Swipe that, Baby!

We will in a world today that is more connected through devices today than a smile. Or at least that is what I have come to believe. Dinner conversations are often replaced by instagramming the food or selfies and birthday wishes are Facebook posts more often than a a phone call. Why then should meeting new people be any different.

I for one have been very skeptical of dating sites or apps. However, after a pretty tearful breakdown in front of a dear friend, I was encouraged (by the same friend) to give it a try. Just to have a new experience (and I am guessing, make use of the memory on my phone to download some new apps).

So began my tryst with Tinder. My exposure to the app until then was limited to funny posts on sites like Buzzfeed and Distractify. I (cautiously) logged into it. I was careful while swiping and found myself swiping left to most. The few I did swipe right to, seemed like decent guys (with not-so-bad grammar and non-wannabe seeming, in my opinion).

After spending around 10 minutes on this exercise, I got on to doing some work, which meant leaving my phone aside for a while. When I went back to it, I was genuinely surprised to see some messages from the people I had swiped right to!

It's not been long since I joined the app, but I have learnt somethings.

First, we need to find new names for boys! Like seriously, there must be at least three duplicate names in the very very few I swiped right. How many Rahuls and Amits  (random names people, not necessarily once I swiped right) are there in my 15 kilometer radius!!??

I also learnt that almost everyone loves to travel and loves food. Makes me wonder if profiles are really all that. It was funnier when I came across profiles of guys I personally know, and know for a fact they are anything but 'open to experimenting' (ask them to try a new place and they physically pale at the thought). I also realised, it's a two way sword. If they show up on my list, I may on theirs too.

Another scary, yet oddly funny, realisation, I may actually bump into an ex here. Like seriously, that's probably fate's way of staying relevant in an increasingly mechanised world :D

I remember telling my friend (the same who egged me to try it out), that the best thing about the app is that it allows to swipe left anonymously. As selfish as it may sound, there is a weird thrill in swiping left. It's like this weird sense of power while exercising choice. (This is in no way inspired by the My Choice, mind you).

It also made me aware that the app gives you a better handle on objectivity. I am not a biker chick and cannot hold my end of an intense political debate. Before I swipe right, I can (if someone has been kind enough to list something informative to that effect in his profile) get a better hang of the interest of the person. It seems pretty scientific in that sense and that was a great surprise!

Like I said, it's early days, and I may just come across an axe murderer. But until then, I am going to keep exercising my thumbs.

Run and Hide

It was a Sunday like any other. He was around family. They were chatting, talking exchanging notes on how their had been. Nothing very interesting. He tended to zone out on such occasions. He could do that, since he could not run away.

But you did run away.

That voice again.

You ran away and in the most cowardly, deceitful way possible. Oh Yes! You warned her you'll be running away. You spared no chance of reminding her that she had nothing, absolutely nothing, that would hold you back. You told her, again and again and yet again, that you would run. And run you did.

But that, is by far the only promise you kept. Come on. Don't fight it. You know it's true. You told her you'll be a man and tell her you are done. Tell her on her face, that you needed to run away. You promised her it won't be like the other times. You made her believe you were different. 

But what did you do? You pushed her away, further and further, till she could take no more and she asked for answers. That was her mistake. She asked answers to questions you had created. What was her fault again? That she trusted you? That she believed you? That she, despite repeated advises from her well-wishers, preferred to forgive you? That she fought for what she was led to believe - that you loved her? That she did not give up like the rest of them? 

Oh she was at fault, mind you. She was at fault when she turned a blind eye to everything you did. She was at fault when she did not stand up for herself. She was at fault when she preferred to forgive you, but not herself. She was at fault for believing she was any different to you than the scores other before her. She fell for the oldest trick in the book. She did not want to change you, but she did believe that you were different with her. That, was her greatest undoing. And that is what she is paying for.

She was not perfect, never pretended to be, and never asked you to be. That was her fault. She was a fool all right.

But you. What all do you have to pay for then? You made her miserable. Get drunk - shower her with love and praise; fully in your senses - make her feel like she is the worst in the world. Make jokes about the way she looked. Call her names. Check out other women explicitly while with her. And if she made an objection, you claimed she is no fun and that she has changed. That she could not even take a joke.

She was a fool, and she surely realises it now. You would never had fought the way she did to make it work. For you, it was all about the chase. That is why you went into the relationship calling it yet another failure.

She was doomed the day she fell for you. And you made sure she did. Before that, it was evening dates and drinking nights and movies and planning trips. What when she gave in? You could not  find one thing to do with her? Where once you spent so much time with her, you now had none to give her. What little time you did give her, was spent on your terms. It was all about you.

