When I met Chetan Bhagat

I met the man, the brand, who allegedly has the power to change this generation*! He never claims as much, as he seems to bask in the aphorism. 

I walked into his talk show, which claimed I would be pepped up. ‘An inspirational evening with Chetan Bhagat’, that’s what it was titled. So I looked for anything that lifted the throbbing wobbly parts of myself no sooner I stepped into the extravagant Ritz Carlton. A chilled drink did the best it could and a friendly hostess did some more to pacify the vengeful sinus-vertigo aliens unhappy with me not pampering them. 

Soon, the man with about 2.3 million Twitter followers and 4.2 million FB fans walked in escorted by two women. 

What did I expect! 

Well, he took the stage and started with a disclaimer. “I will not give advices. Especially for this audience… if you’ll can afford to be here, you’ll don’t need my advice… so I’ll speak of my life.”

Some connect there!

Soon I was left wondering why the PowerPoint presentation. But I almost forgave him, when I heard his confession of having to do certain things against his better judgement in public domain. Like how he ‘fights’ on News channels when the hyper host poses questions such as ‘The nations says this about you. What would you say Chetan Bhagat?” And he lets go…

Point noted!

Having goals is crucial to living life, he continued. When he became a full-time writer his first goal was to challenge publishers who rejected his manuscripts. And thus he began urging NRIs to challenge themselves. “NRIs only exist…they lack the zing in them..” With annually increasing bank balances, bigger homes and sending kids go to the best institutions, NRIs "pull on" and "go on". He called on all to chase their dreams.

My fav topic! I was all ears

That’s when I heard him say his dream was to be a househusband. Some laughs, muffled and modest followed when he delivered the age-old mom-in-law and wife jibes. He went on to recommend how important it is to ‘under-promise and over-deliver’, and gave the example of his  upcoming movie ‘2 States’ – based on his autobiographical book by the same name. 

Okay!

“Form partnerships, cultivate patience, be humble…” were his tips for success. His political allegiance to BJP and reasons for him thrashing the fledgling AAP was also clarified in the process.

By now I was slouched in my chair!

“I have travelled to more than 100 cities and interact with about 5 crore people currently…”

I lost the connect!

And so, I asked, “Would you have taken the decision to give up your job had your wife not been a successful professional?” Without batting an eyelid, he replied, “No. I would have never taken such a decision had I not been supported.”

I sat up.

“You are one of the most criticized authors. How do you tackle that?” Again, without taking as much a second, he replied, “You just learn to deal with it.”

How!!!

The hows were missing. The ‘H’ that will elevate people; that which will differentiate a well-orchestrated show from that of a Wikipedia evening; that which will add the zing he alleges is missing in NRIs; that which will pep up aspirants and wannabes; that which will fuel those revving up on their tracks towards their dreams…

The trials and tribulations during his incubation period, the brick bats he battled; his mental, emotional state when overcoming them; his modus operandi…is what the audience would have taken home and adopted and remembered when they feel low and seek to get out of the mundane rut.

Nevertheless, I did connect. His honesty vowed me. So did his humbleness. As when he answered my direct query about quitting his job, looking me in the eye. As when he spoke of giving his kids middle-class values. As when he said family is the base, everything else is secondary…

A connect lies in the ears of the audience, as with the heart of the speaker… provided there are no expectations!

There I go… so what did I expect? To see a brand named Chetan Bhagat. And I only saw a human in flesh! 

You may want to read more Chetan Bhagat related posts:

Chetan Bhagat's dream for us: 
http://nishasanjeev.blogspot.ae/2012/09/chetan-bhagats-dream-for-us.html

Who must do books? 
http://nishasanjeev.blogspot.ae/2012/01/who-must-do-books-chetan-baghat-has.html

 

PS: [*Meghnad Desai called this the Chetan Bhagat generation]

Who let the wolves in?

I woke up seeing red. A colour I see often in my effort to keep the wolf off my door!

 

Is it the wolves splashing them or me imagining?

I leave it you all to find out.

