The quintessential mid life crisis

I cant be in denial any more. Some people saw it coming. It is time to announce it the world. So this is my moment of truth. And since this is deeply personal and this blog is my window to the milky way galaxy, let me reveal it here. I am due to turn 40 sometime this year. Oh dear! Oh dear! In the continuum of time, space and Amit Shah, ageing turned out to be a natural process. My innocence is truly lost. And like never before. (That last sentence is a total lie. There was a similar emotional crisis at the cusp of turning 20 and 30. And knowing humanity, it is likely to continue). By the way, I am still erotically enamored by Salma Hayek's snake dance! No coming out clean on that one. But this phase of life is also about a lot of things. Having great conversations with people holding divergent views, discovering spirituality alongside red wine, discussing books, Jagjit Singh gazals, developing an exercise regime, public spea...

Last week, an event took me back in time. Decades actually - when I was probably around 10 years or so (standard IV at best). Looking through those Sepia-tinted times, I remember the humble lives we led. Walking to schools, getting a ride on dad's cycle, playing cricket with plastic balls and makeshift bats, and watching Chitrahaar on portable B&W TVs - mostly at a friendly neighbour's house. For the uninitiated, Chitrahaar was a bouquet of songs that was telecast semi weekly on Wednesdays and Fridays. 6 songs over 30 minutes. This was also where impressionable minds would receive their first lessons in love (not used as a euphemism for birds and bees). Oh that feeling of excitement and mystery surrounding the subject. How could I not be baptised? Every time that the song "Aa ja aayi Bahar, dil hai bekarar" would show up on Chitrahaar, it would set my heart into motion. Let me justify. The song portrayed the yearnings of a princess, stepping into adulthoo...

This blog post almost got relegated to obscurity.  Considering the period of inactivity (since early 2015), I should actually reframe that - This blog post actually got relegated to obscurity. And it took a couple of colleagues from work to remind me that I should pull it out from there and update it. Now co-workers/colleagues following your blogs do not exactly give you the 'YAY' moment. You instead become contemplative -  Which post did they actually read?  What nonsense did I write there? Did they share with others - was it well intentioned (or "I alway knew this guy was hairy, pot-bellied, smelly, with yellow teeth. And his blogs prove he is a fuckin retard too.") So I gently nudged them on how they got hold of the link. The response left me somewhat startled. Apparently, my Skype profile lists out the name of this blog (which I would have proudly entered during the heights of stardom).  So let me get this clear. You click on my picture >...

Mitron   - Please delay your moral pangs. This time it is not Wikileaks. But a nondescript agency (Touch Weekly) yesterday has published a list of Lindsay Lohan’s ‘romantic conquests’. From the late Heath ledger to Colin Farell to Justin Timberlake, there were 26 high profile beneficiaries of her affection. Reactions... Me : How the hell did Arnab miss out? Swami : This is Congress' ploy to keep NaMo out of this elite list. Don't you all see the names that were scribbled out deliberately? Those were all NaMo on different occasions. I have proof and I will move the courts. There is an Italian connection! Kejriwal : Thankfully, I don't  not need to ‘clarify’ anything on this one. As it is, coughing and road shows take up most of my time. The remaining goes into servicing the WagonR. Siddhu : Thonko taali! Move on fellas. National pride is at stake. More stink needs to be raised. More blogs need to be posted. The T20 world cup is about...

Mitron!! Thanks to Kotak Mahindra, we now know that 6% is greater than 4%. We will next learn that Q comes after P. Now raise both your hands and say with me "Bharat Maata Ki...............Jai!" No No No No! LOUDER I say! Bharat Maata Ki? "Jaiiiiiiiiiiiii!" You don't get it. I command! LOUDER! Bharat Maata Ki? "Jaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" Now have some 'chai' and go vote for me. This is wicked fun... sic :) I understand I have been away from the "literary scene". I have been missing your love, affection and comments. Without getting into graphical details of how screwed life was, let me politely suggest that I was 'sorting' a few things out. But completely empathize if some of you filed a "gone missing" complaint. But a thank you note first. This accidental blog ...

These are deeply political times. Something untoward has happened and urban India is coming to terms with it. Somebody has promised to clean up the muck. Audacious! The repercussions are there to be felt. Everybody has an opinion. The jury is out; the views are divergent. If one was to use social media as a barometer (questionable), a vast majority is unimpressed. The dominant view is that the premise of a corruption free Govt. is as frivolous as the people promulgating it. The promise of 'freebies' like water and reduced electricity prices has been used as a bait to acquire votes. The referendum was a sham and only underlines their confused motives. The 'loose motion' on day one was a biological indication of nervousness, and the messages of austerity have fallen flat as soon as their chief protagonist consented to take up a 5 bedroom flat as his 'official residence'. They can't deliver and should be exposed. Hail NaMo! And then there is this growi...

Nothing much has caught my attention in recent times that is post worthy. The few lines below will hopefully keep this blog in refresh mode. While surfing channels on a leisurely evening in the living room, I came across that groovy song which I enjoy every time it plays on my iPod. Let me quickly take a moment to help you visualize the setting. There were four souls in the vicinity of the idiot box. Wifey was on her laptop (WFH), the little one was undecided if her drawing interested her more than watching TV as she lay stretched across the carpet, mom was on phone right in front of the TV and then there was me with the remote control. Shakira proclaimed her innocence by passionately appealing that her “Hips don’t lie” and to lend credence to her claim, started moving her posterior sideways. To build pressure, she would gyrate along the stage with shimmery stars on her bare back and further persuade the jury. With that naughty voice, hip Latino music, and the erogenous video, t...