Friday, December 21, 2007

The Bestest

In my heart of hearts I believe in certain things that are not so rational. Sometimes it’s these little things that make life so worthwhile. We were at a shopping mall yesterday. My friend, her son , Kamia and my cousins. We were all having a nice time. The kids were playing but at the back of my mind, I was irritated ( you cant blame me., I was PMSing). I was thinking. Here I am with a bunch of kids and really tired. Where is Biju?. Why cant he be a part of this.So irritating. Fucking working all the time. I am so fed up ………

But I was smiling. In between Kamia had to pee twice. Somewhere around the time when we were eating, she spilt some sauce over herself and I had to take her for a wash. When I came back, My friend’s eyes were teary.

“You know what….Your husband called” She says, “ You’ve saved him as The Bestest on your phone.My husband used to call me that. For a moment I thought……

I did not want to say.

May be it’s a sign. In my heart of hearts, I believe that my friend‘s husband is telling her that she is the bestest. Still his bestest no matter what. I know she believes that.

My friend's husband is no more. And even after 9 years it hurts.

Here I am taking my bestest for granted , cribbing and comparing and criticizing. I am gonna make each living moment memorable because life is so scary and I can be really stupid at times.

Friday, December 07, 2007


When I was 20 and in college, only 18 year old guys had crushes on me. Some of them were really cute but I had a mental block about dating guys who were younger than me even by a day. So that meant , I had to date the older and the not so happening guys. I had deviated from my self imposed rule once or twice and it wasn’t really worth it.

Today, somebody looks into my eyes and says “I am so enamoured by your personality and goodness, you rock…..biju is so lucky….If you weren’t married and weren’t carrying the child, I would have proposed to you right now”. This somebody is 58 years old and the head of a company.( my father’s age). The part of my personality that I exhibited was laughing out loud and yawning when he tried to pass an SMS forward as a joke. The goodness part if any was my ability to concentrate more on the food than his inane talk. “I like you”, he says….And suddenly I am a magnet that attracts old guys.

The oldies are winking at me and telling their sob stories. They are complimenting me and flirting with me politely. The young ones are calling me Aunty, even my senior in college.

I don’t like it one bit.

I feel like Mona darling.
How’s me?( That is if you care to know)

I lost 1000 bucks….somebody I know got sacked… hubby’s become some head or the other which means longer hours and more nagging from my side. My daughter is thinner. I am fatter than yesterday.My hair is half curly and granny is sick. My brother is indifferent and mom too intrusive . My in laws feel like a figment of imagination, so out of sight. Also found out that there are no true lasting friendships in office. There’s a hidden agenda to everything. I bought something really expensive for myself that looks like a cheap bauble. Am unhappy about that, so money cant buy happiness.

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Eating your cake….
Yesterday Sleazy told me “’I ‘ve left something at your desk, its soft like your tits”. I was not shocked out of my senses nor did I feel angry. Little irritated. Yes. And nothing more.

When I did reach office, The something on my desk turns out to be a brown bread cake with chocolate filling. I ate it no remorse. I needed sugar. Besides it was really yummy.

Poor Sleazy, so obviously sleazy and insignificant.

It’s the non-obvious ones that scare me. Once one of my best friend touched me the wrong way. Yes, there are right ways and wrong ways. I felt indignation, shock and disbelief and for some weeks didn’t speak to him. I felt angry when the friendly old man tried to grope me, because I didn’t expect it .

I like to be prepared. I like my pepper spray in my hand. I like the feeling that I know what you are up to. I like to bash you up and then create a scene soothing my melodramatic nerves.

Sleazy, You can talk shit all you want but God forbid the day you try to touch me the wrong way. Until then I don’t mind eating your cake or talking to you.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

I have been tagged by Shoonyata. Before I go on , I want to let you all on a secret. I had no idea how this ‘being tagged’ worked. So whoever who’s tagged be before and I’ve been unresponsive, apologies. I was truly ignorant. Thanks Nags for enlightening me.

So here goes.

1)At one point in my life, I used to wear my hubby’s briefs. Just like that. I am not a cross dresser. Well….I think he didn’t mind. And when he made fun of me. I tell him “at least I am not sleeping with anyone else”. We share our tooth brush. Oooops that’s the second random fact.

3)I had a cat called Sooty, who was used to curl on my lap when I was in School. She had a kitten whom we named Kiss Mee. I miss both of them esp Sooty

4)My friend since childhood, Megha and I used to discuss dreams in her room with apple green curtains, back home in Kannur. It was mostly the same dream. Some really hot guy trying to “act smart’ with us and of course we hate it . In reality, we were frumpy and hairy legged and kids so forget the hot guy even looking at us. Then one day Megha is gone, before even the hot guy could “act smart”. Before even I could say bye properly. I miss her on days like today, when I want to talk to someone who knew me from when I had the Janet Jackson hairstyle.

