The Voice In My Head…

A Guest Blog Post by Times of India, Westside Plus’ Nita Deb.

What’s in my head, up and around, inside and outside it, is the heat. Searing through every living moment and encroaching on my soul.

Don’t know where you guys live but here in sunny (and that is not a compliment, not when you have so much of eek sunshine all year round) Mumbai, temperatures of 41 degrees centigrade , along with 90 plus levels of humidity, can just melt the cockles of any person’s heart, including also the muscles, sinew, fibre, fat-clogged arteries and blood-fed veins.

Today, I didn’t need to boil any water for my tea. Just put the kettle out on the window ledge, and it was whistling away merrily in a couple of minutes. What’s that? You think I jest? You just come here, you unbeliever, get your - uh, oh heck, this is Mel’s blog - okay, get your good self down to this city, and see for yourself. Parathas fry sizzling on cemented roads, and curries boil without fire in the potholes (of which there are many; constant roadworks are a source of constant amusement to me, what else to do men, when every road is duggen up (as my son would say)). And brackets within brackets are a direct result of me spending time in the sun while son - note spellings - uses every trick in the book to not come out of the pool. Smart kid.

Mel, how hot is it in the outback? Certainly not as hot as Mumbai is this year, right? By sheer coincidence I have been reading “Down Under” by Bill Bryson, bet you didn’t read it before you left, eh? Should have, you’d have known which places to go to (did you do the Tree Board Walk or swim in Shark Bay?) and which places to avoid (beginning, I guess, with Shark Bay). But hey, do what you must and then come back soon. We all miss you. And in this heat, that’s not such a happy situation….

It’s worst at this time of year, when school’s out, and the kids are in, demanding time and love or tv. Even if it gets to be too much for you, most of the day, you can’t even scream “Now go out and play before you drive me mad!” because it’s just too hot to be outside, and the angry glare of Surya, the Sun God, angry because presumably, somebody dared defy his authority and went outside to play, might just prove to be a little too much for the little ones. In the afternoon, I want a nap, a brief ten minutes when I can close my eyes and pray, for strength, for endurance against the heat, but most often, your naptime is when your kids will need you the most (do I see moms and shared-parenting dads all over the world nod in grim agreement?). In the evening, you want to get back, to cook dinner, but since it’s still fairly light outside, they won’t come, arguing that it’s still day and their playtime. Grrr. But you know, the funny thing is, sometimes I think I’ve reached break-even point, a sort of subtle pun there’s intended, when nothing can really tip my balance. It’s too hot to argue, to plead, even to get angry, and most times I just switch off for a good ten seconds, let my pressure valve gently release some steam, then smile brightly and ask, “ok, so who’s going to be first to finish dinner and get to the ice cream?” and stand back as they all beat a track back to the house.

Little by little, we get cleverer. We devise ways to keep the heat out. Luckily the wise marketers understand the needs of us moms, and bring in new films for us to see with our kids. Most, really, in my opinion are not suitable for kids; too much unnecessary violence resides in even the most common cartoon film, and silly innuendos and clever puns are more suited to the over-15 age group. However once in a while miracles do happen, and you chance upon a film that is not only clean and pure and washed in Pears soap, but also heartwarming, entertaining, and totally enjoyable, with kids age 2 to 99. I’m talking about “Mr Bean on Holiday”- warm, funny, perhaps the only movie around that was really a “wholesome family entertainer”. Fantastic. The husband, kid and I went last Sunday, armed with the largest tub of popcorn they had (humongous, but we still went and got refills during the interval) and happily crunch-crunched our way through it, of course choking occasionally as we tried to laugh and crunch at the same time, but since nobody died (neither in the film nor in real life) it was a most enjoyable evening. Watch it. With a few kids if you can gather them around (a funny movie is always funnier when you have kids rolling on the ground, holding stomachs and erupting with guffaws, all around you, or haven’t you done that before?). The film ends with the entire cast doing a sort of singing the classic La Mer, which has nothing whatsoever to do with Aishwarya’s ex-residence in Bandra, and there, I’ve gone and blown it, I almost made my mark as the only piece of writing that had no mention of the shaadi and then I had to go and spoil it all and mention this…aw, shoot.

