Monday, 31 October 2011


So yes, I do remember the first time I wore a bra. A simple white cotton bra that my mother bought for me and the tag said that it was by GROVERSONS. I controlled the embarrassing blush that was making my face go real Red as my mother made me wear them and scanned me down. She nodded in approval and made me look at my new supported little bumps on the mirror. This was followed by a series of laughter which my mother started and passed on to me like an infection. 

I don’t know how you take it but during my entire school life, it was my Mother who bought me the perfect lingerie. Always cotton and always plain colours because she believed in comfort. Who was I to complain? I, my Father and my brother would be happily relishing a cone of ice-cream outside the lingerie shop, while my mother was inside buying me inner wears.

But now I am in College and since 4 yrs I have been deciding and buying lingerie for me. It was hard for my mother to accept and she still wonders why I want different colours, different materials of bra. Now I rarely go lingerie shopping with her because it gets really embarrassing. The conversation always ends up in something like this-

(At a lingerie shop, where I am always attended to by old men)

Mother- Bhaiyya, Show some white cotton bras for my daughter.
Me- Mom! I don’t want white and no cotton please. I would like a seamless bra, preferably a turquoise shade. Show me other colours too and also the push-up bras.
Mother- Seamless? Who told you about these? And why turquoise colour? Who is going to see?!! And push-ups? You already have enough!!
Me- Mom! We are in public and it is for self satisfaction.

(Meanwhile the guy comes out with the bra I asked for)

TheChaddiMan- Medamjee, Brand Enamor and these I think are perfect for you.
Me- This is not my size. Show me the next size.
TheChaddiMan- Looking at you, I think these would be the perfect fit.
Me- I know my size and these are not of my size. Show the immediate next size.
Mother- Uncle said na that this is your size. He knows better!
Me- These belong to me and only I am supposed to know better.
TheChaddiMan- Yours are not big enough for the next size beta!
Me- Sir, could you just get me what I want.
Mother- Kids I tell you! Bhaiyya give her the bra and let her grow into it!
Me- MOM!!!!!!!

Now, this is why I no more go lingerie shopping with my Mother. She still questions me as to why I want different shades, materials and low cut bras. She thinks it has something to do with a certain Guy in my life. She needs to understand that I have grown up and that I have started pampering myself, just to feel good and beautiful. A guy has nothing to do with it.

But I think that now she realises that her little girl is no more little and really has grown into her bras. She no more questions me when she finds a strapless bra in my cupboard. Also now I make sure that I am always attended to by women at the lingerie shop, not random uncles judging the size of my melons!

Goodbye, white cotton bra. You are a part of my boobie story.

P.S- Got the idea for this post because of VIYA who wrote about it at DOV. Click here to read her post. I loved how she wrote it!
P.P.S- I could not reply to some comments on my previous post due to my Univ exams which are now done with! So dance with me now!!
P.P.P.S- This is how my Dad looks after he sees the lingerie shopping bill. Except the Bald part.

Image Courtesy- ,

Thursday, 27 October 2011


I give you till 12 midnight, to tell me the truth. You can’t run away from it. I know people who know your ex, and I very well know what all you have done. I just want you to speak it all out. Then I will leave you without ruining your life.” 

It was eleven already and she shivered as those words touched her senses in the most jittering manner. She sat on the balcony ignoring the wind as it managed to give her goosebumps. She had never thought that a protective lie could now jeopardise her relationship. She had always meant for him to know about her past, the dirty people she dealt with and her resulting dirty past. But she saw in his eyes, the look of devotion, and the look of pure love, which was preciously new to her. Who would have thought that her decision to hide the truth just to remain divine in his eyes would have led to a day this brutal. 

A drop of tear fell on her thighs and she was reeled back to reality. If only the tears she was shedding could lessen the pain she was going through. How was she supposed to tell him, the stark truth? How could she ever look deep into his eyes and find his love for her glowing within? She had lost him long back. 

