humour, Inspiration, Narratives

The man in the boxer shorts

I wish I could tell you how happening my mornings are. I went to office in spaceship the other day. What? Didn’t I tell you my office is at moon? Or how I went on that long drive with Eddy (Edward Norton insists that I call him that) last Sunday morning.

But no, my mornings are woebegone faces of the broke industrialists drowned in enormous debts or politicians locked up in jails under the corruption charges that they didn’t really commit. I drag my legs to the bus stop through the dusty road and silently wait for bus like a goat waiting for butcher to get his knife. My legs, tied with so called responsibilities of building my own career and a respectable life and fear of what I might lose if I run away from this routine, find no pleasure in these morning strolls. My mornings are just outright bland like boiled potatoes that don’t even have a pinch of salt sprinkled over them. The only pleasure that I get is when the radio hits a peppy song and if, just if, I am not sleepy or grumpy enough, I might, just might, imagine myself dancing on it and a smile might peek from the back of the wall on my face for a split second. But music eventually fades away and I return to myself. I don’t mind being here – in my company, but when you make your grand entrance without being aware of it I realize how hard I had been missing you. You are the great rescuer! Breaker of chains from this mundane monotonous thing – you don’t know it and you would never but I will give you the credit anyway.

Sir, I don’t know you. It’s been a while since I last saw you and I hope you are doing okay. I am not sure if you have noticed me (though obviously I have) because I can’t really remember if we ever exchanged a smile or even a proper glance. But this is fine by me because you don’t seem like a person who care about these things. So, don’t mind me if you find me stringing along the words of praises for you. Because I cannot resist doing this. You are counted among the brighter parts of my day, one of the interesting elements of my fucked up mornings – Why would I hesitate from appreciating you especially when I know that this message would never reach you? That is how it usually works, right?

I am sure that I am never ever going to come across anyone like you again. Of course, there are people who are far more eccentric than you are but to me, there’s a class in your craziness! When I see you, I kind of brighten up from inside. Your odd sense of dressing is inspiring. Yes, and that was what that mainly drew my attention towards you in the first place. Your abnormality restores my faith in humanity. You, wrapped in a striped black blazer, your pink shirt, your Michael Jackson hat, your boxer shorts (that you are not embarrassed to show off) paired with calf length socks and your polished black formal shoes, are a walking story demanding to be told. No, I am not making fun of you. And I don’t think even if I am you would remotely be offended. You see – you don’t care. You being one of the rare gems who really knows how to do that. That’s amazing. Your consistency and commitment to maintaining your oddity doesn’t seem odd now. Everybody around is used to your misplaced presence; the guy at the tea stall, the sweeper who can’t stop smiling, the old spectacled beggar whose futile efforts to sell me pity are endless and in a way commendable, the lady whose weird way of walking makes me analyze my own in front of the mirror to confirm that I don’t walk like her, the lady who sells milk packets by the char-rasta with woolen scarf tied across her ears and below her chin looking oddly childish even though she must be over fifty, the fellow goats sipping tea and smoking cigarettes at the galla with their ID cards dangling over their necks and finally this borderline anorexic tall girl with a black bag swinging upon one shoulder, white earphones chords swaying with her steps, with her hunchback and messy hair hurriedly tied as a bow, spectacles unsuccessfully trying to cover her dark circles, her small tired face sometimes lost in thoughts and sometimes lost in series of stupid self-conversations, sometimes smiling, sometimes impassive, sometimes trying to mouth the lyrics of her favorite English song which she doesn’t really remember or a Buddhist chant ; none of these people find you odd anymore. If you become what they call “normal” that would be the thing that would be most abnormal.

Every piece of your clothing is a fashion apocalypse. The answer to why you dress this horrible way will always be food for my imagination. But the fact that it doesn’t deter you from flaunting them off is incredible! Every wrinkle on our face is an evidence of how your age might have taken a toll on you. And sometimes I can see sadness in your drooping eyes. Sometimes your impassive face seems like a potential threat of how at any second you are capable of doing anything, even something gravely dangerous. What is your story, sir? Is there any way you can tell me besides the conventional mode of communication?

