My Temple closes down forever

I always knew that his reflexes were becoming weak, the widening gap between his bat and pad, that he would not be able to face the wild swing of Dale Steyn in SA, that he is a human being after all and he would retire one day, but hasn't Sachin always made us believe the incredible?
In year 1998, I was about 9 years old when I switched on my TV one evening to see a short man holding a MRF blade in his hand and occasionally adjusting his abdomen guard; taking his stance in Sharjah's isle and smashing Australia's sweat on every ball that was bowled at him. There were moments of disbelief and sheer pleasure as the white ball kissed the black skies every now and then. Tony Grieg would fall off his chair to say, "What a player", Steve Bucknor would raise his arms over and over again as if to say "I would shred all my weight tonight", but the class never stopped, not even took a small kitkat break.
Year 2000. ICC Knockout trophy in Kenya. The little man went berserk against Glenn McGrath. In a short innings of 38, he gifted tears to the Aussie bowlers. All this became a commonality of my life during those years. I would cycle my way back to home, throw my bag and just sit to watch Sachin bat not moving an inch all this while. Yeah I know there were 10 other players in the team as well. But, mind it, it was just Sachin who could grab my attention. Always. I would often imitate Sachin's stance during School matches trying to play the backfoot drive like him but failing to even match his shadow.
Talking about the man, who could forget his knock against Pakistan in Madras, or the unbelievable 97 in the World cup 2003, the majestic 175 against Australia, the classy 200 in a one day against SA in 2010. The 2011 World cup win was the ultimate triumph. But he has been a real superstar off the field as well which makes him the greatest of his time.
And a little mention to MRF here, it was an era when Sachin became synonymous to MRF and MRF to Sachin. Well Played.
There have been other good players in my generation like MS Dhoni, Kevin Peitersen, Virat Kohli, AB Devillers. Greats like Ricky Ponting, Rahul Dravid, Wasim Akram, VVS Laxman, Anil Kumble but none could give me adrenalin like Sachin did. Absolutely None
I loved the game so much that for once I was inspired and took the field to be like him, strolled around in a few professional games but then pulled myself back to be an "aspired" engineer and later an MBA from an IIM. But I was average, he was genius. I became a couch potato but my love for him and the game never stopped.
Time has sure traveled when yesterday I was "informed" that Sachin has announced his retirement. He has made a timely exit, the pain is a little less and not all of a sudden. But one just cannot imagine cricket without him. Just cannot.
I may be plastic in talking about players and sports, but Sachin is my God and my love for him is pure and always will be.

With you, a fan retires too.

Paid To Dream: Why I envy myself each day

Pressed Ctrl + H, Found what: Work. Replaced with: LOVE.  Done already.

They say “Do what you love/love what you do”, how about a curry with both the spices? In the midst of a sudden realisation, I just figured out that it has been over 3 months since I have donned the formal hat of doing things, suit boot and blah…errrr… or is it? 

The time when it takes more than 20 minutes just to explain what I do exactly to the time I wait for the next day for the services to begin, I am not solely living a dream but being paid for it, a combination that can fume the jealously and burn the pants cent percent.

But let’s roll back for the time being.

The twilight of January 19/20, 2013 when I was inside an interview room (which I only realised when I walked out- as it was all about talking passion, the dream to create new things and the will to change the game forever) to the time when I saw the sun rise in front of my eyes empowering the twilight to distribute the bright light of hope, to when I heard a dusky voice in the backdrop, “We have an offer. Anshul Kumar is selected for HES”, my life has changed ever since. 

“Human Experience Strategy(HES)” in MBA parlance is nothing more than cracking insights to be sold to brands but as an experience it is much more in totality. It is LOVE that can change the way you think about people around, about things and the very existence of humanity; can bury your stereotypes and leave you astonished for how the world has changed and evolved; but more importantly it will teach you who you are as a person; the subtlety of the same thing is equivalent to meeting God. Each day. Each moment.

The genesis of every single marketing strategy that was ever crafted was to make money not by making fools but by uplifting a human experience somewhere. I strategise the same by knowing why we do what we do and then sell the same to brands to enable them change the equation of their maths. 

Travelling to places, talking to new people each day, going to work in the same torn jeans I wore to classroom B2 during my MBA; has also made me realise that money is not the only thing that we work for after all. We work for a bigger motive of having a peaceful mind and closing the eyes each night not apprehensive of next day’s LOVE but a wait that kills you.  Recently someone pointed out that I have a heavy tummy suddenly after being stick thin all my life, and the reason for same is not over eating food but over eating happiness. Thought provoking, I must say.