The silence of the night and the cacophony of her thoughts got a pause as the phone rang. If it was yesterday, she would have not let it ring beyond ten seconds and today, it was the cause of the aggressively beating heartbeat pounding against her ribs. She finally picked up and was welcomed by pure silence.

Suddenly he spoke. The voice she had grown to love, the tone which was always so soothing, was now breaking her vanity down to nullity. He demanded the truth or else he would destroy her. He would leave her begging for mercy and he would do everything he can to make her pay for making him such a fool in her love for 3 yrs. She was left with nothing but to dig out what she had unsuccessfully tried to conceal.

Whatever you heard about me was right. My ex forced me to join him and his two friends who also were couples, for a weekend resort stay. He and his friends where carrying pornographic CD’s and this was kept away from my knowledge. All I remember is, police raiding the hotel and a woman constable dragging me till the police Jeep. I could get bail only the next day. A friend helped. My parents do not know about this. I tried to hide this.

She cried as she spoke and she heard no words from the other side of the line. How could anyone love a girl with her background? Who would believe in her story anyway? She spoke again, this time a little stronger’

“Now you can leave me, for I know that you can never see me the way you did before which was precisely the reason why I hid it from you. I could not barter what I felt for you and so gravely craved. So now you can …….”

Before she could say further, he said “ Nobody told me anything about you. It was just a planned game by me. I know you were hiding something really bad from me. I had the right to know. Now what do you what me to do with you?

Sometimes silence is the only reply that can be given but she managed a "You can leave me"

His voice answered it all as he said "The past does not matter, for I know that you are loyal to me. But shall we now work on the being truthful part of a relationship?"

That was the point when guilt struck her and that was the time that she truly felt the depth of his love. Precisely the moment she lost herself to him completely.  

P.S- A Diwali celebrated after 5 yrs, far away from home but with friends. The dishes you are about to see in the following clicks were cooked by them and all I did was HOG! 
P.P.S- Post based on true experience and incident. Not so bad though!

Aatte ka Halwa and Suji ka Halwa for Bhagwanjee :)

Aaloo Dum Amritsari and Garlic Rice for HUMLOG

Khana Ready hai Medamjee

Its a Digital world babey!


Sunday, 23 October 2011

YO MOMMA SO.........!!!

So, do not mistake me when I say this but I think my mother has had it easy when it comes to being lucky. You know those kinds of people, who have been provided with Escalators by the Lady luck herself, while the underprivileged sweat as they climb barefoot? My Mother belongs to that category and me to the latter one. 

My Mother is an Income Tax officer who gets to supervise Raids. About the Income Tax thing, she swore on her sweet Father i.e. my maternal Grandfather that she was blank during the selection exam and resorted to INKY PINKY PONKY method. She was the first to get selected also. Why do I have to slog my ass out to get something I really want?!

I still remember how she and her office Fraands would sit at office and practise making SOFT TOYS. Exactly!! They would buy button eyes, cheap faux fur, sponge and would sit in the cabin together and make Monkeys or Rabbits during office hours. How do I know this? That is because as a child I was taken to her office and was allowed to waste papers by typing alphabets using the office Typewriter. 

Some weeks back she called me during one of her Raids. I guess she was raiding the Bungalow of the owner of a Pan Masala company. The Manikchand and Rajnigandha kinds, you get the idea. The conversation went something like this.

Meri Mother- I am at Gwalior right now.
Me- How is the raid going?
Meri Mother- Oh God! You know Beta, they have a lift inside their house. When I came, I was told that the owner and his Mrs were working out in their personal gym.
Me- Oh But how was the raid?
Meri Mother- You should see the tiles! My colleague Usha said that it is imported from Italy or something. Which is that place where they keep dead people under sand?
Me- Did you mean Egypt by any chance?
Meri Mother- Ah yes! Such costly tiles no? They have seven servants and they all look so clean! Our Asha bai should learn from them. I don’t think his Mrs allows them weekend off.
Me- Amma! Tell me about the raid.
Meri Mother- I am telling you no? You should have seen the cupboard of the Mrs! More than thousand sarees and all very costly! And the kitchen is so big! You and Varun can play football in there.
Me- Amma!!!
Meri Mother- We need to renovate our home. Let me call your father now.
Me- Amma atleast tell me what you guys found!
Meri Mother- Oh the men whom I supervised, found 20 guns from the basement. No licence you know. Big guns! Like we see in the movies!! And 73 lakhs of unappropriated money. Ok Beta, let me call your Dad. The kitchen needs a makeover too.

