”
“Bhaai kal teri gaadi chahiye”
“Hatt saaley, girlfriend ko chamkane ke liye meri gaadi mili tere ko?”
“Chamkana nahin hai bhaai, bhagaana hai”
Kya? Matlab?

Harsh explains his situation to Vikrant. His helpless condition compels Vikrant to help. He pauses for a moment and asks, “Plan kya hai?”

“Kal raat ko kareeb 11 baje, Mai Riya ko Ram Mandir ke saamne se pick karunga. Phir raat ko hi hum Kalkatta nikal lenge. Jahan mera Chachera bhaai rehta hai. Uske yahan teri gaadi rakhwa kar hum subah ki flight pakad kar Bhopal chale jaayenge. Wahan se phir Kareli”

Vikrant thinks for a moment and says “Plan to thik hai, par Riya ke baap ko bhanak bhi lagi to tu kat jaayega”

“Ghabra mat tere aur mere alawa yeh baat sirf Riya aur Neha jaante hai.” Harsh assures him.

Chapter 4 – The Mistimed Bullet

Day – Thursday, June 12, 2008
Time – 10:30 PM

Neha drives the car through water-clogged streets as Riya checks her bag. “Didi kya dhund rahi ho?”
“Bas check kar rahi hun, make-up ka saara saaman liya ki nahin” she chuckles as she says.

Rain starts pouring heavily as they get closer to their destination. Riya is constantly glued to her phone and her face gets tensed.
“Kya hua didi, pareshan kyun ho rahi ho” Neha inquires
“Harsh apna phone nahin utha raha hai” Riya answers in a tensed way
“Uffo Didi woh drive kar raha hoga, usey bhi utni hi jaldi hai jitni ki humey”

She drives through a forsaken lane and parks the car behind the temple. As soon as Neha gets off the car something hits her head and she falls unconscious on the ground.

After sometime Neha regains consciousness. She finds herself in the car. She hurries out of the car and tries to find Riya. Tries Riya’s number. But phone was switched off. She looks at the watch; it was 11:15 PM. She cries out loud. But all she heard was her echo. She runs all around the temple. She looks for Riya everywhere possible. Her worst nightmare came true. And she had no idea who to call. She tried calling Harsh, but he didn’t answer his call. She didn’t have Vikrant’s number. She cries helplessly.

Suddenly she notices Riya’s bag at a distance. She runs towards it, but only finds Riya’s burnt clothes. She carefully looks on the ground and notices blood. Horror strikes her.

Fear and sadness crept into her. She runs towards her car. Suddenly she sees Harsh. She notices his blood stained hands, and hides behind a bush. Harsh’s shirt was drenched in blood. He was searching the car frantically. Neha’s eyes were glued to Harsh’s blood stained hands. Assumptions turned into convictions
“It was him. He killed Riya? But why?” she thought to herself.

Vengeance swept away the fear in her. She could not believe her eyes. She came out of her hiding as soon as Harsh left. She sat in her car and drove away as fast as she could. A solemn oath strengthened her: “You will pay for this Harsh”

Chapter 5 – The Deceitful Bullet

Day – Thursday, June 12, 2008
Time – 10:15 PM

Harsh was on his way to Ram Mandir. Enthused spirit. Alacrity in the heart. . Although it was a rainy day but the adrenaline rush glued Harsh’s feet to the accelerator, while his palm answered Vikrant’s call.
“Haan Vik wassup man”
“Wassup ke bachhe kahan pahuncha hai”
“Bas aur 10 minute mein pahunch jaunga
“Sahi hai Riya ko pick karne ke baad call karna”
“Pukka karta hun”
“Chal best of luck. Happy journey”
Harsh disconnected the call

Thud!!!!!!! Screeeeech!!!!!!

Harsh’s vehicle hit something. He manoeuvres the steering as fast as he could and stops the car just before it could crash against a tree. He steps out of his car. To his misfortune he finds a little girl lying on the street. He runs towards her. She was unconscious and covered in blood. Panic struck. He lifted the girl and put her in the car. Amidst this chaos Harsh drops his phone on the road without realising.

He takes the little girl to the hospital, where she is taken to the emergency ward. Harsh looks at his watch which was wrapped around his blood stained wrists. It was 11:30 PM. He looks for his phone, but is unable to find it. His clothes were soaked in the little girl’s blood. He runs out of the hospital, gets into the car and drives as fast as he could. He reaches Ram Mandir. He notices Riya’s car. He searches the car all over. He does not find her. “Riya’s father must have taken her back”, he thinks to himself.

He sits in his car and drives away. He returns to the hospital. The doctor tells him that the little girl is ok. But her family needs to be contacted. By the look of the clothes she looked like a street urchin. Harsh took her responsibility.

He goes to the hospital’s reception and calls Riya. Her phone was not reachable. He calls Neha. She didn’t answer. Harsh had Riya’s landline number, but he didn’t have the guts to call. He called Vikrant and explained everything.

Vikrant rushed to the hospital. He paid the bills and took Harsh with him.

Harsh cried all night. He had no idea what had happened to Riya. He could not contact Riya or Neha. Unanswered questions didn’t let him rest.

Next morning Harsh finally had the guts to call Riya on her landline. A rugged voice answered.
“Uncle Riya hai?” harsh asks politely
“Tu wahi launda hai na, madarjaat tu kata, teri wajah se Riya gayi, abb tu bhi katega, tu nahi bachega, saaley neechi jaati ke madarchod.
Riya gayi matlab? A cold shiver passed through Harsh’s veins as he asked this question?
“Abbey uske baap ne usey katwa kar uske tukde wahin Ram Mandir ke agey jheel mein phenk diye. Abb tu bhi jaageya madarjaat
Harsh hung up. He could not believe his ears. Riya was dead. She was murdered. Brutally. His love killed her. He cried out loud, but no voice was heard. His shrieking shout scared Vikrant who came running to him. Harsh collapsed.

Chapter 6 – The Unforgiving Bullet

Day - Friday, June 13, 2008
Time – 8:30 PM

Harsh regained consciousness. Vikrant was not at home. On a post-it he had mentioned that he is going out for some work and will be back by 9. Vikrant had left his car for Harsh. Harsh took the keys and ran out of the house. He was driven by anger, by fear, by sadness, by vengeance but at the end it was regret that overshadowed every other emotion. He stopped at a medical store and bought a bottle of rat poison and drove away to his house in Birsanagar.

Neha was already there, hiding behind a tree, waiting for him. She followed Harsh as he climbed up the stairs. She hid herself as soon as Harsh was unlocking the door. Vengeance blindfolded her. She blocked the lock.

Harsh didn’t realise. He poured the tablets in a bottle of Old Monk. He switched on his laptop and started typing.

Neha knew this was the opportunity. She entered the room and shot Harsh on the head. She went closer to check his body. She looks at Riya’s photo fires the remaining 5 bullets.

Cartridge Over!!!

Seat number 27

Warning - Long Post

Chapter 1

Red lights. Traffic. Cars honking. Dust. And finally after I finished my third cigarette I reached the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. The struggle from Mahim to CST wasn’t half struggling as compared to the struggle I struggled to reach my platform. Phew!!! Just on time for my train – Duronto Express

B2/ Seat no. 28, ideally should have been an easy find. But not when a pack of family, friends, relatives, neighbours, etc. come to bid farewell to that one traveller. Thanks to Mumbai locals I knew the USP of elbows and knees. After battling my way through the aisle I reached my seat. I kept my luggage on the upper-berth and took the window seat.

“Excuse me! Is this your luggage?” a soft voice said. I nodded, but before I could say anything she continued “That’s my berth, please remove your luggage, seat number 27 is mine”. With reluctance on my face I removed my luggage. Her hiccups told me that my abuses were delivered.

After a short nap, I felt the urge for a cigarette. I saw someone smoking at the door. As soon I asked for a lighter, my drowsy eyes decoded the hazy face. The answer to my nightmare was there. So you smoke? I asked in the politest way possible. Politeness was a virtue unheard for Miss Seat 27. She lit the cigarette for me, threw her cigarette and walked away.

Dinner was served. Miss Seat 27 refused to leave her prized upper berth. Once I was done with dinner I went for the mandatory post-dinner cigarette. And I met her again. For a change, she spoke to me, she asked, “Do you have an extra cigarette? I offered her a cigarette.
“Why are you upset?” i asked
“Nothing?” she said
“You can tell me, I might understand”
“You don’t even know me why the fuck will you understand”
“I guess you are still upset because people who know you failed to understand. For a change why don’t you try a stranger?”

The impossible happened. She smiled. My name’s Tanya Roy. She introduced herself. The mild breeze amalgamated with a few puffs of Classic Milds made me an audience to her sob story. Like every story, her had an interval as well. On this occasion the TTE announced it.

But her story continued, on seat number 27. Hitherto, she seemed charming. By the time her tale of woes ended she had tears in her eyes. A break-up led to her resigning- led to her loneliness – led to her taking a break. Since we were from different professions, there wasn’t much I could do. But her tears triggered a voice named humanity. It was then that I realised that she wasn’t really looking for a solution.

