15 Oct 2012

The opposite of Zen.

Only if we start eradicating/castrating/eliminating duffers from our personal space can it be possible to get the morons up there off our faces. Effing channels beam Big Boss and the entire family watches that, Aaj Tak and other news channels decorate moronic stories and come up with 45 minutes long super-stupid *news special*. Feels like they are invading our personal space and shitting on us.
Fucking morons. Effing sickening morons.

6 Oct 2012

The Quest

This was a long comment on someone's blog a long time back, I still think the same way and it still is the same. 

I agree to us being prisoners.
Prisoners of our minds, of our egos, of our self contained prejudices. 
We are all prisoners here of our own device.
Holding us and curbing us at the same time.
I'd say, Love is over rated. All of it is.
I'd say forever is bullcrap. 

Yes we get attracted. Yes we fall. Yes we agonise, torment and vice-versa.
But then, just the same we move on. 
Moving on is undeniable because we as humans are medically fit for Love with a person only for 4 years (the effects of the chemical changes that occur in the body when one is attracted to the other stay only for a 4 years…the same then start to wane. True story!)
Love would not have been over rated if it was the ONE that we loved for life.
But we don't, do we? 

Why should one fight to be with that one and then regret saying - "you are completely different form the person that I settled for"?
We get attracted to a person because we think that he/she is perfect for us. Over the time, the person becomes more and more imperfect not entirely his own doing but more so because we see the reflections of our unrealized dreams, our imperfections in the person. The romantic projection of a God/Goddess at a point in time gives way to a normal, needy, erring human being that is almost just like you are, just as likely to fail/fall as you are. 

I believe that Love can be sustained when someone loves your flaws. Yes, it is the love for the virtue in a person that can initiate Love but it is only the keenness of the other to love the flaws that can sustain it.

Someone said once:

"I love your flaws, because they are only mine to love"
(But then again, this was a long time back, though that someone is nowhere to be found now, and eventually I realised that when that someone said that, that someone did not mean it; I still think however,if at all there is any, that is how Love should be.)

16 Sep 2012

something warm, something sweet, something like garam chai

It should feel like a fresh bath.
It should feel like the soft light feels, on a rainy, misty evening.
Should feel like a warm hug.
Should feel like an unspoken prayer, should feel like an unshed tear.
Should feel like half a smile.
Should feel ‘maddham’ .
Should feel like the warm blanket.

Feel like life.

Should feel like I am alive.

30 Aug 2012


agar mujhse mohabbat ho jae, to ek nazm likhna...
mere paas aake, mere kaano me wo geet gun guna na...

If it so happens that you fall in love with me, write me a love sonnet, no don’t laugh now, I mean it. Write me a love sonnet and then when you are midway through it and you realize that there is nothing really to write and then you laugh aloud at your foolishness, turn around and leave without saying a word.

And if you can’t leave, say you laugh loud and then you draw a big smiley face on paper (or a gloomy/sad/morose smiley because people tell me that is how I am generally perceived, though you know that is not the case I am mad sometimes) but the point being you cannot leave and you come to me and tell me what happened (well because you are not scared of my reaction are you? You are my man J ) then let me know, that you love me. Maybe, you wouldn’t have to say it.

Maybe I would write you a sonnet, 

Khamosh rahoon to batiyate rehna....baatein karun to sunte rehna.
nahin...khamosh hi rehna, meri khamoshi sunte rehna....

magar, agar kabhi mujhse mohabbat ho, to chup mat rehna....mere paas aana aur mujhse kehna.

21 Aug 2012


Will it feel like flying with the wind whilst falling off the cliff?
Will teardrops flying off my face, fall back on me as raindrops instead?

2 Aug 2012

Love is blind.

...and She said that love was blind.
She left her home travelled into another country. people with darker skins, a darker mind. weird language and weirder thoughts. 
She didn't think about anything, She just followed him.

Mohabbat honi chahie thi, jung ladni thi...dil jalne chahie the. jeet honi chahie thi.
mohabbat hi nahin hui bas; bas jung hi ladte reh gae.
khud se, tujhse...is-se us-se...sirf jung hi ladi.
yaar mohabbat honi chahie thi...

pyar hua, par wo ishq wali baat nahin thi. jung ladne ki koshish bhi ki to sali aadhe dil se ki, pura dil lagana chahe bhi to kya? kabhi usne nakaar dia kabhi dil ne use nakaar dia.
 pyar pe, pyar ke nagme likhe...pyar me pyar ke nagme pyar wali baarish me bheegte gaae...
par wo ishq me bheege dil wali baat hi nahin thi...sukha sukha sa hi hai sab bas...
mohabbat honi chahie thi re. sachi.

