My Many Lovers

Some make me laugh.

Some make me sad.

Some make me wonder.

Some make me empathize.

Some make me swear.

They all make me think.


A new lover each day.

A new bed-mate for each night.
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Beedi and Vodka

Beedi has been a constant companion  for as long as I can remember. Beedi with a special filling.
Vodka is a newly picked up habit.

As if I am not weird enough by myself, they make me weirder when they visit.

Beedi makes me eat pepper chicken and drink ugly soda at midnight.
Vodka makes me eat cheesy buttery pasta at 3am.

Together, they make me 20x noisier.. Much to the annoyance of poor Australian jeep-mates.
Only these two devils can conjure up a discussion on diabetes and vasonervum out of the blue and make my head burst with the senseless ‘logic’ and circular reasoning.. Not to mention the giggling that fills my head.
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Dear God (or God’s HR dept. head)

Too many of your children are indulging in unwanted behavior and making life difficult here for peaceful souls out here.. All out of excessive love for you. They just make too much noise and create utter chaos, giving one a constant head-ache.

Could you please call for a press-meet and add the following to the existing collection of your good words?

  1. Follow my words and be good. But don’t go about ‘correcting’ kids who don’t. Let them be bad and go to hell. Just imagine.. the fewer people who go to heaven, the more space, goodies and attention you would get when you come to heaven. Makes sense, doesn’t it? 😉
  2. Don’t waste time educating people who tell you that I do not exist, or that I am not the best God in the market. They are just jealous. They are not worth you raising your BP over. Calm down and go read a book. I’ll take care of them later.
  3. Awww baby. . you try so hard to protect and save me. I am so touched. But forget all that and concentrate on your own studies, work, relationships and life now. I am quite capable of handling those bullies by myself.
  4. (Edited to add) Child, I am old and am highly sensitive when it comes to loud noises, bright twinkling lights etc. I would appreciate it if you do not celebrate me with loudspeakers, bells, light strings and the like.
That should be enough to put a stop to the nonsense.
Thanks in advance,


The ceiling fan whirs noisily overhead.

My mind is unnaturally calm.


Having heard me come in, Ma is coming out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her saree’s pallu.

I had been away for six hours. She knows it has been done.

She just wants to confirm. “You did not do it, right? Please tell me you did not.”

I simply look at her, throw my dupatta on the sofa and go to the balcony.

I do not want to explain. Or listen to her. I want calm. I want to be soothed. I want the moon and his countless star wives – band-aids to the gashes on my heart.

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