How i became a writer-Chapter 1

Disclaimer- Truth which is twisted and retold is called fiction. This part is almost fiction.


She made the coffee and sat on the chair beside the window. From the window, distant sea could be seen. The vast land of concrete jungles, swamps  & slums were a part of her daily world.

Bombay in a way was a universe on its own. And no, she couldn’t get use to saying it Mumbai. Bombay was intimate, Mumbai a bit distant.

But perhaps today was not about psychology behind the cities. Today was about a phone call about to be made, the triumph after a long time.

If all heartbreaks were so inspiring & life changing, she would have chose to  have her heart break all the time.

But such is the case with time. It heals and it hurts.

She hold onto the coffee and mentally prepared her conversation, before dialing the number.

“Hi, how are you ? i just wanted to let you know, that i have bagged a small book writing deal..Listen i know, that’s its over between us,but i  just wanted to say thanks. Thanks for indirectly motivating me to write. I still miss you a lot..

She dials the number. An automated voice talks back “The number you have dialed does not exist. Please check the number again.”

Ps-I will update this story regularly. Thanks for reading.


All the cows in the house say..Moo ?

I stay in India, where cows are revered. I stay in a city, where cows form an integral part of everyone’s life whether one likes it or not.

Lately, thanks to the monsoon Cow&  others undetermined factors, the owner of the cows and other like wise bovine creatures, free their cows for the day and in the evening the holy, innocent creatures return back to their sheds.

Its a wonder, that all the cows have this inbuilt GPS System. But today we are not going to discuss about the bovine super qualities, we are rather going to talk about the sorry fate of the commuters & walkers who face the wrath of the cows day in and day out.

Anytime during the day or night, the cows and their families sit on the road. Right in the middle of the road. They don’t sit at the side of the road, they don’t sit in some abandon area, they only want to party right in the middle of the road.

Also, just like no one likes to parties alone, cows and their group lounge in the middle of the road, like its their own private party hub. Few of the cows sit so delicately and elegantly, that you almost feel as if you are encountering an elegant woman..a bit fat though.

Its a strange sight though, but as an Indian commuter one gets used to it. The whole herds of cows, buffaloes, oxen..just about everyone.

And these cattle are screaming with attitude. They clearly give the message that no matter what happens, we are not leaving the road, this is our cow”hood”.

Apparently if you stare at them, its not going to help because they will stare back at you with their big doe eyes, flutter their amazon eye lashes, swish their tails and move their horned heads and almost say”Move it”.

The commuters, Riders, bikers and drivers of big vehicle almost fight their way out through the herd, driving to get through a puzzle with surprising twists and turns of cows and buffaloes ready to greet them.

The walker though, has more of an nearer problem when he walks on the footpath or the road. The gentle livestock, will be lounging on the road as usual, immortally chewing on something and the walker will have to maneuver through all and reach their destination, without getting hurt by their horned heads or sharp, swift of their tails.

And if its not your day, then you might just step into big heap of warm, stinky and earthy cow dung.

So much for the menace, perhaps the cattle have outnumbered the street dogs too.

For the parting shot, here is a poem about the cows (courtesy-google) –Cow by R.L.Stevenson

The friendly cow all red and white,
I love with all my heart:
She gives me cream with all her might,
To eat with apple-tart.

(complete poem in the link)

Forgive me for the long post, but the cows have consumed my mind.

Au revoir.


the sad side of a comic

Disclaimer :- I am not a stand up comic nor i am funny. But i am prone to sometimes rare moments of witticisms and sarcasm.

When life gives you lemons, and if you are in India during hot summer make pickle with those lemons and not lemonade. They taste good and last long.

On this sunday morning, when life gave me emotional jolt, i was at my wits end on how to deal with it. I wanted to sit down and cry, but i was in a crowded mall so i shopped and went home. A bit of crying smudged my make up, and i ended up looking like a panda but not cute.

All the sadness made me think, what do comedians when they are sad. Do they still make funny jokes and bury the pain.

Or may be..

A comedian walks into a bar and that’s it..he walks into a bar, drinks and goes home.

Or if a comedian is a gourmand like me, he walks into a restaurant, eats pizza and goes home.

We are not funny, we are not happy and we are not sad all the time. Thank fully life is mixed jar of pickles, they taste good and last long.

Till we meet again..

What do we think & Why

This is just my attempt to write something because a) devoid of any work, i am idle b) the blog has been laying idle for a long time c) getting bored.

So, for my far, few and almost negligible readers..

I finally came to a conclusion. Our mind is a room, a huge room which is rent free and mind is filled with every single thought, word, wish. Its a small universe, quite content to live in a shell made up of bones and encased in lush texture of hair or may be not. But that is what brain is, a highly active organ soaking every single thing in the universe.

Imagine the chaos in head, thousand voices garbling all the time. May be that’s why we are all partially insane, due to the constant chattering in our head. Imagine the mind being silent, devoid of everything i think that’s being sane, perhaps its the silence we are all searching for..

Or perhaps i am just hungry..

I will leave this thought here..i am going to sweep my mind, some cobwebs which are hanging on to the ceiling of my brain, some thoughts to clean and make room for some new thoughts, new ideas to sink in.


The beginning of a beginning

I am going anonymous, for reasons of course known to me..because its more fun being unknown, being a virtual stranger.

Plus, i want to keep a record of my evil, devious, vicious thoughts which i dont want anyone known to me read. So well, here i am, just a human being quite vain who loves to complain, dream, depressed at times..

Its easy to wear a mask and i think we wear a mask all the times, this is the only time while writing, where i unmask myself and show you my ugly scary face.

Because we beneath our skin, gentlewomen and men we are just bones. We wear the same cloak. This is you and this is me..grab a chair & lets talk.

I have got a exam, day after tomorrow and instead of studying, i am lounging around virtually. Sometimes on instagram, checking out other people’s profiles or to be exact checking out strangers, what makes them tick, why they are happy, getting married, having kids, and of course luxe holidays. There is a part of me which understands everything, the whys, the hows, the whats to get a better life, but most of the time, for the time being, i am happy like these..lazy, lying down, scrolling to infinity and of course complaining, cursing and comparing…not a life at all..

Are you like this too ? or you are a better human being..i hope you are a better human being.

I want to rise, wake up and believe in all those self help and inspiring books, but i am too happy to sleep, i am too much content and actually feel contented with a non-happy life where i am allowed to complain and sometimes blame at my parents for way my life is…

I hope you are not like me..

This is it for now..i will be here daily, writing is like creating your own little world. Its cocooned & my idea of a vacation. Writing sets you free.

And if any of you are reading this, then thank you.