5)I think I was the most creative when I wrote during my heart breaks. Today I am grateful to all the guys who broke my heart cos otherwise I would have been a loser slogging in a weird multi lingual family, fasting and pleasing orthodox inlaws.( all the guys were either deformed, dark, ugly and spoke bad English). Really…what was I thinking?

6)I day dream when I travel by auto or have conversations in my mind, where I speak my mind and get away with it.

7) I want to write a book some day.

Monday, November 26, 2007

I looooooooooooove bijku. he just gave me a laptop. its our 3 rd anniversary today....will tell u more tommorrow......

Sunday, November 04, 2007

The Queen in Me

I thrive in melodrama like a mushroom that thrives in dampness. When I have a fight with biju over something trivial, I have to shed at least a bucket of tears. If we are fighting in the car, I have to bang the car door and run on the road with tears streaming and kajal smudged. If I am crying at home, I watch myself in the mirror and drown in self pity. And If have pimples and cold, then the melodrama is more intense.

There are things that I hate but can’t be dispassionate about. I have to show my disgust rolling my eyes, smirking and contorting my face in all possible angles…..

I am melodramatic when I fight
When I love
When I am silly
When I am sad
When I look at the sky
And stare into nothingness

The Melo Queen is most supreme on Monday mornings like today. I sigh looking at the monitor.Is this what I want to do? What is it that I want to do? The vision of a bed, half made ( I have never made a bed till now) beckons me. The AC is always not working on a Monday. I am fat on a Monday morning and ugly and irritable and cranky.

Snap out of it. When you don’t have shoes, think about the person with no legs.

I have 30 pairs of shoes and legs.

I am blessed.

And she goes to sleep, the Melo Queen in me. For now.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

The Greatest Actress of them all

Mirror , Mirror on the wall
Who is the greatest actess of them all
It’s you, It’s you……
No , Ramani
Ramani who?

Read on

Oct 16th was Bosses day and as usual I had to take the begging bowl to make people contribute some money. Thankfully many did. We ordered a cake, and got him a Ravi Varma painting( fake of course) for the boss.

We put up a show too…..I was Lola Kutty. Everybody clapped , people who liked me, hated me and they said “ Ay you are such a good actress, wat are you doing here”.

All’s well that ends well or so I thought.

I rushed home waiting to see Ramani at the door , ready with the chappatis and lemonade.
But when I finally reached home, I found the calling bell badly damaged. I started banging the door.

“Aiyooooooo Amma, I am really sick…have high fever and loose Mosan”, she wheezed feebly.

I thought she was going to die. At least she looked it. So I made her lime tea which she drank like a dying Nirupama roy in a melodramatic flick.

She also kept rolling her eyes in a weird psychotic manner interspaced with dying moans.

I almost had a vision of her lunging a knife into me , which I uneasily ignored and frantically called Biju . Meanwhile she was still writhing in the carpet.

Biju to his credit came home in 10 minutes flat. We bundled her to the hospital. I was almost hugging her. Her stink mingling with my Davidoff. I was half repulsed and half teary. Repulsed thinking what she did with the deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, talc, lux soap that I bought her two days ago not to mention the sarees and blouses I got from aunty’s place so that she smells like a lily, looking after kamia and being almost one of us. Teary , because I thought that she was dying.

At the hospital, she was lying in a fetal position moaning and writhing. The hospital authorities insisted in getting the medical file , the card etc which cost a bomb.
Her BP is normal, Temperature is normal. For the “Loose Mosan”, the doc gave some pills.

Doc, should we admit her ?
No, she is not critically ill.
Is she faking it?
I think she is exaggerating a bit.

The cheque of Rs 4000 got realized that day and Ramani’s sudden

So Ramani came home with us, writhed more in the carpet, ate the food I gave her, while I washed her plates and learnt to live with her stink.

The next morning, she was still lyin on the carpet but this time clutching her heart. By night, the pain had traveled to her chest.

Ok Ramani, you can go.

Her bags were already packed some time in between the writhing.

The cheque of Rs 4000 that we had given to the maid agency had realized the day Ramani fell sick.

One Plus One makes two and perfect sense.

Ramani, My maid of 2and a half days, You my dear, are the greatest actress of them all.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Good things happen to good people... even to slightly bad people....

