There are times when you cannot write. That’s when you should write even more.

Start with writing exactly why you can’t write. You will find that the so called write’s block was a demon you created yourself. Write about how it sucks to not be able to write. IT SUCKS! Write long. No need to break your thoughts into paragraph. Just un-jinx it first, you can always fix it later. Do what Hemingway did – write hard and clear about what hurts. “I can’t find time for myself and it makes me angry, *HULK SMASH*”. Write about the movie you watched or want to watch. I have free tickets to Avengers: Age of Ultron (company of hot women would get preference). Write about what you’ve been planning to do. ESCAPE!

There you go. You just broke a month and a half long writer’s block on the blog. Congratulations.


You owe yourself a life.

Good grades to your parents.

Good time to your friends.

Good performance to your boss.

A painful amount of tax to the government.

We owe so much to the people around us.

It’s safe to say that it’s a demanding world.

The only way to beat this stress of owing

is to become more demanding.


Become more demanding with yourself.

Quit that shitty job that makes you feel worthless.

You owe yourself recognition.

Travel to that place that’s currently your desktop wallpaper.

You owe yourself some fresh air.

Call off a relationship that’s not going anywhere.

You owe yourself some self respect.

Lose touch with friends you have nothing in common with.

You owe yourself some quality time.

Make money, make friends, make something you never knew you could make.

You owe yourself some excitement and novelty.

Buy that thing before it goes out of fashion.

You owe yourself some pampering.

So next time when anyone tries to ruin your happiness

by telling you what you owe them,

just remember that you owe yourself a life.


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You know what, it feels good to be ancient.

I turned 28 last week and as you can see old age is slowing me down. Gone are the days when I used to write my birthday post on the very day. On a completely unrelated note, now I understand how old people are able to drive cars slower than a three legged camel.

Watch this badass video and you will know why we old people are so cool —> Old people know shit!

With a limited stock of ‘fucks to be given’ priorities become clear and many self-inflicted inhibitions disappear in thin air.

Old age makes you realise that you are your favourite person – such a calming state of mind.

‘Been there done that’ and ‘bitch please’ situations show up now and again, reassuring you of a life well-lived.

Peer pressure? LOL! Young man, show some respect, you are talking to a dinosaur.

And of course, there is always nostalgia to keep you smiling. In my case it was the good ol’ 90s. A time when kids were stupid and life was simple.

Getting old feels good as it gives you more reasons to stay young. So go ahead, flaunt your wrinkles, run fingers through your salt n pepper, give someone an unsolicited piece of advice, brace your past and hug your future and don’t forget to smile like a kid – with your eyes and your heart in it. Age gracefully happily.

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February, show some love.

It seriously can’t be happening. Time is running like she’s any Delhi girl being followed by a Tata Sumo with ‘Jaat Boy’ sticker on its back. No wait, that’s not funny. I should not make fun of girls or Jaat Boyz.

It seems like yesterday, I was full of hope, energy, and resolutions (the same ones I made last year and the year before that). I was busy wondering about the biggest disappearing act of all time aka known as the ‘Year 2014’.

2015 is different. It’s so fast that it makes 2014 look like a pseudo-intellectual Bengali Art Film.

This year, I wanted to write a lot in my journal. Unfortunately, if you see my entries for the month of January you will find lesser words than a Salman Khan movie script (and we all know that’s just made of three words – BHAI KI ENTRY).

This year, I wanted to run regularly.
(Shhh… listen carefully, you can hear my Nike going LOL!)

This year, I wanted to save more money and lose all my debt. On a completely unrelated note, what’s the procedure of becoming a male stripper? Do I have to wax my chest?

February is here. It’s my birthday month, which basically means that it’s an official reminder for me to grow up and act my age. Just three days after my birthday is Valentine’s Day, which basically means that’s in an official reminder for me to grow up and let a woman change me so I can act my age.

My fingers are crossed. My hopes are still high. I still have 365-31 days to walk the talk. I hope February onwards, time slows down or I pace up. Coz the bucket list is long, fat is easy, money is a tease and I am reluctant to shave my chest to and dance around a pole.

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Why did I learn to compromise?

As a kid, I never thought I would be happy living a perfectly mediocre life. Did you?

I remember jumping off swings, that too, when they reached its maximum swing. Stealing laddoos from kitchen; not one or two, but sixteen. Singing songs loudly, innocently replacing words I can’t remember with rhyming words that I made up. I remember playing in mud, cold, sun, with a running nose, indoors, outdoors, with next-door neighbours, with strangers, and everywhere I felt like. I clearly remember saying what I felt and not what others would like to listen. I knew less about compromising back in the day. Living hardcore came naturally to me.

