Stories Boarding Passes Tell
For instance, my wallet contains a ticket stub for the second day of an India-Australia test match held at the Chinnaswamy stadium in Bangalore, that I went to watch with Monkee three days before I took my GMAT.
It also contains a ticket for ‘The Bank Job’ starring Jason Statham, that I watched at a multiplex with a friend, Hannah, a list of books by Louisa May Alcott that my sister wanted me to buy her the next time I visited a bookstore (done) and a receipt for gelato ice cream from an Italian gelato shop in Indiranagar that I had visited with someone who helped define a ‘Delilah’ as the unit of separation between two people that liked each other.
Each of these items brings back many memories, that bring back other memories in turn, and the mind keeps playing hop-scotch on an infinitely long board, jumping from one series of events onto another until one’s present reality jolts it back to think of more immediate things, such as eating the delicious bowl of custard my Mum made, now that my visits back home have become a quarterly affair.
I’m currently working on a piece related to R K Narayan’s walks in Mysore (which I will link up here shamelessly in due time) and in order to refresh my memory and to provide me with inspiration, I looked up ‘The Writerly Life’, a selection of non-fiction pieces by RKN.
In the pages of the book, I found a Jet Airways boarding pass dated 6th February 2008, which was when I went to Madras to get my US B1 visa. This boarding pass triggered a slew of thoughts, mostly centered around what transpired that day.
I remember reaching the US visa consulate armed with my documents and nothing else, because I was told that cell phones and other electronic equipment weren’t allowed inside. No ipod, no wallet, just loose cash and documents. As I walked along the heavily fortified compound, I noticed a young chap staring away into the horizon, tears streaming down the corners of his eyes. He seemed to be in his early twenties and was clad in attire that made him look like a madrasa student. It was quite evident that his visa application was rejected (and sadly, it was also quite evident why) and he waited for a bit before he composed himself, wiped his tears and strode away.
The queue for the business visa was long, and for some reason, I remember the official talking to everyone present as if he were doing us a favour by letting us in. I noticed many other techies in line, many with their ID cards around their neck.
My visa interview, if I could call it that, took all of thirty seconds following which, I was asked to collect my passport later that evening. I left the compound, relieved to do so and spent the next four hours walking aimlessly along Mount Road. It was on this very day that I picked up my copy of Lonely Planet Israel from the Landmarks store in Nungambakkam.
I had visited the Spencer plaza Landmarks bookstore and was told to head to Nungambakkam instead. With lots of time to kill, I took that short walk and purchased the book for 1100 bucks. Spending so much on a travel book indicated to me an escalation of commitment which strengthened my resolve to visit the place one fine day in the future.
The other memory that boarding passes bring is that of the first ever time I was on a plane. I was three, and was traveling with my Mum and sister from Bangalore to Bombay. My sister was a few months old and for some reason, I thought that the tray tables were present for us to place the baby during the flight. The flight attendant, my Mum recalls, was quite amused at the idea, though she wouldn’t let me put it to action.
My maternal grampa was present at the arrivals lounge at the Santa Cruz airport to pick us up and I can distinctly remember him standing behind the glass door, as he waved at us with a huge smile on his face. In return, I remember being delighted to see him and being able to recognize him in that crowd.
It could have been a sequence at the start or the end of “Love, Actually”, for all I know.
A good memory, I was told, was a curse because I would never be able to forget the things I didn’t want to remember. I know I can’t remember everything. But it is these little things, boarding passes for instance, that help unearth memories that are otherwise relegated to a corner of my mind.
And for what it’s worth, I’m glad the memories remain.
Hari at a Harijan Basti
It is a little scary how one can get attached to those little kids in such a short span of time and I guess the fact that they’ve not yet lost their innocence and are yet to have their heads fucked-up plays a huge part in that.
My second tryst was at a Harijan basti (and hence the title) where people from our firm, along with some kind volunteers from an NGO had to do multiple things, including help give the residents of that locality some tips on basic sanitation, setup a medical camp for the children and have a street play for the entire locality that would serve to entertain and educate.
