Weekend of conversations

Rex. Sport is the best industry for NFTs Mandira. Women treat other women bad when young coz that’s their exposure growing up. Discussed about how rents were managed among girls and I never thought about my own 2lac stuck deposit. Joked about Geet asking password and I don’t give coz she just keeps forgetting. Aseem. Jobs opening up in NL as people quitting for higher purpose.

Tarentino's movie

"Just watched Tarentino's latest movie. It's got 3 lead actors, and you go in wondering what the story between them would be
And guess what? They don't meet until the very last scene! In fact, Brad Pitt doesn't ever meet Margot Robbie, its only DiCaprio who meets her in the very last scene. 
Trust Tarentino to pull off something like that!
And since this is a movie about Hollywood celebrities, and there needed to be a villain right?
So, guess what Tarentino comes up with? Hippies! People who live like garbage vs people who live in fantasy land. Only Tarentino could have thought of that. 
And worse part, he doesn't hold back his punches. He gets the hate to go all the way, complete Kill Bill style. It was just so funny.
He shows all of them as normal people, and yet living lives where things happen that none of us can ever comprehend. 
Such an absolutely amazing movie. Won't get to any award shows, and will only be discussed between people like us." 

This, and so many other things only you would understand Bala. Did you have to leave?

So much of this world to experience.

There is still one final movie Tarentino is going to make. Kill Bill 3 where the kid grows up to challenge Uma Thurman, Once upon a time sequel, or something completely different. And this is just one director we used to watch together. So many other movies, so many books, so much to explore, and to talk about. Wish I spent more time talking to you while you were here. I did try. Visited you every time I was in Bangalore. But I should have spent more time than that. Should have called you often. Or at least answered every now and then you called. I didn't give you much reason to look forward to things in this world. And you couldn't find any yourself. You never could, you always needed me. And I wasn't there for you.

I'm so sorry Bala. I'm so sorry. 

White Nike Sock

The final piece of him I saw before he was engulfed by fire were his socks sticking out from his swollen feet on the ramp he lay. 

Those white Nike socks he's always worn, and never liked repeating. 

Throughout our US trip, he would religiously leave behind his socks in every hotel we stayed as he didn't want to repeat it, or even carry it back with him and wash it. 

Could never understand the logic, much like so much else he used to do. 

I recounted this story in South Africa just before boarding our flight from Cape Town to Johannesburg, and exactly on the seat in which I sat, there was a sock lying there. 

Someone else did the very same thing he always did, leaving a sock behind everywhere he went. 

It's almost as if he's following me all the time. Even the way I was in Bangalore the day he passed was just serendipity. 

It's as if he wanted me there. To see him one last time before he left this physical world, only to remain, and haunt me, in the metaphysical world, day in and out. 

Every day I think about him and encounter one epiphany after another, the latest one being;

Humans are blessed with a concious brain, but all blessings are also a curse. Our brain can over think, and impact us psychologically, and the only way to overcome this is to keep yourself physically occupied. 

Keep doing things, so as to not give the brain the opportunity to think of things that can unnecessarily upset you. 

Young mothers may have the most to worry about, but they still get by, because they are too busy to sit and worry. 

However, here comes a big flaw, if you have a combination of a brain that over thinks more than the average human, and at the same time, physically lazy to keep yourself occupied, what happens then?

This is the birth of depression. 

I have a brain that over-thinks. I had this in common with Bala. An over-thinking brain is not to be confused with smartness. I'm not smart at all. I thought Bala was, but he proved me wrong with his death. 

An over-thinking brain is simply one that makes a lot of noise. So much noise that the only way to shut it out is by staying physically occupied, so that the brain has something to focus on, and thereby shutting out that noise. 

I manage to do this on most days. But I get tired as well. And age is not helping. Therefore there are days the noise gets so extreme that I feel depressed for absolutely no apparent reason. 

I wish I could be simple like so many other people, and just be satisfied with what I have. But I was just not born this way. And neither was Bala. And his over-thinking brain, that he possibly only tried to numb with alcohol, finally got to him. 

My struggle continues. 

the last moments with you

You are usually at the door opening it for me, or at the end of the stairs motioning me to come up in case your parents opened the door. But this time, you were on the floor. Lying wrapped in white head to toe with just your face visible.

Your face was just like the last time I saw it, in Brigade road Bangalore last December. A receding hairline, but everything else still the good looking kid you always were. Even that little beard didn't have a trace of white. So young. 

