Day 2 @ LA: 101 Hollywood for an Indian

Imagine this - a meeting with one of the most successful and powerful agents in the entertainment industry. And we are not talking about that accidental elevator trip. I am talking about a two hour meeting, set in one of the most fancy sleek conference rooms with a man who would be otherwise impossible to get for even two minutes.

That wasn’t a scene out of one of my scripts or a film I am recommending. This was the opportunity of a lifetime and one that I am privileged to have had thanks to Newhouse. More so thanks to a Syracuse alum who chose to provide a bunch of confused, starry eyed young aspiring media professionals with the most expensive and sought after thing: his time and his advice.

Day two started with a meeting with the Managing Partner of the Creative Artist’s Agency. Rob’s first piece of advice for us was something we all instantly jotted down onto our notebooks in that automatic instinct of student behaviour: “Information and knowledge is power”. Of course and how correct! Only a second later, after he narrated his personal experience to supplement this point did we realize that it was perhaps the most self-serving but ruthless way getting ahead. When Rob told us f how a tip shared by his friend while he worked in the mailroom of ICM, helped him bag that job, I was left wondering if hiding contacts and opportunities from fellow classmates was going to be more of a norm than a rarity come internship season. Going by the next thing Rob mentioned, “Life is not fair”, I guess it will be the norm.

In those two hours, we had an exclusive insight to the Rob Light “personal experience” lessons and added to that the understanding of how an agent works and why working at an agency is perhaps one of the smartest “first jobs” to start off with. Rob’s effort in personally putting together articles, quotes and a reading list of crucial books for our benefit not only impressed but overwhelmed me. True enough as faculty have mentioned, SU alums are always ready to give back and help mentor a fresh crop of Newhouse students. And making the best of it, I posed a question about the possibility of an international student with my work experience fitting into the financing area of films in an agency. Rob Light’s response was positive and I am following that up immediately when I am back in Syracuse with some research on present collaborations with Indian studios and companies in the entertainment business.

The rest of the day was spent almost entirely on the set of a show that I watched every afternoon back at home with my father and what unique cycles of the cosmos should this be! I was watching my favourite actors Patrick Warburton and Adhir Kalyan act on the set of the latest episode of the ‘Rules of Engagement’. I kept my eyes on the multi-cam set up throughout and learnt something new about blocking shots around a table, something I dealt with in my last project on campus. Later we spend time with Doug Robinson the producer of the show and once again an SU alum and this is the best part, Tom Hertz as well, the show’s creator and one of the writers of F R I E N D S. I held onto every thing Doug and Hertz said, be it that we must read as many scripts as we can everyday to the opinion that working as an assistant to a Producer or literary agent is much better than serving time as a Production Assistant (although I feel more confused about this and need this clarified). But what I valued most was Doug’s explanation of the differences between a Creative and Executive Producer and also how being close to the marketing side helps a Producer. Learning what I have from my last job as an Associate Producer, I could not agree more. This trip is beginning to make me realise that I should not shy away from learning more of the business aspect of the industry and development is something I want to do seriously but also make sure that I have a strength over my peers about the process of strategizing, negotiation and financing aspect of the creative projects. To quote Barney from yet another one of my favourite sitcoms ‘How I Met Your Mother’ this day according to me was “legendary”.

Day 1 @ LA: 101 Hollywood for an Indian

So winter break is technically over even though this is the last week before school starts. And yes, my Hawaii sojourn NEEDS to be chronicled for posterity but given the time crunch and the fact that I have begun my LA industry trip, I will be updating this space with my quick journals (mandatory course work btw) from each day's lectures, networking and other interesting tid-bits from Hollywood.

Before I begin, a quick update. I landed in Burbank yesterday after a painful parting from my sister and sunny Berley. 27 of us from the Television, Radio and Film program from Newhouse School are being put up in Beverly Garland in Burbank which is located in North Hollywood and on the "other side of the hill" as locals say .

In my dictionary (as updated from wikipedia of course) Burbank is interesting because it is referred to as the 'Media Capital of the World' what with significant production facilities of Warner Brothers, PBS, NBC Universal, Walt Disney and Cartoon Network. It's becoming tougher and tougher to weigh New York over LA with such trivia being discovered at every moment of this trip that I am paying for with precious 3 credits.

