Sarahah Sarahah!

No, I don’t have a Sarahah account, therefore don’t even bother thinking of what message you might send me.

Remember the trend that started years ago, of creating confession pages of various fraternities? Well, there would be a page titled ‘So and so confessions group’ and you would get added to it or merely like it for the sheer adrenaline rush for online adventure. People would share their confessions with the admin, who then without naming the person would post the message publicly. In most cases those were messages from the not-so-bold persons who unfortunately could not express his/her feelings to their crush!


A similar apparatus — for the sake of expressing views of introverts, losers, and cowards — has surfaced the internet recently: Doesn’t it remind you of the song ‘Sharara sharara, sharara sharara, sharara sharara, main hu ek shararaa…’ — you can’t miss that if you are a 90’s kid.

Even though the app was launched a few months ago, it has gone viral among Indian users in the past few weeks. The app is dedicated to those who cannot vent out their anger on the right person in the right time. Sarahah enables you to create an account and share it with your friends in social networking sights informing them how they can now abuse you under the protection of anonymity! Then, once these users get trolled, insulted or struck by Cupid’s arrow there, they share those messages asking about the sender. Isn’t it obvious, that if someone had to say things to you in person they would have done that already? It must also be pointed out, that people are not simply using the platform to vent out rage, but also express love. Potential love stories might blossom through it, since many have confessed to loving and missing the user secretly (sounds so 20th century!).

The idea of anonymity hit the road with initial social networking sites where people used weird and funny names to address themselves (I did that as well in Orkut!). It is believed that anonymity enables one to act and behave in an offensive way without caring for consequences. If you have followed the kind of messages people have been receiving you can very well make out that this app is not for the weak hearted. Witnessing the ‘bold’ and ‘just-following-the-trend’ Sarahah users, I have come to the conclusion that losers are having a gala time here, saying all the things they couldn’t have said to the person on the face. And when the ‘bold’ ones receive hateful messages they just go mad coming up with ‘haters gonna hate’ tags! Why did you create the account in the first place then?? Just to see how many likes you get on Facebook? Or, whether you fall under the ‘cool’ category? Probably yes, therefore stop whining if someone hates you, or is inviting you in bed.

Is it a possible avenue for bullying? I believe a major portion of a pie chart would agree to that. Only time would answer that. Recently Indians experienced what kind of danger a mere app can impose on the youth, thanks to the Blue Whale challenge, with over hundred people losing their lives to a strangely created game. And to think games were for fun!

Were the irrelevant and haunting ‘fransip’ messages in Facebook and Instagram not enough to irritate you that you decided to open doors to more cyber stalkers? When people around the world is having a hard time coping up with depression and anxiety, here is an app provoking one’s issues. Only time will bare evidence, if the app is just another passing fad or something that impacts one intensely.

‘lehra ke balkha ke, balkha ke lehra ke

Aag laga ke, dilon ko jala ke, karoon main ishara

Sharara sharara….’

It’s impossible to stop thinking about the song! Share your views about this trend and enlighten me please.



Infant evolution

There was a time when kids were so naive that you could make them believe in almost anything you said – like my cousin (as a toddler) demanded to know why she wasn’t invited to her parents’ marriage, on watching their marriage video and witnessing a little me running about. It struck her, that if I was there during the marriage why wasn’t she? My uncle’s story seemed very convincing to her – ‘you were so little that I had you in my pocket… Or else it would have been difficult to look for you in the crowd’. Nobody was surprised that she bought it back then.

Innocence and the wide-eyed attention to everything were synonymous to children till some years ago. Now, it’s about competition and recognition from the very early years of life.
We as kids would actually think that the government was a person, maybe the prime minister was nicknamed the government, for the way people used to talk about him/it. ‘The government is not doing this or that’, ‘the government has done this’, ‘the government has taken a bold step’ .. etc. Some even used a distorted nickname – gorment – and they still do. Upon somewhat comprehending the relevance of government, I did try for years to correct people’s diction, but they are just too stubborn to learn something new. Furthermore, the moment some of the uber enthusiastic, and pseudo-intellectual beings mispronounce my name, I lose patience and start to imagine great doom coming their way.

