Tuesday, October 02, 2012

Dis-Scented

"Boss, can you make this?"
"WTF chetta? Poda. endey? What is this? I make laboratory glassware, not romantic crap."
"Please! Please? =/"
"I MAKE BEAKERS! FLASKS! LABORATORY EQUIPMENTS! NOT THIS!"
"See I have made the base look like a measurement flask!"




"Fhakh off"
"You have great talent! You remember the way you got those tubes and connecting round flasks made for the plasma-ion sputtering experiment!? They were so curvy! and delicate. But you! you made that equipment possible. Those french guys were trying to sell it to us at 1700 Euros, you did it in 1700 Rs! You Sir are great!"
"Butter me how-much-ever you want, I am not doing this."
"So you can do this?"
"Yes, But I won't, now shoo."  
"My prof has assigned me a project that requires over 61,000 Rs of glassware."
"You beetch. When you want this romantic pot?"
"Now? Tomorrow? Day after tomorrow? as soon as possible?"
"You will get it this weekend. Bring the project's official tender when you come to pick this up. Or else I will smash it in front of you."
"=( OK."

He knew he could convince this glassmaker. That old bugger can make anything for money. Even Cinderella's original glass sandals.
He winced when that old bugger called it a romantic pot. WTF pot! It had a heart shape! and it was a bottle! A perfume bottle! For her. Wo bhi aisa vaisa perfume nahi! Homemade! Rather Labmade. Free access to almost any kinds of chemicals, yes ANY KIND, made his job easier. He had googled for : Contents + Perfume + Orchids + Chocolate + Chemical X and voila!
This endeavour of his was inspired partly by creativity and partly by destitution.
He knew she 'loved' him, but being the very possessive, jealous and egoistic kind; he wanted to neutralize every and any competition coming his way w.r.t to her. And her being HER, had a plethora of handsome, bade baap ke merc mein ghumnewale guys buzzing around. 
The stakes were high. His brain was now occupied by two things. The right hemisphere by her thoughts and the left by thoughts of completing his project on time. And where these two, sometimes conflicting thoughts met, the result was either a silent treatment, a tiny fight or a labmade perfume bottle as a gift for the coming valentine's day. (No, passionate lovemaking was still a long shot.)

* Post Valentine's day *

He didn't quite like her reaction after receiving THE BOTTLE. He expected a little more than just "Aww so cute! Thanks!" 
He thought, she probably didn't get the 'I MADE IT FOR YOU!' part correctly.
Her 'other' testosterone-ally charged friends had gifted her some awesome stuff. Pretty stuff. Expensive stuff.
But he did like the fact that she wore the perfume right away, and even the day after and so on.
He wondered about two things. One that the formula for making the scent turned out right, and hopefully it wouldn't give her rashes.. or skin cancer. And why the heck was she emptying the whole bottle. Shouldn't this labmade thing be kept for 'rare' and 'special' occasions? Whatever they might be.
She did not comment any thing more than... 'it smells nice.' He was expecting an over the top girly reaction, given the fact he almost blew his lungs off while 'manufacturing the scent.'

* The D day *

The right hand was tightly wrapped around his mouth. And the other cupping the back of his head forcing it down into the plastic drum filled with stagnant water. He was too weak to defend himself. But mustered all his strength to fight back. Few months of karate training was enough to get him out of this grid lock. He swung his arms, stamped his feet.

* A week before *

These hotshot guy friends of her's invited him for a hangout. Somewhere out of the city. She insisted that he should go with them as she said she sensed a mutual dislike amongst him and her friends. As the cliche goes, if your bf/gf asks you to stay away from your friends, leave him/her. He knew the cliche. But he wasn't asking that. He only wanted himself, not her to be distant from them. He told her, those guys and him were of different ecosystems. Cannot co-exist. She took an offence to that., Enter the silent treatment. So he had to go and 'hangout'.

* At the hangout *
They obviously tried to impose their lifestyle upon him. He declined. But when they got drunk, he got to know an awful lot about the 'relationship between these guys and her'. Not shocking, but approaching breakdown voltage. He left the conversation. 
During the week long out of the station hangout, one of her guy friends was very friendly towards him. Amiable, brotherly etc. He started liking his company. They didn't have much in common, except that both of them talked random nonsense and for an outsider, they looked like long time friends, though none were not even remotely close..


