Prose before hos

I'm so excited that I've added an exclamation in the subject title.

No, not drunk. Stone cold sober, been since this Thursday.

To be honest, two drinks don't count. Especially if you intersperse them with the conversation of 3 years long employment and leaving that without a degree. Whoever said I'm a commitment-phobe has not met me in three years. (to all the Tinder boys I've stood up after the second date)

Okay fine, two years and a dissertation didn't give me a degree (yet) and I still did it. A job atleast pays.

No better day than today and no better time than now to compile this wishlist cause baby, I have a writing deadline. I should be planning a vacation, eating clean ("I will STOP all carbs the day my notice period ends" has become only, and only carbs).

I'll stop. Long story short, my last day at work is round the corner. I'm nervous, for good measure. I want to squeeze in a lazy beach vacation but somehow everyone around me has suddenly become oh so busy and I'll probably shoot myself in the head if I travel alone.
Okay fine, I won't. But I can't come back with 30 kilos baggage limit especially when a beach vacation has to have a complete wardrobe overhaul innit.



Here's a concise wishlist for my upcoming birthday, that I was dreading all year long, especially since the last one was ahem, so eventful.

1) Chocolate fucking cake. Chocolate fucking cake slice from Big Chill. The kind with buttercream icing and the one that's kept on the front fucking counter. I can't remember what it's called but it's right up front (along with another that looks deceptively similar). Ask the server and get the one with the B-U-T-T-E-R-C-R-E-A-M and buttercream alone. Not the ganache one. You'll have to go to the store at Khan Market, it's on rack starting 12 noon. You can call them up for details but they don't take advance orders. Yep, I researched ALL this for my own fucking birthday cake cause that's what people who like cake do.
Alternatively, if that's unavailable then the Red Velvet with Cream Cheese that I love. Contact my family for details.
If you can't get these two right then try Red Moon's Double Chocolate Cake. It's the laziest option from this entire list and I won't hate you completely. Please don't forget sparkler candles.

Don't @ me. It was a shit year for cake and I won't take a repeat of that. Not on my watch.

2) Water brush pen for watercolour since I'm not going to invest any more in my hobbies. Some paper to paint and general watercolour supplies would be good. Hit me up if you're taking this up. I'll share my list of what all I need. Bear in mind this is a fairly expensive endeavour, which is why I'm not particularly keen on buying this on my own. Expensive for art supplies, not like that 3.5k lipstick expensive. We're looking at the paper, glass paper mount (don't eye roll, please), maybe an easel, a beret, the works.

3) Birthday card. Each of you please send a personalized birthday card/postcard regardless of what you bring or not bring along with it. Handwritten, please. No e-card business. Post/courier preferably. Don't bring it with you.

4) Any 2000 piece and plus puzzle set. I think these are quite steep, please pool in with someone to get this. None of my gift-giving friends are earning in dollars yet.

5) Bookshelf for my room. Been asking for over a year. Either that or a sofa set. This is for those earning in dollars if you felt left out.

6) A pair of new fucking sneakers. I pitched in all my freelance money this Feb to buy a pair of Adidas Continentals only to find they're giant for me and ended up wearing them for two months. As a result, nobody's buying them off me and I don't want to spend more money on that. My shoe size is women's 6 (I think?) or men's 6 (are these different?). I bought a 7 and it was too big, which makes me wonder cause my 7-year-old sneakers from Adidas are size 7 and they fit well. Help. No, seriously. Urgently needed. Again, this shit is expensive. Maybe 5 people can pool in money together. Have you started Snobster's birthday crowdfunding project yet?

7) Doc Martens. No way in hell am I spending my money buying those but man, they look so fucking good.

8) Shasn. Mia K thinks it's a terrible idea to put money into something that I won't get before 2020 but then I put 2 years of my life into MPhil and got no degree so I'm that person just about any-fucking-way.

9) A new swimsuit. Ooh, this is interesting. I've image references for what I'd like (text me) and I can't seem to find a place to buy online. I'm thinking black, understated, sexy or fuschia fitted or gold with just a hint of sexy. This can't be mass-produced or bought from a crap e-commerce website that all of Delhi Metro women compartment buys from. Please spare me that stuff. Come empty-handed to wish me if that's your instinct to buy. This is more research-intensive than expensive.

10) Uber gift card? I don't know why are you reading this if you want to get this?

11) Crockery. I'm that person now, yeah. I could do with chic whiskey glasses (please, please text me for image reference) or giant wine glass set. Maybe even blue pottery plates and serving bowls.,

12) Single bed black cotton bed sheets. Double bed would do too. Remember cotton and black. Plain fucking black. No embroidery or design or texture or anything. Plain black.

13) Gel fucking eyeliner. Check if my sister has bought this. I don't have an eyeliner. Can you fucking believe how the mighty have fallen? I think Maybelline's is okay unless someone has a better recommendation. I was told Mac does it well but they test on animals and ever since I found out I make it a point to avoid any new Mac purchase.

14) Victoria's Secret Body Mist. If someone's coming down from the US, catch hold of them. These are the cheapest there. Don't bring me Bath and Body Works Body Mist or buy VS' from anywhere but the US. They all suck except the ones listed here.

15) This calendar.

16) A backpack that looks exactly like this or better still this. The brief really is a classic black backpack. Don't make me cringe with your choice.

17) Body shower gel from Marks and Spencer. International outlets have the best ones. Even handwash gels are great.

18) Clothes are a great idea but only if you'd like to take me shopping. Socks aren't a great idea, I've too many of them. We could go to my favourite boutique in Humayunpur and you could get me more clothes that I have no place to wear except dates which I've stopped going on completely. On a serious note, basic 3/4 sleeve t-shirts are a welcome idea but in person, please. I like to feel the material and know what I'm signing up for.

19) A Bobbi Brown Lipstick. Ask AJ the shade she has that I've been trying to steal from her. It's steep as fuck, please don't buy it yourself unless you earn in dollars and definitely don't buy a replacement from another brand. Unless it's Nars. Nars has really cool stuff. Actually, a nice milk chocolate matte would be good. Don't get Lakmé, please.

20) Bunny.  a kitten would be good.

Consolatory ideas: skipping rope, The Office (US) merchandise (no round neck t-shirts), a new cellphone, cinnamon toothpaste, a paid vacation to Sri Lanka, my friend Lucas Moraes from Brazil, film tickets coupon, a tall man to cuddle this Fall, fix my laptop, gym membership, yoga lessons, rainbow cream cheese cake from my erstwhile intern's mom's kitchen, bedside lamp (check image references with me). 

