So you wake up early this morning ... early by your loose standards. First thing you do is check your phone. No activity there equates no activity here.
A few minutes later, the phone buzzes to life. You flip it open and smile. Its time to get up - the day has just begun.
That Airtel is a company that will give up something it has been pursuing for 15-20 years for something that just flashed past? Just like that. Especially when it is so close to fulfilment.
Or that long term customers mean nothing to them?
Does it want viewers to identify with a dude who doggedly pursues his childhood sweetheart only to be distracted at the last moment by a girl with longer hair and larger assets?
Or does the 'Dil Titli Sa' mean that as customers, you will get momentary attention but when you really run into problems, they will have flitted over to the next guy - the one with the fatter wallet - and you will be left holding a dead connection and empty assurances.
How does that tie in to the whole MPEG4 deal? And maybe if his old MPEG2 box was looking so blurry, he should have gotten his eyes checked. Or wiped the condensation from his TV. Or gone easy on the Tequila. Because video codecs don't introduce Gaussian Blur.
Maybe its because I just watched the last episode of the first season of Mad Men ... and the Carousel message really hit me. So much so that I watched it five times after that.
But this sucks. Just having pretty faces and a pretty voice does not make up for lack of an underlying message.
So, Giancarlo Fisichella takes pole for Force India and Luca Badoer sits last. In a Ferrari. We have come full circle.
Maybe its because Badoer has been driving in the protected environs of the test track and suddenly being thrown into the big bad world must be traumatic. But when you have been depositing a Scuderia Ferrari paycheck at the end of the month for 9 years, you don't come in last.
This is how it should be: Luca di Montezemolo summons Badoer to the conference room. He takes a seat. Montezemolo reaches into a drawer and pulls out a .38. He places it on the table and looks at Badoer. There is sadness in those intense eyes. Imperceptible at first, but its there. With a slight shake of the head, he leaves the room.
As he nears the end of the corridor, a gunshot echoes down the silent space. He pauses, lost in thought, shakes his head and keeps walking.
While the rest of the world ponders over the redundancies of male anatomical features, our countrymen are looking to get that MBA one way or the other.
I am standing in line at the checkout counter at the grocery store, with my two packets of chips and a block of paneer. Third in line.
The nice couple at the counter have finished billing their million items and then proceed to have an extremely educated discussion with the clerk about whether the brand of Basmati Rice they bought is VFM.
Ten minutes.
There is a lady with a small kid in front of me. Both wearing masks. All of us are getting fidgety now.
I check my watch again.
Right next to where I am standing, is a stack of discount agarbattis for sale.
I have been sensitive to agarbattis since I was a kid.
I sneeze.
Woman in front looks at me with sheer terror in her eyes.
She grabs the kid and moves to the furthest counter just as the couple decide that their Basmati is actually the best.
There was a joke going around back in the Cold War:
In an attempted propaganda move, the Soviet Government placed an order for a large quantity of condoms with an American manufacturer. The specified dimensions were considerably larger than the average male anatomy. In a brilliant counter move, the manufacturer filled the order but stamped them "Medium".
So it wasn't just about whose ICBMs have longer range .. heh.
I guess that's all forever is. Just one long trail of nows. And I guess all you can do is try and live one now at a time without getting too worked up about the last now or the next now.
~ from 'The Horse Whisperer'
About Me
Akshay
India
Honestly, there isn't much to write here. If you don't know me, too bad. If you know me, you still don't know me.