*3 Hours for the D day.*
They had a fight, not a wrestling fight, a verbal one. Where he listened and she yapped for a while and the vice versa. No abuses. Very childish fight.
He left the area of fight field and went for a walk along a monsoon river. An hour or so later he was joined by Mr. Amiable. Who apparently was searching for him. They walked and talked till Mr. Amiable took him behind a small shed to show him something. The shed looked dreadful. Smell of dried fish and what not. And lots of plastic barrels filled with water from the rains. You know the kind with algae, frog's kids and mosquito larvae.


* Post Hangout *
This amiable guy stared hanging around with him and her, quite often. Though he was her friend, but not a friend in FRIEND sense. Someone she was well acquainted with.. Given that this guy was  'his' acquaintance too, made a kind of triple bond between these three. One stronger, one weaker, but still a bond.
Fights happen. That make you search another shoulder to weep, than the one you usually run to. When the stronger bond weakens, the weaker bond strengthens. Amiable guy took her side. Stood by her side. Lend her his ears. She liked this guy, and trusted this guy, assuming that he was 'his' best friend. Every time they had a fight, she turned to Mr. Amiable. Smiles changed to Hi's, Hi's changed to Hugs. Hugs were accompanied with little pecks.. and subtle kisses. The weaker bond changed from that of an acquaintance to that of  'Just Friends.'
'He' didn't know about this, they were much 'discrete' around him.

* Back to the D Day *
He tried to stamp his feet on this guys toes.. inflicting pain. Wasn't enough. He tried again. Mr. Amiable suddenly switched hands and tighten the grip further. He noticed something. He was shocked. All his will to fight back gave away to fear, anxiety and sadness. He smelled something. It was her perfume. It was THE PERFUME. On this guy's' palm. 
His mind went into chaos and consequently into a blank state. His body gave away. He could fight no more.
He imagined everything what may have had happened between them. He closed his eyes. For the last time.

Mr. A threw the body in the river which flowed towards the dam. He pushed THE BOTTLE gently back into his pocket and gave a wicked smile. Saying to himself: 'That was easy. She is mine from now on.' 



Saturday, September 29, 2012

I've choked on my Lies.
Swallowed up my Greed.
And I'm suffering all alone in Misery.

Sunday, September 02, 2012

From being envious to being envied. (Not really)

Just when I thought I couldn't do any better in chick department other than ogling and mentally undressing them, my mind conjures up some unknown courage to do something different from this norm.
Here I am, who was still in midst of 'writing' a blog post on how short my life could turn out to be..
Being sh!t scared of how I may end up dead due to cancer. Every freakin moment filled with a weird kind of fear.
And then this happened.

Situation: Waiting room @ director's office of my institute.
People around: The 'peon' and a very sweet si rajasthani kudi.
So I enter the premises with a very weird look as usual. An old man's umbrella, age old trousers which was deteriorating, and a pair of chappals that would make any old man in his 80's proud.
And oh yea.. plastic ki thaili, ekdum typical.
All in all I was dressed to be killed. I could have replaced the peon. I was dressed more apt for that position.
Anyhoe. So as I entered the office, there was this girl. Pardon me. Sweet girl. *Blushes*
Okay Gay. -.-
She had everything that said: I am a high class, high end entity and I am not from this sh!tty institute of yours.
Which meant, mein usko dekhoonga bhi toh muzhe chatka lagega kind of a girl. She was a 'moderate' Xavier's college material. Studious but happening. Not those chotta chotta and phata phuta kapde vali.
At standard temperature and pressure, I wouldn't even be sitting besides her. I get repelled when an unknown hawt chick is in a close proximity. The thought that I may make her feel uncomfortable makes me uncomfortable. However ironic, its true.

Back to the situation. The director wasn't available in his office. So following my normal standard protocol, I left.
Then on my way out, this dude shows up, I ask for his time and he patronizingly asks me to wait.
As he walks in, this chick gets up.
[Detour: After watching a documentary on Discovery or Nat Geo, I don't remember which one was it, I have learned or mis-learned a thing about female pheromones. It said something like: If you sit near a girl, you 'catch' her pheromones, which makes you 'healthy'. If you sit on the same seat as she does, same effect. Very weird and creepy, but thats discovery channel, made by creeps and nerds, made for creeps and nerds.]
So following the pheromone-al exchange interaction, I went "Mmmm sweet pheromones" and leaped at that seat.
She sat besides me. DOUBLE PHEROMONES!
Standard norms dictate to shut up, and wait. Take out your cellphone and text random people to kill awkwardness and time.
This time however. I was like. Fhakh! What if my bio-clock is ticking faster than its supposed to be? Before I could process all such similar what ifs, I found myself conversing with her.

