Wednesday, July 29, 2009

HE NEVER LOOKS AT ME

He looks at the poems that I write
With such wonder at its mystery,
Eyes poring over every page,
But he never looks at me.

He looks into the little details
As I plan my travel itinerary,
Squinting into maps to find locations,
But he never looks at me.

He’ll look for my pair of red high heels
As I’m all dressed up in my finery,
Scrounging wide-eyed into musty shoe shelves,
But he never looks at me.

As he looks out of the balcony, now
Waiting for my blue car, anxiously
I wonder, will I ever know his ways of seeing?
And why he never looks at me?

Poetry Slam!

I went for my first poetry slam in Mumbai and I am thrilled! Well, actually I went for two. First headed over to Prithvi Cafe for the Caferati Open Mic at 7.30pm. After that, we went to MochaMojo, for the slam hosted by the Bombay Elektrik Projekt, where we were treated to three rounds of scintillating verse, witty wisdoms and some power-packed performances till 11.00pm. All in all, a wonderful evening that got me high as a kite without one drop of alcohol! (the Irish coffee at Prithvi was great though!)

Thursday, July 23, 2009

You know you're a copywriter when:

1. You believe that your idea will change the world.

2. You create public service ads, warning about the effects of excessive alcohol consumption and then drink the night away.

3. You eat last weeks leftovers at 3.20 am and come to work to write about sumptious kebabs, gooey chocolate cake, and soft juicy rosogollas.

4. You work in a digital advertising agency, where the internet speed isnt 1/10th the speed of the virus alerts that keep popping up on your PC.

5. You frequently escape to the loo, to catch some shut-eye 'cause you can't be caught sleeping at your desk.

6. You are part of a fraternity that is so self obsessed that we create awards to celebrate our own work.

7. You sell dreams, while you're losing faith in your own.

8. Your salary is just a nice word for pocket money.

9. You look at innocent kids on the street with a gleam in your eyes, thinking 'target audience'.

10. You write all day, but can't seem to find the right words to explain what exactly your job is about, to your family.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Going to Foreign

‘I want to go abroad’, I said
I’ve told my dad before,
He grunted, disapprovingly
‘In exams, first you score!’
‘She wants to go to foreign!!’
He chuckled out aloud
‘Become an engineer instead
And make your parent’s proud’
My mother shut her ears so tight
To block these ‘words of doom’
Then looked at me, in horror
And rushed to the puja room
My sister yawned out lazily
And said, 'By now I’m sure
You must already feel
Just like a foreigner, out here.'