Where we exchange dreams, gift wrapped in rustling cellophane sheets tied together with garish ribbons

That would be kinda cool if you think about, the whole exchanging dreams bit. Hundreds and millions of people (or perhaps only two), facing each other, each with one (or two or three) dream in his/her hand. Gift wrapped and held with tenderness and anticipation. Looking into the other person’s eyes and handing the dream over. Getting a new one in exchange.

Fuck. That would be beautiful methinks. I wonder if you would have to unwrap it all or whether you would just swallow the dream through your eyes and your mind and your heart. Would you be afraid or hopeful or sad or happy? Would the new dream be compatible or would it have to be moulded into something that you can understand. Would it be in a language that you understand?

Fuck. The language of dreams. That has got to be universal.

Am sure there would be assholes like me also. Trying to fob off some rubbish as a dream, re-packaging stuff from magazines and tv commercials and trying to convince people that this is the real deal. Desperately trying to push “2-for-1” deals and meeting with little, if any, success.

Would this bartering grow and build into a proper industry of sorts. A stock market of freely tradable dreams. Where a hundred million people could all own a little piece of a dream, of someone else’s dream brought with a little piece of their own.

No, no. I don’t want to commodify this idea. i-stop.


If I ever started a driving school, I would make it full proper hard-core. Means I would hire people to randomly jump in front of the learner while s/he was driving. Have crazy fuckers on two-wheelers zoom this way and cut right in front of the scared shitless learner. Or something like that. This is not something I have given too much thought too.

Had cholle bhaturi this cold, wintry morning. Properly spicy cholle with aloo pieces at the bottom, mirchi ka acchar on the side, next to pudina chutney and two, bhature, filled with the steam that blows out once you puncture the bhatura.



Then what you did man? Full loafing here and there it sims only. Means rather the possible. Whattey porki.

Went to Orchha for a wedding. Sala these weddings na, they are totally going to be the end of me. Full sweet and romantic and all mushy mushy and inside I am like “awww” while maintaining an impossibly rugged and macho exterior.

Saax this Orccha place is. Almost magical cause there are these massive, massive cenotaphs just standing silently across the banks. And you can just walk through them and stare at them and they will silently stare back. Un fuckin believably beautiful. So grand and sombre and so fukin silent.

Way too much to see ya’all. I swear. By God. Ooooo “by god” like those paos in Bombay. “I swear man, Byegod.”

Teri kasam. Godswear. Oh fuck, godswear. Probably the highest grade of truth that is humanly possible.



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