'did you plan all this?
She smiles and says, 'Love is blind!'


29 Jul 2012

do you do it too?

I look at women admire them for a quality that they have/lack and then think of my male 'friends' and how they would have liked her.

I heard this woman online with an amazing voice, an enticing name and an awesome profile pic, (no I was not stalking anyone, I was just mindlessly surfing) and instantly thought of this someone who would have easily liked her. I played out an entire relationship in my head and then thought I should tell him about her.

...and then I did

6 Jul 2012

time goes by, so slowly...

kuch waqt ho chala hai tujhse baat kie hue, kuch waqt ho chala hai tere awaz me ghule shehad ko chakhe...kuch waqt ho chala hai tujhse lade, kuch waqt ho chala hai tujhe yaad kie....

...ye waqt beet chala hai, ye waqt najane kaise par chale chala hai...

kuch waqt ho chala hai tere hoton pe apne hoton se apna naam likhe, kuch waqt ho chala hai tune mujhe yaad nahin kia...kuch waqt ho chala hai tu mujhe bhool sa gaya hai, kuch waqt ho chala hi teri aahat bhi nahin hai...

....ye waqt hi to hai, guzar jaega shayad...ye waqt hi to hai jo kat ta nahin hai...

title from this track:

1 Jul 2012


...and what did I do today? I played hide and seek (he did the hiding) with a 2 year old kid at the table opposite mine when I was out for dinner today.

I didn't need dessert and he laughed a hearty laugh =)



And this week comes to a close.

One day can teach you many things, and I learnt through the week.
This week taught me more than I could keep pace with.

I had a panic attack (or so I call it) which was the fallout from bad performance at work, losing people over  misunderstandings, the feeling of inadequacy, the tally between 'what could have been- what should have been- what is now', the volcanic eruption of everything that I had bottled up inside of me (read as a whole lotta crap). I lived for an entire day with a nagging feeling of uneasiness coupled with a strange fear that I am going to burst into flames any moment now, and I was literally trying to save myself from falling (and yes not to mention the falling in a moving bus and the conductor saving me and pointing out the seat that remained unoccupied coz I was preoccupied, yes I was not hurt, save a non-existential scratch on the wrist).
I was on a spree looking for ego-boosters and trying to be invisible both at the same time.
I was saved (and no I am not being melodramatic by using this word “saved” is the right term) by this one long chat with a friend, who without even asking for directions showed me a better way out.  

you know what, you are not perfect, in fact no one is, but there is nothing wrong with it. If given a chance again to be anyone you can be, be yourself

"you are the person who rates yourself, prepares the performance card shows to yourself and the world."

And why am I saying this? because if you, YOU who is reading this is feeling down or are blued out or are having a panic attack or are making merry with friends (but then if that is the case why would you be reading me?) and/or having a good time this is for you too. You may be special for some one who you might not even remember, someone may be looking upto you. someone who is a friend when you need a friend the most and just appears from the blue wants you to be you. 

Anyways this brings me to the realizations:

1.      Girlfriends are EXTREMELY essential (for girls in the strictest platonic-friendship way). Nothing equals to sharing coffee at the beach  after work at the end of an excruciating week with an old friend who does not bitch/complain/judge/argue/philosophize and just lets you be and is herself.

2.     The ‘I-AM-ALWAYS-RIGHT’ philosophy is wrong. Don’t practice it, don’t put up with it. Its like smoking a cigarette, suicide and homicide in one go.

3.     The stress buster: smile at total strangers. The auto-wala, the woman struggling to get her way out of the bus, the conductor who haggles with you for change, the woman looking at you from the mirror. Smile and it is magic.

4.      Housewives are the hardest, most-est HARDEST-est working people in the human history, atleast my mother is. (1 month of cooking, looking after dad, packing the dabba, taking care of the 'subah-raashan-khatm-hogaya', 'bai-nahin-aai' dilemmas I will fight with any man/woman who says that housewives have it easy)

5.     Unlearning is difficult. Don’t settle for anything less, ever; if something is curbing your thoughts, creativity, putting you in a box don’t settle for it. Because this causes a lot of damage. You know your capabilities don’t let anyone make you underperform, you might not be able to rise (/or have difficulty rising when the opportunity strikes). 

that is that. 

take care folks, keep smiling.

