Miracles in the Wind

The amber sun is setting on me.
And the summer winds bring warmth.
I breathe.
As my wing bobs on the kind thermal.
Time stands still.
The past fades into oblivion.
And the future is now.
I breathe again.
My lungs are charmed.
They know this is not the usual.
And moist eyes.
They tell me.




Son, we call them Miracles in the Wind.

New Delhi, India

Those Hidden Jewels...

As I rummage through the countless photographs on my laptop - my weary eyes light up as they see some timeless expressions captured by my seeking companion. The pictures leave no room for the written word and rightly so. These little jewels do justice to the hours that I have put behind the camera. Because, the heart of photography is not as much in technique as it is in the humble intention of reducing life's beautiful moments into an immortal frame.


Children of the Mountains


The Discovery of Innocence


Dil Chahta Hai kabhi naa beetein chamkeeley din


The Anatomy of Dissent


Leg Glances on Sunday Afternoons


The Freedom of Imagination


Abstraction


Gandhigiri - Live


The Magic of 3


The Gateway of Expression


:D


Campus Flamboyance


Miracles in the Wind


Humanoids

Faith.

Hotal Relax International

India is fascinating. Not only for its diverse landscapes and the eclectic mix of cultures but also for its eccentric sense of humour.

In tribute : Pasted below are 10 photo-stamps of how we tweak English, Intellectual Property Rights and the rules of grammar to create some silly, some ridiculous and almost all ignorant, instances of PDI - Public Display of Indianness.

For me, I love this grammatically incorrect flavour of India. It gives me enough reason to spend a couple of hours in the hotel-crowded, people-infested streets of Pahargunj in New Delhi. And I come back to my room with a huge grin on my face. The grin stemming not so much from what I see but from the underlying humour that misses the eye.

1)

Tibetan Market, Nainital, Uttaranchal

And we thought it was Adidas all this while? I was so disappointed to know that the brand I long cherished, admired and flaunted was actually Adedas. The Tibetan Market in Nainital - pioneers in original imported goods were the ones who enlightened me two weeks back. Anyway, its not too late - Ribok and Nikke have not yet entered the market. Waiting for some competition in the high-performance sports goods sector...

2)

Streets of Vapi, Gujarat

Aptly abbreviated, BP met the eyes of three innocent young men on their way to an innocent young village named Sonwada near Vapi. The title demonstrates the surplus of creative talent in our country and that directors like Farah Khan can do better than call their movies "Om Shanti Om"

3)

Pahargunj, New Delhi

Imagine a bamboo hanging right in the middle of a bustling street. Its height - just about enough for you to scrape under it. Why the bamboo? Cuz Dal Fry is Rs. 8/- and Roti is Rs. 1/- only. Reason enough to paste a huge yellow banner on a shaky bamboo to create yet another Indian promotional delight.

4)

Bhimtal, Uttaranchal

This unique board was stationed outside the scenic Bhimtal lake. Sometimes good intentions can go awry. But nonetheless, my heart-felt (devoid of sarcasm) appreciation for the tourism board for initiating awareness. You left me with a message and a smile. For both, I am thankful.

5)

Pahargunj, New Delhi

Now, Pahargunj in New Delhi could make its way into the Guiness Book really soon. Since my hotel was in this locale, I had the opportunity to soak in the place. My hotel was in this lane named Ram Nagar (famous for everything Lord Ram wouldn't have associated himself with.) And in a lane of 300 metres, I hand-counted 40 salons (or saloons as they call them here.) Now they can't possibly be cutting hair off from anywhere besides the head - atleast me thinks. Nonetheless, these barber-shops had some hilarious names and taglines. Some offered massage service in your room and others like the one above were for both Ladis and Gents. And yes, they are not barber-shops... they are Beauty Saloons.

6)

Off Palika Bazaar, New Delhi

From Connaught Place, on your way to the New Delhi Metro Station - you will find *hold your breath* India's largest collection of desi porn magazines. A feast for the senses, this place is nothing short of a heritage site. You will find Amisha Patel pose in the double X rated - "Love Hua". Then there is the globally popular "Madhosh" and "Sabnam", both of which were selling like hot cakes. Unfortunately, these magazines did not offer pictures and were only erotic reads in Hindi. But probe the guy a little and he will show you his private collection of nude photo mags. And boy! - he had some collection... As you may have guessed, I spent a chunk of my time here when I visited Delhi.

7)

For the travel weary in Pahargunj, let me present to you, none other than Hotal Relax International. The tagline is the classic "We care for you". Look closely and you'd be able to appreciate the slick logo that makes this hotal truly international.

8)

I wonder how British tourists react to such nuances of the English language as is in the case on our left. Massorie, Jambu & Udaypur (Yo!) are must-visit places. Of course, if there are commuting problems then "Availabl on Haire are Latest Car & Coaches"

Ram Nagar, New Delhi

9)

Bhimtal Lake, Uttaranchal

"The public toilet is ahead. Please control till you reach your destination. Don't soil the road like a shameless fucker. This message is for both Ladis and Gents"

10)

Kala Ghoda, Mumbai

In the heart of upmarket South Bombay. In the artsy-fartsy surroundings of Kala Ghoda. In an ambience that respects the power of words and visuals - Why would you name your shop what you have? Why?

----------------The End---------------

Come and Get Lost

As my feet slipped on the morning forest dew, I bent to clear the assortment of forest witherings to make my way towards Ram Singh - my forest guide. An unattended brochure of a luxury forest resort met my eye. The leftover of a reckless tourist gave me the words I was looking for.

It's title read : Come and Get Lost - The Binsar Forest Retreat.

And that is what this cozy haven perched on top of Almora is all about. It brings to life Pico Iyer's words like never before :

We travel, intially, to lose ourselves;
and we travel, next, to find ourselves...
And we travel, in essence, to become
young fools again - to slow time down
and get taken in, and
fall in love once more...

Nestled in the heart of Kumaon hills is Binsar, a picturesque, sleepy hamlet only 30 kms off Almora, Uttaranchal. It is 120 kilometres from Kathgodam, the nearest rail route. Perched at an impressive altitude of 8,000 feet, it offers a majestic view of the snow covered Himalayan peaks - the mesmerizing ranges Chaukhamba, Trishul, Nanda Devi, Shivling and Panchchuli. From here, on a sunny day, you can have a glimpse of the holy shrines of Kedarnath, Badrinath and Gangotri. Binsar also happens to be a trekking paradise. One can trek in the salubrious air, amidst misty mountain tralls, towering oaks and rhododendrons. This sleepy hamlet amidst orchards, silver streams and green meadows, has unmatched beauty to offer.



