Count your blessings

I always knew i was lazy. But yesterday was the height. Quite literally. As you must know, Gurgaon felt severe earthquake tremors. What you wouldn't know is our office building was swaying. It was being serenaded by Mother Nature herself, to put it poetically. Now, if only the reality was THIS sweet. People were fucking scared. I felt dizzy in the beginning before i realized what was happening as all the hanging tube-lights were merrily swinging to the beat. As expected, the entire floor was to be evacuated. Everybody left except me and some office boys. I didn't leave, not out of bravery but out of sheer laziness. I'd rather die peacefully than walk down 21 floors and wait for a stampede to swallow me. Sounds logical, no? No? OK.

That was yesterday. Today, i found a new (read: lazier) way to deal with life. Whenever we sneeze, our heart stops for a bit. Which itself is a matter of rarity because from the moment we conceptualize inside a womb to the moment we die, our heart is one of those few things that keeps working. So sneezing is indeed a moment of celebration, for lack of better words. For some reason, we don't want evil spirit to enter our heart while our face is having an orgasm, which is why we say "bless you" to the sneezers. I don't. I just spread my palm towards the one as a sign of blessing.  

J-factor

It's easier to say that we aren't supposed to judge others but it's like breathing. Very involuntary in nature. The whole judging business. And what better way to get one up against yourself by proving yourself wrong? It was during my early days in film journalism and being a rookie, i used to be shit scared before a celebrity interview. My fingers used to tremble—which later turned out to be a physical ailment, not psychological—before shooting the first question. Nevertheless, once i got into the Q&A groove, i almost always strike a fine balance. My propensity to laugh like a primate helps a lot too. So, i remember once taking a lift to the 34th floor of a building in which a Bollywood star resided. Famous for his outspokenness, i was told he can be a difficult fish to fry. To make things worse for myself, i'd never been a fan of his acting skills so i had my spirit low while i was counting the changing numbers on the indicator inside the posh elevator. Within seconds, i was standing at the entrance and the star—or has-been star?—himself opened the door for me. While allowing me in, he gently patted my back, asking me whether i wanted something to eat or drink. As an unwritten journalistic rule, it's best not to have anything during working hours so i politely denied. He shrugged and directed me to a lovely room, pointing me to the huge sofa against the wall set perpendicular to the open gallery. During the course of the following interview, it became apparent that he's undoubtedly one of the most genuine personalities in the otherwise soulless industry. One thing in particular that he said with his left arm flailing around violently still rings in my head. I remember his hand halting to point at the window  showing me the poor settlement outside on the ground. He said he came from that part of the world and today he is up above where he was, away from the very people who made him the star that he became. In fact, according to him, as he grew more and more prosperous, the farther he moved away from them. He might had said so for the theatrics of a tête-à-tête but it was undeniably honest. When it was time to leave that room, i was his newfound fan although i didn't let him realise that. Besides, who was i to judge someone who had judged himself long time back?