Mom had once been to this theatrical show, where a couple of characters representing the underprivileged of our society had a hearty exchange about gorment!
‘Tumi gorment a dekhiso?’ (Have you seen government?)
‘Ha dekhisi! Mota-shota, shosma pora, kalo gaari kori hoosh kori soli gelo.’ (Oh Yes, I have. He’s a fat spectacled man who swooshed by in a black car)
In contrast to the aforementioned details of naiveness and innocence, now we get to see kids talking about politics (something I’m yet to grasp and argue about in my twenties!). And the baby starts walking just minutes after birth in Brazil! It might not be a very distant future that all babies start walking the way the Brazilian did and went viral on the Internet – a celeb is born(literally). But, according to the University of Rochester Medical Center, babies sometimes take steps when they are upright with their feet on a solid surface, and the reflexive urge to do this generally lasts for about the first two months of their lives. (

The transformation isn’t just happening psychologically but physically as well. It doesn’t seem to be far for us to reach the preconceived evolutionary level that the MTS ad had shown a couple of years ago.

Just the other day, at a cafe I noticed a super-excited selfie freak mom trying to make her baby pose for a selfie with her. The child was just too occupied in looking elsewhere admiring some silly majestic looking ice coffee on the opposite table. When the dad comes, he tries to take a pic of the mom and the baby… Now suddenly the baby decides to bite his mom on the chin, interesting pose, huh!? Upon a brief explanation through sign language and eye gesture, the child looks towards the camera, tilting its head and waits for a second. As soon as he assumes the click of the shutter, he starts to nibble on his mom’s chin again! Such smart babies. They know when to pose, how to invent new angles and set a selfie trend!

This takes me back to our childhood when we looked so lost staring at the camera, we did not know what was happening till we were three or four. And now, the strike of fast-paced evolution gives babies as young as a few months the ability to pose for photoshoots! Not only do they come ingrained with the knowledge of selfies and other important things, but also they get to play with these multi-keyed gadgets – a luxury we were not entitled to! I’m a little jealous.


The key to the heart is through the …?

Being a human with a bird’s appetite, it is quite a tough job to eat everything good and then write about their tastes to make others drool. Not that I have any major objection, but a little cloud of fear hovers over my head when I think back about the delicious items I had consumed which might contribute to a towering development in my body – a potbelly!

But really, it is not so much of a worry as compared to the growing confusion about myself! Just when I thought that I was clear about my choices and self-desires, the skies decided to drop a bomb of confusion and cloud my judgement. Since then, I have decided to not judge or decide anything about life and give in to ever-flowing time.

I grew up with a passion for writing, a curious eye for photography and an eager ear for music. But not until my teens did I venture into adventurous cooking, in fact, the adventures started once I took charge of the house commanding mom not to step into the kitchen while I’m at work. And so it continued gradually, from hot beverages, little unhealthy snacks, to Mughlai or Mexican lunch and Chinese or Italian dinner – I developed a very loving soft corner for cooking.

Chivalry took over when I moved out of home and set up a nest in the Capital. Experiments followed, with thankfully very few disasters (My banana pancakes were yuk! Never tried that again), and I made an eternal friendship with corn. Not only did I invent some new corn dishes, I also taught my mom one of them and guess what – she loved it! Plus it’s healthy. That’s what everyone thinks of now if your food is not healthy nobody would bother sparing a mere look.

In the past few days, I scraped out time from my don’t-know-how-the-day-comes-to-an-end schedule to prepare some ‘delicacies’! With that word in mind, how can one not picture spaghetti with red sauce? Yes, I made spaghetti – loaded with vegetables, and then an experimental broth which turned out to be a good supper-material, I’d like to call it ‘Sweet n sour corn broth.’
I might not honour myself with the title of a foodie, but making new things out of sheer pleasure of creation is definitely my cup of tea. Here are a couple of images of my humble attempts:


IMG_20170503_221735A recipe for beginners:
The corn broth is very simple. It contains boiled sweet corn, chopped onion, green chillies and tomatoes grinded together. Add salt, sugar and black-pepper according to taste into a boiling mixture of the paste. I have NOT used oil at all. (You might choose to opt for either pepper or chillies, I added both since I like it hot!). Turn off the heat once you get a desired thickness of the broth. It is filling, healthy and tasty.

