Friends with benefits

"I love you too." he said looking like a wall, straight, emotionless. He said it like it was a daily chore that he had to get over with. She immersed deeper in his arms. "Can you please stay tonight?" She pleaded. She hated to sound that way, desperate, weak, needy but there was little that she could help. She was impulsive, she was always ready to be burnt, ready to say the dangerous things, out loud, without a thought or the fear of being judged. She'd easily give in to the moment. "No. Please don't expect anything from me. You don't get it, do you?"  "I'm Sorry.", she said ashamed and embarrassed, cursing herself for having asked for something like that. "Whatever", he turned away from her. Being with him was an emotional roller coaster ride for her, like running madly in a tunnel reaching the darkest of corners and open spaces with lights, slapped between extremes, "Don't stay then, leave." she said trying to collect whatever was left of her self respect. "Come here baby, I snap easily. Sorry." he eased out and looked a little human than before, he embraced her in his arms and that one moment for her extended till eternity, unbroken. This was a pause that she never wanted to break. The way his fingers ran through her hair and his touch on her bare chest made her feel alive than anything else in the world did. She'd transcend space and time, when in his arms. Just then, in the mid of the night, his phone rang. He instantly rose and dressed himself. "No, please stay a little longer." again, she cursed herself for saying it out loud in open with such desperation. "I have to. My wife just delivered a baby.You can stay here tonight, I've made the payment." He left leaving five grands on the bed, closing the door behind him.

Periods.

Its that time of the month again. When I blossom like a flower and my femininity flows out of my body like a mad roaring river, I love it. Every bit. They ask us not to enter the temple, because it's a holy place, not to

enter the kitchen, not to worship because lets face it, GOD, the imaginary friend, the stone statue, the hit-me bear must be respected and I'm dirty. I'm so overwhelmed with humility and warmth, I feel so respected. I love

periods! Hey, did I forget to mention the cramps? Oh, they're are just.beautiful. Your body hurts everywhere, parts that you didn't even know existed! I feel so alive. The pain. Back, legs, abdomen, upper abdomen,

lower abdomen, chest, you name it! So why all this happens? Every month uterus assumes, I'd let a guy put it in and have his sperm fertilize with the egg and make babies! Wow! Every fucking month, did you hear me?  EVERY FUCKING MONTH! Who does that? At this rate even Gandhari wouldn't have produced  babies. Anyway, so anticipating an arrival of the jerk's sperm (Universal truth: All men are jerks. Out of context? Fuck off) it thickens the uterus wall to cushion the fertilization, but of course when it doesn't happen, it breaks the hell loose, sheds the fucking cushion and there it is! in front of your eyes, like a crime scene. Blood, everywhere.

EVERYWHERE. And the best part? Its coming out of you! gushing out at the rate of thousand litres per second. And it's so adorable.Its on the bed sheet, its on the skirt, on the pants, on the floor, its in the universe. It's like a cosmic joke on you. Yes, on you.  And you're supposed to act all normal about it. Like nothing happened, oh does it hurt? It's okay. Its normal.  It'll happen next month too, and the month after and the month after until one day when an accident happens and you forget to use the condom or the fucking pill or you're hit by lightening and decide on having a kid or that font size 5 disclaimer on the condom box decides to fuck your life, that day, THAT day, it stops and then begins a new episode in a woman's body. A tale of blood and gore. Don't even get me started. All this to give birth to a child. A kid! A kid who grows up to be an asshole and spends all this time trying to impress a dumber kid. And after years when the torture finally ends and you look at your kid and back to all the years of pain, every month, it'll be all lame. The freaking dots will not connect. Your life would stop making sense. Not that it ever did. That day, woman, buy a bat and pick up a random man from the street and beat the fuck out of him and don't ask why. Women are after all illogical, unreasonable, irrational, think about every man who ever said that to you and there it is! your happily ever after!

P.S. I'm not PMSing

We could use some life. No?

