THE CONVERSATION

Sitting on my favourite couch in our favourite café, so apparent that things were not the same. I constantly looked at my wrist-watch, the coffee tasted bitter than usual, my favourite blueberry cupcake rested on the plate untouched. Everything had changed, the chemistry, the spark in our eyes, the comfort level, but one thing was the same, our smiles. He handed me his wedding card, I opened it, gave an unspoken judgement- what an ugly colour you have selected for the card! His eyes were misty; mine were not, because I was not wearing waterproof mascara. Complications began when he got a lucrative job, wanted to settle down just to make his parents happy by presenting a dozen of grandchildren, and the list rolled on. I was not ready, never was I. He thought I was complicated, I thought he was impractical. It was not his fault, it was not my fault, is just that both of us gave up listening to one another.

As the silence crept between us, I wanted to say something. If you think I wished him, “May you have a happy married life. May she always keep you happy.” Then, you are wrong. In this 21^st Century, with advancement in technology, men do know how to keep themselves happy either through amusement or engagement. Rather, I asked, “Is she beautiful?” He was silent. I cleared my throat to rephrase, “Let me put it this way, is she more beautiful than me?”

He looked at my eyes and said, “There will never be any woman as beautiful as you.” His voice was filled with emotion.

“I love your honesty, I always did.” Saying that I looked at the window glass to have a look at my reflection.

P.S. This winter, I may not have enough cash to buy a white coat, and I don't know any eligible bachelor to give me a warm ride but I have my pride which is intact and tons of female friends who are sexier than the field of poppies.

THE TRUTH ABOUT FERRARI: WHAT I REALLY KNOW ABOUT FERRARI

The image I have of Ferrari is not red, powerful and posh.

I see Ferrari and on it two thieves sitting and singing, “Party, Sharty, Karenge…Long drive pe chal…” shaking their heads front and back, the man is in Keffiyeh, the scene could have been managed entirely by him, wonder what was the role of the lady (she reminds me of Manisha Koirala in Saawal Dus Core Ka, the smiling duck in the entire show). Adam Sandler was so sure of getting Ferrari @ courtesy Bedtime Stories, but he did not, who gives Ferrari for free? The movie Ferrari ki Sawaari was well received by critics but I could not proceed to watch, left it after the first half. In one of the Hollywood movies, I do not remember the name but a smart, smooth and white teeth hero blows up a Ferrari and does not regret. This entire use of jojoba in winter hints one thing, Ferrari is indeed a prestige symbol. Alas! But it did not give our great entrepreneur aka philanthropist aka wealthy confirmed bachelor Ratan Tata to come up with Tata Nano Car. The idea as popularly narrated, struck him when he saw a family (father, mother and son) on a scooter soaking in the rain, had it been (family) in a Ferrari, he could have just smile and waved his hands, for it could have been Sachin Tendulkar, the only man who owns Ferrari in India, as I am told.

Situation and action- Suppose, if someone gets a heart attack in a busy dusty open market, people will rush him to a hospital even without caring which car he is taken in, better if it is an ambulance. It is in cases of emergency that our mind does not really care what it is, for it is more indulged in what has to be done.  All these years has thought me one thing, Ferrari is but a luxury car, owners buy it to show if off. I do not have a problem even if they do, as long as it does not become a desperate attempt. In many cases, owner of spotty luxury cars gets a vertigo effect if no one gives a shit about what they are driving. Example- Once I went to Khan Market for a thorough window shopping, there on the parking lot, this guy in Lamborghini was trying his best to suck all the attention, he managed but not totally, I being a self-proclaimed psychologist pretended to be unaware of his existence, what he did was amazing. He got down from his car, walked towards me and said, “It is Lamborghini.” I asked how to spell it, the reply came, “Lamborgini.” The Letter ‘H’ was missing, obviously, ‘H’ is for the 'have-nots' to know. For your information, I just made up the story.  But, next time if you see someone driving a Ferrari or any luxury car, ignore and ignore and see the reaction for it might tell you a lot about the reason behind the purchase of the car by the owner.

