Baby blues…

DISCLAIMER : The views expressed by the author on this website do not necessarily reflect the views of this website, those who link to this website, the author’s mother, father, sister, brother, uncle, aunt, grandparents, cousins, any other blood relative and the author herself, this website’s web host, template designer, or any other organization, service, motto, logo, insignia or avatar in any way connected with this website.It is solely for the purpose of entertainment. The views expressed here should not be taken seriously! No offense intended !!
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It may seem very sudden..when the news comes in like a tsunami and turns your whole life upside down. You can never be ready for something this overwhelming, to you no amount of prep will seem adequate enough. So what do you do? How do you embrace the situation with a smile on your face and bounce in your step? You wait!
Having a baby might seem like the toughest thing you may ever have to do. Well, you aren’t entirely wrong. You do have to go through a whole lot of misery before and after the baby makes its appearance. Life was hard enough when only you had to take care of yourself, just go from point A to B like surviving the day from sun up to dusk. With the additional responsibility of rearing up a little live soft-toy, you are in for a world of pain.
You have already been warned about the morning sickness drama, but no one told you that you’d turn into a mine field 24/7 and this might continue for a long haul of time. It might happen that you’ll learn to hate anything that breathes, moves around you, anything that needs your attention will probably turn into an eyesore for you. Personal grooming and hygiene will definitely take a back seat and in a jiffy you’ll become an ugly Ogre from Miss Malibu Barbie.
Soon enough you’ll get used to the feeling of being perpetually bloated or a frigate’s anchor weighing you down. Use this time to prepare for the incoming miniature guest. You now have a free pass to shop till you drop and eat until you are blue in the face (given the fact that certain foods still don’t make you projectile vomit like a hose pipe!). Also bask in the love that people around you are showering you with. You’ll be the center of attention and pampered like a Goddess, an entourage of minions catering to your every whim.
As it happens, time will move at its own pace and you’ll find yourself at the threshold of a hospital. This is when the real journey begins. Your body was just preparing you for the hellish roller-coaster ride that comes after the birth of your “prince/princess cuteness”. Be strong, happy and don’t think twice before asking for help!
Just when you are failing to the find the silver lining on your dark cloud of this Baby mayhem, take a look around you …you have a thousand gifts to open and a million bubble wraps to pop! If that doesn’t make you bust a move out of joy..take your baby in your arms and revel in the love and glory and understand the fact that you made “this”. You deserve a pat on the back! You’ll find yourself agreeing that all this lunacy was worth it after all 🙂

