tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105984062024-03-23T15:47:28.197+05:30Nirvana LoungeWelcome into my space as it unfolds...welcome to Nirvana Lounge - the expanse of my “state of mind.”Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-2675907959220164272024-01-04T10:50:00.003+05:302024-01-04T10:56:57.632+05:30Friends & Friendships ...why some feel just right!<p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Relationships are huge opportunities for growth and connection. Once you’ve looked at them through the four lenses below, you appreciate better the quality of relationships you share with the different kinds of your friends basis which tier their friendship might fall into.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Friendships that pass through all the 4 lenses are priceless. And few. And if you’re lucky to have one such, you know you’ve found one for keeps.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Take a look at your friendships and you’ll notice that in any given moment, your relationship will likely embody these four nutrients on some level.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>1. Resonance</b><br /><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The level of connectedness you share with their interests, values and directions.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Some questions to help determine resonance with your friendships:</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Do you look forward to hanging out with them? What activities?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Do you feel better having them in your life? Why? Why not?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Do you genuinely like them as a person? Or does your relationship feel transactional?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Do conversations and experiences just flow easier with them compared to other people?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Do you just vibe well together? Do you have fun?<br /><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>2. Reciprocity</b><br /><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The level of mutual curiosity and communication flow.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Are you the one always reaching out to them? Does your friendship feel one-sided?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Do they ask you questions, too? Are they curious about your life?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Does the conversation ebb and flow between you sharing and them sharing?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Do you ask them to hang out and you get crickets each time?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Do you support them as much as they support you?<br /><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>3. Consistency<br /></b><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The frequency of connection in whatever way that feels good to the both of you.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• How often do you communicate and/or hang out together? Does it feel good to you and if not, have you told them?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Does your connection feel solid (or at least moving in that direction)?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Do they stick around during difficult conversations? Or do they brush any conflict under the rug and retreat for a <br /> period of time with no warning</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Does the quality of your interactions feel good to you? Is it too deep? Too superficial?<br /><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>4. Intimacy<br /></b><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The level of depth and knowledge of all parts of each other, not just the positive traits.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Do you only know things about them that could already be figured out from their Facebook or Instagram profile?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Do you feel comfortable sharing vulnerable parts of you without fear of being shamed or judged?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Do you talk about things in your personal life or just external topics?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Have you ever cried, gotten angry or shown emotion with them?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>The 4 Tiers of Friendship...</b></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b> </b></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">1st Tier<br /><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Your closest friends. Your inner circle.</span></p></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• They know the real you, warts and all. You feel comfortable sharing anything with them and vice versa.</span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• You feel relaxed being around them and you feel recharged after hanging around them.</span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• Most people can maintain a max of 10 people in this Tier.</span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• High level of Resonance + Reciprocity + Consistency + Intimacy.</span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• They will free up their time to see or talk to you.</span></p></div></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">2nd Tier<br /><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Your bigger group of friends.</span></p></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• You genuinely like them and have warm/positive feelings toward them, but there simply isn’t a resonance </span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> or desire to go deeper or see/talk to them more often.</span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• You might both always say “We should get together sometime!” but nothing happens.</span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• You may have had some occasional dropped-in conversations with them but nothing much happens beyond</span> </p></div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> that. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">They often will see or talk to you only in their free time.</span></p></div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• At least one of the nutrients is low or missing (Resonance + Reciprocity + Consistency + Intimacy).</span></p></div></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">3rd Tier</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Acquaintances. People you know and interact with in person but just haven’t gone beyond a few minutes of conversation with them each time you see them.</span></p></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• They might be people at work, church, softball team.</span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• You’ll likely have a high level of Resonance but not much else.</span></p></div></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />4th Tier<br /><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">People you know of, but don’t know personally. You often don’t have an opinion of them either way because you haven’t had any direct communication with or experience of them.</span></p></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">• The majority of the people on your Facebook and Instagram.</span></p></div></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">...No one tier is better or worse than the other. The tiers are just ways of objectively looking at your relationships and seeing perhaps why some friendships feel solid and fulfilling and others feel turbulent and unsatisfying.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This is not a reason to start keeping a checklist or spreadsheet on all your friends, but rather a chance to gain some perspective on why some friendships feel better than others.<br /><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><div style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div>Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-3289419774608844742021-04-26T19:24:00.001+05:302021-04-26T19:24:28.533+05:30Taking Stride <img id="id_f340_9e47_6c28_b760" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/t4zaiTa7aZENCgT0UhY0OGz23Djy4lgC5kTUAxgTgAPoQHXHx7vwpM2IQSxm533zGO8" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br> Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-86223040753470370162019-12-01T22:02:00.001+05:302024-01-04T10:52:36.689+05:30Rescue<p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: gainsboro; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></p><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><span class="s1">Cradled in cold concrete, </span><br /><span class="s1">Tired, fallen and dead,</span><br /><span class="s1">Lives that once held hope,</span><br /><span class="s1">...reduced to memories now,</span><br /><span class="s1">Like scars from wounds that have bled </span><br /><span class="s1">A kinship of deep comfort</span><br /><span class="s1">An intimacy dark and complete,</span><br /><span class="s1">Fate smiles in calibrated silence,</span><br /><span class="s1">...at the rescue in oblivious attempts </span><br /><span class="s1">Fighting shy of light, in a landscape so barren and bleak.