By the way, I learnt that 'wiki' is Hawaiian for 'fast' and the idea for this name struck the creator when he saw the wiki shuttle at the airport. Ta da!!

So this series of LA chronicles begins here and there will be four more to come. I promise I"ll try sprucing them up later. Write now my fingers are itching to simply type it out and hit the sack before my 7 am wake up call for our breakfast with CAA tomorrow. The no sorry THE Creative Artist's Agency!

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Day 1 of the LA industry Seminar started off with a note of encouragement: “We are in a great spot” and “being clueless is good”. Both statements came at time when my anxiety and anticipation of this trip were at its peak. Needless to say, it was a relief to understand that not only was it good to be at a phase where you are still putting together the pieces for that puzzle but also that we were at the right place to start making sense of what that puzzle could look like when we got down to assembling it.

And sure enough, the speakers for the day started giving us some of those missing pieces. We were given a sense of what these industry professionals did when they started out and if they were to start all over again, how they would do things differently. But perhaps the most crucial feedback that all speakers had in common was that if one wanted to make the right start to a ‘career’ in the entertainment industry, one must move to Los Angeles. Most of our speakers had been shy or intimidated of moving to LA and some even regretted that they did not start their careers here. Some had done what a lot of us in the class think of doing which is to take up jobs in New York because that is where we saw ourselves living. But as the day drew closer, I had a better understanding as to why these people made the choice to move here and why they advised us to do the same.

Our first speaker for the day was Jonathan Greene, a producer and an established writer. Greene is known from Law and Order: Special Victims Unit but started off in his younger days as a documentary filmmaker in New York. What interested me most was how Jonathan related his days in broadcast journalism to his present skills as a writer. Having worked in the Broadcast Television industry myself back in India, I have always been curious as to what I took from my skills in a completely different industry to my present interest in fiction. When Johnathan pointed out that ‘brevity’ in writing as an inheritance from his journalism days has served him best as a Television writer, I could see his point. I also valued Green’s comment when he said that we “must keep an open mind” and “don’t let anyone discourage you”. Some very interesting industry trivia that I took away from his lecture was that in comparison to feature writers, staff writers for TV were required to be out of LA mostly because this is where they had to report to their bosses and work together as a team; that May is when TV series get picked up and that a lot of Producers also have writing credentials; every studio has a writers program that one can apply to with one’s material and the best job that one can start with as an aspiring writer is to be an assistant to a literary agent.

Our second speaker for the day was Kevin Mock, editor of Chuck and America’ Next Top Model. Kevin had very good pointers on the difference between direting for scripted as compared to reality TV. I was surprised to hear Kevin explain how he found directing scripted content to be more relaxing than reality because there was a game plan to follow in the first. As someone who aspires to be a Director someday, Kevin’s tips were priceless. I have heard this before and the fact that yet another industry professional mentioned it, reinforced this idea: that post production is a good route to directing. The single most advice that was of the most value from Kevin’s lecture and perhaps one of the best things I heard today was that as freshers, we should find jobs with people and companies who inspire us and rather than sticking to the theory of “small pond, big fish”, we should aim for the big names in the business.

Our second round of lectures was at the office of Writer’s Guild of America. The pane; comprised of Syracuse alums Danny Zuker, Norm Gunzenhauser and a third writer Bill Diamond. Zuker was thoroughly entertaining and had the maximum laughs from the class as he explained the eccentricities of writers and celebrities. I have often wondered if I writing is feasible for those who are more inclined to production or the creative aspects of the trade but when Zuker revealed that he had started out as a PA before landing up as a writer in LA. Norm’s tip that “there is no real formula of things” and his experience that the industry is at it’s most exciting time with writing avenues no longer limited within the US was also insightful. Bill Diamond also had valuable advice for starters especially this one, “ some of the worst experiences are the ones you learn from the most”. Recalling one of his own experiences while pitching, he explained that while pitching one should project what one does best rather than offering multiple options. The writer’s panel summed up their ‘gyaan’ for us by emphasizing that aspiring writers in the class must get an agent or at least pass on their scripts to writers with agents. Also, the best way to get noticed as a writer is to write work that is original.

