Saturday, 20 May 2017


Dear Snobster,

I know that you know a thing or two (actually three, if I am not mistaken) about people who pretend to love someone. These are the same people who lure little pricks into believing that they mean every word they say. That the relationship is worth it, and stuff like that. You know what I mean...

Well, congratulations! You can now add a fourth person to that list.

The specimen being discussed here is such a kind hearted soul. So kind hearted that he could make a break-up appear like the perfectly softened ice cream. You want to have such break-ups. They make you all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Ah! such a comforting human. It takes quite the skill to linger with another human, sleep with him, do your usual shit, but secretly knowing all along that you do not really mean it all. Maybe, I was wrong. I saw the signs. They were there. I might have even confronted them. But then, I have a damaged mind, that tends to overthink all the time, and he was more than willing to convince me that I am overthinking it all. He told me that I should relax. Not make a "drama" of it all. So I decided that, yes, I am a deranged human, and put a lid on the thoughts.

But poor poor poor him!

He had to still endure my presence. He tried. He tried as hard as he could. Had it been some other person in my stead, I am sure he would have tried harder. You know... like someone who is a little high flying, a bit fancy. Poor him, to be stuck with this portly, ugly person, whose life is marred by financial woes and first world issues. It's not like he was not used to such things. It's just that with everyone else, it came "naturally". I mean, I get it. The heart wants what it wants, and thus does not want what it does not want. Cannot compel anyone into anything, now, can we! I forgive him. We are supposedly friends now. Also, we were supposedly friends all along. But whatevs... I get it.

So, finally when he could not pretend anymore... When it started taking a toll, he called quits. Oh, wait! he didn't. I fingered it out of him. Like the pokey, pesky pixie I am. And so it ended.

So, why am I writing about all this to you?

Because you have the uncanny wit and wisdom to understand such things. Because friends like you reinforce little thoughts till it manifests into a gigantic tsunami. And you study media. You know very well how small things connect to have larger ramifications. How the beating of a butterfly's wings can cause a storm. How some silly rants can develop into deep-seated thoughts when left to grow unchecked.

I never asked to be one of the characters in your unnecessary rantings, but you made a spectacle of me anyway. I know, I know. It was all in good humour and you were being like those mean girls or whatever humans having an IQ below 40 watch on the telly... but I don't care. Because, more than anything, you know exactly how it feels like to be played. Yes, he did not cheat on me wth another person, but he did cheat on my feelings. And you know what that feels like. To be dragged on a ride where you are fairly convinced that the destination is your favourite ice cream parlour, but you end up in a deserted forest. Alone.

Heck! Why did he even start the ride? Or maybe, the smarter thing would have been to drop me off at the nearest bus stop, I could have still gone back. But now, I am waiting in the middle of the woods, hoping to run into someone to hitchhike my way back.

So now I have a request to make of you. This shining beacon of justice and sass that you are, I hope you will make a funny, sassy blog post about the viciously vindictive ex-boyfriend who is lashing out after the split. You will thrive on the drama because you have so little of it in your life. I was told that I have too much. So here I am, sharing some with you.

Let us be mean girls together!

Much love,

The person who thought that Trump was good for India.


Tuesday, 10 March 2015


Remember the time, when you tell yourself that you shouldn’t be in love with someone but you actually are already into it.

Image courtesy:

Tuesday, 24 February 2015


Poetry has always been one of the strongest tools of expression, and one that I had never quite understood. However, during moments of excruciating emotional duress and introspection, prose can never do the same justice to the sentiments. 

I had always quite fancied the idea of overlaying texts with images and a verse just adds a new dimension and depth to it all. 

Background: Screenshot from The American Gigolo (1980)