My Notting Hill moment

My last post was going nowhere. It was erratic, incoherent and befuddled. I think I had not even read it before publishing  ( small mercies that push button publishing offers you); but in retrospect I think it was something I had to do. Something that I had to get out of my system so that I could live peacefully. Since, I still have not told the name of the person to anyone except for my ex-best friend, I carry a huge baggage. It’s not everyday that I have news of me dating a bigshot 

Let’s rewind to a month back.

In the tradition of TV news channel who are hell bent on recapitulating news breaking stories, let me tell all those readers who have tuned in to this post now.

Recap: I had a chance encounter with a very big name in Indian fashion scene. That encounter which started on virtual world transitioned to audio world ( read: phone) and I felt ecstatic to say the least. Here I am- someone who was ( still is ) afraid of getting old alone, who is surly and bad tempered because he doesn’t find people who are capable of  matching anything other than body stats—sitting and idling time since he has nothing better to do on weekends and he gets approached by someone who is not only rich, famous, young, good looking but most importantly intelligent.

How often does that happen? ( Twice in my case. I was ostensibly proffered by a Grasim Mr India who really got into me after a converation, but since I could never verify if he was the person he claimed to be, I made little fuss about it and moved on. May be I should post about it too)

I have already written in my last post that how this person messaged me, called me at odd hours and we really connected on phone.

 I had no doubt if he was the real one. He was the real one. I asked him a few question too from what I read from delhi times etc, and he was quite surprised that I tracked such info.

He told me about his business plans as to how he wanted to set up a fashion empire on the lines of western fashion houses and even asked me if I would like to work for him. I was completely taken away by his business proposal. No doubt this guy is going to make it big. He is a force to recon with in Indian fashion and according to media reports he also has good business acumen. It was too good an offer to be refused. I being my usual cynical self played it down focusing on the lesser more baser aspects of life.

Though, after that conversation I did all the research and envisaged myself doing something which I always secretly wanted to do. (People who might get carried away at this moment thinking of me as some fashion queen must be told that I had such weird career aspirations since I was a kid. I still want to be Foreign Service officer, a chef, a journalist, a published author, not to mention, being connected to glamorous industry was also on top of that list.)

But I was in for a shock.

Suddenly there were no messages, there were no calls. And he got completely inaccessible. He never picked his phone though all my messages got duly received.

To put it mildly, I was heartbroken. It was not just any other fling that I had. There are times when you feel there is something great destiny has in store for you and your moment will come. Being a complete cynic, I still have that six year old girl like streak in me who feels that everything is going to be alright at the end. We all feel special. We all feel—at least at some point in time, that life has not been fair to us, that we deserve better. We rationalize, we give examples other people who are far less talented or hardworking but who have made big in life; and we make a list of things that could have been better in our life. If only so…

Despite all this optimism, we chug along the dreary life hoping that our moment is coming. We will have our place on this earth; we will mean something to someone. We will not be just another number in billon other people.

I saw this encounter as my moment. This was my chance to redeem my lost pride which I had for myself.

But what all we wish for does not materialize too often.

It feels bad if one never gets that feeling that one is going to get one’s chance, one’s life changing moment, and one’s ticket to redeem one’s destiny.

But it’s far worse feeling when you realize that you had your chance, you had a life changing moment and your ticket to destiny was not for real. 

I have been having existential crisis sort of thing  for a long time now; but somehow I made peace with myself. Telling myself that life is too long, and I will have my moment when the right times come. But this incident left me questioning those beliefs again.

 What is it from life that I am seeking?There is nothing permanent in this world. Fame, money, power or beauty: These all entrapments.

 What if I have this person rolling at my feet in love, what will that accomplish?

 Why am I so disturbed?

 Why I felt cheated? He never said he loved me or I would be his new boy friend.

 What am I in this world for?

 Am I here for falling in love, making money, making love and then dying?

 I asked these questions again and again. I couldn’t eat, sleep or concentrate on work. I didn’t get any answers. I felt perhaps we make too much of these small incidents in life.

 This fellow—however rich, famous, intelligent he may be-- called a random guy and had fun chat for a brief period. I should have been smart enough to understand it. Though, it doesn’t happen very often in life. But it does happen.

 Big Deal??

 Khair, if you are still reading now, you must got an impression that I am over it.