So, like most of of the minions, I have a job, I do stuff that I'm told to do that most often than not, makes no sense to me, adds no value to my existence, doesn't even justify anything, its probably discarded off at the end of the day, yet I do it, in return of money.No honor, no pride, ghanta skill, for money.Simple. The usual format everywhere, I reckon. I fail to understand though, how 7 billion people of the entire world, are completely okay with it. Do you not want to scream the life outta you? 10 hours a day in a cubicle. How is it okay with you? I bow to thee. Immense respect. I, however, cannot, just cannot sit in an office and be told to do something that I dont give a shit about. I'd rather watch Deepak Tijori's movies or talk about how my life changes at the prospect of having a north indian-south indian debate with you, or how much I care about what Arvind Kejriwal is up to or what an incredible asset Gandhi has been to India or Tusshar Kapoor's prolific acting in no movie at all. You get the point. Peanuts. I donno about you, but I get peanuts in return of selling my soul, squeezing the life out of me, and that is made to sound like a fair deal. Did you ever notice? I'm sure you'd have.  I graduated with a farce idea of independence, of freedom and here I am, fettered by money. I kill my soul to earn money, money to be happy. See the circular logic? I see it in my dreams. And whoever said, slavery is abolished must be really wasted. I slave my way into life every single god damned day. I could pull it off by being drunk all the time, but I'm getting old and I have a social responsibility of talking big and doing nothing and pal, that ain't happening being drunk. So next time, you get a life, even for like a millionth of a second, invite me. Please?

Dear Parents,

Have you ever given a thought, why a kid grows up to become a fucktard? Oh, I mean, yet another fucktard. No, right? Because you made him. Parenting in our country is like our National Hockey team. If you were wondering, yes Ignored. I’m a little more than two decades old and I’m taking the liberty to tell you how you ruin lives and eventually our country’s future. Ofcourse, those who’re already offended can stop reading and go back to whatever fuck they were doing. Sharmaji ka beta kya kar raha hai? So help me understand when you give birth to a life, do you have a plan in mind? or is it like watching Vivah the movie, where nobody knows what the fuck is hapening and the end result is really really fucked. I mean she asks jal piyenge? in 15 fucking minutes. Who talks like that? You can take 10 back to back history lessons and the movie still just wouldn't end. Get the point? Anyway, coming back, do you ever have a plan in place? or do you nurture kids like one of the contestants in Takeeshi's castle, stumbling, falling, having no idea whats going on and eventually giving up. Dear parents, if you want kids for coochi moochi, please buy a doll instead, because the damned thing will grow up, utilise depleting resources and will add to the ever growing population. It'll grow up to be thankless, stupid, pretentious, hypocrite, disrespectful, ungrateful and so on and so forth and one of them can meet me and I wont think twice to slap the fuck outta him. In case you still decide to give birth to a child, do you ever teach your kids how to question things rather than answering shit that they don’t understand? You’re kidding with a kid’s life and a country's future but ofcourse you are an aware citizen, you will outrage about everything and anything because that's what you're best at doing. You give them wrong lessons, flawed methods, unscrupulous ways to succeed and grow up to become a corporate slave. Have you ever taught him right? Have you ever asked him what he aches for, rather than asking what he wants to become when he grows up, all the fucking time. Do you ever tell your daughters that rapes and molestations are not their faults? You might've taught them their body is a temple instead, no? Do you ever slap any sense into their brains when they disrespect women? Do you make sure you respect women? Do you still suck the lives out of their souls when they score less? Are you still teaching a crocodile to climb a tree? Well, good luck with that. Have you ever appreciated them for their small acts, when they help elders? No? They'd stop it. You see what I'm saying? Rocket Science? Parenting is very very difficult, it shapes or breaks someone's future. It shapes characters, how they view this world, how they treat people, how they live their lives. Whether they grow up to become Tusshar Kapoor or Shah Rukh Khan. Bringing a life in this world, shouldn't be an experiment. Also, you deserve immense respect for the unconditional love for your child and for everything else you do for them without weighing and for tolerating their non-sense, it'll be an epic shame if they don't realise this, they'd never value anything else ever. Make them realise. If they still dont, throw them out. Please ask your boys not to rape and your girls, its not their fault. Do this and you'd bring a change in society, a change that'll matter. 