The last event of the day served more as entertainment rather than enlightenment. We scuttled across the studio lot of Warner Brothers and waited amidst many others to watch the live taping of the “Lopez Tonight Show”. Of course we had VIP passes but after the hour and half wait, I was more interested in seeing how the set was constructed and how many floor managers, steady cameras and set directors comprised the show unit rather than watch Lopez himself. However, the host did prove out to be quite a treat as much and with the exception of a ‘filler’ who had me cringing with his sexist and racist jokes, my first experience of a live taping will remain a memorable one.

I am excited to be at the Creative Artists Agency office tomorrow having researched how this organization grew from a makeshift office to the leading talent agency that it has become to be recognized today with clients like George Clooney, David Letterman and Julia Roberts to mention a few. Also, I can’t wait to be on the sets of ‘Rules of Engagement’. I was watching this show dutifully during my sabbatical back in India and I can’t believe I am finally getting to see Patrick Jon Warburton in flesh! If only another Patrick Warburton fan could be here with me :/ Baba I shall miss you.

23 F - 76 F; Adventures across the US in 10 days

It’s been precisely ten days since school shut down for the winter break. Pictures speak louder than words sometimes. Hence, my increased dependency on still images to mark my adventures as I travel through the US. They are littered across my facebook page. It’s true that facebook is a platform for narcissistic indulgences or a convenient page that lets you show to your extended family/ friends that you are having the time of your life. I don’t shy from admitting that mine is probably the combination of both besides the fact that my father is on facebook now and my friend (yes, yes) and a mere click on my page is all he needs to do to see the wonderful places I visit or the architecture, museum and even food that I digest delightfully as I move from one city to another.

Which finally brings me to where I have been. Leaving the snowy confines of Syracuse (we received a ground breaking 70 inches of snow this year) I moved on to New York. The goal was to get a visa for Peru and get to see South America finally curtsey the generosity of my sister and bro-in-law. I get to NY and barely do I step off that my sister calls to inform me that there are no more tickets available for Peru. I was on the sidewalk of 44^th and 9^th heading to a Thai restaurant with a friend and I swear, I was so upset and upset more so for having to keep my calm, all I wanted to do was scream out loudly for everyone there to stop. :/ No Machu Pichu, no sunny beaches of Lima…sigh.

But simply being in NY for the next two days paid off. J and I walked around a lot of places that I hadn’t seen before. The first day we walked three blocks down to a flea market so that he could get an antique lamp for his tangy orange room. I suspect it was to please a special lady friend arriving from Sweden soon J. Then we took the subway to Union Square and spent the next three hours moving from one stall to the next in the farmer’s market. Fresh cider, decorated Easter eggs, glass jewelry…..name anything that would make for a good Christmas gift and it was there. Being the poverty stricken student surviving on an educational loan, I pushed my wallet into the nether regions of my bag and forged ahead in the crowd clicking away. J bought a Christmas decoration for the party that we were to attend later in the evening and I a pair of deadly black pumps. Then he insisted that we eat the BEST chicken rice (a middle eastern equivalent of our more shahi biryani) from a vendor close by. That gastronomic obligation having been fulfilled, we headed back.

Three hours later, dressed in our most fancy clothes and singing old Hindi ads in our loudest voice possible (warm cider and whiskey can do great things to your voice and yes your confidence) J and I took the subway to New Jersey. J’s ex roommate from undergrad found the best deal in NJ thanks to him and this was a house warming come pre-Christmas party at her pad. Musicians, dancers, non-profit workers and the whole gamut of what baba jocularly terms ‘artsy fartsy’ were there. I was mostly on my own while J said his hi and hellos and settled into a conversation with an ex. So I waited in the terrace overlooking the lights of New York in the distance for a wine infused epiphany. I waited for people to come up to me and strike up a conversation and then I simply waited for J to tell me we could leave. At 2, we were finally back in the city munching fried chicken to help me get over a weird nausea that was threatening to ruin my ‘vomit free’ streak since 2005. It didn’t work and I was beginning to panic. J introduced me to Listerine gargling to get over that weird creepy nausea post great wine consumption. It worked.

