beingdesh

Author: beingdesh

  • Main meebo hoon…

    Eeeeee…it hurts. Its so strong, so bright, so yellow. And he closed the eyes. He tried again.

    Ufff…too much. I will wait.

    He was sitting, he had opened his eyes for the first time and found it difficult to just keep it like them. The sun was just too strong for him.

    He opened them again, it was beautiful, it was all green now, all that was yellow had turned into a deep orange hanging somewhere on top. He felt happy. He tried to stand, he fell. He couldn’t stand, his legs were just too weak. But he sat there, he felt comfortable in the greens around him. He was sitting next to two white long rods, on the other ends he saw some beautiful colors dancing around, blue, red, pink, black, lots of colors. A little later they all went away, and it started turning black, the beautiful orange amongst the blue was gone. He was scared and he closed his eyes again.

    He woke again, too tired, his throat was dry, he needed something, he tried to stand again and this time he stood, and stood there for sometime. He started moving away from the pole and he fell. He tried again and it worked this time. He was walking.

    He started walking, he saw a spray in the middle of the green, he went towards it, a bit of that went into his mouth. He felt good. He had more of it, and he felt even better. He felt he was ready to move. All this time he was missing something, he didn’t know what, but he was missing something for sure.

    There was a pool of that liquid created on the ground, and the sun was shining brightly on top of it. And he saw someone in it. He was scared, so he walked away, and so did the someone. He realized that it was him, he had seen himself for the first time, pale, four legs, weak, two ears which stood up, and slightly yellow as that light which he had first seen. But not that bright.

    He started walking towards the end of the grass, there were green trees on top he crossed a sort of a mound and heard a few screechy sounds…”bow, bow, eeeeeeee….” suddenly a similar voice burst out of him, maybe they were the ones he was looking for, they were the ones missing. He started running towards the sound. He saw two of them much larger than him being dragged into a wooden box, and there two more, exactly looking like him being dragged into a wooden box by two tall brown people. They were shouting, but they moved inside a blue big box which whizzed away on the clean grey roads.

    It all seemed grey, maybe he knew who they were, but maybe he will never know them, and he didn’t know who he was, all that he saw was grey in front of him and he felt a growing heat under his feet so he started walking. He found trees around him and on his left he found a path which was white he moved onto it.

    It was nice and cool there, there large white and cream colored structures on both his sides, and pavement which was fitted with white and brick red tiles, on the three way he took a right and walked. There were tow large buildings on both his sides and he saw green again in front of him, he jumped there again and he closed his eyes.

    ” Dekh dekh, waha amisha aur uska boyfriend hai, arre unhone dekh liya, bhaago”

    This noise woke him up, it was dark already and there bright lights all over him. The trees were hardly visible, he saw three guys running from there, and then he saw two people sitting on bench, one with long beautiful hair and the second, a tall guy. Both of them were very close.

    He thought he will walk so he started going ahead on the pavement and took a right, he thought he again came back on the greys, he was tired and weak again, so he slept.

    Thuck. He woke up.

    It was bright again and someone had thrown a yellow long something at him, it smelled good, he licked it, he felt a nice sensation in his mouth he saw lot of beautiful bright colored people walking around. On top they were black and light brown, below they were of multiple colors, as he had seen earlier on the greens. People with long hair, people with short, both distinctly different.

    He was still missing something.

    And then he started walking along with them, he was not scared, but all of sudden he thought were they the same people who had taken those who were similar along. As he was thinking someone threw things at him, he felt a pain and they started making loud sounds, he was scared. But then he felt something on his back. It was that thing which was missing, it was the touch of someone who cared.

    He looked at her, he felt amazing, she was so nice. He started walking with her, and kept walking. And then she picked him up and took him to a huge hall. It was huge and bright and there lot of brightly colored people. One of them in blue with shiny black hair came and sat next to her and asked “Who’s this?”. She told ” He’s nice na, think of a name”. The guy told “Meebo”.

    “Meebo!!!”. He smiled and felt happy, he knew what he had missed, he had seen all colors and smelled beautiful things and tasted some nice stuff, but he had missed the sense of being with someone who cared. And he had finally got it.

    He looked at both of them, they were looking in front now, and she gently patted her back. He finally knew who he was.

