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the sun and the moon are both out together … it looks magical. I love how Mount Diablo, which is right in front of me now , has turned a colour, which can be best described as something between pink, brown and orange… a colour i feel deserves more recognition, but I am afraid I don’t know what is it called.


I feel this view is quite analogous to so many phenomenon in my life.

Like how I hate and love my family

Like how ambitious I am and how utterly lazy I am

Like how much I love writing and how much I don’t write at all


So hello blog,  I used to love you a long time back… and now I am back knocking on your doors for respite, for validation, for love. Please, love me back.



You didn’t message.

After saying for two days about how you would come to see me in the most likelihood. In the morning you told me you were contemplating it and  you followed that by sending me a picture of a girl bent over with her pussy clearly visible.

and then you disappeared?

You thought you could leave me high and dry and I would bend over … like the girl in the picture.

Oh darling, how utterly juvenile of you. True to the only twenty something years you have spent on this planet and to the less than a decade long experience of playing this game.

Me being me, I called over the boy I told you about and fucked the bejesus out of him, all the while imagining you.



Walk away if you want to.

There is a brand of shame and humiliation you feel when your husband tells you to pack your bags and leave.

I don’t know of a married woman who hasn’t heard it. Mostly it’s said in a burst of anger, during or after some everyday fight. It’s not to be translated into action. That’s hardly the expectation. It’s just a bunch of angry words.just an empty threat.

Husband, I know you love me and you always mean well. But when you say this you kill me. Kill my selfrespect, kill my ego. You know I don’t have nowhere to go. So in that moment I feel so frustrated and it is only out of that sheer frustration that I start regressing. I start wrapping up the argument. I mean even without the protruding belly, I couldn’t have braved the world on my own. What will I do with a child?… So while before I could throw a tantrum and go stay at a friend’s now I feel humiliated and ashamed and frustrated and belittle-d

So if you want the woman you married and not some undignified, sorry excuse for a person, don’t say this again. It takes away from who I am, the woman you love.


There are a many. A great many.

But nothing can be more frustrating than unrequited love, I tell you.

I remember a time when husband pined after me. Saw me with I-want-to-Fuck-you-bad-eyes and had his heart broken by many a cruel demands for space. I was ruthless like that.

Four years later, post a marriage of two years and a baby on it’s way I guess I have lost it. Whatever that bloody “it” was. He wants food and fresh clothes in the morning. I want conversations and sex. He wants me to give him space. I want his hands all over me. It doesn’t help that he’s filled up oh so nicely and still smells so good.

So yeah, this unrequited love business is the cruellest ever, for sure.

arkh – i’m gonna be a cliche

It upsets me and then I get over it and then when I feel I am all over it, I find out surprisingly that I am actually still not over it.

People at work think I’m having an affair. People have thought that previously as well. Not the first time. This time they have been thinking this for the past one year. What is different this time is that its with someone I genuinly care about. The person in question happens to be much (much) older than me, married with 2 kids, he happens to be one of the most decent people I know. I love him, adore him and respect him. However I hate how it has become this weird uncomfortable thing when it shouldnt be. He’s very respected, being in a senior management position, which makes me often feel that it might have to do with jealousy as well… either way i hate how this is such a thing! it frustrates me and annoys me! There are times when I am stepping out to grab a bite and I feel like I am more concious about who I am telling this seemingly innocous news to. Fortunately both him and I are married to people who are self- assured and dont give much heed to such nonsense .. still its a pain and a half.


Makes me wonder how sad everyone around me really is. Its been a year since I have been friend’s with him and people havent gotten bored with it yet, amazing really!

and no, this is being published without a proofread hence the hundred mistakes i must have made. i apologize.

Waiting to dance for you…

I want to dance for you, hazel-eyed boy. My gift to you.

I want to see you, looking at me, dancing for you. My gift to me.

You complimented me on my eyes once. You said the real dancing happens there. You laughed when I told you what anatomy of yours was the queen ballerina.

So when you are away and I am feeling your away-ness a tad too much, thats what  I miss the most. Dancing for you. Your eyes on me. The perfect cock-tail of love and lust in your eyes. Sheer joy, for me.

I didnt think I would have wanted this until recently.

Every closet seems to be so inviting. The board room tables seem to be staring at me, teasing me, about how unused they are. The print room with its constant buzzing could muffle so many moans.

And if you are already in that frame of mind and you are made to go away on a company trip for “team building” to a romantic get-away, when you are already suffering from post-menstrual horniess then you are up for some rather testing times.

I dont know if it was me but while I will openly admit that there is not even a single cute guy in my entire office building, which bytheway houses around a 1000 people, as a geneeral rule however it was very amusing to find two guys extremely attractive. OUT-OF-THE-BLUE. Suddenly!

I kid you not when I say there were times when I seriously considered jumping one of them.