The Copy Cat Syndrome…

DISCLAIMER: The views expressed by the author on this website do not necessarily reflect the views of this website, those who link to this website, the author’s mother, father, sister, brother, uncle, aunt, grandparents, cousins, any other blood relative and the author herself, this website’s web host, template designer, or any other organization, service, motto, logo, insignia or avatar in any way connected with this website. It is solely for the purpose of entertainment. The views expressed here should not be taken seriously! No offense intended!!
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Lying on her cozy bed, on top of the crumpled Egyptian cotton bed sheets she reached for her phone, the alarm clock buzzing. As she switched off the annoying shrillness, she decided to lie in for a couple of minutes. Her mind was in a daze, still in trance from waking up from a deep slumber. “How do people do this?” she asked herself, irritated. Waking up in the morning seemed like a punishment to her. She functioned better during the nights, when it was cooler out. She hated the blinding sunlight, loathed having to go out for errands during the day. The unbearable heat made her unable to think properly. The sun-rays weren’t exactly kind to her, they made her feel itchy. Maybe, she was a vampire. A different mutant kind, that ate normal food like other humans but was nocturnal.
She was wide awake now. Some mentally challenged person was banging on her door with all their strength, calling her for breakfast. As if she cared for such inane stuff. She’d buy herself a flat in a secluded apartment as soon as she would land a good job. Living with inconsiderate people was not on her agenda. It was not her cup of tea, or a walk in the park.
She switched on her phone, glancing through a myriad of updates on her favorite social networking site, something caught her eye. She had tried to ignore it once or twice before, but this madness was going way out of hand. She had to put a stop to it. She was adamant. She was infuriated, the nerve of some people.
Yet again, she had caught hold of a few people who were copying her style. She did not care for things that were not unique. Thus, she wanted to be different, she wanted to stand out. She failed to think how some individuals could blatantly rip off other people’s personal traits and be smug about it. Seriously, do they not realize how pathetic they seem? She did not want to associate with such low-lives. Maybe, she was being a pompous ass.. but, it was her right, to protect her individuality, wasn’t it?
She began to get fidgety. She could ignore it, couldn’t she? After all, was this such a heinous crime? It sure wasn’t. But it was outrageous. She had painstakingly created her social profile in such a way, that made her seem nonchalantly hip. She was certainly not feeling that right now. Easily agitated, she flicked through the innumerous photographic shots the perpetrators had displayed of their whereabouts, captioning the pictures like she would have.
“Hey, this is so me!” she shrieked out, in frustration! If only she didn’t know better, she would have mistaken this profile as if it was her own. Furrowing her brows with eyes squinted, she investigated the damage. The wannabe “doppelgangers” had also updated their statuses that reeked of unoriginality. “Gahhh!” she wanted to retch, going into a paroxysm of rage.
“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery”, someone had once said, but she couldn’t help but feel like a victim, possibly of ” Identity theft”. She wanted to run for the hills and scream at the top of her lungs. She wanted to voice out her dissatisfaction. She grabbed her cell phone and punched in random numbers, her mind was a flurry of emotions. Even if she would call her friends she would find it difficult to make them comprehend the gravity of the situation. They would probably make light of her problems and try to talk some sense into her. That was the last thing she wanted. “Sense-making jibber jabber, gahhh!” she wanted to gag herself !
Blinded by a spasm of uncontrollable fury, she pawed for her laptop. Possibly hidden under a pile of un-ironed/ dirty laundry.. she could see the shiny turquoise metal underneath the heap, peeking through a little open spot amidst the jungle of cottony goodness, mocking her, winking at her. As she lunged for it, she was already plotting her next move. She would either punch their faces or sweep the floors with them. Which in reality would be far from possible, she realized wearing a permanent scowl on her face.
While she typed she could feel her rage slowly fading, slipping away into the distant horizon. She could feel a sort of calm descend over her, the kind of serenity you feel after a long session of Meditation/Yoga/ Pilates or after staring at sheep grazing and bleating softly in the green meadows. She had written her article berating the criminals who had stolen from her, ripped off her sense of trend and fashion. She verbally thrashed them in a diplomatic way so that they would think twice the next time they’d think of walking down the same road. As she titled it “The Copy-Cat Syndrome”, a smile crept up replacing the ghastly frown off her face. She fired the article away making it available online for her followers to see, she was ready for the repercussions.
Walking slowly away from the “scene of the crime” it had dawned on her that maybe she needed therapy, counseling for such self-obsessed narcissistic behavior, but for now she was content. That is the only thing that mattered to her. Balance had been restored. With a toss of her glossy black locks, she was gone.

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The Fake….