REVIEWING THE WEDDING ECONOMY OF NAGALAND

                                                                                 

Marriages are made in heaven that is what the saying goes, but the ceremonious bills are to be paid on earth that is what the professionals say. Every couple or most of the couple want their wedding to be a memorable affair; most genuine reason may be because no one expects to marry a second time, although hardly anyone knows what the future holds. This feeling of once in a lifetime occasion plays a major role in deciding how big and fat the wedding should be. In Nagaland, all around the year, weddings are held but the timeline of November to March is considered as wedding season. A friend of mine in a disgusted tone complained, “What I hate about this season is the traffic jam.” Yes, it is true, especially if the venue is in some residential area where there is no proper parking space.

The course of wedding planning which starts with the engagement party, the exchange of rings, followed by refreshment or a lunch or a dinner, adds up to the expenses in a sneaky way. As the wedding date is set; correspondence is done through the wedding card, and wedding card is of various patterns, designs and inks, even the cheapest of wedding card will not be free of cost, and when ordered in bulk comes around some few thousand rupees. Who is the bride and who is the groom, where is the venue, when is the date? Please refer the wedding card, yes, it is a necessity, but it could be very pompous if the wedding card has musical recordings in it, right?  What did the bride wear? Obviously, a wedding dress; the bride could like to wear something not ordinary. If they want to make it big, then they might settle for some international labels, but if they settle for the dress bought from the local boutique it also works fine, however, cost of the wedding dresses has shot up with years, in my personal experience, some sixteen years ago one of my relatives got her wedding dress switched for ten grants, recently my friend who did aim for a low budget wedding got her dress designed for twenty-five grants; which was believed to be the cheapest in the boutique’s catalogue, indeed the entire trousseau is quite expensive. As for the grooms, whatever may be the colour, suits are the most preferred wear for the occasion; sometimes what comes more expensive than the suits are the formal shoes. What makes a wedding successful is the proper coordination of the beauticians, photographers, stage decorators, the catering service, and the return gifts for the guest who will be bringing the wedding gift; in fact these are channels which swallow a big portion of wedding expenditures.

Wedding ceremonies have been an indicator of wealth, the distinction between have and have-nots can be easily made out through the lavish expenditures. With regard to the guest; they tend to be more conscious of what to wear when they get the notion of what the budget incurred would be. The concept of ‘low budget wedding and high budget wedding’ has been a clear indicator of the class divide that is emerging in Naga society. What is fascinating is the rapid commercialisation of the occasion. The heavyweights in the society have shown their wealth through the wedding gifts  presented to the couples, ranging from a designer jewelry set to imported cars to buying lands or even constructing architect designed houses to financing the honeymoons abroad. With respect, the money that is pumped in the weddings is often parent’s money, and the irony is one who is unemployed ends up celebrating the grandest of wedding compared to his peers who are working with a decent income. Once I had a conversation with an elderly gentleman, he was all happy with the splendor wedding of his son, quite bluntly I inquired whether he will ever regret spending the huge amount if the marriage does not work, he said, “I will not regret; I spend because I could and I should.” Maybe at the end of the day, the wedding expense depends on what wedding means to different people, maybe the perception matters, maybe the definition of ‘successful wedding’ matters. Indeed, it could be nice if we ponder over it.  

One of my good friends who is into wedding planning gave the opinion that to subdue the wedding expenditure it could be better if there is a set target of how much should be spend, and could be wise if the two families consider seriously where they could like to spend most of the budget; whether in photography, food, decorations or trousseau. The Dimapur Ao Church Arogo has come up with an appreciable work of organising mass weddings, where refreshments and decorations are sponsored by the Church, the concept of it found acceptable for it helps the families who are not financially rich. By the way, I am yet to attend a wedding where it is written in the back of the wedding card that the monetary gift received will be given to a charity; well it could be great if some couples come up with this idea, after all, marriage is a union of two hearts where people love to share their happiness with others; so what harm it would be if they give it in monetary form to the people who needs it the most. 

