Prose before hos

About 3-4 days ago, I started seeing "cake" references all over Twitter. 

I can't say it did anything other than serving a reminder, I had to order a cake for my grandfather's birthday. 

If you know me, you'd know, I'm a fucking deviant when it comes to cake and cake picking. I think, the anxiety for picking a cake and placing an order is far more than what it is when I go for a job interview or I don't know, minutes before you start kissing someone. It's fucking real, the palpitation and the pulse that races. 

Could this be recreated in buttercream? No wait, this colour won't work cause baker would use a golden board and that would be a disaster. 

Point being, I love cakes. I dig cakes. I am obsessed with the perfect cake. 

Perfect cake has components, if they come together like improvisation in jazz, it truly does make the world's difference. It is divine. If it doesn't, well, you're fucked. 

Thankfully, India has reached that point where bakers can make their cakes taste just as good as they can make it look. There's no shame in saying I've probably once had a cake abroad and despite all the fancy looks, it was quite mediocre. I will obviously withhold the fact that the cake was store-bought and purchased minutes before my birthday cause the guy who was baking the cake, fell ill and ate the whole cake by himself at home.

Then people ask about my trust issues. 

Imagine my surprise, when I started seeing "cake" tweets for days together. 

Did this happen when I was sedated for a day and a half in between on anti-histamines? No, can't be. I can't miss such a big reference that literally everyone's talking about it. My own friends, I saw memes, tweets.

What on earth is the cake reference? 

I think the anxiety peaked as I spent close to four hours yesterday looking up a cake for my grandfather's birthday. Just keywords of what I think he would like. Man's grown up without his parents and worked hard all his life. He deserves a ridiculously good looking cake to mark all his achievements. 

You see, the cake isn't just any dessert. 

The cake is a marker, of how far you've come and how much you've grown. It is symbolic of the person you are. If the cake is representative of the year you're going to have or the life you will lead, would you or would you not pay attention to it? 

That's the thing about birthdays. Why do we celebrate them? If it is to mark the years gone and celebrate the growth, then the cake has to be in tandem with the sentiment and if it is to mark some superstition of how the year ought to be, then it has to be even better, perhaps. 

I think my family or friends don't quite understand or know the extent of my cake mania. Perhaps, the only people who truly do are the fine folks at the bakery where I order my custom cakes from. I've had the pleasure to work in the organization where the baker's daughter was interning and that's how I learned about their venture. 

In the last one year and half a dozen cakes for family later, they know my mania in entirety. Any cake order will take close to a day cause that's how many times I'll go back and forth on details, image references, colours, frosting, shape, size, toppers, base details and flavour. 

You may think these are words but for me, these are all blocks in putting a combination so wonderful that it makes a cake come together. 

I used to take pride in recommending people food places. Now, my pride and my perfection is down to placing a cake order and believe me, the anxiety is real. 

Last month, for Exhibit B's birthday, it took over 10 days for the cake to be confirmed and then 3 days of complete anxiety and anti-histamines until the cake was picked and dropped by a third party vendor. 

This time, I waited until the last 4 days and did everything last minute to avoid my cake anxiety from peaking. 

If you were to text and ask what did I do today, I'd have to tell you that I spent all my time planning and placing the order for the cake. 

Anyway, while prepping my dinner today, I thought about the cake Twitter and how embarrassing would it be to ask someone. 

Everyone who ever said, "Ask and you shall receive" they clearly meant embarrassment by the gallon. 

I thought of who I could ask. 

May? No. She'd tell me but it possibly will lack details cause of her internet connection. 

T? Perhaps, he knows Twitter like I used to know things when I was young and he'd give me all the background info, but, he'd also judge me cause how do I not know anything. 

That's true, I've hit T up more than a few times on checking on trending topics cause I've been so out of it. He's been helpful but I don't want him to not have a crush on me and if I keep asking dumb questions, the crush can only last as much. 

Until ofcourse, I hit Twitter an hour ago and found a prominent writer/influencer ask "What's Cake Twitter". Lo, and behold. 

I think I wasted my wish on a cake. Could have asked for something else. 

(Reference of the day.)

Sometime this week, a colleague asked me to shut the hell up about the Retrograde. It's not the first time, and probably won't be the last, however, I find it easy to pass the blame about everything on the blowing up of the planetary positions. Never mind, science or logic (that I actually fucking studied in college, thank you very much). Truth be told, she invoked my PhD card and told me that it's embarrassing to be speaking about and expected to be taken seriously given my line of work (academia!). Who the hell wants to take a babbling researcher seriously who's pinning all possible issues on a fucking planet (again, why aren't too many people doing this beats me).

