Dear Convenient Arrangement

Couple black and white

It’s not the same, we could pretend all night, playing charades of being lovers in the moment. Sometimes intoxicated and sometimes, regrettably not. But I’ll never make you feel the way she can, she who can kiss away the frowns on your forehead and unclench your stubborn fingers. She who can melt into you like wax in flame and ice in rum, who can leave without leaving a trace and still leave your soul as hollow as a pitted walnut shell.

And nor are you he. He who can walk into a room and change the very air it contains. Who can make my guts clench into a tight pleasant knot with nothing more than a half hug, he who makes me want to crumble into a heap of peanut brittle in warm chocolate, whose hands on a discarded earring feel like a warm patient caress down my bare back. He who has become my temptation, it’s like I’ve been living in a dark Iceland with a fortified igloo around me and suddenly he decided to become the sun and come visiting. It’s like I’ve been welding an intricate cage around me for ages and ages past and in one snap of his fingers, the locks are undone, and the walls are none.

Dear convenient arrangement, my mechanical fingers make you live your fantasies; your experienced hands make me live mine while we accidentally moan a name that does not belong to anyone in the room. And later, we smoke in silence on either corner of the bed, half dressed and fully veiled. “You should come over for dinner sometime…soon…ish.”
I mumble something about a 9.30 meeting and begin to leave, physically.
And until next time we will continue, with our insulated emotions lodged deep into the no escape room of our corroding mind palace. And when the walls are threatening to give away, when the roof is about to collapse, one of us will message the other to get the cello tape and come and the other will promptly oblige.
And another night of temporary repairs will commence.

“Can I bum a smoke? … Thanks”

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The Life Alert commercial: What went wrong?

Ad Review

Product: Life Alert

Type: TVC

Agency: SpotOnMedia

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Being an aspiring copywriter my daily dose of media includes scouting the internet for advertisements both new and old, good and bad. Today I came across a recent T.V. commercial by Life Alert which, to be quite honest was far from being ‘Spot on’.

The commercial in short shows how an old woman who is alone at home falls from the stairs and can’t get up, her cries for help fill the air as life goes on normally for people outside unaware of her situation.

In my opinion what went wrong with this ad was simply the fact that the sensitivity of sentiment associated with human life which often is crucial while handling products like Life Insurance, Safety devices, Pepper sprays etc. The only thing wrong with the ad is the treatment of a core insight.

Presenting people with an old helpless woman, hoping they will see their grandmothers in her is not they way to encourage them to buy your safety device, not every one will take it in the vein it is presented.

In short, if your advertisement scares a person to the bones the chances of him being enthused to buy your product are very bleak.

In my opinion, it could have simply been the woman recalling how she fell down the stairs the other day and was saved thanks to Life Alert and how she cannot imagine what would have happened if she didn’t have it on her. I know its cliché, but considering the nature of the product and the sensitivity associated with it, it’s best to stick to clichés sometimes, after all, they’ve been around for a reason haven’t they?

 

Goodbye Dear Sorrow

Goodbye dear sorrow

I have fond memories of you

I have to go

To find you anew

In unknown lands

And stormy sands

I wither in the search

Of what gave you your due

 

Goodbye dear sorrow

You’ve lived here enough

Your rent is over due

And you’ve got a cough

You dance damn fine

In tobacco and green

I’m off to a loveless land unseen

 

Goodbye dear sorrow

You’ve bound me enough

I wish we could be friends

But I’m too frail for you

A gypsy once told me

I will make a world of my own

I’m off to a loveless land unknown

Goodbye dear sorrow, Goodbye

Denim throwback salad

Ingredients:
Basic denim men’s shirt
Black overalls
Moisturiser
Mascara
A bottle of quirk

So I don’t really ‘dress up’ every day but there are days I have my vintage on.

And these days I’m so drunk on denim its not even funny. So here is my favourite look from my experiments with denim, I like to call it:

“The Basic Denim seizure salad”

> Put on your black over alls

> Add a denim shirt front open or tied in a knot, whichever way you like it

> Moisturise your face, Put a heavy load of Mascara on those lashes and a bright lipstick, I go for M. A. C. Plumful I just love how the pink brings out my complexion!

