Meeting Gul Panag. More than a star and a Twitter sensation, a wonderful human being.

Okay so I usually have a lot of reasons to tell people when they ask why I stopped blogging giving Twitter the favoured position when it came to self-expression. One of the consistent answers has been how I get to talk to a Bollywood person like Gul Panag on this medium. But I don’t think I had myself completely understood the real deal that I so effortlessly went on talking about until I met the woman today. So what you read after this is an honest fan’s description of his larger than life experience and I will make no attempts to hide or rephrase any of it.

So first things first. Gul Panag is beautiful. Yes she has those cutest dimples and the fairest skin and the gorgeous smile and the lovely voice and a better than average height and the good sense to know what to wear and in what shade what matching etc. An extremely graceful form overall. You know how the world seems to stop when you see a woman you had some time or the other only dreamt of knowing or talking to? So it did for me for a split second. I had convinced myself that yeah no big deal ..we’ve been tweeting to each other for a while and I will be cool. But there’s always that moment when you say to yourself ‘Oh My God ..this is it ..for real I mean ..Wow’. So she walked in from the hotel lobby to the coffee shop where we (add my flatmate Nithin K D) were waiting. That’s when my feet must have frozen for a while. And only for a while I am glad. She does not carry that air of celebdom around her. Not one bit. At least I saw none. You find her with her sweetest best with everyone who comes her way. Her vivacious greeting floored me right there right then. One handshake and all the anxiety was taken care of. The warmth and the gentle charm with such simple delivery is all that’s needed to like her at first glimpse.

The kind of people I like the most are the ones who can be natural without really crusading for it. Gul Panag is one standard prototype here. The moment she opens her mouth to speak you know she knows what she is talking about. Okay so my routine view of most stars is pretty bleak. She however, says nothing that would make you judge her under that starry umbrella. She will take a regular Kingfisher while I settle for Corona. She will let the server decide what’s a good snack to go with the drinks. Letting everyone be just like she is. Her conversations are not about Bollywood. Not by choice. Because that’s not her true identity. She has a world of experience to share and talk endlessly about. When she talks you just know she has been around and speaks from seeing and receiving. I thought she had a remarkable sense of observation and her opinions were grounded while never losing the amusement factor any minute. Yes she makes you smile. And laugh. Just how many people see the funny side of things as well? Not too many. You and I know. The kind of positivity she exudes is plain infectious. You can sense some disappointment somewhere in the remotest corners of her statements, but you see that she’s moved on. She has that half-evil, half-devil side to her too. And she will assert it in the most confident matter-of-fact ways. We all know she is an achiever. She says she’s been lucky, but how many of us know she’s doing little about the part she’s been lucky with? She goes real deep unlike what I would mostly think of stars. She has her own sets of fears and concerns and things to get done and all that stuff. And you can see that she’s thinking. And she’s managing to keep herself sane all along. That makes her one of us. The aam junta, the mango people.

It is very true that I am inspired by meeting the woman herself today and getting to know her a little better a little closer. And I’m not easily inspired, perhaps because mostly I’m not looking for it. Some 90 minutes spent with her totally made me see her in a new light. And how she despite being where she is still has a normal stream of thought and similar common worries. There is no grey in her life. Or so I thought. She has separated her black from white. Diplomacy is not an option if she already has an opinion. She has chased the things she has wanted most in her life. And she’s got them. And the enabler has not been her Miss India title. It is also the desire to be yourself. She kept using this term a lot for others, but I think she’s the one who’s like really ‘sorted out’. Commands respect and it is ruthless to not give it to her.

I don’t look at her as a star star after the meeting. She shares a lot of traits with a lot of women I have met in life so far. But it is how she keeps these various aspects of her personality entwined together to form this strong thread of character that sets her apart. Yes may be she’s not perfect. But she has covered most levels of it. And the objectivism is apparent. You see it when you see the passion in her eyes and her face when she talks. And you know that the woman has got it. You thought Preity Zinta was perky? Wait till you decide to get yourself clicked with her. So full of life and so full of interesting facts and trivia to share, she takes your own enthusiasm to new levels. Believe you me.

