Arnab Mukherjee

Negativity and how you’re in control of it

This is not a buzzword. We deal with negativity everyday in our lives. Be it from an impersonal source like the news or from someone or something around you, there is a never ending all consuming stream of negativity out there to get you all the time. But that’s not the worst kind.

The worst kind, and perhaps the only kind that matters, is within you. It might stem as an immediate reaction to the kind of influences mentioned above or something completely independent of external influences. And there’s no denying that it gets you down. In fact, if you are denying it then stop right now.

There couldn’t be anything personally more harmful than believing your life is all hunky dory when it is not. Because if you don’t acknowledge the negativity taking root inside you, one fine day it will become an all consuming force and take control of all your actions, reactions and feelings.

If there’s a goal you’ve dreamed of since forever, and you’ve done nothing to make progress towards achieving it, acknowledge that. If you think there’s something you’re meant to do, and yet everytime you try your hand at it you come up with a blank or something sub-par, it might be better to take stock of its feasibility rather than stoke a fire that’s going to do nothing but burn your house down.

If there’s a habit you’ve gotten yourself into that you can’t seem to shake, you should consult someone to help you do it rather than justify it with lame excuses. More so if it comes in the way of aforementioned goals.

Inevitably, there are people who depend on you. The dependency might not be financial all the time. It could be emotional, professional or even as insignificant as a single unrelated interaction every day. But with your unabashed negativity, you’ll be bringing them down too. You’ll be letting them down on multiple fronts. So before you do anything else, acknowledge. Accept. That’s the hardest part.

Trust me, I know.

Dealing with what comes later won’t be that difficult. People will understand what you’re going through or they’ll move away. In either case it will leave you a better person. You’ve got nothing to lose if you’re not hiding behind a shroud of pleasantries. Once you shed this shroud, you are bound to emerge all-powerful.

Once that happens, smile. And be free at last.

Lassi

The thick frothy dairy drink attributed to the Punjab region of India, made by churning milk for a long long time with cream. Yes I begin this piece with a definition because definitions are important. They set guidelines for the object and any copy that you intend to make of the same. But sadly, in the case of lassi, those very guidelines are flouted almost everywhere and everyday. And that is important, I’ll tell you why.

First of all, everyone should have a glass of lassi for breakfast. Okay, maybe not the dairy intolerant ones or those who attribute it strictly to North India and hence harbour an animosity towards it. But for those who don’t have anything particularly against this sweet breakfast drink, it should be a regular at their tabled. Because it’s downright delicious when made right.

But mostly, all you get is a sweetened churned ghost of the real lassi masquerading as the original. You might as well imagine you’re having the real deal than taste that thing in the name of lassi.

The real deal – it overpowers you with its thick goodness combined with its creamy richness. It reminds you of good times and sends you to a happy place. It reflects everyday joy and contentment. And it’s amazing. Wait, did I already say that?

Why this discourse today? Because I had an amazing glass of lassi opposite IIT Bombay Main gate. 😂

Stay tuned for more of such food inspired outbursts.

Voice

How are you, now that you’ve won,
I believe I’ve lost the right,
To ask that of you now,
Now that you’re done.

There’s an outpouring,
Feelings tweeted, shock liked,
For now that you’re done,
We’re busy emotion whoring.

The very emotions when,
In boyhood years were ripe,
Found a voice in you,
And the songs of your kin.

The voice flows still,
From vibrating pistons hollow,
Screaming, seeking a reason,
And disavowing silence until.

But the songs will run out,
The rhythm will repeat itself,
The beats all too familiar,
Will my faith fill with doubt.

What should I do?
To fill this void you’ve left,
Should I take the mic?
And pretend that I’m you?

That’s a crazy thought,
In the insanity of absence,
One that’s left me bereft,
Of the one voice that I’d got.

A voice that didn’t shudder,
To talk about the angst,
The rage, the madness,
And words most dare not utter.

To you, your life,
I’ll not say that I know,
What it took for it to be so,
What struggle, what invisible strife.

But you were there for me,
At times I needed you the most,
In pain, hurt, or joy unbound,
And the same I wanted to be.

So, you voiced my wrath, my friend,
I hope one can voice yours,
For it does matter, as now,
It all comes back to me, in the end

The “Are you crazy” paradox

“oh god! she’s crazy”

“That’s some crazy shit going on between them”

Crazy is a word that we throw around a bit too casually now. What do you define as crazy? The more we conform to the norm, the more everything appears to be from the realm of the wacky. Hence, what might be crazy to you, might be part of my morning breakfast. But that’s not the point. The trouble starts when you call yourself crazy.
Calling yourself crazy has more to it than enhancing your Tinder bio. Or portraying yourself as someone off-limits to commoners. It is a commitment to the threads of insanity and impulsiveness that dwell in the deepest but truest corners of your mind. In fact, if you look at it properly – nothing’s crazy.

