Lost In Sydney

Lost In Sydney
31st January 2006

Two crazy, lovely days in Sydney.

Lovely because of the usual touristy stuff. It's a new place - clean, crisp, good-looking city.

Every part of Sydney has a different flavour. There's the quaint, old-world area around the waterfront called The Rocks. It's right in sight of the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge.

Then there's King's Cross, the local red light area. Full of adult shops, strip clubs, and the like thereof. It's an area we simply have to explore.

The list of places could go on forever...but let's move on.

The people are lovely. Ithink every Aussie is competing with every other to win the Friendliest Person In The World Award.

Oh, ayand ees there enything to saay about the accent, mate?

The food is fantastic. For a carnivore like me, at least. Chicken, turkey, beef...tried all, loved all.

And what does one say about the beer? There's so many. We've tried to try as many as we could on day one itself. So far we've gone through Lowenbrau (the current favourite), Stella Artois, Carlton, Cooper's, Guiness Draught, Victoria Bitter, Toohey's New...and we've got Guiness Stout in the fridge.

And it's hit me yet again that if I don't swim regularly, I'm gonna look pregnant by the time I return.

And, of course, Slappy and I had a beautiful flight alone together, as Scary flew business class.

Now for the crazy parts.

First, Scary had a scarier time getting to the airport. Dropped her phone into water. Running late, she forgot her ticket and turned back just short of the airport. Then, to top it all off, her cab caught fire. Seeing her run of disasters, I told her not to get on to the flight.

Well, she did. And I reached Sydney, with just one bag. When I'd checked in two. The one that was lost had - umm, er - EVERYTHING!

So I went through 24 hours of stress. Bought some socks and undies. Used the film company's t-shirts, airlines t-shirts, and even shaved with a razor for the first time. And I'm converted.

Well, the bag reached me last evening. And I breathed a sigh of relief...but that was short-lived. Because Slappy lost her camera - left it in the cab.

Well, the cab company found the cabbie, so we should get the camera today sometime.

We began the shoot with a disagreement with Client Lady, who's actually the Regional Business Director from the agency, over something absolutely trivial. Which has since been sorted out.

Well, I'm at the shoot, we're about to get rolling. I will be updating soon enough, do check back every couple of days.

Until then, g'day mate!

P.S.: Found Slappy's camera. Our driver, Surfer, has gone off to pick it up. Wonder who and where the next disaster will strike...

Metrosexual Madness

Metrosexual Madness
25th January 2005
This is the first real post for season 3. And the last for a while, methinks. Am off to Oz tomorrow, for a month-long shoot. With Slappy ;-> Guess I'll post whenever I can. See you when I'm back, mates. G'day.
I'm normally late with catching up on fads. Spiked hair happened to me during the latter part of its "in vogue" season. Boot-cuts, about thirty years later.

So, you'll excuse me if I take up metrosexuality two years after the word first entered popular usage.

I can't remember the name of the guy who invented the word "metrosexual", so I can't quite give him credit in this column. Not that this column is meant for anything but satisfying my own ego about my own creative juices flowing.

However, the above-mentioned inventor of words (how cool is that? Even I want to invent words someday...is whackleruffster a word?) describes a metrosexual male as one who takes greater care of his personal grooming and hygiene than normal.

Do note here that, while all gay men (by popular cultural stereotyping) are metrosexual, all metrosexuals aren't gay.

Merosexual seems a rather long word to type - even on my phone. So I'll just abbreviate it to MS through the rest of my column.

So, your average MS gets his hair neatly coiffed, keeps his nails always clean, has no extra, unwanted body hair in embarrassng places, dresses well, if a little wimpy, etc.

So what does this have to do with me? Simple. Let's go on a journey through my MS life.

Let's start with the hair. I used to always get the "short and straight", almost-crew-cut job done about once a monthat th local hajaam. Price - Rs. 20, and steadily increasing to match inflation and the hajaam's self-image.

About a couple of years back I started visiting an upmarket South Bombay hairstylist. Where I discovered messy spikes. A style that caught on with all the gals at work, but somehow didn't seem to work for my own self-image once I got past my identity crisis.

So I went back to hajaam and 30-rupee haircut.

My next real concession to MS-ality was threading my eyebrows. This actually began in Pune, at the behest of Ficklechick. She was then my personal beautician - especially when it came to treating the blackheads on my nose.

So I went in, prepared to come out with a clean forehead. No Unibrau look (refer Austin Powers) for me.

What I wasn't prepared or was the pain. The sheer agony as every hair was plucked out, one after the excruciating other. I'm not ashamed to admit it - involuntary tears did happen.

Of course, over time the nerve endings have come out with the eyebrow hair. Making it so much easier.

Adventure #3 was my blackheads. Which, thankfully, no longer exist. Because the hajaam used to remove 'em with a tweezer. Ouch! T'was a shame they stopped selling blackhead removal strips.

I next looked at the option of shaving my chest hair. However, having less hair on my chest than a ping-pong ball, I decided to abandon the plan.