<br /></span><span class="s1"><br /></span><span class="s1">- Mark</span></span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: gainsboro; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><br /></span></p><img alt="" id="id_8ad7_44f9_deae_b427" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/YDX4plc5TrUZtJdK9snZOBJT6cg3cxBMmdiHqRXpsTtwEsutvIngwAUknwk" style="height: auto; width: 371px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /> Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-43305080828718419282019-10-20T23:48:00.002+05:302024-01-04T10:52:59.099+05:30Purpose<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">Freshly awashed yet seemingly dead </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">The conch rests on a rocky bed </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">Awaiting a trampling foot that’ll set it free </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">From its stubborn inertia of salt fed misery </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;"><span></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">As dawn to dusk attempts its break </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">Cold yet content it lies in wait</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">In search of its shadow now lost at sea,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">Only to be found by the wandering devotee.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;"><span></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">- Mark</span></div>
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Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-20582133716538048412019-07-07T15:12:00.002+05:302024-01-04T11:15:30.387+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<h2><b><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: medium;">
The Other Wing of Twilight...</span></b></h2>
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M&M</div>
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Ear-marking the changing canvas of time in the warm afterglow of a newfound horizon.<br />
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Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-39587102643859004072019-06-14T21:29:00.002+05:302024-01-04T11:13:59.366+05:30Out at sea...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: georgia;">
Moody blues<br />
Sunset views<br />
Emotions running high<br />
Feelings churning anew<br />
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The wind in the hollow<br />
Waves blanket the shore<br />
A pit in the stomach<br />
That unsure feeling once more<br />
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Life happens suddenly<br />
People in it too<br />
Bonds built in hope<br />
Others broken, you rue<br />
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You learn,<br />
You grow.<br />
You become,<br />
The flow<br />
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It isn’t easy<br />
But life’s gotta’ go...<br />
Crash into rocks sometimes<br />
You have to battle the low<br />
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You’re the victim<br />
You’re the muse<br />
You’re the hero<br />
Only you get to choose<br />
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Moving forward isn’t easy<br />
Going backwards no more<br />
Swimming the ocean of hope<br />
Someday you’ll land ashore.<br /><br />-Mark</span></div>
Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-80480275328303870942019-01-31T21:44:00.001+05:302024-01-04T11:14:47.473+05:30Flight<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Through trials and tribulations,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I will cry again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Maybe another thousand deaths,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I will die again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But I won’t give up,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I will try again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The curse of my belief this is,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I will rise again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Like a Phoenix, from the ashes,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I will fly again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The sky is my abode,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I will fly again.<br /><br />-Mark<br /></span></div>
Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-90545153574685485232018-11-09T22:02:00.001+05:302019-06-15T06:45:37.414+05:30 Name, Blame...Puppy Shame!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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To say I’m hopping mad at the blatant name changing spree we’re witnessing in this country of ours is an understatement. And what’s worse is the absolute lack of a political discourse about it! Rewriting history to score political mileage is absolutely unacceptable. And to counter the action in the lame defence that hitherto political parties in power also engaged in it at different points in time doesn’t help score points. Isn’t that the one of the reasons they were voted out of power in the first place? So why even imitate those actions?</div>
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But then we don’t seem to learn, do we?</div>
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And so when economics fail, we take to renaming cities on a war-footing. (Agra to Agrawal, Faizabad to Ayodhya, Allahabad to Prayagraj, Ahmedabad to Karnavati...)</div>
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As if the plethora of real-time issues screaming to be addressed in this country were not enough at hand already!</div>
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And now that the madness has been unleashed, time they also rename the ‘samosa’, 'paranthas' 'kebabs', 'biriyani', 'pilaf', 'tikkas' 'kurma', 'falooda', 'gulab-jamun', 'jalebis', 'phirni' - them all. After all, all of these dishes originated in Mughal kitchens across the Indian sub-continent now, didn’t they? </div>
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Do away with kurta-pyjamas, churidars, sufi music as well!</div>
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Also, boycott zaffran, onions. potatoes, tomatoes and tea, coffee, paper, silk - all of which are not indigenous to India!</div>
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Finally, BAN CRICKET as a sport too. It's an English game. And yeah...time they realised that the national game Hockey is originally a Canadian export; time to change that to gilli-danda too.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Cultural integration and assimilation - now what the hell is that? We’re Indians - our culture, agriculture! That must explain our political preoccupation with conveniently uprooting, re-seeding established cultural constructs, re-engineering culture/social mores seasonally into the fertile soil of time, all in the hope that such tilling efforts will reap a rich harvest of votes. </span></div>
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Mera Bharat mahan.</div>
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Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-24307967203106780122018-06-12T13:12:00.001+05:302018-06-12T13:12:17.902+05:30Troll to Control<div>Given the current political environment, I am not at all surprised at the belligerent attacks being made on Rahul Gandhi for his comments, that attempt to draw Indian parallels, with the beginnings of Coco-Cola and Mac Donalds. However, RaGa is on point here.</div><div><br></div><div>Fact is that many trolling him have barely any idea of the origins of both! But then, who cares about underlying facts in these days of over-the-top drum-beating to make a point, even it meant overseeing the truth for what it is. </div><div><br></div><div>As someone who’s studied both these brands at B-School, case for case, I should know. It is common knowledge that Coca-Cola began its journey selling at a soda fountain (the ‘shikanjiwalla’ equivalent) while Mac Donald’s had its humble beginnings at an airport food-stand (the ‘dhaba’ equivalent)</div><div><br></div><div>Interestingly, this whole shenanigan of portraying RaGa as a “dolt” , also brings to fore another keen observation about Human Behaviour - perception (fed by ideology - right or wrong immaterial) drives acceptance and impacts credibility. </div><div><br></div><div>And once that has been established in the mind, facts barely seem to matter anymore; the focus then on shifts to selectively viewing events from a lens that only validates this perception, leaving little if no scope for making change.