I remember travelling by a flight, watching a guy chatting up with a hawt chick(who is a stranger w.r.t him) for the total flight time. And not a one way talking, a thorough conversation. That envied me. How the freakity fhakh can he just 'Talk!?'
May be cause I was trained to talk more with computers in C++ and Python and less with people in English.
But here I was on a roll! So much so that the peon thought, that we two were 'bf-gf'.
Also it didn't end there. We even had a little snack together, walked together.. etc etc.
*Enters blush mode*
I am still digesting the strangeness (w.r.t me) of this situation.
Something similar was tried with another chick who happened to be my friend's friend.
I found my guy friends were envious of me for pulling such an endeavor off.
Though the driving force to all this was "Fhakh I may die soon. Fhakh everything, I am gonna live it off", which was sad.

Saturday, September 01, 2012

The Silent Clock

Death.

How many among us actually take this fact of life under consideration when you plan your schedule?
Not in literal terms though:
8 AM - Wakey Wakey
11 AM Brunch
1 PM Meeting with clients.
3 PM Dead.

When someone dies, the ones most affected by their death become briliant philosophers. Spending time with them makes your brain reconsider the outlook that you have about your life, your future, your plans.

There are various ways to die. This post isn't about those where people commit suicide or get murdered by other human beings. This one is about those where one gets murdered silently, by their own body. Cancer.

There may be so many amongst us who have went through a time where they have seen their near (not necessarily dear) ones murdered in this way (I happened to witness something similar recently, hence this post). But your mind has this preconceived notion of "This won't happen to me."
Death around you makes you rethink. I have 're-thought'. Getting this blog back online was one of those many consequences of such re-thinking.
The first concern is oneself. I have suddenly become a hypochondriac. Searching and scrutinizing every scar, mole and lump on my body. I have found a few which makes me nervous and dizzy. Is it just me or does anyone feel like you have every symptome/sign that defines a particular illness, when you read more and more about that disease online?
Wiki: The 'blah blah blah' cancer has 'blah blah blah' signs.
Me: I have noticed that...
Wiki: The mole looks like 'blah blah' and 'blah blah'.
Me: *checks* Oh FhAkH!
State of depression and anxiety begins.

'Lesions' on my skin justifying their existence.

Given that this blogpost was written during such a state, it may be removed from the blog in future.
This state of anxiety is a pretty bad thing. Your body is continuously indecisive about its decision to throw up. One feels a loss of energy from almost every part of the body (interestingly not from *that* part). There seems like someone has set a bonfire ablaze in my stomach. Ek pura antacid ka pack kaccha chaba dala.

As a part of this anxiety, I wonder some stuff "posthumously". Who would genuinely be sad after you are dead etc.
Interestingly enough,  I could not think of anyone other than few people. Bhencho hitler margaya tha tab isse jyada log dukhi hue thay.
But I do know that there are many who are of  "I don't care, if he drops dead." type.
In the end, I guess there are too many of these type. And I wonder how much time does one wastes in pleasing these "IDC" types. One ends up worrying about what would these 'IDC' types think if I do this and if I do that.

Whoever said "Time is Money." is an ultra capitalist A-Hole. That person took the most precious thing in this cosmos and equated it with the most materialistic man-made crap.

I am being so freaking weird, in this state that yesterday night, I deleted my browser history 'just in case' I do not 'wake up' tomorrow. =/
It irks me when I hear anyone plan for 'future'.

Too many people dying around me, sh!tty stuff going around me for almost one year. Miserable times. Mere dimag ka bharta ho rela hai.

Cerebral cortex, bhai ab tu hi kuch kar. Jaldi kar and hope ki the clock isn't ticking faster than it should.