Next day Q and I caught up over coffee. My roommates are more my sisters and less the people one just has to get along with or carry out domestic chores and pay bills. Q is the younger sister that I never had and our chats often range from China-India politics to why there are few good men around. At 7 after J was done with his football game, he suggested we go for a walk to work our appetite (Puiya his Iranian friend was baking salmon for us to get over his anger at the loss of his favourite team in the game). J made Grand Central Station sound like this crappy new building, which has replaced the old heritage structure and kept whining about the loss. When we did finally get to GC, I realized what he had done. There towering a 100 feet above me was the impressive façade of a gothic structure looking like it was built just yesterday. Inside, a green dome with every constellation painted on it and brass chandeliers glowing brightly left me speechless. J knew I had little idea of what GC looked like so he had intentionally made it sound crappy. It worked again (somehow his methods most always do). I was unprepared for this marvel of architecture. We stayed for 40 minutes or so just taking everything in and walking around. We then walked over to the New York Public Library and headed home. That weekend in NY has been one of my most unforgettable.

Next day I headed to Chicago. I was spending all my time looking up historical buildings, visiting the beach and meeting Jack’s family until the 25^th. Chicago exceeded my expectations. Jack’s family lives in Highland Park, a residential area for the affluent, mostly Jewish community and contrary to what you would imagine for such a place, it looks like it was placed conveniently in the middle of the woods and close to Michigan Lake to be forgotten by the rest of the world. Her house is atop a hill with a ravine flowing by below. While we eat our lunch we spot deer.

One morning, I grapple with how ice can exist in the most surreal forms I’ve see so far. We are standing on the lakeshore and taking pictures endlessly while the ice could crumble beneath our feet any moment. I also spent time at the Chicago Loop, which is a common term for Downtown Chicago. Much of Chicago’s grand town planning is thanks to an American architect called Daniel Burnham. Burnham took a leading role in the development of several cities in the 19^th century including Chicago and Washington D C and for those who have seen the Flatiron building in NY, well that’s Burnham’s ingenuity for you.

Chicago was all about walking and more walking than I did in New York. One day we walked through Evanston, Fullerton basically the famous old residential areas and ended up in the evening after walking close to 10 miles at Green Mill to listen to a Jazz performance. Green Mill is one of the oldest pubs in Chico Town (Chicago dubbed by locals) and was a favourite hang out of Al Capone, the famous gangster during the prohibition days.

A trap door in this pub led to Aragon, a theatre near by and allowed people to escape if a police raid were to happen. Aragon has witnessed performance by leading bands and the likes of Sinatra to Duke Ellington have performed here. On the second day, Jack and I visited the Art Institute and proceeded to walk through Millenium Park, The Chicago Cultural Centre and finally through more historic buildings before returning home exhausted very happily for all that we managed to see in one day. For those visiting Art Institute, don’t miss out the Thornton Room and the New Media room. Thornton room has miniature replicas of living spaces from the 18^th century in England and France and for those who love old furniture and wish to emulate some into your own homes someday, this visit will serve you well.

Christmas eve was a delight at the Hurwitz residence. I got meet all of Jack. ’s relatives and spent close to two hours talking to her grandpa who she refers to as Baba. It’s always great to meet people who are in denial of their age and remain ever curious and spirited about everything in the world. Baba promised me that he and I will start our production company soon and went on to describe the motion picture camera manufacturing company he worked for that also happened to supply cameras to the makers of ‘Gandhi’. Baba reminded me a bit of my own grandpa minus his infamous temper and I grew a little sad that evening knowing that I was so far away from my family.

I left next day for San Francisco and arrived at the Oakland airport and made a mental note of yet another airport terminals I could trace on my map, that of an itinerant. Chicago’s International O’Hare remains my favorite so far. SFO to Berkley and the next day itself back to Oakland where my sis, bro-in law and I set out to Hawaii. So so tempted to be corny and say Hawa , Hawa, Hawaii :P

And here I am! In Maui island the most picturesque of all Hawaii….minutes away from a beach with jade green waters and a bright sun waiting to seep into my skin and soul. From 23 Farenheit to 76! If I were to roam around Hawaii with a camera, I would probably be doing injustice to making the most of all natural beauty around me. So a hold on pics for now and instead, promises of more tales to come from this lush tropical paradise.

Aloha!