</div><div><br></div><div>Perception is a dangerous beast, only because once created, it organically assumes life and a character of its own - for better or for worse - allowing its victims only enough room to play to its written script. </div><div><br></div><div>Interestingly, from an Indian political standpoint, we seem to have gotten that behavioural algorithm bang-on alright.</div> Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-70359400020313227652018-05-06T09:43:00.000+05:302018-06-12T14:50:36.840+05:30Is Socio-Capitalism the way forward?<div>My economic leanings aside, here’s a brilliant dissemination on why Socialism isn’t the panacea to equality and poverty alleviation and yet Capitalism isn’t the answer to Socialism as it does not fairly address the equality principle.</div><div><br></div><div>The conversation also explains the exploitative links between socialism and crony capitalism - one eventually leading to the other - an example we’re only too well acquainted with in India, some parts of Europe and most parts of LatAm. </div><div><br></div><div>How then do we protect capitalist principles while also nurturing an environment that maximizes opportunity for all? Should we as a society seek equal access or equal outcomes? </div><br><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2K7T_qUv3cg" width="500" height="281" id="y_id_72a1_79da_ec0e_a4af" frameborder="0"></iframe><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Pure capitalism is heartless and leaves too many behind unequally favouring a prized few, while overregulated markets and industries stifle productivity and growth for the majority. </div><div>What the world is increasing beginning to seek is a sense of ‘fair-play’ balance between the two or who knows, maybe a new economic order altogether! </div><div><br></div><div>Make some time to watch this clip at length. It’s compelling! And I must say, her accent only adds to the quality and impact of her delivery. 😉</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><br><div><br> </div> Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-63232939650597817732018-05-02T20:30:00.000+05:302018-06-12T14:44:25.189+05:30B for Britannia, Bawa, Bombay...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Britannia used to be one Parsi Cafè (not that Bombay has many more of them left now, barring my other favourite - Jimmy Boy) I used to frequent in my college and journalism days. I have vivid memories of heated and impassioned discussions with my Editor on the copy and the features that needed to be filed for the week ahead, over my raspberry soda, chicken dhansak and paatrani maach (exactly in that order too!). Infact my very first feature on ‘Being Parsi from Cusrow Baug’ also got finalised and to a large extent drafted over detailed discussions at the dining tables there! </div>
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Meherwan uncle - the affable and endearingly likeable owner - as I’d fondly call him, would watch patiently from the sidelines and offer us his perspective as he’d discern the goings-on of “city happenings” in his quintessential sagacious bawa style, whenever it was that we went there - which was quite often!</div>
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At Britannia, we never had to formally order our food; food just the way we liked it - extra kebab and a few additional dashes of ginger-garlic in the Beri pulao, an additional generous spoonful of burnt caramel over the custard - just landed on our table and in the course-order we liked it (dessert first!) under the hawk-eyed supervision of Meherwan uncle.</div>
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It came as a shock to recieve a whatsapp update from a friend late last night that he had passed away. May his soul RIP. His passing away, to my mind, is also a symbolic passing away of all things “Bombay” to me. Nostalgia is never quite going to be what it used to be anymore!</div>
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Khoda hafiz Meherwan uncle. To good times wherever you be...</div>
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Updating a YouTube video of him and the Cafè he ‘lived’ and loved, that went on to become a veritable landmark of food connoisseurs in Bombay.<br>
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<div><br><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5dA46Jx0SDE" width="500" height="281" id="y_id_773c_ce32_5cd0_9cca" frameborder="0"></iframe><br></div>
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Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-16683768915541896192018-04-25T10:30:00.000+05:302018-06-26T00:28:25.198+05:30Anna-ther memory of a time long gone...<div>I survived 8 am Physics classes and other science lectures that pulled on until lunch time, ‘Reference-Library’ research (without which no self-respecting Xavierite was deemed worthy to ‘earn’ their degree) and the daily grind of weary 4 hour practical sessions - on my feet - in the Chemistry, Bio-chemistry laboratories, all thanks to the endless cups of refreshing filter-kapi this man used to patiently brew to my liking daily - and serve it in my very own kullad - over 3 years. </div><div><br></div><div> My staying awake through the late afternoon Honors classes in summer were in no small measure all due to the ice-cold ginger-pudhina-lemon sherbet made by him.</div><div><br></div><div> No Malhar, IMG Jan-Fest or SSL (Social Service League) meetings were complete without a garma-garam chai ka pyaala from his canteen, delivered pronto upon calling.</div><div><br></div><div> No hang-out in the Woods was complete without digging hungrily into his trademark tasty Burmese cheese-toast and the variety of fresh fruit juices he used to freshly make and serve us. Us - his always ‘short-or-out-of-money’ regulars. 😝</div><div><br></div><div> Sambhar-Vadai Wednesday’s or sajjigè (Upma) Friday’s were always a hit back then wherein we’d all flock into the mess and scramble for tables - the boys from the hostel winning hands down, as they’d beat the rest of us to it in their boxers or pyjamas.</div><div><br></div><div>Uday anna, was not just another canteen operator for anyone who studied at St. Xavier’s; Warm, kind-hearted, generous and always smiling no matter what time of the day you met him, anna was a landmark institution at Xavier’s in himself! The fact that he had memory recalling who you were long after you graduated from college and welcomed you back, whenever you visited - with a tea/coffee - on the house - made him that much more endearing; it made going back to college so much more memorable and personal! </div><div><br></div><div>Xavier’s will never quite be the same without the cheery presence of this wonderful man who fed thousands of students over the decades. I for one am going to miss him the next time I’m on campus, as much as the many others who’ve known him and visit as often. </div><div><br></div><div>Wishing you well Uday anna in your future endeavours and may you always bring warm cheer and give that big-big smile to all whom you meet. </div><div><br></div><div>P.S: As for the signature Burmese cheese-toast and my cuppa’ kapi, I’m visiting campus this Saturday the 28th for the final goodbye to anna. </div><div>🖐🏻😊👍🏻</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_c402_9987_57df_3f89" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WFXESoWjrhM/WzE56rHXv7I/AAAAAAAABRs/I9gwkfHJr_QGHwA0wKpgs3lR3rHhcR3MgCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div> Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-78733626701422456112018-03-21T21:32:00.000+05:302018-03-22T08:04:10.774+05:30Data Bites<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Increasing instances of integrity pertaining to social media data privacy (the just uncovered Cambridge Analytica breach) and its safeguard make me wonder more often than not what prompts people to put up sensitive or intimate information about themselves on social platforms to begin with.<br />
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The medium is called ‘social’ for a reason! Don’t put up material or data that you believe could be compromised and, or, used against you<br />
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Also, isn’t personal data being harvested across platforms - be that your online purchase behaviour, consumer insights/ consumer behaviour based on your credit/debit card spending patterns, Organisation performance and behaviour, clinical trials, medical history et. al.? How do you stop all of that?<br />
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Fact is - fortunately or unfortunately - all technological progress comes at a price. That price today is ‘real-time data-exchange’. Data is the new bullion - and we’ve got to accept that, if we want to continue riding on this ever rising wave of progress.<br />
