The Facebook Suitors

Facebook has become the next big thing since a long-ish time and is refusing to budge from its pedestal of enjoying unanimous universal popularity. Waise who am I to say, I practically live there every day! So much that I am in serious consideration of changing my address on my visiting card to:

                             Suruchi Arora, 

                             420, Profile Lane, Home Nagar,

                             Facebook. 

                             Meeting hours: Immediately after status update.

                             (Please come only with prior appointment written on the wall              

                             and at your risk)

                             P.S. Kindly do not bring pokes and phraands request along.

It is also like the best hook up joint of sorts one could ever deem of, taking over much of the job done by hitherto coffee shops, bars, eating joints, libraries, etc, which come in action per se after an internet setting is reached. It is interesting to see how an entirely new species of Facebook suitors has evolved and is flourishing. Here are a few whom I have come across or heard of although there was no friendship swayamvar that I remember to have announced despite my short term memory loss syndrome.

THE COMMON FRIEND FINDER:

This is a popular specie. He thinks this way: we have 28 friends in common so we deserve to bump into each other on the thoroughfares of Facebook, never mind if you don’t know or care whether he exists or what the other friends perceive him to be. He would send a random friend’s request hoping praying on his knees to be accepted thinking it is polite courtesy to honour friends of friends or simply do so in the baffled state of mind that maybe you do know him since many whom you know, know him and thereby he might become known to you, his knowingly but your unknowingly.

THE HI (high-haye haye) MAN:

Alright I don’t know how his presumptuous mind works but he seems to think a “Hi” in the inbox would suffice to generate an enthusiastic response from the girl/lady in question. And if not, then the next message of “How are you?” would definitely get her to vomit her heart out of how she is.

THE WELL-WISHER:

Somehow there is this person who has managed to enter the coveted friends list and now how does he make sure he stays there forever-he sends you a “Good morning”, a “Good afternoon”, “ Hey, it’s evening ya, thank you for reminding otherwise I would have never known have a nice one” and then “Good night, sweet dreams.” Wow, ain’t that cute now! My very own personal wishing machine that makes me jump to check my notifications only to end up with the feeling that I am crossing a lobby of waiters at a popular hotel.

THE YOU’LL FIND ME EVERYWHERE-ER:

You update a status and he “likes” it, you do a dumb quiz that says you were a peacock in your previous birth and he clicks on the thumb again. Heck, you wish a common friend “Happy Birthday” which a zillion others are anyways doing, but no, he likes it how you mouth text these two simple words. You put up a long post that took you an hour to read and understand but he would take just one second to “Like” it. How likeable is that!

THE I-AM-NEVER-SHORT-OF-A-GOOD-WORD-FOR-YOU:

The previously mentioned variety can also metamorphose into this one if he has a reasonable gift of gab or a relatively long experience of saying stuff to girls which he thinks and often they too that they like. So you have flattering comments on your pictures, a random note in the inbox that says how pretty you are or how he is waiting from so long to hear from you or you remind him of his girl whom he broke up with. Such people are born with the understanding that all women like to be complimented and by default they lack the complicated system that can sieve through the genuine praises from the for-the-sake-of ones.

 THE TOUCHY BAG:

“Hi, loved your blog. Can we be friends?” Yes, just this much. Or they’d say they’ve been reading my blog and love it and then put up the million dollar question, while I go with a magnifying glass to check out if they have ever left a comment-naah, never. Yet they say they were touched-I am even afraid to ask back ‘Where?’

THE IN-BOX-ER:

Nope, he does not come with gloves, but with a veil. This breed would always have something to say about what you do-a status update, a blog post, a recent activity, pictures uploaded-but yeh janaab thode sharmile hain. He would not comment on the open-for-all domains which are for the common retards as they might believe. He is the inboxing man-a little private you see. His justification, “I don’t want the world to see how I feel, it is just between you and me.” Awwwwww.....how convenient how different!

THE STORY TELLER:

This one is a master of words-he would pen down a three page personal mail in your inbox that may vary in content on the following lines:

1. It could be his analysis of your face reading and thereby what kind of a person he thinks you are and such an elucidation that even your blood related parents would have not thought so highly of you, even in their proudest moments.