THE DAY THE THEORY SURVIVED

All these were making me pukish; looking at the expensive high ceiling built by people who knew that they will never be invited to attend such meetings of class order, hearing the speaker flaunting his American accent shifting to British accent after 30 minutes of his lecture, and finally settling for the accent best suited for his mother tongue. I walked out from the hall, had a flight to catch, the fresh air was a thing of past, the taxi driver was an easy talker. He made me think that we humans are such strange little creatures; we know so much yet know nothing. We are capable of loving, creating, destroying and recreating what we want and which at the end of the day means nothing to us.

I took the window seat, the steward was a brown hot man; he was the desi version of Ryan Gosling. I checked him out as I was totally aware that a feminist need not is a misandrist. The feeling was mutual; I do not know whether to call it equality at play, or liberty at display or justice done. I looked at the clear blue sky from the plane’s window, too bad; I could not throw the chewing gum from there. I smiled, indeed, an ‘idea’ is the only thing which will always sell in the market; it never gets exhausted, it comes to everyone but in that moment of one true delight, we find a bulb glowing over your head. Some perverts concentrate on the shape of the bulb which is in the shape of a very firm bosom/ butt/ball and they lost their way; but, if our mind in not fix to that then the idea comes to us just like the milk from a leaking kettle. 

That way, I missed the two theorists I had grown to love the most, one died of syphilis and the other died of HIV/AIDS, both had an amazing libido. You know what they spoke to me, “ Imagination and the frequency in which thoughts travels has often astonished the most brilliant of minds, there have been theories build on the assumptions and debates surroundings the captivity with which an object attains its freedom to choose on an invert stream of thought. Projecting something as the way it is for the brave to write it down and to distract contains from what has been considered as the original; in fact, it has been the work of a person with high skill in manipulation. Summing up of the ground on which the revolt for the decipher of words have been formulated and shackled by the borrowing of the fundamentals and the writings of the centuries wherein the muscles of the escalation has been embraced. However, mountains, streams and lakes forming grand scenery of the intellectual pride and the canon driven either by bravery or the soul understanding of other’s knowledge could be of an added advantage. Affirmation and twinkling of a progressive measure could be outsourced through the progressive and coherence of a willing rebellious pillar founded in the non-confronted mind.”

I reached my home @ 11:18 pm, as I type these lines in my laptop, my horny dog is crying out loud in the corridor, too bad he is such an unwanted Romeo. However, my intention is not to introduce you to my dog, by the way, his name is Tommy but he does not respond to any name other than Jackson.

                                         

NAGA HONOURED WITH BHARAT JOYTI AWARD

SPECIAL FEATURE

I Chubatangit Jamir receiving the award from (left to right) Major Ved Prakash, member AICC, Dr. Bhishma Narain Singh, Former Governor of Tamil Nadu & Assam, General (Retd) J. J. Singh, Former Chief of the Army Staff Former Governor of Arunachal Pradesh. (Photo Courtesy: Limasutsung Lemtur)

I. Chubatangit Jamir was honoured with Bharat Joyti Award, 2013 for his meritorious service and achievements in the field of Right to Information.

India International Friendship Society confers this award on few extraordinary men and women who have specialised in various fields like science and technology, education, industry, fine arts, politics and social work, in lieu of the yeoman service rendered excellence in their respective fields. The Society has thoroughly considered Chubatangit’s work and found it to be remarkable and inspirational, stated a press release issued by Ayangti Longkumer.

Chubatangit is a social activist and has been involved with RTI issues since 2006. Apart from other noteworthy works, he was the Investigator under Planning Commission, India for Nagaland Chapter (2012) on the study of Central Department Funds in the North East Region and its utilization, Gauhati High Court Petitionaer against Nagaland Education Department under SSA Scheme (Fund mismanagement) and Supreme Court Petitioner (PIL) against Nagaland Government for illegal appointment of Parliamentary Secretary by DAN and several other important issues through RTI Act.