    “Main Meebo hoon…”

  • The SemiPali Adventure

    Mondays were always like this, f**king boring, although I am not allowed use the F word as I am still in class VIth, it brings out the haaawww from you. So we have a Maths test tomorrow, I don’t know what happened to my school and they kept this routine of a weekly test, Kendriya Vidyalaya is so good they have a unit test, need to study once a month, we need to do it four times a month, although thanks to Gregorian, we sometimes have it five times a month.

    Mr Sharma, we secretly call him DK and laugh behind his back, is different from the rest, just this year they started telling us that other than numbers you can also play with a,b,c in Maths, hey but this guy is new, maybe he doesn’t know Maths at all, otherwise confusing English with Maths is a mistake, atleast something which I would never do. He calls this new thing Algebra, sounds like a Arabic Zebra, but my friends say that if you do this you get very good marks later in boards, and anyway everyone says you have to be good in Maths, they are the only test copies my father is interested in seeing, luckily for me I end up scoring good marks in this.

    So I have a Maths test tomorrow, and I can’t get the hang of it, these f**king (a,b,c)’s, so let me roam around a bit. Maybe Kartik would be studying too, let me bug him, he studies a lot anyway all the time. Kartik lives on the last home of my row, in township we have rows of houses, we even have gali rivalry, people from our row cross into other rows mostly to play cricket, pitthul and kabbadi and racetrip as we don’t have enough boys of our age group here, all are people from Tiny Cottage, those red dress wearing, nose wiping, small looking kids.

    I shouted Kartik’s name standing at his house gate, it may not sound civilized but this is the way we do our things, and he comes out in his trademark wide-assed shorts and a baniyan. By the way Kartik quite wide-assed, literally i.e., people had that observation when he rides his cycle, both the cheeks spread out like a vada-pav. Infact most of our brain works during that time only, we think better when we are on our cycles, we talk about girls in different way nowadays too while riding the cycle, things are changing.

    “So, how is the preparation, bore laga raha hai”
    “Yes Pattu, but I still have lots of course pending”
    “Hmm…, lets roam around a bit, get fresh and come back, you and Sunny always talk about that place right, with a small river and a bridge nearby”
    “SemiPali?”
    “Oh haan, yes that one, lets go there ”
    “Now? You must be out of your mind its around 10kms, no point today, we can go tomorrow”
    “Na na, today chal yaar, this algebra anyway doesn’t make any sense”
    “Ok, let me get ready then”. So Kartik puts on his trousers, wears a rough looking checked shirt, I am wearing a trouser too with some T-shirt. Trousers are in nowadays, my cousins from cities talk about something called a jeans but we don’t like that much, trousers make you look older than your age, and also its much better than half pants, we are in sixth now, so we are anyway allowed to wear trousers, it feels great, also with so many hirsute male legs around, it is a welcome move.

    So we pick up Sunny from his home and progress on our cycles to SemiPali, Sunny by the way is another of my classmate, I don’t interact with him much but Kartik so transitive ways I too, he is a good footballer and is creating a buzz on the township cricket scene too nowadays. SemiPali is a small village next to JamniPali, our township is located in village Jamnipali although it can be noway called a village with beautiful gardens, club, great homes, shopping centres and clubs around.

    Sunny talks about Semipali on the way, about how Kartik and he has been to the area before, how they found out that place, how one of his chachaji sat on a grave and had a cigarette.

    “Grave!!!”

    Yes he said, he told the river had a graveyard nearby, which was rumoured to be extremely old, and its closed now that means no more new burials there, but for me it came as surprise, recently they started Zee Horror show on television which I find very scary and anyway I am very afraid of ghosts and spirits and similar stories. The first episode was killer with the head of Archana Puran Singh served on a plate by a butler, although Butler reminds me of the sweet Butler from Ducktales, wonder what his name is though?

    We ride on this kaccha road outside our township, all Chattisgarh roads are kaccha mostly, and you just have to get out of the township to ride on any of them. As we continue on the road, we find a theatre on the way.

    “Hey, have been here saw Jurrasic Park here, what is it playing now”

    Some dirty stuff, people say its known as Porn or something, its not good for kids and newspapers and posters advertise it as above 18 stuff, I don’t know how being 18 qualifies you to see a movie, although the poster here doesn’t have any good hero-heroine also, who will watch it anyway. Also it seems Jurrasic Park is the only under 18 movie ever played in this theatre, because that’s the only one I saw here with Meenal (chronologically my oldest friend, about her sometime later).

