It’s Rats-race to the top. And I haven’t Registered.

I’m amused, as to how everyone needs to win. Win the acceptance of the societal warfare. Like every second there’s a new addition to the rat race.

Where are those guys who just loved ‘just what they do’? Who never care about the results! Who were more rather more interested in  the satisfaction of their doing. 
Those passionate outward fools, who are consciously kept out of the crowd-pullers league.

There’s nothing wrong in wanting to win, in wanting to be at the peak. But that only counts when you’re not fooling yourself!

Yet again, defining your life by the philosophies of the ‘great ones’…whose lives were not similar to yours, who lived in a totally different era, whose circumstances where world-apart from yours, is something beyond my understanding.

You know…being motivated in one thing and wanting to make a life like theirs is another. No no..actually, it’s letting your ‘highway’ be governed by someone else’s map.
Step Out! from those quotes…Make your own. Stay Content. Stay Happy. That’s when you’ll have lived. Truly.

And if doing that troubles you, just remind yourself that there’s no need to feel that way. And, it’s also OK to not have it together…ALL the time. No one does you see.
It’s a fight. A fight to not be one with the world. Even if that’s at the cost of ‘what they think of you’. At the end of it all, at least you know you’re being true.

I saw this commercial and...I logged on.

So, here's another campaign that urges us (read - citizens of India) to stand up for our rights, fight the injustice, speak up, stop blaming, stop pontificating and more. No two doubts about the fact that I did actually like the concept, the idea, the execution, not the jingle as much, but overall a very thought-provoking and provocative campaign.

But that's it. What it stays to, is a campaign. A creative campaign that probably wins awards, earns recognition, a million Facebook shares, probably two million likes as well, and more.... (read - a rewarding experience for the people who worked on it).

I remember some other 'Classroom' Campaign. That was awesome or what! Totally loved it. Left me thinking for sure. But, what more? Yet another brilliant, kick-ass campaign.

Another one being a certain Mumbai Campaign. For me, the recall in that TV commercial was that woman standing on the sky-walk/bridge. Yet again, why do I remember this? Because of its splendid concept + execution, not forgetting the copy.

But then again, just a campaign.

I'm going to wait to see how this new & incredibly executed campaign changes/alters/provocates any sort of change in the people who need to change. And then may be write another post.
Because, before you stand up and ask me if I am doing my bit for the society, I'll say....

"I am one of those young women who, day in and day out who live in the insecurity of being the weaker sex (yes, I said weaker). I am out there trying to educate my female peers of how to ensure you live to be at least a 50. And for my male counterparts I'm ensuring they are a bit educated (if not MBAs) to understand the importance of another life.

May be the damage is done. May be some of the apples are ruined. But I won't give up hopes on my generation and the ones to come. I pray they don't rape, they don't adhere to domestic violence, they don't believe in gender-bias, and aren't faltering.
This is the least I can do, if not everything. And may be write too."

Cheers!

I'll be your shadow, Mom!

"Rhymes do sound beautiful, but so do plain words."


I'll walk like a beaming light along your lonesome shadow;
I'll hold your hand when it's dark.
I'll rub your feet when you feel cold;
I'll kiss your forehead for a good night sleep.

I'll iron your clothes way so you don't have to hurry;
I'll cook your favourite meal way before you are hungry.
I'll help you pick the best outfit for that special occasion;
I'll gift you the colour that leaves a twinkle in your eyes.

I'll fold your bed-sheets when you wake up;
I'll give you your first cup of tea with the newspaper.
I'll let you watch your favourite show and not even frown;
I'll fight those demons within your head and put you to peace.

I'll start where you left off;
I'll bug you with my wedded stories.
I'll show you the love I couldn't;
I'll try until I can make up for it.

I'll cry along when you miss dad;
I'll wipe your sleepy tears too.
I'll be the daughter you never had;
And I promise it will be my whole life through.

I won't watch my words crashing down on me.

"No I won't let go, until I know what we can be!? I won't watch my words crashing down on me."

I said this to the pages I left half-written a few months ago. I can't blame anything else but my procrastination that today has cost me those pages. Something that could have been so much more beautiful and real.

--------------------------

She approached me like many others did. I'd be perched outside the tea stall with a smoke and she'd walk around like a bambi doll. I hated her. But she didn't. I knew her love would cost me someday. And it did.

--------------------------

Tomorrow is her Birthday. You know, every year leaves me worried as hell, trying to make her birthday as special as possible. She is a drama queen. Everything for her has to be her fairytale. I am her fairytale.
But nonetheless, I failed.

--------------------------

Our silence around each other was our solitude.I'd never have to complete my sob stories to her, because she exactly knew what it would end as. And with not more than 2 sentences, I'd know the solution/advice she's wanting to give me. Such were we.

---------------------------

For years, we were the only perfect things that happened to each other. But then I got married.
And this left her devastated for a long time. But how was it my mistake? If only she'd told me I would have probably decided otherwise or may be waited a while. But she never told me clearly how much this meant to her. How much I meant to her.

-----------------------------

The funniest fights happen between us. Her mom always sought solace in me, with regards to her gone-case daughter. She knew, only I could deal with the apple-of-her-eye! I love that feeling.

-------------------------------


We are just perfect for each other. Only if she was a boy, we'd be married with the most adorable (read - imaginary) kids right now. She dreads the very thought of mothering a kid. A travel freak she thinks she is. But hell no, she hasn't travelled beyond Mulund ever.

--------------------------------

Her breakfast pangs always leave me terrified. I hate it when she cribs for food. Still, It's become my moral duty to feed her. And watch her smile with a snort.