humour, Poetry

The one about Tinder

SO, how does it work?
In this so-called ocean of gender inequality
You swipe right and I swipe left
You swipe right and I swipe left
You swipe right and I swipe left
You swipe right and I swipe left
I swipe you right, you swipe me right
Why am I not surprised?
It’s a match!
Such a good ego boost, Eh!
But then we are not going to talk, are we?
For some weird anti-feminist reason, I am bound by the oath of not sending the first Hi
So no pressure but it’s entirely you on whom we both rely,
Oh wait, there’s your message!
Quite probable that we are never going to get past ‘What’s up’s and ‘Nothing much’s
Sometimes we might, just might, reach beyond “What do you do?”
Honestly, I don’t have a clue
But “I am an engineer” I would say
Few Whens, Whos, Whats later you might ask if I am single by the way,
Yes, wouldn’t be here otherwise
So, I don’t get why is it a surprise
Anyway, I am tired of answering these standard questions
I wish you had asked a few different ones!
Some matches ahead, lies finally on my screen
a question, a suggestion that I had never seen
Cool! You have my attention now
Probably more than I would ever admit
I am a bit tensed
And Careful brain! We must be witty!
We must sound smart
Let me check my profile again
Do I look good?
I do, right?
And you, Ah you!
Careful with the pick up lines dude…
That’s a risky border there
Don’t get too cheesy
He is the roommate of creepy
Just be adequately sarcastic
A bit of flirting would be fantastic
You can correct me when I am wrong
But not too much
You can be a bit weird
But no innuendos so soon as such
Sound intelligent please
Whichever way is fine
But don’t ask for my number too soon
I might politely decline.
Or could be that I would text those 10 delightful (dreadful?) digits to you
More notifications on WhatsApp, Yayy!
What now, then?
More ‘Hi’s and ‘Good morning’s?
Eventually to which I might stop replying
Or maybe we would move ahead
A movie to watch or something to dine?
Should we meet?
Should we eat?
Would a cup of coffee do?
Which day would be preferred by you?
Your excitement is exciting
In my wildest dreams, we are spending an amazing night together already,
Where are your Sanskaars girl?
Using this Besharam app?
There at a distance stands me with three decades of generation gap.
And now moving back and forth
The usual debate on my character
And meanwhile…
Shut down that porn in my head!Would you?
So, yes, there’s another possibility
Could be, could be, could be
you are super duper creeped out by me…
And why not?
Besides my ahem! Weirdly unconventional thoughts
You can spot me talking to stray dogs or flowerpots
Or to footpaths, to cows, to children I don’t know
To the branches above and those irritating crows
Did I pretend to be too sophisticated?
Oh! I am not
Opposite of it definitely
You might suddenly find yourself stringed amongst exaggerated words
And in another moment, you might receive just a mere shrug of indifference
Maybe you didn’t sign up for that
Maybe I didn’t sign up for this
Nevertheless, for us to be together on the same page…
You would be serious
And I could just be playing
Or I wanted a relationship
And you just wanted a company
Or a hook up
Or not even that
Just nothing
But a series of vestigial conversations that’s all!
Funny isn’t it?
So, what did you think?
You would find someone to marry through this crap?
Oh Hi again! Miss three-decades-of-generation-gap!
Miss, you don’t have to act so elderly now! Chill!
Just look at this ending conversation oh!
Fading, fading and fading
My temporary obsession extinguishing
Not even proper good byes
And no, definitely not we will be meeting again
There’s a momentary void, that’s all, no emotions, no pain…
But then, listen!
It’s not a bad ending
For what it’s worth – Here’s the catch;
Darling, there would be another match!

humour, philosophy

About manipulating and getting manipulated

I guess this is one of those days when I just hate everything. I go and find refuge in my playlists, find some company with some of those overplayed songs, feel good about nothing and just waste my whole day. Of course, then “self- worth” ghost that always keeps hovering around me squeaks in her pathetic little voice – “You waste your day anyway be it your bad mood day or a good mood day, so don’t blame it on the day, it’s you pathetic person! It’s you!

Wow. Was I not upset enough?

I don’t even want to bitch about this ghost. It’s tiring. She doesn’t deserve my attention, let alone a whole blog post.

However, the truth is she already has too much of my attention. Yeah. And I don’t think I can spare anymore. I am already hanging on a thin thread. I don’t need more tension and the stress.

Anyway, it’s a bad day. I have to talk about something even more not-happy!

And so here it goes-

It suddenly strikes me now that all I have ever done in my life is to get manipulated. Actually, my whole life is a result of manipulation. And I am not just a victim. I have manipulated others as well.

It’s like a tradition; we get manipulated. We manipulate others. If we are not good at it then we spend an enormous amount of money to learn to manipulate someone. We get manipulated even if we are aware of the very fact. We get manipulated even when the thought doesn’t even remotely cross our minds. We manipulate others in quite similar ways. God, it’s a vicious cycle!

World needs to stop for a moment.

And I need to remember when was the last time that I had an original idea which was free of other people opinions.

Original idea? What is originality anyway?

You know manipulation isn’t as bad as it sounds. We have learnt to live with it. The advertisements, the newspaper, the parents, the friends, the teachers. They are not bad? Come on parents? Sometimes, it all works out for the best. Maybe even the bestest thing in your life can be a result of a hard core brainwash. But at the same time, doesn’t it all begin to feel so pointless? Why do we need someone to wash our brains? Can’t we think on our own?

We need some serious answers. We don’t need opinions.