I've drawn a list of things I need to-do, in addition to all the garbage I have listed on Trello. Bear with me because this is the closest I've come to organizing my thoughts. Prose will be back when this trial week is over.

Trial run from 9th-15th July for the following things-

1) Sleeping by 11 pm. It's 11:53 as I type this, if I make it to bed by 12, it would be a real achievement. Okay before 12, every day for the rest of the week. (At the time of posting- it's 12:01 and I need to brush so 12:15 am is final time)

2) Make. A. Budget. Factor in all the costs, losses, pros, cons, and everything else involved. Don't procrastinate. (I mean, for fuck's sake, you do this for a living at work every fucking week)

3) No overthinking. Not about the job, not about the lack of water in the washbasin at the job. Not about not having any real skill. Not about, "What will this PhD even do?"

4) DO NOT EAT PEANUTS. DO NOT COME CLOSE TO PEANUTS.

5) Minimize eating crap to not even once a week.

6) Pencil in HIIT at least four times this week.

7) Look for a birthday gift for grandfather. Something that he actually cares about.

8) Read a motherfucking book other than what you're making.

9) Watch Narcos.

10) REPLY TO PERSONAL EMAILS. PLEASE FOR FUCK'S SAKE RESPOND TO EMAILS FROM CONFERENCE ORGANIZERS, ADVISORS, POTENTIAL EMPLOYERS.

11) Organize your artwork for the room.

12) WRITE YOUR MOTHERFUCKING PAPER.

13) Do not binge on dessert. You don't need dessert. Do not eat mango. Do not go near a mango.

14) Limit social interaction to one hour at best, after work. I repeat- 60 minutes or less. Or every 15 minutes spent with people you don't care about, add that to your workout.

15) Don't spend time on dating apps.

This afternoon I expressed my yearning of quitting cutting sugar to my group of lunch companions.

"How are you consuming sugar?"

"In tea, that I have left."

"Ice creams?"



"Not a big fan. But I do dig in tea cakes."

Seven pm this evening, two cubes of milk chocolate. Because everyone needs chocolate (I hate chocolate) and since I had a salad for dinner, I could eat some crap. Even more crap a justification than the garbage I put together in my mouth.

Eight twenty pm this evening, I broke my intermittent fast. Gobbled a cup of Vanilla ice cream faster than you could spell that out loud. If I could do it any faster, I'd be a cartoon, an extra on Tom and Jerry.

Will quit sugar. Will do PhD. Will find a job that keeps me happy. Will also find the love of the life. 

My mother, who is a self confessed ice cream lover, announced the demise of her favourite treat- the decadent Triple Sundae.

I don't know a lot of traditional sit-down restaurants who have an extensive ice-cream menu in the "Desserts" section of their deconstructed menu card/iPad. These joints tend to start and end with a Brownie and Ice Cream or maybe extend it to Gourmet ice cream (the uppercase "g" to appease to the sentiments of food writers around the country). North Indian restaurants will offer you from a variety of kheer, gulab jamun, even ras malai and end with ice cream scoop listing. No effort whatsoever to scoop in the classics, in their existing dog-eared menus.

However, could my mother's declaration be a forewarning into the dying art of doing ice cream right?

Mother describes her perfect All American Banana Split, a second to Triple Sundae as, "...a long, serving bowl with three scoops of ice cream in the centre, surrounded by two bananas split in half on either side. The scoop of ice cream to be adorned with whipped cream and cherry on the top (in the centre) and a careful, delicate drizzle of chocolate sauce... The other two scoops of ice cream to have a wafer on the top..."



Knowing mother, I'm assuming, the ice cream scooped out should not be chocolate (always a fruit flavour) and the bananas should not be too ripe.

To be completely honest, I don't share her love or passion for ice cream. The closest I come to sharing that sentiment is with my understanding of fries, even that is very critical.

Mother's love is pure, unadulterated.

Last couple of times when she was at Nirula's, she returned her dessert and wrote a nasty feedback. Not one fuck was given by the restaurant. Which is a pity, because what she says about people serving this dessert is entirely true. Everyone's doing this as a programmed task, not out of love. You can't cook a storm with programmed code. Mechanical fingers don't do justice to assembling a Sundae or a Split.

