Love Myths

I do love cheesy movies. I have cried in some really corny ones. But I WILL NOT allow them to ruin this generation of ours. So if you don't already know this, you're well, ridiculously unreal. If you know this and have been living in denial, I hope this is a slap on that denial's face. Just kidding, I'm bored and I think am funny. 
So laugh. Not that I'll know if you don't. Not that I'll care if I know you didn't. 


We don't live next to Jane Austen anymore. But as the language in Hollywood movies becomes more real, the notion of love seems to move backward. Of course, they sleep with people on first dates now-a-days, but they do that while believing in Prince Charming and an ugly white horse. So here's a list of things that don't happen in reality and the kind of frogs who'll only look uglier after you've kissed them:

1. When you share a cab myth: Remember that scene when she stops a cab and as she sits inside it, a really hot guy opens the other door and sits inside. This is not a scene from a particular movie. It's there in so many, you're bound to remember it. Well, they fight and then exchange numbers and the rest as we'd like to believe is history. In reality, the person who tries to steal your cab is a middle-aged, pot bellied man with a mustache and a lecherous glance. He'll gladly exchange numbers, only if you wouldn't run out of the cab and vow to walk back home, if that would help never bumping into him again. Cab thieves are just that- cab thieves. 
2. When you keep bumping into each other myth: You've seen it in the movies so you assume when you bump into a stranger for the second time, the universe is trying to tell you something. You gather a bunch of friends (girl friends, gay friends and not-out-of-the-closet-even-to-themselves gay friends) and tell them the story of  this co-incidence and you smile as they cheer you on and tell you it would make a great story. What really happens  is that you may bump into this person several times but never end up talking to him. Even better, you end up talking to him and realize he's married. Face it, the world's a small place. Everyone goes to new pubs/clubs/cafes that are the rage. Everyone goes to Goa. You're not the only person with plans. You're certainly not the only person he's bumped into several times. So smile politely but you'll get little more than a free drink out of him. 
3. The jerk turns sappy myth: He's a jerk and so obviously you're in love with him. He's cheated on you, more so with your best friend. You've told him you're no door mat and he can't keep walking in and out of your life. So obviously, you're waiting with a baited breath for him to walk right back in, everytime he walks out on you. The wait is accompanied by repeat telecasts of your favourite shows, cheesecakes, wine and the eternal dream that when he's back this time, he'll prove the world wrong- he'll hold you and tell you he's sorry and he's woken up to how awesome you are. Sorry to break your little bubble there, but he's a jerk for a reason and he'll continue to be the same. People are wired a certain way and there's nothing you can do to change that. Do you stop crying over him? No right. Why then should he stop making you cry? Worse still, if he does watch the same movies as you and come back sappy, you'll hate him and run in the other direction. He won't be the guy (or the disgusting habit) you fell in love with.
4. You'll go through the different people, only to end up with him myth: You broke up. So what? You'll find someone new. You found someone new? Oh yay, score! Things did not work out with someone new? Damn, you miss the old one again. Maybe, it was meant to be? Maybe he's thinking of you when he's kissing someone else too? Maybe, you'll go through all these different people only to realize you're 'made for each other'. Now that's a load of bull shit like no other. In the real world, you're actually just using people. The different people you're going through could be using you the same way. Not so romantic now, is it? More importantly, the different people may think you're meant to be with them, but they're not the ex'es you think you'll end up with. So you don't really end up where you started. You end up in a mesh of cross connected wires, guilt and a lot of drama. Nothing to write home about. Unless of course, you're me. 
5. You were high school sweethearts turned college lovers turned spouses myth: In the real world, you're just so used to each other, you don't know what it would be without the other. It's like an investment you've made with every penny you have. It has the least amount of risk so you might as well stick with it. Someday when the markets are at an all time high, you'd want to invest somewhere else. You'll waver for that fleeting second and temptation will get the better of you. You're likely to cheat. But he'll take you back don't worry. Just remember, he's one up now and you'll have to take him back when he wavers too. Doesn't seem like such a love story now, does it? 
6. Your best friend will eventually marry you myth: You've had a crush on him for years. He's the first boy you became friends with, the first boy you tried alcohol with, the first boy who taught you how to abuse. So what if he has a girlfriend? He'll eventually marry you. Umm..... if that really was the case, why exactly would he be with someone else? No, you dating someone else is not going to make him jealous. He'll only be happy for you and tease you. You vacationing in Bali is definitely not going to make him miss you and realize he's taken you for granted. He'll ask you to upload your pics on facebook so he can see Bali and plan his next vacation with his girlfriend. He sees you as a friend and unless you want to screw up a bond formed over many years, it's recommended you stick to being just that- the best friend he can share pizza with. 
7. He's smart and well read and funny and witty and rich and cute. He makes you laugh and tells you, you look nice. He's gay. Remember the time he told you he loved your shoes? Or the time he warned you that your bag doesn't match your outfit? Or the time he went on about Jane Austen? What about the time he noticed your haircut and the colour of your eyeshadow? Yeah well, need I say more? 

The list shall continue. Write in your favourite bubble-breaking moments to pleasegetyourownblogit'sfree@i'llkillyouifyou'renotfunny.com

~

The life made over

My life needs a makeover.

Not a very original statement, you'd taunt me. Heck, that doesn't change the truth in it.

I don't mean a new fancy wardrobe (though am always open to donation of sexy shoes) or expensive lip gloss. I mean a lifestyle make over.

I'm supposed to tick many things off that checklist this year. That checklist in my head that I run through everyday- finalize on further study plans, lose weight, travel to Sikkim, publish my book etc.

But what my life needs is to operate in reverse gear for a while. Heck, forget reverse even standing still would help. I need lifestyle that involves no thought about the future. I need a lifestyle without planning.

I need a lifestyle with a lot more writing. I need a life of poetry.

So the moment, all these thoughts rushed to my head, I decided to act upon the urge to write them down. I also will keep just one thing on the checklist in mind- publish, beyond this push button publishing on blogspot.com

I'm 23 and tired of seeing the same dreams I did when I was 20. 3 years was enough time to get a grip and move on. Well, I promise to not make it 24.

Just one thought though- what after the life is made over? How long will I be thought free until I need a new makeover?

Can I be thought free at all?

~

Longevity Measurement

It's been a while since I wrote something non-abstract. I really don't know why though and too lazy to delve into that. But yeah, this piece has been written in different persons. Not intentionally though. Just bad grammar.

