On an average, we celebrate 4-5 festivals per month. There are the major ones like Christmas and Diwali and then there are minor ones like whatsitsname-get-drunk-and-
I am not a morning person, I am not an afternoon person, I am not a late-night person….In fact, I don’t think I am a person after all.
Return Gifts: Those cheap things kids almost lynch you for, and then discard on their way out.
Men can make boardroom presentations, solve difficult business problems, make complicated financial projections and drive back home, maneuvering through rush-hour traffic without feeling stressed.
What stresses them is the dreaded question at the dinner table, ‘How did your day go?
I notice women have memory retrieval systems that work like sticky tongues of toads. They leap out like lightening and can strike in all directions to retrieve the object of choice in the situation.
During evolutionary times, men had to withhold displaying emotions to be able to guard their families and hunt. The tables have turned: today, the same is causing them to get hit on their heads with objects such as pillows and TV remote controls.
Have you seen one of those fat books on ‘Good Parenting’? Well, it’s a good thing that these books are fat! Because, by the time the kids turn into teenagers, these parents can use the same books as aimed missiles.
I love meeting old people. It’s mostly about the deference and respect I have for them. But, if I peel the layers, it’s really about being addressed as ‘you youngsters’ by them: even as I lean against the sofa to cushion my crepe-bandaged knees.
With the woman’s ability to recall, and the man’s ability, to, well, look good in suits, I think, they would make a great team for criminal investigations.
Unfortunately, women investigators, at least, as shown in the movies contribute only by way of their fashionable white silk shirts pulled tight over their ample bosoms.
There are over six thousand languages in India, as per one estimate.
At home, my driver speaks three: Kannada, Tamil and Telugu. I speak three languages: Hindi, English and bad.
The home nurse (caring for my MIL) speaks Malayalam.
The maid speaks gibberish. And, my husband does not speak.
So, by the time we get a simple task executed, for instance, ‘Get some salt’,
one can take a short trip to Sri Lanka, learn Sinhalese and come back.
For those who have still not read; ‘Band, Baaja, Boys’, I have just one thing to say: May Modi demonetize you, hug you, Mitron you and then hug you again.
My maid calls Papita ‘kapita’. I feel as if the fruit has been personally blessed by Ekta Kapoor.
Am I the only one who gets mad with these variations of ‘Ok, Bye’: ‘Okhai…boy’ and the longer one ‘Okkhayeee B Boy’?
Lovely weather. Feel like dancing to ‘baby doll main sone ki’. Let me check the office policy on that first.
What’s with all this hugging, Mr Modi? Why is Pehlaj Nihalani not stopping it?
I have a bad cold. And am watching ‘Kisna’ on TV: I believe in making all suffering complete.
Dear Pessimists, Bangalore is still a pensioner’s paradise. When you start at 8:30 am for work, by the time you make it to office, you are eligible for pension.
While you cannot launch satellites from the Bangalore SLVs, but, if you overdose on the sambhar, the chilli-hit has the propensity to eject you to outer space.
Today, a new restaurant’s flyer inserted in the day’s newspaper invites me to ‘Come over and taste our delicious meals at your own place’. As I attempt this impossible task, please pray for me.
Important Notice: Owing to rise in taxes on cosmetics, I shall, henceforth not be available for face-to-face meetings and video conferences.
Jabong delivery boy calls from my doorstep to ask if he could deliver the packet to my cooker since no one else is home. I am tempted to respond ‘wait for three whistles first’.
My driver says ‘dreesal’. Like diesel came to him and demanded equal status with petrol with regard to ‘r’.
I have a friend-suggestion of a guy with a self-attested passport-size photo as his profile picture. Taking online credibility to new levels.
I feel it’s time to start a movement for equal, non-discriminatory facilities at discos.
I ask, why are there no wheel chairs at Titos?
Why can’t they have ‘Geriatric Nites’ as well?
We could all go there, take off our dentures and have wild time, while sipping our chicken soup.
Come think of it, they could also offer a free dialysis with every drink!
I don’t want ‘equality’. I want a say in all financial decisions — big or small.
I don’t want diamonds — I want the confidence to say ‘who cares about diamonds?’
I don’t want a career — I want a workplace where when one calculates the extra days taken off by women during maternity, there is also a system to calculate half-hour per days taken off by men on smoke-breaks.
I don’t want crocodile tears. So, let me scratch my privates in public, stare at your chest (or whatever part of the anatomy is uncomfortable to you), and mob molest you.
Alternatively, you stop doing it to me. Just cut the crap, can we? Let’s talk business.
Cleaned my wardrobe, arranging clothes into:
(a) Can wear if I lose weight
(b) Cannot wear even if I lose weight
(c) Can wear now if I can hold my breath long enough, say 4-5 hours
(d) Can wear if reborn as Kareena
New maid’s name is Begum. Husband is asking me what he should address me as now.
She’s fully compost’, I heard the TV anchor say with admiration. I think she meant ‘composed’.
Sign at the neighbourhood shop – “On one LITTER Pepsi, get one LAY free. ” ….hmmmmm, shouldn’t it be the other way round?
My maid is always in aaspital or Taimpill…. Does being religious make her sick or the other way round?
I wished my daughter all the best for her Art Exam today, saying she’ll be the next Michael De Angelo.
We all danced to the our golden oldie ‘Livin’ Next Door To Alice’ as we asked that enduring, perpetual, undying, poignant question that comes after every verse.
While we search for intelligent life outside the planet, do we even realise how stupid life on this planet has become? Why are we so stupid?
Why doesn’t the nation want to know that ever?
My girl smells of peaches and strawberries. Sometimes, rose. Or the ocean’s breath.And, the blush of an angel, at times. My boy smells like what the cat dragged in.
If you want me to put a <3 on my wall to support breast cancer awareness, pray tell me what you’d put on yours to support cardiac wellness awareness?
In the car. My daughter (listening to the radio): “Woooo, that’s Shreya Ghoshal!!!’ My son (looking out of the window, apparently): “No, that’s a Honda.”
Yes, humans are capable of inventing stuff that are well-intended, but are harming us. Like G foods and WhatsApp ‘good morning’ images.
Summer Vacation Tip #11: Today, I will teach the kids craft-making out of waste material lying about in the house : like the yoga mat, dumb-bells, treadmill.
When you feel like writing ‘bhutail bandariya lag rahi ho’ on a friends profile photo but instead write ‘you ethereal beauty, stunning and intense’….that is where…that is right where, my friend, corruption begins.
I think Silkboard junction should be elevated to the status of a deemed University. People should be invited to enrol for degree-courses at Bomanahalli. And degrees can be awarded by the time they reach Madiwala.
Post-lunch meeting with client. I woke up when I heard “so, those are the three things I want done “…what do I do now?
Explain this statement: “Thank you ma’am for accepting my friend’s request.”
Agile … Agile…Agile…Pak Gaye Hum. Yeh lo mera dhai kilo ka haath on your boring scrum.
My son did not like the ‘Growing Up’ class held in school. He said it was not kids-friendly.
Today my daughter has English Literature and Biology exams for which she studied all evening and clarified doubts with her father and me.
My son has French exam today for which he cycled and played the guitar all evening.