Much like the bleak future of time tested desserts. In a city full of cake jars and sweet waffles, we have forgotten the humble ice cream, and the potential it holds.

Last Sunday, I found myself at a popular South Indian restaurant for Drunch. On their Specials menu, they'd listed her favourite. Triple Sundae in all its glory in the middle of Pesarattu and Guava Juice.

I stuck to my Fresh Orange Juice and a Tiffin Thali.

Shamelessly, I told her about it. In response, she nodded her head in disapproval. "Can anyone hate ice creams? That too my child?", her inner monologue conveyed.

Maybe, it's people like me who are the reason why Triple Sundae is dead.

Things I managed to achieve in the last seven days. Also known as my first week of productivity in 2018.

1) Blocked three people on Whatsapp and Facebook combined.
2) Ate a whole pack of chips. 123 gms of processed carbs.
3) Spent 3.9 k on books, which I have no space to store or hoard.
4) Met people every day after work.
5) Ate three different kinds of goat meat in one night.
6) Wrote nothing. Edited enough content to make me shoot myself in the head.
7) Worked out on 4 days out of 7. Out of breath on 2 days out of 4.
8) Drank 3 litres water on 4 days out of 7.
9) Cancelled vacation and sulked about it.
10) Cancelled another vacation scheduled for March and sulked some more.
11) Wrote shit on social media.
12) Acted like shit to people I like.
13) Made my bed 6 days out of 7.

All in all, a very normal week.

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.

A little over three weeks since I drank alcohol.

52 days since I smoked a doob.

33 whole days since I went on a first date.

Gained a kilo since after losing eight (and probably more as I type).

Was able to clock in on non-stop high intensity workout for 20 minutes.

Commissioned 31 photo-shoots in remote parts of the country, scheduled to be completed this month.

Consumed no McDonald's.

0 weddings attended all of this month, when my entire social media list was basically living from Mehendi to Reception.

Finished two books and one TV series (first season) in a fortnight.

Missed a handful of people I love and miss, every single day.

Ate 1.5 pack of chips. Took a dump in the office washroom when we had two rolls of toilet paper.

3rd May | Guy Curious Executive Lesbian

1 KF Ultra = 140
1 plate French Fries = 510
3 piece Pork Wonton = 55 x 3 = 165

Guy Curious Executive Lesbian casually threw shade about my lack of a jaw line. This triggered my 1200 calorie a day regime. It may have been PMS but this guy's shade makes for a better inspiration story. A couple of months later, Guy Curious Executive Lesbian and I were briefly catching up and he expressed instant regret at my weight loss, "Your tits were the best thing about you. Now that they're gone, there's nothing".

Total = 815 calories


June 24th | Guy Butter Chicken

6 small Bacardi Rum x 3 sodas = 65 x 6 = 390
Some insipid chicken starter (I tasted and then a little more)  = 400

Guy Butter Chicken offered to accompany me to McDonald's but I had a flight to catch = - 1700

Total = 790 calories


July 2nd | Guy Cute Filmmaker

2 small Bacardi Rum x 1 soda = 65 x 2 = 130

Guy Cute Filmmaker was surprised that I have dinner at 6:30-7 pm so we both skipped food = -500

Total = 130 calories


July 21st | Guy Cute Filmmaker's birthday

2 small Smirnoff Vodkas x 1 soda and fresh lime juice = 70 x 2 = 140

A friend I met at the party where I was at asked me if I wanted any dinner. I didn't.

Total = 140 calories


August 16th | Guy Strange Stringer

2 large Smirnoff Vodkas x 1 soda and fresh lime juice = 140 x 2 = 280

Total = 280 calories


September 18th | Guy Goofball Polyglot who I'm totally crushing on but he has no fucks to spare unless he gets drunk and purrs my way with a "hi" and I am usually, almost, always asleep

1 KitKat Ice Cream = - 201
1 7-Eleven slurpee = - 65
45 minute long walk culminating to my hotel room = + (-42 burnt)
Cardio (aka cuddle) in bed = + (- 24)

Guy Goofball Polyglot didn't meet me cause he was *cough* busy and I shall live with that regret for the rest of my life (or until I find his replacement to fuss over, whichever happens sooner).

Total = -200 calories


September 30th | Guy Passive Aggresive Hotelier

2 large Smirnoff Vodkas x 1 soda and fresh lime juice = 140 x 2 = -280

I didn't meet Guy Passive Aggresive Hotelier for a few logistical reasons at my end.

