If it's the weekend, I'm probably not in Delhi

By popular (which in this case means an aunt) demand, I will be doing a reading in Hyderabad this weekend. So exciting!!

Here's the invite:

 

Details:

HYDERABAD!!

SATURDAY MAY 18!!

6 pm!!

Landmark Bookstore, Banjara Hills!!

I'll be in conversation with Kinnera Murthy who is with a bookclub with the coolest name: The Bindass Bakwaas Bookclub. Also, like Bangalore, I will be happy to give tips to aspiring writers or anyone who would like some life advice, really. Or you know, talk about my cat.

Drinks afterwards would also be very welcome.

Come?

The PRoblem with PR

Back when I first started to be a journalist, I entered with no preconceived notions in my head. To me, everyone was equal--from sub editors to reporters to page designers--and obviously the editor in chief was the head of it all, but the rest of us were all monkeys with typewriters. Before I joined my first job, I was given a little aptitude test (do they still do that?) where they make you fill out lots of pages about who you are and what you read and then line edit a story for mistakes and then you do a little essay about some random topic. Mine was "My Autobiography" and perhaps not surprising for someone who has basically been writing their memoirs online for like, OH TEN YEARS, I filled up some twenty pages. I have a lot to say about myself. It's a problem.

Anyway, so maybe if I hadn't been such a little enthu cutlet, the fate of my career path would have been completely different. They took one look at it--and my ill-informed views on the news page of the form I had to fill out--and shunted me straight into features or lifestyle reporting, where, now, a decade later, I still lurk, lurkingly. Being in lifestyle reporting is mostly just you and your colleagues thinking things like a trend story on fabrics are far more important issues than they actually are, but on the other hand, they are also the pages that are read the most. One other distinguishing thing about the lifestyle reporter is that you work very closely with PR people, far more closely than your bretheren in crime or sports, because the PR represents the people you want to talk to for your story.

Cat In A Hot AC Vent

Yesterday morning, I came back from Bangalore at 9.30 am. It had been a weekend of six am flights--some down time in Bangalore on Sunday--but mostly, hectic, hectic activity. The readings went well, there was press and I felt a bit like a conquering heroine, book four all laid out in my mind, anxious to get back to work.

Usually, TC waits for me by the door. A lot of people ask me what happens to the cat while I'm away. I've been lucky to have help who genuinely like him, I've seen them chat to him, stroke his head, and he, in turn, butts his head against them, and waits for them to come in through the door, his tail swishing. I do an experimental away-for-the-weekend trip, don't tell them when I'm coming back, and then check in on him later, to see if he's well fed and watered, and for the most part, all he needs is someone to top up his food and water (two bowls of water in the summer, placed in different parts of the house, if there's no one to keep giving him fresh water) and to have the occasional chat with. In this regard, I'm so much more suited to having a cat than a dog, cats are creatures of habit, he doesn't care so much who's home, as long as he has food, and shifting him to another place would mean two days of trauma. When I was in England, summer of 2010, I left him at home for two months, giving friends the key, and they reported back to me, "Yes, he's alive and happy."

ANYhow. So, yesterday, no sign of the cat. Sometimes he hides, so I did my usual on top of cupboards, underneath the beds, but didn't see him. I wasn't too worried, he's a master hider, I've been panicked before and he's just strolled out of some crevice or shadow in which he concealed himself for the last 12 hours. I should've called him Houdini.

If it's Sunday, it must be Bangalore

Time for more book tour related travel!

This time, I'm heading down South on Friday morning, to my fatherland on Friday, and Bangalore on Saturday. Here are some copies of the invites, please share WIDELY.

Cochin, FRIDAY, MAY 3!!

6 pm

Penguin Store, Bay Pride Mall, Marine Drive, Shanmugham Road, Ernakulam

I'm excited about this, because my father says it's one of the prettiest bookstores ever--it's right on the sea front with a huge glass window you can watch the ships through. So I really hope readers in Cochin will be able to join me.