27 Jun 2012

sab maya hai.

eventually we all realise there is no point in being so serious about anything.
eventually we realise that what has come will go. ( also note:  if you cum now, you will cum again later)
eventually we realise the higher you go, the longer you'll fall.
eventually we realise change is the only constant.
eventually we realise that you are just as awesome as you feel, you feel just as awesome as you really want to.
eventually we realise we need to move our butts to get things done, to progress/retract/act/react.
eventually we realise we will move on.
eventually we realise nothing will ever be enough.
eventually we realise a fling is just like a 'happy' night out, you tramp it out and are left with a bad hangover.
eventually we realise we are just as happy as the songs in our playlists
eventually we realise we invite trouble and then blame the 'others'
eventually we realise 24 hours is not enough.
eventually we realise Mom is the bestest(-est) thing in the ENTIRE universe
eventually we realise you are cared for only as much as you care about (because it is all in the mind).
eventually we realise we are not enough
eventually we realise we are just about enough
eventually we realise we just dont know enough
eventually we realise the best way to fight the blues is to smile at a total stranger in a packed bus
eventually we realise that therapy is overrated
eventually we realise that love is overrated
eventually we realise that Life is NOW

eventually we realise we are wrong
eventually we realise we were supposed to be wrong to understand the right.
eventually we realise we are all happy people with smiles lost in certain corners, just need to open the right door.

eventually we forget all of this


17 Jun 2012


Someday you will find me 
Caught beneath the landslide 
In a champagne supernova

so where were you when I was  getting high?

14 Jun 2012


...cant take my mind off you…till I find somebody new.


Oh look there is the chameleon again. Hops from one tree to the next, wears a blue today a gree tomorrow…no wait there was a red and a yellow in between as well.
He takes the same routes, follows the same channels. Learns new tricks everyday…stings you today…yes you, and you there on the left wait till he stings you tomorrow..

Did you see the chameleon hop? He is coming right behind you, he will sit right besides you. 
the moment you turn he will hop out, leaving you behind...he will hop out leaving without you.


Ek din ka rishta tha,
Ek pal ka sath,
Is lambi zindagi me bhoolna…
..tujhe bhoolna bas ek lamhe ki baat.



"Did I say I loathe you, Did I say I want to leave it all behind?"

fuck you.

1 Jun 2012


.Eddie Vedder.


let me hear you say....hey...you've got to..yes you got it right!

29 May 2012


I have trust issues.

Q: Why?
A: Because every time I trust someone I fall flat on my face.

Now, I am just saving my nose and not trusting and hence not falling and hence much safer. 

over and out.

27 May 2012

misplaced sanity

I have been on this ‘blame-the-flirt’ road before.

(here not that this gets negated, the argument is furthered)

But today is a new day.

A flirt is someone who just likes the ‘good’ part of it. 

Now,let me explain. When in the honeymoon period of the romance, you have so much to talk about, the other person on the other end of the line is all crazy about you and you are the perfect (-est) person in the entire world.

The whole world suddenly paints itself in different shades of yellow.

Now as the day progresses the perfect you turns into everything that is wrong with the world. The intrigue that was so attractive before now seems like the unnecessary dark shade in the character. Your smile that could brighten up the night skies in the past suddenly now is too toothy (or maybe too wide or not wide enough).

Like that loaf of bread on the kitchen shelf you turn tasteless (and rotten) with time.

The flirt stands for the good things, does not let things decay, upholds the ‘hope’/’good’/’happy’ by not venturing into the unavoidable ‘decay’.They are the sanest of all.

Cheers to the flirt.

26 May 2012


"You know right?"


"How did you know what I was asking?"

"Because I do."


only a life lived could be worth writing about. 

25 May 2012

zilch theory

how many times are you allowed to start your life from zero?

fuck who gives a shit about the rules.

the hard fact : if your starting point is the same you are nothing better than the dog who goes round and round trying to catch his tail.
get a life, find a bone. 

oh dear! baby, stop being a dog. 

19 May 2012

free will?

" But the question keeps staring you right in the face. You think about individuality for example, who you are. Who you are is mostly a matter of the free choices that you make. Or take responsibility. You can only be held responsible, you can only be found guilty, or you can only be admired or respected for things you did of your own free will. So the question keeps coming back, and we don't really have a solution to it. It starts to look like all our decisions are really just a charade.