Sunday, August 26, 2012

The Huggables

I (like most tharki guys) may have thought of and conjured up zillions of words to represent certain types of girls in general. Its mostly in the terms of how she looks or what that guy (me?) is doing to her in his mind..
Hawt Girl. Sexy Chick? Item!
'Saali kitni cute hai ye'
'Yeh toh malai hai malai'
'Yaar ye toh maal hai! Chaba jaun saali ko mein'
(Too dirty?)
Anyhow, you get the point.

But there is one 'section' of chicks who do not get enough mind-time that they deserve in the sleazy heads of the guys (like me). I shall hereby call them as The Huggables.
There are Fhakables.. Masturbatables. etc. (More on these sometime in future). But very often you come across a huggable. She treads on a very blur boundary of being sisterly and a cute chick. She is not someone you would think of even in your fantasy. She is someone who wears clothes more for comfort and less for them being 'in fashion'. She never ever dresses to attract guys. "How do I look?" does not belong to her vocab. But mind you she is well groomed. Kohl or kajal is probably the max amount of 'make up' she puts on her face. She ain't no nerd. Those homly leggings and a top that is usually a T-Shirt, which is a full sleeve T, with a color as dull as grey. No skin. No attempt is made to glorify her b00bage. But the T marks her curves, not sexily.. but 'cutely'.
This keeps her camouflaged very well amongst the crowd. 
But if you scan that crowd patiently. Screening out all those wannabe hoes and sluts, you may spot her. She is sometimes seen alone, with a book. Or accompanying a couple. The chick in that 'couple' has probably dragged this huggable out of her room to go for a movie or such.
If you are a guy, your pee pee may go 'WTF bhencho? Isko kya dekh raha hai" when you first see her.
But wait. Patience is everything when it comes to 'The Huggables'.
The short hair. That subtly coy demeanour. That reluctance of being 'there'. Its more about her personality and her 'aura'(?) that slowly gets you.
And then your mind  suddenly goes..
I JUST WANNA HUG YOU! HUG ME GOD DAMN IT! YOU ARE SO FREAKIN HUGGABLE.
Kuch na kar bas ek tight si long lasting, 6 mahine guarantee wali jhappi de de. ='(


End of Story.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Versus

Gola vs. Coca Cola
Cutting Chai vs. Vodka Shots
Nariyal Pani vs. Cocktail

Kanda Bhaji vs. Nuggets

Vada Pav vs. MacD Burger
(All pics are 'stolen' from google images, credits to virginal authors)























                                                                   
                    But it really was just  Me vs. Her.


Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Hazaron Khwaishein Aisi Waisi

Become a Dj.
Get a BJ.
Own a porn library. Soft porn only.
Make a professional HD porn movie.
Act in a porn movie.
Attain orgasm to an erotic video/story just by watching/reading it. No touchy touchy.
Get a BJ by a chick who is 17 years 11 months 29 days 23 hours and 59 minutes old.
Watch porn video with a chick, just to check out her expressions. Especially the "Eww" one.
Keep the loo door open while I poop when the house is filled with guests/relatives and scream "FREEDOM" at the top of my voice and shut the door immediately.
Organize an exclusive party/event (free booze, free food and all that) in a physics department where the hottest women in the town are invited to mingle with geeks while grooving to the music played live by one of the best DJs in the world. No outside guys allowed.
Steal a stud's GF.
Learn to sketch. Really well. So well that a hawt gal requests (begs?) to be sketched by me.
Pet atleast 3 cats and converse with them in meow language for atleast one hour.
Make multiple cat videos and upload them on youtube.
Change atleast 0.0001% about this world.
Flirt with a girl successfully in front of her BF where he cannot comprehend whats going on while she enjoys and even participates in the flirtations.
Make talking about science sexy instead of geeky/nerdy.
Forget some people, some things thoroughly.
Record a song (instrumental?)
Write short stories.
Write short erotic stories.

More disturbing khwaishein shall be jotted down in a future blogpost that will be titled:
'Hazaron khwaishein chi kaisi kaisi.'

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Skills attained courtesy of travelling in Mumbai local trains.