Do we?

Do we?

Maybe the truth, the real answers are too harsh to bear and hence we just leave ourselves in the hands of others. And all we get in our lives are opinions.

Yeah, this is me consoling myself.

So, am I trying to say that we don’t need answers?

I want myself to think that. Yes.

Oh! Boy! I am back to square one. It’s true isn’t it? Ignorance is bliss.



That another Idea advertisement.

I recently happened to watch an interesting ad on television;

If you are too much into procrastination right now, let me provide you with the video link. You can go and check out the video yourself. But if you don’t want to then that’s even better because I am going to describe the advertisement below anyway. And it will be more fun to read that.

The amazing ad.

So, what happens is that there is a guy who doesn’t get into an engineering college. So what he does is- He begins studying at IIN. What’s that you ask?

IIN is basically Idea 3G internet connection.

So, he studies all the engineering stuff on the internet and  in the end he ends up making a talking flying delivery robot.

How touching! :’)

The reason that I am writing a whole post about this ad is because it struck a chord with me. I mean it’s so optimistic. I have tears in my eyes right now!


A guy doesn’t  get into an engineering college and he ends up making a drone because of internet meanwhile, in a ridiculous world that I know of, a guy does get into an engineering college and he ends up studying shit because of Internet.

Oh! How much I hate that unrealistic world!

In the real world, of course, when you are provided with an internet connection you will right on get into studying. You would definitely not log in to Facebook or Youtube or online movie streaming/downloading sites or music streaming/ downloading sites or Stumbleupon or Twitter or Tumblr or Instagram or theturquoiseink blog ( What?  That blog is really nice) or any of the other similar sites. You just wouldn’t do that.

We need to close Engineering colleges right now. In fact, we need to close every freaking college we know of. We have IINs silly! We can study anything! Why should we waste so much of money on college!

I know what you are thinking of right now.

“Knock it off! Turquoise ink! This ad isn’t that bad. It doesn’t really convey that colleges are of no use. The message is- If you do want to learn, you can always learn at IIN ”

I know. I know. I know.

Idea does try to make sort-of “Inspirational” Ads and I like that about them. But at the same time, you have to agree that they are also silly.

But then it’s an ad! Who cares!

Well, yeah..True that.

But I have to mention that I am exceptionally impressed by Idea. They gave us “Honey Bunny” ads. They gave us “What an idea Sirji!” ads. There was also one beautiful something 121 Idea store ad. There were those “No Ullu Banawing” ads. And all these advertisements were well……. Idea moves me every time. :’)

Anyway, I know I need to stop it now. I wrote a whole post on an advertisement and I have just reached another level of “What the fuck did I just write” game.

In my defense, I would like to say that it’s fun to talk about silly insignificant things. You should try it yourself!  But remember I did manage to convey serious message-

We need to DROP OUT OF college right now and refrain everyone else from admitting in them as well. Colleges need to be closed. We are all going to IIN baby!

Okay, I am exaggerating. I am aware of that.

Stopping in…








food for thought, humour

The great Indian Toilet issue


I like to travel a lot. And in my day dreams I do travel a lot. However, in reality I haven’t traveled as much as I want to or I want myself to want to because-

A. I am lazy.

B. I am not very comfortable traveling alone. ( And my friends aren’t always ready to accompany)

C. I can not poop or pee like I do at home.

C. I can not poop or pee like I do at home.


One of the most underrated thing in the world has been the feeling when you can spend as much time as you can in a loo. Pee, poop or bath ..Do whatever and you have nothing to worry about. That’s a freedom worth fighting for.

And no, I am not kidding. You know I am not kidding.

It’s such such such a great relief to be able to pee or poop at a nice place. And there is no nicer place than a home or maybe a five start hotel. But we can not really afford a five star hotel every time we need to do our business. So, yes, using the loo at home is most economical and hygienic option.

I have thanked god for various things; I have thanked him/her/it for such loving parents, for wonderful siblings, for equally awesome friends, for good grades at school, for barely being able to pass the semester exams, for a beautiful dress or a shoe or a bag or a fountain pen but I have never thanked him for a nice clean toilet and that’s what I am going to do today.

I thankest thee, O lord – whoever thou are “the creature upstairs” for a good washroom. I shall forever be grateful.

But the sad part is that not everybody in this world has a pleasure of a good toilet. I have been among the lucky ones in that regard.

The act of peeing or pooping should bring out the emotion of great relief but in India, it brings out the emotion of great dread in many many people. And that is because they don’t have access to a good toilet toilet at all!

And the story doesn’t end here. Because of the unavailability of toilet not only are the people not able to pee or poop comfortably, they are also sometimes stalked  or looted or eve-teased or raped or murdered. Yeah.. how you ask? If you don’t have a toilet at home, of course you have no option but to go outside and search for secluded private place.

