One of the two TV ads that are setting me shaking my head with disappointment and frustration these days is of Yahoo. I have always liked this company - and that has got nothing to do with the fact that it shares its name with Shammi Kapoor's famous shout! I mean, it always seems like a fun place to work in - and God knows they are rare. But their latest ad is so lacklustre. I especially hate the way the last jingle tries to draw out "It's you" from "Yahoo". It seems so contrived. And the whole ad has appearance that makes you wonder if they have run out of the ad budget. :-(
The other ad is Onida's. The Hindu religion knows Hell but I don't think we have any presiding officer like Satan there. :-) And if there is any, I am sure we Indians will find a way to bribe and silence him. :-( Anyways, I used to like the Onida Devil though, he seemed to so coolly rattle others. Alas! He is history and seems to be replaced by the horribly unimaginative tagline "आपको देखा तो यह डिजाईन आया" - whatever that means!
God! Please make the Onida people bring the Devil back :-)
Friday, October 23, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Do you believe that meeting strangers is a coincidence or are you one of those who think that everything is pre-ordained?
I thought about it as I trekked through Matheran on a weekend few days back with my family. It was surprising to see that despite the weekend there wasn't much crowd. Just past the ticket window we saw a rickshaw pulled by 2 men - it carried an old man who was sitting clutching tightly to the handles. Must be one of the natives there, I concluded because I didn't see anyone else with him.
We stopped at Diwadkar's for lunch. Our lunch companions were a couple of young boys who were heartily discussing what to order when we walked in. As we tucked into our meal, another family walked in. After finishing our lunch as we were heading out I looked back and wondered 'will I ever see these people again? will I remember them if I see them again?".
Our destination was Monkey Point/Hart Point. Not a soul on the whole route - except for a lady and a man who were carrying some provisions and a couple of people near that bend in the road where some long-closed hotels still stand.
Just when we had given up all hopes of ever reaching the point, we saw the makeshift sign and the couple selling corn-cobs below it. As we descended, another family came up after visiting the point. I silently asked the same question to myself.
It was so peaceful at the point that I didn't feel like leaving. Little yellow flowers were in full bloom. Tiny frogs darted about in the grass and the white fluffy clouds chasing each other in the noon sky cast a shadow on one section of the silent mountains. I have always felt so awed in the presence of mountains - they were there when we weren't even born!
But we had to trek back to the car park before the sunset so I got up reluctantly. We had reached the corn-seller when I saw a couple making their way to the point, the lady munching on the corn-cob. As we bought a cob I wondered about the selling couple. They must be there every evening and probably would be blind to the beauty around. Familiarity does breed contempt :-(
The road back was equally deserted. Moments later we ran into a mother-daughter pair walking a dog. The daughter was collecting dry wood - possibly a routine every evening. We just happened to be in the neighborhood that day. As I write this, I wonder if they are right there at the moment - walking the dog and collecting the wood.
After some time, we ran into a huge family - kids, young ones and old people. Just as we passed them, one of the 2 men who were walking ahead turned and asked us how to reach the Sunset Point. I told him they will have to go all the way back till they reached a T junction ahead and turn right. Just then another road opened up at 90 degrees to the one we were walking on. The man pointed to it and asked me if that was the road. I did my best to convince him that it was dangerous to take a road that didn't have any signs for directions. After discussing with his friend, he seemed to agree and both of them walked ahead.
Soon after we ourselves came within sighting distance of the T Junction and saw the 2 guys turn right. We turned left and a young couple that was looking lost asked us about the directions to sunset point. I burst out laughing as we pointed them in the correct direction. To this day I wonder if all of them finally managed to reach Sunset Point in time.
We walked past the shops - some closed, some open, some that looked as if they could be open or closed depending on how you looked at it. There weren't many horses around so no airborne dust bothered us. I was taking in my last look at the lush green scenery and straining hard to catch an occassional elusive bird twittering away as it settled itself for the night.
Suddenly someone screamed and when I turned I saw a family of 3 walking across the railway track. The father was carrying some eatables and the monkeys had lunged at the food. Terrified, the man had screamed and tried to run away. Then he recovered and chased them away. But his wife was so amused that she looked at us and burst out laughing. We laughed too.
My final memory of that weekend is of a man who was walking ahead of us till the road bifurcated. He simply turned back and asked us which way to go. We pointed to the right, he walked on and soon disappeared from sight. How peaceful life would be if at every confusion, at every moment of indecision we could always find someone who could point us in the right direction! But then we have to discover some things on our own or we will never learn, isn't it?
You might be wondering why I am writing this. Let' s just say that it is my way of preserving some people that I ran into on one Sunday in October of 2009 and who I will never see again - irrespective of whether I met them by design or by coincidence!