2. He may enumerate a summary of you based on your sun sign/birth date/blog updates and such high acclaim that you might be forced to go up to the mirror and tell yourself how you are god's gift to mankind.

3. Expect a very gratitude dipped note on how a particular post you wrote changed his life oh god, such requests should come with a handkerchief free-sniff, sniff and after a couple of more such notes, the fraands request would follow.

4. Keep your shoulders ready for him to lean on for he would shoot a very sob story about his life and how he does not want pity he demands it.

5. And if you are very lucky, there just might be a long ode with actual rhymes in the line ends, written in your praise like no Milton or Eliot could ever fathom. 

THE HITTING-ARROWS-IN-THE-DARK FAKERS: 
I remember receiving two strange inbox messages- "Are you the Suruchi Arora of SMC batch of 1986 because you surely look like her-the same features and the same smile..blah, blah?" and then the same fraands request at the end of it all. They were so convincing that they almost made me walk up to my mom and ask if mere ten years older koi twin sister to nahi hue the who got bichodoed in the SMC ka mela!

THE ATTACHMENT FREAK:

Nopes, this is not a person who is looking for attachments or is he not really or gets clingy like a leech-this is a person who can’t help click on to all the applications to send you flowers/hearts/smiley/chocolates/teddies/stars/positive thoughts/a yatch in the Mediterranean/naughty notes and the likes. Makes you wish for once that Fb charged at least for some services. Free mein everyone’s become Bill Gates ke chacha and Danveer Karan ke kalyug ki avtaar.

That’s about it for now but don’t think you have seen them all my friends-

The woods are lovely dark and deep

And such suitors have promises to keep,

And miles to go before they sleep not with you however they may wish

And miles to go before they sleep however you may plead!

I love it for I love you

I love it when I tell you the shirt you bought so lovingly without me, is just about okay and you rarely wear it again.

When I get up from the bed and you pull over my pillow to keep it under your arm with pure pleasure etched on your countenance.

I love it when sometimes I laugh harder so that I won’t cry and you laugh with me but hold me the next instant.

When I act like a child and you don’t do the same and when I behave too mature, you bring out the child within.

Love it when you ask me what I would like to get on my birthday in a surprise situation.

When you won’t take me to a restaurant again for it is ripping expensive but book me the best of spas on our next vacation.

I love it when you smile, watching me glare at you for over tipping the waiter,

Or when I ask you to take me out and you cannot as you are busy but message ‘I am sorry’, minutes later!

When you call me just like that, just when I am not expecting, just when it is most needed.

I love it how I feel like closing my eyes hearing your sweet nothings and opening them with a brush of your lips on my lids.

When you touch my arm, even when we are among people, for you forget things when my skin is that close.

When I force you to click pictures of me and you smile at my insane pose!

Love it when you never bother to give me a compliment but when I sit down to get even a little self-critical, you vehemently deny it all.

When you forget to switch on the I-pod when you take your I-pod and me for a stroll!

I love it when just by hearing my ‘hello’ on the phone you can make out if I have just got up or caught a cold or if I feel like shouting.

When you pitched in for my policy instalments but just on a whim, made me pay for our movie outing.

 

I love it when you hold my palm in a crowded place just as nonchalantly as though you are guiding a three-year old and then when I am sick, you grasp my hand sitting by my bed side as tenderly as though you’d be holding a prized trophy.

When I go out of breath yapping about my own stories and stop short and you still ask me to go on for you were enjoying it.

Or when I check out another guy and you say he’s not worth it not because you are jealous but because you think he is not my type.

I love it when I take so long to select between two outfits, ask your opinion and eventually show my inclination towards one and you defend it as the better out of the two.

When I put my head on your shoulder while we watch a movie or when we travel in a plane for I get dizzy.

I love it how you enjoy with my parents even more than I do.

When you bear my friends whom you can’t bear and don’t mind when I don’t do the same for you.

I love it when I fight with you and you make me say sorry in the end and bring me a big chocolate after a tussle sometimes when I refuse to bend!

I love it for I love you!

Fussing over Fat!

