You Know It's Summer When...

Hola, amigos. Yes, I can speak Japanese, okay?

For all of us super cool people up here on the Northern Hemisphere, summer is finally here! Yay! *burst of confetti and children's shrieks* I don't know why I said summer is 'finally' here; it's not like the part of India I live in has bitterly cold, long drawn-out, snowy winters (ha, I wish). On the contrary, winter is the time we eagerly look forward to, because then we can finally flaunt our super-fashionable monkey-caps. Here, I think you'll agree when I tell you this that THIS is the next best thing in fashion after blue jeans:



Sir, what a selfie. The monkey cap does not at all make you look like you're about to kill a grandmother.

I think I got a bit off track. Yes, so summer is here! Here in West Bengal (and most parts of India), we don't really have Spring, as such. One moment you're snuggling in your sweater and enjoying the cold, and the next moment you want to strip naked and live in a little hut you made in front of the yellowed, wheezing air-conditioner that was installed before you were born in your parents' bedroom, and never, ever get out.

You know summer is here in India, when:

1. The night is as quiet as the local bazaar at rush hour on a Sunday morning. There are air-conditioners groaning EVERYWHERE! It starts late in the evening, and you can tell by the groan and splutter of it being switched on, and continues well into the next morning, thereby allowing you a restful night's sleep. NOT. I have a weird reaction to ACs, which I mentioned in one of my earlier posts; I cannot sleep when they are on. Plus, did I mention that one of my neighbours thinks its unnecessary to get their electronic appliances serviced at least once? Yes, so that bitch sounds like it's coughing so hard it's going to die.

2. The sweat patches. You come out of the bath, put on the deodorant, put on some nice clean clothes, and you sit down, and BAM you have these blossoming under your armpits and all sorts of places (if you know what I mean). I mean, you don't even have to be doing any work to get these eyesores. They will just haunt you...forever.

3. The tan. If you are Caucasian, or have white skin, it probably looks good on you. Attractive, even. But most of us in this blessed country are brown-skinned, and when we get a tan, we look like we slathered our face with Nutella ( WUDDUP, background reference!). But don't fear, our mothers got it all under control. My mom has the yoghurt, the papaya, the lizard tail, salamander skin and everything else ready to get rid of the 'extra' brownness.

4. SUNSCREEN lotion! Who am I kidding? This stuff doesn't work here! I believe Lotus brings out a range specifically for 'Indian summers', but I think it's just a marketing gimmick. You go out ochre, you come back brown.

5. The black umbrella! Which is nowhere as sexy as Rihanna's one. It is seen everywhere during this time in my city, from college-goers to phuchkawallahs, from bloggers to book-sellers. #blackumbrellaswagy'all

6. The smell of summer. Which is just a polite way of saying, 'we all STINK like SHIT' during these months. So it's generally a good idea to take a bath or two during the day. Or four. Or ten.

There are so many things I can add, but the heat is getting to me. Thank you for reading, and see you next time, you beauties.

Can't Think Straight

Imagine that you have a secret. It’s deep, it’s dark, you think it’s shameful, and you can’t talk about it to anyone, you can’t escape it, and it makes you feel trapped and helpless. Not being able to come out with it is slowly killing you inside. No, I’m not talking about your addiction to Koffee With Karan. This is what most of the people of the LGBT community are made to feel about their sexual orientation.

Now it’s all good and fine to proclaim that you are supportive of gay rights and you have ‘nothing against them’, but what when your own son or your daughter tells you that he or she is gay? Will you tell them to ‘snap out of it’ and think ‘normally’? Will you be happy that your daughter has found the perfect ‘woman’? Will you remember that it’s never, ever about making a choice? Will you bear in mind that she has been born that way?

At this point, I can go on a whiny rant about the unfairness of Section 377, but I think (and I’m sure you will agree) that we have covered quite enough of that. Apparently, despite being in our 67^th year of independence, we are so enamoured by the British, we must obey a dusty, irrelevant law they wrote, word for word, because that is how it is done, people. Just ask the Supreme Court.

I think Imran Khan got it right when he said that your sexual orientation is controlled by a switch at the back of your neck.

On: Yay, I’m gay!

Off: Hey dude, Sunny Leone looks smoking in Ragini MMS 2, huh? Hurr-hurr-hurr-hurr *beast-like laughter and backslapping sounds*

Ah, technology. We’ve come so far.