I think it’s time to run away, far, far away, yes, to a cooler and greener place. Somewhere like Himachal Pradesh, where I can walk green pastures, amidst snow capped mountains, smell the strange and new scent (to us here in Mumbai) of fresh air, topped with the exhilarating fragrance of pines….Mel, I’m going, I can’t take any more of this heat, this crowd, this disorder. You come back fast and look after your blog, like you do always, with the enthu-for-life stamp that is inimitably, exuberantly you. I’m outta here.

Not sure I remember my high school science but isn’t F -32 /9 = c/5?
Which means 41 degrees {{ heck I can’t seem to find the degree symbol either on my Powerbook G4, can someone tell me how to get to it? }} is approximately equal to (gasp! was it this hot???) 105.8 F. Somebody please tell me my calculation was wrong or I will die from belated realisation of heatstroke…..

A Guest Blog Post by Pensive Lawyer. Click on Image below to visit the author’s blog.

Happened to read Anil Thakraney’s blog and the latest entry pertained to none other that, you guess it, the flavour of the month for Indians, a-la cricket.

It’s an interesting article where he compares the Indian Cricket team with the Corporate world where a “kick-arse, professional, unbiased, results-driven leader joins a large existing company”, where people are living on their “past glories” The new guy comes in and puts his plans into execution.

Sure enough, as is in every game of dirty back-door politics, the lazy no-good oldie refuses to wake up to reality, gets insecure about his position, anticipates changes (which are not in his favour) in the hierarchy and then proceeds to save his own – Anil Thakraney uses the term ” skin”, I prefer to use the term BALLS!

And there comes a good old fashioned stalemate where the new guy in faces a wall of opposition that calls him every conceivable name in the book starting with the term ‘ lacks people skills’. The new guy in is left reeling under shock. I mean, isn’t this supposed to be a company where people work together to improve the bottom line (of the COMPANY YOU IDIOT, not their own!)

End of the day, the new guy is left with no choice but to give up……His spirit is broken, friendships cultivated with the seemingly great leaders left in shreds. What else remains?

It kinda wakes you up to a certain reality where the world is out there to break your spirit and its you and only you who are responsible, truly alone, to stand up and fight for what you believe in. And in the end, all that matters is ash and dust.

Nobody remembers the reason the new guy was brought in the first place. It was to clean up the damn mess that eventually got the better of him! Nobody sees that the damn mess is right there. Its only become someone else’s problem now.

Which is why I agree with Anil Thakraney. Cricket is merely an extension of the corporate arena. In my opinion, the best punishment would be to NOT purchase the products endorsed by these guys. That’s right, let the Corporates feel a pinch. Let this move be publicized. And then watch the mazaa as all the big contracts are repudiated with a vengeance. After all, who wants to sponsor an idiot who is responsible for your declining sales right.

And after such revenge is taken, we must proceed to make kabbaddi our new national past time.

And for those of you who still insist on cricket,

Please note the following mach schedule of our Great Indian Team.

India’s Next Four matches:

April 15 : India vs D.P.S. R.K. Puram

April 18 : India vs Chinmaya Mission Girl’s School, Delhi

April 21 : India vs Lady Irwin College

April 25 : India vs Little Flower Primary School (1st std to 5th std),

at Nehru Ground Faridabad

Dravid: Its tough time for us. But we will do the Best… Our aim - Defeat the Little Flower Primary School, because lot of players are young and energetic…

A: I’ve been travelling.

“Yeah, yeah, we know that Melody, you keep harping about it”, you say.

But seriously, I’ve not just been holidaying, I’ve been travelling.

In the last 2.5 weeks, I’ve taken 4 flights (over 20 hours combined air-time), 1 long distance train, 2 long distance inter-state drives and countless internal modes of transport - car trips, shuttles, trams, taxis, buses, trains and yes, even the old fashioned walk-till-yer-drop walks.

Who knew holidaying could be so exhausting?

Truth be told though (not that I was lying earlier or anything, humph) I’m enjoying myself & having a blast. Everything about Australia - the weather (which has been really good to me), the people, the guys (because the ‘guys’ I’m referring to ought to be distinguished from ‘regular’ people ), the places, the everything - has been fabulous fun. I’m really so blessed.

However, like my post titled “Where I spent the evening“, I found myself in jail once again, this time in the land down under.