Did someone just say SECLUDED AND PRIVATE PLACE?

And if you are a woman…



It’s a shame. And we all are acutely aware of that.

The reason that I am mentioning all this is not because suddenly I feel like doing some serious talk over some serious issue. I don’t do that. More like I can’t do that. But this huge concern over the great Indian toilet issue began to hover upon my heart and mind when I found myself in a rather interesting situation when I was traveling a few  weeks ago. My stomach got upset at the wrong time and at the wrong place and it was  uh..well.. a memorable experience. But on the positive note I managed things quite well and I am still in one piece; Safe and sound. When I reached back home after this interesting journey of mine, I felt so good, sooooo good seeing the nice clean bathroom  that I began to feel sorry for those who don’t have access to hygienic loos. It’s as essential as the food we eat. It really is. In fact they are more essential than food. When I am not at home I eat and drink according to the availability of the hygienic toilets. If it’s not there than I limit my food and fluid intake. So, I can quite safely conclude that my diet depends upon the toilet.

Is it all conveying too much information about my private life?

In the era, when people post there interesting photographs at Instagram, mention where they are heading to, where they are, what they are eating, what they are watching, what they are listening to, how they are feeling at every instant, I think it never is too much information. So, yeah, according to me I am good to go.

And as of the Great Indian toilet issue, I do feel that I should do something about it. Contribute somehow. Make this country a better place to live. But as of now, it’s just in my head. I hope, I hope that I will come out of my laziness zone and actually do something and not just think or publish a post about it.

What a better place would it be if each one of us actually does what we think we should do. What a better world would it be!







A song of blood and fire.


We were originally nomadic. We traveled from places to places in search of food. Sometimes, we had to face most severe form of droughts and sometimes many of us would starve to death. But that was our life. Amidst all the blues we kept our hopes alive.

And one day, one fine day our sun arrived. We finally found the land of our dreams; the haunted black forest. The term “haunted” was awfully misleading. The black forest wasn’t haunted. It was the treasure land! Abundant with food, places to eat, sleep and make merriment. It was the perfect home where our kids could grow up.

The forest was covered with dense tall black branchless trees. Our food was the liquid that we obtained from the ground. It was red and rich with nutrients. It didn’t even require cooking. We used to consume it raw. And it was delicious. We were on heaven!

The word haunted soon got lost in the scent of our comfortable and luxurious lives and the warnings that our elders had given about this mysterious and beautiful land started appearing hopelessly absurd and impossible.

It was our beautiful perfect home.

Until that day.

That day we got to know that our elders weren’t kidding.

That day we got to know why the forest was called haunted.

That day we got to know that our heaven was actually a hell.

What happened that day?

The forest responded back. And it was an apocalypse.

None of us got to know what it was. It was too swift. Before we could respond or even figure out what to do, many of us went missing. They never came back. And from that day our days of merriment got dissolved in the mist of woes.

We didn’t know how to fight. We were helpless. Watching ourselves being driven out of our own home or so called home seemed so unfair but what we couldn’t do anything.

We just waited and waited for our own turns to come.

And one day I was chosen to take that inevitable flight.

At one instant I was at the ground, feeding and in another instant I was at this strange land. It was like I got caught up in a tornado and was thrown to some other place far far away. Before I could figure out what had happened my heart broke into million pieces. I was looking at the dead bodies of my fellow mates, my wives and my children.

I had to run to them, look if they were alive, save them somehow but I didn’t know how to do that!

I was no doctor!

I was no god to bring dead back to lives.

But yet… But yet I ran. I ran to them bearing a useless hope that they might be alive. Oh! But my cruel fate!

As I was running, a thing began to chase me. I didn’t know what it was. It resembled something that I had once heard about in a story that my grandma used to tell. According to her, that thing was the hand of a giant. And also she used to believe that haunted black forest was not actually a forest but the head of a giant.

Head of a giant? Sounds like a miserable joke? Doesn’t it?

And yet when I saw those unusually big pair of hands with weird branched structures in them, I knew that those tales were not merely some fiction. They were real.

I was running as fast as I could, trying desperately to save my life but soon I was caught by that hand.

It held me and took me close to its giant face.

It was huge.

That gigantic pair of eyes were looking at me. And when I looked back at them I knew I was going to die because all I saw was contempt.

I looked at my dead children, brothers and wives for one last time. There was a smile on my face because even if I had managed to survive what could have I done without them?

I looked at those large pair of eyes.

And then I was crushed.

Obviously I died.

Author’s note;

Have you ever at some point in your life found yourself in an unexpected war with these tiny little creatures called lice?

( Is that really what the whole shitty story above was all about?



They invaded our scalp like it was their father’s property. Bit it, pooped on it, laid eggs on it and lived like they owned it.