******************************************************************************

Ishika shut the book after the last note left a blur in her eyes. She couldn't even hug Sharlet for this.

He didn't really know, why she left! -- The Long Goodbye.

Never saw her again.

It was the usual walk, from office to home. My favourite Leann Rimes track “Last thing on my mind” and a wierd kind of eagerness to reach the 'tunnel end' of my road.

This eagerness began since I met this adorable brother-sister duo; seated on a high-rise stone set, at the road-corner, he was pleating her hair. Watching them together, had become one of routine activities, which I was getting fond of. Reminded me of Ralph, my brother!

After almost a whole week of stand-n-stare, I decided to strike a conversation.
Starting off with introductions, we graduated to how-pretty-are your earrings to I-wish-I-had-hair-as-long-as-yours; I-am crazy-about -cocacola to I-hate-pigs-in-mud. Once, she even narrated an incident, of how her mother thrashed the life out of her, for saving his tiny ass. Apparently, he'd stolen a colourful stone for her. His mistake? He thought it would make her smile.

Each day I saw those two tiny tots revelling in their own world, and this made me miss my brother that much more. But never gathered the guts to make that call to him. How could I just tell him “I called because I miss you”? Rubbish. I’d never do that.

I tried catching up with them every time I found the time to. Excitingly, one evening we even gulped an entire cake at-one-go; on that very rock that he used to pleat her hair on. Passerbys always gave me the look, which generally had the word ‘disgust’ written all over. Because, maybe I looked a bit more civilized than they did. Maybe their clothes were soiled and tattered. So, I got them a pair of new clothes. Simple!
Not exactly new, but wearable ones. I wanted them to look nice. I was getting possessive of them.

Months had passed. And this was the best I could describe my routine. 

-----------------------------------------------------

Being a native from Mumbai, my trips were quite frequent. Pune-Mumbai-Pune.

I’d been on a week-long Diwali Holiday to Mumbai. As excited as I was to return home, so was I eager to return to the two of them with sweets and goodies.

I returned. Rushed to work in the morning (avoided stalking them at 10 am) had to maintain the sanctity of our usual time. Like a bewildered child, I rushed faster to that end of the tunnel road. They were missing. It was unusual. I enquired nearby. But no one knew. This, I did, for 4 days back-to-back.
Worried, I decided to ask for help (cops, husband, friends, whoever). Just then on the 5^th day, I spotted him on the same rock, but this time he was alone. Bald, tattered, angry, pelting stones at the pigs relaxing nearby. He had a plastic bag hung by his shoulder.
I called out to him and smiled. He didn’t.

I asked where she was. To this, he jumped down the rock, handed that bag to me and said, “Geli ti. Nahi yenar aata. Hey ghe tiche kapde. Gheun jaa.”  I think he wanted to cry, but had the man-ego of a 4 yr old.
She had left him, Bald and Alone.

They had left me.

It was a Marathi Book Launch. For me.

It's obvious for a writer (by profession or even otherwise) to be overwhelmed at a copy-writing book launch. Right?
Although the event was completely in Marathi, I managed to understand every word spoken. Because my Marathi is Masha-allah.

Ok, not deviating from what I actually intend to say;
That evening I was introduced to a writer, who all this while was just a 'Founder' for me! (The Founder of my agency) He began his career in copy-writing at the ripe age of 50. (And we thought career was age-oriented) Nannsence.

I mean, COME ON.........being the creator of a brand, based only on your ability to play around with 26 given alphabets of English; that's some credential.
If you ask me, that's probably the best earned compliment for a writer, now aged 73!

FYI:

Mr. Sharad Deshpande surrendered to words. And contrastingly manipulated them too!
What made his journey real, was the attempt of his sons, (Rutuparna and Rugwed Deshpande) to make a book out of it. And P.S. The first copy-writing book ever, in MARATHI.


It's really beyond me to express and explain how vividly I understood Marathi that evening. (Which generally is a problem) It's nothing less than a fairytale experience which came to an end, as soon as my Samsung friend disturbed me!

Point being......all my life, I kept my 'word doc' gyaan limited to not more than 500 words; Consciously, going by Sir David Ogilvy's quotes of "Who reads long-copy? Say it minimum words. Keep your thoughts as short as possible."

Arrey! But why should I? (I asked myself, post that book launch) Sharad Kaka did not. He just wrote. Because he loved to. Simple? And guess what (You, yes you!) His audience loved it. Still love it.

Then again, I snapped back (Am I being influenced by yet another writer)
And for the first time, the answer was No.

Now, 2 days post the event, here I am, Smiling at 'ME' 4 years ago. A new-born writer, who decided to keep it short, because some creative book somewhere said so.

Good Afternoon. Foolish Me.

Pehli Baarish ki Pehli Ride!

"Pehli baarish ki pehli Ride.

Pehli baarish ka pehla Slip.

Pehli baarish ka pehla Hug

Pehli baarish ki pehli Chai

Pehli baarish ka pehla Joke

Pehli baarish ka pehla Shor

Pehli baarish ki pehli Jhapki

Pehli baarish ka pehla Mochi

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Pehli baarish ki pehli Conversation

Pehli baarish ki pehli Click

Pehli baarish ki pehli Fight

Pehli baarish ka pehla Aasu

Pehli baarish ka pehla PJ

Pehli baarish ke woh anokhe doston ka Saath 

Pehli baarish main us ek dost ki Kami 

Pehli baarish ki woh pehli Ride!"