I was just surfing through my comp and found lots of moments that i wanted to be a part of this blog. One day , I am gonna be old and i am gonna look at these pics and think....Those were the days......
Nov 27,2004
Once a upon a time i met lots of losers, almost became a magnet for losers. Then one fine day, I went to a nightclub and fell in love with a stranger. He asked me to marry me right then. I said "yes". Three months later this pic happens.....and nine months later Kamia happens..well that's our story.
When we had eyes only for each other.......

The day after the wedding. Biju had fever and i felt great being married....( funny biju was feverish on the wedding day too...but i'd like to think that's cos he is HOT) okay...poor joke..

Two days before my wedding. this photographer made me pose and of course i obliged happily. That's the watch my grandmother gave me for the wedding. I lost it some months later ...well that's another story.

The previous day of my wedding(Nov 26th 2004). That's Afnan( we are not in touch now), Supriya( she is in delhi now) , Me , Meghana my cousin ( when we fight, she used to blackmail me into givin my lipstick to her), Auxilia( My woman friday...the amount of money she has lent me.....).

Well...i fought with Biju this day at night over something silly. I told my mother that I didnt want to get married, she became hysterical but by morning I woke up happy and all ready to get married.
I think Kamia was a month old there. That's ammamma carrying her ...that is Kamia's great grandmother....My hair's long and nice here(sigh)

Kamia a year ago....beena auntie sent me this snap thru email.

7 months old. I think i took this pic and yeahhhhh..... she was smiling at me.

Kamia 6 days old . she has a dimpled chin....

Kamia 2-3 days old . It was Biju's idea to turn her around like this. Sometime after this pic we had to take her to the hospital for photo theraphy. I cried and biju smoked a cigarette something , he hadnt done after marriage. Doctor told us it's nothing serious but still.....

Sometime in Aug 2004, three 0r four days after Kamia was born again taken on Biju's cell phone. Kamia was only 2.3 kgs. Every body said"Oh she is so tiny". And i was thinking....why are they saying that....She has hands, legs and everything. She looks exactly like Biju.
This pic was taken in july 2oo4, i was 7 1/2 months pregnant. Biju had come to see me at my mom's place and he was leaving to chennai that day. I had just taken a bath and was feelin sad that he was leavin. he took this picture from his cell phone. This is the window of my bedroom...where i used to look out for Biju when he came to see me while Kamia grew in me...

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Thank you Blog Bashers ...

has left a new comment on your post "Bingo !!! Yesterday I was in front of the mirror ...": ur blog is so boring.. there is nothing worth reading in it..bein open is really good but u r just using it for no good.. is it 2 attract more people.. i think u show off 2 much..anyway i didnt like ur blog

Tina has left a new comment on your post " Actually I care I just realised that nobody read...": your blog is stupid and no wonder noone is reading it.. anyway i wil not make the mistake of goin thru this stupid blog again..

Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "My Mother’s & Mine My feet is in tandem With the ...": iam sorry 2 say this but people like u r the ones who are more bothered about money than ur loved ones..even ur daughter.. and i find ur blog boring and some of ur work outrageous

AND what do I have to say?

Yawn yawn......this blog is not about global warming. It's about ME and my flab....and mostly for me to know what i was thinking and when .Nobody is asking you to read it. Weird that when u found it so borin , you still took the trouble to post comments. So sweet.
@ Anonymous- you are such a coward that you cant even assume an identity when you say things like that. Are you a good nanny? May be you can help.

All your comments came the same day, around the same time . I know who you are. My only advice darlings is ……

Eat helps..

PS: I know more hate mail will come but I looooooooove publicity even negative. muuuuuuah and thank you so much for your comments :-)

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

ET GOLF PARTY: When I just couldnt stop smiling

...this guy looks familiar
i love Sangeetha Rao. Check out her tatoo

seriously i think i should stop smilin........

Beware: side effects of smiling too much:Becoming squint eyed and fat.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Things people told me today and what I told them

Happy Onam ( a million times)
Me : Happy Onam to you too

I don’t want to work with you. For you this is a past time. For me it’s work.
Me : I am sorry. I wont repeat this.

I didn’t realize your face is so big. Is it a swelling?
Me: That’s cos ur face is so small.

Do you want to be the rat’s head or the lion’s tail?
Me: I hate rats.

I think somebody bitched about you.
Me: yeaaaaa

What sort of a woman are you?
Me: I am strong and independent. That’s what everybody says anyways.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Bingo !!!

Yesterday I was in front of the mirror nude. And the whispers began. I need to lose some kilos here. A lot more there.I wished I could pinch all the flab away. Then the mental picture of Shilpa Shetty in Metro with her gorgeous back floated somewhere in between my chubby back with generous love handles. That’s when I actually thought. Yes, I am losing weight. If I had told this to Lena.I am sure she would say, “What’s wrong with you? what are you thinking? Why do u always compare yourself with the stars…..blah blah". I am not comparing but you know what I mean rite?

