Posted in Holiday

The Big Bum Theory

13 things you should know before leaving for a holiday in Maldives, to ensure you’re not an ignorant bum:

  • Shop enough prior to departure, lest you find yourself chopping up perfectly good pairs of jeans into hot shorts (to mummyji’s horror) the night before your flight.
  • If you think Mumbai is hot and humid, boy, will Maldives surprise you.
  • Butts are susceptible to looking incredibly huge in swimsuit candids. (‘The Big Bum Theory’ as my dad insists on calling it)
  • Do not freak out when you look in the mirror after a day in the ocean. (Yes, it’s your own hair on your head, not a wad of seaweed, and the bloodshot eyes aren’t conjunctivitis, but merely the effect of saltwater).
  • Take your camera to the all-you-can-eat dinner buffet, and a can of air freshener to the bathroom the next morning.
  • Never go canoeing against the direction of the ocean currents.
  • On second thoughts, do exactly that. Having to get towed away by Maldivian Water Rescue is more fun than you may think.
  • Ladies, don’t be afraid to use tampons. No, you DO NOT lose your virginity to the insertion of one into your lady parts!
  • Avoid falling off the Jet Ski if you seek to impress the hot instructor guy, because having to clamber back onto the watercraft will certify you the queen of Klutzville.
  • Avoid contact with any Unidentified Floating Objects in the ocean; what looks like an undulating piece of cloth from afar is probably a sting ray.
  • Waking at the crack of dawn will never be more rewarding; the orange tint of the incandescent sky is enough to put even Trump’s complexion to shame.
  • There is no such thing as having a stay ‘long-enough’ in Maldives. Leaving hurts. Period.

And finally,

  • SUNSCREEN DOESN’T WORK. Given the Melanin content of the typical Indian’s skin, expect to return looking like a misshapen sculpture carved out of cinders. Ergo, brace yourself for the inevitable ‘Hai beta, kitni kali ho gayi hai!’ from the concerned aunties in the block.
Posted in On Love


An inspection of the situation

unveiled several reasons

for my desolation.


…he was stolen from me


Retrospection, being inevitable,

triggered an evolution

of these reasons.


…he chose to leave me


But it was introspection,

forcing the cold daggers

into the hollow between my ribs,

that finally showed me the truth.


He was never mine.

sad chick


Posted in Introspection, Life

Sometimes it takes darkness to really see


It’s 1:15 AM, and I struggle to type in the darkness, darkness I daren’t banish for fear of my slumbering mother waking up. The dead of the night is a great time for revelations.

I am someone who’s thoroughly dissatisfied with life, despite being graced with necessary material comforts and generally favorable circumstances. Over the years, I have developed a penchant for brooding about the higher purpose of life, ruminating about the true nature of the inner self, and generally pondering the extent of the futility of existence. I drive myself crazy wallowing in unhappiness about the fact that I’m not happy. In fact, I’ve got so used to feeling melancholic about existence in general, that the familiarity of the feeling has caused me to inadvertently build a comfort zone around this particular state of being.

I often have lengthy, cathartic colloquies with a couple of my friends, who share my acknowledgement that life is meaningless. One of them, however, brooks a perpetual “I-don’t-care-about-the-redundancy-of-living-cuz-I-just-wanna-create-cool-shit” attitude that I have been unable to fathom, despite it seeming like a highly desirable attitude to live with. How does one conjure the enthusiasm to wake up every day and go about working, loving, TRYING so hard in life, when it’s all meant to end? Somehow, my mind seems inclined to leap right back into that cesspit of an existential crisis.

Sometimes, like right now, I can’t sleep, simply because I know that tomorrow’s going to be just like today, which was just like yesterday, which saw us engaging in feeble attempts to grace our lives with redundant actions and achievements. But presently, boredom and my Facebook feed conspired to lead me to a bunch of quotes by Charles Bukowski, one of which jumped out at me. It reads as follows:

You know, we’re monstrosities. If we could really see this, we could love ourselves…realize how ridiculous we are, with our intestines wound around, shit slowly running through as we look each other in the eyes and say “I love you,” our stuff is carbonizing, turning into shit, and we never fart near each other. It all has a comic edge… And then we die.”

I laughed (silently) for eight minutes straight. In a moment of clarity, I suddenly seem to have assimilated the fact that our lives, our pain and fears and love- it’s all a cosmic joke of epochal proportions. Maybe, if instead of going all doom and gloom over the whole Mono No Aware side of life, I ought to acknowledge how little we really mean in the grander scheme of things. Life’s too trivial to be brooding about the meaninglessness of it all. Besides, existence really is hilarious, with all its paradoxes and dramatic irony. We’d do well to laugh this ephemeral life away, than ruminate all the way to the grave.

I’m pretty certain I’m going to relapse into a cycle of what-is the-meaning-of-life in the near future, but even a fleeting epiphany goes a long way, and when in the cesspit again, I shall remind myself of this moment of acceptance, and draw from it.

And to end this piece, regretfully platitudinous in its hopefulness, I shall paraphrase the words of another wise man I much revere. “Life has no higher purpose. Life is a purpose unto itself.”