This Father's day!

This Father’s day!

My Hero, My friend, My Safety net

There’s no one who loves me more - I bet.

First time I rode my bike,

There you were, watching with pride.

As if I had conquered the Everest,

You rooted for me, you were the best.

Remember when I was afraid of dark?

Leave me alone and my throat would parch.

I was your daughter and you loved me alright,

But enough of the delusions? You had to set me right.

So you left me in the jungle -- in the middle of the night,

With a rusty old clock and a funny flash light.

‘Say hi to the ghost if he stops by.’

‘Trust me you’ll like him, he is a funny guy.’

‘See you in an hour, beta I love you,’

And Off you vanished, without a clue.

No wonder I howled in the 5^th gear

Through hell I went --- to kill that fear.

Off course you didn’t leave, you were standing right by my side,

Only to teach me a lesson, you had to hide.

This I didn’t know at that point of time,

To me, what you had just done was a big fat crime.

Sure no one showed up all that while (not even a mirchi or a half sliced lime)

But the lesson I learnt was worth every dime.

Then came that time when my Hero changed

Your efforts to rescue – went all in vain.

Gone were the days of the ghost in the meadow,

Now I was keen to outrun your shadow.

I was this pesky little thing you know,

Who felt ‘She knew it all’ – Her biggest flaw.

Anticipating what lay in store,

You stood by my side, but said no more.

Not long after I learnt a lesson again.

This time not so easy and with a lot of pain.

Brokenhearted I came to you

Didn’t have to say a word – you already knew.

Blunder on top of a blunder,

How easily you forgive me? I wonder.

So I guess this father’s day,

What I am trying to say,

Is the thing that doesn’t get said enough

When I hit rock bottom and the going gets rough,

It’s your wise words which make me tough.

Dear father, I love you more than I care to confide,

You are my friend, philosopher and my guide.

I wish you health, joy and pride,

May the life ahead be a blissful ride!

Bliss

Feeling Modi-vated

On one side is a one ‘night’ wonder

His cough louder than thunder

Aimless tusker out on plunder

Not a mistake but actually our blunder

On the other hand is Mr Modi

And that munna fresh out of momma’s godi

Pomp show and a huge campaign

Good on looks but a little less brain

Diehard Modi fan? No, I am not

But it’s my best bet and that’s all I got

No balatkar, No bharastachar

Let’s cut down on the attyachar

So do all your soch-vichaar

Clichéd - yes, it is

But ab ki baar modi sarkaar

Stand up and do what’s right

Fight the evil with all your might

It’s time you make a wise decision

Hit that button with care and precision

UPA is dead and outdated

Hell yeah! I feel Modi-vated.

Shit just got shittier, and then it turned serious brow

20000000 definitions of happiness and yet no one is happy… Happiness is this…. Happiness is that – I’ll tell you what happiness is it is my dog’s spiral shaped poop, that’s what it is.

Good evening friends, happy Wednesday evening? Yes, I just read this status two seconds ago.

Twenty reasons why you should date a Bengali, Tamilian, Punjabi girl? What are you kissing ass regionally now? Like oh no! India has a thrillion people, quick find a way to sub categorize them and then kiss ass at break neck speed. Besides shouldn’t the post read Why a Bengali/Tamilian/Punjabi girl should date you? Since when did you have the luxury to form categories and then choose accordingly… It’s not for you to decide which girl to go with! Lol! Count your blessings (that at least some girl said yes) and move on. Aaye bade penning reasons to date girls.

The constant never ending IPL updates? When I learnt IPL is not taking place in India, I felt like I finally had something going in the year 2014. Like a reason to smile or something. What the fuck did I know about this constant torture on my fb?

Those statuses rebuking players like they grew up playing unch neech ka papda with you in your backyard… (Take it easy buddy! Messi (Yuvi) fucked up, it’s okay the lad had his focus wrong. Sometimes shit happens. Chill!)