    As we start moving ahead the small shops and business owners give way to lush wide paddy fields (quite a common thing in Chattisgarh) and half chopped teak woods in the way. This area is mostly red-soiled, you can conclude that in two ways- the ghadas made here are Red in Color and during Autumns when the leaves dry and shed off, they all get a reddish tinge on them from dust. They look simply amazing, even the Trees turn Red. Certainly not RedWood though, read in Britannica that they are found in USA. Right now though my Hercules MTB is getting a Red Tinge, lucky Kartik and Sunny, they have a Red Bike.

    As we moved ahead all three of us were pretty excited, both of them talked about the beauty of the place, while I was wondering how I could have missed this place. The road was sparsely populated, just a few cycles once in a while and even a tractor once. The slightly tiring long legs on the BiCycle keep moving though, crawling towards the destination.

    On the way you see small children playing, women moving around with Water in Brass Pots and men sitting and chatting, its almost 5:00 PM and everyone is back from fields. One thing about Chattisgarhi Women though, their skin is has this amazing shine, it shines as though tonnes of Coconut Oil has been poured on it, and when they carry the Brass Pots on their heads, the sheen and the contrast makes the whole imagery brilliant. That Dark Shining Skin reflects confidence and their hardworking character, which I find missing in people from township. I was seeing this movie Shaukeen the other day where even Utpal Dutt was appreciative of Chattisgarhi women, but in a not so goody way. Generally he is good but that time he wasn’t, he was a bit dirty.

    “Aha, so here we are”

    “Pahuch gaye” shouted Kartik while getting off from his Bike in a superb fashion which was possible for only Kartik to do. Jumping off and continue running, it was funny but took a lot of practice. He also had many other tricks up his sleeves on a bicycle of which I had tried at least half, and almost all of them had resulted in a fall, and Dettol being pured over me.

    It was beautiful. It was like well, lets see, a bridge, a leftward turn down a dusty lane, a small river, making the nice kal-kal sound. Smell of wet mud, aha, now thats something.

    “And, there is the kabristan” shouted Sunny. How the hell does one see that in between the scenic beauty. Anyway we rolled our cycle down the lane next to the bridge, took it to the river and gave it wash. It was shining, the sun was about to set and there was a beautiful orange light all around us, the cycles were shining too, although the shine was nothing compared to the skin of those beautiful Chattisgarhi women.

    And it was all so nice, we sat there, and it was all so nice, before…

    He was a silhouette, a sort of a shadow, a lean figure, short in height, he just kept walking, he came from the side of the kabristan. I don’t know what the others were thinking, I thought he was a ghost, a spirit, or something on those lines. He limped slightly, and then he came near Sunny’s cycle, a mid-heighted reddish bike, picked it up and kept walking. He didn’t utter a word, we shouted chased him, but we were so scared, we couldn’t do a thing, it was so weird.

    And he went away, and I sat there, scared and stunned, and suddenly I realised that Kartik and Sunny were running behind him and they were gone.How the hell did they have the guts to chase him. I felt slightly ashamed, or maybe weird that I didn’t support them. All I could manage to do, is cry.

    Yes, I cried!

    And I picked up my bicycle and started going back towards the township, the roads were empty and dark, there was hardly any street lighting on the way back. I felt ashamed that maybe I just left my friends on their own, or I felt that I cheated them, or I was just lost.

    Yes, I was lost!

    I was just going back, I found a drunk fellow on the way back, and there were no Chattisgarhi women with that awesome shining skin. I was crying and cycling back, running away from my first slightly super-natural adventure.

    It was an hour and then I saw light, ya, Mohan talkies was here and I had reached the edge of the township and once I entered I cycled back to my home.

    I had reached, somehow!

    I just ran to my room and sat on my greenish teak wood study table. I couldn’t concentrate, nor did I have the courage to goto Kartik’s home and ask about him.I was scared, and I wanted to read.

    I somehow tried to sleep later at night and just saw the same figure before me. I ran to the bathroom and saw him standing there again. It was so so bad.

