Open Letter to Soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend ! From, an enlightened boyfriend.

Dear Ex,

It’s with great pain, but a higher sense of contentment that I write you this letter. I understand that as time went on , our relationship traversed the crest and troughs, and what started off as sweet wine, but sadly is now a bitter ale. I have made lots of errors and stupid mistakes that the ‘y’ chromosome in my genetic structure, inherently breeds in my gender, and I assert that am in no way a perfect man. However having said that, this letter would be a dichotomy of the fantasy world and illusions that you thought made a perfect relationship and the reality served cold in a platter. Kindly read on. I assure you are in for a surprise.

Mentioned below are a list of things that paved way for reaching this crossroads in life. Do read , so that maybe, and just maybe, the next guy who stumbles across you, doesn’t flounder in the vast ocean of mystique and unanswerable questions you are.

1. The ‘V’ shape

I’m sorry to be mentioning this first but, unfortunately because of you, I now hate this letter of the alphabet to the core. You were so obsessed with getting me into the V shape so much, that you forgot the fact that there are people out there who consider me as a ball of fun. (pun not intended) And yes, being chubby (definitely not obese or  morbidly obese either), never defined me as a person I was. I take myself as a cloud ball , who passes from places to places making people laugh, giving them a happy feeling of themself and just generally making happy, jovial moments in life. Unfortunately, in our case, except in the initial budding months, I was unsuccessful. But then, seeing hugh jackman and jason statham flaunt their “V” ,you pushed, pulled , nagged , shouted, cried, shushed and blackmailed me denying you-know-what. That was the last straw.

Now hear this. I wont have a ‘V’ ever.  I hate the ‘V’. Period. Or for that reason I hate Y, O and U too !

2. ‘Enjoying life’ dilemma

You always claimed to be in the moment and have fun and rock on the night and what not. But pssst… Here’s a thing. Boozing, getting high and dancing away the night to glory comes ,yes could be put under fun, but not under the actual “moment” thing. Because at the end of the day , when lying bedridden and almost senile, its not the amount of times you epically puked after a drinking session that you would particularly be having a fond memory of. Rather it would be those sights, sensations, memories of the people, first love (definitely not in our case , yea? ), marriage, kids, and those insanely simple yet so rich in human feelings moments that are gonna endear. Both for you and the people involved. So yes, the next time you are throwing up ; remember, even the puke doesnt “want the moment” and is getting out of you to some drain or sewer much better than where it is.

Now you know.

3. Possessiveness

So now we come to the most delicate topic of them all. Yes, I was, I am and I will be possessive. After all, being a ‘Y’ chromosome innate,  entitles me to be atleast possessive about the one thing that I can call as my own discovery, other than those other people I was born to. It did not most certainly mean, that you were to sit inside a room 24×7 and worship me as your “Lord and Master” (reference intended for Shail @ Shail’s Nest :P). Rather it meant that at the end of the day, anything and everything you did, or want to do would go through my ears and head . I know it sounds sexist and all those feminist naysayers are gonna be clamouring for my blood. But again I assert the same , because I like to know what problem might happen in sharing stuffs that happen to you, because there is only two outcomes, “Yes ,go for it.” or “No, dont.”

You know why we would say that authenthically? Of all the homo sapiens in the world we  males, are endowed with so much idiocy and testosterone driven false bravery , that either we would have already “been there, done that”, or we have seen an asshole who was there and is there no more! Period.

4.Religion and Culture

This is funny to the core. Assuming that we followed a dual religion respecting system at home in our inter caste nuclear family, and bringing up our kids according to one religion, either due to adjustment or due to dominance,and if they go astray and turn into criminals, would you at the end of the day want them as Christian criminals or Hindu criminals? Because as far as I see it, it isn’t there religion instilling in them the essence of humanity , rather it would be us, as parents teaching them from right and wrong. All religion and culture would do , is lend them a garb of morality and asinine views of myths and so called “divine laws” , imparting a personality and address as to their family line and other society driven needs.

So , whether it was pooja or the holy mass, ultimately it would have been us who decided our childrens future personality based on what kind of humans we are. But I guess, now it was for the best, lest they see us bickering and fighting all  time due to the aforementioned reasons, while at the same time claiming to be close the upper echelons of divine solitude in our respective religions.

There is a lot more that was there as you would know, as the official record keeper of all the words that has come from our mouth and all the actions that came from us. But neither is there a reason to expound on them, nor criticise. But let me give you a last piece of advice as you sail off to new waters and newer horizons. What defines a person as that particular person, is their characteristics, eccentricities, inadequacies, negativities, flair, speech , smell and what not. Having to compromise and adjust would be ok. But having to completely change and become a new person with a different set of qualities might go to another extreme.