Oooh and the latest photo shoots! We know you just got married - the testosterone is high and while you may give Brangelina a run for their money (God knows you are pros) you may want to consider not overdoing it.

That picture of you which you are passing off as a natural shot.. pretending like you had no clue that it was being clicked. (Lol! You are fooling nobody.) I mean, how absented minded do you have to be to not know that your picture was getting clicked. For otherwise it should be looking like those sting videos,, blurry, hazy and unascertainable. Not like the Nat Geo fucking covershot of the month.

Really deep, meaningful, observational, advisory, well meaning, life altering shit that puts me to sleep in an instant– I’d friend Paulo Coehlo if I was looking for that.

The virtual political vendetta (ye nya laaye hain is saal) Sometimes statuses get so heated up that I feel someone somewhere is just seconds short of firing an imaginary gun.

Savita dreamer traveller Sharma … Why? Why? Why? Normal Savita Sharma pe log pathar marenge kya?

wHY dOyoU hAvE tO wRItE sTatUsEs lIKe tHIs? I donOt uNdErstAND :-I

It’s okay you can check in at an airport - Sorry, ✈port (apparently people won’t know it’s a plane that lands at the airport until we draw it) So am just playing by the rules. Anyway, so where was I? Yes, last I checked it was totally legal to check in at an airport and not check in on facebook simultaneously. You are rich, you travel by planes, We get it. Just tell us when you reach there,, everything else is kinda self explanatory. I mean spain ab auto me to jaoge nahi? All we wish for is a happy stay for you, not really interested in knowing how you got there!

And what the fuck is this feeling blessed shit. I don't see a white disk doing rounds on my head every time I am feeling blessed.

and not just that every feeling has an icon.. I mean, how dare you feel happy any other way than how facebook taught you?

Feeeeling bakch**ed

The Blues of the Blue Blazer

What is with the attitude people?

The standards of hospitality are being re-defined by the clubs in the city – and not in a good way. A couple of passes to let the stags in and they think that they own the fucking world. But what they don’t seem to notice is that they don’t make for a happening place, it is us who do. So it’s better we get a couple of things straight – that If it is two o clock in the night and your effin swipe machine is having a problem – it is not up to us to go out in search of an ATM to gratify your demands, especially when we have paid for the last couple of orders just fine and we did not actually need to order that last round but we still did – under the illusion that it will amount to a perfect ending to a perfect evening. What did we know ki boss ab to chadhi chadhai utarney waali hai – that the place that we were so far believing to be a smart choice for Saturdays and mind patting ourselves about making it there - was soon going to end us in a state of near embarrassment.

You did what you did, that is not even the issue, you well deserved the payment but - the issue is the ATTITUDE with which it was done. You know that look of lame helplessness - the look through which you are willing to be so shamelessly money minded that I am afraid no self-respecting person is going to end up at your place again.

You may have all the power in letting in a couple of cash starved drunk dudes but that in no way gives you the authority or the legitimacy to treat the other well meaning guests the same way.

If you are so medieval that you can’t afford a decent swiping machine- well then the good thing to do is to open a dhaba or at least put a board in front that we, at BLUE BLAZER, do not accept cards- we prefer you bring your goat in exchange for the drinks (which I may add are ridiculously over-priced too.)

And yes, you may have a couple of drunk people around - who put up with your nonsense because they won’t wake up to remember it the next day - but that’s not the case with everybody. Some of us happen to have a perfectly intact memory the next morning. So before you go about judging people on the drunk-o-meter you may want to look into your own errors in judgment. Pfff! Drunkards – that is the look which was the most disgusting part of this whole episode. If at all there was some issue with the card payment – the decent thing to do was to apologize for it and make sure that one of your men helped us to an ATM close by and saw to it that the payment was done. Since when is it okay to treat your own guests with the look of suspicion – to send one of us out looking for an ATM middle of the night – while the rest waited in an almost shut lounge- like some sort of a mortgaged property -that is the last thing one expects from a lounge of a decent standing. You people are all over the internet- inviting us to like you and what not – and party and make merry with you – but when it actually gets to that- all we get is poor hospitality and lame looks. So much for the whole pomp and show you put up.