    Morning finally came.I possibly had my first night out and somehow cycle to the college. I crossed Kartik, we didn’t say anything and rushed away to the test hall. I couldn’t see Sunny around, but later realised he sits in another exam hall. I couldn’t concentrate, nor could Kartik, I just wanted it to end.

    And it ended, and we met, and I asked?

    “How was the test?”

    Kartik told “ It was Ok!”.We met Sunny sometime later, he said “Hi” and moved on.

    What about the kabristan guy? What about the cycle? What about Semipali again? What about Maths test? How did you come back and how?

    The day ended and I just wanted to go back and sleep, I stepped out into the cycle stand and saw Sunny riding his red cycle. I wondered what had happened. Maybe I shouldn’t discuss this, maybe I was too sleepy!

  • Scooter ki Sawari

    Scene 1: I was behind him, on 4th gear but always afraid to go a bit faster, my foot always flirting with the foot brake, and then something strange happened. Bhippu was sitting behind him, and he the fearless Jubhash riding his bottle green some plain looking bajaj turned back, and said namaste. All this while the scooter kept speeding ahead of me.

    Scene 2: We were standing at our regular adda, doing bakbak, and the girl passed. The girl on the pink ladybird (well there were so many of them during those days), and Jubhash again went mad, he picked up Seepak’s awesome hulky looking cream LML and went behind her, I don’t know why but he went behind her. His best buddy Taanu accompanied him.

    He came back after 10 minutes, and then something strange happened, he stopped the scooter, and raised his hand, the clutch came out and he gave it to Seepak. He drove it for half a km without a clutch in place!!!

    Scene 3: He told me to release the clutch dheere dheere, and move the accelerator up at the same pace. Unlike making him run while learning the bicycle this was much much relaxing, and I learnt it in one day. He told me about his first scooter, a Vijay Super (made by UP government factory to capitalized on the growing demand and limited supply by Bajaj) which was bought by my dadaji.

    Putting it on stand and locking the scooter took maximum time to learn.

    Scene 4: Me and him and his Jijaji’s scooter. It was a very pale looking Bajaj, well past its prime, but we roamed around the empty roads of Gandhinagar on that, eating paratha shaak, sipping Trupti lassi and Gh-0 soda on the way back. All my bank work, taking people to Civil hospital, going to R-World, everything was done on that. It just went on and on, and I think finally it died a silent death, although much used it was, and it had a painful life. I wish we had treated it in a better way.

    Scene 5: I entered from the Kaveri Vihar end, parked the scooter there, and my friend used to enter from the Yamuna Vihar end, parking the scooter there, I always used to take aloo-pyaaz in the end, he used to buy it first. Subzi market in the township was the place where one realized the true power of a scooter. It was so easy to carry tonnes of it near your feet, and you can always show a thenga to bike guy on the Tuesday and Friday, days when weekly subzi market was there.

    Scene 6: It was my birthday, and it was bhoko’s birthday. Guys from NTPC were brilliant, they drove scooters, guys from MPEB had one thing in common, everyone drove Sunny, that plastic bag covering a m-80 which used to be present back in 90s. Tiddu thought he would drive bhoko’s Sunny and thrashed it to an electric pole.

    And then some one took a condom (one gifted to us on our 16th birthday!!!), blew it, and put it behind someone’s scooter, and they drove it away, wonder what happened next!!!

    Scene 7: Both of us went for back to back movies to R-World, it was strange and very rainy day and we were walking back. When we reached the highway, there was no auto, no tempo, no truck giving lift. We walked to the corner of the road to take a leak, I still remember the scene, lightening, empty roads, and everything very very wet. So both of us started emptying our tankers near a set of empty drums. He finished and started walking, I was about to and then something strange happened, someone screamed from within that pile of drums,

    “Kaun hai be, bhaag jaao”

    And he started running, and I followed holding my loose jeans, and we kept running and running (it was my first interaction with the supernatural and it literally took my pants off). We stopped after some 10-15 minutes and it was still raining loads. And then came a guy on scooter and offered both of us a lift. Was he a god, trying to save us from the evil?

    10 minutes later the scooter stopped, he asked us to push it, it didn’t work. We checked the tank and the petrol was over. No point now. Then he laughed and laughed. And then he and his Scooter started and whoosh he went. Both of us were scared, but we walked the next 8-9 KM and somehow managed to reach the beautiful DAIICT.

