Curriculum Vitae - EVENTS

I can’t recite ‘Paradise Lost’ backwards. I can’t do ads in my sleep. I don’t dream of ads either. I dream of pristine beaches, pretty girls, and posh cars.

I can’t understand metaphysics. Or microbiology for that matter.

I haven’t won a ‘One Show’ yet.

I haven’t discovered any countries. I haven’t conquered any mountains. I haven’t found a cure for AIDS. Or a way to eradicate poverty. I haven’t been to the US of A.

I can’t dance. When I do, people prefer to stay off the floor.

I can’t tell jokes. I can’t write ads like Neil French. I don’t like people smarter than I. I can’t smile my way into a party I am not invited to. I don’t like women who turn me down.

I haven’t read any Classics. Except Fydor Dostyovsky’s ‘Brothers Karmazov’. I can’t comprehend Picasso. Or Dali. I don’t collect paintings.

I don’t play golf. Or pretend I do.

I’m not ambidextrous. I’m not intellectual, radical, or bisexual. I am not famous. I don’t have a father who is either.

I don’t get complimentary passes to advertising seminars. I haven’t met any advertising legends. Nobody quotes me. In fact, 99.9999% of the human race doesn’t even know I exist.

I don’t look like a Greek God. In fact, I have size 9 feet, a broken front tooth, and ears that, some say, resemble a monkey’s.

I don’t like Freddy Krueger, hypocrites, pierced nipples, or peeing on the sidewalk. I don’t know the meaning of Life. I don’t know if God exists.

All I know is to make ads. And I love it.

I work 18 hours a day. If I were with Chat/Day, it will be called Chat/Day & Night.

Aby gt Dazz
Creative Thinker

Work Experience: 12+ years
Industry: Advertising
Current Position: Creative Director
Current Location: Secunderabad, India

Beam Me Up 2 Work, Scotty!

My day is being shaped by seemingly non-related, yet sinister incidents. It is about 2:30 pm. I haven't had my lunch. I missed my breakfast too. I am writing on a very hungry stomach. Usually that makes me angry but today I just feel tired. It has been one long day.I woke up to a day with no cigarettes at hand. Not a great catastrophe unless you are addicted to nicotine, which I am not. I just like to wake up to a nice, good cigarette and hot coffee. I have liked it for the last 12 years. I smoke about 40 cigarettes a day, but only one at a time. So nothing serious here. Really. And in case you are not aware, let me tell you this: Coffee does not taste the same without cigarettes. It actually tasted bad this morning. Sipping on that unsavoury concoction, I contemplated the day ahead. I was only depressed till then. Now I became suicidal.Every over-crowded metropolis offers you an experience in 'depraved existence.' Mine just makes sure there are more than one ways to experience it. I travel 10 kms to reach my office by a public transport system. These so called buses are meant to carry 47 people. Imagine having 150 odd being transported in one. And that is just the beginning of the horror. Getting into one requires the precision and agility of a trepeze artist. Considering that you did manage to get in, staying in would prove to be an almost impossibility unless you are a professional gymnast. Most often it is just your toes that will touch the floor board. Then comes the supreme test of one's physical and mental prowess: buying the ticket. While you are sardined to ten other equally sweating and stinking bodies, trying to find where different parts of your body might be, appears a khaki clad figure as if by magic. So you let go of the overhead railing that you are hanging on to for dear life to take out money. After a bone-breaking effort at reaching your pocket, just as you breath a sigh of relief comes the next shock. The hand just won't come up! You try to wriggle it out of its temporary state of paralysis. You try to pry it loose. You push. You pull. Alas! All your superhuman efforts to extricate that hand fails. The khaki clad figure screams obscenities at you for being a slob or something to that effect and disappears. Everyone around looks at you as if you are mentally retarded. You hang your head in shame. The metropolis defeats you once again. And I scream silently in my pain, "BEAM ME UP TO WORK, SCOTTY!" Till then, I will just take sick leave and wait.

On life. No, on Man. No, no. Actually, on...

When one contemplates such weighty matters as the meaning of Life, the soul of Man or the benefits of sex with aliens, one cannot but assume a grave and meditative demeanor as I have at the moment. This is not quite unlike the countenance one perfects every morning on the pot speculating on matters of serious nature, if to no one else but oneself. I believe this intellectual posture brings forth insights in to matters otherwise closed to inspection. It stimulates the grey matter in astonishingly new ways. A case in point is the man who conjured up the life truth - 'Behind every successful woman is a surprised man.'
Hence I am analogously seated. Very soon I expect my grey matter stimulated likewise. I can hear the wheels grinding upstairs. A figure of speech, of course. Fine speech should always be adequately garnished with them. That is why it is fine speech, I say. Just like a dinner with embellishments automatically achieves the status of fine-dining. Society has somewhat spoiled the frank simplicity of man. And what was I saying?
Whatever it is, I am not saying it today. Matters of such significance need further brooding over. They need to be chewed and deliberated upon thoroughly. When adequately reflected and ruminated upon, the thought will reveal itself. As a simple line or idea. You know what I saying here. I will have plucked all the lemons and you get the plum. Or something to that effect. I will see you again. Soon.