I have taken my liberties to say all this here, because yes honestly I cannot claim to know her so well. But if this is how I feel about it, then I have every right to keep my wisdom of judgement after one meeting for a later reference.

I hope to see more of her. On Twitter if nothing else. And I wish her my best for the future.

I’m generally fascinated about meeting new people and consolidating my observations about the human kind. It’s good I hit upon a hitherto unexplored dimension to my analysis.

Wonderful meeting you Gul. You have a fan. And a friend.

The morning after

I slept soon after writing that depressing post last night and intimating Disha (who had sweetly asked me to not be an ass and continue blogging) about the addition. Negativism characteristically dispirits me. Couldn’t bear to push my few readers through the same too.

So probably after a huge sense of guilt, I woke up at 4 in the morning. Partly also because I felt something brushing against my right hand which I think was royally twirled over my head beyond the bed post and almost touching the floor. Sudden panic is so not good at that hour in the morning, worse when you’re sick and in much-desired deep sleep. The sudden jerky motion that brought the top half of my body ninety degrees closer to the bottom could partially be regarded to the rat infestation in our house for the last few days. As much as I find these creatures cute for all visual purposes, I have no love to rear and nurture and feed the pests. We (hereafter referring to me [@nitinsgr] and my flat mate Nithin K D [@nithinkd]) had managed to catch four of the family with about a quarter of a Parle G in the space of one night. I had no clue about KD’s awesome creativity when it came to murder (too). He lit a smoky fire in an unused earthen pot, kept the catch in the cage over it’s face, and covered it all with a cloth. Painlessly asphyxiated with a little carbon monoxide. There are about half a dozen more to be caught and executed in similar or smarter fashion. Will keep you posted.

So this friend calls up very early in the morning, having just returned from a Sufi music night, and a shade too moved to sleep. Few minutes into the conversation and I figured (or she confessed) that she was a little horny after the experience and needed some incitement. Okay. I like this new job. Though I remember I conveniently killed her desires talking about my running nose and phlegm and grey cough. Sorry about that girl. Some other time may be.

Also met @ambikajoshi after a gap of two years. She’s grown fabulously hotter and prettier, except for the fact that her getup makes no bones about her being a mixed South Indian. I think somewhere along the long conversation I mentioned her coming across as partly lesbian. And I still think she has the coolest parents ever.

Mamta, my cook has been barging in and out while I’ve been trying to write cribbing about their being no aata in the house for paranthas. She’s the most unsentimental woman I’m likely to meet. None of my jokes work on her. The sneers she would welcome me with in the morning continue till she steps out of the apartment. I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m a nasty human being and if not for the money I pay her, she would cut my spleen out with her swordish hands and gaze.

I’ve taken another off from work today. Dad seems pretty convinced that I couldn’t possibly get swine flu, and so far it’s just a change of weather according to him that’s hit me. I agree with him due to lack of options. I would anyway hate to die after a cardiac arrest (learnt this morning that’s how people with H1N1 are going).

I’ve good reasons to start looking for the next job, as I approach the end of my one year in the present one. Plus a colleague at work did me a psychic reading and claimed my karma in India is almost done with. I was terrified in the way she conducted this session and so I don’t quite believe too much in her foretelling.

We used to have a lot of pretty girls coming in to Mr. Raghu Rai (my next door neighbor, and yes the acclaimed photographer)’s house all the time. I think they did not appreciate me in my expensive Levi’s denim shorts and just that as every morning I lay chase for them in the corridor with tea in an even more expensive Borosil glass. No footfalls any more.

My foot fetish has taken a beating off late. With winter round the corner, I hope the girls will cover up and all that would be left to see and admire will be the bottoms. And whatever has happened to these amazingly hot girls in Delhi! I mean where’s the factory that’s producing them in such huge numbers anyway! In fact I remember a bunch of eleventh grade students from a school for the excessively rich had come visiting us at work for I don’t know what academic reasons; and the girls there! I mean I did not notice when I switched from talking about software and IT to telling one of the girls how pretty her brown streaks looked! There are just not enough men to match up to these growing numbers of desirable women. Sigh.

Okay. Blogging is not a pain after all. I can be interesting. Right? RIGHT?

