Happy Birthday Shah Rukh! Here’s the only gift I can offer :)

Hi Shah Rukh, wish you a very happy birthday. My mere mortality would laugh in my face if I even tried to comment on the scale of celebrations happening around you and in your fandoms, especially after the humongous success of Happy New Year (Yay!), so the less I say the better.

I would like to do something for you on your birthday, but my lack of options worries me. I can’t write poems, can’t sketch your dimply face (though you very kindly shared some of the dodgier fan arts on Twitter too), and my sanity doesn’t allow me to tattoo or carve your name on my skin. So I’ll be satisfied by wishing you in the only way I can-through my blog.

Generally open letters are vicious spectator sports, designed to shred the recipient into pieces to the collective glee of people reading them, sort of like a bull fight or the gladiator arenas of the olden days. But this post is a love letter masquerading as an open letter, so it would be a good time for people allergic to PDA to get off this feels train right about now.

It would be easy to pepper this post with a lot of your memorable dialogues but I won’t talk about your films, roles or other very successful endeavors . What I will do is tell you what Shah Rukh Khan stands for in my eyes. Of course you are the romantic hero that has made a million female (and a lot of male) hearts flutter, the possessor of tawny eyes and impossibly deep dimples that you have knowingly exploited to pull at our heartstrings. And you arguably also have the best set of hands and forearms in the world, of which I’d like to make a cast and keep at my house, for, you know, research purposes.

But above and beyond all of that, you’re Shah Rukh Khan, so much more than the sum of your parts. You are witty, well read, self deprecating, an interviewer’s dream, chivalrous and an enviably good father who takes pride in his children. What’s not to like, right? You make it pretty easy for a fan to like you. I don’t know if I’m explaining this right, but I would love you even if you weren’t rich, if you started giving boring interviews, or even stopped making films (please don’t do any of the above). The affection that I have for you goes beyond all of this, and has entered the realm of just wanting good things for you and being happy in your happiness, regardless of what you are or what you do.

Before Facebook and Twitter made declarations of fanaticism a little too easy, my liking of you was displayed in the confident reply of ‘Shah Rukh Khan’ whenever someone asked me who my favorite actor was. I confess, like many other teenagers, I was blown away by Hrithik Roshan’s perfect debut, and later by Ranbir Kapoor’s effortless acting, and the genetic lottery that is Sidharth Malhotra (seriously, there has got to be a cap on good features in a single person) But in spite of these transgressions, I knew that no one else could even come close to replicating the effect that you have on me.

I like most of your films, and I love you in all of them. Except Hum Tumhare Hai Sanam, but we’ll forget you were in it because it’s your birthday. I’m happy when your films do well and you earn money and break box office records (take that 3 Idiots!). I’m thrilled when you win awards, and I grin and clap like a monkey toy on Energiser whenever you come on TV. I shocked myself about how happy I was when you laughed openly and wholeheartedly on Comedy Nights with Kapil, glad that you had some moments of genuine mirth. I hate it when you look sick or sleep deprived during promotions, masking your fatigue with sunglasses. 

While I’m never starstruck by actors I see at events, I have stared at you unblinkingly like a creep on the three occasions that I’ve seen you, and literally squealed and skipped with joy when you gave me a half hug after an interview. Everybody who knows me to some degree knows that I’m your fan, and while I didn’t mean to be ‘that crazy fan’, I think my vehement defence of you and all your films against anyone who questions it gave it away. So much so that even my Teach India learners knew that they would be marked absent on the day they said anything unflattering about you. #justkidding

Obviously I’m not blind or crazy enough to say that you’re perfect or you always do the right things. Remember Hum Tumhare Hai Sanam? But time and again I have realized that even through all of the supposed shortcomings, through all the occasional hamming, regardless of the weird extreme close up of your wet muddy nipple in Happy New Year, my feelings for you remain unchanged.

It is because of this love that I’m offering you the very presumptuous and frankly unasked for gift. What do you give the man that has everything money can buy, and then some? But then I remember your interviews and the way you talk about your loneliness. I see a recent article where Jackie Shroff calls you a ‘lonely Baadshah’. I’ve watched your interviews where you’ve said you don’t have too many friends you can talk to. So this is what I want to give you-my friendship and a listening ear. Not because you can give me anything in return, but simply because it is unacceptable for me that a person I admire and who has given me and so many others countless moments of happiness, is lonely.

Sorry about being self- aggrandizing, but allow me to argue my case. I am a great listener, and it takes a lot to scandalize me, so I would be open to anything that you say. I have no connection to your inner or outer world, so I’ll always give you an honest opinion. I also have a decent sense of humour, which I’m sure will come in handy. I don’t like taking favours or getting gifts, so you know I have no vested interest. I’m also a Cancerian, and according to Linda Goodman and a lot of other star gazers, Scorpios and Cancerians are supposed to have a mysterious and irresistible pull, which will ensure that you like me. Oh, oh, and I’m an excellent secret keeper, which will ensure that none of the things you tell me ever see the light of day.

So I will gladly be your ‘no strings attached’ friend, and listen to you as talk about your day, your ambition, your dreams or a random idea that you thought up in the bathroom. I would just as calmly sit in silence with you as you mull over your thoughts, fanning away the smoke from your cigarette because I’m allergic. Think about it.

As Ayn Rand said in the Fountainhead, Love is exception making, so I’m making an exception and doing a public display of affection for you on this day. I'm hoping that the Internet plays Tuffy from Hum Aapke Hai Kaun and delivers this letter to you (not Mohnish Behl, you stupid dog!) with 'Radhe Radhe bolo Jai Kanhaiya Lal ki' playing in the background and you accept my offer. Even if this fantastic wish doesn't come true, I'll still be your well-wisher from afar. I wish you more success and greater highs, but more than that I wish you good health and lots of dimpled smiles and true happiness. Happy Birthday Shah Rukh Khan. May your arms forever be outstretched to receive the blessings that the ‘kaayenaat’ bestows upon destiny’s chosen child. 

Isn’t it Obvious how proud I am?

People who have very kindly read my blog know that most of my blog posts are sarcastic/ funny/ borderline preachy or most likely a combination of both. But this night is different. Today I want to write about a friend who I am very proud of. You see, this friend is turning producer and I couldn’t be happier. No, I’m not talking about Shahrukh Khan and Happy New Year (though I’m terribly excited to see him burn hundreds of crores on screen)

The friend I’m talking about is Prajakta, naam to suna hi hoga. Actually you wouldn’t have heard of her because she’s still a student in the US and is turning producer for her student thesis film. Though we don’t go too long way back, what we lack in duration we made up for in quality. She is my late night chat friend, cheap jokes partner, and obviously, the mother of my fictional child (long story)

When she came to India the last time, she told me about a real life incident that happened with her, which she planned to make into a movie. And now she is actually doing it, coming down to India with her crew and shooting the movie. And I’m genuinely amazed at the kind of responsibility she’s showing, carrying a film (short though it may be) on her shoulders.