Invariably, we are so eager to solve other people’s problems that we forget, that the other person might not need one. All she needed was a pair of ears. That’s all I offered. I listened to all her woes, allowed her to cry. After her tears dried away, she hugged me. All of a sudden the boisterous me faded away and made way for a subtly caring guy. I sat by her all night. Lights went off. ACs turned chillier. Train screamed louder. Yet I could listen to all her words and the ones that hid behind her inhibition.

“Good morning” she said waking me up. I woke up to realise that I had slept on her berth, and she on mine. It was the most beautiful day of the life. I couldn’t see the bright and sunny day, the pleasant musical breeze outside didn’t touch me, yet it was a beautiful day. I told her about my profession. In fact I logged on, to make her read my blog. After all I am in advertising. I know how to sell, even myself.

For once I hoped the train gets delayed. For once I didn’t want to reach home. For once train was on time. Damm! The jostling Howrah station could not dampen her shrill words. “Goodbye” she said. We exchanged numbers and I left with an anticipation of meeting her soon.

Chapter 2

Thanks to my driver I reached Jamshedpur in 4 hours. I was meeting my family after a year. My alacrity knew no bounds. Dinner was served. Meeting your family annually means you get a lot of love. And it also means you get a lot of food. Mom made me eat until I had tears in my eyes. And then she thought they were tears of joy because I was eating home-made food after a year. And then she made me eat more.

The journey from my dining table to my bed was quite a struggle. Somehow I managed to lie down. But, nothing could tire the social animal in me. I logged on to Facebook, only to see that Tanya had sent me a friend request.

Next morning she called. She missed me. She said that she will go back to Mumbai. She said my words helped her redeem and she will give life another chance. She had booked tickets for June 1. I realised that my tickets were for May 28. I requested her to prepone hers. It wasn’t an easy job but she preponed her tickets. Surprisingly she got seat number 27 once again.

Days went by and our bond grew stronger. In those 10 days, I got habituated to her. We spoke every night, and I couldn’t think of a night beyond those 10 days.

And then on May 26, 2010, she confessed her love to me. I was ecstatic. No words matched my dance and no beat matched my song.

I told my sister about her. Tanya was so beautiful, my sister had to approve her. Just couldn’t wait to meet her again. For the first time I couldn’t wait for the day when I’ll leave home.

Chapter 3

My train was scheduled to arrive at 2:30 AM. But I reached the station at 12 AM itself. Just couldn’t wait for the train to arrive. My family was with me to bid farewell. My sister was eager to meet Tanya. Of course it was fairytale love story. The one’s I grew up watching in numerous Yash Chopra flicks.

As time passed by I grew impatient. My curiosity freaked the guy sitting at the Enquiry Counter. I was constantly looking at my watch. It was 1:15 AM. Another hour and I would be with her.

Suddenly my train’s name vanished from the digital ticker board. I was dumbfounded. I ran to my friend at the enquiry counter. “Boss Gyaneshwari express ka kya status hai” He asked me to wait as he was trying to figure that out himself. I called Tanya. Her phone was not reachable. I cursed the network provider. I grew impatient. I could not sit still. Voices around me grew louder. I was unable to decipher them. I logged on to Facebook to tell the world about the incompetency of Indian railways.

Tears rolled down my eyes as I read a status message. “RIP travellers of Gyaneshwari Express”. All of a sudden the voices around me grew clearer. I deciphered the chaos. Gyaneshwari Express had been derailed. I called Tanya numerous times. She had to be safe. There was a reason we met. There was reason I helped her recuperate. There was a reason we fell in love. Our story couldn’t have ended here. Every railway staff was thronged with questions they didn’t have an answer to. My family did try to comfort me. But an unfinished story can never be consoled.

It took me a few days to figure out that she wasn’t one of the survivors and eternity is a time too short for me to forget her. Never thought I would fall in love. Don’t think I can again.

Some moments overwhelm you in such massiveness, that it is hard to express your feelings in words. And here I am, with a heavy heart, grappling for words. I feel like killing myself each time I remember, that it was me who convinced her to prepone her tickets to May 28.

I hate being responsible.

Ask my parents and they’ll tell you that I am yet to achieve that virtue. Ask my friends and they’ll tell you that I am responsible, for all the wrong things. Ask my boss and he’ll judge me with a scanner called Deadlines.

Since childhood I have been taught to be cautious. That’s the first thing you learn especially if you have a Doctor father.
Be cautious or you’ll get hurt
Be cautious or you’ll lose
Be cautious or you’ll fail

I did try to be cautious. Yet, I got hurt, more than just physically. I lost, more than just games. I failed, not just in exams. And then they told me that its destiny. I was destined to lose, or fail or get hurt. So how does being cautious help?

There were times when I tasted success. And then I left an impression. My parents were impressed when I topped my class. My girlfriend was impressed when she saw me dancing. My friends were impressed when I gulped six tequila shots. My boss was impressed when I handled a campaign single-handedly. My neighbourhood kid was impressed when I helped him with Maths. But, when was the last time I impressed myself. Hard to remember. Never had the time to think. I was busy trying to impress others. But now, I don’t care. I don’t desire a heaven. It’s not real. One has to die to achieve it. I know I’ll die someday, but before that I’ll live, for myself.

I want to visit the space. I want to dive into the deepest oceans. I want to climb K2, the virgin peak. I want to stay in a place where no one knows me. Strangers don’t scare me. It’s the people I know I find hard to deal with. I want to sing the way I want to. I want to dance, but not to impress anyone. I want to write without caring about the sentiments I evoke, if any. I don’t want to impress anyone anymore.

I am tired of people telling me what to do. I am tired of being dependent on other people to make a successful plan. I am tired of living as per people’s expectations. I don’t envy celebrities or more successful counterparts. I envy kids. I envy them each time they dive into a mud-pool. I envy them when they say whatever they want, to whoever they want. I envy them each time they express their dream of being an astronaut or a rocket scientist or a scuba-diver or even Superman. Our self-claimed matured mind would say that that’s not possible. Their parents wink at each other saying they’ll grow up. To be what? Something that circumstances have taught them to be?

I don’t even remember what I wanted to be when I was in kindergarten. I know I wanted to be Amitabh Bachan of Agneepath, Salman Khan of Karan Arjun, Pierce Brosnan of James Bond, Raj of Kaho Na Pyaar Hai. But I don’t remember what I wanted to be, before any film or person influenced me.

My range of idols varies from Evel Knievel to Sachin Tendulkar, from Che Guevara to Michael Jackson. But I don’t want to be them.

Everyday I log onto Facebook and read a plethora of status messages and posts where people claim to write honestly. Are they? Then why care for comments, why justify yourself? I don’t want to be honest in a politically correct way.

This revelation didn’t happen today. Yet all this while, I chose to deceive myself. Because, as a great man said, “The world doesn’t run on petrol, it runs on PR”. I don’t want to do something just to get an experience. Experience is what you get, when you don’t get what you want to.

I love telling people that I lead a happening life because I visit the discotheques invariably with a few hot women. Or because I regularly go out for trips. That’s not what I would call a happening life.

My life would be happening when I go into unknown vicinity when I don’t know what to expect, when I am not prepared to face a challenge. Then, if I conquer the challenge, I’ll know I have made it to the next level. Fulfilling my death-wish is how I want to live.

I started this blog with the urge to write honestly. Yet, when people started judging me in the most appalling way, I started being politically correct. Although I have been honest in all my posts, yet the thought of pleasing people was imbibed always. Today I denounce that thought. Today I’ll turn deaf and blind to all critics.

Somehow the whole thing of being practical has overshadowed every daring step I wished to take. Even now, a part of me tells me to act in a certain way inside office or with friends.

Today, I want to give my friends and my colleagues an opportunity, to know the real me. But before that I need to know that myself. I wish for that day when I will stare at the mirror, raise a toast and say “Good job Joy”.

Your pretence is pardoned, Mr. Sleaze.

This is a tale of love. My friends Mr. Sleaze and Mr. Cheese. Mr Sleaze hardly believes in struggling yet he is more diligent that Cheese. Their mentor Rahul naam To Suna Hi Hoga taught them long back – Zindagi mein hum ek baar jeete hai, ek baar marte hai, mohabbat bhi hum ek hi baar karte hai. Both understood what he meant. But, both took different ways.

Mr Cheese decided to wait, for the right girl, the right moment, the right day, the right blaaah blaaaaah. Mr Sleaze was an impatient man. He decided to go hunting for his right one. So what, if it means that he has to go through a lot of wrong ones. Finding the right one is worth every effort.

Eerie struck. Both found their right girl. In the same girl. But only one could win her.

The girl they loved was Life. She loved them both. She loved hanging around with them. She gave them ample opportunities to woo her. But Cheese spoke from his heart and Sleaze spoke from his dick. None of which could sustain a good impression.