Meanwhile, I’m determined from the previous moment not to refurbish the muck they spew!

So I stop. Good day friends!

PS:  A clue to help you find the answer...I let them in. Phew!

Of sarees, women and me

Survived a dampener of a weekend that saw me as usual rev up my hopes to fit the bill, only to unwind wondering when I will at last do it. Rev up the self, all by myself. And let go. Go by myself…to where I always saw myself with a care to the tongues…

All set for the women-only affair

After more than a decade in this glamorous city, I draped the nine yards for a Hindu ritual, and felt honoured to be invited. Felt beautiful, too. A saree makes one feel so! It hides your flaws and moods as well!

But when I soon learnt it was an exclusively all-women evening and bitterly let the better-half wander around, I was once again reminded I am one less on the feminine gene. Like a square peg in the round hole I endured the chatter, banter, howls and squeals of married women until I thanked the host and sneaked out after a respected show of guest etiquette.

Some women never grow up!

There’s nothing a sound sleep can’t fix. But, soon I was again reminded that feminine ego is just one oo..aaw! that can’t be lullabied. I willingly endured more of the I-am-the-best stuff. Everything from kids’ education to TV soaps and how to breathe right, the importance of each topic can be correctly ascertained only by my ilk. Even my man who tires people with his details fails on this count!

Some women never give up!

Well, here I stand after my weekend sucking my toes and nails up until the sole that I feel my feet in my epiglottis.

I am SUFFOCATING!

Every weekend I rev myself up, all by myself. And decide to let go. Go by myself…to where I always saw myself with a care to the tongues…And then…

The week begins, yet again. I survive it the same way yet again.

Bloody, it’s time I grew up and garnered the courage to just give up!

I am a woman, too!

I am SUFFOCATING!

The day I failed…

The day I failed, I remembered the lost year! 372 days I wasted, abusing my true purpose... Ignoring the journey I set out on…

Delivering the prepared speech at this year's annual contest

A senior-most distinguished person came to me and said, “Well done.” A judge came to me and said, “It was a unique delivery. You were different.” Several co-contestants gave me a thumps-up. Many in the audience walked over to say, “I enjoyed…” “It was amazing…” “You were humourous…”  “It was excellent…” “You were the best…”

“I was the best,” I thought. I believed and had reasons to believe that I was the best speaker – or at least one of the best - of a prepared speech on that eventful day at my local club.

I had the language and a well-worded original script chiseled to score judges’ points. In fact, I was lauded for the first two attributes… and so I had a reason to…

I also had another reason… My belief in Him!

And so…I felt let down. Only so I felt let down.

But then, there was an unprepared, semi-impromptu speech segment, too, which I attempted without confidence and was declared the second runner-up.  A request I had put forth to Him, as well. Just for the heck of it!

And so…I felt let down. Only so I felt let down.

Last year, in the same annual contest, I was one of the winners in the prepared speech category. But due to an emergency, I couldn’t take the journey ahead. I eagerly waited for this year.

And so…I felt let down. Only so I felt let down.

About 36 hours later, I heard snippets of my voice from the numerous conversations I’ve had with several members of my club over the last two years… “The day I’m comfortable with myself, I’ll quit…”; “I’m not interested in posts and elections in the club…”; “I’m here for a selfish reason…”; “I am not interested in the club hierarchy nor am I interested in learning the ACB, DCB or XYZzzzz requirements of progression…”

Then that day came nudging me. The day I decided to join a Toastmaster’s club in the neighbourhood. I once again felt the same pain I did then. And soon I felt the frustration that I experienced on several occasions since then.

OMG! How did I forget my goal! And…I felt at ease.

I regret wasting one whole year, waiting for a contest. But it’s never late to learn a lesson…Or rather reminded of that one lesson that’s so easily forgotten…

If your desire is strong, HE will see you remain on track and achieve what you have set out to do. No matter what people say; no matter what their advices are; no matter how they judge you; no matter how many times you get blinded by the roadside temptations and veer off…

Thank You to the divine for this experience!