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Our understanding of ethics will eventually undergo a shift to accommodate this new world reality. I/ we may not like how this plays out, but do I/ we have a choice really? And THAT is the scary bit!<br />
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Thoughts?</div>
Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-30934456659099347992018-03-19T15:37:00.000+05:302018-07-06T12:17:36.417+05:30Lights, Lens, Action!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">From subtly influencing to convincingly coercing me to explore a whole new dimension of myself, these two are chiefly responsible for getting me to awaken to the world of documentary film-making. And boy, what an incredible experience it has turned out to be!</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> Conducting lectures is one thing, but in the process becoming a student yourself over workshops, real-time dialogue and immersive reflection over some amazing (world) documentary films with students and some of the leading documentary film-makers from across the world, is quite something else altogether. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The fact that the stage for this act was set in picturesque #Naukuchital, nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas in Kumaon, made it even more surreal. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Film-making is truely a wonderfully liberating experience - a one that changes how you view and experience yourself within and, therefore the world around you.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And now, I go back home in ways I know I’ll never quite be the same again.</span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Aatma Namaste!</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><br><br><img id="id_64a6_af80_1fa_71fd" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZFp0itw6OLw/Wz8QhQRWfeI/AAAAAAAABTs/3y54raSejckFMMo0gJatC3LUyezHrUBPwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></p></div>
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Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-42630038897946896702018-02-24T09:50:00.001+05:302018-07-06T12:04:03.878+05:30Strand-ed for life!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A part of me will die with the closing of this iconic book store, in a way that I will never be able to really express in the how and the why. When something that you grew up with is taken away or fades out into the silvery fog of a forever dawn, life as you knew it is never quite the same again.<br>
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The StrandBookStall has always been more than just a book-stall for me, as it has for the so many other book lovers of this city. A sanctuary of serendipitous finds - books as well as people - in the crowded by-lanes of P.M. road, VT, South Bombay, the place afforded avid readers a platform for engaging interactions with other bibliophiles and animated conversations with the ever gracious and smiling late owner, Padmashree T.N. Shanbhag as he’d make gentle probes on your thoughts about societal issues and the dying reading habit with the current generation. Blessed with an elephantine memory, he would recollect names and faces and even remember what you picked up on your last visit there. Just that experience made visiting Strand even more endearing and homely.<br>
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The place had a special appeal to it – the books - a mix of bestsellers and rare titles were always available at discounted rates. Customers like me were drawn to the diverse book collection, carefully curated by Shanbhag uncle.<br>
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That tantalising smell of books - both fresh and mellowing with age, the raw feel of those crisp yellow-brown pages in the gaps between your fingers in the dated section, in the corner on the upper level mezzanine, the enveloping musty air of erudition as you discussed and exchanged notes on reading-lists with other book lovers and, the ever smiling Shanbhag uncle from across his desk as he bid you bye and encouraged you to come back soon - all that I will miss and, miss terribly at that!<br>
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The end of an era it is as I find myself Strand-ed for life!<br>
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Good bye Strand. 🖐🏻😪<br>
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Strand Book Stall 15-C, Dhannur Building, Sir P.M. Road, Borabazar Precinct, Fort, Bombay.<br>
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1948-2018</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><img id="id_171f_5b0b_793d_34cc" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-lyNiSoT0w4U/Wz8NVJHaVpI/AAAAAAAABTQ/XjQIoxc-LrojSodJFAHQO0wr7VVFeGY8gCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_58c0_91ff_cb4e_b7bc" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4T_1aGrw6ZM/Wz8NTgnrSvI/AAAAAAAABTM/UJapSzjIX5g72XFk7Y8mxFSmvOTmMoUgwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_eef8_9ff_f7c6_9b0f" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Hfr1Wvh9Gd4/Wz8NWmnaE-I/AAAAAAAABTU/UwiqeNYmFtwn7huT5KcyS-r8pJJOszNJgCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div>
Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-16549610938231773772018-01-19T13:17:00.000+05:302018-03-24T13:23:48.179+05:30Idly-ing time...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Town never ceases to surprise me everytime I visit. It's the one ever beautiful part of Bombay that has been relatively untouched and unscathed by the fugly hands of that deaf and blind ogre called 'Development'. <br />
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Bombay can grow and expand in as many directions as it wishes to but, the 'feeling' that is 'Bombay' can only be experienced as you visit and soak in the ambience of South Bombay. From Renaissance to Gothic architecture to cobblestoned pathways that meander into streets throwing up happy unexpected surprises, this part of the city is a treat to the senses.<br />
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Imagine my glee therefore - after all these years of having studied and colleged here - at finding a quaint Mangalorean eatery, I never knew existed in 'Swagath Refreshments' on Gunbow St., Fort! The best ullandu dosai and rasam vadai evah! 😋<br />
Never the one to particularly speak highly of the sambhar and coconut chutney dished out by these Udupi's, I must confess Swagath's aromatic piping hot drumstick-pumpkin sambhar and tangy coconut chutney garnished with the udad dal, red-chilly and mustard had me greedily hungering for more. It only helped that the friendly waiters happily indulged me. 😄<br />
The impeccably prepared degree coffee ☕️ too reminded me of the ones served back at Murugan Idli, Madras. Burp!<br />
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It takes a lot for me to say this BUT say it I will - this place is EVEN better than my all time favourite - Matunga's Madras Cafè. Try it...you'll come back for more. I sure am!</div>
Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-52561766036479727372017-12-31T23:59:00.000+05:302018-06-12T16:00:55.066+05:30So long, Farewell 2017<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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As the old year makes way for the new, </div>
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Pat yourself for having come through,</div>
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Acknowledge the hits, reflect on your misses too...</div>
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Remember life continues in the way it should,</div>
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You will nurse feelings of happiness at times and, also be subject to the blues...</div>
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New beginnings will be many, closures a few,</div>
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Don’t loose sight of the goal-post, but enjoy your journey too!</div>
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And that folks, in sum and substance, is my new year message for you.</div>
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Wishing you the start of memorable journey as you draw the curtains on this one. </div>
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- Mark.</div>
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Bon voyage!</div>
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😊💫</div>
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Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-28740398371669266702017-08-30T19:59:00.001+05:302018-07-06T12:19:42.359+05:30Rained Out!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The deluge caused by torrential rains, in Mumbai last evening, brought out how trying times provide opportunities to bring out latent leadership traits in people. Yesterday was all about 'what happens when opportunity creates shared purpose'! <br>
