Misunderstood

This is the third time in the last year that I find myself making the same request. The effort doesn't bother me one bit, but what I can't seem to comprehend is how people can be so heartless to an animal. Raani is the most misunderstood dog I have ever come across. People think she's been running a long streak of really shitty luck, but I know that's not true because every single time she has been run down by life, several wonderful people have found it in their hearts to go all out and help her.

All of us know what it feels like to be misunderstood and alone. Now try doing that without being able to reason and justify your behavior. Raani, is a rescued dog who has seen her share of bad days, and I am asking everyone out there to help me end this misery for her. She has been choked by a barbed wire, beaten with a stick by a drunk watchman, kept tied up in the sun for 4 straight months, teased, poked, prodded, kicked and if that wasn't enough someone has even whacked her muzzle with a blunt object that caused internal bleeding. In recent times, I have become a fan of silver linings. So here is Raani's silver lining - she survived it all. Not only is she physically fit today, but also for some reason none of these events have made her lose faith in human beings. She still LOVES people. As long as you'll pet her she'll sit on your lap, she will greet strangers with jumps and licks, and point her towards a table of any height she will climb it and then not know what to do. You could enroll her for the Olympics and she will win you a Gold because she is that athletic and agile.

She needs a loving home. The kind of family that spoils their dogs rotten, and treats them like family. She deserves nothing less. Please find it in your hearts to share this and spread the word. There's a blessing in the end for all those who help. Thank you.

Please call +919890114700 or +919890026036 for any queries.

She can spend hours looking out of the window.

When she's tired she likes to imitate Count Dracula.

Sometimes she's just a whirlwind. 

And then there is the - "Where is that bee buzzing?" look. 

Pink is really working for her.

She also pretends to be coy sometimes. 

And for all her different moods, she is always focusing on YOU. 

Signed and Sealed.

They sat across each other. The mahogany table between them personified hatred, and hostility, and nothingness. As she tapped her unmanicured nails on the table, trying to drown out the noise of all the screaming lawyers by an inane tune, she thought of all the pain and tears and screaming that table must have seen over the years. She was strange that way - always imagined life in inanimate objects. She had more emotions to offer for inanimate objects than human beings. She was immune to human pain. Like a resilient strain of a disease, this pain, sometimes there is no cure, and eventually it becomes such a big part of you that you learn to live with it.

They avoided each others eyes for most of those 6 hours. But when she did steal a look, she looked straight into his eyes, which scared him further because she could always read him so well. Every time he came home drunk, or had cheated on her, or lied, all she had to do was look into those eyes and she knew. No alcohol breath. No lipstick on the collar. No lie detectors or confessions.

Soon she realized the tapping of nails was getting loud enough to turn tired heads. She retracted them and sighed. These lawyers that she hired were pretty ruthless. Relentless motherfuckers. Trying to safeguard her mini fortune. When she decided to get a divorce, she had called a friend of hers, a divorcee, who recommended these lawyers like friends recommend hairdressers - " They are fantastic. You just give them my name, and they'll take care of everything. You'll love them." I don't think people think before they speak. Or maybe she was just excited to recruit another member to the Old Divorcees Club.

They had to call her name out twice to pull her out of her thoughts. When she was back in the room - physically and mentally, she realized how much the room was smelling of cigarettes. She immediately craved one but curbed herself. Instinct. She then told herself, that she didn't need to hide her filthy habit anymore, no more hiding the cigarettes in the laundry bag, or above the book shelf, no more revolting air freshener to mask the smell of the smoke, because within hours, hopefully less, she would be single again. She didn't have to pretend to be the better human being anymore. She lit a cigarette, and made a conscious effort to not look at him. They took her to a corner, and explained the settlement.

Financially, they were both independent, made enough money to take care of themselves and for the last few years of their married life, that's all they did. She didn't care who got the little holiday home that they both had invested in, because the market was right, not because they thought of spending their long weekends cuddled up in a far away place. He didn't care either. The last lady like thing she did was that she didn't tell the lawyers that he had cheated on her, on multiple occasions. She thought it was irrelevant in the light of all the things that had progressively gone wrong in their marriage. Sure the proceedings wouldn't have taken as long, but there was no victory in the end. She wasn't there to win, and for all the resentment that existed in her heart towards him, she knew he wasn't there for the gold medal either.

Besides, in her mind he had won already. The only thing she really cared about, her friends, who had, like all other things, her large bed, her medium sized dog, and her small heart, had also become his. They are the only people she fought for. She failed. She could never gain sympathy simply because she didn't know how. He on the other hand thrived on sympathy. We as a generation have become fans of the anti hero. We like people who make mistakes, and struggle with their flawed decisions in life. We empathize with people who drown their sorrows in bottles of booze and those who hurt others only as long as the reason for them to do so is love. When they decided to part ways, she told her friends, 'that is the best thing for us.' He told them, 'I love her, and I can't take this pain.' All her friends were sold to the man who put pain into words and served it on a platter. She put her pain in a vault and wished that eventually everything will just fall into place. For him and for her.

She had lost all her friends to him, and he knew it well. He signed the holiday home over to her. Perhaps to get rid of any residual guilt.

As the lawyers shook hands, she turned around and left. She had nothing left to say, no emotions left to show, no prize to display boastfully. She drove back home, with no friends to call over for a glass of wine or a bottle.

She slipped into her pajamas and his old oversized sweatshirt, fetched her bottle of wine, her pack of guilt free cigarettes, cuddled next to her dog, and switched on some TV with the hope of some distraction.

As she flipped through the channels aimlessly, her phone lit up. It was a text. From him.

'Your favorite movie is on. Channel 349.'