 On a different note, I caught ‘Notting Hill’ a few nights back on cable. Even the die hard cynics of this world would not be failed to be charmed by this movie. Whatever is happening in the movie: It’s all unbelievable; and that perhaps makes it more believable. We want to believe in goodness of Julia Roeberts and charming goofiness of Hugh Grant. We believe in the movie by the end of the movie.

 “It was nice meeting you. Surreal but nice” Hugh Grant’s character tells Julia Roberts’s character after their first meeting.

 Immediately, I could see the parallel between the film and my story.

 I felt exactly the same. Surreal but nice.

 The bitterness that I had accumulated over the fortnight had dissipated. Not many people get the chance to even have their ‘surreal but nice’ moment. Life is too long, may be I will have many more such moments. And even if I don’t have those moments. I will have many other ways to make my life complete.

 It’s not end of my life.

 P.S. It turned out that my friend is globe trotting to meet buyers and stuff, which he explained me a few days back when he called, and was not able to return calls because he was either too busy or tired. So, all said and done, we are still in touch, though I have given up any hopes of leaving my well paying and secure job to join his fashion house.

 

 

 

 

Parent's Trap

Currently, I am halfway thru reading the book ‘Go Kiss the World’ by Subroto bagchi. In this book, Subroto bagchi chronicles his life from a small town in tribal Orrisa to setting up Wipro’s American business to becoming an entrepreneur while he was still in his forties.The book is divided in three section. The first section deals with his early childhood and education. I am  still on second section where he has delineated his professional life from a Management trainee to selling software. 

I picked the book because, like Subroto bagchi, I too come from a very small town. However, I still have long to go in my career before I can recount my tale saying how such and such things influenced me. Oddly enough, the reason for this post is different.  Mr. Bagchi recalls how his parents, brothers have influenced him and shaped up his values.

If I ask myself how much if my parent I see in me, I would say a little. But if you ask me a different question, how much of my parents I want to see of in me; the answer would be none. Not because I hate them, or dislike them but because they have never been close to any role model I could have envisaged while I grew up, or even now for that matter.

I have been told that every one has an image or an idea of a person who they like to be like, emulate or just follow in his/her footsteps. Every MBA aspirant is asked to prepare this question before an interview. I had done it too, but we will come to that later. By the way, the favorite and most clichéd ( at least I find it clichéd ) role model for Indian students is Dhiru Bhai Ambani. What psychologists tell us is that our choice of role model tells a lot about our personality, especially the values which are closest to our heart. For instance, if someone has Kiran Bedi as their role model, this would signify they value honesty, bravery above all. Dhiru Bhai Ambani would stand for ‘wealth creation, Narayan Murthi would stand for ‘ethicaly making money’ and so forth.

I didn’t know this whole theory of values being hidden or rather manifested in the choice of role model one chooses. Therefore, I had done my selection based on whatever little I knew of the world by then. I had decided that my choice had to be not just politically correct, but also a little different. Zara hatke, you know.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to think that hard and I chose a role model who was not very well known but she was different and really represented what I wanted to embody. My role model was Aruna Roy. When I got to know about the values theory, it struck a big chord with me because I immediately knew what value I admire most.

Sacrifice: that was what I admired most. ( I am using past tenses because this was all happening five years back. I may or may not hold the same opinion now)

Now, after a rather long detour, the way I keep making, this book again made me think. Will there be anything about my parents that I would have to tell when I start chronicling my life. Things on how my parents were so great, how they instilled many great values, or what my mother told me as a ten year old kid had stayed with me all the life. The truth might be a little different. I was sure about it five years back, and after becoming saner and more mature in these last five years, I can confidently say that there has been no life lesson that I had imbibed from my parents. Except, yes there is a small matter, because I always like to give credit where it’s due, let me add I am thankful that my parents never harbored any communal feelings towards other religions which has made me quite pro muslim and tolerant. But this is more like the medical ethic: “Do no harm". So, I don’t give them much credit.

In India, especially, there is a tendency to hero worship our parents. I don’t know whether this stems from lack of objectivity or simple fact. But more often, I find the former case a bit stronger. We all as human beings don’t always remain rational, and see things thru a tinted glass when it comes to our personal lives. This might be true in the reverse case as well, where some one like me becomes excessively belligerent instead of becoming fond of his/ her parents. The point is it's difficult to have a balanced objective view point of two people we are closest to.