Well, for all of you sitting on the other side – making big bucks off us every weekend – let me just get one thing straight to you -Chandigarh changes it’s hot spots in a heart beat and I have witnessed this trend for way too long to say it with a certain amount of confidence that you are no different either. You will be long gone and we will be still here merrier than ever. So rather than designing your own doom, I suggest, you redo your vows on what-do-you-call-it atithi devo bhava – or if not that then at least sign up for a two week course in hospitality – this being your first lesson too for free.

And yes, we may not amount to your costliest guest but we do amount to a decent crowd – and like I said – it’s the crowd that makes up for a place and not vice-versa. So next time you go about mistreating any single one of your guests – you may want to consider the fact that there is no worse PR than a vocal person – who refuses to be kowtowed by your anarchic ways and means. Because then no number of likes on a freaking Facebook page can change things. Mind it!

 

Sex, Sting and Tehelka

I am sorry for this rather prolonged absence, but I had my reasons.

Now I am back and I HAVE MY REASONS.

Some of you may still find my seemingly lalala absence inexcusable. I am sorry. How about I self impose some sort of a lameass punishment on me. Will that suffice? Whaaaat? Last I checked people were doing it - A six months of paid vacation for ‘sexual assault’. Isn’t that right? Based on this, my absence should cost me what? A week long holiday in Phuket?

Tarun Tejpal! Have you read his novels? I was a fan. ‘WAS’ being the word worth notice. I was about 20 when I read ‘Alchemy of Desire’ and I was like boy! he can describe sex without straying the boundaries of sleaze even once. Wow! There’s a writer I’d like to read more often, I thought. However, by the time I read his second novel I realized something else. Hell, he could be smack-dab-in-the-middle sleazy and yet you may not for once notice it.

What I barely registered back then, seems like a shrewd observation now. Of Course I did not pay much heed to it at that time. If only I knew what was coming I would have probably noted it down in my journal.

Anyway Tarun did what Tarun did .. But what are we doing? Spreading awareness on internet is one thing but sharing unverifiable content just for the heck of it is simply something else. What may be information for us may simply be arousing stories for someone else. Believe it or not, many just read it for the kick or worse, share it for a like or two.
Think about a hundred times before you click ‘share’. Do you really want to share something, which in all certainty, was a very private correspondence between two individuals. Besides, sharing such details about the victim is not just immoral it is plain illegal. I hope you know that?

And by simply not taking her name but discussing everything else under the sky related to her, you are doing her no favor either. So learn the spirit not the letter of the law and this specifically applies to fellow bloggers.

Show support, no one is stopping you. But don’t let your support be a hindrance in the way of victim herself. A suo motu FIR says it all, if she would have wanted to bring things in the public domain, she could have done it in a split second. But she chose not to, so show some restraint please.
This happened back when Nirbhaya was the victim. I don’t know what sort of a sick mentality do you have to possess to actually share a rape victim’s sorry picture in order to garner some sympathy/publicity whatever.  Which, whether was her picture or not, jury is still out.

If anything, expose TARUN not his victim.

Secondly, PLEASE WAIT. I know, I am biting the bullet here but still please wait before you pass the judgment. I mean, yes he has taken responsibility to an extent and yes, that means that there is some guilt. But to brand him a rapist may be a little too early. Tehelka has done a lot to piss major political powers off and well this is their time to pay back. Don’t get swayed as a result of some political revenge and please don’t politicize this issue so much that the real ends are left hanging somewhere in the middle.

Lastly, it is not just about a single individual. It is not about Tarun Tejpal. It is about you and it is about me. It is about every single woman, working or otherwise. It is about every single man, employer or otherwise.  It is about gender equality in spirit and not just in letter. You can’t legislate for reform, reform comes from within, I read somewhere. We can go on passing bills after bills and  we can go on making guidelines after guidelines but till the time we do not have it in us to actually bring ourselves to implement those guidelines – there won’t be any reform little or large.