DISCLAIMER : The views expressed by the author on this website do not necessarily reflect the views of this website, those who link to this website, the author’s mother, father, sister, brother, uncle, aunt, grandparents, cousins, any other blood relative and the author herself, this website’s web host, template designer, or any other organization, service, motto, logo, insignia or avatar in any way connected with this website.It is solely for the purpose of entertainment.The views expressed here should not be taken seriously! No offense intended !!
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He inadvertently took a sharp intake of breath, that’s all he needed to calm the nerves down. He was feeling on edge lately. He hadn’t done this is in a while, he hadn’t placed himself in a precarious situation like this. Sitting at the corner of a dimly lit cafe, he surveyed his surroundings. Watching life pass him by, but he was studying, studying his prey. He could feel it in the air, today was the day. He could feel a tingly sensation in the pit of his stomach, he had goose bumps, a sort of electricity fizzed in the air..all tell-tale signs of the excitement he was feeling.
He had learned the tricks of the trade from an old man who had introduced himself as his “Uncle”. He doubted it, doubted the old haggard man’s every move, his whole existence. But, he wasn’t a fool. he quickly learnt the ways of the swindler, the only way to walk on the wild side. By the time, he was a teenager he was quite well adjusted to a life on the run.
He had memorized his Uncle’s lines by heart, not a day would go by when he wouldn’t improvise according to the situation at hand. He’d surpassed the old techniques, his were more versatile, fool proof, edgy. He had developed a lust for the game, he fondly called them his “gigs”. One day he’d present himself as a Palmist, the next day he’d be a Tarot card reader, he’d often sell expired lottery tickets to the vulnerable, to the unsuspecting, rob them of their hard-earned money. He’d developed a knack, to him it was more like a gift, he could easily hone in on his victims. Never had he gotten caught, but for situations like that he was prepared. He knew how to deceive and how to escape from sticky scenarios, unscathed. He had mastered the art of deception.
“Raju baba, your chai is getting cold”, said the young street urchin meekly, who part-timed as a waiter. Raju swatted his hands harshly to let him know, that his presence was unwanted, he wanted him gone. The kid stumbled, hurried out of his sight and went directly to the back, in the direction of the dilapidated kitchen. Raju was jolted back out of his reverie, he reached for the brown ceramic cup of sweet, milky tea. Pretending to blow steam off his already cold tea, he planned on his next course of action.
As two girls walked in, giggling hysterically blissfully unaware of the dangerous world around them, unaware of the lecherous monster lurking nearby, Raju steadied himself. They clearly had bunked school, you could easily tell from the way they were dressed. Their slick hairstyles, their matching uniforms gave their occupations away quite easily. They settled themselves at the farthest corner of the dingy little cafe, hoping to get some privacy, probably waiting for their Romeos to join them for a clandestine meeting.
But that was not to be…he had other things in mind. Raju grabbed the edge of the dirt-ridden round table and rose up. He left a frayed, dirty five rupee note beside his untouched cup of beverage and walked away. As he strode purposefully towards the direction of the naive girls, a smirk crept up on his wicked face. “Prepare to part with your valuables”, he muttered under his breath. Repeating his mantra, he flashed a charming smile at them.

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12 ways to diagnose a neurotic Douche-bag from afar…

             

DISCLAIMER: The views expressed by the author on this website do not necessarily reflect the views of this website, those who link to this website, the author’s mother, father, sister, brother, uncle, aunt, grandparents, cousins, any other blood relative and the author herself, this website’s web host, template designer, or any other organization, service, motto, logo, insignia or avatar in any way connected with this website. It is solely for the purpose of entertainment. The views expressed here should not be taken seriously! No offence intended!!

 

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  1. They have the attention span of a cactus (seriously!)
  2. They usually have a whiny/nagging/nasal/annoying voice  (high pitch voice, hundred words a second)
  3. They like to brag and show their superiority over you (like you could care less!) They have a God complex and even look at the sun in a condescending manner, and won’t think twice before treating you like a dried up cattle manure.
  4. If you are in any sort of business with them (Boy you are one sucker!!) they’d trap you into a never ending spiral of chores, kill your sleep/peace/soul and then ask YOU to compensate for your substandard (despite being flawless) service.
  5. They are very volatile/emotionally unstable like a monkey on steroids ( if they are nice with you in a split sec’s time they can make an absolute 180 degree  turn and start to poke skewers into your eye sockets)
  6. They are very generous with words/ time.  It doesn’t bother them that they are actually killing your time and sanity, but they’ll continue to tell you the same shitty thing over and over again (till you’re at the verge of hurling yourself off a cliff with a smile on your face!)
  7. These people usually ask for your suggestions, but you can rest assured that they’ll never apply it when the time comes (because they think they know better than you, told ya’ God complex!)
  8. They get into fights very often (verbal/physical/imaginary) with anything that has (or doesn’t have) a reason to live, wherever they go
  9. It’s ALWAYS your fault!! Somehow, using a unique blend of ‘Newtonian, Einstein-ian, Quantum and Alien mechanics they will show the logic of your error and fault in the sorry state of the cosmos.
  10. These Douche-bags are never content with the way things are and their hobby is to complain of it all (as if anyone ever listens to their crap!)
  11. Wherever they go, people usually maintain a 5 mile radius away from them (Lawyers love them though).
  12. They’re like cockroaches, always lurking in places and times at all nooks and crannies; that you don’t want them (which is like NEVER!!)

Words of advice: If God forbid, you ever come face to face with these foul, bestial, venom spitting, fire breathing living spawns of hell where the evil rodents are sent, pray for your life because you’ll be eternally scarred and you may never come out unscathed!! These “fruit loops” prey on innocent beings like us, turning us into utter misanthropes. So, if you ever run into these “cannibals”, run for your life, DO NOT LOOK BACK!! NO REALLY!! DON’T LOOK BACK!! Oh, you can also pretend to be deaf/dumb/mute (whatever strikes your fancy) as a money plant. These things are just not worth wasting your time on!!