P.S. My parents are awesome. Despite my fuckeries, they still haven't thrown me out.

P.P.S Burn your kids' room if they listen to Yo Yo Honey Singh. No seriously.

Thanks.

An year older, any hour wiser?

So how old are you now? I just realised a while ago that you’ve freaking turned old! I write because there are things I always wanted to tell you. To begin with, welcome to the big, bad, tattered world. But do not waste your life crying about it, you must acknowledge the fact and embrace it. Don’t give a shit about pleasing people, they’ll hate you, try to pull you down anyway. Always remember, the day you start caring about what people think of you, you become people. Judge no one, its none of your business and never be affected by someone else’s judgement. Soon, nobody will be after your life to tell you to do this and do that and wake up at this time and don’t sleep at such an ungodly hour, nobody will tell you what to wear(well, they will) and how to talk and what to do with your life. That day, you’d have to choose the right from the wrong, the white from the black. You’d have to choose what you want to do with your life, you’d have to unlearn many things that were taught to you and redefine many many things. That kind of independence would be scary. You might as well have to leave the home behind, and you must know, when you leave even for the happiest place in the world, you’d leave a part of your soul behind. There are things which cannot be replaced. There are voids which cannot be filled. You’d always want to come back home. I wanted to tell you that there is a world beyond the cocoon you’re living in, you might as well do justice to your life and try and make it a better place to live in. Always be grateful for the kind of life you’re living, very few have had the privilege to get what you’ve got, and don’t fool yourself into believing that you deserved any of it. Be strong but don’t be too proud of it, you’ll be strong because you’d have no choice. The trifles you ignore today, would be worth a million a few years from now, you don’t want to regret. Do you? Don’t pay heed to pretence, false praises and honest promises. Don’t make space for negative people, or those who hurt you. Don’t be inveigled by flattery. I do not ask you to win a race, but at least finish somewhere, don’t keep the ends hanging in the mid of nowhere. Your life will oscillate in crests and troughs and you’d be thrown from one pillar of insanity to the other, please know that, it’s all natural and that’s how it’s all designed. And slap anybody who asks you to repair their TV sets after learning the fact that you’re an engineer! Respect people irrespective of their age and gender. I want to tell you that I’d be there to cushion your every fall only if you rise up every time, stronger. And remember wacky hairdo, funky accessories, mocking the different, twisting the tongue, talking in an unnatural accent, spelling words wrong, or riting lyk dis doesn’t make anybody cool. Today, you grow an year older, let your soul grow as well. I wrote to you to tell you that whenever you walk out of that home, tell the world that you were raised well. Make us all proud and don’t chase what shines the most.

A Very Happy Birthday.

Priye Sonamji,

Sadar Charan Sparsh. I need to thank you for your words of wisdom in the latest Koffee with Karan episode, I mean it was an eye opener. My entire life changed. How cool are you? Right from the zebra dress that you were wearing, oh I’m sorry, the classy so elegant, zebra dress to taking the liberty of comparing yourself with legends like Meena Kumari, Rekha. Wah! Usually I do not care, but then you went on saying people think loud acting is good acting, just because someone is ordinary looking does not mean they’re a good actor. So are you implying that you too, are a good actor? Or are you telling us you are very pretty? Well, maybe I’m blind. Or are you questioning the intelligence of viewers? Or are you saying everybody is a fucktard except you? What are you saying? Tell me what are you saying? Let me remind you, these are the stuff you said and that’s why I feel you epitomize coolness because of course you'd have forgotton, after all you're busy doing so many films! 