Apart from boasting about my culinary skills, it is important to give a vote of thanks to the worthy teachers – mother, grandmother, roadside dhaba cooks, luxury hotel culinary sessions, food reviews, and a major contributor – the Internet (All the mouth-watering videos… What would we do without you!?). People who appreciate taste, go ahead and create some, add some spice to the lives around you.

A suggestion for those who are trying to maintain a diet by starving or torturing themselves by not eating what their tummies are craving for… “Seize the moment, Remember all those women on the Titanic who waved off the dessert cart” – Erma Bombeck. After all, a happy stomach is a step ahead to achieving eternal peace!

My winged neighbours… Who outnumber me by hundreds

Ever since the mercury in the capital has gone up the scale, mosquitoes have begun breeding limitlessly, and as it seems they have all chosen to fly up six stories high just to feast on me. The reason? I’m just too sweet! Nopes, I’m not bragging…
From my very childhood, I’ve been a constant feasting item for mosquitoes, be it alone in a room or even in a room full of people of various sizes and shapes. These horrible blood sucking noisy insects would not feed on others but me, only me! When I complained of mosquitoes, I would be told that nobody else was getting affected as much as me, and that must be because my blood was too sweet! “Hahahahaha,” they’d all laugh. And funnily even if the mosquitoes did bite them, these humans seem to not notice that they were being bitten and that a fat insect was clinging onto their arm. Fat; so fat that they could not even fly away after their meal. I observed them hop away to safety else a slight touch would make their torso burst – literally.
With the summer sun being a killer, mosquitoes do not tour around much in the day, but after sundown, it’s party time for them. It’s like breaking a day long fast, as soon as you see food you just stuff your face like a monster.

As soon as I open the front door in the evening entering my home, along enters a thousand mosquitoes. I guess they shout “Spartaaaaaa!!!!” as they rush in past me and start taking positions in the house preparing for the war to come. Now that I’m writing this, I am under a vicious attack by an army of suicide squad! I’m typing and slapping my limbs and clapping in the air murdering them.

Imagine this: Ready with tiny sharpened knives and forks, and beeps tied around their neck, they wait with starving depression in order to set foot on the hunting area. The huge iron door to foodland opens, there’s light and the aroma of blood so inviting to be feasted upon.
“Friends, Mosquitons and clanwomen, lend me your proboscis,” shouts Antenna, the leader and orator of the team. What follows is an inspirational speech on why they have chosen the location and type of their meal for the day. “Now, even though we know that our host isn’t very friendly or passive and that we might be martyrs, we must still try to achieve the best for us, for our children and their future. Food is more important than life, it’s better to die with your stomach full than to live a life devoid of food that you so deserve. Good nutrition will help us bring betterment to our successors. Hosts are huge and single, and we are small but united. Let our union be the cause of their itching skin. Ladies, are you with me?”
“Yay!!” yells the squad dripping with enthusiasm.
“Then raise your forks and let’s show the hosts what it is like to be slapped!… Oh and yes don’t forget to sing to her ears.”
Ending her memorable speech and leading the attack of the century, Antenna had made her place in the history of the Mosquito civilisation, but sadly it was her last combat and she will be remembered by her clanwomen and men forever for her oratorical skills and leadership.

Products of the Bong Echo-system!

‘Aww ji tussi bong ho?!’ is something that I receive from unbelieving faces smiling at me. ‘Ki khobor?, Kemon achi! Ami bhat khabe! Ami byangla bolte pari! mishteee doi’ and so on it goes as the excited conversationalists try to put to use their knowledge of Bangla.

It is not a bad feeling, as it brings on free amusement and often unnecessarily triggers a smile from within me (I do not quite know whether I smile at the honest mistakes or the pompous know-it-all fails!). Bengali is definitely a language too mishti (sweet) to the ear and instantly reminds one of all things related to food and culture. Bengali or Bangla is synonymous to Mishti doi, rasogolla, dal-bhat, laal-par sada saree (white saree with a red border, traditionally worn on festivals), Rabindra-sangeet, poems, theatre and most importantly films – where else do you think all the stalwarts of the golden period of Indian Cinema had come from?

Yet another wondrous part of the world’s sweetest language (according to popular belief) is the repeated use of phonetically similar words to soothe the ear. Bangla byakaran (Bengali Grammar) calls it ‘shabdadwito’ –

Khabar-dabar, Jekhane-sekhane, Khochor-mochor awaz, habi-jabi, mota-shota, aaje-baaje kotha etc. (The list’s neverending!)

