tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29301850846850317922024-03-28T03:41:20.595-07:00simply picardillySo much to say. This is the starting point.sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-24310288994286351482013-03-03T10:08:00.004-08:002013-03-03T10:08:45.073-08:00When strangers try to help you make new friends<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Last year I lost a dear friend- Raja. A three legged adorable stray who
graduated to becoming my dearest office bud & sounding board.<br />
<br />
I think the security guys in the premises were more affected than I was.
He was their night companion. They'd even share some of their dinner
with him. Well, those large pleading eyes usually worked like a charm.<br />
<br />
But in all of this they were more sensitive to the loss I felt. Sweet inquiries followed for the longest time. And of course there were
attempts to replace him. Like one day they literally hauled me to the
back of the building to show me their new find. This
dumb looking black stray they had envisaged could replace Raja. Well
their intention was certainly noble but their candidate a disaster!
Within half an hour of finding him they had christened him 'Kaliya' (a
very creative name for a black dog). Well Kaliya
was something else. Dumb to the core, non responsive and lazy. And as soon as he was unleashed, he ran away!<br />
<br />
The less said about the second attempt the better! The third attempt is currently under way. Its been three days and the project seems to be working. We have this lovely brown and white little fellow who sits near the gate. Seems like he's going to stay. (#fingers-crossed). And on Friday the security guys promised to feed him Parle G biscuits through Saturday, Sunday so that he stays. Well if he stays, I think I'll call him Parle G. <br />
<br />
And be eternally grateful to how people you hardly know, in circumstances you least expect show such goodness. </div>
sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-91335445086001511542012-04-09T11:49:00.001-07:002012-04-09T12:07:05.656-07:00Remembering Anna, the frailest protector of Pampa Society<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This crow perches periodically on the ledge & is not connected to the post in any way!</td></tr>
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The word ‘security’ is loosely used in the context of
security guards of buildings. And recently with an increase in crimes &
cars their demand has gone up. Their
presence probably acts as a deterrent to criminals and also helps lazy bums maneuver
their cars in & out buildings at the push of a horn. Anyways, we are known
to create employment opportunities out of odd jobs, like the concept of ‘liftmen’, so atleast this seems more deserved.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I, for one, live in a building that is about 40 years old.
For the longest time the buildings' so called ‘security guy’ was a man we fondly
called ‘<i>Anna</i>’. Ever since I knew him he was frail but had tremendous stamina.
Anna would wash cars, mind the gate, crack dumb jokes with the
building kids, ensure the water was pumped, run petty errands…basically the
works. He also dropped by to give the sad news of some members death or ask for
Diwali bakshees or simply to say <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘gaadi
pe bahut kachra phenka uppar waale ne’</i>. And
in the night like any good family man would do he would go home to sleep. Despite the discrepancies in the process we
never felt unsafe or there weren’t any so called incidents to complain about.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And when Anna was gone, his son moved in. Younger, more
energy and more flesh on the bones. And as tradition would have it he too does
exactly what his late dad did. Except that I figured that the man like most
Govinda movies has two wives and two families. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Kya karega madam, pehla shaadi mein mera marji nahin tha”</i> bolke,
he has three kids of it! And two kids of the second. Sunday’s are when cleans
the car <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘barabar se’</i>. This is when he
actually opens the car. And I like to be present at this ritual so he regales
me with stories of his life, village and kids. Most of it is lost in his thick
South Indian accent, some lost in his poor Hindi skills and then the critical
parts are generally narrated in Telugu. So yeah, basically I’m imagining what he’s
trying to say by his expression, body language and also cause he keeps saying <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“samjha na madam?”</i> at the end of every
sentence. Yeah, I agree the process is hardly professional. :-)</div>
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Contrast this with the watchmen in the adjacent building –
Shubhangan. Now, I digress to mention that this building came up on a lovely playground
we used as kids. Crushing the soul of the locality and felling the lovely
gulmohar trees that lined the walls! Sad. But one tiny glimmer of hope here is
that the structure doesn’t have municipal permits & hence irregular water
supply. Yaay. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now their security guys wear this crisp uniform, sit by the
gate with a stern look, ensuring the muster is filled by ‘vijhitors’ and that nothing unintended enters the building. In fact the other day the kids in
my building were playing cricket and the ball happened to bounce across the
wall. They deftly flicked the ball and hid it where the little boys couldn’t
find it. I’m not a big fan of the naughty Gujju brats either so I chose not to
rat. One other time they abruptly stopped their building kids itself play since it hindered the
smooth entry & exit of cars. Eeeks. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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I hangout a lot by the window with
my headphones plugged so I see a lot of this and it makes me feel grateful I had Anna when i grew up. We had our ample play time while he stood by the gate
ensuring we didn’t run on to the road. I’m sure he’s hanging around some gate
up there too seeing to it that little children get their well-deserved play
time. R.I.P Anna.</div>
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</div>sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com4Rajiv Gandhi Sea Link, Mumbai, Maharashtra, India19.062117883514652 72.773437515.273243383514652 67.719726500000007 22.850992383514651 77.827148499999993tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-55130144278062348992012-02-11T02:26:00.000-08:002012-02-11T02:26:46.559-08:00simply picardilly: Hope three's a charm and it’s going to be only charming from here on<a href="http://simplypicardilly.blogspot.in/2012/02/hope-threes-charm-and-its-going-to-be.html#links">simply picardilly: Hope three's a charm and it’s going to be only charming from here on</a>sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-477330330568344052012-02-11T02:20:00.000-08:002012-02-11T02:25:18.097-08:00Hope three's a charm and it’s going to be only charming from here on<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Somehow *every* time I think of a vacation, Goa is the first
place that comes to mind and I invariably end up going there once a year.