To the aunties in your society, smoking and a bare female midriff is crazy.

To a himalayan adventurer, life in your society would be crazy.

To a girl somewhere under Sharia law, voting rights would be crazy.

To an entitled person, having to fight for their food is crazy.

And so on.

The Crazy Paradox — Source: Jokesoftheday.net

It should actually be the opposite. What you do, should never be crazy to you. Not to blow my own bugle, but when I decided to change my profession from a well-paying comfortable IT job to a low-paying stressful journalism job in a much more expensive city, I got my fair share of ‘are you crazy’ questions. And even a significant part of those who did not say that to my face might have thought so to themselves. But, for me to actually get it done, at any point I could not believe anything other than the fact that what I was doing was perfectly normal to achieve one’s dream. Who knows – if I might have dwelt too much upon the craziness of the decision, I might have ended up not making it at all – as people around me would tell you, I am not the kind of guy you usually associate the word ‘crazy’ with.

You have to go on and be crazy. Craziness is like heaven.

– Jimi Hendrix

So if you want to do something crazy, stop dwelling on its craziness to begin with. Accept it, make it the only possible way to get things done. Absorb this paradox into yourself. And trust me, when you finally do get it done, you’ll have enough time to look back at it all and say “That was some crazy shit back there”.

The Door Hangers

Anyone who has travelled by Mumbai locals has seen them. Of course, I am not belittling the crowds in any other form and place of public transport, but in my experience, they are most abundant in Mumbai locals. Somewhere, in their past lives, lie the unfulfilled desires of hangers not hanging enough. One of the greatest mysteries that this city of dreamers can offer you – Meet the Door Hangers.

These are the souls who experience boundless joys in putting their entire lives at risk by standing precisely with 2.89 inches of their feet on the train, their hands on the supporting metal post, and a carefree wind running through their hair, carrying all the faecal stench the Mumbai Suburban Railway can offer.

If you’re wondering, out of sympathy, whether they do it because it’s hot inside the train, hear it from someone who has been inside the train – it’s not unless it’s devilishly crowded. And it’s not always devilishly crowded as some would have you believe. But the hangers are always there – as if the sole purpose in their daily commute is to please some unknown god of hanging, so that he bestows upon them titles only worthy of the bravest and most resilient hangers – hangers who didn’t give up in the face of boarding crowds, hangers who yanked their positions from losers by boarding an empty carriage and simply standing there, blocking everyone behind them – truly the bravest of them all.

One particular advantage that the logician inside you will bring up is the possibility of getting off early and running to the stairs to catch a connecting train. That is if most of them were looking at connecting trains, which they aren’t. Trust me, I TAKE CONNECTING TRAINS.

People, people – I know this city has a reputation of being fast paced and never sleeping. While the latter I have confirmed to be an exaggeration (it merely sleeps late and wakes up early, something I have started mimicking too), the former is mostly interpreted as a means to slow each other down. No, jumping off a running train to jump on the next running train will get you nowhere that could be worth this risk (and inconvenience to the people in front of whom you’re doing your ritualistic offering dance to the hanging god).

On the other hand, I’ve never really hung out with these guys, so I probably shouldn’t be judging them, eh?

It isn’t easy

Writing isn’t easy. No job is, in fact. If it is, you’re doing it wrong or you’re in the wrong one.

Trying to get back to my blog after all this while has been a fine example of what happens if you’re not putting all your heart into something. It just doesn’t work. You may be making a ton of money or a hell lot of good progress – but if your heart is not in it, at some point it’ll fall apart – either you’ll simply forget about it, or it’ll go down the drain, or million other reasons.

Look around you – there’s excellence everywhere and it doesn’t come cheap. For example, look at the Academy Awards. They’re nothing new and have been organised every year since 1929 – that’s more than your and my age combined, unless you’re 64 or older, in which case, thank you for your attention as you must have far more wisdom than I possess.

Getting back to the topic, the Academy Awards every year celebrate the best in movie making across various categories and specializations. Most of the people who win the golden statuette are already well to do in the world. So why do they cry, or get emotional when they are awarded?

Because that award is an absolute recognition of their excellence and they’ve worked themselves to hell and back to get it. Nothing less would ever work.