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Reasons Why Beauty Salons Are The Devil’s Workshop:

Your concept of a Beauty Salon: A serene place of relaxation that also offers to groom you, promising magical transformations… a Cinderella story waiting to happen. The modern day transformation center that specializes in turning trolls into fair Princesses/Swan/Barbie etc.

Reality: A place of utter chaos, that promises to rob you off your money with a smile. If you walk in with hopes of getting a make-over in a tranquil environment, you can kiss that dreamy/fluffy thought goodbye. Because nothing like that is ever going to happen! You might go in at your own will but once you do, you are under their control. Its like an alien abduction where they’re experimenting your face instead of… you know what I mean. A land where the puppet master rules!

Here are a few more reasons why Beauty Salons are worse than torture cells in Guantanamo:

1)The Beauty Experts (BE)/devil’s spawns working there take great pleasure in criticizing you. They enjoy watching you wince as they make comments about the state of your hair and several other body parts. That often makes you wonder, if they’re such an expert than why do they look like poltergeists themselves? By the time they’re done spitting out their ‘expert’ /heart wrenching/ ‘constructive’ criticism, you’d prefer poking your head into an hole dug up by an ostrich!!

2)The BEs gossip in an alien language, which makes you conscious about your well being.

3)The internal politics: Often the BEs gang up on each other and start a brawl, which totally kills the ambiance. And it makes you think you were better off as a grotesque porcupine, no magical transformation is ever going to happen here.

4)The BEs try to pressurize/guilt you into getting more lame treatments done. They often succeed in convincing you and thus your wallet gets more feathery light by the second.

5)The BEs often do not pay heed to your comments/demands/requests/pleas and do as they please. After the whole procedure is over, you find yourself turning away from the mirror (while throwing up a little in your mouth) while pondering that “SHREK, the OGRE” has a better chance of getting a compliment than you.

6)The BEs cause you pain/trauma/scars (mental and physical). They hardly go easy on you, if you’re hurt somewhere they’ll deliberately find the spot and drive a steam roller over it. You might see a crooked smile form on their faces as you cry out in pain (or it’s just the pain playing tricks on your mind). That doesn’t stop them!

7)They often have really weird taste in music, which stresses you out instead of calming you down.

8)The BEs are slobs/disorganized clowns, even some animals do a better job at organizing things than them.

9)Maybe for a BE, having a low IQ is a job requirement. That’s why they can’t register your requests and end up making you look like a Pterodactyl (not that they care!)

10)They have rage issues/black outs, if you somehow piss them off with your selfish requests (not recommended!! Less recommended than hugging a man eating plant), they might give you hell’s movie trailer experience. They might use you for their flop artistic (?) experiments.

11)The BEs do not have a problem with messing with pimples on your face and other ugly things, leaving you with huge, red bumps that seem like you’re growing another head there. Maybe their impression of a ‘face as beautiful as the moon’ is one that is crater ridden!

12)The BEs are often distracted with their own woes/day-dreams which might result into a burn mark on your ear while they try to iron/curl your hair with a scalding hot piece of machinery!!

13)The BEs often wrap you up in disgusting mask/leave you in a compromised position and vanish into thin air for several minutes! The embarrassment, the horror!

14)Often you walk out of a Salon looking worse than you do when you wake up in the morning with a hangover… (maybe this isn’t as bad for you as it is for me)

Some words of advice: Always go to a Salon that you know/ is well recommended by a (real) friend, try to befriend the enemy (as in the BE), try to go in groups (good to have someone around to support you). Be strong and don’t be afraid to raise hell when something goes wrong!

If you can’t do all that, quit going to salons all together and learn how to do it on your own. YouTube exists for a reason! Happy Grooming 

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Words Of The Day..

DISCLAIMER: The views expressed by the author on this website do not necessarily reflect the views of this website, those who link to this website, the author’s mother, father, sister, brother, uncle, aunt, grandparents, cousins, any other blood relative and the author herself, this website’s web host, template designer, or any other organization, service, motto, logo, insignia or avatar in any way connected with this website. It is solely for the purpose of entertainment. The views expressed here should not be taken seriously! No offence intended!!

