Monday, 28 October 2013


Studies have shown that 9 out of 10 women are certified blouse readers. Blouse reading is an ancient art of knowing the character and the psychology of a woman by carefully analyzing the pattern of the blouse she chooses to wear. It is an art exercised and promoted only by those belonging to the kingdom of muliebrity and done rightfully so because the trend of Indian men wearing a blouse or a saree  is not yet in practise.

Blouse readers can be found everywhere and are not constrained to a particular age group. Though known to be carrying out their profession individually, they can be found to be collectively practising their gift and expanding their domain at public get-togethers like weddings, kitty parties, ladies sangeet, anniversary bash, spinster party and even baby showers. The key difference between a blouse reader and a palm or face reader is the fact that in the former, the person whose character is being read out has no idea that she is being given a reading free of cost.  Hence, studies have shown that this art is practised for personal amusement and also used as a tool among the feline part of the human race to bond more effectively. 

Yesterday Mrs. Sunita attended Mrs. Kukreja’s 25th Anniversary bash wearing a blouse with hooks on the back, breaking the conventional norms of having hooks in the front. This act of displaying the hooks instead of conservatively covering it up with the Saree Pallu was noticed by the many veteran blouse readers including Mrs.Kukreja, who later that evening told her maid that she felt that Mrs.Sunita was being a cougar who wanted to entice the men in the party with her public display of the hooks. The maid being an incompetent blouse reader could only nod in the affirmative.

You have to be privileged to deserve a blouse reading since it is not for everyone. The conventional ‘U’ neck, medium sleeved blouse that you wore for Mrs.Chadda’s kitty party acted like the invisible robe that Harry Potter wore during his voyeuristic nights. You need to have some guts and you need to have some self confidence to deserve a free reading. Why do you think the veteran blouse reader at your home i.e your mother pointed a finger at Priyanka Chopra and said “What is she trying to be? The maths symbol for percentage (%)?” as the woman danced to the tune of ‘Desi Girl’ with the saree pallu dividing her chest into half, while her sleeveless blouse displayed her toned arms and her well endowed everything else.

It all started back in the age of sage Vishvamitra who sat for a severe penance, while Menaka a beautiful celestial nymph tried to break his Tapasya with her backless and sleeveless blouse. On watching her so do, the other Apsaras called her a ‘Loose Girl’ and moved their head from right to left with a disgruntled look on their face. It is they who became the Godmothers of Blouse reading and since then, the art has thrived on the bosoms of the confident ladies who took it as their job to promote this secret art by wearing airy blouses at every opportunity they got.

A puffed sleeve means that you are trying to camouflage your skinny hands that resemble chicken legs. A 3/4th sleeve means you have gigantic arms that you are trying to hide beneath all that cloth. A backless blouse makes the women weep for your parents, while a sleeveless armpit showing blouse points towards your bad upbringing.  A deep back neck with a thread knot in the middle questions your culture while a short blouse that ends an inch below your ample bosom screams about your ugly character. Your blouse style has nothing to do with fashion but everything to do with your moral code of conduct. Your blouse design has nothing to do with your confidence but everything to do with your shamelessness. Your deep neck has nothing to do with the fact that you can carry it off beautifully, but everything to do with your loose character. It is not just a blouse but your armour of righteousness. Your blouse defines your worth.

A woman is a woman’s arch nemesis. While all the men flock together sharing beer and getting fat, women too flock together but with their knives pointed towards the next one’s back. It is time we saw a woman outside the blouse she chooses to wear (pun intended).

Also it is time that I stop writing about such a blousy affair.

P.S- If you are wondering why I wrote about a blouse, even I am wondering the same. Let us wonder together.

Tuesday, 22 October 2013


 Sometimes we give life to things. Things that are lifeless if it weren’t for the unreasonable emotions associated to them. We see these things as a Time Travel machine, capable of taking us back in time to the memories of the past and the warmth derived out of it. 

I have heard of people who prefer hoarding a part of their Almirah with old cards, hand written letters, black & white photographs, granny’s hand knitted sweaters and what not. All because it has a connection to their past, a happy past.  

But I have never spared an emotion for things, or so I thought. I have never saved up a birthday card or a friendship band. I have never had a shelf filled with ugly gifts given by friends too important to force me into holding on to them. I have even thrown away old photographs because the photo albums with their plastic cover wearing off seemed too drab even inside the cabinet. I am not emotional, per se.