At present, he is actively involved in issues involving RTI Act, 2005 and Consumer Act in the State of Nagaland against corruption. His mission is to serve the nation and its people by bringing about a change in the present system through a check in the level of corruption.

The past recipient of Bharat Joyti award includes Mother Teresa, former Vice President BD Jatti, cricketers like Sunil Gavaskar and Sayed Kirmani, and Olympic silver medalist in hockey Dhanraj Pillay, gold medalist shooter Abhinav Bindra among several others.

OH! SO YOU THINK YOU ARE OPRAH WINFREY OR SOMETHING?

                                               

         MY RENDEZVOUS WITH MISS DIMAPUR 2006 ASPIRANTS

Right after graduation in the summer of 2006, I worked as a reporter for ‘The Morung Express’ Newspaper. Hold on! Do you have any idea what hairstyle I use to carry during the entire internship?  I told the hairstylist to give me Meg Ryan look (Her ‘You’ve got the mail’ hairstyle) but ended up looking like Thakur of Sholay. Half of the day, I had to handle the side fringes by shaking my head from right to left. Anyway, I loved the office, my favourite person in the office was the Editor with whom I share my surname; talented and handsome; he looks like Ted Mosby from How I Met Your Mother (Okay, I am exaggerating to make a point), but what I really liked about him was his strategy to assign me in the most interesting of tasks. Once, he casually said that a reporter is invited by some society for some event…cannot remember the exact words. As I was the only reporter present in the office that hour, I was sent to cover the event, details of which I was completely unaware of. The event was held at Hotel Saramati (If there is 4 Seasons in Hong Kong then there is Saramati in Nagaland). I sat in the lobby until a guy with his ‘I know it all, I am Ryan Seacrest and who are you? Attitude’ came to greet me; by the way, he was the coordinator of the event. I was ushered into a room where these twelve or more beautiful ladies were seated, if Frida Kahlo was alive then she could have easily picked one for her but unlike her I was clueless. That guy made attention clap to announce, “Listen, ladies, we have a reporter from Morung Express, she is going to take your interview but before that let’s have a tea break.” I wondered why the tea break session came in between. Like a slow learner with a speed pace, I realised that I was indeed going to interview Miss Dimapur 2006 aspirants. During the tea break, there were more smiles than conservations. They looked at me, I looked at them, I smiled, they smiled, I was getting bored and when I get bored, I misbehave. I took the last sip with a cocky smile, well, I was totally unprepared, but my mischievous mind was not, I was ready with the questions and those questions could blow their mind. I was not going to ask them, who among them first lost her virginity? or how would they react if their butt augmentation went wrong? Or did they ever got the intuition that they might be Queen Esther incarnate; born to save their race?  Well, because I am naughty not creepy (Hear that in a British accent). In most of the beauty contest questions the significant word is ‘or’ like ‘beauty or brains’, ‘health or wealth’, ‘gobi or cabbage’, oops, they mean the same thing. I questioned them more on politics less on what was required, wait a minute, I was doing no bakwas, no nonsense business, a beauty contest is also politics, politics of beauty, politics of the body, and you know better. I asked them whether India was a unitary or a federal country; I questioned them whom would they like to prefer as the 'First Female President of U.S.' Hillary Clinton or Condoleezza Rice (What a prediction! In 2008, Ms.Clinton was a leading candidate for the Democratic presidential nomination), and lots. I spoke pretty fast, and each time I repeated the questions their eyes spoke out, ‘Oh! So you think you are Oprah Winfrey or something?’ Finally, when it was over, the coordinator came, thanked me, and dragged me out. Next day, the newspaper carried the story that indeed these ladies were blended with beauty and brain and Dimapur is delighted to be represented by them; my job was to write….a positive feedback. Years later, I met the coordinator, my first question was, “Why did you drag me out that day?” the reply came, “Do you have any idea what were you asking?”, I smiled and replied back, “Obviously, not cleavages.”