You had time for everything but her and took pride in telling her that. What did it give you? What high did doing this give you that even smoking pot and drinking could not compete with? What was it that you were trying to prove? Why could you not be man enough to walk away? Why, of all the decent things you claimed a man owed the woman in love with him, could you not face her and tell her its over? When the time came, you threw her under the bus. Why?

The truth is, you were running away from the day she gave in. It was no longer interesting for you. There was no chase left. She was there. What did you need her for now? Why would you need to plan trips? Why would you need to take her out on dates? Why would you watch movies with her? Suddenly, everything you did with her, needed to be done with your family. Suddenly, work became hectic and family became demanding. 

She was a fool to believe you. A fool to believe you ever wanted her. A fool.

But are you happy now? You say you feel free now. Free of responsibility, free of that feeling of being caged. For how long though? Or have you already marked your new target? It did not take to long to mark her. So are now chasing a new "love"?

Perhaps what you are really running from is yourself. Not in the metaphysical sense. You are just so worried what people would think of you if you let yourself be in love and show it. Why else would you claim to love someone and then run? Why else would you tell someone you love them, and then ignore them, push them away? Why else would you use your family as a crutch in this running away? Why else would you show someone happiness and then show pain that will kill that happiness? Why else would you take pride in being an asshole (by your own admission) and tell people it is their fault if they did not figure it out? Why?

You can run. Run all the way. Run from her. Run from the city. Run from your friends. Run from your family. Run from responsibilities. Run from the truth...till it catches up with you. What will you do then?

He snapped out of it. As usual, he shook it off. Nothing a night of drinking with his friends (?) won't fix. Nothing he can't fix. Hopefully.

Voices

Yet another flight.

As he looked out of the window (he was glad he avoided the tortures of an aisle seat. More than the inconvenience of the cart bumping into his elbow and knee from time to time, he thanked the escape that the view outside gave him from talking to fellow passengers for long.), his mind went back to the past six months.

What made him say the things he said to her?

He thought back to the past six months and went over all he had said. It was not something he could be, or should be, proud of. No one could be proud of it. Every time they spoke, he would find ways to make fun of her. He would joke about the way she looked and the way she dressed. Call her weird things and tell her he did not love her. He shot down her suggestions for things to do together. They were the same things he would have suggested otherwise.

He had even told her he was just testing her. And she had not left him. He had told her he went on a date instead of spending time with her. And she continued to be by his side. He made it a point to go out ever so often, but never with her. She asked him what was wrong. He maintained "Nothing".

Maybe you are scared.

The voice sounded so much like her, he had to look around to see if she had somehow got the seat next to him.

You are testing her to see when she breaks. You know you love her. You know you feel so strongly for her. You are scared.

No. He did not have the time to give her. He was fighting too many battles at too many fronts to focus.

These battles were there when you chased her, convinced her you were in love with her. Work was equally hectic and she has never fought over work anyway. She has lain her trust in you on your many trips away for work. Even when you tell her about the many girls who approach you, she does not throw a fit. Why then do you push her away?

Why do you push her towards breaking point? What do you get out of it? Well, you do get a reason to point out to her that she throws tantrums. You do get to tell her she is harassing you. You get to tell her that what she is feeling is nonsensical. You get to show her that you care less than she does. You get to show her you love less than she does.

But do you? Or are you just scared? Scared to face your own feelings? So scared that you can't commit.? Scared you feel you may get bored with her? Worse, you are scared she will be bored with you. So you don't give her the chance to be. Only, ask yourself this - Is it the right way? Instead of making an effort, you push her away?

When was the last time you did something for her? Even get her a green balloon? Or compliment her on the way she looked? 

You are either fooling her, saying you love her, or you are fooling yourself, saying you don't. Which one is it?

A nudge to his elbow snapped him out of his thoughts and her voice faded. The passenger next to him had arrived, and wanted to chat.

He was, for the first time in a long time, thankful for a chatty co-passenger. It allowed him to do what he did best. Push things under the carpet.

Musings of a timid heart

She sat by the window of her apartment, looking at nothing in particular. It was snowing and she unlike most people cribbing about the cold and about being boxed inside, she was not very concerned. About the snow that is. She was however, deep in thought. Had she not been, she may have appreciated the pristine white landscape in front of her which transformed the grimy city, into an urban winter wonderland.

She did not have the ability to see beyond the thoughts buzzing in her head. How long had it been that she kept these thoughts at bay? How long she kept pushing things under the carpet? How long was it that she dared to acknowledge, even to herself, that feeling of foreboding?