The story was one of the more intriguing ones that I’d heard in some time, and not the least because the protagonist is a journalist. It deals with the journalist finding an abandoned baby in an alleyway, and how her choices follow her for life. Most of us have never come across an abandoned baby, so I’d be lying if I said that I identify with the story. But most of us HAVE had to live with the repercussions of our decisions just like Keira, the protagonist, which is why the story strikes a universal chord. The film is called ‘The Obvious’ for reasons that are not so obvious, so let’s not get into that.

What’s more interesting is how easily her classmates agreed to come to India for this project, despite all of them being India virgins. But according to Prajakta, they all understand this seemingly alien culture very well, and also helped her develop the story, set completely in Mumbai. ‘Obvious’ly, they are getting lessons in Hindi (unfortunately no cuss words), which will help them navigate the crazy world of Mumbai.

When I spoke to the very enthusiastic crew over mail, they all showed tremendous faith in the subject and a will to make the best product out of the story. The director, Omar Moujaes, who hails from Lebanon, is working very hard to get the location and characterization absolutely spot on, but as a Mumbaikar I can promise that the city will throw up some surprises for the team for sure!

I have a sneaky feeling that most of the crew wants to come to India only for the spicy food, culture and of course GOA! And the first AD-Katie did confess that she would like to check out the beaches of Goa while she’s here.

You might think about why I’m writing about this student film with a team full of young aspiring filmmakers from different countries. You might even have a sneaking suspicion that I’m shamelessly trying to plug this project. In which case, let me clear all your doubts and tell you that yes, I AM plugging this project because it needs YOU. Prajakta and her team have big plans for the film. They want to mount it on a big scale, take it to film festivals and showcase Mumbai and tell one of the million stories that the city sees every day. But all of this comes at a cost. Flying the whole team down, setting them up here, hiring equipment and actors-all of this will take, you guessed it, quite a sizeable amount of money. Prajakta and her team being students, it’s quite difficult for them to raise the money that would be required to cover all the production costs. *cue a heart breaking story about a brave desi girl going to foreign lands and trying to make her dream come true against all odds like the horrible exchange rate and expensive cameras for hire* You wouldn’t let some money get in the way of a person’s dreams right? Right?

If the movie could be made with only good intentions and perseverance, I’m sure these filmmakers wouldn’t have needed any help. Sadly that’s not the case, and they need people to come forward to donate money so that this story sees the light of the day. There will be a link for all the good Samaritans to send their money and blessings (again in the form of money) about which I will post an update soon.

So people who love movies, Mumbai and the idea of foreign people coming to our city, do open your hearts and help ‘The Obvious’ team. Your name will not only be credited and seen at all the film festivals, but who knows, when people in the crew become hotshot Hollywood entities, you’ll know that you’ve had a small part in their success.

The choice is obvious. Will you make it?

AND THE MOST ANNOYING PART OF BANG BANG IS….

Katrina Kaif! Or rather the character she plays- Harleen. I can hear some voices of protest already, contesting how I can choose the Harmless Harleen over decidedly more annoying portions like the lack of story, script, screenplay and the massacre that paves the way to glitzy hollow cinema with the blood and guts of logic. Yes, I agree with all the above, but I’m sticking to my guns. Miss Harleen from Bank of Shimla is infinitely more grating than all the other factors combined. Allow me to convince you.

Much needed disclaimer: I’m no Taran Adarsh, so I’m not writing derogatory things about Bang Bang because my bank account has been fattened by notable rivals in the same genre- Jai Ho, Kick and Holiday. Nor is it out of love and righteous anger on the part of the other release, Haider (though I do want to smell and nuzzle Tabu’s hair for what she did on screen).

I’m no Shobha De either, whose pension comes from the sole occupation of tearing down the Female Flavour of the Week in Bollywood, and getting chewed to bits and being reminded of her fossilized status in return.

My sole reason for writing this is the sheer number of WTFs I uttered while watching the movie, because no amount of cinematic liberty can justify the mockery shown on screen. If you haven’t watched the movie, then SPOILER ALERT! but since it has crossed the 100 crore mark, I’m sure most of you know what I’m talking about.

*Cue rant* Bollywood is not known for crediting its leading ladies with a lot of sense or strength of character, where Sonakshi Sinha- the collective bad boy arm candy of Bollywood is Exhibit A, and Kareena Kapoor- the actress who has absolutely no contribution in 100 crore films is Exhibit B. But even by these standards, Harleen is the rock bottom of vapidity. She works as a receptionist in Bank of Shimla, brings coffee for all her colleagues while simultaneously fending off borderline pedophilic moves from her pervert grandma. All this while, she dreams of quitting it all and travelling the world, which is very effectively shown with one scene where she looks at a scenic slideshow during office hours.

Enter Hrithik Roshan, a suave international criminal whose focus towards his mission drowns in a flood of hormones as soon as he sees small town Harleen, who is incidentally dressed in a red dress that inches dangerously close to a wardrobe malfunction with every dance move. Seriously? Was she given a Duryodhan type Kavach which protects her thighs from the Shimla cold when the rest of them are covered in thermals?

Anyway, one dance later, Harleen is head over heels in love with the person who uttered literally one sentence about how she should seize the day and not wait for the ‘Ek Din’. Crap-e Diem. And that’s where my problem lies. Let’s be honest here. If Rajveer (Hrithik’s character) looked like a real criminal, say Arun Gawli, would she have trusted him and let him abduct her without knowing his intentions?

Harleen is portrayed as a desperate, single young woman who is waiting for her knight to sweep her off her feet and take her to expensive foreign locations. But the level of naïveté is not only nauseating, it also tells girls that it is good to pause your life for someone else to fulfill your dreams, and if the bloke is a good looking one, look no further! She is from the crop of girls who went Awww! on seeing Ajmal Kasab’s grainy picture in the papers and thought that his death was a waste of cuteness, not paying attention to the fact that he would have wiped off their entire family tree if given a chance. (True story)

I know Hrithik’s Rajveer looks so devastatingly good that he could club a baby seal in Shimla’s alabaster snow or star in a crush porn video and still be desirable. On that note, DO NOT Google crush porn unless you want to forego your appetite and your faith in humanity. But the guy drugs her, takes her to unknown places, changes her clothes, lies to her and throws her off high ledges, without even so much as a ‘May I?’ And all Harleen does is gawk at his bare body like it’s the key to solving world hunger.

