I think I know why Beyoncé wrote Irreplaceable. Way ahead of her time, she gave us all an indication of what's about to come. From indicating a left turn to being Single Ladies and finally, asking us to raise our middle fingers up, put them hands high, only to wave it in his face, tell him, boy, bye. An hour long stint on Tinder on a Friday night ended with me swiping right at a single fucking person- a man who had posted a picture of Aslam's Butter Chicken.

If you're wondering, 'what a hypocrite, this woman claims she hates butter chicken and swipes right at a picture' let me stop you right there. Aslam's Butter Chicken (all upper case) is this iconic old Delhi staple which deals in the best of street food that area has to offer. Those guys essentially slow cook full chicken pieces over chargrill fire and dunk them in a concoction of Amul Butter and full cream. The mix is in a ratio of 3:1 and it is literally the most simple and amazing thing money can buy (after a pack of Amul Butter ie). Aslam's men then proceed to add lime juice and chaat masala in copious amounts and give it another mix before serving it to you. If you're lucky (chances are you are not), you'll manage to get a seat next to the cashier himself and he will share a joke or two with you (he showed me the menu and asked whether I wanted to try "Butter Paneer" cause I stopped after two puny wings). Places have magic, a vibe in their own self which can make you visit again or never so, and Aslam's in my mind is truly magical. I have been there once and god do I salivate for that delicious version of the protein.


Where was I? Hook up from Tinder. Yeah.

There are days when I sit and revel in the fact that maybe it's just years of conditioning that lead me to become the person who I am- hardly up for any bullshit, enjoying more and more time spent in my bedroom and basically pursuing my hobbies by wasting my time (top three ways include- blowing bubbles, reading comics and colouring). However, there are days when I know it isn't me. Those are the days when I try. I give it my best shot to keep a straight face and go through the regime of downloading Tinder, feigning ignorance to fuckboys who I have met over the period (and come across again) and swiping at candidates potentially available for me to vet, before I can proceed down to well...nitty gritties? Shall we?

To my surprise, when I swipe right at only one individual who probably is claiming to be Aslam's Butter Chicken himself, I truly don't know where is it that mankind has gone wrong. I mean, I'm pretty self aware. I know my shortcomings. My temper, patience and the definite need to be in control of all situations at all times are ranked as per top priority problems. These are the places where I lack score for not being able to keep up with any man in a capacity outside professional, family or friendship status quo. However, men- why do we have a problem? Let me rephrase it- why are you creating a fucking problem?

If I let my guards low and allow fuck boys to run me over, I'd be back where I was.

If I allow myself to be serenaded by married men who have posted wedding pictures with their wives (only to be followed by their honeymoon images), I will only truly settle for Adam Levine. Why else would I like a leftover otherwise?

If I do truly want to swipe right at you, must you keep your bio empty and add a picture of yourself shirtless? This is subjective but, to each his own, really. I no longer fuss over "your" and "You're" but the only place shirtless pictures look nice is on Jim Sarbh's Instagram account and in all likelihood you're not him.

After all this if I still look at you, wrapping a snake/ferret/tutu/deer skin/mule/kitten/dog/cat/puppy/snail around your body won't make you any better looking. Also, stop trying to make pictures taken inside the zoo a thing. They're really not going to happen.

Gym selfies, Prisma selfies, Bike selfies, car selfies- must we really give location more importance than you and yours? If a set of dumbells is what gives you character then Houston, we have a problem.

I know, I remember these from the top of my head. There were several more. Friends' current boyfriend, ex-boyfriends, radical right wing, cross dressers, Jesus...my list is endless. Between the banned and the forbidden, I am left with Aslam's Butter Chicken.


Bey was right when she said, "I can have another you in a minute, matter of fact, he'll be here in a minute." There were these, in repeated patterns till I deleted my account the next morning out of complete inability to find a half decent, cute guy to strike a fucking conversation with.

Unfortunately, due to being on 1200 calorie deficit diet a day, I had to give up on Aslam's Butter Chicken too.

The day after this great Friday night, I met a bunch of people at Madeline's for her farewell. In context to something totally unrelated, a friend of hers summarized the whole situation in a truly fantastic dialogue. I obviously plan to use for the line rest of my life (Thank you, Nandita!).

"People like that exist so that people like us can look them on Instagram and talk about them."