I'm the Prayer

I'm the silence between two chords,I'm the pause before the applause.I'm the calm before the chaos,the fall before the walkI'm the choke before you crythe truth before all liesI'm the dream before its lostI'm the prayer of us all.

I've learned that...

Most people do wrong because they are weak and not because they are evil.Most of us are good in our thoughts.We suffer not because of others but our own betrayal of self.Sadly, compassion, kindness even pity today is mistaken for love.We always judge ourselves by our intentions and others by their actions.Just like knowledge, virtue has to be accquired. No one is born virtuous.Fear is our greatest enemy. Sadly, it is always an illusion.Ignorance in not the root of all evil. Indifference is.We live in an age of approximates and great averages.Man tends to be more moral and just when happy.Most live their lives proving the world wrong. Or right.Defiance is often mistaken for Independence.It is OK not to like your parents.Life is a choice. We cannot escape that responsibility.Most of us have great long-term plans. It is the short-term ones that are screwed up.

Will you do that for me?

I'm not asking for a roof over my head, or three square meals a day.Neither am I asking you for money,Cause I don't need any.But will you give me your two hands to holdI need a human touch, I'm feeling so cold.Will you sit by my sideI need to tell you of my life, the truth and the liesWill you sympathize with mecause I suffer silentlyand am in agony.Will you give me a hugI want to feel the human touchWill you give me a smileI haven't seen one in a long whileWill you hear me, or atleast pretendcause I'm lonely and need a friendWill you give me your shoulder to cry,I need to feel loved once before I die,Will you do that for me,and i just might die peacefully.

My fantasy

I live a simple fantasy,where you and meare completely freeto explore, to conquerthe depths of intimacy.Under shining starsby the deep blue seaover misty mountainsin mellow creeks.Where pleasure and painwill run through your veinYou'll fight the feelingbut you know its in vain.Lie down, close your eyes,Can you feel me, deep inside?feel my touch under your skinTravel with methrough this valley of sin.We've reached a holy ground,looking back,aren't you proud?you have foundyou, me and ecstasy.

You Know Me.

I am the joy you felt when you made your first toy airplane, flew your first kite, swam your first few yards in the pool, rode your bike the first mile, got your first job, fell in love for the first time, wrote your first poem. I am the euphoria you had when you found out how to fix a broken radio, play your favorite piece on the piano, worked out the laws of gravity. I am the carefree happiness you know walking with your dog, watching the spring bloom, sharing a meal with your parents, laughing with your friends. I am the choking sadness inside when you stumble, and stray. When you give up because everyone said so. I am the unspoken guilt when you give up your convictions. I am the silent cry when you turn your back on the best in you. I am the sleepless moments when you betray your days.I am the one defeated when you start losing the fire that keeps you alive. I am one who loses when you hesitantly stop to ask yourself, 'What is the point?' or 'Is this all there is to life?' You know me by many names. You have called me an idealist because I believe in the sanctity of your soul. You have called me a dreamer because I believe that you are capable of great things. You have called me rude because I believe love is an honor, and has to be earned. Not a gift or alms to be given away indiscriminately to everyone you live with, work with or meet. You have called me arrogant because I believe in what I know. You want me to stop behaving as if I knew everything. You forget that I never wanted to know everything. You mistake my faith in you for expectations. You say you will never be able to live up to them. But in my belief you hope to find your proof. You find it easy to hate me than to be who you are. You walk down the easy road, and then wonder why you are not as happy as you thought you would be. Who are you running away from? Me or yourself? Don't you see you are not running away from me. You are just turning away from the highest, and the best within. Don't you see you are not betraying me; you are betraying your own soul. It won't be easy. But I know you will return. I will wait. Endlessly.

