Bidding adieu, yet not letting you go...

“You say goodbye, I say hello
You say why, I say I don’t know”

Because I’m not ready to let go…

Of the melodious memories here
As creativity, curiosity and conversations, sprang a new taste
Dipped in caffeine blending an illustrious layer
You became my happy place.

In the comfortable compass of the red bricks
A narrative like ride, I strived to chase
When juries went by needing a Chota fix
You became my solace.

Where love fluttered from the warm smiles and welcoming eyes
To cocoon around the walls of Ashoka, MiCafe, CR2 and Maclab lullabies
Or the colours of Culcomm magic and revisiting the old tennis flame
You became my grace.

When bonding unravelled from people to every inch of this place
A place that gave me my creative space
A space which felt like my own
MICA, you are the face I’ll always call home.

So don't say goodbye, because I'll still say hello.

If you were here...

The blazing rays of the sun, jolted her awake from the limbo she constructed around herself. He was really gone. A reel of images flipped before her eyes, as she stirred a cup of coffee. The strange alienation in her thoughts felt more bitter than caffeine and the walls around her grew closer. Wrapping herself into a cocoon, she screamed at the top of her voice, “why him?” Clenching her fingers around his picture, she searched for a sign that would somehow bring him back. The melancholic cupboard lay still with the essence of his belonging, hanging in a frame of those perfectly lined clothes. As she picked out that little diary that resonated his name, she glided through the pages over and over again, only to lose herself into a trance. Lucidly questioning that in some twisted game of fate, would she ever find the chance to bid him adieu?

Decoding Advertising

Advertising in its truest sense has transformed tremendously over generations. From creation of the cut paste formula to digitally visualising an entire campaign, the time lapse weaving the intricacies used in the past to the spontaneity of the present, makes one wonder how delicate the art of creation has been and how convenient the world has become now just to put forward a simple idea.

From the creative wing, account planning, brand planning to even client servicing, this field demands creativity at every nook and corner. The objective that culminates the entire structure together is how everything is geared towards getting some response from the audience and how each brand story should blend in perfectly in the weaves of the creator's story. Those 30 seconds define the attention span in which one can make or break a brand. The art of manipulation also roots in the fact of how beautifully one can create a brand just to bring back the respect lost of an old gun as thought through by Neel French with XO Beer, to re emphasise the importance of print advertising in newspapers.

On a negative front this can be perceived as a poison gas scenario, as spoken vocally by George Lois, but that is where your inert creativity is tested, when you know you can turn the odds and change mass perceptions, be it via tad bit of manipulation.

MICAp of creativity!

Questions, as vivid and ambiguous as they may seem, demand imagination. What if I told you there was a place which answered those twisted thoughts only to nurture curiosity which actually kills the cat? A place which transforms reality from what is it to what it could be?

Metaphorically imaginative child's aspiration is what MICA oozes the idea of. Every rat you chase, is one dream you make. Here, there is no correct path or logical route to the destination, but a "keeda" which pushes you to ask yourself if not here, then where would you rather be?

Europe diaries I

As she set afoot the narrow stairs of the bold journey ahead of her, she smiled with a cup of her favourite "Javachip" cold coffee that she grabbed just in time (rather five minutes late!), finally breathing a sigh of relief..."it's really happening, girl!" She thought of the smug lady she encountered at the Starbucks stall, who apparently reached after her, yet was greeted well by her in name of a good international trip ahead, only to be smudged in the face with an *I'm Indian, yet I'll throw some weird mixed British accent at you, showing you outrightly how low I can steep for that one cup of coffee, devoid of any sweet response or expression whatsoever!* But oh, well Nandini, let it go...she thought to herself, as she beamed with excitement and took large steps towards the flight, consciously stepping foot away from her homeland to another continent altogether...the land of her dreams, all made possible with endless endeavours at a job that marred her physically and mentally, but brought her to the capability of going forward with the idea of a self funded dream like trip to EUROPE.

