What makes a great book great? I believe that a touch of good humor in a book’s narrative goes a long way in doing this job. Any book without a good dose of humor, fails to keep the reader in its grips however strong the story is. The humor could be out-right, mild or subtle according the author’s and the narrator’s personality. It could be slapstick, sarcastic, witty or extremely sophisticated. A book without humor is a book I have to force myself to finish.

All great literature in my belief, besides having strong and cute characters and fascinating storylines, has a very good sense of humor in its narrative. From classics like To Kill a Mockingbird to fantasies like Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter; from Shakespeare to Arundhati Roy; Anne Frank and Mahatma Gandhi – Every great book that ever impressed me had its own kind of humor. It’s the lack of this crucial ingredient that Jane Austen and even Ayn Rand even with their thought provoking realism and philosophy failed to make my list of author’s to search for in the book aisles. Too drab, unfunny. Romantics like Charles Dickens on the other hand told sad tales with such innocent humor that lifted my heart and the corners of my lips. Gotta love something that makes you smile!

When I grow up I want to live in Mcleod Ganj. This quaint little town that gives you up to 20 minutes of walking time from its end to end is my favorite place in the whole wide world.

I spent about 3 days in this magical place this summer and I just can’t stop thinking about Mcleod Ganj. I am obsessed. I dream about it, I make awkward references to it and I cannot even take any criticism about my beloved peach of its kind. It’s like being an irritating mom.

But Mcleod Ganj was truly amazing – cheap food, freely accessible magical herbs and substances, unspoiled natural beauty and an interestingly diverse populace that I would be proud to be a part of. So There’s finally a place on this planet I truly feel patriotic about! Maklordganj.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/McLeod_Ganj

People often inquire in superlatives. “Who is your BEST friend?” “What is the MOST embarrassing thing you have done?” “What do you think is your BIGGEST accomplishment yet?” MOST of the times I give vague replies to such queries which I manage to pull out my ass right then and there. This Monday at work I got to thinking seriously about the mosts, the bests and the remaining superlatives that cross my everyday life a lot.

1. MOST important decision yet: This one was easy. The most important decision I’d had to make was about my tattoo and I knew this while I was making it. I knew once I had that needle finish its work, there could be no looking back. I haven’t had to make such a tough decision before or since.
2. CrappiEST moment in life: When I realized that I’ll have to take the worst course I ever took, again. FML.
3. HappiEST Moment in life: When I realized that South Park was actually funny. I had finally discovered a show that was going to be there to make me laugh for the rest of my life. This happened during Episode 1: Tonsil Trouble in Season 12 when Kyle beats the crap out of Cartman for not taking his HIV positive condition seriously.
4. What do I want the MOST: Now this is too common a question to have not pondered about it. But I haven’t pondered about it till now. Usually I am just pondering about giving an impressive answer. I think what I want the most is to see Led Zeppelin perform live. Yeah I want world peace, 1000 shoes, universal vegetarianism too, but it would suck to die without seeing some or all of Led Zeppelin perform live.
5.What is my BEST memory: The day I fell in true love for the first time ever…..with the town of Mcleodganj.

I have been living by myself for the past month in Manayunk and it has been every bit as awesome as I hoped for it to be. Unlike most friends, I have been a fan of living by myself. The fact that people wouldn’t want a place to live all by themselves kind of surprised me at first. I thought most people would enjoy the privacy and appreciate the freedom to literally live on their own terms. But turns out most people chose company over privacy.
Manayunk is a beautiful young neighborhood in Philadelphia. With its semi-detached houses with slanted rooftops, and several different high rising church towers in the skyline, it makes for an amazing picturesque view. This time of the year, when the leaves are goldening and the sky is blue, is a very flattering time for this part of Philly. The best part is that my bedroom window leads up to this slightly slanted roof top from where I can catch a leisurely glimpse of the scenery around me . What makes not having any human beings (I do have two cats) share my apartment so cool is that I can go out there anytime of the day, drink anything in any quantity while I am out there and come back and do anything anywhere in my house. Play any music at any hour, watch any crap, cook whenever I am hungry, eat as little or as much as I want to, take a shower for howsoever long I want to, and read cheesy crap on my bed from morning till night non-stop like a nerd if I feel like. I like freedom, obviously.