Considering the huge buzz yes, we flatter ourselves when others seem to be doing less of it-hint, hint in the blogosphere about the invention of The Fat Transporter in my post Somebody Invent these Please, I decided to dedicate some moments of silence through typing these words, dedicated to my fat and those of others and how it can be a pain in practically anywhere that it surfaces. Hoping this would help it to RIP and motivate us God, to create a fat free world.

• You dread going to the tailor out of fear of getting your measurements taken. And in case he would say that the suit has not been stitched tight by his mistake but the fact that you have put on inches since the last measurement taken ten days ago-where, oh god where would you hide your chubby face the body can anyways not be hidden?

• You look at the brands condescendingly that do not make beyond size L-what the fuck do they these self inflated, prejudiced dim-wits think of themselves anyways? And also pray that the good looking boy you sometimes bump into in that big mall showroom does not spot you surfing through “All Large sizes here” section.

 

• While having sex, you wonder more about how you might crush the poor guy under you with your weight or would your bellies prevent you from getting the job done no puns intended. And when the special someone gropes, you hope he does not hold a layer of fat in his finger tips unconsciously instead.

• People ask you if you are not well for you seem to be going breathless and you smile and say you are fine when actually you have tucked your tummy so hard that it is difficult to breathe and you are waiting to go to a corner of solitude and exhale.

• You refuse to go on a vacation with thin-pins for then even when you wear what makes you look the thinnest would still make you look bountiful next to the I-could-give-competition-to-a-ladyfinger friend; and not to mention how would the photographs appear when you return back home and upload them on Facebook and your skin-on-hanger friend gets more compliments from YOUR friends than you-scary thought, eh?

• Getting pictures clicked is another problem-thank god for digital camera and the world was saved with the delete option. But then you always have to look for accessories to hide the bulges-use people, cushions, trees, bags, children yes, fat people are sometimes shameless and strategically place them. 

• Onlookers stare at your butt more out of wonder than awe!

• You have to ask a totally dumb question like “Will this fit me, na?” to a salesperson when the tag says “One size fits all” and then bring it back from the trail room and then sheepishly mutter under your breath, “This does not fit” and she/he stares at you with the look as though he has seen the eighth wonder materialize before his eyes and can’t even call the ‘medias’ to claim his share to fame.

• People ask you to share their tiffin or lunch and suddenly become pale when you agree.

• You make stupid calculations through the day like what would have more calories-a lunch that constitutes the nine piece chicken nuggets with medium French fries or two pudina parathas with butter chicken and after baffling your brain about it till both go thanda on the table, you end up having much of both.

• You get stuff like slimming tea, fat free mayonnaise, diet coke, chips with no trans-fat, roasted snacks-have a loadful of them all together, wait for some bulges to budge and then complain that they do not. 

• You go around proclaiming that you like a person more for their heart and mind than their body, hoping someday someone would say and feel the same for you.

• The world in your views is not divided between the haves and the haves-not or the Whites and the Blacks or the Developed and the Developing-it is plain simple a struggle for survival between the beam-thin naturally blessed and the air-filled naturally cursed.

• You prefer going to the mountains than the beaches for mountains help you cover up and the beaches require you to don a swimsuit and hell Halle Berry-may you be damned for that walking out of sea in that skimpy thingy image for James Bond that makes half the male population want to be one -the swim suit or James Bond, they are still not sure.

• You dream that someday fat would be in and the gorgeous hunk of a man you fall in love with would have a fat fetish.

• You thank god often that clothes were invented and you were not born in the stone age-otherwise ever getting a head to turn for you, would have been such a ‘fat’ chance.

• You have to sit through the torturous recitals of human-toothpicks about how they have put on half a kg and they are sweating it out in the gym to combat that or how they feel bad about eating half a chocolate pastry-I mean it was just half-really?????????? And worse is when they eat half a dozen microscopic bites of the scarce food on their plates and touch their barely-there tummies and say they are so full-you can almost hear your own tummy growl.

• You spend some insane hours wondering if the tummy would grow out so much someday that it would make the boobs appear to have gone in.

• While walking ahead of a good looking boy, you do not wonder about the opening line to make a pass at him or how you should trip so that you fall right into his arms. Instead you are wondering the watermelons placed at the top end of your legs are not going up-down, up-down in a see-saw way.

