It’s one of those days when I feel like making paper boats
out of marketing briefs, sail them on the sea and watch them drown.
One of those days when I want to sit alone in a shack with
my legs up, let the sand settle on my legs, jam with Old Monk and Bob Marley,
watch the mirage appearing on the horizon of the sea and sunbathe.
I’m bringing Goa to Mumbai.
Where you write for yourself, feel good and smile. And if
you don’t feel like it, you can just doze off. The deadlines won’t wake you up.
And the good old servicing fella’ looks
like a bar tender who serves a shot of kamikaze instead of the brief (no
offence meant). Every mandate sounds
like a drink and the creative routes sound like trippy psychedelic tracks.
Not get drunk, yet feel like the tides that are always happy
high.
Give Microsoft Word a break today and not sell fake stuff.
Instead, write simple thoughts on tissue papers that smell of rum and let them
blow away with the wind.
Don’t want to see the office lights come on at 6 pm, but
watch darkness set in on the beach. Whistle away, do a small tap dance on
Buffalo Soldiers and cuddle up under the sand. Feel like the ‘real Coke’ that makes
its way smoothly into my rum glass after pushing all the fizz out.
Coz when I wake up, I want to carry home the sand in my hair
strands, feel dirty, light and loose. Stretch myself, yawn and say, “Damn, that
was a good trip”.
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