Fair chance

She sat alone staring blankly at her cup of coffee and she knew, that today is going to be the test of her resilience. She could almost never say the things she planned to when it came to moments like these. Almost. How could things be so bad, when nothing really went wrong? Something must have been amiss and she vowed to figure out what that was. All she really needed to do was to make the decision for herself and everything would fall into place for her. She looked at her watch. He was already 20 minutes late. She picked up her phone to call him, to ask him where he was. But she didn't make that call. She knew that every call she made to him, made her feel worse because he just didn't know how to be polite. Another 10 minutes, and he walked in, oblivious to the fact that this was her second cup of coffee and she looked like she could cry any minute. He sat down, took off his shades and said, "Sorry. Got stuck up in some work. Man my life sucks." She looked at him, and assuming the role of an understanding ex-girlfriend said, "That's okay. You want something? I'm going to get myself another cup of coffee." He said, "No." It's little things like these that had all of a sudden started to spring up in her face. She thought, if this really was a guy who liked me as much as he said he did, wouldn't he have asked me what I wanted? Wouldn't he know how much I like my Cafe Latte, with a hazelnut flavour?
She came back to the table and noticed he was talking to someone on the phone. She sat across him, staring at him, and she thought of all the good times. The time he cooked for her, and the time he looked at her with love. The time when they fell asleep in each other's arms and the time when they laughed so hard at something that only the two of them understood, that they knew this is as good as it gets. She knew that she ought to have thought of the pain. Of how he didn't know anything about himself, and how he dragged her out of her comfort zone, only to leave her stranded in the middle of nowhere. " So? How are you?", he said as he hung up, and she just smiled and replied, " I've been better." She gave herself a countdown, before she began to tell him what she wanted to say. 3-2-1. She always did that in situations where she was nervous, and petrified of the consequence. And somehow it always worked for her. 3-2-1. "So, practicality is evil. I've always believed that when you like someone you work at spending all your time with them, because that seems like the natural course of action. You get past the silly details that somehow don't bother you anyway, and you feel the joy. Every little bit of it. And for some reason, the only choice of action now is being practical. I get it. It's to avoid pain. But here's the thing, I've never really been afraid of pain, definitely not as much as I am afraid of losing out on people I so blatantly love. You are a horrible person. You don't get me. You don't even care enough to pretend, and that is hurtful. But that is not what I wanted to say to you. I wanted to tell you how much I am going to miss everything about you. I can't put my life on hold, and well, obviously neither can you, but I just wish this hurt you as much as it hurts me. It's not nice that while I get to be a caffeine popping no-one, you get to be this casual. Like nothing ever happened in your life. Practicality has changed all the rules of life, that I so diligently followed, drastically. It doesn't work for me, and it sure as hell works for you. So, it's been really nice knowing you, and someday, hopefully, we will get our fair chance at being with each other. Until then, you will be missed." He looked at her, not knowing what to say. And she fumbled with her keys, and her bag, before she left, because she hoped that today would be different. That today for a change he would know what to say. But he didn't. As she walked away from him, she felt physically distant from him for the first time in her life, and as hurtful as that feeling was she was thanking her stars for it. As she sat in her car, clouded by a million thoughts in her head, she crossed her fingers and hoped this would mean clarity.

1 hour : 22 minutes : 57 seconds

She never thought this day could get any worse, the sad emotional, fool that she was. As they slept in each others arms she wondered to herself, "How did I get this lucky?" She smiled to herself, and made a mental note, 'Don't let him catch you smile. EVER.'
He didn't understand why women were so affectionate, all the time. He just put women in the same bracket as all things pink, and teddy bears, and body lotions that smell like fruit. He never told her, how much he loved how nice she would smell every single day. He knew she was different. Good different. As they kissed, she realized how much it hurt to know that she liked him so much more than he liked her. But she told herself everyday, that it was okay. Two people are never identical.
He knew she was having a rough day and he tried to make her laugh, he tickled her, messed her hair up, he even propped her nose up to make her look like a pig. He didn't know any better. And she didn't know anything at all. She wondered if speaking about the day with a man who would much rather not listen, would do any good? He delayed leaving her, because he knew she was hurting, but he always was good at letting guilt go. Quick. Dirty. Painless. The minute he left, she cried, after so long. Loud. Long. Painful.
When he called her later, just as he promised he would, she felt lost, and distracted. She could hear a certain dejection in his voice. She could almost hear him say, "I can't believe I chose this for myself." She asked him why he sounded like he was out of hope, like he was unhappy. He just said, he wasn't. In fact, he was affirmative in his response. He actually said the words, "I am happy." But she, the cynic that she was, didn't believe a word. How could she believe him, when every chance he got, he left her stranded and questioned her feelings? He told her, that she had the tendency to behave like she was the only one with problems. So much for her belief and pride in her strength and ability to overcome tough situations by herself. She thought, you spend all your life wondering if the few things that you like about yourself are actually worth appreciating, and you hope, like all fools do, that the one person you share most of your life's moments with isn't the same person who succeeds in making you believe that those things don't really exist at all.
She always hated men who didn't respond when she spoke. And he was as she always said, 'another level of heartless.' But she remembered, a little later in the day, but she remembered, that, 'he was not so good with words, but oh so good with heart.' Another thing she always said about him. She told him how she needed him, and that he should never stop being himself because that is what she liked the most about him. Every inch of his body, every small part of his heart. She told him that she had forgotten that although he didn't listen, because she never spoke, he did blow wind on her face, and kissed her cheeks, and bit her arm, and held her tightly, and that was the best he could do, and his best was good enough. He didn't pay any heed to her words then, for he had crossed over to a land where he was a man's man, where he said hurtful things, and she was sarcastic, even when she was crying. She asked him, "Do you really like this? Us?" To which he said, "Yes.", and then she asked, "Tell me please what it is you like about us?" and he curtly replied, "No."
Some more hurtful words and then came the line that drove her sleep away. "I will talk to you tomorrow, I am too sleepy and I really don't want to understand anymore." She sighed, and in her head she imagined jumping through hoops of fire. "Goodnight" she said, saddened by the thought that this is it for tonight, or maybe...and he still didn't say a word. She waited, and shut her eyes in despair, feeling the lack of clarity, the blur, from all the tears. Hoops. Hoops. More Hoops. "The end", she said, as she hung up, and walked over to her pack of cigarettes. One drag. Two drags.Three and Four. The phone began to ring. The picture of the two of them that came up when he called, inebriated, happy, affectionate always made her smile. She remembered her mental note before she answered his call. 'Don't let him catch you smile. EVER.'
He called to say goodbye and goodnight.
Hoops. Good with heart. Painful. Painless.
1 hour: 22 minutes: 57 seconds

Thinking out loudly.

Travel Writing.

It's been a while. Can't believe I can still hold on to a pen. Thinking. Check. Over-thinking. Check. This has been the year of many goodbye's. Also the year of many hello's. And the year that 'wassup' and all it's pathetic variations have noticeably started to dwindle. Thank God. Speaking of God, Chulbul Pandey beats Jesus Christ. Hands down. Speaking of hands. Wolverine should be careful when he scratches his..eye..he could hurt himself. Speaking of hurting yourself, Amy Winehouse is under-rated. Such genius. Speaking of genius, I'm glad Einstein cares about Bee's as much as I do.