The Random Stare Monkey: A weirdo/goofball/nincompoop/blithering idiot who thinks its perfectly fine/A-OK/just bout normal to stare at your face/follow your every move/be your shadow, etcetera. It doesn’t bother them out that you’re freaked out by their activities related to stalking you.They way they act around you will certainly make you feel conscious about your appearance, you’ll begin to doubt the tint of lipstick that you wore/the way you did your hair/whether you have spinach stuck in your teeth. They’ll make you rethink the appropriateness of your existence.

Come to think of it, if you were looking that repulsive/puke worthy/heinous, these social rejects/ magnanimous dumb-asses wouldn’t gawk at you, they’d be disgusted and look away. The fact that they chose to bat their eyelashes your way, strengthens the point that you’re not too hard on the eyes and still quite fetching. So, some good does come out of the bad habits of these degenerates.Your self esteem gets a boost and you’re as happy as a clam!

But before you get too happy, don’t forget to the keep the emergency numbers on speed dial. These harmless twerps can turn from a money plant to a bloody man eating tree faster then you can say the word “shit!!”

Some words of advice would be get your brave face on, stand up for yourself and oh keep the mace handy!! Most importantly get fit, learn how to run away from sticky situations like this, outrun your stalkers, go home and watch “fatal attraction” get a few pointers from there and live a “pesky-stare-monkey-on-steroids” free life! Cheers 😛

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5 things most men can’t live without!!

DISCLAIMER: The views expressed by the author on this website do not necessarily reflect the views of this website, those who link to this website, the author’s mother, father, sister, brother, uncle, aunt, grandparents, cousins, any other blood relative and the author herself, this website’s web host, template designer, or any other organization, service, motto, logo, insignia or avatar in any way connected with this website.It is solely for the purpose of entertainment. The views expressed here should not be taken seriously! No offence intended!!

Like women have a thing for make-ups and bags, men have their share of wild obsessions too! Read on to get a better idea.

1)Their gadgets: Metal seems to turn men on! No matter how awkward/ugly looking an object is, if it has a motor or a plug attached to it, a guy will find some time from his busy schedule to take a look at it closely. God forbid, if the thing gets broken anyhow..he will take more time out in order to fix it with the skills( or lack thereof) he thinks he possesses.

2)Their motors: To men, cars come before women, high on the list of their priorities! Gone are the days of chivalry or rescuing a damsel in distress. A man would rather let a women drown in a puddle of mud than save her like Hercules, but when it comes to his car, he’d take a bullet, jump into Mariana trench, get bitten by a walrus…if that’s what it takes to show his love for the beloved car. He’d rather spend hours on end, sweating like a pig at an auto repair shop staring at his “love mobile” getting fixed than spend some quality time with his wife/girlfriend/friend/mother inside the cool coziness of a shopping mall.

3)Their TV shows: “Let the blood flow,” seems to be their motto. The gorier, the better. The amount of blood flow in a TV program directly corresponds to the size of smile on their faces. No wonder, the first vampire was a guy! The have ridiculous taste when it comes to watching TV. You want to grab a guy’s attention, just start talking about any robot/weird alien/car /Monica Belucci related flicks; in a split sec’s span they’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand. You’ll be the belle of the ball for them (not for too long though, they usually have the attention span of a cactus!)

4)Their video games : If a guy is within a 10 mile radius of an XBOX 360/PS3/insert name of any other gaming consoles here…he will, in some crazy way, sniff it’s presence and will not rest in peace until he has the joystick in his hand. He will play the games till he’s blue in the face and has satisfactorily developed a squint/ carpal tunnel syndrome. He’ll blur out the world behind him and start living in an altered reality (kind of like a schizophrenic). This obsession goes on for a long time and ends just only when a new gaming console comes out in the market! The torrid love affair ends with betrayal.

5)Their sports: Men seem to like watching other men in shorts, running around the field chasing other men all sweaty and gross. They often claim to be a sucker for soccer/cricket/wrestling, etc. In order to prove how macho they are, they get fixated on some sort of duel between a bunch of fools that they have cleverly disguised by the name of “sports”. It’s a never ending war since the Romans and the Spartans, Greeks and Trojans have been at it. You just have to pick a side!Stop foaming in the mouth, you rabid dogs!