It was raining. That meant I couldn’t go for a walk. So I switched on the music, dabbed lots of olive oil over myself and started dancing in the nude. I could see the fat move. It’s narcissistic and I am not bored. Then I decided that I need to put on my bra cos I definitely dont want my boobs to sag. Bingo! I am gonna dance the fat away.

I am gonna look like Shilpa Shetty. Don’t u smirk…this pic is actually hers.

There is hope. For us all.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Whats happenin with me?

Well I am not dead. Not yet. So here goes.

My boss is pissed off with me. My mom still fights with me. I still hate some people. I have put on some weight( the bad jelly belly kind but can be camouflaged with clever creative dressing). Got a facial that costs 2 grand, which made look and feel like shit. I ‘ve put on weight. Ate a burger with extra chesse and maxi size with a chocolate mousse cake today. Kamia turned two, two days ago ( on 19th). We had a cute chocolate cake of Tom and Jerry. She is my masterpiece. Kamia , not the cake. I can’t bake to save my life. Yesterday I was in the train to Chennai. Now i am in office looking busy.( actually i did some constuctive stuff today).
“Underarm” Dealings in the train

He: ……I love doin that to a woman….have an under arm fetish… biting them….
Me: really?
He: yea….it’s like kissing the ear…
Me: Can I tell you a secret that can shock you?
He: ( wets his lips looking hopeful ) shock me? Don’t ask me to go away or slap me. Nothing else can shock me.
Me: I am married
He: yeah?
Me: and I have a baby
He : I think I need a smoke.

I am sure that he wished he had not shared his dinner that his mom made with me.
I also told him that the dark uncle lying next to us has nice huge pheromonic underarms in case…..

I like him like I like Micky Mouse or Donald Duck.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Disaster on casual Friday @ office

From Me......
to Minnie Mouse

(Yes, I was embarassed)

Thursday, July 12, 2007

And what happened?

I’ve been hibernating for a while. Hmmmm…as you can see I have woken up.Here’s what happened. My laptop’s gone to a senior guy , my hair’s lil better, I had a horribly expensive lunch at the Park on a whim when I was broke( credit card of course), I met kamia, Have made a strategy to finally clear my credit card bills for good. Swimming is still something that has eluded me, can float a lil though (missed many classes) That’s me on a nut shell this month.
It can’t get slimmer than this

W-20 is not something that I aspire for, though it’s another matter that I can never get it. After the craze for the iphone, W- 20 seems to be the next must have, at least in the circle that I stick out, like a sore thumb by possessing a W-30.

In case you still don’t get it, this W-20 is the 20-inch waist size casually cultivated by deliberately starving by pretending to work and thus missing breakfast, lunch and dinner. The only form of nourishment would be the endless supply of black sugarless coffee or green tea sans sugar. A typical W-20ite has to have a sharp acumen, great reflexes in avoiding potentially fattening (god forbidden) social gatherings by some how finding “work” to do. This means disappearing during cutting the gooey chocolaty calorie laden birthday cakes and thus giving their share of the birthday cake to the calorie inclined yucky W-30+.

Work could be anything from molesting Google in all permutations. Changing and rearranging photos on Orkut album showing the latest W-20, or long phone conversations strictly with a worried expression or interspaced with “sir” …Maa,m”. The favourite line of a W-20 ite is “ I eat so much”. Flared hips are a sacrilege akin to eating fried potatoes or white rice. White is the colour of nightmare for them. Rice is for pigeons or iyer aunties, cheese is for obese, milk is for cows, sugar is an endearment and eggs are meant to be thrown during bad performances. Black coffee is for the W- 20ites. Hosannas to Black coffee.

The irony of the W-20 culture is that, they want to be W-20 to avoid bulges in one way and to attract bulges in another way. Yea, it’s confusing.

Thursday, June 21, 2007


When I was younger, I wanted to look like a princess. Nothing in my wardrobe made me look like one. Those were my paltry pocket money days, so I couldn’t afford those fancy wasteful dresses on a whim. Then one day I was talking to Omana Aunty ( though she is only 9 yrs older than me, I call her aunty and she hates it) about my princess whim.
She said that she had a dress like that and I could wear it for a day. I still remember that dress, long and shimmering in burnished gold making me feel like a princess. I was so happy that day.
After that day no dress I bought gave me that kind of happiness.
Yesterday I had just bought a dress, black n sleek when I got the call. She passed away. Not even one, beautiful with two dimples, who in her innocence thought that a metal screw was something yummy. “She looked like a princess”, her grandfather said. Omana Aunty’s lil one.

