My father likes to brag. Specially about his athletic abilities. Truth is, he does manage to catch the toast before it falls to the floor. At half his age, I can't do that. "Keeper's reflexes", he says. The rest of us exchange 'there he goes again' glances. Mom just smiles. +

Bill Bernbach, the most quotable of all the advertising Gods, once said, "It's not a principle till it costs you money.' It is only as an entrepreneur (I wish there was a less ostentatious word for this), that I fully understood the genius of that simple sentence. +

Every now and again, you meet a moral dilemma. They are the most troubling kind. Unlike the 'sambar daalke ya alag?' variety of dilemma. I'm talking about business opportunities that come with the faint, or not so faint, whiff of blackness in the lentils. +

We live in a grayscale world. Viewed through multi-hued glasses. A world where doctored and engineered have unflattering meanings. Forget about squeaky clean, nobody even seems to be scratchy clean. Even hallowed seems like a typo for hollowed. +

Shouldn't we take briefs at face value? After all, we are communicators, not investigators. Shouldn't we take shelter behind caveat emptor? Pass on the legal responsibility to the client and the rest to the customer? +

We are sloganeers and image makers, aren't we? Paid for our cleverness. Not for our, what's that word, scruples? That word is always a bit elusive. +

A watchman in our society, on an average, lasts 3 months. Just when we get a hang of each other's eccentricities, he disappears. So you have to start all over with the new man. 'Don't ever ring my bell twice... I carry my bags myself, thank you... '. And so on. +

Rakesh was different. He looked 16, though he was 21. Wide eyed, eager, sincere to a fault. He would magically get to the gate before you could honk, he'd never miss a courier, the water tank never got empty on his watch, the cars he washed sparkled. +

Before Rakesh, we had a run of disastrous men. He was like Kapil Dev walking in at 17 for 5. In a couple of days, we knew we had a keeper. Like those animated drops of lubricant in Castrol ads, Rakesh was everywhere at the same time, keeping our Society humming efficiently. +

Residents competed with each other to offer him a snack, a cup of tea, a t shirt from a sales conference, an old mobile phone. They all made small talk with him. Like writers on a talent show production, they discovered his back story. Jaunpur. Sick father. 2 sisters. Cows. +

He worked days in our society. And nights at another. He had no home in Mumbai. Yet he showed no signs of fatigue. Even Mrs.Menon had no complaint. That's saying something. Her last complaint was, '..the watchman makes loud noises brushing his teeth... unacceptable..' +

This isn't a story set in the year everyone loves to hate. In fact, that was a pretty good year for Rahul. It suited him well. He was anyway an expert at staying indoors and shunning human company. +

He liked nothing more than to make two packets of Maggi using three sachets of tastemaker, a cup of tea brewed for precisely 150 seconds, and then settle down on his chair that was specifically chosen because it could rest the plate and cup on its broad arms. And a book too. +

He'd sit there and think thoughts like 'Even my name is so lame. It's the default option every copywriter uses while writing an ad about a young executive. Don't they know most Rahuls are in their fifties now?' +

Anyway, what I am about to narrate happened a year before the big bad one. On the day that the world has arbitrarily decided to burden with great import. New Year's Eve. A day that really meant nothing to Rahul. But late that evening basic arithmetic caught up with him. +

He had run out of tastemaker. There were six packets of noodles on his shelf, their throats slit, robbed of their magical sachets with the mysterious powers. Sealed with rubber bands, the packets stared back blandly at Rahul. +

Rana's mother insisted he call his father Pitaji. Not Papa, Baba, Babuji, and definitely not Daddy. 'But Ma,' he used to complain, 'this is the 21st century, not pracheen Bharat'. 'That's why I'm not asking you to call him Pitashri', she would retort. +

On the other hand, Sweety's mother, a very modern lady indeed, made sure she (Sweety) called her father Daddy. He didn't mind being called anything. Pop, Dad, Baba, Daddykins, Popsy.. as long as he got his quota of hugs and kisses from his darling daughter. +

Rana grew into a strapping young man. Earning raised (but respectful) eyebrows, when his friends heard him call his father Pitaji. But Pitaji deserved that honour. For he was an honourable man. +

He worked long night shifts at a distant factory 6 days of the week. At home, he was kind, loving, and indulgent during the few hours he was awake. His wife cherished his diligence, discipline, and devotion to her. She fed him well, and made sure he got his rest. +

Every morning at the factory, he'd hand over duty to Daddy, the Day Manager, and head home. Daddy worked all day till Pitaji returned to relieve him. On Wednesday, both of them took a much deserved break, when the factory had its weekly holiday. +

We are a people with pliable moral and ethical standards. Chalta hai, jugaad, we are like this only, kindly adjust, tedhi ungli, patli gully are cute verbal disguises for dishonesty. Taking liberties with the letter of the law has alway been okay. +

To us the law is not a diktat. It's a challenge. Like escaping from a mystery room. We rewrite and re-interpret the laws for ourselves in a more amenable, comfortable, acceptable, practical, convenient, benevolent manner.
+

And then we make abiding by this rewritten legal framework our way of life. In fact, we've made it a very cool thing as well. Giving and getting proxy at attendance, fudging a concession form, traveling by bus and claiming air fare, padding up travel expenses... +

... borrowing petrol and medical bills, copying in exams, getting rent bills from your own Dad, taking payment in a spouse's name, paying part in black, buying without a bill, using peons and office cars for personal work, bribing a traffic cop, ... +

... using the services of a tout at the RTO, greasing a TTE's palm, finding a railway contact to release EQ for non emergencies, buying booze and washing machines from the army canteen, getting fitness and sickness certificates without check ups... +

Ok, as promised, here's a thread of my top 15 non-verbal gestures for effective behaviour management:

1. A much neglected oldie, best used when only one or two pupils are still talking:

2. Wiggle that earlobe when you see a rogue off-tasker:

3. A gentle side to side headshake, which says "don't even think about doing what you're thinking of doing":

4. This is more forceful and vigorous than no. 3. It says immediately desist:

If there is one thing I have learned it is that people love bullshit. They buy bullshit stories from professional bullshit artists, accept bullshit philosophies, purchase bullshit how-to-books, vote for bullshitting politicians.

At first, I resisted believing this because it is illogical and dumb and frankly, doesn't reflect well on the human race of which I am a member (and thus have long been hopeful that it is more of a distinction than it actually turns out to be.)

But if you actually are interested in facts you begin to notice how little most people care for them. Sometimes it is because they are heard to learn and bullshit is so much more widely and easily available. Sometimes it is because facts make them uncomfortable about themselves.

Sometimes it is because just one tiny fact will upset a whole worldview that has grown as comfortable as an overstuffed chair. (Settling into such worldviews is a lot like settling into chairs like that because the longer you're there and the deeper you sink...

...the harder it is to hoist yourself up and out of your fat-assed intellectual laziness.) But I actually think the reason people have such an appetite for bullshit goes deeper, goes to an aspect of ourselves we just can't accept.

A Conspiracy Thread: Did Chaos Magick Break Reality?

What the hell is going on? Coronavirus, societal collapse, monoliths, aliens, what more do I need to say? Did William S. Burroughs actually achieve his goal of breaking reality? Let me explain.

William S. Burroughs was a member of Peter J. Carroll’s magickal organization, The Illuminates of Thanateros. They practiced chaos magick, a system of magick that denies all fixed models of reality. Basically they are encouraged to believe in whatever reality they want.

Burroughs was also an author who often used the cut-up method to write his novels, a technique that involves cutting up newspapers and magazines, putting the clippings in a hat, and then randomly pulling them out to create sentences.

Burroughs believed the cut-up method was a form of chaos magick that destabilized language, which he claimed was the main control mechanism of reality. Burroughs’ goal was to utterly destroy and dismantle all control systems and he thought his cut-ups could help him achieve this.

How to Network: Must read for shy people

~ Thread ~

1. Start with Whom You Know

Start slow by networking with relatives and friends.

Once you gain some courage, you can expand to strangers too.

2. Put on a Happy Face

SMILE

This is such a basic rule yet people just don't think about it.

3. Listen to be Heard

Everyone wants to talk about themselves.

If you are shy, be a good listener.

If you let them speak, they will remember it as a great conversation

4. Say their Name

People like to hear their own names.

Calling them by their name would make them more comfortable.

After several calls & she didn’t pick ...about an hour later she called back to inform me that her parents didn’t let her leave the house,I screamed but babe you told me you got this that you know how to convince them, you assured me 😫

She just said sorry Baby I can’t come out

This was actually happening on 14th Febuary (lovers day) , all my friends were already out with their babes waiting for us to come join them in the park ..
I didn’t save this cash for three months just so I can be able to afford our luxury only to be disappointed by Nnenna 💔💔

My friends were calling to ask my location;the last I replied was a text saying”We are on the way”

I tried calling Nnenna back her cellphone rang without her picking up,on the 69th time I got the “number you’re calling is currently switched off please try again later response”😭

I was already heart broken not to notice I had a low battery, instead of crying in my room as Nepa was unfortunate to have cut our light the previous day I decided to go and grieve in the Mall alone.

I left my Change for the Keke man when i got to the mall & was just ..

While walking around aimlessly in the mall watching people in relationship takin photos & LOL like they are trying to make mockery of my situation.. One idiot & his babe had the mind to ask I please help take them some photo shots (in my mind , I wished their r/shp would scatter)