"Can you please pick some candles? The ones that light like anaar. You know, sparklers."

"We don't get those candles here."

"You can just say you can't get it."

"Yahan cake nahi katteh, yahan Bihari katteh hai. It'd be a miracle if I get candles."

Meghna Talwar edition

"What day is Christmas?"

"Monday."

"No, no. I mean like the date?"

"It's Jesus' birthday. WHY DO YOU NOT KNOW THAT?"

"Haan, I don't know. When is it? Shame on my Catholic School Upbringing."


Mr Malik edition

"You know, Justice League was basically Sallu and friends."

"(laughs) What?"

"Yeah, Superman is Sallu and the rest are his friends."

"Ohh (laughs)."

"Yeah, and Batman is Punjabi."

"(laughs) WHAT?"

"Yeah haven't you seen Batman Begins?"

"Ofcourse I have. When does it say..."

"Yeah so like Bruce Wayne's dad gives him lots of money, he has lots of money and then he gets slapped by that girl, arey that journalist slaps him, and he drives that expensive car at night and beats up all the  men. He's so totally Punjabi rich kid from Punjabi Bagh, or even Paschim Vihar."


Mia K edition

"OMG I didn't recognize you. You've lost so much weight and that ass, I was looking at it like shit is that Baby Banana's ass? It looks so small."

"Dude my ass was always small. Like there was nothing."

"Please, your ass was a nice shape. Hourglass round and all."

"And now you don't recognize it one bit. That's what your boyfriend has done. All his fault."

"My boyfriend is an ass man, you know. It's really sad... (NSFW)."

"Shove some basil up your ass and serve him a nice, hot plate of Pesto Pasta for Christmas. I'm sure both of you will enjoy that Italian meal you've been calling me for since eternity."



Anid edition

"Your view to the sizing up of each other was the crushed dreams and hopes of all these young people who went to IIT. Very nice. How do you ever plan to take your shameless face there again? You've been there while growing up, with us, with your dates and now this. Very nice."

When I started my cleanse, I swore to myself I wouldn't do two things-

1) Post before and after comparison shots of myself.
2) Lecture people on how to, and what to do, in order to be clean.

Some six months into it, I'm guilty of having struck both as yes.

Sparing the point one to public at large, I'm delving straight to point two.

Long story short, I'm eight kilos lighter; couple of inches have cinched and I think I'm better than Regina Fucking George now. I'm literally eligible to qualify as a "#healthblogger". However, will spare everyone the horror and dive right into what's demanded.

Umang Sabarwal, maker of that exceptionally rad Bobby Deol birthday video asked for my "diet" as a gift on her birthday. I may have promised another friend to share the same. Well, this is it.

There's no particular diet or magic to do what I did. It's incredibly simple. You have got to train your mind to not give in to the temptations.

It may read like utter bullshit but for someone who was an emotional eater, I had an eating problem to tame. With my salary reaching my bank, I was only ever focused on one thing, where and what am I eating next. I had a job to eat, which my salary was funding and I was more than happy leading that life.

You see, food is the blood type for my family. It's the elixir that keeps me going. And them going. It's all that I ever need to fill the human shaped vaccuum in my heart. Food is everything. And, I don't mean it in a meme manner.

My family and I are obsessed with food. Most of my best friendships are forged on the relationship of how obsessed we are with food, and good food. Devil lies in the details so my friends and I can possibly tell you how to pair your Butter Chicken with the Naan, what kind of Naan, what texture of Butter Chicken Gravy (disclaimer: I hate Butter Chicken but I can still do the aforementioned).

Long story short, to do that for a person who's surrounded by food, the discussion on food and was ironically employed at making cookbooks breathe to life was a task.

Most of it came from determination and will power.

I can assure you, I've been eyeing food just the way I used to six months ago. The difference is the conversation I have with myself.

"Yo, do you want a bite of that?"

"I do, but do you think we'll stop at a bite?"

"Probably not, do you still want it?"

"Okay let's do this."

"Fiiine..."

"Wait a minute, how many calories are there in a bite?"

"Uh. Dude, I remember the article said no bites. It ruins the cleanse."

"So, this is it?"

"I suppose."


That's the conversation which plays inside my head, every single time I look at food that I want and can't have.

Drawing two conclusions-

1) No taking "one bite" or "bite" or "tasting" or "touching". The minute you do it, there's no going back. EVERY BITE COUNTS. Every tasting adds to your body.

2) You have to avoid certain foods.

The good news is, you get to decide what you'd like to avoid. The bad news is, there will be somethings you like.

Most diets fail because people either fail to implement them for the long term or that they're too tempted to cheat and, as rule one goes, there's no going back from one sampling.

Quick science lesson- all the food we eat comprises of one or more of these three essential nutrients. These are categorized as Protein, Carbohydrate and Fat.

From most reliable sources that I have researched, you need minimum of two core groups for sustenance and long term goals, as well as building muscle to survive.

By muscle, I don't mean your bulk weightlifting veinous stuff that you can show off in a fistfight. Muscle is well...important. Let's leave it at that. You need muscle is all you need to remember.

Which brings us to the next point, for cleanse/losing weight/being clean you need to take a call on what food group you need to eliminate. Since we established that muscle is important, we also need to establish that muscle usually comes off feeding on protein.

That means, Protein is a must in your diet. Some cheap sources of Protein are eggs, chicken, fish, shrimps, turkey, oats, cottage cheese (paneer), broccoli (and family), legumes.

Rajma Chawal is legit diet food, repeat after me. Protein and Carbs together, a healthy fucking meal.

To answer your question, what should you eat, you need to take your pick from Carbs/Fat to team with Protein now.

For me, the breakdown was between cheese and potato and I chose potato. Cheese being a source of Fat and potato being a source of Carb. I love me my pepper sprinkled Curly Fries and while I can leave anything else, Fries would be unrealistic. I picked my devil and eliminated Fat. As much as possible.

Since, I live with my parents who love food just as much as the Pope loves Jesus, it was incredibly hard to be 100% true to these amazing things I read off the internet or the inspirational speech all my former fat friends gave me.

To fill those gaps in, I added a few additional things.

3) I cut off most processed food from my diet. This included bread, cheese, sausages, cold cuts, sauces, pureés, ice creams, chocolates and anything really, that came from a pack. I restricted packaged bread consumption to two slices a week. Thereby ensuring, everything I was consuming was made fresh and came with a short expiration date. Believe it or not, it really helped me with understanding nourishment better.

