I don’t fancy a big fat Indian wedding – Is that so bad?.

DISCLAIMER: It's a little longer than I usually care to post but bear with me... there was a lot to say!

Ever since I was fourteen I have had a dream- a dream to see the world. 

Nothing fancy (no 5 stars- no business class travel- no plastic smiles). Just a dream to experience the world in it all its rawness. You know, travelling in public transport (or, may be in a hundred years old truck from world war 1)- Cracking up about something with a fellow passenger- Forming friendships with the natives- Being that mysterious traveller from a far off land etc etc...

You know I sometimes imagine myself with a backpack – strutting down the streets of Istanbul in the warm winter sun- I am in a white top and a snug pair of blue jeans that fit like a dream  - I am wearing dark brown sunglasses with big frame.. My boots are rugged-I have a jacket wrapped around my waist- My hair is loose- I have a scarf around my neck- I am holding a camera (SLR’s, they are called right ?)- Local kids are waving at me and giving me toothless grins- women are shy but hospitable- the wise old man of the clan invites me for an early supper with them, which I happily accept- I drink tea with them and I have a notepad where I take down every little detail that I think is worth savouring... and as I sit there learning their folklore.. Suddenly I hear someone call me from my name.... “Tanu”

Surprised, as to how on earth someone in Istanbul knows my nick name (let alone my name), I turn to locate the owner of the voice.

It’s my mum.

“Get up beta, it’s ten in the morning. What do you keep doing on your laptop all night? And look at your room-so messy.”

Suddenly I realise the grand old man has vanished- toothless kids are nowhere to be seen - there are no shy women serving me food- Just our ever smiling domestic help kunti scurrying through my room with her prized broom- and it takes me about five more seconds to realise that I am 24 yrs old - ten years have passed since I had first had this dream and I have done nothing about it. 

Accomplished nothing- gotten nowhere.

‘Oho mumma, shut the drapes,’ I reply, grumpily, on being dragged out of Istanbul so ruthlessly.

“No, no, nothing doing,’ replies my mum as she forcibly snatches away my quilt, ‘get ready we have to go to Sharma aunty’s house also. Neha is getting married, you remember na!’

‘Remember, huh? I roll my eyes. Of course I remember. That is all you have been talking about for the past 6 months,’ I want to say but keep shut instead. So that I am saved the what-are-you-doing-with-your-life sermon. Of late everything has been about marriage in the Nag household Marriage is all mom talks about and marriage is all she thinks about.

Until recently I was more than sure that my life was headed in the right direction. I had it all mapped out and slowly but steadily I was getting there. But now suddenly everyone I know (be it from school or from college) is either getting married or having babies and everything is changing.

And even though I couldn’t be any less happy for them I can’t help but ask – Is having a different kind of dream (a.k.a to backpack across Europe on your own) not okay? 

Does marriage mean everything? 
Apparently it does. 
At least that is what the society (and by society I mean my mum) will have me believe. Good lord I don’t want to get married as yet- am not saying never- but not yet and while we are at it- let me say this also- I don’t want to have a big fat Indian wedding either. I think it’s a waste and that money can be put to a much better use. Is that so bad?

I have awesome friends- I love my job and I couldn’t be in a more secure place in my life- I think for now I am content celebrating just that. But every time I sign in on facebook and see three hundred and fifty likes on a friend’s wedding album – i feel a knot building in my stomach. Not because I am not happy for her but just because she has finally realised her dream (a dream of being a lovely bride) but I AM NOT EVEN KINDA CLOSE to my toothless kids in Istanbul and that makes me sad.

Then I call up my still single friends and burden them with all this nonsense and luckily for me they steer me out of my depression. After a long discussion - I get back on track- and start working on my dream to travel- to learn- to write and to live. And someday I am sure –just like my friend- I will realise my dream too but till then I just have one request to make:

Dear God, my friends tell me that you have something amazing in store for me and I couldn’t be any less thankful for that but KINDLY OPEN THE STORE SOON.

