Posted in Cultures, Uncategorized

10 Things That Annoy Me


There all kinds of things that annoy people. I have some such things too. Actually, I sometimes do things that annoy people deliberately. And I think I’m taking a big risk in listing the things that annoy me, because that’s just like giving my enemies (read, friends) ammunition to use against me. But I will still do this. After all, karma comes all the way round back right? I need to know how it is to be on the other side. Though I should probably warn my friends and enemies, and random readers, that I will still continue to annoy you even if you successfully manage to annoy me!

So, this is a random list of things that tick me off, or as I would preferably say- piss me off.

1) People who say ‘Hai rabba, kitni vaddi ho gayi hai tu’ (Oh my God, you’ve become so big).


This is strictly cultural. Indian cultural. Actually, North Indian cultural. All Indians will know what it is like when old ladies from your family meet you at a  family function and go all swoony over you. And the first statement that comes out in the form of garbled words is ‘Oh my God, you’ve become so big!’ Well, duh! Like I had an option. Do you ever consider that maybe I believe in Peter Pan and don’t want to grow up. Or that I love growing up and you just ruined it. I mean, why state something so obvious?

2) Guys who think I can’t get a X-rated joke


I mean, seriously? I get it when elders tell a girl that a boy’s brain is hard-wired for sex. I get it when they say a girl usually looks for commitment and family rather than sex. But that does not mean girls are absolutely oblivious to sex. We are your partners in sex remember? We do get it. So if you’re going to crack some joke and when a girl asks what it is, don’t assume they won’t understand. If you’re going to crack a joke assuming girls won’t understand those jokes, and when she does get it- don’t be all ‘Whoa! I’m flabbergasted’. And when a girl cracks some X-rated joke, don’t pass out cold. We get it. We do.

3) People who reveal the plot of a story


Oh! This is the worst of all. I recently experienced this, both ways. I revealed to a friend of mine that Tris and Tobias don’t have sex till the last book of Divergent series, and that Tris dies in the last book. She screamed at me, of course. Then another friend of mine came over and told me that Jem doesn’t actually die in the Clockwork Princess, and that Will and Tessa do have sex later. So, karma. What I revealed about a book I had already read, came back to me about a book I was reading. See how it’s related? I revealed facts about death and sex, and someone revealed the same things to me about another book. And I just did it again in this paragraph for both the books, royally ruining them for anyone who reads this. Sorry readers, it’s just too much fun!

4) People who tell me what or how much I should or shouldn’t eat


Yeah, food. See, I don’t live to eat. I eat to live. Sure, I’ll try out all kinds of stuff, all kinds of restaurants and cuisines. But food is for survival for me. I’m just that kind of a person. So I know what to eat, how much to eat. If I want to, I will. Can you please just concentrate on the food in your plate instead of telling me what to do? And concentrate on it because if you don’t, it’s going to vanish off your plate and reappear stuffed in our throat. Just to shut you up.

5) People who look at my nails and say ‘I have nails’


Yes. Yes I bite my nails. I know it’s a bad habit. I know it looks ugly. I know it’s not good. But I’m still going to do it. Because telling me not do it does not make me not want to do it. When I decide to stop, I will. It’s my decision, not yours!

6) People who ask me to grow my hair


OK, I kinda get it about the nails (kinda). But this is MY hair! Is cutting short a bad habit too? Or is it like a sin? I mean, short hair looks good. Look at Emma Watson or Anne Hathaway (though I’m not any of them as much as I would like to be). And besides, short hair is very maintainable! And hey, if I don’t mind, what’s your problem? I get it, I don’t need to look at me, you do. And you don’t like it. But guess what? It’s my hair, my face, my looks. Don’t like it? Don’t cut your hair short!

7) Adults who don’t dress presentably or appropriately


Children who run around in a formal party dressed in shorts and a top? I get it. They are children. They’ll soil clothes while playing, or they’ll simply grow out of it. I get that. Teenagers who walk into a wedding in jeans and a t-shirt that says ‘I do it to annoy you’? They do it to annoy you. They are teenagers, rebellious and with a bad-ass attitude. Their reason for existing, is doing things that are against social norms. I get that. But teachers whose sarees keep falling off as they walk, or uncles with buttons broken or zips open? What are you doing? Are you growing out of your clothes or do you particularly not like to be socially presentable? I mean, you’re supposed to be adults right? Mature and all that…

8) People who look down on people from villages


In India, villagers are pretty simple looking. Yes, they have motorcycles and bullock-carts, not your Mercs and Harleys. So? If money is the parameter you are looking for, I know people who were from villages and then made more money than 10yrs of your salary. If you say they are below you just know that while you are staying where you are, they are rising higher than you are. And if you’re going to be limited in these parameters, you’re just a Neanderthal with no wits about him. But I didn’t exist then, so they might have been better than you too.