On the other hand, when the creepy new VP of the bank hits on her upfront like most self respecting hot blooded Indian males do, she runs away like Siddharth Anand runs away from good sense. Why? Because he wears uncleji clothes that don’t have a gazillion abs underneath? Right then.

Hrithik Roshan is not to blame in this mess. It’s not really his fault if the poor guy has to play Krrish in every movie that he stars in. He can jump off cliffs blindly and we have to believe that he landed safely, because ‘Hum Sab Main Krrish Hai’. It’s like Robert Downey Jr. deploying flares in every movie, be it Due Date or The Judge, just because he is Iron Man. Rajveer can also be forgiven for tossing the Kohinoor diamond around like it’s totally not one of the most precious things in the world, for we can never know the ways of superheroes. Seriously Hrithik, some men in India treat their Kohinoor condoms better than you treat the *actual* Kohinoor. Just saying.

Aaaaanyway, Harleen spends all of this time waking up in strange places, getting dressed up in the latest designer togs, and wait for it- dreaming of a romantic song in Santorini when she already on a free trip to blessed Prague. Gold digging 101. When she gets time off from taking in the gorgeous locales of Hrithik’s torso, she mouths lines like ‘Tum kaun ho, kya karte ho’ at least thrice, while making no attempt to get away from the man that she knows zilch about.

But the biggest throw-your-popcorn-and-coke-at-the-screen annoyance comes during the climax, when Harleen tipsily seeks validation from Rajveer while under the influence of the truth serum. Which Danny has already said causes no other effect than speaking the truth. While he is trying to save their lives from bad guys and complete a mission of national importance, no less. She whines on and on about how she is unattractive and boring and that’s why Rajveer didn’t pull a move on her, all while they’re being chased by gun toting henchmen. Even when she finally picks up a gun and fires (I’m sure the director went- ‘Ye to money shot hai boss!’ for the scene), it is after Rajveer reassures her of being sexy and desirable and….. *snore*

I’m no feminazi, but seeing a character with such dire need of outside validation and a ‘princess stuck in a tower waiting to be rescued’ attitude is just shunting us right back to the Dark Ages. And Harleen’s fixation with Rajveer’s looks and daredevilry is the final nail in the coffin of the good guys trying to claim some girls back from the bad boys. This character effectively nullifies all the attempts in recent times, however modest, to bring female characters in the forefront on screen. God forbid if girls dream of being Harleen, the way every girl mouthed ‘Main apni favorite hoon!’ after Jab We Met released.

It’s not like such girls don’t have happy lives, but I would have liked more of a badass female character in mainstream cinema, not one who is a certified parasite for her happiness. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m mistaken to expect such things from a director who names the house in the movie ‘Ghar’. Just one final question to Siddharth Anand and Katrina. Does Harmless Harleen’s  happy ending include a dog named ‘Kutta’ and a cute baby called ‘Baccha’? 

How Candy Crush sweetened my life

Before we dive into this candy flavored article with the punny title, let’s take a minute to ponder over the writer’s bravery in attempting to write this piece of junk literature. I mean, sure, I’ll be called a witch and persecuted for advocating something as evil as Candy Crush- just like in the golden old days. I’ll probably have to change my address and live under a fake identity for life, but what is a blogger if not courageous? So without worrying about my life or property (Edit: I have no property to call my own), I will submit my argument about the ways in which the most frustrating game we smartphone junkies have ever seen has guided me.

1. You can’t choose what cards you get handed out

In this case, the candies that you get to crush. Every Candy Crush game gives you a random arrangement of candies which you have no control over, and you just have to make the best moves you can to get on top of the game. Swap ‘Game’ with ‘Life’ and you have no better metaphor for doing the best you can with what you have.

2. Scores are important, but so is achievement

You know how the game has not one, but TWO goals- get a high score and also achieve the target? Even if you achieve a three star score but fail to do what the level asks you to do, Candy Crush throws a hissy fit and refuse to let you go any further. In real life too, it’s not only about the zeroes in your paycheck, but also about the goals you set for yourself and whether or not you achieve them. And you need to be quite the multitasker if you want to keep standing on these two boats and not drown.

3. Praise is the sweetest pill

You might think that we as a species have advanced enough not to need encouragement from a fake, coded game, but you’re mistaken. Hordes of people would have left the game if it weren’t for the periodic ‘Sweet!’, or ‘Divine!’ or ‘Delicious!’ that it keeps tossing our way (Calm down Candy Crush!) As they say ‘If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there, does it still make a sound?’, would you still go on working if no one was there to appreciate it? So whenever someone around you explodes more candy than you expect them to, praise them. It’ll go a long way.

4. Failure is imminent

Unless you’re a wonder kid whose mother has been giving you Candy Crush lessons since you were in the womb (a not so subtle reference to Abhimanyu and the Chakravyuh), there is no way that you haven’t failed at some level in the game, sometimes miserably so. You might try every move in the book but still end up with one pesky jelly square that spells your doom. That’s just preparation for real life. You might do everything right, but still end up some moves short of your happy ending. Fret not, the beauty of the game (life, not Candy Crush) is that you can start all over again.

5. Being on the bench for a while is good

Just when you think you’ve gotten the hang of the game, and are bursting with ambition to conquer those colourful pixels, your five lives die out on you and give you a timeout, postponing your victory by 30 minutes. Instead of counting down the minutes, take a step back, and get your head out of the game for a while. Look around, introspect, and think about what you could have done better. It might delay the sweet taste of success, but it will make it sweeter than the candy you’re trying to explode.

6. You can either choose the easy way, or the right way

Candy Crush is as shamelessly commercial as it is addictive, selling you extra moves or tricks, all at an additional price of course. Gamers (?) who have too much money to spare on virtual candy buy these moves to reach the next level. There will always be people who take shortcuts in real life too, buying or manipulating their way to the top, leaving you to struggle with your honest, hardworking ways. But trust me, the sense of achievement and independence that you get from doing things without a leg up (or without spending Rs. 110 on a candy smashing hammer) cannot be bought. For everything else, there’s Mastercard.