In which I (re)discover I have a blog

Thursday seems to be a pretty irregular day to write a blog. But let’s not get into that, considering there’s been no wordfall here in the last couple of months. I calculated I’ve been writing consistently at intervals of 75 days. But there’s definitely one truth I would like to share with you – I’m most honest (with words or wisdom) when I’m sick. Have you figured the rest of this post shall be equally menacingly headless meaningless?

So I’m down with major flu right now. Took an off from work and it got so incredibly bland and difficult to not do anything that I’m here.

One thing I’ve been telling almost everyone I meet these days is that our jobs make us sad people. That, when I’m one of the very few workers who love what they do. I’ve changed since I started working. Tremendously. And it has cost me dearly on a personal level, while I’ve only grown happier on the material level. I used to be a most sensitive friend, boyfriend, son, brother, kin and all the rest. It has taken a definite beating. When I saw I could be a perfectionist on the work front, I let go of the obsessive desire to keep every part of the rest of my life in good shape. It sounds terrible as I write it and read it and hear it in my ears. But truth must be told. Even to self.

I stay in what could easily be the most peaceful location for a room in an apartment in this city. I’ve spent endless hours in my balcony that stretches to give a panoramic view of about 180 degrees of South Delhi, with beer in one hand and uncertainty that I’ve tended to clutch in the other. A decent number of women have come and admired the view and collectively the person who it belongs to now. I can recount almost no weekends when there’s not been a friend or two to drink with. I look at it as some sort of a calming influence after six mad days at work. My social circle has by all means expanded like crazy once I got into the job, but the time I spent with no body by my side has grown inversely to that number. I’ve met a lot of interesting people in the last few months, but few who I’ve come to really respect. Somehow finding faults with people has only gotten easier. And so has accepting them as they are. The manner in which I understood humanity has turned itself on its head. I remember I was a fairly closed person earlier. I hope some friends have known this. These days while my perspective has undergone a sea change, and by virtue of that I should be able to judge more wisely, I don’t. I let things happen. To me. If there’s a concept of living every day, I practice it now. I’m not averse to change of any kind. I assumed I can always go back to being what I was. Unfortunately, that time has never come. I’m only sinking deep into the shit of life and its ways.

As long as you were in college, it was pretty straightforward to not worry about the future. There was a set timeline when you knew things would happen on their own. Once out of that routine, time loses its significance. You know every day that you’re not inching closer to any deadline. The maximum you would do is remember how soon the year is coming to and end, or how long since the time you kissed a girl. Everything else ceases to exist. You don’t worry if you’re getting old. Or if your parents are. Because you were just thrown onto a mechanical belt that shall henceforth carry you through different stages of a process you will never figure. You are expected to obey and just do things, not worrying about what and where and when.

This is also the time when you derive a lot of useful information from things and people and events around you. Suddenly you will start to notice where your peers have reached on the ladder of life, and what struggles you must now do to keep up. The sheer magnitude of ways and means you could move ahead in life can drive you crazy. How many of us have been blessed with the vision to weigh and anticipate all options and choose the best?

Anyhow, the pills have worked on me undeniably. That’s the saddest I’ve been in like a long time! I shall write again soon. I promise. This time, I hope it’s not another 75 days.

Time for some adrak chai now.

Irresistible

Reproducing word for word an email I received this evening:

Dearest one,
I am a single girl searching for my soul mate, after reading a little about you whlie i was surfing the net, i became interested in you So please give me the chance to introduce myself to you.
My names are Rose Jasmine Awa i am 23 yrs old , i came from Liberia in Africa. I am the only daughter of Dr  Wilson Awa.  my late father was the director of ‘AWA INDUSTRIAL COMPANY LIMITED’ (AICL) before his death from the war going on in my country .It was on one early morning attack to my family killing both my parents on a cold blood as i am the only one left. i flew to a near by country Dakar Senegal where we are staying now as a refugee. I am doing my second year in nursing school before the incident occured.
Please kindly contact me with this my private email address so that i can send my pictures to you for further introductions. I will also want to know your likes and dislikes. I will tell you more about me in my next mail.
Awaiting to hear from you very soon, God bless you
yours faithfully,
Rose Jasmine.