Yesterday she had to raid an office, and she was totally blank as to what to check and what not to. All the office documents were gibberish for her. Thank God she has some sensible subordinates and male colleagues. She is so innocent, that she won’t even take bribes. What waste! Also if the female in the house she raids starts crying, my Mother would join her in the weeping spree. 

I am not saying that she does not deserve any of this. She had her share of hard times too (like studying for Board exams in school). It’s just that I am jealous! She is fair and beautiful with curly hair while I am an Ugly duckling with pee coloured eyes. Life is grossly unfair!

P.S- My new roommate's nickname is Harni, but she hears me out even when I call her Horny :D (I already tweeted this)
P.P.S- Wasn’t my last post good enough? Only 32 people read it. Show me some love.
P.P.P.S- I never show my mother what I write. She has the habit of taking it to office and forcing her fraands to read.  But I can kill you or anyone for her!

Thursday, 20 October 2011


Her daughter was almost on the verge of committing suicide today morning. Her best friend had seen her go to the College terrace and had followed her when she did not respond, only to find her sitting on the railing and staring at the miniature vehicles parked below. After being forcefully made go to get down to the safer side and pulled to go back to attend the class, did Anjali confide to her about the thought of committing suicide.

She held me close as she wept. Anjali was her only daughter and that too someone who made every other girl of her age go green with Envy. A brilliant student, a gifted Sitar player and really beautiful. But soon after matriculating, she started being someone which she wasn’t. Her situation could not be described, for there were days which were never absolutely normal. Either she was too cheerful to laugh all day or she was gloomy enough to pull her hair one by one from the scalp. She stopped being the usual her and her mood could transform from mania to depression in a matter of few minutes.

Today after consulting 2 renowned Psychiatrists, it was declared that she suffered from Bipolar disorder and that too of the worst kind. 

Looking at her mother crying, I strangely felt nothing but a fight of emotions happening inside. I remember delivering my child and hating it from the moment I saw it. I still feel that it looked like a monster with Patchy skin and really dark skin, on those initial days after birth. I preferred not seeing it on the first three days but I had to for it had to be fed. Noone thought it looked ugly but me. 

As days passed I started liking the monster, since it still belonged to me. The patchy skin gave way to soft fair skin and he turned from being a monster to being my baby. Everyone said that he looked this way from the beginning and they looked down on me when I told them about his previous state of ugliness. My husband took me to a psychotherapist, who told that I suffered from post pregnancy depression known as postpartum depression. She promised that it was common and that it would soon go away.

I remember sitting on the revolving office chair contemplating suicide. I had no reasons for doing so, but I wanted my life to end. I knew it was because of my situation but how can you control the thoughts and shut them down? The battle of the thoughts was won by me, only after giving due weightage to my baby and my family. They are the only reason I am alive.

I remember overhearing Anjali’s mother tell her friend over the phone, that I was a Mad-woman and that I needed to meet some Tantrik. She even thought that I was possessed by the devil himself. It took me one year to be normal again. But more than that, it was the support of my Husband that brought me back.

Now I watch her crying. Should I direct her daughter to an Exorcist?

P.S- Strictly not Fiction. 
P.P.S- Hate myself for not being able to reply to the generous comments i received on my last post. Exams happening. :(
P.P.P.S- I cannot let you all leave my blog without smiling, so here is a click direct from the deep South 

Welcome To Kerala

Sunday, 16 October 2011


We all want to be dead famous and filthy rich. Ok stop!! Don’t give me that nasty look and say “I am happy the way I am!”. I know how you hold your hand shower like a mic in the bathroom and act like you are giving a live concert before thousands of your imaginary fans. So here is a guide as to how to become famous without actually being talented. If you are good for nothing, these are your easy ways to achieve fame.