Maybe along with other qualities, a ‘Psycho’, might be bred. Just putting it out there. Because you don’t deserve to die for something you lack in your head or heart,  do you?

Or do you?


My unexpected tryst with Ayurveda – Part II


My mind and body both haven’t recovered from the mauling I had undergone from the masseur , who observed ,while furiously digging into my chest claiming it seemed my fat was too adamant! I mean , what the hell is that even supposed to mean? If you did not follow, make sure you read the first part, as to know how I came to such a horrific situation. As for the rest of you , let me entertain your sadist minds! 😦

After being tied with nothing but the white piece of translucent loin cloth, he made me sit on a chair. I was burning in shame and mortification as I sat down. He came straight opposite to me and my horribly imaginative mind, again brought forth the most sickening of thoughts and images confused emoticon. But then he plonked something warm and semi paste like over my head and started grinding it in. He started asking my name, occupation and likewise and I kept answering him in monosyllables, purposely murmuring so that he would get the notion across of my unwillingness to chat with him almost naked! Yet he kept at it, going on and on, commenting on how long my hair was and I would have to cut it if the medicine was to act effectively. Finally after tying a towel over my head, he asked me to get up. He pushed aside the chair and asked me to climb over to the large wooden table lying in the centre of the room. Imagine having nothing but the strategically tied loin cloth on your body and having to climb on to a tall table heads up, hoisting your rear end high up in all its glory for him to see. I finally lied down supine and closed my eyes , as I couldn’t bear looking at his face. I could hear some metal clank as he placed something on the end of the table, near my feet.

He started applying something over my feet, which felt warm.. Finally… .I thought. The warm oil massage. But why does it feel scrapy?? I asked him the same, and he replied

“This is not oil ,buddy. This is something that we call a choornam. Or in plain words, a type of fat exfoliant! I am gonna scrub this all over your body hard, so that it dislodges those stubborn fat in your body! ” and trailed off into laughter.

I was paralyzed. So this was not even an oil massage? And this guy is gonna scrub my precious fat off ? How on Rajinikanth’s earth is that even possible!? Soon I felt what he meant. He started going in a loop from my feet till my knees and I started feeling the burn. I couldn’t even move my body as  he pressed down hard and kept going at it ,as if he was kneading into form ,dough for porotta! Soon he came to my thighs. If anyone of you out there is planning a suicide attempt like this, please be warned ; It takes every ounce of your manly control to force ( read plead and beg) your hypothalamus to not send signals down to any portion of your body, that’s gonna embarrass you to almighty shame, when a dude is running with a vengeance, his palms over your thighs and beyond. PERIOD! I tightly shut my eyes as he continued pounding my thighs .On top of it I felt to cry out with the intensity of his tearing up my skin with the paste.

Soon he came to the tummy. And that’s when he started off into a “Chinta ta ta Chita Chita, Chinta ta ta” kinda hand play over my tummy and chest, slapping down hard enough, to make me convulse up on the table. I whimpered as he ground my innards and I almost felt him digging inside my body and squeezing my kidneys and whatnot to pulp. All these while, I remembered my ‘sweet and loving mom’, vowing to one day take her to this very clinic and having a she hulk, do everything that this cousin of Khali was doing to me! But just as I was relaxing thinking that it’s over, the masseur, asked me to go prone! I did not have any more strength left in me to argue, and I meekly turned over and lied down. I felt him untying the strings and taking out that only piece of cloth that covered my ass, and tucked it between my legs. Ladies and gentlemen, Yes.. I was now officially FULLY NAKED, albeit lying prone redface.

Again he started from my feet and I again endured the pain of having my skin being scraped with the warm paste, upwards. Sooner than I expected he arrived at my ass and this time it was ” Dhadhang dhang dhang dhang, dhadhang dhang” that he played with his hands. I felt honestly a tear creeping its way from the corner of my eye, but I forced it back in, to keep at least one last piece of manliness with me. The masseur finished the session in over 1 hour. He then asked me to get up and move to the adjacent bathroom, to wash off the pastes and stuff over my body. I felt , looking into the bathroom mirror, that I had fallen yet again in that waste pit, back in college rolleyes.

Finally I came out after the bath, my body burning every single inch and feeling like a plucked red chicken. Honestly I felt as if my entire body was not mine, and that I was in some kind of a suit that was covering my nakedness. The masseur ,I felt had lost around 5 kg from the time I had met him ,and I felt he was visibly tired himself. I felt a little satisfaction 😉

And this my friends, went on for 7 whole days. As for the weight loss and overall rejuvenation of body, I’m yet to show that six-pack and toned biceps. Keep looking out! 😀