Music is different now. Songs used to bring back memories of the men in my life- good, bad. Now they bring back memories of feelings. The men are lost. Frankly, that upsets me a little. Does it mean that there have been so many men that even my feelings can't match themselves to the appropriate men? Like Tupac reminds me of wanting to jump off a building. Aerosmith reminds me of the joy of a karaoke dedication. Bon Jovi of random comfort. REM of the joy of great conversation and bad coffee. Clapton of the first real love. Ray Charles of the warmth of an oversized sweatshirt. The Beatles of the sadness of not being smart enough to fold at the right time. Miles Davis of the sadness of not calling someone enough, for no good reason. Jaymay of the euphoria of finally accepting loneliness as an important part of me. See? Great music. Strong feelings. No men.

Women are smarter. Not easier but smarter. So aware of every thought, every emotion, every skipped heartbeat. But, no control. The reason for most problems in life. Substance abuse. No impulse control. Accidents due to rash driving. No control. Kleptomania. No control. Unplanned pregnancy. No control.

Men in locals look dejected. They look down at the ground, with their bags clutched tightly in their arms, some falling asleep, some just counting and recounting the number of toes on their feet. Women on the other hand look contemplative. They look out of windows, the wind blowing their hair into a mess, but they love it. They imagine themselves to be a part of a movie. Silly, hopeless, women. They even listen to music. Smiles on their faces. Sad smiles, rejected smiles, embarrassed smiles, lovelorn smiles. I bet they sing the words to every song they listen to. Lyrics are important to women you know. Just as important as that bag is to the men clutching it in their arms.

It's funny that both, lots of lights and darkness make me feel equally elated. 'Lights on or lights off? How would you like it?' they ask me. 'If you are going to turn the lights on, turn many lights on, many pretty lights' I tell them. They have this quality- they beautify anyone and anything. No lights has a quality too- deindividualization. Almost like you shut your eyes and pretend like the problem disappeared. I love that about kids- it's so easy for kids to get rid of the demons under their beds- just close your eyes and they go away. With adults, those demons stay forever. So, yes, deindividualization, the quality of darkness. Like a man who robs a bank, wears a mask on his face, it boosts his ego I presume. He can be anyone he likes behind that mask. Without the mask, or that darkness, he is probably just another guy who is conscious about his acne.

Reaching a destination. Man, the journey does matter.

Stories your grandma should probably tell you.. but will not!

So, there was this guy, big, burly biceps, a smile that would kill, a swagger that would drive girls crazy and an attitude that made him the best thing that ever happened to our tiny little school. My friends told me that there was a rumor running around that, he, that man's man had a crush on me. I couldn't believe it. I told people I didn't believe it. Although the only thing I could have hoped for was that it was true. Then one day, as I got off my tiny little school bus, he came over to me, smiled and said, 'Hey'. I was overwhelmed. Engulfed with birds, and trees, and music, and hearts, and all things pretty. I felt like, well, any 15 year old girl, with two pigtails, and an American Tourister bag with a powerpuff girl sticker would feel. Soon enough he asked me out. Told me everyday how lucky I was to be with him. Not in those many words. But in every little thing he did, and every way that he looked at me, that's all he said. But who am I kidding? He was right. I was lucky to be with him. Things he taught me, no one else would or could.

There was a dark side to him that was hypnotic. You wanted to get out of the slow, miserable, state, but you just couldn't. I was stuck in a limbo for a long time. Too long. So long that I needed a bolt of lightening to hit me before I could wake up, pick up my stuff and leave.

After having cursed my friends, my family, me, and having physically hurt some people I cared immensely about, I decided to leave. I met him on a pleasent winter evening and tried to be as polite about it as I could. But how politely can one break someone's heart? As I told him what was on my mind, and why it was best we went our seperate ways, he picked up his hand, gathered all the strength required and more in his big, burly biceps, and hit me across my face. Then as I lay on the ground he looked at me with that beautiful smile that killed, plastered across his face, and walked right away. I would be very stupid if I told you that I didn't see this coming, that I didn't see all the signs. Well, grandma, like all other 15 year olds was very very stupid. But if there is one thing I learnt from this, is, to learn how to throw a decent punch, and to duck in time.

Then I met this boy, beautiful like the sun. Always smiling, always looking at the world, with the 'glass half full' attitude. I met him at a time in my life when I was what you young kids call yourselves for no good reason; a cynic. I didn't believe in goodness, or in love. I thought all men become woman beating, self-indulgent, asses at some point in their lives. This guy reinstated my faith in the inherrent niceness that some people have in them. He always held open doors for me, let me walk in first, he even offered to always pay for dinners, but darling no self respecting woman should ever let that happen. Never let a man believe that that's all it takes to make a woman happy, pay her bills. It wasn't true then, and it shouldn't be true now.But the best trait was that he was never shy to say sorry first. We had a good run, me and him, laughing a lot, depending on each other, going out on picnics. The good times were the best. We would talk about everything. We knew how we would get married, where we would live, what car we would buy, what our kids names will be, what our pets names were going to be. It was perfect, only until it wasn't. Soon I began to feel uncomfortable around myself. I felt like I was pretending to be happy living a life where everything was decided. I wasn't ready to be that person who knows everything about her life even before it takes place. Just slowly wait for things to happen, and smile, or not, when they do. So, I told him, in the best way I knew how. He fell to the ground. Like I just took his life. Well, maybe I did. But then he took mine. Repeatedly. I decided to go against all norms and stick by him while he struggled to stand up. When he finally stood up, he began with blatantly making out with a girl who I call my life, flirted with a friend I grew up with, and held hands with a girl who had depended on me on many occasions, all in my presence. I took the advice of a stranger, which as you will learn in life yourself, is the best, most sound advice you will ever get. I cut him out of my life. The funniest part is that he was still the first to say sorry, after every single time that he actively caused me pain. And instead of counting the number of mistakes, I focussed on the order of the apologies. Well, anyway, from this guy I learnt two very important things. One, the value of an apology is lost when you find yourself apologizing all the time, to the same person. And, two, is the most important one, so write it down, hell I say print it on the cigarette packs, ' You will never end up with the person you call your first love.'