For my trip,I opted for a taxi ride from Kathgodam to Binsar which cost me Rs. 750/- I was riding with my mother and the price worked out to Rs. 375/- per head. Taxi's normally don't go all the way to Binsar and most tourists take another ride from Almora to Binsar (30kms). The ride from Kathgodam to Almora (90 kms) is across the Kumaon hills with dense pine and deodhar forests to add to the delight which some scenic rivers that flow through the valley provide. Almora is a lovely town with a population of 40,000. Uttaranchal is dotted with places that have a connection with the mystic mythological stories of ancient India. The stories sound ridiculously surreal to the naked ear but the people here strongly believe in the existence of the tales. In any case, they are very imaginative and interesting to hear. It is unfortunate that tourism here does not get the attention it deserves because the place is truly beautiful. But the lack of development ensures that you break your head bargaining with taxiwallahs for every ride. My experience backed by some research tells me that I paid a just price for my ride.

The ride from Binsar to Almora is back-breaking to say the least. I thought of using 'bumpy' but realised I would be very biased to the place to call the ride only 'bumpy'. But the place does justice to the pain. At 8,025 feet is an isolated rest house that offers a remarkable view of over 300 kms. of the Himalayan mountain range. The rest house is a property of the Kumaon Mandal Vikas Nigam which has access to some of the best locations in Uttaranchal by virtue of it being a government body promoting tourism.

The price at Rs. 900/- per room is undeniably very good. The charm of the place is that they offer only three hours of solar-generated elecrticity per day from 6p.m. to 9p.m. The nights are candle-lit. Sunrises from the hotel are the most awaited. The darkness of the night breaks into the madenningly beautiful dawn. At dawn you can see the sun rays kissing the western face of the Himalayas to create a stunningingly picturesque moment. So much so that I am ashamed to use words to describe it. Each morning of my 3 day stay was unique.

On one particular morning, after it had rained the previous night, the clouds formed a carpet of white over the nearby villages to create an unreal scenery for all of us at the Tourist Rest House. For kilometres across the Kumaon Hills, the valleys were covered in a thick layer of white clouds. For hours - unmoved, sleepy and languid - these clouds revelled in the early morning sun. The image still creates magic as I write about it.




Lastly, Binsar is not a place to go with family for 3-4 days because it offers precious little for tourists on the move. But if you want to lose yourself to the rhythmic beauty of virgin nature. If you want to heal. If you want your soul to dance again. Come to this incredible little place in our country.



...And your soul will not stop dancing again

The 6,57,000 Hour Long Movie

Who does not enjoy going to the movies? Scrambling through Bombay Times at a random time on a random Tuesday to catch the latest offering is an experience missed by few. Be it your college gang, the promiscuous couple or the solo movie buff – each of these categories makes its way to the cinemas to celebrate the movies.

And as the hours inside the theatre tick by, an interpretation makes its way into the recesses of the mind. Ofcourse, this interpretation is supported by the very versatile F word. Ranging from “What a Fuckin’ good movie dude!” to “Fuck All” to “Fuck man, it was sooo lengthy”. And as the junta moves out of the theatre it creates a place for this movie in the archives of cinema history.

I also know of some 6 Billion people directing movies too. And it’s a mere 6,57,000 hours long or 75 years for the numerically challenged . The movie is unanimously titled “My Life” for each of these filmmakers.

It’s a fascinating idea this and it struck me as words poured out of Raju Hirani’s (Munnabhai fame) mouth. He opined that the seat of the editor is a most powerful one. The position allows the movie-maker to ensure that the movie is tailored to suit the director and the audiences’ taste. It also gives him the ability to delete irrelevant parts. Surely, its an amazing place to be.

The question that hit me was – What if we could edit our own lives? Of course the flipside and the irrelevance of the question was that editing is a post-production process or atleast a post filming process. Thus editing can only happen at the age of 75 when we are reciting tales to our grandkids using the powerful tool of selective memory.

The above paragraph may have been a futile exercise of the unemployed mind but I thought I'd hang onto that thought. And the question that followed was rather interesting. For obvious reasons the seat of the editor holds no value in our life. So the question is – How do we direct “My Life”?

The answer screamt out – Direct your movie without an Editor.


And that captured it all.



The Underlying Philosophy – We are on the sets of “My Life” all the time. The camera is rolling all the time. And there is no CUT. So, the challenge is – To shoot it in a way that is fulfilling as a scriptwriter, satisfying as a director and entertaining for the audience. Remember you have 6,57,000 hours. Unbelievably long or short depending on the script of your movie.

Remember :- The challenge is that you can’t ever edit it. You can’t ever change a frame once its shot. It could either be the most exciting movie making experience or one that you’d get tired shooting mid-way. If it’s the latter, spare a thought for your audience.

So make sure you’re directing the right script. Make sure the actors are ‘your’ best choices and that your soul sinks into every frame of your movie.

I want to ensure my movie is worthy of directing. I am searching for ‘my script’. I hope you’ve found yours.

Cheers,
Anuj Gosalia
Director
‘My Life’

On Travel

We travel, intially, to lose ourselves;
and we travel, next, to find ourselves...
And we travel, in essence, to become
young fools again - to slow time down
and get taken in, and
fall in love once more
- Pico Iyer

The Strange-r Connect...

6.15 p.m. : Mapusa Station, Goa, India

The Sun sets beyond an unassuming brown hill as Sam and I sit on the benches of this picturesque Goa station. Our eyes meet a firang backpacking couple's as they prepare for another 'Indian Railways' journey across our diverse lands. "Would you wish to sit?", we offer the lady some room on the bench. She gladly accepts it. I wasn't surprised (the backpack seemed heavy).

"What train are you taking?", "Where are you from?", "How was India?", "Ooo.. How's the weather like in Italy?", "What you saying, you don't like cricket?", "How can 10 men wait for the ball to come and do nothing till then?", "Varansi is mystic, don't you think so?", "What! You haven't been to Varanasi?", "Ain't India a religious country?", "Is India still elephants on road and snake charmers for westerners?"