Men just stop growing up when they reach the age of 16 and they continue to live in a self-created cocoon of stupidity. Haha, but we surely can’t live without them! Their lameness is what provides us with a constant source of laughter and that is exactly what we need in life!

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Shadow Stalker..

“Hi, I know you don’t know me but I saw your profile in a social networking site and found you interesting. I assure you I am not a bad guy. Please add me up!” signed Batman.

As I opened my mail one fine morning, this is what I stumbled across. I am not the kind of a person who checks their mail everyday. It’s kind of like a once in a blue moon sort of scenario. I just hate opening up my emails, because surely no one sane uses email anymore. I mean, there’s Facebook for all sorts of communication, right?

I hadn’t a clue, about who had sent this to me. So, suddenly struck with paranoia, I started to dig up dirt on this unknown, secret admirer, only to fail horribly. After searching for around for an eternity, 15 minutes, I gave up. I couldn’t go on like this forever. My fingers would curse me, from all the crazy typing. I took a break and went about my normal business, when I heard another “ping”. “Who is this maniac and why is he stalking me?” I yelled out loud.

I ran across the room, tripping on my carpet and breaking a toe nail. The excruciating pain made me swear all the bad words I could remember and trust me, I could make some underground rapper blush like a little girl, I lunged towards my cell phone, grabbing it so hard, that it flew out of my hands and fell face first on the floor. And there it was, my beautiful phone broken into a million smithereens, lying lifeless, staring at me with an accusatory look. By the looks of it, I could tell no amount of black, blue or red magic could bring this baby back to life. It had flown off to the heavens above, and had left me aching. A gaping hole formed in where my heart used to be. “Ringggg..” and I stepped out of my stupor,  It was the landline. “Dammit! Did the stalker now have access to my home number, too?”

Enraged, I answered the telephone. Without even hearing what the other party had to say..I launched in to mode “ballistic”; my brain had gone absolutely haywire. After two minutes had passed, I stopped to breathe in between my 3rd degree interrogation when the caller finally spoke up. It was my colleague checking up on me, as I had missed work that day. Turning a shade of crimson, I apologized for my behavior and hung up. I had decided that I could never find out who this stalker was and so I would surrender. Breaking my bones over this and getting kicked out of work was just not worth it!

So, I gave up for the day and waited for the next mail to come.

It never did. Though I had surrendered, I still waited for it. I wanted to uncover the mystery so bad that I had gotten myself into a hell lot of trouble. I was even laughed at by the people at work, for my loony side!  Heartbroken, I began to forget the episode of the random mailer..When one day I walked into my colleagues’ cubicle (when he wasn’t there) and found a half written mail on his computer desktop.

Caught red handed, so this jerk is my stalker?!! No wonder the whole office was laughing at me! He had successfully pulled the biggest prank on me!

Revenge must be served! Thus I began to plot his downfall. I circulated a mail from his email account, inviting everyone in the office for lunch!! The awe-struck look on his face when everyone thanked him for lunch and handed him the bill was an out of the world experience!

Hahaha, he paid for it all and that’s how I got even!! Breaking my precious toe nail and my beloved phone over this was worth it after all! The prank’s on you, sucker!!Image

Deluge-ional

A call woke her up. It was shrill and annoying. She didn’t need this today. She had just gone to bed and now it was time to get up and face the world, head on!

“Hello” she croaked, you could hear the frustration in her voice. There was static and then a man spoke…It sounded like a familiar voice, while she was racking her brain, trying to come up with the idea of who it was, the voice spoke again.

“There’s water everywhere, we are all drowning..Don’t you know?” he said.

“No, I don’t know and where’s this water? Hah”.. She realized that she had spoken too soon. Because there was water everywhere! “It’s like you could go scuba diving in here!” she thought to herself. She realized that the man was still on the phone, so she said a few words of gratitude and hung up quickly. She’d think about him later, but now she had a battle to overcome!

She wasn’t the best in the industry when it came to home cleaning. Yes, quite awkward for a person with OCD not to be obsessed with brooms, brushes and detergents! She just liked to keep her bed tidy..Only because she loved to sleep!! Sleep…She fondly called it her best friend, her true lover!!