IMAGINE THIS ROMANCE

 What if Etiben and Jina were alive in the 21^st century?

Obviously! Etiben was a beautiful daughter of a wealthy father, but, imagine Etiben as a girl of high fashion; who wore designer clothes and spoke English with a refined accent. Imagine that she got 100 Facebook friend requests per day, drove BMW and Justin Timberlake was the favourite in her stereo. But, she was lonely and was in search of true love and wished the shooting star to make her meet the man who had a heart of gold.

Obviously! Jina was not good looking and was miserably poor, but, imagine Jina rode his best friend’s bike, wore a secondhand leather jacket and was a chain smoker. Imagine Jina as a popular guy among the bad lasses of the street; imagine him as a man about whom the fathers had often warned their daughters. But, he was lonely and was in search of true love and wished the shooting star to make him meet the woman who would whistle his pain away.

Imagine they met in a club @ 9.00pm. Imagine that Etiben was dressed in white and wore platinum jewellery. Imagine Jina was in his dirty casual, imagine they were introduced, imagine it was love at first sight for Jina, imagine the feeling was not the same for Etiben. Imagine that Jina took Etiben’s number but his call was never received by her, imagine days passed into weeks and weeks into months and imagine that he finally got a call from her friend stating that she would be willing to help him. Imagine that Jina, Etiben and her friend met in a food joint, and one bite of pizza made Etiben fall for Jina, imagine that they began dating. Imagine that Etiben and Jina went out for movies and shopping and bike rides; imagine Etiben never got tired of spending money on Jina. Until one day, her father got shocked from the unceasing expenditures of Etiben; imagine he hired a detective agency to keep him informed about all of Etiben’s moves. Imagine that her father got to know about the blooming romance and decided to part the lovers for good, imagine that Etiben was grounded and  her profile was sent to all the matrimonial sites, imagine that she suffered from depression, insomnia and an eating disorder. Imagine Jina borrowed a guitar and night after night sang the sad songs of Eric Martin; imagine the suitors parking their cars at Etiben’s lawns, and imagine Etiben learning ‘Make-up to look weirdly ugly’ through you-tube tutorials to scare off her suitors.

Imagine Jina and Etiben’s friends were not sitting ducks, imagine they started, ‘Save the Romance’ campaign through social networking sites, imagine that it got the support of 1.5 billion people; imagine that the campaign was a global phenomenon. Imagine that Etiben’s father’s inbox was loaded with hate emails, imagine that he realized that his daughter’s love story was not a tragedy and indeed it had a happy ending. Imagine that Etiben and Jina had romanced for seven years and their wedding is set to be held this year, imagine you are one of the thousand guests. Happy Imagining.

They lived, they loved.

ON THE WEDDING DAY

Love marriages or arrange marriages, high budget wedding or modest weddings, Christian weddings or Hindi weddings or any weddings for that matter. Trust me, you can miss these out:

1. The Bride is always lost either in tears or in smiles.

2. The Bridegroom can never achieve a balanced look, either he is too happy or too sad. 

3. There will be at least one guest in red lipstick.

4. There will be an unfamiliar guest who is neither from the bride nor the groom side. Indeed, that guest is there for free food.

5. There will be a restless photographer. One time that photographer will be in 45°, then 60°, then 90°, then 180°, then 360°.

6. A pervert middle-aged man, say ‘Creepy Uncle’ who will be having gala time checking out the asses of the lasses.

7. A middle age woman, say ‘Business News Aunty’, who will have an informative time asking the price of all the beautiful jewellery, shoes, bags, dress and the list goes on.

