Tag Archives: Delhi

My first official date and how I effed it up

A fine Saturday Summer morning and all I wanted was some food and cold beer, but the almighty Cupid was planning something more for me. This is what I did and what millions of other people do all across the globe every day when they wake up, I woke up, I felt sad for waking up, I unlocked my phone and checked my messages and that’s when the fine Saturday morning took a dramatic turn. I saw her messages ‘Hey there, u free today?’…and those who can read between the lines will understand that this can mean anything, from come to my place and let’s make out to go to China and bring me some Hakka Noodles. Unaware of the threat, I replied ‘Yes I am.’ with optimism and one smiley.
‘We have been texting for very long, I want to see you’ she said.
And my nervous system freaked out and started to bombard my brain with multiple questions, genuine questions regarding her message like “Is this a date, is this a joke, is this a prank or is she trying to kidnap me?”
A gorgeous fresh designer graduate ….asking me out for a date in a country with the sex ratio of 944 girls per 1000 boys is an achievement in itself.
So as I mentioned, it was summer, she decided the best time to meet would be 3 pm so that we could go out and come back with third-degree burns.
Punctuality is a concept we Indians can never understand, we fix a time so that both the parties could come sufficiently late with stupid excuses like my dog peed on my shoes or Russian Mafia kidnapped me. Seriously why are we always late? Except for the only event where timing matters, we Indian men come early (pun intended).
Anyway, I knew she will not come on time, so I’d brought everything to entertain myself with in the meanwhile. I rotated my fidget spinner, updated status on Facebook, clicked dozens of selfies, went on a word tour, killed Kim Jong-un and came back and then she called me.
“I’m so sorry, I’ll be a little late”
WTF woman!! What is taking you so long? I told you to take the metro, not a bullock cart.
Finally, she arrived after 45 minutes, exactly 10 minutes after I was done with all the crucial work that was keeping me engaged, like updating all the apps from Google play store, counting the stairs and watching strangers watch me watching them coming inside and outside of the metro station.
We took an auto for our evening Delhi tour. I skipped elaborating the part of our awkward meeting when I extended my sweaty hands with a creepy smile and she just looked at me with a scandalized expression.
We exchanged hellos and the usual conversation started and I asked her how is work going?
Till then I didn’t know that you can answer this simple question with a nine page long essay, she told me everything, everything from how her college was, how her internship went, how her new job is going, how she is planning to open an NGO, how skinny pants are different from tapered trousers…fucking EVERYTHING. For the last twenty years, till then, my knowledge about the designing field was confined to what Bollywood has shown us, that the designing industry is full of drug addicts and horny gay people trying to fuck each other, but in that twenty minutes I realized that designing industry is much more than that, it also includes crazy designers with OCDs who cannot stop talking.
Somehow we reached the Ugrasen ki Baoli where I took her down to the well and showed her hundreds of bats hanging from the ceiling and she screamed and I thought something would happen like it happens in Bollywood movies, girl falls, the guy catches her in his arms, violins start playing in the background but Alas! Nothing happened.
Then we went to the Red Fort, the ugly red building where Mughals used to play snooker.

47q3w

I showed her the big open fields where Akbar used to take Jodha Begum on a horse ride and they used to have their little tickle time behind the trees. I thought this might trigger some love hormones inside her, but nothing happened. And deep inside I was hoping that in the end, she doesn’t reveal that she likes women because then my inner self will be like “I told you so”. All these efforts of making a girl fall in love with me were tiresome and I was hungry, and my ears were bleeding after listening to the stories from her Kerala Trip fifth time since we met. So we went to the only cafe in the Red Fort campus, where everything is overpriced and tastes like shit and I ordered a couple of Burgers stuffed with some fried yellow shit and some red and green shit on the top with coke. Wandering was done, eating was done, the only thing that was left undone was my charm to work on her. She still showed no sign of interest in me. We sat down on the freshly cut grass and started talking about Random things, from our school life to movies to her life, her future plans and her list of favorite places. We were having a serious discussion over movies when she said something, something so irrational and fallacious that it still leaves me offended when I try to recall that horrific moment. My hands are shaking, my heart is thumping hard and I’m covered in my own puke while I’m writing this unbelievably ridiculous comment of hers. She actually said that the Harry Potter movies are better than the books. This is the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard. “Go back to the cave where you’ve come from you brainless duck-face” I wanted to say this but I remained silent and waited for the evening to end. She kept on saying some other stupid things but I remained silent. She looked uncomfortable because of my sudden silence, but I remained silent. Nobody talks shit about Harry Potter and then expects me to talk back. Before that, I was thinking of booking an Uber and dropping her but hell no, I changed my mind, I will take an auto and you go hop on the bullock cart you’d arrived by.
I went back home and decided to never go on a date again on Saturday. But the next morning I was feeling bad about it. I want to go on another date because now my right-hand hurts,
.

.

.

 

by constantly swiping right on Tinder.

Advertisements

Life Sucks? Get a Roommate!