Lice trespass our property and make it their home. Their lust for blood is so intoxicating that they forget that what they are doing is quite illegal and would eventually lead to gruesome consequences. Their own foolishness and greed and blood lust lead to their mass slaughter.

The battle begins when you too arrive unannounced with the anti-lice thinly spaced comb to wipe your enemies out along with anti lice shampoo and oil. You take them out and you kill each one of them.

How long the fight goes is never fixed. It can extend up to weeks or days depending upon whether they have already used one of their most deadly weapons;


Extra note on lice eggs:

They are stuck to your hair strands with such a dreadfully adhesive matter that no shampoo can ever wash them away. They need to be plucked by hands and that’s a painful job. If you have nobody in your vicinity who can do that for you and then you know that your battle is prolonged. You will have to fight every day till every egg has been hatched and then murdered.

No matter how frequently they keep coming back to win. The thing is – lice essentially are dumb creatures. They suck blood out of our brain day and night and yet get nothing of any our brainy talents. They are too foolish to live.

While fighting for this battle even with the inevitable victory ahead, we do get to lose something. Hair strands fall off, there are rashes on necks and ears, there is this massive itching and then of course there is this untouchablity thingy.

The period is painful.

But anyway, the point is-

Fuck you Lice; we were the giants your grandmothers used to talk about.

Author’s note on author’s note;

Writing a post on lice is a weird thing to do but the author is weird herself. Also she had had her own set of painful experiences with lice and she ought to express it some way! Doesn’t she? Doesn’t she?

humour, Narratives

What is it with Fawad Khan?

Warning; Fangirl  Alert. Kindly proceed ahead only if you really want to.

What is it with Fawad Khan?

What is it with that guy!

I will tell you…I will tell you what exactly it is with Fawad Khan. But before that please allow me to drag you into the dark vicious pit of my fandom -Scary it might seem (And it honestly is) but it will help you understand a bit of my mental state.

There is a positive side to not knowing what to do. And that is- you would do anything to find out what you want to do. It might seem that I am talking about dreams and inspiration and stuff and partly I am but this has got more to do with something more deep and beautiful-Fandom.


Have you ever been through those horrible hours when you are sitting there at your bed or couch and you don’t want to sleep, you don’t want to watch any movie or read or study or cook or become an astronaut or be wonder woman or save the world?

I was going through something similar and with deep reluctance I made myself sit in front of TV and flip the channels. I was getting nothing out of it. I was still shamelessly bored but well, if you have a lot of free time suddenly you really forget to do all the stuff you had once imagined yourself doing and got excited about it while you were really really busy doing something important with lethal resistance.

So, it all began with those sad lazy ungodly hours at noon. I had nothing to do. I was flipping on the channels on TV with my legs dangling across the arms of the couch and with my spine making an uncanny curvature. As I continued to press the buttons at a relatively high frequency , my eyes desperately searched for something enchanting, something, anything pleasant that could drive the boredom away…

And that’s when it happened.

Sometimes at most unexpected times your wishes are granted. I wish at that time I had wished for something less stupid like- 100 Crore rupees? A live and real prince charming whom I could talk to and touch? Some brain? More IQ? But noooooo! I just wanted something “pleasant”, something anti-boredom and there he was.

The frequency of my fingers immediately ‘impulsed’ down to zero. My legs jerked to the floor in surprise (where my jaws were already lying).

When? What? What was I watching?

More importantly whom was I watching!

Who was this perfect creation of god?

Apparently there was (there is) this new channel I hadn’t ever tuned to before and it was called Zindagi. When did this channel come to existence? I have no idea. But I had no time to contemplate about that. I had no reason to contemplate about anything because right before me was a beautiful beautiful face and I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.

It wasn’t just the beauty or that perfectly handsome face (Okay, mostly it was) but a little bit credit goes to my curiosity as well.

The serial that I was having my first glance at was Zindagi Gulzar hai.

But a handsome face is not good enough for me to get glued to any serial. ( There I said it! But the other person in my head is laughing hysterically saying – Oh! Really?)A decent storyline is must. ( The other person; Who are you kidding dear?) I was not going to watch all the episodes of this serial in a single night.(To the other person- It is true and you know it!). In fact I wasn’t going to do anything about this new celebrity crush of mine at all.

But something made me do something about this…

And that something would be- curiosity.

What made me curious?

An approval from an unexpected fangirl.

I am not the only one whose life has been turned upside down by a serial with a weird name. There are thousands, lakhs of girls like me and many of them DON’T watch serials on a regular basis. And I realized this when this fangirl ( who also happened to be my neighbor) confessed to me that she was watching this serial and she was in love with the lead actor and she was finding the story pretty good as well. This surprised me because she has a very busy life and she is really not much into serial and even then there she was with a staggering confession that just made me do what I was about to do.

And nothing could stop me now. I wasn’t the only victim so screw it!