• You advocate how Indian dresses suit the Indian girls more and gossip about how the squeezed-mango friend is looking sick and unhealthy these days because of her diet-maliciously planning in your head that she gets scared enough to give up and thereby not making you give in.

• When you fall people scream not because they want to save you but because they want to get out of the way, in case your butt decides to rest on their nose.

• You stand in the kitchen to cook and sweat and console yourself this is as good as perspiring in the gym.

• The worst question that could ever be asked to you is: What is your weight? And the most prepared answer always is: My bones are heavy...

• When you jump to jive on the dance floor and shake it like there’s no tomorrow, you soon realise that your feet have stopped gyrating but many other parts of you are still swinging.

 

• You make more orgasmic sounds while eating the KFC burger than while being eaten.

• When your special someone asks what is your favourite flavour and you say chocolate-you secretly hope that bag in his hand would contain some nuts dipped bars rather than those little, long balloon like things.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeenough said-I need to drown my sorrows now...You comment till I look for something to eat!

Dear Salman(Khan of course)

Dear Salman,

This is my second letter to you and since you answered to my first one some twenty years ago, when I was a teenager and in love with you post Maine Pyar kiya, I am assuming you would oblige me again I still have that letter btw tugged away for a personal moment now and then. Though this time do not send me an autographed photograph and a printed response of your forthcoming movies for I have kinda sworn off them for a while as well as stopped talking to your three feet long posters transfixed on my wall and on my mind then. So you see I would need more to shut me up now.

Last week I had a traumatic experience and as a fan I am sure, you’d be interested in knowing what badgers my little brain. Bodyguard was a movie that I went to after one month of no movie-watching in the theatre which is a catastrophe in my case and surviving. But your latest seems to be the greatest-in terms of deterring movie goers from ever treading upon the theatre route again. I mean what are you thinking these days I would really like to know? In your defence, I know the promos were not very promising but in my defence, you know how we fans are-hoping for some last minute miracle to salvage a sinking Titanic, but finding ourselves gasping for breath on not much, when we are thrown rudely overboard the sinking ship. To be literal in case sarcasm is too much to expect stars to understand-more like thrown overboard by a loud, cheap gag in between our pleasurable sleep during the movie.

‘Wanted’ was good after the sad mess of Veer and Mr n Mrs Khanna...or did they come after-ah, who cares! The mature yet vulnerable and sleek Salman magic was woven with dhaanso dialogues and an almost believable story line or whatever is possible in the Bollywood limitations anyways. That was followed by Dabbang and a hint that you were beginning to lose it. Vanity thy new name was Salman Khan and those obnoxious narcissist mannerisms garnered many an applause in the theatre and I thought, well, maybe my movie tastes have become a little too contemporary.

And then came Ready! Omg, did the story writer revisit his kindergarten to write this narration? And you are hitting 45 for crying out loud, some seven years younger than my father who is a grandfather now. You still expect us to buy the flight of fantasy that you are hanging around the house in the entire two hours plus frame like a college going dude, pampered by the elders for he is someday going to sambhalo the baag-duad of the khaandan ka business? They must later realize that there are only Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday in Salman’s week-there’s no place for a Someday!

I also assume that perhaps your choice of movies is being influenced by your erstwhile friend and hitherto bitter enemy Shahrukh’s selection. Shahrukh managed to horrify me in that remake of Karz, god help that movie because I have even forgotten its name-it was hopelessly predictable. Devadas, Omkara, Maqbool and the likes reaffirmed faith in remakes and Shahrukh shattered my love even for the original Karz. And then he murdered me alive when I saw him in that ‘Haule-Haule’ flick with those terrible moustaches and then terrible-er hamming as the colourful, so-called hipper version and superbly far-fetched story line again-I forget its name too I am not getting old-you guys are fucking my mind with movies that remain horror stories etched so firmly even in just a two hours ordeal in the theatre. These from the “Kings” of Bollywood-an outsider may shudder then to see what the minions and subjects are up to!

Anyways, I guess you thought when Shahrukh can pick up crappy, crass, children’s book themes and still retain his fan base, let me show that I would pick up crappier, crasser, blockheads of films and prove they still gather more millions in the first week than any other films in history. This however does not prove the awesomeness of your movies sir, but the awesomeness of your self-selling which is becoming larger with every passing ad campaign, every PT class dance step, every amusing word that is super accented and every super vain walk that you manage to enthral the shutterbugs with.