    ———————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

    The post title is inspired from the Sudarshan’s classic Cycle ki Sawari. They were just my experiences with scooter, the best vehicle I have driven till date, adventures, racing, supernatural etc. Do you have any interesting scooter stories to share?

    ———————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

    Featured image from my instagram feed

  • Katti and the Art of Bicycle Maintenance

    That thumb, the stupid angutha, the one which appears on Thums Up bottles and nowadays keeps fiddling with blackberry, goes near the incisors and gets itself a bite, and Katti is what is said post that. After every small or big fight katti was our way of expressing disgust, frustration and anger towards a dear friend. And then the friends stopped talking, started giving each other dirty looks, talked through some common friend, start going to different locations during lunch break, get in different teams while playing cricket, started sitting in different rows. But then that was the age of innocence, pyaarapan, so few days later one of them would always come and make up. It was all so nice, there was so much fun in katti. It also had other variations like Khi-Mi, and inti-minti, all similar in nature, but with different actions. Even Munnabhai came up with a differently named Jhappi for resolving issues, but he underlying concept was that of Katti.

    Today during a brilliant discussion on bicycle repairing we again discovered that bit of innocence, the tricks behind chain chadhana, the action which was required for filling air into the tyres, “puncture banwana”, the bhudak bhudak sound which came when the cycle repair guy used to dip the punctured tube in water, the rubber patch which he use to shine and polish and then stick it with a red adhesive, all for Rs 2.5-3.5. There was a simple and cost-effective solution for every bicycle worry and it was fun getting it repaired. Bicycle maintenance taught me that solving problems can be fun, lot of fun.

    Now when people fight, it is not as simple as the good old katti, it is much more complicated, or they make it unnecessarily complicated. Bachpan was certainly better, plus we had a fun-filled way to repair fights. Katti was our tool of relationship maintenance.

    The tool is out of stock now, and they have stopped manufacturing it. I hope they start making it again and even grown ups start using it.

  • Brand or Fad

    Nokia as India’s most trusted brand… naah [Brand Equity Survey]. I mean my last 3 phones have been Nokia and I just love them still I don’t feel for they simply didn’t deserve the numero-uno position in the survey, given the awesome ground players like Micromax and co have covered. Rest of the top 10 are made by the usual list of Lever products along with the red and white toothpaste, the awesome smelling antiseptic (smelled its Chinese version at Apeksha’s home, disappointing, doesn’t smell the same) and everyone’s favorite biscuit brand.

    Some years back at DA-IICT we were debating the difference between a Brand and a Fad. Pumped up from the success of Rang De Basanti and the awesome Legend of Bhagat Singh songs my roomie always wanted to be a rebel, maar daalo he said, anti-establishment had become. I came up with this point on Bhagat Singh being a fad, something which didn’t last, and Gandhiji being a Brand. As per Nitin Paranjpe, CEO, HUL successful brands deliver timeless values, build on them and resonate not just with the immediate needs of consumer but with their larger aspirations.

    Now think of Bhagat Singh, yes he indeed was a hero and he did satisfy the immediate need of the masses, but he or his means were not enough to sustain it over a time and fit into the larger picture of achieving independence.

    Gandhiji lived his life with masses and delivered trust over a sustained period of time (even after his death) and the core values remained the same non-violence, tolerance and respect for everyone. He became much more than a brand, he became a way of life.

    So is Nokia a Gandhiji and Micromax a Bhagat Singh? No, these things are not comparable but yes these brands can learn a lesson or two from personalities and how they managed themselves. Nokia can’t all of a sudden come up with a blast of weird low cost dual/ quadra sim phones, and Micromax can’t come up with the awesome quality which Nokia offers.Gandhiji would have never taken up violence of any form, and Bhagat Singh would have never had the tolerance to tackle the beating of British officers with a smile. But now these brands are trying to find a middle ground, Nokia planning to come up with multi-sim phones and Micromax offering great service through its network.

    Whatever be it, no one wants a rebel around, just think of it, what would be better, a Nokia coming out of your pocket, or a Micromax!