[Click here to read how I began my journey... My first speech]

A cinema date with the husband

Chilling it out after the cinema fiasco... Dubai winter lifts your spirits

  

There is no new beginning, as I had mentioned in my previous post, yet there is that much to renew or start over again or anew.  It’s just in your mind’s eye.

So to begin with, I skimmed through last year's posts and discovered that a flimsy one on husband-wife relationship did the most numbers. [Click here to read] As much as I am thankful to the readers for visiting my page, I owe an apology to each one for dishing out such a half-baked stuff over the top of my keyboard for some sadistic pleasure.

Now, taking the pleasure forward sans the sad-ticks, here I am to say it the way I see it. No malice, no prejudice, intended. It’ll be only me ticking the wry thoughts off anyone and anything that eeks…

Well, one look around my workplace in the New Year and I see…

Pretenders still whiling their time ‘n’ workaholics still sweating their arse…

Drama queens continuing to squeal their presence ‘n’ self-proclaimed kings dicing cubes…

I continue to have loads of entertainers around!

That reminds me, I started the year at the cinema with my lovely girl, my loving man and my lol-of-a-friend.

We headed to one of the oldest cinema houses in Dubai, which is two-tiered, and located on the busiest streets of the city. A place I’ve frequented a dozen times over.

The show started at 7.30pm and we landed there sharp 7.40pm. We three pretty women hopped out at the entrance and dashed to the counter as the husband went parking.

With an ear on the dialogues booming inside, another replying to the incessant jabber of my girl, one eye at the closed door and another at the ticket issuer, I folded my thumb inside my palm and lifted four fingers of my right hand against the glass window, with the left placating my tummy that was rising and falling from the inadvertent exercise of rushing in.

Did he ask for cash? I can’t exactly remember, nevertheless I forwarded Dh100… not knowing any better.

The considerate security urged me to go in saying I’ve already missed more than 10 minutes of the movie. “What’s your husband’s name? Just leave one ticket with me, madam.” And he directed me into the dark hall.

Within minutes, my man arrived. I cozied up closer but found him unusually hot.

“Why the hell are you in here?” he hissed amid the blaring sound.

“You dropped me on the street for a stroll!” I teased

“Look at the crowd…and…the seats...this…our neck will pain…” he was visibly irritated attempting to position his long legs.

“What’s wrong with you. It’s you who wanted to watch this…”

“Yes. It’s me. But when have we sat down…”

Shucks!

Was it the sudden heat of realization, his anger or the pest, I started itching my elbow… “Yes, you can take home bugs as well for free from here…can’t use brains…”

I walked out and requested a transfer to the balcony. They would not comply.

I pulled out two notes and requested for new balcony seats and they said that the ticker was closed. It can’t be opened without permission and that their manager was not around. I stood three minutes tapping my scattered brains and checking my emotions before sneaking back… and I caught a restless husband.

“What took you so long. I was about to come out looking for you. Now relax. Enjoy the movie! ”

I did not.

Each time the unruly crowd booed and cheered louder, I sneaked a glance sideways. After a few times, he whispered, “Happens. Forget it.” Then he got closer, and taking my hands, said, “My fault. I should have reminded you…”

That moment I felt instantly better.

Taking responsibility is the key to a healthy relationship!!!

Sh…oo…sh! Dont analyse...it's just a saying!

You may want to read an earlier incident: When he lifted me off my feet...Click here 

I love myself

Here I am testing my clarity on X-Mas eve...

It's two-and-a-half-hours past midnight. Do I call it the wee hours of December 27th or late 26th? I'm not gonna nuts seeking clarity about something that a good sleep can't fix.

That's what I did a good part of the year - which is fast chuckling its way about after having successfully left a few more grays on my scalp, than I would like. So, one last time this year, I ponder wide awake...

I state, 'I have NO regrets'. Categorically. I loved 2013. Yes. I loved this year as much as I loved 2012. Actually more... I guess...there I go again. Sigh?