And what’s with the super smug attitude these days? I thought those looks were the sole copyright of Mr. Abhishekh Bachchan in those Idea ads where he manages to give that stance despite the string of flops. I guess he has your girl and that would explain the perpetual I-am-better-than-thou grin transfixed on his face for life; or wait, is it because he was infected with her coldness during courtship and those features are hence frozen since the day of his marriage? Never mind if the emotions have changed thereafter.

Back to you dear, sorry for these other actors sometimes make me digress. Now look at these youngsters only, how foolish of them to try newer scripts and themes when they should learn from you that muscles-shuscles and some heavy dialogue-shialogue mouthed with anger is the new mantra to ensure box office thronging of masses, at least on the first day. And once you acquire the mass on the right body parts, acquire also a designer who stitches shirts with barely there thread work-so that they furl open at the slightest hint of touch-of the wind, of the water pipe, of the rub against a heroine’s chest or even if she blows a flying kiss. Watching bare chests or being in anticipation of it was never so much fun even in the days of a Choli ki peeche or a Ram tere Ganga Maili.

Now script ka kya karna hain-throw in some chartbuster songs, get an arm candy girlfriend who is ever ready to bestow you with item numbers, use lots of people in the movie to generate cheap laughter like little kids pissing on the villains from the first storey of a building or the goons falling on a hot tawa by the road side-I mean come on, the fall on hot tawa for generating guffaws act must have been around since ages and apparently is still working. But these youngsters, naah, they never learn and want to experiment! Bah!

I recently visited a school friend’s house and her daughter who is eleven years old, now has a three feet long poster of you on her wall. Made me feel a bit nostalgic-you are a demi god to rule over three generations of women apparently my mother too had a crush on you when you first came around but didn’t confess it then thinking it would be a bad example for her teenage daughter. I wish you’d give us more of acting than acting to act. I wish you would play less with your belt and trouser pockets or collars of your shirts or scratch your bum over the trouser of course and instead show us a bit of more innocent you as we loved you then. And flying across two running trains in a tremendous leap does not suit you at all-we should leave that for Rajnikant or else how would the sms companies survive without making Rajnikant the butt of their jokes and circulating him so obnoxiously.

And would you please get married also now that we are onto it, for it is not good for the health of 99.999% of the rest of the Indian men population who see just one man having all the fun with the best of chicks. By the way, do these girls ever manage to hold a considerably sensible conversation or do you never let them open their mouths at all wise choice therein again? Katrina can not-act-the pants-off anybody and I guess the ‘off pants’ is the sole reason, she is still rocking the pants...er...the fans. I mean I saw her in a recent Pantene ad and my gawd she has managed to bring in more expressions in that one minute than in all her movies to date! She is progressing, perhaps learning from you!

Being human is also great if the human here is Salman Khan and being a blue bracelet is greater if it adorns your wrist. Being a Salman fan is the greatest...please see to it that it does not relegate to past tense. You’ve ruled the masses and the classes and with the new hair job and still a fabulous face and of course not to forget the million dollar body that ensures publicity by itself than any Rakhi Sawant’s assets ever could-we want you back and front too, but that’s for another lust dipped day.

   

Ran...er...fan forever,

Me:-)

P.S. The author is suffering from serious stress due to lack of straining of vocal cords since morning-koi mila nahi pakaane ko..so bechaara Sallu phas gaya. 

The justification is made keeping in mind 4 valid points:

1. Maybe my fan base(LOL) circulates this letter a million times like the Madrasan's and I would have to explain my stand in the next post, so doing so now very smart you see

2. Maybe someday I do bump into Salman and he falls in love with me and this letter should not spoil my chances-I definitely want a Bodyguard who looks like Salman although not acts like him.
3. Maybe I get threat calls from some Bhai-abhi to mere khelne koodne ke din hain na...

4. Oho, mein bhool gaye...next time!:-)

For my 'Love Being Interviewed' Instinct!

After a long time I got tagged and found something interesting to cater to my ‘love being interviewed’ instinct...
So here is my 25 point Something-on a run and all in the name of fun!