Minty Red Blue

A bathroom five by four feet. A woman is seated on the seat closed upon a toilet. She wears a red silk dress and pulls on her stockings. She's in a hurry to get somewhere and the stockings are very sheer. They rend at her heel. She's got little time to think. Five minutes later she steps out and puts on the most elegant satin black heels. She's not too made up but her eyes stand out in their kohl lined beauty and her lips shimmer in the christmas lights. She knows it but she won't admit it . She is attractive but in her own simple silent way. She doesn't take her admirers very seriously. It helps her stay grounded.

She dashes out of the door after he calls out and in that moment they both know it. The shoes are a disaster! But just this one time she doesn't want to pass off as a 20 year old, her dress is stunning and she wants to look her age. Atleast close to it. She's back at the door, dragged comically by him. He knows better. She hesitates at his suggestion. "The boots look grungy" she thinks. He tosses her pretty shoes out of sight. She smiles and agrees. The boots are on and she's looking more than fine. Pretty feet come aa cost and walking all over New York well heeled is more important than well dressed.

Two hours later, she's tried every single wine at the table. Also the hot spiced cider with whiskey. The crowd is a mix of people in their late 20s and 30s. Musicians, performers, martyrs (the non profit kind) mingle around. Upstairs, a group is playing the african drums and singing. A couple makes out in the bathroom in the adjoining room. So she waits and waits and waits and then smirking to herself steps out onto the terrace. She's reminding herself of where she was a few months ago and what she wanted. She compares that to what's at hand now.

The little red and blue neon lights strung around set off the New York skyline in the distance. She takes pictures. Pictures that form her visual diary. Her need to map everything in pixellated reality follows her everywhere. In new cities, on the streets she walks for the first time, amidst people...... It's become an obsession. Meanwhile, the red dress fetches a compliment. A smile and "thank you" are returned. She looks up. The sky is smoky blue and brown today and the moon glows half-mindedly.

A little past 1, a subway ride out of New Jersey and into the city, she finds herself in a diner wanting to get over the wine. Fried chicken doesn't work. His concern is endearing as is his sincerity. She trusts this.

Back home, the wine and cider are still doing tricks. She is frightened at the idea of puking. Like she has always been since her childhood. So he takes her by the hand. He leads her to the closet in the bathroom. Listerine comes to the rescue and so does bubbling laughter. They gargle and spit out in unison.

It's late and the fresh mint catalyses a feeling of bliss. She takes this moment for whatever it is. She wouldn't move on otherwise but she will this time. For whatever it is worth in its purest entity, she acknowledges it. But just for that unit of time alone. For whatever it's worth and however it can comfort her. And the moment spills forth, tinged in the neon light streaming in through the window from skyscrapers in the distant.

Sometimes knowing what you don't have and understanding why perhaps is the first step. Knowing why what you do when you do it at that moment is comforting even if just for that moment. Not when you've erred on the side of caution so many times before. She thinks these through. She's hit the lows too many times and too recently. She steps in.

The next morning, she wakes up to a bright blue sky. Today she will walk the streets she hasn't the last time, not in hope and anticipation but for self-discovery. And she"ll learn from that. For now. For herself.

About a Snowflake

I saw my first snowflake today. And if that doesn't make sense then envision this.

You are indoors. Amidst warm lights, fellow colleagues and the buzz of an academic institute. It grows dark and all you can spot outside now and then when your attention wavers from work are the white lights enclosed in snowball like lamps glowing softly in the distant. You know it's another Friday evening, one you will spend with yourself.

A little later you hurry out wanting to get across to the parking lot. And suddenly you notice. You stop dead in your tracks amazed how much you take beauty for granted. Everything is covered in a soft, fluffy white snow blanket. And your eyelash flickers. It's a snow flake. It's the most sincere moment you can allow yourself. Snow particles coming down softly making a silent noise which only you hear in your head. They glow streaming headlong in your direction almost as if the street lights are showering gold. You face the sky and hold your tongue out. They miss but you smile.

You finally get into the car. And as you look through its window, you see it. That little snow flake that you saw in the Archie's comics you read growing up or perhaps later in your Physics textbook. It's the tiniest structure you have ever sighted in your lifetime and yet you see the geometrical shape crystal clear. It's a moment that freezes it's significance in your mind for years to come. And you know you are lucky to have seen it.

La luz

No matter how many languages you say it in, this word does something for all of us.

