Copywriter's Diary

Copywriter’s Journey

So, you are a copyrighter?

Snoring glories reverberated in the claustrophobic charabanc. The squeaking sounds of the rusted shock-absorbers sent screeching vibrations up the spine. An army of bed-bugs relentlessly advanced in full force and fought for every dit of blood. The damp sweat smell held the air for ransom. It was pitch dark outside, often illuminated by the sharp, piercing lights from the passing vehicles. And, here I was… lying awake, staring at the roof which boasted of a low quality fur.

“So, what exactly do you copyright?” Although, it was the 36^th question of the evening from Mr. Devkhude, yet it had the same enlightened nirvana around it.

Mr. Devkhude worked as a Senior Sales Manager, West Region at M/S Him Krim Pvt. Ltd. They supplied ‘ice-cream’ (“Obviously!” I was made to eat my tongue, when I asked what you were just about to) to a staggering 6 clients (quite a glorified term for hawkers) across Maharashtra, Goa, Gujarat and North of Karnataka, which accounts for a measly 5,55,216 square kilometres!

“I write”, I explained.

“Sure, you do. But what do you do right?” came the next one.

“Ads”, I added.

“Adds to what?”

“Sorry, I mean advertisements.” I cleared my throat.

“‘Why should you do something, which will make you say sorry?’ said the Great Swami Vivekanand just before he took his Samadhi…” Mr. Devkhude beamed even as he clipped both his earlobes with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.

“I’m not sorry for what I do. It’s just that…”

“Never mind… It’s your life. What were you saying earlier?” interrupted the sage.

“Well, I write for advertisements. Print. Television. Radio… In short, for every medium of communication!” I explained.

“And, how much does it cost?” a pensive look hovered over Mr. Devkhude’s face.

“Cost? It depends… Some clients are on retainer basis, others pay as per our creative rate card.” I shed some light.

“Good. Good. Is copyrighting costly?” he angled a different lure.

A bead of sweat trickled down on my nape, tickling me on its way. I shuddered.

“Seems like it’s costly after all. Poor clients. Jokes apart, which clients do you copyright?” asked Mr. Devkhude nonchalantly, extracting a brown stained blanket from his bag.

How can someone even think of drawing a blanket in a crammed bus that’s charring living organisms at 48° Celsius and with humidity touching almost 80%?! It was like watching a nudist colony in Greenland!

I felt a little tug in my throat, as I gasped for more oxygen.

“Mr. Vikrant? Don’t feel embarrassed. I can understand that overwhelming someone with numbers, who deals with 6 clients across 4 states, can be really difficult. But don’t worry; have I put you into any kind of awkward situation up till now?”

I fainted.

When I regained consciousness, he echoed, “Have I put you into any kind of awkward situation up till now?” he probed.

My brows felt like a weight-lifter’s bar-bell. It kept drooping. I tore into the leather seat and gulped a chunk of withered foam to stay attentive.

He looked at my antics but was hardly amazed. Offering me 2-3 cracked betel nuts from his pocket, he reconfirmed, “Have I?”

My mind ordered to say, ‘Kiss My Arse!!!’ and own up the consequences but my tongue twisted at the last moment and I blurted out, ‘No.’!

Mr. Devkhude blessed me with his divine grin. I grinned too. But, not in reciprocation, but for the fact, that this time I was stealthily tearing-off a piece of his blanket. The ragged, shapeless creature was as stubborn as its master. But then, I didn’t relent. At last it surrendered to my grit, and in one quick action I placed the piece behind my tongue.

“So, Mr. Vikrant? Which ads have you copyrighted?” Mr. Devkhude was perplexed to see a part of the blanket being torn-off.

“Sanjog Mitra Mandal, Sujal Kala Mandir, Keshav Natya Griha…” I crushed the words through my clenched teeth.

“AH!!! I knew it! From the moment I saw you I knew I have you seen somewhere, haven’t I?” he exclaimed (47^th question).

Oh God!!!

“You are Mrs. Desai’s neighbour, aren’t you?” ‘Eureka moment’ for Mr. Devkhude.

“Who?” I felt my teeth melt in my mouth.

“The fat man in the last seat!” Mr. Devkhude tried to crack me up with his jocular nature. “Who what who? Of course, you! Aren’t you Mrs. Desai’s neighbour?”

“No. I’m not. And, I don’t know her.” I retorted.

“That’s strange! Okay… What were you saying?” he removed an air pillow.

I was lost. My ears started sagging. Trying to remember what we were talking about before he came up with ‘Mrs. Da Cunha thing’, I raised my eyebrow.

Mistaking my ‘lost state’ for ‘being intrigued’, he held the pillow with one hand, and pinching its valve with the other he reasoned, “This? Whenever I travel, I like to be prepared...” he started blowing air in the hapless pillow, spewing almost a litre of saliva in the process. He continued, “You never know where your journey might take you. I have another one. Do you want it?”