8. Someone who will say, “I love this song.” Followed by chanting of the lyrics.

9. Someone bitching about the food menu.

10. Someone determining in their mind, “My wedding will be better than this.”

MIGHT BE THE WORK OF ADJUSTMENT BUREAU

I am not generalizing but why do some guys cannot handle rejection? I mean the law of repulsion from her side might have been emitted because she did not like your body odor, or the cheap smell of your mouth, or your 101 problems, whatever it is, accept her decision like a pure gentleman for the best is yet to come. Listen to this,

My uncle who is now fifty told me when he was a young man of eighteen he hopelessly fell for a woman, and after months of self-control, he gathered up the courage to propose her. You have to salute his guts, in a youth gathering he used the microphone to utter what he felt. She made faces, rejected him, walked out from the room, on the top of it the laughter in the room was because he got her surname wrong. He found it too humiliating, so as a revenge he made a distorted version of the parachute from an old ugly multi-coloured umbrella, went to the school where her younger brother was studying, waited till the class got over, approached him by saying that he will teach him how to fly. The naïve boy of ten obeyed and followed him; they climbed up the steep, below of which was a long tank filled with cow-dung (it was an Army barrack area). Everything was going well until the little boy became reluctant to jump, no amount of coaxing could make him agree, finally, my uncle said, “It’s very easy, let me show you how.” He tied the rope which was extended from the umbrella around his waist, saying, “Alpha, Beta, Gamma Fly…..” he jumped. He landed on the tank, fainted but got painted with cow-dung, the army jawans pulled him out and took him to a hospital. 

Everyone made fun of him, anyway it did not last long, with a brain like that he became a Civil Engineer, married a woman who already knew this story, had three lovely daughters; and this story was narrated to me on the wedding day of his first daughter. He likes his son-in-law but is more grateful that nothing happened to his son-in-law’s uncle. Yes, the lady who rejected him years ago is his daughter’s mother-in-law. Everything happens for a reason...don’t be disgusted.

THAT DRAMA QUEEN IS IN LOVE

                                  

                            And she knows that she is in love when,

    1.  She loves life like never before.

   2. She was lambasted by her boss but still she kept on smiling. She thinks of him even when she is shopping in a crowded ‘can’t even breathe’ street market.

   3. She said bye-bye to her signature perfume, got for herself the body spray he uses which was not even unisex.

  4.      Ran like Ben Johnson with her six inches heel to hand over the tissue paper he had thrown in the trashcan.

5.      When he is around her period cramps is just like chocolate.

6.      She sings in the bathroom imagining herself to be Norah Jones/ Shreya Ghoshal. She reconsiders her long lost hobby, blows kisses at the mirror, and treats herself with the finest of the meal.

 7.    While waxing, threading, bleaching she hides her tears for his namesake. She smiles at her enemy number one(the one to whom she once called, “Bitch”), obvious, she is in love.

8.She dances in the rain, she wears bright colours, she even acts sober which is difficult for a drama queen.

 9. She creates a theory where she propagates everyone to fall in love once in a lifetime. She inspires her friends who are single not to let go of hope and even tolerates her friend’s nasty and rowdy boyfriends.

10.  Finally, when a drama queen is in love she loves this article and the writer who wrote it.

MADE EASY COMPREHENSION FOR COMPETITIVE EXAMS

I can’t remember much of the night when you kissed me and made me feel that it was going to last forever. However, that kiss made you top my selection list, you got straight A. The summer mosquitoes and the unfailing tangy smell of the garbage around made the young lover in us realise that we are indeed romancing in a developing country. Do you remember the way Auntyjis and Unclejis stared at us with a condescending look?  Indeed, they were jealous for we were fast learners unlike them; they were born to irritate the Director with 1000 imperfect shots. But, tonight I am all alone on the bridge where you kissed me for the first time. The number of mosquitoes has increased, the smell is stronger than usual, Auntyjis and Unclejis are minding their own business, maybe they are more interested in addition than subtraction. The barking of the dog has become louder than expected; wait a minute, where did the dog come from?