This was in addition to the fact that just a couple of days earlier, I was handcuffed by a (very sweet) cop.

Of course, this was all in jest (what you thought this pyt would get into actual trouble?!).

Jest of course though, like everything else, can cease to be funny (for some people at least) when taken to an extreme. I remember the aforementioned cop, with great enthu (after he had handcuffed me in a split second before I realised what was happening), asking the cameramen -

Shall I also pin her on the ground?

er… NO?????

Since I love you guys SOOO very much, posted pics of both incidents above - and yes, they’re “click to enlarge” ones too!

Hope you all are doing great & having fun!

A Guest Blog Post by Times of India, Westside Plus’ Nita Deb.

There’s a voice in my head and it’s not mine.

For seven and a half excruciating years now, I have had the whines, gurgles, groans, whys, wherefores and whatevers rattling off my ears almost every waking moment.

I don’t know how many of you are moms or dads, but hey, believe me, nothing ever prepares you for this. There are all these romanticised versions of cute babies in designer togs grinning fat, dimpled grins at loving parents. After seven and a half years of trying, I have come to the conclusion that this picture is not representative of the truth and never can be. For one, the mom is always smiling, has her make up on, and is well groomed. For seven and a half years, I have had very little time to brush my hair, let alone go for a much-needed haircut. For two, the baby is always quiet, smiling, and looks plump and wellfed. Mine never stops jabbering, and if I were to put it mildly, is “eatingly challenged”. He still considers the worst threat to be “go and clean up your room now or I will give you something to eat”.

Even as I write right now, he’s sitting there, his lunch sandwich forgotten, mimicking sounds of a traffic jam, perhaps at Byculla, and possibly with 3 different fm radio stations blaring from cars around, because he occasionally breaks into rj-type chatter or, as now, “my heart goes sha-la-la-la-la..” (where did he hear that?) and then it’s back to the shrieking gear changes and braking, and a (mild) hindi cuss word (now, where did he hear THAT??!!), which I promptly frown at. I mean all this is fine on the net, not in real life. I wonder, though, what you guys and gals out there think of the TRAI decision to monitor and license the net? This was one last refuge of peace and freedom left in the whole world. Why does the government have to put their two bits into this realm of ours? What does it mean for us? Will we have to go underground? Or further out into space?

I digress.

But the voice in my head always does. From the things I want to do, to the things I must do, to the things everybody expects me to do (and there’s a huge difference between two and three) there is always a struggle. Balancing them all is a tough one. Today’s paper, surprisingly, acknowledges this. They’ve carried a story talking about how housewives are the most stressed out people in the world, how they count their achievements based on the satisfaction of their family members. And go nuts in the process. Martyrs, all. Moi? Non, non. Whatever gave you that idea? I have my escape routes all planned.

A preferred diversion is to just say goodbye to the world about once a fortnight, and take in a morning show. Yes, with all the young couples bunking lectures and looking for some privacy, the OAPs with nothing better to do with their mornings. The first time I did it, I felt strange, walking into a theatre in bright sunlight, buying popcorn just after breakfast. But the kiddo was safely in school, the husband (presumably) at work, and hey, I needed a life sometimes, too! The movie was ok, but I left the theatre in a state of bliss, not having heard the little voice in my head for 2 straight hours….and went to pick him up from school reeking of corn, butter and salt.

The net is an alltime favourite escape. It’s accessible (thanks to MTNL broadband and my patiently-built-up-over-the-years relationship with Mr Yadav, himself, linesman superior in charge of my ilaka, who grins happily whenever I call and tell him my phone line is out of order, yet again, because he knows there will be some mild tinkering with wires, and a good baksheesh at the end of it) and you can do it from the safety of your home. Never mind if I have not had a haircut, and there are gargantuan traffic jams around me, I can connect immediately with some of the most intelligent, newage people in the world. It’s always possible to escape from my Alcatraz and dive into the pleasures of reading about other peoples’ more fulfilling, enriching lives.

A current hit is No Impact Man, a young man who lives in New York and has decided to spend a year making the least negative impact on the environment. He’s given up plastic, paper, conventional transport, composts his food scraps, and generally, gives us a lovely idea of what it really is like to live a “good” life. From his story you can gauge the huge impact we have on the environment - and the amount of garbage we generate every day. Check him out!

