Monday, August 20, 2012

Everyone’s self-centered; it’s the radius that matters.


Tonight I claim what is mine, as it seems to be growing in popularity.

To know more, you will have to click here and here.

Apart from the pages that are searchable by google, I have seen this quote being used in profiles (Facebook, Myspace, Orkut), forums, favorite quote lists and emails.

Way back in late-2003/early-2004, a very close friend of mine was upset that her boyfriend called her self-centered. (I thought it’s a neat thing to say to any girl.) They are happily married now and I am really glad for them.  On that occasion, the metaphysically inclined agony aunt within me came up with this line. We liked it and I posted it on a website. If anyone shows me this quote written anywhere before 2003, I will delete my blog.

I know it’s not that great. No irony, no cynicism, no humor. It’s hopelessly motivational. But hey, people like it. They don’t add my name to it (barring a few westerners). Click here. No Indian mentions the author’s name. I don’t blame them. They would have done that if it was written by some Xing Pyong or Henry Wordsworth.

Apparently, Shreya Ghoshal likes it too. Click here.



She thinks that Abhishek Kapoor came up with it, something which he hasn’t bothered to deny.  He has put a smiley after the quote, which many have retweeted. My friends, I ask you, who is more likely to have come up with such a nerdy quote:

1.       A Bollywood director who directed “Rock On” (no Primer, Pi or Prestige for that matter).
2.       A bespectacled guy who memorized log and sine (and hence cosine) tables in school because looking up the values in log book was too much work.

I don’t mind if folks put it as status message, favorite quote or a tweet.  It gives me a kick, as a matter of fact. However, there are people who offhandedly put it in the middle of a paragraph, as if it just popped up in their train of thought. And when the blog post receives a comment that points it out to be a wise thing, they say “Thanks J”.

To those people, I have this advice ( back in 2003, I used to give it a lot): “Aukat me reh”.

Apple Inc., I feel your pain.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Helpless


I have come to accept that no matter how much I reason, I am not immune to the whims of surroundings.  How else to justify the Bournvita-milk I have been drinking after dinner for over a week now.

Last week, while shopping for grocery at a food-mall, the Bournvita bottle caught my eye. Destiny?  It wasn’t the first time that I had seen it there. But, don’t know how or why, I put it in my cart; just like that.  I hurried away from the aisle to proceed with the regular shopping.

I came back home, stacked the food and grocery items at their designated places, poured some milk in a glass, put a spoonful of Bournvita in it, stirred it well, and then drank the milk slowly, without daring a look into the mirror by the basin. I washed the glass thoroughly after emptying it (I don’t want my maid to know; the bottle is kept hidden behind the bookshelf.)

Such has been the routine since then. Sometimes in office, I find myself thinking in anticipation about the taste and right quantity of Bournvita. I’ve researched the health benefits as well on google (not many).
So far I have not been able to find a reasonable explanation of this new addiction. I like the taste of course, but “why now” remains unanswered. I don’t think I am doing it for nostalgia, I am not the kind. Present times are far better, provided you apply the right filters.

Will I buy a new bottle when this one is finished? I might. Or I might forget about it and let some other such nonsensical fixation captivate me at its own will. I roam, and I let the world affect me, the way it wants to.
While we are talking about helplessness, a recent Bangalore-Traffic-Police initiative has caused me a great deal of amusement. They’ve made it mandatory to remove the sunfilms of the car windows. I chuckle.

I bought my car when I was in Gurgaon and it didn’t have sunfilms as Delhi region already had this no-sunfilm rule. Now it gives me immense pleasure to participate in “Have you removed your sunfilms yet?” conversations.

More amusing than the conversations, is to observe the ‘victims’ on the road.  Most of the city-folks have complied by now. When the rule was announced, I received a couple of “Bangalore against removing sunfilms” type group invitations on Facebook, which I heartily declined.  Of course, the protests failed. Yet again, citizens resigned to the fate. Feeble, feeble.

And now they drive, all exposed. You can see the covers of the seat, the toys on the backseat, the breakfast that they are having, the color of their skin and the look in their eyes (inquisitive/accusing). They are yet to get accustomed to the idea of sitting all exposed.

There was once a boy of 8, who used to always wear full-length trousers to feel like a grown up. He wanted more respect. Once his family went on a train journey and forced him to wear shorts, so that he looked below 6 and hence eligible for half-ticket.  He resisted and wailed, but all in vain. They promised him a seat by the window. When he got in the train, the window-seats were occupied by other kids. He had to sit squeezed between grown-ups.  All through the journey he stared at his knees, and he shuffled his legs, whenever a fly sat on the bare skin.

He adjusted. So have the citizens. And how they look at each other through the transparent windows, praying for the signal to go green. Privacy lost. Vulnerable.  Fellow sufferers. A general feeling of “Is Hamaam me sab nange hain” prevails.