And nothing stopped me.

I watched the entire series in a single night.

After I had finished watching it, I was experiencing an alien feeling of admiration and that is when my fandom shot to next level.

Next thing I know was – I was watching more of Fawad khan’s serials. I was reading about him. I was watching his interviews. I was drowning more and more into fandom.

More and more and more.

Just to catch few more glimpses of Fawad khan I was ready to watch a Sonam Kapoor movie in theater. (And I did)

Fandom and the things that fandom could make you do. DO NOT EVER UNDERESTIMATE THEM.

So, I guess we can now come back to the original point – What it is with Fawad Khan?


The fact is he is very handsome.

The fact is his voice is really seductive.

The fact is the way he speaks Urdu is agonizingly beautiful.

The fact is he is an amazing actor.

The fact is he has a killer smile.

And all these facts together are more than enough to induce a fatal fandom.

The crazy thing about fandom is that nobody understands it unless she/he herself/himself is a fan.

So, I am not going to share any photos.

I am not going to share any videos.

I am not going to suggest you to watch any serials. (Though you could totally watch some scenes of Zindagi Gulzar Hai on YouTube. You should)

^Maybe I just did.

But you are not obligated to do what I am suggesting. However, the sad part is unless you do it, you would never have the answer for-

What is it with Fawad khan?

Go home random non-fan, go home.

This ain’t no place for you.


Author’s note;

Sometimes you have to let your fandom out. It’s an essential survival technique.

food for thought, humour, Inspiration, philosophy

How vain is it to be vain?

My life has been utterly unadventurous and my story is something that is known for it’s proficiency in inducing somnolence but I still have some interesting confessions to make.

My heart wants to spill them out of course but then there’s no fun in that. Everybody has a right to have some mysterious past filled with enigmatic secrets. It’s quite cool. Isn’t it? At least in TV series it is.

But I can reveal one secret here. The tragedy is that it isn’t that interesting but on the positive side it is worth some debate.

I have written many articles on ,you know, supposedly deep stuff; inner strength and life and hope and happiness and blah blah blah blah. But if I die and if you do my autopsy, you would find myself to be a ‘deeply’ superficial person.


(^Pun intended of course on your behalf)


Anyway, sticking to the post, I care a lot about what’s outside. And many a times  I fail to look inside.

I worship vanity.

Though I know vanity sucks and I shouldn’t be doing what I do but..


It comes to me as naturally as procrastinating, bunking classes and sleeping.


^This is voice in my head speaking.

So, let me make some room for  “I have to contradict everything you say and I will always be rude to you” person inside my head;

And here is the conversation between him/her/none/both and me;

Me: You know what? I am shallow. I like vanity. I look for beauty and I..and I deeply admire it.

Him/her/none/both: Too bad. If everybody was like you nobody would ever admire you.

Me: That’s rude. But you think I care about that?

Him/her/none/ both: If you are indeed shallow, you should. Huh! Too bad you suck at being superficial as well.

Me: So, you are saying I am not shallow. Well, thank you. But you know you suck at analyzing me. You have been wrong before. You are wrong now.

Him/her/none/both: I don’t know. Lets look at this from a fresh point of view. I will ask you some questions and you will give honest answers. And then you know, we can work out the possible conclusion.

Me: As if opposite was possible.

Him/….YOU KNOW WHO!: Are you beautiful?

Me: I don’t know.

You know who: Aen. Wrong answer.

Me: Okay, I am not.

YKW: Are you jealous of people who are?

Me: No, I am not jealous. I appreciate their beauty.

YKW: And why would you do that?

Me: Beauty can do wonders. You can escape with it. You can just run away.

YKW: Run away where?

Me: Into daydreams.

YKW: Even if that beauty is not yours?

Me: Beauty is never yours. You think you are beautiful. You know you are beautiful. And even then you are never satisfied with it.

YKW: What makes a person beautiful?

Me: He/she is pleasant to our eyes…I guess?

YKW: If somebody knows that he/she is pleasant to the eyes then why wouldn’t she/he be satisfied with him/herself?

Me: Beauty doesn’t end with being pleasant. It ends with perfection.

YKW: And since nobody can be perfect. Beauty is illusion?

Me: Beauty is the horizon we keep walking towards. It’s the dream we keep chasing.

YKW: So beautiful people are chasing horizon, You, the ugly one, are chasing horizon. And yet you want to be them knowing that they are basically doing the same thing as you.

Me: Here’s the catch-the horizon we are chasing are same yet different.  And they might be doing the same thing as me but then they are NOT doing it the same way. Their way is quite different probably better than mine.

YKW: What are you going to do about that?

Me: Maybe make the billion dollar cosmetic industry draw profit out of me. And do it the “better” way.

YKW: Will that really make you happy?

Me: I don’t have any choice.