What started as a simple act of chivalry ended up becoming one of the most beautiful human connections i've experienced so far. Fred and Joe, the lovely Italian couple, allowed me to marvel at the unpredictability of life and the realisation that there must always be room for such unusual, unexpected connections. The kind which make life not seem like a computer generated programme.

Because when you look back at life, you don't want to see a time-table that you followed rigorously. I don't intend to prophecise a vagabondish existence nor am I promoting randomness. What I wish to share is : that in my humdrum of daily existence I have lost so many Fred's and Joe's that, until I met them, I had come to a point of indifference to the strangers around me.And you may wonder why the need to be open to such random quirks of fate?

All associations - frivolous or intimate - begin with a mutual statement "We were strangers till we got to know each other." So you never know, there may be a beautiful person waiting to know you.

Again, It is a very personal choice and one that I strongly adhere to. One of "my" primary reasons of existence on planet earth is to travel new lands not through a Raj Tours & Travels but with my Lonely Traveller book, camera, backpack and compass. To meet new people not because its cool to chat up with foreigners but to genuinely exchange a part of my life for theirs. To part with some of what I am and what my country and my upbringing has made of me and take back some of theirs.

My travel ideas are primitive and it probably explains why I get this strange sense of comfort when i meet like-minded foreigners travelling in India. I feel responsible to fulfill their need to explore by showing them not what the guide book asks them to see but to help them connect with our country, our people, our joys, our sorrows. Its no good to travel as a tourist because what you come back home with is mere photographs of exotic locales, magnificent monuments and a heavy shopping bag. But the essence of travel is beyond these obvious. As Coelho says "Its in the cafe's and bars - the alleys and small homes - Its in the ordinary guy who you may be able to talk to and who shows you the oft unseen"

The essence of travel is in meeting the one stranger who makes the journey worth it. It is in this very strange-r connect that the heart of true travelling lies.

My India

My Dream

As I snuggle into my blanket warm,
I sense the magic come along;
The magic... of an India New,
Of domestic virtues and a worldly view;
My India transcends me into lofty dreams,
Of triumphant mountains and sunlit gleams;
Dreams of men who strive to lead,
Sowing global plants with an Indian seed;
And I see empowered women too,
Powerful in thoughts, words and the things they do;
Communal harmony, abolished casteism make their way,
Into my India, my India of another day;
Our culture too soaks in out heritage,
My India is akin to a bird out of cage;
My nation finds flight in prosperity,
What with economic freedom and eradicated poverty!;
India dances in colours as well,
Its vibrant diversity makes me swell
with pride; I sleep and nurture my land,
Holding its sanctity in a grain of sand;
Well Almost.


Almost till Mr. Reality dawns on Me,
Tells me "Son, dreams are never meant to be!";
I ask him, "Mr. Reality what makes you so convinced?";
He says, "Do not argue! - Take my heed";
Anguished, I tell him : "I seek the Truth!",
Aggravated, He says, "Go Ahead. I will follow suit";
So as I live another Indian day,
Mr. Reality lets his tongue wagger the Real Way;

The Indian Day, The Real Way

As I gently brush my pasted teeth,
I observe the toothbrush and its manufacturing feat;
"Son, by falling prey to multinational brands,
You aren't increasing domestic but their selfish demands";

Pondering over that nationalist thought,
I let the water run unstopped;
He said, "Water, like other resources, is flowing away,
You will sell diamonds to buy water, someday"

The train, as I get in, for college today,
Is crowded with men and sweat gone astray;
"Crippled infrastructure and population disorder,
Is the way of your Law & Order?";

My college meets me with a lecture free,
My dissent for the professor compounds my glee;
"The essence of education is the stimulation of the mind,
Alas! for the multitude who seek but do not find";

And as my friends and i engange in mindless banter for hours,
We spare little thought for a country that is Ours;
"The mother needs her children strong,
Mental strength, brute force and an attitude that tolerates no wrong";

Tolerates No Wrong in the judiciary
Tolerates No Wrong in the administration
Tolerates No Wrong in the name of liberalisation
Tolerates No Wrong in the name of conservatism
Tolerates No Wrong in the name of right
Tolerates No Wrong...

In the darkness of the night,
I see a beggar's plight;
"Poverty, my child, is not God's delight,
Together to uplift - We must strive, We must fight";

I looked at Mr. Reality in the eye,
And as he looked back, he heaved a gentle sigh;
Of concern, of despair and helplessness,
Of feeling disempowered, of feeling less;

He spoke of inflation, corruption and disparity too,
His voice now louder and it only grew;
Questioningly, as I retire after my day spent,
The last ounce of optimism I need to vent;

A Belief

Civilizations survive in their quest to become the ideal society. Over two thousand years my India has relentlessly strived to become its absolute self. It has stumbled, stuttered, scraped, fallen...risen to fall again but It never gave up. At this moment in time, heroes from the hallowed portals of our ancient past voice their wisdom - "Tread the path of excellence with a fearless mind. Live the noblest life for yourself and your India". Because when dreams meet vision and vision meets clarity, they form Belief. My India is no longer a dream, it is my Belief.

A Belief that rises to the occasion and exults : "Its time to fly..."

What's your New Year's Resolution?

The concept of a New Year, the celebration and all the hoopla has missed my probing mind for twenty years now. Apart from the alcohol and a pseudo school reunion that invites my attention every year, the higher purpose has deluded me - always. So today, from my exceedingly busy schedule of doing nothing I spare whatever time is required of me to understand the significance of a New Year.

The New Year for obvious reasons will make us write 2007 or 07 in our notebooks if and when we choose to go to college. Also the accounts sums will feature the new year in the form of "You are required to prepare a balance sheet as on 31st March 2007". Beyond these academic significances none have been important enough to draw my curiosity.

Anyway, I am pleased that I am now exploring the fundamentals of a New Year albeit a little philosophically.

A school friend of mine and i'd liberally take his name, a certain Mr. Mayav Movdawalla worked under the premise that what you do on the first day of the year more or less sums up the year for you. He would practice mathematics etc. rigorously on any such auspicious day. I did something similar. I got drunk.

Sorry to go a lil' off tangent but this is a very candid write. So logical sequence and other such inconsequential things will obviously be missing.