I moved on eventually. Like we all do. And I met a wonderful man. A man who loved the idea of being in love, and the madness that came along with it. He loved the good and the bad, and the ugly, as long as he had someone to love. He was such a great story teller. When he narrated an incident from a time in his life which I was not a part of, he would really focus on the little details. Like the color of the clothes, or what season it was, did anything consequential happen in the year of that particular incident. It was always fun listening to him. He was so good with jokes that he made me laugh. He was so good with words that he made me cry. He was the new joy of my life, but he wanted things from me that I couldn't possibly give him. It's true that all he asked for is love, and more love. But there's a thing about more love; I read it in a book I think, or saw it in a movie, I'm too old to remember the exact details, but the line has remained with me since then. 'When your heart breaks, sometimes it grows back crooked.' He wanted every ounce of my heart, but he couldn't see how it was twisted up into a mess. Unable to beat, unable to care, unable for more love than it knew in it's own twisted way. All I asked him for was time so I could learn to care and trust again. But he knew nothing but to love. It wasn't until much later that I taught myself the art of trusting, but one thing I learnt immediately from this is that only love will not keep you alive.

It was a long, long, long time until I met someone else. For the first time in my life I was making an effort to understand myself. I packed my bags, and took my mind to the quietest place in the world. I surrounded it with silence and music, and let it scream, shout, yell, throw tantrums, and just let it be. I owed it to my mind. All those years of over thinking, rationalizing, and logic. It deserved a holiday. I could now keep up with myself. If happiness is what everyone is looking for, why not look for it one day at a time? My mind wasn't screaming any more. It was ready to turn a new leaf, and so was I. When I met this next man, we were two strangers, in a room full of more strangers, who smiled politely at each other. Except this man. He wasn't impolite, he was just shy. So shy that when I saw him looking at me, he turned away in fear. He denies that he was afraid, but I know what scares him. He didn't come up to me and say hello, and when I spoke to him for the first time, he stammered. My friends still laugh about that. He wasn't the most expressive man on earth, he didn't know which actions are chivalrous and which are not, he wasn't always funny, but he was an honest man, with a beautiful heart. He took beautiful pictures, of people. Never trees, or flowers, or the sky. Always people. Catching them in their benign actions, making them look beautiful. When we were together, if we found ourselves seperated by a room full of strangers, like the first time we ever met, he makes an effort to find me, catch my eye, and just smile. It's beyond perfect. He is perfect. He didn't teach me anything profound. I think that is why I love him.

Things to follow. Meticulously.

1. NEVER DATE ANYONE WHO HAS MORE THAN 3 FRIENDS WHO ARE YOUNGER THAN HIM. GENDER NO BAR.
Only those who have the intellectual and emotional abilities of a grape will ever voluntarily 'hang out' with people younger than themselves.

2. NEVER EVER BELIEVE THE SUPPOSED RULE, "OPPOSITES ATTRACT."
It is impossible to sustain a relationship with someone, when you note the differences as the pro's initially. They will within no time turn into cons. It's a given.

3.(A) DO NOT SLEEP WITH SOMEONE ON THE FIRST DATE; specially if,
- either of you, or both of you are too drunk to remember how many drinks you have guzzled or are able to spell 'chlorophyll' correctly. Whichever occurs first.

- the line leading to the occasion is, 'Your hands are so pretty.' or ' Are those real?' or 'Do you workout?' Well you get the point.

- either of you have cried your eyes out just before, perhaps over a broken relationship, or a dead pet, or Arsenal losing etc.

- your disabled cognitive abilities make you think or say, "God, that guy, with the big chin and the hairy fingers..you know the one in the tight pants and the blood red tee that says 'I'm free tonight' is totally checking me out. Maybe I should go talk to him!"

- when he/ she talks about their abs or biceps as a separate entity altogether. Worse. If they have actual names for the aforementioned body parts. Example, "Hey baby, go ahead, touch Rocky(the bicep), don't worry, he looks strong, but that's just so he can beat the crap out of the guys who trouble you...."

3.(B) DO NOT SLEEP WITH SOMEONE ON THE FIRST DATE; except when,
- He is a neurosurgeon and he just got back from a successful craniotomy. :)

- either of you find out that the other is a yoga instructor.

-either of you just won a million dollars and a fancy car.

- you look so exceptionally good on that particular day, that even you can't keep your hands of yourself.

4. NEVER DATE OR IMMEDIATELY DUMP SOMEONE WHO SAYS, "Love... well love is complex...who really knows what love is?"
People who are still trying to figure out what love really is are never really going to. And no matter how much you convince yourself that like in every movie, when the right person comes along, the ignorant cynic always figures LOVE out, it will never happen. These ignorant morons are the one's on the basis of whom, therapist's enjoy long holidays in the Bahamas.

5. NEVER EVER TATTOO ANY NAME, ANY INITIALS, ANY PET NAME THAT IS NOT YOUR OWN, ON ANY PART OF YOUR BODY. NO MATTER HOW WELL HIDDEN.
Not that I don't believe in a love that stands all tests of time, but I am positive that your body does not believe in the same. Besides, if ever that love fails, laser tattoo removal is long and painful. No one is worth that much pain. Not even Colin Farrell. YES..I SAID IT!!!

6. NEVER DATE SOMEONE WHO IS TOTALLY PERFECT LOOKING. FLAWLESS.
They will never make any effort because they believe they don't have to. They believe them just showing up is good enough. And besides all they are capable of talking about, is themselves.

7. DO NOT DATE ANYONE WHO USES TOO MANY clichés...
"I am just not in the right place right now" , "It's not you, it's me." , "We can always be friends." etc are the adult equivalent for baby talk. It means nothing. It is not comforting. It is just noise! And for someone to still use it must mean they lost a part of their brain in a tragic accident. OR..... they have used these lines so many times, and they have actually worked, so the only people they have dated are those who lost a part of their brain in a tragic accident. Either ways, it's time to bid farewell.

8. NEVER DATE ANYONE WHO IS NOT LIVING IN THE SAME CITY AS YOU.
It's not that long distance relationships don't work out. I wouldn't know because I have never tried. But here's the thing, they are NOT SUPPOSED TO work out. A webcam or skype version of him/her can't hold your hand during a movie, can't give you his sweatshirt when you feel cold, can't go out for long walks/drives with you. So, while I agree that there isn't such a thing as a 'Perfect Boyfriend/Girlfriend' there absolutely is such a thing as a 'Perfect Relationship' and that is the one that is there, right next to you, one call away, bringing you hot chocolate at 2 am kinds.