My outlook towards CSR in general has evolved since I began working. My first organization had a strong part to play in its approach to CSR and would use some of its work done during its corporate showcase presentations. They did a lot of good work, but did it openly and quite blatantly. This was similar to conspicuous consumption in that it was a form of conspicuous charity and that made me largely cynical towards the efforts undertaken.
My view is that charity should be done in as understated a manner as possible and the best ulterior motive that one can have is to have it serve as an anodyne for one’s need to do something for society, with the only reward being good Karma points.
It is with this cynical bent of mind that I did not take part in any initiative at my first workplace, with the exception of donating blood, which was also made into a PR stunt at the end of the day.
When I went back to study, the students there organized something for underprivileged children as part of an all-day event and even then, I decided not to participate and caught up with some much needed sleep after a particularly raucous evening the previous day.
However, a change of season and a slightly broadened world-view has made me aware that organizations have their own reasons to undertake CSR activities and that it would invariably involve the participation of company employees and it is better to conform because it is for a good cause.
What I liked most about the two initiatives I participated in, besides being voluntary were the fact that these were understated, wouldn’t be used for a PR campaign to promote the firm and were only done as an internal check-box of sorts in the list of annual requirements to address.
That resulted in it being a fun experience for those involved.
What I am concerned about is the impact that we have had on the people in the locality. Visiting it was one of those experiences that makes you count your blessings many times over. I will not get into descriptions of how these people live in the conditions that they do because I don’t want to paint word pictures and I’d rather people, especially those that can serve as change-agents go have a look for themselves.
I walk through some Gurgaon villages as short-cuts rather frequently and when we were informed that some of the locations would be quite dirty, I was rather dismissive of the warning given. What I saw when I went there was that the Gurgaon villages such as Nathupur and Chakkarpur that have now been absorbed inadvertently by a greater sprawl of suburbia have much better living conditions than these places that are devoid of some of the most basic amenities that human beings are required to have by right.
I scooted off early to spend Friday afternoon with a couple of my buddies and missed out on office lunch, but as I was sitting and eating lunch at an up-scale coffee shop in comfortable air-conditioning in Gurgaon’s Galleria market, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander briefly to think of all the varied hues and colours that humans tend to come in.
At the end of the day, I just hope that we left behind at the Harijan basti a lot more than just strategically placed multi-coloured plastic dustbins and medical cards with children’s information on them. The most realistic hope that I have is that some people have had a positive change in mindset and if that has happened, I’d consider this endeavour a success.
From a good Karma perspective, I think I’ve raked up a few decent points here. One of the things that is reinforced through exercises like these is the happiness that comes from a lack of expectation of something in return when you’ve done some work for people that are anonymous to you and that you are in turn anonymous to.
Lastly, it was also fun to have encountered someone whose name truly fits who they are.
Neil Gaiman on Love
Wordsmiths are geniuses.
They make your head spin. They take you places you’ve been to that you never thought you’d go to again, mostly because you willed yourself not to. But once you’re there, you stay. You stay because you can’t go away soon enough.
They write all the nice and funny lines that millions of people all over the world use to make their lives more interesting. Sometimes, they get credit for it.
Sometimes they come up with something that is brilliant beyond words. Gaiman, after Pico Iyer will only be the second author I have quoted in posts. I don’t agree entirely with what he has written here, because cynicism towards love isn’t really my thing.
Have you ever been in love?
Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up.
You build up all these defenses. You build up a whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life… You give them a piece of you.
They didn’t ask for it.
They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore.
Love takes hostages.
It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ or ‘how very perceptive’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart.
It hurts.
Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. Nothing should be able to do that. Especially not love.
I hate love.
Well, I don’t.
But I love how Gaiman put it all together. I don’t know if he actually hates love either, just between you and me.
