Just got back from picking up my brother at JFK (forgot how much I hate having to drive out to that airport, especially in rush hour). He’s in town because his latest project, Greater Elephant, will be premiering next Saturday (Nov 12th) at the South Asian International Film Festival in New York City. It’s an interesting little indie flick, from a very talented director. My little bro is playing Shiva, the God of destruction (how appropriate). You can check out the movie’s Facebook page here.

Chalk it up to one more advantage of living in (near enough) this great city. It’s great to have Naveen in town, as I don’t get to hang out with him often, living as we do in completely different worlds halfway across the globe from each other. And he’s been pretty busy with different projects since his star turn in Rocket Singh. I’m looking forward to hearing him regale us with tales of life in Bollywood. And I wonder what the film festival experience will be like. If you’re in the NYC area and can make it to the screening, be sure to come. I’ll be there to watch the film and support him.

There is no greater testament to the impact Steve Jobs had on our lives. I was sitting with a bunch of colleagues at our favorite hangout when one of us simply said “Steve Jobs died!”. All of us immediately dug into our pockets and reached for our phones to go online and verify the news. Most of us were holding iPhones. And our tweetstream and news feeds was flooded with worldwide reaction to the loss of a giant, delivered via services that wouldn’t exist if he hadn’t created the ecosystem for them to be born in. As soon as we saw that it was true, the mood at the table changed dramatically. We couldn’t do anything except sit in stunned silence. And the emotion we felt was unparalleled at the loss of someone we have no personal connection to.

Except that we do. A deeply personal one. Steve Jobs touched our lives in ways that are hard to quantify. He was King Midas – the entrepreneur and visionary that all of us techies at the table count among our greatest inspirations. A legend. The gold standard for turning vision into uncompromised reality. He was Walt Disney – the driving force behind the world of magic at Pixar. He believed in it and pushed it through when almost everyone else would have bailed on it. His DNA is very much alive in the creative vision that rules there. He was the Pied Piper – changing the way we live our daily lives in fundamental ways, almost dictating it to us. None of us can imagine not having our iPhones (or the smartphone that followed suit) to get through the day. And my son, who lives and breathes all things Pixar, is a bona fide member of the iGen (or should that be Gen-i), having grown up from day one playing, learning and enjoying our iPhone and iPad. He is a tech savvy 3 year old who has never touched a keyboard or a mouse. The world he will grow up in has been forever shaped by Steve.

As we slowly recovered and started to talk about him, discussion turned to the stories we had heard, and the impact his loss would have on Apple products, stock and roadmap. Such was his genius, that the fate of a company with the size, success, capital and talent of Apple is still so singularly tied to one man. I have no doubt that he built Apple to last, but today is a great loss for Apple, the Tech industry and the World. His clarity of thought, vision and drive will be missed.

Apple’s tribute on their home page is fitting: larger than life, simple, elegant, complete. There are no words…

Congratulations to Mariano Rivera on save number 602, and sole possession of the all-time record.

Where Jeter reached his milestone in dramatic style and with a great deal of hoopla surrounding it, Mariano Rivera did it exactly as he’s always done everything – no fuss, no drama, a sea of calm and total class. And completely in control.

He is without a doubt the best in the business. Before this season is over, he will have surpassed Trevor Hoffman to become the all time leader in saves. Baseball purists argue about the relevance of the saves category. As someone who has witnessed Mo’s contribution to the incredible run the Yankees have had since he came into the league, let me say two words – Enter Sandman.

Any time the opposing team heard that song, they knew the game was over. And it was a disheartening feeling. Knowing that you pretty much had no shot. And at no time was this more evident than in the postseason, where Rivera simply loomed large over every single game. Opposing teams knew they had to tie the score or take the lead before the start of the 8th inning (has anyone had more 2 inning saves ever?), because if they didn’t, the game was over. And it made them press and make mistakes, which worked to the Yankees advantage. And the few times teams managed to overcome Rivera stand out simply because they were so rare. Luis Gonzalez’s career highlight will always be hitting a bloop single over shortstop to win the 2001 World Series, an especially heartbreaking loss for every New Yorker, partly because it won the series, but mostly because it was against the great Mariano. There is no doubt in my mind that the Yankees win none of those championships without Rivera contributing large to the mystique and aura.

And in the age of Lebron, Kobe, A-Rod and Peyton, has there ever been a less heralded and hyped superstar than Rivera? He always carries himself with dignity and grace, forever humble and a team player. Can you imagine what the coverage of A-Rod’s approach to 700 HR would be? Just compare it to the complete lack of hype around Rivera’s approach to 600. I guess it’s fitting for someone who would enter the game, get 3 outs, and walk off the mound before you even had a chance to get your heart racing. He was just that good, that dominant, that matter-of-fact.

