Where the story begins once again, an aching desire to put the words onto paper before they shimmer away into the darkness

Told a couple of my friends that I will be meeting one mins rather laady for lunch sometime soon. Also told them that I had decided that, from now on, I would strictly be myself. Be real. Be true to my character. Not pretend to be anything or anyone I am not.

The look of sheer horror on their faces was most discomforting.

I could actually see them process my statement, puke in their minds, roll their eyes full 360 and then involuntarily shake their heads, almost pleading me to take back those words.

And I was like, what the eff ya.


Long, long ago I came to the conclusion that you get the friends you deserve. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then, then what else.

Went to this forest called K Gudi. Full sexy. Full quiet and green and natural forest reserve and shit. Full sexy only. So you can sit outside your “tented cottages” (or some such hocus pocus) and just stare at these mountains of green. And there is this giant hammock and if you lie on it and look up, you can see the branches of these giant trees and leaves shimmering and shivering so far away above. Probably one of the most relaxing things ever. Like ever ever.

Full sexy only.

Also, there was this one herd of elephants we spotted in the forest. And one of them mock charged the jeep and I nearly shat myself. Can’t believe those fat mothas can move so quickly. Literally have the words “Do no fucky fucky with me” written all over their faces.  Full sexy.

Also saw this giant eagle type thing and it was all chilling in the branches and gave me this real cold-ass stare. I was reminded of an ex-girlfriend only, I swear. Means total ice-glare.


Went to this place called “Toit” the other day. Who the fuck lets school kids into a micro-brewery is what I want to know. I mean, their existence itself is annoying but when you are high, the last thing you want to see is this uber energetic bastards moving all over the place. I mean is it just me or do they run all over the place? Like just for kicks. Clutching their clutches and upping their collars and fist-bumping, nipple rubbing each other to death.

Nipple rubbing is this manly chest bump thing that guys like to do with each other. I just do not frikkin get it. Do a handshake man. Or even be all ethnic and do namaste namste dockamotha.

I have started using the word “beetches” at the most random of moments. Especially while driving. So I am like, “Aye auto, go ahead. Beetches.” and then “aye red light, whatman. Beetches” and shit like that.


I think I would actually kill myself to hear a woman laugh. Can think of few things that are nicer to experience than the tinkle of a laugh. The upcurved lips and the joyous freedom, the toss backed head, or the nodding head and the shivering shoulders.

Waah waah. Nahi nahi, waah taj.

Zaakir Hussain in yo face mothafucka.

Fuck. ZH in a rap video. Being all bad ass and shit. “Yo, don’t mess with Zed, coz Zed gonna beat your skull like this tabla shorties”


If I ever create a fictional detective type character, that is going to be his catch-phrase. “….and John Crayon (that’s his name) walked away from her house, quite sure that she was looking at him from behind the curtains. He turned around, and saw her hand on the window, and thought to himself, “Beetches”.”


John Crayon motherfucka!

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2 Responses to Where the story begins once again, an aching desire to put the words onto paper before they shimmer away into the darkness

  1. John Crayon. Hmm… I quite like that name. Also, beetches, when you getting married to me? 😛

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