There's something that's come back to haunt my nights and render them sleepless- a thought that I unabashedly play hide and seek with. Is it possible to relate to someone forever?

When the someone in consideration is love interest (or a potential one), I'm the first to point out that there's never a forever. Most people seem interesting in the beginning. Novelty can lead to curiosity and curiosity can be mistaken for attraction. Or maybe, novelty itself leads to attraction. But as we reach autumn, the trees don't seem to be so pretty after all. We're left with a familiarity that's a become habit and try to stick to the comfort zone, until the winter makes tolerance extremely difficult. Before, I'm labelled as cynical again, I will clarify that this is not the case with all romances- just a clinical analysis of why romance does not last forever, for all the times that it does not. But here's the thing- when the romance is over and you need to move on, you know that because the equation between the other person and yourself was so intense that you are going to need time off, that it's okay to not be 'friends' anymore and that familiar places, sounds, people will bring memories back. You move on for what's best for both and then you move on for yourself. You don't expect to continue to be a part of each others' life necessarily.

But what do you do when it's friendship that has lost it's elasticity? More often than not, we have a variety of friends and each one shares a special equation with us. What do you do when you stop relating to one or some of them? There's no fixed rule for a break up here. Besides, you may not even want to break up. It's just that there is awkwardness and a loss of conversation. The greatest friendship is that which comes out of companionable silence. But awkward silence is a different ball game altogether. Initially, it can be dealt with by going down the memory lane and laughing at the old jokes. How long can that go on for, though? The jokes become stale and un-funny and the memories become but a hurtful reminder of the closeness and comfort that was once shared. The worst part is that you can't relate to each other as people.

It's a tricky area, this. It's not a fight so there can be no definite end but status quo is just pinching. So I guess you just talk about the weather and laugh awkwardly knowing fully well that the other person is putting  up the same act as you. Not to forget hating having to put it up, maybe just as much as you do.

~

The rat can't opt out of the race

Disclaimer: This post has been lying in the drafts section for over 2 months. Completed, edited (not really) and published only today. Yes, Yes, Lazy was coming. 


When I was young, oh wait am still that (would it be ridiculously disney of me if did the *facepalm*?), so let's start over. When I was a child, I remember sitting in my living room in Madras and telling my mother and a friend that I wanted to be 'businesswoman' because I loved the idea of wearing a red business suit (yes, the one with a red blazer and a red skirt) and 6-inch high pumps and walking around an 'office' with 'filework'. I was in class 4  and Kingfisher Airlines hadn't launched then. Years later of course, the Mallya stole my idea and converted it into some sort of an affordable male fantasy for them 'kings of good times'.

Shortly after that statement, I realized that 'office' actually implied hierarchy and 'filework' did not mean simply signing sheets of paper and acting important. I dropped the dream and returned to my original dream about wanting to be the President of the country ( I was not aware of the helplessness of the post then) and/or an air-hostess and/or Miss Universe. I grew up stout, rather short and couldn't win the war against acne. So as awesome as my personality was, it required more than communication skills to be crowned with diamonds and wave the hands like a princess. So the beauty pageants part was out. I also realized you can't just wake one morning and decide  to preside over the country. So presidency was out and how.

What did smart, opinionated, sort-of-creative drama queens like myself do in life? I decided I want to be a journalist. Believe me, noone at that point of time chose to highlight the fact that news reporting really was not  about voicing one's opinion on a corporate-funded national platform. I thought the un-pretty people, you know the unconventional ones like myself wore a lot kohl, Fab India and were destined to change the world and of course, in the process garner their own fan following. The world was one giant stage where my character would draw a lot of applause and admiration. I observed carefully and found out that I needed to wear more khadi, put even more kohl and use words/phrases like 'inequality' , 'gender-bias' , 'death of democracy', 'left leaning' , I would be labelled intellectual and my ideas, radical. I don't mean the people who did this were un-pretty. I just mean, that un-pretty ones could be safe with this.

If you're still reading, it is safe to assume that you have judged me beyond measure, not only for my hopeless dreams and understanding of the world, but for choosing the wrong title to the post. Why would I tell you the rat can't opt out of the race and then elaborate in painful detail, my dreams and ambitions and uselessness? I don't know, actually. I don't know why I began this post in the first place. Maybe because I forgot what I was writing about mid-way. But this title, does sound catchy no? If I had called this "My list of dreams" or some jazz like that, you would have never even bothered to open it. So the initial idea of the post had a lot to do with this title, but now it doesn't. I'm mental like that.

So anyway, getting back. The journalistic dreams soon fizzled out as I learnt what it really meant and I decided to sell my soul, succumb to the world's ways and join the world of advertising/marketing. Like I'd said to someone, sometime back, now that I've sold my soul, I feel rather liberated because there really is nothing I can be uptight about and/or decide to judge anymore. I sell magazines, really. Before that, I sold newspapers. I'm a part of the typical rat race now. For all my childhood yearning to choose an alternate profession or do something different, something I feel passionate about as opposed to just minting money, I've ended up following the herd mentality now haven't I? I want to do the M.B.A. route (I'm going to pretend I don't hear your snide remarks or see your eyebrows flinch and your lips curve into a smirk). The point still remains, it's a race and it's not easy.

But you know the funny thing is, I don't feel all "I am wasting my life away". Yes, I'd love to travel a lot more than I already do. Actually, I'd like to discover a lot more of the country all by myself and this lifestyle doesn't really permit those vagabond ways. But it's a simple balance really. The vagabond shoes need to be those yummy ones that tempt you for really long until you get to wear them. If I wore the vagabond shoes like a pair of chappals, they would be reduced to just that- everyday chappals.

To opt out of a race, you only land yourself in another. In wanting to be different, we participate in the biggest cliche of all. To think out of the box, you land yourself in another box. It's only logical. In this constant struggle against definition, we actually end ourselves up in the biggest pattern of them all.

What's the solution? I don't know. I usually just go to sleep.

~

Blum

That's been my state of mind for a while now. It's dazed and it's spaced out like a space cadet. It's just blum. So this is not a rant about why life sucks,this post is just a silly excuse to justify my rather unjustified silence here. For the few people who read this and have asked me about what has happened with the blog- well, it's up and it's running. I'm supposed to put up a very important book review here. I have 3 more posts in drafts that need to be completed and 'push-button-published'.

The ultimate truth is I'm incredibly lazy. The peripheral truth is I've been ill. No serious illness of course but just that annoying kinds that wants to remind me about the need for a lifestyle change.