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When people are propelled by a collective sense of purpose - as they were yesterday - there's no telling what can be achieved.<br>
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I believe a collective sense of purpose works on the upside when coupled with empathy. It creates a bond so strong that few obstacles, if any at all, can withstand the force.<br>
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That downpour last evening ended up eroding years of societal and religious divides in a matter of minutes as people came together from all walks of life to ensure that this 'maximum city' functioned as it should - efficiently! And all because they believed in the identity of 'The Mumbaikar'. It gave them a sense of purpose, a comforting hope. Who you were didn't matter as much as what you did, to address the crisis. And being recognised for what you did wasn't as important as was making a difference in how you did it. That's Leadership at its core. Period. And Mumbai, my lovely, just see how you showed it to all who cared to see! ☺️<br>
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So many nameless faces,<br>
...as many helping hands,<br>
recognition that barely mattered<br>
And none of it was planned!</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br></div>
Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-86987722245264010772017-08-25T07:00:00.000+05:302018-07-06T12:02:27.165+05:30Madras rasa 🎶<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Happy Madras Day people! </div>
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If you are from Madras or have spent any period of quality time in this singara city, you would have definitely felt a strong love for it (I have and, I love it!). That is because Madras is more than just a city. It has a distinct personality. A unique persona that is almost impossible to replicate! </div>
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It's where: </div>
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# music sings in taalam to the raagam of math, </div>
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# where the 'traditional' weaves seamlessly into the silky folds of the 'modern', </div>
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# where, the inseparable combination of vadamanga pickle and thayair-sadham tease and tingle the tongue as they satiate hunger in delight like no other culinary feat can</div>
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# where coffee is as intoxicating as the 'tanni', </div>
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# where paying obeisance at the 'kovil' is as revered as it is with paying it at the temple of knowledge</div>
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Madras - a decoction like no other, where time brews at its own lingering pace to the pressure of frothy change!</div>
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Pic location: Kapaleshwar kovil, Mylapore, Madras.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div>
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Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-71138615742078128862017-04-10T20:48:00.001+05:302017-08-30T20:02:32.772+05:30Mentor Me!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background: white; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
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“Ajay is a talented boy, but padhaai mein uska bilkul dhyaan nahi hain. He enjoys playing football and wants to be a footballer. But he needs to get through school first and finish his basic education.” And with these words began my journey as Ajay’s mentor. It’s been ten months now since then and Ajay and I have now become friends who meet every weekend discussing a gamut of interest areas ranging from Messi to the milky-way.<br />
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A reserved teen, Ajay, when I first met him through Mentor-Me India’s (MMI) mentoring initiative, was difficult to communicate with and, wary of my efforts in trying to reach out to him. Communication, I was told, was going to be one of the big challenges I would encounter in my mentoring journey with him. Add to that the swinging temperaments of a moody 16 year old whose view point of the world swayed along a callibrated scale that ranged from consuming passion to abject indifference, with skepticism playing the balancing act across the two extremities!<br />
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I knew it was going to be an uphill task when I signed-up with MMI; and the demand on my time is not what I’m referring to. Nothing quite prepares you in your journey as a mentor, as much as the experience of going through that journey itself. You may prepare all you want but make peace you will eventually with the fact that you’ll never quite be prepared. And so much as I would strategise and plan activities to break ice and befriend my mentee Ajay, he’d seem one-up on me, everytime, in derailing all of those with an agenda that’d convince me he was out to teach me a thing or two about dealing with ambiguity and, convince me that there was no such thing as coming planned for our encounters. That learning still continues!<br />
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I am now wiser in knowing that relationships – of this kind or any other for that matter – are organic. You could wish for them to be this way or the other and plan accordingly; fact is no amount of wishing and planning will get you anywhere. You’ve got to be at it and in it to experience what it has to offer and then take guided calls to manoeuvre it in the interest of the involved stakeholders. And nothing teaches you that better than an experience like this (marriage of-course is the other!)<br />
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So while I now mentally go about figuring how to make my interactions with Ajay a lot more engaging through fun and learning, I have also learnt how to curate plans on the go when he chooses to take the lead in structuring how he’d like to spend the session. It makes me happy to see him do this because to my mind, this is proof of the needle having moved on the behavioural compass along the axis of time. Ajay today is seemingly more confident and communicative than he was ten months ago. While he still wants to be a footballer, he now also realises that he likes studying (he’s been a first class student even with all of that last minute studying) and that a good academic foundation besides the quality of his game, will help him bag the necessary scholarships for a career as a sportsman.<br />
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And while I’d like to believe I’ve had some role to play in this transformational journey of his through our regular mentoring interactions over the year , I believe he is mentoring me more that I could have imagined mentoring him through the process. He continues to teach me an invaluable lesson – all children and youth deserve to be treated as individuals in their own right with unique identities of their own. I’m humbly learning that you may not agree with all of their opinions or world views but listen to them you must, show them respect, you must! Doing this has helped catalyse the buy-in process and built my credibility with Ajay. Importantly it has taught me, as much as it has him, to value and work on real-time feedback, besides promoting healthy debate for acceptance and exchange of divergent ideas. Nothing facilitates tolerance and builds healthy respect between individuals as much as this exposure.<br />
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Experiences such as these have made me realise while we all have our own journeys to make, no two journeys are ever, if at all, the same. And so there can never really be one best approach to addressing a situation because best in itself is relative.<br />
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Thank you MMI for reinforcing this learning through the opportunity you’ve provided!<br />
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Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-84491758009816676982017-01-28T20:31:00.000+05:302017-04-10T20:39:13.203+05:30Soap & Lather...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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After a long while, I must confess, I have found myself addicted to a television soap. The last time I felt so excited about watching a television series was way back in the good ole' Doordarshan days of the 80's and early 90's - before satellite television announced its arrival on Indian shores.</div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">Script writing for Indian television has undergone a drastic change since then. Infact, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to state that scripts these days are ludicrous in their very concept. The strength about writing for television is in its inherent
ability to get through to a cross-section of people to assimilate and absorb