There’s something about the people, the cheap alcohol, the buzzing beaches, the
blazing sun that makes this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘susegad’</i>
thing a so very delightful experience you wanna keep going back to.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
All in all my Goa escapades have been amazing except that
the last two times there've been in minor incidents of sorts. We
usually rent a car to go around since the 'don't drink n drive' rules are far relaxed there.Now in 2010 my
really close friend Charmaine and I headed from Calangute to this far flung
place called Saligaon. We were traveling in the night driving past dark,
narrow roads with deep shrubs on either side when a vehicle pulled up from
the opposite direction and while making way for it I reversed into a ditch! Luckily we were pitted right
outside a wedding party. That car just wouldn’t rev on three wheels. And I felt
absolutely foolish asking these nice boys all dressed in wedding finery to help
us. But they did. Muddied their nice shoes. Dirtied their clean hands. Dusted off and
went away without giving me the customary jazz about women drivers {at least
not to my face <span style="font-family: Wingdings;">;-)</span>} </div>
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<br /></div>
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And last year was not as dramatic except that it involved a
truck driver who like randomly reversed paying no heed to my honking or his
rear view mirror that gave him a full view of the car just two feet behind him. And
yeah for all the Konkani I speak to everyone somehow the language eluded me on
this specific instance and I was caught mouthing English n Hindi abuses
about him and his anatomy. He gave me a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘What alien language is this you speak?’</i> expression and drove past. Well, my ego was more squished
than those silly headlights.<br />
<br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So these two instances bring me to mention that I am tad
superstitious when it comes to things like this and I think there will be a
third such ‘incident’ if I make my next trip there. And this time luck may not
be so kind, yeah. Pessimist or stupid, call me whatever you want but I am not teasing the Luck Gods.<br />
<br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So all of last night after I turned off Final Destination 2,
I was straining to think if there’s an antidote to things like this. And all
the thinking led me to a tucked away memory dating back ten years. Three of us
friends were returning from Goa by bus. Suddenly somewhere near what I think
was Chiploon we heard a huge sound and discovered that the bus had rammed
into a tanker. Some people hurt. The driver and cleaner fled. 50 of us
stranded on a laid back road trying to figure out ways to get home. This ended
well atleast for the three of us with a sweet couple giving us a ride back
right up to Santacruz. It’s like they say about God manifesting himself to help
when you least expect.<br />
<br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I’m guessing this adds up to make three ‘incidents’ and
the curse is wiped out! Hahaha. So now I can happily prance into Goa again
with a lily white record. </div>
<br /></div>sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-23801537490036264492011-11-07T01:24:00.000-08:002011-11-07T01:28:22.579-08:00My first boss<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Advertising is a fairly difficult place to be at junior levels. Actually I guess any job that involves interacting with people is bound to have its share of rough edges. Everyone who can, including the dispatch people, gives you attitude that can really rile you up a great deal. But yeah, you soon learn how to handle it all. And even maybe dole out advice to the new recruits!<br />
<br />
I joined as a trainee after 3 months of training and a final presentation to senior agency people huddled in a big (‘big’ here is relative since the other one was really tiny) conference room. This can be quite intimidating especially if the objective (so it seemed) is also the same! Later that day, I was introduced to my boss – Satpal S V. He was wheatish, plumpish and extremely affable. Everyone who knew Sattie (as he was fondly nick named) told me I was lucky to have him as my boss since he was easily the sweetest person around in servicing.<br />
<br />
With me he was faaar from sweet, but instead mighty stern. And I would really get envious of my other colleagues’ cool and friendly bosses. But soon his façade gave way to a chilled boss who let me hangout with his friends at the 4 o’clock soirée at the tapree opposite the office building.<br />
<br />
One day he casually probed<i> “Do you know any other Picardo? in Jamshed…puuur?</i>(sic)”
<i> “Yes”</i> I said <i>“My dad’s bro is there. He has two sons – Pradeep & Sandeep?”</i> And the world couldn’t be smaller when it turned out that Sandeep had been his friend and classmate back in Bihar. Then on, I was not just a subordinate but also the adopted little (figuratively<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">;-)</span>) lost one who was promptly bailed out when the creative threw tantrums or studio refused jobs or client insisted on some insane headline option. And trust me, these are instances when bosses tell you to ‘go figure your life out and not escalate issues’.<br />