And there’s this very cool word doing the rounds nowadays. What’s it called? Oh right. Homophobia. Wikipedia says that it means, and I quote,

‘Homophobia encompasses a range of negative attitudes and feelings toward homosexuality or people who are identified or perceived as being lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender (LGBT). It can be expressed as antipathy, contempt, prejudice, aversion, or hatred, may be based on irrational fear, and is sometimes related to religious beliefs.’

Oh you’re homophobic? Don’t read Shakespeare. He was gay. No, put down that coffee! Didn’t you hear? Gay people have coffee too. You’re reading Harry Potter? But gay people enjoy that, you can’t read that! You’re using shampoo? Haw, but all gays use shampoo! That’s just not acceptable from you; you’re putting all homophobics to shame.

If you surf Facebook long enough, you’ll come across these long posts and comments that people have left about their opinions on homosexuality. Some of them are indeed heartening to see, but some have simply whipped out the Bible and quoted it from it, stating that homosexuality is as criminally evil and blasphemously against the order of nature as Yo Yo Honey Singh’s lyrics. Well, if it’s says so in the Old Testament, it must be true.

If we’re humans, why can’t we try and be a little more humane?  Being L or G or B or T is not a crime, being C (=corrupt), being I (=ignorant), being CM (=close minded) are. Let’s show a little love, because let’s face it, love is all that there is. 

Thank you for reading this. Ding-dong!

What Goes On in Women's Restrooms

Hello, ladies and gentlemen, today I shall try and unravel one of the greatest mysteries of womankind, something which has puzzled jobless and horny men for years: what really goes on in women's washrooms?

So I'm at the mall with the family, and I've just enjoyed a good film and I'm feeling happy and light, when I suddenly realise that the Coke which I had glugged down is now really pressing hard against my bladder. It must be let out NOW. As is custom, my mother accompanies me and since they've got to kill five minutes, my brother and dad decide they might as well empty their bladders, too.

I walk into the washroom, and I spot a row of ladies examining some microscopic flaw in the right corner of their upper lips in the large mirrors and readying their ammunition to blast that blemish to bits. One lady was rolling out her lipstick almost with a vengeance, and another was reapplying coat after coat of mascara. I wondered why her thickly crusted eyelashes had not fallen out yet. Or maybe, they had fallen out, and she was wearing fake ones! Another, I watched from the corner of my eye, was holding up her hair on top of her head, and tilting her head this way and that to find out which was style flattered her face the most. Then, deciding her double chin looked too jiggly with her present style, let her hair loose and sucked in her belly to make it look flat (ha, as if YOU haven't ever done it before.), a wasted effort, in my opinion, since her outfit already lovingly brought out every unflattering bulge (I'm going to a special place in hell which the reserve for hypocrites and judgmental bastards).

My mom had dumped her bag on me and gone into one of the cubicles (she always believes in going one after the other in public places. It's 'safer that way' she says. Who am I to judge?). I glanced at the mirror right in front of me for sheer want of something to do, and I immediately cringed. I could fully appreciate the true wisdom of 'Ignorance is Bliss'. The harsh lighting made me look like a bloated pineapple with a bad hair day. Immediately I had the urge to suck in my belly (ha, as if YOU haven't ever done it before.), get a Botox surgery and starve myself. But then, I did something which made it all unnecessary. I turned my back on the effing mirror, telling myself that something was 'wrong with it' and it was the 'lighting' which was making me look like Lindsay Lohan on hard drugs (hmm, that is kind of flattering). Thankfully, my mom reappeared at that moment, and I went to pee in peace. 

Later that evening, I find myself in a different bathroom, one which is luxuriouly furnished, lit with a soft golden glow, and blissfully empty. As I stared into the gilded mirror, my mind was going through a painful internal struggle. 

Mind: It's just such a stupid, stereotypical thing to do!

FatMe (that's my name in my mind's chatroom): But everyone does it!

Mind: You're stupid.

FatMe: Why, thank you.

After furtively checking the door, I fish out my phone, aaaannd SELFIES! *Click-click-click-click*

HA, as if YOU haven't ever done it before.

Pip-pip!

What To Do When You're a Social Misfit (like me)

Have you ever felt like you didn't belong in the society you live in? Like you're way too awesome for normal stuff? Have you got the maturity of a 5-year-old? Do you prefer Smosh to your boyfriend/girlfriend's relentless chatter? Do you like Nutella a bit too much? Do you write with your left hand? Do you pee too much?

