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The struggle to realise a dream

The city of dreams is often cruel to those hoping to realise their own – by making them struggle alone.
by Mohammad Saad Khan

Mohammad Saad KhanThe dream of being heard as a musician and the responsibility of being the elder son of the family landed me in the city where a million dreams live and breathe.

This was the first time ever that I left my little home in Visakhapatnam where I lived with my family.

Playing gigs at small venues and often singing at almost empty ones, such as restaurants, for a little amount of money, I was living in hopes of being heard by the right crowd, at the right time, at the right place. The failure of that dream and the ache of watching my almost 50-year-old father working hard to put our lives together, made me take the decision of moving to Mumbai.

Mumbai, for me, is a totally new world compared to where I’ve been living before. Here, waking up to my mother’s voice has been replaced by the noise of the 27 others that I live with, in a dormitory near Mohammed Ali Road.

Yes, I live in a dormitory. A home to 27 other people who have come to this city for various reasons.

I managed to find myself a job at a call centre in order to take care of my expenses in this city. It has been a tough task to settle myself here, but that is obvious. The tough part was more emotional than physical. I was living in the most crowded city in the country but had no one to talk to.

One night, while walking through the streets in Colaba, I saw an old woman begging for food outside a church. It was Easter’s night, I remember. She was looking for someone who’d lend senior_citizen alone in mumbai her a meal, and I was looking for someone who’d lend me an ear. I gave her a little something and she was more than happy.

In return, I asked her to talk to me for a while. I heard her story and told her mine. That little conversation was a lesson – a lesson that taught me that the grass is never greener on the other side. It also gave me an idea of how different the lives in this city with its tall buildings and bright lights are.

It’s been almost six months in Mumbai for me and I’m still trying to figure out the way to deal with the psychological stress of being alone in the most crowded city in the country. And I’m still trying to figure out the path that leads to my dreams, in order to put my life together.

This is my story in Mumbai so far…

Mohammad Saad Khan is 21 and loves writing songs on how he feels about things in life, apart from singing, making sketches of things and people he likes, and meeting new people and listening to their stories.

(Pictures courtesy www.trekearth.com, myopiclenses.blogspot.com, www.indiashots.com)

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Guest writer

Mumbai is my lover

What makes all of us fall in love with this city? And is there a simple answer to this question?
Purva Desaiby Purva Desai

I’ve often wondered what’s kept me stuck to a city like Mumbai, to the point where I’m hostile about the idea of moving any place else. Wherever I go, I invariably begin to compare it to Mumbai.

Maybe I got Bombay-genised long ago, in the days when we partied till 5:00 am and going to J49 toh boss banta hi banta tha. I can’t pinpoint and explain to perplexed lovers of open spaces and believers of a quality life that for me, this is the best place to be. They keep asking ‘Why?’

Why? Because of everything. Terminology, food, places, people…I can go on and on.

I’ve observed on my travels that I’m a hopeless homesick who finds something missing in most places and which I feel Bom-Mumbai has – a vibrating, pulsating, encompassing heart!

I find it in the midst of a flood when the whole city is swimming and strangers parade in complete darkness, holding your hand and singing songs to cheer you and ensure you reach home safely.

I find it in the midst of a terrorist attack where the whole city marches courageously to Colaba to show that we love one religion: humanity.

I find it at a cricket match at Wankhede Stadium where everybody is cheering Sachin Tendulkar – then there’s no Gujarati, Maharashtrian, Punjabi, Sindhi, Parsi. We all belong to one caste. And when the whole city is out on the streets, celebrating and cheering till the wee hours of morning.

food in mumbaiI find it in the food – in the vada pavs, dabelis, pav bhaji, sev puri, ussal, missal and bhajjiyas. Here aloo pyaaj becomes kanda batata.

I find it in people even though you live alone – no one can be a stranger here. Your tai, bai, dhobi and bhajiwallah become the friends you talk to daily.

I find it in the chaos- the fast pace, lack of living space, the hurry to catch that train or run after that BEST bus. But in the end, you’ll always make it.

I find it in an autorickshaw where you are safe and secure in the hands of a rickshawwallah even at 2:00 am. Never mind his spitting (mostly paan) or the race he’s having with the BEST bus. Ignore that and you’ll survive.