1)   Start a rumour- Go to your local News Channel office and pour down your fake tale as to how a celebrity sexually assaulted you and threatened to kill you. For Boys, you just need to say how awesome the threesome with the celebrity and his girlfriend was. Simple! From local news to National news and you shall be famous! Choice of the celebrity matters. No one gives a damn if you had a threesome with Bobby Darling.

2)  Assassinate someone- Choose the most trending Celebrity or Politician in twitter and plan an assassination. The messier the assassination, the better. Google provides enough information as to how to assassinate someone, and if that isn’t enough, come to mama! Get famous for your notoriety.

3)     Be the Worst at something- Make a video of you doing something which you are pathetic at and upload it on YouTube. People like laughing at your misery and this is the sure path to success. Did you not watch the Fat man dance on the song MY HUMP by FERGIE? If not WATCH IT

4)    Get Naked- Spend some money and go watch a Match live from the stadium. During the half- time break, get naked and shock everyone by running across the stadium. Did anyone even know Poonam Pandey before her broken World Cup promise? Any publicity is good publicity.

5)    Blog- Don’t be a normal blogger like me. Be someone like Govind Tiwari or The Madrasan! You will be famous overnight! I might take a decade or so, to be half as famous as them. 

6)    Fast Unto Death- This is most IN thing right now. Take an issue haunting the society or the country you belong to, find the office of INDIA TV, sit before their office and fast. You are under the threat of dying but even if you do, you will be famous for atleast a day after that.

7)   Psychic Pet- You know the psychic Octopus, don’t you! Get yourself a pet and claim that it has psychic abilities. A simple dog or a cat won’t work. Buy yourself a Cobra or a Sea Lion. Even a Duck will do.

Now that I have enlightened you as to how to be famous overnight, there is no hindrance between you and your dream to get Famous. If you are actually thinking about incorporating any of the above mentioned Means to Success, then GOD SAVE YOU!

P.S- Lame post I know, but remember that I too have the right to be Silly. 
P.P.S-I once had 8 Espressos back to back to win a bet. I hallucinated for three days and everytime i peed the toilet smelled like Barista.
P.P.P.S- Meet RUBY, the Labrador.
Image Courtesy  for the first image-

Wednesday, 12 October 2011

Somebody Please Marry Me!

I have never been this humiliated. Like ever! I have no intention to get married any time soon and my parents too are least bothered about finding the perfect lungi Guy for me. 

I recently went for a marriage ceremony of some family relative’s second cousin’s granddaughter. As expected, I did not know a single soul out there. But why crib about it when you have 17 food stalls, all capable of making your tongue wet, scattered all around the marriage garden. I was keeping myself busy with my third serving of the Gulab Jamun and Icecream, when a fat aunty pops her head out from between the shoulders of two Gulliver size men and smiles at me as if she was my mother in my previous birth. I smiled back and then continued shoving the dessert down my food pipe. 

After I had carefully tested each and every food stall in the garden, including the much hated ‘DAHI VADA’ counter, I shut down the cacophony around me with the help of my headphones and went and stood near my mother, who was talking to a woman in whose plate a juicy JALEBI was left untouched. Such a waste she is!!

As I continued to pretend being amused and not at all bored, that fat woman came in my sight and I saw her smiling her toothless smile as she walked towards me. My mother, who believes in inviting embarrassment upon her only daughter i.e ME, smiled at the fat lady and even initiated the conversation, which went something like this.

Mother India- Namaste!
Fat Aunty-       Hello! My name is Mrs XYZ. I am from the groom’s side of the family.
Mother India- Oh!My name is Mrs ABCD. We are from the bride’s side.
Fat Aunty-    Oh no wonder! I was wondering why I have never seen you daughter in our Malayalee Association’s youth programmes. What is your name?
Mother India- Take the headphones out of your ears! How many times will I tell you that music at such loud volume will make you deaf? Haven’t I told you what happened to my office peon’s younger daughter? Meet Mrs XYZ. Mrs XYZ, meet my daughter RED HANDED.

