Source: DNAIndia
John Abraham opens up on the life he lived, the dream he’s living and how he ‘survives’ in a 400-square feet house
I’m a nice guy, I really am. I understand that can be boring, but — maybe just to balance things out — I can be bad when I just have to. These are relative terms, though; more important are the connections you make. I believe I have this sense of connect with everybody I meet; a sense of accessibility. For instance, I don’t think twice about walking into a store. You know what the funny bit is: people come up to me only when they want my suggestions on what they might look best in.
Simplicity, for me, is this bond you establish with people, with the world. And I’m simple not because I try to be simple, but because I have spent most of my life being simple. This is not an equation that changes when you see a little money. Life does not, and should not, change that way.
Lucky me, existing in a fishbowl
I would never complain about living in a fishbowl; I love every minute of it. I’m fortunate that people love me and my work. But the truth is that my achievements, if you can call it that, are moderate. I have a long way to go.
I want John Abraham, the brand, to outlive me. I think life is about making a statement without trying too hard. It is your attitude, rather than your success, that carries you. What’s my attitude? I don’t mean to be narcissistic, but it’s very John Abraham: retro and approachable, cool and basic.
There’s one thing I do plenty of when I want to unplug: sit on my bike and ride. I ride when I’m happy, when I’m sad, when I’m upset, when I’m jubilant; it’s all about me and my machine — my baby — and the soul that we share.
Spaced out in 400 square feet
I live in an area of 400 square feet: a single bare room with one sofa and two beanbags. Someone asks me where I sleep and I tell him my bed is the sofa he’s sitting on. My wardrobe is cut of similar cloth: my pillows, quilts and bed sheets on the left and my clothes on the right.
I own few clothes; it’s not a big thing for me. I have four pairs of jeans and some shirts — that’s it. I like the feeling of distress that comes with living in roughed-out clothes.
The clothing bit kind of fits in with being a Mumbai boy. I’m from a school called Bombay Scottish and my teachers there spent long hours disciplining me. My teachers, at school and later in college, are such a big part of what I am.
Johnny be good
I’ve been brought up in a certain way. My parents have instilled values in me that continue to define the way I live. When people don’t like me or that they speak badly about me, it upsets me for sure, but then I shake that off.
My father is a Malayali and my mother is an Irani, to use the Mumbai lexicon. I have been raised on my mother’s side, which is why I know Gujarati but not Malayalam.
My beginnings were very humble. My father was a basic sort of person. There was a time — I was in the sixth or seventh standard — when I pestered him to buy us a car (Scottish had an overdose of rich kids and they used to come in these big vehicles).
Nostalgia is an old friend
My growing-up years were simple and happy: home food, mom and dad… I still miss those times. I love my present life but I feel nostalgic about those days. My parents spent so much time nurturing me and now I feel so guilty that I cannot spend time with them. It hurts.
My mother works for an old-age home. She tells me there is no place there anymore because sons my age drop their parents there, saying they’ll come back soon to pick them up — and they never do. I have seen this old lady there, looking up and smiling at the sun, at life, hoping her child will come and get her.
I have made my mother cry so much over all the trouble I got into. A teacher once told her, “John means 24 grey hairs in a day.” I used to bunk school, I could be found only on the football field. They had to drag me to class.
When God is on my mind
Of course, I believe in God, especially when I’m in trouble. Since that happens quiet often, you can say I think of him quiet often.
I’m not an overtly religious person, though; I’m more of an agnostic. My father used to tell me that the most important thing is to be good; follow that principle and you don’t need to go to a religious place and prove a point.
I have taken him extremely seriously — I haven’t been to one in the past 25 years.
Source URL: https://trendgrafitiinternasional.blogspot.com/2006/11/im-nice-guy-i-really-am-john_26.htmlJohn Abraham opens up on the life he lived, the dream he’s living and how he ‘survives’ in a 400-square feet house
I’m a nice guy, I really am. I understand that can be boring, but — maybe just to balance things out — I can be bad when I just have to. These are relative terms, though; more important are the connections you make. I believe I have this sense of connect with everybody I meet; a sense of accessibility. For instance, I don’t think twice about walking into a store. You know what the funny bit is: people come up to me only when they want my suggestions on what they might look best in.
Simplicity, for me, is this bond you establish with people, with the world. And I’m simple not because I try to be simple, but because I have spent most of my life being simple. This is not an equation that changes when you see a little money. Life does not, and should not, change that way.
Lucky me, existing in a fishbowl
I would never complain about living in a fishbowl; I love every minute of it. I’m fortunate that people love me and my work. But the truth is that my achievements, if you can call it that, are moderate. I have a long way to go.
I want John Abraham, the brand, to outlive me. I think life is about making a statement without trying too hard. It is your attitude, rather than your success, that carries you. What’s my attitude? I don’t mean to be narcissistic, but it’s very John Abraham: retro and approachable, cool and basic.
There’s one thing I do plenty of when I want to unplug: sit on my bike and ride. I ride when I’m happy, when I’m sad, when I’m upset, when I’m jubilant; it’s all about me and my machine — my baby — and the soul that we share.
Spaced out in 400 square feet
I live in an area of 400 square feet: a single bare room with one sofa and two beanbags. Someone asks me where I sleep and I tell him my bed is the sofa he’s sitting on. My wardrobe is cut of similar cloth: my pillows, quilts and bed sheets on the left and my clothes on the right.
I own few clothes; it’s not a big thing for me. I have four pairs of jeans and some shirts — that’s it. I like the feeling of distress that comes with living in roughed-out clothes.
The clothing bit kind of fits in with being a Mumbai boy. I’m from a school called Bombay Scottish and my teachers there spent long hours disciplining me. My teachers, at school and later in college, are such a big part of what I am.
Johnny be good
I’ve been brought up in a certain way. My parents have instilled values in me that continue to define the way I live. When people don’t like me or that they speak badly about me, it upsets me for sure, but then I shake that off.
My father is a Malayali and my mother is an Irani, to use the Mumbai lexicon. I have been raised on my mother’s side, which is why I know Gujarati but not Malayalam.
My beginnings were very humble. My father was a basic sort of person. There was a time — I was in the sixth or seventh standard — when I pestered him to buy us a car (Scottish had an overdose of rich kids and they used to come in these big vehicles).
Nostalgia is an old friend
My growing-up years were simple and happy: home food, mom and dad… I still miss those times. I love my present life but I feel nostalgic about those days. My parents spent so much time nurturing me and now I feel so guilty that I cannot spend time with them. It hurts.
My mother works for an old-age home. She tells me there is no place there anymore because sons my age drop their parents there, saying they’ll come back soon to pick them up — and they never do. I have seen this old lady there, looking up and smiling at the sun, at life, hoping her child will come and get her.
I have made my mother cry so much over all the trouble I got into. A teacher once told her, “John means 24 grey hairs in a day.” I used to bunk school, I could be found only on the football field. They had to drag me to class.
When God is on my mind
Of course, I believe in God, especially when I’m in trouble. Since that happens quiet often, you can say I think of him quiet often.
I’m not an overtly religious person, though; I’m more of an agnostic. My father used to tell me that the most important thing is to be good; follow that principle and you don’t need to go to a religious place and prove a point.
I have taken him extremely seriously — I haven’t been to one in the past 25 years.
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