The language also hosts some irreplaceable words like nyakay and dhong to symbolise intolerance towards certain aspects of human behaviour! If someone is smarter than you, or proves you wrong in an argument, you often use the phrase “Beshi beshi…” followed by “…ekdum, jottoh sob nyakami!

Even after all the not-so-welcoming attitude, there’s some sugary taste to every bong’s nature. It can be like a multi-layered candy with certain layers of bitterness and acidity coating on the sweet solid core. They are genetically programmed to be sweet, (well, eventually government jobs and old age owes to the crankiness of many). Sweetness runs in the genes, in some scary but hysterically funny phrases and name calling –

Naughty kids would often get away with a light dushtumi korona threat on the other hand if you have slightly strict elders a little mischief could land you into the world of apes – “Din din bandor hoye jachhe, ekta kotha shone na…” Or “Onek bandrami hoyeche, ebar porte bosho.” That’s how my mother would address me for being naughty, while some of my friends and cousins also had other members of the animal kingdom in store to be compared to!

While the world is talking of globalisation and thinking of venturing into other solar systems, many Bengalis still find solace in hot debates concerning the age-old Ghoti-Bangal, East Bengal – Mohun Bagan, Ilish(Hilsa) – Chingri(prawn) clash. And you thought they were progressive! There might be progress in other fields of life, but when it comes to debates nobody knows how to shout better than a Bengali (even without logic)!

There’s a common perception among Bengalis that they are universally late! I considered that true to every edge watching my peers and myself until I landed up in Delhi – where every event starts an hour late! Being a bong, I was in a dilemma, whether to feel proud to be on time or to feel disgraced on breaking the tradition.

Even though Bengalis are rumoured to be too loud, jhogrute (quarrelsome) and experts in PNPC (it is not an abbreviation that everyone would know, it stands for ‘paro ninda paro chorcha’ – a common colloquial phrase used among Bangla speakers to term ‘gossip’) and very active in politics; there are many breaking free from the stereotype, setting new examples to the world that Bangla is not just synonymous to Mach–bhat or rasogolla.

Some men may break into uncalled for extempores and debates on the political scenario of the country and there can never be leaving a problem unsolved, or lack of a topic to ponder upon, just by smoking, as they say, buddhir goraye dhonwa dewa!

The extensive practice we have of breaking into Bangla with a fellow bangali, often causes discomfort to the others around, but honestly, we don’t do it purposely. The overjoyed souls just seem to chuck out others in the frame on getting an opportunity to express their love for the language in common.

Being a product of this society, I can also vouch for the sinfully infectious laughs we have – some sound like a machine gun in a war while some can laugh out loud enough to bring the house down with their open-mouthed “HAHAHAHAHA.”

A word of advice: The next time you greet a Bengali, be prepared to be blown away either by words or by laughter!!