My relationship with my grandfather was like a toggle switch, having no middle ground. I loved him seldom, hated him mostly. Thinking about it, I know he deserved more warmth from my side. Not that I can bring a change now except pray that his soul rests in peace.

For every chance he utilized to pull me down, I cursed him silently. For every episode of his filthy cursing directed at my parents, I wished him pain. For every time he hit my grandmother, I prayed for his lonely death. And that is how his end came. In pain, alone except for his wife. It was not supposed to turn out that way. God did it and then happily placed the albatross around my neck. It has been 7 years since.

We shifted to a separate house 4 years back and while we replaced all the furniture with new in style ones, somehow we did not let go of my Grandfather’s bed. While the family saw it as a gentle reminder of the once patriarch of the house, I saw it as a leather whip of guilt. I saw it as a constant reminder. We chopped off its legs and placed it in the drawing room as a royal floor diwan, appreciated and copied ever since by everyone who visited our place. If only they knew about its past.

Yesterday we decided to sell it. “OLX mein bech de” my brother said and that is what I am planning to do. I am planning on selling it away. I am planning on selling my guilt away, I am planning on selling all those repulsive memories away and I am planning on giving away the comfortable pain I derive by sitting on it. But I am also planning on keeping the few warm memories attached to the man who breathed his last on it. All for 15,000/-.

So am I attached to things, you ask. I choose to not answer that.

Friday, 18 October 2013


 The concept of ‘The Right Age’ is a universal one. People might differ when it comes to race, caste, sex, religion but there is a thought that binds them together and that is this concept of ‘The Right Age’.
Even before the sperm got its head inside the egg and screamed ‘Ooh Baby!’, the life which might be born after 9 mths was forever marked with this concept of ‘The Right Age’. And once it falls out of its mother’s ‘You-Know-What’ into the dirty hands of this ugly world, the clock starts ticking. The wheel of the Right age starts moving.

The right age to start walking, the right age to start talking, the right age to chuck that breast milk and eat some sambar rice, the right age to go to kindergarten, the right age to hit the school and even the right age to have your first period (if you are a girl that is, or else something is very wrong). No, it does not stop there because right after all that you have the right age to join college, the right age to drink, the right age to have a job, the right age to marry, the right age to get laid, the right age to have a baby and then the right age to decide all the right ages for your child. It is like the bus in the movie ‘Speed’ which has to keep running in order to prevent itself from blowing up into a molten junk. It will only end with our death.

Now what if I decide to mess up with all of that? What if I decide to start walking a year later than expected or what if I play with the right age to have a drink or what if I want to prepone the right age for coitus and postpone the right age of marriage? What if I want no right age to have kids and what if I want no right age to do what I really want to do? What if I want my own set of ‘Right Ages’ made on the spot and untouched by what the society expects from me?

 I hear people say ‘This girl is 24. This is the right age to get married’. I want to genuinely ask these enlightened souls “I never knew that Moses stood on Mount Sinai and screamed out the 11th commandment ‘Thou Shalt Enter Wedlock at Holy 24’. Please tell me more about it, will you? ”.

Society is like USA, while your little pitiful life is like a forlorn country trying to fight its own battles, have a sincere government and make the ends meet. Society bombs you down and beats your dreams, all the while thinking that only good is resulting out of this. Society is a confused leech, sticking to you and feeding on you, yet thinking that it is actually helping you. It is our fault actually.

So the next time someone tells you what the right age is for you, tell them that it is their right age to mind their own business. Next time you are told that now is the right time for some wedding show time, ask them whether they are the last descendants of the Mayans who were too concerned even about the right age to celebrate an Apocalypse. And if ever someone tells you that you should have some kids before those eggs stop hatching, tell them that you are as fertile as Halle Berry who is popping out a kid at the age of 47.

Because the right age is a personal aspect and unless you are a puppet, you will make your own choice.

Monday, 7 October 2013


Dear children, today in our English class we shall learn about the difference forms of ‘TENSES’. Now tenses are what determines the ‘Noun’ that you are today, based on the ‘verbs’ you were indulged in throughout your life. So based on that analysis, I have broken down the Tenses into three categories- PAST, PRESENT and FUTURE. Now let us further break them down and try to understand each tense in the most suitable manner possible.
PAST SIMPLE TENSE-  Once upon a time, I made a boyfriend. That boyfriend was a complete loser. I dumped him. He threatened me. I showed him the finger. That is my Simple Past. He is now married. I am pretty tensed for his wife and kids. There you have the Past Simple Tense.