My stomach pulled hard. It started churning, and just when it was about to erupt, I said almost reflexively, “No.”

“Sho? How mush dush missesh deshaii sharge?” he asked in between bloating his air pillow.

“Whaa…?”

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you? I asked ‘how much does Mrs. Desai charge for copyrighting?’” he returned to blowing air into his pillow.

“Mrs. Desai? I am a copywriter. Mrs. Desai isn’t.” I retorted.

“Oops... Sorry! Give me a moment. I’ll answer your question.” Mr. Devkhude started punching the pillow.

Suddenly, fluorescent rays tore its way through the roof of the bus, and engulfed me in its gentle hug.

The bus cleaner reared his head, and oinked, “The bus will halt for only 20 minutes. Eat food. Drink water. Go to Su… But, 20 minutes only. Those who don’t come back will be not entertained.”

“Strange. Who will ever want to step out in this eerie place…?” inquired Mr. Devkhude flaring his nostrils.

Before he had finished, I almost jumped half way out on the aisle, squeezing through the strait between Mr. Devkhude’s laps and the reclined seat of the passenger in front.

I dashed for the exit without looking behind. I vaguely remember seeing my neighbour joining the snoring herd almost instantly.

Once out, I could feel the fresh air being sucked-in by my lungs (my nose donning the motor’s role). I removed my pack of cigarettes, lit one and pulled at it really hard (how my lungs yearned for it?). As I let the smoke out, I could see the dense smoke vanish into the breeze. As if even the breeze craved for a shot of nicotine. Er.. Whatever...

As I stood there alone, enjoying my first smoke in hours, I saw a shadow lurking just behind me. Seemed like someone with a hooded overcoat. It kept growing on me…

I felt a little twitch in my fingers. As I prepared to take my ‘eagle stance’, I planted my left feet firmly in the ground and suspended my right leg for the ‘unsuspecting swing’.

The shadow crept closer. Pulling hard at the cigarette butt one-last-time, I swung and…

SWISH! WHACK!!! CRUNCH!!! AAAAAH!!!

I turned around, swung a cross-handed ‘eagle claw’ and pinched a chunk of ragged, brittle flesh from my attacker’s stomach, in one quick action.

AAAAH!!!

It was a fatal attack. My reflexes told me that not to be complacent. The attacker might still make one last effort. So, I stood firmly, prepared!

HAHAHAHA!!!!

The roar of laughter shook me off-balance. Something seemed amiss. I stared at the chunk of flesh that I supposedly tore off from my assaulter’s stomach. It was a piece of a BLANKET!!!

Still in my attacking stance, I was bolted by reality.

“Hahaha… Good try. Very quick! Just like Bruce Lee?!” howled Mr. Devkhude.

I looked around. No one from the bus had ventured out. The highway was secluded.

This is it! It had to be!

As Mr. Devil swung his head back and laughed ruthlessly, I aimed for his stomach with my head. He folded into 2 pieces and slumped on the ground.

I quickly changed my attacking style, lest I leave any trace of my unique ‘eagle claws’ Kung-Fu.

I wrapped him in his own blanket (noting down that I will require a launderette after my nasty little execution).

Pulled him along with me behind a large banyan tree, tied him up with the low-hanging roots.

“GAW! LEB BE OO!!! LEB BE OO!!” gagged the devil.

What next? My heart raced at 300 mph. My eyes searched for something, but I didn’t know where, what to search for.

I chuckled, as the situation reminded me of one of our client presentations, where we went presenting a campaign not too long ago. The client mulled over the heap of creative layouts, reading the copy alphabet-by-alphabet, ran his fingers over each illustration, scratched his chin, and then he adjudged, “You are close. These are fine pieces of art. Lovely campaign. Fantastic synergy. Amazing insights… But to be really honest, I do not know what I am looking for. Can you come up with another set of ads? Not that these are bad. They are superb. But, maybe I’ll find what I want from your next set of ads. Take your time. Today, being Friday… Hmm… How about Saturday 10.00 a.m. your office? That’s like good 14 hours from now. Should be enough for you bunch of creative Einsteins”!

“GAW!!! PLEAB LEB BE OO!!!” brought me back to the present.

RELAX. RELAX. I tried to calm my senses. How I wished there was a hammock in the vicinity. Just like they have on the beach front in Goa! I mean, c'mon! Indulgence is always welcomed. Not wasting any more time, I quickly sat on the ground and started doing some deep breathing.

“HELB! HELB!!!” I strained my ears, and being a master at listening, I instantly knew, the devil was saying something else, although not sure what.

