A letter to the clueless Boys!

Dear Boys,

Having Love trouble ? Listen Closely !

Now I do not, seriously, think of myself as some dating guru but after being on a bunch of lousy dates and having heard the lamest pick up lines ever, I feel like I owe it to myself (and the woman kind and to those poor boys who don't have a clue when it comes to those awkward first dates), to write this letter. 

So Here’s a list of DONT’S for you when it comes to interacting with the opposite sex;

1. So, you like to party? Jazzed up as it may sound, Please oh please never ever ask a girl this. I mean the whole question reeks of cheese. If you are still curious you can may be find out indirectly, but, for the love of God, do not put it out there in the form of actual words. NO, I DON'T LIKE TO PARTY.

2. Shero – shayari, Now I know that guys think that it’s romantic and everything. But I’d personally advice against it. So, before you turn into Mirza Ghalib next time, know your audience first. Coz most girls dont like it.   

3. Dont be overly familiar but at the same time don’t play totally aloof either. Coz attitude may be a turn on but too much attitude is a big turn off. so Keep it balanced.

4.  Don’t keep checking yourself out in the mirror too much. Nothing kills an evening like a sissy guy.

5. Steer clear of the following topics if its ur first date- ‘horse power’, power engines,,‘Tera bytes’, ‘mega bytes’ cc dc pc ac bcetc etc ‘. Coz she might look as though she is really interested but in her head she is playing the movie ‘P.S. I LOVE YOU’

6. DONT BABY TALK. Words like sugar, honey, sweets or anything with a tendency to cause diabetes are taboo. 

7.  Say the girl’s a doctor or a lawyer.. There is absolutely no need for you to begin the conversation like this ‘hor fer doctor/lawyer saab?’ There is nothing wrong with it as such,, It's just that this is how my jolly good fufadh ji (BUA’s HUSBAND) talks to me. 

8.  Never begin a conversation with Haanji. The very word puts me to sleep.(Okay this is only a personal dislike) so you can strike this one off the list.

9.     DO not drool...If you are on a date and Angelina Jolie passes you by, do not stop for a second to check her out. Okay I am aware this is way too extreme a behaviour to expect from boys. But look at this objectively,, What are the odds that the hot girl (Angelina Jolie) will check you out right back, especially when you are already sitting with another girl. None right? So, before you let your Jaw mop the floor think about the possibility that the girl who is passing by is not even going to notice you and you might even end up losing the one you are with.

10.Don’t be a chalta firta multi branded store. You know, Gucci shoes, Prada jacket, Tomford glasses, d&g belt, Armani wallet.. All At once... is a very, i repeat, very  very bad idea. .Nothing freaks us girls more than a brand freak.

So here’s what I thought could be of a little help. This was what not to do, stay tuned for what to do. 

With Love,
that girl who spent her last date looking at her watch!

I have a new phone and I am loving it!

Ainwey hi you folks are going nuts over these ifives – shy-fives and what not. Check this out. Last week,I broke my phone. May its soul Rest in PIECE. And by piece i mean one single piece because my poor phone was smashed into many pieces. So if not its body, at least its soul should get to rest in Piece.

But luckily I had an extra phone and I refer to it as my ‘stepney’ phone and here’s why I love it.

-  One look at my phone and the little beggars on the street have no interest in harassing me. They are smart people who are totally convinced that chasing me would be a total waste of time. So, I am saved the ‘meri sundar kareena didi’ torture.

-  It is the most user friendly and sensitive phone that I have ever seen. I mean Just so that I don’t feel left out in the age of super swanky phones, my phone makes me feel as though I also own a super expensive phone by constantly hanging itself. Now an ordinary person might want to hang himself only after seeing a NOKIA 1200 hang but I look at it as though my phone is trying to make me feel better.

- Since it does not support all that whatsapp nonsense. So there is one less way for people to know that I am jobless. And I, for sure, do not mind that.

- My phone can turn a shy little boy into the Hulk in a flash. Picture this. You are at KFC, ordering a veg zinger burger (Yes, I may be the most strict vegetarian who absolutely adores KFC) and your super swanky phone starts to ring.“Bumro Bumro sham rang bumro, aaye ho kis bagiya se, ooooo ooooo tum?”And the cute guy in the adjacent queue who seemed to be shit nervous around you right until five seconds ago quickly transforms into Mr Gladrags Man hunt Mega Model 2012.

- Then there comes the security with my phone that no other phone (even the ones with the best anti theft mechanisms) can guarantee. That ABSOLUTELY NOBODY WILL STEAL YOUR PHONE. Because there is absolutely nobody who wants to steal your phone.

Now you only tell me, with all these and so many more hidden qualities, who would not fall in love with this ultra-hitech piece of machinery. Tell me one phone that comes to your mind which is not just laced with the best anti-theft mechanism ever but also is not oblivious to your feelings, despite being a machine. Believe you me when I say that it's an absolute form of modern art and I happen to love love love it.

Ten things that I won’t miss about the "Great Indian Summer"

1.    The super-dreaded power cuts.

2.    The urghhhh-so-pathetic Humidity.

3.    The constant reaching out for facial wipes.

4.    The mind-numbingly annoying state of mind when you are at Dimpy beauty parlour , it’s a 100 degrees outside,   (the parlour wali aunty’s three years old daughter is all over your handbag) and

the damned wax refuses to stick.

5.    The knot in the stomach that you get when suddenly out of the blue your maid declares somewhat triumphantly  ‘didi ji paani chla gya’

6.    The dry & frizzy hair that refuses to settle much like a disgruntled ex from a divorce.

7.    The fact that no matter who you are, what you do or where you go,

You abso-f*^king-lutely need a deodorant.

