This post dedicated to Maadhyam 2011. The daddy of all media fests scheduled to take place towards the end of Jan! Which happens to be quite the rage on the worldwide web. http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/Maadhyam.2011 is the Facebook page. You can start following, if you aren't already.
So why the sudden burst of public affection for Maadhyam?
Well, because the Maadhyam Facebook page has featured Neilgiri as the 'Blog of the Day'.
And I just re-realized that while other bloggers may have lots of followers, multimedia promotional strategies, continuous net access courtesy Blackberry and a very high readership, mere pass MAA-DHYAM hai!
As the school boy within me (with French as the 4th language) would have said : Cliched, mais vrais.
Thanks a tonne, Maadhyam!
Friday, December 17, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
The Belated Thank You
"It's about sex, love, relationships, careers, a time in your life when everything's possible. And it's about friendship because when you're single and in the city, your friends are your family." |
— The original treatment used to pitch FRIENDS to NBC. |
When the laughter has died down,
The applause has ceased,
And times have become a little harsh,
There still remain a few people.
And they do the most random things.
Like actually throwing a ‘surprise’ party for you just because your birthday fell in the vacations,
Making sure that you make them laugh, however bad things may be,
And they make the most lame people write such senti stuff.
Making sure that you make them laugh, however bad things may be,
And they make the most lame people write such senti stuff.
So that when you return back to form,
you always know where you belong.
Friendship. Damn weird I tell you......!
Thanks guys.
(well, better late than never!)
Friday, November 19, 2010
Look Who's Back!
The last post on Neilgiri was made on 4th of August this year (i.e. 3 months ago). And than I disappeared. Or rather, I got whisked away by the roller coaster ride called Sem III. It was more demanding than anything I have done before. And as Sem III hurtles towards it's end, here is the comeback.
Shhh! Its not loud like the arrival. No guns blazing, no trumpets flairing and no bold proclamations from the jaws of the future.
Its a quiet re-entry to a stage that has seen a few changes since I was here last. For one, Abstract Confusion is gone. (The Weird Child has graduated to bigger things now). Rajnikant happened. (Or rather, happen Rajnikanted). Maadhyam 2011 is out and rolling. And the cool new 'Stats' feature makes it very easy to monitor the progress of your own blog.
And yes, I moved on. Or rather, moved up.
Thank God Neilgiri did not!
Here is to a round 3 full of new ideas, rookie advertising and sensible nonsense.
Here is to a round 3 full of new ideas, rookie advertising and sensible nonsense.
Welcome back to me. :)
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Whoa-man!
Last Saturday evening I was sitting at Vohuman Cafe near Jehangir Hospital. And wondering. Wondering about why the hell were the walls plastered with posters of infants, babies , little children and similar recent additions to the human race. And about why there was a dog roaming inside the cafe. And about how it was so cramped inside. And also, how the waiter possessed the most important quality of a Pune waiter. The ability to avert your eyes whenever you needed him the most.
Then the cheese omelette, butter toast, jam toast, tea and bournvita arrived on the table.
And such trivialities ceased to matter.
This post dedicated to Vohuman Cafe for making a boring evening memorable. In conclusion, I would just like to say one thing :
There are four types of people in the world :
Human,
Superhuman,
ACP Pradyuman,
And those who have indulged at Vohuman.
p.s. - Those of you who have had the tragic privilege of my personal acquaintance over a long period would know that this type of stuff is more or less the real, authentic form of Neilgiri. Probably the 1st time I have used it on the blog. Maybe I should use it more often....... ;)
Then the cheese omelette, butter toast, jam toast, tea and bournvita arrived on the table.
And such trivialities ceased to matter.
This post dedicated to Vohuman Cafe for making a boring evening memorable. In conclusion, I would just like to say one thing :
There are four types of people in the world :
Human,
Superhuman,
ACP Pradyuman,
And those who have indulged at Vohuman.
p.s. - Those of you who have had the tragic privilege of my personal acquaintance over a long period would know that this type of stuff is more or less the real, authentic form of Neilgiri. Probably the 1st time I have used it on the blog. Maybe I should use it more often....... ;)
Monday, July 26, 2010
The Next Train
Homework is homework, fun is fun. Fortunate are those for whom homework is fun!
A short story I wrote for a college assignment. I know I could have elaborated it further, but I just didnt feel like touching the original thing I wrote.
The evening rush hour was always the busiest time of the day in the city. And if you were at the Dadar railway station at this time, you felt this the most. A sea of humanity making its way back home after a day of hard work. A train would arrive on the station every minute but the sea would just keep on rising.
