Monday, March 24, 2014

Say Cheese!

“You’re crazy!” He screamed, as he hysterically fought against his restraints. Suddenly, he froze, as he saw the grinning bride bend down to set up the timer on his camera, adjust the light, focus it on his face, and step back, her finger slowly pulling the trigger.

“Smile please!”

Monday, January 27, 2014

Band Baaja Baa...!!!!

I cannot believe it. This writer’s block seems to have absolutely no mood to go away. And it’s driving me insane. Insane enough that I didn’t even do the annual tradition of a recap. Like. Bloody hell.

And I’m trying right now, again, and failing rather miserably. So here I’ll go back to my best friend as always, my sweetheart bullet points, in the hope that some other day, the words will flow more easily.
  • So I got engaged, actually, to be technically correct, rokaoed (?!). I’ll actually be engaged two days before the actual wedding. So I get to be a fiancĂ©e with a ring and all that for all of 1.5 days of my life. Woohoo!!
  • Here’s proof for all you non-believers (Hmph! But I’m quite amused at the large numbers out there!!):
As long as you count having laddoos proof...
  • I’m getting married in exactly two weeks from today (wait…wha!!!!)
  • I’ll be wearing pink. (WHA…!!!!!)
  • My grand mom called my lovingly bought engagement ring a steel ka patta. That should totally be the next tag line for all Platinum Love Bands advertising.
  • I just learnt, that there IS such a thing as too much shopping. It’s what happens before your wedding. And reflects in your credit card bill.
  • I can never NEVER understand the marriage jokes that aunties crack. I guess they’re trying to tease me. But it just makes absolutely no sense to me, whatsoever. So I try to muster the best shy smile I can. It would be a safe assumption that I fail miserably at it nine out of ten times.
  • I think I’ve covered all moods and reactions from annoyance to nonchalance to absolute cheesy in the last few months. And you thought I couldn’t emote, heh.
  • I’m super duper looking forward to warm beaches and personal pools coming up very very soon!
  • I’ve also lately started feeling a tinge of sadness, which goes way beyond a tinge on most days. That feeling of leaving home (though am already in another city), but just the thought of knowing that things will never be the same again. And surprised as I am to say this, I think I might just need waterproof make up on the big day.
  • Oh God, make-up, Ugh.
  • Oh and in 2.5 months in Mumbai, I lived in 4 different locations, had an abusive and I’m somewhat sure mentally disturbed room-mate, converted a friend’s girlfriend into a friend (proudly so!), got to know an old friend so so SO much better AND knocked off another item from my wish-list!
  • Oh, and somewhere along the way actively contributed to killing over 6 mice (though one kinda committed suicide) and digging out I have no idea how many dead mice babies. I am proud to say I have absolutely no regrets. 
Let's hope the next post is more coherent. Not sure if it's going to be from the other side. Oh yes, it feels like the other side. 

Monday, December 16, 2013


She sat in a corner
World undone
A tear, a wound
A story told wrong.

He picked her up
Scarred, unpolished
Hiding from the world
Emotion, abolished.

Together, they grew
Different as they were
Thorns and roses
Entwined, apart.

In him she saw hope
Of redemption, of life
In her he saw his dreams
His reason, his life.

She knew not how to thank him
For words never sufficed
How he fought and rescued
Her, from plight.

For their love abounded
In the bleakest of moments
With kindness and hope
Their life, rebreathed.

 When hope was but a flicker
And forever after a dream
Fate & destiny smiled together
For what they, meant to be.

P.S. Thank you for entering my life, A, and for never giving up on me.

Tuesday, December 3, 2013


Exasperated, she stood next to more than a dozen empty auto-rickshaws and tried to flag down yet another one unsuccessfully, screaming out her destination. The rickshaw-wala slowed down near her, then looked at her with disgust, muttering at the waste of his ten seconds spent listening to her useless destination, and was about to speed off when with a quiet thump, he slumped down in his seat, motionless.