Cheese dedicated all his Facebook status messages to Life. Poems, songs, dialogues, ghazals flooded his homepage, he left no page unturned. Seeing this Sleaze made sure he leaves no turn unstoned. He partied harder. He uploaded photos with women. The strongest emotion gifted to mankind is Envy. It can make people do things they never thought they were capable of. It can flip perceptions, topple relations, manipulate reactions and most importantly it can justify misconceptions. Sleaze knew it all. He knew Cheese is too soft to handle any of it.

While Cheese kept running after Life, Sleaze made sure Life runs after him. May be Cheese loved and respected life more, but Sleaze definitely knew what women want. He knew, a perfect guy for women would be a guy who can fit into 10 of the 15 points on their checklist. Will he keep me happy? Can he adjust with my family? Is he handsome? Does he earn enough? Sleaze had slept with enough women to know that he was sleeping with a set of very carefully calculated venal choices.

Cheese offered affections to Life, and Sleaze offered everything else. The battle began. Pompous v/s Substance. Polish v/s Principles. Looks v/s Soul. Heart v/s Mind.

Sleaze won the battle. Cheese was heartbroken. His gestures could not overshadow an impressive list of credentials that Sleaze had. Life was not fair to him. Life didn’t give him what he deserved.

Sleaze won the conquest. He was happy and his pride and arrogance knew no bounds. Poor thing was unaware that Life isn’t about one conquest. Life posed a battle every day. Sleaze was up for the task.

Monday – A bunch of red roses
Tuesday – Candlelight dinner
Wednesday – movie followed by a long drive
Thursday – no phone calls to be entertained
Friday – cook dinner
Saturday – Discotheque. No friends invited
Sunday – all of the above

Sleaze was a different man now. He was no more a rockstar. He made all the sacrifices. He changed himself. He bid farewell to friends, rocking life, Facebook, Blackberry, etc. He did everything possible to keep Life happy. And he did. Life was happy with him. Sleaze fitted into all the 15 points on her checklist. He was what Life made him.

Eerie struck once again. Life broke up with Sleaze.

Reason – Sleaze had changed as human being. She loved a different Sleaze. Today Sleaze no longer interested her. Sleaze wasn’t fun or rocking anymore. Today Sleaze had turned like his old friend Cheese. There was no difference between them.

Sleaze was heartbroken. Sleaze thought he knew it all. Sleaze thought he knew what women want. Sad and dejected he entered the pub. He saw his old friend Cheese dancing with women all over him. He tried to speak to him but Cheese didn’t recognise him. He was a different guy. He was an extrovert. He was a rockstar. Most importantly he had Life. Sleaze smiled and left the pub.

You can never know what women want. Life teaches you lessons everyday and the day you feel you’ve learnt it all. Life turns out to be a bitch. And then you die.

Catchphrases

Today, they are like the identity of an individual. It’s like an asshole, everybody has one. Trouble is, you can’t get rid of them even if you are with your family, or boss. Imagine you boss asking you to work night shift and you retort by saying – “Gaand Mara’. Or your nephew defeats you in a game of Monopoly and you ask him to FUCK OFF.

Catchphrases fall under various categories

The Rhetoric type:

Ssup – It’s actually an abbreviation for wassup, which again, is an abbreviation for What’s up. Logically there can be limited answers to such a question. Like ceiling, sky, my girlfriend and a few others. But, tragically you aren’t supposed to answer. People don’t have the patience to wait for the answer. It’s one of those words you have to say when you meet someone. At times, it breaks the awkward silence, other times people ask wassup and just walk away. I mean WTF?

Which takes me to the 2nd in this category – What the Fuck. Although it sounds like a question, but it’s actually a statement. Logically there can be no answer. I mean I can answer to a question like What is fuck, or who is fucking but what the fuck?!?

Chutiya hai kya BC – This one’s my favourite. This is actually not rhetoric. A stupid guy can answer in yes or no. But, I like the beauty and the crispness of this statement. Because firstly it does abuse one by calling him BC and at the same time poses a friendly question Chutiya hai kya?

The Confidence Boosters:

Bhid Tu – Off late, I have been using this invariably. I picked this one from my pals Ravneet and Ved. This actually means ‘go for it’. But the context does not matter, because we use it even after someone ‘came back from it’.

Gaand phete jaaye tobu pod phaate na - I picked it from my ex-roomie, Abhishek Paul, aka Mr. Paul, aka KAKA, aka Sheiki Da. He along, with his Bong friends in hostel used it when they had to score more marks than a female counterpart. Now that’s what I call confidence.

Faad de saley ki – There’s nothing as encouraging as your pal or boss shouting out this catchphrase. But they never mention what exactly you are supposed to tear. In context to a human being, you know the options you have. But, what about a computer game, or a gym-equipment? How does one reckon I do that?

Haalaat ke Darpan

I’m screwed/ Phati padi hai / Lagg gayi – Well, lagg gayi though sounds like the abbreviation for LG, but it’s not. Say peace Korean brothers!!! The rest, although aren’t exact translations of each other but they do mean the same. In simple words they mean that you are going through a rough phase. But fuck simplicity.

Heaby chodon bara – Credit for this goes to my ex-roomie Abhishek Paul, aka Mr. Paul, aka KAKA, aka Sheiki Da. It’s like a Bengali equivalent of the above catchphrase. But that’s not all. See that’s the beauty of this statement. It can mean ‘I am screwed’ and can also mean’ I have enough to screw’. Contradictory huh!!! Kudos to my ex-roomie.

Party ho gayi - I picked this from a dear friend Saurabh. Although he’s quite the party type, this phrase doesn’t necessarily rely on his nocturnal life. According to him you can say this or tweet this (which is more likely) whenever you are happy. Like after winning a TT/Foosball match, or driving continuously for 10 minutes without stopping at a signal, etc.

The Appreciatory type

Bhid Tu – As I said earlier, neither do I nor the copyright owners Ved and Ravneet use it as per context. This ‘go for it’ slogan can be used after one is back from a conquest.

Faatiye diyecho Guro – Mostly I get to hear this from my dear friend Bhaskar. No this is not after I’ve won a conquest, but it’s mostly after I’ve uploaded a photoshopped photo of mine or a decent post on the blog. (Hope I get it as a comment for this one as well)

Ek Number – Although Mc Dowels has been using the English translation of it since a long time, I haven’t heard this phrase outside Pune or Mumbai. I love the feel of it. In fact my friend Soumen, when he gets excited says Ek November. Now that’s an appreciation.

The Anger Management type

Go Fuck yourself – How? Please tell me. I can’t. I wish I was that blessed. A person is so pissed at this moment that he/she ends up with a compliment. Would you beg to differ? Wink wink.
My friend Bappa once told this to a paratha-waala. He looked at us for a translation. We fled.

Fuck off – To where? I doubt if there is any logical explanation to this phrase. The other person is so pissed at this time that you dare not ask him/her the above question.

Buzz off – I have cracked this one (Phaatiye diyechi Guru). One gets to hear this when one talks too much and irritates the crap out of the other. This is more like a command like Fan off. Light off. Buzz off.

The CHAT/SMS type

LOL – Laughing out loud.
Retort: The smell is worse than the sound.

LMAO – Laughing My Ass Off.
Retort: Why? Planning to donate it to someone? May be your girl can use some. LOL

ROTF – Rolling on the floor.
Retort: No thanks, the floor’s clean enough.

BRB – Be right back
Retort: You or me? (Whoever, it holds valid for 24 hours)

The Universal type

Fuck – This word is not just a synonym for fornication, but is the most commonly used adjective, used to describe anything good or bad, happy or sad, like or dislike anything. Every adjective in the English dictionary can be replaced by the word FUCK.

A few days back a friend of mine dared me to talk without using any catchphrase or the word FUCK for one whole day. Well, that’s when I realised that my vocabulary was FUCKED.

Here's a way to punish a corrupt politician: Disgrace the nation

No, this post isn’t about how CWG will bring shame to India nor am I against CWG. In fact this is me venting out my anger which has occurred as a result of the thousand Ban CWG tweets and Facebook updates that I have read.

I am not related to Kalmadi, in fact I haven’t spent a single drop of sweat to make CWG a success. But now I will.

Common man has a problem because they have been cheated and their money has been wasted. The same money, which they saved by bluffing the government by not paying taxes.

CWG is a matter of nation’s pride. Yes, people have screwed up, yes things didn’t work as per schedule, but you aren’t helping the cause. You want to boycott CWG?!? Will that make India shine? Will that remove the tag of a ‘developing nation’ from India? Common Wealth Games will.

Thanks to CWG today, Delhi has a metro. Ohh that reminds me you guys cribbed about that as well. Fine, opinion accepted, go back to your buses guys. DTC buses and auto-rickshaws still run in Delhi. Travel in them. One added info Britain is building a replica of the Delhi Metro.

Who are we mocking: Indian Government, Indian Architect, Indian workers? For an athlete who is sitting in Italy watching news, the suffixes won’t matter. He will mock India and Indians. For him India will be a country who dared to take a huge responsibility and failed miserably. When was the last time you read a caption that said Indian cricket team loses the match, or Indian Hockey team is out of the tournament? Have you ever? NO. It bluntly reads INDIA LOST. Of course we can blame each other for our losses. But that doesn’t change the perception of a foreigner.