I wasn’t able to calm down. Instead, my breathing became heavier as seconds went by. I gave up after my second repetition of the Anulom Vilom.

I sprang back on my feet, and started running in circles, watching everything that came in my sight, quickly analysing its usage. Stones, plastic plates, bottles, condoms, leaves, twigs, polythene bags, earthworms, spoons, belts, dead crow, rats, cigarette butts (one of them was still burning, surely it was mine; I smiled), tobacco sachets, hair clips, a log of wood, some papers, Economic Times (it carried one of our ads for India’s largest banks) – my head was feeling heavy, as if I’ve had 4 straight back-to-back tequila shots. But I didn’t want to give up, when I knew I was close… RIGHT!!! The log of wood!!! I promptly calculated the risks of using the log of wood. NIL!!! That’s it!!!

I started searching for the log of wood I saw a moment back.

Damn!!! Where did it go? It was right here… Poltergeist? No! Amnesia? No can’t be. I remembered my watchman’s name. So, where was I?

.

.

.

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.

.

.

.

.

.

Oh yes! The log of wood! (See? I told you.) And, as a sword would come flying into Rajni Sir’s hand out of nowhere, I saw the log!
Picking up the log I got into action. I started hitting valiantly the devil trapped in the blanket.

After about 76 heart-warming whacks, the devil in me had left me.

I slumped on the ground. Regaining my consciousness, I watched the colossal figure lying still.

I felt sweat streams rolling from behind my ears. What have I got myself into?

Fearing the worse, I tried tilting the figure wrapped in the blanket. It was too heavy. Or maybe my feet had gone numb.

Oh God!!!

Kneeling near the ragged creature, I tried to roll it over with my hands.

Even my hands refused to cooperate. They lay motionless beside me. I struggled to move, but somehow I couldn’t.

Suddenly, my ears stuck up listening to the ruffling sound of the leaves.

I turned back to see the CLEANER. HE WAS HEADING TOWARDS ME!!!

Fear clasped at my throat. Perspiring profusely, I thought to myself. ‘Dude, either you think up of something really fast or else you’ll be beaten to pulp by the world. No one is going to believe your ‘ghost story’.’

I started rocking the upper part of my body, just the way as I used to recite my poetries in my school days. What? What? What?

Fast. Fast. Fast.

The cleaner was perhaps a few feet away.

Think up. Think up. Think up…

Okay! How about shouting ‘murder, murder’ myself, as if even I discovered the body just now? Rubbish!

What if I tell the cleaner that this rag is some deity, and I was just saying my prayers, why don’t you pray as well? If the gods would hear this alibi, I’ll surely be left with only 2 hands. Next idea!

“DEAD!!!”

In the devil’s name! Am I hearing it right! That the cleaner could analyse the situation so fast took me and my brains by surprise.

I still had some time to think up of something.

YES!!! That’s right!

Pretending to be dead, I quickly lied down next to the figure and closed my eyes.

No sooner did I lie down, the cleaner came up and started screaming “DEAD! DEAD!”

I didn’t move a bit (Okay! I shifted my right hand below my head. But I couldn’t help it; the ground was hurting me.)

“DEAD DEAD!” cried the cleaner, relentlessly.

I slowly lifted two of my eyelashes to see what the cleaner was up to.

Goodness Gracious!!! He was staring at me and screaming “DEAD”!

If the cleaner’s staring at me wasn’t enough, Mr. Devkhude sneaked his hands from behind the blanket and shook me, joining the cleaner, “DEAD”!

Game over! I slowly opened my eyes to watch the cleaner looking at me, still screaming “DEAD”!

I looked around, still perspiring from the ghastly execution, and the sheer fear of the cleaner spilling the beans in the bus.

HOLY HOLLY!!! My bladder almost burst, and I leaked in my pants. (Of course not!)

Mr. Devkhude psyched me out with his lunatic, retard smile.

And in clear voice he enquired “Mr. Vikrant? Don’t you want to get down? It’s Nanded”.

Lying motionless on my seat, I opened my eyes (and raised my ear pinnas) to grasp the situation.

IT WAS A DREAM!!! Phew!

Mr. Devkhude said “We have arrived at Nanded, you wanted to get down here right?”

“Yes”, I replied and quickly prepared to leave.

I thanked Mr. Devkhude and the cleaner before exiting the bus. Both were courteous enough to wave a goodbye.

I waved back.

The sun peeped through the cleavage of the far away mountains. The excited birds disturbed the early morning silence with their indiscreet chirping. The chill in the breeze raised a hair or two on my bare forearms and my nape. The air was a mild composition of smoke that rose from a nearby earthen stove and the sweet, fresh aroma of the soil awakening my olfaction.

Time for a good, relaxed cigarette.