I am pretty sure the extreme rightest wing faux-political people in India, aka the members and supporters of Ram Sene and Shiv Sena, are scared of regular things like terrorism, snakes and Rakhi Sawant; but what boggles my mind is their fear of the “Western Culture”. They hold rallies, demonstrations, group molestation, gang-banging ceremonies etc. against the “Western-Culture” as if it were some kind of multi headed kimono dragon. May be in their imagination, Valentine’s Day is a pink dragon that blows out red hearts that explode on touch. And this dragon will not escape from the Wild West and come to walk the streets of India if we burn Valentines Day cards and stop dating.

These people either need extensive therapy or may be they just need to get laid and have some chocolate rum-balls once in a while.

People at my age and (geographical) position deal with countless situations, conversations and discussions resulting from or due to the process called marriage. Now my position on marriage happens to be an I-don’t which is, not surprisingly, an unacceptable position. My friend asked me what I plan to do when the “society” questions me about my marital status when I am 28 and older. When I said that it’s none of “society’s” fucking business then my dear friend presented me with countless real life scenarios in which people have been pressurized into marriage due to the “society’s” relentless and insensitive efforts to make everyone follow the status quo. And then during our conversation I came up with some answers.
The list of sentences below are all completely acceptable answers to “Why are you still unmarried beta…..you are getting so old?”
1. Aunty I am a Manglik.
2. Ab kya kahoon aunty……. I am too ugly.
3. I have too many tattoos…..all low belt
4. Gay marriage is still illegal. I am gayish.
5. I have rapist tendencies….
6. I like little boys.
7. I smoke too much pot. Got any? Want some?
8. I would aunty, but the re-virginization surgery costs a bitch.
9. I had pledged that I will fuck 50 ppl before I get married. I am still looking for 49 – Courtesy: One of My good friends
10. Go Fuck Yourself!
Haha what wud your reply be?

Each time… no seriously, each and every single time I try to spend some time with my Mom in front of the TV I can’t help myself from wondering “why do Indian TV shows suck so much?’. Besides usually having a storyline that I find offensive and dysfunctional, the shows have zero input of creativity. Dialogues and monologues range from the obvious to the over-used, special effects from unnecessary to yawn-inducing, acting from non-existent to mildly convincing and screenplay from “wtf!” to  “Please mom, I can’t take it anymore”.  Despite sucking in every aspect, these shows have unconditional viewership. TV show-makers just have no reason to not suck. Demand and Supply.

This is not even amusing anymore. There’s only so much you can laugh about the suckiness of something. What annoys me most is when these TV shows pick up a heavy social/psychological subject (like child marriage, rape for instance) and make a complete ass of themselves and the viewers. They neither provide any legitimate information nor teach the public anything helpful. Some shows actually make a joke of the whole thing. That just sucks ass.

And if anyone related to the industry ever reads this – Firstly, you probably suck. Secondly, going over each of the character’s expressions one by one in every scene, especially with the slow motion effects, is the suckiest way of compensating for lack of material in the show. Please abandon that methodology.

And to everyone who watches these shows willingly – You deserve better. Demand it.

I want to embrace the air, collect it all between my arms and make it smell like a part of me. The air I breathe now smells like it was perhaps once caught in my hair. And I think I smell your hands. I think your palms may have been sweaty.

I want to leap face first towards the earth, collect it in my fingernails, and make it smell like a part of me. The earth I lie on now smells like the bed. Smells like tear-drops of yesterday. I think you may be around. I think may be you need a hand.

I want to jump into the water, collect it between my fingers and make it smell like a part of me. The water that wets my body now smells like the ocean. It is still there where it was. I think there may have been some hope.

I want to glow in the radiation of the fire, collect it between the palms of my hands and make it smell like a part of me. The fire that makes me warm now smells like the stove. Perhaps you are still hungry. I think you may want it well done.