He is the master. He is the Sandman. And there will never be another like him.

10 years later, the 9/11 Memorial is finally open, despite still not being finished. As I was going to be in the downtown area, I took the opportunity to reserve a ticket and visit.Maybe I should have waited, because I don’t want to pass judgement on a work in progress. I’ve been to a lot of memorials all over the world, many of which have been impressive, and some of which have been deeply moving (like the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe in Berlin). And none of them had as personal a connection to me as this one does. So maybe it was an inflated expectation, but I wasn’t overwhelmed in the way I thought I would be.

When you walk in, you feel like you are in yet another public space in Manhattan. There’s nothing dramatic about it, nothing to remind you of the solemnity or importance of the place. You sort of wander a bit and make your way over to the pools, only because you see the crowds gathered round it. Once there, it’s a different story though.

The pools are huge, reminding you of the colossus the towers were, and the size of what the terrorists brought down. The thunder of the waterfalls is neither calming nor contemplative. If anything, it made me imagine what it would have sounded like to be in the lobby when the towers came down, like my colleagues were. Watching the water disappear into the abyss does fill you with a sense of loss though.

All around the pools are the names of those that died on September 11th (as well as those killed in the 1993 WTC bombing). Etched deeply into the panels bordering the pools, you get a sense of the scale of the loss as your eye follows the names along the length of the overhang, going further and further into the distance. There is a very tactile feel to the etchings, and it makes you feel a certain connection to the person whose name you trace with your finger. I consider myself extremely lucky that I was not there looking for the name of anyone I knew. But I did seek out a name etched in my memory.

I can see that this would be a comforting place for the friends and family of the victims to come, to see the name of their loved one sitting there next to familiar names of other family, friends or coworkers. The arrangement of names based on shared context and relationships seems fitting to me. And the way the etching lends itself to tributes being left behind makes for some beautiful pictures like this one.

But what the memorial fails to do, though I’m hoping this gets rectified when the buildings still under construction on site are finished, is make this poignant. Be it personal stories that give a face to the names, or stories of the heroic acts of that day, something needs to be done to make this place a real testament to what we lost and how we rose above that day. And while it was heartbreaking to see name after name of first responder grouped around the name of their company or unit, the memorial needs to do more to honor those that made the greatest sacrifice of all by ignoring their fears and heading into and up the towers that day.

You can see all the photographs (and one video) I took at the memorial here.

I miss the World Trade Center. I loved those towers, and that Manhattan skyline they created along with the Empire State Building. I wish I hadn’t kept putting off going up to the observation deck.

I miss the days when the word “America” stood for accomplishing great things. In these 10 years, Dubai built the Burj Khalifa, while Beijing and Shanghai stood up one impressive structure after the next. Meanwhile we still wait on the first tower to rise at Ground Zero (which is what I will continue to call it until all construction is finished, no matter what Mayor Bloomberg says). It’s an absolute disgrace.

I miss when I could look at a fire truck passing by without a heavy heart. And living where I live, that’s pretty much every day.

I miss the time when America was looked to by the rest of the world as a shining example of democracy. That shine has definitely come off. And with it, our ability to legitimately champion human rights in other parts of this globe has been neutered.

I miss my old office, and the view I had from my cubicle on the 87th floor of Tower 1. I miss the feeling of awe I would have when I would leave home on a cloudy day, and walk into an office that was sunny because we were literally above the clouds. And I miss the 20 minute door-to-door commute I had, despite which (or probably because of which) I was thankfully late on that fateful day.

I miss being presumed innocent until proven guilty. And I hate that we are now conditioned to accept being presumed suspicious until proven safe.

I miss MSN IM. Not because it was any good, but because of what it will forever mean to me. When the towers went down, all forms of communication went out in the area – phone lines, cell phones, you name it. But the internet and IM was still there. By daisy chaining conversations (I think there was a limit of 5 people on the same conversation at the time), the Thor folks who got home were able to stay connected all day. One-by-one, painfully slowly, we would get and spread the word that another one of us had been located safe and alive. Reading the conversations I saved, some of the exchanges still send a chill down my spine. By the end of the night, the last person was accounted for; the feeling of relief was overwhelming in its intensity.

I miss going on the subway system and not seeing soldiers armed with automatic rifles every few weeks like clockwork – a reminder of what life has become.