Because I had drilled it in my head that I can cheat with French Fries once a week, I had to trade EVERYTHING ELSE. Which also included chips.

If you know me, you'd know chips are my highest rated vice. My umbrella term included chips and fries as one, except, my calorie count for the day restricted chips since they constituted for a lot more calories and less satisfaction.

Which leads me to two additional points-

4) You need to go on a calorie deficit diet if weight goal or losing inch is your goal. There's a whole lot of literature available on the internet, including how to calculate how much calories you need in a day to be on a deficit, using your body weight and height. There's also a lot of literature on the science behind it. I wouldn't recommend any because I want you to do your research and read enough to know the logic behind it first.

However, be wary of measurements and actually counting calories.

I can clearly help you in understanding that unless you invest in a kitchen food measuring weighing scale, your calorie counting would be at far worst. You'd be speculating since nutrients in an uncooked cabbage are very different than nutrients in a patta gobhi ki sabji (cabbage stir fry- Indian style). You need to understand a bit of cooking, a wee bit of counting calories, and have an app handy on you to mark your calories. My Fitness Pal is a great app to begin counting calories. You'll feel guilty each day as you log in your report and eventually be cured of reducing your eight small meals (real stupidity) in two or three big ones to satisfy yourself.

5) Packed chips and most things packed by the manufacturers come bearing a lot of calories which are nothing but empty and do not provide nourishment or energy or sustenance. They're all about taste. Think of a ridiculously hot man who can't spell and is a xenophobe.

That's your pack of chips. Empty inside.

Yet, 60 gms of that amounts to over 400 calories.

On my diet, I was on a 1200 calorie a day. The BMI calculation allowed me 1400 to lose weight but because I was leading a completely sedantary lifestyle, I ended up reducing 200 further.

Realistically speaking, most of our cooked Indian food messes the logged in calorie value on these apps so I'd say, keeping a buffer of 200 less than what your BMI calculator and calorie deficit score suggests but I'd also recommend speaking to a nutritionist before you do that. Please consult your doctor or a stable/responsible adult before doing any of this.

Which brings me to the next point-

6) There are plenty of diet fads on the internet, don't fall for them blindly. Read all about them before you step on the accelerator. On Keto, you can't fuck around with alcohol. You can lead to bone trouble (osteoporosis and the likes) if you stop consuming good fats in the forms such as butter, ghee and other dairy products. Basically, every diet, fad comes with a problem. Read up, research. Pick what works for you.

But before you jump on it, let me ask you a question. Why diet? Why do you want to do this?

7) I wanted to diet because I was doing zero to no physical activity. There was a time, I would go to office, eat a whole lot of crap and come back, only to eat more. I'd stress some more and stuff a pack of chips, some bites of namkeen and biscuits (and for the record I hate biscuits) and then dinner. I was eating and stressing on repeat.

I needed to not only lose weight but control my mind against all that there was on offer and all that I was so madly obsessed with.

Since I got to doing this, I feel like I have been writing better, focusing on my work sharper than ever and definitely more mindful of my surrounding, including what I eat and how much of it do I need. it.

8) Portion Control is magical, try that. I used to be obsessed with breads of all kinds. Roti, Naan, White, Sourdough...you name it and I would want to eat it. Controling that really helped. While I had friends who told me to quit it completely, I couldn't because I wasn't quite fond of picking my vegetables without the comforting blanket of chapati and I needed some carb shaped happiness in my life.

My balance of Carbs and Protein was 40-60 where I would eat bread for one meal along with vegetables and the other two meals would be light and easy. Thereby, eliminating bread from two meals and replacing with things that could be potentially made better.

If you like snacking like I do, try things made with besan (chickpea flour). I consumed Besan Ka Chila (chickpea flour savoury pancakes) for dinner on the occasion when I did not want to eat Protein alone. While this allowed me some variation, my craving for breaking a bite like I would do with a chapati was eased as well. I was mentally and physically quite satisfied with the replacement.
Dhokla (made at home), Upma, Poha are all healthy alternatives to breakfast ideas. Since I prefer eating an egg-y dinner, I make sure I do my snacks first thing in the morning so as to eliminate any feeling about buying a pack of murukku and polishing it off.

Snacking also means forgoing your choice of snacks and eating something different.

I had to replace wads of salamis with carrots and cucumber, paneer. Six months in, I'm slightly better and barring that trip to Thailand, I think I have only had salamis twice. This, from a person, who would eat cold cuts as passing snack every fucking day.

To the next one,

9) Cut yourself some slack. It's okay if you do end up cheating or find it hard to take so much in. Take baby steps. Make things simple. Read, as much as you can, on nutrition, on food and on all that you like. Chances are, the more you read, the more disheartened you will be about your favourite snack or food.

It's a great guilty trip to read about Papdi having close to 600 calories to a plate minus the condiments including yogurt, chutneys and the additives like sev etc.

I am allowed 1200 calories a day so if I were to eat a plate of that, I'm only left with 600 calories. Reading that used to terrify me and I'd never look in the direction of Papdi, ever again.

10) Don't rush into things. All good things take time. In the beginning, I started to run and eat salads. Both of them were terrible ideas since my physical level was sedentary and salads were not cutting for me. Today, my idea of a salad consists of a plate of chicken tikka with lots of yogurt chutney and my exercise would be 10 minute dance video and that's probably healthier than the hell hole I was putting myself into everytime I tried to eat clean. Make your own rules, find your middle ground.

If you really want to do this and can afford, chicken/paneer tikka will be your best friend. Make some at home, there's a lot of recipes online and most of them are extremely simple. These are two things that you can eat out while you're on cleanse, cook at home or order in. If you're out on a dinner with friends, family or anyone, these are diet friendly and tasty.

If you don't like tikkas then find an alternative that works for you, is high on protein and edible quotient. You'll find diet getting easy.

11) Workout when you think you've controlled your eating habit. Because I was doing something entirely correctional and changing my lifestyle, I was told by Mia K that I need to work on it first before jumping into working out. It could take anywhere from 6-18 months where I have to break habits of a lifetime and get better than ever. Fitter, mentally and physically to control any and all temptations.

Working out prematurely would mean going back and eating crap. You'd justify in your head, "I worked out today, I deserve an ice cream."

Sure you do, except it doesn't stop there. While you end up complaining about sore legs and a terrible leg day, you will take the liberty of eating crap the next day and not working out for a full three day schedule. You not only fall back on result but also end up exhausting your body, confusing it and retaining water weight.

Don't do anything stupid. Give it time. Give your diet time.

