Setting out to find a new office space. Wearing a shirt after weeks. Istri, is of course, history.
The first place was an unmitigated disaster. As it always is. A way of the Real Estate Gods telling you that your budget was laughable. It was a good place for arty farty photography though.
The next place was still not where one you could bring your parents to with any degree of pride. Luckily I got something to recuperate.
The next place had a terrace one could step on to. I'm very partial to terraces. And a charming view of a rail yard. Something that would have normally have been a clincher. But the building still failed the proud parent test.
And then we saw the place we liked. It has a sea view from the meeting room. Something all Bombay buildings aspire for and only some achieve. It's a new building. Good lift. Parent test, check. An old friend of the office came to the window to check me out. I hope I passed.
If all goes well, we'd have found our fourth office in 14 years. We too, like many others, debated if we really need an office. And finally decided to downsize. We vacated our bigger office for somebody else to downsize to.
I'll keep you posted. Thank you for all the support.
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Today is a good day to tell you the story of how my 85 year old grandmother helped us win the IPL. I will not tell you which edition it was. I am sworn to secrecy. +
I was on the bench the entire season. I didn't play a single match. I fielded as a substitute, for a couple of overs in our tenth game. I took a catch and saved 7, maybe 8, runs. I didn't get picked at the auctions ever again. But it was my paati who helped us lift the trophy.+
I should probably go back to where this story starts. My childhood. I was a habitual liar. And a really good one. My amma and appa could never spot my fibs. And I got away with a lot of stuff. +
When we were dating, I thought Vir's time saving hacks were oh-so-clever. Silly me. I treasured every second he saved in queues, theaters, parking lots, shops, and restaurants. A minute less in traffic meant a minute more in his cozy apartment. +
I didn't realise I was slipping into serving a sentence of stolen seconds that would hang heavy the rest of my life. His urge to crunch critical paths went from being cute to nails-on-chalkboard even before our honeymoon ended. +
Vir's mind was always on the next thing he had to do. He was thinking of dessert during the main course, which credit card he would use during dessert, and calling the driver while settling the bill. +
Last month my wife and I visited an antique shop the size of a double bed. The walls were lined with shelves precariously stacked with figurines, statuettes, clocks, carvings, toys and bric a brac. In no sense of order whatsoever. +
Every available inch had something stashed there. When we were in the shop, the owner had to stand outside on the road. We picked a few things that caught our fancy. Correction. I nodded at a few things that caught my wife's fancy. +
A wooden frog that croaked when stroked. A wall hanging made of coconut shells. A rusted tin toy. A brass statuette. A porcelain pig. An old watch. +
K.L.Cycle was a familiar sight to the locals. He looked forty when his lips smiled. And sixty when his eyes did. When he sang a Saigal song, which was often, the world turned sepia. It was only a matter of time before some wisecrack gave him his name. It stuck.+
He wore a theadbare three piece suit even in tar-melting heat. And a sola topee that had seen British days. A 25 litre ice box rigged to his cycle held his daily needs. Among them a notebook, a newspaper, and a pen. +
He wasn't cuckoo like the man in dreadlocks who believed he was managing all the traffic at Lucky signal. Or the woman who talked to her reflection in the talaab. But that didn't stop kids from yelling 'Pagal Cyclewala' when they saw him. +
Dhruv reached into the box of rubber bands. There were just three left. He smiled nervously. There were almost a dozen a few days ago. He coughed involuntarily. No cheating, he reminded himself. +
He fastened the packet of sugar he had just opened with the rubber band he had just extracted. Now there were two left. He coughed again. +
Was he imagining it, or was he getting worse? Was the silly game he was playing with himself getting out of hand? Was it killing him or keeping him alive? How long had it gone on now? 15 months, he reckoned. +
I saw this full page ad in the ET today. As a copywriter, I felt obliged to read the copy. Needless to say, I couldn't leave something as juicy as a Silver Snoopy award ungoogled. +
So here's what it actually looks like. It's a sterling silver lapel pin that has actually been in space. An astronaut pins it on to the recipient. In recognition of work that contributes significantly towards space safety. +
Charles Schulz, an avid supporter of space programs, designed the pin himself. There's even a statue of Snoopy the Astronaut at Kennedy Space Center. I guess this is America's answer to Laika. +