Coming to why Mayav practiced such unpopular practices was I believe to anchor his priorites in life. Anchoring or soaking deeply into the subconcious your innermost commitments is very essential. Because when you anchor or commit deeply enough, your subconcious does the hard work of remembering your priorites for you. Its akin to the subconcious action of shifting the car gear into neutral mode every time you take the driver's seat. Subconscious Reinforcement, i'd say. Aanh... and thus resolutions happen to be an integral part of a New Year celebration.

Hmmm... that puts forth the questions then :

A) Would I participate in the "What's your New Year's resolution" activity?
B) If yes, How should I go about?
C) Pehle haan to bol.

NO would have been my obvious reply and would also make for a lame end to this uber cool exercise. So, after donkeys' years I shall be a part of the "What's your New Year's Resolution?" Event. I would obviously choose to word "Resolution" differently because resolution as on Pg. 445 of the New Oxford English Dictionary means a promise to self, lasting for as many hours as the alcohol effect on the day of such an act of promise to self. (Often used in logic examples as If alcohol then resolution)

Now that question A) is answered we will look at the seemingly trivial "How should i go about it" question. I mean isn't it as easy as :-

Ladies and Gentlemen, on this special day, December the 31st, of the year 2007 which allows me to live like Bond (007) I, Mr. Anuj Jayant Gosalia, resolutely resolve to drink alcohol only socially and that I am inherently an introvert and that social gatherings along with alcohol shall henceforth be restricted to social gatherings which serve alcohol. I also on this sacred day resolve to resolutely resolve. And also to understand what resolve and resolutely mean in the New English Oxford Dictionary.

By around this time I should have received my first round of applause by my goodwill ambassadors. Thankyou.

So as seen from the aforesaid extract of my friend Mayav's very popular "How to take Effective Resolutions & Doing Other Unpopular Things" (Pg. 792) you can see that it is an easy task.

Damn. Lost ground again. Question B) and typical self-help answer beckons.

Going about what resolutions to take and how to go about them is a very personal issue. Typically the 4R's should work well namely Reflection, Realization, Resolution and Resurrection. I personally too wouldn't want to glamorize the exercise and wish to retain its sanctity. Because our year just like our life is in our control. Some moments, some cirumstances, some freak events do disturb the alignment but not our faith. Because life like history is a bad motorist. It will not warn us of the upcoming hairpin or an unnerving bump nor will it flash the "Express Way" banner. Year after year and moment after moment we are asked to make a choice. We don't need a special day to make special choices. But if our unspecial, ordinary lives walk that lil' extra on this day towards an extraordinary life, then this day is worth celebrating. I've always held that our values, our beliefs, our passions, our family, our work, our friendships and our integrity to all of these will determine the kind of life we will eventually lead. So today I raise a toast to Integrity. Integrity in thought. In words. And in action. Because many men come on the battle field with bold thoughts, some with words too. But the man who triumphs is the one who does what he thinks and at the age of seventy years and forty seven days speaks to his grandchild about it.

So to all, including me, who think and talk but little do. Lets turn the tables this year. Let all gas and no shit be restricted to gastro-intestinal disorders only.
And for all those who've read until here, may I ask you :

What's your New Year's Resolution ? ;)


Cheers,
Anuj Gosalia
Integrous

My Poem

There are poems that move you to tears,
And there are poems that address allying fears;
There are poems, intellectual and profound,
And there are poems that make the world go round;

And then, there is my poem...

My poem arrives with an exalted cry,
Promises celebration until I die;

My poem walks on its tiny feet,
I learn to drive before taking the seat;

My poem sees life in its purest form,
With joy in my heart and my heart full of song;

My poem revels in mischevous pranks,
Of childhood days and spontaneous cranks;

My poem talks about a man called Father,
Life without him is "no life" rather;

My poem tells me about a woman named Mother,
Her blessings and food - like no other;

My poem meets its adolescent life,
In all its glory and impulsive strife;

My poem soaks in the glee of its first crush,
The brashness, the risque and all that mush;

My poem raises a toast to the word - friendship,
How can i let those precious hands slip?

My poem celebrates the world of relationships,
Not money, not fame but the small joys from life's trip;

The small joys...

My poem encompasses the break of dawn
My poem sings the last song of dusk
My poem bathes in silver ponds
My poem drinks the nectar they call water
My poem relishes the chocolate mousse
My poem savours the roadside food
My poem dances to random notes
My poem sails the sunshine boat

My Poem...

My poem as of today is at an important juncture,
Will it tread the unconventional or the popular culture? ;

But then my poem steers its own course,
Tells me, thats how I shall meet my source;

My poem inculcates some values too,
Of discipline, hardwork and distractions few;

My poem rings in the old world charm,
Of chivalry, romance and everything warm;

And then my poem felicitates the perfection of man,
That if I want, I certainly Can;

My poem knows that there is that much time,
Why sulk, why crib, why mourn, why whine? ;

My poem finally expresses the power of love,
The force that makes dastard men rise above;

My poem ends with a noble thought,
In the end, men and grass will become nought;

So, my poem is a gift from God. Just like your poem and yours too.

Because my poem is not mere words on paper.

My poem is ME.

Anuj Gosalia

On the hows and whys of Himesh Reshammiya

India is a "hero-starved" nation. A nation that seeks heroism in all walks of life. History in the form of Ramayana, Mahabharata, the War of Independence are testimony. Our heritage is a reflection of our chain of thought. The present era is no different. From Sachin Tendulkar in cricket to SRK in the movies, India wants or I may dare to say needs to identify with a demi-god in human form. And this incessant need creates a market waiting to be tapped. Given this background, it is not surprising that mediocrity is often elevated to heroic proprtions to fit the need of this market by smart brand managers. Pull the right strings and you'd end up becoming the toast of this nation. One such man who's got his game spot-on is none other than Mr. Himesh Reshammiya. He works on a simple premise that India needs a rockstar. And he claims to have all the makings of one. Not a singer, not an actor but a rockstar. A rockstar minus the pseudo phirang antics of unkempt long hair and electric guitars. This man works and how.

The Big Idea : Presenting to you the One and Only Indian Rockstar - Himesh Reshammiya. A distinct brand identity that will strike a chord with the man in Sonwada village, Gujarat as well as the club-hoppers in Palk Street, Kolkatta.