  • Ability to sit on one of your butt cheek. Coz the seat meant for three people can accommodate another butt cheek if not two. 
  • Ability  to sleep soundly, in the above mentioned position.
  • Ability to fall asleep soundly in the aforementioned position with a dehati indian folk music band playing rather screaming at full intensity, right besides me.
  • Ability to sleep irrespective of my body's stature.
  • Ogle at and gather enough data for future analysis about chicks standing on railway platforms while hanging on the door with the train travelling at about 50 kmph  (Average speed).
  • Ogle at and gather enough data for future analysis about chicks through the crack in the barrier separating the men and the women's compartments.
  • Staying straight in orientation even after being touched and squeezed by the people of same gender from every side.
  • Squeeze in and out of tiny spaces like a cat.
  • Revise board exam syllabus in a chaotic environment.
  • Complete journals in a similar environment.
  • Discuss about out of the world science, politics and other high-fundo topics with friends while the onlookers watch us with a WTF face.
  • Playing pakda pakdi with the TC, and winning 9 out of 10 times. Though he fines me for those 9 times as well.
  • Learned to breathe efficiently.

Peechvade mein dum!

Nautanki karneka dum.

I happen to ask  (beg?) a really pretty girl, at one of the goa beaches if I could take a snap of her remarkably dark  pearl shaped pretty eyes.
Constraint in this event: Her bulky, thug-like bf.
Reason provided: I like to 'sketch' pretty eyes.
Her primary response: She smiled. A wondering.. creeped out, WTFed smile.
Her bulky bf's response: He went into a 'Kaun be tu bhencho?' mode. And made a face apt for such a mode.
This made me reconsider my question's target recipient. So I turned to her bulky-bf and asked his permission. Taking the stance further, I asked him to take the snap (using my camera) and give it to me.
Sensing the burden of responsibility, he calmly and generously directed the control of the decision back to the pretty girl.

She politely declined my 'request' with a 'Get the fcuk outta my face you creep!' smile.

Apparently to appreciate and record anything beautiful, one needs to be equivalently good looking/bulky and must posses a DSLR camera, not a cell phone camera.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

You shall find..
Another shoulder to cry on
Another life to pry on
Another boulder to stumble upon
Another lie to play a con
Another body to turn you on
Another mind to leech
Another heart to love
Another skin to lust
Another soul to trust
But never a friend to depend upon.

Game on. Toh Videocon! =/

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Seduction of Deduction.


Given: Three chicks (for those who get offended by this reference, 'girls') grabbing a bite at a food court in a city mall. You do not have any data about them except that you take a flyby look at them from a non-creepy distance. What you do is to involve in more creepy/stalkerish behaviour and wait for them to leave. Now at your disposal is a the following photographic image. 

Initiating Holmes mode....
To an untrained mind, i.e a mind which isn't horny and which isn't thinking about the other gender almost 24 x 7, the following photographic information may look mundane.

But to the mind which has no access to women apart from those on-screen and those in his mind; and for someone who has touched more gadgets than women, this reminiscent eatery articles are like a brainstorm. Looking at these glasses is like looking at those chicks (again: girls), talking to them for atleast sometime in the mind. Imaginary acquaintance of sort. Thats a low order derivative of having an imaginary friend. 

Lets first sort the important points or sets of interest in this pictographic imagery.


1. The Contents: The glass was filled with a shake. Chocolate. Chocolate vanilla or even 'chiku' shake.  It was more of a "eating" food item than drinkable. This conclusion was based on the existence of spoon, rather than a straw. The food item was possibly something paste-y.

2. The Girl: She is probably, most homely kind of girl. Likes to live for comfort, than for fashion. Not a wannabe. She loves what she has ordered. Or she has accidentally have discovered this food item today. Nonetheless she has consumed it with delight. Nothing at all remains in the glass. This girl is kind of a 'huggable'. On the cute side of the girl spectrum. May be a bit chubby. But that isn't important.
She is someone whom you can trust very easily. She may not be trust worthy, but she definitely has the "Hey! I am friendly, trust me aura around her." She is carefree not careless. Possibly studious. High probability of her not having a boyfriend.
Relationship with the society: Moderately gullible.

3. Eatable item. Most probably a sandwich. Could not be a cake, since cakes cannot be eaten with tomato sauce. Unless ofcourse that these girls do not belong to human species. High probability that whatever that was in the dish was shared. May be not by all. But atleast the chocoshake girl and the mocktail girl. Not enough data to proceed on personal level.