I am talking about light. When I was small, I think the one word that signified both relief and horror (depending on whether my sister was switching it on or off in a room) was 'alo', the bengali word for light. Back in Bhubaneswar, the small town my father's family is settled in, summer mornings were eagerly looked forward to. Not just for the opportunity to tailgate my grandfather as he went about picking flowers in our garden, but to be immersed in the lemon-white milk that bathed the garden. There was an immense feeling of being overwhelmed those summers at 7 am and no words will help me explain this to you. The previous night's dew lay in its last moments, lighting up the lower blades of grass in a sparkling green hue and the sun streamed through coconut leaves, cutting myriads of shadows and shapes interspersed with light onto everything beneath it. Magical to say the least.

And in those summer evenings, I slept next to my grandpa or 'dadu' as we grand-daughters fondly referred to him. Out in the garden on his army cot beneath the open sky. The moon shone down upon the entire foliage surrounding us, converting everything into dark silhouettes. The light coming through the mosquito net which covered us, lit my skin in a strange bluish hue.

When I was close to 9, I would lay mortified in my bed till well past midnight, imagining shapes and unknown fears waiting for me to close my eyelids and then pounce upon me. In those silent and painful hours, my mother's late night washroom trip was an immense relief. As her door streamed light through the common corridor, I felt comforted and called out to her. A call of assurance later, I was finally able to fall asleep. There were also nights were I left the light in my room switched on till wee hours of the morning when my father finally discovered his daughter's once again cowardly act. I would get an amused chuckle from baba at the breakfast table. Later that week, I began lighting candles and falling asleep. Chuckles gave way to a sound tongue-lashing. Fire hazard anyone? Light was a precious luxury for me in those insomniac years.

Growing older and finding love, some of the above light forms and tinges made for significant memories. The evening where my first school sweetheart and I sat in a children's playground located on a hill watching the orange sun light up the sky, dipping further and further until the wild pink flowers turned violet and my friend's face acquired a character I hadn't seen before.

Candles again, this time my 22rd birthday spent with a different boy... dare I say man. Candles, despite the fact that the angry afternoon sun pounded upon the world outside. We hid ourselves in the cool interiors and danced away in the light our smiles shone in...that light had promises of an adventurous and happy relationship. But then again, we learn more of the people we love as time progresses. And then it's time to leave them onto the sidelines as you move ahead ...for yourself.

And more recently, when the old scars filled up, an old friend emerged as a new companion. Late one night, in suburbian Mumbai, on one of my last trips to the city before I left the country, we sat next to each other typing out the inner recesses of our minds onto his blog, still unsure and shy of communicating our affection for each other. The light from his laptop glowed intensely into the goblets of our wine. It lit up our faces, lighting up a hope that was still timid yet felt stronger than the shadows cast upon the wall. I"ll never forget that night, even if I have to forget the months that followed it. I"ll hold onto snatches of that memory like the morning light, a few hours later which jolted me from my slumber only to reveal a face smiling down at me.

And then Syracuse. A new friend in a new country and our first outdoor venture together. Late this August, Jackie and I hiked up into the hills, two hours away from Syracuse. Discovering a quite stream tucked behind the greenery, we took off our shoes and lay upon the gnarling mushroom infested logs that bridged one end of the stream to the other. And what a sight it was. Looking up, the sun shone through faintly, fettered by all the dense foliage. The water bubbled and had this steel like resonance to it and in that silence, my eyes spotted the light reflected by the water onto the ferns above my head. It was an ethereal moment that only willderness can provide to one's soul.

My fascination with light has only grow stronger since the past few months, this time at a more creative level.

Which brings me to how much I love light and light in the night, in the streets, in the cities. Shooting in Mumbai for my short film last December at 4 am in the morning at Lower Parel, I was mesmerised by the symmetry of street lamps in my frame. That one shot made that effort - of undertaking an entire project on more enthusiasm than financial backing - totally worth it. This year 'The Records that those Pavements Keep' was selected to be screened in the Mumbai Shorts competitive category at the Mumbai International Film Festival.

I walked the streets of New York today mostly downtown and Theatre District losing my way close to Colombus Square and walking an extra 40 minutes all the way back to where I should have initially turned. And even for those who have heard the romanticism about New York, for the nth time, one MUST MUST walk its streets in the evening and at night. As an amateur photographer, I can't help but stop every time I see light in it's various forms here. In the ordinary neon signs, the frosted electronic hues that christmas decorations cast on the street or simply the light that shines remotely in the distance, a glimmering hope as it were, that walking further to find out more will be worth it.