As much as I despise his genre of music, I belong to a miniscule section of like-minded individuals. "HR's genre" of music itself speaks volumes about his penetration in the music industry.

The Real Picture: Close to one-third of India's population sways to "Aap ka Suroor" and his other anthems. So what works for the man?
Lets dig deep into one of the most fascinating case-studies in Brand Creation and Brand Building.

1. Brand mein dum hai kya ? :- Starting his career as a music director, Himesh got initially noticed for his upbeat numbers in 'Pyar Kiya to Darna Kya'. Himesh then did a series of Sallu flicks. The initial recognition gave him the much needed encouragement that a new brand requires in a fresh market. This was his testing gorund. He had succeeded in understanding his brand potential.

2. Starting mein full public mein nahin aane ka :- Himesh underplayed to a large extent in his initial years. HR as a brand was largely unrecognised. Premature entry of a product into an over-crowded market can be disastrous. Himesh waited for that one elusive hit film.

His official mass recognition as a music director came with Tere Naam. An album that found superior brand loyalty with rickshawallas, chaiwallas etc. The songs attained junta popularity. Remember the "Lagan Lagi's" in rickshaw rides across the city? Tere Naam ensured that he had a market for his music. Even then, the music was not Himesh. It was an old-school, Nadeem Shravan-ish genre of music. It was of importance that he offered something unique to the audience for longevity.

Understanding your product in terms of market offering is very essential. A Nestle Munch might be an excellent product but Kit-Kat will always have the upper hand in brand recall with regards to waferbiscuit chocolates. For a brand to become huge it has to be novel, one-of-a-kind.

3. Experimental Jhol-Jhal :- Aashiq Banaya Aapne took the nation by storm. Himesh lended his vocals to his song for the first time. It worked and how. To experiment with your talent is essential to attain the big break. He'd have never known that had he not tried.
Post the phenomenal success of "Aashiq Banaya Aapne" Himesh was quick to understand and realize that he had hit the right formula. Capturing what works and not making it a 'One-Off' worked in his favour. Post which he adhered to another simple philosophy : If it ain't broke, don't fix it !

4. Senses ko fultoo trap karne ka :- This was probably the moment when he realised that he had found his ticket to fame. Behind the mic made him unidentifiable. Rockstars aren't shy to expose themselves, their emotions. The true-blue rockstar is the macho man who can cry for his beloved without giving two hoots about what people think of him. This was his identity. A man that would pull the senti string of an emotional nation and mesmerize them.

5. Brand design jhakaas hona mangta :- Reshammiya has developed his trademark style of composition, based on pop music and catchy techno beats. He also places a particular emphasis on melodic hooks to his songs. Reshammiya has a unique fashion sense that makes him a recognizable face within and outside the Indian film industry. He wears a baseball cap and is usually seen wearing a pair of jeans with a conspicuous belt buckle along with his trademark stubble. The way he holds the mic with the bottom facing upwards and the trench coat that he wears in concerts and his videos are also consistent elements of his style. His packaging is flawless, distinct and consistent. Cadbury has been purple with white fonts ever since its inception and its taste has been more or less the same in years too. The same funda works for the man. Distinctive music, distinctive style.

6. Aage kya? :- The man is everywhere and his music videos have nearly saturated the market. The "In your face" approach worked in the initial stages of Himmy hysteria. Now a lot will depend on his next move. He realises that people are getting used to his monotony. But Himesh bhai has another ace up his sleeve. Three aces infact.

a) Aap ka Suroor - The Real Luv Story (The Moviee) : Yes our man explores new grounds in what seems to be a movie based on his love-life. See the use of the word "Luv" and "Moviee". As wannabe as they seem to the urban junta, it works with the masses. Time will tell. Don't be surprised if the movie breaks a few box-office records especially overseas where he has a loyal and an ever-increasing fan base.

b) HR School of Music - This one is a super-hit because a dearth of music schools is a genuine problem and also an unexplored market.

c) HR's signature line of clothes - A bold move in his effort to extend the Himesh Reshammiya brand. Quality and resemblance to his outfits will determine success. Pricing will also be decisive. The upmarket liberal spenders will avoid coming close to his line of clothes. The 'aam aadmi' will buy if it offers VFM.

This effort was to determine and rationalize how brands work and why certain brands gain far-reaching popularity. One cannot negate the luck factor and the man's hardwork and fierce ambition to succeed while analyzing him. But a lot of us work hard and are supremely ambitious. But there is only one SRK, one Sachin Tendulkar and one Himesh Reshammiya *I am saddened to put him in that league but am only getting used to it*. The difference is that their ambition is backed by keen insight and heightened awareness. To conclude his journey in the words of Robert Frost :

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

Mr. Nine

An English Gentleman named Mr. Nine,
Took, one eve, an Indian lady out to dine,
And he called a five course meal for two ;
The chef bought in the wine and cheese,
Waiter! she said, "Serve the rasmalai please",
Aghast, he looked at her in disdain.

As he sat, observing the seconds' hand,
Her etiquette mellowed his erotic gland,
Giving our man reasons enought to whine;
At that moment he saw Madame Emily Stitch,
Hard men call her the promiscuous bitch,
And so a Stitch in time saved Nine.

Warsaba : of A Timeless Love

I am brimming with nostalgia. My naked feet pave a pathway on an otherwise isolated canopy of untamed trees, shrubs and creepers. Smiling to myself, laughing loudly at times, I make the forest come alive. The wrinkles make miniscule waves on my tarred cheeks as I smile from within. The trees bend like teenage gossipers wanting to hear musings about random first-loves. Cackles of devilish laughter paralyze the bees in the midst of their nectar-nal activities. Against the white, blue currents of the river I sit on the forlorn rock. Gathering my breath I make my way to the adjacent entrance. It is a bright red gate. There are balloons and christmas-trees adorning the gate. The walls are done up in punky graffiti. Inspite of the solemness and sanctity attached to the place, it gives out another reason to live.One of the wall reads "So, how was the ride dude?". Another reads "Where's the party tonight?" and the huge, spray-painted sidewall screams : Bravo!. In a secluded corner, in metal,was engraved - Cemetery.

"Rohaan Carnegie", he cleared his throat as he introduced himself in his unwarm voice. A sense of deja vu ran through him as he took his name for the second time in 48 years. "Parinaz", "Parinaz Ahana". 'Mera Lucknow se aana', I giggled as I introduced myself.'

