iDEATE
Doodling my heart out about all things 'creative' ...
Saturday, January 17, 2009
My Bucket List
What are the list of things I would like to do before I kick the bucket? Ever since I saw the movie ‘Bucket List’, I have always wondered what my brown list of things are, that I would like to do before I visit heaven. The following is the wild spirited me pandering my inner ‘craving’ self.

Write a bestseller.
Sign autographs.
Appear on ‘We the People’.
Kiss in the rain.
Kiss under the ocean.
Bungee jump with the ocean underneath to kiss my fall.
Become the youngest Creative Director in a fab agency.
Write a movie script and watch it unfold on 70 mm in a theatre packed with other celebrities.
Watch ‘Bride and Prejudice’ in an empty theatre, with only my girl (that incidentally was the first movie we saw as a couple).
Visit a foreign country.
Visit the Seven Wonders of the World.
Rip around an F1 track in an F1 car (a Ferrari).
Own a Porsche Carrera 911.
Learn how to cook and dish out a romantic sumptuous dinner for my girl.
Learn a foreign language.
Learn Tamil (to woo my in-laws!).
Play cricket in the Chinnaswamy Stadium, once; under flood-lights.
Go back-packing across Europe.
Go watch an opera.
Get into a boxing ring for a bloody boxing bout, and break my nose (I'm serious)
Watch Federer beat Nadal in a Wimbledon match (Hon, you listening?!).
Have a killer bodice with rippling muscles and great ab packs.
Own a sports bike.
Go Scuba diving.
Climb a snow capped mountain.
Teach at IIM-B.
Fly in a MIG.
Tour a foreign city from atop a parachute.
Go on a long cruise.
Make an ad that wins at Cannes.
Get a body massage in Thailand.
Smoke the costliest Cuban cigar in a bath-tub, watching Friends.
Own a Blackberry.
Own a Mac.
Judge a beauty pageant.
Act in a movie.
Have my own syndicated column in a recognised paper/magazine.
Win a dance competition (Oh yeah, I can shake a leg or two!).
Learn to play Squash.
Visit the Louvre.
Dress up as Santa for my kids.
Master Logical Reasoning (I have my reasons)
Run in a marathon.
Learn how to swim.
Sleep on the beach, with the lapping waves next to me, and the huge blanket of twinkling stars in the top.
Visit Disney Land.
Get into a brawl with a total stranger and knock the living daylights out of him (only to prove to my girl that I'm not a sissy!).
Visit a chocolate factory (I have a sweeter tooth than most of Roald Dahl's creations)


These are all I could think of, off the top of my head. Will update this list as and when new things catch my fancy. More for me than for anybody else, and to ensure I take this list seriously, everytime one of those things on the list is achieved, I'll change the font of that wish to upper case. So here's to(me seen raising my champagne glass), MY BUCKET LIST...

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posted by Mister Avant Garde @ 1:50 PM   17 comments
Thursday, January 15, 2009
St. Valentine and the art of sexual politics
Gifts are funny things. When you are besotted with a problem as difficult as having to decide on the right gift for a loved one, your arse lets out a low whistle. For people who have no clue on what’s gonna make the recipient go, “Awwwwwwwww, what a great gift baby”; life can be torturous indeed. Valentines makes me shit bricks, as I usually have no clue on what’s going to get me those extra brownie points with my girl. True we share the same love for reading and books. But gifting her the literary version of ‘Gone with the wind’ every single time, will morph dimpled madame into one of those Stephanie Meyers vampires! Some food for thought that, given the fact that I’m the sissy between the both of us! So homing back to the dilemma of gifting, and with St. Valentine’s day inching closer (anyone ever wondered whether and how Valentine and Cupid are related to each other. And if they actually are a part of the same family tree that ate, spake and slept ‘love’!), I’m definitely not shitting what my tum’s been digesting.
I would like to believe that both Archies (the card store) and Valentine had an affair of some sort. You know, the ‘will-help-us-both-professionally-if-we-slept-together’ kinda fling. Let me not even speculate about the gender of Archies as that would open up a whole can of gay worms (‘gay’ as in ‘happy. Duh!) and halve my readership (if there’s any!). Anyways, they both saw the professional rhyme and reason to rip each others clothes off, and do ‘do’ it. They beget ‘Hallmark’ and said that their offspring was more conniving than them, when it came to ripping lovers off their money, come birthdays and anniversaries. Hallmark learnt the con act on his (or is it ‘her’?!) own, and pretty soon had a thriving business of his own. The parents now decided enough is enough and decided to stake their claim to the title of, ‘the world’s biggest loooooooooooove-fraudsters’. They faked orgasms regularly to give people the impression that they were doing it, not just on Feb 14th, but round the year. Lovey-dovey couples went “Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww”, and decided that they had found the right marriage (not in the ‘nuptial’ sense, but in a ‘sexual’ way) to eulogise. One thing led to another, and voila; I FOUND MYSELF IN ARCHIES, LUGGING MY SMIRKING TUSH BEHIND ME, IN SEARCH OF THAT RIGHT VALENTINE'S GIFT.
Last heard, both the con-sters (is that even a word?) were vacationing in the Caribbean. St Valentine with St. Nicholas (our beloved ‘Santa’, who else!), teaching him a trick or two about money-making and marriage (again the ‘sexual’ and not ‘nuptial’ one!). And Archies with George Bush (who’s like right now, wasted away in the Caribbean, moping over the end of his atrocious regime, and wondering how to serenade his dog as humans can’t stand him) to try and get him into bed. Carla Bruni was no muck with the sexual ball was she, as she’s inspired a whole legion of fans to hit on head-of-states and EX-head-of-states, and snowball into limelight. As for poor ole me, I’m still playing out this weird fantasy in my head, as I rummage through Archies' shelves, in search of that PURR-FECT gift. God be with me, in this moment of crisis!
Happy Gifting for the Valentine season, everyone :)