I find it in Colaba where you realise that Shantaram makes you see the place in a whole new light and you wonder if foreigners know Mumbai more than you do. Maybe they do…heavy rain in mumbai

I find it on the streets where Zara, Forever New, Mango, Ann Taylor and FCUK all come under one roof for cheap – it’s surplus but still ORIGINAL.

I find it in the bars, clubs and restaurants where you’re as valued as a Bollywood star or celebrity.

In the end, maybe I’ve said too much or maybe I have not said enough. I can make endless comparisons, use metaphors, similes and give ‘hajjaar’ explanations, but the realisation is always one and always the same – I’ll have an eternal love affair with this city.

More things to love about Mumbai:

Purva Desai is an entertainment journalist with The Times of India (online). The Santacruz resident says she is up for anything spontaneous but that apart, she loves traveling, exploring different cultures and cuisines and meeting new people, apart from having a passion for yoga, dancing, reading, cooking and films.

(Pictures courtesy www.guardian.co.uk, www.bbc.co.uk, gulfnews.com, creative.sulekha.com, www.arrivalguides.com, blogs.wsj.com, winnersdelhinews.com, postnoon.com, www.indianaturewatch.net, kaapiandart.blogspot.com, www.buzzintown.com, www.desicolours.com, goindia.about.com)

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Midnight at Marine Drive

A whole ecosystem springs up at Marine Drive in the hours when Mumbai sleeps, and a day begins for others.
Shama Arif Patelby Shama Arif Patel

1 am.

While it’s time for most of us to call it a day, the day begins for many at this hour. Right here at Marine Drive.

The day begins for a flower girl who gets a smile on her face after seeing the couples sitting hand in hand, for now she knows that it’s her time to earn her living. The day begins for her right then!

The day begins for an artist who hits Marine Drive at 11 pm every day. After keeping his belongings aside, he makes himself comfortable. Laying on the stretch, facing the sea, staring at the sky, he closes his eyes to let his exhaustion settle down. He takes drawing classes for children during the day and makes live sketches for people at night. After a good 45 minutes’ nap, he calls it a morning. Grooming himself and carrying drawing sheets in his hand, he gets going to earn his share of money.

A mimicry artist is thrilled to see a potential audience by the sea. He spots a group of people and begins an impromptu show right there. While some shower genuine praises at him, the others take this as their chance to mock him. While some offer him money, the others, like me, pray for his dream to come true. His hope begins right there!

It’s a new day for a chaiwallah who rides up and down several times carrying chai along with other eatables, making his bicycle a mobile basic grocery store. And this store manager marine-drive-seem to know exact need of the crowd visiting this place because this need becomes responsible for his family’s daily living.

The strength of tel-maalish (oil massage) men doubles as they seek to work their hand’s magic and release the tension in a lot of people sitting on that pavement! The onlookers may feel that people getting the maalish are stressed and tired with working hard and they remain completely ignorant to the life of that massager who is capable of relieving the stress despite his own stressful life. That maalish session which he executes with his whole heart becomes his blessing and earnings for the next 24 hours.

SONY DSCIt’s daybreak for those innocent street children and their mother, who roam around in search of food and money with a hope to get blessed with someone’s leftover snacks that becomes their only meal for the entire day. It’s a new day for another group of homeless children who walk around with naughty smiles and a twinkle in their eyes, accepting anything and everything that’s offered to them by people around – from a half-filled water bottle to the left over chana-chor garam.

Then, amidst these people are those who are filled with complains and whine about how nothing is going right in their life! People who are so engrossed in their problematic world that they become ignorant to these needs around them. And despite not having any of those fancy luxuries, these mid-nighters seem happy and content compared to those people who visit Marine Drive just to release their stress!

Would you trade your life to live someone else’s life? Would you be happy living the life of that flower girl or the artist or that stand-up comedian or those street dwellers? You may not want to live their life but you become a part of their life always. ‘You’ become a part of their new beginning every single day! And how wonderful would it be, if you offered a smile to these mid-nighters and gave them a happy start to their day!