9. NEVER DATE ANYONE WHO HATES YOUR DOG/DOGS.
Well......because dogs always trump everyone else.

Self discoveries

1- I love men who are bald and accept it. There is nothing uglier than a man fooling himself by wearing a wig to cover the bald. It's one thing to lose your hair, but to lose all your self-respect and to wear something that looks like a dead rat on top of your head is just unacceptable. Bald is sexy. Bald is experience. Bald is maturity.

2- I can convince people about anything, at any time, on any given day. It's a gift.

3- I should be awarded at an International Level for 'Bullshit Talking'.

4- I absolutely hate fair skinned men. I think God intended to make them women but changed his mind at the very last minute.

5- I hate Mama's-boys. It is not cute. It is not a testament to how he will take care of you. It just means the doctor forgot to cut the damn umbilical cord when he was born.

6- I hate men who spend way too much time at the gym and try to look like Brad Pitt. Brad Pitt is unreal. No real man should look like that! A real man is not obese, but he should not be the kind who looks like his veins are going to pop out if you hug him too tight!

7- I hate Brad Pitt. I hate women who like Brad Pitt.

8- I love men who have large appetites. A real man will eat every meal like it is his last.

9- And finally, short women end up with tall men.

A New Look at The World.

I bought a new pair of shades. Nothing elaborate. Not a fancy brand. Not too much money. But they are something else! The minute you put them on, you feel like you are a part of one of those, romantic movies, from the 60s. You know the one's that have this melancholy emotion going on. Where the actress walks on alone on this lonely street, wondering whether she should marry the guy she has known for years or the guy she met on a holiday somewhere. I hope you guys get the point.

The first time I tried them on, I felt like it was going to rain. I love that feeling. You know just before it's going to start raining, the sky turns into this dusty shade of orange, and the wind is so strong that you can't keep your eyes open. And all the people that are outside, all the children that are playing on those large grounds, run back home. Everything clears up. Like an empty battlefield. It's the most beautiful feeling. And the best part about it, is that it is so predictable. Everyone knows this feeling. Everyone relates to it. Everyone knows it is going to rain. So, I had to buy them. I have to say, it is the first time I have bought a feeling.

I Feel like Switzerland

I haven't felt like this in very long. Too long actually. So long that I have forgotten what it feels like to feel like Switzerland. People I call friends are useless. Solely ornamental. People who are friends but the ones I hardly ever call are the ones I miss the most when I feel like this. They know exactly how to make me feel like Germany, and that is only because they know the Adolf in me. I hate it when people give you reasons, and explanations. I don't want to hear them anymore. I would like to believe that at age 21...and rapidly reaching 22, we are beyond these reasons that really mean nothing. You know when you are pissed off at someone and you ask them why they did something, you don't really want to hear WHY!? You just want them to open their mouths so you can sock them in the face. Who here honestly wants to hear, " Actually I tried calling you but my battery died off!" or, " I felt like you would want some time off so I just kept away from you for weeks after I made that horrible mistake!" ? I have made up my mind about kick boxing. I am not taking it up to lose the extra kilos, or for self defense. I just want to kick some 'friendly' butt. Kick it all the way to Mars. Friends don't really have a purpose in life. They are there because, well some of them you decided to be friends with over a piece of candy they shared with you a million years ago, and some because you have a common enemy, or because you both got too drunk to actually remember the reason for this unbreakable bond! Pllllllllllleeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaseeeeee!!!! I say commitments of any kind just tie you down. Like someone pointed out, ' All relationships are man made. There is absolutely nothing natural about it!' So, I don't think people should raise their eyebrows when I say, I am not OBLIGED, or for that matter no one is to take the responsibility to make and keep someone ELSE happy!
I mean, the world is cruel. It's hard to keep yourself happy, then why should one be asked to do the same for someone else too? Doesn't it seem unfair? I am battling every single day with thoughts that keep me awake like an Owl, and so do a lot of other people. Some people are disturbed by religion, others by recession, and maybe some by health. That's a lot of shit in itself. And in all this when people tell you, 'you are the only one who understands me, I don't know what I would do without you!' I can't help but feel like Switzerland on Coke.

The Curious Case of Braveheart.