Life in bullets

  • I had a draft from last weekend discarded today thanks to lost relevance as the week happened. It was an astonishingly depressing read. I’m happy things change pretty quickly.
  • I just had strawberries. For someone who is hippo lazy with eating, let alone buying fruits for his constant bi-dimensional self, this was a real treat.
  • I’ve literally been living off beer and eggs for the last couple of weeks now.
  • I’ve become very particular about reconnecting with old friends and making new ones lately. That front sees good progress.
  • I’m much more of a geek now.
  • My job is one of the most enjoyable things I’ve done in my conscious life. As it turns out, I’m surprisingly good at what I was hired for. Pray this lasts long.
  • I got my ID done the day before. I’m so glad that I can avoid those distasteful grins from the lady at the reception who it seems finds it thoroughly satisfying for a day’s work on the job to open the doors for me. I know I’m generally smiling all the time but for the first time ever I feel this capacity is being taken undue advantage of.
  • The official addressing phrase used for me in the office is ‘Sir’. Believe me, the recession hasn’t hit me.
  • Tequila is good for even the seasoned ones. And I narrowly missed seeing someone cry yet again after a Thank God it Is Friday drinking last evening.
  • Delhi 6 sucks. The drinking mentioned above was the natural effect of having hurt our feelings as we dragged through the monstrously disastrous storyline about raamleelas and kaale bandars and communalism and unmarried beautiful girls. High quality shit. Thanks to Sonam Kapoor’s well-aligned teeth and oh-so Simone Singh-y arms and the company of some very interesting people that I survived after a sleepless night the day before.
  • I’m excited to move in to my apartment. I think it happens the coming weekend. Primarily I’m fantasizing about keeping a stockpile of beer cans in the refrigerator and hence lots of crazy parties. Someone suggested a housewarming. If you’re in Delhi, sign up in the comments section.
  • I plan to keep a wish list. For all the bankers and consultants I have for friends and everyone else who loves me.
  • I need to apply for a credit card. If you know any pesky callers, please forward my number. I realize I should have not registered on the DND registry everywhere.
  • I’m tweeting since the last week @nitinsgr. If you are on Twitter, regardless of how interesting you are, kindly let me know how to find you. Facebook and this might actually kill my blog.
  • I’ve loosened up a little on my financial strings. On the outset, I hope to drive most of it down the kitchens of some fine places to eat around the city.
  • I’m looking forward to a lot of things/events this year. One of them being having more of my IIT friends joining me here in Delhi.
  • eM has a boyfriend now. Regular.
  • The bloggers I know have lost faith in writing.
  • I was told a guy from our batch from a different hostel is a father now and looking for a job. IITians are a funny bunch.
  • I need to salsa. Start by taking classes. Two things – partner and motivation.
  • ISD must get cheaper now. Some people last a month in what it costs me a minute.
  • New Friends Colony market is visited by some of the hottest (not pretty nor charming but plain hot) girls in Delhi.

It’s time to sleep.

Favorites from ‘Abstruse Goose’

2009

Happy New Year all.

Having said that, and to some of you personally on sms, I realized how terribly useless some of us find to wish each other on days like this. I myself have never been quite a wisher in the sense of it as such. I remember when I got my first cellphone when I went to college (DCE, before IIT happened and then life would never be the same again), the number that I kept for four-plus years, and that super classy Nokia 3310 that lives with Mom now. The phone made me real popular, thanks to that game of snakes that was such a fun reason to spend hours in my furnished room as I grappled with my JEE books, trying to look focused and force people into shameful exit. Back then receiving a call cost you 7 bucks a minute, and making one about 10 I think. The latter is still pretty much the same for the overwhelming majority of calls made from my phone, but anyway. In those days, 4-5 years I’m talking about basically, I used to send perhaps three of four smses, and that was all the happiness I could spread at the cost of my own on New Years for example. It’s unbelievable now how one recharge would last me a month easily. A missed call from home meant I must show up at the telephone at the guard desk. I wouldn’t pick Dad every day because it cost him his own money and left a sorely disappointed me after every *123#. The idea of instilling a sense of frugality as a consequence of such rationed actions, hasn’t unfortunately gone as planned. It has made some mentionable impact though. I marvel at my remarkable capacity to squeeze all that I want to say in the space of 160 characters provisioned per sms by our carriers. And by squeezing in I mean till the last drop. I’m not a happy person if an sms I send has space for few more characters and I can’t fit in anything sensible. It has been a lot of effort and practice with the girlfriend of two years, who I’m sure hasn’t noticed this penny-wise-ness yet. Never mind my dear. I hope we stay together long enough for you to completely realize how wickedly insane I could be.