6. The Contents: Mocktail. Lime wedge. Blue colored liquid (partially consumed). And Ice. -.-
7. The Girl: Fashionable. Trendy. Hangout most of the day. Possibly cannot go to a bar, coz of her age? Simulating a bar like drink in a mall like environment. Could be a wannabe. Has a dominant say in any argument. Dominance not intellectual, only cultural. Likes to experiment. Sometimes over the limit. Leaves things unfinished. Most experiments end up in failures. She is not at all bothered by those failures. Could be further extended to the story of her life. She chose a guy, then dumped him. Didn't really gave a damn what he did for her. Also she is probably the one who shared that eatable from the dish.
Relationship with the society: Highly rebellious.

4. The Contents: Another kind of chocoshake-ish thing. Unfinished.
5. The Girl: Stuck in the middle of the spectrum. Wannabe-ish, but her "being herself" is pulling her back to the ground. She is one bar visit away from being the mocktail girl and one "sleepover for studies" away from the chocogirl. She is usually stuck in immense confusion. To do AND not to do.
May have a guy who likes her, but she likes someone else. Being herself doesnt get her that someone else. Hence the wannabe transition. She probably didn't have any of that eatable from the dish.
Relationship with the society: Lives for the sake of living.

8,9: Sauce sachet is squeezed to the extreme. Whatever that was in the dish was extremely tasty with the sauce. They do not trust each other. No one had the bigger heart to fetch some more sauce from the counter. Or they all are god damn lazy beetches. Tissue paper has been used and reopened or have just been fondled with. Lot of intrinsic thinking was going on in the conversation. These ladies weren't comfortable with each others company.

End of Deduction.

Note: Everything written above is based on utter nonsense. I do not posses any skills to deduce. If any of this comes true, its sheer chance. Probability makes everyone dance.

Wednesday, May 09, 2012

iMe

Me is I.
Me is also the other I.
One I is adorable, yes it is. It is kind. Its loyal. Its caring. Its amiable. Sometimes lovable. 
The Other I is a betrayer. A cheat. A borderline pedophile. A sick lustful bastard.
Me tries hard to suppress the Other I. But it is opportunistic. It takes over.
One cares. The Other brings those whom Me likes to tears.
Me is afraid. That the Other I is going to stay with him till he's dead.
Death. A solution?
But what did the adorable I do wrong? Why should it die?
There is another way. To not hurt. And not get hurt.
Stay away from civilization. Far far away. 
Alone is good. Alone protects Me. And everyone else.
From the Other I.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Babble Babble Bitch Bitch

For over a month or so I have written multiple blog posts only to be shoved in the draft zone. Why? Coz most are filled with exponentially sadistic connotations, boundless hatred, pointless 'affection', retarded expectations etc etc... This is one such 'back from the draft' blog post. Given that most of this blog's followers are women, I am self-assured that I shall lose them after they read this blog post. But meh...
Anyhoe, lets talk about b!tches and b!tching as a process.
Who exactly qualifies as a b!tch? I mean, your encounter with such a person, would make you automatically utter something like " WHAADDAA B!TCH!" post encounter.
Certain traits a person displays makes them bitchy..
And no being a b!tch ain't gender specific. There are 'guy-bitches' too.. So wherever I address "her" its "him/her". And many women refer other women as 'Bitch', 'Slut', 'Whore'  and other not so cool slangs at much higher number density and intensity than any guy ever would.

Note:  Kindly do not bullshit about the " Respect women" or " Your mom is a woman"  crap. Give respect, take respect. The women who don't deserve to be moms are b!tches. Definitely, no ones a born b!tch, most become so due to circumstances, some are groomed to be so. Others are told to be so while most CHOOSE to be so. This particular post is about those " B!tch by choice".

Sophisticated B!tch: Lives in a third world country with a first world lifestyle and whines about her first world problems. A LOT. Someone who has an ipad, iphone, and every other apple device may vaguely fall into this category.

Reciprocative B!tch: Is bitchy coz someone else is/was bitchy to her.

Friendly B!tch: Befriends for the sole purpose of being b!tchy to them.

Replicative B!tch: Anyone that stays around her for more than a critical time, ends up like her. Issiliye apne mummy ka suno, and choose your company/friends wisely.

Non-Apologetic-B!tch: One who is proud of her dumbness-cum-b!tchiness and flaunts it like a prized possession. Knowledge from any source apart from that obtained from conspiracy theories is treated as questionable by her. She has a hard time believing in gravity but believes in ghosts sightings quite easily. Example: A Fox News / India TV anchor.