So every time you slack off – think about the Oscars. Think about all the people, who slacked off and didn’t make it to the nominations – or even the red carpet. Think of all the people, who were sitting in their living rooms, thinking about their dreams from 20 years back, only to switch the TV off and leave for their 9to5 job. Then, think about those who didn’t.

“I take rejection as someone blowing a bugle in my ear to wake me up and get going, rather than retreat.”

– Sylvester Stallone, perhaps the strongest example of never-giving-up in my heart.

Think about all those who tried for years, slept on the footpath, got thrown out by their families, went hungry and underfed for weeks, faced rejection in every possible way only because they believed that they could make it big. Nobody gave them an insurance or a fallback – they went all out for it. There was no job security or gratuity involved – only their own personal belief that kept them going – till they reached the biggest stage in the world.

Until you’re burnt out, don’t stop lighting fires.

Until you’re broken to pieces, don’t stop hitting back as hard as you can.

Until you’re drowned and dead, don’t stop diving into the big blue ocean of opportunity.

Nothing less will work.

C’mon! C’mon! Turn the radio on!

Meditation has many forms. Some of us like to sit with our legs crossed and folded, eyes closed and chant a certain phrase. Some of us prefer a trance induced by following a certain thought process. Some of us prefer the calm of the sea, some the silence of the mountains. Every single day, when I travel to office in a rickety old bus that is louder than anything else on the road, I find my meditation on the radio.

Everybody wants the window seat when they’re travelling, be it a bus, train or even a flight. We all want that freedom to glimpse at the world passing by and its myriad offerings while we sit and relax. In the very bus ride that I mentioned earlier, the world is out there in all its glory and all its shades that form a spectacular vision to behold. And while my eyes are busy beholding this, my ears are lost in their own trance in the sound that pours into them from the headphones. Plugged into my phone, the headphones convey the voice of FM Radio.

Don’t get me wrong – not everything that’s going on on the different FM channels is good, or even worth listening to. Nope, there are some pretty irritating shows and radio jockeys out there (Jeeturaj – Yes I am talking about you!). But listening to the radio feels much better than simply playing songs off my memory card. First of all – you don’t know which song is gonna play next. Something about that randomness keeps things very interesting, keeps you on your toes – “what song will play next? Will it be my favorite number? Will I hate it?”. With this, you’re already involved in something beyond the music. One moment you’re listening to retro hits from the 90s hosted by a 40 something Bollywood veteran with an amazing sense of humor, the next moment your ears are all for the English classics request show hosted by the 20 something with a next-door voice.

Second, you get to listen to so much more than songs on the radio. Actual human voices talking about everything under the sun, ranging from everyday affairs in the city to stories reminiscent of the past. For example, a show hosted by Anu Kapoor has been one of my favorites for a while. He plays some wonderful classics from years gone by, while talking about the life of a person involved in the film industry. During that show, one gets to experience so much more than the song – one experiences the people behind it, the stories that made it a reality, or simply the funny thing that happened on the set.

Listening to the radio is especially informative if you’re new to a city – of course, it has to be in a language that you understand at least partially. Since I have been in Mumbai, the radio has taught me more about the city than anything else – the good, the bad and even the parts that sound ugly.

Not everyone likes it. And I don’t blame them. In today’s age of instant gratification and on-demand Haryanvi rappers, understanding the beauty behind the FM radio is not something that can be expected of everyone. When I was a kid, we probably had the best radio unit in my town – it was a massive Hi-Fi system which had been optimized for FM. Listening to Power FM back in the day was perhaps the only musical education that I received.

To those who still don’t see why I consider radio as meditation, think about this – you turn on the radio, put on your headphones and simply let go of the controls while the songs play one after the other, almost on auto-pilot, while you close your eyes to all that’s going on around you – visuals of the song or of a distant past playing like a film-reel inside your head. Trust me, try it.

How many of you still listen to the radio?

Could it possibly be….

It has been ages since this has happened. I can see the sun outside my room making stretched shadows on the bland wall that faces my bed and it has been at the same spot for as long as I can remember – or the last 10 minutes. Maybe I am being a little too observant of things – writing a blog after a …well frankly, a long long time, can perhaps do this.

Things have changed in my own life and in the lives of those around me. And the interesting part is that it has always all been for the better, even if it appeared to be exactly the opposite in the short run. Of course there are problems. Everyone has problems. Even the Pope has problems. And right now, even the planet has quite a few problems that would put yours or mine to shame. But problem shaming and victim blaming are games for another day.