So getting back to wishing people. Clearly these days most young people don’t make much sense of the act. Young on Orkut once, I used to walk around in a princely gait after I’d received 100-plus scraps on such occasions. It was nice to know that people cared, even if more than half had just remembered you because you happened to be on their list while they ventured to spread greetings serially. But it has all changed now. I made an exception this year. I tried to remember people I had not spoken to in the last six-months or year. At least one person was pleasantly surprised, while there were few ‘Thank you. Do I know you?’! I used to be this person once. I would just give, and expect no return. I don’t know when this changed. And I can’t say if the present liberal state of mind would stay.

Though I can confess I’ve been happier with life in general of late. I have been given/gifted a gorgeous Apple MacBook, the aluminum-cast one-piece object of a nerd’s desire. I got new blades for my razor, and suddenly day three after shaving has this sexy greenish stubble that has me drooling over myself. I have totaled Dad’s new car beyond 5000 kms. I watched Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi and Ghajini, both first day first shows, the first time in my life, and this being exactly the kind of thing(s) I say you must do with the one you love. Somehow being crazy together does bring two people really inseparably close. You can’t win with the mundaneness of life anyway, so some little cheer and fun and laughter with a special someone is all you ever ask for. G, the girlfriend so far in the post, has been with me this entire December (that must partially explain no posts in the last 31 days. I wasn’t thinking of anything else). Being with her, and some external influence in terms of ideas about where my life is going, and aging itself, made me realize how simple and materially uncomplicated I want my life to be. And I believe that is ultimately what we all ask for. It is rather unfortunate, and I really mean it, that most of my closest guy pals have been unlucky in love. So far that is to say. I know these guys will make some girls very lucky (however dumb that sounds), but it just hasn’t happened. They’re so ready to give and take love and get into relationships to take things ahead. Anyhow, I guess no one really gets it all. You gain some to lose some for a while.

I was also catching up with a friend from school after like six years. And one of the things she asked me after we had talked about the rest of the world and where all we and everyone we knew had been all this while for an hour, was if I still dressed the same as in school time! Something tells me I should have studied a little less in the 1990s, and looked a little more after myself. I knew most of the good girls, I mean pretty or intelligent or both or plain desperate, more than liked me. But they all just stopped shy of something. I think I now know how my seemingly lousy style of dressing up killed those sweet love stories that could have been.

One of the two wonderful things I have to look forward to this year is staying in Delhi at least for the next year, doing a job job. I’ll tell you more as things roll on.

My folks deserted me on yet another vacation to the North-East end of the year. Not that I regret not making the trip. I think at times I just miss spending more time with them. Me and my emotional baggage!

Anyway, I haven’t quite figured out how, if at all that is, I’d like to change things about my life this year. I began the year visiting a Sai Temple and later praying to Radha-Kishan, Sita-Ram, Ganeshji and Thakurji, something I’ve never done before. I did not ask to be made a better person. That kind of objectivity is too difficult for even the Gods to understand. I had specifics in mind this time. Perhaps this way it’s easier to work for changes. Perhaps I must stop here and not ward you all of for the whole of this year. Have a good one my friends.

Conversational gaffes

So basically, I must be a horrible talker..!

Kids

kids1

Sabeer’s crying at this Microsoft wisecrack!

“We’ve designed Hotmail storage to grow with you, but at a reasonable pace. That means you should have plenty of storage unless you suddenly want to store the planet Jupiter on Hotmail, in which case we’ll send you a nice e-mail asking you to please not try to store planets on Hotmail (although gradual storage of planets, moons, and asteroids is ok).”

Either way, I like the new Hotmail.