Even now, she wished the thoughts away. That was easy. Shut your mind out. Think of happy things. Different things. Interesting things. Ambitions, achievements, aims, proud moments. Anything. Anything that the world would deem "positive".

Memories. Now memories were a different ball-game altogether. they refused to be brushed aside. No. They were more persistent. They put up a fight, like a feisty toddler resisting being tamed by wearing shoes. They came on, unmitigated and as she knew, unassailable.

She was with him and they were happy. They spent time together, not worrying about what tomorrow would bring. They laughed, they sang, they danced (well, she tried to), they cooked, they ate, they drank. There was the occasional fight, nay heated discussion (she being the heated party) as he liked to put it. But they were there. She felt part of 'them'.

A while later, the collage of memories changed. They were still there, but no longer laughing and making merry. It was as if they were leading their own separate lives. He had work she knew. So did she. He had priorities and so did she. Now they met like partners, only not in the sense of a couple. It felt more like a business meeting. It was cordial. Restrained even.

She had stopped telling him she loved him. She convinced herself that telling it again, would not matter. He knew it. He refused to repeat the words like before. He claimed she knew and that was all that mattered. And for long she believed it.

He said their wants and needs were different. She did not know how to tell him all she wanted was for him to want her and all she needed was for him to need her. She could not tell him that being in love also meant working towards each other's needs and wants, rather than letting them be personal business only. She wanted to. She could not.

Then why the emptiness? Why the feeling of something missing? Why all the curtailed impulses of being just the way she was before?

She knew just why. She was scared. She had always been easily spooked when in a relationship. But now, it was worse than ever. She was not scared of his reaction. She knew very well how he would react. She was scared of how she would (or would not be able to) deal with the reaction.

Something inside of her had ceased to believe. Something, that stopped her from seeing the urban winterland before her eyes. Because all she saw was the happy memories, and longed to be back there. Back then in fact, always, with him.

Just a dream...

She took the window seat on the bus home. She liked the window seats, almost obsessed over getting one whatever the vehicle maybe - a bus, a train, her family car, just about every time. The window seat made her feel less caged. She felt like she could breathe better, free. Yes, she liked the window seat.

As she settled in and paid the conductor the ticket money, she acted more by rote than consciously. Every day routine. Once that was done, she was left to herself. She was not sure if that was a good idea. Off late, she had not been too sure about anything being a good idea.

She looked out the rain splattered window and saw the city pass her by, oblivious to her and yet accepting of her. Her face scrunched up into an almost comical face as she tried and stemmed the flow of tears. It was becoming way too frequent - this sudden rush of emotion, almost always the pensive and melancholic kind. She knew it had to stop. God! She wanted it to stop. If only she could figure out how.

Her day had been good, till she was left alone. That was when it consumed her. Was it boredom? Or was it a sense of burn out? Or was she just running away from the fact that she was not happy? And every time the doubt emerge, she vehemently struck it down and assured herself, she was happy.

She thought about things to distract herself from the overwhelming emotion. She would not give in. There was lots to consider. And yet, her thoughts turned to him. Yes, him. He was a good man, of that she had no doubt. But she wished he would do things differently. How she wished!

She thought of all that she wanted with him. Not a house or a home or anything that demanded seeing beyond today and maybe tomorrow. She did not paint a canvas of dreams that featured a lavish wedding, a blissful parenthood and the proverbial happily ever after. No. She was realistic enough to know it was for the future to decide.

She did wish for companionship in the present. She wished for dinners and walks on the beach (thank god the city had a beach). She hoped to have movie dates and coffee dates. She wanted to travel, with him. It's not like she did not have some of it. Yes, there was the occasional dinner and the odd movie. Not much coffee, lots of beer. A part of her told her she should not be one to complaint. And another part of her screamed at her, pointing out the tears that threatened to breach her eye-lids, that she wanted more.

The thing about travelling by public transport is that you get to see life pass by you, through your fellow passengers. As if on cue, she found herself looking at a young couple, planning a trip on the approaching long weekend. She wanted that the most she guessed. A getaway. She had taken trips with him before, but almost always when he wanted one. This time, she wanted to leave the city and her work behind for a while and just relax. 

Friends and family pointed out to her she did not need him to relax. She knew that. What she also knew was she wanted to feel a little more like a couple with him. She wanted to know him better, to be with him. She wanted to be away from the merry chaos of their friends. She just wanted to know how it felt, alone. Even to herself, she could not explain why.

