After 30 Days..

It has been 30 days since I started Nomadify
It wasn't exactly a bumpy ride, may be because I was prepared and wasn't even hoping that the first trip that I plan would even happen, but it did happen.

I have learnt a few things in the last 30 days & I might be wrong in what I say here. I am speck of dust in this business world. But I write these here so that I can incorporate few things not just in business but in my life also.

Manipulation, and not emotions, have to be your strength. You can't let your emotions get in the way of your business. Short temper is not an excuse for shouting at someone. Panic Attacks are not an excuse for taking rash decisions. Rather, manipulate circumstances & your thoughts when required. I am guessing that would be all the mucking time.

Keep composure. If you are ever in a dilemma or a difficult situation, I suggest you switch off your phone first even if contains the contact of the person who can keep you composed. Then you stop whining about why things went haywire. You anyways have to get up and show up then why not do it with poise and grace. Think of a solution, run it by the stake holders while maintaining neutral stand and composure. Never show that you were not prepared to handle a little hiccup.

Don't be offended if people don't trust you. You are responsible for building it. Keep patience and let your actions prove you.

Observer your customers; how they react, what amuses them or what pushes them back. Understanding human psychology should be a big part of how you do business.. be it any business.

Nothing beats a pen and paper. Keep a diary that has your 'To-Do' , 'To-Call', 'To-get-rid-of' etc things listed. If there are fixed timings to something, then only it makes sense to put a reminder for it on your phone. If you are going to forward something in an email later then it makes sense to write it down in a word document. Otherwise, just use a notebook & scribble everything.

Don't expect your family to get their hands dirty in your business. Initially, your family might not take you seriously,  cousins & relatives will just nod heads a few times as you tell them about your business idea and plan , and then they will forget about it. They will think you are in the 'phase'. But let that pass.
You will even hear sweet things from your parents like 'please, we can't see you so stressed out and working non stop..don't run after business & let us provide some extra cash for your needs'. But hey, nothing like the sweetness of overcoming obstacles & keep growing.

Winters of 2016

Cold treatment.

Broken coffee machine.

Winter came in early this year.

पानी की एक बूँद

सागर में मिली तो वजूद खो दिया

आँखों से आंसू बनकर टपकी तो दिल रो दिया |

एक दिन हरे पत्ते पर बैठकर इठला रही थी

तभी सूरज ने आकर कैद कर दिया किसी बादल में |

बादल से गिर सड़क पर एक धब्बा सा,

और फिर से गुम हो गई जब बच्चे ने मारा छपक्का सा |

खाने की मेज़ पर राखी प्लेट पर सुस्ता रही थी,

और तभी बहु रानी ने आकर साफ़ कर दिया |

मानो किसी ने बिना माफ़ी के बहार कर दिया |

शायद मैं वही पानी की एक बूँद हूँ |

Recipe To Prepare An Awful Man

(World doesn't need more awful men/women but who knows if someday monsters and demons are coming back after a good football game and they visit us on the way for a good feast of awful men. Chef Vikas Khanna, when contacted on this clearly sounded unprepared for but Chef Snoopy has come to our rescue with this recipe)

1. Take an amalgamation of proteins and carbs (any quality...all qualities are easily degradable when made into a man).Add a cup of stubbornness and some whipped underdevelopment so that it does not mature till the end.
2. Sauté this amalgamation in a male dominated society until you smell intolerable ego and dominance.
3. Spread this in different bad hygiene molds and bake in high temperament until vapors of ignorance and rudeness are seen.
4. Glaze with some deceptive looks.
5. Now garnish with sprigs of antipathy.
6. The unpalatable dish is ready to be served with some deception sauce!
                    Call the monsters and the demons to a feast!

Recipe by Chef Snoopy. Writer is merely spreading it.