    [Note: It might sound loose, if one has to analyze Nokia, one has to look at a zillion other pressures the company is facing across the globe, I just mentioned a small situation which had stuck on for a few days]

  • Fake it till you make it

    Sometime in mind 90’s I was sitting in my school auditorium with friends waiting for the swamiji to come. He used to come every year and used to interact with us. I don’t recall his name, but his face is so clearly etched in my memory, it had tonnes of happiness sprinkled all over it, and he seemed content with everything. In fact when I read Hesse’s Siddhartha years later I was reminded of him.

    Mamaji of one of my batchmates in school, Swamiji had left his family and a well-paid job as a Chemical Engineer (he studied at Jadavpur University, so many awesome engineers in the country came from there in the mid 70’s, ask a bong and their heart still beats for the place) to join Ramakrishna mission (around the same time DD showed the movie on Swami Vivekananda, in which Paramahamsa was beautifully played by Mithunda, and I also read some literature by both the teacher and disciple).

    That day Swamiji talked on the topic, of Fake it till you make it. He discussed it in the context of shedding away inhibitions, developing confidence and all. I don’t remember exactly what he talked but that phrase just stuck on. And I came across it again during the ethics course at SP, when we were discussing Geeta.

    You imitate something which you can’t do naturally, and slowly it becomes a habit and you are in a comfort zone with it. Like lets say one asks me to talk less for some days, even if I am uncomfortable doing it, slowly faking the habit can actually lead to me adapting and enjoying the change.

    Travel through the markets and you always see these distortions. Obviously many don’t observe it, but look closely and one is sure to find packs of well known brands Fair and Lively, Lux, Colgote, Bora Plus, Ankor swtiches, Paracheet, Detol and so many more. The market for counterfeit/fake/me-too (products which look and feel the same as original, many a times come from Registered companies, the visual elements are same but the names are slightly different) products in India is huge and continues to grow at a similar speed if not more as the real products are growing.

    I remember having this discussion with Sagar, KK and our Professor of Consumer Behavior (one of the best courses I did in the second year) on me-too brands and why does someone buy it. Well in most cases the prices are similar (for the retailer though the me-too brands offer heavy discounting), but the Indian consumer just goes for the colours and visual elements mostly. Like if he visits a small shop and asks for a toothpaste and receives something which is a red colored tube with white font over it and the symbols appear somewhat relevant he doesn’t event think. Same for a cream and a pink and white tube. Although we think its as practice prevalent in smaller towns and villages, how many of us actually check/inspect the products we buy? I even consider the main competitor of Glucon-D launched by a top FMCG company in the country to be a me-too, the visual elements are copied, and only after a court ruling they managed to get the family pic and the font changed (both of them so symbolic of the Glucon-D pack).

    If the appearance is mostly similar, you can actually push through the fake ones, and the original ones despite all their efforts are at loss. But in the long term does it work out for small players, or they just make some money and maybe will switch businesses or disappear over a period of time?

    In the past couple of years I discovered another huge market with a high penetration of fakes in the system, that of people. Although this is a much more complex market, its extremely difficult to identify fakes. Past couple of year I found many people who were experts in the art of faking, being a different person than what you are with many people, turnaround and not necessarily think the same about so many. Be best friends in front of the world and then crib about them behind their backs. You found them all over, from fighting on organizing events, to fighting over the best jobs. Even the hugs at final farewell parties, the singing together of Puraani Jeans / Yaaro Dosti songs (with so many people as if you are actually going to be in touch with even 10% of them over the next year). Talking bullshit about people in hostels and liking them on Facebook pics. So many things, so many instances. But its not bad, its just the way one is.

    And there were few who tried to be honest and conveyed whatever they thought about the person in front of them and mostly landed into trouble. But those who faked had a much better time, they didn’t fall into unnecessary jhamelas. Again not bad, but its just the way one is.

    Couple of them I knew very closely were what we called experts in faking, they had the ability to change the way they behaved with different sets of people and sometimes just kill the real feeling, brilliant they were! The visual elements were mostly same, so was the outer appearance, but the product was not the original one.

    So is faking worth it? I don’t know about that but certainly being honest is surely not worth it.

