The Wanderer

All he ever does now, is wander around, thinking of what could have been. And as fate would have it, their paths could never cross again.

That glittering smile on her face brought back a lot of memories. He knew exactly what she felt, she used to look at him the same way. He looked at the man in front of her and wondered if he knew how lucky he was to have her.

Every now and then there was a moment of sadness in her eyes, like a wish to wake up from a nightmare. But nobody seemed to notice except him and there was nothing he could do about it. He had been reduced to nothing more than a memory…he shared her sadness.  

He wished he had another chance with her… no one could love her like he did. And he knew that she would never forget him either. Could this be the cause of the sadness in her eyes?

He remembered the first time they met, and how he knew without a shadow of doubt that they were meant to be together. It was love at first sight and he could feel a strange sensation tickling down his spine and they made his knees weak.

He remembered how her eyes would light up every time she saw him, he knew he would never need

 anyone else.

He thought about the long conversations and moments of blissful silence where words had no part.

He thought about their plans to marry, have children and grow old together…memories, they always have such sad endings.

He smiled as he watched her twirl her hair with her fingers as she playfully whispered something in his ear. He remembered the last thing she said before they said goodbye.

Those words would haunt him forever…entangle him in an endless cycle of regret and desolation.

Call a cab

Don’t drink and drive.

                                                       Cheers,

                                                                    Zakk Sangkima

LOST IN THOUGHT!

For one that’s in the business of creativity, I just realized, I can’t really think about anything for a good period of time, except when I’m about to miss a deadline (nothing can generate ideas faster than a nearing deadline). My mind is usually all over the place, I may be thinking about one thing and by the time I realize I’m lost in thought, I’d be so far away from where I had started, that I don’t remember what I was thinking about in the first place. There was this time I was thinking about what I’d write for a MetLife ad and by the time the Client Servicing guy came to see if I had come up with anything, I had thought of a great idea for a MyCard ad but nothing on the MetLife brief. Aaahhh how annoyingly messed up this brain of mine can be.

Talk about annoying, I don’t think there’s anything more annoying than a half page ad. I always throw away the half page ad and the last page of the newspaper it’s attached to before I read the damn thing. I’ve written to TOI and Hindustan times a number of times but they don’t seem to bother. A friend of mine said he’s actually mastered the fine art of holding a half page ad together hassle free, but my question is - Why do we need to master it anyway? It’s a damn newspaper, meant to be read hassle free! I don’t want to have to master the art of reading it. While we’re in the subject of reading and annoying, have you guys read 50 shades of grey? WTF!

Man…that was such an over-rated, dumb, poor excuse of an adult novel. The story was as inspiring and entertaining as watching wet shit dry out. I got nothing out of it. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! Everything I read there, I had read in my teens from cheap erotic novels and short stories sold at ISBT and book stalls in train stations. The only difference is that 50 shades was better packaged and more expensive. It's a waste of precious time and money. I would have had a better time hiring an English guy read those cheap roadside erotic stories in a very thick English accent to me. Hahahahahaha that made me laugh, wouldn’t it be awesome to hear an Englishman talk dirty in bed? “I say, darling, do you suppose we could fornicate tonight? With you on top of course, I seem to have twisted my back on a rather careless horse riding incident today. Oh, and while you’re at it, would you mind passing me that cup of tea?” hahahahahahaha what more can I say?

Aaahhh… Accents how they can change situations, especially the English accent they make everything sound so important and formal. I can’t bitch about the Indian accent coz I seem to have a lil bit of it and I’m Indian so I let Russel Peters do the bitching (he’s awesome at it). But of all the accents I’ve heard, I think the Jamaican accent is the coolest accent On The Planet (Even Snoop Dogg has a Jamaican name now)! They make everything sound so cool, like no curse words could sound cooler than in Jamaican “wer ja goin, cute punani” try saying that in any other accent without it sounding abusive. In Jamaican accent it sounds like a compliment. The word itself sounds like tropical fruit (maybe it is), it’s just so much cooler. Even broke Jamaican guys look cool as shit. Like they're proud to be broke, they made a conscious decision to be broke! Look at this dude on the left...does he look like he gives a F*@k about the fact that he has no clothes to wear, no pants?  