7. Blackmail is real

At some point, you’re merrily doing your thing in the Candy Crush Dreamworld, sure that you’ll come out on top of the level, when the useless Odus decides to fall down and kill you! Or consider the frustrating time bombs that go off after Level 100, who make you sacrifice precious moves to keep them from going off. WHY GOD WHY?! Again- lesson for life. There will always be unavoidable bum-cavities (keeping it PG-13) who will stand in your way for no reason other than for the pure joy for it. The only thing you can do is up your game, render them helpless and watch them feel fail as you emerge victorious in your battle against…well, candy. Take that, Odus you stupid owl with gravity issues!

8. Most people are not concerned about your troubles

Most of us love to gloat about the number of friends and well wishers we have, safe under the illusion of a large support system. But when the time comes and it’s a question of your life and death (not being dramatic, just talking about the game), you’re met with responses like ‘The next person to invite me to Candy Crush will be BLOCKED!’ Try this in real life too. When the going is good, your life’s news feed will be full of friends happy to bask in your success. But you truly need help to level up in life; the metaphoric door will be shut in your face so fast that you wouldn’t know what hit you. And on your side of the door, you’ll find only a couple of friends who have your back. And guess what? That’s always enough.

9. ‘Support’ is not a bad word

Though it’s shameful to admit, I’ve been stuck on a certain level for many days, giving up tens of lives with nothing to show for it. It was then that Candy Crush reduced the target score, helping me to finally heave myself out of that horrid level which very nearly gave me Candy Crush PTSD. Never did I think that I would feel slighted by a game’s offer of help, but this is what we do in real life too. We think ourselves so invincible, that any gesture of help or kindness is seen as a crutch, and is rejected faster than you can say ‘Chocolate Mountains’. But taking that helping hand is better than staying in a chasm of failure alone, so next time someone offers it to you, take it. And don’t forget to return the favour.

10. Life has a way of sorting itself out

While playing Candy Crush initially, I used to give up when I couldn’t find my groove in the first few moves, and just go through the moves to end the life. But sometimes, there comes across a combination that saves your game, and you stare at the screen incredulously as the candy puzzle rights itself and bursts away to glory. Hell, there have been times when I have made a wrong swipe which turned out to be for the best, and everything came cascading down (which is a good thing). So don’t worry yourself over making the right moves all the time. You never know when you might come across a masterstroke that sets everything right.

I know it might seem a little pretentious to peg so many metaphors and life lessons to a simple finger-swiping game, but these are real thoughts I have had while playing it, which I confessed at the risk of being branded a naïve person with too much time on her hands. I guess all I’m trying to say is; if I send you a Candy Crush saga request, don’t block me, OK? It's for your own good.

I didn’t choose the ‘Teach’ life, the ‘Teach’ life chose me

When it comes to sharing life experiences, the norm is that you either tell people before doing it- ‘OMG I’m totally going to skydive this year!!!’ or tell people what you felt after doing it- ‘ZOMG I SHOULD NOT have skydived! *throws up because of altitude sickness*

Being in the middle of something does not make for a very interesting conversation piece, because admit it, a ‘Work in Progress’ sign does not ignite any sense of passion or adventure in anyone. But still here I am, making an attempt to share my experience of being a ‘Teach India’ volunteer, not because it’s an adrenaline rush (actually, it is) or because I want to brag about the halo on my head, but because it is something that has come to being really close to my heart. (Look at me, opening up about things close to my heart. What’s next? Talking publicly about my dreams and fears? Pffft!)

So anyway, I signed up for being a volunteer for Teach India English for Employability Course for 2 reasons-

1. I finally had enough time on my hands to actually do it and take my mind off stupid niggling questions like ‘What am I doing with my life?!’

2. I really, truly, genuinely like the English language (Hah! You thought I was going to say I like helping people, right? Pfffft #2)

In reality, I hadn't given any real thought to the learners (read: students) apart from the fact that their English speaking fates would be in my hands for the next three months *megalomaniacal laughter*

So with these noble thoughts, and after a well meaning but somewhat random phone interview, I landed up for the mandatory training. And the kind of people that I saw actually and figuratively blew my mind. There were college students, young mothers, yuppies climbing the corporate ladders, retirees who wanted to do something good with their life and time, and of course, a lone velli me who observed each of them with a hawk’s eye.

At the beginning, I obviously didn't expect to be entertained at the training, and while coasting along wasn't on my mind, I also didn't have any high hopes of enjoying the training immensely. So in spite of my misgivings, I had a great time, playing childish games and bonding with the smorgasbord of people gathered there for a common cause. 

As expected, I got along well with the young people, and have made some awesome new friends who I would never have met otherwise. But the biggest surprise was the elders. OK confession time. I have a somewhat pained and conflicted relationship to elder people. So while I respect their wisdom and maturity and am on my best behavior around them, I also prefer watching them from afar, and not being too close to them. Blame it on my social anxiety.

But here, I found myself looking forward to see some of the cutest and coolest elder people that I've ever met in my life. Their life experience, coupled with their modern outlook, made for a very charming combination. On that note, old people are also great charmers and flirts, and I giggled more times than I care to admit after being smoothly flirted with *obligatory wink smiley*

There were the expected questions from people around, which started with ‘How much are you getting paid?’ and when I replied ‘Nothing’, ended with a bewildered ‘So why are you doing it?’

Session of swimming in the kiddie pool over, we were thrown headlong into the deep uncharted waters of actually teaching people who have limited/ incorrect knowledge of English. And I couldn't decide if I was more horrified or relieved by this prospect. Relieved because I was reaaaallllyyyyy glad that I wasn't teaching children. Confession time again- The problem I told you about elder people? The same applies to kids, too. I adore them (not really), but I prefer to admire their Awww! inducing ways from a safe distance.

The horror came from the fact of me being a major Grammar Nazi, and the possibility of every student making mistakes at the rate of 2 per sentence gave me a tic a la Sheldon Cooper. But in the end, the worry was for nothing. The sincerity and eagerness with which the students spoke, and their happiness after completing a full sentence on their own more than made up for sentences like ‘I will making a tea yesterday’. I was too busy basking in their glory to flinch or bitchily raise an eyebrow at those errors, which was a given in ANY other setting.

There is something to be said about the joy you feel for another person’s achievement, and I feel as proud as a lioness when her cubs make their first killing. Yes, they do need my help in chasing down the rules of grammar, ripping the irregularity of the language and breaking down the bones of wrong English learned over the years, but they are finally becoming fearless, which is what counts in the end.