  • Simplicity and Chaos

    From the time is was a Rs. 6 green fatty-boxed luxury, to the Rs. 10 yellow slim box regularity, Frooti has been one of my favorite brands. Why do I love it? No it’s not the usual nostalgia I associate with so many things; it’s just because of its simplicity. There have been many changes to it with times: the fat green box (Rs. 6) to green long boxed Yo! Frooti (Rs.8) to Rs. 10 yellow boxed one (it spiked to Rs. 12 one summer, evoking concerns from fans like me). But Frooti’s soul remains same, being Mango. At core it’s the same simple mango drink, and its packaging might change, or the price, but its soul (read positioning) remains just the same.Super Shimplu! (For SP marketing junta, recall one of Ashita mam’s classes,when Pooja and Nitika gave this presentation, I was super excited and we had a nice discussion on Frooti). Frooti has become a routine for me, I don’t care much, I just pick it up, I know it’s my Frooti, and it always will be.

    Then there is always the other extreme. Remember Liril, the superb refreshing lime soap (the la lalalalalaa lalalala laaa classic ad featuring Karen Lunel created byAlyque Padamsee is still so refreshing). But Liril somehow became confusing.It used to be my favorite soap, but they tried out too many things. They came up with what I recall as India’s first shower gel, different variants to core Liril (blue Liril) and finally disappeared. And then it came back, in a disappointing way as Liril 2000- aloe vera soap with an element of freshness.It felt like Ekta Kapoor took it from Unilever, performed a plastic surgery using another actor known as Levers 2000 and re-introduced the character. It was disappointing for a true Liril fan. The simplicity of freshness was replaced with chaos, and finally what emerged was something without its soul in place. Maybe a lot of people won’t relate to it, but a true Liril fan would just know it. But what power does a consumer hold, finally it was Liril who wanted to change, did they really care for a loyal consumer? But still sometimes I buy it and try to look for my old Liril, maybe I will find it.

    One tends to fall for simplicity, it’s always comforting,and it gives you peace of mind. You get a sense of oneness with it, simple things click, they are long lasting and consistent with what your mind desires.Be it simple things or simple people, life is much better with them around.

    And chaos is disturbing, trying out too many things,thinking about too many things, and trying to hide your simplicity with randomness. One might try to change a lot, feel a lot different, but a person who knows, would always spot the difference and then try to disassociate from chaos. But chaos has its own fans, and they are very different from those few who desire simplicity.

    What happens to the entity under change, what is its identity now? Well it’s for them to change, it’s their choice and person who knows the entity so well should also respect the change, whether it works for them or not. Still one tries to reach out for the simplicity which is still there, but hidden.

    I would always desire simplicity, and for things which move away from it, I will hope for them to be simple again.

    [I messaged Shaik and Dolu to find out a few brands which have had a chaotic rise, they couldn’t come up with anything major, stupid they are :), but I super miss having FMCG discussions with both of them. The discussion featured Dolu- the marketing guy, Shaik- the sales and distribution expert, Desi- the fact, figures and insights guy and harsh- the listener. Well all this is a bit unrelated to the post.]

    A bit more from earlier times on simple things,

    Hrishikesh Mukherjee – Simple movies, Simple life (http://beingdesh.blogspot.com/2006/10/hrishikesh-mukherjee-simple-movies.html)

    Who Enjoys It? (http://beingdesh.blogspot.com/2009/01/who-enjoys-it.html) (This one written somewhere mid SP days)

    Simple Things again…(http://beingdesh.blogspot.com/2010/07/simple-things-again.html)

  • Block 83

    When you leave school for college, a million things run in your mind, staying away from your family for the first time, the kind of people you will end up meeting in college, who will be your roommate, will the newly earned freedom be at the cost of something etc etc.

    Cut back to 2002 when a few innocent souls stepped in dusty sec-7 of Gandhinagar, a Colonel with shiny bald head and a glowing moustache showing us the not so impressive facility, and curly haired friendly gujju guy showing us our rooms. We were nervous, most of us were accompanied by our parents who were equally concerned if not more.

    So I entered the wing on the 2nd floor, very jarjarr apartments, seemed like they will break down soon, decently sized one room apartments with wooden cupboards and loads of dust. First thing which most of us bought there were plastic buckets. My room mate was Kamsi Vrishna but he had moved out to some PG in Sec-2 looking at the hostel condition with Dagar Sas. So I was alone in the room.