·         You know Karan people pity actors thinking oh she looks like this, maybe she’s a good actor

      Man, that is so insightful. This explains why every time, every fucking time I watch your movies thinking oh she looks like this, maybe, just maybe, she’s a good actor.

 ·         I hate to defend myself Karan, but you know why you take me in your films, I can say a dialogue right and I can speak hindi. You know what I mean?

That’s just so modest. Wish I could come down to your level, but alas, I’m good here.

 ·         When people make art films, why do they have to take like not nice looking people? Like why? You know what I mean? Like you know what I mean?

I fucking donno what you mean, I don’t wish to.

 ·         You know being called an icon in 20s is so much better than being called an icon after you die. You know what I mean?

How modest can you be? Fuck you are a fashion icon. Whatever you have done(or not) till date is just because of your talent, not because Anil Kapoor is your dad, ofcourse not.

 ·         You know Karan, television has only rubbish reality shows. Yeah, people have talent or whatever

Whatever. People have talent? Now you’re being so humble. Of course nobody has as much talent as you do. I mean, you’ve given hits like Saawariya. I just could not stop watching you. Swear.

 ·         Well, Prime Minister should dress better

I know! What if, the nation is going down the drains, what if he’s the prime minister of a country where 270 million citizens are below the poverty line, what if people die every year of extreme heat because they don’t have shelters or of extreme cold because they don’t have shit to wear or of hunger. But of course the prime minister should totally dress better, I mean he looks so tacky! No?

Were you listening to yourself? Did you fucking know you were on a national television? Wow, I have a new found respect for you! I mean you are so cool, and your totally fucked up accent is just so sexy and wow, you have everything sorted out in your head! No?

You were like a 13 year old kid consumed in over confidence. You not only can’t act, you cannot even utter a grammatically correct sentence, nobody cares what you wear. Yes, let it sink in, nobody cares shit that you wear. You know what I fucking mean? Respect people for what they’ve achieved and please grow up already.

And no I do not wish to know what you fucking meant.

Love,
Not-a-fan

Kids,

You might wanna lower down the Yo Yo honey Singh’s song playing in the background to be able to read, I insist. If you still stay at your parents’ home, I must say your parents are very generous. Kids, always remember the reason your parents tolerate your shit is the unconditional and often irrational love they have for you. In the real world, sadly being cool does not help. At least your kind of cool. I usually stay away from yáll, because honestly you are mad people. No offense. I was too. Maybe, still am. I don’t give a shit about how you live your life or how stupid you can be or how you make your life decisions. It’s just cute to see how you think you know it all. Nobody does. Anyway, I write to you to tell you some shit about life, loud and very clear, 

• The world won’t take your crap. Come down on the ground. Swallow the reality and live with it. The saddest part is, the world does not owe you anything.

• I know you can donate your kidneys to come across as cool amongst your peers, trust me it’s not just you but anyway life would no more be all about being cool. Atleast your kind of cool.

• When your parents ask you to shut the fuck up, please do so.

• Whenever you think A is correct, always go for B. There’s a good chance, you’re wrong. Fall, rise up again. Make mistakes, take bad decisions. In the end, it’ll all be worth it.

• Respect. No, mocking somebody isn’t fun. Respect people for who they are. You don’t need a reason to respect someone. Keep your judgement to yourself, the world, I’m pretty sure, does not need it.

• Do not fuck the language. Kewl is fucking not cool. Looser is not spelt like that. Try taking basic grammar lessons before you utter a word. And stop writing lyk dis. Please?

• Everybody is different. You too, are. People will wonder at your uniqueness, they might laugh at you, people laugh at anything different, don’t give a fuck, never ever take it to your head or your heart. The more you take people seriously, the more your life complicates. Do what you must. Move on.

• There are millions in the world who can give an arm and a leg to get what you have today. To be where you are today. The best education, great exposure to the world, you do not sleep hungry, you live in a very protected world. Acknowledge that. Br grateful. Stop crying for fuck’s sake.

