Archive for the ‘Yellow Submarine’ Category

CH slurs, after he nibbles on the bits of fruit — steeped in alcohol, and yet the healthy part– from my favourite drink, “I don’t know what to do with my life. I don’t know where it’s going.”
CH, for info, is all of 19. And has just joined school for Engg.

So I tell the aforementioned story to Mike, while he talks of his 14 year olds. “I didn’t know how to answer him”, I say. Mike pulls the chain of thought along on and finishes with a question “Life, universe and everything. You know the answer?”

Mike needs to read more Indian blogs. If there is one number infinitely abused, and prime factorized — it’s 42.

I use the word “angst”. This other guy I was speaking to didn’t know what it meant.

I ask the girl if she has a map of the city. I don’t want to get lost, you see. She tells me, “Mine is torn, but can you, indeed, read maps? I get lost on a map.”

The fifteen year old American gets confused when I mention Nadal. Who? Tennis? World number 2? But isn’t that Federer?

Well, we don’t know, he soon may be.


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So 1st-world-island-lady suggests that I should co-write for her chick-lit blog. Ahem… a chick-lit blog? Me? Eh, don’t you think I am of the wrong gender?

Of course I agreed.

So let’s clarify a few issues.

a) I am Indian. A staying-in-India Indian blogger (or rather, hardly-ever-blogger). A rare species indeed.

b) I am NOT a journo. I am NOT a research scholar. I am NOT a college student.

c) I am a guy.

d) I am a STRAIGHT guy. A normal, mildly-homophobic straight guy.

e) And yes, this IS a chicklit blog.

f) And yes, I too am interested in a piece of the book deal pie. WTF, I like my greenbacks

And the “Chicago Sun Times” says that it’s not half bad. So who the fuck are you to blather, huh?

But then. This Francisco G. Gerson person. Surely he’s gay?

Uh, hold on,

born in Paris, raised in a family of fashion designers, now married and the father of a baby daughter, but still jet-setting between his New York home and the latest “it” destinations, which seem to be mostly Scandanavian.

Fucken Bisexual. God bless ya.



  • Born in village, raised in family of government officers,

  • Played football all my teen-and-tween years. Still watch, passionately. You cannot get the remote off my hand during EPL and Champions League matches.

  • And no, unlike the main writer of this page, I don’t hit on the Paolo Maldinis of the world. It will be Sharapova (willy-nilly. Too skinny, zilch assets), Vaidisova (horse-face, absolute goddess body) and Ivanovic (perfection) for me, thanks.

  • I had a moustache and beard for six long years, before I got clean shaven on Dec 26th, 2006.

  • And yes, oh yes, am about to be married.

Ok. Hence Proved. I don’t, can’t write chicklit.

Hang on. So why am I here? What the hell do I have to offer? That is, apart from my unbridled machismo of course. So let’s have a bit of analysis.

What sells?

1. Chick Lit.

And will you be interested in knowing about my sexual escapades? No you wouldn’t. Thanks for being honest.

2. Imminent Marriage

A-ha. That’s a reasonable storyline. How does a fun, reasonably cheerful, social-life-having, compulsively-single guy approach the concept of imminent marriage? That might just be sellable to California-techie.

So here you go. Here’s my promise to abide by the house rules, adding and subtracting a few.

  • I will not categorize posts.
  • I will write at least one post a fortnight about the reasonably-safe-to-assume-will-become-other-half-in-less-than-six-months.
  • I will have nicknames for everyone. So reasonably-safe-to-assume-will-become-other-half-in-less-than-six-months will be RSTAWBOHILT6M. RS for short. And the owner of this blog will be 1WIL, or 1W, even MW.
  • I continue to be retrosexual, sorry Retrosexual, and you can call me Retro.
  • I will not create a blogroll.
  • I will write at least one post a fortnight when drunk. That should take care of the hangover.
  • I will also write one post a fortnight about the pre-marriage jitters. (And you will have to promise to reply with a don’t-worry-you’ll-be-fine everytime I do that)
  • I promise not to edit and re-edit posts till death.
  • And women. I want to write about, among others, hot woman tennis players. And Michelle Wie. And Paula Creamer. And Danica Patrick. And why Sania Mirza is too cute to be in a hijaab.
  • I also promise to write about sleazy Bollywood movies, which I absolutely love.
  • I will curse as much as I can. Like fuck, asshole and bastard.

I promise to be reasonably funny, and reasonable, and regular, and a regular drinker. I will quit the smoke. Someday, I promise.

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House Rules!

Ah, so first I need to write about why this blog is called thus. Like a proud parent, I have named both my babies such that their names start with the same alphabets. How inspirational! And if you haven’t noticed yet, the tagline says “Candy coated gum”. That could be Gham. The Kabhi Khushi variety. Ah, aren’t you amazed by my brilliance. (Again, I remind myself, the you is infact, me!).

And the ID is mockingword, because it’s a sin to kill a mocking word. Heh. Only I find that funny.

Anyway, the house rules for this blog are as follows:

  • Thou shalt not categorize your posts.

Wait, let’s make it simplistic. Why am I even writing sentences in archaic middle English?

  • I will not categorize posts. There is no reason to tag some of them as “memories”, when, in truth, all of them are.
  • I will write at least one post a week about the other half.
    • I will have nicknames for everyone. Including the other half. Let’s call him Patidev (PD) for now.
  • I will not create a blogroll.
  • I will write at least two posts a week about alcohol. That should take care of any potential writer’s block.
  • I will also write one post a month about the shoe issues.
  • I also promise not to edit and re-edit posts till death.
  • And men. I want to write about hot football players.
  • And recipes. And culinary disasters.
  • I will curse as much as I can. Like eff’d, screw’d and shit like that.

Now that I have a clear plan in mind, wtf is the book deal?

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Jai Ho!

I am done toying with blogger, xanga, livejournal, orkut, facebook, twitter.

And now wordpress.

I think I am the epitome of experimenting with stuff online. Or you could just call me fickle.

Han, so this blog will only be about my life. Me, my other half, my mother, my father, my fantastic friends, my parties, and hot boys I would have liked to date. And sex and alcohol. Let’s add that for good measure. This is my foray into the très chic chick-lit. I will boldly go where no man has gone before.

Aren’t you excited already?

Jai ho. Aisi Sati naari ki Jai ho.

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Hello world!

Welcome to WordPress.com. This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!

WTF? Don’t you helloworld me.

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