Rang De Basanti Fort - eh!

(pictures at the end of the post)
8:30 am - Left from Chandigarh. (You know, In the Dharti sunheri- ambar neela- har mosam rangeela- aisa des hai mera- mode)

10:00 am - Reached the fort (5 Kms from Khanna).

10: 10 am - Had a Budweiser.

10: 30 am- Actually played Rang de Basanti music on my i-pod to get d feel. (Yes, I rate myself the highest in the order of wanna be's. I am actually surprised that I didn't end up going there in an open jeep.)

10: 45 am - Clicked some pictures.

10:50 am - Some other people (locals probably) walked in - felt good-  to see that the fort was doing so well.

10:55 am - Witnessed something close to hooliganism or what can only be called the Sleaze-fest 2012 
Official partner- Testosterone Charged losers pvt. ltd.
Media partner - Ogling eyes pvt. ltd. 
(men and their ways to attract attention-pffff).

11:00 am - Collected our stuff and Got the hell out of there.
 (In the famous - tch tch is desh ka kya hoga? - mode.)

Review: 
Nice place.
Try going with a group.
There is not much aside from the fort- so good company is a must.
Rest I understood what Aamir Khan has been saying all this while.
We Indians do really know how to make the others uncomfortable.
(Atithi -not- devo bhav)
I was appalled to see that Not just the foreigners- we don't even spare our own when it comes to showing our inhospitable road side mannerisms- like eve teasing/littering/spitting etc etc.. plus it was really dirty too (liquor bottes- wafer packs- and spit stains) . 
Place requires a little security and a lot of maintenance.  
All this was actually a spoiler and made me deduct 2 and a half stars straightaway from my rating of this place.

Rating:
** and 1/2* (In case u didn't get it- that was two and a half stars)


Here are some pics I think you may like.

    Behind me is the field where Aamir Khan and the boys took off their shirts!

Pe gya High Court da chaska - Private job hun kareya janda nai

At first I thought I’d put the title of this post as my facebook status – get a hundred and fifty likes – feel good about myself – and move on!

 But the fact remains that I am getting more and more partial towards my blog by the second, which I should be allowed to given that I think that my blog is my baby (like facebook is Mark Zuckerberg’s baby). So I ditched facebook and decided to write about it here - in my very own little space (even though I know that it’s not going to get me even five likes – people are surprisingly lazy to explore something new- but it’s not about the likes anymore, I guess). J

Very recently I told you about the worst feeling on my list of various feelings; it was the feeling of drowning (and also the feeling of dealing with a Govt. clerk). 
However, this post is not about that. 
It is about that heady-oh-my-god-i-cant-believe-it-took-me-24-years-to-experience-something-like-this-feeling and I figure, if you have been patient enough to hear me bitch about the stupid clerks, you have every right to share my happy-feeling too.

The happiest moment that I experience these days is WHEN I APPEAR IN A COURTROOM.

God, the thrill- don’t think of me as immodest- is orgasmic.

No matter how nervous you are before as soon as you are there at the dice everyone else changes into blurry images. It’s you at the centre stage and even though it may last for only five seconds but that sudden rush of knowing that it’s on you that the entire case rests is mind blowing. 
For that brief moment you are one of the most important persons in the court room - even though all you have to do is to seek a Passover or make a request for adjournment (fellow lawyers will know) – or may be even stand silently as the court goes about doing its business. And once you are done- the slightest look of appreciation in your-honour’s eye is more than enough to make you go- vroom.

Walking down the alleys of the High Court in your prized black robe – even if you are the one with the most simplest of the job in the entire building- makes you feel every bit worth it.

Yep! this is where I work and I couldn't be more proud of the fact.

Five years ago the word “corporate law” was so big in my dictionary that nothing else mattered. All I knew was that as and when I’d be done with law I’d move to some big city and make big bucks; That one day I would join the Honourable High Court of Punjab and Haryana to practise law – the very thought never even crossed my mind. What did I know back then that not only will I practise law but it’d be something that I’d myself choose to do? They say you are at the right kind of job if you are looking forward to the Mondays.