Have you observed people these days? On the buses, the trains, the streets? No? You really should, it’s a lot of fun. For example, yesterday, at one point I realized that all the cars around mine at the signal somehow had short drivers whose upper torso was barely visible from outside of the car. Individually, this would be quite a normal sight as there’s nothing funny about anyone’s height. But collectively, I have to say, the effect was quite comic during moments of an anxious waiting for the light to turn green.

In these observations lies the story that all of us seek – the answers that will someday come to many of us who are eagerly looking for it. And that’s why, you have to keep looking – at the two friends locked in careless banter, ignorant of all that’s going on around them including the discomfort of others, at the strange group of seven short men who distinctly remind you of the seven dwarves of Snow White, at the strange rude shopkeeper who seems totally out of place in your current city and a remnant from your old city, at the girl who is confused whether she should take the bus or call a cab, for all the monetary reasons or otherwise, at the long haired office clerk guy who always ties a ponytail but never wears casual clothes – somewhere, these people and their anomalies hold the answer to all your questions. Just don’t go ahead and ask them directly, alright?

P.S It doesn’t matter if, in all this while, you’ve stopped reading what I write. If I can start writing again, I am sure I can ask for a couple of minutes of your undivided attention everyday. In return? Perhaps one of your answers lies with me.

Review – The Sialkot Saga – The bollywood-isation of Indian storytelling

I think it was somewhere around last year that a writing competition was organized, with leading authors from around the country providing writing prompts for aspiring writers to weave stories out of. Needless to say, since I fall within the numbers of such aspiring writers and picked up my pen to flesh out an entry for Amish Tripathi’s prompt. One does not have to be particularly aware of the competition to guess that it was a semi-historical prompt that dealt with topics of regionality and an indian identity. Now, there is nothing wrong with staying true to one’s forte and many would say Amish Tripathi has done an excellent job in mastering the history-mythology domain. Quite predictably he had jumped from the Shiva trilogy to one of the two greatest ‘epic’ hero stories in India, the Ramayana, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if the Mahabharata follows in the form of Kurukshetra Chronicles (wait, I think I have read that title somewhere already!).

One of the plagues in the world of Indian creative writing currently seems to be an absolute lack of imagination. Sounds ironic, doesn’t it? Take a look at the Chetan Bhagat phenomenon. One successful BTech-MBA turned writer with tales of his college days, memories of his working days, management college and a gradual trend of tales pantering to a commercial youth audience went on to create a horde of such writers and now the market is flooded with paraphrased book titles that are hard to distinguish from the preface of the books. My previous rant on the same can be found here : <insert link>. Then Amish Tripathi happened.

The Shiva trilogy is highly captivating and I give it no less credit for the same. I have read it too long back to comment on the writing but it shall be a lie if I say that I haven’t read the series. Although I would have preferred the last book to be less of an attempt to thicken the volume, it deserves the applause it received. And then it gave rise to a bunch of me-toos. Suddenly, you had retellings of mythology everywhere. Indra? Check. Arjuna? Check. Kaurava? Check. Ravana? Check. And these are just the ones I have come across. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone mistakes some political idols around the country as mythological ones and spawns a retelling of the same. Some of them might be gems, but there are too many, just too many to not see this as a lack of creativity. If it sells, sell it till you are literally shoving it down the throat of readers.

Enter Ashwin Sanghi. I don’t recall when I picked up the Krishna key but it cannot be more than 5 years ago. I immediately got a Dan Brown vibe from the way the author was trying to convey the story, with ‘facts’ and more facts crammed into a story that didn’t stop to catch its breath. The writing quality did keep one wanting but it was my maiden book for this author and I decided to reserve my judgement for later.

Now, after the Rozabal line and more recently, the Sialkot Saga, my hopes behind this author seem to be in vain as the writing goes into a downward spiral. Rozabal Line was more of a page turner than Krishna Key, but at times felt like it was holding your face to an encyclopaedia and making you read. Don’t get me wrong, I love gaining knowledge through stories and one of my favorite authors, Arthur Hailey had a writing style that sometimes sacrificed storytelling to convey facts. But there is a storyteller’s way of doing the same. Shoving your research into pages as it is for the readers to consume is equivalent to using sleazy centrefolds to sell your books according to me.