<br />
In a couple of months Sattie soon went on a four week break to get married. In the interim I was boss-less and clueless! No one to go running to, crib to, seek help from. But I would like to believe I pulled through. Pure evidence the fact that I’ve spent 10 years here now! And reasonably happy ones at that.<br />
<br />
Well, Satpal did return from his leave. But not for long. About 6 months on I lost my 28 year old boss to a massive heart attack. God rest his soul. It’s been about 9 years now. Everything seems so long ago yet fresh in my memory. Leave you with something he would constantly say that I have imbibed with good results - <i>“rapport bana logons se, phir kaam apne aap hota rahega”</i></div>sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-26599014797676021622011-09-24T12:08:00.000-07:002011-09-24T12:48:24.359-07:00Don't worry about changeBeggars are common sight in our city. Infact, these days they operate in gangs. So its typical to find atleast half a dozen of them hounding you at signals.<br /><br />When I was a child it was simple. Dad kept change handy and every time a beggar approached a small coin was put their palm. "We are blessed with so much, God has not given them so we must share whatever little we can" was told to us. And I unflinchingly followed this till a few years ago when papers started this whole brouhaha about how beggars are actually not deprived and are actually quite well off and organised and blah blah. This was promptly followed with a film that went on to detail their life. All this played on my mind and I decided not to dole out alms. This was with a caveat. Basically no alms to the able bodied, but I'd make exceptions for the old, disabled and kids. <br /><br />This seemed to work fine. Till today. This woman in tattered clothes pressed her palms against the window and refused to budge. She looked really frail and wore tattered clothes. And somehow I didn't have the heart to drive ahead or shoo her off. The signal seemed long so I offered her a croissant I had in the car. It look a lot for me to do this (I am ashamed of myself). To my surprise she asked me "non veg hai toh keep it madam" I was stunned and went "sorry, nonie hai, kuch paise leejiye" By the time the signal started and I was to take a u-turn so i asked her to quickly come across the road and I'd stop for her. She took the change from my hands, thanked me and went "mera bhi chota ghar parivaar tha madam, i have seen very bad days, ab better hai...bhagwaan aapko hamesha khush rakkhe" and she went her way.<br /><br />She's seen days worse than this! And she blessed me! I stayed parked there for a bit. I cannot be more grateful for everything I have. And I'm sure it dosent make a damn difference to my life and lifestyle if I give alms to each and any beggar. It doesn't matter what he does with it. Point is that I have much more than he will ever have and just because I am parting with some change doesn't make him accountable to me for what he does with it.<br /><br />So I refilled my change kitty in the car...after 4 years...bring it on ...sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-91658593233959560652011-09-21T01:44:00.000-07:002011-09-21T02:24:00.028-07:00Trivial craving of the denied mindWell its been over 3 weeks that this cold has percolated my system and refuses to leave. I mean it started off being the occasional sneeze to the runny nose and now its a full blown bout of cough, sore throat and a point blank denial of all the lovely things in life.<br /><br />The doc couldn't figure out why I was not healing despite a good 10 days on his prescriptions. So when stethoscope & tonic didn't work he recommended some detailed tests. Now even those were normal (much to my happiness & his dismay) so he had to find out something else to stick the blame on. While i was expecting him to sign me up for more tests all he did was start off on a list of 'Dos' & 'Don't Dos' (sic).<br /><br />So it basically was another kind of test. A test of my patience and resilience! I'm to be off soft drinks, salads, ice creams, cheese, chocolates, oil, nuts and basically all the things good for the palate but apparently bad for the throat! And yes, I'm also supposed to drink only hot water!<br /><br />Today was day one and a half! And by lunch the only thing on his list that I had stuck to was the hot water. Virtually all of the contra-banned was consumed! And now I am craving a glass of cold water. <br /><br />Oops.sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-33459317685047073522011-09-01T03:23:00.001-07:002011-09-27T06:34:35.513-07:00In my shoes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEishv5m6M39ZEyvnDqEAc6lkFVj7iXA5tGkWaTGCf5AIJnJXxEwCJPPECU1S6BBHldYx53I48pzKoyOR_wtQpfZhzqZGFpqPDP6J9pyjYHm7iEPVM4LvdFTu2-S_QFcvEw5JFRzh8R6Ngh4/s1600/shoes.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEishv5m6M39ZEyvnDqEAc6lkFVj7iXA5tGkWaTGCf5AIJnJXxEwCJPPECU1S6BBHldYx53I48pzKoyOR_wtQpfZhzqZGFpqPDP6J9pyjYHm7iEPVM4LvdFTu2-S_QFcvEw5JFRzh8R6Ngh4/s320/shoes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647335055945838946" /></a>
<br />I really love shoes. And bags. And perfumes. And stationery. And despite the fact that I don’t own a walk-in closet I have managed a reasonably huge collection of all. Like each shopping spree will certainly lead to the acquisition of one of the three if not all!