12) Don't expect results for a minimum of six months. I'm addressing this for the first time now, six months in since I can feel it now. You'll feel dejected when you check your weight and inches and nothing would show initially. Give yourself time till a year to implement these.
Just as how you didn't gain your weight and inches in a month, it won't go in a week or a month. Remember, the slower you shed the higher your retaining rate of weight loss will be.

14) Hydrate yourself plenty. Hunger rises from being thirsty. I highly recommend indulging in fucking water, as much as possible. 3-4 litres a day if you can and have a washroom to your disposal. I have been told hot water does wonders but I find it hard to drink so I'm still trying to get used to it. The more you hydrate, the less scope for snacking or being hungry there will be. Make it a point to drink water each time you stare in your phone screen, that's easy to do.

15) Intermittent Fast is your best friend. Look, it's mine at at least. I learnt from a friend that 8/16 is a thing but before I get all technical, let me explain in short what this does. It makes you sleep better at night if you eat four hours prior to bed, at the very least. No taking a bite or tasting after. You basically give yourself a window of 8-10 hours in a day to eat and eat only within that time, keeping in mind your calorie deficit count. The other 16-14 hours remaining you stay hungry, you sleep and rest. You be chill, minus any food.

My get togethers involve me having dinner before and joining my friends with a glass of water. I try and not eat beyond 7-7:3o pm and start my day with breakfast at around 10 am. It's not perfect 8/16 but that's the best I can pull. Your body will have time to digest food and you will give yourself the window to burn fat when you're not eating.

13) Lastly, focus on your goal. My goal is very different than yours. I wanted to change my lifestyle, eating habits and lose weight. I also wanted to be flexible in bed, more than ever. I wanted to lose inch and fat. I also wanted to be healthy and happy. It took a while to get here but I'm more than pepped now. Charged to drop some more, even if it means I choke to death while working out in the polluted af city I live in.

You'd be pleased to know, I have tried and I'm still trying and I'm getting there. Slowly.

I could tell you on why sugar is a terrible idea, on why I'm divided on fruits being bad for you, but I'd rather have you take the first step to making sure you're completely into this idea. If that switch is turned on in your head, now's a good time to do this. If not, come back another day. This may appeal to you someday.

Uphill climbs bring out the worst in me, whether on feet or in the car. The market where I work is located on a relatively uphill slope. Naturally, I'm at my worst every single time I'm asked to lug my ass anywhere around the area.

On one of my last ATM hangs with Mia K, I was ranting to her about a friend. I believed the said friend had fewer fucks to give about me than in comparison to her SO's friends. That should irk anyone.

Mia K being Mia K (ahem) looked at me calmly with an expression that read, "This child." and continued to hear until I shut up with all my ranting and replaced it with panting.

Speaking of panting, Mia K has a great joke on how dogs wear coats and they pant in the Summer due to the same coat (haha fuck me, hilarious). It's something that's a part of her overcompensational behaviour since she put in her papers.

I digress, but coming back to the uphill climb and Mia K, she responded with a counter example on how my friend was giving me all the fucks and how I have been forgetting about the same (citing two academic papers and four parties from the last one financial year).

"You know what's your problem? (mental note, not verbal.) You keep a list of grudges only. Instead, why don't you focus on a list of gratitudes?"

"You know what, I hate you (mental note, not verbal.) You are right. I have never done that. Maybe, it's time for me to make that."

What better than the last post during my birthday month, to recall the kindness and the large heartedness of the people I've encountered.

To the girl who didn't show up to take admission at my second college - You helped me secure a seat. Without your input (of staying out of admissions) help, I wouldn't have managed to meet the people I call family today, the degree that taught me everything about images, still and moving. That made me realize that there's a life outside academia and that it's worth pursuing. You also ensured I didn't go to the UK since I got admitted in Delhi and that was the only one condition upon which I skipped all the colleges I got through there god I hate you so much (how does one not add grudges to the same list man?).

Mum - For being oh so nonchalant about dating, bringing men home and for being all round resourceful by ensuring me the tastiest present from my birthday wishlist this year.

The Japanese passerby who told me to pick the John Coltrane Tshirt - He was my Yoda and I had a full padawan moment with him. He appeared out of nowhere when the Thai woman was charming her way in and ensuring she sells me three t-shirts including Chili Peppers ("We don't stock Chili Peppers, but we do keep Red Hot Chili Peppers hahaha.") and Oasis. He came in nonchalantly, not looking to buy anything and when I was hyperventilating over the Coltrane t-shirt he asked me to pick that over the Chili Peppers. "Classy, definitely. RHCP is more rocker like. Which one are you?"
All of a sudden, I no longer needed Sinner to help me with my purchase. The Thai woman looked a bit disappointed.

Speaking of which, Sinner - For being the most compassionate travel partner despite travelling with me since 2010 and knowing I throw up at the drop of the hat. For fussing over me when I didn't sleep enough and for calming me down when she lost her wallet full of monies and cards. For baking that cake on my blog anniversary party (it wasn't this month but still) and being one eye roll away from knowing what's up with me. Recently, she pronounced I liked a guy before I knew I liked him. I don't know about you, but I need more of her in my life. "He's crazy, just like her.", she told her Catfish friend, and he nodded in agreement. This, when I knew nothing about the person. All that we (Sinner and I) are missing is an umblical cord. Really. She wouldn't agree though.

My University - For making sure I exited academia with an A, and nothing less. It was an absolute pleasure and my gratitude to the people who feigned well at tolerating my work and vice verse. Quite a ride.

My workplace - For trusting in me and giving me a chance of a lifetime on projects that people usually take a long time to reach to in their career. 

Thai Airways Ground Staff in Delhi - For blocking the middle seat and thus ensuring I slept through the flight with my feet curled up on the next seat. I make a silent wish for everytime a ground staff personnel does that for me.

The lady at Platinum Mall who exchanged our pants two days later - She's my hero, for not only did she recognize me and gave me stuff my size in a plethora of colours, she also agreed to exchange sizes and allowed us to try outfits (despite so, we came to exchange). She was more than happy helping Sinner and I pick pants and skirts. In a country where you're asked to not enter a nightclub cause you're not a guy and not allowed to touch clothes which don't fit your size, she was quite something. I hope she makes a fortune selling those soft as hell, skinny pants.




Circuit - For fighting through the time I was traveling. After I came back, there were days I wondered how he survived. I am so fucking glad he did, I would be devasted otherwise...