1. If you were caught cheating, would you fess up?
There is a whole lot of ‘if’ here and there’ll be a whole lot of ‘but’ there :-)


2. When was the last time you felt honestly broken?
Is there a dishonest way of being broken too?


3. Are you craving something?
You mean besides a killer figure, travelling around the world, a blog that is read by millions and a complete stress free life? Yes, and that something knows about it ;-) *feeling super smug at creating mystery*


4. If you could have one thing right now what would it?
 A peek into some brains and a control over some others! *evil laughter*


5. Would you rather have ten kids, or none?
*Aghast expression*I would rather have Maggie, Biryani, chocolates or brownies-I mean, I know it looks like I eat but spare the poor kids for god’s sake :-)


6. When was the last time you put your foot in your mouth?
Okay, this happened recently when someone I was introduced to said he was an engineer working in Accenture (a software firm) and I asked him if they made cars (remembering the car company Accent, which I presumed for some god-damn reason, used the nickname of Accent). Alright, you can LOL now! :(
  

7. Last person to see you cry?
Has to be my beloved and he’s seen me do so, so many times that even when he sees it now he often sees through :(
Besides him many others do off and on and get to hear ‘Pyaaz kaat rahe the’ or ‘cold ho gaya hain’...thank god for onions or else half the world would be stuck up in explanations.


8. What do you do when you get nervous?
I smile and try to get away or grab whoever is nearest (please don’t ask me for what).


9. Be honest, do you like people in general?
General se waale-NO, non-general se-YEEEEES


10. Whom would you like to see at your funeral?
All those who said they loved me and all those who couldn’t (But really-SEE here is an overstatement, don’t you think?)


11. Does anyone completely understand you?
Yes, but I keep challenging their understanding every now and then!


12. Have you ever made out in a bathroom?
Yes, yes, yes...for once I am so glad I am married and can answer that without being judged! :-)
  
 
13. Do you think the last person you kissed is nice?
Du-U-H! If I had not thought so, I would not have kissed him, na? Who goes around kissing people who are not nice anyways?


14. Who was your last crush?
*Checks her watch*Damn, it is not working-can’t tell you the exact hour now, can I? :D
  

15. Love or Lust?
It’s like asking brains or beauty! I always sucked at choice questions-why can’t we say we want to have and eat our pie too, when either ways it ultimately goes in the tummy? (Okay, I didn’t understand that myself)


16. Last person to slap you?
My class teacher is Class 3 for I entered the class after recess still chomping food in my mouth. (I guess, it was then I decided to be a teacher and set an example-who slaps hungry kids or even adults for that matter?) Or wait this could also be Seeya for she often gives me the Sunny Deol waala thappad when she gets all whimsical :(


17. Are you afraid of the dark?
No, andhere se nahi, andhere mein rehne se darr lagta hain*waah, waah*


18. Is there anyone you wish was still in your life?
*Smiles*


19. Do you flirt a lot?
Define ‘a lot’ :-)
  

20. Have you found a purpose to your life?
Yes, I did and then I did again and before I could decide among the two, a third one came along-I just have too many things to do and only one lifetime to do so-life sucks!


21. What is you USP?
I can crack PJ’s, I can be a good listener, I am curious, I am witty...oh wait, you asked for one- I’m genuinely nice


22. Do you believe in Love at First Sight?
Yes *moves a hand lovingly over a new pair of shoes* and no*looks doubtfully even at those professing to be “in love” after many sightings*-all love is essentially self-love.


23. What situation for you would be like ‘Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea’?
Stuck between a witty guy and my beloved...err...actually that would technically not be a ‘stuck’ situation :D


24. What is your favourite part about your body?
My skin colour (sorry for being such a racist here)-if that can be a part, the rest was all created at ‘faulty by default’ settings :(


25. What was your secret ambition as you were growing up?
I wanted to be an actress and tell in interviews that since childhood I wanted to be an actress...magar, kyonki, parantu aisa ho na saka so I manage with drama in real life:-)

Alright, this was cool-please take up the tag whoever wants to!

Have a Happy Week!

Somebody Please Invent these...