When your brother fails in an exam you don't mock him by telling the world about it, nor do you insult your entire family. You help. You find a solution. If you don't, then you aren't the kind I can reason with. (Don't waste your time reading this). If they think the hotel standards aren't up to the mark, or they can fall any day, then lend them your homes. One Firangi per house. Trust me the number of guests will not outnumber the number of hosts. At the end India will be known as a united nation. Let the outsiders know that when the politicians fuck-up the common man rises and ensures that the nation maintains its dignity.

Already a lot of disgrace has been brought to the nation. International athletes are backing out because of several genuine reasons. But, if in spite of all these we do host CWG we will be known as a nation who faced severe problems, yet fought the odds and delivered the needful, juxtaposed a nation who failed.

Yes. Kalmadi has screwed but we can still try. We want to punish Kalmadi so we will boycott CWG? Is it worth? We bring disgrace to a nation which consists of 100 billion people just to teach one man a lesson. Are you guys serious? Common man with no common sense.

I believe in my nation and I will hope that CWG does not get shifted. Most importantly, I will not give up before the war begins.

Waqt

Zindagi to mil gayi
Par jeene ka waqt nahin
Roz gum to sehte hai
Par aansuon ko peene ka waqt nahin

Bandisho se to aazaad ho gaye
Par aazaadi ko chakhne ka waqt nahin
Ateet ko bhula chuke hai
Abb unhe dafnane ka waqt nahin

Kehne ko to bahut dost hai
Par dost kehne ka waqt nahin
Ehsaas to har waqt hota hai
Par unhe izhaar karne ka waqt nahin

Mohabbat ke galiyon se roz guzarte hai
Par wahan do pal theherne ka waqt nahin
Dil ko bekaraari har waqt tadpati hai
Par karaar dhundne ka waqt nahin

Duniya ko jeetne nikle hai
Jeet par jashn manane ka waqt nahin
Sapno ko sakaar karne ka jazba hai
Par sapne dekhne ka waqt nahin

Khuda se milne chale hain
Maut ki aur badh chale hain
Par kuch der ruk kar
Jannat ko jeene ka waqt nahin

Him and Her

There are 2 kinds of people in this world Him and Her. Her can be further divided into 3,600,000,000 categories, a lot more than the Hindu Gods. The first Him and Her were called Adam and Eve. Mythology (time when men and women could walk naked, and it wasn’t unethical) states Eve ate an apple and then came the birth of humanity. Him was not pleased with this intrusion of his private space. Henceforth, the Hims that followed have always been grabbing every juicy thing they see. Vengeance can be fun. Wink wink.

Centuries have passed, but Him and Her haven’t changed one bit. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any Him or Her alive or in love is purely co-incidental.

An excerpt for the famous love story – Joy’s Touching Tales of Wooing Days!!!

Misfortune struck, and Him and Her started working in the same organisation. Foosball tried to get them closer, but be it B.C. or A.D. lovers are always blind. Anyways fate turned its side and both left the organisation. (A year later the agency shut down due to lack of clients. But that has nothing to do with the story.)

The proverb “Distance makes the grow fonder” hardly has any significance in the 21st century. Bloody facebook. (Facebook is the answer to a famous SRK flick song – Kitaabe bahut se padhi hogi tumne, magar koi chehra kya tumne padha hai.......bata mere chehre par kya kya likha hai)

Her quit the organisation and sent Him a request on facebook. That was the prelude to a breathtaking love story. Breathtaking because it lasted as long as a breath.

According to Hindu culture the perfect match is when the guy and girl have 36 common qualities. Him and Her had exactly 3.6 common qualities.

1st – both loved dancing to cheap songs
2nd – loved PJs
3rd – loved PJs by fat people
0.6 – loved each other

The 2 Bongs were so lazy that they didn’t even say the 3 magical words to unlock the relationship code. Instead they went through an easier process known as Mutual Understanding.

It all started with that one evening when Him and Her went to watch a football match at a sports bar. Brazil had to lose. Because, Brazil supporters were too engrossed scoring in their own game, while the Dutch were praying.
Post the football match Him and Her decided to go on a long drive in the haseen wadiya of Gurgaon.

Weird things followed after the long drive. Her dropped Him at the metro station. They kissed each other goodbye. Him went to board the train. Eerie struck. The ticket counter had no tickets. Have you ever heard a metro station running out of tickets? Him hadn’t heard of it either. He waited at the counter. Suddenly his phone rang. It was Her. She was still waiting at the parking. They drove off to Him’s place. Spent the most beautiful/scare/bizarre/romantic yet sleepy night together. All this and yet no one proposed.

A week later Him left the city. They won Love in the same way as an agency wins a pitch. Launch campaign was rocking. Later sloppy attitude often makes the client leave the agency. In fact they fell in love because they knew they will be far from each other. 21st century him and her are very adventurous, LOL. But it was a matter of time when they realised that Mohabbat ke haath kanoon ke haath jitney lambe nahin hotey.

One day they realised, their relationship isn’t happening. They realised it was an outcome of a moment. A moment that was never recreated. A moment that will never be recreated. After all infatuation and love has a difference. Love is based on moments and not one single moment.

So they called it off. And they lived happily ever after.

There’s a difference between I Love You and I am in Love with You. You love friends but you aren’t in love with them.

Johnnie Walked

With curiosity in his mind and an enthused spirit he went on unravelling the veils of future. Little did he know back then, his path will inspire generations. He trotted far away into the profundity of time, into an intoxicating space away from Jeny.
Of course, the woman who walked away.

He knew he was walking towards purity, towards sanity, towards heaven. A man with a broken heart is destined to go towards heaven. Hell is something he had already walked through.

He never thought he could walk so far...........far away from her. But when anger and envy triggers your determination, even the shackles of tear drops can’t sustain you. Not that he didn’t want to get her back. He did. Life does give you a second chance. But, would you want to make the same mistake twice. He just couldn’t trust her. He walked over the stains, but looked back to forgive his footsteps.

He did try. His words couldn’t break her. How can you break something that does not have a heart? He moved on. The thought of family and friends did moisten his eyes. But now that his hands weren’t trying to hold on to something, they wiped the moisture.

Recuperation didn’t cross his mind. One reason why he could walk so far.

Now, he has walked quite a distance. To an unknown vicinity. The atmosphere is so exhilarating that it’s almost like a dream. But he knows he’s not dreaming. Because, every footstep hurts. The pain didn’t close his eyes. The lonesome traveller has walked away from weariness. He knew reality hurts but he wouldn’t rather dream.

Stay awake. Stay alert. Life is too short to make the same mistake twice.

Today he walks alone. Family and friends are nothing but tear drops. He treasures them. He collects it in a barrel. Often drinks it. Every drop, every gravel, the misty future, the darkening past, the bewildered present simply tells him one thing

KEEP WALKING!!!

Kaun hun mai

Bihar mein paida hua ek Bengali hun main
Ya Bengaliyo ke ghar paida hua ek Bihari hun main
Saal ka sabse sarvashreshth tyohar kisey manoon
Kyunki Durga aur Chatt Puja mein farak na jaanoon

Rishtedaaro ki manoo
To bhasha meri thik nahin
Jo dosto ki maanoo
To ghora aur ghaoda mein fark nahin

Gaon chhoda
To har shehri ko thag bataya gaya
Sheher pahuncha
To gaonwaalo ko chor bataya gaya

Yaad aate hai woh barish ke din
Jab gaon mein baithkar pakode khaata tha
Woh swaad sheher mein bhi mila
Par haathon mein yahan vada pao aaya tha

Kehte hai bachpan ke dost sabse azeez hote hai
Jab bhi mudo peeche to vahi khade hote hain
Par kisey pata tha ki aise shehri bhi milenge
kabhi Palat ke dekhne ka mauka bhi nahin denge

Ye sochte hai ki hum inke sheher ko ganda karte hain
Naukriyan khaker inki, inka haq chhinte hain
Hansi aati hai ye dekh aur sochkar
Ki videshi companiyo ke mazdoor ise haramkhori kehte hain

Abb to sheher aur gaon mein fark bhi nahin dikhta
Kyunki kapdo se lekar gaadiyo tak
Har jagah ek videshi brand hi hai dikhta

Abb lagta hai kaafi dur aa chukka hun
Shayad der kar di ghar lautne mein
Kyunki jab bhi fursat mein almari kholta hun
Waqt lag jaata hai wajood ko talashne mein

Dilli: Ek aisa sheher, jisey logo ne sirf khabron mein hi dekha hai.

Teen saal pehle jab main Dilli gaya tha, tab logo ne kaafi cheezo se aagah kiya tha- "Purse sambhaal ke rakhna - anjaano par bharosa mar karna – wahan thag zyaada hain – kisi se jhagda mat karna, dilli mein sabke paas bandook hoti hai” blah blaaaah. Afsos kisi ne iss baat se aagah nahin kiya ki iss sheher mein main apni zindagi ke sabse haseen logo se milunga.