We all are dependent beings trying to live independent lives. The kind of person you choose to become not only affects your life but also affects the life of people around you and that’s when you become the indirect support of many who begin their day at midnight. Life has many facets to it and each human being, I guess, is given a part to play. Make sure you play your part well, because now you know that you are touching lives every second just by playing your part in this life.

Shama Patel is a marriage and family counsellor by education, a writer by passion and a celebrity co-coordinator by choice. She also works part time for a telecomm company as a media and communication manager. In her free time, she loves to read, write and sketch. She gets enthralled by everything that nature has to offer. 

 (Pictures courtesy blog.jilllenafordart.com, www.lonelyplanet.com, www.hg2magazine.com)

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Why I think Twitter is better than Facebook

Twitter is better for use than Facebook, and ease of use and a wider scope for communication are just extras.
by Rohan Naravane

Social networks play an important role in today’s hyper-connected life. I scored my current and previous job thanks to being able to communicate with people over Facebook and Twitter. I’m not a big Social Networker — the only reason I moved to Facebook is because everybody I knew stopped “hanging out” on Orkut. I witnessed the transition of Facebook from being the network for cool people to now being treated as an unavoidable nuisance by many.

I admit I joined the Twitter party pretty late; I’d initially failed to understand what all the fuss about typing 140 characters was. But now that I’m aboard, I see myself distancing myself from Facebook. Honestly, nowadays I’m merely just a participant to photos I’m tagged in. Or the posts I want to un-tag myself from. These are my explorations as to why I found Twitter to be, a better social network than Facebook.

1) You don’t have to follow everybody

Many people I remotely know are on Facebook, and they’re all on my friend list. Every time I look at my News Feed, not a day goes by when I’ve not come across at least one of the following posts:

a) Sensitive emotional quotes

b) Poorly-executed memes     

c) Religious quotes

d) A no-holds-barred upload of the entire DCIM folder of a digital camera

e) Images of a cancer-stricken child pleading for your share so that Facebook can give it a dollar.

Now I don’t want to be a mean person and unfriend them. The good thing about Twitter is, if you like, you follow, else you don’t. I thankfully haven’t come across people angry at me for not following them on Twitter (yet, fingers crossed). Thereby, you get to choose the content you want to subscribe to. You know, kinda like how you like the The Times of India over The Hindustan Times and you’re not compelled to subscribe to the latter just because your uncle who works there will feel bad.

2) More Content Per Inch (CPI)

Thanks to the 140-character limitation, tweets are fit into equal-sized containers. Thus, I’m able to read more content each time I scroll, as opposed to Facebook. Plus there’s an array of beautiful-looking, powerful third party Twitter apps.

3) No app invites!

No, I don’t want to try out Klout, or Criminal Case, or Texas Hold Em Poker, or FarmVille 2, or any other app. Thank you for inviting me, though.

4) You can literally talk to anybody!

Twitter is fantastic when you want to interact with an individual, be it a friend sitting next to you or some famous personality. Not like the latter will always respond to you, but sometimes, they do, like this one, for example. Also, companies seem to take an active interest in providing support to users by promptly replying to their queries on Twitter.

5) Privacy? LOL you’re on Twitter

So you can set people into different lists on Facebook and then selectively share content only with them. But that’s way too complicated for me, having to remember who is part of which list and who is not. Twitter being the open book that it is, all your tweets are publicly available. So, I’m always subliminally aware that whatever I say will be available for all to see. That somehow makes me feel comfortable. Sure, there’s that protected tweets option, but this Adam Sandler parody account had something wonderful to say about that.

Rohan Naravane manages the content for PriceBaba.com. When he’s not writing about technology, he likes to talk about it and will ramble on if he finds you remotely technological. His other recent endeavours include getting back in shape, and marathoning TV shows and movies. 

(Pictures courtesy fingercandymedia.com, tech-keeda.blogspot.com, www.businessinsider.com)

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Agency wanted for post of internship

There was a time when office interns were persons with zero attitude and full commitment. Those times are clearly over.
by Mukta Lad

I turned 26 in the March that went by. That makes my experience in writing exactly eight years, considering I began working three days after I turned 18. Obviously most of the time was spent freelancing/interning for close to no money, but that’s something everyone is only too familiar with.