Shreya you are god’s bestest princess. Please tell him to take care of your Amma and all the people who will miss you every breathing moment.

Friday, June 15, 2007


I finished my third swimming class today at 8 am.

My routine to make this happen

Where’s the AC remote?”, My hubby whispered in my ear. It was 5:30 am , the time of the day I have never seen after the the 10 th std maths board exam. I woke up with a nagging feeling. I could hear thunder.
Shit , I want to sleep. I haven’t had 8 hours of sleep from a long time.
Sleep sweet child
Eyes shut, dead to the world
Over exerted knees, permanent neck pain, baby you need sleep
You need it darling to kiss those dark circles away
Sleep honey sleep…

So I woke up, boiled 3 glasses of warm water and drank it in one shot. I could feel the bile rise. Packing a super huge sports bag with the essentials, shampoo, conditioner, sunscreen (though it never works) n office clothes and blah blah , I was off to my third swimming class . Auto muthu was waiting for me …yea at 6:30am.

Everybody has unanimously agreed that she hates me the most. “She” refers to Mercy, the swimming instructor with no mercy. She hit me on the head today for the fourth time from yesterday. And I wasn’t all that bad. I think she knows instinctively that I am a sport and terrified of her. She hates Lena (my friend and colleague) too. But not as much as me. She is tolerant of slobbering people who are definitely worse than us. But I think I don’t really hate her. She is okay. May be she may try to murder me tomorrow. (I am not too sure n not a schizophrenic).

I have tanned, caned and been humiliated. Yet I am happy because I don’t want to drown….not even in a moment of sadness.

Thursday, June 07, 2007


I am going home tomorrow ,to be that lil girl who danced in the Kerala rain pretending to be the Liril girl, with my lil girl.

Home here I come

There are two kinds of fights,
The one where I want to walk away
But I can’t cos the love’s still alive
I love these fights
They just mean
That I want to see the more of you
That you have loud voice
When you scream
I am crying because
I have tear ducts
I am throwing a tantrum
Cos I have tested positive for
Attention deficiency.
( Hubby n mom come under this)

The other one
brews in the mind
Brownie points for
Every subtle insult
yet no screaming
but hating while smiling
( PL , Leather Pants, MIL, SIL …if ever you read this , you know wat I mean)

Sunday, June 03, 2007


Yesterday I gave the cleaning lady 100 bucks and bourbon biscuits and creamy coffee because I thought she made a face at the mess. Yesterday was also the day when the other maid walked out. She’s the one who cooks a bit and baby-sits, watches serials in a 29-inch TV, eats exotic fruits from my fridge and sleeps in a room with a 2-ton AC blasting through the night. We gave her 3000 thousand bucks for this. May be she wanted 5000 bucks, more exotic fruits, longer TV watching hours and no baby to look after. May be.

And how do I feel today? It’s a Monday morning. I am at office wearing casuals, having a bad day and a bad hair/face/body/mind day. There were two roads in front of me. I chose the one that said career+ family. The other one said Housewife. I didn’t want to be a housewife. It’s almost like being a wall with no identity , something like a glorified maid. But as I sit in the office, I am thinking about the baby, the heart breaker maid and my appointments with clients in the afternoon (when I’ll get roasted and dehydrated and more tanned). Oh for a book to curl to and a baby to play with and the luxury of putting face packs and conditioner in the hair. It’s not so bad , I guess to be that wall with no identity.

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

The Vicious Circle

Leather pants looked smug like a cat that has managed to just lick the cream from the chocolate milkshake. It’s a hat trick that she has achieved, the third person she has given the pink slip in a row. SHE is god and felt really good. And if one could peer into the botoxed forhead that encased her mind, you could almost hear a purrrrrrrrrrrrrrr and a really lazy MEAOW. She waited patiently for the PR girl to call. A call she waited every day to snub. Every day it would follow the religious pattern. She would pick the phone only at the last ring.
“Helllllllooooooo”( fake drawl) Leather Pants Here
“Ma’am”( stutter) a nervous pause. “This is Priya”
“Priya Who?”
“I am a consultant from PR Mix”
Listen, D-O-N-T disturb me, I am in a meeting. Do you understand?
She sipped the sugarless, tea less, tea .PURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Meanwhile the “Third Person”, felt like shit. He read and re read the same lines , …Your services have been terminated with due….” The fact that he was eating pea nuts didn’t help either. No More Pea nuts. , he thought .And like that other two before him he muttered with genuine interest “ I want to kill that bitch”. Slowly it got to him and he started to cry. His extension rang for the last time. He answered .
"Hello"( muffled and Pathetic)
"Sir, this is Priya from PR Mix. Is it a good time to speak to you?"
"Actually it’s the best "( sarcastic)"yea?"
"Sir we are doing an event with an NGO for AIDS awareness……. nice if you could cover the event"
"Shut the @#$% up ,you @#$%^"
"Excuse me sir?"
"You women are all alike. You @#$%^ squeeze us …inside out…kill our spirit….blah blah….."