Technically , I, their Ma’am, am the one teaching them, but I would be lying if I say I’m giving them more than what they’re giving me (What a cliché, I know) The trust which they place in me, the openness with which they ask doubts, the faith that they will not be mocked, the happiness and pride of learning new words and using them may seem commonplace to an outsider, but it is for me one of the best interactions I have had with fellow humans in my time.

Of course, there are miserable periods of doubt where I wonder if I’m doing the right thing, but all that goes away when they laugh at my jokes, forget their worries and enjoy the games played or remember what I had taught weeks ago and repeat it to me confidently.

They say there is a definitive moment when you transition into becoming a parent. For Ross (from FRIENDS) it was when Marcel held his finger in the hospital. For me, I realized I was a teacher (however temporary) when I referred to my learners as ‘my kids’. Why is that surprising? Well because most of them are elder to me, and even the younger ones would baulk at the idea of being my kids. So yes, when I thought of a middle aged mother of grown up daughters as my ‘kid’, that’s when I knew.

As I said before, being in the middle of something doesn't make for a very thrilling story, it’s always the happy ending that keeps you hooked. I’m still in the middle of the course, but there is one thing I know for sure. Regardless of whether I am useful to my learners, whether or not they remember me, even if I fail to make a huge impact on their life, this experience will go down as one of my ‘Happily Ever Afters’, at least for me. Teacher out.

My Problem With Non-Vegetarians: Reloaded

A few days ago, I wrote a blog post on ‘My Problem with Non-Vegetarians’, listing down my experiences with well meaning but ignorant meat-eaters. Though it was supposed to a tongue in cheek take, it seems to have ignited some passions, with me being subjected to vehement arguments and suggestions from both sides of the border. I crouched down in my No-Meat’s Land till these winds blew over and thought a little more. Obviously, since it was Eid time, nobody would have read my blog through the food coma induced by biryani.

But now that Shravan is upon us and the goats and chicken live to see another day, I hereby launch into Part 2 of my blog with all the passion and hot bloodedness that a grass eater can summon.

1. Eat the gravy and leave the pieces, the gravy is vegetarian!

I regret starting off with this point because I’m rendered speechless whenever this is said. Again, I know that you are very magnanimously offering me a tourist visa into the pleasures of non vegetarian food by passing me the gravy, which essentially is just spices, vegetables and nuts, but how can you not realize that the chicken’s blood, sweat, tears and other ummm…bodily fluids are floating in it too?! I too have heard stories about chefs sneaking chicken stock into vegetable gravies to make them tastier, but I prefer to operate under ‘Ignorance is Bliss’ and eat anything marked with a green dot in peace.

2. Vegetarian is slang for people who couldn't hunt. (Har, har!)

The text in the image manages to crack up non vegetarians every time for some strange reason. They may be also the people responsible for making Grand Masti enter the 100 crore club. I wouldn’t know. Somehow it seems to suggest that vegetarians lack the killer instinct that people who chomp down on meat seem to have in abundance. I for one agree completely. Buying an already lifeless and cleaned chicken from the butcher, squeamishly asking your maid to clean its dirty bits, chopping it into oblivion and cooking it seems like the job for a true hunter. But the true rulers of the food chain just stealthily stalk their prey in the food court, and pounce on the nearest bucket of chicken wings KFC has to offer. Impressive.

3. You are missing out on the good stuff!

Again, these are members of the well meaning FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) tribe who don’t want you to go through life without tasting the good things on the meaty side of life. Topmost among this is bacon, aka Little Crispy Strips of Salted and Smoked Nirvana. Featuring in this list are also butter chicken, garlic crab and oysters, among other delights. Thank you for your concern, but I honestly like the food that I eat, even down to steamed vegetables and sprouts (Good Girl!) and look forward to a lifetime of eating it, without looking at you with envy. So unless you’re eating sashimi off Scarlett Johansson’s bare…back, don’t even try to hint at me missing out on something desirable.

4. If you like animals, why do you eat all their food? (Har, har returns)

Sigh. The Circle of Life is such that one organism has to die to feed an entity higher in the food chain (again, pay attention in school, people!). There is enough fodder to feed all leaf eaters, and having a conscience doesn’t mean you go hungry. That is why I have no problems with people eating animals, with notable exceptions. My reliable sources tell me that people who eat live animals, shark fin soup, beating cobra hearts and Balut (Google it if you have the stomach for it) have a one way ticket to the pits of Hell. VIP members like Anthony Bourdain and Andrew Zimmern have a Presidential Suite booked in the Seventh Circle of Hell. But I digress. Vegetarians eat plants, which are supposedly cattle fodder, but the premise that a goat will starve because I ate an extra portion of salad is ridiculous. Then again, it can look for greener pastures if I steal its food, something it can’t do if you chop off its head for your dinner.

5. If you are so peaceful, why do you murder plants and eat them?

We all know the age old experiment by Jagadish Chandra Bose that established the fact that plants feel pain and other emotions. So the natural question is, Do I hear my vegetables and sprouts screaming when I put them in the kadhai? No, I don’t. Apart from the fact that these conclusions are now under the scanner, the issue is not about killing your food, it is about how you treat it when it’s alive. My food grows up in the open air, looking at sunrises and sunsets and feeling the wind blow in open fields, before fulfilling its duty as my energy giving life source. Yours sits in a cramped cage with minimum food, waiting for its violent death. Which sounds better? So ask yourself this- Why did Yash Chopra shoot his romantic songs in mustard and wheat fields, and not in a poultry farm? End of discussion.

6. I will sneak some chicken into your food, you won’t even realize it.

I get it. You think that once my Vegetarian V-card is taken away by this sneaky act of yours, I will be more open to sharing a kebab platter with you. But sorry, I don’t take this suggestion (read: threat) as a mark of your friendship. In fact, you might even be related to the sociopaths who slip date rape drugs to women because they don’t understand the concept of consent. So sorry to disappoint you, but no actually means NO. *takes plate to the washroom just so that it is not left unattended*

7. If you were marooned on an island, will you eat meat to survive?

The honest answer is no, I do not plan to hitch a ride with Tom Hanks or the guys from LOST, so I won’t be marooned on an island. I know this is a question designed to know the limits to which I will guard my commitment to vegetarianism, but I think fine dining will be the least of my concerns if I end up crashed on an island. I’m sure there will be lots of edible plants and tubers that will sustain me till my concerned parents send a search party, so I should be able to manage pretty well without blemishing my Green badge, thank you very much.