I don't like to write it out anymore. It's that phase when the excel sheets have taken over my brain. But the thing is the blog itself looks so dull and morbid. It's a reflection of that closeted emo side. No fun, I say.

In other news, let me explain "blum".

Blum is a state of mind that affects more than just the space in your mind. It's usually caused after a period of immense thinking, deep thinking, over analyzing, self-caused-exhaustion and emotional draining. The process of being blum implies laziness, spaced-out-ness, lack of any pro-activity whatsoever, happy-sad laughter and a rather disrespectful indifference to life and what comes with it.

Blum is a state of being null.

I don't know if it's enjoyable. I'm too blum to know if am enjoying it. But i'll tell you this- it makes you produce a lot of nonsense.

later

In other news

It's time for the nonsensical update post. Yes I know, it's the kind of stuff I really want to write about because I think the society at large, feeds off updates on my life. It is also the kind of post you'll barely even want to acknowledge (unless of course, I tell you I've broken a limb or two) because you'd rather I write about this stuff in my personal journal as opposed to a public platform like this one, that claims to bring out the 'writer' in me.

But, anyway, in other news ( *wink *) :

1. I did actually compile all the poetry I'd written through the years. When I went through it, I was slightly taken aback. I did think I was a better writer. I guess that's what happens when you compile stuff you've written over the years- some of it becomes irrelevant, even to yourself. The parcel was sent to the publisher and the courier service decided to never deliver the consignment. It's not even returned to the origin yet. Is this some sort of a sign? A quick note to whoever is up there controlling the humans- It's taken a lot of courage to come out of the closet about my writing attempts, the task of actually sending stuff to publishers being almost herculean in nature, don't mess this up please. And if you believe in giving signs, give clearer ones. (Would I demean myself if I indulge in quick smileys to support my plea here? yes, I am a blackberry girl. :-/) 
2. I desperately need to discover some new fun shows to watch. I miss the HIMYM madness and I can't keep going back to FRIENDS all the time. Sometimes, they'd point at me and laugh- them people on the show. It is after all not perfectly normal to just never grow out of a show. 
3. I've won myself an autographed "JS & The Times of my life". Yes, it has been signed by Jug Suraiya himself. How? Well I signed-up for at blogadda and offered to review the book. So the review is going to be up in 7 days and no, I do not have to write nice things about the book, if I don't like it. So, it's a win-win situation, as people in my corporate side of the world would say. 
4. Am working on a post called "Things parents say". If you have any expert comments/additions/suggestions for the same, do write to me. I always give the credit where it's due and I think a post like this one should contain inputs from well, having experienced more than one set of parents.
5. I love the new blogger interface. Its simple and customized to maximum clarity. Quite unlike a certain part of my life right now. 

Until we meet again, then? 

Note to self: The style of writing is becoming increasingly chic-lit. The slang words that were once frowned upon by my pompous self are now a rather homogeneous part of this supposedly-new writing format. Maybe, I should give up on the dream of writing a though-provoking novel after all. I can only do Headaches, Heartaches and Haircuts kind of stuff (yes, that is one book idea). 

Ah well, at least I still spell it as 'colour' and not 'color'. Until I reach that stage, I guess am still safe. 

~

Business Opportunities brought to you by Anna Hazare

I must put up a fancy disclaimer to save my life, lest I be labelled as unreasonably cynical, corporate suck-up, annoyingly opportunistic or anti-democracy. But, screw you. If one man is allowed to throw a fit and threaten the nation like a child so the PM meets him and the media showers generously, so much attention on him, then am allowed to put this up on a blog created by the self with not even 20 people who actually read this.

Take this all in good humour. If you can't, you don't pay me to write this anyway, so you can condemn my power of acute observation and shrug it off as cynicism (Yeah, that's B Shaw's excuse, not mine).

1. Happy Meals to Save the day: In an attempt to display it's supremely philanthropic and regionally "customized" concern, Mc Donald's should have sponsored the breaking of the rather famed fast, the first time round itself. Picture this: Anna Hazare and his supporters sitting there eating Mc Donald's Happy meal- happiness ka formula. Breaking of the fast, brought to you by Mc Donald's. Headlines: Happy meals save the nation/ Happy meals for a happy nation/ A truly happy meal... I could go on. If by any chance, you happen to be the news guys reading this, maybe you could pay me to come up with the headlines. I'll do a mighty good job, clearly. 
2. Candle-making Business: For the longest time, I thought this was the best occupation for the rich housewife. I could blame my origin and loud community for making me want to never take up a job, find a really rich man and run this business from his money. But today this has taken a new meaning altogether. We underestimate the potential of them white candles. Existing candle makers could come up with 'candles for a cause'- customized candles to every national calamity/disaster/newsworthy bullshit could be created. So you can now buy candles that are specifically anti-corruption or terrorism. And keep a few for the rainy day- when a schoolgirl is allegedly killed by her parents or a journalist is raped. The entrepreneur in me is now alive and kicking and am on my way to weaving world peace- one candle at a time. 
3. New Advertising Space: I'm in the media industry, so I'll refrain from taking any names (Unless of course you decide to start paying me for updating my blog so I can quit this life of corporate slavery). But when you're in the 'business' of media, you need the advertisers to be able to be run the business. It's a mad world out there, trying to constantly 'innovate' your offerings to the marketeers. It's a madder world for the marketeers as they go to any lengths to just get 'noticed' or create 'awareness' about their brand. I say, screw the large sums of monies you pay to media houses to get the front page ad or the first TV spot during a break. Instead, invest in a simple hoarding with your brand logo on it and get your employees to stand in Azaad Maidan, VT station, Janatar Mantar, Ramlila Maidan. With the amount of coverage Anna-man is garnering, you are bound to get screen space (not only for 60 seconds, but throughout the goddamn day across all channels). Your employees will happy to get a day off excel and you can join the entertainment industry that television journalism has reduced itself to. 
4. Branded Nehru Caps: It's the latest trend and it is after all fashion for a cause! So I say, produce different types of the Nehru cap. Each category can be produced with different materials and priced differently to cater to all segments- be it the nearby dabbawala, the middle class hysteric or the rich housewife who joins the 'movement' straight after blowing kisses at a high tea. 
5. Anna Hazare mobile app: So what if you're busy licking some corporate ass and cannot physically be a part of the march? You can play the game on your mobile phone/tablet. The game starts with you being given a certain duration of the fast, or maybe even a fast unto death- this needs to of course be customized every hour considering how fickle minded the GOI or Delhi Police can be. Every time Digvijay Singh or his other associates who make us proud to be Indian, open their mouth, the duration fo your fast gets extended. However, every time you report a case of corruption, the fast duration is reduced by a day. Once you've done a considerable number of 'good deeds', BJP honours you and may even offer you a position in their party. Good deeds of course as per their definition so expect feeding the cow, kissing Baba Ramdev, slapping women in short dresses, etc. However, considering that most of the cases you will report, will probably include a BJP member, you might want to run back to the GOI. At the end of it all, if you manage to survive the fast, you will be called the 'real rajnikanth' and you'll win yourself a chance to throw arrows at bullets in the air with the man. 
6. Anna-man bedtime tales or comic books: An Anna a day keeps sanity at bay. 
7. Anna-brand Energy Drinks: Do you know why Anna can remain fit despite the starvation? Because as a child, he consumed enough of X brand's energy drink/ vitamin tablets. Boost is the secret of his energy! 
8. Anna's own management DVDs: You know, the kind of DVD they sell on TV shopping shows/channels- the set of management DVDs that apparently improve your negotiation, management, leadership and team building skills and make you a 'sought after corporate professional'. Shiv Khera type of books too! '"Learn leadership from the man who built the nation for the second time'. 
9. 'What's your jan lokpal personality?' Facebook quiz: By answering ten simple questions, you can find out your personality match! Are you a Baba Ramdev or Anna Hazare or Digvijay Singh personality type? Who knows, your personality could be a perfect match to that of the lousy opposition too! What's more, you can publish your result on your wall and share it with your friends and find out their lokpal personality! 
10. Cadbury sponsored Shubh Aarambh- Koi bhi shubh kaam karne se pehle, kuch meetha ho jaye! So imagine the all the jan lokpal supporters standing in a line and breaking open cadbury dairy milk chocolates in unison before they begin their fast. Couple this with the classic slow music in the background. Ah! India Shining it shall bloody be. 