<br />
<br />But of the lot, shoes have a very special place in my life. I have about 30 odd pairs. May be 40 odd. :-) And they’re certainly not the cheap and cheerful variety, so yeah they can cause quite a dent in my pocket.
<br />
<br />I love each pair and I would like to think that on any given day you’d hardly find anyone with the same pair. And that is simply because the pair that is different or radicle usually calls out to me. Charmaine comes along a lot when I do my shopping. And sometimes it is pretty evident she doesn’t like my choice. But in her usual non-committal way she’ll go “hahaha, you’ll be wearing it. Buy it if you like it”. And if I ask “but is it nice?. Will you buy it?” …the reply usually is a smart one “looks good on your feet. Will not suit mine. If I were you, id’ve bought it!”
<br />
<br />Sweet. That’s exactly the sort of encouragement you need from friends. They don’t exactly approve what you do, but tell you what you want to hear. Especially since the situation here is not grave at all. And will however lead to a lot of happiness. For me.
<br />
<br />Like on my recent trip to Goa, we drove all over Panaji trying to find this shop called – Janota. Started by an artist called – Edwin Pinto. The boutique has special hand crafted leather shoes. Each of them very colourful. Each very unique. I picked up two pairs right away. One, a green flip-flop pair and the other an orange pair of slippers. And I placed an order for the third – a red pair of elf type pumps. Thrilled I was.
<br />
<br />I’ve always tried to understand what is it exactly with me and shoes that I cannot resist buying every pair that calls out to me. And no matter how many I own I can still go for more. Anyways, it’s not affecting more than making me broke and my mom exasperated as to how someone can want so many shoes.
<br />
<br />More recently I saw this rather oldish movie – In her shoes. Very ok types. Certainly not something you’d recommend people to watch. But one dialogue here caught my fancy. It just hit me. I’ll sign off with that -
<br />
<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">When I feel bad I like to treat myself.
<br />
<br />Clothes never look any good.
<br />
<br />Food just makes me fatter.
<br />
<br />Shoes always fit</span>sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-29544813420450110842011-06-30T03:48:00.001-07:002011-06-30T03:48:27.878-07:00<!-- Place this tag in your head or just before your close body tag --><br /><script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script><br /><br /><!-- Place this tag where you want the +1 button to render --><br /><g:plusone></g:plusone>sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-72486381696311061792011-06-28T09:59:00.000-07:002011-06-28T10:04:01.323-07:00via tripadvisor - my travel mapped<div id="ta_travelmap" style="width:430px;"><br /><img src="http://www.tripadvisor.in/CommunityMapImage?id=60032321&type=TRIPADVISOR&size=LARGE"><br /><ol id="ta_favoritelist"><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g294265-Singapore-Vacations.html">Singapore, Singapore</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g319725-Hampi_Karnataka-Vacations.html">Hampi, India</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g295424-Dubai-Vacations.html">Dubai, United Arab Emirates</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g294217-Hong_Kong-Vacations.html">Hong Kong, China</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g298570-Kuala_Lumpur_Wilayah_Persekutuan-Vacations.html">Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g293916-Bangkok-Vacations.html">Bangkok, Thailand</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g297633-Kochi_Kerala-Vacations.html">Kochi (Cochin), India</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g297415-Shenzhen_Guangdong-Vacations.html">Shenzhen, China</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g1154299-Hubli_Dharwad_Karnataka-Vacations.html">Hubli-Dharwad, India</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g303877-Panaji_Goa-Vacations.html">Panaji, India</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g297628-Bangalore_Karnataka-Vacations.html">Bangalore, India</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g304556-Chennai_Madras_Tamil_Nadu-Vacations.html">Chennai (Madras), India</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g1062901-Ghaziabad_Uttar_Pradesh-Vacations.html">Ghaziabad, India</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g304555-Jaipur_Rajasthan-Vacations.html">Jaipur, India</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g304558-Kolkata_Calcutta_West_Bengal-Vacations.html">Kolkata (Calcutta), India</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g297630-Mangalore_Karnataka-Vacations.html">Mangalore, India</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g297683-Agra_Uttar_Pradesh-Vacations.html">Agra, India</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g304551-New_Delhi_National_Capital_Territory_of_Delhi-Vacations.html">New