Category Archives: Musings

Where I hold the one sitting up there responsible for everything and feign ignorance when my doing is being questioned

Dear God,

If you haven’t been living under a rock for the past gazillion years, you will know and understand how it breaks my heart to see a man, insanely hot and as beautiful as a dream, who apparently is not a jerk, a camera slave and paparazzi whore,  who is not known for throwing his weight around in spite of being a brilliant man and one of the sexiest alive, who has portrayed the role of my favorite superhero right after Batman right next to Iron Man, who has been a delightful Academy awards host, whose smile and incredibly deep baritone voice makes my knees wobble and turns my occasionally man-hating, feminist bullshit-spewing self into a mushy, gushy, gooey mess, married for the past fifteen years.

In an industry that never fails to entertain us with its stories of high profile divorces, it is wonderful to know that he and his wife have been together for a record fifteen years.

// Note to reader: I am a celeb gossip whore and my imagination often spirals out of control based on what I read up online. So what? Move on.

It just goes to show that he is The One material and thus it breaks my heart further to know that another The One type guy is lost to Marriagedoom Marriagedom (sic); another man who is a total freaking keeper for more reasons than one just decides to get hitched like that without sparing a thought for all the gazillion single women in the world who are giving each other a stiff competition in kissing the highest number of frogs and toads and other varieties of amphibians in their bid to find the One.

See, all I am saying is that nice, funny, talented and hot men shouldn’t be double (opposite of single. Got it? Okay. ).At least till I and the sisterhood have had our share of kissing frogs and the like and have found The One. You can do something about it right?

As of now, it just seems that you are ready to do little more than just sit there and shrug or laugh at our misery.

Look., we have made 100 MB Excel spreadsheets listing the qualities we want in our men (which inadvertently and automatically get deleted when we format computers and forget to take backups); we have got drunk and called up exes and potential The One’s/ flings and have had conversation embarrassing enough to give us nightmares for a lifetime and make us doubt our social as well as inter/intra-gender socializing skills; we have read and re-re…-re-read and dissected texts and Gtalk chats; we have called up BFFs at 2 in the morning to tell them the conversations we have had; we have bnursed broken hearts and considered getting our heads checked for having acted like juvenile idiots and whatnots.

It looks funny from the outside but from the inside, our heads often resemble an exploding meth lab. And some of us have this habit of crawling into our respective comfort zones which aren’t very comfortable at the end of the day.

All this is a hint that we could do with some help here to increase the availability of potential The One type men. (And it’d be bloody good if they came in packages like that of the aforementioned actor. ) So automatically, by the Principle of Conservation of Mass, the number of frogs/toads will go down.  But obviously you can’t take a hint, even when we give you subtle indicators like “God! Help me find a The One type man” etc.

Screw everything else, save the single hot intelligent funny genuinely nice The One type men. I will have you known that I won’t take no for an answer this time. And if you don’t oblige kindly note that when I go to heaven (or be consigned to the lowest layers of Hell but somehow sneak out and hitchhike my way to heaven) I will bore you with insanely mundane details of science fiction and the like. Do remember that I am the alpha nerd in whatever group I hang out with and I do know for a fact that everybody hates boring science fiction trivia and notsofunfacts. It is a somewhat people-repellent trait, works on supposedly potential The One type men the most.

So don’t be a master of misdirection and kindly look into our situation. And go tell the aforementioned celeb that it isn’t fair the way he ditched us all-even someone like Yours Truly who is simply not wired to settle down would have given an arm to marry him (that is just a figure of speech. Okay? Okay.)

So there.

Yours not-till-you-do-something



“Excuse me but I have to look for these spiders so I can’t get married now…”

People my age are getting married. MARRIED! At 22, 23 24!

They say living expenses have gone up so much that they can’t afford to pay separate rents or transport costs etc.

(living together is not an option for them as most of them come from so-called “bhadro” Bangali families who refuse to acknowledge the fact that their kids have an active libido, have dirty dreams at night and would like to check if they are sexually compatible with their partners before getting hitched.  As for the kids, there’s this invisible umbilical cord that ties them to their mommies hundred miles away and keeps them from doing what they want lest mommies disapprove. That’s okay with me. But when the same people complain that their mommies are not letting them grow up, that is not okay with me.)

Yeah so, people are getting married. People my age. And here I am still wondering whether I have radioactive spiders in my room and the like.

I love him. Like something more than heartbreakingly insane.

But I know I wouldn’t marry a hot, brooding, billionaire masked vigilante, even if he asks for my hand in marriage and goes to the extent of committing the cardinal sin (in his case, killing a human soul) to convince me. (He won’t him. I know him too well. And I digress. ). At least not now. Right now I am happy. And I want to be left in peace while I search for those radioactive spiders.