To luminescence. I hope this journey with light never ends.

Of Nerds and Turd

I am in the city that makes me miss Mumbai really bad. This is my second trip to New York and in a very modest way, I must admit I am less excited with every trip. And I mean that in a good way. I am less excited because I feel increasingly at home with every trip of mine to this amazing city.

The 2 day career workshop ended today. IRTS did a good job getting together a range of media outfits under the same roof. The queue for Disney and HBO were the longest. Also spoke to NBC, Comcast, Discovery and even forced myself to chat with the Nielsen guys.

The rest of the evening panned out unexpectedly well. Jacque's friend wanted us to attend a very interesting event at a bar in Chinatown. 'The Poop Project' was bringing people together in New York to raise funding for adequate sanitation in third world countries. A small gritty underground pub, brick red and lined up with bizarre stuffed animals (meerkats!) and candles had New York's nerdiest crowd packed in. We bought our raffle tickets at the door and entered with our drink coupons, a little skeptical but mostly amused at the sight of a western toilet seat hanging at the entrance. Over the course of next two hours, men and women walked upto the stage and to the cue of a jazz musician duo, narrated, sung and enacted their worst 'poop' stories. Needless to say, there were some very graphic descriptions, sound effects and even a strip act thrown in. I have no clue how the last one connected to the theme of the friend but our friend who got us in was horrified to discover that the stripper was her ex boss. Ha ha!!

The high point of the evening though was the stage act of a hilarious Jewish lady from Chicago. Based on a true story ladies and gentleman, it involved a woman, a guy she was interested in, an unfortunate scatological mishap the morning after, her trying to damage control with a rib tickling mail, the guy dumping her and now married to a Entourage actor, the said dumped lady being miserable and then after a year meeting a guy at another barbeque party who is discussing the most unbelievable stories they've experienced. Guy tells her about a woman who his room-mate was dating and had to go through hell because of their damaged toilet. He adds that he thought it was hilarious upon which woman reveals she was the one who did it. New guy and lady are presently engaged! So there is hope in mankind, sorry....men.

The last act was by an Indian and well he was a bit off the temp (perhaps because the previous act was stolen by a woman who did a strip act involving chips, whipped cream, stripping to her undies and drinking gelusil!!!!!) Couldn't help but walk up to him later and chat up. Turns out he was with the Peace Corps, is a lawyer (on the welfare side) but now living in New York..

Said Indian disappeared an hour later. Jacque, Mikhail and I hit the floor. We danced away the rest of the evening to very very 60s swing music. Jacque had every other guy wanting to dance with her becasue of her crazy moves. And it was then I realised we were surrounded with nerds. And what fun they were! Not looking to grab you on the floor or take you home but just awfully happy and completely immersed in crazy dance moves and eager to share that with anyone who could match their craziness.

Well so we are dancing with these two guys specifically and suddenly this one cute guy in the corner who can REALLY dance shakes up the floor with Jaque. A little later he gets me to dance with him and we do the whole twirl cross deal , jiving and the crowd has made this little space for us an dis cheering us on. We yelled out our names, the stereo drowning our attempts but I understood that he is Martin and he is from France and man was he dancing his nifty shoes off...I am high at that moment just being able to dance well with someone who KNOWS how to dance after so long. Twenty minutes later, the Francophone tells me 'Sorry darling, I have to leave". He then proceeds to peck me affectionately on the cheek. I say "Of course" and hold my balance after having being spun around like a yo-yo for the last 5 minutes. I am disappointed (of course I am losing a dance partner like that!) but I manage to find my steps back to Jackie. I whine and ga-ga at the same time about monsieur dancing shoes who suddenly decided to leave. She nudges me to look at him. He is leaving and that too with another good looking guy. So in short, the universe just told me that "Hey....I"ll give you good dance partners. BUT they have to be gay!"

So!!!! NYC, yes you are full of surprises. But I love you and I will for a while. Even if my heart aches when I walk your streets.... You remind me of friends, a city and people I so yearn to go back to.

And oh yes ....cheers the nerdiest of Nerds in New York. Thank you for a splendid Friday evening:)