But of course, all these are friends for a day. There’s a voice I’ve been following faithfully for a long time now, a voice that’s full of spirit, brimming with enthusiasm for life, and goodness, a voice that speaks from a beautiful mind and a lovely soul. In case you haven’t already got it, I’m a great fan of Mel’s. I read her to live, vicariously, a happy, fulfilling life, and you know sometimes, I even read out bits to that other little voice in my head, and of course, he always has a bit to add of his own. Sigh. He’s at that age when he never listens, but always has a lot to say. Does that ever change?

A Guest Blog Post by Salt Water Blues. Click on Image below to visit the author’s blog.

My first time writing outside the Blues. Which is a good change, considering I’ve been writing (mostly nonsense) there for nearly four years now. And I thought about whether I should sound try and different here, but I know I couldn’t even if I wanted to.

My thanks first to Melody for asking me to do this. Write what’s topmost in your mind, she says. Well - I just got back from watching The Namesake. If you’ve read the book you’ll find the movie somewhat rushed, but I’d say Mira’s done a pretty good job of it. Still I’d suggest you read the book before seeing the film.

The Book The Film

And what does the book talk about ultimately? This journey we call Life. How every day is a gift … and how there are no accidents. And how whatever we do, however far we go or try to run away, we still end up in the same place … not necessarily physically, but just that feeling when you know you haven’t moved; that nothing has changed. And so to some this life may seem futile. Perhaps it is.

I guess it’s like someone once said — Sometimes the only thing you can do with life, is live it.

***

Okay enough of that. A little about me cuz I reckon most of Melody’s readers won’t know who I am. I am Goan, from a little island called Divar, a ferry-boat ride from Old Goa. And like most Goans I love my music … and yes my daaru Born in Nasik, lived in Bombay for a bit (Fort Area, which I still have fond memories of), finished my schooling in Bahrain, before coming back to India (Pune, that is) for college. Been here ever since, with a brief stint in Bombay last year.

I was there, in fact, in the big bad city last week for the Shakira concert. Now I ain’t no Shakira fan, but I have to say that for a puny little thing like her, she sure does have a helluva lot of energy.

Y’know, there is something about Bombay you just don’t find anywhere else. It is a city that makes you want to make that ‘journey’ matter … know what I’m saying? And the girls of course are awesome, that we all know

That’s it for now. Hopefully I’ll have something better for you next time. End with a song … this one for Mel. The great John Fogerty and Creedence Clearwater Revival.

A Guest Blog Post by Gaurav Mishra. Click on Image below to visit the author’s blog.

The voice in my head is telling me that it’s time to begin a new life.

As I move into a new role at work, in a new financial year, almost thirty months away from my thirtieth birthday, my thoughts turn to the questions I have often asked myself -

- What is the purpose of my life?
- What do I really want to do with it?
- What will I leave behind when I’m done?

As always, I don’t have answers to any of these questions. I don’t know the purpose of my life, or what I want to do with it, or what I’ll leave behind when I’m done. What I do know is that I haven’t done enough with my life, not nearly enough.

Sometimes, I think of a fat, ugly, awkward twelve year old boy I once knew. He studied in a Hindi-medium government school at one godforsaken end of Patna, read Chacha Choudhary comic books in Hindi, and struggled to put together one sensible sentence in English. He wore thick glasses in a cheap plastic frame, hand-me-down ill-fitting too-short shorts, and white-and-blue rubber slippers from Bata. He watched Chitrahaar on Doordarshan and third grade Hindi movies on a black and white TV with his parents. He sucked at sports, stammered when he spoke to girls and was bullied by his classmates for being the teachers’ pet. That totally pathetic boy was me.

If you had told me then that, fifteen years later, I’ll have the life I have today, I would have looked at you blankly. Because I couldn’t have understood your English, or comprehended the the world you were describing to me, or imagined how I would ever become the person you were telling me about. But I have become who I am, and, sometimes, I’m as bewildered by it as that boy would have been. Sometimes, I think that there’s enough in there for a book already, in my journey from that world to this. But, sometimes, I feel that I’m, in fact, standing in one place, staring at at hourglass that is my life, running out of time.