The lady who gave me change for 1000 baht in exchange for buying two rubber bands worth ten baht each - You make me want to move to Bangkok and embarrass myself asking people to help me get a job there. Recently, I was out trying to buy a bottled water in exchange with a 100 rupee note. I was shown the door by FOUR fucking shopkeepers because they did not deem a 20 rupee purchase worth giving 80 rupees worth of change.


Fuck you guys, learn a thing or two on how to treat people.


His Holiness The Dalai Lama - For making that miraculous entrance during my vacation and ensuring I didn't come back to a situation where my ass was on fire trying to hunt rare images from the cesspool of shit that the internet is. Youdaman.

The men who played Charlie "Putz" at the drinks trucks - You gave me a reason to laugh at myself, besides stiff drinks.

Man Friday- Very few people can drill facts in your head without an ulterior motive. While I'm ducking my head in the sand and not coming out to the reality, he's pushing me to face the facts and pick my life and look at what I intend on doing for the next couple of years. In his words, "fun and games are over."

Mia Khalifa - There's no easy way of doing this. I'm high out of my mind and to write this after giving her a farewell isn't exactly simple. While I'm at being sentimental, let me count the times Mia K was the bomb.

For rolling me a doob in the conference room. For the reverse psychology that made me stick around the job. For drilling in me that clean eating is completely possible regardless of being fussy and picky. For proving to me that incest is real by playing both, the role of my elder sister and potential lover. For always being a phone call away (yet never answering). For single handedly standing against everything that went wrong in the last one year and making sure I remember none of that. For making me into a better person. For telling it to my face that my IRL game sucks and for planning my mayyat. It's been a real pleasure, Mia.

I don't recall who, but I was having this conversation with someone recently, on what Delhi does to people.

Delhi makes people angry. It boils their blood. It leaves them with a curse up their sleeve, in Punjabi, in Hindi. Whether or not they can speak those languages is immaterial, it's quite amusing to see everyone roll a word, phrase or even a paragraph out everytime you accompany people who drive you around. High beam is the peak asshole behaviour that every Delhi resident must exhibit. Without which, you don't qualify to be a Delhiite.

Delhi is humid. It's uncomfortable to live here, to be normal and to be happy. I haven't met a single Delhiite who is not stressed, agitated or unhappy, purely because of how things are. The government, the state (or the inability of comprehending the Capital and Union Territory status) do not understand Delhi, neither do the people. What we understand is that this city is the rape capital of the country. It stinks of immigrants from almost all cities, the NCR folks are cool-ish and that all Delhiites are scums of the world who abuse everyone. Believe me, the weather doesn't help.

Diwali, for a whole lot of Delhiites translates to smog, smoke, haze. For the rest of the world it's dancing to Bole Chudiyan at the community event. Indian expat community knows Karan Johar better than Hiroo aunty does. For us here, Diwali is when we pre-order a combo pack on Amazon for 3M masks to breathe clean (or attempt to) and curse every moron who hands his child an Anaar to light outside. And Karan Johar, he remains a nepotistic pig for all the girls envisioning a future in Bombay cinema.

Delhi stands for difficult. If you can survive Delhi, you can survive everything. That Delhi is as much mine as it is yours. Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours. 


All of the above is true-ish. Except, I don't feel it anymore. Staying away from Delhi makes you forget the war tactics that you need to survive this place. Atleast for now. Survival of the fittest is not true for Thailand. Survival of the chillest, on the other hand, is something I could do with.


I've been back for a few days now and god, I'm everything but Delhi. I don't get the Mughal-e-azam play reference (what is it, please tell me),  I am missing the Swan Lake and I have no idea what was the last topic on which Modi and Kejriwal fought. I have zero idea of what happened at the Dera and who did Kangana accuse of last.

To be honest, not all of the above is Delhi but this is the only place that seems to care about all of it.

Instead, I am feeling the Fall on my skin. This evening, I smelt Pujo in the air. I took an auto from my evening coffee run and it was beautiful outside. To make things beautiful, Starbucks has brought my Salted Caramel Mocha back. Remember the Winter from 2013 when I was a mess and spent close to 10k buying Salted Caramel Mocha? Well, it's back and so is my zeal to live. This time, all together. My head's all fuzzy with the first kiss of Winter in the form of the air conditioner taking a hiatus in my room. Imagine, this is me and this is in Delhi. I'm in fucking love, with the world. In this world, I'm in Thailand.

I smile uncontrollably when a ridiculously cute man tells me that he's called dibbs on my arse (if and when we are in the same city- tragic). I am floating in a haze of noodle soup for every meal, and sausages for 10 baht with cheese stuffed in them. In my head, I'm kicking my feet in the sand when I squish the dead jelly fish (okay, that's not that cool). I'm walking inside the 7 Eleven store and looking for Korean masks at 2 am, along with buying a bottle of water and a slice of buttered bread. Ooh, look at that lipstick. Is that matte? I'm everything that has no care in the world. I'm full of glitter, coconut filled donuts and I'm ready to buy sunglasses at 11 pm at the Walking Street because why the fuck not.

The day after I returned, I met Man Friday. What was supposed to be a handing his presents from my trip sesh, qualified into a long walk where he kept cursing Delhi weather. None of that affected me since in my head, I was walking the streets of Pattaya.

"Can you not be fucking distracted and do something with your life instead?"

That hit me for 12 hours until the ridiculously cute gentleman texted some cute shit at my face. I was back in my vacation haze again.

Oh, to be young and feel the butterflies.

You remember the feeling when your crush looked in your direction as a 15 year old? Or when that man you liked tapped on your shoulder to ask for a spare pen?

The equivalent of that is seeing a text from someone you're crushing on. Thailand makes everything better, even men. I haven't felt like 15 in a long, long time so naturally, I haven't crushed on anyone like that. This vacation brought back the feels, of what it's like when you hear from someone you like.

In 2012, a friend who was dating her then boyfriend would burst into a smile each time we called his name out loud around her. It was a nerve reaction, "@*#l" and she would giggle like the world's down to her feet. I remember this so vividly because this tactic helped us in an outdoor photo-shoot. I wouldn't get into the details because the split was hard on the said friend (and the guy is a cunt). But, man, everytime I think about the vacation, I am giggling at the thought of the place, of being transported to the streets where the shopkeepers had become my friends and the Raw Papaya salad cost less than a plate of momos. As I write, I have a smile as wide as my friend's, just at the thought of all this.

In the relatively small window of the time that Mia K and I have left with each other, on one of the days when she was driving me home she told me to get back to reality. While reversing the car, she said,"As my grandmother would say, if you laugh today you will cry tomorrow. Almost as if they prevent you from being too happy too soon."