As she sat there, looking at the rain soaked buildings wave her by and life move on as usual, she realised his indifference did affect her. She was not exactly naive, but she did give in to the folly of thinking she was in control. She thought she controlled her feelings towards him. She thought she could handle disappointment. She thought she could do it. But it was not so simple.

She had to face it. She was not happy. She was trying to be happy, and most times she succeeded. Life had dealt her way better than most people around her and away from her had it. She was grateful for that. She should not complain. But she was not entirely happy as she had led herself to believe. No.

And it must end. If only she could figure out how. She could walk away, but she knew she would not. She could not walk away. It would leave her with the regret of not having worked on 'them' long and hard enough. On the other hand, she could muster the courage to talk to him. That she knew was equally tough, given their combined aversion to confrontation. Even if she did get around to breaching the topic, he may not be want to discuss it. And even if he did, she was not sure where it would lead, and she was not ready for the worst.

A familiar landmark suggested she was home. She got her back, hitched it onto her back and proceeded to get off at her stop. She took a deep resolute breath and made up her mind. She would try and find happiness beyond the disappointment. It had taken her too long to accept she had fallen for him and she would not let it go. Nothing worth its while comes easy and she would figure it out, be happy.

"But you are not happy," said a voice in her head. She tried to brush it off, when, out of the blue...

He woke up with a start. It took him a while to get his bearings and realised it was his alarm that had jolted him awake. Taking a few deep breaths, he then got around to realising it was only a dream. They were fine. She and him were fine. It was only a dream...

Second chances

The worst you can do is give up hope,  specially when you are at fault.

Its a catch 22 I guess. You know you messed up. You know you are responsoble for what you are going through and so, you know that the chance to be forgiven is slim. Or maybe you are beinh too hard on yourself. It's difficult to be hopeful when you don't know.

People tell you to have faith and keep calm. Be patient. But as always, things like these are easier said than done. It's difficult to be patient and calm when you are hanging by a thread.

The good thing is you learn and are determined to be better. You are determined to keep your anger in check and watch youur words. You are more willing to trust and less inclined to be trying.

But for all that to implement, you need a another chance. Just one more chance to prove you can be the person that can make life easier and happy. A chance to show you are capable of change for the better. A second chance.

And whether you get it or not will be the question.

Meeting the Stars - Shah Rukh Khan

When Chennai Express released, I was one of the many who bashed the movie. However, that movie and its success gave me one of my biggest moments in professional (and personal) life. It gave me a chance to meet Shah Rukh Khan.

It started with my boss candidly asking me if we should try and interview him. Being in under two months into my new job at Business Standard, I was at once excited and skeptical. I mean why would he agree?

I decided to give it a shot and sure enough, once the film crossed the Rs 100 crore mark (and that was within three days of release), I got a call from his publicist, asking me to 'drop over' the next day and interview the man. I was at a friend's place, a house party, and I remember rushing to a quiet place to call my boss and excitedly told him it's happening. He calmly guided me and asked me to enjoy the party.

The next day, I was nervous. I turned to a long time friend, philosopher and guide, and mentor, though she is way too young to be labelled something like that. She sent me a link to a blog that described what to expect when interviewing particular stars. (I can't seem to find the link. If and once I do, shall post it here.) For SRK, it said that journalists end up waiting a long time to meet him. My friend also advised me to be prepared to wait at least a couple of hours. I thought that is the only thing I feel prepared for.

I made my way to Mannat Annex in Bandra that Sunday afternoon, an excited, nervous and hopeful person. On reaching,I found a horde of people standing next to the property's gate or the plaque which said Mannat, clicking pictures and documenting how close they got to the King Khan.

I went up the hill to the entrance at the back to the office. There too, a couple of families were clicking pictures with SRK's vanity van. I could just see their faces full of surprise as I entered the building. In a weird way, I felt like I had arrived in life. I got to enter places people longed to, and I did not especially aspire to, but I still managed. (In retrospect, I feel naive and downright stupid thinking they envied me,but hey, we all learn in time!)

I was led to a spacious waiting room, complete with plush sofas, a huge (I don't know the specific measurement, but it was HUGE) flat screen mounted on one wall and an MF Hussain painting (equally huge) on the wall facing it. There were a couple of journalists present. They seemed to know each other and were bantering about the film business. SRK's publicist entered, greeted me warmly, and joined the others in their banter. At that point, I felt out of place. I mean, here are people who are talking about the film business like they own it. People who have met The Man before and are exchanging anecdotes on his wit. And here I was, sitting there, mulling what to do with the pre-warned two hours I had to kill before I could get down to the business of interviewing him.