9) People who judge people on their looks


I mean, you think you’re better looking? OK… then you’re a narcissist right? So that gives you a rotten heart, while theirs is just fine. And umm, who do you think is the best looking, eh? Just curious… Coz you know, you don’t look as good. Oh and you know what? If you like Katrina, there are others who don’t. If you like Megan Fox, there are other who think Scarlett Johansson is better. Also, I think Audrey Hepburn is beautiful not Marilyn Monroe, what will you do about it? Looks fade, hearts remain.

10) People who throw trash outside


I’m a huge nature-lover. So every time you throw trash out of the window and onto the pavement or into the flower pot or on the grass, I’m going to made you pick it up. And give you this huge condescending look along with a speech full of choice words about what a huge insensitive person you are. And my biggest question- What the hell gives you the right to go around taking nature for granted?

Well, all are things that people do. So, I could just sum it all up in a single word- People. Or rename this post as ’10 Things People Do That Tick Me Off’. But that’s too long and too much effort. I have neither the energy nor the patience. And if you, dear reader, dislike lazy people, then this was solely intended to annoy you.



Posted in 100 Words

Unlike My Sister: A 100 Word Tale


Twinkle Sujanani


Sure, I had a little sister. But my sister falls asleep even if I hold her as I sleep. But how does one make a grown girl fall asleep? Curly-haired, brown-eyed, with an expectant smile, she looked up at me. I tentatively smiled back and put my hand on her forehead. I know I didn’t mean to, but I found myself humming a lullaby. A serenity passed over the face of the girl just as my hand smoothed her curly hair away from her face. I smiled in the knowledge that I was bringing comfort and peace to my friend.

Posted in Short Stories

No Apologies: A Short Story


‘I have nothing to apologize for,’ said Vic, looking at Sophie straight into her eyes. Sophie’s prettily decorated face contorted in fury. The two wine glasses in her hands shook with the rage she was trying to control. But she couldn’t. She flung the contents of the glasses, one at Vic and one at Darryl. Both the victims of this assault flinched involuntarily, just in time to save the whites of their eyes from turning red like the wine.

Darryl slowly opened one eye, just in case Sophie was still standing before them, armed with another pair of wine glasses. He only opened his other eye as he saw Sophie on the far end of the room, storming right onto the lawn and through the exit. Stunned, Darryl turned to Vic. By now, Vic had wiped her face with her palms and grinned at Darryl. Vic’s hair was drenched by Sophie’s assault. A sticky clump of hair was stuck to Vic’s forehead from which a red bead of wine dripped onto her nose. Vic contorted both her eyes to focus on the bead of wine on her nose. She lifted a finger, wiped it off and tentatively licked it off her finger.  She grinned back at Darryl and said very matter-of-factly, ‘Cheap red wine. Why can’t it be expensive, well-fermented white wine? At least white wine doesn’t stain clothes. Does it?’ Darryl just blinked at Vic.

‘What just happened Vickie?’ he asked. Vic looked at him in astonishment. ‘Why, your fiancé just thought that you were flirting with me while ignoring her completely. If I were you, I would take after her immediately and apologize. And you have the complete freedom to tell her that I am a bitch and a witch. See you later Darryl.’ Vic hopped out of her seat and strolled leisurely towards the elevators, which would take her to her hotel room. Darryl could hear Vic whistling Macarena.

He fell back into his chair. What had just happened? He was pulled out of his stupor at the sound of the car engine revving. He bolted right out of his chair and pushed his way through the partying crowds. He ran onto the lawn after Sophie, but she was already reversing the Saab. He took a few steps towards the car, towards Sophie, but she charged straight out of the gate, leaving a flustered Darryl behind her. Swearing in the choicest words of the layman’s dialect, Darryl shouted out to a cab, leaping in and asking the cab driver to pursue the car his raging fiancé was in. Shit!


* * *


Vic was sitting at a revolving stool at the bar, she loved revolving stools. Turning round and round in circles made the world seem swirling and made her head giddy without the consumption of alcohol. She was inappropriately dressed, she knew it. This was an elite party, a masked ball. Men and women alike, in their finest splendour pretended to be ladies and gentlemen of the olden times, their true identity safe beneath the masks, Vic wouldn’t have been allowed inside dressed as she was without the excellent acquaintance that she had established with doorman. After a few whispered words with him, she had waltzed right in, in her shorts, jersey and sneakers.

She had made her way straight to the bar and asked for cranberry juice. No alcohol for her tonight, she would just engage in her favourite past-time – people-watching. She saw the violin player of the band entranced in his music with his eyes closed. She saw a young couple passionately kissing against a wall, their masks askew and lopsided. She saw a gray-haired couple slowly waltzing in their own little bubble of ancient love that had survived the test of time.

Then she saw soft brown curls bobbing towards her in the crowd. As the crowd thinned and the head came closer, she saw that he was accompanied by a lovely woman. They made a handsome couple, thought Vic, as they settled down next to her. The man was dressed in a well-cut black and white suit, complete with a white bowtie. His face was hidden away with an indigo mask, the same shade as the woman’s gown. Her dress winked at Vic as she settled down at the bar. Her blonde hair was artfully arranged in a messy bun, and her white mask highlighted her blue dove eyes. A merry girl, Vic thought. But it was not the girl Vic was interested in. She thought she recognized that mess of brown soft curls.