Smells like failure.  Seriously.

ye dilli hai mere yaa..aaaaaa..r

Bas Ishq Mohabbat Pya…a..a.r

– Prasoon Joshi, Delhi-6 (Indian Movie)

People in art have, time and again, associated love and romance with the city of Delhi. Although the etymology of the city’s name remains unclear, the unmissable  ‘dil’ (which means ‘heart ‘ in Hindi) in Dilli, which is how we locals call our city, has for a long time invited the sobriquet ‘Dilwaalon ki Dilli’. Which is to say that Delhites are people of heart. This might seem counter intutive for people who have heard that Delhi is the crime capital of India . Hmm……to me dilli has always been as unfriendly a place as I have ever been to…. but I think I am beginning to see where exactly romance fits into this over crowded dust ball of a city that Delhi is.

Look behind the seats in a bus, train, on phatphatiyas and the like. On walls in public places, sometimes beside posters of movies like Kunwari Jawaani, Jaane Bomb (rotfl), on trees and anywhere you can imagine, lovers here seem to have the same leaning to etch there love for each other as lovers anywhere else in the world. Even in the capital of a country where 95% of people have arranged marriages. What is more -Love greatly outshines the derogatory in the graffiti scene here. In Dilli, ‘LOVE’ is the four lettered word. Grroooovy!

But this isn’t about the buses and the trees after all. May be it isn’t about Dilli even as much as it is about me. :) Dilli today gave me something to think about a form of romance that hasn’t struck me yet as now. History in romance….

Purana Qila is a historical fort in Delhi dating back to the time of the Mughals. As part of my plans to do something worthwhile this weekend, I decided to pay Rs. 7 to get inside the beautiful fort today afternoon, although the temperature had crossed 40 degrees Celsius. As I walked in through the gates I saw-there on the grass, under on the trees, hidden inadequately behind the bushes, scores of couples huddled together under the sun.  My first reaction was “wtf” which was owing to the group of young boys whistling and teasing a particularly active pair.  haha and I started to exasperatedly wonder “What do these people find so romantic about the ruins of a fort?” And then I answered myself ;)

I can’t believe that I hadn’t ever in my (day)dreams thought about the attractiveness of a place where legendary historical people of possibly great personalities may have had their own romantic ummm experiences at. I mean a fort like Purana Qila is just perfect for any kind of a romantic time. There are  gardens and forests, hot sticky sun and shady groves, rooms with doors, rooms without doors, places you can’t be caught at and places you can be caught at, oh and the boating lake. And with all of them comes lots and lots of History. haha i dunno if people that go there have any historical interests in their mind but they definitely threw open the doors to a whole new exciting aspect of Delhi for me.

I am such a history nerd these days!

Love in Purana Qila

There were several things on my mind as my plane took off. It was an important moment. The stewardess served water and peanuts. The girl sitting next to me took her shoes off. Somebody burped. I put my headphones on. Zeppelin, as usual.

One of the many thoughts on my mind was about transitions. I was looking at the orange and blue of the sunset. But then my plane had to take off. I was closer to the sun, but farther from the sunset. Goodbye, I am thousands of feet higher.

Then my mind was blown away. The sun had set already. I was flying east. Looking out and down from my window, I saw all the light that is there in the world. It wasn’t enough. I could only see vague outlines of attempts that people make to be able to function together. I saw millions of tiny sources of illumination for people to be able to see just not enough. Because I couldn’t see enough. From so high up, I didn’t see enough.

So, there were things on my mind. The girl next to me said she was visiting home after long, first time after getting married. I asked her how being married was. She said one should try it once, “definitely”. I said, “I’ll try your continental meal”, to the stewardess. “There is no dairy in it right?” Following the affirmation I chewed through the dairy-free fish filet. Ha.  But that isn’t as vegan as I got. The dark chocolate mousse cake had to go – to the girl next to me. I always take the cherry on top of the cake. So I took the cherry on top, as usual.