1419 lines of chat, and I thought I was never going to fall for anyone? When was it last that I gave so much time to anyone? I wish I could find out what suddenly happened to me. Am I a born romantic? Shit, am I?


123rd page

The rules: Pick up the nearest book. Go to page 123. Find the fifth sentence. Post the next three sentences. Tag five people, and acknowledge the person who tagged you.

That was his favourite goddamn word. He read it somewhere or heard it somewhere. Everything I had was bourgeois as hell.

Let’s see if anyone can guess from which book this is.

I tag: Leela, TF, Kaddu, Caesar, Tiwari and anyone else who has a book lying around and would like to read up few lines (like me). Yes, no one tagged me. 😀


Thinking out of the (idiot)box

Love is like TV. Loving is like watching TV. Being loved is when the TV automatically starts showing the best shows on the best channels by sensing your mood, every time you sit in front of it.

When you are woken up in the evening, just after the sun has set, turning your unlit room into a black box, by a dream which you don’t remember, but you are very sure was a bad dream, you realize that you had been missing something all this while. You never really were happy all this while. All this while.

After having worked on more number of logos than I initially planned to or imagined, I am creatively exhausted. After not having worked enough for my project or assignments, I am academically frustrated. Sometimes, life appears to be a 3d version of Shitoon.

Reading blogs is still better than watching TV. Feel good about yourself. Now, go do something productive till I throw things again at you.

design humor senseless

Match the following

Why are u single gif


Leave your answers as comments.


PS: Oh, and if you aren’t single, come back after the break-up. Your girl-friend/wife might leave, but this post shall stay. And if you never happen to come back, believe me you are one of the luckiest persons on earth.


Bloody fucking goodnight

Bloody fuck. I should be crashing now but I am not. Bloody fuck I say.

Earlier in the morning, I had thought of writing a bloody hilarious post on how dark skinned Indians worry about their complexion. I wrote a post. The bloody post however, turned out to be dry and sad. Blame my lack of sleep.

The irrelevant quiz that I finished writing minutes ago went good. Except one sketch, I answered everything. But since I wont get anything else than a P grade (irony of pass fail courses), it is just too irrelevant to be talked about. The quiz got over in like less than half an hour! I should not have missed it. Oh yea, I had missed it earlier, I guess a week ago, because I could not get early enough (eight in the morning is sometimes early). No wonder, I did not sleep yesterday. Missing the same quiz again is as bad as watching Murder with your grandma.

Bloody fuck. Too much of coffee. Couple of fags. And I guess I also kept seeing a fairy in pink all day. I am already dreaming. I should crash.

Good night world.



Here’s the deal. I am going to be unreachable on cellphone and missing on gtalk. I won’t be seen parking anywhere else but in my own room. I will go to mess alone. I will go to fag alone. I will have coffee alone. Alone, I guess is the key here. I won’t be talking much to anyone. In fact I would avoid talking at all times without appearing weird, if possible. I shall check all my mails and Google reader updates once every day at 12 in the night and finish replying/commenting, if needed, by 1. I won’t deny myself the pleasure of blogging, because that my dear friends, could prove to be suicidal. A blog a day is fair. A blog a day, should come. But I shall certainly not view my own site (yes, I do view like a million times a day).

This ordeal shall end on the 29th of Feb. Today is Valentine’s day. My love deprived heart might cheer up a little to see some romantic comments. So what if I shall be seeing them only when the day is over? Wish me.

And to you, my dear reader, who, over a period of time, has built a praiseworthy appetite for phres blogshit, I wish you, happy V day. Go, fall in love. And if you are already in love, need I say anything?

I need time with myself. I need to get underground.

my freaky stories

Madly in love

He could have a look at her whenever the door would open. Usually the door never opened for more than few seconds. Whenever it did, one could notice the smile on his face and the spark in his eyes.

