Six kinds of people you meet at work/in the cab at two in the night/morn

The amount of work pending is inversely proportional to the minutes/hours the cab will depart in.

1. The Hanger Ons - Will jump from one cab to the other. Subject to which ever departs first.

2. The Silent Shotgunners - Eye the front seat with vengeance. Do a victory dance after they have won their fave spot.

3. The Window-Seaters - Known to puke if not seated by their fave rolled-down window. Not subject to the cold/heat/tornado/wild beasts.

4. The Phone-a-Frienders - Will talk about everything under the sun. Daily soap operas. From discussions about best friend's closest neighbour's foreign-staying sister's hairdresser's kittens to who is hooking up with whom.

5. Late Lateefs - Always keep the cab waiting because they are forever stuck in the stairwell. Or the 17 floors elevators. Or so they would have us believe.

6. The Complaint Ogres - Believe in firing a mail for every lil' and not-so-lil' issue. The driver has empty Bisleri bottles in the back - Complaint. The Windows don't roll down enough - complaint along with a picture of the accused window attached.

PS - If you haven't travelled by your office cab yet then you haven't achieved anything substantial in life. 

Life with Hugo Baxter

He’s tall for his age, just the right shade of dark and oh-so-very handsome. Plus, he’s taken. So lay off. He’s mine. Not, the veritable prince charming, but my dog – Hugo Nawab Baxter.

He's been named after Victor Hugo of the Les Miserables fame. But for all the literary value he intones he might have just been named after the local perfume brand. But I must agree, he does have a taste for literature. Especially, if it is hard bound, expensive and chewable. Trust me, I’ve learnt it the hard way.

How did this enigma end up in my family’s orderly lives? Just a month back, we were your ordinary peace-loving, pest-free and very much dog-less family. But there was something amiss. The missing something was a creature we could fondle, love, pet and treat with much love and care – a dog. Ours has been a dog family as far back as I could recollect. We’ve had the typical Pomeranian, a pair of impish black Labradors, a bratty golden Labrador, a grandpa Bull-dog, a shaggy Lhasa Apso and what not.

So, in my aim to get ourselves one of those man’s best friends, I just happened to go ‘like’ an animal shelter’s picture on Facebook. (And texted the number given. Kept frantically calling up. Went to the shelter on the same day. Stalked whoever’s number was provided.) And ended up with Hugo in my lap in an auto headed back home.

All dog-lovers can identify with the sloppy symptoms of being dog-struck. The world suddenly loses all significance. Owning chappals, earphones, telephone wires, pillows, furniture and all those materialistic/chewable things mean nothing. All of a sudden, guests who don’t like dogs are as unwelcome as the fleas. Being covered in dog-hair becomes the latest style statement. Vet visits leave one with a certain distaste when the Doc pricks the poor babies. But the dog-biscuits (strictly for the dogs) make up for the forgettable shots.

After a month of Hugo-ness and crazy tug of wars involving disputes over property rights (he imagines all things within his reach to belong to him, which necessarily might not really be true), life suddenly smells better. That first time I met him, I scratched him and he even scratched me back. It was definitely love at first sniff.

Reasons Why I Dig the Night Life at Work

(The following reasons are as much a figment of my imagination as the monster under the bed is yours. Please tread with care. Yes, tread. Read, however you want.)

* I'm an insomniac. 24/7/365

* I'm not getting younger. Hence, all the more reason for me to get in touch with my lesser known dark side.

* The back pains make me thankful I (still) have a back.

* I love copy pasting the entire edition. Which, FYI, is already available online on the net. I excel in obsolete work.

* I don't get to see the sun much. No fear of getting sun burnt. Hence, you will never catch me asking the sun to 'take a chill pill' or making any other such lame remarks.

* I also save up on my sunscreen. Ways to save up money which I will need to spend on my deteriorating health.

* Lesser people at work. More A/C. Wait... They switch off the air conditioning at the night time.

* I love the Delhi night lyf. I see so much of it on my way back home at 2 in the night.

* I save up on dinner. Don't have tym to eat it, so crash dieting it is!

* I get to use the 17th floor loo because, of course, my floor's ladies loo is closed for work. Or better still use the men's loo... (Strains of "Where no woman has gone before...")

* I wanna partake of the disability quota. Why be partially blind when I can be fully optically challenged?

* I lyk the 'shorter' shifts. Means double the amount of work packed in half the allotted tym. Wheee! What fun!