I thought about it as I trekked through Matheran on a weekend few days back with my family. It was surprising to see that despite the weekend there wasn't much crowd. Just past the ticket window we saw a rickshaw pulled by 2 men - it carried an old man who was sitting clutching tightly to the handles. Must be one of the natives there, I concluded because I didn't see anyone else with him.
We stopped at Diwadkar's for lunch. Our lunch companions were a couple of young boys who were heartily discussing what to order when we walked in. As we tucked into our meal, another family walked in. After finishing our lunch as we were heading out I looked back and wondered 'will I ever see these people again? will I remember them if I see them again?".
Our destination was Monkey Point/Hart Point. Not a soul on the whole route - except for a lady and a man who were carrying some provisions and a couple of people near that bend in the road where some long-closed hotels still stand.
Just when we had given up all hopes of ever reaching the point, we saw the makeshift sign and the couple selling corn-cobs below it. As we descended, another family came up after visiting the point. I silently asked the same question to myself.
It was so peaceful at the point that I didn't feel like leaving. Little yellow flowers were in full bloom. Tiny frogs darted about in the grass and the white fluffy clouds chasing each other in the noon sky cast a shadow on one section of the silent mountains. I have always felt so awed in the presence of mountains - they were there when we weren't even born!
But we had to trek back to the car park before the sunset so I got up reluctantly. We had reached the corn-seller when I saw a couple making their way to the point, the lady munching on the corn-cob. As we bought a cob I wondered about the selling couple. They must be there every evening and probably would be blind to the beauty around. Familiarity does breed contempt :-(
The road back was equally deserted. Moments later we ran into a mother-daughter pair walking a dog. The daughter was collecting dry wood - possibly a routine every evening. We just happened to be in the neighborhood that day. As I write this, I wonder if they are right there at the moment - walking the dog and collecting the wood.
After some time, we ran into a huge family - kids, young ones and old people. Just as we passed them, one of the 2 men who were walking ahead turned and asked us how to reach the Sunset Point. I told him they will have to go all the way back till they reached a T junction ahead and turn right. Just then another road opened up at 90 degrees to the one we were walking on. The man pointed to it and asked me if that was the road. I did my best to convince him that it was dangerous to take a road that didn't have any signs for directions. After discussing with his friend, he seemed to agree and both of them walked ahead.
Soon after we ourselves came within sighting distance of the T Junction and saw the 2 guys turn right. We turned left and a young couple that was looking lost asked us about the directions to sunset point. I burst out laughing as we pointed them in the correct direction. To this day I wonder if all of them finally managed to reach Sunset Point in time.
We walked past the shops - some closed, some open, some that looked as if they could be open or closed depending on how you looked at it. There weren't many horses around so no airborne dust bothered us. I was taking in my last look at the lush green scenery and straining hard to catch an occassional elusive bird twittering away as it settled itself for the night.
Suddenly someone screamed and when I turned I saw a family of 3 walking across the railway track. The father was carrying some eatables and the monkeys had lunged at the food. Terrified, the man had screamed and tried to run away. Then he recovered and chased them away. But his wife was so amused that she looked at us and burst out laughing. We laughed too.
My final memory of that weekend is of a man who was walking ahead of us till the road bifurcated. He simply turned back and asked us which way to go. We pointed to the right, he walked on and soon disappeared from sight. How peaceful life would be if at every confusion, at every moment of indecision we could always find someone who could point us in the right direction! But then we have to discover some things on our own or we will never learn, isn't it?
You might be wondering why I am writing this. Let' s just say that it is my way of preserving some people that I ran into on one Sunday in October of 2009 and who I will never see again - irrespective of whether I met them by design or by coincidence!
Ever heard a word "Garbologist"? I hadn't till I came across it in Monica Halan's column in Mint. More can be found at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Garbology
Wanna sneak a peek at the Animal Kingdom as you slog over your laptop in the office? Check out http://www.bbc.co.uk/wildlifefinder/
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
I felt odd as I passed my old school building the other day. What carefree life I once had! And as if she sensed my frame of mind, a friend forwarded this SMS:
I want to go back to the time,
When "getting high" meant "on a swing".
When "drinking" meant "bournvita"
When "dad" was the only "hero"
When "love" was "mom's hug"
When "dad's shoulder" was "the highest place on earth"
When "worst enemies" were "most caring"
When the only thing that could "hurt" were "skinned knees"
When the only things "broken" were "toys"
and when "goodbyes" only meant "till tomorrow".
Boy! The last 2 lines hurt :-(
Ever wondered if the FBI and Mossad agents that are found in pages of so many novels exist in real life? I have wondered, many times - most recently when I read up Steve Berry's "The Alexandria Link".
Here's the proof that they do exist - http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/Arrested-Nasa-spy-worked-on-Chandrayaan-project/articleshow/5143439.cms :-)
Here's the proof that they do exist - http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/Arrested-Nasa-spy-worked-on-Chandrayaan-project/articleshow/5143439.cms :-)
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