Triviality of Detail
If you can tell, I am feeling a bit Bond, James Bond. If he can have a movie called the Quantum of Solace then I jolly well am justified writing a blog entry titled such.
But it is true folks, life is about the bigger picture, not the 300mm zoom version shot from a voyeuristic angle that you often get to see, although, I admit, that is not a bad angle to see things.
Annyhoos…Enough deep talk; let’s get shallow…today I am in the mood to administer a little get-to-know-me true-false quiz-format kinda’ entry. It is my (vain) attempt at trying to make my mundane details sound intriguingly exciting! Here goes…
1. I am a veteran TV anchor
2. I have formal training in culinary arts
3. I am a qualified wine specialist
4. I lead a double life
5. I have schizophrenia
6. My favourite flavour is Butterscotch
7. I have written an award-winning book on wines
8. I love meats, veggies, pasta and just about anything that will fit in my face
9. I am a blatant liar and I fake it on the show!
10. I am not brand conscious
11. I am not style conscious (even though I may believe otherwise)
12. I design my own clothes
13. I wash my own clothes
Ok, I’ll stop right there…I am just going numb typing this useless trivia quiz; I’ll understand if you don’t reply.
Meanwhile, if you chance-happen to be in Sweden (or Milan or Shanghai or London or a couple of other cities), head to the Ice Bar. It makes the ice age seem such a cool idea.Imagine being somewhere where everything is made of ice. From glasses to the seating, the walls to the bar. It was well below five degrees. But what left me fumbling for thoughts was where exactly had they hidden the fridges!???
One caveat: drink slow. It hits you lesser while you are in there inside the bar and then as you step out and undergo a temperature rise of roughly 20 degrees, the alcohol seems to charge on to the head like mounted cavalry on crack!
Inside, you need the alcohol to stay warm, outside you feel like you have been through ten bouts with Tyson. Mind you, if you happen to be a Delhi-dweller, fear not: you are probably used to such: each time you walk out of a Delhi bar and the warm summer outside hits you right between the eyes, it’s like those animated jackhammers knock, that makes you see Tweety birds!
There was one thing that wasn’t so icy: the warm friendly staff that I met there and warmer still was my company at the bar. Not just the people visiting, but a very special friend who was on set; and of course my crew!
Geez, I so miss annoying my crew. I hope they do not get used to not having me around; it will be tough to readjust them to tolerate me. Does that mean season 2 will happen? Is that the cryptic question, as in a question that signals the end of my blog entry? Hmmmm….
No, that isn’t the question. I must say that I am yet to receive a satisfying answer to my previous question, “How many roads…” Yes, Ms. Akansha, I know the song! I heard a pirated copy of the cover version of a remix done by some dodgy artist, once….
But I am ever so glad that so many people write back. Thank you, all of you, again. Honest. It sure is encouraging and actually helps me believe that all is not lost. It shows that there is still space for people on telly who can do something in spite of not looking like sculpted Adonis. Mind you I do consider myself fairly well-shaped (round IS a shape, right?!)
But looks do seem a trivial yet important detail, playing that intangible role of getting more people hooked to a show or an anchor even before they have heard what s/he has to say, something that I have never quite had the advantage of banking on.
And you can’t blame me for thinking such; even my best friend often reassures me that I am really a guy on TV with a face for radio! And then goes on to laugh in hysterics. I find it funny too actually.
But it is true, beauty does lend a certain sense of glamour and hence credibility to a programme. As I was telling this foxy friend of mine the other day that she, as a glamorous anchor that she is, could announce a trip to the toilet and make it sound more sensational and excitingly intriguingly juicy than I could announce my participation in the Gay Pride Parade, or the Brazil Carnival! Such is the male vanity.
But what is really puzzling me at the mo is that if I woke up and saw a truly sexy version of myself in the mirror, which would crack first: my vanity-struck dream or the mirror?
That, is the question, the end of today’s entry…