BANGALORE, SATURDAY MAY 4

6.30 pm!!

Oxford Bookstores!!

1 MG Mall, Upper Ground Floor, 1/2 Swami Vivekananda Road!!

Opposite Taj Vivanta!!

Psyched about Bangalore also, because a) the Good Thing is going to be there so it'll be a book launch reunion (yay) and b) I've been looking forward to having a chat with Sumeet Shetty for a while--he runs the biggest corporate book club in the country, and yes, I didn't know 'corporate' and 'book club' could go together either, so I'm wondering what his secret was of getting shirts to read. Plus, in Bangalore, I'd love to go out for drinks or whatever after, if anyone is free. (Cochin, I'd offer you the same deal, but I need to go see my gran.)


In both cities, I'll be giving writing tips, so aspiring authors and shy owners of manuscripts, please come with any questions you might have and I'll do my best to answer them.

This is when I miss you

Notes to my sibling who could have been, but wasn't.

 I've spent my whole life justifying your absence. I make out that one is far better, far superior to two, and oh my god, don't get me started on three or four. Sure, it works for you, I say flippantly to my friends with sisters, friends with brothers. But think of all the advantages I had--my parents and I like a unit, the absence of you led to the three of us being a family very different from other people's families. I had pets---pets are better than you. I told myself stories on lonely afternoons---if you had been born, I never would have been a writer.

But maybe I would have told you stories. I can imagine you, you'd be younger, of course, even in my wildest imaginings, there's no room for an older sibling. You'd be younger, and you'd be a girl, and during our summer holidays, when it would be the period between lunch and Outside, as our parents napped, I'd make up stories for you. I'd pretend to be annoyed that you were always there, but I'd secretly sort of like it.

Three Great Camera Apps For Android: A Bad Photographer Blames Her Camera Phone

Let's face it, it's hard to be a camera phone owner when your camera phone is just okay, and everyone around you has these dazzling 8 MP cameras or iPhones which could make even snot look pretty with the right filter. I have a practical, budget Android--I've been an Android user for the last five years--and while they don't last well for years and years (slow processors, bad battery life and so on), they do have some pretty cool free stuff that you can use to make your pictures pop and be the envy of your iPhone-y friends. (Okay, not the envy. You try explaining to someone with an Apple product how your thing may be just as nice as their thing. It never works.) I have the Sony Xperia Tipo, a perfectly nice phone, on which I have three camera apps which I use to edit my stuff. I've tried out several, and these seem to me the best.

The Con Master: An Update

If you cast your eye gently to the right, you'll see my number one most read post is about Anirudh Aiyar, called Do You Know This Man? Since that post was written in 2010, I have received SO. MANY. EMAILS about him, basically telling me what he's been doing all over the place, that I thought it deserved a part two.

So, here's what happened since the last time we spoke about him  deceiving a friend of mine.

Somebody left the gate open, you know we got lost on the way

-->

(listen to the song as you're reading this post)

At 28, I found myself back in Delhi, minus one fiancé and a city I still loved. Now, nearly three years later, I look back at that person with a certain wonder. I can remember the heartbreak, the emotional exhaustion, but it seems as if it happened to someone else, in a different story entirely. That wasn't really me. 

I like to say Bombay is my spiritual home, but it was in Delhi that I began to find myself once more, Delhi that smoothed the edges, Delhi that lent itself to dates and more work than I could manage and a full-to-bustling social life, even as I complained about the city, missing Bombay with more passion than I ever missed my ex. And it was in a small annexe in Delhi, an upgraded servant's quarters, that I decided to stop waiting for The Future, and make it happen right now.

Things

Things that are free:

1) A vast portion of the internet, including Facebook, Twitter, blogs, THIS blog (yay), and if you look hard enough, television, books and movies.

2) Nice walks.

3) 5 pm music time.

4) Smells.