Dark and Lovely

There was a girl, darker than ebony.

Unpopular- Unnoticed and Unhappy , she went on with her life.

Whether she was ambitious, we know not.
Whether she was a go getter, we care not.
She dressed to kill, it mattered not.
Was she smack dab in the middle awesome, we suppose not.

For what we know is that one fine morning, she got up applied OLAY NATURAL WHITE – or some such crap and la-la-la her life was set.

Guys wooed her. Mom and dad were finally happy for now to find a nice Indian boy won’t be a trouble at all. She was suddenly so popular – she had 521 likes on her picture – for crying out loud. And her life was set.
She made merry and lived happily ever after in the LA-LA land without a care. For, two of the most unattainable goals that a girl could set for herself – well yeah, she had reached them both.

No, no, she did not find an alternative source of fuel or stepped on Pluto.

Instead, She turned white, not to forget naturally so.
And, she was popular, Told you about the 521 likes, didn’t I?

Ram Ram Ram, can we sink  any lower than this on the commercial barrell? I mean, not that we were floating on top earlier. I have seen n number of advertisements that make me want to screech my eyes right out. But this brings us to a new low.

This obsession with white skin-  has got to stop and as if it was not enough that you throw in facebook too.

The fairer you are is directly proportional to the number of likes on your facebook and that in turn is proportional to how happy you are in life.

Can a commercial be anymore absurd and misleading?

Trust me, I am not making this up, see the commercial for yourself.
To tell you the truth I was always under the impression that it was the teenagers of the 90’s who had this obsession with light skin, because quite frankly it was only in 90’s when I was a kid that I heard some elder girls say things like, ‘is she fairer than me?’ or It’s just tanning I am a lot more fairer than this.
But along came the 21^st century and obsession with color seemed like a thing of past. May be it was because my horizon expanded as I grew up or whatever but never once did I hear a single girl crib over her complexion and I thought to myself what mindless duds were those girls back then.
In fact I saw girls celebrate brown skin with such gusto as never before—but off late it seems as though underneath all this impression that was being created the ugly truth still loomed large and that is that our love for anything white is very much there, I just did not notice it.

Back in school once, we did not let Fair & Lovely, sponsor our event because we found it hard to buy the concept that fair and lovely comes up with every now and then. Trust, Fair and Lovely to believe that to be anything from a commentator to an air hostess – you have to be fair- else you should hide yourself in some ‘dark’ corner of your house. Besides, the name itself is so unnerving… Why, Dark isn’t lovely?

The darkest of the female actors in the industry (men or women) are airbrushed to look as if they have just stepped out of a tub full of plaster of Paris. And the worst part is that they themselves don’t mind selling it. Anyhow this post is just a way of venting out that frustration and anger which finds no outlet. Are, we as a race, so dumb that we can’t find more creative ways to sell our product that we don’t mind selling a color that is not even essentially our color?

Have we lost it to this an extent that as a nation we not only tolerate but also direct, feature in and come up with such absurd and meaningless ideas?
Or, is it that even after 6 decades of independence our colonial hangover isn’t still over and we still feel that – The Fairer The Better. For if it is so then where do we place ourselves as a nation?

This is a call to ban all such commercials or features that celebrate fairness in any other thing but attitude.

 

 

 

 

SHOE BITES

So I had to be somewhere today... like somewhere really important. I mean on an importance scale of 1 to 10 I’d rate it a perfect ten. One being alright-since-I-have-nothing-better-to-do-and-these-tickets-were-gifted-by-the-local-radio-station and ten being hey-bhagwaan-mai-ne-aaj-tak-tujhse-kuch-nai-manga-but-aaj-mangti-hun...aaj time pe pohncha de har Tuesday mtha tekne aaungi. I am hoping you are getting the picture so far.

Now since it was an important day – I decided planning ahead of time – something that I am accused of not doing by all and sundry.