“Sorry. I guess I just don’t take rejection too well.”

And with that, she dragged the rickshaw with the limp bloody body near the others, and stood again to flag down the next one.

Saturday, October 19, 2013


“Trust me.”, he said smiling, spreading his arms. “I’ll catch you.”

Taking in the fresh air with one final deep breath, she stepped off the ledge, smiling down at his angelic face. Wind whipping her face, her smile faltered slightly, then froze as she saw him, still smiling, calmly step aside, and watch her fall.

Saturday, September 21, 2013


Wiping her tears, he opened her hand, and placed the white king and the black queen. “To remind us, we’re different, but will always be, on the same board.”

Years later, she held the pieces, tears flowing freely.

He never mentioned, it may be the same board, but the game could never be won, together.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Colour Scope

You see your fingers move across your keyboard, the rhythmic tapping noise a constant of a background score that life seems to grow around. It’s one of those moments where the whole world around you seems to move faster than it should, that you feel like reaching out and holding on to the cinema reel, and make it pause, slow down, take a break, somehow.

And yet, as you lift your fingers, you look at them with amazement and realise they move slower than life, like a step by step relay of each moment, each movement, where each nerve and each heartbeat pulsates through your very being, in no hurry, like it’s going to be, forever.

So you stay here, stuck, in this amalgamation of time frames that refuse to merge, yet exist all the same, putting together each day, the same as the last, the same as the not-so-promising tomorrow, a mirage of being, a constant.

In black and white.

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

First Impressions

She scowled at the boy alternating between his loud ShahRukh impersonations and checking his hair’s reflection, and thought, “Rowdy twerp”

He raised his eyebrows at the disapproving look from the girl buried in her Ayn Rand and thought, “Pretentious snob.”

Years later, their wedding invite read, “Love was never meant to be, at first sight.”

Monday, September 2, 2013

What’s Up!

Well, a lot, not all of which I can mention here. But enough to make me happy enough to settle down with a comfortable case of writer’s block. You know, the kind where there’s so much happening that you just can’t decide what to write, and how, so well, you don’t.

But here’s a tiny summary, you know, just to get over the block and hopefully onto figuring out more artistic ways of killing people. Pardon the disconnected randomness.

Zara has now joined Aldo in my brands’ hit-list. While Aldo pissed me off with bad shoe quality (My Lajpat Nagar roadside shoe store gives me shoes that last longer for 1/10th the price) and pathetic service, Zara is on its way to being a very close contender, with a white shirt that tore every place it stretched. I-kid-you-not. More on this when it hopefully gets back from the much mysterious quality check. After blaming my ironing capabilities, of course.

While London seemed as crowded as Sarojini Nagar, I realised it’s easy to fall in love with it if you have a willing friend to walk around with in the middle of the night along the Thames. A very willing friend, in fact, who will force you to walk even when you’re practically blind in one eye, till you somehow manage to stumble on a very flat pavement multiple times and establish that you’re just too old for 24 hours of staying awake now. But, despite getting close to being almost toe-less and turning into a pirate with an eye patch, I shall forever be grateful to the friend for pushing me enough, or I may have always remembered London with a crinkled nose and too many heads.

On a slightly different note, people in UK are surprisingly happy. Specially so in the little town near Wales where I put up. I can’t ever imagine smiling so much at seeing an auditor, really. But then again, I can’t imagine leaving for home at 4.30 PM and having a half day on Friday.

On a completely different note, I was very very disappointed that nobody asked me “Ma’am, would you like a cup of tea?” in a highly accented fake British accent. Bleh.

But I did finally have scones and clotted cream. I’m still not sure what to make of them. Except wonder at Enid Blyton’s choice of tea time snacks.

My birthday was one hotch-potch twenty four hours where nothing, and I mean nothing went as per my wish. But everything, and I mean everything, was perfect thanks to the huge amount of effort and love put in by someone who cared.