I recollect the shy diffidence in Rohaan's voice as I run my fingers through my hair, every strand of which stands testimony to timeless memories. My unkempt nails leave behind stains of life on my hair. Stains of meals shared, skin felt, and tears seeped.

"I am the caretaker of this cemetery. I have been working here over the past twenty five years, what can I do for you?", his tone as if he owned that grey mausoleum.Nothin much that you can do but give me company, I am the new sweeper", she said. "Rohaan Mia, humein in murdo ki sehad ka khayaal rakhne allah ne yahaan bulaaya hai", in an angelic voice which startled Rohaan. "If you are not aware, you will work under my instructions. You will report to me every morning", said Rohaan in a cold, unapologetic tone. She laughed, "Yahaan, jahaan allah taala khud humein unke instructions pe leke aate hai, wahaan aapki or meri kahaan chalegi, khair baaki aapki marzi... i've come here to make this seemingly boring place a lil' more exciting and colourful, tum saath doge humaara", in a voice that leaked raw energy. Rohaan for obvious reasons was shocked beyond words. In his colourless world surrounding the dead, he could not fathom a) this sudden outburst of sonorous sound, b) change.

Rohaan Carnegie had had a placid childhood. There hadn't been much movement in his life. His parents passed away when he was eight. His uncle took adequate care of him. He was served a meal once in a day and had to work for thirteen hours in his garage for five years. Beyond this, his life was a smooth sail. When Rohaan was twelve, he made his first enemy. His name was "Emotions". Rohaan never understood what made people laugh, what made them cry. He never reasoned. His reasoning had no answer. He would wake up in the morning, do his work in robotic monotony, come back home, have his meal and go off to bed, everyday.

"So will you give me company?", she asked seekingly. "Yes", he said sternly. "When we die, I will ensure that my tombstone is next to yours to give you company",
he added with venom. "Hum rukenge! Aap time pe aana", she added cheekily. Rohaan did not smile. He walked away.

Rohaan undertook his tenure as the caretaker of the cemetery when he was twenty-three. He's been dead ever since. Till he found another reason to live. The dark, depressing, detached life aligned with his very being. Men and women would come to bury the dead, day in and day out. Some would cry, some would howl, some would forgive, some would discuss. Some would talk about the will, some about the sex-life, some about nothing. Some would wonder why they came, some would get bored with rituals, some would pretend to be deeply affected, some would pray. He was interested in none of the some. For him men on earth were just there. There was no meaning to existence. "As time-bound mortals, we are born on this planet to kill time", was one of his famous quotes. He wanted to save time. Thus he took up a job at the cemetery. Life for him, was not white or grey. In a grey ambience, his life was Black.

"Good morning Rohaan! - ain't it amazing to feel alive at the cemetery", said she in her traditional giggle. "No. But its amazing to die here.", he replied curtly."Why have you come here Parinaz?", he asked discomfortedly. "Kya bataaein..."

(Monologue)*Pointing at herself* Her name is Parinaz Ahana - Born in Lucknow, 1964, she hailed from a family of "vaishyas" in old lucknow. Her childhood was filled with turmoil. In school, she was an outcast and had to give up on her education at the age of fourteen although she was a bright kid with relentless untapped energy. Post independence, her family was looked down upon by Independent Indians. What irony! Her mother at that time told her something simple, yet profound - "Society will mould you to their comfort. You have two options - Change to fit in OR be yourself and form your own society. A society of liberal, free-thinkers - beyond prejudices and conventional trappings : which will let you grow in the purest possible way". Thus at the tender age of fourteen, she did what most conventional parasites call "Rebellion". She ran away from home to St.Augustus Villa in Panchgani and spent thirty-five years of her life teaching, praying and living.

*Continuing*

I taught mathematics, dance and theatre to children. I also handled the administration of the church for the last fifteen years. Under Father Menezes, I realized my true potential as a human being. He helped me identify my strenghts and honed them. He inculcated timeless basics of hardwork, focus and discipline in me. But more importantly, I learnt the power of love - pure, platonic love.

During my stay with Father Menezes at St. Augustus Villa, I learnt some beautiful life lessons :In one of his letters to me he shared,

1. Life, my child, is one big celebration. In the time between our womb and tomb, we experience the greatest spectacle in the universe. Life. The best part is, a chunk
of the celebration is designed by us.

2. Our journey is evolutionary in nature. So unless we try really hard to retard our growth and state, we will move over events and circumstances in our life which seem
devastating at that point of time.

3. Paint your life with colour. "Grey will give you insight. But grey out of choice, is no delight." So paint the town red.

4. Give love for the joy of it. Forgive for the joy of it. Pray for the joy of it. Learn for the joy of it. Live for the joy of it.

5. Do not Ahana, you promise me, give up on your integrity and loyalty to people you love, care for and swear by - even if they compromise.

6. Do not, for the sake of the Lord, take life too seriously. When God created mankind, it was one helluva' joke. Laugh with Him.

7. And lastly, do not lose faith in God. Even if he wrongs you. Just laugh at the irony and continue to celebrate.

Arm yourself with these insights and you will have no looking back in life. Life's biggest regret is that we regret. All the Best Parinaz Ahana. Conquer the World.

Father Menezes,
St. Augustus Villa,
Pachgani - 32

After serving the church and the children for thirty-five years I finally ventured into the world. I took up various odds and ends to fill my stomach. I did not have anything that society asked an employee of. Insights, experience, joy and a smile. Won't work at most places.And thus after working for eight months at a bakery where I served bread and a smile, I took up the sweeper's job at the cemetary to understand why people cry out of sadness and not joy?

"Aaanh, you have an interesting story. It's the longest i've heard in forty-eight years", and he burst out laughing, ole' Rohaan."Parinaaaz darling! - where were you? I've been waiting for over four hours now. Idiot... and when you're sleeping by me? - It's been two years now that i met with that fateful accident. It's getting damn boring here. But I love enacting our introduction act everytime we meet... In that one year you changed my life Parinaz".

"This dusky, loud, over-enthu muslim girl gave you a new life, you fool! - you were boring, old and dead. In the one year before your death, you've lived a lifetime", I announced.