You didn't move an inch lying there on the floor. I remember you being such a light sleeper. Every time I would walk into the hall and find you sleeping on that blue sofa that literally took your shape over the 2 years of NM we stayed together, you would always flinch as I moved past. I kept staring at you, waiting for that flinch. But you weren't asleep this time.

Your dad sat next to you, dripping wet from a shower he just took and was probably asked to start reciting Slokas without wiping himself. He played the part. Your dad's always been an amazing guy. First he sat next to you repeating the words the priest said, then he moved above your head and held a straw from your mouth to the sky continuing the recitation, and finally he walked a circle around you and poured some water into your mouth. 

The rest of the elders followed suit; pouring water in your mouth. Hydrating you after a lifetime of drinking. 

I stood by next to you the entire time. Looked at your mom during the hydration process and she said kids should not do it. So I just stared at the others going on about it. Started thinking about the time in Dasar-hawaii when you kept pouring me a drink and forcing it down my throat, just as I would throw up with the previous one. It was your turn now to be forced a drink, and I have a room full of people who you don't know doing it for me. Revenge couldn't be sweeter huh.

An elderly lady came up to pour water. She began to cry. Nobody else did that until then. Not even your parents. I was wondering which bottle you finished chatting her through the night that she's feeling so nostalgic about hydrating you now. Or maybe she just represented all those other people who may have had that night of drinking with you, and left both mesmerized at your wisdom, and sick to their stomach with all the alcohol.

The next ritual was pouring rice over your mouth. You were never into eating much while drinking. And you always found it strange how I would choose to fill that little leftover space in my stomach with food when there is so much more alcohol to finish. Fitting revenge again. Now it seemed like you're forced to eat as well.

I noticed your atthe at this point. Recognized her face from the time we spent at their house during our US visit. She was making conversation, and at one point asked how come I didn't know what was going on with you. This was the first time I broke down at your place. It's true. I didn't know. And the thought of not knowing in spite of exchanging messages almost on a weekly basis, a call nearly every month and even a meet for a drink at least every 6 months in the last 25 years of knowing you, not knowing you had cirrhosis just shattered me at that moment. Both your mom and atthe tried to comfort me. I stopped the moment they did that. I wasn't the one that needed comfort. You needed it. Many weeks or months before. I'm not going to take that away now. So I sucked it up and got back to observing the rituals that followed.

Next in line was to lift you out from the hall to the verandah outside. The priest asked the men to remove their shirts to do this. Munda walked in at this time and we were both about to take our shirts off, while the priest said we need to have our thread on. I told him I don't wear one and Munda said he forgot his. We were ruled out from lifting you and 4 elderly uncles came up to the task. They gave an honest attempt, but you were always built like a bull. And this time your legs were even swollen with the cirrhosis, no way the uncles we're gonna manage, so I helped them out. And from there on, to the ambulance, to the crematorium, to finally the place where you slid in to burn, I lifted you. 

A few people came over to see you. Apart from Munda, Ash and Sush were there at your house. Then Varun, Bantu, Noel, Niki, Muni, Muni's dad, Sunanina, Amita, Sanjukta and Kapil turned up among friends. The rest were mostly neighbours coz only mom dad and atthe seemed related to you. A maximum of 20 people at your funeral. Probably still a little more than you may have wanted. 

My very last moment with you was when the fire lit up around you. I saw your white Nike socks burn. Started to bawl before I could see anything else. The doors shut down as well on cue to not display the disturbing spectacle any further. And that was the end of that. There was the closure of your story.

You would have hated everything about your funeral dude. You hated Brahminism, you wanted an epitaph, worst of all, you loved yourself too much ("in my head I'm a superstar" is what you always said) to go so soon. But then you left us all. The void that I feel with your absence is unfathomable. And for that, you left this world just as you came in to it. For all the things you were when you were alive, you didn't have a choice when you.. fuck you Bala 

Relationship Insights and why they don't apply to me

One of the relationship insights I've uncovered, thanks mostly to St. Jeetu, is that the fundamental reason girls fight is that they are looking for attention.

A guy who truly understands this will give his girl the attention she needs than fighting back. 

But as much I try to understand this, I've got to add some caveats:

• If the fights are targeted insults than generic rants
• If they happen too often 
• If the signs of alleviation are feeble 

Under these conditions, continuing to be the guy who truly understands is a daunting task. If any of the guys have mastered this, I'm all ears. 