~

What single women really mean when they say...

Disclaimer: 

• The writer seldom edits/proof reads her posts before push-button-publishing them so you will find grammatical errors and typos. Bear with them. (this could be a disclaimer to all the posts on this blog, no?)
• This post reflects solely the opportunistic nature of the blogger which results in her taking advantage of lunch break at work to desperately try and gather some social media popularity. This does not reflect her own personal, thoughts, opinions or assumptions, lest she be threatened of physical or emotional torture owing to the nature of the post. 
• The writer has been single throughout her life and not only is this her state-of-being but has infact become a part of her personality. If any reader knows otherwise about her love life, she requests you to keep shut and let her live in denial. She likes it that way. 
• The writer does not mean to condescend or mock this state of being lonely or alone or depressed or however one wants to define it. She's just bored, yeah. 

I Hope I still have friends left after this. 

~

When you work for a fashion magazine?

Disclaimer: These profound observations may have been a consequence of personal experience. However, let's let my profession, workplace, 'does she really work there?' kind of queries rot in ambiguity. Refrain from mentioning any names or whatever it is you do know about my personal life, as comments to this post, lest of course, you want this space to be deleted and your favourite blogger (yeah, that's what I say to myself every night in front of the mirror) be mercilessly thrown behind bars (the kind that don't have karaoke equipment). 

I usually avoid specifics and beat around the factual bushes to spin a cobweb of stories seemingly based entirely on the dramatics of my imagination, but the current environment calls for specifics, heck it does. So you learn many things, when you work for a fashion magazine- things you may not learn anywhere else:

1. You become partially ambidextrous. Why 'partially'? Because you can now apply nail paint even with your left hand. However, when it comes to carrying files and other important 'documentation', both hands fail and that heap of files/loose sheets will always be dropped at a place where you're visible to the entire office. 
2. Women bitch. What's new, you ask me? Well, women mostly bitch about how bitchy the other women are. It's a vicious circle of a magnitude greater than Indian Poverty. Women love to bitch about the women who bitch. The word 'bitchy' when used in reference to someone else is always a weapon of insult but when used with reference to oneself is a matter of great pride. When a woman calls herself bitchy, the word implies bravery, wisdom, victory and a sense of having learnt to deal with the world and it's hurtful ways. 
3. You might have spent your life biting your nails and taking digs at frivolous conversations on manicures, but when you work at a fashion magazine you will start to worry about chipped nailpaint. It's inevitable. Almost as inevitable as gravity itself. When you're reviewing rather fastidiously an excel sheet that does not make any sense, your eyes will suddenly be blinded by the chipped nailpaint that you proudly walk around with. In a moment like this one, you're bound to start worrying about how long you've been wearing the same nail colour, when you will get time to change it and why the heck you don't keep the filer in your office drawer. 
4. "Late Nights" are a valid excuse to be late the next morning: I am not joking. When you're late to work and are thinking of creative new excuses to cover up for your sleepy-headedness, a glance through the other entries for late-coming will certainly amuse you. "late night" in this world is a perfectly valid reason to come late the next morning!
5. How fashion forward you are is determined by the depth of your accent. An accented version of the English language is a must in this place. You may have never seen any other country apart from India except for pictures on the internet, but thou shall definitely sport a non-Indian accent. It does not matter if the nasal voice and decibel level that accompanies the accent makes you audible only to the dogs (and wolves, maybe?), thou shall still have the accent. 
6. Alu Cheese sandwich is frowned up but blueberry cheese cake and super-chocolate cupcakes aren't. When you eat an alu cheese sandwich or extra butter dosa, you're reminded of how sugar on the lips adds to the hips and how you may not be able to afford any such additions, but cupcakes and cheesecakes are just fine- they're all yummy and don't make you fat. 
7. The eyes do nothing more perfectly than condescend: The eyes are supposed to be super-expressive, right? It's said that the eyes usually give away what's unsaid. Well, those were the words of the blue sky-staring poor poets on the road who dream of a house on the rainbow. I'll tell you the real thing. The eyes can be an instrument of supreme insult when there is need and when there is absolutely no need. When they roll up or size you up in a second or tilt slightly south-westward in order to express paramount disdain towards you, you'd shudder in fright and want to rush to a mirror to see what skin disease it is that has taken over you. 
8. The interns wear the most make up. It's a fact. But, cut them some slack. They are under supreme pressure to 'look the part'. So what if their job role entails handing out print outs to their seniors? They can atleast look the part right. So bring in layers of foundation, alien-ish eye shadows and really dark lipsticks (yes, lipsticks, not lip glosses). Also, to add to the effect, they will pioneer some chunky, sparkly, strange jewellery and walk around with pride about being the change agents of the fashion industry. 
9. When you're told you don't need to be very dressed up, do not take it seriously. Or at least listen to the whole bit. A statement like that is usually followed by 'You could just carry a nice bag and wear nice shoes with a nice top'. Nope, don't sigh with relief just yet. You'll know what this really means when you hear the last line. "Like I plan to just carry that Chanel bag of mine and those jade Jimmy Choos i bought along with the classic lbd. But oh yeah, i guess I'll do a bit of make up for what it's worth." 
10. You're going to learn new words/phrases everyday. Sample these- Boyfriend Jacket, Ruby Woo, spring-summer, fall-winter, pre-fall, 'fashion for a cause'
11. You get enough time to update your blog :) 

I hope this post is read before it is instructed to be deleted. 