Not only did I decide beforehand as to what I was supposed to wear but I also ironed and hung my formals the night before (huh! In your face haters!)

Next, I dug out from a never-ending pile of footwear (Yes, I am a proud owner of one hundred and twenty thousand pair of shoes) a very formal pair of ballerinas to go with my ensemble (as opposed to the pink and yellow butterfly print peep toe that I usually end up wearing.) Even though they did not really require I still polished them with as much care and attention as people polish their teeth with. In the end I even applied Vaseline to them like those make-belief mothers do to their toddlers in some baby oil commercials. They looked happy, my shoes.

Then I sorted my documents in order-placed them in a file and rechecked them once again. (Wow! I could picture my mother shedding a khushi ka aansu back home– her daughter so responsible- so grown up)

At one point even the whacky thought of getting up at five and doing everything before time crossed my mind but afraid of stretching it too far I decided against it and put an alarm for seven.

So I had to reach by 1 but I called the cab (yes, a cab and not an auto) at 11 only so as to not appear as I had just landed from the secret land of Narnia  and this place was practically an hour’s drive from my place – WHICH THANKS TO OUR BLOODSUCKING PETROL PRICES MEANT A MONTH LONG BAN ON THE BASIC NEEDS OF LIFE. But I was unperturbed. I could survive on water but I needed to be there at 1.

Whenever I am too worried, nervous or running late – I tend to lose stuff- so I decided against carrying my handbag lest I lose it and just picked up a wallet- my perfectly organised file  and some extra chiller (These cab wallahs, I thought, are always mooching money off us in the name of ‘sorry-mam-no-change’) Usually if the meter says say 270 they are always in a hurry to round it to 300 but today there was no way that – that was going to happen.  In anticipation, I kept plenty of ten and twenty rs bills with me.

I wanted to be the most prepared candidate there ever was, after all.

As was the plan I reached the office – well in time. The sense of victory and perfection refused to leave me alone. And what was even better was the fact that meter said seven hundred and thirty bucks. Proud of my anticipatory planning- I took out one thousand and thirty ruppes.

‘Here you go,’ I said rather smugly, handing him the money and dying to see the look of disappointment on his face.

‘Madam khulla nai hai,’ he replied point blank.

‘Arrey khula dia to,’ I laughed, at the obvious mistake that the poor fellow had made.

‘Arrey madam hazar ka khula nai hai,’ he replied keeping the thirty bucks and returning me the thousand rupee note.

Oh Boy Charlie! I did not see this coming. Surely he did not expect me to tip him an extra three hundred bucks.

I looked at him.

He looked back at me.

I looked helplessly at him.

He looked even more helplessly at me.

Surely, he was not going to do anything about it. Angered at this unforeseen turn of events – I snatched the thousand rupee not from him and got out in the humid-humid weather in search of a kind stranger who could give me hazar ka chutta. All I could see within a range of 500 meters were parked cars and some more parked cars. Right then My baby ballerinas which had not been worn in last two years started to bite. This weather and a shoe bite on each foot – so much for the perfect horoscope that I read aloud to myself in the morning, I rolled my eyes.

Little did I know that It was going to get so much better.

After about twenty minutes of looking around I finally managed to find a kind old security guard (of the same building where I was supposed to sit for an interview) who reading my panic stricken face decided to help. He did not have the change but gave me the money like that only saying that I could return it once my interview was done. I thanked him with all my heart and returned to where my cab was parked- which-not exaggerating- was almost half a km away.

I threw the money on his face and he was all set to leave when all of a sudden something struck my mind.

‘Wait a minute,’ I shouted rather angrily, not being the one who could be taken for a ride, 'my file is in there,'I opened the cab and took out my file.

‘Loser,’ I murmured, as I turned, our angry gaze meeting each other’s.

And off he went.

It was almost half an hour to one and I still had some walking to do- besides all this running to and fro in such humidity- was making me sweat like a overflowing water tank.