I always disliked when other kids talked about their parent in reverence. I used to believe everything they said about their parents at face value and compared that to my parents. My parents had too many weaknesses. Weaknesses that they never made any effort to conceal or even temporarily hide. It was all too open. Every one knew about it. They even started rejoicing in it. It was not as if they were distant or I didn’t love them. It’s just that I could never revere them. Because all their faults, weaknesses, pain and foibles were too obvious to me. I couldn’t start pretending that everything was normal in my household. But it was very normal to live in an abnormal house because you never knew the other way, the way I wrote about it here.

It was tough to be different. But western world is full of such stories where we don’t have to deduce a person’s success/ intelligence from his pedigree. Steve Jobs is a great example of that. I just hope that someday I also get in a position to advise people to get off their baggage.

Schadenfreude and other tales

So, we were attacked by a virus, hounded by a trojan, sickened by a dull life and enlivened by...well, I can't think of any smart answer. I have been dying to post as soon as my google started working, but lost track of all things I wanted to post. No surprises if this post is going to be a little more than digressing, and personal rant about everything. And yes, I will throw in a quick reviews too in Taran Adarsh Style.

Schadenfreude: That's my current favorite german world. Btw, my all time favorite german word is Tchuss ( pronounced as Chus) for entirely different reasons, however I like this word in particular because it makes me feel good about sufferings of others, without making me feel like I am a bad person. Sounds untrue, yes I am quite there. Here is the theory. Everytime I look in the mirror, especially the big wall to wall mirrors installed in my gym I start cringing and curisng my cocktail of genes. I mean I definately once saw a glimpse of flat stomach when I sucked in the entire air of the building and everyone else was gasping for breath ( only figuratively ) to see my Abs. Anyone who has gone to a gym hoping to look like Eduardo Verastegui ( That name took a lot of thought rambi, bye bye Cena) in a week will be sorely disappointed with their results which never matches with speed with which people reject their calls when you want to depserately find a 'catch up' on weekend. Well, I felt so good that it's just not me. My prettier, sexier, richer and more importantly dumber 'acqunitences' face the same problem once in a while.

Wanted: Caught the movie after I read good reviews before it was taken off from the multiplexes, being in close proximity of "non-gentry" area of Delhi i.e. close to my home. And yea, ticket costs half of what you pay in those 'select' few ' roadshows' which is hallmark of delhi's swish crowd.


That aside, I like James McAvoy. I liked him immensely over anorexic, whiny, moronic, ever pouting Keira Knightly in Atonement. Now, enough has been said about Ms Jolie and her philanthropic acts but after watching wanted I am sure, it's never going to be enough.
I guess she is is the only person who does not have collagen infused lips, other than me ;)
A little digression, but has any body looked at the fad of thick lips. Has anyone seen what ghastly act Priya Chatwal has done to herself, her pout has become big like a pig's snout and the other day I caught Sameera reddy with facial palsy on one of silly dance reality program and for a few moment I could not understand why nothing is moving on her face except her eyeballs. Phew, botox overdose!! And less said about Koena Mitra's nose job, the better.

Khair, point is Jolie is super sexy and it means a lot if a 'guy' like me says so. And the movie, though silly, is good for it's wonderfully executed action sequences. Watch it for that alone, and for James McAvoy.And yes, I read Jolie's interview where she feels insecure about her looks. Oh, I totally know that feeling!

In which we get attcked and Come Out

Last week was very hectic of sorts. I had a charade of thing going on at the workplace where people were gathered and supposed to ideate at the new innovation station, in other words it was a week long training program where the only reason people showed some intermittent interest in the proceedings was when they wanted to win some brownie points in front of their Bosses. In our B-school days, we used to call it DCP, for the uninitiated it's short for Desperate Class Participation. I have never been known for my loquaciousness either at the B-school I went or the place I am working now, but I do make concessions especially if I am trying to seduce somebody with decent appreciation for english language with my Ally Mcbealesque blabbering- which incidentlly I used to find very cute but which also has backfired everytime without exception.