Well, so far so good.

Not that the High Court will stop functioning if I don’t show up but just the fact that I did something meaningfully enjoyable is more than enough to get me straight through the week.

I had heard many people say that Practising law is like ecstasy and once you are hooked to it, you are hooked for life. It is too early to say but as of now I will sign off with the following words – 

I am aware that it’d be long before the “big bucks” come in but till then I am satisfied knowing that every day at the High Court brings with it a new challenge - a new concept- a new Drama.

And here’s to a new beginning- Cheers!

Or should I say Order-Order!

Blogger dwara Jan-hit mein jaari

Okay! I know that you boys think that you can tell right away when a girl is bad news but here’s some fresh news, YOU DON’T ALWAYS KNOW. So, consider my post a word of caution. As and when you spot any of the following signs in a girl that you have just started seeing, RUN FORREST RUN:

ü  If at any point, during the beginning of your general dating-type thing, you hear her saying, “arrey aunty mere hotey huye aap kaam karengi...” (Aunty going in her head “beta pichley 25 saal se kahan thi?)

ü  Or, if you are at a dhaba, enjoying a sumptuous rustic meal and you hear her say the following words, “Chotu tum School jaatey ho na?” (Chotu going in his head, “Oh! no, not again. When will these rich bastards grow up? I have work to do after all.”)

ü  If she can easily pronounce CHANEL, LOUIS VUTTON and GUCCI but can’t say Chyawanprash.

ü If she posts a picture of a big-mansion like pent-house on her FB (making sure it’s taken at the right angle, so that the whole house fits in- in one picture) and the picture reads, “MY SWEET LITTLE HOME.”
ü If she is more than twenty years old and calls masar ki daal –Yellow waali daal.

ü  If her favorite football player is Rooney (I mean Mitt Romney). I have seen it happen. Trust me, you can't make this stuff up.

ü  If she doesn’t know what is 78 in hindi. (It is ath-athar)

ü  If her answer to everything is “aww”. (Boy: I think I have AIDS. Girl: Aww.) That’s the stuff I am talking about.

ü  If she is pouting her lips in a picture that is taken at her convocation.

ü  If at every party that she is at her official party line remains, “God, how can girls wear clothes like that?” Or, “I don’t booze.”  Okay there is nothing wrong with the fact that you don’t booze but everything is wrong if you are self-advertising it.

Okay now remember that this list is not an exhaustive list. There is a lotttttttttttt to add but I don’t want a long post so that it puts you to sleep. So, I stopped right  here but if u have a point to add. DO NOT FEEL SHY.

Dhuddu Nacheya

Dhuddu nacheya Jatta o Khilarri: A beautiful folk song imagining Bholey Shankar in the state of total trance.
Could I ask for a better title?
This year I took two journeys into the very remote corners of Himachal Pradesh. One to Bharmour (A picturesque locale in the remore interiors of Chamba district), almost bordering Pakistan and other one was to Shrikhand Mahadev located in an even more arduous and unreachable interiors of Kullu district. Of course neither of the two journeys could have been possible without the help of my dad, who is very well versed with the treks of Himachal and also happens to be a keen trekker himself.

Anyway I am not at liberty to publish all the pictures as of now, however I did manage to steal a little glimpse exclusively for my blog..

Here’s a bunch of pictures from the Holy abode of lord Shiva.

Hope you like..

Bam Bholey Nath !

This man made the trip every bit worth it. A 70 something guy making us look like a rucksack full of potatoes when it came to hard-core trekking.

A beautiful little temple on our way!

Not just yum, these berries that grow in the wild, are believed to cure a lot of diseases.

Shumko, the lady who served us tea, oh so lovingly!

Bholey Shankar comes with a snake. He had just had a sumptuous meal by the way. That's why bulging in the middle.