    In front of us used to lived Kayur with pea-cockish hairstyle, always stuck onto the metal seat, his roomie Panabesh, sainik school import, reminded me initially a lot of the lafoots in townships :), front door had Ghaitanya and Saveen (famously known as Charra later on). Other inmates were Copolla a distant relative of the francis ford coppola khaandaan and an extremely religious guy in the first year , so was his roomie Gaibhav Vupta.

    Then there was my awesome roomie Sajeev, oily haired bespectacled simpleton from Vizag on his way to be a changed man (four years down the line…kaafi change :)), who escaped from the neighboring wing as his room mate was an abusive chap. He came in and we both got the honour of being each other’s roomies for the next four years.

    Then there was a quite room, of Jrateek and Pandheer, mostly busy educating themselves I assume, quite simple I was the least interested in padhai in the block.

    But then there were few whom were brainwashed by me, Jaran Kaine with his beautiful legs, Sajjwal Ungal with his already faded Pepe jeans (asking our hotel supervisor for happening places in gandhinagar), a self proclaimed rock music bhakt Krinal and Jineet Vain with his shaggy doo like walk and ability to call da as ra.

    Frequent visitors included Sabhishek who used to dance his hear out in the wing with Saveen ( and our neighboring old uncle almost had an heart attack due to the hulla), LKP for aalasya, Grasoon at times, Nand, the 82 block gang including gex suru tonu, mhinav abhishra, Kakshat etc. Also we had a lot of visitors in Panabesh’s room which included Jarun Vain, and all.

    Just thought would remember all of them today, lost contact with many of them, but awesome days they were.

  • Plum-esh

    Plum cakes, those brilliant ones which Anthony uncle used to bring to our house on Christmas when I was a kid, mostly all of us had it during Christmas season in all parts of the country. The dark brown ones filled with fruits & nuts, and marmalade like orange peels, these things are simply awesome. The best part about plum cakes are those mishy-mashy fruit bits and marmalade, they just stand out for me and create that plum-esh effect. Those bits and pieces are soaked in brandy or rum, and they just absorb its flavour, its some kind of a taste which you can only associate with a plum cake. It takes time to make one, you must keep the fruit pieces soaked for a couple of days before you can create the bestest plum cake (it can’t be like the instant one, with hide and seek biscuits crushed and mixed with Eno, that only our super awesome brilliant Gujarati genius lady can manage).

    Relationships too take time to mature, initially you need to soak them in the right kind of brandy and let it be, and slowly it will absorb all the good things around. Then you need to bake it at the right temperature and then scrub off all the unnecessary burnt portion. But what would stand out is the taste of those early days, soaked in the brandy of love, friendship and all the good time you spent together. And those days will define how life would taste in the future.

    Plum-esh is just a start my friends 🙂 and sorry there is no short-cut Eno recipe for the perfect plum cake, there never can be one :).

  • Well Left

    Gone are the awesome days of test cricket, when Dravid just used to leave it on its way, even God did it but Dravid was much more elegant in leaving the cricket ball. Commentators always used to say he had an exact idea where his off stump is, a supreme bowler like Glenn McGrath would be hovering around that line but Dravid was extremely sure when to leave it and when to play (followed by an extremely elegant nod of the head, which became a trademark of sorts and something very well imitated by couple of school friends). No doubt he was extremely successful when it came to playing abroad when there were just fast bowlers all over us.But leaving the ball is an art, when it comes to you, you just want to hit it, it requires a lot of patience to leave it and just let it be on its own. Sometimes I felt its the batsman who love ball more than a bowler does, they want it see clearly, slowly they start feeling it and it appears bigger and better to them and aaah, that sexy sound and feel which comes when they hit it.

    And then there is the stupid thing called, what they have always called it, life! A lot of things come your way, you just don’t want to leave them, because leaving them requires a lot of courage, you are not sure how you are placed, you just don’t know where your footing is, and where your off stump lies. Plus we are not patient as Dravid is, we tend to hurry up and nick it on the way at times. And a brush with the ball is mostly a wicket, rarely we would be dropped. You just want to hit at things which doesn’t usually happen, and then you finally hit one and aaah, that sexy sound and feel comes from life’s willow. Happiness follows, and you are rewarded for leaving things which were not meant for you.

    So just try leaving a few things on on the way, don’t worry a lot about things you leave behind, there is always a wicketkeeper to take care of them.