I must have been mid way towards the office when I heard something going chap-chap-chap –chap from under my shoe. Yes, the sole had given way and was getting dragged alongside the strap like an uninterested ‘too cool for school’ teenager.

Quick think something – You can get out of this – May be if I stick a chewing gum in between the sole and the base-  That ought to do the trick. The Mentos girl in me had finally woken up. (Remember the commercial where she oh-so-convinently takes both the heels off on one being broken)

But, as someone strictly against plagiarism, I wanted to be original – hence the chewing gum idea! Tada!

Luckily, for me I had a pack of gum sticks in my wallet- see for a girl so troubled- not too shabby after all – so i saw no harm in saving myself a pat for later.

But hey, wait a minute, where the fuck was my wallet?

Shit! In the cab – I turned towards the cab stand right that second- that being a “guarded” area no unauthorised vehicles were allowed to enter. There was no sign of the cabbie. So much for my not-forgetting-the-file, I fucking forgot my wallet.

Immediately I called him on his phone.

No answer.

I Called Again.

No Answer again.

Precious time was being lost. A little relieved that there was not a lot of money in it anyway I decided to walk back to the interview place. Dragging my half broken shoe, I must have taken not more than ten steps when both my blunder of a pair of shoes broke into so many pieces that within three seconds I was standing shoe less in impeccable formals in middle of nowhere.

Holy Moly was I in a pickle now?

(It was seeming so un-fucking-believable. I mean breaking of the sole is one thing but both the shoes going tak-tak-tak into several pieces together at one point of time is quite another.)

Those of you who don’t believe me try buying a pair of shoe from ‘shoetree’. (Yes, I am not afraid to name the brand.) And then try hiding them for two years and then wear them on your fucking interview – You might just be where I was.

Shoeless and stranded in a parking lot – because without shoes- let’s face it you are pretty much stranded- anywhere.

I had to do something, I knew. But what? I had no clue. The mere thought of appearing in my interview shoeless was enough to make me feel drowsy.

‘Good afternoon Sir, may I come in and no sir, I do not believe in the institution of shoes.’

Urghhh..

My friend T – she worked just nearby – May be I should call her and ask if she could lend me a pair of shoes – although the sheer absurdity of the question was making me cringe. 25 missed calls later, I finally gave up. No, she is not picking.

Panicking I called up my mom- woke her up from her mid afternoon nap- and narrated the entire story to her.

‘Haan beta mai ne bhi suna that kisi ke saath aisa hua tha,’ mom parted her wisdom, ‘She was my old friend, now she has shifted to Siligudi with her family......’

Sorry mom I hung up on you that time but you didn’t quite understand the gravity of the situation. To make matters worse it had started to drizzle and it was so so windy. One by one the parts of the heap I once called my shoes was all lost in the wind.

Next, what do I do? What do I do? People had started staring, you know.

After another five minutes of mulling over the situation – I did the unthinkable. I called my ex’s elder brother – someone, to say the least, I had not been in touch with for last three years I guess. And guess what, when nothing else worked or no one else could help. Like a real brother he rescued me in the nick of time- he came as soon as he could manage. We went to a nearby market and I walked into a shoe shop- shoeless. The salesman mocked me. I bought the next available pair of shoe at an exorbitant price – because usually sellers are accused of taking advantage of a customer’s necessity but here the customer had walked right into the trap and that too shoeless.

Quickly we returned to the scene of crime and I was relieved to make way into the hall after paying the kind security guard his due – right on time. So much for my “planning ahead” urghhhh – With Hair strewn apart and kohl all smudged and feet dirtier than ISBT Delhi- I barged in.

‘Hello, I have an interview at 1 with Mr. So and so...’ I blurted.

‘Sorry mam, the interview has been postponed for the 29^th of July,’ pat replied the receptionist.

‘What?’ I exclaimed.

‘Yes, did you not know?’

‘No. no. of course I knew. I just like a little adventure you see.’ I wanted to say but chose not to.