YKW: You know you could be satisfied with how you are.

Me: But then that wouldn’t make me superficial.

YKW:  You know being not-superficial is not bad.Why is vanity so important to you?

Me: It’s in my genes. It’s in everybody’s genes. And nature wants this. Nature wants beauty to be there. And it also wants not so beautiful people to be there and appreciate it, maybe run after it.

YKW: Why would nature do that?

Me: Why would nature make murderers? Thugs? Corrupt politicians?

YKW: To maintain the balance?

Me:  Exactly. Maybe. I don’t really know about that. All I know is nature encourages vanity in it’s own way.

YKW: If everything had been beautiful, then, I guess world would have been a lot different. And different here is not a positive one.

Me: How so?

YKW: There would have been nothing to chase. There would have been no motivation. And it doesn’t end with that. Motivation and inspiration has been a key factor for human civilization.

Me: I see this discussion is getting a little too philosophical.

YKW (out of the blue): What if you were beautiful like drop dead gorgeous. What would you do then?

Me: I don’t know?

YKW: You wish you were beautiful. And when you get to be it you don’t know what to do?

Me: I would admire my images and pics a little more, I guess? Date a little more I guess?

YKW: But your life would have end up being equally miserable. From your answer I don’t see you doing any wonders and everything you dreamed of.

Me; What’s your point?

YKW: That you are not as shallow as you think yourself to be.

Me: All this interview to prove me I am not shallow. You do know that’s a good quality. You are actually proving myself to be a good person! Who are you? What did you do to the voice in my head?

YKW: I don’t care if I prove you are good. I just need to prove you wrong.

Me: If I had been beautiful maybe I would have enjoyed the attention. Maybe I would have enjoyed hitting on hot guys knowing that he is not actually out of my league.

YKW: Okay you would date some really cute guys. So what?

Me: So nothing. I am back to square one. My life would have been directionless anyway.

YKW: Bingo! Dumbass!

Me: Okay, I get your point. Actually….. I don’t- you are trying to say beauty doesn’t matter?

YKW: I am trying to say beauty doesn’t matter. That much.

Me: So, what do we do?

YKW: We appreciate them and move on. Not all pretty things have to be yours.

Me: Good. Good. But I can’t change my nature. I am going to remain vain anyway. This discussion wouldn’t change anything.

YKW: I know that. But the real question here is; How much vain is it to be vain.

Me:; Exactly. So,what’s the answer?

YKW: It’s not vain to be vain. Though it is vain to be too vain.

Me: How informative! How do you know you are being too vain.

YKW: When you are crying about it like a baby. And when it starts clouding every decision of yours. When you are so obsessed with it that you forget who you are. You forget what your qualities are. You forget your values. You forget what you were born with. Girl, you have to understand that some things you don’t have to own.

Me: That’s easier said than done.

YKW: Yeah I know. But then you have a choice- Make your life miserable. Or make your life worth living. My favorite? The second one.

Me: I get your point. You are not in your criticizing mood today. But looks like I am. SO, here is what I am going to end with- What we all have to keep ourselves reminding is- Universe is too big you are too small. IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER!


YKW: Bingo. That proves you are not shallow. You’re welcome.




P.S. The title courtesy goes to one of my closest friends– fuck that, the title courtesy goes to THE closest friend of mine who doesn’t read any of the shit I write but then I don’t care as long as she keeps suggesting me the possible “topics” and have late night texting debates about them.






Eve Teasers; The noble people.

Let’s not get started with women and woman empowerment stuff. That is not important.

You know what is important? What is simply indispensable?  These people; the ones I am going to talk about. The noble people. The sons of gods. The extra-ordinary. The cosmic. The colossal. Let me uncover the invisible pieces of their exquisite non-existent mind before you;


Part-1: Delayed image processing.

It’s not like that we like to stare. We don’t. There are other things in our lives too. Like–




Okay, we don’t. But that is not the point, the point is that the main culprit here is the image processing system in our heads.

See, how can you expect us to make sense out of the images we see with our exceptionally dysfunctional brains? We have to feed the information in our impeccably slow brains for long long time and then and only then the meaning is decoded and delivered to us. We are not able to make sense out of this delivered message even but that is not we are talking about here. Our point is; We stare because we don’t have any other choice. We are handicapped. Please understand that.

Secondly, since we were raised in sewers we never got to know who females were.So, when we came to the ground it was unbelievable!There is something called  woman? What? Since when?


Part-2: Limited vocabulary.

The reason that we stick to whistling or “Hey! sweetie!” or “Hi! darling!”  is that we don’t know any other words. For having a good vocabulary in any language, you gotta be smart or average or even a little below average. But there is no scope for null IQ anywhere.

It doesn’t matter though. Why do you need a vocabulary? Why do you need any kind of IQ? Or education for that matter? It’s useless! It’s just absurd!