“Mere paas…mere paas Pardada, Dadima AUR Baap Hain…”

This might sound outrageous but I think I have nothing personal against dynastic politics as long as it is clean politics and good governance.

(And when I say ‘dynastic politics’ I do not mean dictatorship under the garb of democracy because my idea/brand of dynastic politics will never violate human rights and the constitution. Remember, I said ‘clean politics and good governance’. )

Dear Youth Leader,

I am not against you becoming the country’s next premier. Hell! If you are even 20% the farmer/Dalit-friendly politician that you make yourself out to be, you have my unconditional support.

And I swear your dimpled smile has got nothing to do with my decision.

But don’t break my heart by letting the coterie around you treat the prime minister’s chair as your grandmother’s legacy.

Because then I will get pissed. And many others like me will get pissed. And it’s not a sensible idea to piss us off. It’s never been.

And if it’s not you or your party, the alternative plain makes me shudder.  😦


Supremely Confused Young Voter

“….I’m just lookin’ for a dear, dear friend of mine…”

In my dream family, Russell Hammond will be the prodigal son (of my parents that is) who nobody talks about in the house and who I am forbidden to meet. He’d be the brother I’d have dim recollections of because he ran away when I was six. I’d meet him again many many years later at a cheap Irish pub. He’d smile a crooked smile I’d fall in love with and his eyes would lit up maniacally when we talk about music or doing something new, something no one has tried before, going someplace no one has gone before and just laugh and be blissfully clueless and beautifully random.

He’d be exactly the sort of person in my life my parents would strongly disapprove of and we will make it a point to hang out more often than they’d like just to piss them off and get a good kick out of it. He’d be the person who will not question why I did what I did but will laugh and play good music that will make me smile.

P.S: He’d also be the brother I’d die fighting incestuous feelings for but let’s pass on that.

I think

Ewan McGregor has beautiful beautiful eyes.

And am I the only woman in this world (amongst women who have considered the possibility of George Clooney being hot) who thinks George Clonney is not hot?

Life (or the lack thereof) as it is now.

So I clearly have the attention span of a two year old poodle. Because after two hours of psychotic rant from Y about how googling ex-es and old crushes past 12 am is a bad bad idea and nodding my head vigorously and hanging on every word she said like my life depended on it, the first thing that I did when it struck midnight was, well, you know what right?

So I looked up old crush from the first year in college who left in the beginning of the second year and moved right back to his home town leaving a bullet hole in my heart. Okay that is a solid amount of totally pointless exaggeration. But hey! the guy was tall, funny, cute, super intelligent, street smart, with a cute wild mop of hair, a sense of humor to kill for, an enviable stock of jokes that were so spot on that you’d be wondering if you’re a part of a well choreographed play; he played the blues, was and is a wonderful singer, an avid reader, with a mind-boggling fund of superhero and comics trivia, easy-going and not lame. And I was only 19! (at this point while writing, I took a break and smiled like an idiot before the father caught me at it.) 😛

When the guy was around, all I did was take a leaf out of Bridget’s book, or rather, diary and be like the Ice Queen, all aloof and oblivious to his presence, openly gushing about random wannabes and the kind of guys that make me want to run now. (Dear D, if you’re reading this, remember I don’t need you to take pot shots at me by reminding that all kinds make me want to run now.) and well pretending that his presence didn’t make much difference to me. (Go ahead, mock me now.). And because this is real life, reality came to bite me in the rear to remind me that in real life, it’s the gorgeous, rich, tall, waif-thin, supposedly deep and philosophical, obnoxious high school head cheerleader type ‘It girl’ friend who takes the cake; the pathetic, fat, pimply, hopelessly out-of-shape, whiney little pinhead who seriously needs to work on her communications skills, blushes furiously every time she sees him and refuses to have a decent conversation with him because she is horribly nervous and is desperately trying to play it cool doesn’t stand a chance. And she didn’t. I mean I wouldn’t have dated myself if I were someone else. That’s pretty much it. Or I thought so. 😐

So I looked him up and guess what? He is still awesome and funny and has grown cuter and everything. If this were a book, I’d have been thin and gorgeous and had a kickass job. But because it is not and because karma comes to kick your ass while you are picturing yourself meeting old crush and being awesome and letting yourself be wooed by him and rubbing aforementioned It girl’s face in it, you are still fat and dumb and broke and living off your parents and completely inured to the way things are. You are the ‘ugly’ Ugly Betty, for good, with no hope for redemption. Cleaver type men will never pay attention to you. It is only a matter of time now before you shave your head and join a monastery.