> Add some quirk, since the whole look is so basic, you can accessorise with bling and not look like a disco ball, I love to pair my denims with shimmering gold flat ballerinas and a huge big bag, mine is a dark brown beauty from D&G, its so huge I can carry the world in it!

There, Basic Denim seizure salad served! Goes well with office, that catchup date with the girls, or just a relaxed Sunday on your own.

denim

 

Thats me in my favourite denim shirt! 😀
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These are the ballerinas I wear with the look, dirt cheap from the markets of Gk-1 M block.

 

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This Beauty here is my lovely D&G neither dirt, nor cheap! 😉 My absolute favourite!

Rains and her

He came home furious, he hated rains, especially in Delhi the roads were muddy and jammed, electricity had the mood swings of a Cancerian, and there were too many people on the road trying to get drenched in the rain.
“Why would anyone voluntarily want to spoil his or her clothes in a downpour of polluted water?” he said pouring a cup of coffee. He looked up to find her dripping from head to toe smiling sheepishly at him. He shook his head and sat down with his coffee.
She changed into clean pajamas and sat beside him, snuggling her neck through the hook of his arm. She was smelling of rainwater and coffee, and that’s when he remembered why he loved the rains.

#rain #love

This has to be the BEST advertisement in the world.

Oh my god! this has to be the most amazing advertisement I’ve seen in a really long time! hats off to the creative team whoever you amazing people are… HIRE ME PLEASE!

Mad Over Marketing

For those of you who don’t know, ‘Persil’ is a stain remover. Here’s how this works.

Stare at the Persil bottle for ten seconds without blinking and without looking anywhere else. You will be amazed. It’s jaw droppingly brilliant.

10406379_762300523792420_8696864518377580628_n10443546_762300520459087_7953794003840951280_n10509523_762300527125753_8070306996977369479_nJaw-droppingly amazing isn’t it?

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Mashed Potatoes

“Fat potatoes, round potatoes,

oddly shaped and sound potatoes 

Peppered and buttered by the pound potatoes

A bowl of comfort found potatoes.”

This was probably my first rhyme about mashed potatoes, I have loved mashed potatoes always! Probably because it was my mom’s way of telling me I was her favourite kid! You see, I belong to a punjabi family and it is a ritual to eat Aloo paranthas (spicy potato pancakes) for brunch every sunday in my pompous punjabi household.

Amidst the hustle bustle of the kitchen I’d walk in grumpy from sleep and hungry as a dog and my lovely mother would smother me with a generous helping of mashed potatoes seasoned with pepper and salt and topped with butter. She would keep some extra for me while she made the stuffing for the paranthas and no one was allowed to have that one bowl of mashed potatoes.

As I grew up mashed potatoes became a kind of symbol for home, whenever I miss my mother I boil some potatoes and try and make the same bowl she used to make for me, I never come close to it.

Perhaps love is actually an ingredient that can make food mysteriously sumptuous. Believe me I have had a lot of food! from fancy cuisines to horribly quirky but surprisingly yummy experiments.

But nothing matches up to Mashed potatoes!

Now as a weekend chef I can tell you one thing, You either love the food you’re making or the people you’re making it for, only then can you make magic even with mashed potatoes.

*sigh* I love you ma

 

A psychologist and a photographer: The two people who are changing my life

A quirky pair these two- Photographer Vipul Amar who has an aversion to the glamorous theatrics associated to photography and Psychologist Harsheen K. Arora who was aching to find a way of creative expression and innovation in psychologic techniques. And together, they created something so phenomenal, it could be life transforming for anyone looking for an insight into his own true self.

A friend common to the three of us introduced me to them. And when I met these two, the sheer faith and truth in their aura was overwhelming for me. This was a pair of pure genius with the proverbial heart of gold. I had only heard of ‘healers’ , you know people whose mere presence in a room can make you feel light and give you the strength to carry on and face every adversity in life. Being in their company makes one realise what it truly means to be in a place completely free of judgements, where your actions don’t have to be calculated and your appearance wont be what you are judged on.

