Where the same old questions raise their beady eyes and stare at me with no shame

I thought that I would have forgotten to fend off the Curious by now, but apparently there are some things that you never forget. Like wearing chaddis while cycling for instance.

Breakfast with Uncle and Auntie meant that delicious home cooked daliya and brownies were eaten while answering the Standard Set of Questions. I think every age group has a clearly identifiable SSQ, ranging from “Oooo so whats your class teacher’s name sweetie?” to “Did you hear that X died? Old age. When will our time come?”.

Unsurprisingly, it would seem that even our curiousity is bound by certain commonalities and boundaries. Even our questions refuse to leave the comforting confines of familiarity.

I think the negative review of books should be banned. There is simply no point to it. Ever get people asking you “So heard anything about [Insert name of book you SOO want people to think you will actually read]?” If there are no reviews, it means the book sucks. So if you have not heard anything about it, it is not worth reading. It is as simple as that. We can always ask each other about book; take a shot at being all intellectual once in a while. But this synidcated process of spreading negative feedback about someone’s writings must stop.

Sometimes I look at what I write and wonder. In a real “How sloshed was I” kinda way.

In a phenomenon which has changed very little since the last five years, residence within the four walls of me “home” means that I am forced to reconsider several principles of public hygeine and the general rules regarding covering one’s floor with clothes.

I can no longer walk around wrapped in a towel, screaming profanities at no one in particular while simultaneously doing a “ball check” and littering about.

Difficult times I live in.

In other news I have realised that part of the reason why nobody understands half the spat that I spit is because I tend to think in images. It is wonderfully hard to decipher images into plain words, even more so when you are choking on the sweetest pork chops ever [and I do mean EVER] made. You should have seen those buggers. Two delicious little chops, with their dark pink flesh and covered with this tangy yet sweet sauce which only served to accentuate the natural taste of pork. And you grab the bone and rip the crispy outside skin and chew and wonder whether bliss is just a menu card away.

I like Bangalore but I do not think I could live here. Which is sad cause there is this one place which makes this chicken ghee roast which will blow your mind.