Dilli mein kadam rakhte hi mere ek azeez dost ne mera haath pakda aur mujhe poora sheher dikhaya. Mere har interview ke liye woh mujhse pehle neend se uthkar Noida se dilli aati thi. Uss sheher mein mere jo sabse pehle dost baney the, woh uske dost the. Abb kya kahein, kuch log ehsaan kar jaate aur kuch log humsafar de jaate hai.

Teen saal ke apne karykaal mein maine chaar jagah naukri ki. Har jagah woh log miley jinka saath sirf office ke darwaazo tak simit nahin tha. Ek aisa boss mila, jisne kar kadam par mujhe apna sapna poora karne ka haunsla diya. Aur jab bhavishya dikh nahin raha tha, to purane mozo ki khushboo ne ek nayi ummeed jagayi. Sapno ko jeene ka ek naya raasta dikhaya. Ek mozey mein hai duniya ko jeetne ki khushboo, par usey durr rakhti hai mehnat ki badboo. Ek mein chhamta har khoobsoorat dil ko jeetne ka. Par aadat hai usey chaarpayi ke dono taraf se utarne ka.

Kehne ko mere kuch 12 bhai hain, par asli bhai ka pyaar mujhe iss sheher se mila. Ek khadoos aisa tha jo zyaada baat nahin karta tha, par uski ankahee vo asar kar jaati, jo shabdo mein bayaan nahin kar sakta. Ek ke geeto ne mujhe rishton ko nibhana seekhaya, uske bachpaney mein bhi ek badappan tha. Ek khurafaati tha jo sharaab peene ke baad kuch aisa kar jaata tha, jisey sahne ki himmat hosh waalon ko bhi nahin hoti. Porn mein bhi screenplay hota hai, yeh mujhe mere ek aur saathi se pata chala. Ussey prerit hokar maine bhi ek aad pornstars ka profile Wikipedia mein padh liya.

Dilli ki garmi ka mujhpar asar na pada,
Kyunki mera yaar beer pakade tha khada
Dilli ki sardi ne jab bhi roki meri saans
Old Monk lekar aaya mera ek dost mere paas

Hafte ki thakaan ek pal mein durr ho jaati
Kyunki har Friday night hoti thi ghar mein dance party

Qutab Minar ki oonchayi ka pata na chalta
Doston ne jo kandho par uthaya na hota
CP mein itni kharidaari kar nahin paata
Jo doston ne apna batua thamya na hota

Chole kulche ka mazaa bhi tab hi aaya
Jab dosto ne apne plates ko aage badhaya
Dilli ki night life mujhe ras na aati
Jo mujhse unohne carobar karwaya na hota

Dilli ka rang mujh par chadha na hota
Agar inn dildaaro ka saath na hota

Par kya kare zindagi ka ‘maqsad’ kuch aur hi hai. Kuch to baat hogi iss shabd mein. Warna mai apno ka saath yun hi chhodkar nahin chala aata.

Likhne ko to likh sakta hun ek kitaab apne dosto ke upar. Par advertising ne shayad, zameer se bewafai karna seekha diya.

Uss sheher ke bahar ke log jinhone sirf ussey khabron mein dekha hai, unse guzarish hai, ki wo jaayen uss sheher mein aur rehkar aayen. Kuch aisa hai uss sheher mein ki, jo log marne aate hain, unhe bhi vo jeena sikha deti hai. Band ankhein jo sapne peedoti hai, unhein poora karne ka haunsla deti hai, Rishton ki bhookh ko pyar ki roti deti hai, dosti ki aanch pe masti ke samose talti hai …aur pata bhi nahi chalta kab seene se dil le leti hai …

Isiliye shayad ye ‘Dil-li’ kehlati hai

Tu karna na mujhe dukhi...tu meri hai Chandramukhi!!!

Meri priyatama
Kyun khafa hai teri aatma
Likha hai khat mein bhar ke tere liye tareef
Par jab bhi bhejne jaata hun aa jaati hai ek nayi brief

Kaise bayaan karun apne dil ki dastaan
Padh lo tum mere status messages ka kaarwaan

Khat kya, tumhaare liye poster, dangler, emailer likh dunga
Tu ek baar haan kar de art-works nikaal dunga
Aur agar mere campaign ne tumhaara dil jeet liya
To dil mein kya usey folio mein bhi rakh lunga

Yeh bedard servicing kya jaane
Tumse judaai ka dard kya hai
Jab bhi nikalte hai tumhaare liye gaane
Saaley aa jaatey hai mera dimaag khaaney

Tumhaare liye kabhi kuch galat likha
Aisa to aaj tak nahin hua hai
Kyunki sirf maine hi nahin
Mere trainee ne bhi har khat ko proof read kiya hai

Sach kahun jaaneman
Tumhaare pyaar mein kayi long copy ads likha hai
Par saala mera art director
Har waqt copy ko crisp kar deta hai

Abb aur kitna logey pyaar ka imtihaan
Kaho to doosro ke tvcs churakar kar dun tumhaare naam

Abb to jab bhi tumhaare liye dil se aawaz nikalti hai
Hamesha grammatically correct hokar hi nikalti hai

Writer's note:

Padhne waaley Chandramukhi naam ko dekh kar jazbaati na ho

Dil se jab bhi bakwas nikalta hai
Aankho mein sirf ek hi chehra mandraata hai

Accident!!!

Old Sock's second venture. A story built on a Hit and Run incident. This film also contains the track - Roadhouse Blues.

Contradicting the myth

They say "there are 2 kinds of men in this world – Good & Bad".
Both want the same thing from a woman, difference is in the way they approach. Bad people are more straightforward, and express their feelings blatantly, while good people fox their way into a woman’s heart. So who should you be more scared of?

A lot of men are termed as flirts/Casanova. Seriously, does a woman really know what the terms mean? I doubt. Even if they did, they forget to ask 1 question. Where did they learn their skills?

Koi apne maa ki kokh se seekh ke nahin aata. It’s the circumstances they face that turn them into one. One heart-break or a major betrayal leads them to believe they are losers in life. Some time in their life their confidence must have been crushed under the feet of the one they loved. Everyone has the right to redeem. Yes the likes of Devdas didn’t really seek to win. But, we aren’t figments of a writer’s imagination. There’s just one way we can regain confidence – Win the battle you lost. And win them again and again.

In the process you curb a lot of emotions; you make a lot of enemies, the worst one being yourself.

Once, a girl told me that having sex won’t solve my distress, nor would relieve me of the psychological suffering. But then again there was just one way to find out. Hate to say, she was right.

Worst phase in life arrives when you don’t want to win any more battles. You have regained your confidence and you want to fall in love once again. Sadly your reputation precedes you. You are known to be a heartless practical bastard who doesn’t give a fuck about emotions. I don’t know what’s practical, all I can say is I’m honest.

I can’t love your dog, I can’t look at the moon and write a poem, I can’t listen to your best-friend’s sob story. Yes I am selfish and all I want to listen to is you and us. But, the world knows I am a flirt, so she knows that I am a flirt.

And then there are friends who are so madly in love that they feel that pre-marital sex is a sin.

Fact – Sex is the only time when you look into your partner’s eyes and forget the rest of the world. The best candle-light dinner or the best long drive cannot match half the passion you display while you make love. By the way I heard love is all about passion. I hope I’m right about that.

They tell me I have never loved before. Reason – I am a happy man. According to them after a break-up one cannot fall in love again, or one cannot forget the person. Well, it’s good to know that I am not the biggest loser in the world. Only the weak hold on to things, the brave will let it go. Of all the people who marry only 20% marry the people they love. Does that mean the remaining 80% are sinners. No they are simply more matured. They have a better control on their lives.
IF YOU CAN’T CONTROL YOUR LIVES, THEN STOP LIVING IT.

Of course I can always be the good boy who writes poems, who takes your dog for a walk, who stands on a peak and shouts out your name. I can do all that, but that’s not me. So who did you exactly fall in love with? More importantly who’s being selfish?

I don’t know if I’m good or bad, all I can say is that no one in this world is perfect. And, only the perfect can point out the imperfections in someone.

Sir Yes Sir!!!

No, this post has nothing to do with any uniform-wearing guy. Instead, it’s the plight of a copywriter. Earlier I used to make an opinion about every ad I viewed and the creative team responsible for it. But now I know that it takes the following steps to make an ad

1. We get a brief (idiotic assumptions written on a piece of paper by a few self-proclaimed stalwarts)
2. Figure out the Target Audience – Mostly “Customers”
3. Fight for your own Deadline
4. Brainstorm
5. Play Foosball/T.T./ C.O.D. / U.T./ Pool
6. Brainstorm
7. Cigarette break (Jargons like Chutiya Servicing and fuck-all brief forms a major part of the conversation)
8. Late nights – Old Monk – Dustbins filled with cigarette-butts – 50 status updates
9. Finally a campaign
10. Review - A process where people from Planning and Servicing try to rip your idea or try to suggest irrelevant inputs. Of course they back it up with their MBA degree. Thanks to MBA, else how would anyone know that the blue coloured layout needs to be a shade lighter or the headline can be crisper.
11. Presentation – Client masturbates.
12. Gear up for Round 2

PHEW!!!