I stretched a bit, swung my bag on the left shoulder and squinted for a tea stall, even as I started to fish for my cigarette pack with my right hand.

Just when I was about to insert my hand in the pockets, I felt a creepy, little thing in between my forefinger and second finger.

I casually jerked my hand.

WHAT THE F…???

The creepy, little thing was nothing else but A PIECE OF BLANKET…

Copywriter’s Nasalmare

Day: Monday. Time: 09:15 a.m.

Location: Somewhere between Khar Road and Bandra on a Churchgate Bound Virar Fast Locomotive.

What a way to begin my day!

As I thought of the 2 Tomcats grring for a piece of kingfish bone just outside my bedroom window waking me up, my mind went dizzy. For a moment I forgot where I was, what I was doing, where I was heading, where I came from, which planet I belonged to... Okay sorry, just got carried away!

Remember, I was travelling by a fast train. The air was already held hostage by the briny, damp smell secreted from the millions of pulsating sweat glands. With many a feet jostling for space, the dribbling on the obstructed-to-the-eye metal flooring would give even Iniesta a run for his money. My feet didn't seem mine, nor did my hands. 2 alien hands entwined around my head; the individual tributaries of sweat on the 2 hands met at their respective elbows and then converged with the stream on my forehead.

Unknown elbows poked; generous bellies gonged; knee caps flapped as cymbals; hair tickled left, right and centre...

The compartment was crammed – just the way bhel-puri wallas of yesteryears served bhel-puri that oozed out of the paper cone, which coerced the eater to cup the cone's edge with the idle hand.

The people at the entrance stood as nasty, mean bouncers disallowing the breeze inside.

Yet, it sneaked. Sneaked through someone's alimentary canal, pierced through the fabric, dispersed once out in the open, bobbed for a while, dipped and swooped and looped in figures of eight before darting upwards at the very first opportunity. BOOM!

Once above the black, grey, white, silver, balding sea of hair, the ball of gas burst, heading straight for the unsuspecting, innocent nostrils.

I wanted to COL (cry out loud), ‘Watch out people, TEAR GAS!!!’ but my guts didn’t dare. (Lest I swallowed it through my mouth.)

The strength of the subdued expression brought a tear in my eye. Through the blurry vision I tried to gauge other people's reaction. I saw statue people posing a la Danny Zuko from ‘Grease’!

I rolled my eyes, searching for my hands without moving my head (I couldn’t move my head). I traced my left hand splashed across the face of a man standing 3 people away from me.

Gotcha! But being a dextral, it was my right hand that I sorely missed.

I found it loitering behind me. Actually, it had undertaken the role of an obedient hanger, which helped a lazy man hang his bag onto. Well, I didn’t blame him. I blamed my hand for being so insensitive towards me. ‘Suffer, you idiot,’ I spewed!

But my anger was of no use. I needed my right hand; and that too desperately. I vowed to teach my right hand a lesson in ‘sensitivity’ later.

I needed my right hand to remove the handkerchief from my jeans pocket.

With flaring nostrils, I decided to wait patiently till the next station arrived to free my hand from the hanger-obligation and remove the handkerchief from my pocket. Till then I chose to dig my nose in the armpits of the man standing in front of me to gain some solace from the unrelenting fumes.

“Attention Passengers!” blurted out the rusted, cob-webbed intercom. “Due to some technical lax, this train won’t stop at Bandra station,” it announced in a hoarse voice.

Oh God!

“Inconvenience is regretted,” came in as an almost after-thought.

REGRETTED?! That’s it?!

I apologised to the man standing in front of me for taking the liberty of sheltering under his armpits by blinking my eyes twice. He forgave me without even looking at me. I thanked him by blinking my eyes once. He ignored.

No relief for the next 10 minutes.

So, I settled upon guessing the source of discharge in the crammed compartment. Who could it be?

But first, I had to determine the character of the BOOM!

During my college days, I (like most other single students) used to frequent the library in search of my double. During one of these naïve expeditions, I happened to lay my hands on a dusty, draggy-looking book.

When one of my crushes saw this book in my hand, she raced to the nearest lavatory for God-knows-what. People told me later, her eruption was too impatient to wait till the sight of a wash basin. Poor girl. Not my fault, though.

Nevertheless, the hand-made paper-cover read: F.ART (The Art in Fart) – Zodiac Signs, Smells & Sounds!

I strained my brain to remember the text from the quickie reference book. (‘Funny, yet amusing at the same time, that someone had the time and nose to analyse people’s BOOMS’ was my first thought!) Slyly, I got to work, dissecting each signs to find out THIS BOOM’S ORIGIN.