She was gorgeous. He especially liked her legs. They were smooth and beautiful. They shone in the filtered rays that entered the hallway through the blinds. She stayed in a big room, separated by his, by a narrow white door. Her room was way bigger than his. He had seen her entire room only once. That had been the day when he had first visited the house. His room wasn’t yet ready and so he had to spend the day, the entire day in her room, seated in one corner. That was the first time he had seen her. He had been left awestruck by her beauty. None of them had exchanged any word. He was sure, she had liked him too.

Later in the evening, some strangers had escorted him to his small room. That was the first time he had crossed the door. Ever since, he had been forced to spend all his time in his room. His room for life. It was neat and clean but it was small with a smaller window that remained closed most of the times. Ever since, his moments of joy were nothing but those few seconds when the door would open and he would get to see her. Sometimes even that didn’t happen. She was nowhere to be seen. But most of the times, she was right there. The beautiful she.

She never came to his room. Everyone else did. Call him pervert, but he had easily managed to see the residents of the house naked. Once he also got a rare opportunity to watch the land-lady and the land-lord having sex. He was so turned on by the act that he kept wishing for it to happen again. He kept wishing that for several days. Sadly, it never did. The couple had probably realized that he had seen it all. They never talked about it. He continued his peeking act but soon got bored of watching them. It was she who he really cared about. The beautiful she.

In a way, he was needed more in the house than her. So what if she was beautiful and would often receive a compliment from some guest or another? He knew he was more important. No one ever talked about him or ever praised him. They all took him for granted. Probably because he was too nice. But then, he didn’t know how else to be. He was in the house to perform his duty, and that he did. It was true that everyone offered him nothing but shit. He never complained. He could take any shit with a smiling face; with the same smiling face that he exhibited every time he got a chance to admire her grandeur, through the only door that separated their rooms.

The poor commode knew he was madly in love with the teak chair that lived in the hallway.

PS: A western style toilet is also referred to as a commode.

my freaky stories

A leaf fell down from a tree above

Darkness was approaching. He didn’t move. A leaf fell down from a tree above. His eyes followed the path traced by the falling leaf in the cold and wet air. It wasn’t just the air that was wet. He was wet too. It had been a life time. He just hadn’t moved from that broken bench that he had occupied earlier in the day. It had rained couple of times in the day. Many leaves had fallen since then. He had tried not to miss a single on of them. The leaves reminded him of something. Someone. The falling leaves.

It was dark. The unattended park had no neon lamps to boast of. The only light that was to be seen came from a far off pan-shop. He couldn’t see but he could figure out that now, he was the only soul left in there. Sitting on the same broken bench. The dark green color of the bench was nothing but pitch black. So much like his life. Black. His eyes could follow the leaves no more. The leaves continued falling. He focussed. He could listen to them. Falling. And then it started raining again.

It started with a drizzle but picked up soon. His slightly dried up body was getting drenched once again. He didn’t mind it. He wanted it. He wanted things to change. He wanted things to happen. He wanted the cold water in the cold evening to touch him and whisper music in his ears. He wanted to be away from civilization. He was away from civilization.

The thudding sound of an engine came from somewhere. The intensity increased, stayed constant for some time and then stopped. A motorcycle. He could also listen to two men talk. Like a crocodile, he acted. He suddenly had cold metal in his hands. He suddenly was looking through a lens. He was looking at the men. The unaware men. Infra-red. He was fast. Bang. First shot. Bang. Second shot. A leaf fell down from a tree above.

humor senseless

Fart Corner

Receptionist (to the girl): So mam, you are…

Lady: Deepika Padukone.

Receptionist (to himself: what fart name): Would you prefer a corner room?


Hey Saarang

Yet another Saarang beckons. They say, it is going to be my last Saarang. They say, I should enjoy it.

The Saarang two years back had gifted me something special. The Saarang, last year had snatched away the gift, the most beautiful gift I had ever got.

Hey Saarang, how are you going to treat me this year?