During this process the creative team hardly gets to see his family. Afterall we are on a mission. We leave house on time and we return after a couple of days. During this time one might have temporary memory loss. You wouldn’t remember what you did on the weekend, or the fun you had with your friends last night. Because if you try remembering backwards, all you’ll remember is office and colleagues. There might be an andhi-mother, desperate biwi, nange kids waiting at home looking at the door-bell, anxiously. Alas! Suddenly the phone rings and they get the sad news. Their son/husband/father won’t return home. BECAUSE WE ARE MAKING ADS.

One more thing about our jobs Never Say NO. Or be ready to face one of the following one-liners:

1. It’s your call
2. Don’t kill yourself, just finish this work asap
3. Tu nahin karega to mai kar lunga, par soch le tera folio kaise banega
4. When I was your age, I was hungry for work

Blaaaaaaaah! Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Our plight has been shown in various films like:

Lakshya – Hrithik returns home for vacations. As soon as he hugs his mom his phone rings and he has to go back to office.

The song “sandheshe aate hai, humey tadpatey hai” is relevant to us when we read others’ status messages which tell us about their rocking lives. To make it worse they upload their photos as well.

Like army-men we sacrifice our families, friends and our lives for our jobs (of course we don’t really die, par yeh jeena bhi koi jeena hai). Although we don’t get half as much recognition. Yet all we do is crib. No one takes a step. No one raises a voice.

But I will. I don’t care about the money. I don’t care about the job. I don’t care about my future. I don’t care about the perks I get. The gifts......err..... that reminds me I need to buy a gift for someone. Damm!! Ok fine, once I buy the gift I shall raise my voice.

Advertising has these people chasing cars and clothes they don't need. Generations have been working in jobs they hate, just so they can buy what they don't really need. ~Chuck Palahniuk

No Stags Allowed

(No actual animals are being insulted here)

Ek ladka tha deewana sa
Do chaar ladkiyon pe woh marta tha
Nazre jhuka kar, zubaan par taala laga kar
Unka number dial kiya karta tha
Jab bhi milta tha mujhse
Mujhse poocha karta tha
Yeh disc mein entry kyun nahin milti
Inn discs mein entry kyun nahin milti
Aur mai sirf yehi keh paata tha……..

No songs followed, although he was a good singer. My dear friend - Stag. He studied in a co-ed school and then moved into a creative profession, yet no girlfriends, is a commendable record. No, he definitely wasn’t an introvert. In fact his outrageously bold sense of humor can put the stalwarts of extrovert to shame.

There are 10 steps to woo a girl. Step 1 to 9 helps in charming the woman and the 10th step is where you express your love – an excerpt from Joy’s Touching Tales of Wooing Days. Stag climbed the 9 steps at a fantastic speed, but somehow the 10th step was too high for him. He sang but not the correct songs. He danced, but not to the correct tune. He played, but not the right game.

But he wasn’t a loser. I am saying not because he’s a friend, but because a lot of women approached him in various ways. But Stag didn’t give in to their seduction. Aferall he had the ego of a first-timer which didn’t succumb to the lurid enigma.

One day a ray of light entered his dark world and my friend Stag was no more. He had found himself a doe. He had broken all shackles. After 27 years finally he got the pass to enter a discotheque.

It was a beautiful evening when a few of us went to a dance party. Stag hit the floor with his doe. Men, women, and all the other animals were awe-struck. Initially the absorbed it with a pinch of salt, but their chemistry changed everyone’s perception. And then..........it happened......

When you are used to a certain thing for 27 years, it’s tough to forgo it. Stag wasn’t used to dancing with a woman. After a few moves he moved towards a man, who reciprocated and moved towards Stag and eventually stag’s moves moved a lot of eyelids. But his doe wasn’t moved with this movement of emotion.

Stag was ashamed of himself, he decided to change. To get rid of his compatibility with men, he decided to spend more time with women. Now as I said earlier, Stag performed exceptionally well in climbing steps 1 to 9. It was the 10th step where he faltered. Now things had changed. He was the rage on the 10th step. His wooing capabilities, gave the proudest Casanova a run for his money. He became the talk of the farm. Hundreds of friend requests on Facebook, tagged in photos in over 1000 profiles. Stag had undone his past.

But in the process he distanced his doe. She couldn’t take it anymore. She let him go. Stag was shattered. He tried to explain his innocence. But Facebook spoke volumes of his innocence. Now, stag was alone once again. The 10th step again distanced itself. Stag was regaining his virginity. He tried to come out of it, he tried to woo several women, but his confidence gave way to frustration and desperation.

It had become too much for Stag to handle. He started dinking a lot. He befriended the Old Monk. He imprisoned himself within his house. He read Sidney Sheldon and listened to Altaf Raja all day. This was when I stepped in. I told him to go out and drink rather than being a lonesome 9th step-pro. It was tough to help him redeem but one day the procrastination ended. He broke all inhibitions and went out to have a drink.

He remembered his favourite place, where he and deer and spent momentous occasions. To revive those moments he went there. The watchman, the bouncer, everyone knew him. But, just as he was about to enter, the watchman stopped him and showed the signboard which read

NO STAGS ALLOWED

Wash Away

This TVC was made for 48 hour Youtube Canneslions. The idea was to showcase in a simple way that waterborne diseases can by removed by water.

Penned Down

My first attempt to make a Stop Motion Film

Faisla

Kabhi saral to kabhi zindagi ka rukh badalta hai faisla
Kayarta ka ehsaas karaye to kabhi har mushkil
Fanaa kar deta hai faisla

Abba ka bharosa ho ya mehboob ki baahein
Sapno ke har kaleen ko jalata hai faisla
Phir khud hi ro padhta hai aur
Dil se dilasa maangta hai faisla

Zidd ke neev par khada
To kabhi sar ko jhukata hai faisla
Apno ko durr karta
To kabhi gunaaho ka ikraar karta faisla

Garv se sar ooncha karwata
To kabhi sheeshe se nafrat karwata hai faisla
Khushi ke pal ke liye hi nahin
Aansuon ke liye bhi zimmedar hai faisla

Maa ki aanchal se lekar maut ki aagosh tak
Har kadam par hisaab leta hai faisla

Non-sexual misadventures of a porn-lover.

Long back I heard a quote written by the great Harivansh Rai Bachchan. He said “Mandir Masjid bair karaye, mel karaye Madhushala”. If only he lived in our times when pornography is no longer restricted to books, he would realise, boys unite much before they start drinking. As any other kid my journey with porn started way back and since then I faced a few memorable misadventures as well.

8th standard – Jamshedpur

My parents had left for Kolkata and I was alone in the house. Just after my school got over I invited a couple of my dear friends to watch porn at my place. Little did I know that my friends had feminine stomachs. I opened the door and saw some 28 guys standing at my doorstep. Never knew there were that many guys in my class. Before I could insert the CD I warned them that I stay in an apartment where walls have ears and the neighbours have long tongues. But I’m sure they didn’t listen, because as soon as I hit the play button they screamed so loudly (louder than what the stadium screamed when India def. Pakistan to win the World T20) that 4 of my neighbours came to check. What followed was – a blocked drain, a slippery bathroom and a never to return kaam waali bai. Such was the experience that I found a lot many new friends and a few trying-to-act-smart teachers.

11th standard Pune

It was my 4th month in Pune and I had already made some good friends. One of my good friends Atul invited a few of us to his place to play cards. We reached his house on time and started playing. A shrill voice from the background asked a ravenous question “Pondy dekhna hai kya”.

Cut to 5 seconds later

6 of us sitting in front of the huge television set waiting for the movie to begin. And then it began. Watching God’s masterpiece in exactly the way he designed, was a treat. 10 minutes in the movie and we heard a voice “Khana kha liya aap logo ne”. Our hearts skipped a beat. Atul’s mom had returned. We pounced on the remote to stop it. Alas! Technology sucks. Bad luck sucks. Porn sucks. (We all know the last isn’t true). We failed to stop the movie, instead we paused it. She came to us, had a good look at the television set and left. I don’t know what her expressions were because I didn’t have the guts to look up.

Cut to 3 seconds later

We were running on the streets, much faster than SRK in any of the KJo flicks.
That episode marked the beginning of our friendship. Can’t say the same for his mom though.

12th standard, Jamshedpur

My board exams were just a month away and I was in Jamshedpur for my study leave. Those days we didn’t have to rent porn, our cable operator was really helpful. Anytime between 9 PM to 11 PM we got a call that confirmed the time and the name of the movie. We insisted on the names because that helped us survive the prolonged wait.