8. Are you going to raise your kids as vegetarian?

This question actually made me snort and pull an amused face. Is the discussion about food so important that you drag my unborn children into this? Let’s just keep this discourse between you and me, and leave out the kids who are currently snoozing in some corner of my torso, unaware of the absurdity that Mommy has to go through. Obviously, my kids will eat what I eat, till they are old enough to decide on their own preferences, but I would rather you not hatch a diet plan for them before they are well…hatched.

P.S.- If I had the desire or ability to make decisions for my offspring, I wouldn’t be sitting here writing a blog. I would be out getting me some babies to raise.

9. I am a vegetarian, I just eat chicken sometimes.

*straight face* People who make statements like these are the bisexuals of the culinary world (no offence), who bat for both teams as and when it suits them. They support and advocate vegetarianism vehemently with you, all the while sneaking chicken from the carnivore’s plate, just because they officially identify themselves as vegetarians. Darlings, the beauty of the English language is that there are different words for people who eat different kinds of meat, precisely so that switch-hitters like you don’t hijack our terms. A chicken or fish eater calling themselves vegetarian is just as ironic as, as Sajid Khan memorably said during a college fest, a Miss India calling herself a virgin.

So these are the (non-chicken) nuggets that I have gleaned in My Life as a Vegetarian. If you have more to add, please feel free to do so, but keep in mind that all of this is in jest. I don’t think what you consume is as important as what you create, so don’t war with people based on what’s on their plate, but what's in their heart. 

P.S.2- If I get hungry when I’m on that island you marooned me on, I’ll catch and eat whoever runs slower- the wild rabbit/deer/boar, or YOU. My bet’s on the rabbit, so start running.

My Problem With Non-Vegetarians

If you’re short on time or are a stickler for brevity, then the non-lengthy answer for this is: Nothing. I have no problems whatsoever with people who eat any* type of meat. I’m not one to judge people based on what goes in their mouth. I have far more important criteria like ‘Do you like Harry Potter?’ or ‘Which is your favourite F.R.I.E.N.D.S. CHARACTER’. But looks like not everyone has such liberal views, which results in quite some harassment and discrimination against us leaf eaters. So if you’re interested in finding the penultimate solution for peace between vegetarians and non-vegetarians, kindly read ahead.
Now you might have read articles like ’13.8 questions vegetarians are tired of answering’ so you may want to skip this one. But those were utterances of people who tried and rejected carnivorous behavior, so I don’t accept them as true vegetarians.
Me? I’ve been a vegetarian since before I grew any form of teeth, and still am even after growing a decent number of wisdom teeth. Hence I have been fully trained in the art of Man Vs. Ghaas Poos, which makes me an elite commando of vegetarianism, a Green Leafy Navy Seal of sorts.
So these are some of the green peas of wisdom that have been uttered in my presence throughout the years of my peanance (Hehe). Please avoid them the next time you see an herbivore grazing on some Paneer Palak. You have been warned.

 1. Is it for some sort of religious reasons?

This is usually accompanied by a pseudo pious look, which people usually reserve for times when the camera is pointed at them at a satsang. Yes I’m borderline religious, but my pet pooja has nothing to do with the other type of pooja that promises a one way ticket to heaven. I do not believe that eating dead animals cancels your subscription to God’s Very Own Reality Show in The Clouds. If that were the case, tigers, lions and our very own cats would be non-sun tanning in Hell right now. And I refuse to believe in an idea of Heaven without kitties of any kind.
 

2. So, why ARE you a vegetarian?

This again is accompanied by a stymied look, as if I have done something unfathomable like willingly choosing to do a Sajid Khan movie marathon. Honestly, I’ve never felt the need or want to try eating chicken or any of the other temptations the animal kingdom has to offer. I’m happy with eating vegetables, sprouts or chewy tasteless paneer and haven’t faced a problem sustaining myself on it till now. I have been raised a vegetarian, and even after I was sufficiently raised, I chose to keep it that way. That’s all there is to it, really. *unpauses Humshakals*

3. Ummm, are you NEVER tempted to try chicken? Look at how delicious it looks!

Firstly, no, the artificially coloured bright orange Chicken Lollipop doesn’t look droolworthy in the least to me. Secondly, it’s not like I have a ‘Vegetarian Anklet’ that tases me every time I think of eating meat to keep me from tarnishing my ‘purity’. If I felt like eating chicken, I would rush to the nearest KFC and scarf down their entire bucket of Hot Wings before you can say Kentucky Fried Chicken. The only problem is I have no inclination or curiosity to cross over to the dark (meat) side and taste the supposedly orgasmic charms of battered and fried fowl. Imagine if someone shoves a barbequed cat or guinea pig (it’s a thing) in your face, wheedling you to try it. You’d rather throw up than eat Mr. Tickles off a skewer. It’s the same logic, I just don’t see your Butter Chicken as food. No offence.
 

4. Is it OK if I eat meat at the same table?

This question is so fake that even KFC’s chicken looks original in front of it. Would you seriously give up your plans of finishing off a whole biryani if I took offence to you eating meat at the same table? The answer is a definite No. So please don’t show fake sensitivity for my wants and order what you want. With most of the people I dine with being meat eaters, I have developed a strange immunity to the sounds of chicken bones being chewed or sucked to get at the mystery manna that is inside. My eyes sort of glaze over and I focus on the paneer and aloo on my plate. I’ve even learnt to watch with fascination when crabs are mutilated to fish out honestly tiny bits of meat that look so… dissatisfying.
P.S.- Have you ever thought that if an animal has such a hard shell covering it, maybe it really, really doesn’t want to be eaten and should be left alone?

5. You will never go to Mohammed Ali Road, right?

Hearing this question was like a history lesson. I imagined myself standing outside Mohammed Ali Road like an Indian in front of a British era club, with a sign ‘Dogs and Vegetarians not allowed’. What is this discrimination? I know there is ABSOLUTELY NOTHING for me to eat in Mohammed Ali road during Ramadan but that doesn’t mean I can’t check out what the fuss is all about. How do I know this? Because I’m a person open to new experiences and have actually been there, even with the surefire promise of starvation. And the least I could say that it was interesting. The alien sights and smells did stun me for a while, but I watched quite enthusiastically as people ate kebabs by the dozen. That is until I stared at a small grey brain swimming in gravy and saw it being squished in slow motion by a roti. Chachaji bill please!