If any of your answers is yes, then it means you are an effing weirdo. Yes, EVEN if you are only a leftie. You are supposed to use your right hand, OKAY? Otherwise, it is simply not acceptable! God, some people just refuse to understand. Oh and you're gay? Might as well make a hut in the woods and settle down.

Right. If you're going to be a nutcase, might as well be bold about it. Haven't you heard of 'crazy is the new cool'? What's that? You're single? STILL? Just get some frozen yoghurt and your copy of Bridgette Jones (the first part, not the third, which sucked..), curl up in your bed, and NEVER come out again.

Society loves its rules. Loves its order. Adores its 'normalcy'. And if you're even slightly different, people might just try and stamp it out of you. It doesn't matter if you've got a body full of tattoos or piercings, or a head full of blue hair, or if you like Keeping Up with the Kardashians too much, all we have to be is a good human being. A being without fear, without hate, without judgement, with strength and belief. That is not very difficult, is it?

More next time, you lovely muffins. 

Charm her like a Disney Prince (or try to, atleast)

Are you a guy, reasonably attractive, reasonably tall and reasonably funny, yet unreasonably SINGLE? There must be a few fundamental things you might be getting wrong. Read on to find out more about this secret turn-off factor which might be causing your pheromones to misfire:

1. Personal hygiene. I cannot stress how important this is. Men, PLEASE, take a bath. Wash your hair, and rule numero uno: Thou Shalt Scrub Thy Neck.

a) Check your nails. Make sure the girl doesn't mistake you for a professional gardener who spends all his time digging up soil...with his hands.
b) Check your teeth. You might be making a pretty good impression but as soon as you reveal your yellow, crusty incisors, you might cause her to run away from you screaming. A gleaming smile always helps.
c) Check your smell. If you smell good, you are automatically elevated to the 'Eligible for Mating' stratum in the female's mind.

2. Make her laugh! If you're funny, you are almost, almost Jim Carrey to the girl. It is just SO appealing.

3. Don't be a dumbass when it comes to clothing. The title is self-explanatory. If you've go to hide a bit of flab, do not wear that tight tee that spells out 'Sexiest Man Alive' as it stretches over your man boobs.

4. Flowers. Flowers work like a charm. Bring it out quietly from behind your back and murmur, 'I brought you flowers.' You will be able to observe her melting.

5. Ask her things about herself. Don't be that douchebag who can't stop talking about his highest score in GTA V or whateverr. So not interested.

6. Be a gentleman. And if you haven't ever heard of that word before, Google it, bastard.



See Flynn right here?  He is... sigh.

There are so many more things that one can add to this list, but then we haven't got all eternity, have we?

That is it for now! Thank you for reading this utter crap. Chop-chop!

Shoutout to Friend #2

Hola, beautiful people! I'm still very, very new at this blogging business, and every little thing which is slightly encouraging makes me a squeal like a ten-year-old girl who's been gifted her very own limited edition Barbie Bathroom Set. So, this post is for my fraaand, Prabaha, who has been the FIRST person ever, to comment on any of my posts.

Here's a little rhyme I wrote for you:

You ain't no Cumberbatch,
But you're still my favourite byatch,
Because though your sense of humour totally sucks,
And your comments might give some kids chicken pox,
I still think you're awesome, funny and amazing,
And you give me blogs a lot more meaning!

My God, WHY haven't I been given the Nobel Prize for Literature already?

So, yeah that's it. Thank you for reading this, and thank you Prabaha.



In case you're wondering, that's Prabaha and I in Biology class.

Meet my Friend #1

I am going to keep a promise, and dedicate this post to one of my best friends, and fellow blogger : Deepan Chatterjee! Don't judge him by the fact that he has a weird-looking baby as profile picture, he is not actually a baby... which would be very strange since I just said that he is one of my best friends. Anyhoo, let me tell you a little bit more about  this amazing person. Popcorn ready? Okay.

I met him in class 11, when I joined DPS, Ruby Park, where I would be spending the last two years of my school life. He and I didn't really talk much at first, and one of the earliest memories I have of us is when I'm taking down his number at the back of my Physics notebook in the lab, and I spelt his name as 'Dipon Chatterji'. He rolled his eyes, huffily took the pen from my hands and scratching out what I'd written, rewrote his correctly spelt name with a flourish. All the time I had to suppress the urge to burst out giggling. Which happens to me often. