Bollywood Masala and a French Art Film

Notes on a Tuesday

‘This is like a French art film. The last time we drove to Karjat, it was full Bollywood masala.’

Nomsita said these words to Vaishnav and me as we passed Navi Mumbai on our way to Karjat yesterday. We were pensive, and it wasn’t the wild fun we had the last time we had left for a shoot.

On that occasion, it took us five hours to get out of Bombay. We needed to fill petrol, and there was some transportation strike going on, resulting in a shortage. The petrol pumps near us had massive queues. When McDonald’s first came to India, and opened an outlet in Bandra, the queue to enter began in Khar. It was kinda like that.

We skipped the petrol pump at the start to Turner Road as the queue was nuts, and decided to find one in BKC. No luck, no queues even, just out of petrol. The gravity of the situation hit us. We continued driving, our maps searching for the nearest pump — and then the next, and then the next.

Finally, in Chembur, we saw a pump with a serpentine queue. I slammed my accelerator to get into the queue, and then slammed the brakes to not hit the car ahead of me. Success.

Well, kinda. Being the last car in queue meant that we were blocking access to the main road from the nearby lane. (Confusing urban design, don’t ask.) A fancy Merc honked at us. It wanted to pass. But I couldn’t give way! I had to wait for the queue to move!

There were two men in suits in the car. They looked like investment bankers. The driver started shouting silently at us. (When I say silently, I mean that we could not hear him. I have no doubt that sound emerged from him.) He banged the dashboard. He pushed his steering wheel. He had a meltdown, swaying back and forth like he was in a moshpit.

Then went on for five minutes. Then finally, our queue moved. We went forward, and their car revved up to pass us. And just then, the dude in the passenger seat showed us his middle finger.

Freeze frame. Middle finger. Full macho. King of the universe.

Nomsita burst out laughing. So did Vaishnav. So did I.

Freeze frame. Middle finger. Full deflated. Death of Ego.

The finger trembled. The car passed. The moment passed. We filled petrol and continued to Karjat. And I’m sure Angry Banker woke up in the middle of the night, feeling that life was futile, that he wasn’t a man, would never be a man, oh this brutal world.

‘I’m Happy When I’m at My Best’

We were discussing happiness in this French-Art-Film ride. Vaishnav’s definition of happiness: the ability to find joy in any small thing, at every small moment — “to even laugh every time at your dad jokes!”

Nomsita said:

I'm happy when I'm at my best. And when I’m happy, I’m at my best.

I love the virtuous cycle this creates. You perform well when you’re happy; and performing well makes you happy. What’s not to like?

It’s worth thinking about how we can create such virtuous cycles in our life. Smile at someone; they smile back; the mood lifts; you keep smiling. Sometimes, even a fake smile can lead to a genuine one, and to eventual happiness and the real smiles. You need an act of intention to set it off.

Equally, in a careless moment, you could set off a vicious cycle. You frown at someone; they snap at someone else; they feel low for the rest of the day and don’t do their work; that makes them sadder; they snap at someone.

How much of the world is trapped in these cycles? How much of our lives is contingent on them? What would it take to snap a vicious cycle into a virtuous one? A moment of kindness? An act of generosity?

Ya, that’s kinda serious talk. We were in the French Art Film Cycle.

An Ant on a Cast Is the Whole World, Really

A couple of weeks ago, Ajay, my co-host on Everything is Everything, went on a hike. He is serious about hiking. “You will not hear from me for a week,” he said. “Deal with it.”

After four days, I heard from him. He told me that he had broken his ankle, and that our next episode would be on hiking.

So here we were, assembled in front of a forest, his foot in a cast on a cushion on the ground.

Before every episode, we have a ritual. We roll the cameras, and then the four of us are silent for five minutes. Then we start. All of us are serious about this — or it would not work. I find that it helps me to clear my mind and gather my thoughts.

During this time, I noticed an ant on Ajay’s cast. His eyes were closed; he did not see the ant. It is likely that the ant was as oblivious to his existence. It was on this strange blue surface, and it went here and it went there and it went everywhere — on the cast.

I could not take my eyes off it. I waited for the moment when it would slip off the cast — and discover the messy reality of human flesh and an actual person.

I think there may be a metaphor in here. We are often ants on a cast. The cast is a smooth and hard covering over a wound. But under that, we are frail.

And on that thought, I must end this post. We have two more episodes to shoot today. I am under-prepped. I should not be writing this newsletter now. But Ajay said he would take a nap, and I was like, fine then, I will create. I will not stop. I will test the limits of my cast.

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Yesterday’s notes are here. I will be back soon!