It seemed like any other day... My work for the day was done, I had grumbled enough about having to work on a Saturday, and it was evening. My brother and I began the customary search for a place to snack. He had a bike... So geography wasn't a boundary. We can go anywhere within reasonable limits... try someplace new. The debate was still going on in full swing when suddenly... it started to drizzle. This rather helped the decision making process. Our choices were suddenly given boundaries. Boundaries of proximity...An unexpected rain is rarely seen in a positive light. Mostly, the reactions tend to be based around "Goddamn it!!", "Oh, no. Here goes the day", and "Holy Beelzebub, Batman. It's raining!!". Ok, so not everyone would hate the rain... I'm sure that a lot of farmers would start singing in joy, pausing to kiss the mud in reverent thanks to the rain god... And some braindead Bollywood addict would take the opportunity to run (continue reading)
Yesterday was a bad day. Little demons with big pointy sticks poked the insides of my skull; Tiny clones of Himesh Reshammiya sat next to my eardrums and shrieked at the top of his irksome nasal voice; my old economics professor popped up like an inebriated jack-in-the-box every time I blinked, just to ask me questions like "If you take the GDP of the country and measure a diminishing return on it against your current salary, then how long do you think this sentence needs to be to before you start questioning your own sanity?"
In other words, I had a headache.No. It wasn't one of your ordinary run-of-the-mill headaches. It was the kind that (continue reading)
Ok, I’ve thought about this long and hard. I think I’ll do it. I’m going to trust you with a secret. But shh… not a word to anyone. Like I just said… It’s a secret. It’s a teeny tiny incident that happened a couple of weeks ago. I haven’t told a soul. And I haven’t told a soul because it’s embarrassing. Oh my god, what am I doing? This is a mistake. I shouldn’t write about this. Let me write about something else… like… errr… cricket. Ya. India scored, like a ton of points… or goals… I mean… bah… who am I kidding? Me writing about cricket is like George Bush writing a book on ethics.
What the hell. I think I can trust you with my secret. But first, you have to swear you won’t tell anyone. No, no one. Absolutely none. Mum’s the word, and no, you’re not telling her either. This can’t be one of those ‘i-swear-i will-never-drink-again‘ or ‘no-new-taxes‘ kind of promise. No. This time, you must mean it. Pinky swear.
Ok. So this happened a couple of weeks back. Whatever (continue reading)