Top ten husband myths.

Here are a few husband / boyfriend / prospective groom myths. I hope any girl reading this would agree with me, and any broad minded guy would admit/laugh/nod/ at it.  Here is to you, guys :)

Myth1: If a woman overtakes him on the road, then it is a potential threat to masculinity.


Myth2: To stay in her house for more than a day would mean that he is henpecked.

(‘Sorry Mom, we will come again for Christmas..this time we really have to go back as my dog is not well and it has to be taken to the Vet’)

Myth3: That making comparison of her cooking to that of his Mom’s would help her love his Mom even more.

“You know… my Mom makes fish curry like….’ AAARGH! ( That dialogue nullifies appettite. Cooking is not in the picture anymore. Sure everyone knows what kind of comments those statements invite)

Myth4: Washed, sun dried crisp clothes will be in the wardrobe whether she is here or not. The biggest myth of all times.

Myth5: Apparel shopping is more boring than being in the science section of the British Library.

‘Please go with your friends. I am not well’

Myth6: Hrithik is not all that sexy. He is just ‘okay’.

‘Oh whats there to admire about..he is tall..and dances well…that’s it’ (Very very typical)

Myth7: We can always get a fresh pair of socks, even if one of it was put to laundry and the other is still inside the shoe.

Myth8: Her dad is not all that smart.

Myth9: My mother never talks like that! Women really cook up stuff.

Myth10: Gossiping? Thats what women do!

( Do yo guys really discuss about Mamta Banerjee and Sonia Gandhi at smoking zones?)

Rewinding to those lovely days again.

Well, one of my friends who called marriage ‘legal prostitution’ recently got married, and I am totally happy that finally she did. Ironically it was a love marriage and I wonder whether it was so huge enough even to inspire Chetan Bhagat (Two States!). She was one crazy non-vegetarian "Brahmin girl", who would go to such extent as to catch fish from my fish tank at home for lunch. Her near and dear don’t have any idea about this, as she carries a factory of mint in her bag and always smells of fresh veggies ( and sometimes of stale ones).


Innumerable school day memories always come rushing to my head, when I am not thinking of something crazy (which doesn’t happen too often). I still remember the teacher who hated me, another, who actually loved me like she would her daughter. If only I could wind back time. At school whatever mischief I got into, however big a hurdle befell me, I knew Papa would be there for me. Sometimes it was to squeeze my ears in front of my teachers, but still he would buy me Frooti on the way back home, as a sign of apology. And back home, Mummy would be there, supporting me even if I was wrong (but never if the grades are low).

Now my Mom bakes cocoa cakes like no other in the country. My friends would come home and attack the cake seconds after it is taken from the oven. In a few minutes, it would look like a mountain of brown rice, and we would be uncivilized barbarians, until not even a tiny morsel is left . Even today, I cant properly make chocolate milk, given milk, sugar and chocolate cream or if I did, the kitchen would look like a war zone. Only God knows how she makes those little brown pieces of heaven.

Days passed and Papa showed signs of diabetes. So it was my turn to play ‘Papa’. I would give the cold ‘how-dare-you’ stare at wedding lunches when the caterers come to serve ice cream. Papa would look at me like a lamb and I would finally yield to a small spoon of ice cream to taste. Mummy is lucky enough not to have diabetes history in her family, but rejects even a spoon of it ( 'Papa's food, is poison for Mummy), as she thinks it would change her voice and  made to sing ‘bass’ with other men in the choir.

I also used to be in that choir.


Which is not funny if any of you are laughing.

Breathing an air of disgust..

At this point of time, I personify annoyance. I remain pissed off. I stay aloof from what you call, LIFE. I can’t say what it is, over here, as some futile concerns have saturated the air around me. I do not hope for a better outcome. I do not wish for it. During subtle breaks from intense displeasure, I still thank God for being born in the perfect family, and having the best people in my innermost circle.


Somehow, I am not able to explain the state of affairs going on. It is unjust and mean. However I do not want to reveal it, as I know that there are people who actually rejoice at my sorrow. I have been nagging,  and touchy with my sis and better half who are well aware of my situation , but the issue continues to depress me in all its glory. It is stealing away good times. It is haunting me day in, day out. I am shaken and insecure. I am apprehensive and have forgotten the good things around. I just ceased to see the blue of the sky. Everything appears in black, white and gray to me.

It is just the tough getting going. It is temporary. It is huge as it passes.
God, I know you are reading this. Please help me stand the pain.

Corporate Blues.

I now know how frustrated a person can be at office and how equally demeaning are its policies. People , people everywhere but not a friend to talk. By the way who needs friends during these trying times? Especially cry baby friends. Some such friend species can break the hell out of you.. And that too in such a place as my office.

Before one talks about my pay package or recognition, the first thing I want out of a workplace is peace of mind. Given a chance I would explode the HR to bits. They kind of decide when we should go to the loo. They tell us what ******* to wear on which day. Ultimately they decide our lives. The day will come when they tell us whom to marry. I wanted to do an MBA in HR, but I dropped the idea. Who would voluntarily want to bear the curse of thousands of employees for the rest of their lives? I certainly do not.

