I asked

Panicking

With no idea

No cap on the number of people spilling in

To squeeze between the pink walls of my 2bhk hall.

Kuchh toh number batao

Naam ginte ginte baareekiyon mein chale gaye

Iske boyfriend, uske break up mein

Final number still missing.

Log aaye, peeyaa, gaana gaya, chale gaye.

Sab shuroo. Sab smaapt.

Party ke baad tak bhi pata na chala

Kitne aadmi the!

Jitne bhi the.. sahi the

Na kam na zyada

Itni bheed thhi ki mix karna hi pade

Itni kam thhi ki dance kar sakein.

Kaafi der tak radio waale radio se, advertisng waale advertisng se, aur mba wale mba se hi milein.

Ek do postmen bheje doosri taraf, but hello hi ki chitti daal ke

Woh bhi laut aaye.

Par later sab kumbh ke mele ke bichde bhai nikle.

Kabhi trance lagaya

Kabhi hip hop

Kabhi jack mere bb mein, kabhi tere

Par jab bajaya – ae kaash ki hum hosh mein ab aane naa payein...

Toh sab saath mein school bus mein shayad pahunch gaye

Aur haath uttakar, aankhen bandh karkar sabne ek saath gaya.

Chowkidaar aaya – hello neeche laal gaadi kiski hai?

Neighbours aayein – jaante hain aap kya time ho raha hai?

Duniya ke saath thoda compromise karke

We continued.

Subah utte toh toofan ke baad gaon mein bache-kuche jhopde, tooti cyclein, destroyed handpump and barbed wire mein ek atki murgi dikhi

Par safai mein, jab plastic ka glass utaaya ya ek yet unopened wine bottle ko paaya toh laga jo kooda hota hai ache ke liye hi hota hai.

Bye bye. Sniffs. Weeps some in her hanky. The vulnerability makes your heart crumble.

I joined Ulka in March 09. Dusty auto rides in metallic heat to the Badarpur office. In the beginning, I was quite at sea, as we tried to establish the one idea on which DOCOMO communication would be based. I had never done this before, and didn’t quite know where we were going. Once ‘Do the new’ was established, the rest of my time at Ulka was spent substantiating this claim. Got a grip on things and till now it’s been pistons pumping, steam hissing, work churning continuously in the DOCOMO factory. They made us go up chimneys and pick ideas with our young fingers till they bled. (No, not really).

I worked mostly on print and radio. By now, I am totally DOCOMO-ised. So, I now leave to kind of remember how my head worked before this. I can give you a smart line but I hope in a few days, I’ll be back to writing long rambling stuff for no Target Audience in particular, with no CTA, awaiting no CTR, in no hurry to get things ‘actioned’ for MR. And then wham! Back to selling stuff with headlines, bodycopy and jingles.

I am now moving to Mumbai with the hope of discovering the faces of all the names that are thrown around so carelessly – Bandra, Colaba etc. Hope to find out if the city beaches can compare with the Aravallis. Have a sneaking prejudice that the local trains will just make me miss the swanky metro here. But then they say, you don’t compare an ex with your current one.

I am going to miss Vasudha, who stands up for creative like a warrior. It’s been great times with Sanjay, Ekta, Ankur, Varun, Swati, Deepika, Som, Andy, Karan, Abhijeet, Anuraag, Shivi, Vaarunya, Nauti, Jaipal, Kanika, Shubhra and recently Pahwa. Richa Wadhera, your Salsa classes were spectacular. And Anurag Bhalla, you’ve been constant SFX from the day I joined. Waah waah!

Guys, seriously .. no goodbye. I’ll see you all around. Meet me if

1) You hit Mumbai.

2) You want to start cycling. On road, off road whatever. There’s a godawesome group here in gurgaon – PedalYatris.

Keep in touch. My last date here is 30th sept.

Tips hat,

Eyes disappear under,

Answers the last Q with a cigar puff.

Turns on the heel and vanishes down the dark alley.

All that jazz.

MJ

3/5

5/5

3/5

1/5 sitaare

The seat remained empty for a few days. Like an abandoned carcass is visited by many for a nibble or bite, so was his computer prey to strange hands, interns looking for an unoccupied chair. I must admit, this included me too and out of respect for the pichhla-wala I never ripped away that black paper I so wanted to. The mouse continued to roll over it with an unhealthy scrape.

And then one day came a new fellow. The rightful owner of the Mac. The new art director. A wispy moustache, a pleasant demeanor. Another quiet fellow. Until it began. First a tiny rat-a-tat-a-tat, and later, as he found his bearings, more complete performances. After all what does one need to be Zakir Hussain but resilient nails and a wooden desk? So, we had a drummer in the house. And now as I write copy, pushing myself into waves of sentiment or to ride the Quirk Bus, I suddenly come face to face, or rather mind to mind, with a staccato interruption. How I wish it were Amit all over again, with all his creative talent confined to Adobe Illustrator.

P.s: This note was written in a rare spell of silence and a non-vibrating desk.

Restaurant mein chhoti chhoti tables

Saath satee hui seats

Waiter stretching across your plate

Kyunki aapki chair peeche waale se lagi hai.

No elbow room par khula gaya hai Khar mein Elbo Room.

Gaddhe interruptions nahi, hain auto ke liye parallel lane.

Highway par nightie mein ghoomti ladeej-log

Kyunki yahi unka aangan hai.

Yahi potty, manjan, Ganpati, diwali ka venue hai.

Bhaari truckon ke pahiye tharrayein expressway

Wahin bache bhaagein apne ghoomte pahiye ke peeche.

Pub mein jao, toh aage jaane ka corridor nahi, yahi pub hai.

Angdaai lo toh beech mein art director ki nose hai

Ek kanaal ek beeghe ki baat toh hoti hi nahi

Per square foot mein duniya khatm hai.

Par local mein jagah mil hi jaati hai

20 minutes waiting ke baad table reserve ho hi jaati hai

Mondy’s mein kya rehta mazaa

Agar hasee sirf apni table ke jokes par aati.

Baaki jagah parents ya badon ko wait karna pad jaaye

Toh sharm aa jaati hai

Mumbai mein who khud mazze se lamppost ke sahaare tik jaate hain

Kya rakha hai ek beeghe, ek kanaal main

Jab soonsaan sadke avoid karni hi hain.