6. How can you eat mushrooms? It tastes so similar to non-veg food!

Yes, I have met people who think that since I like mushrooms, I will surely take to meat like a fish to gravy. Or who think that since I like mushrooms, I must not be a very devout vegetarian. To these people, I would like to say just one thing- I hope you had paid attention in your school Biology lectures even in classes that didn’t focus on the reproductive system. You would have known that mushrooms, however delicious, are fungi, several species away from livestock.
That was quite a long read wasn’t it? So much talk about food without eating any has to be difficult for both me and the readers. So I’m taking a break and will be back with a Part 2 of this diatribe soon (Of course I have more to say, you think my veggie tirade had just 6 courses?) Till then, you’re welcome to drop all sorts of savoury and unsavoury comments about this one.
 P.S.- I know there is an unexplained any* in the first passage. It will be dealt with in Part 2. 

WHEN IT COMES TO LOVE- MORE IS LESS

We humans pride ourselves on being (one of the) only species to be capable of love and other higher emotions. We often use our capacity for romantic or unconditional love as an argument that proves our superiority. ‘Love makes the world go round’ and all that jazz. One would think that a race that has been given such a unique gift, the ability to feel love, we might be a little less afraid and more grateful for it. I guess not.

I recently chanced upon a Thought Catalog article ‘Date a man who loves you more’. It was well written no doubt, but the fundamental thought behind left a sense of disquiet in me. It advocated spending your life with someone who loves you more than you love them, which not only means that someone loves you for all your flaws, but will also ensure that you have a stable and easy life (if not a passionate one). What I say further is in no way a reply to that article (God bless the writer and the person she’s taking all that extra love from). Actually long back, I had read the quote ‘Don’t marry the person you love, marry the person who loves you’, and though it seems like sturdy advice for an assuredly good life, I remember feeling that same disquiet even then.

What’s wrong with being with someone who loves you more, you might ask. Nothing of course. Being the object of affection for anyone is a great privilege, not to mention a huge ego boost. Someone loving you more means that you never have to change for anyone, as the person will think that you are God’s most perfect creation even when you yell at them to get them some soup as you noisily expel your snot. In sickness and in health...remember? Marrying (or co-habiting with, no judgement) assures you that you will always have someone to hold you, listen to you, share your dreams and fears with, watch sappy movies with and contentedly grow old with. Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? Except, it’s just too…convenient.

Because deny it all you want, for all our talks of adventure and thrill, we are a pretty boring bunch of people with mundane lives. More often than not, our bucket list remains in the bathroom (heh, heh) and we live out our lives vicariously on Pinterest boards and bookmarked travel websites. We take up safe jobs to ensure a monthly income and wait for the weekend to vent out the pile up frustration and have enough semblance of fun to survive the next week. All in the hopes of living a stable, cushioned life with minimum unpleasant surprises. Doesn’t it bother anyone that we club a thing as love with all these other mundane things, without a thought for what it does to our lives?

If love is what makes us humans capable of great feats that draw superhuman strength from a mysterious reservoir when the need comes, shouldn’t it be the thing that exalts us, makes us feel more than mindless beings on an aimless journey, and to make it simpler, feel alive?

And that is what being with someone who loves us more takes away from us. It barters the limitless potential that is tapped in love with a safe, assured and staid life. If being in love is a free fall, why do you want the rope of a guaranteed relationship tying you down?

When it comes to all other kinds of love- be it parental, love between friends or even towards your pets, we compete and argue about who loves the other more. Why is it that when it comes to ‘romantic’ love, we settle for someone doing additional loving that they’re not getting back? I reckon that it’s all a power game, after all, isn’t it said that the person who loves more always holds lesser power in the relationship? A relationship that dangles the sword of helpless love over you all the time is not much of a relationship to begin with. And at the lowest common denominator, isn’t it a HUMONGOUS blow to our self esteem that we hope to spend a lifetime on someone else’s charitable love without doing our part? And how is it fair to the other person to not experience what it is like to get more love than they can fathom? Split restaurant bills down to the middle all you want, that alone does not constitute true equality.

P.S.- If I'm being snarky, I'd say that most of us have done nothing for the Universe to owe us this kind of abundance, of delivering a love-loaded significant other at our listless doorsteps)

Love, in its best form, gives you courage, so why do people run away from the ultimate power that comes from feeling inhumanly protective towards the one you love? Loving someone more makes you challenge yourself every day, and be a better person at each turn, not because you want to be worthy of the other person, but because you won’t accept anything lesser for yourself. Love opens up your eyes to new possibilities of adventure and laughter; please don’t let them wither away for the practicality of having someone to share monthly expenses with. True love means never getting complacent and comfortable with our imperfect selves, and growing stronger and wiser together, because that is what this emotion demands of us. What’s the point of just getting old hand in hand if you have nothing to show for all those years?

Mediocre movies follow the same formula- Be confused about your true love, flirt with the risky proposition and in the end, tie your apron strings to the person who is crazy as a cuckoo about you (Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, I’m looking at you with all of Ajay Devgan’s bravado in the when faced with the wrong end of the gun). And that has become our idea of ‘Happily Ever After’- a life of conjugal bliss after the tiring merry go round that is find-a-hapless-soul-who’ll-have-me.

I don’t mean to say domesticity or a guarantee of forever love is bad. Just that this should not come at the cost of real, devastating and undiluted love that doesn’t whip out a calculator to measure which party has doled out more love. I know it’s human nature to want more than we pay for, but love is not a sabzi mandi, where you bully the poor vendor into giving you more lemons or coriander than you paid for.(It’s OK, we’ve all done it). I also know that it’s scary to give someone more of yourself when there is a distinct possibility of all of it blowing up in your face and giving you serious trust issues.  But all I’d like to say is that when the blessed time comes for you to say ‘I Love You’, don’t let there be a silent asterisk which says-

*Less than you love me

Be the bigger person and give all that you have without getting your weighing scales out. There is the slight selfish hope that all of it will come around and make your life rosier (is that a word?) but it can be done simply for the fact that when you do this, you’ll love yourself more than you ever have too. And that, in my book, is a bargain worth striving for.

THE BEDSIDE CONFESSIONS OF A SICK MIND

Welcome. Now that I have reeled you in with the suggestive title, may I also suggest that if you’re expecting something akin to 50 Shades of Grey (Excuse me while I go throw up in my mouth), you are going to be disappointed. I’m talking about real physical sickness, the kind that makes you want to talk to God about returning the faulty body that he stuck you with.

