Procrastationery

Whenever I walk into a store, and if there is a stationery section, you will find me there. 

I can't help but love:

those tiny little post it pads to write profound notes on;

those colorful A4 sized notebooks to pen down significant thoughts and ideas;

and those sharpened Staedtler pencils always ready to scribble, scratch out and sketch; 

Every time I browse through this section, I have this vision.

At home I would be sitting on my antique mahogany desk, writing furiously into that freshly bought designer notebook . My focus makes me proud. My life has purpose and meaning. As I write about change, the world of the future and....

In reality I have no mahogany desk at home. And it's not antique, but obsolete. 

In fact great writers, thinkers and visionaries seldom need the post it notes and expensive diaries and different colored pens. And they never wait to sit at their mahogany desk to bring their dreams to life. They probably only owned one after they made their money.

In spite of knowing this truth, we still buy those little things that make us dream of all that we can be. 

We take them home, or put them in our bags or place them on our desks. 

And when inspiration strikes, we never know where to find them.

 Why? Because you never needed them in the first place.

We buy them because they are cute.

We buy into the idea of making us look intelligent and organised. 

And most importantly we want other people to believe we are creative and persevering.

It's a love affair that ends up being a one night stand.

A relationship of pure lust and absolutely no commitment.

Do I blame myself? Never.

After-all, it's those things that seduce us. 

Recently, I walked into a store and picked up this tiny notebook held shut with an elastic band.

It was Rs.315 for 4inch by 4 inch 200 pieces of ruled paper. That is bloody expensive.

However, my rational brain stopped working as I began to read what it had to say.

It was a tiny book to catch inspiration (TM). 

Wow. What a thought.

Let's say it again. "To catch inspiration". 

Inspiration is fleeting and floating and flying through the air. And all we have to do is catch it by opening this book and shutting it tight.

And yes, inspiration can strike anytime and I need to be ready.

I need this wonderful catching mechanism.

Need it.

My insights, ideas, comments, opinions, observations all jotted down. In Rs.315.

Wow. What a philosphy. What a lifestyle. 

Spiritual. Clean. Simple.

Bullshit.

Do I need to spend Rs.315 to make something bigger out of my life? No.

Did I buy it? Obviously I did.

Using siblings

A best friend’s birthday, transported me from my cosy bed to a new lounge or bar or restaurant or whatever they call it now on a weeknight. Now, as many of my irate friends know, I never like to step out of my abode knowing that I have to be at work the next morning. However, last night I’m glad I did.

In Mumbai, seeing a cute guy in person is like spotting the needle in a hay stack or more appropriately catching a shooting star in the smoggy Mumbai sky. Yes, it happened. I saw him. Dressed in a suit, probably arriving at the place straight after work, he had a beer in his hand and enough boyish charm to appeal to the naughty girl in every adult woman.

He was tall, fair and had this bashful look in his eyes, like he was embarrassed with all the compliments he had received up till now. I was definitely not in love, but I had willingly fallen in infatuation. And that’s where it ends for a girl like me. Not having enough confidence to approach him for a conversation I would eventually be condemned to lechery.

That would have been that, if it wasn’t for my brother who made a late entrance to the pub. Two drinks down I began narrating my one sided love story to which he just laughed. Little did we know we were to have a breakthrough in the wingman theory; to be later known as wingling.

We decided to step out for a smoke. While I passively inhaled the fumes, my object of desire stepped out at the same time, to shorten his lifespan as well. Standing beside him, the fragrance from his coat made me remember those days in school where we would have humongous crushes on prefects, the only ones who earned the right to wear a blazer. My brain had evoked the same attraction I had to those students who had more power than the others clad in plain uniforms.

I stood there giggling, as my best friend and brother made expressions similar to those teasing buddies who did the same when you stood next to a crush. And then suddenly, my brother emerged as the greatest wingman there was. Looking at my 1 hour old crush, he asks , “So how come the suits?”.

“We just got here from work actually”, he said casually. He spoke well. Tick mark to that.

“Where do you work?” asked my wingbro.

The conversation had started and it was full of surprises. My suitable boy was Indian, despite his foreign looks and attitude. When I was expecting some exotic name like Kayaan or Anay or Vivaan out comes Vasudev from his pretty mouth. The way he said that ancient name, I took a liking towards it immediately, making a mental note to find out the meaning on Wikipedia.

I watched in amazement as my wingbro set me up for a conversation. He smoothly maneuvered with words to extend the interaction between Vasudev and me. Honestly, I had never been this proud of my brother. It struck me at that point immediately, that a wingbro or a wing sis worked better than any wing man. 

Being of the opposite sex, there will never be any unintentional competition, unless either one is gay. The person of interest isn’t distracted by the same sex wing sibling unless he or she happens to be gay too. Wing siblings or winglings will always act in the best interest of the other sibling. And it would seem harmless, like poor Vasudev never knew that the only reason my brother extended that conversation was so that I could start off my own.

However, while they talked about work and the weather I didn’t say a word of any importance. I could have said a lot but my shyness bound my mouth to a hopeless smile.

When we left the smoking area after three hundred moments of anticipation and excitement and only five words from me, (Hi, nice to meet you) I returned to the seat with that smile spread across my face. Ten seconds later Vasu followed holding a red purse. For that split second, I thought my brother’s move had proved successful to my brother instead. Was Vasu gay? Had my wingling’s plan failed? Little did I know that he was in fact trying to locate me.

I had in my forgetfulness, walked away from my credit cards, cash, id cards and a smart phone kept neatly in my red purse. It was almost like I had denounced all worldly belongings for him. But like the prince with the glass shoe, he came forward to hand them back to me.I thanked him, like he returned my life.