"That was lovely, ladies"

Toodles!

~

A mad ride

It's been a while since I typed out a long, incorrectly punctuated essay of grief and complain about the status of my life and my genuine disregard for and baseless cynicism towards humanity and it's ways.

I like cryptic. Actually, let me rephrase that one- I like being cryptic. It ensures a hiding place for me while the world leads its fancy life speaking a language so slang, it burns my ears. I also like fun bullet-pointed posts on random observations of human behaviour. It makes me believe I can study anthropology someday and also that people will read my blog to get great advice for life.

But there are days, when you're physically hiding under covers and almost making love to your bed because you do not want to get up and face humanity. Days, like these recent ones where you go back to the realization that you still don't know what really matters. On days like these, it's best to let the mind free and let the fingers type away to glory the words that bother you, that are on your mind and will be seen on the screen, but words that will never reach your mouth or be heard. Words that will form a long essay devoid of purpose, per say but will relate to a certain part of everyone, nevertheless.

It's been a mad bloody ride. 2 months of this new life i'd been preparing myself for, for as long as I can remember. But these 2 months seem like a lot  more than just 61 days. I am going to leave the specifics and "learning" for another post that shall be bullet-pointed and posted only after 3 months are over. For now, let's stick to- I've said my hellos and I've bid my goodbyes. Its been one heck of a ride!

What's amusing is that while the bullet pointed things in life- excel sheets, marketing meetings, career, targets, housing problems, transportation issues, financial standing matter to a great deal because they're what make 'the plan', what really makes the personality or decides how much of an emotional overhaul you're going counter is the vague part of life. I thought i used ambiguity as a cover because I don't like definitions- they remind me of restrictions and any form of restriction equals suffocation. But suddenly I am caught between it all- caught in a web that might have been self-spun but cannot be self-erased.

Little things matter.
People matter.
Emotions are not underrated.

So I sit on my bed wondering if I can just sleep it off. You can delay decisions, procrastinate on work but how do you sleep off experiences? You can stop obsessing over the experience and fool yourself into believing the bad feeling has evaporated, but it still sits there right? It stays put and takes a permanent spot inside your being looking for the right moment to remind you of it's life. It's a damn opportunistic thing, this bad feeling. What do you do about how experiences shape you? This must happen to all of us, no? People and the experiences they gave you always leave a part of them with you and maybe they take a part of you away. But you only feel the part that's left behind.

You know how people ask you all the time what would you do today if you knew you were dying tomorrow? Well, if it wasn't tomorrow and say there was a fixed date, I'd think on the lines of the country and I'd think on the lines of literature. Surprisingly enough, am doing none of that right now but I just know  or maybe like to assume/believe, that I'll get there.

But if you say to me I'm dying tomorrow, all I'd really want to do is talk to every person I've encountered in my life and tell them exactly  how they made me feel.

~

I've been noticing...

1. When the going gets tough, the so called tough weaken. 
2. To be in a loving relationship, one needs to be dumb oneself down 2 notches or more. 
3. We like to believe and convince others to believe that 'whatever happens, happens for the best' because it's more painful to face the fact that we may have made the wrong choice. 
4. Our parents treat their interns like garbage, yet always encourage us to get internships as they provide us with a great 'learning' opportunity. It is after all, the only way of learning how to serve coffee, take print outs, make photocopies, chase couriers and follow up with the clients' receptionists all in one. 
5. The editorial hates the marketing. The marketing doesn't get the editorial. Everyone hates HR- This one's by a girl named she. 
6. When you're not thin, it's easy to blame the world's problems and almost all of your own on your weight- My love life would improve if I lose weight; my sex life would exist if I lose weight; my boyfriend will buy me more expensive gifts if I am thin; my colleagues won't harass me if I lose weight; I'll be able to bitch better if am thin; The Taliban will leave the rest of the world in peace, if I lose weight; the country's ever increasing economic inequalities would begin to diminish as I start to lose weight; India will be addressed as developed  the day I lose weight. Phew! the list really is endless. 
7. An elevator is just place you'd be stuck in with the colleagues you don't like or your boss on the day you came late and almost always an ugly fat man who doesn't work in your office but likes to burp a lot and very loudly so. 
8. The 'nice' guy and the 'intelligent' women are the most desired species in recent times. Right, that's why they always move into the 'friends' zone. They are rewarded for their desirable traits with platonic hugs and sob stories of how the undesirable partners (and still the only kind that they will all ever mate with) are not nice/oh-so-blonde. 
9. Murphy's is the only law that has no exception, no contradiction and is 100% accurate 24/7. 
10. We're the dandruffed generation: The inefficient nincompoops that govern the nation sit back laughing when the opposition opens their mouth to condemn everything and anything without any substance or agenda. We know we've got dandruff, but we're too lazy to rid ourselves of it so we wear white and pretend like we can't see it falling down on us. \

~

Polite Applause, please

One day
I will learn
To write a Haiku

~

:-p

The best and the worst of me

Inherent so strongly, almost stone-like in each one of us, is the best and the worst of us. The anti-me is as intrinsic to us as the me. And when both these grow in magnitude and ambition, almost parallelly, we build within ourselves, our greatest contradiction- the contradiction that threatens to destroy us, that challenges us, makes us question all it is that we hold dear to our heart , soul and mind and in the process, unknowingly, makes us only stronger and lot less contradictory. 


It's beautiful, I think, how molded so beautifully in our characters are the best and the worst of us. The best and the worst not necessarily on a relative note to the other earthlings, but our own best and worst, in isolation from everyone else. We are capable of doing that which we hate as easily as that which we love. That's why we find it so easy to hate ourselves.