"I sure have angel ! - Father Menezes was right after all. Love Wins. Always.", laughed Rohaan. "Remember, how irritated i got when you put up balloons at the entrance of the cemetery. I couldn't for the life of it believe that I, Rohan Carnegie, was letting you do it. I was warming up to your smile, wishing that you come a little early everyday and so something ridiculously new at the cemetery", said Mr.Carnegie looking into my eyes.

"Hahahaha... you bet! - tum to pure heraaan hi ho gaye, and remember how i got caricature's made on coffins - you were soooo scandilized!", I rolled.

"I Love You Parinaz", came his sudden expression. I loved it that way..."I Love You too Mr. Cemetery Caretaker", teary-eyed I told him...

"Now go back into your dumb grave and eat the blue-berry cheese cake i got for you from Aunt Martha's place. Listen to good music and if it gets stuffy inside, come out for a breather. And take care of the new christmas trees, will you?"

Anyway, 'ts time for me to go - go spread the power of our love. It might seem like an abrupt, incomplete, exaggerated excerpt of my love story to some. But for
thosesome, this narration i do not mean to write. I write this for all the people who've had the priviledge and the power to love, lose and love again. This story is a celebration of the survival instinct of humankind. It is an ode to the one man I love. My Rohaan Carnegie a.k.a Cemetery Caretaker.

Tere pyaar ne humein pyaar karna sikhaaya,
Tum naa rahein to kya,
Un chann lamhon ki badaulat,
Humnein duniya ko phirse jeena sikhaya

Love,
Parizad Ahana,
1964 - Immortality




(Read : This one's for you darlin' : your strength i admire, weakness i overlook. God Bless You. Love you. - Somebody ;)

The bay before the bombs

BOMB-BAY

My Alcoholic Retreat

she eyes me at the bar, she fondels her raven mane,

the glint in her eye, drives me insanely insane;

her dusky skin & her uber seductive stance,

her sultry legs deserve another glance;

the trance, tequila & vinegar highs,

in this moment-our destiny lies;

moves i make, behind hers,

reciprocating wonders;

it's a blinding night,

succulent delight;

what beauty?,

dark,sooty;

ephemeral

impulsive

luscious

hedonist

sensuous

engaging

adorable

magnetic

attractive

in this surreal moment of truth i find my feet

alas! here's where i end my alcoholic retreat.

neO

Double click on the picture to enlarge it.

Click on the square at the bottom-right of the photo to retain enlarged image.

The Image is a graphical representation of Neo's journey through "The Matrix".

The Thought-Bubbles are relevant dialogues from the the movie that sum-up his state of mind at that point of time in the matrix.

1.The exercise is a celebration of the unlimited potential of the human mind.

2.It is also a reinforcement of my notion that each one of us has the capacity to become "The One" in our lifetimes if we believe strongly enough.

3.Beyond everything, it is an ode to the ability to break-free from the limitations imposed on us by society, peers and most importantly 'Ourselves'.






Cheers,
Anuj Gosalia a.k.a neO
Matrix Fan
Coldplay Fan
Peru Fan
Wannabe Writer too

Chronicles of Sonwada : Sunday

The Early Riser : Sam

Warm air mellowed their home. Sonwada was an early rising village like most villages in India. Sam - the wannabe villager got up early like most villagers in India. He welcomed the sanguine Sonwada air with his own air. Sonwada was now warmer. Early mornings in Sonwada inspired Sam to pen some poetry too, warm poetry :

Subah hoti hai, havaaon mein garam khushbu hoti hai,
Murga bolta hai, suraj ki komal kirne girti hai;
Lota beckon karta, usmein bhi ek alag mazaa hota hai,
Potty hoti hai, havaaoon mein phirse alag khushbu hoti hai

Sam embarked on his sojourn on the Road Less Travelled. With a jaunt in his step, he resembled a sloth on viagara. That was how he described his renewed vigour. Am and Damn blisfully slept. Damn fantasised playing football with kids and starting a Rural PR Agency for Sonwada. He would employ the kids in a unique form of child labour wherein he'd give lessons on football, guitar and "how to pull Sam's leg" as remuneration. Am in the meantime was dreaming about rural women: The "gaon ki goris", all in backless cholis and alluring waist-lines. He had thought of cladding up in a dhoti and a sleevless kurta. At 5 ft 10", Weighing 58 kgs, he had an envious physique. He even anticipated the gori's sayin "Anuj ni body to jo - ekdum Himesh jevi che."

Sam, at that moment, was treading the Road Less Travelled. The man was thinking about how Buddha attained enlightenment under the tree at Bodh Gaya and was hunting for his own place at Sonwada where he'd renounce his desires and lead a pious life. "Abstinence from guys and cows whom he ogled at in his teen-age days", is what Sam pledged for himself. Sam was nineteen. Sam often questioned things like - is there life after death? He promised to call from wherever and tell Am & Damn really soon. They were waiting.

7.30. a.m. - Sam returns to popular culture. Aam junta infested Sonwada Proper tell Sam - Koi Shaq, Whaaazzup!. Seeing Damn on the bed with "Arms Wide Open" turns Sam On. (Read: Damn is sleeping). Sam tries to cuddle Damn. At that very moment Damn is busy playing a football match with the kids in his dream. The ball passes the midfield and moves towards the undefended part of the field. Damn, at his tactical best, does a fantastic one-man act and goes for the Roberto Carlos 30-yarder to go 1 up in the first half. As the kids strengthen their defense, Damn takes a deep-breath and lets go. At terminal velocity, his legs move to hit the ball/s.Ouch.It's a goal!

Am & Damn finally get up to Sam's crooning of "I love you O Sayonee", the latest Himesh anthem. Ofcourse, Am and Sam ended up in a brutal fight wherein Sam was ummm..brutally beaten up. Am tried the pile-driver, tombstone and the rock bottom simultaneously on Sam. Sam was ummm.. brutally beaten up. Sam tried the two legs in the air kick (read: not flying kick). It was remarkable how me managed to stay in the air for 1/173rd of a second. A feat in human acrobatics. Ofcourse, he came crashing down and he was ummm.. brutally beaten up.

Meanwhile, Damn was tryin to teach the kids football. Ofcourse, the consequences weren't as grave as his dream cum reality episode. The kids learnt various skills on how to kick the ball with their foot and foot only. On how holding the ball in their hand would make it another form of football though there was really no foot involved. The kids learnt a lot. Damn taught them how to not mistake shperical portions of human anatomy for footballs. The kids learnt a lot.

