Tag Archives: attempt at humor

Of ‘beautious’ cows and other stars

So I was called a cow. No not in a fit of anger but rather in a fit of mush.

Whattheyy! you say?Exactly my reaction.

You see the Boy thinks cows are a charming lot of animals- so calm, gentle, beautiful, fair (oh, lets not even go into the indian fixation with fair skin here) and ehhmm sexy because lets face it they have big racks!!!


The other day I was on a company sponsored SAP event at Taj Land’s End where another department of the company was holding a Saif-Deepika meet and greet event.  SAP vs Saifu? Apples and oranges, more like Chocolate and brocolli.

So with strategically timed washroom breaks a colleague and me hovered around the balcony to wait for the stars to appear. Finally after much waiting and much eves dropping on a skinny-ad agency type talking on phone.Saif appears and I was stunned to say the least. To know where I was coming from let me remind you of a time when I had blown kisses at the screen whenever he appeared in Race.

Well what I saw was this. (there is only so much a 2mpx cell phone camera can do,okay? )Image0010

You see that flash of white flesh between the two men, thats him! So Saif’s frighteningly pale, not really a strapping 6 footer and I-hate-to-say-this but balding. A thousand schoolgirl fantasies died inside me that day. Kareena can have him..huh!

Oh yeah I saw Deepika too. She is tall, thin and beautiful in real life too.


I have to come out on one thing here. It punctures all my fake posh-ness when it comes to reading but here it goes. I have read all..four ..of Chetan Bhagats books. There I did it.

Yes i bought the latest one-2 states on the weekend it released. It hurt my fake snobbery so much that I bought an Orhan Pamuk to hide it. And I read it on the plane journey back and chuckled all the way at the stereotypes which do unfortunately hold true to this day.

There is a line in the book when the depressed hero turns a workaholic and his boss finds his dedication impressive and says “Citibank sees a bright future in you” or something in those lines and the hero thinks how  Citibank seeing a bright future in him translates into him having no life.

May be this is what makes Bhagat top the bestseller list within a day of release. He hits the nail on the head.

PS: May the festival of lights bring you loads of luck and happiness.

Its not Diwali here because one is no longer in Dilli.

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Posted by on October 17, 2009 in Uncategorized


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A post so random that I cant think of a title.

I have a cold so nasty and resulting in so much sneezing they can’t sleep in Norway.See am not a delicate sneezer, am not an achoo, am an ACHOOOO (with Dolby sound effects) and I often don’t stop after one, ten or fifteen. In fact the longest my friends had the patience to count they went till twenty nine. You see I have a deviated septum and a nasal allergy as well, making me react to even dust particles or microbes minding their own business in the country of Ivory Coast. All of which makes my survival in India a miracle by itself.


I am also eating hot maggi right now. The third time this week. What can I say, I am addicted to it (or the wax in it as per some “reliable” forwards). It is every hostelite’s soul food. There was this one day Khush and I had hunger pangs at 12 in the night and the night canteen was closed. Khush had a packet of ready to cook pasta. We begged and borrowed a kettle (after groveling and promising that yes we will clean it before returning, there will be no yellow/any other colored stains on it, no we will not drop water on the circuitry) and got ready to make the pasta.

Soon the room was filled with delicious pasta smell and we understood the term pet main chuhe naach rahe hain. Finally both of us put the piping hot pasta in our mouths. Useless rubbish is a term we understood next. Also we proved successfully there does exist items in this world that you may not want to eat even if you are dying of hunger.

God we missed maggi that day.


To the ladies, have you ever seen yourself in totally new light at a beauty parlour?I mean apart from the harsh tube light and thousand mirrors which amplify every cellulite packet. I observed a gradient of skin tones on myself. For example my arms and legs don’t match. They seem like they belong to two different individuals. My arms are thin and dark. My legs are fair and plump. And they are not like uniformly dark or fair. My arms are DARK till elbows (I wear half sleeves all the time) and then one gradient less till half way up till shoulder and then another shade till the shoulder and then another shade beyond. The man who sang “Wear sunscreen” knew what he was talking about.