In a PR firm some where in a dingy lane in Saidapet where the air conditioning has not worked in a week, Priya the Consultant started tearing her hair and crying …for no reason or so the others thought. “ I am a failure …I don’t wanna live”, she sobbed into her hands. Her rage translated to the phone somersauling into the newly bought computer instantly cracking its screen.
“Get out Ma, You are fired” barked the self styled MD of PR Mix Mr Narayana Moorthy.
But Priya had lost it, to even hear it.

The ambulance could not be maneuvered into that particular narrow lane in Saidapet. The attenders rushed with the stretcher to PR Mix. It was the day of Agni nakshatra and the sun was ferocious in assault.
Some body was wailing …Aiya yooooooooo
Aiya yooooooooooo
Aiya yoooooooo
“ it’s serious ya”
“Poor thing”
By the time the hospital attenders trudged up the stairs, Mr Narayana Moorthy
was still.
At the hospital, the doctor told the petrified son of Mr Narayana Moorthy”We’ll do our best, It’s a Heart Attack”.

Leather Pants rubbed her hands for warmth and cursed her cold contemporary office.
In her blog she wrote…”Another Borin Day wer nothing happened…Somebody gimme a job where I can cause some ripple…Ciao”

Thursday, May 17, 2007

Am I alive? Yup…barely
Wat was I up to?
Here’s everything in a nutshell.
Got a brand property launched
Bought some make up
Flirted with an actor
Fought with hubby, made up
Played with Kamia
Got burnt in the sun
Got knees damaged permanently
Made enemies with a friend
Got huger credit card bills
Tat’s kickin alive!

Saturday, May 05, 2007


Anybody who is thinking right would assume that someone with the tag of a pussy licker is a serial pornophile or some really desperate man. Wrong. Enter boy crazy woman who pretends to be 24 for the past god knows how long, tries to hit on anything that is fair skinned with the required testosterone levels . Okay we have established that PUSSY LICKER is a boy crazy woman (not the unassuming lesbian). It should be the other way round right?

“…Okie Ma’am….”
“Sure why not….”
“..Do you need an orange juice?..”
Slurp Slurp…….

Ma’am being the closed frustrated 50 yr old spinster who in my opinion would have been a bad lay, loves to be pussy licked, treated like Angelina Jolie in Africa. So Pussy licker goes overboard.
“Ma’am, how do you manage to look so beautiful ?
( Ma’am pretends to look busy but is secretly orgasmic)

“ love what you are wearing” (an inappropriate fake leather pants on a really hot day in a badly air conditioned office)
Ma’am lips curl into a smile

“ Leela says that you look like her mother….Ma’am can I get you coffee?”
Ma’am tries not look to look pissed off. Leela is the oily, obese hardworking girl in the office, competition to PL , now blacklisted forever by ma’am.

More slurpings later. Ma’am gives PL a promotion, a salary hike and flexible working hours. And Leela gets to sit in a corner completely ignored ,doing all the real work round the clock, never getting to fit into fake leather pants on a hot day in a poorly air conditioned office.

PL finally fell in love with a fair skinned boy studyng in 12th std who’s on suspension in school for bashing up a girl who refused to sleep with him. Ma’am got vainer and permanently sealed her fate as a frustrated spinster by buying more fake leather pants.
Leela quit the job and got married to a skinny IIT’ian who has the hots for fat oily women.

Moral of the story :
Don’t judge the book by it’s cover, who would have thought that Pussy Licker is actually a clean happily ever after story.

Every dog has it’s day.(even obese ones)

P Lickin works.

Monday, April 30, 2007

Another Client Call

Mr So and So looks at my cleavage for the hundredth time. By now I am not even offended. The funniest part is I am not even showing any cleavage. As I go on and on about exciting communication strategies which are in reality gimmicks for Mr So and So’s company to cough up some money which in turn would go to the kitty of my Big Big bosses who would in turn drive bigger cars and go on a Swiss holiday every summer.