Cursing myself I turned and walked out of the office.

(ONE THING I LEARNT TODAY – YOU CAN PLAN ALL THAT YOU WANT- THAT TOO WAY AHEAD IN TIME – BUT ITS HIM WHO MAKES THE FINAL PLANS) Him as in God - not the cab wala.

So sometimes its okay to prepare right that second and go with the flow (for if I had ended up wearing my same regular ballerinas none of this would have happened I am sure.)

Oh and on a lighter side the cab driver called me about an hour later and returned me my wallet safe and sound. And if I really really have to see a silver line – it was knowing that some people- no matter what- will be there for you!

:-)

Toned - Tanned and Hawt!

Oh no, don't get me wrong, I am not talking about myself here. As a matter of fact, I am about 700 treadmill kilometers away from the pretty picture I just painted before your eyes.
The lady in question is one of my super hawt seniors from school, who if at all possible, has turned even more gorgeous in the last couple of years.
'Oh hi, how were you,' she exclaimed, as soon as she spotted me outside a resturant.

SIKHS WANT JUSTICE – Does it mean that others don’t?

First things first, I am not getting into the merits or demerits of the case. You all know what has happened and I am sure you possess a fair sense of judgement yourself.  So, Let me just cut to the chase - The judgement reads Sajjan Kumar v. CBI – it does not read Sikhs v. The whole of India.  When justice isn’t delivered everybody gets equally disappointed- Hindu Muslims Sikhs alike. We are all angry.

Such Hypcrites We Are!

Wake up and smell the smoke people!

Before it blows up your own ass.

Ex And The facebook Politics

Why do I do this to myself?

Why do I end up clicking on your name?
Instead I should block you and never look you up again.
Actually, who am I kidding? I keep you blocked all the time.
But come my period and I dig you up from the mine.
Sulkily I unblock you and boy! do I regret it?
Coz there you are with your same usual shit!
Your creepy-colgate-smile with friends you just made?
AND I spend hours playing - Is he or is he not getting laid

Here's Why the need for a facebook censor may be in the offing?

Do not get me wrong. I am all for freedom of expression and all that but its when that expression gives me a depression that I crave for a censor or some sort of a mechanism that could filter idiots right out of the picture (or, in this case, my homepage.)

No, seriously! I mean, don't you at times think that wisdom on facebook sometimes becomes too much to take.

A Morning at Sukhna Lake

Tch.. tch.. Did you see Mona Singh’s MMS?

Aww.. look at us, the official torchbearers of everything that is good and pure, ready to dissect the details on this one. Don’t we all look great? Sitting and passing judgements on someone else – as if we just came freshly manufactured from the holy factory of custom made virtues.

I am a Loony Bear

So you know I am sitting on facebook and suddenly I see this party album of a friend who I was pretty tight with up until last year. Actually the word ‘friend’ might be a bit of an overstretch- because our ‘friendship’ began and ended in the last year itself. I am only calling him a friend for the lack of a better word – in reality he was more than an acquaintance but less than a friend.

Now we have sort of drifted apart. It didn’t happen overnight – it happened gradually.  

You know from authoritatively asking me to co-host his birthday bash to silently going on to sending me a facebook invite --- these things don’t happen over night. (because over the last one year, I am assuming he grew tired of  endlessly inviting me to a never-ending list of get togethers which I never showed up for.)

Ab to jail mein jana padega

Posham pa bhai Posham pa

Sanju baba ne kya kia?

I don't have eyebrows anymore!

I  don’t have eyebrows any more.

I have a unibrow... one thick UNIBROW. I have not had a manicure or a pedicure in 6 months and I can’t remember the last time I went out in a cut sleeve for I have not waxed my arms in a rather long time. You think I’d be disgusted with myself? But on the contrary, I am happy and much at peace.

You know that feeling- right before you are about to step on a weighing machine- the feeling of anticipation that scares the crap out of you!

Magic of a Birthday Wish

Happy Women's Day

I miss blogging