And my laptop has got infected with virus. I had heard so much about why not to download stuff from torrent sites and all, but never paid any heed. What is life without some bit of adventure thrown in?? ( yes, those of you who find my definition of adeventure a little lame, and are smirking right now. Let me just say you are right. I play safe). Now, this particular virus or trozan or some sortof thing was supposed to be kinda removed by running some remedial pogram. But I think any kind of historic ethnic cleansing be it nazi holocaust or serbian state sponsered massacre have been unsucessful-thank god for that; and closer home when I tried to kill these viruses happily marauding the efficiently running processes on my Core 2 duo processor I was pushing my fight against fate and historically correct statistics. You can crush them, thwart them, but you cannot wipe them off the face of your machine :(.

So, I gave up after a while when things stated to look like they were in order and I submitted to the idea that I could do without the blazing speed of my pentium processor. ( which has never been so fast but haven't I worked on P II? Yes, I have ). To cut a long story short, I can't open any google sites from my machine due to this virus. Be it my gmail, orkut, reader or BLOGSPOT. Of all the notorious sites in this world, this virus had to attack or block or some such thing, the Google. Seriously?? I mean my job depends on it. I can't breathe if I am not able to google any unknown/ unfamiliar hottie that you guys keep mentioning on your blogs. Besides, any B-school gradute will tell you that how google has saved her from a life time of misery where earlier one had to run through tons of books in the library where you were not even allowed to play footsie, to make a presentation, and now you have google where everything is just a click away.

Ok, enuff of google worship. But, some of you would surely wonder if google is not working how I am ranting in the usual fashion. Well, I just had to excavte an antique laptop that once belonged to my great grandfather and weighs a thousand kilos, gets extremely hot and subsequently shuts down if I am not in an AC room and use it. It's dead slow but I need my moment of catharisis.

Hmm, I feel so much better.

P.S.Did I just mention I came out to someone. That too thru this blog.

Filmsy facades

We often show more of something when we are hiding it.

This line set me thinking, made me realize what a facade my life has been. And the real problem here is that I don't know who is the real me.

• I smile profusely when I am nervous. I tend to think I look better this way.
• I give a guffaw in the middle of a serious conversation when I see somebody has fielded my volley better than I anticipated.
• I try to be very nice to people who have been nasty with me, hoping in vain that they will see their folly.
• I can use the choicest of abuses in front of my family but I can hardly cuss elsewhere. I can never understand why?
  
• I don't laugh a lot so that no one may think I am flamboyant or flimsy.
• I refrain from befriending good looking people to reassure myself I am not that bad looking.
• I act with all normalcy- no excessive eye, lip, eye brow, wrist movement- so that no one may think I am queer. I give a different meaning to 'Stiff'.
  

I know, most of these may sound like I am a definite mental case. But as they say, acknowledging the malady is the first step in treating it; and here I don't want to be treated.

This post doesn't make much sense!

I was writing a message to an old friend turned foe, turned friend, turned 'somewhere in between friend and foe' guy and I wrote a line which made me realize how ignorant we sometimes become to our own emotions.

I can never hurt a person deliberately except me.

This line may sound as if I think too highly of myself, or I am some psuedo saint who wants to wallow in his own glory but this is so true of I have been living my life. Actually, there is another way this line can be interpreated and which when I analysed, to my horror, was so true as well. ( I mostly leave myself while psychoanalyzing the whole world for their motivation, action, inspiration)

We all have our dark sides, negative sides where we feel good about something bad, something nasty happening to someone we don't like. How happy we become when we learn that the colleague we were not so fond of was not promoted as well, the girl who was topper in our graduation batch has not done so well. I think German's have a word for this feeling which has slipped my mind. I will add it

For want of suitable targets to project my envy/ frustration/ disappointment what I do is turn it on myself. Therefore, I hurt myself knowingly because either I am incapable of hurting anyone or I have nobody to hurt that I care for. Yes, I don't believe in hurting people just because the crossed my way, said something nasty about me, made fun of me or simply if they hate me.

Am I a masochistic moron??

In as much I want this to be false, it turns out to be true.
I have a big ego. I get hurt easily. I am too sensitive for the prevailing negativity around me. Then why can't give it back to the people???
Initially, I thought this was because I was too soft, too mellow and good hearted. In other words, GAY.
But, hey, most of gay guys I have come across are more than capable of hurting you like you have never been before. Why do I have to this self ingratiating person trying to be loved and like by all. I don't know if these two things are related I do see a connection.

