Wednesday, December 31, 2008

The year that wasn't...

The New Year is upon us. And like always, I wonder, where did the time go; not that I am going to be particularly nostalgic about 2008, but that feeling of what have I achieved, does engulf me this time of the year. I am hoping the new year will be happier, with higher salaries, lower airfares and without any black Wednesdays, Thursdays or Sundays.

May 2009 bring us the change that we want to see. (Was that very Obamaish?) Never mind that. Happy New Year Everyone.

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

The pure, unadulterated Hollywood way.

There's more to the Bollywood-Hollywood divide than the latter's superior animation, story, special effects, acting, script, background score and dialog delivery, etcetera. It's the way Hollywood falls in love. It's not about their bold declarations. No, not after Kareena's Saifu got that tattoo. This is not about the older woman-toy boy stuff either. Certainly not after the vintage beauty queen Aishwarya Rai chose the much younger Bachchan Boy over a matured hulk, or our anti-wrinkle cream expert Sushmita Sen's ongoing list of suitors.

So, where's the divide?

Cameron Diaz & Paul Sculfor are looking for a new pad in NYC.
Paul Sculfor who?
Sienna Miller and Balthazar Getty, spotted cuddling.
Balthazar Getty who?
Matt Damon met his wife Luciana Bozan in Miami.
Luciana Bozan who?
Okay, you get the drift. Sculfor is a nondescript model, Balthazar Getty, a television actor Luciana Bozan used to be a bartender.
Hollywood falls madly in love, it actually does what Bollywood preaches - pyar me dimag se nahi dil se socha jata hai. Awww! So, Hollywood I think is into pure unadulterated love; love as it was meant to be.

Not so in Bollywood, where stars always court someone equally or more famous or moneyed, NRI surgeons do make frequent exceptions of course. A Bollywood damsel would readily be the third wife of an ugly, aging, rich fatso film producer. But never fall for a nobody, talent and looks notwithstanding. I wonder why? What could you possibly do with more Armani, more pent houses or more trips to anywhere that you've already been to over 50 times?

Why wouldn't you rather be home with someone cute, share a laugh and lead a regular life? Beats me.

Monday, December 22, 2008

It's a Monday, I've a writer's block with 3 crazy deadlines and in a world where you are only as good as your last 'punch line'.

Job at hand: 17 headline options.
29 pages to be copy checked.
Five hundred words on a client's yet to be developed world-class R&D facility and yet to be formed management team.

'Why not to have a writer's block?' I say.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Bored and betrayed; can I have my money back?

Beautiful people abound. Estée Lauder and Marc Jacobs everywhere. And so were shiitake and sashimi diet ideas. But stuff that I could use? Nah, nothing at all.

I couldn't unleash the diva in me. I have failed to turn my man into my slave. Could never be the seductress at work. Haven't yet figured out why something that works for Kate Moss, doesn't work for me. And I still know only 1 way of making it big at work – slogging it out. So, I want my money back. And yes, the time too.

A certain magazine for the fun, fearless female promised me all that and so much more. It promised to be the chic sister I never had, the impossibly comforting aunt, and the confidante who would help me rule my world, if not the world.

Sample this...
Make your next door hottie fall for you by this weekend.
Live the celeb life on your meager budget.
How to totally rock on your first date.
The quintessential quiz – Are you a diva/doormat/drama queen /whatever.
10 signs he is into you / not into you / cheating on you / gay.
50 reasons to fall in love with yourself / your ex / your friend's lover / your friend's ex.
25 reasons why you must spend your lifetime's savings on a pair of leopard skin stilettos.

That's what I read, one issue after another, since 1998 December; with slight variations in headline colours and fonts.

Will they print this crummy stuff for the next ten years too? Maybe, maybe not; frankly, I couldn't care less.