Hello Sunday Afternoon

On the one Sunday afternoon I didn't spend napping, I chanced upon something kinda pretty.

A Boy

Few & Far Between

You know that strange feeling when you discover something worth being excited about, but can't spend time being excited about it because you have a lot on your plate at the time, so you have to postpone the excitement for later, and you really don't mind it because you know that when you finally allow yourself to go over it in your head and really pay a hundred percent attention to it, it will feel twice as good?
I felt all of that this morning when, completely out of context, one of my of my closest friends and I agreed that 'Akira' was a great name for a child. It was so spectacular that it left me giddy for a bit and almost gave me, what I'm convinced was, a feel-good concussion.

Rad

Show me one person
who wouldn't want to wear such rad head gear
and blow big bubbles the same shade as their cheeks,
and I'll show you someone who's not on this envelope.

Monsob

i have always disliked the monsoon.
this year, i found new ways to make it bearable.
i drank a lot of soup,
flew to dryer cities
and painted my nails blinding bright
in the hope that the sky
would open up
give up on being a wet blanket
convert to a warm colour
and comprehend my mixed signals
that very obvious read
that i would not be intimidated by it,
once, twice and once again.

✈

Ok Rosy Cheeks

I have woken up with a skin rash that makes my cheeks look rosy. Obviously, since I don't naturally feel flushed very often, I'm really quite ok with it.
I honestly do not think any dark skinned person would mind being asked by an unhinged colleague, "What aaa, looking very fancy today. Put rooz* and all. Where you are going?"


*she meant rouge

How I found out that my father is a sweet but bad liar.

Like most human beings, I talk to myself very often.

I enjoy doing voices, so sometimes, I even pretend to be someone else and talk like them.
But mostly, I think of situations (from the past or my imagination) and speak out the probable reactions of everyone in that situation.

This morning, while taking a shower I was thinking about how I wore high waisted pants and Oxfords to work on Friday, and got told that I looked like a boy. I voiced, "You look like a boy." My father was just outside the bathroom.

Dad: What did you say?

Me: What?

Dad: You said something. I heard you.

Me: No. I didn't say anything.

Dad: Gijja! I can hear you very well.

Me: I was singing a song. You don't know it.

Dad: I liked it. Keep singing.

This probably means three things:
1. My father can hear very well.
2. He father can't hear well at all.
3. Lying is hereditary.

"You sent that mail?!"

i figured after all the crap (and a whole lot of unperturbed laughter) that my bosses and i have found ourselves in, there is no right way to start a post that ends with... ... ... which is probably why i shouldn't have called the client 'an irritating bitch' over official mail, even if i was just sharing my (verbose) frustration towards her entire existence with my colleagues.

Dire Consequences

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