Writing a contempo article for a youth magazine, I realised that I may/may not inspire any with my LOVE but I certainly inspire myself each day. Not often you float being envy of yourself. But if you do, there is a purpose for your living.

Signing off

A Human first. A Human Experience Strategist second.

Square One Life

It was a strange morning of 26th June 2011 as one passive arrogant Delhi boy was about to board his Jet Airways flight to Kozhikode, the quoted lala land of dreams. As the flight took off and started talking air, he peeped outside to find his dreams somewhere sharing the same linage of the clouds leading to the heavens; unaware and innocent of the world that lied hence. There weren’t many expectations, no godly dreams as he had never experienced the elite club that he was about to share; the only possible concern was the abrupt end to the 21 year honeymoon that he had shared with his own land of Chandni Chowks, the markets of CP and the lanes of Hauz Khas to the unimaginable meet with lungis and naarials; it was about to be some cultural shift for him surely.
As he reached the gates, he was stunned by the sheer brilliance of the beauty that God had bestowed upon his own land. The lungis had started to appear and echoes of chetta and chechi could be heard loud as began the experience that has been etched in the memory till he would breathe last. These two years have given him more than a lifetime, godly people, the most wonderful experiences and more importantly a belief to lead his life his own way with self resilience.

The first thing that stuck hard and instantly was the cultural “diversity” that could help meet the ends and bridge the gaps of Kashmir to Kanyakumari; from Gujarat to Assam; from bong to bhaiya ji and from Anna to Paaji. The people intellect had started to seep deep into his pores within a few days of his arrival.
Amidst starting the journey and burning the throats in a section war; the change had started to take a toll on his body too with illness and blisters sprayed all around; the declaration of pox. He was bed ridden for a couple of weeks, away from the crowd, away from the glory which he had just started to experience. Then followed the Birthday parties, the GPLs, the all night banters all as a refreshing participation. He wasn’t measured relative in antecedent; so he had to study like anything only to lie in the bottom half by the end of the first term; yes LIFE had just arrived for him with a wide smirk on its face, arms opened yet carrying a teacher’s stick in hand.
Leave apart academics, he had always carried a strong belief that he was a good dancer till he encountered better, a decent scribbler, till he encountered the best; all at the God’s den, it so started appearing that God himself was breathing human in 328 different bodies. He could always see up in the air a placard shouting loud “The world has people much better than you dude”.
The battle then progressed to the “summer” cattle auction and he was bid amongst the lowest for a real estate newbie. By the beginning of term III, the ever so memorable trips to Verkala, Alleppey and others had starting teaching bliss as he unearthed the real magnificence behind the coconuts. The wagon then shifted bases to Mumbai for 2 months to adore the summer heat. Tough to recall much of the in-office experience, someone unique came along the way in the journey there too, real and pure as the transparent seas flowing by.

The latter half of the journey was supposed to be all chill out and a real ride and it proved no less. While all the bakar, night outs to party were showing the chillax mood, the performance in business competitions was showing that some part of all that was learnt was indeed solid and core.
It was only by this time that he could enchant the hymns of values in the lines once quoted by Harsha Bhogle (IIM A alumni), “It’s tough to get into an IIM, but it’s tougher to get out”.
This Kampus had taught him so much from showing the true cultural shades of India to the amazing intellect that people have; from the godly professors to the serene calmness. It taught him the capitalist flavour that we all are scared of, yet it’s the life’s inevitable destiny. The journey had its emotions all sprayed out. There were tears of pain and ecstasy; there were discussions that cannot be weighed in gold. There were people whom you can forget for more reasons than one.
It was another morning of 8th March, 2013 as he boarded the flight back to Delhi. Some part of the arrogance was still there, but somewhere the man had uplifted a number of stereotypes; some passiveness was still there but there was a cry from within to touch the active. 2 years was a lifetime in itself living a complete circle. He went out of his comfort to live a dream, a dream of life. One may bid a goodbye physically but the soul still kisses the skies. Life has a new chapter ready to open up but the golden memories shall always prevail till we survive this race.