Anyway nice to know that forgeting the darned/ loved engagement ring is not easy no matter what hormone levels you might reach. It didnt go anywhere apart from me dishing out some sexy moves and grinding one of them, mentally and not literally, on the dance floor .

Wow! I have grown up.

Romantic Blasphamy

Your spouse, partner, lover, fiance can never be your best friend.

He* can be more. He can be less. But he will never be your best friend. It is extremely important to make peace with it, even more so when that ‘special someone’ is going to be there, in your life in the long run.

Now why do I say this? Very simple. A best friend, is okay with the worst-you. Also no matter how much you love your best friend, his life and the decisions he makes are never going to affect your life. So the fact that he is a womanizer, who sometimes likes to hang out with the queers, loves the color purple, wears parrot green socks matched with an equally green boa, will never hamper your friendship with him. If you are hangin with company that might be a teeny-tiny vary of his colorful life, you will stand up for him, get into a cat fight, and show off the opponent’s kidney on your drawing room Mantle, for your coming generation’s to see.

Now imagine this was your fiance, we are talking about.

First of all, let’s suppose you have a real awful taste in Men, and you do find the above mentioned Sir, rather sexy, would you actually go out with him?… Knowing that he’s the man the world will associate you with?..That you might one day be sitting on stage with the guy whose real name nobody knows, since everyone has their own pet name for him… and no its not cause everyone loves it him.

..hence established he’s not your best friend and neither are you his.

Also remember, he needs to trust you. and you need to make sure that that trust is 100%. Work for a few months. Trust me, until its some psycho-convict-rapist-serial-killer type you are getting jiggy with, normal men don’t take longer than that. Cause if tomorrow, someone comes up to him and tells him that they think you are/ were up to no good or some other version of that. He should atleast come and clarify it with you. Unfortunatly, the kind of society that we function in, this happens to almost every girl out there… and let’s be honest, we all do have histories.. rather colorful, interesting ones… Now let’s suppose you say something really really nasty about a best friend of your who you just had a huge fight with. This fight was mostly your fault (we obviously blame it on the hormones)… chances are a few weeks down the line you two are going to get back to being BFFs.. However let me take you inside your dude’s head..let’s suppose you have a fight with his best friend, or his sister, or cousin or mom.. He will dig this memory out and agree to whatever the other person is saying. if not 100% than atleast 50%. He will have seen you falter. He will be aware of your mortal-ness. I am not saying he will not love you. He will just not trust you.

…and this means head-fucks you could have avoided, if you were just a little smarter.

Furthermore, you are bound to get in to nasty nasty shit-fights with your guy. Frequencies differ, but everyone does. Most men and women have the tendency to dig out the worst about eachother and get into mud-slinging. You always want to have the last word in. You do not want him to show you a mirror. Not many women have the heart to stomach that stuff, as honest as it would be.

..your best friends can call you a slut, albeit jokingly, but they can. They can know about the dude you cheated on, with his best friend. They can tell you that the red nail paint is making you look like a tramp and get away with it. It just not funny when its your guy whose saying things like that. Just like how its not cool for a girlfriend/ fiance/ wife to call her own husband gay jokingly.

So yeah, if you’re still romantically naive, and you believe that your true love, is going to be your husband, who you will never ever lie to and manipulate, and he will also happen to be your best friend, then My love, read this one again and trust me.

Your guy is never your best friend.

*Insert she/her if you are a guy

Say ‘No’ to alcohol


Especially if you are around someone who you have a mini-crush on. You shall not come out of it, with your dignity and attitude and the oomph, which is so your signature thing, intact. You might beg him to make out with you, even when he is trying to keep a distance. Rejection, shall be the only thing you remember the next morning. Wouldnt remember the good times, sad it is. Just the bad parts.

So I am just saying. Say no to alcohol. Remain sexy and sultry and on-top-of-your game. Thats the way a lady should be. Always! 

However if the next morning you wake up and meet the boy, the object of your random affections, and he is non-chalante about it, you might have just experienced the most cutest, sweetest thing a random crush is ever gonna do for you. Ever.

Yummy Boy, I shall never forgive myself for the fall from grace … just like I’ll never get over how cheek-pulling the “its okay, we both had had quite a few” was…

I crossed a line and I liked it.

So Yummy Boy and me met again… and I crossed that line, where I say one giggly-girly-goodbye and never look back.

We got drunk. We danced. We explored prohibited territory. We let each other feel the ambrosial unholiness.

I had fun. Plain, Stupid, careless fun.

If only he didn’t have those lips. If only I wasn’t engaged. If only I was more appreciative of Life. If only I was the girl my mom wanted me to be. If only he didnt send shivers down my spine in that Godawfully delicious way. If only I felt some shame, some level of guilt.

No sorry, God. Not this time….