Despite being stuck in a jam on a 2 km distance home from the coffee run, I was smiling all throughout. Later, ofcourse, reminded of this conversation with Mia K.

"What?", Divyanshu answered in his imaptient, mechanic I-am-at-work-bitch-voice

"I need your help. There's this phrase in Bangla which loosely translates to if you laugh a lot, you will cry a lot. What is it?"

"It's not that. It's actually translated to 'if you laugh today, then you will cry tomorrow.' Slightly different meaning too.", he answered while tapping his keyboard.

"Right, yeah! That!"

"I'll message you."

Waiting to complete my cycle of Joto Hashi, Toto Kanna everybody. Hopefully, the next time I write, it would be to sulk about the weather, the internet speed to send horrible emails and the cobwebs on my vagina in the absence of anyone calling dibbs on my arse.

I distinctly remember the first time I was introduced to Tool. In no time, Justin Chancellor, for me, became a level I aspired to reach. Nearing 26, I can claim it remains a distant dream for me today. Yet, if I go back to The Pot, the same thought occurs my mind to this day. However, by no means is Chancellor my favourite bass player. Those are two very different things. I guess I extend my militancy of detail to music as well. Bite me.

If you're a hoarder by nature, then, like me (I assume, of course) you ought to find yourself in a sea of memories. Triggered by places, spaces, events, art and media, these memories are deeply moving and more often than not, striking. Music, then, scores amongst top rated trigger for reaching out to the time that elapsed.

Eloquently put, I go back to my music from time to time to be occasionally greeted by fucking memories that I have archived for a time when I can take them down, one on one. It's hit home now, some two-three years later, I have not downloaded any music in the recent past, nor have I bought any album. Nothing at all. My listening time has gone down significantly. I don't list "music" anywhere near my pursuits, vices, interests or even conversation starter. I avoid it, like the plague that it's become for me. I don't have time to pander, especially so for issues unresolved, pertaining to music.

This rolls out like a tacky, no brainer Bombay cinema script. A person obsessed with something gives up on their biggest vice and returns to reminisce about it years later. What was that, Milkha Singh? Rock on Rockstar? Some Farhan Akhtar film somewhere. I can't put my finger (all that he's done is this script rehashed into different roles- marathon runner, vocalist, journalist?).

Anyway, so yeah. I don't go back to my music whatsoever now. On days when I am terribly bored, I find myself googling the same set of names feverishly. It starts with checking on my disgruntled pursuits in the form of mortal beings (aka jaded loves of my life) to get an update on where they're at (nowhere. I don't even know if they're alive or dead). I avoid the music that we once enjoyed listening to, together, and carefully step out of that Minesweep of a memory by skipping all of that album (which I'll be damned if I list here). I don't remember the last time I heard that common favourite album and I hope to all things controlling this universe, it's not shoved in my face anytime soon.

I've made up with stunning 46 minutes of Kind of Blue and now make it a point to listen to it once every three months. I can't do that album in any frequency shorter than that. It took a lot of willpower to return to it. That one happens to be a stunning masterpiece and one of my all time favourite albums. In fact, Kind of Blue is like medication. It's a hug packed in musical notations, a ray of sunshine on a cold, windy day which can suck the happiness out of you. Kind of Blue is the cure to most blues in my life (besides the ones it may have started in the first place). I consume it, much as I would consume a rare Japanese whisky. Reserved for very special days, sad days and not all that which goes in between.

I had recently gone out to watch a film and the trailer run before the film that I'd paid for, played Come Together's cover. It instantly trickled me down in time to the point I'd played this with a bunch of people I love to death- most of whom are placed in different parts of the world at the moment. One of the happiest memories I go back to is playing Come Together on stage in 2011. Each time I listen to that, the bass line takes me back to having the time of my life rehearsing that one with some of my closest friends.

I move to the next number, Billie Holiday crooning one of my favourite lyrical standard, All of Me (can't you see, I'm no good without you- sigh). I listen to it, with clenched teeth and tight fist and imagine kickboxing the fuck out of a few. Mia Khalifa has observed that I'm releasing my aggression on the road traffic than at the right things. I have made a note of that. Take my arms, I want to lose them indeed (on your face, most likely).

There's more, I've withheld. Some pop crap (a Train number is all I'm willing to publically admit), two by The Black Keys. There are artists like Edith Piaf, Monk, Manu Chao, Wayne Shorter, Monique Kessous...the list is long and the time, it's always short. A lot I'm holding close to my chest, a lot of stuff I'm not willing to look back at whatsoever. For the most part, it reminds me of my tryst with trying hard to be someone. Funnily enough, on paper, I'm that person today. The person I was trying to build myself into, is one with the idea. It's her who is writing this. However, the essence is all lost. All that I believed it would be, it's nothing like it. It's a lot of faffing, faking it till you yourself believe you're making it. It took a toll somewhere. Every time I go back to my playlist, it reminds me of my struggle to be who I am, a publishing professional, a hobbyist writer, 20 something fending for myself, an academic in work (!).

Despite all these identities, it's still no good, if you can't go back to who you were. If you're still reading, you'd probably wonder how any of those (aforementioned) identities affect my listening capability to say, Justin Timberlake?

It doesn't. None of them does.
But, in process of coming close to carving those identities, the person who encountered this music no longer wishes to revisit that site anymore. Maybe, it's the brushes I had in the last couple of years and maybe, it's the mistakes I made in terms of carving myself out- the fact is, I no longer identify myself as the person who once loved this playlist to death. From it being one of the most prized possession that I had built, it's now become like an outfit, I revisit to stare at from time to time and shut my closet. I still love it, but I can't go back to it.

Why I use this outfit analogy is quite a reason in itself. I'm in possession of a closet full of things which can serve as a closet to seven people (wearing Size 14) at the very minimum. However, I go back to the same key outfits every day because I fear, I'll tamper with my favourite pieces each time I wear them. I worry that they'll be stained so bad that I won't be able to publically carry them out ever again. In the fear of something bad about to be going down, I never take them out. Instead, I hang them in my closet and admire them from far and distant sight of the roads of Delhi and elsewhere. I think the case is same with my music. I no longer listen to it in fear of making new memories and leaving the ones in the past behind. I don't want to associate my music with new people, with friends I met along the way, with newer (and might I add improved) gentlemen who look far better than my type of 3.4/10 from circa 2012. I don't want to tamper with all that what's been packed in the laptop. Listening to them again would mean going to A) revisit the previous site, and B) making new ones. I don't think I'm ready to give it all up as of now.