• It isn’t your parents’ obligation or duty to provide you good food, education, shelter and love. They chose to. They could’ve thrown you out, I would’ve. But they didn’t, despite your shenanigans. Show some humility. Be humble. Always remember, education is the biggest gift anybody can give you. I’m still overwhelmed that my parents didn’t throw me out.

• Stop the blame game, if you want a better cleaner world to live in, clean the shit out. It’s that simple.

• The world does not and never will, revolve around you. Stop acting like a fool all the time.

• That cigarette between your fingers and the smoke airing you does not make you cool. You want to be cool? It’s in your head.

• ‘Mah’ is not ‘My’. Slap yourself if you think it is.

• The trouble is you think you have a lot of time to do shit that you want to do. Life, kids, is too short. You just wasted your 5 minutes reading this. See?

• It’s okay to use your brains sometimes. No, seriously.

• Stop giving a fuck. Things will fall in place.

• Try being normal, Its possible. Breathe.

That’s pretty much it. Too much gyaan? You’re welcome.

Yes, I'm from Delhi. No, I'm not a slut.

Hello Ladies and gentlemen,

I’m writing to y’all after ages, because there wasn’t anything worth talking about or sharing. But now I think I do. For the record, I was born in Delhi, yes, the rape capital of India, and I’ve spent by entire life there and now I’m in Bangalore for my daily bread and wine. Recently I read this angry girl’s blog, a very well written article telling the people from the northern part of the country that all south Indians are not of course ‘Madraasis’. Ya, that had to be spoken loud and clear. If you’re assuming I’d talk on behalf of the people from northern part of the country because I was very offended and I feel its my moral duty to do so, then you’re gravely mistaken. I hate people equally, or like them equally. Why can’t you? Why is there such a clear divide between the north and the south India. Aren’t they just geographically apart? I don’t even care about unity etcetera, what bothers me is disrespecting each others’ culture. Why do we have to instil this baseless feeling of regionalism in the next generation? People are different everywhere. Cultures, languages, cuisines, India is a diverse land, it’s a pity people are so narrow-minded. Don’t you think so? By the way, for the record, not all south Indians speak Madraasi, which isn’t even a language. Majority of people from Tamil Nadu speak Tamil; Karnataka, Kannada; Andhra Pradesh, Telugu; Kerala, Malayalam. Did you skip your Social sciences lessons growing up? Or is showing off your illiteracy, the new cool? Tell me what is it? And no, not all of them are dark skinned, even if they are, who the fuck are you to say anything about it? Talk only if you look like Aishwarya Rai Bachchan else nobody’s asking you. I’m not saying all this because North Indians are stereotyped and I give a damn. No. No, I don’t. You just do not have a right to talk shit about people which creates a regional divide, you’ll be the cause of fucking the morals of the generations to come. Get it? India is one. Good, bad or ugly, people are all same. Also, for the first and the last time, yes, I’m a girl from Delhi and no, I’m not a slut. I’ve been asked this question over and over in my 8 months of stay here in Bangalore, sometimes in the face, sometimes lacing it with semi-clever metaphors. It makes me laugh, but seriously, stop it. Also, next time I tell you where I’m from, keep your looks with you.

Thanks

Love.

His sleep had a pattern. She would watch him day and night, dreaming about their togetherness, remembering the times they were together, how they completed each other. How his fragrance still shook her from within and slapped her from one pole of insanity to other. She looked at him hoping he’ll wake up and love her the way he used to. She looked at him with a dead hope, the twinkle in her eye seemed to fade yet, the hope remained. She’d often comfort herself in his arms, her mind wandered a thousand worlds and back. How she metamorphosed from a restless violent river to a very silent one in his embrace. She craved his touch on her body, his magical touch. She loved him with all her heart yet, she wanted this to end. His sleep had a pattern. He never woke up. He slept like a child for 10 months and she hoped, he’d wake up one day.