I Cry Within

The play is over, the curtain is drawnthe stage is empty, the people have gone.I've played my part,it wasn't long,Some people laughed, some left with a frown.Some like my red nose, Some, my shoes that are torn,You've seen me before, I am the circus clown.I've a painted smile and a colourful gown.I make you laugh, I make you smile,I help you forget your worries for a while.From your seats you throw pennies at meIf you just asked I'd even do it for free.Behind all this joy and boisterous gleeThere's a secret you haven't noticed in me.When the lights are out and no one seesmy heart bleeds with this pain withinAll alone I start to weepDeep inside I'd like this to keepevery night I cry myself to sleepNext time you see me tell a joke or stumble over that invisible ropelook closely and you'll see the pain in my eyes and the tear stains that haven't dried.But I'll keep on making you laughand doing this crazy danceCause these arc lights, and this mindless actwill keep me from going mad.

White collar blues

Life was a great party.when I was in my 20sNow I sit and reminiscethose times that I missThey vaporizedright before my eyesthere was not even aGoodbye kiss.Round and round I rodeThat merry-go-round of blissMemories and milestonesnow pictures put together with little paper clipsthings I’ve done,places I’ve been,women I met,times I been dumped,shoes I have bought,books I never wrote,clubs that threw me out,jobs I’ve quit,people I pissed,you know the list… makes you laughtill your guts spilllife was one hi-octane trip.I was having a ball.Freewheeling on the road that I rode. Up in the sundown in the drainMoments in between would bereally boringevery single day was worthevery thing that it came with Every knock was a signto stand up and fight for more,every fall was a trumpet call to wipe the grin off my face,wipe the dust off my assand rise on my feet,keep the pride in its placeand jump on the next gravy train.I am in my 30s nowLife isn’t so pretty now.Every day I wake upto a list ofThings To Do Today.Bills that I have to pay,things that I cannot say,calls I’ll never make,smiles I’ll have to fake.‘Good mornings’ and‘good evenings’,back slapping andback stabbings,it’s the same caseevery day.A growing file stackin my ‘in’ tray.No self respect,no proper pay,all work and no play.These are the end of my days.I’m gonna crawl up my cave,and wait to be saved,rescued from this freaking rat race.Caught in a 9to5 world,stuck with this 9to5 rules,I smile when I don’t want to,be polite cause I have to,say “yes” when I want to say,“fuck you!”Dignified?oh yes! but I’m dead dude.Sing me a white collar blue,before I puke on my shiny white shoes,and start to look sillyin my shiny white suit,sing me a white collar blue…Where are the nightswithout end, with girlsand my friends?Where are daysof my lifewith bon firesand cheap wine?Where are thewalk in the parkswith no shirtand no shoes,where are thelazy afternoonson the beachwith pretty nudes?I traded them forcredit cards andfancy cars;I traded themfor a title anda visiting card.Sing me a whitecollar blue,before I pukeon my shiny white shoes,and start to look sillyin my shiny white suit,c’mon… sing me awhite collar blue…

The Attic.

It's seems like a 1000 days since farewell. A 1000 days since moments together stopped to be. A 1000 days since our ways parted. I stand back and watch our time together pass soundlessly into the past. Into that place where facts are colored by my fears and fantasies, reality shaped by my love and hate, and time measured by my passion or indifference. A million memories - moments of the past, seem to gather dust in an attic inside my head. Away from the din of the dreary everyday life, away from prying eyes, away from the tribulations of my day-to-day existence, life lies fragmented and frozen in silent testimony to my time here. Every gasp, every sigh, every voiceless prayer and unshed tear of my life lives here for eternity. In the solitude of my soul, I climb the three scores and a year old rickety staircase to my attic often now. The tired wood rattles and creeks under my feet as in protest to my frequent visits. Sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes in broad daylight, sometimes with the leisurely coutenance of a seasoned tourist, sometimes with the fervent passion of a faithful pilgrim, sometimes for seconds, sometimes for hours, I visit you often in my attic.I see the vibrant smile, I see the twinkle in your eye, I see the beautiful feet. I see a tear drop braving gravity's pull. I hear the laughter - unrestrained and full. I see the arms that once held me. Among the unfilled promises of the days gone by I see the moments that made surrender possible. Amidst the unborn children of my dreams I see everything that gave birth to moments so beautiful. Long after I have bid you my final goodbye, the attic will still be alive with their suppressed giggles and suggestive smiles. In the silence of the night, if you listen closely, I am sure you will hear them laughing.

Intro

Meethi si hawa lagi abhi-abhi, kya aapney yaad kiya mujay abhi-abhi/ aapse milney ki kismat to nahi, phir bhi yuin laga aap mil kar gaye humay abhi-abhi.

I could i have been.......AN archaeologist...But i hate digging up the past.A florist...But then,life is not bed of roses.A hair dresser...But why split hairs???A printer...But i wasn't the right type.A statistician...But i hadn't got the right figure.A pilot...But i am down to earth.so,i became NOTHING......B'coz thatz the only thing i can do.