Saying that, my mother left to wash her hands and then plunge herself into the dessert session. The lady caught hold of my wrist and came so close that I could get the stench of garlic from her mouth.

ME-              Namaste Aunty!
Fat Aunty-   Hello Beta! I have a son! He is in Dubai earning phorty thousand rupeej every mth.
ME-              OH OK.
Fat Aunty-   He is 27 yrs old and has done M.Sc in Chemistry from Chennai. He looks just like me!
ME-              OH OK.
Fat Aunty-   How old are you?
ME-              22 yrs.
Fat Aunty-  Oh Perfect age for getting married! What course are you doing?
ME-              I am in my Final Year of BA.LL.B(hons) from a National Law University.
FAT Aunty-  Oh Vakeel? LLB? Hmmm ok. Ok Beta. Bye!

Without even giving me a chance to make her understand the difference between LLB and BA.LLB , she ran the race of her life away from me. 

It’s not that I wanted to marry her GELF settled son. It’s not that I had any interest in the dog and his MSc (Chemistry) from Chennai. CHEMISTRY for God’s sake!! But what made me go for my fourth serving of GULAB JAMUN and ICECREAM was the fact that I was humiliated because the Fat aunty did not find me good enough for her lousy son. Just because I am a future lawyer a.k.a Vakeel. What does she think about me? I am just another girl who believes in marrying a good guy and ruining his life. Huh!

My Parents are going to have a really tough time trying to get rid of me.

P.S- I am in my worst mood because the University exams are doing Tandav on my head. Here is a random click. Ignore the mess behind!


Friday, 7 October 2011


They say you should not talk about dead people, especially bad things about them. There have been times when I wanted to write about my Grandfather, but never could. 

He was a good man, someone who was known for his dominant nature, temper, love for music and certain other qualities. Now that the good part is said, he had an ugly side too, something which overshadowed his good side. Not a good Father, not a great Husband, not a wonderful Grandfather.  

I remember him hitting my Grandmother to the point that she fainted. The reason was too illogical to even disclose. I remember him cursing my Mother. I remember him forcing me to eat spoilt mangoes because he did not like food wasted. I remember being hit by a one inch thick wooden stick for accidently spilling milk and not sharing chocolates with him. I remember him flaunting me as his Grandchild each time I won a competition and I remember him forgetting me when my brother was born. Jealousy? Maybe.

I remember him exchanging words with my Father with a dagger in his hands and I remember him calling me names for the little mistakes I made. I never loved him but neither did I hate. I was taught never to hate anyone.

Once he had a minor heart attack and he called onto my brother’s name semi consciously. The hate started burning in my heart. On his second heart attack, he thought he wouldn’t survive and he called for a personal chit chat with each and every member in the family. When my turn came, he apologised for everything he did and I realised that this man actually knew that what he did to us wasn’t right. I forgot the hate as I hugged him and cried. I forgave him absolutely. 

But the man survived and his old self came back in business. My Grandfather was getting really old and believed in spending half of his day on bed. But his tongue never rested and the cursing continued. My hate reached a brand new height. I remember being on bed beside my mother, weeping and cursing him all night long. I wanted him dead. I wanted him to die and leave our lives to ourselves. I wanted him gone forever. My mother did not stop me from cursing. She understood the pain I was going through and she did not try to wipe my tears off. I felt relieved. I prayed for his death.

Entrance exams were on their way and so, I along with my mother and brother went to Kerala. My father was posted somewhere else for his work. May 20th the entrance exams got over and we boarded the train on May 21st back to our place. My Grandfather gave me a call before I left Kerala and told me he wished to see me. I gave a ‘SURE’ and rolled my eyes. I never could be rude to him on his face. As I boarded the train, half of me was rejoicing and the other half was depressed for I was going back to a place with Him in it. I hated him or better still LOATHED him.