Prashant's Bandra Pad

Ashwin is usually asking me to catch up over smoke and I'm usually declining (which is almost always because of Geet) and this time too she's angry with my catching up with the guys, but this is happening after about 2 months, and its certainly silly to have issues with such frequency levels. But then again, what's ever rational here :)

Anyway, getting back to the party proceedings. It was first of all awesome to visit Prashant's place as it felt exactly what Geet and my life could have been if we chose to stay in Bandra rather than Malad. Prashant's place was bang in the middle of a happening part of town, with a cozy little house that may have given us a completely different experience of Bombay. 

But in hindsight, SanGeet gave us an incredible number of awesome parties, weekends filled with trips either outside Bombay or to parents place for great food. So I guess it had its benefits.

Some of the things we discussed during the course of the evening, that surprisingly began at 8:00 and went beyond midnight, something that happens rarely when you smoke. It was clearly good stuff and even better company.

Age - Prashant 84, Ashwin and Narayan 87. Made me feel so old hanging with them. Feels like my brain is deformed to enjoy company of only those younger than me. I find people older staid. Nobody believed I was older than Prashant. Made me feel good about how I looked. But not very good about how I acted. Actually dont have a single older friend. Either my age with NM crowd (even they may be younger btw) or people much younger. 

Chunky face - Ashwin got a pipe in which we smoked and I was taking photos of him looking cool doing that and he said I look better smoking as I have a better face while his is just chunky. That was a really funny thing to hear. 

Weed - Ashwin narrated an incident of how his mom caught him with roaches and when his dad accosted him, he tried making up some random lab excuse and his dad patiently said as long as it's just weed it's fine, but he should still read up about it before considering to get into it. That's some top level parenting!

Mozart Theory - Kids today if serious about piano should be able to play Mozart by time they are teens. If they can't, they should just give up as they don't have the talent to pull it off. Things just keep getting tougher. 3:30 which was a marathon record 10 years back is just the qualifying time at the Boston Marathon. Things just keep getting tougher and people keep scaling new boundaries as time passes. 

DriveU drivers are either really young or really old and the reason for that may be that driving is an easy skill to learn, and therefore the low entry barrier to quick money is driving aspiring youth and senior citizens looking to still earn for a living. 

Ratings - Narayan was talking of a friend who owned a restaurant where a reviewer gave a poor rating just because there were beggars outside the place that he didn't have any control over. And just now the cabbie who dropped us apologies profusely for an incorrect turn he made, which wasn't even his fault as he was just following the GPS and didn't pay attention to what Aanchal was saying, and begged for a good rating on the app. It's crazy how lives of so many people are being governed by ratings. It's like the "nosedive" episode of Black Mirror happening for real, where things can only nosedive from here. 

LS/Worn - Words used in Bombay colleges to refer to people who have come from lower rung schools and largely speak in Hindi only. Ashwin said LS is a manner of speaking and not the way you look. There could be a girl who looks really hot, but if she speaks in, and more importantly, thinks in Hindi, she's LS, or a more racist for of the word, Worn.

3 stages of love

First: Religion
Lots of people arranged marry early in life, as they just can't think of anything else to do, or more simplistically, very horny.
And when they make that decision to marry, religion becomes the most important element as we have centuries of scripts aligning stars and planets which offer far more information that what you can pick about the prospective spouse in that little time.
So religion becomes the first reason to marry.

Second: Love
The wiser lot, the older lot, the ones mature enough to realise that religion and centuries old text cannot be completely trusted to provide you a long and satisfying life, seek out the one they are infatuated with, physically attracted to, and all those weird butterfly feelings in the stomach when in their company that seem to suggest that this is what "love" may be, and then get married to that person.
Thus making love the next reason to marry.

Third: Success
The even smarter ones, the ones smart enough to know they are not smart enough to make it on their own, but need someone else who can do it either on their own, or can bring complimentary skills to the table in order to ensure the partnership is one that provides a richer, fulfilling life.
Think about Melania Trump, Hilary Clinton, and one could even argue, Barack Obama! They all married to reach higher, to get some place they couldn't have on their own, to fundamentally experience "success" above all else, with their partner.
Thus making success the third level of love.

Eat, Pray, Love may have been an attempt in this area, if only they though a little harder, and figured that eat is much too simplistic, but to eat and eat well, one needs to be successful.