Pretty girl's b!tch: She bitches nonsensical made up crap to her girl-friend(s), about that girl's bf and eventually derails their relationship. A typical home wrecker and a consistent gossip queen.

Argumentative b!tch: Argues about anything and everything.

Sugar coated B!tch: She is a bitch at the core. Sugar coated with sweetness of friendship or some other ship. You are lured into her clutches as she makes you slowly suck on the sugar coating. And when you are so comfortable around her, she unleashes her bitch-grenade on you. And you have no time to regroup, resulting in your collapse.

Toggle B!tch: Changes sides/parties according to her selfish gains. But she does it so skillfully, that none of those sides know.

Sarcastic B!tch: Cannot have a conversation without inserting a sarcastic remark followed by a self-appreciating giggle and distinctive "rolls eyes". When you are discussing something over an email/chat, she would fill it in with sentences followed by sarcastic =) and :D

B!tch of Honor: Was a bitch in her prime time. Now she passes her bitchiness to those naive people...who take her advice on day to day issues on how to deal with their lame lives.. World War III would start right away if she is made president of some country.. even as tiny as Maldives.

2012 b!tch: She totally wants the world to end every freakin living moment of her life.

Hurtful B!tch: Would come back to you, with some stuff for the SOLE reason of hurting you.  Eg:   Me: Hi, long time no see. How have you been?   Her: Nothing much, Got a bf and a cool job, so things are looking good, and he is rich and owns a gym .. ;)  Me: Er.. OK.
Sharing irrelevant information, out of the blue in a pretty non-personal conversation is 'hurtful'.

Hypocritical B!tch: One who spreads "awareness" by emails and facebook status messages about "Why not to burn firecrackers on Diwali"  but does something very similar on new years. One who holds campaigns on global warming, but takes a ride in her merc E class even to the nearest grocery store. One who applies tons of make up throughout the year but brings the heavens down if even a lil bit of holi color gets on her cheeks.

Spatial B!tch: Her bitchiness is region dependent and/or domain dependent. Like bitchy in Delhi, goodie goodie in Bombay. She is someone who dresses up in a burkha at home and something resembling to lingerie at 'some place' else.

Temporal B!tch: Good girl in general, but turns bitchy for a while, probably coz its her time of the month. She mostly regrets her bitchiness after a while.

Know-it-all B!tch: She puts everyone and everything beneath her. Her statements often contain terms like " You wish " " You think " " Whatever ".

Blame-it-all-on-you B!tch: Everything wrong in and around her life is your fault. A typical conversation with her would contain stuff like:
"I know I did that BUT YOU..."
"I am sorry if you think like that, but.."

Wannabe B!tch: Self explanatory.

Spoiler B!tch: One who ruins everything fun and adventurous. She loves to gather attention by not doing something that the whole group in which she unfortunately belongs to, wants to do. She is fluttered around by guys from that group who end up sulking upto her and  into her "not fun" attitude. Dismantling of a nice outgoing group is her subconscious objective. She mostly comes in form of someone's girl friend or some friend's friend.

Drench in French B!tch: One who inserts unwanted French words in a simple English conversation. Makes that English sentence undergo a short spasmodic heart ache outta no where.

Confused B!tch: She is kind to people who are bitchy to her and bitchy to those who are kind to her. She is someone who has an "I don't care" attitude towards the people who care about her and "Thank you its so nice of you" attitude towards those who don't give a sh!t about her.

Ultra B!tch: This is it. She is the superposition of all the above bitch types. She knows when to execute the appropriate type of bitchiness for her pleasure. It requires special skills to exhibit this kind of bitchiness. Women with highly traumatized life end up either being a mother Teresa or an Ultra Bitch.

And for those who do not agree to the above types, all I wanna say is:

35bp94

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Tu Kaaun Hai..

She is a part of that clouded dream. She is someone who is impossible to get, even in your dreams. Someone who just lingers there, mysteriously, not letting you know who she is. Mischievously. Any attempts made to access her in the dream results in waking up. Breathless. The heart wants her to have a face. The brain finds this mysterious play much more fun and wants to keep it that way.  

A$$less kudi! Ab toh Palat...

