Gratefully Dead

The black mark
Came to haunt us again
Splashed like the torrent
On the window pane

She tasted her tears
Tastes just like blood
you push her face
Back in the grime & mud

Cry bitch cry
this is your destiny
you are a bastard beggar
and you will live in misery

This bitch will cry
till you hide her in her arms
This bastard beggar knows nothing
Till you give her that thumb

Call my name, please forgive and forget
Till then this girl is gratefully dead


Mission Patli Kamar

Disclaimer: Name suggested by Snigdha, the writer has nothing to do with it, she only need to lose some 10kilos. Sigh!

Folks, Men (in our lives) and rest..lend me your ear

Me, Sanju Snigdha & Vinu Baba has decided to embark on a turbulent journey called “Mission Patli Kamar”…wonder why Vinu Baba wants curves…anyways after a hiatus of some 100 years, here we are…all geared up, socks pulled up and trainers on…treadmill ahoy!

The kick:

1. All of a sudden the size ‘M’ on clothes means fight of the underarm and the fabric in the trial room
2. Gracefully keeping our arms (crossed) on our bulging tummies while sitting with a group
3. Plethora of Kakimas and Kakus pinching your cheek and giggling
4. The mirror playing pranks with your once pretty a*&
5. More Sigh!!
6. You think twice before waving someone at the distance wearing cut-sleeves

Its back to the gym and pumping some irons to get that dream shape back (well almost!) and telling the world, IT FEELS GOOD TO BE THE SUPER LOSER!!!  No more hiding your tummy and shying away from that tight-tee, we have to lose weight and we will.

We will yet again prance on the grass wearing that white dress a la bippy basu  or will proudly show our midriffs or Sanju will make curtains out of her hathi tent skirts…and yes wave to anyone and everyone…ah! lovely

All the best guys and Vinu Baba get ready to get those “glances” from boys the next time you (prance not walk) on MG Road.

As of now…ARE YOU THE SUPER LOSER contest is open…

Updates soon…

Roll on..oops! pump on guys


The Golden Opportunity-Regional Cinema

Remember Tanuja mouthing “Champa chameli golaperi baghe” from the 1967 super hit bangla film “Antony Firingee”. Now one wonders what does a marathi actress with a lineage like Shobna Samarth and Nutan doing in a bangla film and that too in early 60s when the silk saree clad, bouffant haired heroines were ruling the roost in bollywood.

The answer is simple…perhaps regional cinema has given the much necessary importance, popularity, a huge fan following and yes the much needed dough to these actors. Another name pops in my mind, anyone remember baby Khushboo from a film called Dard Ka Rishta, she delivered a poignant role as Sunil Dutt’s daughter and reappeared again in the 80’s hit Meri Jung as Anil Kapoor’s sister after that there were a few failed attempts till she headed south [literally] and ended up getting a couple of temples built in her name as a gift from her ardent fans.

Hope you get the drift now…because I completely disagree with the viewpoint of bollywood overshadowing regional cinema, for me regional cinema is the welcome respite for the bollywood actors, actually all of them for I believe that they probably carry this in the back of their mind… if not here then south will definitely usurp us.

More than overshadowing, it’s a win-win situation for both, one actor moves to south, delivers quite a few hits, chooses the “hittest” of all, gets a telegu/tamil producer, comes to bollywood and remakes the film in hindi for a bigger audience hoping it will click and will atleast book 50% revenues that what it did for south.

Bollywood has paved the way for regional cinema, to experiment, to hone skills, to display creativity, giving politics a different new meaning altogether and yes showcasing talent. One follows another, let’s see it this way… they overshadow eachother…sometimes it’s a gloomy day in bollywood and sometimes its sunshine for regional cinema. All in all, both are tummy full of wholesome entertainment and we can’t live without it.

Of Crackling Popcorn and Big Names

DISCLAIMER: This post is meant only for wholesome mind stimulation. If my post hurt any of the feminine/house-wifely sentiment then its a home run for the writer

And the blabber-er begins…  

After a good rest and a couple of good nights sleep and yes of-course rangon ka tyohaar, here I am at my blabbering best [purely my presumption] and my grey cells are churning a thought “Whats with the polybags/paper packets of a branded showroom/shop” 

You can question why this thought why not a teeny weeny insight about growing population of mosquitoes and the diminishing power of your trusted mosquito repellent, surely a post when the blabber-er-o-mania strikes again.

Back to plastic ke packets…ever wondered why you save the poly-bags from a Nalli or Fab India or that new jazzy showroom in the posh locality than the packets which make that strange sound of crackling popcorn in a dungeon with ‘Cheap Cloth Store’ printed on them?  Because these poor crackling popcorn are only meant for storing garbage or the last minute grocery shopping.

A thought dawns, why the love for a good poly bag with a biggie’s name printed on it?
1.  Because people who see us carrying these will think “hey these dolts can manage shopping here”
2.  Wow!
3.  Inducing jealousy amongst neighbours [read mrs. malhotras, pinky ki mummy, ritu, geetas and etcs..]
4.  God only knows

The best part is the storing places for these poly bags, they can generally be found
1.  Under your mattress, to save the sparkle
2.  Neatly folded and kept in a bigger poly bag [the crackling ones, oh yes another usage!]

Now amongst these ‘lower middle class polybags’ and ‘upper middle class poly bags’ lies a ‘middle middle class polybag’, viz. Shoppers’ Stop, Westside and you get the flow…the ones which crackles little but carrying them gives a loud message to geetas, ramas etcs…yes madam ji we too go to malls on the weekends!  Hence you will witness a deliberate usage on a Monday, for carrying sabji-bhaji from the sabji wala bhaiya.

Another ‘strata’ is of the fetish for the Duty Free Bags…which are carried wonly and wonly by a certain section called Mrs. Malhotras of this world and meant for a silent scream assi bhi phoren-shoren jande hai!  No matter they got this bag from their innumerous mami jis/mausi jis living in so called phoren-shoren [read, London oh yes! and dubai-shubai],  and have been used to carry those $1 worth of nail paints, the flaunting never ceases, so what after a few months they resemble the crackling ones but till a little blotch of duty free is peaking from here and there; jai ho! to the usage.

Now the flip-side…if your bag belongs to ‘kapoor di hatti’ of dariba kalan and doesn’t crackle but sparkles, chances are they will be used for storing a bag of ‘Kalpana’ of South Extension

So from the next time if you see the various mothers and wives and behens neatly folding a poly-bag and you get a nagging thought in your brain and feel like lashing out the big Q why the heck you spending so much time folding it…you know!


Happy Women’s Day

You call me an enigma
You think nothing can describe me
You say we can’t understand you
You always think I am a dilemma


I think you are a supreme fool
I think you have never tried to understand me
I think you probably try sometime
I think you always feel you are here to rule


The togetherness dissolve sometimes
You say I am the only one who compromise
If I stand up to walk away
Your brain starts churning the words to play


I tell you are weak without me
I ask you to kneel down before me
I command you to feel the pain I go through
Only once you use your heart to see


I am nothing without you
You agitate me as much as I do
I will always ask
Why dawn always melt into dusk

I am a woman because you make me one
In this battlefield called life, without you I couldn’t have won
You say you like me with all my complexities
But I say I look up to you because of all your audacities…