And I’ve always wondered... Why do I hate fruits so much? (except the tropical one we just talked about) Ever since I was a kid, I never liked fruits. My Granny and Aunt would force me to eat it and I’d make so many faces and excuses trying to avoid it, but they always had their way. It’s not that they taste bad or anything, I just hate them, it’s a personal thing for me, a personal grudge against fruits, communist fruits. I passionately hate fruits, but I do love 'apple pie' (I know it's not a fruit, but it contains fruits...so zip it!), with hot chocolate syrup and ice cream. Ahh…now that's a pleasant thought! Makes me hungry, but since I’m on a diet, I’ll just look past food and think of a beach with lots of women in bikinis eating Apple pie Dammit! Focus, Zakk...focus, you can do it (I’m talking to myself, motivating myself to stay from food…)

Anyway I think I’m gonna go down for a smoke, I can’t seem to come up with any ideas or concept for an ad I’m suppose to finish in the next few hours. Life’s a bitch!

FINDING MY FATHER... The Empty Years

Life has been rough for me, but I have been fortunate to have a family that has loved me and brought me up to be who I am today. Most credit would go to my grandmother and my two aunts, who have loved me like a son and always been so supportive in everything I do. They made sure I grew up not deprived of any luxury, some would even go so far as to say I was spoiled by them but I disagree (I’m as normal as they come).

When my dad passed away I think I was about 7 or 8 years old, and it’s funny because I don’t remember much of that day. It is quite possible that because of the mental trauma, my brain decided to erase those memories and weirdly enough I don’t remember much about my dad. But of late I’ve been trying to find a common ground with him and finally forgive him for not being there when I needed him most.

                             

To be brutally honest I hated him when he died. He was my hero, I would sit and watch him play the guitar, listen to him sing, and boy how I wanted to be like him. And then he passed away, leaving a very big empty hole in my heart, I was confused. At first it was alright and not so much of hate, but loneliness and terribly missing him. It was only when I became a teenager that I realized how much I needed him to be there for me, and his constant absence manifested a deep sense of hatred for him. In my mind he was the most selfish man on the planet for leaving me and my brother alone.

For instance when I had my first girlfriend, I wished he was around so I could have told him about her, or when she broke my heart I wanted him to tell me ‘son everything’s going to be okay’. It felt like there was no life after her or without her, and I needed him to tell me that she was just the first of many to come. When I learned to play the guitar, I wanted to show him what I had learned, I wanted him to teach me to be as good as he was. I wanted him to be there when I sang in church for the first time. When I got into my first fight and got my ass kicked, I wanted him to be there to save my ass. I wanted so many things from him but instead, I had to go through everything on my own. Constantly encouraging myself, battling complexes and trying to be an example for my brother, playing the part he was suppose to play. I swore I would never turn out like him!

Finding a common ground is hard, because all the memory I have of him is lost and the ones that I have now, are just hand me down memories from my family, his friends and acquaintances. The stories they tell of him sometimes made me angrier, because they talk about how good a man he was, how he could make everybody laugh, how intelligent and smart he was and how well he sang. In my mind I was always jealous, jealous because I wanted to be a part of those moments too, and it sucked to be the only one who has no memory of him, with him.  And they say he loved me dearly, I only wish I could have heard him say it and experienced it for myself.

As I got older, I reached a point where I needed to know more about him at a personal level. I tried really hard to remember moments I spent with him as a child, and I would get flashes of events but all too random and too brief to make any sense. I would go through pictures and try to recollect when they were taken, but nothing would come up. You have no idea how frustrating it can be, to want to know more about someone you’ve grown up hating, trying to forgive them and wanting so much to not hate them anymore but learn to love them, but have no memory of any affection whatsoever.  

I do have a very clear memory of a time in kulikawn (a locality in Aizawl). I was in KG2 Mary Mount School, and one fine day I came home with my report card and he asked me how I did, I smiled told him I did very well showed him my grades and asked him for some cash to buy candy. He took the report card from me and saw that my grades were all marked in red (I failed every subject) he slapped the shit out of me! I can’t help but smile when I think back.