I am not much of a science person. In fact I fear what if someday the world comes to an end and I am the only one left of my species, who is stumbled upon by a newly formed, genetically evolved race, out of the debris of the nuclear wastes in some tropical forests I am so proud of myself for making this sound so Terminator-ish; they ask me how my world was and I tell them of televisions and mobile phones of air conditioners and of the internet or aeroplanes and other stuff but with no fucking idea of how they can be made or made to work. That would be the end of the human race, hitherto symbolised by me.

But I do respect invention despite the fact that I think our technologists and scientists are all on a wide off the mark trail of innovation currently. Studying some rare species of ants in same rarer grasslands or how feeding 500 people for 500 days with xyz food would have what result in the body, is a big fat bundle of hogwash. The world needs some things else...

Imagine such dilemmas that we face every day:

I think my boyfriend broke up with me because he felt I was too insecure...

*Accusations raised at you* The baby fell ill because of what you did/did not...

I think the girl likes me more for my money than my company...

“Agar aap aise sawaalon se pareshaan aur hairaan hain, to chinta na karen:

Introducing now: The FINDOMETER! Just voice your question into this amazing new gadget and pat would come out a placard with a yes/no to your query along with the actual reason for the occurrence of the seed of doubt. It helps redeem lives! Book now and get a Lie Detector free! Offer valid till stocks last.”

Now that would be one invention that would result in less depressed souls around the planet.

Or perhaps a gadget/super power by which you close your eyes and say the name of the place followed by Abracadabra and voila, you reach there within a blink. I shall name it the ANYWHERE BLINKER. Visualize going to the beach of Goa as in right now, without the hassles of travelling or expenses or any packing of bags. Just slip into your beachwear in your room, dab some sunscreen, blink those beautiful eyes and open them to the sight of the vast expanse of beckoning sea and tempting life guards. Spend two hours on the beach, close your eyes again and say ‘Kanpur Abracadabra’ and return back to wake the sleeping baby from her afternoon siesta. Yes, thoughts like these fill up the vast dingy and vacant corners of my almost empty mind when sleep eludes me and life and even Facebook with its din and glory fail to entice. The devil’s workshop comes into existence with a bang and flourishes, with or without takers.

Do you realize what a path breaking innovation this would be-as relevant to history as the discovery of electricity or gravity perhaps? That means no congestion of traffic on roads; no need for petrol and thereby no burning of fossil fuels and no global warming. You don’t have to wake up an hour earlier because that’s how much time it takes for you to commute to work every day. There is no competition for owning a big car vis-à-vis a small one for there would be no cars-no horns, no need for driving licenses or depending on husbands to drive us around and no car sickness! It’s a cure all! No accidents, where hundreds of lives are lost. My god, I am a genius!

But the idea needs a bit of R&D, ab saara kaam mein he thoda na karonge-why did these scientists take up their jobs in the first place? Like there would always be some perverts who’d close their eyes and say ‘Kareena Kapoor’s bathroom Abracadabra’. So for these jerks there would be features like ‘Spam Enterers’, ‘Customize Personal Radius’, ‘Knock my Block’ and the likes. I am the next Mark Zuckerburg or what!

My suggestion list has more mind boggling prospects-

The FAT TRANSPORTER-a gadget that would come like with two wide belts connected via a pipe. So when one wears it, there would be fat transforming into painless droplets and travel through the tube into another belt and thereby into the body of a severely under nourished specimen. Within a few hours both get the desired weight without any side effects or pain. So there would be no treadmills, steam or sauna rooms and the likes that emit carbon and do other blah blah damage to our poor environment.

The SEXPULATION- a powdery substance, which when sprinkled even a pinch bhar on the body of your spouse when he is horny, would give him the satiation of having just had sex and turn around and sleep without a cribbing or accusing word. Can you imagine how many women around the globe would not mind forgetting to have a pillow under their head before going to sleep, but not a packet of the Sexpulation?

The CASSANOVA REPAIRER: Something that helps change a philandering boyfriend/husband okay fine even the fairer sex into a loyal-for-life one! All you have to do is throw a bottle of this liquid on his head like some headless people throw acid on some helpless women. And to know if he really loves you or not please use the Findometer!

The CLONER: a machine that makes you stand in a state-of-the-art cylinder for two minutes to create a clone of you, so identical that you’ll feel you are standing in front of a mirror. So you won’t HAVE TO be anywhere that you don’t want to be or not be anywhere that you want to for a fixed number of hours before the clone evaporates in air.