Vipul sir, A dark skinned man with a deep voice and eyes that are both fierce and protective at the same time, eyes with a lifetime of pitfalls and bruises hidden in the crow feet they get when he smiles. Eyes that will make you marvel at the fact that living life right is not about not making any mistakes, but it is about taking all the mistakes, the backstabbing and ruthlessness of youth and moulding it into the gems that adorn the fabric of your character. He is a man who cannot wait for heaven to give him respite, he has his own definition of heaven, and he has made it for himself with his own bare hands while there is still blood gushing in them.

Harsheen Arora or Sheena Ma’am as she is fondly known. A petite woman with the magnanimity of a swan and the regal gait of a lioness, a woman who has come to define for me what a woman actually should be. Being in the same room with her can be so soothing and so freeing it makes the soul buoyant as if it has just been freed from some previously unseen shackles and has just realised it had wings. There is immaculate elegance in her actions and fearless acceptance in her person. She can decode your personality before you can finish saying your name. The only thing I can hope is that one day I find the luck to be able to be mentored by her.

Let me just give you a brief over view (please bear with the ‘journalistic’ tone of the paragraph): In 2012, Psychologist Harsheen K. Arora came up with a breathtakingly unique concept that she called The Stupid Eye Project, Which brings out a person’s imagery of the ‘ideal self’ using therapeutic imagery and numerous individual and group therapy sessions. She partnered with Vipul Sir who would conceptualise and create a photo shoot for each participant based on the results of his or her therapy sessions, The shoot along with therapeutic intervention during the shoot led the person to feel closer to his ideal self.  The project has become a published study in The world Mental Health Conference. Mr. Amar and Ms. Harsheen have now partnered to create a brand called The ‘V’ Renaissance that is dedicated to the revival of art associated with the Renaissance era, The brand focusses on the most exquisite material and precise craftsmanship to create products so flawless they truly look as if they belong to another time.

Ever so rarely you meet people whose mere existence, every action, word and belief can inspire you to be the best of who you can be. I am Extremely lucky to have found two, and overwhelmed with the affection you two bless me with.

Thank you.

Fat Potato

This is the story of Fat Potato…well kind of.
Potato inspirations
Once upon a time, there was a fat potato, who was thin as a stick, that’s what they’d call her back then,
“Oi Celery… careful or the wind will take you with it!”
She hated it but she ignored it.
Her mama always told her she was special, so she waited for her special day to come. Everyday, even after a woman took her mother with her, she waited. The grocer Jean was kind of fond of her so he never threw her away, even though nobody picked her for their shopping cart.
Potato days are not very long you know, one human hour is two potato days, the woman took her mother 48 days back and if she remembered correctly Jean had got her here from the farm around 96 days back.
They would pick her, examine her like doctors examine patients as if she were some kind of specimen or anorexia patient and then leave her with a sigh making “tut tut” sounds with their tongues as they picked other big fat round potatoes for their stews and stuffings.
She always hoped someone would toss her in the basket and say something nice about her but no, it was always “what a poor little potato, who would buy that?” or “Hey Jean,this some special kid of yours? throw it away before it gets mouldy and spoils the other vegetables.” but he never did, good ol’ Jean.
“97…98…99…100!” Fat potato just realised it had been a hundred days since she was at Jean’s “I wonder how long is he going to put up with me” she thought “why couldn’t I be fat like others, god should’ve just made me a celery”
Just then she some one picked her up, it was a young girl with a pimple speckled face…her eyes widened at first Fat Potato thought it was disgust but she realised it was happiness as the sun shone in the round discs of her brown eyes.
“Oh you’re perfect!” she said, she picked a couple of more potatoes, Paid Jean and went away humming happily to herself. Leaving a surprised Jean staring after her
Fat Potato became the first French Fry and all potatoes who wanted to be french fries had to be cut into Fat Potato’s shape, but no one was quite as perfect as Fat Potato.