Aries: Aggressive

Element: Fire

Vibration: Enthusiastic

Life Pursuit: Thrill of the moment

Sign: Aries Booms are usually Outgoing, Spontaneous and Funny (Haha)! They are impulsive; they would rather be ‘doers’ than just be ‘passive disposables’. For the ‘kick of it’ experience, most often, you would find an Aries Boom in highly serious environs: Annual General Meetings, Client Presentations, Meals with the in-laws, etc.

Sound: An Aries Boom can go on for hours and hours; one, to prove their supremacy, and two, the need to be ‘Right’. So, whenever you hear prolonged out-of-the-box rhythmic rumbles, smile to yourself to have cracked the source.

Smell: With ‘Fire’ as its element, it makes an Aries Boom fiery and nostril-hair burners. Regardless of the surrounding, a typical Aries Boom will, predominantly, smell musty.

Taurus: Tramp

Element: Earth

Vibration: Energetic

Life Pursuit: Stability

Sign: Taurus Booms are usually lazy, and contaminate the environs at their own leisurely pace. The effects run deeper than anyone around can guess. Being an earth sign, Taurus Booms are generally found closer to the ground – and manage to discreetly stay away from the crowd: deserted gardens, isolated bus stops, etc. are their grazing lands.

Sound: Stubborn. Annoying. Taurus Booms grow on you. They sound like a herd approaching towards you with full energy, squashing (muting) every other sound in its way. A pounding Taurus Boom will reverberate through your ears till you hear nothing else.

Smell: It’s steady and stable. The stale stench will transport you to a cattle shed, almost instantly. Look (smell) for the decomposing smell of dry grass.

Gemini: The Twins

Element: Air

Vibration: Intense

Life Pursuit: To explore a little bit of everything

Sign: Gemini Booms, also referred to as ‘Twin Booms’ or ‘Double Barrel’, are very good at confusing even heat-sensitive-inhalers. Being vulnerable, Gemini Booms get offended easily – any hindrance and they’ll withdraw themselves in their imaginary shells. They love the adventure of out-thinking people.

Sound: Very loud. Outgoing. Due to these traits, believe it or not, Gemini Booms are usually ‘being talked about’. Soothing at times, a Gemini Boom will find its way to express its short, unhindered alternating hum. (Imagine a double-barrel in action.)

Smell: Strong. Generous. Irresistible. A Gemini Boom will surely knock you down. There are times, when they may smell mysterious and are often unappreciated. However, with ‘Air’ as its element, there is no place on earth that a Gemini Boom can’t (or won’t) reach.

Cancer: The Beauty

Element: Water

Vibration: Moody

Life Pursuit: Constant reassurance and intimacy

Sign: Highly appealing, Cancer Booms are often found in the comfort of close relatives or friends. They are extremely random and ultimate freaky. It is fair to say that most Cancer Booms are a bundle of contradictions – hard and insensitive on the outside, but soft and sensitive on the inside.

Sound: Just like the various changes of its ruler: Moon, Cancer Booms go through various ups and downs like the proverbial yo-yo. This makes them distinct – the tiny squeaks may almost sound like breaking vocals of a teenager.

Smell: Fascinating. Mysterious. Stimulating. Cancer Booms have a distinct briny, sandy smell.

Leo: The Lion

Element: Fire

Vibration: Radiant energy

Life Pursuit: To be a star

Sign: Leo Booms are fortunate, as they can survive even stormy times with force and grit (interesting, isn’t it?). There are 3 levels to a Leo Boom: one that is wise; second that is ruled by ego; and third, where it is immature.

Sound: Leo Booms always feel the need to be ‘the centre of attraction’; hence usually they are very loud, and full of themselves. Roaring. At times, they can be predictable and tend to be monotonous.

Smell: Leo Booms tend to smell rancid to the nostrils.

Virgo: The one that waits

Element: Earth

Vibration: Compassionate

Life Pursuit: To do everything perfectly

Sign: Dominant. Pleasing. Often, a Virgo Boom, shy in nature, will happily allow other Booms to take centre-stage. Like rare and special orchids, Virgo Booms require individual attention to fully blossom into their true unique beauty. They are often ignored as being fussy, but when a Virgo Boom blooms, there is practically no other Boom to match.

Sound: A Perfect Operetta! Virgo Booms are subdued, sensitive and structured of all Booms. Patient, well-rehearsed and near-perfection is what a Virgo Boom sounds like. An in-tune Virgo dum-dum is a treat to the ears.

Smell: Deep and reflective. Understanding human frailties better than most, Virgo Booms are most caring and sensitive. No matter how many people turn a shielded nose on them; they will still maintain faith in other nostrils. The general texture of a Virgo Boom is sweaty.

Screeeeeeeeeech!!!

No, it is not what you think. Or maybe it is.

The train came to a grinding halt at Mahim station. It was a welcome sight for the people who were stranded on the platform waiting for the slow train to arrive; honing their skills of patience.