information differently, provoking, if not encouraging them, to respond and
react in ways that maybe even they didn't know they were capable of. It is a
powerful way of bringing in societal change through reflection, without any impositions. Sadly, Indian television has failed us all on this premise.</span><br />
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Imagine my surprise then at serependitiously catching a gripping Turkish series play on Indian television at prime time! For a series that has its origins in a book, the Turkish serial, Fatmagul is
quite a treat to watch. A refreshing storyline, the plot brings together a host
of issues ranging from socio-cultural differences impacting human relationships
on the one side to an ever increasing economic divide and its implications on
collective consciousness, ethics on the other. And all of this pirouetted
around a rape, raising disturbing questions, some of which may not even have
answers!</div>
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The plot is gripping and the performances are immensely
engaging to the point that it makes me feel like a bystander watching the story
play out in real-time, experiencing the motions of it all along the journey
from one episode to another. I particularly like the way roles have been
chalked out to give sufficient latitude of expression for individual
performances without overpowering the treatment of or compromising the
storyline; This to the extent that even the ominous background score and scenic
locales are used like rivets to anchor the plot from the sidelines without obstructing
the story as it unfolds or take away from the performances.</div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">The acting is rich and subtly highlights nuances in
expression that only go on to make the performances even more believable and
convincing as the story comes alive in the viewers mind.</span><br />
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Happy days are here again - on television, with international serials like these and their ilk being aired for Indian audiences who crave for meaningful visual content that appeals (as against appalls, given the saas-bahu drama we otherwise get to see unfold on our screens) to their cerebral sensibilities. Truely, as far as quality of Indian television goes, there are (imported) soaps and then there's (desi) lather!</div>
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Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-91107540036418163682016-12-31T12:09:00.000+05:302016-12-31T12:15:09.413+05:30Incandescence <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Thank you 2016 for all the experiences and learnings you brought along - from balancing work-life priorities to pushing myself to try out newer experiences, for teaching me to realise that while the destination will eventually be reached, the magic is in the journey and staying the course, you've shown it all.</div>
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I can only hope that the year to come helps me leverage these experiences and learnings on my onward journey.</div>
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I wish you all a year of memorable journeys too - both into and outside of yourselves.</div>
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More love, peace and good health to you all.</div>
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Atma Namaste!</div>
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Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-31754574161591942222016-09-11T13:52:00.000+05:302016-09-11T22:08:18.646+05:30The Blue Silk Scarf<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Winter had set in earlier than expected that year and, along with it had set in a certain sense of dark anxiety. Anandita got up wearily, adjusting herself. She was more heartbroken than she was tired. She stared blankly at the ceiling as if expecting it to console and comfort her by drawing itself like a warm quilt upon her. Nightfall was only a couple of hours away.<br />
<br />
It was 6 pm on the 18th of December – exactly a year since Anuraag and she had been married. Hearing the wall clock tick by the second only made Anandita more conscious of passing time, albeit nervously. Tara had just fallen asleep beside her – more out of exhaustion than of a need for slumber. She felt secure in the arms of her mother. Her mother – her hero, the one woman she looked upto in the whole world. Tara knew her mother was a strong woman and derived her strength from that one sole fact. A successful corporate lawyer, she had single handedly brought up Tara with utmost dedication and care. Anuraag would never have happened to Tara had it not been for Anandita. Mother and daughter had cried enough that long cold evening.<br />
<br />
Anuraag and Anandita had met at the law firm, where Anandita was a practicing corporate lawyer, on a banking litigation case that involved Anuraag’s bank. Right from the first time they were introduced he couldn’t help noticing how attractively beautiful she was – doe eyed and earthy in the pale of that creamy-brown dhakai silk saree she wore that day, with a round bindi to match. He knew from that very moment that he had fallen for her. A quintessential ‘ladies-man’, Anuraag was well-groomed and average looking. His oratory skills coupled with a mesmerizing voice were his trump cards. That he was rich and a powerful name to reckon with in the corporate corridors made him only more attractive. And, how they swooned around him – women of all ages – eating out of his hands as they heard him make engaging conversation in that timbre of a voice of his! He knew too the effect he had on women and, unabashedly used it to his advantage. That he was divorced and single made it only easier on collective conscience.<br />
<br />
Anuraag made quick moves. From insisting Anandita take up his case, to ensuring that she did – it helped that as a key client he could throw his weight around - he made multiple attempts to court and woo her. But no matter how much he tried, Anandita was indifferent to his charms. He was just another client for her and this was just another important case. With that in mind she fought his case well and won it, making headlines for the manner in which she built the win, bringing out evidences – circumstantial and factual – to absolve the bank of charges leveled against it. Anuraag was even more impressed; Anandita, even more distant.<br />
<br />
Life after Onirban’s death had been tough. It had taken her a long time to come to terms with his loss. A part of her – somewhere deep inside – still hadn’t. She loved him and missed his presence every single day. They were high school sweethearts who were meant to be, always! And life for them had only just begun. How then could he have gone so suddenly? She wasn’t prepared for the manner in which he was taken away. They weren’t! They were married for only two years with tinted dreams of staying married for fifty.
Tara was just about approaching her first birthday when Onirban passed away in a hijacked plane crash on his way home from an international assignment in Iran. A bureaucrat with the Indian government, he was a member of the delegation visiting Iran to discuss bilateral economic ties in light of the economic sanctions imposed on the country following a ban on exports. The delegation had planned to stay on and return a few days later after a few sight-seeing trips; however Onirban had planned his return earlier to make it in time for Tara’s first birthday. Destiny though had other plans. And along with that plane, Anandita’s world came a crashing as well. She suddenly found herself at the crossroads of life, completely underprepared and lost. Only now, life had to go on as there was Tara too. Her energies over the next couple of years were completely focused on bringing up Tara and ensuring that Tara never missed the comforting presence of her father. Onirban had provided well for them but the money was soon running out. Running a home and bringing up a child single handedly wasn’t easy on the finances. She had to get back to practicing professionally as a corporate lawyer sooner than later. So five years later with a heavy heart she went back to the corporate job she had given up after her marriage to Onirban. Tara soon grew accustomed to the comforts of her crèche.<br />
<br />
Years flew by. Tara was now fourteen and in high school. Anandita, now forty, had grown very well in her career and become a name to reckon with. She was seen as a determined and ambitious woman who seldom lost a case. Fact was she had no choice. She had to work twice as harder to be taken seriously as a woman...a beautiful one at that! Taking tough decisions and executing them with singular focus was second nature to her now. Life had moulded her that way. And even though she did coyly bask in the attention she got from men for her looks, she had long since realized they were just not worth it for paradoxically the same quite reason.