Think about how it happens. There's some electrical activity in your brain. Your neurons fire. They send a signal down into your nervous system. It passes along down into your muscle fibers. They twitch. You might, say, reach out your arm. It looks like it's a free action on your part, but every one of those - every part of that process is actually governed by physical law, chemical laws, electrical laws, and so on.

So now it just looks like the big bang set up the initial conditions, and the whole rest of human history, and even before, is really just the playing out of subatomic particles according to these basic fundamental physical laws. We think we're special. We think we have some kind of special dignity, but that now comes under threat. I mean, that's really challenged by this picture."

-Chapter 6 - Free Will and Physics

imdb :


18 May 2012


*she'd only love two things. The first was her long dark hair. The second was how easily she could cut it off and not feel a thing. *

-500 days of Summer

I bet cigarette smoking is far safer than day dreaming. damn you reiterations.

12 May 2012

easy come...easy go.

It is annoyingly easy for someone to come close...and suprisingly effortless to move away.


“I am worried about you L

Surprising isn’t it how effortlessly someone/something can make your day?

9 May 2012

random conversations: biologically speaking

this some 'gyaan' here...(read as left brain taking over and chokeslam-ing the right brain)

slam no. 1

---"I can tell you exactly which part of the brain does what. there are specific areas which are responsible for different things. the area for motivation, the area for concentration. There are areas  where all your senses go and interact, there are areas for fear, rage, aggression, lust and unlike otherwise thought, the quest to reach ME is to reach organically...knowing your body, biologically---

slam no. 2

---"you see a particular color and say this is green or red..there is a particular phenomenon which is known as synethesia..where if shon a particular color say red...the person will say it is number 3 and so on..."

no I didn't just make this up. now I know what Penny must be going through =P

doctors know that each feeling is nothing but a chemical 'locha' somewhere yet it is seen that most docs end up marrying people in their own profession. strange are the ways of the world. 

8 May 2012

12 Apr 2012


Do you remember how my lips taste? I could write a sonnet on how your lips taste, how the anticipation of the touch sends jitters down my spine…for I’d languish and resurrect in the few seconds that lead to you. Do you remember the rhythm of the breaths? Music when in silence you and I are enveloped in each other.

Do you remember the way you look looking at me? oh, but how would you? that look is forever mine.  

you know it is a block when you feel it like your skin and all you can do is fumble up a few words.

26 Mar 2012

Oye Houdini

I unwrapped myself completely. Opened myself out to the world, played every role I could possibly play…but now when I am totally completely lost, the final root is coming close, I realize I cannot erase you from me. I failed and won at the same time. Screw you. YOU are here, will stay here.

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)
                                                                                -E. E. Cummings.

And I want to write about love. But I cannot do it. I cannot play it anymore. I cannot hold onto the idea anymore, I need the physical tangibility in your godly stance. I want to really feel you and see you again to understand what I feel for you.

I feel you looking out for me, but more than a feeling that is just wishful thinking no?


6 Mar 2012


She is the chameleon.
Hop. Stop.Look.
She stops and waits and turns and looks and dives and flies and wanders and wonders.

I cannot see her…but she is here…hidden somewhere.

In your fantasies, lurking in that silent night's guilty dream.
In the unwritten phrases of that melancholic theme.
The dark alleys of your putrid soul.
The insinuating misdemeanors, the lofty goals.
Green. Scarlet. the midnight blue.
You dare not blink, for she changes hue.

She will leave, for when has she ever been chained? 
Here now. Gone again. 


pic: here

2 Mar 2012

the ragpicker

There is this picture. Of me standing, of him standing with his back turned at me at a very distant point, looking away. Looking away from me, possibly walking away from me.

When was the last time you heard a duet and smiled? When was the last time you could say for sure that those lines were sung for you? ages ago? 

It has been ages since she was loved back. Like a rag picker, she walked on roads catching glances, collecting smiles. Those hints of love that were passed on to her, she hogged onto them and lived entire life spans.
There was this high that she was addicted to. She tried different things, alcohol, melancholy and meaningless sex. She whored out. She holed out. Nothing, just nothing would work.

It is always easier to make some noise to defy that innate silence that has become you. But then there will be someone who is walking arms in arms and looks at you and smiles. You have to walk alone, like always. you will walk alone.


there should be someone who smiles when you smile, 
who sheds a tear when you do. 
who holds you tight.
who knows for sure that you belong, who knows for sure he belongs. 
there should be a love story. 


just too high on mush tonight. will wake up hungover from the spoils and then get-over it the day after.