Remembering that my deadlines are near, I turn into a pest putting my patronizing whiny voice. Mr Cleavage Starer wakes up, actually listens to me for a second and realizes that my face was not so bad after all. Now I have a lech staring at me. I wet my lips in discomfort. He follows suit. Then for some really weird reason I picture some hot air coming from the fat ugly parched lips. Controlling the urge to laugh uncontrollably I cough. Mr CS gets up to get me a glass of water. A really fat white buffalo trying to be agile but somehow failing. I look at his fat arms, dimpled and somehow cute.

A moment of enlightenment blinds me. He is 42 years old weighs 100kg +, Most likely on the net as Hot Male 30. If you don’t count virtual sex, has not had real sex for years.
Loves to stare at cleavages (which of course is obvious). Loves his mother, hates the father. He gets treated by his boss like a big piece of shit and cannot take any decision officially even if it involves the colour of the toilet paper. He is harmless, has a million rakhi sisters who don’t bother to keep in touch. I like him once I know him.

So I ask for a coffee, brewing in mind my creative communication solutions for a real decision maker. He asks me something but I have already put him on an ignore mode. He says something like “May be we could work something out”. I smile like Julia Roberts without showing any teeth and I am thinking May be you should work out fatso ( not that I am thin but you know) Do you have a B-O-S-S dude? I smile again in thin air. My wandering eyes spy a pic on one of the shelves. Mr CS with a blonde woman? Mr CS with a blonde extremely good looking woman? And that too in a bridal attire?.....which makes them husband and wife? Shit.

Mr CS looks at me stonily, says he is busy and walks out . I follow him out confused and chastened. I see him get into long black merc with a fancy number plate . I stop an auto and start to bargain the rate. Beep! The week old blackberry startles me. A scrap for me in orkut.

HOT MALE 30: lol

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Dedicated to a "Virgin"

Behind tinted glass
Her lips are smudged
Arms n legs entangled
Cheeks in heat rouged
Cry without class
Pious in nature
O God, O God, O God

Knock Knock Knock
"Open the door",
screams the cop.
"Who are you ?"
He asks , in disgust.
"Just a virgin", she says.
Swati(Rishi) called me as I finished writing this. And this is what transpired.

Me: So what do you think?
Swati: You have lost your touch. This is not even bitchy. And why are you writing like that author who put her head in the oven. What's her name?
Me: Sylvia Plath?
Swati: Yeaaaaaaaa…"Rouged"? (in disgust)
Me: Let's rework
Swathi: The first para has to go.


Dedicated to a "Virgin" ( The title stays)

In the back seat of the car
Her lips are swollen
And legs spread wide open
Flushed with horniness
She cries out
Harder, Faster, Harder….

Knock Knock Knock (2nd para stays)
"Open the door",
screams the cop.
"Who are you ?"
He asks , in disgust.
"Just a virgin", she says
Which one do you dig?

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Act 1
The bunch of vultures hovered around waiting for me to die. I am for sure , looking tired and they were hoping that I would be the meal that day.

Vulture no 1: She is nice but don’t you think that she is wearing tight clothes?Yesterday she was looking darker. Wearing foundation do you think? She is dumb or at least pretends to be.But she is nice.

Vulture no 2: What the hell is that hubby doing letting her wear such tight clothes and that too she has a big butt. She is not wearing foundation, just become fair da. You will also if you sit and park your butt in the office .yea, She is nice only.

Vulture no 3 : ( who has managed to shit on my seat and tear it to shreds) : Aiyoo, stop the bitchin.(smirk)

Vulture 1&2 : O black eyed dudette
Die, Die, Die
Give us a morsel
Of gossip n scandal
to make us well
Or else we’ll kill

(In a frenzy ) : Die, Die , Die

Then, out of the blue, my laughter echoed the room. Someone had told me a joke. My tired eyes transformed to bright lights making me look really happy. And sadly for the vultures, happy people don’t just die. So they decided to become doves. I threw a morsel of pity, some morsels of attitude and they ate out of my hand waiting to become vultures on my bad hair day.

Friday, April 13, 2007


On the outside we are the perfect office family. If it's Diwali, we distribute sweets. On Valentine's day the office looks like a spring in bloom, with flowers and red hearts decorated all over the place. If it's Holi, we are squealing and giggling and throwing colours in the office…right in the middle of computers and polished brown desks. If it's the office party we give the best, booze, dance, DJ, celebrities. So that makes us the perfect office family? Right? It's a yes, if you believe married couples never fight. That money does not matter in life. That Britny Spears is a virgin.

There is this Man who heads all these people. He is well liked and considered perfect and the best in his line of work. His birthday is round the corner. He is throwing a party. And we are giving him a gift, all of us from the great office family. So the White paper goes around, with our names typed neatly. Make your contribution, sign and pass it around. The minimum contribution was Rs 200. Some gave it readily but others started cribbing. They cribbed and cribbed till someone said" Okay guys, give what you want". So what if we can't spare 200 bucks for the boss's birthday. We would surely make his birthday a grand success by eating and drinking and dancing through the night after all we are one big perfect office family.