Seth Rogen as Mantis
Seth Rogen as Mantis in Kung Fu Panda 2 3D put forth one epic line in the second half of the movie that now makes me believe that subliminal adult messages set in movies are a thing of yore, with things being more up-front and blatantly obvious now.
Mantis, on being captured and tied up, facing impending death says this:
All I wanted in life was to meet a nice girl who would eat my head…
Respect. Also, while I wouldn’t mind writing a review, I’m plagued by the twin demons of sloth and ennui. As a result, all I’d say is that if you’ve not watched Kung Fu Panda 2 3D already, please do so as soon as you can. It is a really fun, well made movie.
Urban Banyan
I have always been fascinated by t-shirts because they are comfortable and trendy. One can use a t-shirt to make a statement and they are an apt reflection of one’s personality.
Just like everyone else, I want my t-shirts to be unique and ‘cool’. The coolness factor associated with a t-shirt is inversely proportional to the number of people wearing it. That is one of the reasons why, starting 2008, I began getting my own designs and having my own t-shirts done.
This continued all through B-school in 2009 and 2010 and I’ve taken great pride in collecting weird / funny / interesting (all synonyms as far as I am concerned) t-shirts.
From a career perspective, I’ve been strongly mulling over the idea of moving towards a portfolio of jobs in the future. The idea is to work on a few things that will serve as revenue streams instead of banking on a single source of income. In addition to diversifying risk, this approach tackles the need to satiate the needs of the left and right brain too, or so I hope.
It is with this intent that my friend Krithik and I have started off on a t-shirt firm named Urban Banyan. The name came about when Krithik and I were having a fun discussion on random t-shirt ideas. Being in Gurgaon does strange things to normal people. The name too, resulted from similar circumstances. The Banyan bit refers to the vest and not the Banyan tree, and must therefore be pronounced accordingly.
We’ve registered presence on facebook, twitter and on tumblr in addition to getting our URL registered. Please follow us on twitter, “like” us on facebook and keep us bookmarked for when the time is right.
To ensure that the coolness quotient associated with an awesome design doesn’t drop, only 200 prints per t-shirt will be manufactured. There are lots of ideas afoot, but all will be revealed step-by-step in good time.
One of the interesting things that I would like to do, in addition to getting this t-shirt design + manufacture venture off the ground and up and running is to open-source the entire process of setting up an online retail firm.
While providing those that read this blog with updates on Urban Banyan, it will also give other aspiring internet entrepreneurs a real-time, ringside view of how to go about setting shop. They can learn from mistakes that Urban Banyan makes and also help provide us information to correct our course midway in case we’re going FUBAR extreme.
In addition to getting good internet karma, an involved audience will also help prevent us slack off too much.
So if you’d like to know what is going on, bookmark this site / our tumblr blog on your feed reader and follow us. Spread the word and see how things take shape. Get involved and help us when we’re on our way to make cool t-shirts for everyone!
My Idea of a Perfect Marriage Proposal
You read the title right, I will admit.
This is probably the first time I am using the M-word in a self-referential context. My idea of a perfect marriage proposal involves only two things – engaging in the act of genuflection and giving the girl who makes me feel like the luckiest man on the planet a soft toy to signal that I would like for both of us to be together till death / natural disasters / compatibility issues / career aspirations / geographical separation / other people / ennui do us apart.
Anyway, I want to know where to find this soft toy and keep it with me for when the time is right.
I am still thinking of which sane, pop-culture loving, level-headed woman would say ‘no’ to a Pikachu-Cthulu doll. Seems foolproof, yes? I can’t think of a better way to say “I love you”.
Link courtesy Kowiks
Bylakuppe on The Better India
The magazine focuses on the bright side of things related to India and showcases, as its tagline states, on Positive News, Happy Stories, Unsung Heroes.
I just wrote in a piece on one of my favourite places, Bylakuppe that was published in the magazine today. Do check it out and spread the word about The Better India. You can also follow the magazine on twitter.
Livemint Represents
Much gratitude to Madman Aadisht! And there is more to follow!
