Sunday, December 18, 2011


1) My dear regular readers (yes, I mean the two of you), I'm sure you all are either following or have at least landed sometime on a beautiful blog named 'Words', because the blog is just so popular across blogosphere. The blogger, Saru Singhal, is a lovely person, who has this unique ability to express a bagful of emotions and feelings in the smallest poems possible. She is one such writer who when I read, makes me wish if I could write like that.
She recently offered me an opportunity to write a guest post on her blog. And since hers is chiefly a poetry blog, I sent her a poem of mine.
Click here to read the poem. And make sure you read Saru’s works too. They are simply brilliant.

2) I’m currently on a lookout for a freelance writing job. I manage to get enough free time during a day to be able to take up a writing job. And even if somedays I don’t, writing is something I can always make time for. So any suggestions or any help in this matter would be welcome.

3) Blogger’s meet, anyone?

Sunday, December 11, 2011


Remember what they say in those Whisper ads? ‘All those five days of the month aren’t the same. Sometimes the flow is less, sometimes more’. Well, that is exactly what I’m going through as I type this post. The flow of my creative juices is at its worst at the moment, and I’m completely blank on what to write about. Hence, I started writing randomly, letting my brain and my fingers do the work, while my heart and I visit the Victoria’s Secret party.

Talking about periods, did Justin Bieber finally get them?

The reason why I so badly want to write something is that it’s a Sunday morning, and I’m sitting alone in my home in Baroda. (For the unawares, I was born, kicked in the crotch, and brought up in Bombay. I recently moved to Baroda. I stay with my Uncle and Aunt here, but we have our own second house in Baroda too, where I come every weekend. Life seems to be a big fan of ironies, because back in Bombay when I had girlfriends, I had no empty apartment. And now when I have a fully furnished house wholly to myself, all I have to enjoy it with is my left hand. My left hand to operate my laptop, you pervert. My right hand is the one that grabs and strokes. Grabs and strokes my right knee, I got hurt there.) And when I’m alone in the house, I HAVE to write. I would find the time spent alone to be utterly useless if I don’t write something. And it’s frustrating when during such times I don’t get ideas, because it is more or less during such times itself that I generally do.

I normally get my best ideas when I’m in the shower, but Sundays are generally my ‘no-bath’ days. This is because Sunday is God’s day, and God meant us to be like this. He gave us water to quench our thirst, not to bath with. He made it so that the living beings would drink it, and not pour it on their bodies. I’m sure God must have freaked out when he saw humans pouring water on their bodies for the first time.

“It is meant to be drunk, you fucking idiot!” he must have yelled from the sky.

But I guess I will take a bath today, because I love the Jaguar shower here. Every single drop feels like it’s wrapped in bubble paper. Maybe I should get a big sheet of bubble wrap paper. That will keep me busy the whole day.

So yeah, I have to write. And I’m not a talented writer to be able to narrate my life’s incidences in the form of boring philosophy. Nor am I Robert Frost, one of the smartest poets in history. Smartest, because he made a legendary poem out of a mugging incident. Here’s what actually happened with him –

Two Roads Diverged in the woods and I –
I took the one less travelled by,
And that is where I got robbed.

The bugger got mugged in the secluded street. But what he did of it? He made one of modern time’s best poetry.

After he learnt his lesson, he decided never to take halts in a journey, because he became super paranoid of getting mugged again. Which is why he wrote –

But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep.

See. Smart!

I’m a strong believer of one thing. Whatever happens happens for a reason. Every smallest occurrence has a reason behind it. From a pin falling from your hand, to a plane crash, to Rakhi Sawant growing boobs again, it all has a reason. The universe is constantly conspiring, for every living being, and all events are related, unknown to the naked eye. I know I sound like the illegitimate child of Paulo Coelho and the writers of How I Met Your Mother, but I do believe strongly in this.

And off late, the universe is giving me certain signals, or so I believe. As I had mentioned in one of my blog posts, I’m in the Ted Mosby phase of my life, looking out for my ‘the one’. And I have a certain checklist of qualities which I want in my girl. Everyone does. My checklist (I know you care an anorexic model’s ass about it) is as follows:

1) She should be fun. So far, my most favourite company is myself. She should be so much fun, that I should love being with her more than I love being with myself.