* I don't wanna die peacefully in my old age... In pain and at the ripe middle age of 25 is more lyk it.

* The lifts are empty. So is the entire 17 floors building.

* Out of the 6 lifts, waiting for that one functional lift to come to your floor.

* It's so fruitfully exasperating when the software doesn't work. Gives ample scope to your imagination to form the latest of cuss words.

* The 'actual' element of surprise when you wish someone a happy birthday and then they realise you are at work. The pity, sympathy, empathy... I dig it all.

* The prude-like attitude when I get to throw around facts like I work nights. Makes me sound all cool. In a call centre like manner. Or not.

* The satiated feeling you achieve when you look back and realise you have clocked about two months of night shifts at work.

Why Rowdy Rathore is such a hilarious flop

*Someone needs to tell the director, unrelated worst-of-Tollywood scenes do not a movie make.

*Prabhu Deva can dance. Only if you lyk the cat-on-the-hot-tin-roof type dance movies. 'Superstar' Suraj is known only in Tollywood. Someone please get him a better designer/wardrobe.

*Not so comely Sonakshi Sinha. She really needs to work on those curves/tyres. Not everyone is a Vidya Balan. But then, I guess, Rowdies are known to fall for chubby waistlines.

*Pities Akshay Kumar who hates kids and still is straddled with a ready-made one to take care as his own.

*The scenes where Mumbai's rains act as Kryptonite for the fighting hero and works wonders on headaches/migraines/killer-diseases. Must be the depleted Ozone layer.

*Mishter Rathore lives in an antique shop. Complete with third-hand stuff.

*Overdose of the "Thakrele hai" act. P.S. - Fullhouse was also very much a flop.

*Ek aur set of twins? Majhra kya hai, boss?

*Aila! Haven't the villains heard of the killer Mumbai monsoons?

*The movie should have been made in 3D. That way the blood and gore would have looked even more gruesome.

*I have been wondering, how in the wide world do the Gaowalas from mid-Maharasthra speak Bihari? (Do not try the displacement/migration card with me.)

*Everytime Akshay Kumar opens his mouth he maarofies lines such as, "Are you comedying me?", "Don't angry me!" or Arnold Schwarzenegger typish "I'm back!" the full theatre erupts in whistles, claps, catcalls and what not. None for Sonakshi 'babyfat' Sinha, but.*BTW, one of the baddies (the Baldie) resembles someone from OhFish. Exact Caaapy!

*Akshay Kumar pulls off the pink flourescent pants with "Aflatoon'

*The word 'jhaangi'. First attained fame in Damini. Now repeatedly yelled in Rowdy Rathore. For translation use Google.

*Police beating baddie* (mind you, not a single drop of blood)AK - "Bund kyun kiya? Aaj Sunday hai?"

*Sonakshi Sinha's one dialogue - "Saand ke bhaesh me kukkar."

*Chinta Cheeta Cheeta. Chinta Cheeta Cheeta.*Vigorous hand-movements with the beats.

*And not to forget, Big Boss baniyans ka full-on advertisement courtesy AK.

Thou art forewarned.

Five Things I’m Sure to Regret in the Next Five Years of My Lyf

(The concept, the idea, the thought… definitely not new

But I would still lyk to pretend that some of it is true)

5. Being Ordinary – Who in their right mind would not regret being run-of –the-mill ordinary? Being a bore is more respectable than being ordinary. At least in that case your average-ness doesn’t border on anything worthwhile. But being ordinary and not having anything to show for it… not even Rajnikanth can save you then. The world is a cruel place. Especially, when the order of the day expects everyone to be exceptional. That’s when you look back and quietly ponder on those days gone by when you could have studied harder to achieve that grade or that distinction which might have spurred you on to more popularity. But, alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

4. Not Being Professional Enough – I can’t do it. I’m an utter failure. I’m beyond hopeless. Irrevocably immature is what I feel I am. I cannot, for the lyf of me, pretend not to care about my days off and continue to act all professional. I can’t sit for that extra hour in the office just to impress the powers that be when I would rather be outside with my friends who make me feel a mite more cheerful about living. I cannot keep a straight face when one particular person lets out a horse-train-engine-mix-of-a-laugh. I cannot keep myself from throwing something at that individual who just doesn’t seem to understand that cribbing and smiling make you look creepy. Very.