Anuraag took to Tara almost instantaneously. He loved her energy and bubbly spiritedness. He had run into Tara at a restaurant one evening when she was out to dinner with Anandita. He joined them at their table for a while, uninvited. But what struck Anandita about him this time was his way with Tara. Anuraag effortlessly struck an engaging conversation with Tara and seemed to have won her confidences easily. Tara too was mighty taken in by the fatherly attention she got and seemed to lap it up - every minute of it fervently. Anandita watched them both on the sidelines. She had longed for a moment like this – Onirban, she and Tara. Sigh, if only...<br />
<br />
Anuraag became a regular at their home thereafter. Tara looked forward to his visits. She had grown attached to him in a way even she couldn’t fathom. He was protective, kind and loving. He seemed to understand her well, sometimes even better than Anandita, who now had herself grown emotionally attached to Anuraag, though she never admitted it. She felt secure for her daughter with Anuraag around. He had slowly managed to successfully fill in the void that Onirban had left behind. It made her feel guilty too, at times, and she reprimanded herself for such thoughts. Life continued like this for two years until one fateful day in October, when on Ashtami, Anuraag popped the question to Anandita at pujo. She was already in love with him by then and Tara liked him too. She conceded! Tara was the happiest.<br />
<br />
Anuraag and Anandita were married that December. The family was complete again. Anuraag took on the role of a father very well. He spent a lot of his time with Tara and took pains to ensure he was always around for her, making Anandita only more reassured about her choice to settle down with Anuraag. This was the right decision. And just when she thought life was back o track Tara slowly became a matter of concern. She had entered into that period Anandita dreaded the most – the troublesome teens. Increasingly rebellious, moody and reticent, she grew distant and would now not even listen to Anuraag who she doted on once upon a time not very long ago. Infact she seemed to detest him now that he had married her mother. They were both perplexed by this sudden change in her behaviour. While they had heard managing a teen was tough; it was now their time to experience it first hand! Anuraag, however, was prepared for it and patiently assured Anandita that this was a phase that would soon pass. Anandita, thankful for Anuraag in her life at this stage, couldn’t wait for that time to come. She was already stressed at work on one of those high-profile cases that demanded stretch hours at work, even on weekends. An unreasonably defiant teen at home was the last thing she could handle in the little time she got to spend at home these days. Anuraag was understanding and made every effort to ensure she got her share of rest as he took over complete responsibility for Tara. He even suggested taking Tara on a vacation abroad, a plan that Tara vehemently shot down as soon as it was conceived and verbalised.
Tara’s moods slowly caught up with her performance in school. A bright student throughout, her grades had begun to dip as much as her interest in basketball and tennis – sports which she excelled at. Anandita obviously didn’t take lightly to this drop in her academic and extracurricular performance at school. She hadn’t struggled to see Tara come to this. At a certain subliminal level she perhaps also felt guilty believing she had some part to play in the way things had panned out in Tara's life. At times like these, she was tempted to confront Tara openly about it over a heart-to-heart conversation but Anuraag would dissuade her saying it’d only make things worse. She reluctantly agreed.<br />
<br />
It was almost a year into their marriage, with their anniversary only a few days away. Anuraag had planned a dinner at the Taj requesting for a special terrace suite to celebrate the evening. He was travelling that week and was scheduled to return on the day of their anniversary. Anandita, as was her routine lately, was working late that evening and was to join him directly at the hotel for dinner. Tara had planned to stay back at home. It was no use convincing her otherwise. The day of the anniversary arrived. Tara was at her gloomy best and refused to acknowledge the day for her mother. Anandita thought it best to ignore her as she adjusted her blue pashmina silk scarf, over the suede wrap dress in emerald hues, gifted to her by Tara a year ago at her wedding. This was the first time she was wearing it after it was gifted. For some reason though wearing it felt heavy. Tenderly kissing Tara goodbye, Anandita gave Tara a hug and told her and would always be there for her no matter what. And as she said it the scarf came away loosely undone and gently slipped off her shoulders. Grabbing it off the floor, Anandita rushed to work, suddenly missing Onirban very much.<br />
<br />
Her day at work that day seemed longer than usual. But her mind today was restless. Tara played heavy on her mind and suddenly all she wanted was to rush back home and be with Tara, hug her in her arms and just be. Anandita decided to call it a day at work, early that day, and drop in home to spend some time with Tara before heading out to dinner with Anuraag. She reached home. There was an eerie silence about the place. As she moved towards Tara’s bedroom on the upper floor she heard faint sobs emerging from the kitchen downstairs, or did she? There it was again! She turned about and headed in the direction of the kitchen. The sobs by now had only grown louder. At the kitchen door, from the other side, she could heard Tara’s voice wincing in pain begging not to be hurt. Anandita grew pale. She became stone cold as she pushed the door ajar in a hurry. What she saw had her in disbelief! Anuraag forcing himself mercilessly on a scared and sobbing Tara…her Tara…her baby! This couldn’t be happening. But it was.<br />
<br />
Suddenly it all made sense. Tara’s mood swings, her change in behaviour, Anuraag’s increased involvement in her upbringing, her sudden detest for him. How could she have not seen through it? Overcome with swelling emotion that in seconds metamorphosed into seething rage she darted into the kitchen grabbing the first thing that came to her hands – the kitchen knife that teasingly lay on the platform. Distracted by the sudden movement behind him, Anuraag swerved in defence only to grab Anandita by the scarf around her neck and contain her next steps by choking her as hard as he could. Anandita ripped at the scarf tearing it apart to undo Anuraag's grip on her neck. And before he knew it, stabbed at him again…and again…and again as he groaned in pain and tried to evade her manic dig. After putting up quite a defence, he finally conceeded, giving up in fight and in spirit. Tara sitting motionless beside him, inconsolably sobbing.<br />
<br />
It was 6 pm on the 18th of December – exactly a year since Anuraag and she had been married. Hearing the wall clock tick by the second only made Anandita more conscious of passing time, albeit nervously. Tara had just fallen asleep beside her – more out of exhaustion than of a need for slumber. She felt secure in the arms of her mother. Her mother – her hero, the one woman she looked upto in the whole world. Tara knew her mother was a strong woman and derived her strength from that one sole fact. Anuraag would never have happened to Tara had it not been for Anandita. Mother and daughter had cried enough that long cold evening.<br />