In retrospect, life isn’t that bad really. It’s just fun to complain I know. 😛 For instance, I am comfortable with the place where I am in now. In a few months to come, I will be moving out-a change of scene will do me heaps of good. I am single and whine about it but I wouldn’t trade my freedom for even Bruce Wayne at the moment. (I will sneak out at night for a rendezvous, yes. What the heck?! It’s Bruce Wayne!!! 😐 ). I am not getting laid any time soon and people keep on reminding me that everyone, from the biggest slut to the biggest prude around me is doing it and I need to find out where I figure between the two and that the longer you go without sex, the bitchier you get. But that’s okay. (and yes D, I can hear you saying “and you still wonder why people thing you’re a robot?”).

So my point in this extremely random pointless post is that even though I struck out with this guy (now this is technically wrong. I never did ask him out or anything.), does this make me a lost cause? Well, there are several schools of thoughts on that, but I’d go with NO! It doesn’t. I am good. I am awesome. I have my moments of utter confusion which sometimes render me a little low on confidence. But then I am also known to be annoyingly optimistic and get back on track and keep being awesome. My life’s good. Great actually. 🙂 I will stumble back and forth between confusion, abject failure and dejection from time to time but then who doesn’t? Make good use of time allotted to you on this earth, that’s the gyaan I am going to impart to all who have endured this post so far. I mean, there is no such thing called the ‘wrong side’ of any age, right?

Think about it. Even when you hit rock bottom and imagine that you have no prospects and you have already experienced every piece of crap life can possibly throw at you, you need to get on with your life right? There is always a chance to start over (and you can always sit atop a rock and compare your life with that of the most disturbingly deranged damaged person you know and you will always have a whole new outlook on life, a happier and more optimistic one.) I mean, you just need to figure out who you are and what you want from life and how to use your time to, well, make the most of it. And you don’t know what lies in store for you. I mean one day, say some 15 years later, when I finally manage to lose weight and not look like a demon from a cheap B-grade mythological show, I might meet this guy in all my newfound awesome glory and well, you know. (Okay when I say that I know a thing or two about this sort of gyaan,  please note that I am lying.  This is all I got.)

Does this mean I am completely over him and given a chance, wouldn’t do over first year again? ‘No’ to the first question and ‘I don’t know’ to the second. I don’t know if I want to go back to being a silly, juvenile, horribly cheesy, annoyingly geeky and vulnerable 19 year old again just for the sake of experiencing the crush all over again. But I don’t know if I want my present self to get a time machine and make a trip to 2007 and re-live it; I might see the guy in a whole new light and not crush on him at all and that would be really sad. Crushes are inconvenient, time-consuming and pathetic; but they do make you feel younger J.

Root of my insomnia is psychological, yes. I think looking up old crushes past midnight might have something to do with it. Screw you Google.

P.S:  Ice queen. – Aloof. Unavailable? yes. also add ‘recipe for disaster in potential relationships’ to it.

Okay so..

1> Sadomasochistic friend and her equally sadomasochistic boyfriend were *this* close to killing each other, but they stopped before reason had completely abandoned them. Went for counseling and they’re doing good. Which means I (hopefully) no longer have to stay up late, waiting for a call that will say one of them has been shot by the other and have a mini heart attack.

2>  I. don’t. like. An’s. new. girlfriend. And obviously he can’t take a hint. Even after I gave him subtle indicators like ‘I don’t like your girl.’. What is wrong with her? Well everyone has a different theory but I’d go with-she is meek but unpleasantly obstinate (and why is that meek people are usually obstinate?) she complains in a really loud voice; she is a sore loser but an unpleasant winner (one precious afternoon of Uno which ended with all of us being exasperated beyond politeness and which I will live to regret) and she wears Hello Kitty hairpins. What?! People have been hated for less. Okay so I know love is blind and this self-induced blindness is part of the deal, yes. But who said love is brain dead too?

3>  The best friend got a kickass job that’s paying her the kind of money that makes me want to shoot her boyfriend and marry her. I think I will learn how to cook, do her laundry and stuff. I am anyway this super broke woman living off her parents and rich friends. So why not make this a permanent solution? Of course, housekeeping and socializing aren’t my strongest suits and faking servility, even when I should, doesn’t come to me naturally. But what the heck?

4>  R sometimes forgets that he doesn’t have many friends so he really can’t afford to be rude or unpleasant to the handful he has. I wonder how he made friends in the first place. (I , for one, only wanted to play Mafia II on his XBox and had an enormous crush on his brother.) Agreed that he has no measurable sense of humor, he feeds on screwing with people, he is an amoeba with an obnoxious attitude that guarantees lifelong sexual elimination and we all tell him, not so subtly or politely that he is one of nature’s biggest mistakes, but his heart is surprisingly in the right place. So we keep on reminding him that he needs to work on his social skills or otherwise we won’t want him in our zip codes anymore and will only turn up at his funeral to make sure that he is dead. (*This* wasn’t drama. )

5> I had a ball of a time insulting D’s ex in a public forum after she had humiliated him and the guy plain chickened out when we asked him to get back at her. I am not too good at being nice to people when I actually hate their guts. So one fine evening, I went WHAM and took her apart like a pro (I also suck at displaying any semblance of humility :|. But I am good, really.). Then we spent an hour or so explaining to the guy why it is important to be nice but also sometimes equally important to be ‘not’ nice and get mad at someone for every piece of crap he/she has thrown at him. But all that he did was thank me and declare that from that day onwards I am his hitman for all intent and purposes. I think the whole point of the exercise is all lost on him and there’s soon going to be another one-sided shouting match.