Oh and there’s this one moment I also remember of him doing something nice to stop me from crying. The bugger duped me, but I guess I can forgive him for it. Since I was failing in all my subjects on a very regular basis in Aizawl, my granny decided to take me down to Shillong to live with her and continue my studies there. So, my dad took me down to Shillong and after a few days it was time for him to go back to Aizawl so I remember him loading his luggages in the car and getting ready to leave. I started crying like a girl, loud, annoying and unstoppable. He couldn’t leave seeing me like that, so, he gave me his katana (the sword Ninjas use) and I stopped crying and he told me he was just going out shopping to get me kung fu shoes (I was crazy about kung fu movies) and he left and never came back. My dad fooled me!

That’s it, that’s all I remember of him and me bonding - 1. He slapped the shit out of me. 2. He fooled me. And that’s not enough for me, I wanted more, more memories to get to know him better. But as hard as I tried nothing came up, and I guess it never will or maybe in time my mind will unleash these repressed memories. But until then, I’ve realized the only way I can get to know him better is through me. They say I look a lot like him (only he was more handsome), I sing like him, that I’m smart like he was and that I make people laugh like he did… so even though I had promised myself to never turn out like him, I guess I can’t escape, after all I am my father’s son. And for me to know him better I need to know myself better.

I have finally found peace with him and myself since I realized this. Every new day is more exciting than the last, as I find out a little more about myself, I know just a little more about him. Now I can finally say with a peaceful heart “Dad I love you, for your strengths, weaknesses and flaws and for all that you left behind… thank you, I would not be where I am, if it wasn’t for you”.  

It’s Officially an 'O' bsession! The big 'O' in India Part 2

A few days ago a good friend of mine Sahil (Handsome chap by the way, ladies if you're interested you know who to call) from work told me about Maruti launching a new car, which would rival the Tata Nano. If I'm not mistaken, I think this new car is a replacement for the iconic Maruti 800 and beautifully priced in the range of 1.5 - 2 lac, with mileage of about 20-25 kmpl. It got me really excited because my damn car (Ford Fusion) gives me about 7-8 kmpl, and I have been looking at buying a 2nd car to commute to and from work, until he told me the name of
the car - ‘Cervo’. I was like really? Another ‘O’ car? 

(For those of you who might be wondering what an ‘O’ car is, can read my previous blog 'The Big 'O' in India')

So I decided to do a little research and see for myself if ‘O’ is an obsession or just coincidence. Here’s what I found, a list of cars names that end with an 'O' to be released in India 2012.

• Mahindar Quanto
• Maruti Cervo
• Ford Mondeo
• Mahindra Ssangyong Korando
• Fiat Punto Evo
• Fiat Viaggio
• Skoda Citigo
• Renault Clio
• Chevrolet Orlando

(These are just 2012, research further at your own risk)

What’s with our obsession with ‘O’? Where is all this 'O' cumming from? (hahaha another sick joke, and I apologize yet again) Are we not getting enough of the ‘O’ or are we getting too much of it that it has to come everywhere? (After all we did invent the kama sutra) Or is it because we invented the number 0 (Zero) and because of its uncanny resemblance the letter ‘O’, we feel like we own it and have to put it everywhere? (Like they always say “if ya got it, flaunt it”). Why? WHY? 

Now that we’re on the subject of branding, one branding that pissed me off then and still does today is the Hero Honda (Now Hero MotoCorp) ‘Hunk’. WTF ‘Hunk’! Seriously Mr. Munjal ‘Hunk’? Nothing better came out, you had no other options? 

When it was released in 2007 it was one of the best looking bikes hands down. I would have definitely bought it, but I could not, bear the thought of me sitting on a bike called Hunk and be fresh with the ladies. I’d score a zero from the first impression. It’s the kind of Bike Reggie from Archies would buy. I seriously think it was made and branded for people like him. I mean if you're really full of yourself, carry a comb on you back pocket 24/7, and fix your hair every time you see a reflection of yourself, this is the bike for you. As Russel Peters would say “Take it and go”!

But then I guess you could also score some pretty slick lines to pick up chicks, “hey gorgeous, wanna ride this hunk all night long” (with the pun intended look)… well it could work, just don’t take my word for it.