<br />
After what seemed like an endless while Anandita got up wearily, adjusting herself, waking up Tara in the process. She moved slowly but purposefully towards her handbag, with Tara held closely beside her, in the living room. Fetching her cell phone from the handbag she calmly dialed 100. Her head was spinning. The smell of blood had now permeated the house. It was nauseating. They both needed fresh air and Anandita craved a double expresso too. Coffee calmed her down. And she had to act calmly now. Tara and she made their way to the coffee shop in the lane beside their home. Starbucks used to be Tara’s favourite hangout joint, ever since it had opened shop over a year ago. She loved meeting her friends there as they discussed girly things and boys much to the amusement of those who cared to hear their babble at the coffee shop. Today however, it was different. Something in her had changed, for good. She felt all grown up. Anandita loved spending her time at the coffee shop too. It offered her solace and calm when Tara would throw up her moody tantrums in the past year. Sipping her coffee and staring out of the window blankly, Anandita felt calm again. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, wrapped in her blue silk scarf…<br />
<br />
The police were soon to arrive.
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Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-88514321071765163352016-03-19T17:43:00.000+05:302016-09-11T14:25:09.816+05:30Of Karma and a Taxi Ride...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I lost my wallet last evening; left it in a cab plying from Dadar to Bandra, on my way to an official dinner. Unfortunately I realised only a lot later on my way back home as my fingers fumbled searching for it, rummaging through my backpack, to tender change for the return bus ride. It was then that it struck me I'd left it on the rear seat of the cab in my hurry to disembark, worrying I was late for the event, after paying the cabbie. Sadly, it was now, too late!
Piecing together all the loose change I had one me - and I somehow always end up having plenty of that - I paid my bus fare and, began e-transferring money from the accounts in which I had my lost cards attached, to the one for which I don't carry my card at all - a back-up, I picked up from a friend a long time ago. God, it works!<br />
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The next task that lay ahead of me was the most arduous - that of calling up customer service, winding my route through a series of instructions across befuddling menu options (hate them!) and hot-listing my cards. And strangely much as I tried - and I tried for half an hour relentlessly - I couldn't just get through! So much for timely customer service eh!
The only comfort I had was of having successfully e-transferred my money. But then I still had my Driver's licence and claim bills that amounted to quite some, in there.
Funnily around the same time I also began to experience a feeling that my wallet was going to find its way back to me somehow. I dismissed that as a foolish thought though.<br />
<br />
Cut to this morning when I receive a call from Gayasuddin who told me how he came back last night to Bandra after realising I had left my wallet in his cab, waited for about half an hour and then left unhappily with a burden in his heart. Guddu (as he's popularly called) went back home to Ghatkopar and deconstructed the contents of my wallet to match my Driver's licence with details on my visiting card, which carries my hand phone number and, called this morning to say he'd drop by to return it in the afternoon. And he did just that, refusing to take a penny, despite my politely egging, and then forcing him to. Instead he suggested we have a chai together, for which I happily obliged.
And there over that cup of cutting-chai with the afternoon sun blazing right over us, I learnt about a man who lost so much without so much as letting any of those experiences embitter him. I learnt (from what he told me) about the sanctity of keeping karmic law and, about holding on to values no matter what 'cause they are the only sturdy oars you have in life to help you sail tormenting, sometimes tempting waters.<br />
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It's strange isn't it...how life throws up opportunities to learn and unlearn all the time? I grabbed this one to make a friend. And that qualified me to have also received an invite to his wedding in Pratapgarh, UP later in the year.
A heartfelt relief, a big smile and some gup-shup later we decided to stay connected and reach out occasionally, over a cuppa' or, two maybe, along the route we ply. And so, here's giving it up for you Guddu, my new friend in this city that's home to us both.<br />
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On my way home from the tea stall I pass by a signage that reads 'We're past the ides of March, it's time to party! I'm smiling
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Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10598406.post-77057979721382216692015-05-08T22:23:00.000+05:302015-06-21T22:26:41.461+05:30Being Human.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have nothing personal against Salman Khan as a person but this I must say...what he did was wrong.<br />
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● WRONG to have indulged in drunken driving<br />
● WRONG to have blatantly ignored warnings he got for speeding<br />
● WRONG to have cowardly fled the scene after running the hapless sleeping pedestrian over<br />
● WRONG to have gone into hiding for a week thereafter<br />
● WRONG to have put up an alibi to cover up for him<br />
● WRONG to have incessantly lied about the incident and misled the lawyers<br />
● WRONG to have pretended to be innocent all this while<br />
● WRONG to have not so much as even visited the family of the victim he murdered; that he never once compensated them is another matter altogether!<br />
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So, Salman my friend, is this what 'Being Human' finally adds up to?<br />
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To my mind, Salman, you missed an opportunity to truely showcase what 'being human' is all about.<br />
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You could have come clean about the truth and been man enough to accept the consequences of your actions. Not only would that have sent out the right message to the millions of fans you have out there but also, would have made you a true hero for all you're worth! Just imagine the influence you'd have had on impressionable minds out there who idolise you, had you done that.<br />
<br />
And that, to my mind, is what 'BEING HUMAN' is all really about - that imperfect as we are in our lives and in our actions, we accept responsibility for it and make ammends in ways that show we're truely repentant because we still have a caring heart.</div>
Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17844265897514966110noreply@blogger.com1