29 Feb 2012

rab mileya raanjha na mileya...

ye dekho bazaar laga rakha hai.
kaisi dukaane saja rakhi hain?

udhaar me kahin mohabbat milti hai; 
kishton me imaan bikta hai. 
darzi jo mila kahin dil ka, batore tukde sil lie. 
umeed ki chaadar khareedi hai kisine shayad,
sapnon ka takiya bhi lia hai. 

dhoondha bahut hai magar, koi dukaan yahan mere kaam ki nahin...
..tu anmol hai, aur meri, meri to koi aukaat hi nahin. 

26 Feb 2012


Words make love on the page like flies in the summer heat and the poet is only the bemused spectator.
-Charles Simic

Writing is like making love.

The tease when abstract words are jumbled together, hinting at something but at the same time not making complete sense. Confusing, intriguing, attracting. Stop. Wait. Continue with the foreplay, the act and the climax.

Writing is like letting it out.

You make music. The symphony, the rising and the falling notes. The Madhya ‘ma’, the komal ‘ni’ and the tivra ‘sa’. You have 26 notes to convert your feelings into music. Paint a picture with words.  Pick up a red tone to denote passion, a blue to show nostalgia, yellow to show the funnier, lighter feelings. A green to remember that special someone that never could be, a black to denote darkness that you are not afraid of, that your acknowledge as a necessary appendage.

Writing is chronicling.

Writing is making your journal entries. Writing is filling those last pages of your school CW copies, your college notebooks, your office log books, the coffee house tissues, newspapers. Writing is noting conversations you have had, helping you live them all over again; life realisations that could be forgotten in the rush. Writing is living with a witness. Writing is being your witness. 

writing is like living it all over again.
 bliss. pathos. love. lust.

I may not make sense. I wear a yellow t-shirt to kill my blues. 
I am like that. Incorrigible, moody and 24X7  PMSing.

Bite me

(Not for YOU there hiding in your blankets; you, love me)

p.s. writing is like PDA in a very subtle way. ;)

25 Feb 2012


this heart is a slut, and a bad one at that, falls for every man who knocked on her doors.
they mess her up and go away, she picks the change they throw at her, does a little soul searching a little window shopping and then waits for the next client to walk in; seduce her with intrigue, do her with his charms and leave her with regret.

the heart is a she. the clit a he.
the man in the woman.

she misses her. she has to learn to not do that, let him guide her as of now. 

22 Feb 2012

the begginning of yet another end.

It hurts only as much as it was a pleasure. Not an ounce more not an ounce less.

What has come has to go.

When has it stayed back? The river was destined to flow. 

12 Feb 2012

if only if

He has a slight stubble on his face, a never-ceasing smile on his lips; and a slight silent hint of adoration, when he looks at her from the corner of his eyes.
He looks at her, expecting nothing but a hello; for who but he knows that she talks a lot, but is not saying.

He walks next to her, as if the road next to the one which she treads upon be his. He walks besides her, always. Sometimes behind her, sometimes ahead but hearing her footsteps; her faltering, dancing half-hopping, half-walking footsteps; her clumsy self keeps missing the step and slipping all the time. He knows those footsteps well enough now, they walked a lot together. Together but never holding hands; sometimes their bodies touched, their glances held each other, but he looked away always. It never mattered much, for there was always a lot to talk about and whenever they ran out of things to talk about they always found something or the other to gorge on.

Nothing was different today.

He never misses an expression; the smiles, the frowns, the look of awe and the hint of wrath. She was the cloud, ready to burst at times…promising sunny afternoons later on.

Knowing just when she was enticed by that bookstore, his eyes followed her when she maneuvered into that filled- to-brim bookstore that promised a good bargain. His eyes held her still when she came out with a frown saying that it was not good enough. He smiled at her. He would not let her out of his sight, how can he, nowadays he just did not see her enough. It was never enough.

A shade of jealousy spread over his face when he saw her half-flirtingly joke with that other guy; he immediately smiled realizing his folly. He looked at her. Did she notice that? She did, didn’t she? Well, she always does. Their eyes met, they always smiled it away
She could be his, his to call. But he was someone else’s since forever, for forever.

They were bound in silence, or so he supposed.