The rest of the morning was dedicated to village sight-seeing and dropping into random homes. The villagers were a cohesive unit. It was as if the families were asked to live seperately to promote the concept of "My Home, is strictly My Home". The concept failed miserably. The city-dwellers were awestruck. They thought of promoting this culture in Bombay too. Sam suggested, "Wish we could enter random-homes too. Not random really. Since Mumbai is so big, we could zero upon homes occupied by the opposite sex between the age of 19 and 19." Sam was a focussed guy. For him, it was cows, men and cow-shaped women aged 19.
Am, Sam and Damn relished the elaichi flavoured milk for the 14th time (n is the 14th alphabet).

Am and Sam took photos of naked kids to show people the "Real India". It was a pity that city-dwellers looked at villages with a derogatory eye. Alas! if happiness was the purpose of life, they sure had achieved it. If one could smile involuntarily, live with heads held high, have nutritious food and find contentment in the moment - what else would you ask for?

Of course, the argument veers onto - A cocooned life, exposure to real world curtailed, limited opportunities, the need to break free, the need to connect, information-penetration, infrastructure - the works.

From the eyes of a management, systems & processes student - the village, for Am was at the threshold of growth and progress. But on a philosophical note: the village had gotten its basics right. Am further added, "They've set certain basic rituals for themselves which they thoroughly enjoy and relish. Their need for instant-gratification is very low because of their constant exposure to Nature's Law of Exponential Growth. The villagers sleep with a sense of serenity and quiet because they indulge in a lot of physical labour. Their belief in natural cure to various ailments makes them internally healthy and strong. Aversion to medication and practice of the age-old ayurvedic healing therapies ensure immunity to common diseases. The fresh, unadulterated air which Sonwada breathes in by default is another boon.

10.00 a.m. - Industrial Visit - Excel Process Pvt. Ltd.

Industry : Printing, embossing and affiliated

Company Profile : Manufacturing of metallic logos for electronic companies, banner and other outdoor publicity etc.

Purpose:- Study manufacturing and factory process. Factory labour-orientation, industry orientation, supply-chain and management practice (plus personal interpretation)

Am wondered how men from villages around Valsad worked for as many as 10 hours and all they did was punch holes in steel. They surpassed all conceivable levels of monotony and industriousness. Made him wonder how they'd define happiness and joy in their lives? The need for security it seemed was their driving force.

Their trip at Excel enlightened them on the many practical aspects attached to their beckoning management education. Interactions and conversations furthered their learnings. It was a holistic scan of the factory and its various manufacturing activities.

Sonwada Calling :-

Mohan Bhargaw a.k.a Damn

Post Lunch, the three returned fondly to a place called "home". A Bumpy chaggda ride took them to Sonwada. Damn was shot in various Swades-ish poses in the chaggda. Their eccentricity invited some serious glares. They continued. You guessed right. They had to.
That Sonwada afternoon was weird. Time was running out. The Attachment continued. Memories had to be created.

Tangents were drawn :-
1. Life on earth is short.
2. We have to die.
3. We still worry about it.
4. Funny.
5. We are neither here nor there.
6. Kyun?
7. Haso, Jeeyo, Khush raho, Muskuraon - Kya pata... Kal ho naa Ho
8. Profound.


Anyway, Am and Damn went on a cycling expedition on the Road Less Travelled. They tried to spot the famous tree at Bored-Gaya. They saw a cow somewhere in the distance. They saw a tree close to the cow. They knew they had found "The Tree".Kaachu Limbu and Sachin followed them on foot. Sachin was a monster for his age. The man and his machine (inset: Sachin with his bicycle)
Am tried to flaunt his expertise on the cycle. He was soon directed into a ditch by Sachin. Damn laughed. Obviously.Am was a massive show-off. He had a fetish for his physique. His biceps gave most women a complex. He was well-built.

Sam: He was resting at home. He was missing someone. Lost in thought, he reacted to a name uttered somewhere outside. He could hear it faintly. He knew it. It was that 'special' someone. He could now hear it right outside his home. He couldn't believe his ears. How could they miss " " too. Sam was very popular in Sonwada because he was closely related to the "special" someone. Infact, Sam had a fan following.
"Some people have all the luck," said Damn reacting to the women queing upto see Sam. "I'd prefer being unlucky", replied Am.Just by the way, that 'special' someone was - you guessed it right - *drumrolls* "Himesh Reshamiya".Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen you heard it right : HIMESH.

Scoop - Himesh happens to be Sam's first cousin. They share common tastes in music and other nose related hobbies like snorting, sneezing and nose-picking. Of course, Sam doesn't wear a cap. He is a wee-bit more image conscious.

Time flew. It happens when you're partying. holidaying, chlling with friends, on weekends, and generally when you're enjoying doing what you love. Life'd be much more shorter that way and also much more of a celebration if we only did what we truly love.

As the warm (natural warmth) evening air settled itself on Sonwada, it was time for these youngsters to pack their bags and head home to the hysteria of a bustling metropolis. Their motive was simple. To transcend the calmness of Sonwada into their relatively turbulent lives. Implementation, of course, was another ball game.

As they moved out of Sonwada, they captured their final moments on camera. The same women lined up on the verendah to bid them adieu. The same kids jumped with the same joy as they had expressed when they arrived.

And they realised that it was not momentary, fleeting, transient experiences of joy for them. It was something higher, deeper, sweeter. It was perennial. It was the pure joy of welcoming life and all its experiences with open arms and surrendering to it totally that gave them "Joy".

Sonwada felt alive as they left. And maybe, they too.

Disclaimer: All events in the above narration are definetly non-fictitious. Any resemblance to three youngsters alive or dead is purely intentional. The author is responsible for the above story. Apparently, the author of this chronicle has decided to holiday in Europe for 12 weeks or any amount of time till Sam regains composure and stability.

Snapshots of Khandala

Me & Miti (Filmy)

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

The Ace Photographer (read:Me) - My personal favourite - A Silhouetted Miti

1. The Garden --------------------2. The Poolside-------------- 3. & the Home




S.Cho and I (left) - Game of Cricket

Maiden Rain (right)