We can be our biggest fans, most generous flatterers and yet startle ourselves by being our most apathetic critics, brutally damaging the ego we took pride in creating.

So we tread the path known or unknown only to collide with ourselves and fall back or be pushed to a new path and then it is our very own self that brings us back to the familiar path. Sometimes, the collision makes us stick to the new path and we carry on, until yet another collision with some other part of ourselves.

~

Killing my favourite love songs

So, there is something about a good old love song that makes the even the most cynical heart melt and the not-so-cynical ones? Well they dance with a joy so profound, you'd think world peace was overrated.

For all the brutalities that I might have subjected boy interests to, when it comes to music, I do love love songs.

But, when you delve deeper into these songs, actually screw that, when you so much as just read the lyrics without the music, even the most popular songs have some ridiculous undertones. Some examples, as you'll find below. What I'd really love, is additions to the list.

One more book idea- Killing the top 100 love songs. I should get paid to think, I'll then pay others to execute.

1. "Love of mine, some day you will die.."- No seriously, why would you ever say that to someone,  especially the girl you love. Yes I know the song is all about how he shall not part with the girl even after she dies, but what the heck, that's not making either of their lives simpler. Firstly, you write her a song and begin it reminding her of her mortality. Secondly, how is any of the after death assistance/guidance that you offer going to help her pay her rent and live her life well? I see this as a lazy excuse to get away from buying her dinner. 
2. "Oh yeah I'll tell you something, I think you'll understand.... I wanna hold your hand"- Before I say anything further, I heart Beatles, I do. This song is a personal more-than-favourite. However, just read the lyrics again, without humming them in your head- read it like prose, actually. It's horribly pansy. You build it up so much, make the person think she's going to get some serious insight into your emotions or maybe discover some secret ingredient to solve the volleyball between Jaylalitha and Karunanidhi (I would have ideally used 'finding Osama's wear-abouts' as the perfect example, but Obama has already stolen my thunder) and then you tell her this? You want to hold her hand? Seriously? It almost sounds like a little child's plea- the one who can't cross the road alone. I don't  get the anti-climax, the constant obsession with the hand. With a song like that, I doubt you'll ever go beyond the hand. What would be funnier would be a girl who takes you by your word and promises to hold your hand gaze into the sky, counting the stars with you the whole night. Your hormones can go for a coffee break. 
3. Your body is a wonderland- Yea, I could not choose any particular line- it's the whole bloody song, that's the problem here. Firstly, this is not a freaking love song! It's  lust. Wait, let me get that right, it's LUST. Pure and simple. What I don't get is why women like this song and then claim to get offended when someone comments on their body parts. Women, and for good reason, do not like to be objectified- Love us for who we are, don't compartmentalize our body and comment on it- they say all the time. But the very same women melt in the knees (where they also hide their brain), listening to a cute white boy describing their skin and their tongue. Is it because he says 'you tell me where to go and though I might leave to find it'. Err... so men and women want the same thing eh? If you want love, we'll make it, as it were. Why the fuss over emotional bonding, man? 
4. "Wondering in the night, what were the chances. We'd be sharing love before the night was through". Sinatra came to Delhi before he wrote this song. There's no better explanation. Let me first highlight that this ever so famous classic piece of brilliance sugar coats racing hormones in dire need of a one night stand. Nothing about the entire situation is romantic or warm or fuzzy. About Delhi- while you hum this song in your heard and imagine yourself (and here I take it you're a woman) ball -room dancing with an extremely attractive looking, impeccably dressed man with a great body, the truth is, you're most likely fatter in real life and the guy you'd be eyeing after a couple of drinks will not be half as good looking in the morning. The song here is trying to pacify you about drunken mistakes. Especially the time you really wanted to make one but noone was willing to make it with you. I think you should lend some hormones to the guy in point two
5. "Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can't help falling in love with you." - Read those lines again, sans Elvis, sans the heart melting voice. For those of you who are listening to UB 40 or Buble sing it, please shut this window now (I Like those guys too, but you gotta imagine Elvis on this one). So when you read these lines carefully one last time, you'll find them familiar. I'll tell you from where. This is a forty five year old man taunting his late- thirty-something wife. For the sake of simplicity, let's imagine them to be Punjabi (I'd rather make a mockery of my own community than take the risk of offending another). So what he's trying to imply is that falling in love with you is the stupidest decision he ever made. It makes him question his on wisdom. Actually, he even doubts he made a decision. He couldn't help it he says. It sounds like coercion, to be honest. So ladies, the song that spells romanticism to most of you is actually an exhausted lover telling the girl that falling for her was the biggest mistake of his life and he's ready to acknowledge his character to be that of a foolish dimwit just because of you. The very same line at 17 and 37 can mean such different things, no? 

I shall add to this list, when I think of more. For now, that's enough fodder to ruin some more love lives. 

~

Sweet Revenge

Since am venturing into becoming the candy floss seeker's be all and end all solution to crappy literature, here is some more food for thought. Now, at one point of time or another, we've always wanted to do nasty things to ex boyfriends/ girlfriends or just the crushes we could never convert.With excellent inputs from friends, I have compiled a list of absolutely immature ways to get revenge. Move over dartboards and crying in the bathrooms, we're now onto better, more dangerous stuff. I've given people credit wherever required, lest they try some of these stunts on me. Now, that would not be funny.