I blame myself. ALWAYS.
Not others. Always trying to rationalize their behavior with something that I might have done to piss them off. I know there are not many. But this process, I tend to think enables me to identify my weaknesses and improve me as a person.

Improvement, but for whom and what??
why do i have to be get depressed every time somebody acts like an ass and I end up blaming myself.

Is it Friendship or Fiend-ship??

I am often asked this question. It embarrasses me to no end and yet each time the answer remains same. It's not as if I have deliberately done something to maintain the status quo. May be I have been plain lazy. And if somebody is wondering what that question is. Let me come straight ( ??) to the point.

Have I made any friend ( read: Gay) in Delhi?

This question looks awfully simple but no matter how many times I answer this- whether to myself or some random guy I picked on chat rooms- the answer doesn't change. Yes, I have no friends in delhi. Leave aside question of his/her being straight or gay.

I have often tried to figure out the reason why I am alone in such a fun loving boisterous city. Am I that anti- social, boring, boorish, stupid or simply put what is wrong with me ? It's not that I have not come across people. I have my profile on a few networking sites where I do get responses; and last year I was a chat-oholic. I have met a few of them in real as well. Good people. Educated, articulate and some of them pretty hot too. But why those seemingly nice, intelligent guys have never bothered to remain friends with me. In fact, I have asked this question to a few people I have met that how many gay friends they have been able to make. And most of them surprised me by telling me that they do have a few very nice friends, some even have gay best friends. How I wish if I had even a single friend.

Let me first tell you why I want a friend. I live alone in this city. I hardly get to interact much at my workplace because of nature of work. Therefore, weekends are my worst nightmares. I have nothing else to do on weekend except reading. I love going out, intelligent conversation, exploring the city its monuments, eating at new places, shopping and works. But most of you realize that these activities are half as fun if done alone- or at least I find it boring after a time. I would love to have a friend for all these, not to mention my trips to gay pubs and discussing who looks hotter on the street.

I have found an answer to this question as well. Now, I am not one of those guys who blame others for everything and anything that happens to them. I feel most of the things in our life are in our locus of control- barring a few, of course. This discovery has not been without it's share of pathos. I have concluded that I do not have gay friends because I am an average looking guy. Ok, let me add something there. I am an average looking person with not so average intellect. Now, I know how facile this sounds, but trust me I have given due consideration. How else will you explain that people who are ready to sleep with me, who can have long conversation with me on phone for the entire day before meeting me, suddenly realize that they are far too busy with their life. In the first case, in all modesty let me say that- some very hot men have found me to be 'hot' and I don't blame them for objectifying me. hehe. In some case, we have done it and I have expressed my desire to be in touch with them, doing the things that I mentioned in the beginning. However,even the best of these guys perhaps follow the one meeting policy.

There is another category, where people go gaga over me. Only on phone that is. When we talk. they will coo sweet nothings and everything will be 'suggested' to be on offer. Hardly, there has been a case when the deal was cut.

Contrary to what my luck has been, I have found that every good looking guy- no matter how dubs he is- will have at least a few friends, that too equally hot, if not more. I fully know that how this gay world functions on whole concept of beauty and looks but what really perturbs is the shallow hypocrisy these people put up. Why do they have to embellish an 'Indecent Proposal' in the garb of friendship. Why can't we behave a little mature and start differentiating between friendship, love, sex and sex of casual nature.

Disclaimer: Whatever I have written here has also been given another name : Delhi Gay Dating. There are high chances that if you are not from Delhi, you would not have experienced this. Equally possible it is that you are a Delhite and goodlooking. So, I know that you are not part of the tribe.

I NV U ALL

I have just come from gym, still drenched in sweat, AC running on full blast in this humid Delhi weather, TV running in front me, and I am trying to blog something very imporatant. Not that important perhaps. I know, I will have second thought if I put this for some other time, In fact, I am strating to have thoughts while I am typing this.

A rant against every one and no one.

I hate cribing , I hate rants, and I will hate myself for writing this all. Because, I like to believe I am this super strong, emotionally insulated guy who can put up with everything. And lest that facade once again takes over my senses, my life, I am gonna spill it all out.

As I mentioned this post is going to be about rants, I am going to to use the word envy.

I envy: people who have both parents alive and caring for them.
I hate: when these people don't realize what they have got and all the time rant against how their parents don't understand them.