Total = -280 calories


October 3rd | Guy Passive Aggresive Hotelier

1 cup Espresso = -5

 I didn't meet Guy Passive Aggressive Hotelier cause I met SSA instead and consumed 480 calories in a healthy protein packed lunch at a healthy café. I kinda ditched. Did feel a tad bit guilty.

Calories = 480


October 4th | Guy Blind Dog Date

1 small Smirnoff Vodka x 1 glass water and fresh lime juice = 70

Total = 70 calories


October 12th | Guy Ridiculously Witty and Fun

2 small Smirnoff Vodka x 1 glass water and fresh lime juice = 70 x 2 = 140

Total = 140 calories



October 27th | Guy Rustic Filmmaker 

3 Mutton Seekh Kebabs = 112 x 3 = 336
2 pieces Chicken Tikka = 190
Salad = 60
Slow paced walk for 120 minutes = + (-100 calories)
Tea = 60

Total = 546 calories


October 28th | Guy Rustic Filmmaker 

Yellow Chicken Curry (with sweet potato) = 850
Sticky Rice = 97
Summer Spring Roll = 120 x 4 = 480

That explains why I wanted to throw up through rest of the date. That was more calories in one meal than I have in a day

Total = 1427 calories


October 30th | Guy Rustic Filmmaker 

Tea = 60

Total = 60 calories

One day, I aspire to be as cool as the guy who runs Irish Castle Café in this cramped space in GK-2. The man shows up to work once a week, at around 1:34 pm and sits with his feet crossed, on the table facing the customers. He stays for about 3 hours or so, until he gets bored and runs out of patience and fucks off god alone knows where. He works when he wants, how he wants and nobody tells him anything. That sounds like the kind of space I want to be in.

I have been trying to get to this man to taste the food that everyone I know is raving about. From everyone who's told me about it, it sounds like he puts his heart and soul in that one odd plate of Chicken Legs he sells once a week when he feels like working. I have missed this guy four fucking times now, where he shows up but leaves before I can convince my cheating by eating more than 1200 calories a day head to eat some stuff that the man has to offer.

Yet, I miss him. Maybe I should start chasing him like how clients chase me. That's when the justice would prevail in this universe. Maybe, I should just give up.

But then again, I don't come from a school of thought where I give up on struggles easily.



Last two weeks, there was no sighting of him, until an acquaintance checked with him.

"I was in Assam. I'd gone to visit my father."

Irish man, sitting in a Delhi-Punjabi neighbourhood with his dad in Assam, and no fucks to give- that's my goal right there.

"Man, I hate employers."
"You know my boss called me to her school going son's birthday and I thought it was because she wanted me there. Once I reached, I found out that she wanted me to gift wrap the return gifts."

I find former fat kids an intriguing place to look for answers. Answers to questions, their being, the outlook and their outwardly appearance of things which are often covered up by the elephant in the room- the weight loss-that made them who they are.

Confession- I fantasize about being one. Perhaps someday, I too shall be one. I may get to be one and live that life.

Love them or hate their luck, they're quite the rhinoceros who made the cut off to be unicorns. I know so many of them; some very close to me and the others, I want to get close to. They're elusive. I have seen them talk with their eyes, better than the communication post graduates who got a fucking degree in expressing themselves through different media.

Former fat kids is that coveted club, a Gymkhana of sorts, where one in a thousand makes it through. When they do, all eyes are on them. Sure, they have their own grievances to deal with. Their shortcomings that could not be fixed by working out or eating clean or doing weights, but god, they're so fucking attractive.

I know this because I've crushed on a few such. They're creatures who were just as regular as us, but made it to the other side. They're demigods, for they worked on their body and made it their own. It's something no normal person can understand. You have to be a fat kid to know the premise of making it to the other side. It's a lot like new money getting new money. Generations of rich kids won't ever know what's it like for having made it for the first time, on your own. Imagine, that effect but on your body. That's when you truly own them and the world around you.

The world talks money and understands attraction. You have them around your fingers, curled. Just because you worked hard and made it. A friend who's in that club reminded me, "But the fact is, the same 3 people who liked me when I was fat are the ones who truly like me. The rest are only turning their head to the changes my body made. Not at the person I am. The people who liked me, liked me when I was 150 kilos fat."

To be honest, I'd have liked my bunch, just the way they were- with or without the effort. But, effort always counts. Especially if it's your crush who's put that in.