Thursday, April 12, 2007


How does one feel after losing a big might have been deal.? Like how I am feeling right now. Till yesterday it was all set,, waiting to happen to give me some minutes of adulterated happiness and today it's gone.

Good Morning Mr ---------------
Some Pleasantries later
So what size are you going for?
Actually , we have decided against it.
Okaaae ( like speaking to an obstinate child) But I felt that it was a perfect fit. Apart from being a great branding exercise, it ensures….blah blah blah
I am sure you feel that way but I'll let it pass this time.

And I am too tired to beg. To lie, to flatter , to flirt ,to beg again.
I am the HDFC call centre executive begging to get somebody take a lifetime free credit card.
I am the salesgirl who walks from house to house selling detergents.
I am persistent walking encyclopedia who rings the bell when everyone's taking an afternoon nap.
I am the beggar woman in the traffic signal.
Well …Almost.

My feelings conflict alternating from irritation to lethargy. The latter getting the better of me with searning heat conspiring to put me to sleep on my messy desk. Tomorrow is the day to close big deals .

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Office Bomb

Yesterday they dropped a bomb on me
And made me the official bomb
They gave me a flower, a glass one
White n stark unlike me
Like a wand, it felt in my hand
More like a fairy
Than the office bomb

Clutching the wand like glass flower
Nothing I felt could go wrong
But it did, feelings lie
Wand lay abandoned
On the home showcase
Giving may be five
Wholesome minutes of happiness

I woke up in the morning
Pinched face and slit eyes
Ready for office
In mother’s bathroom slippers.

Some Office Bomb I am.

PS: I wrote this a day after Women's day after a bad fight.
I am on top on the world right now..thought i'll post this cos I
didnt want to let go a moment.....even sad.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Going Ballistic

Yesterday somebody asked me to close my eyes and visualize “This Person” in a business suit, walking tall and suddenly “This Person” is in a beach, in a miniscule bikini and ooops he has tripped over a sunbather ( like there are those in Chennai) and somebody puts something slimy in my hand……. “And this is in your hand. His”, he says. A gooey grey mercury ball. “Yuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk” I scream. And every body is laughing including me.

Monday, March 05, 2007

Holi Ala Re @ Office blueoooming.......
He who laughs the loudest is the happiest or a guy around a bunch of silly gals

yoo yoo da bug is the ladies man ....and a sweetheart

And the thunder thighs goes to...(oooops it's tie)

winners of the 10000 marathon...smmmmmile
sorry way ur best pic or poseA colourful goldfish called Rosa

Ladies...any takers?
My secret friend in office...strikin .....a pose.
blinded by a(RO)hitfone a fren( thanks to revised mobile reimbursement)Every dentist's pride....

lost n found .....puppy
tongue n cheek.....

Finally he got a raise......
acute case of madrasplusitis

pancaked n prim
yes my job includes painting the office squint eyed....

Hanky panky in office? a sense is better than bein tense(d)

Yea thanks.....every office chair has it's day

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Someone so Morose

Stick like legs
And a deadpan face
Stuck to a principle
That makes no sense
Like a principal
with an upturned nose
walks around
raping creativity
Not My Cuppa Coffee

Cold as a forgotten coffee
Putrid as well
I try to stifle a yawn
And even smile
“You look great”, I tell her
An icy smile
Mindless chatter
“I” “I” “I”
And more of “I”
Shut up, I want to yell
And somewhere I stop
Or trying
We rise to leave
To different homes
No byes or good nights
Freedom at last
From the forgotten coffee

Friday, February 16, 2007

Madras Plus Party on Feb 10th

Too lazy to write about it as it is a thing of the past now.... Hmmmm.....spent a bomb on the green dress(Sidney Sladen)...wore contacts...hubby said that i looked like an overgrown lizard....but kind of had a blast....whole lot of celebs.....I like vikram better than surya...aarthi chabria is skinny...trisha is tall...actress sangeetha is actually thin n pretty...ok watever...about the party?....called the mother of all parties...but if u really ask me...overrated No I am not.....................high

Smitha, me, some guy n Lena

That's my lizard eyes n Sangeetha hot in brown

A whole lot of us....

Monday, February 05, 2007

Baby Boom n Hot Mommas (?)

Manju holding harsh, Me with Kamia n Yash,
Bhavna with Rohan and Ashwathi with Manishka

When it rains babies....

My Princess in white...
That's Harsh.....