I envy: when I call someone and find their phone line busy
I hate: when no one calls me. I don't get personal calls often ( there aren't many 'official' calls either but that's a different issue) most often when I have left my cellphone for hours somewhere, i reach for it in anticipation only to find in return that there has not been a single call

I envy: people who are carefree. who don't give a damn about any one. who are ready to leave jobs/ career/ family without much thought.
I hate: when I keep deliberating and deliberating..and most often miss the window of opportunity

I envy: people who can use foul language
I hate: when i get uncomfortable when somebody uses foul languages and I somehow show my displeasure despite my full efforts at trying to disguise my expression

I envy: people who can remain slim with all that garbage that they keep eating
I hate: when I can't fit into my old clothes

I envy: all good looking people who are so fortunate to have born that way. how does the 'karma' theory fit in here?? Was I a sinner in past life or I am getting uglier because of bad karma?
I hate: people who have insane amount of money to spend on their looks

I am No-Saint

how does it feel to be completely lonely. When you have nobody to speak to, no body to share the comfort, warmth that one has created so meticulously. Why it is all there? Why can I not have friends? Why can't I have a good laugh. It's so eerie when you realize you are paying your vegetable vendor because he talks a lot. You listen and waft in the sounds of his idle chatter. Is this why I worked so hard to get to where I am, so that I will have absolutely nobody.

What do you do to fight your blues??

It's so strange. You wake up one morning, after a late night, when you wanted to sleep peacefully and longed to have a sound sleep. But the sleep is anything but sound. Lack of proper sleep is not why I am writing this. Right now, the only thought that comes to my mind is-Do all bloggers blog because they don't have anybody to listen to, or They feel strongly about letting the world know what is happening in their lives.

The point is, I woke up this morning, after a bad night sleep, to find that my life is zero. Zero is not the word I am looking for here. because zero cant replace the word , shunya, in hindi, which means absolute nothingness, emptiness. I am not one of those who feel like this every morning, but it is now happening at an alarming frequency. Usually, I would try to appease myself by indulging in one passion or the other such as clothes, books, salon, shoes, accessories and other assorted items. But, as I mentioned, in my last post, most of these have lost their meaning to me. It doesn't give any kick or excitement.

I had to find new ways to amuse myself, so on Tuesday night I headed to Peg' n 'Pints, the mecca of Delhi gay society. It was an audacious step, at least by my standards, Going there, all alone, and try to hit on people. But, I was not there to hit on people. I just wanted to have a good time. A couple of guys did show interest in me, while dancing, but their attempts at undressing me on the dance floor completely put me off. I know, these are desperate time, but can't people get that sex is not the last thing defining one's existence. Over all, I had done well, considering how shy I am, I managed to go there, without getting lost and without looking a shoulder to hang on to. The high point of the evening was when a twenty something, turned to me at the bar, when I was trying to get my fix of diet coke, that I look 'cute'. Now this boy was barely out of his teens and had an air of puppy like innocence. I was gob smacked. This was the first time somebody had used a pick up line on me, and I knew that I am everything but cute. Anyways, I returned his compliments with a shy smile full of glee, asking him whether he really meant it. And the cute kid replied in affirmative. It felt so good to be seen by somebody's eyes and being appreciated.

The Night ended as I had expected it to. I knew I was not there for some casual encounter, as now I seek mental stimulation as well, which going by the reports-padma lakshami has stopped giving to Salman Rushdie and they have filed for divorce-coupled with the sensory 'stimulation'.
So I danced my heart out, rubbed shoulders with Suneet Verma, who looked quite polished quite unlike the Nikhi of Shantanu & Nikhil, and Shivraj Prasad-the oh so cute boy from NDTV. ( BTW, When I was growing up in a small town in north India, I always had the inkling that he has to be gay, was pleasantly surprised to see the correctness of my 'gaydar')

Earning the Laundry Stripes

Manreet sodhi's "earning the laundry stripes' can be described as 'unchhe dukan, pheeka pakwan' a hindi phrase literllay translted as "big cry. little wool". I was particularly disappointed with the book because it was my first book based on Indian Management schools and graduates. Though as an MBA aspirant we used to think that cracking the exam was the hardest part, but reality is very different as is described in this book.
This book as it chronicles the life of a management graduate 'Noor Bhalla', passing out from IIMC and then being the first woman to join the sales at HLL, much like the real life of its author, fails to strike the right notes.

