Category: SYNG

For the past week I’ve been at the receiving end of sarcasm-tossed and mischievously-rolling-in-it jokes at work. And, now all thanks to social media, and with a little help of my colleagues – Round 2 has ensued on Facebook as we speak. They can’t help but snicker over the fact that my European jaunt had Ostrich wings.

So, to set the record straight, here is what really happened in between check-in, immigration and a bottle Jack. Last month, I had scheduled a trip to Europe, to land in Barcelona and later celebrate New Year’s Eve in Paris – a short vacation to get away from a life in media exile. Excited, I prepared myself for the end of December, daily crossing out dates on iCal – a calendar App for Mac.

The thought of one week in Europe, in my language, was going to be nothing short of orgasmic. Boy, was I thrilled all month. I even had this uncanny smile pop along (like a jack in the box) on several occasions – even during serious client meetings, which I admit was kind of awkward.

But somehow this scripted journey had a twisted plot. Even Sherlock Holmes would’ve flinched on this one. All right, I made that last bit up.

On “the” day I was to board a flight for the Capital – from where I had a connecting flight later on in the night, there was a 3 hour delay due to heavy fog, which only left me enough time to grab a beer at a local shack before heading to Terminal 3.
I chartered an auto and on the way received a text from the airline informing me about the delay in schedule. At this point, unperturbed, I slipped the phone back into my jacket. Little had I known what was in store – for all of us flying out from T3 that night.

On arrival, I found a sweet spot in a corner of Costa Coffee, and spent my time wrapping up pending work. Four hours later, around 3 am, I walked up to a queue that looked a lot like something you would see outside an Apple store when Steve is about to launch something magical.

The airline crew was politely addressing passengers. It looked like we weren’t flying out that night – the fog was playing peek-a-boo with the plane. However, we were taken to a hotel in Gurgaon on the pretext that we’d be on board the next morning.
The bus ride to the hotel – which should take 15 minutes on a sunny day – took 45 minutes, and this is when I crossed into Melinda, a British national, who was in India on vacation. We had hit-it off in the buss and later one of us had suggested the idea of getting drunk at the hotel and playing poker.

To be honest, now that I look back, glass of Jack in hand, can’t help but think how Melinda and I managed to play poker without a deck of cards that night. Two days later, after speaking with the airline, with only 4 days to go in Europe, I decided to drop out and return home to my colleagues and friends with a poker face.

Published originally on GQ.

Around half past six – looking dapper in a white suit – I arrive at The Grand Hyatt, Mumbai, with the Editor of GQIndia.com, who looks like an ad man from the hit TV show Mad Men. At this point, the venue for GQ Men of The Year Awards 2010 is bustling with activity – organisers wrapping last minute jobs and media focusing their lenses – for the soon to start gala event.

The red carpet is bedecked by the smooth curves of an Audi R8, which will beguile guests as they step down a fleet of stairs. I wipe the drool of my chin and strut around the red carpet like a celebrity. Well, this is – me – getting into A-list shoes. The stage is a surreal mix of Star Trek studios and London lounge. The anchor – Rahul Khanna – is busy doing last minute rehearsals.

Right away, I know this fashionable night is going to be a heady mix of top-drawer spirits. An hour later, the venue is littered with beautiful people suffused in style. I cajole my way into high-flying businessmen, celebrities, super models, fashion designers and the well heeled, introducing myself and clicking pictures for Twitter with my Blackberry.

Two hours later, the guest list has been ticked off and the show begins. Only moments later, as per plans, a short circuit like drama trips the lights. Screams, hoots and cheers fill the room and John Travolta appears on the scene. And, this is the only time I’ve seen girls whistle and hoot like teenage men.

Thirsty, I step into the lobby, grab a glass of red wine to slake my throat and cross into AD Singh and Rahul Bose. We briefly discuss Olive and the gorgeous women there. I walk around, behind the bar where Abhishek Bachchan and Aishwarya Rai are being escorted by a military of bodyguards. They tell me to stay clear. I obey.

On loitering around further I meet Chunkey Pandey (he talks about John Travolta’s dance moves), an Italian diplomat, Naseerudhin Shah and family (his sons are chilled out fellows), Purab Kohli (he’s much taller in real life), Sreenivasan Jain, Priyanaka Chopra (who thinks I’m some dude with a Blackberry clicking random pictures, but poses anyway), Abhay Deol, Kabir Bedi and many more.

As the star-studded event concludes, the glitterati grab a quick bite before heading to China House for the after party. At three in the night, tired, I leave – because I have an early flight to catch – as the party continues into the wee hours with no room for slowing down – truly GQ style.

Published originally on GQ.

The art of seduction works quite like an advertising campaign. You get a great product; like yourself, a consumer; the lady of your dreams, and some great direct marketing techniques. The lattermost, requiring fine-tuning those inter-personal skills and fabricating some engaging packaging.

Like most advertising campaigns, we will begin with the product; i.e., you. The brief is simple – the buyer should fall in love with the product. Lets begin with the product benefits. This is where your mastery of juggling flames on a horseback, with one leg balancing a glass of wine comes in handy.

Alright handyman, you’ve got the stuff lion tamers dream of but you’ll need to wipe the sweat off your chin. I suggest keeping it manly. The stubble and couldn’t-be-bothered-chest-hair look are slowly coming back. Think rock-star! This doesn’t imply leather pants and a pierced tongue. Be irresistible in a sharp suit like Pierce Brosnan from James Bond or Jude Law in Alfie.

Next in line, product activation and a direct marketing strategy that will have her eating out of your hands. Prepare by learning the language of Venus and building your first impression. Set out deadlines- a timetable for executing the entire campaign. The way to go about this is simple and easily manoeuvrable.

Firstly, booking a restaurant table in advance is the way way to go. Have the Head-Chef personally attend to your every whim, and it will surely seal the deal. Showing her a good time and pampering her is an investment. These techniques are bound to keep your returns at least ten fold.

So now, we’ve packaged the product and applied direct marketing techniques. Its time to bring on below-the-line activities. Like sending her flowers, a book she was eyeing at Chapters or even a puppy and sending cute-little-nothing messages. This will increase brand recall, securing a secret place in her imagination, which is also known as positioning.

Last but not the least, brand management. And remember, any successful advertising campaign demands a mix of techniques. These are the product; you, promotion; direct selling techniques, place; mall, restaurant, theatre, park and brand management – consistency. Be true, be yourself and invest-worthy profits are in your forecast.

Published originally on GQ.