2) She should be crazy about F.R.I.E.N.D.S, just like I am. I really wish to have a Friends Marathon with my girl someday.

3) She should be interesting. And interested in stuff. General Knowledge and Current Affairs stuff. When I out of the blue start discussing the Mayan civilization, she should NOT think I’m a geek. I will slap her.

4) As far as possible, I wouldn’t prefer a corporate chick.

5) She should be my best friend. I should be able to openly check out girls while being with her, and she should be a sport about it. Rather, in spite of being my girl, she should point out hot chicks for me.

Kuch Kuch Hota Hai released when I was very young. I guess I was in fourth or fifth standard. In the movie, when Archana Puran Singh asks her students ‘Pyaar Kya Hai? What is love?’ I said to myself ‘What chutiyapa is this?! Which teacher asks such questions?’.

And then when she asks Shahrukh to answer, my ears stood up a little, like a dog. It was a Karan Johar movie, with Shahrukh and Kajol, who were like the ‘the’ pair back then. So I got very hopeful about the definition of love that was about to come. But then the bozo said ‘Pyaar Dosti Hai!’.

‘My ass,’ I said.

I obviously expected something more meaningful and complicated.

But today, I finally realize that there couldn’t be a better definition of love than that. Love is friendship. If you two aren’t the best of friends, the relationship won’t last.

I know many girls would oppose me on this (guys care a fuck), but believe it or not, love fades. No matter how much ever you love someone, it does evaporate over time. What lasts, and makes the relationship last, is friendship.

Chandler and Monica are my most ideal couple ever; hence I would give their example here. They were the best of friends before they fell in love. If you notice, they are madly in love and all over each other only in season 5 and 6, and somewhat 7. What continues after that between them is their best friendship. Of course, love is there. I’m not saying it goes away completely. I’m just saying the percentage contribution of love in the relationship falls.
So yeah, she should be my best friend

6) She should never want to change her beliefs and thinking according to what the society thinks is right. She should be herself, always.

7) She should be a big time foodie. I don’t mind being with a fat girl. I want someone who loves food as much as I do.

8) She should be a reader. ‘Books? Ewww! I hate books. How can you read a whole book?’. ONE TIGHT SLAP!

9) Her movie tastes should be such that I could let her talk to other people in my absence. ‘Hey you saw Bodyguard? What awesome movie na?’. ONE TIGHT SLAP!

10) Her English should not make me want to shoot her and then hang myself. I am a grammar-cum-pronunciation freak. If she talks like ‘Arre I did it like that only’, her life will be shortened.

11) Mom dad should like her.

See. So simple. If anyone of you (girls) feels you fit in all the above mentioned criteria, please contact me on, with your nude pic. I shall revert soon. If I don’t, keep checking popular porn sites. Surprise! :P  (Isn’t the :P smiley a life saver? So many friendships would have broken had it not been for ‘:P’. Think of the reaction you will receive when you comment on someone’s FB pic as ‘Wow, you look hot! :P’ as opposed to ‘Wow, you look hot!’ )

Anyway. So the signal that I believe the universe is off late giving me is that I’m going to end up with someone who maybe won’t fit in all the points mentioned above, yet I would find her perfect.

Following are the signals that I received over the past two days:
1) An office colleague is getting married. She said ‘the guy has all the qualities that I never wanted in my guy; still I love him and I’m getting married to him!’

2) I was discussing How I Met Your Mother. I casually said that the show would conclude with Ted finding someone not at all perfect as per him, yet he would love her.

3) This post by Upasana.

Are these actual signals? Or am I being stupid? I don’t know.

So kids, this is how you write a crap post, that makes no sense and has no head or tail whatsoever!

P.S. After months and months of caring a fuck about it, I finally joined twitter. (!/LetThereBeFood) I must say, twitter badly needs some notification type thing like Facebook.