There are many loopholes like why we never get to know about the Kalpana's MBA college when writer herself puts in very elaborately that in MBA hierarchy your status is judged by the college you are from. Apart from these small details, the most irritating thing I found about this book was its inane juxtaposing of serious issues with corny ones. Surely we don't need the details of the sex and stiffness of her male friends member in the same breath as Gujarat carnage. I think these new writers must learn a thing or two from Chetan Bhagat and why his '5 point something' was such a big hit. Answers are not that difficult to find and certainly not for an engineer and MBA ( at this point, I make it clear that I am an engineer and MBA myself). The subject, language and narrative of Chetan Bhagat's debut novel was very topical to the campus and the sensibilities of youth and it dared not to cross those limits. And here I thought Ms Sodhi knew a thing or two about target audience.

Only thing that remains back with you is her anecdotes from the corporate world which becomes little too cliched at times. And her description of rural India is condescending to say the least. Though at the end of the novel, author suddenly has this epiphany the she had a choice to make in her life and who she is today is a result of that. She makes no bones about making fun of people who eat, speak and pronounce differently than hers.

This book is too contrived and too cliched for any one who has ever been to a good B-School. B-School grads are not that clueless as Ms Sodhi paints us to be. And I hope that she bears this fact in her mind when she sets out to write her next book.

Ok, So I have been reading
a lot of blogs.
And this writing style is
courtesy Chrisann.
It's no plagiarism
I just feel this style
suits my disjointed writing style.

I mentioned about reading.
Reading mostly Gay blogs
about being gay in India.
Mostly when I am working,
or rather when I should be working.
I get excited
at other people's conquests.
The whole story as to how easy
it is to get sex in gay kingdom.
How they met,
how did they pick each other,
how they did it,
where they did it,
how they forgot about it moments later
and went their own way.

Not as I am leading a saint's life.
I do get my share of "encounters".
I am not much into dating scene.
May be I am afraid of bad dates,
may be of rejection,
may be of the fear of my date not turning up.

What is the other way of meeting
other interesting men?
Dates who are not only good in bed
but can hold a conversation too.

Speaking of which, It's a peculiar thing.
Gay people's aversion to date with
guys with less than adequate ability to
comprehend or speak Queen's language.
Isn't it hypocritical of us to
look down upon someone just
because he is not very fluent,
or has some regional accent?
As CT puts it, he can't stand
guys who are too vernacular for him.
We all claim that we are not judgmental,
but are we not judging the person solely
on the basis of his linguistic ability.
Will these same guys not flirt with
a hot Spaniard even if he does not
speak a single word of English.
And what is the thing with the accents?
Why people categorize you 'ghaati'
or with other such epithets just because
you don't have a fake accent.

I ,for one, started learning the language
when I was doing my graduation.
Before this, I was too 'vernacular',
but now i realize it hasn't made
an iota of difference to
my thought process, my outlook
and the way I react to people and situations.
I am the same person when I used to speak
my mother tongue.
I may understand that people have
set attributes that they seek in their date.
But why be so rigid about something trivial
like this?

Ok, now the rant is almost over.
So I met this cute guy for a coffee date.
Before this we had spoken little on phone.
He said one his prime interest is reading.
I was more than delighted on
having found someone who reads beyond
'Dan Brown' and 'Robin Cook'.
Well, my hopes were not completely misplaced,
he arrived on time,
needless to add I was late and nervous
at my second coffee date.
He didn't run away,
neither did he make any faces,
on seeing me.
I was relived.
May be I am not that bad,
May be he is different
than other Delhi 'punju' boys
who look at only at how 'buffed' you are,
in case they are bottom,
or how 'cute' you are,
if they happen to be bottom.

This guy turned out to be a bottom.
So all my efforts of going
to gym for past two months
didn't go unnoticed.
and He could speak.
In english.
(Ha ha , I am contradicting myself)
Cute boy works in HR,
I just can't understand
what is the connection between
gay guys and HR.
Why are they always found in 'soft' work such as 'HR'.
Anyways, the date did go off well.
we might sometime in future
for a movie or some other kind of 'hang out'
Unfortunately, No Hanky-Panky.
We both do not have 'Place'.