Drunk lived felt and read in the umpteen coffee outings, unplanned local train escapades, NFAK’s and Alchemies.

She was a nut-case. He was the nut and the case.

P.S. I like the Valentine’s Day. Just as I like fairy tales and love stories. 

8 Feb 2012

mind over matter

I think I have lost it.
It is an empty mind that I have.
Totally, completely, empty.

It likes peace. Wo kehte hain na zyada shor nahin pasand.  

I am a loner who is attracted to loners, sits in a corner and looks at people. I love stairs, any kinds, it is an innate desire to sit on the stairs, as opposed to the desire where people might want to climb them. I want to sit there and look, watch.
I can spend the entire life watching people.

Watching people with headphones on. I hate the noise. The clamor. I have enough noise in my head already. Empty mind creates a lot of demons like an empty house echoes every gasp.

An empty mind is impulsive, does not think.
Or sometimes it mulls over things at end and loses the track of time.

I am neither a fool nor wise; I am neither not a fool…neither not wise.

hush now, don't speak too loud


31 Jan 2012


उनकी आँखों से चाहत बहती चली गई,
हमने न रोका उन्हें...कहते हैं वो फिर शाम के आते ही चल दिए;
हमने बाट देखि नहीं थी, मालूम था वो नहीं आएँगे...
...आंसूं अब आते नहीं, खाली आँखों में अब नींद भी कहाँ बची है...
रूह की खोज में चार कदम चले तो देखा वहां तो वो भी खड़ा है जिसको हमने कभी पत्थर दिल कहा था;
आज वो मुझे देख कर मुस्का रहा है, कहता है, तू भी वहीँ है जहाँ मैं था, तू भी वही है जो मैं हूँ. 
...वही तो नहीं हूँ मैं, वहीँ तो नहीं हूँ मैं. 
...तारों से अब बातें नहीं होती क्यूंकि मैंने चाँद की राह देखि थी...अब तो चाँद से भी बैर किया है. 

...आधे आधे पूरे नहीं होते, आँखें मूंदु भी तो क्या? नींद के शहर में ही सपनों का ठीकाना है. 

...वो मेरी नींदों का हिसाब रखने लगा है, पर सपनों के सौदागर तू रातों को कहाँ खोया रहता है? 

p.s. try not making sense of the lines above, it is gibberish at best.

21 Jan 2012

bOObs DON'T talk.

Where do you look when you speak to a lady? (Lady = me)
You look in her eyes, not look too intently (unless you have specific intensions) but specially, especially NOT HER BOOBS. For the simple fact that the tits DO NOT SPEAK, or for that matter they don’t even listen to what you are saying ( and when you are boring the shit out of me even I am not listening to you).
This well dressed, very annoying friend (though have to really consider calling him that again) sat across me as we met after 2 years. I expected pleasantries, but he was the businessman who came in with three proposals to give my sagging career a welcome break. Not that I need it (not that the career is not thanda but ‘coz I decide the pace) but I appreciate that he considered me for that particular bore-karo-session.

And then he started talking. My boobs suddenly seemed like the North Pole and his eyes the arrow of the compass that kept pointing to them.

I ignored it (I am attractive enough to understand that =P)

Then I waved my hand (I wanted to subtly tell him that I am noticing)

Then I asked him to talk to ME.

Still he kept doing it, I rushed through the dinner and finished the early dinner earlier than intended.

I have a lot of guy friends and no one does that, or maybe they are too subtle ( or maybe they consider me a dude =|) it is not exactly such a wrong thing to do, I mean you look at my eyes, you look at my boobs, what is the big difference right? But you won’t eat with your nose or breathe with your palms right? So when you are talking to me use the right body parts, when you are perv-ing use the right ones.  

The other problem was, I realized that even when he was addressing the boobs, he was making perfect sense, like he was looking at another wall. Come on. Really? If you are looking at something that is so attractive that you are getting distracted, get distracted sahi se.

This made me realize three things:

One that my face is not half as attractive as my boobs (which were not even highlighted I mean I was wearing a very loose kurta style shirt) and the second that the boobs were not even attractive enough for him to mince words.
(neither of the above make sense coz I have very pretty eyes and I can get people to vouch for it, no really) (and no, am not going to justify the second observation. =|)

The third was this was the fact that this is not making me uncomfortable but confusing me so there should be something fundamentally wrong with me. 

In short I had a not too interesting Saturday evening.


And all you guys reading this : BOOBS DON’T TALK.