6>  My ex J wants relationship advice from me. He is a lovable loony and I adore him completely. But I had to politely tell him to get the insides of his head checked if he really thought I am the right person to give him advice on matters of the heart. (hello?! I was the immature, shallow, robot woman, the emotional equivalent of a sewer rat in the relationship and I am the one who dumped you in the first place, remember? But then I was also the one who told him to get on with his life and fed him lies such as how he deserves better than me and all that crap when he was beating himself up over the breakup. So I figure I am his go-to girl when it comes to asking for relationship advice. Haha! Quelle blague!). I didn’t know where to start and so started with the only topic I know and can speak on for hours – how not to repeat the mistakes he made with me, or rather I caused him to make. Of course it required slamming myself more than I’d have liked but I won’t lose sleep over that (of course I can sleep. I have no conscience).

7> I read Kabul Disco and fell in love with Nicholas Wild. Who thought that an educational comic book on Afghan Constitution and post-War grim realities of the Afghan ways of life could be so hilarious that the people at the bookstore would throw dirty looks at you because you are making weird sounds while laughing helplessly?

8>  I went to the doctor who is also a favorite brother and promised him that I will quit having fries and other obnoxiously tasty unhealthy food for good, only to be caught chomping on KFC Crispy Chicken by aforementioned brother. How am I supposed to know that he did not understand that oath was just a figure of speech and that was only how much I can grow up? So I tried explaining to him that the head that made that promise is not the same that broke it but he looked noble and wounded as only the self-righteous could. We went from not talking to bitching about each other to respective parents. (Yes we are real mature like that only! 😀 ). It didn’t help though that he is the parental fantasy child (doctor from reputed medical school in the Obama land) while I am the family black ‘lamp black’ sheep (engineering degree from prestigious institute with kickass job in kickass company that won’t come to any use because I am going for a job “no respectable girl from our family will ever think of doing” )

9>  College is over for good. I could barely contain my glee and keep myself from breaking into an impromptu jig while almost everyone around me hugged and shed tears and made fake promises of keeping in touch. J and I were grinning from ear to ear like idiots but had to look suitably mournful and pose for pictures with huge fake plastic smiles. I also made it a point to walk out of the department with the HOD watching and expecting me to come up to him, touch his feet, seek blessings which he would categorically deny me and do drama. We hated each other’s guts and it was one of the worst kept secrets in the department. He never left any opportunity of humiliating me for not sucking up to him and me being me, I generously returned the favor. On the last day of college I basically did him a favor by walking out of the department without as much as a fake “bhalo thakben sir” (stay well sir). Because I didn’t wish to do anything short of shooting him between the eye.

10>  I am happy that D doesn’t think I am a freeloader.  🙂 The guy is a goddamn saint who pays for movie tickets, popcorn, the extra cheese for the popcorn, the cabs, the drinks, the books, magazines, cheap iced lollies, phone topups (and I am this ass who hasn’t bothered to return most of his calls) and what not! I have ignored him for days (And not intentionally. That’s just how I flip out sometimes. 😦 ), I have yelled at him for being so goddamn nice all the time, I have basically fed on being mean to him. And the guy, the irritatingly sweet, uncomplaining idiot that he is, basically keeps on spoiling me and providing me with fodder to yell at him more. And he is not even my freaking boyfriend. So one day we had this argument where I imagined him thinking I am a freeloader and blamed him for everything (which is pretty much something I do to him all the time). Five minutes into the psychotic rant conversation he was lost. Now D has a special way of dealing with me which works like magic every time I become this…whatever it is that I become. Later at night I realized that if he had to hate and kill me he’d have done it long time ago. So I am convinced whatever the guy does is out of sheer kindness of the heart and that I *am* the best friend who kicks other people’s ass for him and he loves me unconditionally 🙂 . I LOVE D. He’s my best friend, rich best friend at that, so more reasons to love him 😀 . J. Also the other day I was comparing the HOD to an obnoxious robot man and he assured me that the history of science fiction is not exactly on his side so he *will* die a horrible death. An ‘aha! In your face loser!’ moment indeed!

So there. I am expecting a “done? that’s it?” from you now.