I still remember when I was all of 18, shaking in my boots at the prospect of my first ever interview. I came out of the meeting thanking my stars that I had landed a job without any trouble at all, never mind that there was no money involved.

Eight years since, I’m still not better off at interviews. I don’t tremble as much in my flip flops (and I still suck at negotiating for the money), but there’s the constant awareness of meeting a very senior, experienced person with more knowledge and skills than I’ll probably ever have. I try and dress decently (I work in advertising. So ‘decently’ means wearing jeans and a peasant top, rather than the usual metal tees and jeans), I am at my politest best, and I would die rather than not stick to the time that my prospective employer is expecting me at. Never mind that I just might have to wait hours before he agrees to see me, if at all.

And this is despite having three-four years of experience in the field.

So then, what is with 18-year-old kids these days?

I’ve worked with a fair share of interns. And more than 10 times that number have applied to me for an internship. I just have one question: what’s with the attitude?

From writing ridiculously pompous cover letters to sending me writing samples that they believe are Pulitzer Prize-worthy, to asking for feedback and hating the criticism, these people have done it all. Some of them are lazy, some think most intern-worthy chores are beneath them, while some are just plain bad writers proficient in denial.

The underlying, uniting factor? They all think copywriting is easy.

I’ve been asked the following questions from copy interns coming in for interviews, or while they were working with me. I present them to you in increasing order of ridiculousness.

– It’s 5.30. I have to leave. Can I do this tomorrow?
– How many times a week do you party?
– Do you need to read for this job? I kinda don’t read!
– I don’t have any writing samples, ya. Is that a problem?
– Hmm, I don’t like the idea of writing brochures. Can you give me more interesting work to do?
– Oh, you’re a ‘digital’ agency? And your ‘normal’ advertising sits downstairs? So can I join upstairs and move downstairs?    
– How famous is this agency? I don’t want to join a small place.
– I have been working on this account for two months and I don’t like it. Can you put me on some other account?
– It’s my anniversary tomorrow and I’m spending the day with my girlfriend. Cool, na?
– Oh man, we can’t come to office at 12?

And that’s just the start of things to come. I don’t think I’d muster the courage to talk to anyone like that, even when I’m 25 years old in the industry.

Just recently, a girl who desperately wanted a job never showed up for her interview. Neither did she pick up HR’s calls or respond to SMSes. We still don’t know whether she was buried alive in an avalanche somewhere on her way here. I hope she was. Many interns I see try to leave at 5 pm leaving a mound of work behind because of reasons ranging from family dinners, weddings, friends’ birthdays, farewells, airport pickups/drops, sick pets, bachelorette parties, shopping sprees before impending Goa trips…the list is endless, just like the number of events in their party calendars!

Why aren’t kids these days more scared of annoying their prospective employers with the horrible attitude? Where does this ‘I-know-a-lot-more-than-you’ attitude come from? And why do they mistake bad manners for ‘dashing attitude’ and ‘confidence’?

Sweeping generalisations aside, most of the trainees we see don’t even know the basics. And they don’t want to learn more than they already think they know. I am a copywriter, so I can only speak for advertising. They apply for a writing job and expect me to explain the difference between ‘loose’ and ‘lose’. Don’t even get me started on their full party calendar because of which they can never work late hours.

What about advertising and writing makes people believe it’s the easiest profession on the planet? What makes them think they’re going to be at Cannes the very next year, without any drudgery? How are they okay overriding seniors and establishing their own rules?  Am I the only one meeting these specimens?

And last, and perhaps the most important question: when did I become old and wise enough to call other people ‘kids’?

Mukta Lad is a copy supervisor with a leading ad agency in Mumbai. Follow her at @mooodles, or not.

(Pictures courtesy Pushkaraj Shirke, pleaseuseyourwords.blogspot.com, www.cristianoakajames.com)

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Loving Mumbai in Chennai

A true-blue Mumbaikar was faced with hostility in Chennai – thus making him prouder of the city of his birth.
by Aditya Kshirsagar

Never did I realise the pride of being a Maharashtrian until I came to Madras aka Chennai. I grew up in Bombay (now Mumbai). I always shared a love and hate relationship with the city of my birth, but even a month away from it is torturous. There are many things that I hate about Mumbai, but what I truly love is the respect that we have for all cultures. I might claim to be a Maharashtrian (a native speaker of Marathi) but like so many others, even my kin migrated here.