As the money crunched away…

Warning: If you have strong political views do not bother to read this as this article is a product of my creation and has been executed from an angle of sarcasm and humour.
Many have voiced their concern, inconvenience and opinion about the demonetisation of Rs 500 and Rs 1000 denominations throughout the past few weeks. If you are expecting some thorough and indepth analysis of the issue here you better move on, since I am no Economist or Politician nor do I hold ample knowledge on the same to impart to my readers.
What I am going to share here comes straight from my personal experiences of the major step taken by our Prime Minister. There have been some great developments lately in and around the capital:
One of my dear friends, shares a lot in common with me except that he never bothered to learn how to cook. Back in college he’d prefer to eat out in the college canteen or dhabas during lunch until he got a roommate who could cook! Then moving in a new city for work, the guys would often indulge in elaborate cooking spree and celebrate their successful recipes or chopping skills by posting photos online. Getting ‘domesticated’ by nature and time my carefree friend did develop some noteworthy skills, but it wasn’t until the cash crunch that he actually cooked for himself! Oh yes he did. In the absence of an egg-loving roommate and triple digit denominations printed in papers, he learned to be independent.
Now the krrrrrr… sound of the ATM machines sooth our ears like the way one would be relieved to hear the voice of ‘Bae’ after days! People around seem like fishes out of fish tanks, impatiently flapping their hands and lips gesturing and talking about how they had or had not been successful in extracting out cash from ATMs.
With the world being infested with a lot of good-for-nothing souls, people had wasted time and money for unnecessary material and unaccounted for luxury, and have always claimed that ‘money is liquid asset’, hence cannot be restricted from flowing. What now! Would you call it liquid? I’d rather talk about hard-to-get/spend cash that we all earn but fail to spend in the recent times. All thanks to the sudden blow to shopaholics, Indians are now forced to save up for their future, be it your dream car, house or that pretty bag you have been trying to save up for but just could not because of your spendthrift nature. Now you can easily save that large amount and buy whatever you wanted, if only you still have the attachment to all worldly matters; for the kind of people I have in my peers seem to have evolved philosophically as they have detached themselves from worldly pleasures after being struck by demonetisation.
People have indulged themselves into serious discussions as to what effects the country’s economy will have in the future, rather than brooding over whether that ‘girl in the red dress’ is hot or whether that ‘hunk on the cool bike would offer a ride.’ When was the last time you actually had a meaningful conversation with another adult?
But most importantly people have become so trustworthy and reliable on one another that almost everyone knows their colleagues’ or neighbours’ ATM pin! How can there be any other possible way to achieve harmony in the society? Have you not seen clever citizens sneaking into ATMs with 2-3 cards, and to cover up they carry companions to wait with them in the long queues entrusting upon them the prized secrecy of their pin codes.
Passive passerbys have now gained a friendly tone in their voices and also bother to seek information about others’ well-being and what course their lives have taken (to actually find out whether the ATMs near their residence are working!)
One blow of this government policy has brought tremendous care into mankind and set them into such communicative mode – something which thinkers over the years had failed to do. Isn’t it a matter to actually think upon?

What a joke!

Googly must now be a kid with a pair of glasses on her little nose staring intently at a book or doing her homework for school, but once this little girl was my playmate or rather a live toy living downstairs to our apartment. There was no logical reason to name her Googly, it was simply my obsession with cute little things that drove me and still drives me to call out puchu/puchi/ googly-poogly on seeing something absolutely adorable! And thus I have a couple of cuties under my aegis named Puchi and Googly.

It is funny how children respond to jokes made by adults. It was as if Googly had suddenly discovered that she could rotate her head and she was frantically spinning her head with an audience consisting of a hysterical me and my grandma. Granny stared at her for a second or two and with a concerned layered in her voice she said, “Eki eki, matha ta khule pore jabe to erom korle!!” (uh oh, your head will fall off if you spin it so much)(The translation might not seem very funny, but trust me googly’s reaction was priceless.)

To this, a slightly tipsy Googly stopped suddenly, and lightly tossing from side to side she checked the position of her head with both hands to see if it had fallen off in real!

Being a restless child myself I have heard of my monkeying around from everybody in the family, and to get me seated quietly was quite a challenge until one could come up with good stories or I could sit with some colour pencils and scribble sceneries- my favourite topic for painting. One fine day I remember drawing a large multi petalled flower with a fresh set of wax crayons that I had received from a relative that day itself. Maa came in to check what I was up to, and I showed her my piece of art. Seeing the flower, she commented that petals of a flower are usually one-coloured and unlike the one I had made in order to utilize all the shades of colour in the set. My rainbow flower also had black, since I had run out of other colours to fill in the last petal. In my defence I explained Maa that the flower is how I have created it, so it can be multicoloured, after a pause, she enquired about the black petal. I answered smartly, “Oi papri ta poche geche!” (That petal is rotten!).

I can’t recall what Maa’s expression was to my explanation, but now when I think of my straight cut replies and suggestions given to people around me during my early years of life, I simply can’t figure out how people put up with me or children with similar attributes.

With the fascination for colours that children have, they often tend to create a brightly coloured world around them. It was during one of our science classes at school at the age of 5-6, when we were asked to draw and colour a cat each. “One cat only, mind it! I don’t want to see five cats in one copy,” ordered Shivani ma’am, the strict teacher everyone was scared of. The reason for this command was that we were so fond of Science and Environment classes (particularly because of the amount of drawings we were allowed to do) that we would produce endless masterpieces for the teachers to inspect and give beautiful remarks. But little did the scary woman know that the kids would produce their artworks in a different form. I saw round moon-faced cats being sketched everywhere around me. And then the cats were painted red, yellow, green and blue by their owners! I had been sitting sadly looking at my monochrome cat- other than a pinch of black in her tail and ears my cat was simply white- colourless.