 

I’m talking about the guy who uses up all your hot water and puts his dirty clothes on your side of the cupboard. I live 700 miles away from my home with a guy who happily uses my soap, my towel and sometimes my boxers and vice versa. Four years ago I moved to Delhi for usual kind of stuff, perfecting the art of rolling joints while completing my college and getting a job. In the process, I had to share my place with many different third world people of different choice of TV series and IQ.
My history of sharing a house with other Homo sapiens goes back to my early childhood when I was forced to share my small room with a smaller human whom they labeled as my sister. I spent most of the time convincing that small round and loud human with a rampant excretory system that she is from another world and my parents have just picked her up from a dustbin on the roadside, or building a spaceship to send her back to the planet of small and round wailing heads, where she belonged, especially when she got all the attention from my parents just by making a noisy howl like a puppy run over by a lawn mower.
Then after more than a decade, I moved to the cosmopolitan jungle of Delhi and for survival, I had to live with people, many times complete strangers, strangers with a possible career background in serial killing or cannibalism. But I rose above my fear of unfamiliar faces and their different taste of music.
I have lived with a guy who had once screwed the maid, and then with a guy who showered once in a week, then with a homo and then in a PG with a bunch of desperate weirdos who used to work all night, sleep all day and plan Goa trips every other weekend.
I have done enough jumping from apartment to apartment (8 apartments) in the last four years. Although I love to live alone so that I don’t have to alter my bathroom schedule because of somebody else’s, neither I have to stay dressed when I’m home, however, a 1 BHK flat in South Delhi is still an amenity for a struggling writer.
Despite his extreme obsession with big-eyed and pointy head Japanese cartoons they like to call ‘अनिमे’, I’m pleasantly surprised that we get along very well. From making morning tea to cooking the most exquisite chicken dishes, he is the ideal roommate in all the aspects of roommat-ing except that he doesn’t roll. He has actually made me realize that having someone by your side to talk about random shit or watch an episode of The Big Bang Theory late night or sleeping until late afternoon is not such a bad idea.
Here are three reasons, why having roommate is better than living alone and fapping all day:

hallelujah

  1. Hammered: Apart from the obvious reason that your rent and food bill split into two, there are several other reasons helpful enough to make you get a room partner. It’s a Saturday evening and you’re already hammered, who is gonna stop you from jumping off the rooftop, or drunk dialing your ex? Although this does not happen with me, I’m quite good at controlling myself, and you can’t just tell by looking at me that I’m under the influence until I open my mouth and speak, because when I do, random words come out that does not make any sense. I then need someone to answer my calls before my mom starts thinking that somebody has either kidnapped or killed me and call the police, after three consecutive calls I miss. He never volunteered for this job but yeah, we don’t have an option.talk crap
  2. Bitch-ing Please: We are men and we bitch, yes we do. Gals, it’s not only yours extracurricular, we also sometimes talk crap about our girlfriends, their friends, our friends, teachers, government, Jon Snow, etceteras. We need an equally fed up guy who will reply you with equally shitty statements, and besides talking crap, we are always in a need of a second opinion on our work, on our outfit, on whether or not India will win the match and just about everything. He is the extra Grey Matter I sometimes need.                                                                   A Big ugly Spider
  3. Killing fucking Spiders: Spiders are creepy little hideous creatures with eight long sting-like disgusting legs and every once in a while these repulsive little creatures crawl out of nowhere inside my washroom to kill me with its exceptionally grotesque appearance. The only thing that I abhor so intensely from my heart is a freaking spider and I am not capable of killing them because of one of my strange fears that the spider might jump on me and crawl inside my nose. So this herculean task of annihilating a freaking resilient spider belongs to my roommate.

‘FAN’ review: For all the SRK FAN(atics)

Drama Thriller

Director: Maneesh Sharma

Cast: Shah Rukh Khan, Sayani Gupta.

 

The limits of love and obsession, not defined yet defied at times edging the threshold, turning itself into insanity. Such is the case. SRK has previously played the character of an obsessive psychotic before, remember Darr. But unlike Darr, in Fan, he is the assailant and the victim as well.

Gaurav Chandna lives in Inder Vihar, Delhi and is an extremely obsessed fan of Aryan Khanna, a big Hindi film superstar. He bears a resemblance to his idol Aryan and he can also do a pitch-perfect imitation of the superstar. He wins a trophy of ‘best actor’ in a local ‘Super Sitara’ competition by imitating Aryan and then gifting the trophy to his idol, Aryan Khanna becomes the sole purpose of his life. He embarks on a pilgrimage to Mumbai (without ticket). He traces Aryan’s journey back to his struggling days and like a true fan, he stays in the same hotel room where Aryan stayed. When he reaches the star’s house, he finds himself lost in other hundreds of fans like him. After being turned away from his home he goes below the belt and does something wicked to please him but unlike his expectation, Aryan wasn’t happy with whatever he did and as a result, he was sent to jail. This experience leaves him dejected and disappointed, and all his hero-love turns into hatred. He comes back to Delhi and burns away all Aryan Khanna posters and now all he wants is to make Aryan Khanna regret. The movie becomes dark and although Gaurav is the negative character in the movie but it also sheds some light on how narcissistic some stars are that even saying a simple sorry defies their ego.

The first half ends and so does the logic and the movie becomes implausible but I’m preety sure it will not bother true SRK fans. Despite all the security, Gaurav manages to pull off some egregious acts in the name of the superstar, which makes the movie absurd and when Gaurav succeeds in deceiving Aryan’s home-guard and his wife as well, the movie becomes silly to some extent. The character of Gaurav was well crafted but playing it must be a challenging job and after Happy New Year and Dilwale, I wasn’t expecting much from SRK but to my surprise, he nailed it. Aryan’s character was similar to his own self and he played both the roles fantastically. Editing is good and they’ve done a good job by not keeping any song in the movie. Dialogues are good and Sharat Kataria, the dialogue writer has maintained the Delhi-ness of Gaurav. Makeup team surely has worked hard in making Shah Rukh appear a goblin looking FANatic Gaurav. Shah Rukh Khan keeps you hooked. A Fan like Gaurav Chandna is certainly a nightmare also for many real superstars.

FAN may not be a great movie but it delivers what it promised in the trailer and manages to keep the viewers on the edge.

Rating (3/5)