Growing up in Mumbai, you are invariably (even if you live under a rock) exposed to so many languages, and by default, end up being bilingual (at least). Personally, I am very terrible at learning languages. Even with that handicap, I speak Hindi, Marathi, English and can manage Gujarati, Bhojpuri and Bengali. South Indian languages are managed with the odd English words. Let me clarify something here, my maternal family is a mix of Southerners. My aaji (grandmother) tried in vain to teach me Kannada. All I learnt was ila (no).

In Mumbai, we speak a specific dialect of Hindi which is called Bambaiya Hindi. The requirements of this language are  simple. Everything we say starts and ends with bhen***d or saala or kya baat kar raha hai bey. This is the language that the city speaks.  What I miss the most here in Chennai is the fact that you cannot start speaking in English, jump to Hindi, start speaking in your mother tongue, revert back in another language, and yet find the entire process fluid. The conversation is never abrupt, but a flow, and we won’t realise it until someone deliberately points it out.

I moved to Chennai on August 4, 2012. Two weeks here and I knew this was to be my Kala Pani. Language is a major hindrance. There is a definite hatred towards Hindi. Over here, for the first time, I was referred to as North Indian. I’ve no issues called that but the arrogance with which I encountered these words was hurtful. I related to every bhaiyya in Mumbai. Being part of the minority is not fun. Wanting my voice to be heard, I introduced everyone who was willing to listen to the existence of the West Coast of India and the Deccan Plateau.

After moving here, I’ve started avoiding talking in Hindi due to the constant fear of being ostracised if you speak that language. I restrict my conversations to English or in broken Tamil or in the worst case scenario, to sighs and grunts. I’ve received scathing looks when I’d initially, like a naive Indian, enquired if they knew Hindi.

Let me clarify, I’ve made some excellent friends in Chennai. Thankfully, they have understood my plight and they converse around me in a neutral language. Moreover, they have made an effort to speak Hindi while I try to cope with Tamil.

This aforementioned breed, though, is very rare here. Others that I’ve met during my stay here are quite anal about their love and pride of the Tamil language. That is the most absurd sentence that they utter and do so on a pretty regular basis. Taking pride or loving your language does not mean that you choose only that language as your mode of communication. There have been several times in the University of Madras and in my department that my esteemed classmates only wish to talk in Tamil citing comfort issues and the fact that they studied in that language. Guest lecturers would also conduct classes in Tamil. It was quite irritating at first, but now I tend to block the language out or avoid the lectures altogether.

I don’t even dislike Tamil as a language. I try to learn the language because, as a journalist, it is important for me to be able to connect to locals. I might not completely succeed but I will try. Because that is what Mumbai has taught me, try to accommodate.

In my mind, it seems to be that Tamilians are just plain paranoid about their language and its status. Yes, I have read the history of Dravidian movements and the language issue. But, that does not mean that they need to alienate themselves. As I have observed here, most of the youth who are pursuing higher studies can barely clobber together a proper sentence in English. I just hope that this does not show on their employability. I can go on about all of this but it is  just paltya ghadya var paani (water over a turtled utensil).

I am revisiting my language, its culture and the people. Oh, the people. I’ve plenty of friends in Mumbai. There are Tamilians, Mallus, Muslim, Bihari, Bhaiyya (UPite), Christians, Sardars, Punjabi, Gujarati, Marwadi, Jain, Parsi, egad, you name any region and I ought to know someone. And nearly all of them either understand or talk or are fluent in Marathi. I don’t think anyone coerced them into learning the language nor is the Thackeray family that influential in Mumbai.

But, this stubborn behavior as displayed in Chennai made me realise one thing: ‘I need to do more for the Marathi language and help it flourish.’ That does not mean I will become a bigot who keeps shouting, ‘Son of Soil.’ But, I will genuinely try to help this beautiful language and its people in an entity that stands out.

Aditya Kshirsagar is in Chennai for a media course.

(Picture courtesy www.internations.org)

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