I miss cherishing the possibility of air travel, instead of dreading it. Not because of the threat of terrorism, but because of what I may have to go through at security (and have a couple of times). Thanks, TSA.

I miss when this nation had a guiding conscience. We applaud firefighters and the NYPD when we see them at ceremonies, cheer for them before our games begin at stadiums. Yet when it comes to taking care of them, or doing something meaningful for them, we do nothing. They are the first in line when it comes to budget cuts, and work for ridiculously low pay. It took Jon Stewart weeks of talking about it and finally going on the offensive to do one of his finest shows ever to get the James Zadroga 9/11 Health and Compensation Act passed at the end of last year. And there is no lasting tribute to them at the 9/11 memorial. Don’t even get me started on how we treat our troops and veterans of the necessary (but botched) and unnecessary wars abroad. It’s a travesty.

I miss the Thor team. What we went through post 9/11 to pull our company’s fortunes out of the ashes of the WTC and stand it up again was amazing. We lost almost everything that day except our people, but that was enough. We banded together, put in hellishly long hours despite not knowing if the next paycheck was coming, and clawed our way back from oblivion to create a company that I still proudly name any time I have to introduce my background. We were a great family. And like so many families, have not stayed in touch the way we really should have.

I miss the United States of America. We were united like nothing else after 9/11. But the destruction that was wrought that fateful day extended far deeper into our national psyche than we have ever acknowledged. Maybe it is just the fringe talking, but the divisions in my adopted home have never felt as pronounced as they do now. I hate that the loudest chants of “USA! USA!” come from the same folks that also throw out “my America” and “taking back my country“, like I don’t belong. I hate that I can’t disagree with a viewpoint without being labeled a traitor or told that I’m “with” the terrorists.

I miss feeling like I will live forever. Now I live like there may be no tomorrow. The wife has never viewed this as a welcome development.

I miss the sense of purpose we had as a nation, especially after the attacks. It doesn’t feel like we know what we stand for any more, all grandstanding and empty rhetoric aside. And I even miss the sense of purpose it created for me at work. Succeeding in our endeavor took on a very personal tone after that day, which is why moving on after 10 years was so hard despite it being painfully clear that it was time.

One thing I do not miss is my love for New York City. Because you can’t miss something that is very much still there. It’s one of the main reasons why I haven’t moved to the west coast, even though that is clearly the thing to do for my career. This is the greatest city in the world, and not just because of how it responded to the attacks – with resilience, with resolve, with courage. Being a New Yorker meant one thing before 9/11, something completely different afterwards. I cling to that memory – the best in all of us on display that day – as hope for the future. And while it is definitely still flawed in many ways, what endures and rises above is the spirit and energy that flows through NYC, drives it, makes it tick.

Memorial ceremonies are about to start. So much was lost that day. We may have moved on, but have never forgotten. And never will.

You can’t say he doesn’t have a flair for the dramatic!

His entire career has been made up of highlight reel after highlight reel. He is Mr. November. I still consider The Play he made against Oakland in Game 3 of the 2001 American League Division Series as being the best play I’ve ever seen, up there with the Eli-to-Tyree catch in Superbowl XLII. He’s won 5 championships, and should have won a 6th in that magical 2001 World Series. Today, he blasted a home run to left field to collect his 3000th hit (in a huge 5-for-5 day), cementing his place in the Hall of Fame. History, with an exclamation mark.

And through it all, he’s done it with grace and humility unparalleled in professional sports. He is the Captain of the New York Yankees, among the most storied franchises in all of sports. Yet he doesn’t act it except where it counts – on the field and in the clubhouse. He could own this town if he wanted to, yet he has always conducted himself with the utmost respect for the uniform that he dons every summer. He is the ultimate team player, always putting the team victory above personal achievements.

I have been amazed at the people calling into the talk shows that have turned on the Captain, complaining about the fact that he actually tried to negotiate for a new contract this past off-season. Obviously fairweather fans, and not true Yankee fans who understand what Jeter means to this team and this city. If anyone has earned the right to call his own shots, it is him. And he still did it the right way (it was Cashman who tried to get public pressure on his side by spilling things to the press), and has maintained a dignified stance ever since. The man has nothing to prove, and I hope that through all the noise from the fringe, he knows it.

To paraphrase the great Joe DiMaggio:

“I want to thank the Good Lord for making Derek Jeter a Yankee”

That’s how long it took for justice to be served. Osama Bin Laden forever changed our world that fateful fall day, and almost 10 years later we are able to close this chapter in our lives.