And an e-mail at midnight from someone who I like to believe is my blogging soul mate, who somehow always manages to know just how to cheer me up, even when she doesn’t actually know me at all. When actually, she knows me so well.

I’ve realised that sari shops can leave me blinded and bruised. Literally. The majentas and shiny stones… My eyes just weren’t meant for them. And some of the Dilli wali aunties fighting for the last pieces on sale... My body type definitely wasn’t meant for them.

And most importantly, I’ve learnt that life doesn’t work as per the theories we make up along the way. Whether it’s life in Mumbai, our good luck charms, our negotiations with that bitch called Karma, or the Chopsuey theory…some things are meant to change, or meant to be understood better, as we finally grow up. Except, we never really do stop growing up, do we?
Oh! And I managed to cross off some more items from my Wish-List!

P.S. I really haven’t managed to come up with any innovative ways to kill people lately. You guys. Help!

P.P.S. So much that I’d like to tell and can’t. But one day, soon! :)             

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Bad boys and a few good men.

Disclaimer: This post might be girlier than usual. So not apologetic about it though. Simply warning.

Women are weird weird complicated creatures. And I pity all the men (and some other women) who have to spend their lives deciphering this eternal mysterious code.

But calling it a code is a bit warped to begin with, isn’t it? It gives the impression that there is some underlying logic to what we do, something complex, but crack-able, no? But what if there is absolutely no code? What if we just are, random?

Let’s take the simplest and most comprehensive example. Our choice in men.

Oh wait. There’s nothing simple about that.

So here’s a discussion between me and A recently about the omnipresent Game of Thrones.

Me: Oh my god, I can’t believe Jaime went back to save her!
A: See, I told you you’ll have a change of heart about him by the end of this season.
Me: Hmm. Wait. What?
A: He’s turned nice.
Me: But I liked him bad!

And that, dear friends, is the issue.

Be it Jaime Lannister, or Lost’s Sawyer (by the way, don’t they look uncannily similar?!?), McSteamy or even The Mummy’s Mummy, they’re weirdly hotter than the Rob Starks, Doctors, McDreamys and Mummy Slayers, aren’t they? Well, maybe my examples are a bit warped, but seriously, why did Olivia Newton John fall for the bad bad T Bird John Travolta in the original high school chick flick (Grease people, seriously, go watch some movies that originated before Die Hard! Or at least watch it to see John Travolta sing and dance)?

Okay fine. Why was Tom Cruise so hot in Top Gun? Or Val Kilmer in The Saint? Or Robert Downey Jr. in well, all his movies?!

Because they’re intrinsically screwed up and bad.

And the thought of being the one thing in the world that a Bad Boy turns good for, is somehow the sexiest thing in the world.

At least on paper.

In reality, it’s plain stupid.

And we should hit all the writers on their heads who don’t really get that. Why the hell did Carrie Bradshaw choose Big over Eiden? The guy who made her cry ALL the time, over the guy who was ready to give her the world?

Why did Blaire Waldorf choose the guy who sold her in exchange of a building, left her stranded at the airport (even if it was next to his private jet) before a vacation, over, well, a well mannered Prince?

Because they’re stupid y’all.

Good guys are difficult to come by. Very very difficult. And the worst part is, we don’t take them seriously when they do. Because, wait, you’ll actually make me your highest priority?! Over your bike, car and ego? Unreal.

What?? You’ll pick me up? Go away you anti-feminist.

You’ll actually understand my need for a career? Even think of leaving your life behind for me? Stop lying to get into my pants.

Respect? You respect me?? Seriously?

Oh, but that guy, that guy will treat me like shit and not be respectful, and for him, I’ll turn into a psycho stalker and pledge my life.

Screwed up, we are, at times.

Or. We grow up. And realize just how lucky we are.

And learn what happiness really is.


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