Saturday, 7th of March, started of as a normal day. Dad asked me to get his laundry done. Friends asked me where do we go for lunch? I asked myself what am I doing with my life? Little did I know that I would get the answers to all my profound questions that day.
Neha called me frantically. She asked me to rush to Pashan for a rescue. She also said that there were people beating a dog to death, with sticks. The key was in the ignition when she was in the middle of the sentence. Parinit drove like a maniac, and I felt like today I will kill. I asked Parinit to run all the red lights. I looked for some sort of a rod or a huge stick in the back of his car. He told me later on in the day that he asked me to remain calm. I never heard it. By the time we reached, Neha and Sunil were already there. Their faces looking grim. I couldn't feel my legs. As I walked through the mob, Neha lookd at me and said, 'She's gone.' I could have collapsed. I felt like all the energy in my body was sucked out. I felt weightless. I saw her lying on the ground. She looked like she was at peace. Like she was in a better place. A place where there is no hunger, no greed, no anger, and no death. Neha and Sunil gave me a brief about what had happened before we reached there. I could not wrap my mind around what they were telling me. I heard a man complaining. 'SHE BIT ME. SHE BIT ME!!' he was yelling. When asked to show his wound, he displayed what looked like a 10 year old mosquito bite. He was clearly lying. The dog who died was small, thin, and was just looking for food. I couldn't help but notice a petite woman. She looked like she could've taken the world on that day. Her name was Anita. She was accompanied by her husband and her friend. I kept wondering why they have this halo over their heads? Like I said, all my questions were answered that day.
The day seemed longer than it was. Our hearts were full, our eyes were dried out, and all we wanted was justice. All I could think of was if there is a God, today I would know. Neha had called the police, and she had also notified Manoj Oswal of PFA (People For Animals). Luckily enough, the right people were at the right place, at the right time. We all know how often that really happens. The witnesses were appalled with what they had to see, and the ones who heard about it could not even imagine the pain and the suffering of the dog, who Sunil has so precisely named, 'Braveheart'. And the ones who commited this heinous crime, either vanished or were in complete denial. The security guards of the DRDO Complex. I can't get over the disturbing paradox in this situation. The men who did this were 'SECURITY' Guards. They are supposed to protect. The sticks in their hands were to be used on those who take advantage of innocent lives. They will suffer. And their suffering has already begun.
My mind kept wandering. I imagined myself in the place of Braveheart. I thought of how much pain she must have been through. I also wondered why, just why did she not run away when the first blow landed on her? Again, all my questions were answered that day. I wished I could put those men through the same pain until they gave up. I wished that Braveheart was alive when we came there, so we could have saved her life. Anita told me, with that heavy yet strong heart, that when she arrived there, Braveheart was wagging her tail, and the people were still beating her with sticks on her head, and on her neck. And a mob of about 30 people were just watching, some even cheering the culprits on. I asked myself, What has this world come to? I felt like some one just shot me right through my heart. I told Neha, that if this is how people are going to kill the dogs, we might as well just start euthanising them all. It's a Man eat Dog world.
We felt a little better when Manoj and the Police, took appropriate actions, and also when the witnesses stuck by us and more importantly stuck by Braveheart, till the very end. We finally took Braveheart for her post-mortem, which was conducted by Dr. Lokhande, who very graciously obliged even though it was his holiday.
When She was lying in our car, I felt a tear rolling down my cheek, but I curbed it. I told myself I won't let her down. I knew I was with a team of people who will fight with all their mights and only stop when we hear a sigh of relief.
Braveheart was not just an incident to remember, or just another press article. She was an impact on all our lives. She made us stronger, she made us realise we all have a purpose on earth, she told us with her wagging tail, that we must not live each day as 24 inconsequential hours. We are here to help those who can't help themselves and in the process of doing this we need to raise ourselves. When I asked myself what I am doing with my life? She told me I am helping her, and many more like her. I am saving lives for a living, and I get paid with wags, licks, and blessings. She told me people envy me, because unlike them I have found my calling, and every night I sleep with a smile on my face. When I wondered why Anita and her companions had a halo over their heads, she told me it was because God sent them there so that they could witness the injustice and make a noise about it. It wasn't a mere co-incidence that Anita knew Neha's number and profession before hand. It was all meant to be. She said they were her Angels. When I asked her why she did not run away when the first blow landed on her? She smiled and said, pain is in your mind. When you tell yourself something doesn't hurt, it just doesn't. She said she looked at all the people around her and decided to wait, because they needed to learn. And if it took one life for many others to realise the value of all things living, so be it.
Braveheart lived a small life. But a life that was so much more meaningful than the kind of life we live. We have to stop with all this self-indulgence and shake ourselves every morning, just to remind ourselves why we are really here? Is it because of all the money? Where does that take us, besides all the parties in town? Or is it because of all the fame? What does that bring us, besides fake friends and true enemies? None of this will satisfy us as much as a peaceful sleep after knowing the difference you made in someone's life.
So, wake up. Look into your mirror and question yourself, until you find an answer that brings you that peaceful sleep. Afterall, Braveheart gave up her life so that you could find your's.

Professional Hazards

There are a FEW too many things on this blog that will disrupt my Professional life almost completely. I need to remove a post or two, so that I can survive, and continue surviving! So, all my 3 readers...a post or two will be removed for my benefit. I hope you guys understand! Peace.

What's Love got to do with it???

People I grew up with are getting married. They are taking the big plunge. The vows, the till death do us apart, the whole deal. And that scares me! I fall in love with way too many people. I feel like I am hogging the scene when it comes to falling in and soon enough out of love. When I look at my parents who have been married for almost 30 years now, I feel elated, because they managed to stand still against all odds. But, when I go out in my world again, I feel like a fool. All the hope vanishes into thin air and what remains, is this over-powering uncertainity. Hope, like Love I think is a useless emotion. I don't mean I don't believe in Love anymore, but does the whole, love lasts forever concept still stand? Or are we just fooling ourselves? Is it really possible to go through 30 years of your life with one partner, who slowly but surely turn into your worst nightmare? I really want monogamy to happen for me, but I am scared that it just might never! I remember joking about this with my friends a couple of years ago. I used to tell them, how I want to marry a couple of times so that the excitement never goes away, but really do we have the strength to do this for the rest of our lives? The meeting for a coffee...the messaging at all odd hours...the subtle and not so subtle flirting....the first kiss...the first fight..and the last fight! Does love slowly turn into compromise...and finally into tolerance? Does the fact that we have been together for too long count at the end of the day, when we can't spend 5 minutes with each other? Or is this just a part of what we have been told is LOVE?
It doesn't take a scientist to discover that love pretty much takes the backseat after a certain point. Then I wonder, what it is that still keeps us together? If only there was some way to know why and how people who are together..are together! Life would have been so simple. With every passing year, you become less perfect and more human. And with the license to vote and drink (not together!), comes the maturity. And with the maturity comes the understanding of the complications of life.
I guess, the fun part is finding all this out on your own. And keeping it to yourself. So that a couple of years later, there will be another love-struck moron with an identity crisis, trying to figure out...What's love got to do with it?!?

Cynics Unlimited.

We were younger when we called ourselves the 'Cynics Unlimited', very lovingly too. We laughed at everyone, judged everything with a pulse and anything (or anyone) that deviated from our line of thought was burnt in a large bon-fire. We loved only each other, and to become a part of this group, serious talent and more importantly proving that talent to each one of us was required. Having said this, I must mention, we could not be easily pleased, or bribed. Then we grew...not older, less younger. And although our ideologies remained the same, we all moved apart. Only physically.
5 years later when all of us meet, we remember the old times very fondly, but what scares me the most is that this Cynicism sometimes gets the best of all of us. I listen to all our conversations and we sound like we believe in very few things or nothing at all! We didn't grow up thinking Santa and the Tooth Fairy are creations of the corporate world. Silly concepts that milk money from the sissy kids. We also all fell in love, and looked for the Goddamn 'right guy' wherever we thought appropriate; the coffee shops, the malls, the bookstores, and the art exhibitions. Then when, and how did these girls become us?!
And the point to note here is, each one of us is happy with our cynicism. We accept it proudly, and we believe it is here to stay for the better. What are these experiences that make us positively pessimistic (pun intended) and yet lead us to believe we are strong, successful, independent women. We defy all laws of Sociology, by being those indivinduals who somehow manage to live and love isolation. We watch movies on our own, and shop with our own money, again on our own, and are comfortable doing this. And all this when the rest of the world wants us to believe, that no one wants to be lonely, and being single is being alone and unloved (?) . Loneliness, is just a state of mind. And the irony of it all is, 'we' feel lonely in a crowd.
So, cheers to all those lonely (single or not doesn't matter) cynics out there!