And that was that, actually. Vasu and I were not meant to be. Even though I noticed he enjoyed retro music as much as I did, to have any future with him it would require me to step up to the platform that my wingling had created, and I had happily declined.

It was a chance encounter that I will always cherish. But more than that, it was the discovery of a character that I encourage others to use to their advantage as well. For me this trivial story marked the arrival of the more significant wingling; the best your sibling can be.

You can thank me now

Dear Men,

Thank you for the great response on the earlier post. Most of you didn't share it because you wanted to be ahead of your competition and I understand that. If you are among the few who haven't read the earlier post, I suggest you do read it, to put this post into context. For the ones who have already read it, I'm, sorry I made you wait very long for the last five tips. Well, there were so many great tips , but I could only shortlist 5. So here they are. Simple to follow and easy to remember. Enjoy.

6) Women can’t handle criticism. Even if it is honest and necessary. Don’t give in, when she says, “It’s ok you can tell me. If you think I”ve put on weight, just tell me."

WARNING: Don’t.

It will come back and bite you in some way or the other. Your girlfriend is Karma. And you remember what karma is?

Handle this situation by sugarcoating the “constructive criticism”. Follow it immediately by bringing up a random bad comment on a girl she dislikes. It's an awesome distraction and make-her-feel-good tool.

7) Know her dates. 88% of successful boyfriends who know their girlfriend's dates, do a brilliant job in managing them. The girls, not the dates. PMS is not a myth like the lochness monster. It is very much alive, at least for a week every month. It takes the form of your girlfriend. It possesses her. Try and avoid confrontations with her during this time. Actually try and avoid her. (If you have no idea what I meant by "dates", you do not deserve to gain more knowledge regarding girls.)

8) Don't talk about the ex. Even if she presses you for it or thinks you have a reached this wonderful point in your relationship where exes can be discussed and praised, leave the conversation, or the room , or the country if you have to. No matter what you say about your ex, she will unnecessarily read between the sentences, the words and the letters. If you bitch about your ex, you will look like the loser. If you praise her, you will be the loser.

9) Do not attempt to multitask. Guys suck at doing two things at one time. (Sometimes I wonder why they dream of threesomes.) Remember, when you are not paying complete attention to your lady-friend, she knows. No you cannot watch TV and talk to her at the same time. No you cannot drive and attempt to listen to her at the same time. It's impossible for you and she knows that too well. Stick to doing just one thing at a time and I promise you peace.

10) The last tip is solely meant for just one male. You know who you are, so here goes:  You will not try and out-think me. You will never have the upper hand. You cannot get away with loopholes in your argument by quoting my blog posts. I am right and you are wrong. Most importantly, the previous 9 tips were not meant for you.

To the rest of the male species, best of luck. 

How was your day?

Observation: Women are more descriptive than men. 

Part 1:

 Part 2:

Conclusion: Men should be more descriptive.

The Ideal Lovelife

FOR WOMEN

FOR MEN

Indian Summer Shopping

If you search for "noncommittal" on Google, you will find a man.

Women have very low expectations

Drunken stupidity

Drunk driving is a serious offence. People do it without clearly understanding the consequences of their irresponsible actions. However, the intake of alcohol can also lead to another problem of modern society, which I feel needs to be given some serious attention.


It's a disease that never existed before we could hold cell phones in one hand and a Long Island Iced Tea in another. And nobody understands the seriousness of this problem. I mean there have been enough number of  public service advertisements on "do not drink and drive" but whoever thought of warning us about the perils of drinking and dialing.

Yes, drunk dialing is also an offence. To society. To yourself. And most definitely the person you have called. 

It starts like this:
You are usually two to three drinks down when this very innocent question creeps into your mind.
What is that person-im-so-not-supposed-to-call upto? 
After one more drink.
Will he or she or it be thinking about you?
After the seventh shot.
Where is my phone?


And what's the flawed logic swimming in the alcohol floating in the folds of your brain? I'M DRUNK SO ITS ALLOWED. 


Well YOU are drunk, and guess what it is more likely for you to forget the waste of a call or conversation, but that person is sober and will remember everything. 
Right from the fact that you ACTUALLY called.
That's ego boosting factor number 1. 


Now, ego boosting factor number 2. Your absolute confession of the fact that you want to kill him/her or that you have just realised how much you really miss/love/cannot-enjoy-that-9th drink without that person.


Ego Boosting Factor number 3: you would be rather talking on the phone than enjoying wherever you are (and I'm hoping that you aren't drinking alone in a bedroom). So "wherever"  includes a pub, friend's house, your house but with friends over or in some really sad cases your current bf/gf's place.

The above factors are enough to give that person a high. They might feel bad for you but they aren't in most cases going to do shit about it. So stop CALLING. Sometimes they are annoyed because they might be having a better time and the sorriness of your situation probably obligates them to talk to you even though you are speaking ABSOLUTE GIBBERISH. But they will love every moment of that conversation because of all the attention that is being showered on them. All thanks to your stupidity.

And where does that leave you. The drunken diallers. In this case you are the victims of the crime that you commit. You are the only ones responsible for the regret you feel the next day. And honestly, it is so not pretty. 


Not the sight of you sobbing (with snot in your nose) or the sight of you trying to snatch back your phone from your friend's hand. Nor the desperation in your voice when you beg your friend for that one call that might save you from a life of loneliness. Well, your friend is probably doing just that. But saving you from more important things. From sounding like a loser. 


So snap out of it. 


Enjoy that drink. 


And keep that phone away.