My phone rang at 10:30 PM. “Ek baje Witches of Brooklyn” the voice on the other side said and disconnected. I just couldn’t wait for my parents to sleep. Adrenaline gushed through my veins. I prefer not to be precise as to which ones. The clock struck 1 and I switched on my television. The movie had just started. I was enjoying the movie when a hand patted my shoulder. It scared the shit out of me and I threw the remote. The last time my dad saw me like that was before I entered school. I am sure he never wished to see me in that state either.

Next day cable connection was cut, phone was shifted from my room and of course my dad started asking me questions pertaining to my subjects, which by the way never happened since the time I entered school.

Porn has also been a saviour for me on various occasions. For example during my 1st year ragging I was treated well because my seniors knew I had a good collection of porn. I wasn’t sacked from my 1st job (call-centre) in spite of the fact that I called an American chutiya over the phone, because my boss was aware of my collection.

But none of my misadventures can match my friend who made the worst decision ever. He wanted to make love to his girlfriend after watching porn. If only he knew that he wasn’t as gifted as American porn-stars, he would have saved himself the embarrassment.

Quote quote ke maaro – Men who are united by porn can never be divided by caste.

LSD – Tu nangi achi lagti hai!!!

Although this line had been changed to “Tu gandi achchi ...” I feel this line speaks volumes about this Dibakar Banerjee masterpiece. No masala, no SFX, no celebrity, it’s as real as reality. Opening sequence gives a you a feel of the ads shown on the local cable channel. Irrespective of what the product is it always starts with “Aa gaya aa gaya aaya.....”. You can’t help but smile at that scene.

Love: A story about Rahul – An Aditya Chopra paedophile film maker, who is planning to shoot his diploma film. During the auditions, he meets Shruti and falls in love. What differentiates their love story from any other Raj-Simran or Rahul-Anjali story is the execution. The entire film is shot from Rahul’s camera’s perspective. The unconventional angles and the non-celebrity faces make you feel as if you are watching you friend’s story. But what’s really stunning is the climax. The Chopras and the Johars of the world could never have imagined it. As the story flows, you do predict the climax, but not even your worst fears can match the brutality with which it ends. As the great writer/pathetic director says – “Some love stories have blood written over them”

Sex: A prequel to Chanda’s character in Anurag Kashyap’s DevD, this story is about Rashmi and Adarsh. Their story takes place in a 24X7 departmental store. Adarsh is in need of money and that’s when his friend suggests him to make an MMS clip. Rashmi was of course the scapegoat. It’s during this story that you also realise that Shruti is a friend of Rashmi. This of course wouldn’t have been possible if there were celebrities involved. The super hyped 7 minute long sex scene was cut down to 20 seconds but tells the story. A few voyeurs got disappointed, but I’m sure DB’s intention wasn’t to satisfy porn lovers. Overall this plot achieves its aim in showcasing the efforts that goes into making an MMS clip.

Dhoka: With Tehelka creating such hype, how could it not catch the interest of DB. A story about Prabhat a sting operator who has become a laughing stock for his colleagues since the time he failed to deliver Miss Meerut’s scandalous footage. To redeem his position in his company he tags along with Naina (typical shit-headed model) to unveil the truth of Loki Local a Punjabi pop star. Entire film has been shot through spy cameras and it feels like you are actually seeing a sting operation. The scene where Prabhat falls off a bridge is absolutely outstanding. This story is bound to sting you as any India TV footage does. The last shot of the film brings together the central characters of all the 3 stories.

In a time when Reality TV and India TV were gaining TRPs it was just a matter of time when someone explores voyeurism on celluloid. Thank God it was Dibakar Banerjee.

Yes this is not the first of its kind. We can’t forget the likes of The Blair Witch Project, Cloverfield and Paranormal Activity. But LSD is as Desi as it can get. Taking the 3 topics that target everyone, DB has weaved it into a masterpiece. But it wouldn’t have been possible without the extremely talented cinematographer Nikos Andritsakis. His sense of camera angles is perfect.

Urmi Juvekar along with Dibakar has written an amazing screenplay. Their work is definitely a case study. And of course how can one forget the music of the film. Sneha Khanwalker produces an absolute brilliance. DB’s lyrics along with Kailash Kher’s voice sets the tone perfect for such a film. When was the last time you justified voyeurism by saying things like “Jo kehte hai yeh qufr-khata, qafir kya hain unko kya pata”. Simply brilliant.

For an aspiring film maker like me I am simply blown away by this effort. I would like to thank Dibakar Banerjee for taking Indian Cinema to that stratospheric level where Gurudutt had left. Also, I would like to forgive Ekta Kapoor for spoiling my Mom and for launching Tushar Kapoor.

There’s a thing about dreams

It’s unreal. It’s what you want to achieve but something others can never help you achieve.

As a kid it changed a lot. I remember me being the Coolie of Deewar, the Cop of Mohra, the shirtless dancer of PKTDK, the pilot of Independence Day and of course the guy wearing the blue jersey. Somehow the one character that jostled my mind for years, never showed his face. I wanted to be the guy who makes heroes, who makes stories immortal, who makes us wish, we live in his vision.
I wanted to be a director.

As I grew, I met more and more people who left no page unturned in discouraging me. Various philosophies which included, money problems, middle-class restrictions, responsibilities etc., were taught to me. I somehow battled their preaching and entered a film school.

But there was one facet I realised later, if your team-mate doesn’t share a similar dream, together you can never succeed. In other words your dream shall remain a dream.

When one sees a dream he’s passionate about it and can go to any extent to turn it real. But that’s him. Not necessary his counterparts will feel the same passion. Hence work gets delayed, unnecessary problems intervene, essence of the project gets corrupted and frustration & B.P. increases. At such times, you either sharpen the virtue of patience or you master the art of compromising. Under such circumstances who do you choose. Friends - who've always been with you, or dreams - the reason you live.

There’s a thing about dreams. It’s personal, it’s your vision. No one else can see it, nor understand it.

There is a thing about dreams. It’s not a team player.

Dear brother Cupid

I hope this letter finds you in the pink of health, afterall, pink is the colour of love. Blush! Blush!

I believe you belong to the age when the Trojan War was fought over a woman (wink wink), but I prefer calling you brother, because you are the only guy (apart from Shahid Afridi) who doesn’t seem to grow in age and skills.

What the FAQ - Do you have a lifetime contract with my dear friend Old Monk and my one time best friend the Royal Stag?

Aaaaah! Now I know, it had to be you, else how would they have so many lovers (12,146 to be precise. Source – Facebook). That’s not all, even the likes of Yash Copra & James Cameroon benefited. Thousands died when a ship sank but people only remembered the hero drowning. Such is the Cupid effect.

Anyways, the reason why I’m writing to you today is because I feel you archery skills are ruining a lot of lives. Recently I have witnessed a lot of mishaps which vary from an art director writing ghazals to a copywriter painting shoes. Your arrows didn’t even spare Bhola – my fitness trainer. Poor thing got so frustrated that he burnt his supporter yesterday. Not just them, you remember the Kareena look-alike classmate of mine. She wasn’t the girl you were supposed to aim at. But thanks to your incompetent skills I met Old Monk.

But to be very honest I have always envied you. If I had the power you possess I would have brought world peace. Literally. Come on, all you had to do was to get Sarah Palin to entice Saddam and Benazir Bhutto to seduce Rajiv Gandhi or may be Bal Thackeray (wow, she’s got options, lucky woman, sigh!!!).
That’s not all, your designation is as stubborn as in government offices (never changes). You can never get fired despite the number of hearts you break, the suicide attempts (most succeed), the overcrowded bars and the ill-fated love stories.

I would like to conclude by giving you an advice – It's recession time and every one is looking out for cheaper replacements. Pull up your socks or get a pair of specs, else the persona of Shah Rukh Khan will definitely precede you.

नकारा चाक़ू

This film is made by my friends and me. 'Old Socks Motion Pictures' is the name of our production house.

Yeh ‘Suffer’ zara filmi hain!!!

Scene 1

Engineering hostel, Bangalore

उस दिन एक छात्र ने एक ऐसा निर्णय लिया जो उसे बरसो तक अपने पापा से और हमेशा के लिए अपने GF से दूर रखेगा.

काफी सारा हिम्मत और थोड़ी सी Old Monk चढ़ा कर उसने अपने पापा को फ़ोन किया और कहा “पापा मैं engineering नहीं कर सकता, मुझे film-maker बन्ना हैं”. आधे घंटे बाद जब उसने फोन रखा तो उसके आँखों में आसू थे, और हाथ में Old Monk.

हॉस्टल के बाकी छात्रों को जब यह खबर मिली, तो सारे ग्यान देने पहुंचे – “तू पागल हैं”, “director बन्ना मज़ाक थोड़ी हैं”, “अबे back-up चाहिए होता हैं”, “सपने देखना बन्द कर”, “नहीं नहीं तुने सही decision लिया”, “अबे मैं भी सोच रहा हूँ politician बन जाऊं”, “भाई actor मुझे ही लेना”, “तेरे फिल्म में rape scenes हुए तो मुझे ज़रूर याद करना” वग्येराह वग्येराह . लेकिन हाँ उस भीड़ में कुछ ऐसे लोग थे जो आज भी साथ हैं.