3. Lacking the Badass Attitude - Seriously! Why, oh why, can I not be baddass enough? How in the wide world do I learn to laugh at someone else's misery and get away without (apparently) hurting the party concerned? Where is that elusive guideline to being spiteful, naughty and bitchy? How does anyone fool anyone that the world runs on love? Pffffffft! More lyk kindness just for one's own good. I wish I could go around being spectacularly mean, cussing and arse-ing everyone off. I do! I do!

2. Inability to Enjoy the Moment - I plead guilty to being a worry-head. I just cannot 'live in the moment'. I've an innate tendency to worry about the next and the one after that and so on. I can't seem to stay happy. The one moment of joyfulness is lost in the apprehension of the next. How do the sparrows and flowers do it? Pray, tell me how.

1. The Courage to Quit - Neither half-way in between nor the kind which songs are written about. I just wish I had the courage to refuse. To say 'No'. To reject something if I didn't like it or didn't want it. I pray for the day when I can rise to the occasion. The occasion being a huge fat 'No'. Yes, some day I shall be free of the shackles which I have bound myself to. The shackles of society, the ones which pull me down. I do hope that day comes soon.

Reasons why Vicky Donor needs to be watched

~ So you mimic the Punjabis around you? Teehee!

~ The pseudo-Punjabi in you needs a day out.

~ If you have ever wanted to be a Bong. (I know at least one person lyk that!)

~ To understand how sperms translate into kids.

 ~ So you hate anything and everything to do with Roadies after a certain Roadies incident. Well, then, let Ayushman show why it was not such a bad thing after all.

~ If you live in Delhi. Or have a Delhi fetish.

~ If you get the occasional urge to talk in Punjabi and don't know how to. A very simple Learn-It-Yourself guide to Punju haven.

~ You have a pomeranian. Or any other dog named Whisky.

~ To learn that sperm donation  does not spell into sex.

~  It would always be a much better option than "Hate Story".

~ To learn more about Lajpat Nagar's refugee colony.

~ A D-I-Y room decoration guide.

~ So you have a Bong and  Punju friend who never get along? Take them to watch this movie. Beware. They might just get married afterwards.

~ How to impress a suave Bong-who-seemed-to-have-brains-before-she-fell-for-the-I'm-here-to-impress-you-with-my-dole-shole chap.

~ To learn how to open a bank account.

Dear Happiness

Dear Happiness,
You are just too good to be true. Now that You are in my lyf I just do not know what to do or not to do.
My fear of enjoying You is exceeded by my lack of practice in being blessed by You. You make things so simple that I have trouble comprehending the simplicity.
You are everything I've dreamed of. Come true. In front of my eyes. You are not a myth. You are reality. Something beyond my comprehension. If I were to ever understand You in part I would still be as clueless as when I started.
Your love for me is as unbiased as inhumanly possible. Your forgiveness of my crudest of deeds leaves me in awe of Your magnanimity.
Are You actually for real...? What if, someday, You were to realise what an utter failure I actually am... that this facade is not even skin-deep...? Would You still profess those endearing words and everlasting promises? Would You still look at me with those naive yet wisest of eyes? I wonder how You would react to knowing what a spineless pessimist I actually am...
... Or used to be...? Because, I think, I might have changed. Something has snapped in me. The fear of the unknown has given birth to the knowledge of being Yours. Just Yours and Yours alone.
The catalyst being You. You make me want to fall in love over and and over again. With You.
Have You actually seen what You have done to me? You have taught me how to be brave in not just the big things but the little ones as well. You have shown me how easy it is to live. To love... You.
You prodded me into coming out of the cocoon I didn't even know existed.
I know I haven't made it easy for You, but, somehow, You have been there throught the worst with me. You have seen the tears flow unabated. You have watched me scream in pain. You have witnessed the cluelessness. You have borne the cruelty. The harshness. My harshness. My cruelty. You have stood by me throughout the senseless hurts and wretched defeats.
You never gave up on me. You never thought of me as a weakling. You helped, guided, masterminded... You, yes, You did it. For me. Who am I to deserve this uncalled for mercy? I am not worthy.
But I promise You one thing. Just one thing. My Love. I give You my heart. I give You my everything. Loving you has never been this easy. Please be gentle with it, it's been hurt, broken, trampled upon and cruelly used more than need be mentioned... But I guess, You don't really need me to remind You that. You have already seen the wounds and covered them with your unceasing love. May I be an able witness of Your unending glory in my lyf. Yes, that's all I promise you. I, me, myself.

You make all things true...