Then started the inspection when the teacher would come around to check everybody’s copy and give marks or remarks for their drawings. Shivani ma’am was furious and maybe she was laughing in her head witnessing the colourful blunders. She pulled the ear of the boy sitting next to me with a red cat, “Where have you seen a red cat? Tell me do you have red and green cats around?” she questioned him and the other rule breakers innocently gazing at her wide eyed.


Demanding Change!


“Change nei hai madam, toffee le lo,” (We don’t have change madam, take some candies) is often the well-versed suggestion shop attendants give when you are unable to pay them the exact amount. Now to make the most of your money you are forced to buy a couple of useless toffees which get dumped and forgotten inside your bag until that rare day when you decide to de-clutter it!

Is the availability of change so rare that they always keep a jar or two handy to stuff some colourful wrappers into your hands with a smile? At times there may be crisis of the jingles but there are also situations when some vendors willingly or lazily hand over little somethings to round off the bill. Where do all the coins go? Have they stopped making coins in the mints or are there some voracious coin collectors who desperately grab them all and never let them go? Who are the members of this chillar party?

While a child, I remember to be extremely happy when a shopkeeper used to be generous enough to give me candies rather than unnecessary coins which always used to slip off between the fingers and made me hover around over and after the rolling metals. Similarly now when children are sent to shops to collect some items they come back with some more, happily.

Suddenly the other day I discovered that there is somewhere a child within me that craves for these candies! As the man behind the counter gave me some unknown candy I demanded to know whether he had the ones I liked. He stared at me for a while as if to confirm that it was me who enquired, the same way some websites need you to type irrelevant codes to clarify you are not a machine! Then he went around looking for the one I had asked for and finally came up with a shameful smile declaring that he does not have it. Exactly at that time from the corner of my eye I saw it deep inside a jar full of miscellaneous candies and I pointed it out with great enthusiasm. To this, he looked both defeated and relieved, and struggled to get it out from the jar for me. It somehow felt special, as if choosing the forced gift was a right to be enjoyed by one and all. If they are making you buy one, you better get the best of the lot, uncompromisingly. Yet again, it is not worth it, since you have to remember to have them or they would just rot somewhere in a corner.

There are also some firm customers who stick to what they need and come up with a no-nonsense face declaring that they won’t accept unimportant titbits like candies and shampoo sachets. That is when the hidden treasure comes jingling its way out. Another and very frequently practiced custom is to remember or note down the amount to be received by either parties, and eventually rounding it off on the next purchase. But this practice is only viable when you have developed a cordial relation with the shop attendant.

This menace of ‘demanding change’ is not new and is not restricted to shopkeepers alone. In cities like Kolkata where travelling short distances is easy via autos the auto drivers create a pandemonium in case you are unable to pay him the exact amount. Similar cases happen in Delhi with customers and regular office goers when the vendors and rickshaw pullers complain of not having enough change. Either you keep losing Rs 5 everyday or you argue and find a way out (which usually nobody does, due to lack of time).

With this menace dancing around the country, it is time to get a ‘change’ and control the change crisis before it gets too late and we are left to suffer the ill balanced eco(nomic)-system with the extinction of coins.

Childhood memories

There are various food items that attract children, yet there are numerous weird items, which we adults can never think of as edible, that find a royal suit in a toddler’s palate! And this does not happen only during the phase of developing tiny teeth, but keep on gaining momentum and magnitude with a few years of experience in life, i.e. entering toddler-hood!

To explain the matter and to explore its seriousness I hereby state a few of my own favourite dishes in the first 5 years of life. Yes, my memory is quite strong… I can still see things happening in front of me like a movie.


God’s finest of creations (humans, in case you are thinking dogs, cats, trees, or others) have a soft corner for sweetness, they prefer sweet over the other tastes, unlike me. I as a little girl (when I had just mastered walking), I would climb up the dining table and attack the table salt container! It was reported to me that I would often finish off the salt container, which had about 250g salt, at a go. Even though I do not have a very clear memory of eating salt, I do remember climbing up the table and sitting with my legs spread out on top when no one was around. There had been a speculation that I probably lacked Iodine for which my body dragged me towards a proper source of iodine.