I have seen this particular tendency in a lot of people, coming out in different ways. One of my friends takes it out in way of not dating anyone. She won't ever go on a traditional "date" or indulge in the idea of a "dates" leading to "relationships". It didn't work out with someone she was into the first time and ended bad for her. Since then, she holds that part of her life so tightly that she doesn't allow anyone to permeate. Similarly, another friend has boundary issues. He won't allow anyone- friend, family to come close to them. He is emotionally cripped to deal with proximity and cannot express himself. It takes a toll when you're having a bad day and you're unable to tell anyone because you're holding the occasions tight when you did and the person went away (in his case, the demise of his father and another friend who moved away). It's all in our heads, our distances and holding them ever so tightly. I know this from my two friends because I've been able to identify mine- it's latent in the form of music and I've tried my best to let it go. To listen to stuff without letting a cloud of emotions huddle and pour outwards.

However, I'm trying. Still at it.

At a Safal outlet, 18:08 hours.

Baby Banana - (observing a rack full of Granny Smith) "Listen, how many calories are there in one green apple? Are those like carbs? Like I know there are 80 calories in a medium normal apple."

Mia Khalifa - "Ah, those (pointing at Granny Smith) are called pear in English and बब्बूगोशा in Hindi. You might want to learn fruits first before you learn about calories."

I returned from Pune, last week, to hear that Delhi was anticipating "Wettest July" in what seems (?) like a decade. Predicted by the met guys and having that conveyed by my mother only means alteration of some facts so if this seems dodgy to you, I'm passing the blame to my parental unit.

What's a fact checker and why does my blog need one?

Moving on, the misleading title is quite an opener to the problem of lack of getting any. In other words, 'Cobwebs on my Vagina', 'Drought in my Pussy', both contested and lost to the current opening title. I really need to look for a solution to problems such as, "Dude, we discussed weather so does that mean he's friend-zoned me?" but really, I am just so full of negativity, I thought let me pep up with some weather talk and what better than Monsoon to get the juices (gunk) flowing. (yuck)

I used to get dating. Much like I got the idea of taking a bus to school. There's a reason you indulge in camaraderie. You apparently save the environment from pollution by contributing to the noise when you shove 50 or more hyper kids in a bus and release 20 such buses in all directions to and from school every morning. If you care, I believe in home-schooling (also cause wow the fee structure is insane and I can possibly never afford to send my hypothetical child to school).

Now, I don't get that anymore. Or dating. Have the rules changed? Why do the kids travel in cars now? Why did my school stop sending buses to pick kids? Why do parents pay upward of a fucking lakh for their kids to learn colours and numbers? Somethings I will never understand. For everything else, there are rich fuckers paying their kids fee and making the rest of us question our subsidized convent education.

I digress, but my dear frenemy Mia Khalifa answers. Her version is almost rude.

"Darling, they all want your ass and you give them your hand. You're getting none back."

Bitch is probably PMSing and taking it out on me. I took the answer back home, as she drove me in her new shiny car, only to repeat that to SSA.

He had a better explanation (or maybe, I was just well fed), "You don't get a call back for second ones because you give out the complete package in the first."

"You know that makes total sense...the ones where I did follow up or like met the guy again are like the ones where there was so much awkward silence. Yeah, you're right...they weren't the kind of dates...you know...on acid.", I said while standing under the shade of a Peepal tree which did us no good in protecting from torrential downpour earlier today. In the last 48 hours, it's been humid and dry and no sign of the clouds. I step out of the house for an hour to meet SSA over a walk, and it rains on my parade.



When they said Wettest July, they certainly did mean having for it to rain on my actual fucking parade.

Is there a problem with placing your chips on the lopsided end? If so, then I missed the announcement cause I don't get this behaviour. If I put myself out on a date, I'm slutty and obviously "too into" the guy that I want "it" instantly with. If I don't, then I'm "prude" and how dare I have a "taste" for men. Have I not learnt enough from the idea of Tinder? Swipe, Sleep and Repeat.

But no. I want the wine, and for us to dine and the sixty-nine. So what if it takes awfully long time?

However, the rules have changed and clearly my manual was lost in the mail. To get some, you've to be aggressive, like a fighter. Destiny's Child didn't sing Survivor years ago for nothing. They forecasted a situation such as this to avoid dry spells of July.

I mean, it's half a fucking year and I've gotten NONE.

If you, like me, are having questions about me, may I publically announce that Mia Khalifa isn't getting any either. Despite a name like hers, she doesn't manage to go beyond cuddle.

"He says it's done and I'm like, 'Oh? Already? I didn't even feel it.' and then I never hear from him again...You know I should start like these classes on how to train people to have good sex. Like a whole school, how to initiate, how to take it forward and obviously how to have good sex. You should be my first customer."

Because yeah, the problem is me. To my face, I don't get any cause I have it tattooed on my forehead.

Which brings me to my fucking point, which I have been trying to find ways and means to convey. Men, women, everyone- BUCKLE THE FUCK UP!

You will climb mountains, trek to the fucking Himalayas, run a 20k marathon but when it comes to asking a person out, what the actual fuck happens? Does anyone ask you to give up your first born in exchange of sleeping with someone or going down on them? If so, please feel free to share. I'd be happy to empathise with your choices.

If not, then I don't understand. You'd do everything except for asking for some.

Because let's face it, dating as I know has become this- you text, you plan to meet, you ditch, you text some more, you forget, you text again, you feign excitement, you try to cancel, you meet, you have a good/great time, you never speak to them again.

WHY? Why would you waste good effort to do this nonsense? You're defying the laws of science because you're destroying energy...mmm good energy in this nonsense that you're putting the other person up for.

If you want to meet for "a" drink, say so. Tell the other person, "Hey, you know what, I have no intentions of following up cause I don't quite care. You still up for that one drink?"

Half the fucking time, I meet people out of politeness. At least, we can be politely honest with each other and say, "Hey, you know what I'm going to flake on you so let's end it right here. Let's save each other the energy and the process. Why don't we spend our respective time reading Camus and never talk to each other again?"

Trust me, that'd be romantic af.

But no, here I am, and here are your rules. I will be 'cool' and 'chill' and wait for the next person to nudge me to death to have some drinks, make conversation, waste energy and never hear from them again.

I wish I could eat and spend my energy digesting refined calories than writing this crap. If I tried, maybe even I could run for some 50k and do well, because dating for sure is harder than running a marathon.