Can’t really remember when did I start playing safe? Why did I put some dreams on a backburner? What was so worth my happiness? Validation? Acceptance? Or just the plain fear of not achieving it all? Why did I learn to compromise?

It surely hasn’t made me any happier. Settling for the second best hasn’t helped me build a character. Easy way out is really the hard way. Staying put when you are meant to fly does not give me a high.

I can’t think of a good reason why I slowed down. Can you?

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Don’t make resolutions. Fall in love instead.

Love will change you better than any conscious effort you will make to turn your life around.

Love money: I recently discovered how powerful its addiction is. Earlier I was one of those ‘you can’t buy me’ kind of guys. Thanks to my naivety, I ended up working for peanuts and sometimes just to earn good will. Don’t do it, put a price to your skills and charge is brazenly. The world makes you feel guilty when you ask for more money, it’s a trap one should never fall for. Having said that, don’t sell your soul to the devil. Don’t do something you don’t believe in just because you got greedy. Falling in love with money makes you independent, organised, a little arrogant and very very confident. 

Love what you already love: it can be reading classics or playing the djembe or it could be an idea of something you’d love to do like fishing or mountaineering. The idea is to give it as much time as you can. Falling in love with something you already love will make you secure, calm, focussed and nonchalant.

Love yourself: because this is the ultimate motivation. When you love yourself you want to change yourself for better. Not because others are better than you but because you know you can better yourself. You invest your time in people who make you happy, you lose some battles willingly because you know better things deserve your energy, you become selfish enough to not fret so much about others and the headaches they want to force upon you. You respect yourself enough to not give much thought to how others perceive you. Falling in love with yourself makes you happy.

I would love to say love someone, but I guess that’s just not something you have control over. But if you do get a chance, don’t hesitate.

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2014 in review

The stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 1,800 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 30 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Time and why we never have enough of it.

No, this tweet is not inspired from Interstellar, although what an amazing movie. I can now totally forgive Matthew Mcconaughey for doing those bizarre Lincoln commercials.

Coming back to Time, Buddha once said, “The problem is you think you have time”. There are only a few better quotes recorded about this elusive dimension. For the ones who are still not awestruck by the simplicity of this powerful quote, let me translate it for you – this was Buddha’s way of politely asking all us lazy asses to get up and get on our chores, things on our bucket list, those what ifs that will bother us for a lifetime, and do all of it now.

With every fleeting moment, we are heading towards death. Sad as it maybe as a thought, it’s equally liberating. You have nothing to fear but a lot to regret. If you are stuck in a job or in a relationship with someone who is holding you back, call it quits. The freedom you will enjoy is bigger than all the complicated barriers your mind has set for yourself.

You should be with someone, professionally or personally, only if they allow/help you to make the most of your time. So by that logic time and people are related. No wonder with the best of friends hours feel like minutes. Apply that same logic to everything in life – choose better people for a better utilisation of your time.

Think of time as a currency, you buy everything with it – happiness, satisfaction, memories. Now relook at your life. How well are you spending it?

I hope to get rid of some of my addictions that slow me down. If you too are struggling with time, tell me your story, together, we can take on time!


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Stay a kid – a professional advice.

Companies come up with various slogans to motivate their employees – ‘aim ahead’, ‘think big’, ‘do or die’, ‘Life? LOL! Work hard, bitch!’ and other million cliches.

Well, in my experience (5,38,923,205 hours of lost sleep, 68,305 cups of black coffee, 96 smirks of ‘what were you thinking’ and 5 and a half years of ‘Where the hell did my weekend go?’) I think there is only one concrete advice – stay a kid. Why?

  • They don’t cling on to their failures
  • They are honest, thus fearless
  • They don’t feel awkward/nervous just because their shirt has a coffee stain
  • They are resourceful – remember playing hand cricket with a handkerchief rolled into a ball?
  • They are not afraid to ask for help
  • They are their own stress busters
  • They are never not curious
  • They don’t take all of it too seriously

I think we were more equipped to handle life as a kid. We were born with an ‘I Don’t Give Up Fun’ attitude (yes, content has been tailored for PG 13 audience). Then gradually, we learnt the art of giving into the set norms of a grown-up life. We took responsibilities a bit too seriously, and seriousness, as a way of life. When was the last time you didn’t seek validation from your boss? Think!

Suddenly earning money became a chore, a medium to pay your credit card bills. Deadlines became sacrosanct and those lines on your forehead, prominent. I feel we’ve got it all wrong.