I had a fetish for candles, both white and coloured ones. And by fetish I mean I loved to eat them. People use candles while praying or during power cuts, but I collected them to feed on the wax! There used to be a glass cupboard in our drawing room which had a few candles prepared on candle-stands and a box full of small candles as a precautionary measure, as back then Kolkata was greeted with dark evenings every day. I was about 3-4 years old, and one regular evening during a usual power cut I ran down to that cupboard and took out a medium sized candle, and ran back into a secluded room and gorged into my recently conquered treasure. All in the dark, when nobody could see me do the deed, since I was quite conscious that the society would not accept my love for candles! But sadly my running about did make some noise and mother found me with a mouthful as she entered the room with a large lit candle. I felt incomplete for not finishing the tasty waxy dish, even though I had eaten away 3/4 of the original piece and made it unfit for use with lots of tiny tooth marks. I should have been allowed to finish it… I can still see the whole incident happening, but cannot recall the taste… Mother told me that once I was so fast in grabbing and eating a small candle, that when they discovered me, they found no morsel of wax left. There was only a wick lying there alone, robbed off from its flesh! After some such incidents, my family decided to stop using candles for pujas and started using diyas. The ones kept in the cupboard were stacked up in the highest shelf where I could not reach… Sadly my appetite for candles was murdered…


I still remember having drinking-water competitions with my friends. We would finish off a large jar of water at once, as my grandfather used to serve us obediently. As soon as a glass finished he had to fill it up, and we would count the number of glasses we have had. Now, after so many years I find it rather funny when I related our incident with those they show in movies and TV series when drinking competitions happen in bars and the bartender obediently keeps filling the empty glasses!

If only I could travel back in time to watch me grow…

Rewind your life a decade or two back and think of what interesting intakes you had and share your experience and memory here.

Keep Falling

People just keep falling. From the sky, from the bed, from the sofa, down the stairs, from ‘positions’ and off the chairs! The best and the most common falling, happens on the go! As one of my friends slid off on wet green grass one fine morning back in 2010; his fault? He was trying to impress a girl with his running skills, which not only embedded his falling in our minds forever but hilariously failed his idea of wooing a girl! I could not help but laugh like the ‘Mad Hatter’. Even to this date, I can recall the incident, like recalling your favourite scenes from a movie and laugh ridiculously.

People also fall from the sky when unexpected matters are meted out to them, they just look so pale and disbelieving as if someone had actually threatened to push them off a cliff! That look on the face is boisterously funny .

And then, they ‘Fall in love’, the expression itself indicates the decline… Personally I fell one should ‘Rise in Love’, gain wisdom and composure, or at least Be in love.

I am not a believer of LOL- Laugh Out Loud, I find it rather silly to suggest people to laugh out loud. It is your decision to laugh loudly or softly or at all laugh in the first place! When I laugh it sounds somewhat “Hahahahaha”, both in person and in messages.

Moving back to falling, I saw a video yesterday for probably the zillionth time, where a man ‘is falling’, he does not succeed falling but is in the motion of falling for 9 seconds! And some brainy had captioned it perfectly, “When the Devil wants to you to fall but the Lord got you”. The poor man struggles with a spade on snow and finally resists falling and throws off the spade and walks away with wobbly legs. This just shows how ‘fallable’ people are, they just keep falling. Sad…yet funny. 😉 😀

I may sound inhuman to make fun of a sad situation (sad for the person falling), but trust me sometimes it feels amazing to just stop thinking and acting on reflex. It is natural to laugh, it is like a natural instinct when we rush for water if we burn a finger. Similarly, we are biologically programmed to laugh when someone falls all of a sudden, no matter how unethical it might seem to our teachers and elders.

The most sarcastic and enjoyable fall is ‘from a position of authority’, and how eagerly I am waiting for some unworthy and fake authorities to drop down the line of hierarchy. Sometimes leaving things to time is the best, that way anything might surprise or amuse you. Just waiting and watching thins happen in slooooowww moooootiooooonnnnn

So let us hope that some such unwanted Jack and Jill go tumbling down the hill!

By LahariBasu Posted in Humour