PAST CONTINUOUS TENSE-  During my college days, I made a lot of friends. A chosen few not worth a dime. But like they say, you got to keep your friends close and your enemies closer, so I keep them in my life and watch them smile at me with teeth that resemble a snake’s bare fangs. They are my past, still being continued and sometimes I get tensed because of their interference. Hence, Past continuous tense.

PAST PERFECT TENSE- There was a time when my brother resembled a midget. I was the Britisher in his Indian life and his independence was for me to decide. Interestingly, he was not much of a Gandhi and his non violence was utilized by me to the greatest extent possible. Now he is 16 and a towering 6 ft, while I am a midget 5’2. That past of ours was simply Perfect and this current situation is making me tensed. Now you know the Past Perfect Tense.

PAST PERFECT CONTINUOUS TENSE- When I was in Nursery, I made a friend. Then on my 29th day to school, I made another friend who had gorgeous almond eyes. This almond eyed kid became my best friend and the Nursery kid also joined our school. Almond eyed kid invited me and the Nursery kid on her 5th birthday and the nursery kid asked the almond eyed girl if she could bring her best friend too. So the almond eyed kid allowed the nursery kid to bring her ‘Dora-the-explorer’ look alike best friend to the kiddy party. We four have been together even since. They are my past perfect, still being continued. Thinking about us taking different paths in life, far from each other makes me tensed.

PRESENT SIMPLE TENSE- Currently I am preparing for the Judicial Service. Always believing in touching the society directly, I rejected the corporate life that was being shown to me like meat to a tigress. I wanted litigation but Daddy blackmailed his daughter into giving judicial service a chance. So, I have spent my past 1 year preparing for it, sincerely hoping that it was not wasted. The exam date is on 17th November. This is my simple present and I am pretty much tensed about it.

PRESENT  CONTINUOUS TENSE- There is a guy. Best friend, teacher and everything a person can desire for in a human form. I don’t talk much about him because there are certain emotions that you want to be enjoyed just by you. I am quite possessive like that. He is my present still continuing and sometimes he makes me pretty darn tensed.

PRESENT PERFECT TENSE- I am currently in a very peaceful stage of my life. After 5 years of Law school, I spent the last one year being home, taking care of my body, travelling in and around Europe, visiting the Andamans and off course focusing on the judicial service. I also got enrolled in the Bar and now have an ‘Adv.’ prefixed to my name. This present is perfect but the fact that darkness follows a sunny day, makes me quite tensed.

PRESENT PERFECT CONTINUOUS TENSE- I used to be fat. I have no qualms about it. Fat and not at all confident about myself. Last year I joined a gym and I have so far lost 16 kilos. From 80 to 64kilos. I am happy with the current me and do not want to reduce to a walking stick. This is my Present Perfect which is continuing and thinking about becoming fat again because of my binge eating makes me quite tensed.

SIMPLE FUTURE TENSE- Now if I do get through the judicial service, I would get posted to some tribal area where I might be the only person inside the court. Also if I do not get through judicial service, I might have to migrate to Chennai or Cochin and be a junior lawyer to some Fancy Dorky Senior Advocate. This future though quite simple and planned, makes me quite tensed.

FUTURE CONTINUOUS-  Marriage will be a part of my future and my parents like all the billion parents in India are on a lookout for the authentic super amazing husband for their daughter. I am not mature enough or eager enough to digest the whole concept of marriage, especially the system of an arranged one. I cannot even make a round Roti. This gets me tensed and this tension shall continue for a long period of time. This is Future Continuous tense!

FUTURE PERFECT TENSE- I believe in myself and that is a something that has to be instilled in someone as a child. I believe that even if I do not become a judge or even if I do not get cases to fight on easily, I know that life is going to get perfect in the next 5 years. My future shall be perfect, but the fear of making the wrong choices, makes me tensed. Hence, the future perfect tense.

FUTURE PERFECT CONTINUOUS-  I am a perfectionist and anything less than perfection is frowned at if not rejected. This perfectionist attitude shall continue throughout my future and thinking about a disorderly life has got me all tensed. FUTURE PERFECT CONTINUOUS indeed!

I hope the lesson has been learnt and the tenses have been digested. In case of any doubts, do not refer to WREN & MARTIN, because those guys seriously got everything wrong. Contact me directly for any further assistance.

Till then take care and write a blog post about your tenses.  

P.S- Did any one of you notice the blog facelift? Please say you did. I gave it a makeover after 2 years!! Tell her she looks pretty!

P.P.S- This is what the Fashion Industry has been missing!!