Friday, January 13, 2012

That Known Stranger

Pondering over her broken relationship, there she was, sitting on hard concrete at the side of queen’s necklace staring blankly at the Malabar Hill skyline.‘What went wrong? Why did he choose her over me? Was I not good enuff for him?’ She blamed herself. She blamed him. She blamed the other girl. These multitude of emotions, in form of pearl shaped teardrops trickled down her rosy cheeks.
The warm southwestern breeze that blew over Mumbai’s neckline ..marine drive, every evening, was flowing over hers, comforting her.. like a guardian, wiping those tears off her face, guiding them towards the clouds. Immortalizing them.



                                 
“Hey!” She heard someone call. She didn’t turn around. She was too immersed in her own thoughts.The voice didn’t give up.. got nearer.. “Hey you!”
She felt someone poking gently on her back. That single touch reminded her of 'him' all over again. All those thoughts clouding her mind. Her heart expected it to be 'him'. She turned around.. not realizing that her eyes were still filled with sadness.. tears…
It wasn’t him.
“Hey! Shivangi!.. Whoaa! Dude you okay there? Or did I bother you amidst of admiring the beauty of marine drive a bit too much? Like a true poet that you are!”
She managed a questioning smile. She couldn’t really recognize who he was, though he seem to recognize her pretty well.
She was here to have some privacy, away from her friends, family..trying to find solace amongst the crowd. Interestingly, she felt an unknown comfort with this ‘known stranger'. Though ‘leave me alone’ would have been her first response to any human contact, deeply within.. she knew she yearned for it.
“You know what, wait here.. I will be back in a few. OK?” He ran away from her with his back pack  in his hand, towards the streets.
He was already on the other side of the road, before she could nod a ‘yes’.. or for that matter respond anything at all.
She had lost herself again in her thoughts.. but this time facing towards the traffic, her thoughts passing in her mind.. like the cars passing her field of vision.
She looked across the streets. Blankly. Didn’t even notice when he got back.
“Hey missy!” He poked her again, this time it felt plastic. It was plastic. A bottle of drinking water and.. “A chocolate cake?!” She exclaimed. He smiled contently and nodded.. This was the first thing she had uttered throughout this ‘meet’.
“Water.. to rehydrate your tear glands, and chocolate to.. well you don’t really require a reason to eat chocolate do ya now!”  Grinning happily, he placed both the bottle and the cake besides her.
She was confused, her mind doing a sinusoidal breakdance. Her eyes being glued to the cake. There were memories, awful lot of them related to chocolate cakes, which triggered another mind storm of emotions. She resisted this time, holding back her tears and looked up, to thank him.
He was gone.
She couldn’t hold back any more... She teared up. But this time she was comforted, not just by the breeze but by this weird gesture of some ‘Known Stranger’...


Meanwhile in the mind of that ‘Known stranger’:

”Sale paisa kya tere baap ke pass jyada hoyela hai kya.. chala ladkiyon ko cake khilane.. Usne toh sale tuzhe ‘Thanks’ bhi nahi bola.. Cake fhekh diya hoga  Arabian sea mein. Pura deen se bhukha tu tha..aur cake diya usko.. Logic ki barabar se ma behen lagake aya. Shabaash!”

Thursday, January 12, 2012

An open letter to my liver from a gf-ish friend

 
                                          liver_hepatitis_a
Hey xyzandme’s .. uff D's liver ,
                  I'd like you to know that you are causing too much of a problem with your unnecessary imbalances and inappropriate behavior. This guy that you reside in needs to get back to his business and kick some Chinese ass and do something really smart with the unique properties of ferrofluids which he is going to tell me about later. He needs to be able to stand in the lab for way more than 5 minutes and get back to Kerala very berry soon to the land of narials but no naris :p
Also he wants to be able to drink and have sex (An opportunity which will come when it will come.. but still). So get rid of that hepatitis A virus too… Please .
He also wants to make his own hukka and get a marine drive overdose and also do something so big one day that his picture on some science journal says 'de-virginize me' to all the ladies out there .
So with all this awaiting in his future I think he would need a strong liver and body so help him with it okay. This is one special cookie …help him get well soon .

Ps : Your neighbor i.e Mr.Heart is also having a few problems, if its not too much to ask please look into that too :)
Note to D : I spent 5 minutes on this don't say that this is so gfish etc . Its just a friend, lamely attempting to make you smile.  So don't mind  :D
 
Yours Sincerely
Lucky accident/stalker/gfish vibe giving, hopefully longtime friend.