Mooning over Millennium city..

Jazzy, isn’t it? This is how the ‘millennium city’ looked on the full moon night from my terrace.
I have realized how lonely Rapunzel must have felt in her tower; in my case, the lovely large terrace being the only saving grace. And I can’t even sing.
Not doing absolutely anything is becoming a routine here. I feel my muscles are slowly getting used to this. Warning: If this post sounds a little crummy, you should know – I am just checking if my fingers are working.

Well, I admit I am exaggerating but I am not at fault; Gurgaon is doing this to me. A brand new place: Ideally I should get excited about knowing, seeing and exploring things around. However, the initial vibes I get from this place can be called as, at best, mixed.

I cannot really go out anywhere, without any help. Of course it is not like Potter has stopped me from going anywhere; he would love it if I ventured out – on my own, without hoping and waiting for him to escort me around. Poor fella is stuck in office with neck deep work. For once, I would love to swap places. The season has not yet been the reason to avoid going out – it is still pleasant, thank God.
The real story behind this self imposed imprisonment is quite simple actually - there is no public transportation. No autos, no buses.
Yes, I know for those who have already been here, it’s no big surprise, but come on, I am entitled to be appalled by this. The other day, I had to had to go to the market (there are no shops nearby within the radius of one km, and I don’t live in a jungle) and I had to get into this cycle rickshaw.
One can only imagine how embarrassing it can be when one has to do it the first time. During the entire journey, I felt as if people on the street were staring at me as if I was the spectacle. But if one were to ask Potter, he would chuckle and say no such things occur – there are usually no people walking on the street, either they vroom and zoom in fancy cars or taking cycle rickshaws just like you, which makes them and you equal.
Finally when I reached the destination I sighed in relief, just wanting to jump out of the rickshaw – but the seat is designed by a retired acrobat, and there is a noble intention behind such design. It is to ensure people like me remember their former glory, give them the respect due and not take risks of jumping to end up somewhere near the pedals, all knotted.

How I miss all those small little general stores, the Food World, the dry cleaners! and most importantly, the eateries – all those little Darshini outlets… I don’t want idli dosas no, but something, anything as long as they are nearby? Funny thing is when I was in Bangalore, I did not visit them often; it now feels like they were the heritage sites that I missed out while being on a historical tour.

Oh, I don’t know, I really can’t rant and rave about this place since I have not yet explored it completely. But, yes, the malls – well, they are a different story altogether.

Parting

The last post from this system, from this location, from this office! Sigh....

As expected, getting out of this organization was in not the usual "will miss you my workstation, laptop, my tea cup, (or ocassionally) a colleague" drama style, but the last few pangs of separation pain are slowly making their presence felt.

A cut above the rest

Have you ever been compared to Shah Rukh Khan? What’s the big deal – you’d think. After all, there is nothing extraordinary about him: looks or otherwise.
Exactly.
But if you were a girl, who is not his sister/relative or, do not have any similarities in any manner, then it is quite unusual.
I had the misfortune of having such dubious distinction recently. Nope, it is not my looks either, excuse me. The blame completely goes to my hairstylist.
Just Imagine, I spend almost a fortune to get a nice, wavy haircut (well, at least that’s what I thought) from a trendy, upmarket salon and come home to flaunt it in front of my aunt. And I get to hear this: ‘Hey, you look just like SRK; he has the same hair cut in Pepsi ad!’
Oh, by the way, if one wants to disagree on the ‘extraordinariness’ (rather, lack of it) and start an argument regarding SRK, we can do it in another post.
But for now, where do I go to get another stylist?

Wicked Magic

Yesterday.
As I lay in bed, I saw the sunlight filtering into the room through wide windows – slowly at first, like a hesitant bride stepping into the house. Their warmth slowly seeped into my body.
How easily they bring out the best out of every soul! Even those million atoms in the air that act coy and stay invisible, cannot resist their attraction; a slow dance ensues.
The beams appear tender and fresh, yet strong enough to cleanse the terror of a nightmare.
They are enthusiastic - only they have the permission from millions of sleepyheads world over to enter the bedroom unceremoniously and wake them up from their sweet slumber.
They bounce off the dull walls and brighten up their lives. Like an excited pup, they wander all over the house, bringing a smile on the face.
I let out a sigh of content.
They reassured me that world at large is still safe and filled me with a fresh bout of optimism to look forward to the day ahead.

Today.
This morning I looked out of the window and found dirty gray clouds. I thought about the missing sunshine and felt all the more lost.

An unusual method

It had always bothered me. The irritant in question is an advertisement on TV about a soap brand called ‘Nature Power’ by some RKN group. It shows two women discussing about the ‘best’ method to buy soap (where one model actually says – ‘by watching advertisements!’) and you see a third one popping up from nowhere, providing unsolicited advice after committing the offense of eavesdropping. The ad in itself is extremely lousy; a half-hearted, amateurish effort. What caught my attention was some ‘TFM factor being more than 76%’ or some such info the models provided; apparently soaps above 76% are supposed to be very good. And this seems to be criterion for recommending this soap to random strangers in the store.

At one point the camera zooms in on the product cover and the inscribed word ‘TFM’ with the percentage is displayed. At no point of time in this entire ad, does anybody bother explaining what this percentage or the acronym means. I expected at least one of the characters to bat her eyelids and ask ‘What is this TFM?’ like they show in many other advertisements – the usual, obvious leading question used to introduce a concept. No such luck here. They even show the fair maidens getting impressed by this mystery jargon they neither have any clue about nor care to get clarified.

I googled out TFM and found the details and it’s evident from the information on net that TFM is a fairly common term used when it comes to quality of soaps. However, I did not know about this and I am sure, there are millions others who wouldn’t know either.

The advertisement, per se, is not worth a glance but it definitely would have made a difference if I was told upfront what this ‘TFM’ was all about.
Or, may be not – only because it gave such an incomplete message, this ad stuck to my mind. And, that is a pretty roundabout way of making people remember a brand isn’t it?