Anyway getting back to the 'O'*, can anybody explain why? I would seriously like to know.


* Still wondering what the big 'O' means? Well let me educate your ignorant ass, it means "Orgasm".

Morning Rituals – To Each His Own!

Have you ever noticed how we all have very different morning rituals, some very personal and unique to our own? Especially men, and in my time so far, I have seen some really strange morning rituals, from religious, to crazy and from crazy to WTF!

For me my morning ritual begins with checking my mail. Yes, as soon as I open my eyes, I open my laptop and check my mail. Sometimes I login to facebook after checking my mail, just to check what my peeps have been up to, or to check comments (when you have that really clever or awesome status update that you know people are gonna comment and talk about :-) ). Then I very lazily, get out of bed and do a little exercise (I stretch, raise my arms, look around, beat my chest), get the newspaper*, light up a ciggie**, and mentally switch into war mode, ready to drop bombs (I always wanted to be a fighter pilot as a kid) and enter the loo to drop bombs. That is practically the first 20 to 30 minutes of my morning. And everything I described has to be in that exact order.

                              Yes I actually do picture myself like this

A soldier’s got to eat
After I’m don’t with my bombing, I come out and head straight to the dining table for a nice breakfast. Since I’m a lil overweight, I skip lunch, and to make sure I don’t run out of energy, I have a heavy breakfast, which would include fried 2 eggs (without the yolk) and 4 slices of bread and a large mug of tea (come to think of it maybe I should start drinking fresh juice instead).

2^nd Round Knockout
After breakfast, I’m back in the bathroom for round 2, a quick shower, shave, brush, get dressed to kill, style my hair, select the right perfume (depending on the weather and season), pack my laptop, put on my aviators and drive off to work looking super fly.

Anyway getting back to strange morning rituals, I have friends with rather unusual morning rituals (I will not mention names, but you know who you are), and I just thought I’d share a few of them. And believe me these are not fabricated rituals, 100% true story.

1  .      Wakes up and has to drink a glass of milk before anything else. Swears that without milk, he can’t get any pressure. (let it be known that by pressure I mean the urge to take a dump)

2  .      Wakes up, goes straight to the mirror. If this is followed by a flurry of curses you can be sure there’s a zit on the face.

3  .      Wakes up starts cursing incessantly. I never ask why but I feel this dude must constantly be having nightmares. Maybe a daily hangover.

4  .      Wakes up, has a glass of warm water, followed by a bottle of cold water after 5 or 10 minutes.

5  .      Wakes up reads the bible and prays for a solid 10-15 minutes. (Can’t complain about this one for obvious reasons)

6  .      Wakes up, switches on the TV spends 30 minutes on the news, demands breakfast in bed, which includes tea before breakfast, breakfast and tea after breakfast. (guess the gender)

7  .      (This is the annoying one) Starts singing loud from the time he wakes up all the way to the loo to the time he gets dressed up for work.

8  .      (This one really pisses me off) Wakes up late every day, looks at his watch, starts with the “ohhh Fu*& I'm late for work again, my boss is gonna kill me”. Every day, every bloody Fu%&*ng day. (Try waking up earlier for a change dumb ass! Just a suggestion, might work!)

9  .      Wakes up, and rips a loud one, sometimes it’s more than one, like a crescendo. Definitely not the first thing you wanna hear in the morning. And the best part is tha his own rips really amuses him. He rips one and starts laughing hysterically.

1  .   Wakes up, calls his girlfriend up to wake her, then sends a good morning message after he just told her good morning over the phone. followed by a series of "i just washed my face, what abt u?" "i just had tea, what abt you?" (too much drama)

What’s your ritual? 

* For me I cant have a normal day until and unless I've read the news paper first thing in the morning. So when I go home (Aizawl), I have a really hard time with my morning coz all the newspapers are in Mizo, and I can’t read Mizo very well. So sometimes when I'm in the loo I actually forget to actually drop bombs coz all my attention and concentration goes into trying to read an article. True story!

** if I don’t have one I get paranoid and simply cannot move on, but thanks to my fleet footed gatekeeper I usually don’t have to wait too long.

CAN I HAVE THIS WALK FOREVER?

Can I have this walk forever?