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posted by Mister Avant Garde @ 2:04 AM   8 comments
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Who wants to be a slumdog millionaire?
Slumdog Millionaire is an awesooooooooooooome movie. It’s been such a long time since I saw a really good Hinglish movie. And today night, between 11 and 1, I was witness to the sheer magic of this movie. The story as the name is suggestive, traces the life of this kid who’s born in a slum and ends up becoming a millionaire. The storytelling is so rich and so brilliant, that it leaves the viewer spellbound. Probably THE best Hinglish movie I’ve seen, like ever. Danny Boyle’s direction is brilliant. Rahman’s music and background score is goosebump-inducing. Dev Patel as the protagonist and his two younger parts are outstanding and simply, simply superb. Irrfan Khan and Anil Kapoor do justice to their roles.

The verdict: This movie’s beyond ratings. It’s a once-in-a-decade kinda Indian movie. Watch it, compulsorily.

P.S. the golden globe awards are gonna start in a few hours. I’m feverishly hoping Slumdog Millionaire wins in all the nominated categories, including the best movie.

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posted by Mister Avant Garde @ 11:46 AM   19 comments
Saturday, January 3, 2009
miss you grandpa ...
my grandpa used to maintain a diary, where he's poured out his heart and much more, for nearly half a century. from 1959 to 2008, every single day of his was chronicled in that diary. the people he met, the things they said, the things he saw, everything that he even remotely felt 'connected' to, went into that diary. August 2008 was his last entry as he got sick after that. a couple of weeks back, just before x'mas, my grandpa passed away. he was 75.

i was brought straight to my grandparents home from the hospital i was born in. i was brought up by my grandparents and i learnt to babble and crawl around, under their loving eyes. both my parents are bankers by profession, and it followed that my share of being doted on came from my maternal grandparents. my parents used to visit me every weekend, whilst i learnt my first alphabets and numbers from my 'ajji' and 'thatha'. my grandad was an incredible man. he was the only person in living memory who could talk about paris hilton and the vedas in the same breath. he taught me my first prayers. he opened up the fascinating world of 'books and reading' for me, when i was still a little bundle. he made me who i am, and for that, i'll always be grateful to him. he gave me a very rich childhood, a childhood filled with love, books, music and laughter. and that, i shall always count as my most cherished blessing, ever. he had chronologically filed all my articles that were published in the newspapers, meticulously, with a mention of the date and publication that it had appeared in. he had mentioned my birth on 4th may 1985, in his diary fondly as, "A baby boy was born today to my daughter. my first grandchild". he named me. he filled my existence with 'life' and taught me the need to yearn for a happy and zestful life. i don't think i'll even miss my parents more, than him.

there's this other hilarious entry that dates back to 1973, when my mom was in school. i guess she had lost her fountain pen that eventful day in school. his entry reads, "vasantha lost her fountain pen in school today. very CARELESS."! right from my first babble to my first crush, everything's been documented by grandpa in his diary. when they went to the US in 2000, he actually stayed up during the whole 22 hour flight from b'lore to new york, recording the cities they were flying over and the exact time then (both IST and the respective city's time). his memoir on his trip to the USA is both rich and exhaustive. every mention of an Indian restaurant they ate in, in the US, is followed with a review on the kind of gourmet that was dished out, and (believe this!) it's address mapped out to the exact longitude and latitude. one can feel him revel in the white house and general assembly experiences, as can one feel the rush he felt aboard the maid-of-the-mist when that boat went neath the niagara. his authority on art was phenomenal as he's talked passionately about a renoir painting displayed in the MET (metropolitan museum of art). i didn't know it took only 10 mins to fly from italy to vienna till i read his diary, as his diary reads, "5.20 a.m (IST) Italy. 5.30 a.m (IST) vienna".

he was the most knowledgeable man i ever knew, and i only hope i live my my life at least half as meaningfully and happily as him. i miss you grandpa.

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posted by Mister Avant Garde @ 2:14 AM   7 comments
About Me

Name: Mister Avant Garde
Home: Bangalore, Karnataka, India
About Me: Have just started making money... Done studying (gosh, and to believe, i started this sojourn when i was all of three)... That's a lot of time i have spent cooped up within a classroom... Shucks, no wonder my DNA reeks of chalk powder!
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