The Sialkot saga could very well have been a series of newspapers from the last 50 years stitched together with some dialogues and character details inserted sporadically. It almost literally feels like the author sat with a copy of Dongri to Dubai on one side and any commerce enthusiastic Marwari on another and fabricated a story that comes across as a pale reflection of Kane and Abel, complete with their kids falling in love and getting married in another country. The world war and its atrocities are replaced by the India – Pakistan partition. Forcefully cramming events like the World Trade centre attacks, the 26/11 attacks, the Mumbai local train bomb blasts, Gujarat riots, earthquake etc almost seems like an insulting mad rush to not miss out on any event of any significance from an average Indian history book. Trust me, this one could very well be a rough draft for a larger story being sold in the guise of a book. Even Jeffery Archer’s recently adopted trope of lifelong lovers almost turning out to be siblings gets a guest appearance here. At least the names in the Archer’s epoch had a biblical significance, whereas in Sanghi’s novel, the repeated “Ar” in Arvind and Arbaaz betray a laziness that I truly hope is a figment of my imagination. And I don’t want to spoil the ending for anyone, so all I’d rather say is it was very anti-climatic, the sudden and unceremonious demise of certain characters that the story builds up as well as the secret plot being hinted at behind the scenes. In fact, it almost feels like Sanghi rushed a deadline on this one.

The entire book feels like a script writer explaining a potential script to a disinterested actor, and I would really recommend you to put this one down if you are thinking of buying it. Alas, I had not done the same.

The Merry Christmas State of Things

Come 25th of December, temperatures dropped overnight. It was almost as if winter suddenly realised it was that time of the year when people take extended vacations and travel to warmer parts of the country, and that they needed a freezing winter back home to justify that. And for the ones who hadn’t saved up enough for that trip they had been planning, Christmas would kickstart with watching a red cavalcade of heads adorned with santa hats shopping around the local grocery store for cake ingredients, or perhaps at the local nightclubs and discotheques for couple passes. It was just the beginning of a weeklong excuse for us to shun our daily routine and spend our money for reasons we do not fully understand.

Why does the entire country go into a vacation frenzy during this time? Doesn’t it make more sense to indulge in travel and tourism when every other person is not doing it? For many of us, it is because our work is directly tied to that of our imperial masters, who take great joy in showing a very important finger to work this time of the year. For the rest of us, travelling ‘in-season’ is essential for the original experience. Fine, go ahead, I am not travelling or going to a nightclub, so go ahead and indulge in whatever keeps your wheels turning.

What changes around this time? Do people become more friendly, doused in the christmas spirit? Is there an overnight transformation not unlike that of Ebenezer Scrooge? Do the ghosts of our democracy past haunt us? As far as I can see, there isn’t anything proceeding in that direction. Don’t get me wrong, I am no Christian. Not that I can be much good to any religion I belong to. Wait, wait, don’t get those sickles and swords out yet! Let me explain.

My faith or my vehemence to rely on it and uphold it, shouldn’t really matter to you or anyone. Not due to my right to religion or any other mumbo-jumbo like that, but because I am the kind of vermin who cannot contribute to any religion they belong to. I am critical of the miracles I see everyday, I am observant of my fellow beings, I am considerate towards sins and sinners, I consider myself worthless to take any action on behalf of any god, and I really like to eat everything on my plate. So as you see, no religion would benefit by having me.

On the other hand, I would like to benefit from everything around me. Take Christmas for example. I have indulged in exchanging gifts and baking, the two most typical activities for any ‘at-home’ citizen on this annual celebration of an incorrectly recorded birthday. I have done so, not with the motive of promoting this religion. My only motive has been to be more involved with my family and to have a good time on one more holiday. One more holiday ticked off the list, one more tradition upheld.

On that note, I want to observe how the rest of us benefit from these few days. Don’t worry, I am done talking about the extended vacations and nightclub huntings. We are still focussing on things we do not need to focus on. We are still ignoring things that deserve our attention this very moment. In adherence to the former, we are busy getting mega-budget movies banned across the country in a totally inexplicable surge of patriotism, and in dedication to the latter, we are busy ignoring the burning houses of our elected representatives in states famous for their affinity to ignorance. And obviously, there is a third kind to be blamed for all of this. Vermin like me.

Media is to be blamed for the state of things. After all, they decide what you and me get to know, right? It’s not like we have free access to such basic information. Our country is not connected via the internet, didn’t you know? All hail the free basics that we are yet to get from our elected gods. Strangely though, the ones who do not have access to find out the truth, they usually do not have the power to spread lies and get their deceit heard either.

On that note, I think this is enough ranting for this chilled out week. If you started reading this in the hopes of finding the not-so common christmas spirit or if you were seeking a solution to everything wrong around us, my apologies and sympathy are with you. Perhaps the answer lies under those millions of Santa hats and myriad of retweets. See you on the other side of the calendar.