Now they want us to set ‘goals’ for the performance year. Goals! And me? ! Sure typing imaginary stuff in goal settings can be very interesting at times. Especially when my goal is to finish off the moron who wants us to document the goals. Whatever. Now there is a guy, who approves it. He can be miles away or in a totally different planet. And he, decides what I should do during the coming ‘performance’ year. Oh that sounds very interesting and pragmatic. And there is another guy, who analyzes what the alien has approved and passes his own comments in it. The broth is now spoiled to its nucleus by all the supernatural cooks and this would be the documentation of my fate for another 365 days. End of the day, I end up venting my frustration on my blog and the approvers are drawing fat salaries and filling excel sheets in their glass cabins.

Heights of injustice as I call it. There is another category whom I want to bombard and get rid of to the very blood cell. They are called ‘peer groups’. These are disturbingly lucky chaps and definitely not any better. They get promoted every six months and thereby raise the assessment bar so high that other deserving fellows are dragged through the rock bottom and they get to see how it is like to be in a space where there is rock bottom and layers of crap on it.
 I am in such a space now.

 It doesn’t feel good.

 It doesn’t smell good.

 I can still see the undeserving morons smirking devilishly at me.

It is ugly.

What comes when you least expect it to come?

Hiccups.!

It stays until I:

 Gulp down countless gallons of water (Makes me think about shifting my workstation nearest to the loo)

 Eat sugar or gulp down a big ball of rice ( these resources would be unavailable on the spot)

 Hold breath until I’m almost dead ( I would die to get rid of it !)

 People around me take the ongoing conversation into their court. ( Situational advantage)

 The morons across the table who are entertained by the whimsical show are out of breath.

And, not necessarily in that order. Sometimes one has to live with such irrational tendencies. Sigh..! Inbuilt ways of being publicly embarrassed..!

Hiccup Occurrence:

If you have read till here, you might have understood that I have nothing to write about. Although that is partially true, I really got pissed off with hiccups today, which extended its occurrence like a mega serial. Halt and think before you write me off saying that I am unbelievably silly. There is an interesting group discussion going on.. the hiccup descends on me for no reason at all, and it refuses to leave my damn throat after repeated attempts of breath holding and gulping down gallons of water! Isn’t it embarrassing? GRR. Now the group is so amused by the show that they laugh their heads off . God save these pessimistic morons.

The spasmodic contraction of diaphragm !@$%^&*(! Well that was the definition of hiccup I got when I googled it.

Lord,
Lead us not into hiccups and deliver us from embarrassment.

*HICCK—UP *!

If only I could..

1.Seize all the street dogs in Bangalore, and dump them at Maneka Gandhi’s house. *Evil grin*

2. Suggest all gadget makers to make gadgets- especially cameras, tolerant to water and rough handling, so that people like me are allowed to touch them.

3. Make pop corns at theatres cheap so that I can afford and eat them peacefully, without calculating the number of movie tickets I could have bought with the same amount. Moreover, during some Hindi movies, these are the only reasons which keep me awake.

4.Send an invitation to Queen Elizabeth to visit my parents so that Mummy has a reason to use her best crockery.

5.Convince Papa to stop smoking. Cigarettes should be denied to Papa from every store, even if he agrees to pay double the price or more.

6.Install repellant rays in front of my car so that either people or animals crossing the road during my arrival will be temporarily paused and I can have a peaceful drive and they can have a longer life.

7.Rats and cockroaches should be banished from the surface of the earth and theory of eco cycle revised.

8.Make all vessels microwaveable and microwaveable vessels unbreakable.

9.Revise Christian wedding wows, which say that the bride should ‘obey’ and groom should ‘love’. Does it mean that the bride doesn’t necessarily have to ‘love’ and the groom doesn’t know what the word ‘obey’ means?

10.Ask God to show some mark of acknowledgement by which we can be sure that He was listening to our prayers. There should not be any typical signs by which we can understand that He is angry, especially during salary revision.

11.Good looks, intelligence, talents and culinary skills must not only be inherited by the first kid of a family. Research should be done by scientists to have some of these left for the second kid also.

12.Ensure that personal issues like tooth decay, be available only to people whom we authorize. It should not be celebrated in the family with occasional irritating sighs of ‘No one else in the family has problems with teeth’.

13.There shouldn't be anything called a ‘ripe age for marriage’ and every girl/boy should be excused from the torture and stigma associated with it.

14.A five minute delay for going to the doctor/vegetable shopping/movie should be tolerated with patience. One should not be stared and silenced as if we are late for the All India Entrance Examination.

15.Lock my sister in a room of my house, with access to food for a day and make her watch animal planet. (She hates animals ).

16.Adult movies can be watched only after 18. But there is no age limit for cartoons. No one should be underestimated for watching cartoons.

17.In corporate circles, a person should be granted the right to choose the person who evaluates him.

18.The cost of Golden Retrievers and Pugs should drop so that people other than The Ambani’s can afford them. (My cousin should be allowed to keep a Neopolitan Mastiff, which she identifies as her ‘Prince Charming’). Such dogs should inherently eat less.

19.Biscuits should be less brittle so that the place where we eat it is not littered. Even if it does, it should not attract ants, but it should still be sweet. Even if it attracts ants, it should not be considered as a grave mistake and people should not be forced to sit at the dining table to eat biscuits.

‘Anita! Are you done with the coding?’

What?