Impulsive as she was, Vic leaned over to the man and tapped on his shoulder. As he turned around to face her, she reached out and yanked the mask off his face. Two sets of wide stunned eyes stared at Vic, the man’s in front of her and the woman’s behind him. Indifferent, Vic pouted at the man and declared, ‘I know you.’ A clear look of confusion passed over the man’s face. Vic leaned back and bit her thumb nail. ‘I do know you,’ she asserted. ‘I just don’t recall your name’. A triumphant smile spread across her face as a shocked look of recognition replaced his initial confusion. His eyes grew wider and he stammered, ‘Vic? Vickie? You’re Victoria Shaw, aren’t you? Oh my god!’

Vic nodded impatiently and waved him off. ‘I know that already. It’s your name I can’t recall. But I’m guessing we were in high school together.’ The man granted Vic a half-smile. ‘Indeed,’ he said.  ‘I was in your high school. And you should remember me, Vic. But then again, I guess it’s easier to remember people like you than it is to remember people like me, yes?’ Vic just cocked her head to the side. This, too, was something she knew; everyone told her this. It was hard to forget Vic. She hardly paid attention to his words. She was trying to remember his name.

Some of her attention went to the woman behind the man, who was burning with curiosity at the exchange Vic and the man were engaging in. However pretty, Vic did not appreciate petty and jealous women. She pushed the woman out of her head and tried to remember the man’s name once more. ‘You had a crush on me, didn’t you? We shared a class together, and some people used to tease you with my name.’ The man grinned sheepishly at Vic. ‘Well, you can’t blame me. I was one of your many admirers.’ ‘True that,’ replied Vic, ‘but I still can’t get your name’. The man shrugged and said, ‘I want you to remember it. I will not disclose my identity.’ Vic tried remembering again. But this time, the woman’s face appeared right next to the man’s. ‘You have a companion?’ inquired Vic. The man waved her off. ‘She’s Sophie, my fiancée. Did you remember my name yet?’ Before Vic turned away to try and remember his name, she noticed that the lady threw him a disbelieving glance and fixed a venomous one at Vic. Vic shrugged it off. Petty woman.

Suddenly flooded with a memory, she turned to the man who was looking at her expectantly. Snapping her fingers, she exclaimed, ‘We used to walk together to the bus stand! You’re the George guy. Darryl George.’ Relief flooded Darryl’s face, and he grinned at her, a full flash of 32. ‘You remember,’ was all he said as he pulled Vic into an embrace. Over his shoulder, Vic saw Sophie stand with her hands on her hips and a facial expression that could put any gargoyle to shame. The typical ‘oh-you’re-in-so-much-trouble’ posture. Vic pulled away from Darryl, smirking. Sophie stamped around Darryl and firmly lodged herself between them. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she asked him in a low menacing tone. Bewildered, he answered, ‘Just talking to an old friend, darling!’

‘Excuse me,’ said Vic, ‘is this because I mentioned that your fiancé had a crush on me? Or is it because he admitted it? Just so you know, this was in high-school, and it has been years since. I am sure Darryl is a mature man who can handle his feelings. He does love you, or he wouldn’t have been your fiancé! There is no need to be so petty and jealous. I despise it.’ Darryl had disbelief stamped over his face and Sophie, fury. She spluttered in her anger and said, ‘You have no right to say I’m jealous! Besides, I am talking to my fiancé. Who are you to interrupt? Just because you are old friends, or Darryl fancied you once upon a time doesn’t mean you can butt in and say what comes to your mind. Apologize now!’

Vic just cocked her head to the side and in the same calm indifferent tone said, ‘I have nothing to apologize for.’

Posted in 100 Words

An Unexpected Hug: A 100 Word Tale


Anay Bhoir


She struggled to enter the crowded room. The fragrance of sumptuous food wafted to her nose, confusing her about what her choice for consumption was. From the corner of her eyes she saw a white figure stand up, seemingly looking towards her. But he didn’t approach her, like other men would have. Curious, she turned to him. And froze. They locked eyes and he grinned cheekily at her, his arms spread wide and inviting. She just stared, incredulous. Her hands flew to her mouth in recognition. Snapping out of her stupor, she jumped straight into the circle of his arms.

Posted in 100 Words

Gazeful of Cake: A 100 Word Tale


Siddhi Javalkar


She firmly positioned herself on the piece of rock jutting out of the grass. Her fingers delicately held the brown mushy piece of birthday cake. She just stared at it like she was trying to swallow it with her gaze alone, afraid that it would vanish if she looked away for a second. After a huge ‘gazeful’ of the cake she was finally satisfied that the cake was not going anywhere. She lifted her eyes to look into mine. A smile as smooth as the chocolate paste spread on her lips as she ate my birthday cake. I smiled back.