God was Murdered

FBI Warning: No vodka, marijuana, dairy products or chicken was consumed during the production of this gourmet article. This article does not promise any communal violence, if any occurs, will be purely coincidental. It does contain overdoses of insensitivity & India-bashing, which may result in my bashing & my house being pelted with assorted cheap vegetables & worn flip-flops. And I’m really hoping for such a result. A broken bone & vandalized walls are the price I’m glad to pay to become famous. The Beatles song: A Day in the Life (No. 26 on all-time greatest songs). The opening lyrics go like this: “I read the news today, oh boy, about a lucky man who made the grade And though the news was rather sad, well I just had to laugh I saw the photograph; he blew his mind out in a car (shot himself dead)” I had a similar reaction to the BREAKING NEWS of a man being killed by a white tiger in a Delhi zoo. I chuckled. I have no sympathy for the deceased. On t...

I roll out of the cab through the window. Al Pacino is thinking if he should’ve dropped me at the mental institute instead. He helps me with the baggage out of the boot. He wants to get rid of me. He zooms off as soon as the last bag is out. I’m standing under this old tree. Tree’s eyes have seen it all, he’s been here a while. I say hello to him via wink-&-nod. I rotate & suck in the surroundings. I take a deep breath & make some weird throaty noise. ‘So this is what freedom smells like.’ I whisper to myself. I’m usually not so frenzied. I tell you there’s something in this wind. When I’m normal I lift my hand bag & head towards the block that reads: Monash Residential Services. As I enter the room I notice the girl sitting behind the desk. Her name plate reads Tamika-Holly S Faulkner. She has two official first names, hyphenated, plus middle initial. And Al Pacino thought I was crazy. ‘I’m here to pick my keys’ I say clearly distracted by the holist...

You know what’s the greatest tragedy in a 19-year-old teenage boy’s life? Ya! I know what you sons of bitches are thinking: Being gay (god hate homos), divorced parents, bitch-of-a-step-mom, girlfriend hooking up with best friend & all that crap. That shit’s nothing.   I’ll tell ya the real tragedy. The real fucking tragedy. Is when you find out you’re the only loser in your family of 6 who isn’t getting laid. Your sister, brother, mother, father & holy jesus, everybody is getting laid. Oh it’s a catastrophé. To add insult to injury you’ve taken the longest to get laid & still a virgin. Holy cow! In about a month you’re gonna be 20. No more a teen & still a fucking-virgin (spot the oxymoron). My dire condition gave me nightmares. My bed, the nights scared the living daylights outta me. Oh you don’t wanna know unless you’ve suffered like I’ve then you’d know it already. Hurts. When you’re a teenager the greatest agenda of your life is to get rid of th...

‘Monster, you better not miss your flight tomorrow’ she said with a twitch in the eye. Those hazelnut eyes, I’ve been seeing my reflection in them since the day I came out of her. She’s the reason for my beautiful eyes & chiselled curves. If I were a man, I’d totally do her, for life. But life is a funny thing. Mother, 41, is single, never married. And I’ve never seen my biological father. Mother never talks about him. He’s a ghost, an enigma. Tonight I’m turning 18. I’m at the Singapore airport, flying to Bombay to meet him. I blackmailed mom into fixing a date with my biological dad. Until 3 days ago I didn’t even know his name. I still do not know how he looks or anything else for that matter. ‘Don’t hate him. And don’t fall in love with him for god’s sake’ she warned, gave me a quick embrace & whisked me away to the doors. I watched her walk away, there’s melody in her footsteps, oh those groovy curves. Boy, she takes my breath away. At 9:35pm, India tim...

I've never been in love. It all started when I returned home one evening. Drenched in sweet sweat of the society football match. Dad, without a word or expression, handed me my score sheet. 37% overall in 11 th class. No harsh words, no yelling, no melodrama. He walked away calmly. Next morning I said sorry to him. He replied ‘Don’t say sorry to me, son. Instead ask yourself the question: Who do you really want to be’. His voice so peaceful, words so piercing. ‘You can go have your breakfast’. He said & went back to his Dickens novel. He had lived a disciplined life. My father had always put his family before his dreams. That day I missed my breakfast; I packed my football shoes in a box & decided it was time to change. I grew up instantaneously that day. I became an old man. I was 16. I’m 37 now. In those 21 years I made it to IIT, Bombay & went on to study at MIT, Massachusetts, USA. Got hired at TCS on an astronomical salary. Mum found a girl for me...

Oh my Oh my. Me been in California…….two surreal weeks. First thing I learnt is no one gives a fuck, like no one. Even if you’re drop-dead gorgeous like Marilyn or burning-rich like Zuckerberg. This place is filled with rich, good-looking people. Everybody is trying to find the missing pieces of themselves. The Special-One. Most find “Some-One”. Yeah, even if you’re young, fantabulous, got the dream job & live in the heart of breath-taking California. Finding The One is rare. Marvellous California had made me forget everything about my homeland. All the crap, unsavoury things we girls have to face each moment of our lives. All the ugly penis-showing-peeing-on-the-walls, gutka-spitting, MC-BC-abusing & proud crotch-fondlers. All the fat aunties blocking escalators, snob kids having food fights at Chilis, pot-bellied morons shouting on cellphones in theatres & boys saying ‘I love you’ so they can fuck me. But my beautiful dream was abducted & replaced by the all...

Till a week ago I had not travelled abroad (Nepal doesn’t count you know). That changed at supersonic speed. Now I’ve been to Australia (read: Ausometralia) & The Big USA. I write this as I sip my lovely hot chocolate at Pälládium Café, downtown California, L.A. Yeah baby. Exactly seven days ago I landed in Melbourne. As instructed by Samaira, I caught the Airport to City Skybus. Cheap: $18. After that I took the shimmering tram to the legendary rustic Flinders Street station & hopped on the Pakenham line train, got down at Caulfield station. And there she was. First true love of my life. My heart skipped a beat (I knew it’ll). Five & a half years I hadn’t seen her. I gave her the hug of a wrestler. I felt the current rush through me. ‘My bridesmaid is here,’ she squeezed me harder. ‘I’m sorry, Ash I broke our solemn oath of “Being Sluts forever”’ she said still holding me tight. ‘You fell in love, Sam,’ I crooned. She slowly let go of me, grabbed my arm & c...