Well, I was down with a bout of sickness this past week. CALM DOWN PEOPLE I’M FINE NOW, THANK YOU! And while I have not completely recovered, I have still gathered the courage to pass on the knowledge that I gleaned while I was glued to the bed by the fact that I couldn’t do anything else. Being sick meant that sitting up, carrying a laptop and nearly dropping it (Laptop: 1, Weakling Anuja: 0) was double the trouble but I had to get it out of my system. My last post was about ‘Things I learned at the beach’, and while this is way uglier, it is just as enlightening. (Aren’t I learning a little too much? Wasn’t I supposed to be done with it by now?)

P.S. - I hope the chaatwala who caused all this comes down with cholera during a worldwide doctors’ strike. I’m just kidding. Or am I?

Anyway, onwards to the enlightenment bit.

P.S.2 - Sadly there are no images to go with this post because real pictures of me being sick are horrible enough to be NSFW and Google didn't throw up any exciting images.

1. Falling sick is boring.

When we were kids, I thought being sick was really cool because you didn’t have to go to school and your parents rushed to you with every whine and whimper of yours, making you feel very important. As is with everything, adulthood takes the fun out of even being sick. You have nothing to do all day except lie on a bed, count the lines on the ceiling, or look out the window philosophically as everybody else goes about your business, making you feel like an outcast. You can try reading books (too heavy) or playing with your cell phone, but that gets quite boring when you have all your waking hours to kill. And no, getting up to watch TV is too much effort to even consider. They should seriously think about creating games, novels and other ideas JUST for sick, temporarily immobile people.

2. The human body is gross.

Yes, I said it. Our bodies are gross. Even on normal days, the amount of weird stuff that your body does is astounding (stomach growling like Richard Parker during meetings, sudden coughing/ hiccuping fits when you’re laughing). That is nothing compared to when your body decides it has had enough of your shit (literally and figuratively) and decides to unleash its goopy, slimy, horrific arsenal on you. You have no way of dealing with the gross things that come out of your body in all forms, and are left marveling at the truly horrible things that your body is capable of.

  3. The little things stop mattering.

When your body is going all Avengers on you (Hulk SMASH!), there is no time or energy, or the slightest interest in the things that matter SO MUCH to you otherwise. How do I look? How do I smell? (Answer to both: Hideous) Why hasn’t the cute guy/ girl texted me back? Did my last Facebook profile photo get enough likes or do I need to change it? Seriously, nothing else matters when you’re trying to survive till your next dose of antibiotics. I was one of the fortunate ones who did not have a mirror in the room in which I was held captive by my body, but whenever people saw me, their reaction told me that I looked like a bad extra from The Walking Dead. How I wish I had enough energy to give a damn. So go right ahead and toss that BMC water powered pani puri, it will give you some perspective.

4. You will NEVER have as much energy as your parents

Let’s accept it, Mohnish Behl is the patron saint of truth. After spouting infinite knowledge like ‘ Ek ladka aur ladki kabhi dost nahi ho sakte’, he also became the driving force behind the song of eternal truth-‘Ye to sach hai ke bhagwaan hai, hai magar fir bhi anjaan hai! Dharti pe roop maa-baap ka, us vidhaata ki pehchaan hai!’ (Don’t judge me for knowing the lyrics)

If there’s one thing my bout of illness taught me, is that I will never be able to match up to the sheer energy and level of work that my parents are capable of. Seriously, it’s like they’re a blur of activity. From staying up late at night, to feeding you what you’re capable of eating, to keeping track of your medicines. Add to that the constant swinging between yelling at you (How many times do I have to tell you not to eat dirty food?) and saying words of encouragement when you look really sick or ready to give in to the creepy crawlies in your system, regardless of the fact that you barely look like the progeny they bore.

BONUS! : My parents are doctors, so while other people get to hear ‘You will fall seriously ill’, I get to hear stuff like ‘You will get epi-gastric Wingardium Leviosa Expecto Patronumitis!’ (at least it sounds like that) that gets me scared for my survival. Anyway, free anatomy lesson aside, I genuinely don’t know how all parents do so much to take care of their foolishly sick kids. Thank you mommy for kissing my Ouchie better!

5. Music really makes you feel better

I read on Uberfacts that music helps reduce the pain and makes us feel better faster. I decided to experiment and listened to music throughout my time in the (Not Red) Room of Pain. And you know what? It did help. The opening lines of your favourite song help you forget your misery for a while, and when your music player suddenly shuffles to a long loved and lost song, it feels like a little gift from the Universe which tells you that it doesn’t hate you, atleast not too much. So next time you’re nailed to the bed, whip out your go-to playlist and listen away.

Pro tip- I won’t judge you about your choice of songs, but don’t listen to songs like ‘Patakha Guddi’ or ‘This place about to Blow’ or the new song on the block- Let it Go (Frozen) when you have an upset stomach. The cheesy ‘Your Body is a Wonderland’ might make you feel good about yourself, even if your body currently resembles a House of Horrors.

6. Your body is AWESOME!

No, I’m not bipolar. I know I said that bodies are gross, but they’re also strong and resilient and surprisingly good at bouncing back. With the help of a few pills, your body forms a sort of Justice League against the bad guys in your system and kicks their ass. You do become a battered battleground in the process, but it’s really great to see your body come out on top of the disease after a gruesome fight. It makes you respect the ONLY body you’ve got, and you’re humbled by the fact that your body can easily defeat your ego if you push it too much. And you decide to treat it right in the future. Or at least till the next time someone challenges you to a pani puri eating contest. (I know I’m phobic now. Is there a word for Roadside Chat Phobia?)

7. The up side- You can pamper yourself without feeling guilty

When I heard the line ‘I’m one stomach flu away from my goal weight’ in The Devil Wears Prada, I had found it really clever. But IRL, it’s much more fun to pamper your body than to starve it and beat it in to the (supposedly) perfect shape. And after you have recovered enough to get up and do stuff, you can eat, drink, sleep all you want without your inner conscience beeping constantly. Want to eat a whole bowl of ice cream? Make  a puppy face at your mom. Want to sleep late? Awww, let her sleep, the poor baby looks so tired! Want to get a manicure/ pedicure/ massage? You deserve it after that nasty week of being sick.

I’m not saying that you need to screw your system to get all the benefits of finally being healthy, but it does give a chance to sit (or sleep) back and realize the importance of all the things that you take for granted in daily life. Being sick tells you to be afraid enough of your body not to push it to limits where it can strike back. It also gives you some battle scars so that you remember the lessons learnt, and be proud of yourself for fighting back and getting up on your feet. It shows you that even though you say ‘I Love You’ to your parents every day (or not), they’re the ones who live those words and make them ring true.

Oh God, I’m getting sentimental. Must be the damned antibiotics.