Time stands still - my first haiku

I am in a moment that stays frozen
There's no motion, no action
only lack of it, fills the horizon

It peers at me and look back at it in awe
as if trying to acquaint with each other

Mumbai – A metropolitan tale of musing, melancholy and mayhem

Mumbai. What keeps this metropolis ticking 24 x7 making it a city that never sleeps? I have pondered over this question for many years with many different answers, none of them completely satisfactory or encompassing micro as well as macro views of this mammoth maze

In the process, what became clearer by the day was the knowledge of what made me tick and stick in here instead of any other destination in the world. The answer is dichotomous, complex and corny, easy and earnest. At the same time, it comes across as the most clichéd thing coming from me – I love Mumbai.

Breathing the same air as 1,20,00,000 odd individuals of various shapes, sizes and sentiments, Mumbai produces all kind of emotions in me like awe, angst, anxiety and acceptance, any thing but ignorance for its sheer energy and life.

I can always find my own inner calm thinking of the quaint mornings of Marine drive that awaken the Arabian sea with sunny faces of office goers heading to Nariman Point - our very own Manhattan. The Dadar flower market becomes functional from a few hours back when the vendors get their delivery from horticulturists, who haven’t heard of horticulture but grow flowers a plenty. They have a tough nose for business contrary to the soft nature of their produce. Fisher folk from Vasai reach distant suburbs and city heartland with their catch sometimes before the twilight and the students too unfortunately have to make it to their classrooms before seeing the great star in action. Somewhere in Thane at the same time, the creek gives way to the sun from between the mangroves and a flock of sea gulls merrily perform a task normally a cock would do i.e. to provide a morning wake up call.

As the clocks gain momentum, the city awakes with a buzz of people boarding local trains and chasing the bus that revs up before most passengers board it. Mumbai is music to my ears, be it mayhem of day long trading of spices and clothes at Masjid Bunder or mundane banking routine, the rhythm pulsates its very being. Maybe that’s why there are a few dozen classics and many forgettable hindi songs that pay their tribute to living in this megapolis. If I had to compose a song reflecting the sound of this city, it would be a kaleidoscopic mix of clanking of cutting chai glasses, piped ambience music of an uppity 5-star outlet, giggles of girls at work and prayers chanted in all faiths all synced to the steady rhythm of a local train in motion.

When the daylong song and blazing sun settle down with dust on the mean streets, crimson rays make the city blush by tickling its… love spots… I mean the narrow lanes known as khau galli and the sea sides are suddenly infested by couples who are out of their hidings of concrete to breathe in fresh air. Its time for brisk business for ice candy vendors who sell by interrupting in the love routine time and again causing them to buy sometimes unwillingly. Also those lucky ones who own a home next to the sea in these days of sky rocketing realty rates, stand by the window and see life pass by in form of health conscious elder ones at Joggers Park and many other patches of greens.

At dusk, the roads are brightly lit with neon as disposable income of the city is being splurged at eateries, malls and brothels alike with each trying to outdo other promising newer and better temptations as the soot of night covers this beauty. Dinners are set at homes for the returning fathers and young lads & girls working in BPOs leave for their graveyard shift like other nocturnal beings that live dark lives in this big bad city. Soon the pulse of Mumbai, the local trains stop for a couple of hours but streets are still abuzz with nightlife

The only ones standing tall at night are a few timeless and eternal sentries of this island, the Gateway at Colaba and Sidhdhi Vinayak at Prabhadevi , Jeevdani at Virar and Haji Ali at Tardeo all face skywards with their lungs filled with life and pride of admiration that millions of visitors each day bestow upon them. On my prowl, I often find some or the other destitute on the roads on my suburb reminding me time and again to count my blessings.