Clarity, my friend says, is a Gemini peeve. I'd defend with all my might and call it a virtue of the twins. But... honestly, it sucks. Because, that's exactly why I can't say for sure if the previous year was better than this but am, nevertheless, damn certain of the coming year to be better - nope the best. This positivity, but indeed, is a Gemini virtue.

Or so I would love to believe, until the determined twin peeps up to remind me of her presence, pushing me behind her shadow.

Shady she! NOT me!Like all these past years, my progress stopped with this argument.

That's when I was hustled down and explained  "intent, desire and effort is needed to overcome the manipulative twin". I howled and screamed in desperation, then tired of the drama I mellowed down and pleaded until I was finally guided to meditate to calm the misleading creep.

This night as I prepare to bid farewell to 2013, I say, "So be it!" I am ME. On my way. Here I go...  success along. She can join me, if she so desires.

At 2.30am as I sign off for the year, I am clear that my new day has begun, as much as I am clear that my previous day has not ended either.

That's life. Every new beginning stems from the seed of the past. So now having admitted thus, I must confess, I have no pans of leaving my twin behind, because it is she who makes me ME.

I love her. I love myself. I'm blessed. Thank you to the Divine for who I am.

Wishing all of you a healthy, joyful & successful 2014!

 

   

Mom’s quandary: A question I don’t have an answer to

 

Birthday girl ready for school

Okay. So this is me. As in, me, myself, because I do not have answers to [read hate to address] some questions.

I celebrated 12 years of motherhood yesterday.

It was wonderful. I woke up, got into my slippers, switched on the heater, washed my face, brushed… did all the rest like anyone else’s all other days... then plonked on the sofa and my man gave me my undoable cup of hot tea. I gave him company before waking up our excited girl.

The dad handed over the gifts and I cheered. Unbelievable excitement followed and I ran to grab the camera to capture her wide eyes popping out wider as she unwrapped the first one. By the second one, I heard a voice in me ‘you idiot don’t lose the moment’, so I handed over the camera in reliable hands.

Being a special day, I didn’t have to pack breakfast. Gave the birthday girl some cash to enjoy with her friends. Used that time to scrub my feet and posed beside my beautiful girl, who by then had helped herself into her B’day gear.

Then set about to execute The Mom’s duty.

Drove her to school… as in sat along with her in the car… and again walked along rubbing her waist. At the steps, I did the honours of taking each item from the dad and stringing it up on her. First strapped the bag on her back, then adjusted her pull-over and set her hair. Then handed over the chocolate box, and finally, precariously placed the box of cake on her other forearm and kissed her a good day.

Meanwhile, my dear friend had volunteered to bake cakes to celebrate the birthday. I being me myself, I said, “yes, please. Drop in at your convenience and I’ll have the things ready.”

She was on the dot. And the oven was in the pack. Had to be installed. Did the only thing I do in times of emergencies. Dialled my man’s number. Assured it’ll be done, I asked her to get, set, start.

That’s when my friend asked for ingredients. So very kind of her, I happily agreed when she volunteered to buy the same for me.

My lil girl’s excitement knew no bounds and she already smelled cupcakes. She recited the list of  how many she’ll give her best friend the next day and how many she’ll save for the weekend party and how unbelievable it is and…I couldn’t ask her to shut up as it was her day!

“Get the moulds ready.”

“For what”, I asked busy clearing the dishes.   

“Oh mama!. Where are you lost”! sighed my girl.

“But…aa..moulds..”

“You didn’t buy Mo..o..u..lll..dds!!!! Wwhhoaat!!! And you set out to bake!!!! Mammmaa!

I had taken a day off from work, to make the day special for my girl!

PS: At night when she kissed me goodnight, I said, “We’ll do the baking next week darling. So your birthday celebration will last that much longer, too. Isn’t that exciting!”

“Yeeaah! How cool no!” She hopped off, with a zillion springs in her steps at that wee hour. At the door, she turned to ask, “But mama, why do you hate cooking so much?”