Delhi, India</a></li><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Tourism-g297592-Patna_Bihar-Vacations.html">Patna, India</a></li><br /></ol><br /><ul id="ta_links"><br /><li><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/members/picshar1">View my profile</a></li><br /><li>Create your own <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/MemberProfile-cpt" style="font-size:10px; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; color:#3860B0; text-decoration:none;">travel map</a> or <a href="http://www.travelpod.com/" style="font-size:10px; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; color:#3860B0; text-decoration:none;">travel blog</a></li><br /><li>TripAdvisor: <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.in/Flights" style="font-size:10px;font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;color:#3860B0;text-decoration:none;">airline tickets</a></li><br /></ul><br /></div><br /><script src="http://www.tripadvisor.in/MapEmbed?mid=E.qtX4BDHEFBx28pxMYDTzDg%3D%3D&frm=pt&Version=CHEAP_FLIGHTS_001"></script>sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-70514800557898906612011-05-23T05:29:00.000-07:002011-05-23T05:40:07.768-07:00whats the right turn-on, eh?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Mv_oiwDJkiil-RC2g8OFRLjULeNVCX0SU-44qNWk6m9XJ_18gcUNvvZ9YbYZRU2tJQF_iRVI9tURkGEUsTzlA3KnqQ-FMzNf8QXNGFTdhlPMhKP4qwbnGQRxjloe1D4p_MfklJDRlNXA/s1600/Copy+of+1.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Mv_oiwDJkiil-RC2g8OFRLjULeNVCX0SU-44qNWk6m9XJ_18gcUNvvZ9YbYZRU2tJQF_iRVI9tURkGEUsTzlA3KnqQ-FMzNf8QXNGFTdhlPMhKP4qwbnGQRxjloe1D4p_MfklJDRlNXA/s320/Copy+of+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609887954866191250" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />boo-boos are everywhere. all you need is the camera shutter to be open.sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-62257236870551494642010-02-27T14:21:00.000-08:002010-02-27T14:39:45.861-08:00sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-90021628690607501752010-02-27T04:05:00.000-08:002010-02-27T14:42:43.517-08:00Chonka dene vaali safedi – Levers istyle<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU-ixORQvA38Z4pqluDqWee7upGta6npDn4THPAXSpCocfvw9nQbCiJQriHIZklrgMqFQ6A2xNDDQXOoKRluu_1z0GtUvp56jGDqqURknnqWTEox9WeWNz738luqbF5AQ3e-0iPGzZmHkP/s1600-h/RIN+TIDE4.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 93px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU-ixORQvA38Z4pqluDqWee7upGta6npDn4THPAXSpCocfvw9nQbCiJQriHIZklrgMqFQ6A2xNDDQXOoKRluu_1z0GtUvp56jGDqqURknnqWTEox9WeWNz738luqbF5AQ3e-0iPGzZmHkP/s200/RIN+TIDE4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443051539081316274" /></a><br />I love watching ads. And thankfully today a lot of ads are pretty enjoyable. More recently I liked the Max Newyork Life child’s plan where the kid has topped painting. I also caught this ad just once – Wildstone. On why men should not use women’s talcs. Swapped channels all evening trying to catch it again. But no such luck. Instead I chanced upon a Tide ad. No Rin ad. Yeah, Rin ad. Again and again. All evening. Evidently it’s a hit and run case, cause soon someone will have to give them a lesson or two on copyright/TM infringement etc.<br /><br />About the ad. Well, it begins like any typical detergent ad. Woman A mentions to Woman B that she has bought Tide as it gives her <span style="font-style:italic;">khushboo and safedi</span>. Suddenly a school bus appears and Woman B’s kid is wearing a white shirt that is whiter than Woman A (Tide user)’s kid. Woman A is thinking <span style="font-style:italic;">‘bhala uski safedi meri safedi se safed kaisi’</span>. Voice over goes on to explain: <span style="font-style:italic;">‘Chonka dene waali safedi ho toh Rin ho’</span>. <br /><br />Good God. Whatever happened to detergent advertising. It had low standards to begin with and now it slumps to greater depths. I mean all detergents are busy making white whiter. The only catch phrase – <span style="font-style:italic;">safedi!</span> What is the obsession with white? For a country ruled by whites for more than a century we should be white averse! But instead we want whiter clothes, whiter complexion and what else have you. And besides have lots of colours in our wardrobes. I probably have 2-3 white garments. The rest are all different colours, though largely black. Won’t the black ones feel left out if I bought a detergent specifically for the whites?<br /><br />So coming back to the ad – I think its called Combat advertising or some such term where Rin is taking a potshot at Tide. And to my mind the ad will air full blast through this long weekend. By the time P&G wakes up and reacts or takes Levers to the cleaners, it will be a good week and by then the ad will have done its job. In this case, one-upmanship over Tide.