Some gawked at our precarious situation – fast trains do not stop between Bandra and Dadar, skipping 2 insignificant stations in between, one of them being Mahim.

Some pretended to be disinterested; but slyly peered through the maze at the door of our compartment to seek a tiny gap, which they can fit into. The daring, itchy amongst them gave-in to the temptation and almost made a start at the waiting train.

But just then, our train lazily tugged ahead on the tracks obediently, discouraging a whole lot of them.

The already suffocating air in the compartment was thumped mercilessly by the carbon dioxide from the collective sighs, completely compromising the equilibrium.

Guess where my upper appendages were; still there, where they were earlier.

(Did you notice the number of ‘e’s’ in the previous sentence? Don’t count them now. It just shows how observant you are. Humph!)

Back to the Boom autopsy!

Libra: The Uncomplicated

Element: Air

Vibration: Unsteady

Life Pursuit: To be consistent

Sign: Charming. Uncomplicated. Libra Booms have their own unique appeal (appeal?). They can switch-off from the world at a moment’s notice, but during these dormant periods, there is much more that occurs on the innermost levels than anyone can imagine (WoooH!).

Sound: False starts. Most often, Libra Booms stutter to life. So, whenever you hear a motorcycle coming to life without being in sight, cover your nose. You know whom to point your finger at.

Smell: Libra Booms can be really creative; they can slip into role-playing effortlessly (now that’s being creative), and often this makes them highly successful in passing-off as a different Boom. (But remember, the stuttering sound will cede the spilt beans.) The general texture is steely.

Scorpio: The addict

Element: Water

Vibration: Resilient

Life Pursuit: To survive against all opposition

Sign: Reputed to be the ‘most powerful’ among the other Booms, Scorpio Booms operate on 3 distinct levels (have to be extra careful with these ones).

The first is the Scorpion, inclined towards stinging the noses the wrong way; next is the Eagle, the one that rises above adversities (waistlines?). And the extremely powerful Phoenix Resurrected; they are an inspiration to others.

Sound: Passionate and powerful. Scorpio Booms are distinct from other Booms, and love to groove to a different beat. A Scorpio drumming is more like a storm brewing.

Smell: They often blaze fiery spanks that words can never express. Fathoming a Scorpio Boom’s depth and sensitivity isn’t easy. It is so piercing, that without a warning it can force a tear in your eye (peekaboo!). Generally, it’s acrid to the nasal faculty.

Sagittarian: The promiscuous one

Element: Fire

Vibration: Overly expressive

Life Pursuit: To make a difference

Sign: One of the most optimistic and generous Booms of all the signs, a Sagittarius Boom possesses natural exuberance, adventurism and love for freedom. In accordance with its symbol – The Archer – Sagittarius Booms are renowned for aiming straight for their targets (kewl!).

Sound: Just like a nightingale would swoon to the midnight all by itself, , invariably, you’ll find a Sagittarius Boom whistling in private. True to its symbol of a Centaur, these Booms are a mixed bag of half-stomping and half-stamping sounds.

Smell: If someday you get a whiff of an extravagant composition of mud, fresh manure and hay, be assured that you’ve been blessed with a Sagittarius Boom.

Capricorn: The Competitive

Element: Earth

Vibration: Powerful

Life Pursuit: To be admired

Sign: A Capricorn Boom either has the urge to ascend or be comfortable polluting its immediate surroundings. These Booms are thorough fighters; that’s why even when the chips are down (read: the metabolic processes) a true-bred Capricorn Boom will venture out and try to reach as many nostrils as possible.

Sound: Conservative. A Capricorn Boom is cautious before coming out in the open, but once they feel ‘safe’ and comfortable, the trumpeting is irresistible.

Smell: Patient and persistent. A typical Capricorn Boom begins with a faint gust of putridness. But will gradually rise into a full-blown storm before anyone can realise.

Aquarius: The Non-conformist

Element: Air

Vibration: High frequency

Life Pursuit: To be unique and original

Sign: A Boom like no other. Unique, original and unpredictable, an Aquarius Boom – ruled by the innovative Uranus – often is able to exceed expectations. Strong-willed and extremely hard-working, these Booms are objective in judging the environment, and then breaking free.

Sound: Innovative in nature, an Aquarius Boom tick-tocks its way in the air (just like a time bomb); marching not only to a different drum, but also creating a new tune as they move along.

Smell: Muddy. Earthy. An Aquarius Boom surely smells different from other Booms. Some people find it messy and unorganised, but usually it is this unpredictability that makes them special.

Pisces: The Fantasiser

Element: Water

Vibration: Erratic energy levels

Life Pursuit: To avoid feeling alone

Sign: Symbolised by two fish, one heading upward and another heading downward, a Piscean Boom is a ‘Saint and Sinner’ rolled into one. They are incredibly adaptable, but most often are found to be taken for granted or taken advantage of (usual bunnies for Libra Booms).