So, here goes (well don’t expect it to be better than my Oscar acceptance, which I aim to deliver some day). Thank you god for making Mumbai the space, where after midnight a pregnant woman can trust a cabbie to drop her home or nursing home safe and free at times. Thank you god for letting me know that while traveling together in a journey (mumbai or elsewhere) or life, smiles work the best and make it easy. Thank you god for letting me know that one man’s poison is another man’s food and thus the differences must not be begrudged. Thank god for showing me that each individual in this city is in pursuit of happiness and finally, a request for them to be on the move forever

New kid on the blog

I do not consider myself as a champion blogger & thereby look upon blogging with awe due to its tempting and addictive qualities that has affected millions across world- both real and virtual. Today before I take leap of faith over the fence and confirm my loyalty to the cult of bloggers, I use this space to introduce myself through what I call creative self-expression - writing for the laity ;)

Writing is something that fetches me my daily bread, butter and butter chicken, I prefer it more to other creative self expressive activities like dancing, singing or filmmaking, which take my fancy time to time but do not hold it enough to be pursued as a career. As far as my blogging qualifications go, I have been surfing online for quite sometime thanks to one of my early jobs as a content writer for a portal prior to dot com bubble burst. I wonder if you would remember a public service ad campaign that used to be aired on doordarshan in my childhood- " With a cigarette in my hand, I feel like a man". In my case, the same happens with a pen, keyboard or anything with which I can channel my thoughts, feelings and perceptions.

Personally, I look at blogs as one more welcome interface to share ideas, idols and idiosyncrasies. It reaffirms my faith in humanity that people still care for fellow beings, want to hear their voice, understand their thoughts and provide each other with much need, time, love and tenderness necessary to keep the human race together.

Today I merge two of my favourite areas of life, just like an experienced matchmaker or an M&A specialist -Internet and writing. These come together again after a gap of about 6 years but for something more consequential than chatting, professional emails or plain friendship testimonials. At this moment, I feel the joys of sweet surrender to the ever-growing tribe of bloggers and determine to walk alongside with them to newer horizons exploring each topic under the sun with precision and an unpredictable ever expanding spectrum of imagination.

But hey didn’t the dot com market crash long back. Yeah so I heard. King is dead long live the king... As a loyal servant worthy of virtual salt... I blog from today as my contribution to this amazing space created by humans to meet, greet and to share and care.

Forbidden Love and the roadmap to decriminalization of homosexuality in India

They say that my smiles of the morning after are illegal
I am criminal of seeking love in the wrong eyes,
Charged with finding comfort in the wrong caress
Raised eyebrows and misconceptions await me everyday in the eyes of some unknown and many familiar faces
Not guilty I mutter within my heart but never plead
I breathe as ever before and love as well … though forbidden


I tread the path that each mortal desires, the one of smiles, truth and love; the problem is that some co-passengers in my journey of life feel my walk needs correction. They demand that my rythematic gait be changed into a mundane of steps approved by social standards, which don’t threaten to tear the fibre of their moral fabric.

Simply speaking Section 377 of Indian Penal code looms large over my head whenever I think of my sexual identity. I like men, which is no crime in India Legally though the social system and the recent luckhnow incidents have resulted in newspaper Headlines like “Those guilty of Homosexual acts should be hung to death”. A bit too harsh- maybe but yes it is a reaction that stems out of fear for unknown.

I have always pondered about this kind of intolerance in society - be it sexuality, religion, economic or geographical biases. They all smell the same, reeking of a stench that emanates from discrimination and divides. Although, the need of the hour almost always has been to know the similarities and to draw parallels and make compromises.

The only solution that I see to the existing “legalization of homosexuality” issue is through dialogue. There have to be contributions from every member who wants to get homosexuality legalized. Sounds hunky dory and very utopian- yes I agree but when it comes to modus operandi and maintaining the comforts of closets for those who chose it, we can definitely begin with one healthy conversation at a time.

An important aspect of this dialogue process is the old and clichéd AIDA formulae used by the advertising world for eons. AIDA stands for a multiple step process that talks of attracting A-attention, evoking I-interest, generating D-desire and finally receiving A-Accrual or in this case A – acceptance from the citizens of India.

Before we move to the key message in the first phase of attention, here is some food for thought

Amongst the various prevalent norms in the society; most people welcome any custom that accepts rather than rejecting. Any country, person who even appears receptive generally has more chances of being popular. Be it roles of politician, writer, business magnet or a parent, the most successful people have always been identified by their acceptance for new knowledge, different perspectives and for listening.

As is the case with every existent thing on this planet, what we give comes back. When we treat others with discrimination, it boomerangs back into our life almost magically. Minorities in sexual preference, religious beliefs, economically, socially backward classes or various races, all hold equal amount of grudges, layers of mistrust and thereby the resultant misfortune too.