Devil Dust

You were the lazy 2pm afternoon
And I were the uninteresting 5pm evening 
We met.
You became the 4am blue smear in the sky
And I the the crescent moon of that hour.
Then , we submitted to the 8am sun ,traffic, busy lives and some emails.. 
And thus dissolved into devil dust.

Let me be something

I want to be the froth of your coffee

And the caramel of your toffee

Make me that cherry on your mango mousse

And the hangover of your booze

I should be the spice in your fish fry

And that delicious icing on your pear pie

I wish to be the fizz of your coke

And the high of your smoke

I want to be the flavor of your milkshake

And the elixir for all your ache

I-was the start of this poetic brew

 I want the end to be- you.

I will let you be wine.. 

When The Empress Changes Out Of Her Dusty Riding Clothes

Each morning you force yourself to open both eyes. Then do nothing but stare at the blank ceiling that is exactly opposite to your mind which is full of clutter even at the first moment of the morning. Now you know that rituals of trying, crying, and then waiting for it to pass will again be repeated, with no deadline of how long this is going to go. You don't get down from the bed and still feel like you are falling through the levels of despair, agony, melancholy and helplessness. You unwillingly keep one foot down the bed, then the next foot and thrust yourself up with the a sigh and a phew. You notice you are staggering. Every inhale and every exhale through your body seems like a project completed. Every breath is cold and rough. Even the first few moments of the day seem like eternity and bloody day… how will you survive this.

But then you involuntarily check your mails, pick up the newspaper, pat your dog and explain how to make north Indian style lady finger to your cook in great detail for the hundredth time. Countless number of tasks for the day makes you realize that you have to go about this business of living no matter what, no matter whom. You have to enjoy the explosion. No one is waiting for you to get up and put on that eyes-open-when-you-tap-feet song for you. You have to be your ultimate cheerleader. No one I coming to bail you out from here so stop waiting for the pumpkin cart and glass heels.

You search for your tiara, take out the dress that compliments your personality, get a pair of good shoes and crush your resentment. Tell yourself that you may not be made of stardust but there is every possibility that you can reach for the stars. Don't fall through the rabbit hole. There is just a door there, pull it and get out.

Walk with your shades on and head held high. Walk slow, or fast, in the lawn or on the pavement, inside or outside; but just don’t walk backwards.

To The Doubtful Dreamers

We all have dreams. We decide their beginning; we decide their ending – better or worse. But why is it that whatever happens in between is left on situations, other people or the world to decide. Why can we not stop questioning our confidence to materialize our ideas or pursue our passion and start questioning what we can do or change to be closer to achieving our dreams?

We get so busy in our lives- struggling, meeting people’s expectations, drinking gallons of coffee on weekdays and pints of beer on weekends that we fail to realize that having a mind that can incubate an idea is something we need to pay attention to. Our mind has something that makes our body language positive, our voice sound confident and our visions more clear.

You are going to fail but not expire, burn, or melt or die. You may have little or no money on some days but keep showing up. You will fail, learn, apologize, improvise, be up at 2 am in the night, not come home for 3 and half days, try to squeeze things into your calendar but you will not die. Nothing will kill you except the death of your dreams. Chase your dreams until you get so engrossed that one day while going out you have two different shoes in your feet , your t-shirt has a hole near the corner or the hair in your armpit is about to develop into an ecosystem in itself that you don’t care and it all seems superficial. Be that kind of crazy about it.
There is a war raging inside you, and its demons won't be silenced until you tackle the fact that you are addicted to converting draft to manuscript, design into development and practice to performance. To run away from this, war many a times we drown ourselves in addictions or escapism but dreams don't have a half-life, they always stay young and make our eyes illuminate when we talk about them. Do not give a placebo to your dreams. Don't ask them to shut up and get lost because you are happy and ‘feel’ stable with your beautiful house, a job that helps you pay EMI, and expensive shoes that you could afford last week. This lifestyle might be transient but your ideas are not.