P.P.S.: Saw Puss in Boots. Few laughter moments. But a good watch nonetheless. I was really waiting for a Shrek or Donkey cameo, but there was none.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011


The 26/11 Mumbai attack anniversary that went by was, for a change, a rather joyous and relieving occasion this year. Joyous because of a bunch of people performing as a flash mob at the CST station, and relieving because the song on which they performed was not 'Kolaveri Di'

(Is it just me, or does this totally remind you of the 'Jai Ho' video from Slumdog?)

When I first heard Kolaveri, I found it overrated. I found it overrated when I heard it for the fifty first time also. The thing is, just because a song is catchy doesn't mean it will stay for a really long period. Melodious songs stay long. Catchy songs have a very little shelf life. And even the item song Jalebi Bai is catchy for that matter. Don't believe me? Just listen to that song in the morning once, and tell me at night what went on and on in your head the whole day. The Kolaveri song in fact has already become as irritating for me as that ‘There are unused icons on your desktop’ bubble that keeps popping up in the task bar.

I remember in school, during examinations, if you ever chanced upon hearing a song right before your paper, then getting it out of your head throughout the exam would be a bigger challenge than passing the exam. And I used to use this thing in a very impish, sadistic way.

Almost 90% of my scoring in each exam could be dedicated to the final hour preparation. In fact, when the teacher used to say 'Start studying now, don't wait for the eleventh hour; you won't be able to finish it,' the little kalpak, dressed in red, with a fork and thorns, sitting on my left shoulder used to say 'Challenge Accepted!' The white fellow on the right used to be too lazy to oppose him.

But then again, I would never study in the final five-ten minutes before the paper, because every damn question you read in those final moments, you always feel that you have forgotten the answer. And hence, to spend time in these final minutes, I used to go up to my frantically revising friends, and used to sing the crappiest songs in their face. The curses I used to receive after the paper were orgasmic. And why wouldn’t it be, after all I HAD fucked their case.

Now a flash mob has been defined as a group of people meeting at a predetermined place, performing a choreographed event, and quickly dispersing. Every day in my office has been defined similarly.

Watching that flash mob on CST made me wish I was present there when it happened. That way I would have had a chance to check out the chicks in the mob in a better way. But then, as Geeta says, whatever happens happens for the best. (Geeta was one of the chicks in that mob) Had I been there, the over-enthu me would have joined the performance when it was in the initial stages, dancing like those men in Zingaro beer ads, only to later realize that it's a preplanned choreographed event. Maybe I have to start thinking in retrospection on why I never get laid.

But such events are great fun. I would love to be a part of one of these someday, maybe the one sponsored by Zingaro. And such activities are better expenditures of time for today's youth than something stupid like Farmville, a game that I believe should be played less on Facebook and more on Anil Kapoor's chest.

Before this flash mob happened, I never knew what a flash mob is. So if someone would tell me that there was a flash mob on CST station, without showing me the video, I would imagine that a gang of girls were going around lifting up their t shirts. Well that surely would have been a better flash mob. But then that would have been less known as a flash mob, and more as ‘Girls Gone Wild – CST Party!’

On a separate note, a delegate of a Japanese firm had visited my company recently. After the factory visit, he wanted to see the Baroda Maharaja’s Palace (nothing metaphorical in this). And since I was comparatively less occupied with work that day, my colleagues suggested I go along with him. I wasn’t too up for it, but someone from the International Marketing team had to go. The thought of all the racist jokes I would crack on him in the car cheered me up, but sadly he didn’t have time for the Palace visit and had to leave for his flight.

When we found out a Japanese guy is coming to visit, we all Googled various Japanese greetings. One of their most common greeting upon meeting is ‘Konnichiwa’, which also translates to ‘Good Afternoon’. When your common greeting means the same as Good Afternoon, it shows till how late you people sleep.

Good evening for them is ‘Konbanwa’. I thought I would play a prank. When he would come, while others would bend down and say ‘Konnichiwa’, I would bend down and say ‘Kun Faya Kun’. But then, for the sake of my firm’s repute, I stuck to Konnichiwa.

I guess I better end my post here, before I get a call from Kapil Sibbal asking me to censor content on my blog.

*bowing down* Kun Faya Kun.

P.S.: R.I.P Dev Saab.

P.P.S.: Hats off to each person directly and indirectly involved in the Flash Mob. A truly commendable work.

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