1. Burn the effigy: It's extremely wise. Anti-establishment people do it. The makers of the establishment do it themselves  In fact, our good old movie fans indulge in a little fire game too. So why not take out a huge photo of the boy/girl in question, walk around the streets near their home in a crowd and burn their effigy. For better revenge, one could resort to dancing around the fire too. While the ridiculous exaggeration to the deed is mine, the title itself comes from a parrot. 
2. The AIDS rumour: Before any activists (I doubt anyone who actually has the energy to sue, reads this blog, but nevertheless) get all worked up. I know of the various stages of being HIV positive or the fact that it does not spread by basic physical contact et all. But see as a weapon to destroy the ex- this is just too damn powerful. Writing to your ex boyfriend or girlfriend's current lover that he/she is HIV positive will ensure you wreck their life. Well maybe their new lover is in the deep kind of love and decides to stick with them, so what, you damned well know the sex life is over. Also, in case you're a girl, I'd recommend telling your ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend that the boy has erectile dysfunction. You could stoop even lower and spread a rumour about infertility too but that would not be as effective, in my opinion. 
3. Host their condolence meeting: This is for those who do not need to scream in anger. Instead, they look like they chose the high road, but are secretly, excellent schemers. So what you do is invite all your close friends, all his/her close friends and the common friends you're bound to have and now get awkward around. Be dressed in white/black or the most suited tragedy struck attire and carry on the entire meeting. Yes, it would be really lame but it will also be extremely funny. Imagine the ex's expression. See, now it all seems worth it? You could be lamer and call it the 'mourning of the death of his/her soul' or some jazz like that. 
4. Publicize horrible photos of them: Now, I don't mean the secret revealing kind of photos that should not have been taken in the first place. I do however mean crazy, random funny pictures. Like, if you have to annoy a girl, put up a picture of her eating a pani puri or gulaab jamun on a social media platform where her friends can see it. She'll want to shoot you. Infact, forget just social media, ideally, use some photoshop to make the pictures appear more horrible than they are, enlarge them and put up posters in her street or near her place of work/study. If you're a photographer or an ad-maker, you've plenty of opportunities to publicly humiliate the person in question. You can send the ugliest photographs of the ex to awards and the lonely planets and national geographics of  the world as your piece of art. You can also use ugly, horrible pictures for a print ad for some really shady product. Imagine the horror on the ex's face when he/she sees his ugliest photo in ad across a national daily or on an international website! Case in point, the smart sibling of a friend of mine, once printed copies of a photograph of my friend brushing her teeth and distributed it school. See, younger siblings are evil, we should learn from them. 
5. Date them: Yes, sounds bizzare, now? So firstly you can't do this unless you're completely bitter and want to actually poison the person in question. But think about it, if you manage to get the ex to get back with you, you will actually be dating them while being completely disgusted by them. Which means, you can now embarass them in public as their boyfriend/ girlfriend. Use their parents to take revenge. Imagine going to that party where you're going to meet those friends of the ex you absolutely hated but still pretended to be able to tolerate. Well, now you can drop your drink on their clothes, step on their feet, laugh inappropriately as they tell you a painful story, go to sleep in between a discussion- there is a lot you can do when you date a person you don't actually like. 

So are any of these mature solutions to 'relationship problems'? Hell, no! they are crappy statements a bored mind like mine comes up with when am procrastinating about ten other things I really should be doing. But the thing about these five simple activities is they give you a feverish happiness that you thought wouldn't come back to you since you turned 16. They also make great stories for later, especially the kind you tell your grandchildren when you're old and boring and trying to find a subject to strike a conversation with them on. 

Do let me know what happened if you decide to follow any of these. I'm terrified thinking about the outcome. 

~

Three types of Jerks

They are all around us- even where we wouldn’t think. They spring up so suddenly and randomly. One can never be warned. However, since philanthropy is but my nature and documenting the theories I derive from experiences, a hobby, I choose to enlighten my audience about the various types of jerks around us. When you see the symptoms, run as far away as you can or you might end up with a broken heart, confused mind or just cynical sense of humour. As for them, while they do not feature on the most wanted lists that get talked about in newspapers, there are enough people out  there who picture disturbing images of broken limbsand bruised eyes of them jerk people.

1. A.      ‘I’m a jerk, I told you so’ type: This is the classic jerk. He walks around flaunting his jerk powers. In fact he uses it as a way to please the ladies. What’s surprising is, the ladies seem to be mighty pleased. They discuss what a complete non-dateable fellow he seems to be and how capable he would be of leaving a heart broken, yet they fantasize about him all the while and clearly dig him. They land right into all the mines he’d warned them off and end up with not only a broken heart, but also a lower level of respect for their own brain cells. This guy is a jerk and he never denied it. He told you about all his ‘ex-flames’ and the horrible things he’s done. You laughed at those jokes with him, teased him about being angry, called the broken hearted girls silly, all the while thinking in your head, you’ll change this man and this will be your story to tell. Well, Ha! with this type of jerk, I really wouldn’t say it is entirely his fault. He’s a jerk, you always knew it. What ever happened to your intelligence though?
2. B.     ‘Jerk in disguise of a best friend’: So you’re crying yourself sick about dying single. You’re girlfriends are not helping you with consolatory (not) remarks on the lines of “don’t worry you’re not the only one’ , ‘join the club’, ‘who needs boys anyway?’. You decide to vent out on your guy best friend. You know, the guy you can call at anytime in the night to share a random story, the one you meet almost every day, the one you know you take for granted, the one whose annoying but ‘such a nice guy’.  So in lieu of consolation, he tells you you’re not going to die old and alone because a ‘guy like himself’ would totally dig you! Suddenly your vulnerable self loves the attention and sees the boy next door in a different light.  It’s all mixed now- the love, the friendship and the bond. You’ve found the boy who wipes your tears and all is well.  See, he uses your vulnerability has a weapon to make you dependant on him and then eventually well, show the jerk side. The thing about being on the receiving side of this jerk’s jerk-ness is that this time you are left with a not a broken but an out and out bleeding heart and an absolute lack of respect for your own sense of judgement of character.  Was he always like this? Did you not see it? Was it you? Was it him? You then go back to the girlfriends and say “You were right ladies, we are in this together”.
3. C.       ‘Pseudo romantic who is actually a jerk’:  So this type is the toughest to uncover and also the smartest of the lot. Let’s say you think you’re done with your share of being err, jerked around (no pun intended, seriously)  and you think you will stay away from everything for a while, lest you land yourself up in a soup again. Along comes our classic type C jerk. He usually springs from nowhere and suddenly seems to be this magnificent physical representation of your dreams, desires, thoughts and ideals. You are scared, cautious (in reality you only think you are cautious by the way) but you still want to ‘give it a shot’. The world now becomes a happier place and you could use Disney’s famous tagline as a summary to your own life. The stars and the moonlight seem to be knitting a beautiful sky, just for the sake of the two of you and the broken and bleeding hearts seem so far away. This time though, the jerk surfaces, just when you’d least expect it and that too, out of nowhere.  At first, you think it’s just a nightmare and you can pinch yourself back to reality. In retrospect of course, you belittle your initial reaction as juvenile. But this kind of a jerk leaves you confused, puzzled and all the possibly related words you can find to these two. Forget about your heart, your instinct or your judgement of character, you’re left feeling downright stupid. Stupid, not because you did not see this coming but stupid because the pseudo-ness that you realize in retrospect was so obviously, well, pseudo. So you put on your brave face, look at the mirror and decide to put a little more kohl into your eyes. (why? I don’t know, women do strange things).