Raahul Khan stood on the bridge and drew a deep breath as he looked down at the crowd. For the past nine years, he had shared a mutual love-hate relationship with this crowd. He cherished the way he could easily melt into it and be one with it. On the other hand, he hated it for its relentless speed and perpetual hurry. They could be a little more considerate to the next king of Bollywood, he felt. Ever since he had come to Mumbai, his resolve to become a famous actor had just become stronger.
Suddenly, he was jolted out of his reverie by a lot of commotion on platform number 2. A train was just pulling into the station. The train he was supposed to board. With a lurch, he realised that he should have had been on the platform by now. He broke into a frantic run as he pushed the surging masses around him. With practised precision, he navigated past fellow commuters, hawkers, porters and a few stray dogs. A feeling of triumph was rising inside him as he neared the platform, when he bumped head on into a man with an elegant uniform of a black jacket and a shiny badge. The ticket examiner.
“Ticket please.” commanded the TE. He had roamed these platforms for over 15 years now. One look at the startled face of Raahul Khan had told him that he did not have a ticket. Raahul helplessly groped about his pockets and mumbled something about having misplaced it. For the next 4 minutes, Raahul felt about as small as could possibly feel. The TE roared at him about how the youth lacked any sense today and about how people like him were destroying the city. Then he asked Raahul if he was going to pay Rs.500 with a receipt or Rs.300 without one. Ultimately, he managed to pay hundred rupees and get off. And to worsen his misery, his train had rolled out of the station by then.
Raahul was a broken man as he walked away. He hadn’t felt so bad since Sanjeev Dastani had refused to even audition him for the friend’s part in his upcoming movie. Now, not only had he missed his train, he had also lost the money that he had saved up to get a designer haircut. He was suddenly very sick of the city. He hated it.
As he was walking past platform number 4 on his way out of the station, he suddenly sensed a lot of commotion. There was the familiar warning blare of a horn from behind. That thundering of the wheels that he knew so well now. He blinked and looked up at the indicator even as he was carried ahead by the masses. A train was pulling into the station. A train that would take him to his home in the city.
He gave a wry smile. That was the best part of the city. Even if you missed your train, another one would always come along. You just needed the willingness to struggle past the crowds onto it and the luck to be on the correct platform at the correct time.
Maybe it was always worth one more shot.
A short story I wrote for a college assignment. I know I could have elaborated it further, but I just didnt feel like touching the original thing I wrote.
The evening rush hour was always the busiest time of the day in the city. And if you were at the Dadar railway station at this time, you felt this the most. A sea of humanity making its way back home after a day of hard work. A train would arrive on the station every minute but the sea would just keep on rising.
Raahul Khan stood on the bridge and drew a deep breath as he looked down at the crowd. For the past nine years, he had shared a mutual love-hate relationship with this crowd. He cherished the way he could easily melt into it and be one with it. On the other hand, he hated it for its relentless speed and perpetual hurry. They could be a little more considerate to the next king of Bollywood, he felt. Ever since he had come to Mumbai, his resolve to become a famous actor had just become stronger.
Suddenly, he was jolted out of his reverie by a lot of commotion on platform number 2. A train was just pulling into the station. The train he was supposed to board. With a lurch, he realised that he should have had been on the platform by now. He broke into a frantic run as he pushed the surging masses around him. With practised precision, he navigated past fellow commuters, hawkers, porters and a few stray dogs. A feeling of triumph was rising inside him as he neared the platform, when he bumped head on into a man with an elegant uniform of a black jacket and a shiny badge. The ticket examiner.
“Ticket please.” commanded the TE. He had roamed these platforms for over 15 years now. One look at the startled face of Raahul Khan had told him that he did not have a ticket. Raahul helplessly groped about his pockets and mumbled something about having misplaced it. For the next 4 minutes, Raahul felt about as small as could possibly feel. The TE roared at him about how the youth lacked any sense today and about how people like him were destroying the city. Then he asked Raahul if he was going to pay Rs.500 with a receipt or Rs.300 without one. Ultimately, he managed to pay hundred rupees and get off. And to worsen his misery, his train had rolled out of the station by then.
Raahul was a broken man as he walked away. He hadn’t felt so bad since Sanjeev Dastani had refused to even audition him for the friend’s part in his upcoming movie. Now, not only had he missed his train, he had also lost the money that he had saved up to get a designer haircut. He was suddenly very sick of the city. He hated it.
As he was walking past platform number 4 on his way out of the station, he suddenly sensed a lot of commotion. There was the familiar warning blare of a horn from behind. That thundering of the wheels that he knew so well now. He blinked and looked up at the indicator even as he was carried ahead by the masses. A train was pulling into the station. A train that would take him to his home in the city.
He gave a wry smile. That was the best part of the city. Even if you missed your train, another one would always come along. You just needed the willingness to struggle past the crowds onto it and the luck to be on the correct platform at the correct time.
Maybe it was always worth one more shot.
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