Strike a balance. Take family in confidence and show them how your eyes shine a little brighter when you talk about your dream. Have a plan B for bad weather days. Whenever you have moments of clarity, write them down, record them and listen when you feel doubtful. Well, there are a lot of bullet points out there to help you manage better but one golden rule that I like to stick to is- break down the elephant. Break down things into parts which are comprehensible in one glance. Break down the tasks, the routine, the plan, and the finances and anything that bothers you. No more dealing with the elephants. It is easier dealing with cats and dogs (smaller tasks). Oh, analogy got a little bit too far here.. No apologies but, I am just following my dream where I see myself writing what I like.

You might have to take a little rain check from the normal routine, going to pubs, socializing, sleeping at the right time but would it not pump your heart with happy blood and your brain with peace when you would see your creation getting transformed from intangible thoughts to something tangible.

And last of all; don’t try to climb to people's expectations of you. Don't be confined in the idea of 'nice' that this society has fed us-a ‘nice’ (to be read as big fat) wedding, a ‘nice’ car, a ‘nice’ patio. Nice almost sounds like an assault on your dreams when you alter your plans so that you can acquire these things instead of nurturing your ideas.

Still not convinced? Well, then your ideas and dreams were just a momentary high in the timeline of your whole life and now your hangover is over and you are ready to go to office tomorrow. Yeah, go back to diplomatic mails. Shoo!

I have philosophy I like to call ‘Fishing in the sixties’ which is something I recall whenever in doubt. I will tell you sometime later about it.

Backwash

When adulthood hits you hard and you realize there are things even Coldplay songs can't fix. Only a backwash would help...
( This poem involves a bundle of imagery, so read it slowly , delighting in every action described)

I tore some pages of the book from which you read me your favorite fable

and rolled them to smoke the pot of memories left by you near the table.

I snuffed out the candle that made you look subtle,

and took a high in the dark at the whiff of afterthoughts left by you at the scuttle.

I walked to the cusp of yearning abandoned by you at my window sill

and watched your universe skittering against mine drop by drop.

I collected your impressions, tantrums and every noxious speech;

Kept them into sealed jars and slapped a label on each.

Just so that you could see which ones were impolite, wild, raw and rotten.

Also there are unread messages which you might have forgotten.

I didn't just lit the fireplace,

I set it ablaze and incinerated all your thoughts there.

I stabbed the pillows lying on the corner couch and let your musk escape anywhere.

I disgusted at your picture, like we do at the food that is bland.

Yes, now I ignore your messages

like the news of active volcano in a distant land.

Backwash. (verb)..reversing the flow

The Innocence Keeper

[PART-1]

Dear Adult,

Hi, how are you? I hope you are as curious, contented and hopeful as I am. Did you forget me??

Well, since I don't have ego issues I won't mind re introducing myself. I am your inner ageless child. I am the child lurking in the nth corner of your multi cornered heart, holding onto the dead nerve endings and sipping on your intoxicated blood. Intriguing question- why your heart has so many corners now? Earlier there were just 3- one for mom, one for dad and one for the dog. Remember how you kept splitting the last corner between our snugly dog and the stupid mauve colored polka dot dress. But now, you have so many that you will probably need a full moon cycle to visit them all and come back to me. You have one for each of the gadgets you dearly keep, one for your favorite spot on the couch with the best angle to watch TV, one for each of the 'm' ex partners you have had since grade 10 (where m>0 and m<5... yes I have excluded the moron who didn't return the Coldplay poster after breakup). Oh, i remember one corner for the batman fridge magnet also! Did mom eat a crazy rabbit when we were born?!

Let us decide on a few things. We share the same opinion on Mondays- spreading horror since the year you turned 3 years old- *sigh* .Tuesdays you can behave a lot more like an adult and a little less like me. Let us settle for 80-20 percent. On Tuesdays, can you just dance around with a song in your head while making dinner?