Beauty parlors are great place for picking up random conversations. Nothing brings out the honesty like wearing the parlour maxi and showing your respective Anil Kapoor ka vardaan.


Today I am going to a multiplex after what seems forever. I am so kicked about it I have posted the information on twitter and FB. Its Angels and them demons, and I have made it a point to reveal the ending to my entire social circle. If you don’t know the ending yet, I have 3 words for you- “Pope’s illegitimate son”



Posted by on June 13, 2009 in Uncategorized


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I am reading Eat.Pray.Love by Elizabeth Gilbert though the focus of my life at present seems to be consumption of food like its going out of fashion. Last Sunday at a lunch with friends I was meeting after a long time, I ate so much I felt the need to be physically lifted and carried to a waiting auto. Right now as I type this, 3 slices of Dominoes best are doing a merry dance with a glass of Coca Cola in my stomach. (As soon as I hit publish button FF people will banish me from their group)

Weekend was much fun. I discovered Irla market in Andheri and went berserk shopping. Now I have a pair of shoes for 300 bucks which look exactly like my 1k+ Catwalk pair, but in a different color. Of course I can never ever take them off at someone’s door or temple etc because the underfeet area displays the brand name proudly as “Naicy Collection”.

Also Mumbai is on fire. I mean yes I lived in Delhi for 18 years and then in Kochi for another 4 so don’t tell me about any inability to bear the suns rays. But Mumbai makes this superb combination of humidity and sun that you just want to attach an AC on your head and roam around. And to get squished in that weather in a local. When you like a fool are dressed in black full sleeved layered top, jeans and sneakers can make you bid good bye to your senses very quickly. (Why I was dressed like that? Apart from trying to put together a hip hop look, yeah baaarfff…I assumed the entire country has Bangalorean weather).

4 weeks of aerobics later I hop onto the weighing scales to find surprise …I weigh exactly the same as I have done for the past 5 months. Which if I were the count-your-blessings type of personality should have me jumping at the thought of pizza slices and chocolate brownies that have not shown up yet. But me being me I was upset at all the hard work of slapping people dancing nearby and having my toes trampled by other newbies coming to a naught. I have no clue how to remove this plateau in weight loss and it’s bugging. It’s not like I am replacing them fat cells with lean muscles. Muffin top will soon apply for naturalization finishing 5 years of residence on the waist.

I am total celeb junkie. Like last week I bought a gossip mag because the cover said “Dino deceived me-Kelly Dorji finally speaks”. When I called up my friend Sur to pass on Kelly’s inner most thoughts ( as told to Stardust), all she said was Kelly who. Hmph!

Then again who can be stupid enough to buy 3 books at the airport book store? Who else but
So I have Eat,Pray, Love and The case of exploding mangoes( a Indo-Pak thriller, lets see how that plays out) and The Tipping Point by Prof. Obvious Malcolm Gladwell. Why do I keep falling for his pseudo scientific analysis?


Posted by on April 9, 2009 in Uncategorized


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Just another blog post.

Just to spite me, IA whose employee average age was cause of much mirth here had a young good looking steward on the return flight and palatable food and “Sorry Bhai” as on air movie.(Except the movie everything was what we call in good ol’ marketing jargon as going beyond customer expectation-delighting the customer or rather one tight slap on stupid web-vilifying blogger’s face).

Shhobbhha De(previously Shobha De) had two interesting posts on apni Behenji on her blog. She says scratch the surface of our (read educated class) apparent repulsion of the BSP leader and it comes down to the fact that all of us picture her next to Carla Bruni and go “Aiyyo, what will Sarko think!” .