Mom and Sis have often remarked on my leg hair. They think it looks awful. Right they may be too! My legs are the one body part that has plenty of hair - a fact made more prominent every time I wear shorts.

My legs, however, are the one MS concession I refuse to make. Some signs of masculinity are needed...

Now for grooming.

Which is very simple. I dress for comfort, not fashion. And I don't care what people think.

However, I have caught myself checking my reflection in a public place too often. And I must admit to being narcissistic enough about my appearance. Guess that's an MS sign.

I also have a whole collection of cosmetics I use regularly - face wash, moisturisers, skin cream, deos, colognes, shower gels, etc. Believe me, I probably outdo even my Sis on this one.

But I'm only about a 4 on the MS scale of 10. I know men who stock Victoria's Secret cosmetics in their cars, wear pink t-shirts and gel their hair only after getting off the train and into the office.

All in all, metrosexuality seems to be a much overrated thing. Much ado about an invented term.

But that one invention has made someone famous enough to be forgotten by me.

Time I did something with whackleruffster...

The Power Of A Year

The Power Of A Year
29th December 2005

It’s amazing how much difference a year can make.

The world and their grandfathers (actually, only those who regularly read FITM) know my state a year ago. In a nutshell – down for the count.

But a lot can change in a year. And here is the last episode of FITM Season Two. It’s a time to look back at what was, and a time to look forward to what could be.

Things (touch wood, knock it, grip it, hug it) began to get better at home. There’s a silver lining in every cloud, they say. And this was the silver lining in Dad’s illness – my family rediscovered the bonds that we’d ignored for so long. Number one priority again.

The shock was losing Amma. True, she was ailing. But it’s never easy, even when you know someone doesn’t have much time left. It took her passing for me to realise – and regret – the things I’d left undone and unsaid. I’ve tried to make it up with Nani, in the hope that I won’t make the same mistakes. But home still doesn’t quite feel the same.

As things improved at home, so did Dad’s health and work. He’s not as fit as he’d like to be, but he’s better. And so is work.

Must mention here the Goa trip that we took in June. It was the first family vacation we’d taken in a hell of a long while. And it was wonderful.

One more notable event was the process of me getting over Sweetie. It started in Jan, speeded up during my F1 sojourn in Malaysia, and was inexorably over the day I saw her in my office. I’ve since heard that she’s getting married, and that there are apparently multiple men in her life. This was news I got from Seniorita – and boy, am I glad to be out of it. All the nonsense she gave me – career, etc. – was a sham.

And it’s time to officially change her FITM pseudonym. To something she deserves better, given her lack of direction. Sweetie will now be called Ficklechick.

Now to the friends. The people who’ve been my support structure for very long now. Doc and the Nag, Minty, the Drunken Painting Poet, Shrimati, Legs, Groper, Seniorita and (of course) my best friend.

The Drunken Painting Poet has finally found some happiness and stability in her life. And her beau, Underwater Man, has been a big part of it.

Minty went through her own hell, with career, folks, love and friends. After ten days of silence – I still can’t believe she went through Vipassana without talking, usually she can’t shut up – she’s bounced back. And bounced back well.

Groper’s left Bombay for good. Her reasons were simple – a painful aunt at home and too much stress at work. Top it off with a long-distance relationship with FBW (going good, touch wood). We’d drifted tremendously over the last few months, and I’ve been furious at her. But I’ve spoken with her a couple of times since she reached Delhi, and she already sounds so much happier.

Legs has finally quit, and started a production company of her own. Finally met her – in Powai of all places, home for her, videsh for me. She looks so much more relaxed now, closer to the way she normally is. And at last she’s making a serious attempt to quit smoking.

My best friend has just started a new journey. She got married on December 11 to Bawarchi. It’s amazing how life is. It’s suddenly struck me that I’m an adult, with adult responsibilities. As for her, well, she’s the one person who’s changed my life the most. I’ve rarely got emotional over her, but I did during her wedding (hid it from everyone of course, macho man that I am). With one sentence, she put me on the path I am now. She’s been the best friend anyone could ask for, even with the distance between us. Good luck hon, love you.

Doc and the Nag got together. Finally. Everyone who knows them knows that they were meant to be together. Who’s got it worse, I don’t know. But finally light has dawned.

Onto work now. And things began to look up since July. I’ve done some good work, been recognised for it. Went for a couple of interviews at a point when I was frustrated. But I stuck around, at it’s paying off. Just got word tonight that a film I’ve written is approved, and that an international project is happening. So I’ll be flying off to Australia next month to shoot. Sticking around was completely worth it.

One more thing, and we’re done.

Slappy.

Need I say more?

It’s not too difficult for me to decide what I want next year. It’s just an improvement on what’s happened this year.

Every New Year’s Eve, once midnight has passed, I take some time out to reflect. To look back on what’s happened, and what might. This year I may not need to. Thanks to FITM, I’ve already done it.

And coming back to FITM was probably the most important thing at a personal, deeply spiritual level that could have happened to me.

See you in the New Year, folks. Have a great one.

Cheers.