<br /><br />I’d like to see how this one shapes up. Not that it will bring great advertising to the fore. But I’m just curious to know how Tide will reclaim its platform. Which will now have to add – <span style="font-style:italic;">whiter than the white of Rin</span>. So long.sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-86231012514204106542010-02-03T11:28:00.000-08:002010-02-03T11:28:21.337-08:00Humorous Sayings set 2<a href="http://www.emmitsburg.net/humor/archives/humerous/humorous_2.htm">Humorous Sayings set 2</a>sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-6694880310538278212009-11-13T13:59:00.000-08:002010-02-27T14:26:26.620-08:00Mann ka radio...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgPOfd3tnSq_n0Fsb1xBxh8gbKq_c_yABtubgjIhgs7U0Ta1Y9T7oWXJH9RkwUO_BdzodIl-l1c3oPT5syg1Y3IJrrl5v4-fUGl3bHzf76kTW5QELRbL-HC6FRTNW8EcvJP7Hr0GjKwXxr/s1600-h/himesh_reshammiya_radio_rj.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 294px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgPOfd3tnSq_n0Fsb1xBxh8gbKq_c_yABtubgjIhgs7U0Ta1Y9T7oWXJH9RkwUO_BdzodIl-l1c3oPT5syg1Y3IJrrl5v4-fUGl3bHzf76kTW5QELRbL-HC6FRTNW8EcvJP7Hr0GjKwXxr/s320/himesh_reshammiya_radio_rj.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403712090114492402" /></a><br /><em>Mann ka radio, bajne de zara…</em><br /><br />This is not just my caller tune. But also my motto.<br /><br /><em>Mann ka radio, bajne de zara. <br />Fulltoo attitude, sab ko de zara.</em><br /><br />Lyricst Subrat Sinha has some awesome words here.<br /><br />Himesh as usual has some neat original compositions. Each of them has a different flavour. And he looks nicer now. Much better than his embarrassing <em>HR</em> days! Can’t recall anyone vainer than him in his first film – Aap ka screw loose. <br /><br />The look of the song though, is a straight lift off Savage Garden’s I want you. God alone knows what else is copied from where. But since Hindi films never prided themselves for originality, I will condone! <br /><br />There used to be this place Bobby Deol owned – Some place else. I’d gone there for dinner with some friends and near the lobby was HR. Now I like the guy. Think he’s got loads of talent as far as music is concerned and tons of self confidence to plunge into acting, given he has a mirror at home. So I walked upto him and told him that I was a big fan. And I meant it. He was all coy and thrilled and mumbled something happily in Englees. When I narrated this back to the super powers in office(people who have cabins with doors), they had one wisecrack. “You spoke to Himesh? You really like him? Hahaha. You must be his only English speaking fan!”<br /><br />Well, this fan waits for December 3, 2009, when Radio releases.sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-30854097944468919422009-11-13T13:21:00.000-08:002009-11-13T13:29:11.759-08:00To the brave queen of my heart - Rani<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXCbYRLZUTPnwJKM0vuDeLSOhciC0qNSdvzWHvaq38RXC9mPvosPiHY4RSUd6P-3qfwDZn09JDNFAZlDe9wxchXI6lKurBjPPKJiZC-txA5njeRzpW1iVoWS-ehKdtFmIKhMfHB2Wisl6R/s1600-h/Rani.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXCbYRLZUTPnwJKM0vuDeLSOhciC0qNSdvzWHvaq38RXC9mPvosPiHY4RSUd6P-3qfwDZn09JDNFAZlDe9wxchXI6lKurBjPPKJiZC-txA5njeRzpW1iVoWS-ehKdtFmIKhMfHB2Wisl6R/s320/Rani.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403703305141769410" /></a><br />There is no love more unconditional than that of an unloved, uncared for, grubby, hungry stray dog! Phew! And I can say this from the 8 years of loving I have been showered upon by Raja and Rani. It’s almost a morning ritual – getting a loving stroke & lick on my toes by both these wonderful creatures. They don’t care if I’m late to work coz I refused to wake up on time, or if I wore the same trouser just last week. <br /><br />Raja and Rani go back many years. I don’t know if they’re girlfriend-boyfriend. Or soul mates. Or ‘just good friends’? I just know that I am a pivotal part of their life. The only time I shamelessly overestimate my existence is when I describe my importance in their life!<br /><br />The guys at office have many nicknames for them. Tripod. Since Raja has 3 legs. Pradyut had one – Rickshaw & Taxi. Rick for Raja, obviously Rani was Taxi. Vicious. But I’m sure Raja, Rani wouldn’t mind. Simply because they don’t quite get the drift of English. Hanging out all day with the security guys, milk store guy and cobbler, they are more like MNS recruits.