Eulogy for Candy.

FOR CANDY
27 October 1992- 11 November 2008
Our Braveheart, You lived and we learnt.

People cry at funerals for different reasons. Some cry because they empathize, and other because they sympathise. And then there are those, who are the closest to the one who is buried six feet under, who cry because they are selfish. They cry not because they want the deceased to just live longer, but because they want them to live longer with them, comforting them.
Candy wasn't just another pet dog. She was royal, the queen of our household, charming, heartbreaker, sensitive, and most of all, compassionate. I remember her first day into our home. How she investigated around our house, and marked her places. How, although she was the size of Bingo's (my late Boxer, who was 6 months older than her) palm, and yet controlled the string his kite was attached to. Her demeanor was extraordinary. She scared no human, and loved them all unconditinally. She dictated her terms to all of us, and we were more than happy to comply to our queen.
On the night of 11th November 2008, at 11.35 p.m she passed away. She was 17 years old when she did. Yet, I knew it wasn't her time. I was with her when she took her last breath and no matter how hard it was for me to see that I was glad I was there for her. We beleive we did everything we could, but we still wanted to do more. Her last day on earth, she fought an intestinal obstruction. And her last few years on earth, she fought an unfortunate mammary tumor. No matter what, my braveheart did not give up easy, and fought until even winning wouldn't really have been winning at all. Everyone said to me, '17 years is a long and content life. She couldn't have asked for more.' But here's the thing about Candy, her love was so selfless and unconditional that it made us depend on her. Life is hard, and it will never get simpler. What will not change is that such moments will occur time and again, and try to make you stronger. If it hasn't killed me it has made me stronger.
I wish for her to be happy. And I wish that heaven truly exists where all the people who have gone away reunite. Good life after death for Good people. I hope that she has met Bingo already, and has started picking on him. I also pray that John Donne knew what he was talking about when he wrote the lines ' One short sleep past, we wake eternally. And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.'
No one ever imagines how their loved ones, their flesh and blood, and their life and soul would look like buried under ground. And when that unfortunate day arrives, nothing seems to pacify you. No logic, no reason, no heaven, no philosophical poems. Watching Candy lying still was my breaking point. I felt like shit. I felt like there is no reason for such a custom. But once she was covered up again, I told myself, that still thing lying six feet under is not Candy, but just the form she came on earth in. It can't be Candy when she is lying still, without putting up a fight. And it can't be her, when she settles for just anything. The Candy that I knew and grew up with, has moved on. I know to a better place, where she is happier. And just because she is not next to me doesn't mean she is not there. In fact, she is more than just closer now. She is within me. So Lord, here on earth, I carried out your job, and I hope I did it well, but now that she is back to you, it's your job again to take care of her as your special child. Until of course I come to resume my position. I love you Candy.

The QUEEN of Hearts

“Where are the miracles when you want them the most?” is what I asked Shruti when I was looking for our precious Rani, in a village far, far away from her home.
The news came as a shock to all of us. There wasn’t a soul on earth who met Rani and didn’t fall in love with her, ‘obsessed with pleasing everyone nature.’ She lived with us for so many months, and she was an integral part of The Paws Pack, our best success story. Little did we know that a few months down the line we would curse ourselves for not being more aware, more careful, and more judicious before letting her go. We knew we gave her away knowing half the truth, but what’s the point in blaming strangers?
Saying we all were devastated would be an understatement. Nothing went right that day. The night seemed darker than ever, the sounds seemed louder than ever, and the only image that everyone had was of a Rani, who was so harassed and stressed, that she did something none of us would have expected her to; ran away.
The night I found out about this I decided, I have never in my life left anything on fate and Rani will not be an exception. So I decided to go along with Parinit to the area from where she ran away and look everywhere possible and increase my chances of seeing her again. Very unlike me, when we started for that village, I was full of optimism, and self- assurance that today I am going to find her, she is going to come running towards me and I am going to bring her back home. But as hours went by, looking through the same streets, under the cars, and inside small houses, and in garbage dumps, my confidence level lowered to zero, if it wasn’t for Parinit constantly reminding me that she couldn’t have possibly gone too far away, I would have probably collapsed and started to weep. We came back after 5 hours of in vain searching, and I couldn’t help but notice each dog that passed me by that day in the hope that it’s Rani. I called the man who apparently had her for a few days without our knowledge. I told him how he should feel terribly sorry for what he has done, and how he took away someone so precious from us. I didn’t know my words could have an influence on anyone. I came back home earlier in the evening and slept off. My aunt told me I was crying in my sleep, although I don’t remember it. What I do remember is dreaming about Rani, and wondering what thoughts must be going on in her head. I was sure she must be thinking why we left her in such a place? If we hated her so much, that we weren’t ready to wait until someone genuine comes along, who loves her as much as we do?
Later that evening when I woke up, my dad asked me details about Rani, and he asked me to go and check the same place again tomorrow, because he had a very strong feeling we would find her there. In fact I felt the same way. I immediately messaged Shruti and asked her if it was possible to arrange for a search- team by tomorrow morning itself, as I didn’t want to waste any time. She said she was thinking and trying to arrange for the same things. Within an hour of sending that message, I got a call from the guy who was originally supposed to keep Rani, but had given her off to some other fellow. He told me very curtly that he is dropping her off to that girl’s place who was the reason for our Rani’s plight, and that I should go and pick her up. I had no time to argue or worry about his curtness, all I could think about was ‘I am getting Rani back.’ I called up Shruti; we decided to not tell anyone until I see it with my own two eyes that it is Rani. The journey from my place, until Rani felt longer than the half an hour it took. I kept my fingers crossed and kept praying for her to be Rani. As I walked close to the gate I saw the same paws, and the same eyes, and I couldn’t stop shaking. For that brief moment I was incapable of carrying out small, everyday tasks. Opening the latch, the gate, shutting it back, felt like calculus. The moment of truth was calling out, “Rani…” and having her respond by running right onto my lap and licking my face. She recognized both me and Parinit, and was more than happy to leave immediately.
She sat very comfortably in the car, like she belonged there. She acknowledged our presence every now and then and we were so ecstatic to have her back that we started serenading songs for her. Shruti and Neha too were thrilled to watch her jump out of the car and into their arms. None of us cried then, we were all cried out. And this concept of ‘tears of joy’ is a little hard for me to digest personally. I can only and only think of smiling like there’s no tomorrow when someone you love comes back to you from the dead.
Rani, to me, looked like she had matured, with experience of having survived this unbelievable rollercoaster ride. She had lost a lot of weight, but our dear Kamlesh would take care of that within a few days. Rani didn’t do much the night we found her, besides smothering us with kisses, having a hearty meal, and catching up on some lost sleep. She looked like an angel. I made a note to myself that night, ‘Miracles are there, where you look for them.’

