Trials and Tribulations by Fire

Due to certain circumstances, I had the privilege of watching a movie called Jism 2. Produced by Pooja "Fish-Mouth" Bhatt and Dino Morea, in the end, I closed my laptop, wondering what got into me for watching such crap. Certainly, I could do some productive work than watching Sunny "Porn Star" Leone's debut movie. Amazing! Apart from kicking myself for having given into the urge to watch this ultra cheap flick, I even had the time to comment on Randeep Hooda's performance. Seriously, I am still wondering the guy must be going through such bad times that he had to sign such a film. Yes, being good to the Bhatts would do him some good, now that Sush has adopted so many kids, none his or theirs, he has no bed to warm, he has to get into Sunny's pants to keep his kitchen fires burning. Sigh. The sad plight of such yummy looking men makes me very sad. My rating: If you are a Randeep Hooda fan, watch it, else miss it. 

A short story Growing up in India: A Princess and Her King A man is playing soulful Shehnai on a raised dais. The guests linger near him, glasses in hand, and move on, when they recognize familiar faces. Smiles stick to their carefully made-up faces, some noses corrected, some jaws fixed. The man plays on, unmindful of the audience. I wonder if he is even bothered about them. I guess not. I can smell money everywhere. After all money is the common denominator here, in the Opal Room of the only Seven Star hotel in the nation. The venue is decked slightly less than the bride, which is me, Her Highness Kunwar Rani Meena Singh. The ubiquitous HH finally got hitched to my name. After such a long wait, I deserve it too. It is eight thirty. The reception will go on till nine thirty, an hour more. Then I will get to retire to my suite to consummate my wedding. My new husband, the King of Jhuggarpur, His Highness MahaVikramidtya Pratap Singh is looking dapper in his imported suit

The time was 6:30 p.m. Sachin saw her going to the pantry to fill water in her big green bottle and he came by, to bitch.  Sachin: "She is staying back?"  Me: "I guess so, why do you ask?"  Sachin with a smirk and a snort: "She can afford to stay back, you know, with that face, who will want to mess with her."  Me: "Sachin, you cant be so mean ya."  Sachin: "oh c'mon, do you think any man would look at her and feel even like harassing her? She would have to pay a man to do this."  Me: "Shoo Sachin. I am leaving for the day."  Sachin:"Ok bye bye."  This conversation is real and took place last evening. It shocked me a bit. It brought to light the perception of beauty that educated men have about women who are not that great looking.  The woman in question, Latha (yeah with an 'h'), is a not so good looking, slightly obese woman with oil perpetually dripping from her hair. Thank god she d

Ladies and Gentlemen, Finally, after months of toil and unrest, my book has seen the light of day. It is out in shops: virtual and otherwise. I am somehow unable to express my feelings about this development. Yes, I am thrilled to bits but I have also realized that the mere printing of a book and its presence in a book shop doesnt make me a writer. I will  become a writer/author when people read my stories and recognize me. Arent we all like that, somewhere, hungry for attention? Eager to please? Being ambitious is hard-wired I think. But telling stories is not something I picked up overnight to get attention. I tell stories because it is cathartic; it gives me a feeling of lightness; of being alive. Moroever, I love spinning a yarn. So, please do visit these sites, order my book, and read the story. Flipkart: http://www.flipkart.com/legal-bond-8192263290/p/itmda2a6znabbxvn?pid=9788192263298&ref=2f65a222-2f1d-464e-9969-23a2017ad2f3 Publisher's website:   ww

I have signed up for the Haruki Murakami Reading Challenge . I read The Wind Up Bird Chronicle and After Dark. Now am reading 1Q84. I plan to read Norwegian Wood next. I will post a review soon here.

S and I went to Andaman & Nicobar for a holiday. We went crazy splashing like two little children in the warm-cold emerald green-blue waters of the Bay of Bengal. Sash had this phobia of getting into the water with just his shorts. I coaxed and coaxed till the lights were switched on and he agreed: to bare his body and jump into the ocean with just a pair of shorts. He does look yummy in shorts and nothing else. Must say, he had the most perfect physique amongst all the men bathing semi-nude on that day. My heart burst with pride and I wanted to mimic a tribal dancer showing off her man. LOL. 

  “No Rohit! Not now, please understand na . This is not good. The guy is seeing.” She untangled herself from Rohit’s embrace and wriggled to one side of the crampy auto. Shalini and Rohit, classmates at AJ College of Engineering, were dating each other. They were both seventeen and in the first year. They stayed in the hostel and had gone for a late night movie in Nagpur, around 40 kms, from their residential campus at Ramtek. Shalini was five feet seven, dusky, had large eyes, medium hair cut in waves, and a gorgeous figure. Rohit on the other hand was quite handsome, some would call him delectable, could sing like Kishore Kumar (atleast he thought so), and had a way with women. He had had many affairs and Shalini was his nth, well he considered her a contest, whereas she considered him her true lover. They knew each other since class XII, where Rohit had eyed the Maths teacher’s only daughter with a lot of lust and some love. Shalini had been quite amused with the attenti

Bang Bang Bang went the shovel I heard it but ignored it 'coz I was reading a novel My mind conjured up images when the hero dropped the towel What the hell am I writing, who am I, Tony Powell!

I had a providential opportunity to eat the proverbial shaadi ka laddu. Well here is a rundown on the experience. For all you single women out there waiting for your prince charming, please do not wait for happiness to knock on your doors. Trust me, you guys are the happiest on the planet. Yes, yes. I am not joking. Actually, at this juncture, I would be glad to go back to my single days. Of dreaming about my prince and day dreaming of romantic outings. Real life bites hard. I am bitten by the reality bug so many times, there is no place left on my body for other bites. Well, sarcasm aside, I was one of those women who wanted to join the Mrs. gang very soon. I gave up so many things dear to me to attain this. Well, I reached this peak. And I am all alone. I can see other Mrs' who are standing all alone on their peaks. The problem lies in our societal mentality. What we as women perceive as a way of attaining social status gives us just that. A status symbol. Instead, it takes a

“Hurry up, we are already late.” “Yeah, coming, why don’t you take the car out and wait for me near the gate?”  “Ok.” Sandhya aka Sandy locked the front door of the flat and checked the door. It held. She then locked the grill door and checked the huge padlock. She did that out of habit. A habit steeped in her middle class upbringing. That was then, before, she had tasted stupendous success and became the face of the largest cosmetics company. Sandy took the lift and hurried out into the front porch of the building with her small hand luggage. Louis Vuitton. Always. She was going away to participate in a fashion show in Paris. Sandhya Roy D’Costa, a Bengali by birth, world citizen by choice, had married Sam D’Costa when she was nineteen. Sam was a racer. He had now retired from the sport and managed an Audi showroom. He was a car enthusiast and had powerful friends in the city. Due to his celebrity status, he also had a lot of clout. Sandy was going to Paris for a fashion show. A