I deserve a box of chocolates every Wednesday. Mid-week crisis needs to be handled with less caffeine and more coco. Thursday is going to be a sports filled day. Get your football shoes on, and bring home the smelly sweat and muddy t-shirt. Don't forget to bring dirty shoes inside. I kind of miss the time when mum knew that it is me who got dirty shoe spots in the house, but still she would shout 'who did this, I will go mad cleaning the house!' (To be read with a puckered brow , taut voice and hands on your waist ). Friday, and the weekend is a huge responsibility, let me think.

To be continued...

I don’t lend books and bookmarks

Should I start with the line- ‘I am sorry, I don’t lend my books’? *my alter ego gives me dark looks*. No sorry at all! I have an absolutely unapologetic smirk about this rule. I would not want to lend even my bookmarks (if I ever have one, I usually use paper clips, id card strings, hair pins, cookie packets, bridges, rivers, galaxies, stars for bookmarks… My bookmarks never see the pages of any book after their first one. I chew/crush/tear them while reading a gripping tale or a philosophical rhapsody).

I was a reckless, impulsive, kind lender until I realized people don’t follow the 3Rs that I have set as my book lending rule, which in order of priority are- Return, Respect and Read.

People move to other cities and If I ask them to walk up to a courier shop and send my book they are almost tempted to say-‘yaar meri mummy jaane nahi dengi’ (translation: My mom won’t allow me to go.. and why?- let her know that chicken has to cross the road *giggling*). People break friendship with you and throw your books in front of their cats to chew on. They know exactly how to hurt me! No sign of the blameless book after that. They even re-lend it to somebody in the office, who lends it to his nephew, from his hands it gets snatched by his girlfriend, who forgets it in the school canteen and the book gets passed on to the man behind the counter; thus the epilogue, credits, preface, prologue server their last days as plates for samosas whereas the luckless cover page may land up in bonfire or equally worse… in stove fire. And then there are people who are normal and nice but turn into amnesiac blobs of flesh when you lend them books- the forgetful ones. Sigh! That is a brutal sketch of how my books are separated or killed in terrorist activities.

If by the grace of God, I do get my book back but not in the condition I gave it , then tremors pass down my spine, my head is inflamed, my feet go cold, my palms involuntarily go into fist mode and my teeth clench while my face is still trying to show cuteness at the sight of my friend. You may shower with your books, stuff them in your aloo parantha, or sail them across the Thames but my books are NOT to be treated like that. I wish I could get your attention by putting that in red, bold, underlined and flashy style. When I complain about the vandalism people shamelessly say-“Chill, It is just a book” and I am tempted to say “yeah, cow dung is just a cake!” *moron*. To all the severely unhinged people who have returned my books dog-eared, torn, covered in dust or underlined – I will get you and Holy scramboly! It is going to look like a suicide. I am not very fussy when I am reading my own book. I have all the authority to put sticky notes on important chapters or pages, underline beautifully crafted lines, write my own version of the expressions or keep it under my pillow and I am not going to explain why. (Oh, it is fun to sound snobbish sometimes)

When I lend a book, I am being a little selfish hoping that when the borrower finishes reading it we will have something common to discuss and  I might find a new interpretation. So if you are not going to read it, don’t fucking borrow it. I can discuss about fictional deaths, sci-fi scenes, or simple lanes of Landour (as described by Ruskin Bond) without any inhibition. I won’t be in such a free state of mind even when discussing my weekend plans. Discussing metaphors involved in ‘Catcher in the Rye’ is more awe inspiring than discussing about someone’s- friend’s-flat mates’-boyfriend (cheap gossip).  

Now I am a contextual being. My rules change for some people. I am the one begging them to read a book that I loved and can lead. If I have ever forced book/books into your hands, you are one of the few. If you are the one whom I have lent (with a heavy heart), now keep it with you; it won’t be a fond memory if we ever meet. Then there are people I want to meet soon and give them a book. Do you think you are one of them? 

Aptly put!