Reached the destination and my Father was there to pick us up. We got in the car and absolute silence prevailed. My Dad declared with a crack in his voice that my Grandfather had died yesterday. He did not want to tell us while we were in train. Noone was there except my Grandmother when he died. No children, grandchildren, no well wishers. Just him and his wife. Just the way I cursed. Silence continued in the car. My mother silently wept while my brother sat still looking at the crayons in his hands. My Father did not shed a tear. He was a strong man. 

As I sat in the car, I remember blaming myself for killing him. For taking a father away from my Dad, for taking a doting Grandfather away from my brother, for taking a father-in-law away from my Mother, for taking a Husband away from my Grandmother. I remember the warm tear flowing across my cheeks and I remember realising that underneath all that hate, there was a child who craved for his love and a child who loved her Grandfather.

Guilt is what I started living with. He was the reason I sang. He was behind the music classes I joined. He was the person who used to sit on the front seat as I sang. I blamed myself for his death.

Recently did I get over it and I thank a very special person for it. I could never write this down until today. Good things have been happening with me and life has been beautiful. I think he is watching over me and I think he always will. Beneath all that hate, love truly existed.

P.S- If Only i could call this a fiction and save myself from your judging eyes. Sorry for writing this. Had to get it off my chest.

Sunday, 2 October 2011


 Before you read further, I want you to know what I was wearing at the scene of the happening. I was in Delhi with two of my other friends for the purpose of internship. Since it was blistering cold we were dressed up in-

ME  -  Track pants + Top + Half Sweater + Full Sweater +Shawl (covering my head and half my face)
Friend 1- Jeans + Top + Full Sweater
Friend 2- Shorts + Sleeveless Top (and gulping down Chocobar)

After dinner we decided to go sit in the Small Park opposite to our place and gossip about the people who filled up that day. We found a very suitable seat, rested our posteriors in the most relaxing manner and started the bitching of the day. A Fat, Fair, Dumb looking boy came and sat on the seat nearby and started staring at Friend 2 (The Iron Woman). We ignored him and were busy discussing the anatomy of the handsome dude internee in our office, when the Fat pig from the adjacent seat started to make hissing noises. We looked at him and he in return started talking, which uprooted Mother English from her roots. 

Helu Helu. Sleeveless tap naice naice. Came here now now? Come Came na

Friend 2 (a pakka Malayalee and a murderer of Hindi) went to him for reasons alien to me and promoted the conversation. 

Fat Pig-   New Here? Where lives you everyone?
Friend 2- Nearby. Ok I need to go now, my friends are waiting.
Fat Pig-   Sit near here. My seat. You me close here. Sit na sweety.

Since I have a Radar as my ears, I heard what the pig said to her and also deciphered his English to understand what he meant by the last line he uttered. I got up and shouted “Mind your fucking business!! You girl get back here now. You Mister, stay away. Understood? Just stay away.”  

The next statement that the fat pig made left me shattered and embarrassed the way I never was.

Tell Aunty your Mummy shh shhh. Silent. shh shh. What Mummy!!” 

I was so devastated that I got up Rajnikant Style, threw the fucking shawl onto the seat and started shouting.

Me- Shutup Bastard. Get out from here you pervert! This park is for decent people, not for jackasses like you.
Fat Pig- This not your park.My park.Everyone Park.
Me- It is my park and my name is carved on the bark of every goddamn tree. Now get out from here you sloth. I will call people otherwise. Run away!

The man left but the feeling of being called an Aunty for the first time in my life killed me. My friends were busy laughing and even made this Happening spread like fire in my college and among my contacts. All I could do was what I am going to do now and that is reminding you to scroll up and read what I was wearing that day. I blame the costume for making me look like her Mommy and on top of it even my face was half covered. Also since it was around 9 pm, darkness concealed my true beauty. No more Questions! You have got to believe me!!


P.S- I wanted to write something really sexy but my University exams are coming up and i am busy buying books and catching up. So Tolerate me this one time!
P.S.S- Today i feel like quitting blogging (rhyming eh?). Lets see what i feel tomorrow.