The thing about jerks is, they come in different packages and shapes. However the above three are broad categories you can classify most of them into. How many have I encountered, those of you who know me are thinking. Those of you who know me too well are already smiling with what you think is the answer. But I’ll be honest, I’m just bored. Also, I try to be funny to then document my attempts at humour. Who knows, someday I’ll write a book on jerks. If ‘One night at a call centre’ can sell, it is God’s way of telling mankind that anything can sell. True Story!

P.S: Up next, will be a post on the strange things women do. If not next, then soon enough.  I don’t know how honest I can be on that one- I do love my life. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned- it’s the truest statement I’ve ever come across!

~

You know what?

I am exactly 7 poems away from my final "manuscript".

So my target was June but I think i'll get there quicker and then wheeeeeeeee - send the final works to the "publisher" and we get rolling baby!

Personal target? I publish a book before October and then go for the Lit fest in Bali, this year. So what if i missed the one in Jaipur? I shall be broke but I shall go.

A very heartfelt thank you to people who actually care to read my stuff and who've literally threatened me to publish. I would have never  come out of the closet, otherwise. Errr..he writer's closet, not the other kind. Sick minded fools. ;)

Love and a lot more love.
~

A trip back to childhood

I wish I'd taken pictures.
As always, I did not.

The best memories are those that are in the mind alone. But, off late I want to buy a dslr. I want to capture what I see in more than just words. But that's for another time and another post. This post is about a trip away from home, after really long. A trip back to my childhood- the childhood that seems like a dream now, a memory from another universe, another time, a long long time ago.

Madras never can disappoint. This time, it was just that white spot after  series of grey. I dont want to sum up the specifics of the trip- they are too personal and too beautiful. But this trip soothed me- I think i really needed this calm. Life's been a havoc lately. Am back to grind, but I feel so refreshed.

I love the beach.

~

Fatigue

And then there days like this one, of complete exhaustion.

It's not just about today, it's about all thats been going on. I need some fresh air, some perspective. I need some change, some inspiration. I need some dreaming, some imagination.

Everything that can go wrong, is going wrong. Very much so. I'm suffocated, but there's little I can do about it that an overcome my claustrophobic tendencies. It's been so long since I've even reacted. Frankly, I'm too tired to react.

Then, when all's wrong I remind myself- I've always struggled and had to put in extra effort for all that I've ever achieved. I've always dealt with my shit all by myself- alone and sometimes even lonely. I've always cleaned up my own mess. So this time too, it shall be the case.

But what do you do, when its just fatigue you feel? Today, I actually told someone I'll give up. It feels strange to feel these things.

Rock bottom can be an awesome place to reach because from here you can only rise upwards. But you know what? I'm tired. Period.

~

The whiny post

It's been a long time since I whined. No, seriously, it has been a while.

The year started with my decision that I'm going to be happy, come what bloody may. However, it's not an easy decision to act upon. I know happiness is a feeling, a state of mind and jargon like that. But well, like most other things, I decided this is the way to be. So, no am not miserable, am just annoyed. Extremely annoyed. Annoyed to the point that I am hurting my keyboard with the force I am using to type this post. This is not good. See the number of times I have used the italics to emphasize on words? I'm slowly losing my marbles.

In case, you're still reading this post, let me first pity you for being so bored that you're clearly willing to read any amount of crap. Now, if that wasn't powerful enough a tool to cheese you off, then here is another warning, I am going to bullet point my whining and attempt at amusing some extremely bored lonely soul by declaring the most ridiculous reasons or worry, as has become my life.

So drumrolls, applause and those loud punjabi cheers that sound like horrible abuses, here goes:

1. I absolutely  hate Delhi. I hate it to the point that it's not even funny anymore. I think I should get out of here soon, lest I stop loving those very few things that I do about the city. The city suffocates me. There is zero inspiration, people have the most inconsequential reasons to worry and everyone judges. It makes me judge too. I judge all those judgmental, narrow minded, hypocritical, uncouth people. I hate this place. 
2. Even though I like my job and my team, sometimes, I want to burn the building down. Its annoying how my work can range from some big awesome responsibilities to running to the ground floor with a pen drive for a senior. Some of them here need a lesson or two on leadership and well management. Turns out an MBA really does not imply managerial skills. I can start another blog on this- it will be called jerks at work. But, once i leave this place or maybe this corporate whore lifestyle altogether. 
3. I want to publish. Yes well, am not saying I haven't started. I recently gave out samples of my free verse poetry, let's see how that turns out. But I want to publish a compilation of short stories and a book- which I've already started. But it's so difficult to sit down and keep writing. It will take me at least a year to get done with this book. I am SO slow. This sucks. 
4. I am most certainly incapable of being in a relationship, or for that matter falling in love. I'm at peace with the fact of course and mostly it's not an issue, but at times theres this strange feeling inside- how detached am I? I fall for them men easily, mostly because of my love for novelty and then I snap out of it just the same, because of well, my dislike for boredom. But ah well, sometimes you make decisions when you decide to be no damsel in distress. 
5. Everything in life seems so pointless lately. Just about everything. 
6. I am nowhere on my five year weight loss plan. 
7. I am sleepy all the time, but I can't sleep. 
8. I really need to stop thinking. I wish I could switch my brain off. 
9. I am cynical, so cynical and as it turns out not even by choice. 

I'm tired of telling everyone life will be okay and jazz like that. So sick of listening to people either breaking up or getting married. I don;t know which is worse actually.

I have now completed, easily the worst post on this blog. Seriously! See what this city is doing to me? I'm worried about inconsequential bullshit. Soon you'll find me cribbing about a chipped nail with a bunch of blonde-brained, snow white skinned, ironed hair sporting factory made barbie dolls. 

It's almost as if my dear Delhi collects people basis their lack of intelligence and more importantly creativity. 

Balle Balle, it most certainly is then!

~

P.S: If I've hurt the sentiments of any Delhi lovers in this post, I am sorry or not  being apologetic at all. If you're a true Delhite, you'll never get the humour, so please feel free to abuse to hell out of this delhi-hater, like you roll down the windows and hurl those shameful abuses at the guy who overtook you (did he not know it is your birthright to speed outrageously!). 

If you're actually laughing, you're a poor soul stuck in this dreadfully uninspiring city, just like me or you're in a state of inebriation. Either way, you're better off than the other guys.