As time went on, I was included in the discussion and it got better. My nervousness began to ebb. Finally it was down to two of us. It had been three hours since I was scheduled to meet him. SRK's publicist and his staff made sure we were waiting comfortably. A coffee every half an hour to an hour (or when we asked for it) and food offered periodically. At one point, the publicist just ordered food for us since we had been declining all the while and it had been three and a half hours of waiting. SRK, I was told, was entertaining some friends who came calling unexpectedly.

Finally, at 9.15,I was told he was ready. It had been a little more than five hours of waiting and I was beyond relieved. I had cancelled coffee plans, dinner plans and dessert plans with friends by then. I was led to his library in the office building and was told on the way that he was tired and would be able to spare 20 minutes or so. I was cool with it. Twenty minutes with the King of Bollywood was good enough for someone like me.

As I entered, the sight I saw humbled and amused me to no extent. I saw SRK, THE SHAH RUKH KHAN, sitting on an arm-chair, glasses perched on his nose, reading a book. He turned as we entered and shook my hand as introductions were made.

His first  words to me were, "Sorry you had to wait so long. And that too on a Sunday." I replied pointing out that he was working on a Sunday as well technically, so it's all cool. We were in the same boat. He smiled genially and settled down in his chair, while I took a seat on the sofa next to him.

What ensued was a riveting 40 minute conversation on Chennai Express, its success, the film industry and its changing face, his production house, the economy and much more. I always thought he came across as arrogant in his television interviews and was prepared for it.

It was a pleasant surprise then to realise that what comes across as arrogance, is passion. Here was a man who was devoted to entertaining people and making sure everyone at Red Chilies and in Kolkata Knight Riders enjoyed their time there and were happy. He vehemently stressed that producing a movie means much more than putting your money in it and your name on the credit reel of a movie. It meant investing sweat and tears and he proudly revealed how he has laughed and cried with the ups and downs his production house and team have seen.

Two things struck me - one was his humility in accepting he was not confident he would be accepted as a director. He admitted (without naming the projects) that whenever he tried to don the director's hat, things did not go well. Second thing was his vast knowledge on the business of cinema. And I don't only mean 'gyaan' as we call it. He quoted books and articles, numbers and facts like they are the most common things to dish out in a conversation. As a journalist, however inexperienced in interviewing the biggies, I was impressed.

At the end of the 40 minutes, I had had the chance to say, "I have had coffee with Shah Rukh Khan." He asked me if I was satisfied with the interaction and if I had more questions. I said I was more than satisfied, but had a couple of requests for him. He said, "Of course!" and smiled.

I then pulled out a book  from my bag, a biography of his, that belongs to one of my closest friends. (Apart from my mother, I do not think I would have lugged the five kg book around for anyone).  I told him about my friend and requested him to sign the book, with a personal message. I told her what she did and how much she adored him, and his work and he wrote out this message (I am not sure if I can share it, but it was beautiful, even to me) for her. He then pointed out that the author of the book, a friend of his since his early days, was also in the same room. I requested him to sign it as well.

As for the second request, it was the most obvious. A photo with him. He promptly stood up and moved away from where we were sitting. He selected a spot with good lighting, and I had my photo op with him. As we walked back to the seating place, I told him how I am surrounded by his fans. While I live with the friend whose book he just signed, my mother cannot stop gushing about his performance in movies like Swades and Chak De India!

At this, he did something, that surprised and touched me. He asked me if mom would be up at the time? It was around 10 pm on a Sunday night. I said yes. "Then let's have a word with her!" he said. I am sure my eyes grew big and round in surprise, but I gathered myself and dialed Dad's number. He luckily picked up on the second ring and I asked him to hand the phone to Maa. As she came on the line, I told her someone needed with speak with her, and handed the phone to Shah Rukh.

He took the phone and said, "Hello Mummy, I am Shah Rukh." I could hear my mother's excited voice from two feet away. He told her how her daughter has been interviewing him and praised me (I blushed, I accept). My mother said that she is very proud of the work he does and that she hopes to see more such work from him, and blessed him. It was a two minute conversation, but one that my Mom, Dad and I will remember, verbatim, for life.

After that, I took his leave, thanked him and his publicist and headed home.

I had just finished my first big interview with a Bollywood celebrity and it had not sucked! What's more, I had managed to make two people, two of the people I absolutely love, very happy.

My friends tell me that since I met him, I have done a volte-face in my stance on SRK. To them, all I can say is, I may not agree with his choice of films or his method of acting. I do however respect the man for his knowledge and wit. Most importantly, I respect him for showing the humility of talking to my mom. Others may brush it off as a smart PR move, for me, it made my Mom happy and proud. And that's what matters.