<br /><br />About 6 weeks ago, the security guys from the building seemed all ruffled when I got off the cab. Apparently Rani had hurt her eye. Given that I already had 3 calls from the client on some insanely trivial job, I chose to ignore them and ran up to work. But as I turned on my comp I realized that I’d behaved like a client. (Prioritizing all the aaltu faaltu jobs and ignoring what really mattered). After half a day of frantic calls to WSD, SOS and the Animal Hospital, finally I arranged for someone to attend to her, take her to hospital. <br /><br />But I hadn’t seen her myself. In the evening I went frantically looking for her. My poor, scared child was huddled under an Indica V2 (our client). Her eye dangling out! Such pain she must’ve been in. Getting her out of hiding and into the animal van was such an arduous task. She yelped as though I was this mindless bitch trying to get rid of her. And half of Nariman Point gathered to watch. I had to bribe that moronic van driver 2,500 bucks so he’d take her to hospital and not misplace her.<br /><br />Cutting the 4 weeks in between…Rani lost her eye. In the time she was in hospital the security guys would enquire about her every day. And Raja was like this forlorn thing- almost like an art director separated from his copy partner. Quiet for want of words. <br /><br />And when she was back, the whole place was abuzz. ‘Rani aali, Rani aali’ (‘Rani’s back, Rani’s back’, as Baba Azmi would say). Poonam’s mom brought her back. Poonam also shared Rani’s hospital bills with me. God bless her. <br /><br />The doctors had done a pretty good job of her. Her left eyelid was shut. And it seemed like nature made one more attempt to make them connect better. Raja and Rani – made for each other. Raja missing a leg and Rani an eye! Not something I’m making fun of at all. Just baffled at the irony.sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-28274731527172979402009-09-26T12:32:00.000-07:002009-09-27T03:12:05.489-07:00Who said only writers make up stuff<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOQIvROcdckwlFNFpPRwfVxnBTDEqkjQhWtdY8xzOwzJfftAylq7UmynhBH_qr3ATUM8IfDBf0UZBTyEKhaNc1ojDnDKzVFcepj0hUDiNKgGwd34ockSwFTbTtuLUGDLcSlEmoCFI86eX/s1600-h/08082008432.jpg"></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiL7e_yQ8ZGjiRsra42FVS8zaqqVfAutptWQ1TwUlxbry6zeEq5w7f22dIiAGSzkQO2TCMr8GYFDpC3hDgi9X1AHhvIT_osIcMbvOXKKEZ88vRW47OdK9qlSbukL_GsZDcNck1Z4IBoU1B/s1600-h/08082008431.jpg"></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNsGZugRZx4DkzizFAt53ayfU4_VB8GoZdpLxjg_ZHIK4jroWXzKy7G_lNo0UlHhsAPSdA0vgofnD2jeESV7AXoiA7yztDsG3LzZvtdrVwHNHoCc8ZMh9fg_jt8tFtRDavvvgr2nyN0DVd/s1600-h/us.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385862789918251010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNsGZugRZx4DkzizFAt53ayfU4_VB8GoZdpLxjg_ZHIK4jroWXzKy7G_lNo0UlHhsAPSdA0vgofnD2jeESV7AXoiA7yztDsG3LzZvtdrVwHNHoCc8ZMh9fg_jt8tFtRDavvvgr2nyN0DVd/s320/us.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>Many generations ago when there were stalls down in Nariman Point, 4 o’clock was to me what 12 was to Cinderella! Albeit in a little different way. It was time to step down for tea at the tapri.<br /><br />Basically a few senior guys (well seniority gives one the prerogative to be absconding from work during office hours!) would step down for their evening chai. I was the lowest order – a management trainee. At my level, everyone seemed like BOSS! While I would<br /><br />Also back then we didn’t have a CCD tea dispensing machine. So the tea at the tapri was the only authentic tea that we had in the day! While the guys smoked, I would quickly dip a pack of glucose biscuits into my cutting. Yea…the entire packet! I din’t become fat on cheese alone!<br /><br />I’d briefly started that habit again with Aniket and Sandeep (when he’s around). Yesterday was Day 1…after a good 7 years. And it was all loads of nostalgia for me.<br /><br />Today the tapris are little away. Just round the corner behind Express towers. As we slowly ambled out of the our building, one furlong away we saw this spectacled guy walking casually with ear phones plugged in, capris, and a short yellow tee. He looked familiar but I couldn’t place him immediately. Aniket however did and blurted “Isn’t that Chetan Bhagat?” and I was like “O yeaaaaaaa…lets go ask him” and I made a u-turn towards him. Aniket came along too…but hardly 10 seconds later when I turn around there was no Aniket. He chose to stand and monitor the situation with Sandeep.<br />But I went through.<br /><br />I tapped him on his shoulder gently. He stopped. I was a bit gasping from the quick dash, a bit blushing, desperately trying to hide that ‘I feel like a fool’ look that I had plastered all over me.<br /><br />“Are you Chetan Bhagat?”<br /><br />“Yeah”<br /><br />“What you doing around here?”<br /><br />“I live here…”<br /><br />‘Here? I thought you were based in Singapore?”<br /><br />“No. I’m here. Infact, I’m going to see a movie at Inox”<br /><br />“Cool..”<br /><br />“So what do you do?”<br /><br />“I’m in advertising. I work in this building on the 4th floor.”<br />I just loved how the conversation flowed. So what if they were just a bunch of monosyllables!! He just seemed so sensible and grounded. What made him sell out to Bollywood…that whole Hello fiasco! I thought.