Given a chance we would bring the literacy rate of the country down to zero. There is no use. All the guys in the world need to go out on the streets with their bikes and have fun with girls walking around. Come on! Man! THAT IS LIFE! THAT IS ADVENTURE!


Part-3; Who are females?

Err… The thing with the hair and the breasts and the butts, we guess?


Part-4: The eternal entertaining element.

This bollywood, TV serials, Novels ( Wait. What are novels?)etc, etc is not entertainment. It’s nothing compare to what we do.

When we whistle at the girl passing by or throw chits at her or call her names or comment on her, follow her and make her life a living hell , that is the moment when we feel that ultimate thrill.  That irritated look on her face and Oh! What it does to us! Amazing! Man! Amazing!

We will tell you a secret- We know from the empty head of ours that behind that irritation and anger , she is blushing. That tears in her eyes are of joy. Inside she is going stark raven mad with happiness.  It’s so obvious. Our dysfunctional brains are never wrong in detecting these inner truths.


Part-5; Stalking.

You are in love with this girl! You have got to know her don’t you? Yes, she doesn’t love you  ( or so she says). She has yelled at you, spat at you and told you to just fuck off but does that mean anything?

Absolutely fucking not.

That, my friend, is the beginning of the chase. That is the beginning of your love story!


Part-6; Handling criticism.

Yeah, well, people are just jealous.

You know how they get.

Roaming on bikes on the street all day and ‘entertaining’ our selves- that is our purpose. We- Doing any sensible work that could help in building the economy of the country? GOD FORBID!

We are not going to waste our precious time on anything like that.

What we do is a high profile life. Even Harvard graduates dream of that.

People can say whatever fuck they want but we are no ordinary people. We are assholes. The assholes. And they are just, like we said, jealous.


Part-7; The fears and insecurity.

We express our selfless love to them and they just reject us. Outright. Just like that. That is rude.

That’s depressing.

It’s an insult. A blow to our self respect.

Gotcha! Self respect?  What the hell is that? Screw “self” what the hell is Respect?

Never mind. We are not interested in knowing anyway.


Part-8; Future plans.

We plan to have some kids though we have been strongly advised not to procreate. Why you ask?

Our genes are so exceptional, so explosive, so good that world might be in a threat of too much goodness. Our progeny will carry this threat with them. So we have a choice of to be or not to be a hero.

We don’t know. We are still confused. We want some kids but then we need a wife for that.

Even though  we are one of a kind, our proposals have been turned down over and over. Finding a wife is difficult. These women, we treat them with dignity and this is how they pay us back!

As of now, we don’t have any future plans, We might end up being the hero, who knows?

Part-9; How does it feel to be a huge liability.

What’s liability?


Well, in the end, I have to mention that people I am ….


And you guys are worth some applause.









The tales of torture; Brain chronicles-II

Ideas generating lobe of brain! Thou hast crossed all the limits!

So, say, my exams are going on…I want to study but…

How much would you ignore if someone is entering in your room every 30 seconds exclaiming;

” You know you can do that! It’s so nice!”

“No, like really. Leave all this shit and think on this instead!”

“I have got another idea! You’ll love it!”

“So you are ignoring me? But now you can’t because what I am about to say is going”

“Bitch, you can’t stop me from doing this anyway. So, here’s another one.”

“This one! This one would just BLOW. YOUR.MIND”

“I think we can win a Nobel prize with this.”

“OMG. Wow! You have got to hear this out! It’s just supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!”

My self control can’t go through all this. It is NOT designed to withstand a brain exploding with ideas. It is NOT designed to withstand anything for that matter.

And it doesn’t just happen with exams. Exams is not the fundamental criterion. The fundamental criterion is; It happens when it is NOT supposed to happen.Ideas conquer your brain at terribly odd timings.

Like say this one;

I haven’t slept for two days. SO, I go to bed to have a nice little nap. And guess who is back?

You are trying so hard to relax but no you wouldn’t just sleep. There is a non stop chatter box inside that head of yours that can’t just sit silent!

Or this one;

You are traveling by bus and that bus is hell crowded and you can’t even afford to stand but then, at that very moment guess who greets you?

Or this one;

You are terribly late for a function and you really really got to be there like right now and then out of nowhere comes this voice-“How you doin?”

You are like “not now.”

But no, the chatterbox is on and it wouldn’t stop. Ideas are flowing (there is a whole flood) but you can’t keep a record of it.

The weird thing is when they come and strike you, if you don’t pen them down at that moment, ideas are lost forever. Forever.

Probably they go back to the idea courier office to be delivered to someone else at another odd time. Those courier service guys must be sadists.

Why O mind of mine? Why thou loathst me?

We have issues, I get it. But we can sort things out by peaceful methods. What you do to me is not peaceful.

What you do to me is torture.