5) The joy of a good parking spot. The joy of holding hands with someone whose hands aren't sweaty or flabby or pulling you along. The joy of seeing a friend after a long time. The joy of having nothing to do on a Sunday. Joys.

6) Sadness is also free, but expensive in the long run.

Live blogging: a day in the life of a Coup

As promised yesterday, I'm going to be live blogging our entire work day. Some of you (and I hate you) are away for the long weekend, but others, like me, if traffic is anything to go by, are on their way to or at work today, and so, this is basically for you.

9.35 am: Cast of characters. Mansi (on the left) is the co-founder of Brown Paper Bag, here from Bombay for the launch of this thing. She's very small with a very big personality. Kakul is a recent hire here in Delhi, fresh from advertising, and she is very hipster, adding to my movie collection each week with indie films. Note: we all have Macbooks. I don't know what this says about us.

9.38 am: I've just finished my second mango of the season. We're tossing about things like 'One Coup Card to rule them all'. Not it for the role of a Hobbit. Or Gollum for that matter.

9.43 am: Picasa is proving problematic. It's still one of my favourite photo editors, specially for adding text to images, but the save-a-version doesn't automatically come up in your photo album. On the other hand, the nice thing about everyone having the same laptop is that it makes troubleshooting quite easy.

9.46 am: Mansi made these little promotional banners:

and

9.48 am: Text by Kanika Parab, the other founder, who is sitting in Bombay far away from all the fun. Her Twitter feed is great though, teeny tiny short stories.

9.53 am: Testing the landing page. Look how pretty!

9.56 am: We're in Mansi's cousin's room. It's full of photo collages and stuffed animals. I feel about 80 years old now.

10.03 am: Do you know how hard it is to read and write about food constantly when you haven't had breakfast yet?  POOR OLD ME.

10.09 am: I've just been offered breakfast, thanks to that last update. Wow. Effective.

10.14 am: Kakul tells me sadly that she's from marketing, not advertising. "There's a WORLD of difference," she claims.

10.17 am: I had to Google 'how to calculate a discount'. I KNEW maths classes torturing me all through school were a complete mistake.

10.27 am: WHY IS NO ONE AWAKE YET? It's a THURSDAY.

10.30 am: So, one of the spaces we picked is this awesome underground bar (I know you know where I mean, and if you don't, well, the easiest solution is really to get on board with the card) (Not-so-subtle plug) and it's BEAUTIFUL, always smells like cinnamon and with a very cool way of getting in. But, they had a problem with being mentioned anywhere on the Coup Card literature because, well, they wanted to be a little bit secret still, despite all the reviews everywhere. That was tricky. We're just adding them as a "secret spot".  (I'm pretty much there at least twice a month, and it would be more, except the red wine is all imported and so my bill turns out quite large, and ta-dah, here's another Plug.) (But if anything gets me to drive 15 km from Nizamuddin just for a drink, you know it's good.)

10.43 am: Another place we decided on was Carnatic Cafe. Have you been? They have pretty much the best dosas I've had in the city. Turns out the owner is an anthropologist, who did some work in villages before moving to Delhi. That doesn't have much to do with the dosas, but they play jazz music.

11.16 am: OH. MY. GOD we're almost ready to launch. This is thrilling. We're all on the edge of our chairs. If you want early bird access email coupATbpbweekendDOTcom

11.28 am: So excited I can't even eat my sandwich.

11.35 am: Another photo: This is my version.

 And Kakul's version:

  
11.37 am: ANDDDDD... WE'RE LIVE. From our Twitter feed:
15% off Delhi’s 20 top restaurants. Rs 1,200 for 6 months. 4 family members on a one card. Use in Mumbai for free: http://www.coupcard.in .

11.44 am: If you've bought one, say hi! 