Alright all big heads, I have provided you the brain wave here-get your pretty asses on some work and start inventing these. I don’t need any credit nor would sue you for any copyright claims sometimes I wonder if I am more hopelessly romantic or more hopelessly magnanimous except that when these do come about, kindly try and test them and then send me one of each! Thank you and may your imagination never rest. And in case the brilliant inventors and scientists don’t stumble upon my page even Einstein apparently lived in anonymity till his worth was realized, let this be an open letter to God to send me a magic wand or if not at least a witch’s broom!

Here's introducing:The Darlings of Venus!

Hello!

I know I should write more, I want to write more, but alas-

The cruel intentions of time

And lack of ideas in my mind,

Constrain me to chime, rhyme or whine!

Waah, yeh to poetry ho gaye:-)

And since I can’t manage my one blog with regular updates, I have gone ahead and done the most logical thing on this planet that there can be:

Joined another blog and their team of writers you can nominate me for the Most Logical Thinker Award this year.

But really, Darlings of Venus is an amazing place to be a part of, where a group of dynamic girls yes, I think just the idea that I’ll be teamed in with the “girls” was motivation enough would bring you everything girlie that every man should know and every woman should follow. It seems like a promising and a fun place and I have already left my imprints there -god help them now!  Obviously, you are supposed to check this out too: Decoding Men who live in the Loo! This may be an eye opener, though we prefer it to be the washroom-door-opener instead!

Waise bhi I am in a little thoughtful mood these days-thankfully I don’t take many risks by going beyond the “little”. My posts with my so-called Encounters with men, which are actually not even encounters-more like window shopping don’t ask me to explain that seem to have given the impression to many that I am Lady Ranjeet on the loose don’t ask again who that is-I am not Google.

Oh, I am so hurt! Matlab logon ne yeh samajh bhi kaise liye-ki mera koi standard he nahi hain! And whatever happened to new age villains and vamps that they had to compare me to the obnoxious looking, old-even-in-his-youth, Ranjeet; although thankfully Shakti Kapoor didn’t come to their dim brains. Some readers owing to my own over-the-top excitement to generate something notable in the mundane think that I strip men mentally-I almost anticipate a day when boys would button up even the collar buttons of their shirt on seeing me for otherwise there might be a close-up of my face where my eyes glimmer with lust and I roll my tongue over my upper lip, for I saw some man-flesh just like in Hindi films, heroines ka pullo would sarko to show a dint of the cleavage and turn the watching man into a hungry beast.

And perhaps fathers would tell their sons to get inside the house as Suruchi is on the prowl and I would be asked questions on the street like-ghar mein baap-bhai nahi hain kya? Why don’t they ask for the complete package of “ma, behen and patni” by the way, in Hindi movies to cover all possibilities, kyonki mere ghar mein to actually baap and bhai nahi hain, woh to apne ghar mein honge, na. Aise to they would motivate me to do wrong, na? Anyways, point is-Wtf! Mere andar ki sati savitri ko kitna kasht hua hain-many days of chocolates, brownies and flirting would be required to drown my sorrows.

In my frustration I put up this status on Facebook where people in large numbers extended their support to me oh crap, now I feel like Anna!

"Okay, time for a recheck on our freedom of expression-I have two blogger friends on my friends list who are dating each other n knowing how I talk n my updates, apparently she warned him to stay away from me feeling that I am too wild for anybody's good. She has deleted me from her friends list (good for her and me). What I would like to ask-Are people so duh now that they cannot see my humour n exaggeration just to evoke laughter, often at my own expense by all the drama? Or is understanding of wit such an unreasonable thing to expect in friends?"  

I am also asked how my students/G feels about all these men! Helloooo, where are these bloody men, in the first place???????? My wishful hoping for some adventure is infectious it seems and drugged you all into thinking the same as reality perhaps...ah, it is still hurting and I don't even have Dettol antiseptic at home!*read this as my way of telling you that it is now time to shower me with some compliments*. And before you lose track of your goal mentioned in the asterisk, let me depart with my contemplations of an early sanyaas-damn you Himalayas for still not having sexy saadhus in your lush green set up!