Lucky for Nandini, the flight was not entirely full, getting her the last minute option to switch to a window seat (who would ever ditch that?!), the idea of scrumptious meals, good wine and obviously a good choice of movie. Yes, she had been guilty as charged for still not watching an amazing movie like Lunchbox, so she finally did. The time seemed to have flown by in a jiffy, except for the part when the plane was flying over Black Sea (or maybe thats what every hydrophobic person rambles about). As the plane finally descended towards the destination, tears of joy and happiness filled her eyes. She gulped down the emotions in her enthusiasm, as a moment like this needed to be felt and preserved in her eyes, lest anyone else debar the beautiful memory. Within the thin clouds emerged the gleaming grandeur of Vienna's architecture, as she pinched herself, "This is it! I'm here. This dream is real!". Lost in the enigma, she didn't realise when the plane landed, because for her it was only the beginning... :)

Who are we, really?

Sometimes I'm forced to wonder the nature I abide, the face I show to the world, the words I speak out loud and the thoughts I proclaim reflect my soul, are real or influenced by the magnetism that temporarily attracts me. 

Cool girl, a commonly used phrase, I think is a definition of an ideal girl, one we all strive to be and one that every guy tries to impress. But I wonder, if I'm anywhere close to that, why do I see the flip side girls having a much more fulfilling bond with the others? Not that I don't have what I wanted, I just feel a little let down when I tend to think how my attitude has shifted over time like a pendulum from one failed relationship to another, reflecting the kind of person that would literally chop off the wings of their freedom to one that forced them to flap their wings and fly away to fulfil their dreams. 

Nag nag nag. 

Is nagging somewhere acceptable, especially to someone who could almost cage you in a room embodied of his existence to shield you from any source that could snatch you away from him? If that's so not who I was, then why today when I hear about such hypocrisy I see a nagging soul engulfed in her idea of insecurities ruling his bubble world? 

If that was a bad example, let me go another page back when the pendulum was on another side. 

If being okay, was not okay but you wanted to look okay even when that other person used your carefree attitude to the wrong limits, a certain sense of insecurity that crept in seemed genuine, I suppose? 

If today I reflect back to these two opposite roles I played, I wonder how the play turned out to be. Clearly, these weren't a true picture of who I really am, or was it? Is it really possible to possess opposite traits within oneself, whatever disposition they might create? 

If it's true that life is a play and we are basically playing a different rule to suit our current whims and fancies, then it can be correctly said that we are the actors of our fate. But how can karma come into play, when we are well equipped to switch from one face to another, masking our innermost thoughts in the most beautiful way, to panoply a changed version of ourselves to the next victim of our twisted revelations. 

In this game we play, do you think we lose ourselves, unable to chalk out the path of destiny we embarked on and our notions of the real us? 

A mad man's world.

Darling, did someone warn you that it was a mad man's world? 

When you hopped around in that pretty little dress bubbling with ideas and gleaming at the thought of making it big one day, did you expect what's it going to be like? 

When you invited a bunch of frolicking lads you solemly swore to your protected little toy, were the true meaning of friendship, to join in over a game of tea party, or when you blew off the candle which exclaimed to be marked as "four", would one day itch in the name of competition on the other side of the door? 

When you turned you back, as everyone passed the box of parcel until the music hymned, 

Did it ever occur to you, how everyone shrugged it forward, just like responsibility as the time trimmed? 

When you saw your father all suited up, ready to face the bright sunny day, 

The smile hid the reality of people's intentions and dirty office ways,

Yet with age, you let yourself get engulfed  in this mad man's world so ugly, 

Diseased with the syndrome to make it big somehow, in what field you still haven't chalked out even roughly? 

Tiptoeing your way through today, you watch a zillion people cross your path , pushing, snatching or staring in oblivion, this mind races to the possibilities of an end or a new start

You murmur to yourself, in amaze and wonder, 

Will I just be another swan in the lot, choosing the wrong field and making a blunder? 

I hope you find the right direction soon which truly makes me happy, 

Because darling it's a mad man's world so snappy!