This is another fact confirmed by so many people I've spoken to over the years. Former fat kids grown out to be hotter and more in demand than those who's consistently been 'healthy', 'skinny', 'regular', 'medium', 'average'. Not only do former fat kids get noticed for their sculpted new bodies, their chiselled face yells a lethal combination of confidence and arrogance. It's like a pass to life, you made it through your time as a former fat kid, now you have an all access card to fucking anyone's happiness. Go on, live it. You completely earned it after years of having people look down at you. Here's your card to do it now. For the record, I completely and wholeheartedly support them in this motion.

My new motto to life is- "Don't be afraid to hate" and it coincides just right with these fellas.

One thing, that always baffled me about them former fat kids is their closet. What do these people do with wardrobe full of clothes they sourced over the years, painstrikingly, for their size? Again, I know this because even though I love to shop, finding things that coincide your style, your pocket and your body together is a hellish experience. Half my trips abroad are spent lurking from store to store, finding things that can last me through the soirees thrown by my former fat kid friends. I love them to death but god, I can't match their sass.

I have had this question repeat itself, each time it saw a transformation. A girl from class who got married, another who's chilling on a yacht, yet another friend who's been there with me. This man, who I swore to myself I'd do at the backseat of his car (spoiler- didn't happen there)- him- and another crush amongst other people; this question remained in my head. I could never bring it up. Ofcourse half the time in my head I felt bad for the outfit and how it would be chucked out for snug, snooty fitted outfit to match the lethal personality of the person wearing it.

It's as if you shed the person you are, along with the weight you lose. You have a reincarnation over night, with the fat you dispose. There's no other explanation to this.

This morning, after my shower, I was attempting to wear my outfit. My new lingerie, picked out from my last vacation after having hunted it for over a week hung loose despite wearing it on the tightest clamp. A tshirt, which used to be body hugging, now hung loose over the ill-fitted bra.

I came out of the shower to stare at myself. I find myself doing it a lot more these days. The flab from my sides hasn't shown itself in a week, the tyres re-appear only after the dinner and I see the appearance of a waist line. The boobs have shrunk, but I can't say the same with surety. It's almost as if I don't want to jinx it.

This morning is when I learnt my answer. You don't fuss about the clothes. Instead, you constantly worry about putting something in your mouth and that thing translating back on your body. On the sides, in your tits, on your back, in your tyres- everywhere. Former fat kids don't give a fuck about the outfits. They only care about one thing- they don't ever want to go back from where they've come and how far they've worked to reach where they are. They'd rather spend their life making money to buy new outfit than to go back to the mediocrity that a "normal" body brings.

What do you do when you wake up on the wrong side of luck?

I always believed that Midas was a dumb muthafucka. That man gave away his power for his inability to control it. He was literally daft not actually employing people to do all the 'touching' on his behalf. I mean, the man had the resources to hire two people (with legit four hands) to do all the 'touching' for him. For Pete's sake, he could touch turd and make it into solid gold. I hope it was all 22 carat and that he paid his employees in his gold turd (remains of gold biscuits turn to the gold turd, geddit?).

Yet, he chose to exit that wonderful blessing (or whatever power) he was granted exclusive access to. I've heard many a version of that man cursing his luck for being blessed (hashtag blessed like all Delhi teenagers) to turn everything into gold, yet, he cribbed so much that someone wrote a whole fucking fable about him.

Where was I? My luck.

I'm the opposite of Midas. Whatever I touch, it turns to turd. Throw a gold biscuit my way for sample. Address on request.

You throw a project proposal, complete with everything in order and favourable conditions and I will give you back a mess, which can neither be evaded nor destroyed. I've a great example but I'd like to believe people from work are reading this and I'm on tenterhooks (I've been informed). Right now won't be the best time.

If I believe I've found love, it often always turns out to be a gastritis attack. You know, in my head, which clears as I proceed to tell the second of my three friends about it. The man literally becomes one with the ether, leaving sulphuric after effects of his presence. Or, as the doctors refer to it in science, farts.

If I think, there's no better negotiator than me, an agency will show me my place by ignoring my phone calls, messages, sweet nothings, angry everything, only to respond in the first instance a senior colleague writes to them. So much for me being the loyal client and insisting on going back to the damn agency.

Just when I think, I'm gold with not consuming carbs and processed food and refined sugar, I get pissed drunk and stoned and book a ticket to Pune. I eat crap for three solid meals for over three days and come back to eat at McDonald's because shit it's shutting down. WHATTODO?