“Uggh!”, the overflowing water wouldn’t even let her day dream now, “how rude!” she thought. She got up from her bed slowly; she needed to assess the damage first.  She walked out of her room with firm determination, that she’d somehow manage this mess and come out a survivor. She stopped dead in her tracks! Grimacing, she exclaimed, “What the hell is this?”!! Alas! No one was there to fill her in on the situation. She had to play Sherlock Holmes and uncover the mystery herself.

This was no rocket science after all. She had just left the French windows of her terrace open and as it had rained that night before the whole apartment had flooded. She tip-toed towards the cabinet where she usually kept all sorts of clean up paraphernalia and dragged out an old mop (covered in moss), she also found her yellow rubber boots and gloves, which she decided to take out anyway (they needed cleaning too).She was panting, huffing and puffing by the time she had finished putting on her color coordinated clean-up gear. Now she was ready to hit the roads again!

As the water was flowing from all bloody directions; she didn’t know where to start from. Her head began to spin when she spotted a dry patch of land. Conveniently enough, it was right in front of the TV, her most favorite place in the whole apartment (maybe the world!). She decided, she’d sit down for a while till the feeling of vertigo passed. Maybe she’d watch a bit of TV, there’s no harm in that. Besides, the TV was just staring at her!! Hours and hours passed and she kept on watching TV looking like Robocop/Batman …maybe some other colorblind superhero!

She thought, she didn’t have to clean up the mess up on her own, someone would come, and someone would surely come. Till then, she could just sit back and relax. So what, her house looked like the aftermath of cyclone Mahasen’s wrath. She dropped her broom on the floor and got cozy. Let the men in the red, loud car come, they’d pick up her mess. “Why waste precious energy?” She thought. She wouldn’t be able to clean everything on her own anyway. Thus, she went back to watching TV with not a care in the world. She tuned out as she tuned into her favorite show…as a familiar tune played in the background all her worries were forgotten..and a little smile lighted up her face!

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Serial Killers..

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You can forget about plot and dialogues, you can forget bout good camera angles or soothing soundtracks to chill to..Anything at all that transforms a simple video into something meaningful or watchable even. Hindi serials just squeeze the fun out of TV watching. It often scars you for life!

These are the favorites of our moms, aunts and other elderly females of the society and some weirdly delusional men. These select few individuals cannot think of even going through a single evening, without having their eyes glued to the idiot box. It is like a curse..Hindi serials turn you into a Zombie, killing your capacity and making you think less like a human being and more like a plant/rag cloth, etc.

Hindi serials are lame/shitty/waste of time/puke-worthy because:                            

  • They have horrible make up artists. These clowns remind you of that monster “Chucky” and give you nightmares for life
  • The artists either look like they dressed up in a pitch dark room, while they were blind-folded. Maybe their pet monkey took some sort of a mood altering substance and dressed them up in a hurry.
  • The actors will always be dressed up like brides/grooms in over-the-top gaudy, tacky attires. The kind of clothes you wouldn’imagest take home for free (even if you were bribed with real money)
  • The story ALWAYS, without fail revolves around a wedding!! The wedding that goes on for ages.
  • The camera man thinks it’s a good idea to capture everyone’s reaction (including the reaction of the family dog) in order to emphasize the importance of a scene.
  • It’s not weird when a character comes back from the dead.
  • It’s absolutely okay when a character that has been killed off, comes back with a plastic surgery, a new wardrobe and with no recollection of the past.
  • Serials use songs from Bollywood movies. The director thinks it’s cool to use the song and portray the same scene in their drama, just like it was in the movie. As if there is no such thing as “plagiarism” in the world.
  • The plot and the lines seem like they were written by a 2 year old/a mentally challenged person/a cactus, etc.
  • A character starts off as a good person and always ends up as a villain. The audience is always kept in darkness and in a state of constant mental battle trying to figure out the true nature of the character.
  • If there is a single hero/heroine in the drama, there will be at least 5/7 characters playing a negative role, trying to bring about the downfall of the bozo lead character
  • According to the serials, a person can go from “Bill gates” rich to a street urchin in the span of a single day.

This is how Hindi serials fail to entertain me. This is how they make me want to jump off a cliff or beat the crap out of the person sitting next to me. These melodramas should be taken off air, in order to restore some balance in nature and also our sanity!!

So, if you hate this or love this, send me your ideas/comments/criticisms/hate mails/love letters (you get the drift)…

Love,

NNS