I spent the last weekend reconnecting with my double chin in the beautiful city of Pune. Over many a toasted slice of white bread and bun slathered with butter, I grinned and fawned over every little thing. Namely, the terrible two-wheelers, who without a care in the world would drive like the Pearly Gates are shutting for the night, and mannerless cab drivers, who needed an excuse to cancel the ride. In the midst of such stunning imagery, I found myself being oh so angry at male folks. Bless their excretion organ. The world is nothing but a large toilet for all the men folk.

Years ago, I had a meeting scheduled with one of my professors to discuss a photography assignment I was due to present later that month. Each of us had to pitch an idea and I went ahead with this photo story, of how men can take a piss in public. The idea, ofcourse, was to see this culture proliferated across caste, background, colour- nearly everything- a unifying factor for menfolk. The idea that unites the gender- take a piss anywhere.

In a total anti-climax, the professor shot the idea down. He claimed this was a normal phenomenon across the world and wasn't specific to 'Delhi' and 'India'.

Well, nobody had said it had to be India/Delhi specific.

"You're into music and gig photography. Why don't you cover the jazz fest? Besides, men across the world do that. You know, in Europe- Germany, London, everywhere. It's not unique.", he had said, as though in response to me having accused him of doing something totally unacceptable, say snorting coke off a Japanese prostitute's navel.

Years later, (to be precise, yesterday) I was reading Mia Khalifa's book- Special Lassi. She spins the most beautiful words together to describe her backbreaking misadventures across the Himalayas. I don't easily endorse things, but when I do, I go all out. Her book is all kinds of wonderful- complete with astute observations about the things around us- especially in India- which we take for granted. One of them, as she lists, is the ability of men to take a piss anywhere they want. That marked a befitting end to my trip. As I was trapped in a godforsaken city with little to no public urinals access to women, it seemed Mia Khalifa's words were mine.

Through the course of the bastard trip, my host and I would exit the house in the morning, only to return in the wee hours of next morning- absolutely constipated. With sharing a washroom between us two, the details were exchanged and intimately so.

"Are you constipated as well? Shit man. I've not crapped in a day and a half."

"I wanted to take a dump but I can't in public toilets."

"Wait, there's no health faucet?"

"No man, you have to use the mug and water."

"Shit. Shit."

"I can't take a dump with full satisfaction. You know what I mean? It's like I've done it but I'm not satisfied."

"Dude, I'm eating too many carbs for me to be able to take a satisfying dump. If I don't, I'll want to shit at the drop of the hat."

"Yeah don't, there's no place where you can."

These were some of the stray sentences exchanged repeatedly over the weekend. The issue with us both? Privileged, women of colour on a vacation not being able to pee/poop as they pleased.

Which essentially made me look inwards and realised, we still have it easy. We can always come back to our respective place, comfortable spot to take a satisfying dump or a piss. Whereas, for a significant number of people, this privilege can never be realized or attained simply because they don't have the means of affording it.

Which makes me go back to question, what is it about this being so 'global'? Do women globally suffer from UTIs or whatever it is, constipation, because they do not have means to provide them with sanitation and hygiene? Or does it have to be only us where, after over seventy years of the country's independence we are still battling eyelids on who ate what part of cow meat or goat meat and how dare a musical outfit call themselves "Bhangi jumping"?

I guess, I'll never know. At the end of the day, if not a jazz fest, I'll be asked to shoot or commission something equally banal and distracting and I'll go back home, holding my piss and poop to only relieve myself eight hours after a day's work.

There's an unsaid idea of work culture that is as old as the idea of "work culture" itself. Joining the masses at work is said to be advantageous. If they laugh, you laugh. If your boss cracks a daddy joke and expects you to give a reaction that you reserve for when you see Dhinchak Pooja memes, by all means, give them that. Like a dead fish, you ought to go with the flow.

Morning after my blog anniversary party, I was high as a kite. After weeks, I found myself up on a Sunday morning, naturally, I decided to spend the time with my favourite person. My grandfather was catching up on his morning news, over a banana as he normally does. I sat on the chair, next to his bed and found myself staring at the wall. Twenty minutes into that pointless non-interactive hang, I heard him talk.

"You'll die if you eat a banana and egg."

Jack Johnson's Banana Pancakes started playing in my head as I imagined myself swimming into a pile of hash browns and pancakes. I'd booked a cab earlier in the day to head to McDonald's for breakfast, despite the wretched cleanse. Take it as a hint from the universe or bad karma or just pure luck, it didn't show up. Exasperated, I stepped back in the house after what seemed like an hour and a half of negotiating with the cab driver. "To hell with the diet, it's not working anyway", was my vibe after the party. I'd survived the last two days without eating any kind of fat, let alone good or bad and it was horrible. I was low on metabolism and high on substance. The song continued playing in my head as I stared fondly at the wall, only knowing I'd imagined him saying that. Five minutes later, he repeated again.

"See what does this say, if you eat eggs and banana you'll die. Does it say that?"

I tried to re-focus. I stared hard at the television screen and my brain was blank. Blank as a sheet of Word Document waiting for my crap before every MPhil assignment. Still craving pancakes and maple syrup with salted butter I attempted to look at the television screen. More than half the screen was occupied by Baba Ramdev trying to do Surya Namaskar or some such and some product placement for his brand on the side. There was a tiny screen showing how Pakistan has something to do with nefarious things going on in India. I tried to look for the headline that my grandfather had said out loud but couldn't find it.

"Huh?", with a dry mouth I tried asking. I was convinced, it was my brain talking and not my sober grandfather.

"It was on TV."

At the point I was sure, he'd passive smoked with the rest of us and that got him high. There was no way such a bizarre thing would play on a Sunday morning. I mean for fuck's sake, Sunday's the day of brunch and champagne and eggs with banana are the most harmless things you can do together.

Then it happened.



I stared at the screen in disbelief and let different bulletins roll three times before taking this shot. Ended up eating a greasy plate of Chole Bhature that I needed to fight the hangover with. Been avoiding Bananas and Eggs together since.



Epilogue (Blog Party)

(During the course of Taboo)

AJ- "Where did Abéy go?"
Me - "JAIL."
AJ- "What is he then?"
Me- "Convict? Arrested?"
AJ- "YES THAT!"
Me- "Arrested? Arrest?"
AJ- "The last one."
Me- "Arrest?"
AJ- "YEAH. (softly) do you think he heard it?"
Me- "Nah, he doesn't care. He's barely interested."

Four hours later

Abéy- "So when I was in jail..."
Remaining guests including AJ- "Oh you went to jail?"
Abéy- "Can you all not pretend that you don't know? I heard your Taboo clue you know."
Mia Khalifa- "Oh."
AJ- "Oh."