In a somewhat surreal twist, I am writing this while sitting on board a flight to the west coast. My entire professional travel career has been in a post 9/11 world, and every time I had to go through the security checkpoint dance, I would remember where it all began. Every time I would look at the view of downtown Manhattan from my apartment and notice that huge void in the skyline, I would remember what it was like to work at the World Trade Center – the sweet view of the East River bridges I had from my desk, the massive bank of escalators I would go up every morning, the sea of humanity I would find myself getting intimate with every day at rush hour.

I couldn’t bring myself to celebrate like the people who gathered outside the White House or at Ground Zero. The moment felt far too solemn, my emotions far too raw and my thoughts were with those who lost loved ones on 9/11. I wonder if closure is even possible when the wound is this deep. And the (intellectual) part of me that believes in MLK and Gandhi wonders why I am experiencing such visceral satisfaction in the news of a kill.

This is not a joyous victory. The path was too long, at too high a cost, with way too many mistakes along the way. When I am finally able to make my way back to Manhattan, I would like to go back to the Sphere, an under-appreciated, ignored, powerful memorial thats stands battered but tall in Battery Park, and reflect. I am one of the lucky ones to not have lost anyone on that horrific day, as everyone from Thor made it out alive. But the events of that day reshaped my life in so many different ways, altering the entire course of my life. As the destruction of that day threatened to consume Thor, a number of us dug in deeper, resolved not to let the bastard win. I know that’s not how we were necessarily thinking at the time, but I’m sure it was a subliminal driver that made us rise above our situation. And who knows where things would have ended up if not for that sense of purpose, of camaraderie, of resolve in the face of what seemed like a lost cause. I certainly know I would not have ended up where I am today. I will always carry that day with me, the good and the bad, till the day I die.

I have now lived most of my adult life in a post 9/11 world. Today, it brings tears to my eyes to realize that my son will live in a post Osama Bin Laden world. I know that terrorism isn’t going away any time soon, but there is a certain measure of comfort in that. And for that, I am grateful.

It is a good day to be an American. Thank you to the men and women in uniform, who protect our freedoms and our lives. Thank you to first responders and service men and women who risk their lives to save us. And thank you to all those that continue to fight against the prejudice and intolerance that fuels animals like Al Qaeda. We’ve finally gotten rid of the man that stood for all that was evil. Now we have to change the hearts and minds of people the world over and make this world a better place for our children.

It is a good day to be an American.

What a picture. I was a very young kid when India won in 1983, so I have no real memory of that moment when cricket became India’s national game. Ever since then, the dream to see it happen again was revisited every 4 years, and every 4 years there was just heartbreak. So when Dhoni hit that magnificent, timeless six to clinch the trophy, the screams of joy were mixed with an incredible sense of relief. The feeling of catharsis was indescribable. This home video capturing our ecstatic screams of victory will join the video I made when the Giants won the Superbowl as one of my most precious memories.

What’s even more amazing is the way India won the trophy. Dethroning the 3 time (12 years!) champions Australia, emerging victorious against Pakistan in the sub-continental Mahayudha, and then defeating the always dangerous Sri Lanka in a roller-coaster of a match – there can be no doubting this team. It was a complete team effort, with almost everyone having to step up and contribute to the run. On the cricket crazed subcontinent (as evidenced from this incredible collection of photographs), this was the only way to win that would stand up to any doubters.

The win was made all the more significant by the fact that it allowed the greatest cricketer of all time to finally get the championship he craved and so richly deserved. Sachin Tendulkar has carried the hopes and dreams of India cricket on his shoulders for two decades now. And after shattering every record there is, all that was missing was a World Cup title. When player after player on the Indian team said that they played this tournament for Sachin, you sensed just how much Sachin means to Indian cricket, and how much of a motivation winning it for him had become. No one deserves this more, and it was incredibly emotional to see him finally lift that trophy.

On a much more personal note, Tanu pointed out that Arav was with us in her womb when my beloved New York Giants shocked the Pats to win Superbowl XLII. Since then, I’ve seen Manchester United win the Champions League,  the New York Yankees win the World Series, and now India win the World Cup. I have been incredibly lucky to watch every one of my teams rise to the top and win it all, and I am sure I have my lucky charm to thank for that (as if I needed more reasons to love the little bugger). And to have been able to share the joy of victory with friends was just an incredible bonus. What a feeling!

Do you think you can capture the essence and beauty of New York City in less than 5 minutes? Check out this amazing time-lapse video by James Ogle. For someone who has never been to this great city, it will really bring it to life. And for those of us that love this incredible metropolis, it is a lovely visual ballad.