So, I have decided to do more with the time I do have and made a list of thirty things I want to do before I’m thirty. The interesting thing about my ‘30 by 30′ list is that every single thing on it looks impossible today. As impossible as being the man I am would have looked to the boy I was fifteen years ago. I’m putting the list up on my blog, on the ‘30 by 30′ page, and will post about my progress on a weekly basis. In the worst case, I’ll give up on the list in a few weeks. Even if don’t, I’ll probably be able to do less than ten things on the list by the time I’m thirty. But, if I do manage to do all thirty, what a story it will be! So, even though I know that the odds are impossible, I’m doing it anyway, because, never again in my life, will I be young enough, or foolish enough, to even try something so insane. And, maybe, as I try to find ways to do these thirty things, I’ll also find the answers I’m looking for, by trial and error.

So, finally, without further ado, in no particular order, here are the thirty things I want to do before I am thirty -

- Publish a novel.
- Publish a best-selling management book.
- Publish an anthology of my poems.
- Publish a travelogue.
- Write a movie screenplay.
- Write a weekly column for a national newspaper.
- Host a talk show on TV.
- Put up a play at Prithvi Theatre.
- Put up an exhibition of my photography.
- Make gauravonomics.com into Technorati Top 100 list.
- Start my own web startup.
- Start my consulting practice.
- Teach at an IIM as a guest lecturer.
- Buy a house on Worli Sea Face.
- Buy a second weekend house in the mountains.
- Have assets of more than a crore.
- Run the full marathon.
- Climb to the Everest Base Camp.
- Scuba dive in the Egyptian Red Sea.
- Take a river cruise down the Amazon.
- Take a month off to backpack through Europe.
- Take a month off to drive around North America.
- Travel to at least thirty countries I haven’t visited before.
- Live in Europe for at least three months.- Watch all the movies in the IMDb Top 250 Movies list.
- Read all the novels in the Time Magazine 100 Best English Novels list.
- Learn French and watch all of Francois Truffaut’s movies, without the subtitles.
- Learn Italian and watch all of Federico Fellini’s movies, without the subtitles.
- Learn Spanish and watch all of Pedro Almodovar’s movies, without the subtitles.
- Date Sushmita Sen.

Do bookmark my ‘30 by 30′ page and return to see how I’m doing.

Am not in the country (as most of you guys should know by now) and am not reading local newspapers, so though late, was naturally super thrilled to read this online article in the Mid-Day about my dearest friend Gaurav (he’s becoming a web millionaire one day, a little flattery at this stage won’t hurt)

Click the image above for the full article - it’s got some nice tips on how to customise your blog to earn money from it - or subscribe to G’s blog directly for more gyan on the same.

All that’s left for me is to say, Kudos G.

A Guest Blog Post by Shub. Click on Image below to visit the author’s blog.

Being asked to “guest blog” is like being invited to a potluck party with talented chefs and the hostess having hyped you up as the next best thing, when you’ve just been expertly making maggi noodles all your life. You fret and you fume, you wonder what on earth to take to the party that doesn’t require you to camp out in the kitchen for a coupla days, yet appears and tastes like you did?

Then there’s he added pressure of living up to the hype.

What if they don’t like my dish one bit? What if everyone else has brought in gourmet dishes that looks and tastes like it came out of Nigella’s kitchen? Never mind the fact that you’ll never really know how Nigella’s dishes taste, but hey she’s famous and looks gorgeous and makes her dishes look even better, so it must be good okay? What if everyone else is ooh-ing and aah-ing at everyone else’s creations and what if they go ‘yeeeowwww’ at mine? What if I forget to add salt? Worse, what if I add too much? Will I ever get invited to potlucks after this again? Will anyone ever come to my parties again?

Aaaaargh!

Thankfully, this blogging business is slightly less complicated than the cooking business. After all, it turns out you can start off a post called “Thoughts in my head” with absolutely none whatsoever and yet, at the end have a post, good or terrible typed out! You can’t do that with cooking can you? Start with no ingredients and recipes and yet have a dish? No sire! Besides, if the post turns out totally pathetic, no one knows what you really look like and where you live. (What, you really thought I reeeeally look like Calvin? Haa gotcha!)

And unlike a disastrous recipe, it doesn’t even screw with your tummy. Just your mind.

Pretty nifty, eh?

[Oh yes, I am a complete foodie hoping to open a restaurant some day!]