The village we stayed at the night before!

My desi chums!

An Irish fellow traveler smoking pot (Confession: He didn't know that I was clicking his picture.)

Lazy Bastard!

That's right, you can fly in too!

See I wasn't kidding about the trek

Shrikhand Mahadev

Mani-Mahesh

And finally the place, where no matter who you are or what you do, you just know that it's time to bow.

The Kailash

Mommie, what is sex?

I must have been in class seven at that time. I still remember I was sitting by the window studying Civics (we used to have it for twenty marks under social science) and it was one of those neglected subjects that nobody paid much heed to.  

I wanted to go out and play but mom was sitting right next to me, trying to make sure that I studied, so one thing was for sure that there was no getting away from civics that day. Anyway bored out of my mind I started reading out loud, ‘All of us have the right to vote irrespective of our colour, caste, religion or sex.’ Colour was fine, caste I understood a little, religion- i thought I had an idea about. 
But Sex- What the fuck was sex? (It was something bad that much I knew but nobody ever spoke about it.)

Trying to be a smartass, very innocently, I popped the question, ‘Mom, what is sex?’

As a near adolescent myself, I was aware that there was something about this word that changed the very body language of adults and kinda made them uncomfortable. Now normally I wouldn’t have had the guts to ask but now that it was in the book itself, I had attained a virtual right to question and not be snubbed in return. Mom couldn’t possibly get mad and if I ever had any shot at solving the mystery of sex. This was it.

But to my utter disappointment, very nicely mom explained to me how men or women can’t be discriminated against when it came to our rights etc etc. Yawn! 
Needless to say, it took me a couple of years more to learn what I had actually asked for that day- the hidden –darker- meaning of sex.

I know a lot has changed in the last one decade or so and sex is not as taboo as it was back in the day. I mean, you remember, don't you? that they censored that song, ‘sexy sexy sexy mujhey log bolein’ to ‘sweety sweety’ or something to that effect. But times have changed. Now a days, there are songs about people sitting nude on shitpots  (Leaving practically nothing to imagination).

There goes a facebook group by the name ‘Why poke? Let’s just have sex instead.’ There is no ho-halla attached to sex anymore.

But I have a point to raise.

I kind of miss that ‘ho-halla’. You know, the age of innocence? When a simple lip lock in Raja Hindustani used to send a terrible chill down our spine and so determined we used to be to escape that awkward moment in front of our parents that we used to rush to the kitchen that very instant, to get anything from water to apple juice. And never did we have the guts to come back in the living room until we were convinced that all the ‘Bad-stuff’ was over.

I miss the time when not every single sentence that came out of our mouth was distorted by our friends into a double meaning sleazy innuendo.
And  most importantly I miss the time when ass was a funny cute animal and pussy was just a cat!

She is just not that into you!

üIf she has said so herself, coz contrary to the popular belief, when a girl says no she means no, 

NOT YES.

ü  If she keeps missing your calls. (Even if God almighty himself descends on mother earth to tell you that lightening struck that poor girl’s phone not once, but over and over again. Do not for a second lull yourself into believing it. The point is no matter how pathetic the circumstance, had she wanted to call you, she would have called you.)

ü  If she always takes another call while talking to you but never, i repeat, never takes your call if the situation was reversed.

ü  If she LoL’s a lot. (Trust me, it's not a good sign)

ü  If her ex boyfriend keeps coming back into the picture like an unascertainable allergy. (Obviously She is still too hung up on him.)

ü  If she keeps falling sick every time you ask her out. (Jaundice/Malaria/AIDS no matter whether communicable or non-communicable, the disease is your cue to take a hike.)

ü  If she’d rather be at her roommate’s sister’s Ladies sangeet than being with you.

ü  If she doesn’t frequent your facebook.

ü  If she doesn’t get your jokes. (Coz trust me a girl will pretend laugh if nothing else to keep a conversation going, provided she is interested otherwise.)