Scene 2

Film School, Bangalore

उस छात्र को लगता था की वोह फिल्मो को अच्छी तरह जानता हैं , क्यूंकि उसने थोड़े अंग्रेजी फिल्म, बहुत हिंदी फिल्में और बहुत सारे Porn films देखे थे. Full confidence के साथ जब वह अपने नए classroom में enter किया तो Mam ने पहला सवाल पुछा “How many of you have seen Citizen Kane”? पता चला किसी Orson Welles नामक निर्देशक ने बनाया था. भाई Spielberg सुना हैं, Yash Copra सुना हैं, MILF भी सुना हैं, यह कौनसी चीज़ हैं? उस दिन उसे समझ में आया, उसकी राह कोई गुलाब की पंकुरियो से नहीं सजी हैं.

Scene 3

Barista, Bangalore

उस छात्र ने अपनी पहली documentary बनायीं और वोह बहुत खुश होकर अपने GF को यह खबर देना चाहता था. खबर सुनने के बाद GF ने जवाब दिया “I am happy for you”. GF के अगले कुछ शब्दों ने उस पर ऐसा प्रहार किया की उसके सामने Barista का बिल भी कम पढ़ गया. वोह लड़का अपनी bike start कर के अकेले अपनी घर के तरफ रवाना हो गया.

लड़की के ma-बाप हमेशा चाहते हैं की उनकी लड़की किसी ऐसे लड़के के साथ रहे जो ज़िम्मेदार हो, जिसके पास job security हो, जिसके future साफ़ दिखता हो. अब यह सब किसी film-maker के पास कहाँ, यह सब तो सिर्फ engineer और doctors के पास होता हैं.

Scene 4

Posh colony, Jamshedpur

Sharma’s के घर पार्टी चल रही थी. उनके बेटे ने GRE clear किया था. America जा रहा था वोह भी scholarship के साथ. Party के बीच किसी ने उस छात्र से पुछा “बेटे तुम आजकल क्या कर रहे हो, कुछ editing वग्यारह का काम कर रहे हो न? छात्र पूरे आत्मविश्वास के साथ जवाब देना शुरू किया ही था की उसके पापा ने interrupt किया “अरे कुछ नहीं, पैसे बर्बाद कर रहा हैं, हम ही ने इसे सर पर बिठा रखा था, कहता हैं film-maker बनेगा. कुछ नहीं होगा इस नालायाख से” उस छात्र ने अपने पापा की ऊंची आवाज़ को तो बर्दाश्त कर लिया par उसके बाद का फुसफुसाहट उससे बर्दाश्त नहीं हुआ. घर-bar, नहीं sorry सिर्फ घर त्याग कर वोह बंगलोर की तरफ चल पड़ा.

अच्छी बात यह थी की वोह छात्र इनं सब scenes के बावजूद टुटा नहीं. अपने राह पर चलता गया. कई और चीजों को त्याग करता गया और आज वोह एक…………………………

जी नहीं वोह आज तक director बनं नहीं पाया.

Dhool Mitti aur T.T.E.

Shaam suhaana tha, mausam deewana tha, aur yeh sab bas ek sapna tha. Haqeeqat thodi dhoondli si thi (Literally). Hum chaar yaar Jaisalmer mein baval macha kar Dilli laut rahe the. Safar ki shuruwat humne Palace-on-Wheels ke exteriors ko nihaarte huye kiya. Nahin ji hum bas dekh rahe the, tickets to humara Train 4060 ke sleeper class mein booked tha.

Kya aapne kabhi suna hai ki:
o Train ki chat tapakta hai
o Bathroom ke basin mein nal nahin hain
o Bathroom mein basin nahin hai

Kuch aise jaw-dropping khoobiyan thi uss train mein. Chalo humne adjust kar liya usme. Hum ek romanchak trip se laut rahe the, dil mein umang aur bharpurr josh tha. Woh alag baat hai ki sharir aur dil ka co-ordination nahin baith raha tha.
Hum khidki se bahar ke nazaron ka luft utha rahe the ki achanak humne apne aap ko mitti mein lipta huwa paaya. Tab kahin ehsaas hua ki train ek registaan se guzar rahi hai. Humne khidki ko bandh karne ki koshish ki but Alas! Aur yeh stubborn khidkiyaan har khopche mein thi. Kuch der baad humey Thar Desert waali feel honey lagi. Par iss desert mein mirage ke naam pe ek pantry car tak nahin thi.
Tabhi Most Eligible Bachelor ne cheenkha “Woh dekho platform”. Humne raahat ki saans li. Train ke rukte hi humne chalaang lagayi. Landing ke baad humne ek doosre se poocha “Platform kahan hain”? Banjar zammen par ek ‘Pokhran‘ ka signboard tha.
Durr kahin humey ek pakode waala dikha. Humne khoobsaare pakode aur 2 mineral water ke botal uthaye. Pakode khaane ke baad humey kayi saal pehle huye uss nuclear blast ka asar pata chala . Woh radioactive pakode kha ke humare totey udd gaye aur saath mein andey bhi le gaye.

Iss episode ke baad hum apne priy mitra Shri Old Monk ko bag se aazad kar hi rahe the ki T.T.E. mahashay avtartit huye.

Humaare paas original ticket ka Xerox copy tha (Which is not equivalent to an e-ticket). Eligible Bachelor ke super intelligent dost ne counter se ticket book karwaya tha aur hume scanned copy mail kiya tha yeh keh kar ki chal jaayega. Agar us waqt paise nahin hotey to shayad humey chal ke hi aana padhta.

Humney TTE se samjhauta karne ki kaafi koshish ki par woh humse khafa ho kar AC compartment mein chale gaye. Ji woh baat kuch aisi thi ki Most Eligible Bachelor ne usey 50 rupaye offer kiya tha.

Agle station par ek aur TTE sahib aa gaye. Hum chaaro ne decide kiya ki iss baar 100 rupaye se shuru karenge. Par woh saala to imaandar nikla. Bola ki fir se humey ticket karwana hoga. Matlab poore paise lagenge. Tab pehle baar humne sleeper-class mein suffer karne ka lutf uthaya. Paise dene ke baad humne calculate kiya to pata chala ki hum chaaro ke paas mila jula kar tees rupye the. Arthaat train se utarte hi cigarettes to kharid sakte hain.

TTE ke jaate hi humne Shri Old Monk maharaj ko bag se nikala aur unka paan kiya . Uske baad to pata nahin kya hua aur kya nahin. Par mitti se sane sharir aur radioactice pakode se bhare pet ne aapas mein sulah kar lee aur apni premika arthat neend ki aagosh mein sama gaye.

Subah aankh khuli to 8-10 daily passengers bhookhi nazron se humey dekh rahe the. Pata chala ki unse apni hi tashreef ka bojh nahi sambhal raha. Hum apne berth se utar ke baith gaye. Kisi ko na to brush karne ki zaroorat mehsoos hui aur toilet ko dekh kar mal-dwar aur pet mein aise taale pad gaye mano ki shehar mein karfyue lag gaya ho.

Finally hum Palam ke platform par utare. Pata nahin woh mausam ka chamatkar tha ya humse huye balatkar ka, palam ka drishya kisi mirage se kam na tha.
Humne waqt zaya na karte huye, auto par apne aap ko lada aur apne ghar ki raah pakdi. Kyunki hum mein isse zyaada khushi shayad na-kabiley bardasht thi.

Tees second ka baval!!!

Advertising waalo ki creativity 30 second ki hoti hai. Tees second ke vigyapan ke peeche kayi baar tees din lag jaate hain. Par anth mein wahi jaana hota hai to kisi ek ke liye creative ho.

Bhai hum to yeh soch kar advertising mein aaye the, ki yeh line bahut creative hai. Soch par koi pabandi nahin hai, agar vishwaas hai ki koi vigyapan kisi padarth ko bech sakta hain to bas uspar mohar laga do. Par yeh nahin socha ki soch ko bhi unidirectional banana padega. Jo boss soche wahi sahi baaki hum to nausikhiya hain.
Ismein bhi ek twist hai. Boss kabhi permanent nahin hotey. Kabhi aap agency badalte ho, to kabhi woh. Ab har boss ki soch ek jaisi to nahin ho sakti, bhala har kisi ki soch unidirectional to nahin ho sakta. To ab aapko apna soch ki raah ko badalna padhta hai. Kal tak jinn ideas pe taali bajte the aaj unhi par comments ki barsaat hoti hai. “Isme twist nahin hai, verbose hai, Radio is an interesting medium, one show ki site par jaa kar kuch TVCs dekho”

Inn saare bosses mein ek khoobi hoti hai bhale sabki soch alag ho, par gyaan ek sa dete hai. Inka khud ka kaam to Cannes ya One Show se inspired nahin lagta.

Anyways 3 saal ke experience ke baad aaj tak nahin pata chala which boss is right, par haan adapt karna zaroor seekha hai. Ab pata chala boss ki kahi hui baat ko likhne ko hi creativity kehte hai.