8.    The horrifying realisation when you are at a club, dancing all the way to glory on some western number (angreji beats J  )  and suddenly it occurs to you,

“F*^k! doodh fridge mein nahi rakha”

9.    The extra ten pounds of sun block that you carry on your person whenever you step out.

10.  The fact that no matter who fucks up (LIKE for instance YOUR BF/GF DUMPS YOU), everyone just seems to follow one mantra to Blame it on the monsoons.

 AND... Ten things that I absolutely will miss about summers:

1.    Chilled Beer

2.    Chilled Beer

3.    Chilled Beer

4.    Chilled Beer

5.    Chilled Beer

6.    Chilled Beer

7.    Chilled Beer

8.    Chilled Beer

9.    Chilled Beer

10. CHILLED BEER!!!!!!!!!!

I F*^ked Up!

It’s like peeing in the pool (everyone has done it yet no one fesses up). Because we are so f*^king afraid of the judgment we never come clean. Let’s call, a spade a spade, gone are the days when to err was human and to forgive was divine. The new motto of the 21st century seems to be, ‘to err is human, to judge is divine.’


Admitting that we f*^ked up, is what I am talking about. It is indeed one of the hardest things that we have to do and more often than not we do without it.

When have you ever heard yourself saying these words, ‘so listen dude, here’s the deal. I f*^ked up. There is no one to put the blame on. There were no circumstances that led to it. I admit, I simply f*^ked up. Totally and completely, 100 percent my fault.’

Worse is when it comes to accepting our failures. Because failures as opposed to f*^k-ups are construed as somewhat more deliberate. It’s like that the world would have us believe that in case of a failure we purposely planted ourselves amidst the situation and did not just happen to be a victim of the circumstances. So you can wave goodbye to the word sympathy if you were expecting any. Now given all this you can only imagine the state of mind I must have been in when the people from my publishing house, who by the way had my novel on them for almost a year, told me that they were not going to go through with it.

“We have had a look at the manuscript and we are afraid we have decided against it as it doesn’t quite fit our list. We wish you good luck with your future endeavors,’ were the exact words I believe. In short what they meant was that my novel sucked.

In fairness to them, it did suck. It just took me long to realise that it did and even a lot longer to come to terms with it. I guess, I should have seen this coming though; my novel had ghosts and goblins involved for crying out loud. I don’t know it’s just that our whole Indian scenario doesn’t quite go with some wizard kid or the whole vampire thing. I mean what are the chances that you’d run into an elf named Varun Chopra in your basement.

Now to make matters worse I am not the brightest of the academic bulbs either. Forget getting great marks, I had much difficulty completing my degree of five years (which by the way took me six). And the cherry on top of this three tiered cake of a situation that my life has suddenly become is that I don’t even have a job. Yes, I am 24 and jobless. I don’t have a boyfriend and more often than not my decision making abilities bite me in the ass. I make the most pathetic choices and I take the worst decisions ever. My trainer at the gym (who FYI is a law graduate too), sees my frustration as a good sign because according to him when I am angry I work out with all that I have got, which anyway is bare minimal.

‘Don’t worry you will get a job. Your trainer did too,’ Dvd, my gym partner and one of the few people who have managed to get past the instinct to kill me in the past 6-7 years that he has known me, often does not hold back from sharing his pearls of wisdom.

Anyway it’s not about what Dvd says. The whole thing boils down to this that I am starting at the grass root level once again. I am bidding farewell to my novel (If not for water pollution I would have dumped its copy in the Sukhna lake to prove my point). Anyway I guess what I am trying to say is that I screwed up and I know there were some people who were expecting a lot from me and from this little adventure that I embarked upon almost three years ago. You guys, I am sorry that I couldn’t deliver and for the rest of you I am hoping you’d feel better knowing that there is someone who is far more hopeless than you could ever be.

There’s a load off my chest!

ONCE UPON A TIME IN CLASS EIGHT

"Roll no. 37", shouted Ms. Sharma, louder than thunder, for the third time.
But roll no. 37 ,a proud M.B.B.S (member of back benchers society), had something much more important on mind. Roll no. 37 was thinking that, how did Nupur di manage to look so good? She was so thin ,tall and fair. Everybody in the school vied for her attention.

"Can I borrow your pen?", she had asked me once. And I made sure that I gave her my favorite red pen, which she didn’t return to me. I thought she loved it and proudly told all my friends that Nupur di was using my pen. It was only later, I saw it lying near the classroom door.

She had poker straight hair and it was just the color of ginger. Whereas mine was awfully curly. Her mom let her do her eyebrows , mine were undone. Boys teased me.
She smelled so good always. Mom did not even let me wear a perfume. I would make the wisest possible use of the only deodorant , masi got me from the US. Only, so that, I also smelled good all the time. But by the time the first class got over, I smelled like the fruit jelly or the pickle in my lunch box.
No matter how heavy the school bag, I'd try taking it on one shoulder because that's what Nupur di did. I would pray to God, for it to rain, so that I could also wear my pink sneakers with the uniform, like her. The forced on fringes alongside my tightly oiled plaits made me look funny. But to me, I'd do everything possible to look like my idol.

Time flew past. She passed out and so did I. Nupur di is now confined to my memories of school. The straightening irons, saloons, branded stores, increased pocket money, Gucci, Prada, Armani have changed me from roll no. 37 to Nupur part two. But the question that haunts me often is, am I beautiful now?
 ……Or was I beautiful then?