Of the 'things' I'd like to talk about:

Madboy/Mink's Sharaabi. Personal affiliation when it becomes the soundtrack of your life.

Ban on Maggi in Delhi. It's as bad as my mother not allowing me to use glorious cuss words on the dinner table, as the government conspires to control my meals on the same table.

Hearing how I've become a recluse. I don't have the patience/outfits/time to venture out for debauchery. I can finish a bottle of wine at home by myself. Do I need company for that? No.

The itch to make cinema. I spent a fortnight sitting in the theatre watching almost every single release of April-May. Spent all my monies at the candy-shop. I cannot explain the urge to be on a film set now. Please hire me.

Regret. Of being a total bitch to people, in the past-present and future. I dealt with all three today. If you're one of the characters who I spoke to, this evening, my sincere apologies for coming out as a total asshole at some point in my life. You probably deserved it, though.

Taking a break from Facebook. If you don't see me, it's because I don't want you to. I'd like a fucking break. Without Kit-Kat.

For being hot-cold. For Pitbull. For Peacock. For Meow. For Katy and also for the Perry.

For the in-betweeners. The one who is never captured in words or mentioned in time.

For Bae-rly True, consider this one an ode for not answering my phone and crashing at 9:35 pm this evening. Please call me when you read this.



For those, who have been around and those who have loved Kuhad as much as I loved.