Singing off
To my Alma mater IIM Kozhikode

A true capitalist with a tinge of social responsiveness

“Covenant” ड्रीम्स की रासलीला

ख्वाब तो देखे थे हमने भी अनेक पर रह गये अधिकतर बनकर “Covenant” ड्रीम्स

आज़ादियाँ जब लिखी गयीं थी कुछ पन्नो पर कहीं और ज़ंजीरो में जकड़ी गयीं हमारी “artificial” थीम्स

“Crawl” कर रहे थे हम तकलीफ में कहीं, सोचा था के येही है अपनी असली “speed”

कुछ नहीं थी कुछ नहीं थी; मियां नादान थी और है अपनी यह ever growing “greed”

जब मुड़ना था दुनिया की और हमे “to show them the middle finger”

पलटवार हुआ तगड़ा हमी पर जब मुड़ी दुनिया हमारी ही ओर “to show me their own linger”

दुःख देखा दुसरे का और turn हुए हम तुरंत ही “into a modern sadistic”

“ROFL” हुए मन ही मन हम और बड़े आगे crawling “to know more of the renowned mystic”

अब पकड़ हो रही थी हम पर और भी मजबूत “to completely bury my thoughts on freedom”

इरादे ले रहे थे अपनी आखरी सांस सुनते हुए puppet player ki की एक कर्राती आवाज़ “fu## you and your thoughts on freedom”

लिए चल रहा हूँ इन ज़ंजीरो को कबसे नाजाने; टूटेंगी यह एक दिन यही लगी है कबसे आस

ख्वाबो को करना है पूरा हमे न की देखना है यह “Covenant” ड्रीम्स का बड़ता हुआ अशलील रास

© Copyright Akrox!! 2012.All Rights Reserved 

Love Beyond Options- The Second Angel: Chapter 1 (Mixed Emotions)

1^st October, 2010, 5PM, 520 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, USA

Taking time out of the monotonous materialistic chores at the client’s office, I peeped outside the window looking with gusty astonishment at the Independence Hall across the road. Standing tall and stout, it signified “freedom”, such a stark paradox to my own life right then. I sipped in the hot beverage and rushed to finish my chorus and get ready for a long flight back to India.

 I had always been good in picking options in my life, be it choosing one from four during the objective miseries at college or evaluating capital projects and assisting clients on choosing their perfect fit; but I never realised that formulae are defined to unburden the paper work, not to calculate the fit in your own life and easily pick the perfect one.

 As I took my boarding pass at the Philadelphia International Airport, traces of images of a breathtaking “mole” brimmed through my mind.

It all appeared slow and lull in front of the eyes as it took me ages to get into the aircraft and take my seat. I took a piece of paper out and started scribbling the story; the story of the second angel of my life.

4PM, 27^th Feb, 2010, Varanasi, UP, India

As I was returning after a shopping spree with my mom, my eyeballs traced the path of Hotel Grand Palace, which appeared tinge more presentable today. It was the lucky location of tonight’s entertainment and the feeling had yet to sink in that it was my evening, the evening to play the prince charming of someone else’s life while people surrounding me would celebrate an important milestone in my life.

In my room I suddenly saw my Blackberry do a jig, it was Riddhima’s call. She sounded a bit excited about tonight’s proceedings as I nodded to whatever she said and smiled back. She was my to-be wife, a doctor by profession and definitely came across as someone with matured grey cells, one of the very few reasons I said yes for her after a marathon of proposals that came in for me.

An MBA graduate from a top business school, having an enviable consultant job in an equally enviable company, I was considered to be a rare breed in the small town of Varanasi. At times, it wasn’t just my family but every Banarasi babu who expected me to reach soaring heights in my life, “Gupta ji aapka ladka aasman chuega”, “kaash aisa beta hume bhagwaan ne dia hota”, was something I would hear penetrating the walls of my house every now and then. It never bothered me a bit as I sailed through winning every stroke of my “options” theory 

3^rd March, 2010, Hyderabad Office

Riddhima was on a sabbatical to celebrate one of the most important events of her life while I was fighting with pieces of paper in the office. 3 days into my marriage and I had to fly to Hyderabad for an important news boss had for me. I took Riddhima along for a cameo honeymoon and she as I presumed wore the mature head and readily accepted the fact that our stint honeymoon would be delayed for sometime atleast

“Welcome Armaan, there is some news for u”, a sound like a TV channel breaking some news greeted me as I entered my boss’s cabin. “The deal that we were working so hard to strike has finally been cleared and yes it seems your marriage has unlocked the ever so unlikely”, he smiled and happily emoted the news to me about a client’s new project in the US. “And yes you’ll be leading the project group and you will have to leave with the team for Philadelphia tomorrow itself”. Mixed emotions became the order of my day as I became reluctant to take this small divorce from my new marriage for 6 months, 6 long months. On my way back home, all what I was thinking was means to let Riddhima know about it when suddenly……

I am BLUE where i matter the most

Coming Soon...