ü  IF SHE TELLS YOU TO READ THIS.

Kudi Saturday Saturday kardi rehndi hai. So, what’s your problem jackass?

 I am not even a hard core feminist but even then this song is bothering me on so many levels that I can't help but react. You call this music?

Mediocre offensive novelty crap trying to masquerade as rap.
This is how absurd this song sounded to me...

•  Pehlan taan kudi ne Ludhiana vi ni tapya si  (Meaning that The girl had never stepped foot outside her hometown) So what is ur problem? It’s not like u were the official sponsor of her out-of-Ludhiana trip. 
• Poochey Bina gharon bhar pair vi ni rakhya si     (Never had she done anything that her elders did not approve of) So I am guessing your elders are totally cool with you writing such a demeaning sad nonsense (you like to call a song) 
• Jaddon di madam ji sheher which aai bas party dian gallan kardi rehndi hai (Once a shy timid girl dares to speak of parties now) Last I checked, it was still a democracy and we were still allowed the right to speech.  
• Kudi saturday saturday kardi rehndi hai(All she cares for are the saturday nights) Count your blessings that she does - thanks to her - you get to earn your bread and butter.  
• Sarojini ke kapde pehen ke jaati madam disko (She buys her clothes from a flee market)Lol is that supposed to be an insult? I am sorry to burst your bubble Mister rapper but not all of us walk around in Prada. Welcome to the real world. 
• Vip mein complimentary drinks bhi chahiye isko (She insists on the complimentary drinks when in a club)Well, she can insist on complimentary poison as long as she wants it and the club is offering it. You have nothing to worry, i suppose. 
• Isko Gadi chahiye lambi, isko music chahiye loud (She likes cool cars and loud music) Why? if u can prefer expensive clothes to ‘Sarojini ke Kapde’ ..Doesn't she have the liberty to like expensive cars? And as far as the loud music is concerned if you hate it so much, don’t come to the club next time, go to a library instead, Pin Drop Silence, my friend. 
• Ye jaati mehnge club mein jahan pe hota dhang ka crowd (She prefers an elite place and nice crowd)Really sorry, but we did not know that you prefer cheap crowd instead. 
• Ludhiayane se aayi ladki university padti hai (She is a small town girl in a big city)Now what’s wrong with this? Like being from Ludhiana is supposedly a crime? Delhi University is one of the premier institutes of India after all, where else should she go, to the institute where they teach how to degrade women. 
• Kehti to hai student hai But I doubt. (She claims to be a student but I doubt)So who asked you to become ACP Pradyuman? 
•  Mundeya de palle ni tu chhaddeya ni kakh  (She makes the guy spend)It’s not like she put a gun to your head and asked you to offer her that drink. Here’s a tip: if you don’t have the money, don’t offer to buy her a drink. 
• Aati Honda mein jaati tu Audi mein Khisak (She knows more than one guy) Lol if u can come with Tina and hit on Meena all through the evening well so can she. Nothing personal buddy!
• S*** S*** Baby what the fuck? (I am sorry despite the best of my efforts to get it, this one sentence did not make any sense to me, so cant translate)But on a Serious note baby what the fuck? I truly hope you can rap better next time. Look up your dictionary there are more words in the English language than s*** and f***. 
• Sheher aake baby baby kardi, tu pind which bebe bebe kardi hundi si (She uses the term ‘Baby’)Excuse me? Did you just not use the same Baby term more than once in your own song too. Is the kettle calling the pot black?

I can go on but I think I have made my point pretty clear. 

When Honey Singh came up with ‘Aina vi na dope-shope marya karo’ , that song at least had a well-meaning message in it. So even if it bordered a little on the boundary of offensive, nobody seemed to mind it. But you on the other hand, seem to be just tapping the formula that Honey Singh created with Dope-shope but the sad part is that there is no message (I mean not even for the heck of it), except that you objectify women in a very very unwelcome way and that’s not done dude.

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?