The Ideal Guy

If you are a woman, and you drive in Good Old Pune City, you will agree with my concept of the perfect guy. No one wants a good looking, rich, intelligent, humorous, great listener kind of a guy any more... Women in Pune are beyond all this. They can look for all these qualities among friends, and coworkers. But the real, desperate, independent women, want a driver. The oh-so-hindi-film concept of running away with the driver, is something I am seriously contemplating. Because God knows, in this wild, wild, world, the one and only thing I require is some sweet human being, who will drive me around, while I sit in the back seat, listening to music. One who will sverve through the narrow one-ways with ease, and abuse those who deserve to know who their moms really are. One who will circle the same street repeatedly to look for parking, and when that miraculous space appears, he will, without whining, perfectly park the car.
Can you imagine, all this for practically nothing! Ok, he might call you "Baby.." every now and then, but don't these guys do that already???

Recent changes

It’s been a long, long, really long time since I last updated this blog, and let me just inform you that nothing much has changed. I am still the same, only intensified. A few changes that have taken place and are worth mentioning are as follows;
1- I finally fulfilled my dream of using the name ‘cynic-unlimited’ for myself somewhere!

2- My tolerance level has lowered, and I am seriously looking for someone who can provide me with a gun, legal, illegal no issues whatsoever. If anyone knows someone who can do the same please contact me on the number 1800-redhotchillipepper.

3- Also, I have a crush on a guy who is way older than me, but age has never been an issue, and this guy seems to know a lot about everything. I give this crush 3 months tops.

4- The world laconic meaning using few words especially to the point of being rude has an excellent and very interesting origin.

5- I almost beat up a guy on law college road, when he was standing in the middle of the street and when asked to move by me obviously came to my car window and asked me a question he never should have, “Do you know who you are speaking to?” Horrible, horrible mistake on his part. My answer to his dim-witted question of course was ‘a pansy arsehole’.
Anyway, like I said all major innate emotions have intensified to a large extent and honestly speaking, I am quite enjoying them. Oh yeah, and one more addition to the above mentioned list,
6- I love being daddy’s little girl. And undoubtedly, ‘My Daddy Strongest.’

I found out the hard way.....

There are some people on earth who have everything planned for them from the very beginning. Now, what exactly is the beginning you ask? Well, the very beginning means well before we were conceived, or well before we were even planned by our parents. The beginning is when the good God above planned our destiny. You know like every detail of our life, whether we are going to be born in a poor household, or a dysfunctional yet rich household, or will we be poor at maths all through our life, or be born Doogie Howser’s, or you know whether life will be smooth sailing and perfect, or some unprecedented Tsunamis will occur every now and then….It’s all a mystery to us until it actually happens.
Well, anyway back to how some people are born with their lives planned perfectly for them. People of this category can take any amount of risks that they like and somehow things will fall in place every single time. One can even say that it is individuals like these that always depend on luck, and every single time their luck favours them. They can jump off a cliff without any harness and will still boomerang back. I think it’s because of people like this that people who have an out of the blue kind of life have to rely completely on hard work. People from this category can never go for an exam, hoping and praying and wishing that a particular question doesn’t come. Because if they do, God knows that that very question will not only show its face in the paper but will hold some 15 marks or so! In other words, luck never ever favours these people, not even on a good day!
So you know when the lucky bastards are sitting in their comfortable little chairs one night before the exams going, “I am going to leave this chapter….I am too bored….” They can sleep a fearless sleep, because nothing from that chapter will ever bother them. But, somewhere on a broken little bed, there is this unlucky bastard, who was planned on the day God woke up on the wrong side of his bed, who is studying till the wee hours of the morning, stuffing himself with way too much coffee that is probably burning a hole in his stomach, and has glued his eyelids open, just so that he can outsmart luck.
Anyway hard work is not everyone’s cup of tea. And if it isn’t yours be very happy because you were not planned on the day God had a bad hair day! So when someone says, ‘Hard work always pays’, you know that it better!

What goes around comes around....or does it?

I used to believe in the fact that all the 'Karma' before it leaves this world, goes back and bites the ass of those who have done wrong in their life. It was logical, the world is round, things have to come back like a boomerang. But, I don't believe that anymore. I think God's changed his ways a little bit. You know probably trying something new. I think nowadays, this Karma thing has become like a game of 'YOUR IT'. I think when one person does something wrong, the bad karma that the person has called upon himself, gets randomly thrown into the direction of any other living being, it could be a nice little boy riding his bicycle, or it could be a little, ugly mouse nibbling on his cheese. So, now this other living being has to pay for the sins of someone else in this world, and once he pays the price the bad karma passes on. So, all the energy in the world is being conserved in this way, and through the misery of all the innocent in the world, God gets to test his hypothesis! Now, the problem here being, my sweet, little, polar bear resembling pomeranian is a victim, and she has a mammary tumor, which is a result of someone else's sin, it could be mine, or it could be your's. I can say this with complete confidence because, I know Candy for 14 years now and she has never gambled, or gone drinking frivolously, or bit someone without any valid, legal reason (she only bit me once on my nose, because I was really pissing her off with an annoying dance, but all this was a very long time ago, so let us all vow to never bring this up!). I hope God reconsiders this plan of his, and realises before it's too late that this experiment is failing miserably. So, for the sake of guilt, that it could, maybe be your sin that has caused my baby this pain, just remember her in your prayers. That is all that I ask.
Although, at this time, I can recollect this one specific line I heard in a movie, that goes something like this;
' The reason why God burdens you with sorrows is not because it is a test, but because he knows you have the strength to endure it'