First, I don't drop any inches or kilos for two fucking months and just when I feel that starts to happen, I start to binge eat again.

"How's the peanut chocolate? I didn't like the milk coated in rice crispies one. Oh, you don't want yours?" Fuck people distributing food in offices. That shit should have gotten over with celebrating birthdays in school and having pineapple cakes at birthdays. Those two things are legitimately stuff of past.

On a different note, I don't get people who bring back goodies from their vacation, to work. First, you get the privilege to fuck off for a while (lucky cow), then you return to rub it in everyone's face by distributing chocolate or some such to the entire fucking office because you had a gala time, while some of us were stuck in the office with people who believe are finding the cure to cancer.

That's HR's idea of no appraisal, but how about refined sugar and cocoa as vacation leftovers? You get something for being a good girl and sticking around all Summer. Did you see their pictures from Cancun? Oh, how stunning!

There's also not getting beef samosas, beef steak burger and patrani macchi, but I think a Facebook status was more than enough rant about turning my life into turd. I literally booked a return ticket to eat those things and got none of that. Instead, I drank calories in the form of a Thumps Up (which I could have done at home, thank you very much), battled body odour, and cringed at the idea of unclean bedsheets, a pet peeve I never let go since I found this friend's sibling and her boyfriend were having sex on the mattress they had lend me during a trip.

There's also my words here. I write about people and their behaviour towards me turns turd-like.

Instead of people being grateful that I'm immortalising their ridonkulously boring asses on my blog, there are those insufferable, arrogant bastards who look at me like I've infected them with AIDS. Well, if you think you're better, then make yourself better. You are literally a lot more pathetic than my words make you sound like. And, to be honest, writing about you is like doing charity. My right hand does not approve of what my left hand makes you sound like but a girl's gotta live. And write.

It's Friday and it's my writing night tonight. Time to burn bridges and turn gold into turd.

This has nothing whatsoever to do with my blog entry. I just wanted to brag that one out of my three friends think this qualifies as 'literature'.

"I think I should sleep now. I can see the sunrise.",

"Mm."

"It's beautiful."

"Take a picture for your Instagram."

"Not getting out of my bed."

"Mm. Yeah, you should. I gotta write as well. It's my writing night."

"What will you write about?"

"I have two things in mind but I won't write about either. I'll write some crap instead."

"Okay. Like this conversation?"

"Why would I write about this conversation? You don't read my blog. You have never read it."

"Yeah, but when you said crap, I thought you'd write about this."

"That's not the kind of--this isn't crap!"

"Uhuh."

"See, you and me...this conversation is like eating a Raj Kachodi. There's a lot of things going on. My blog is like (pauses) have you ever sat in Indian Railways?"

"What?"

"Indian train? Have you ever taken a ride? Like from Delhi to some place?"

"I can't hear you."

"Hello? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS WORLD?"

"Hello? I can't hear you."

"Hello? Can you hear me now?"

"Yeah, now I can."

"Have you ever travelled in Indian railways?"

"Um, no. I have never--oh wait, I did actually take the train to Banaras."

"So, do you remember eating this version of chana? Like Kaala Chana that they make for Kanjak?"

"No."

"They boil Kaala Chana and add chopped pyaaz, tamatar, hari mirch, and chutney and that's the world's most disgusting chaat."

"Oh, I've actually had it in Nainital. It's AMAZING!"

"Joon, what's wrong with you? That's the WORST kind of chaat there is. It's so bloody coarse. It's hardly a chaat."

"You're supposed to chew it!"

"It's disgusting. I hate it."

"I had it in Nainital. It's so good man! They put a lot of chaat masala, you're supposed to chew it like all other kinds of chaat."

"Yeah, not all chaat require chewing. A chaat should not get stuck in your throat. It should come to you, softly."

"No. But anyway, which ones don't?"

"Aloo tikki. It's so soft!"

"THAT IS MASHED POTATOES, OFCOURSE YOU DON'T NEED TO CHEW IT."

"You asked for an example."

"Yeah but it's not in the same league. Those potatoes are fried!"

"Are you telling me chana chaat is better than aloo tikki?"

"No way man. I said none of that. But it's mashed potatoes. You can't compare those two."

"Aloo tikki isn't coarse. That's how chaat is supposed to be."

"Fine. Okay. We can't do this."