<br /><br />I somehow didn’t want to end the blah blah. I had really loved his 5 Point Someone. I had even gifted a copy to Aniket. Since he was from engineering I thought that he would relate to some of the stuff. But I don’t think he quite got the drift. He hadn’t read it for about 2 months after I’d given it to him. Wonder if he’s finished it even now!<br /><br />Not liking the moment of silence I blurted “You said on your website that you’d reply to emails. I sent you 2 mails on your book. But you didn’t reply”<br /><br />I thought I had him. But he’s an author. He makes up stuff all the time. And how could I think I had him cornered!<br /><br />“Haha. I said I’d read…not reply. But I will respond to you. What’s you name?”<br /><br />“Sharon…Well, ill go now…enjoy your movie”<br /><br />“Yesss. I will reply. Thank you”<br /><br />And now the killer…my parting shot… “It was nice meeting you…I so thought you looked like Chetan Bhagat!”<br /><br />And he was like “hahaha..I AM Chetan Bhagat”<br /><br />And I promptly turned around, half embarrassed from my boo-boo and half happy from the rest of the conversation. Ran back towards my 2 lovely friends…one a ditcher and the other a skeptic. I narrated the entire conversation to them…and went on to tea.<br /><br />Somewhere around 10 minutes later after some half conversations both the boys are sniggering about something. They dint want to tell me what it was. But I insist.<br /><br />“We can’t tell you…its boy talk”<br /><br />I’m thinking…you guys talk all sorts of crap around me all the time. Don’t ever get the chivalry a girl deserves and all of a sudden I’m excluded from this boy talk and besides I don’t think (screw think…I can lay a 100 bucks) Sandeep can discuss anything more graphic with Aniket than he can with me!<br /><br />He blurts “Your author looks gay”<br /><br />And without a thought I jump to his defense. “What crap? He’s married and has a family too, just because he’s a little fair…”<br /><br />My usual behaviour. To speak first and then think.<br />Once I stopped spewing words, my Eureka moment came - Chetan Bhagat was the writer, but these two made up something on the spot much sooner!<br /><br />Guess, I’ll never know what tickled them and more importantly why they didn’t want to tell me! </div></div></div>sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2930185084685031792.post-10139274880016518202009-09-26T03:51:00.000-07:002010-02-27T14:30:40.682-08:00Happy Birthday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg64ilNpj48G2lIOobJMcpHGsZCCzDyDNyhV8MllJLByO0QULAAn0Ex774vTrNZ75RUdaUZQL7SPdvd1KDPWEGTTN_Y7h60CUYGBbWRxUEHceI6TyOFwzGA5pYLq7wviLcUQfbP7unCV0As/s1600-h/October+2008+062.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385864646349001458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg64ilNpj48G2lIOobJMcpHGsZCCzDyDNyhV8MllJLByO0QULAAn0Ex774vTrNZ75RUdaUZQL7SPdvd1KDPWEGTTN_Y7h60CUYGBbWRxUEHceI6TyOFwzGA5pYLq7wviLcUQfbP7unCV0As/s320/October+2008+062.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>It was a usual Friday like any other. Not exactly…actually. Coz I couldn’t wear my jeans and fancy pink shoes as the client was to make his grand entry for the first time. A Diva...not to be confused with real divas<br /><br />Fridays are particularly good as they signal the advent of a nice weekend. Weekends where work bothers me, but at least I’m not confined to the walls of the office. Hmmm. I happily got off the share-a-cab. Happy twice over coz I got the coveted ‘front seat’ in the cab which is normally cramped for me…given me fat!<br /><br />Raja was there are usual. Happy to see me. Actually despite the fact that he’s a dog. A three-legged stray….who dosen’t have a family or any semblance of one to fall back on, one would expect him to be happy to see me. But as it stands I am more thrilled to see him every morning. In fact I feel a sense of calm and love encompass me with each stroke of his face. And when he longingly stretches out his paw telling me not to leave….I feel wanted. But today was a double scoop of happiness. I enter the building to find Poh there. Poh happens to be a very close friend. His extension 216 is like my lifeline. I reach out to him like a bawling infant reaches out to its mother. I’m sure he thinks I’m such a whiner. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be less of a pest. Too bad for him! So coming back I was happy to see him as the first office face in the morning. As opposed to anything. He was happy it was Madhuri Dixit’s birthday. He was all adorned with a happy grin and new shirt! Hmmm. So as it turns out my day is good so far. Come to the conclusion that if your day starts with the best nothing can come in your way for the rest of it!<br /><br />Thank you Raja. Thank you Poh. You guys are special to me. You guys make my life awesome in your own way.<br /><br />And Madhurit Dixit…Happy birthday to you…</div>sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05666662137425808318noreply@blogger.com2