Sound: Being one of the most silent Booms, a Piscean Boom is extremely gifted and popular when it comes to sound. Mysterious. Alluring. It fantasises to ‘sound right’, but more often than not it gurgles out in the open. An ‘out of tune’ Piscean Boom sounds depressed and confused.

Smell: However overwhelmingly fishy they may smell, but for Piscean Booms, they are pleasing and sweet for the nostrils. More than over-confidence, it is the ‘living-in-their-fantasy-land’ syndrome that makes them see things as they want to see it, rather than what it really is.

Alright then! Now that I cracked (in your company) the character of the inhumane act, all that remained was to guess the source. Who could it be?

2 hairs voluntarily stuck out like antennas on either side of my temple.

But before I could start my blurry-eyed, antenna-oriented navigation, I realised the train was slowing down. Black, oily tresses obstructed my view of the outside world, so I guessed we were approaching Dadar station. I tried to cross the fingers on my left hand (that was splashed across the man’s face standing 3 people away), but something went wrong and my fingers SNAPPED!!! The sudden jerk woke him up. Good for him.

People started grooving to an imaginary piece of sonata. Some trudged ahead, some leaned backward, some slanted sideways, some somersaulted… It was almost like rockers waiting to be ushered in for a ‘Metallica Show’.

Being at the dead-centre of the compartment, I felt like the ‘centre of gravity’. The pressure was immense; I had to judge the culprit of the holocaust, and that too before he/she sneaks out unharmed.

As the station drew closer, the grooving turned into a mosh-pit. Damn me and this crowd! Everyone shoved everyone (missed those one-hand-distance space during school times). Everyone kicked and punched and shouldered furiously to either retain their space or to seize newer grounds.

The train tugged ahead. The man behind me removed his bag, releasing my right hand of the hanger-obligation. I vowed to teach this man a lesson on ‘gentleman etiquettes’ some other day. But, was it too late?

I frantically started scanning and glancing over whoever’s face I could see to search and nail the culprit. But, was it too late, even here?

As a Voice of God would proclaim ‘Fire, Fire’, the rusted, cob-webbed intercom announced ‘Dadar, Dadar’, and everyone started to jump out of the train before it could enter the station. I tried to COL, ‘Calm down people, God is with us’! But, everyone ignored me, and shoved me aside, just like they would do to a ragged-looking beggar begging for alms. In all this chaos, a desperate soul (hand) tried to grope me at my butts.

Enough!

I twisted at my waist to knock down the desperate, ugly, horny creature, but all I ended up doing was to protrude my modesty further! Holy Poly! I heard a naughty chuckle around my ears. I immediately straightened up and gave-up on imparting discourses!

Nearly 2,134 souls alighted at Dadar station. You can imagine the space and peace post release. Suddenly, there was a lull.

My wrinkle-free shirt resembled a 113 years old woman’s face. And the shirt buttons had shifted under my armpits. I tried to iron the shirt with my open palms. But even before I could straighten my palms, a sudden surge of crowd thronged the compartment. Just like hippies would pour onto a virgin beach.

The little bit of air in the compartment choked on carbon dioxide. Unknown elbows poked; generous bellies gonged; knee caps flapped as cymbals; hair tickled left, right and centre...

A new group of people stood at the entrance as nasty, mean bouncers disallowing the breeze inside.

And then, an irresistible trumpeting reverberated throughout the compartment. A faint gust of putridness rose above the black, grey, white, silver, balding sea of hair. Patiently and persistently, it rose into a full-blown storm before anyone could realise.

Suddenly, everyone’s mind went dizzy...

Copywriter’s Fear

…And, they continued chasing me like wild hounds.

I rushed past the rusted post; the cranked up hinges aided the rain drops glide till they reached the pit below.

I continued to climb the staircase; gobbling almost 3 steps at a time. Mr. Singh, our physical trainer at school, would have taken so much pride in me, if he had seen me today.

But right now, it didn’t matter how high I could leap, but how fast I could run. My thoughts were way ahead of me – at least, 3 laps on an average Olympian running track.

The hurried footsteps behind me persisted.

What amazed me was the niggling fact that everyone around me was oblivion to such a heinous, dramatic (daylight) chase! Didn’t they find it really strange or were they acting under pretence?

Whatever it was, I knew one thing: I CAN’T STOP!!!

The tapping sounds of the footsteps kept growing on me.

Who was it? Why would anyone chase me? And that too so intently!

My mind rushed back in time. Series of flashbacks came trotting. Nothing significant had happened in recent past to evoke such a chase.

Days. Weeks. Months. Years.