12.22 pm: Hot debate on Twitter about our T&C regarding family members. You can add four people to a card, but to make sure you're not handing it out to pals, we decided to make the last name common. OBVS, this means some people, like my parents, will have to make a way around it, but ultimately, if you have any piece of paper proving you're related to these people (even a marriage license!) you can use the same card.

12.41 pm: The card is priced at Rs 1,200. You can use it on any size table. We're not letting you use it for your boyfriend/girlfriend, because we want to be able to afford it. Obviously anyone can exploit this with a common surname, but we're hoping you won't.

12.43 pm: TWENTY FIVE SALES!!

12.51 pm: GAH TECHNICAL THINGS. How I wish I could code a website.

1.09 pm: Holy jesus, how people are up in arms about last name thing. Scan a copy of your marriage license if you don't have the same last name, and we'll add your spouse. Scan a copy of your birth certificate and we'll add your parents. This is just the best way we could get around making it fool proof. And that's the last I'm saying on the subject.

1.17 pm: Goodness, one hundred sold already.

1.35 pm: DRA-HA-MA!! A competing Delhi website has launched their membership card today as well. We took a screen shot of the prices, you know, coz we're corporate espionage-y like that. (Click to see a bigger image.)

12.08 pm: We just ordered lunch from Asian Haus, which I l-o-v-e. (Also on the card.) My favourite things so far are the Hawker noodles and Cantonese chilli chicken, but the girls are vegetarian and so I try to quench my cravings with eggplant.

2.27 pm: Obviously so hungry that I made 2.08, 12.08, and then experienced a little moment of confusion where I looked at my post and thought, "Huh, they're taking a while."

3.34 pm: Post-lunch lull. We're all tired and sleepy but still super wired.

4.32 pm: Phone call! Heard from someone wanting to buy it. It reminds me of when I used to volunteer with this board exam middle-of-the-night helpline, telling students not to stress, except, um, not suicidal. And more exciting questions. Still, it's nice when your phone rings with a strange number and it's not Airtel.

4.58 pm: If you bring me coffee, I will love you forever. Promise.

4.59 pm: Places that serve awesome coffee on the card: Elma's & Cafe Turtle. I have most of my meetings and Sunday evening dessert cravings met at the Cafe Turtle in Nizamuddin East. AND Full Circle is giving us 10 per cent off books, which means you might not have to wait a day for Flipkart to deliver.

and

6.01 pm from Twitter: My live blog ends here, on twitter, with a hailstorm & black coffee. Can't get on blogger with my phone so here's where I say goodbye.

We had a good day. The live-blog was fun. Here's the website I've been talking about: www.coupcard.in.

And now back to our regular programming.

 

Something Other Than Writing

You know I rarely talk about my Real Job on here, it was a policy I started ages ago, back when I was with The Tabloid, and carried over with Indian Express, who objected to employees mentioning work stuff online, and then, I guess it became a habit. But, I'm going to blur the lines here a little bit, and actually bring up what I've been completely consumed with this last month: the bpb loyalty card, called the Coup Card, you buy it, you get 15 per cent off at Delhi's nicest places. (And I don't mean generic nice, I mean I've-actually-eaten-at-them-and-love-them nice.)

There I was all "Lalalalala, how hard can this be?" and there was the Universe, determined to prove exactly how hard it could be.

The Universe is quite a chutiya sometimes.

How to date a writer

You are in bed together, both of you reading, when she begins to read bits of a bad review online aloud to you. By the end of it, she has gorged on every comment, analysed what so-and-so might mean, wondered whether she will ever write the best book ever written.

You toss away a comment about writing and it being an ongoing process. She is up in arms, "You don't like my book?"  You carefully say--it is all about being careful in this moment--that you liked it, you loved it, but every book should represent a growth. She stomps in her bare feet and shorts into the dining room and lights a cigarette, yelling things about support and encouragement.

You talk her down from a ledge. By the end of it, she is excited about a new project, her usual self, telling you stories you've heard before about what a friend from Hong Kong said about her book, how someone else messaged her on Facebook.