Saw Confessions of shopaholic and had to stop the movie 10 minutes later. This from me the 3 time Raja ki aayegi baraat watcher should be indicative of

1) how bad the movie is

2) my evolving taste in matters of mass media

Speaking of classy fares on mass media, what’s with the girls on MTV?? Do you have to have a truck drivers vocab to be on them reality shows. Have you seen that Roadies female go last week? I mean woman your on TV! And Splitsvilla continues to remain the zenith of tasteful programming week after week.

On sidenote at IGIA I spotted Raghu (of Roadies).It could have been his twin Rajeev also. Well there you have me at my celebrity spotting best. This when we were standing in parallel lines for IA (me, sob!) and KF(him).

In one of those mother-daughter bonding moments we both have arrived at the ideal guy for me. He should look like this.


And have an IIM degree. And be from my caste. And should be caring. And loving. And charming. And kind.And rich obviously. (If he were all this why would he marry me? I asked. Did not get an answer.) Good luck with that, you smirk. Well the boy thinks he is all that and more. My, my whatay sense of humor he has, my boy.

Update 1: Through the comments I am guessing people think this may be my guy.He iss not!!He is just a model on the cover of HT supplement Brunch.According to Mamma my guy “should” look like this. My guy just thinks he looks better 😛


Posted by on April 1, 2009 in Uncategorized


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Why so serious?

So some serious posts were written and the publish button was pressed. The 3 faithful readers who came to time pass here also scurried away. Since inception the official stand of this blog has been “I write for myself and I write what is important to me. I do not care what anyone thinks. And I am above number of page views and number of comments.” Obviously increasingly I suspect this vision has come true and I am the only one reading this blog.


Remember how I had joined the gym to lose the kilos? Well I didn’t lose them. Maybe it has something to do with the fact I had only joined the gym and rarely bestowed my presence inside the gym. Or maybe something with the fact the days I did go in, I cheated by doing 2 reps of 12 ab crunches than 2 reps of 15 ab crunches. The instructor never commented. After all it was my gut hanging out not his. Or it could also be that after 20 minutes on treadmill I would saunter out to the Sweet Chariot/Baskin Robbins stall and proceed to stuff my mouth with rewards for my diligence in sweating it out.

So in an effort to find something more interesting than watching oneself in full length mirror and from different angles huff and puff on a treadmill I joined aerobics. Dance aerobics to be precise. This was a major risk considering Sunny Deol and your truly were given equal amounts of grace and skills when it comes to shaking the booty. In the first class as everyone else moved to precision and the instructor twisted his body into strange steps at alarming speeds and rhythm I was randomly throwing my hands and feet around to match them and in the process almost ended up slapping and stamping on the poor fellow next to me. If you thought the embarrassment would have stopped me from further visits you should have asked instead about the new muscles which my body generated over night for the sole purpose of causing me agony through constant ache and how much effort it took for morning ablutions the next day. But with a will as unshakable as Mayawati is to become India’s next PrimeMinister I found myself paying for a 3 month membership. Today as we were cooling down and the man asked us to twist ourselves into various imitations of a pretzel the song that wafted in through the speakers was “Sau dard hain..sau rahtein..” Coincidence?


As I was climbing up the stairs while coming home today, the neighbour was carrying her cute, tiny baby around. In a fit of never seen before neighbourly affection (more because the baby was truly the big eyed choo chweet variety) I proceeded to make random faces at the baby. Although he was clearly too small to understand any kind of language, my neighbour proceeded to teach him “Aunty ko hi bolo”. Aunty! Aunty hogi teri…wait a sec. I am 24 years older than that kid. Auntyhood has arrived. Truly and completely.


Posted by on March 17, 2009 in Uncategorized


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Anon quote of the day

The financial situation at the moment is so bad that women are now marrying for love

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Posted by on November 20, 2008 in Uncategorized



The 3 words a woman really wants a man to tell her..

You lost weight


Posted by on October 1, 2008 in Uncategorized