Years. Yes, Years. Close to 10 years back, I had gifted some envious pasting to one of the most notorious guys in college. Nizam. Known for all the wrong reasons, no one dared to rebel against this dainty, yet imposing personality. His mind was his strength. Quick reflexes and swift actions were his weapons.

So, Nizam it was after all. But again, why would Nizam chase me after all these years? And that too, not alone but with 4-5 other guys along! Knowing him for years, I knew one thing for sure that Nizam was too egoistic. He would never take help from any of his aides, who stood alert all the time for his instructions. Had he swallowed all his pride just to take help from his troop to thrash the day out of an unthreatening guy that I had become?

10 feet away from me, I could hear the footsteps growing louder.

My mind kept searching for reasons as to why would Nizam and his little army stage an ambush on me. But my mind kept failing.

And so was my stamina. I could feel my blood thrusting through my heart; lungs gasping for air. I had to stop or my lungs would puncture.

But I couldn’t.

The thought of being embarrassed in front of a full-house audience was too miserable a feeling. And that too at this age, and at this hour of the day. No way, I concluded. It mustn't be Nizam after all. Then who was it?

Anna?! That’s right. Maybe it was Shekhar Anna – the gorilla of college.

Shekhar Shetty was a huge man. Bricks for muscles, tree trunks for thighs and jackfruit for a face. Strong as a rock and dark as coal, he wasn’t called ‘Kala Phatthar’ for nothing! Elections. Paper Leaks. Attendance. Passing… You name it and Anna did it (of course for money). The only thing Anna couldn’t do was watch his baby sister being hurt. Shreya.

Shreya Shetty was a bright student, but like all young girls, even she had a weakness: ME (unfortunately)! After a lot of coaxing I had explained it to her that I wasn’t meant for her. (Swallowing my ego) I even told her, “You deserve someone better". But, she was as stubborn as her big brother, maybe even more.

Letters. Roses. Gifts. More letters. More roses. And many more gifts. All said one thing: I’ll suicide if you don’t love me back!

She didn’t leave any stone unturned. She followed me everywhere. College. Classes. Clubs. Even dingy bars. It sent shivers up my spine. Finally, I thought to myself: ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!!!

Next day, I complained to Anna, who was in a good mood (I thanked my stars) as his candidate had won the college elections. (Of course, there were no elections.)

He heard me patiently and promised that he would make his sister understand the reality; and more importantly, not to hurt me!

Then why was he chasing me now? Had he broken his promise? Had he succumbed to his sister’s emotional desires? Had he forgotten his own principle of keeping one’s word?

The footsteps grew closer.

8. 7. 6. 5!!!

They were just 5 feet away from me. 5 more steps and I was doomed. My feet ached. My thighs had cramps all over. My lungs had shrunk to the size of peanuts. My nostrils flared up as wide as a tunnel. My throat dried up. Sweat had enveloped my entire body.

THAT’S IT!!! My mind and heart – which had stopped beating, well almost – gave up.

If I had to be thrashed into a pulp in front of a crowd of at least 70 people, then so be it. At least, I should face my assailants and retain some dignity. My mind was already imagining the crowd appreciating me: What a brave man? He got a damn neat pasting, but he faced them like a lion!

Bravo!!! Lion-heart!!! Even in that suffocating, uncomfortable moment, my chest filled with pride.

I stopped and turned back to face my fate! “COME ON ANNA!!! GET IT ON!!!” my pursed lips seemed to scream.

A slight breeze ruffled through my wet hair as the mob ran past me.

WHAT?!

My eyes and my mind were at the opposite banks of a river – they just didn’t seem to meet. Panting and gasping for air to refill my lungs, I stood there with my mouth wide open.

Hello? (Didn't feel like asking WHAT again.)

I ran like the champions of yesteryears just to see the mob, who gave me a fierce chase, run past me and ‘HOLY COW’ catch the train?!

I slumped onto the platform, still trying to come to terms with what had just happened. Shaky yet feeling lucky.

It was neither Nizam nor Anna! They were probably sleeping away to glory with flared nostrils in their beds.

And, here I was. Working up my imagination to a level, which most people refer to as ‘insanity’.

06.27 a.m. Churchgate bound fast local. It’s one of the most crowded trains early in the morning. Because the next fast local is good 20 minutes later, and the one prior to it is at 05.56 a.m. So most people preferred catching this train, which was neither too early nor too late.

I knew this.

But my mind overran this bit of information. It played a game with me.

A game that every human being’s mind starts playing in childhood.

It’s the game that the mind plays with you when you are least expecting it.

It’s the game of the unknown; of uncertainty. Unnerving. Unsettling.

It makes you see things that don’t exist. It makes you hear sounds that don’t exist.

The game called FEAR!!!