                                       Question: What is the crux of the passage?

            a.   Romance is difficult in a developing country

            b. Older generations do not know what romance is.

            c. The author is comparing her lost love to a barking dog.

            d.  The author wants to show the complexities of love, hence ended the passage in an interrogative note.

POULTRY ROMANCE

What is a 'poultry romance'?

That an ambivert girl like me can never like a shy guy like you. 

That a shy guy like you can never confess your fondness for me.

That a cautious girl like me can never tell a lonely guy like you that she is single. 

That a lonely guy like you can never tell me that all this while you were waiting for me. 

That I am stubborn to admit, but I do feel …what you feel.

RAW ARK

Intro: I hardly go unnoticed in the hustle bustle crowd of Delhi. I was called Chinki (nowadays after the fine and imprisonment declaration I hear them calling momos instead of Chinki) and they could speak words in nasal tone just as to imitate the people belonging to specific regions.

   There was a time when there was no ladies’ coach in Delhi Metro, and thus, begins this story.

It was monsoon; my brother (who is now in the US) came to Delhi to pay me a visit. The shopping was fine, the food did not give him any stomach infection, and, as usual, he did not have good opinions about this city. We boarded the metro, our destination was Rajiv Chowk (CP), the coach was overcrowded; it was difficult to breathe but easy to smell the rotten and golden. A man (I have to describe you what he was wearing, he was in tight yellow pants, pink ultra tight T-shirt and pointed black leather shoes which meant that he was super horny. In fact, he looked like a pirated version of Power Rangers) started calling out, “Samsung, Samsung.” I was sure he did not mean to say that he was using a Samsung android phone, it was a clear indication that he was in a mood to tease me because he had an erection problem. I hardly lose my cool, but that day after seeing his puberty went wrong type of face, I was charged up, I said, “What does Samsung mean?” He became defensive and without any shame, he yelled, “I just came from Thailand and my friend’s name is Samson.” By the way, his friend was a distorted replica of Shakti Kapoor; he kept on smiling at me and it made me all the angrier. There was heated exchange of words, I started to speak in Ao Naga dialect, Nagamese and English (shifted between English and American accent) and Hindi and Spanish and French and Korean and Italian and Martian language.  At that time, the only wish I had was to make him extinct. Most of the passengers were having a gala time listening to our fights (so typical of the usual public). My brother did not come in between as I told my him that I could handle it and that it was necessary for my self-development. The fight continued till we reached Rajiv Chowk, the minute I got down from the metro I turned  towards him and said, “ To be continued…” The second part of the fight is still on, but I guess I do not have to wait for it to come as the game is on and every minute a woman of mighty courage and an untamed spirit is fighting that fight for me. 

THAT'S WHEN

   Pages from my Diary when I was 17

·        Never did I get a rose on Valentine’s Day.

·        My friends are generous enough to share their chocolates with me; their boyfriends has a good taste for chocolates.

·        She is looking so pretty in that dress, the radiance owes to her happiness.

·        Stories of someone getting love bites on their necks.

·        Gifts, wow, some got really expensive gifts.

·        She has a gorgeous figure; he is sure to go crazy over her.

·        She is so lucky to have him; both of them are meant of each other.

    Pages from my Diary: 2013

·Roses are expensive; come on! It is not some high budget movie…if it is, then throw petals from helicopter and suffer broken bones.

· Are we aware of the political economy of a country, the politics of core and periphery.

· Big brands, these shoes, that cloth line…if only we know the laborers in the manufacturing industries are exploited big time.

·People suffering from HIV/AIDS should not be discriminated, and we should know that gay people are not the ones who destroys the sanctity of marriage, it is the sexually frustrated- pervert- sex maniac- greedy -bastards who does. Don’t stare at my legs when your wife is peacefully resting her head on your shoulder.

•  Gifts are substitute for our short comings, try making something out of your own hands.

·        Tell her to eat healthy.

• ·  Editing: It is not till death do us apart, it is till debt do us apart. Money matters, sooner we realise the better.