Money should be earned so we can fuel our inner child’s wishes. It’s more fun that way. So next time when they transfer your salary into your bank account, get up from your seat and throw an air punch or a hi5 (no, that’s done and dusted) maybe a wink with one finger pistol shoot gesture towards your colleague or a simple woo-hoo. You get the picture.

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The very unforgettable Miss K – II

Chapter 2

Wrapped in a towel, with a little excitement and a lot of hesitation brewing inside her, Miss K was standing in front of him. Trying to portray a calm demeanor, she smiled. He smiled back. His was a mischievous one. Both looked at each other in anticipation. He made a polite hand gesture and she took a deep breath and revealed herself to him. He looked at her from top to bottom. Scrutinizing every minute detail, he went around her, looking at her from all sides, admiring his muse from all possible angles, while she stood in between all of this, shivering with fear of novelty and a sensual excitement. He went a full circle around her, stopped in front of her and held her. Their eyes met as he gently pushed her over the couch.

The cold velvet of the couch kissed the curve of her behind, the sudden sensation made her clasp his arms tight. His smile grew wider and her cheeks turned scarlet. He leaned in and whispered, “relax, my dear… Now I will make you sit in a comfortable posture, let loose”.

He put a cushion behind her back and made her recline along the armrest of the couch. Gripping her left thigh from below, the tip of his fingers delving into the soft supple skin of her inner thigh. The warm touch of his palm made her miss a heartbeat. He positioned her leg bent with knee being the rest for her left hand. And made her hold a red rose.

Now he picked the right leg and positioned it straight on the couch. His eyes fell on her right hand, which was delicately covering her modesty. He held it and lifted it, and saw some resistance from Miss K as her hand grew stiff. He bent down and kissed her hand, she felt the warm pucker of his lips and melted inside, breathing heavy, feeling urges she never felt for anyone, not like this.

Now he gently felt the curves of her waist and tilted her torso towards left, so he can get a better angle of her, whole of her. She liked the way his touch made her feel. No man every got close to her like this. She knew the reason for charming yet sadistic smile on his face – he was enjoying her apparent discomfort. And he knew that Miss K was a little turned on. Perky pink nipples don’t lie.

Miss K didn’t mind his proximity to her. His heavy breath landing on her firm, symmetric and goddess like bosom made her bite her lips a bit too often. Being a muse and that too in such an intimate surrounding is an adventure only a few get to live.

She gazed at his face while he covered her womanhood with rose petals. He was ordinary, but had a charming demeanor. It was his eyes that made him so tough to say no to. The way he looked at her as if she was not a human but some ancient Greek goddess who appeared out of nowhere. He admired her in every stare and epitomized her silhouette. She knew there was a hint of lust in this whole ‘sketching nude at my place’ proposition, but she didn’t mind giving it to the novelty of the idea.

He got up and went back to his chair. Picked his sketchbook and a pencil and started sketching. His strokes were fast yet fluent. His hands moved swiftly around her curves. He spent a lot of time detailing her eyes, her nose and her luscious lips. It was like he was making love to her image with his craft. From time to time, he measured her with one eye closed and pencil held between his eyes and her very inspiring existence. He winked. She smiled.

She was now totally comfortable in the home of stranger she met a few hours back; that too covered in nothing but rose petals. Two questions kept running on her mind – 1. How does she look right now? 2. What happens next?

He stops drawing. Gets up from his chair and walks up to her. She sits straight on the couch, only to feel a little bit of stretch in her neck and waist. But she is more excited about looking at her portrait. He hands it to her. She takes the drawing pad and glances over it.

Her face never looked so beautiful in any mirror, any photograph. Her red fuller lips looked as sensual and her curves never looked so defined. She never knew that her colourful persona could look so stunning in just black and white of charcoal and paper, that she could be muse of an artist who could do justice to her unparalleled beauty, that she could be turned on just by looking at a brazen depiction of her sensual existence. She got up. The rose petals fell on her feet. She kept the sketchbook on the couch. Moved closer to him. Looked him in the eyes and wrapped her arms around him, her bare body hugging his broad physique. Her skin steaming with passion and emotion collapsed on his tweed jacket. And her face rested on his shoulder. It was a speechless thank you.

He parted the long silent hug and held her face in his palms. Tears trickling down her cheeks. The sheer purity of expression was overwhelming. He leaned in and wiped her tears with his lips. And looked deep into her eyes. Two bodies hugged each other. Two souls craved each other. Breathing heavy with hearts too close to each other. They leaned in, their lips met, and oblivion took over. They lied down on the same couch and wrote another story of passion and inspiration, but this time, their bodies being the canvas.

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