The one thing 2011 told me

.. was to never say never.

It was so easy when I told people that we are not what we want to be but what we do. Even if we do something 'unlike' us, the truth is we've done it and so it's like us isn't it?
But when you see this actually transcend into reality and the kind of reality that hits you in the face, it takes a lot of courage to try and turn the odds back in your favour.

This hasn't been an easy year. Mostly because unlike 2010, which was a year where I did things, this was year were things just happened. For someone as controlling as me, to let go and be free flowing is a herculean task. But to just have so much happen by itself is numbing in a way. It's like you're still recovering from one thing and something else happens. That sums up my 2011 actually.

So sometimes, I wonder what I really learnt from 2011. I know it's made me stronger. But heck, doesn't age just do that to you anyway?

Here's to a simpler 2012. One that's uncomplicated. One that's not a whirlpool of love, hatred, anger and joy mixed up in a strange fashion. One that solves 2011 and one that let's me sleep peacefully.

~

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.

~

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. \

~

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. 

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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!

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And I declare.

Post some thinking, reflection, looking back in retrospect and all that fancy jazz, I've nailed a few realizations. My language seems incredibly popular culture influenced, you're thinking? I write in either complete abstract or in a manner similar to those "celebrity" bloggers whose life particularly revolves around the number of "followers" they have. Good, at least I got you thinking about the same shit, my bored mind is wrecking itself over. I love poetry, but there are times I want to shake people up. Times like right now. What I wouldnt do to go around bursting bubbles- metaphorically and otherwise too. My mind wanders off to India Gate.

Sigh...

As usual, we digress. Let's get back now to my super intelligent realizations. Ah well whom am I kidding! They're not particularly intelligent (though, in person I'd never admit that). They are however bizzare, amusing and almost definitely bloody bang on!

1. When you're out at night- alone, defying all the rules a girl in Dilli is supposed to follow, trying to prove to the world that you will punch any man who attempts to get cheeky, prove to yourself that you don't need anyone to drop, pick you up or be concerned about you, your phone always and mark that word- always  runs on low battery. Not amusing, not in the slightest degree. 
2. Days that there is a lot of work, the head aches and you curse capitalism and consumerism and the boss and the boss's boss. Days there is no work, the head aches even more with boredom and you curse louder. 
3. Facebook is a great temptation only when you're avoiding a task. At a time, when there really isn't anything to do- its just an annoying community gossip mechanism taken to the internet. 
4. When you're with a smart guy, you wish he was just a little prettier; when you're with a pretty boy, you can't believe you're with someone whose not even smart. When you find someone whose both, he is almost definitely a figment of your imagination. 
5. In an interview, every candidate is always hard working, smart, analytical, passionate, committed. Once they start working however, they all become lazy, lazy, lazy, uninterested, complaining and oh lazy. 
6. Single people hate their friends who have boyfriends- especially the best ones. Un-single best friends always want to set their single friends up, that too after a one hour rant about how all men suck and they wish they were single themselves. 
7. Self- deprecating humour is never a sign of low self esteem- it is infact a courteous way of telling you, you're not even worth a good laugh. 
8. Pseudo people will never tell you they are pseudo. But it sucks when you find out. 
9. Sex has to be the single most popular subject of discussion across all ages, genders,sexualities, regions, communities. And yet we make a hue and cry about it. 
10. Yellow is the best colour... EVER. 
11. Most people who are upset, have nothing else to occupy their mind with. 
12. Illness is in the mind, mostly. 
13. This new generation, needs  to read some good old literature and get a grip on their vocabulary. 
14. Everything is awesome and just what you want until you get it. Oh make that everyone too. 
15. It is only human to be sickly attention craving, power chasing, anti-authority and shamelessly hypocritical. 

Happy working! :)

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Simple rules to a good life.

Since I don't take credit for stuff that is but, unoriginal, the idea of making this list comes from the words of wisdom of a certain someone who thinks she knows the road to well being as it were. So take a look there and of course, take a good look here.

Baba Ramdev would agree with me when he is done breathing like he's giving birth to a goat's baby. No, seriously, I bet you'll print this out and put it up on your silly excuse for notice board right next to that profound quote you copied off some witty quotes site by an author whose book you have probably never had the courage to read.

So, here goes:

1. Your baggage is YOUR own. Literally and metaphorically. If you cannot carry that overweight suitcase you have filled with stuff you really don't need, it is your problem alone. Take the clutter out of the bag and carry around the new light weighted bad with pride or just buy a stroller that you can slide around. So, if there are issues and baggage bogging your self esteem and sense of self down, shed it and move on. If you place it on someone else's shoulders for break, remember it is only a temporary arrangement. The baggage will come back and this time only seem heavier, because by now you would be used to no weight on your shoulders, remember? 
2. When in doubt, smile. Works. Everytime. Don't think of something witty to say or try and remember to that which you did not listen to in the first place. Just widen those jaw muscles into a polite smile and a slight tilt of the head. The maximum you lose is that the other person might believe you to be silly. But hey, if you weren't that, you wouldn't be in doubt in the first place, honey. 
3. Make up creative abuses. It's fun, really. You do not even have to use words that would be 'beeped' off shady reality shows. Just your regular animals and witches and all that jazz. Firstly, the person you abuse will be too taken aback by the new words being used to address him, so he would barely react to the fact the fact that he is actually being abused. Secondly, you can go to sleep at night priding yourself of a great sense of humour, finally. It would be a great feeling to see three people laugh at something you said, because you could not come up with something better. Seriously, try it.
4. When others think they have cracked a joke, laugh. Firstly because it is ridiculous to not like lame jokes. Cmon, they are the most obvious form of humour, are actually carefully witty and if you don't laugh at them you just have a stick shoved up your backside. Secondly, even if the level of humour being indulged in is too low for your self proclaimed refined taste, for your own sake, laugh, lest the joke 'cracker' decides to start explaining the joke to the 'crackees' thinking the reason for their silence is lack of comprehension. 
5. When making rules, do not make the fifth rule "Follow the above four". Grow up. Just because you cannot come up with the fifth golden rule does not imply you show it in so obvious a manner. So make all 5 rules. Just like I did. Do I see you raise that eyebrow, now? Don't give me your sarcasm, child, it's not in my rulebook to scorn back, but I can make exceptions now can't I? 

Follow these simple rules religiously, why just like you religiously bribed every God the imagination of mankind has ever created before your twelfth standard board exam and I promise, nirvana will be your thing baby! That or I would have succeeded in bull-shitting across a new medium. 

Ta

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