That gate below the street light is where we let go our hands
In the presence of friends, we’ll slip back to reality as friends
Can I have this walk forever?
In this comfortable silence, we drift into a silent conversation as lovers new
In my mind you’re mine forever, not a single word needed to say “I love you”
Can I have this walk forever?
No one but you and I know how good we are together
It’s really not that hard to tell, from the way our eyes so comfortably glitter
Can I have this walk forever?
The sound of the traffic and people talking aloud, right now sounds like a symphony
Right here, right now everything’s perfect, maybe that’s why we need no company
Can I have this walk forever?
Facing the gate our journey has ended, under the street light
I look at you and silently pray, “Thank you God for this night”
Can I have this walk forever?
Reluctantly we let go our hands and tuck our emotions back in
Awkwardly smile as we prepare to look normal walking in
Can I have this walk forever?
Now I wonder where you are, how you’re doing and who you’re with
Battered and scarred from few bad relationships, I look back realizing that was it
Can I have this walk forever?
I think it’s safe to say we can... in my mind we ever stopped walking
4 silent years have passes, but our hearts never stopped communicating

PANDEMONIUM IN MY HEAD

I’m not one to panic and create unnecessary pandemonium, but after silently observing the current ethnic, communal violence in India between what started out as the Bodos and Muslims now unnecessarily escalated to North Eastern’s vs. the Muslim community, I can honestly say I’m scared as hell. The safety of my family, constantly troubles me and the worst part is that feeling of helplessness. 

Every day I get bombarded with news (or rumors they say) about new attacks on people from the North East, and even though I try to shoo most of them away as rumors but they still have a way of adding to the fear. I live in an area where a majority of the residents are Muslims and until now I’ve always looked at them as misunderstood and actually really nice people (and I still do) but the fear that has flooded my judgment will not allow me to look at them the same was as before (which I hope will change). I understand that this is not a fair judgment, but I hope you also understand that I’m scared, and my unfair judgment is an outcome of fear psychosis.

On the other hand what really touched me was the gesture of the Muslim community for apologizing for the incidents and demanding for a proper probe on the origin the matter and also inviting people from the North East to live with them till the matter is resolved. But the question still remains, will it ever get resolved?

The newspaper headlines for the past week haven’t really helped in calming me down either. They write about the involvement of Pakistan and its terror units. Now if these are true then it has escalated the fear tenfold. When terrorists can hold a country like the Unites States at a standstill, imagine what they could do to a small minority like that of us North Easterns.

This is an extract from an article I read today from rediff.com “The panic campaign that Pakistan launched had an Indian hand as well, as some of their well-wishers in India helped spread the message. The cyber terrorists at Pakistan used the same model that the Lashkar used to spread terror in India. The Lashkar which carried out almost all attacks on Indian soil relied on Indian modules such as SIMI and the Indian Mujahideen to spread terror”. The headline read - NE exodus: Pakistanused LeT tactic to target India

Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t this look like it’s bigger than the NE vs. Muslims? And we North Easterns look like involuntary pawns in a very complicated, dangerous game between Pakistan and India.

What also concerns me is the attitude of the Government in this situation. In an interview with DNA Alka Sarma, former MLA and senior Asom Gana Parishad (AGP) leader sounded the warning bell saying, “In case this conflict is not resolved peacefully, there are dangers that this would turn into a major communal flare across the country.”  She also admitted that she was not very optimistic of the exodus stopping any time soon.

Over 5 Lakh refugees in various refugee camps in Assam (the most displaced in Indian History) scared to return to their villages. Thousands of people from the North East returning home from Major cities, leaving their jobs, studies, businesses all because the government cannot guarantee their safety.

Every day I ask myself why am I running scared in my own country, from my own people? Why can’t my government protect me? Why do I feel like an alien, insecure and afraid in my own country?  Do I belong here?  

Don't get me wrong, I love my India, and especially Delhi because I've lived here for over 18 years. I consider myself typical Delhiite, I honk my horn in traffic for no apparent reason (being near a school or hospital doesn't really make a difference), I park my car where ever I want, I bribe cops, used a high ranking IAS/IRS relatives name to get out of tight situations and all that Jazz, but these are indeed very confusing times...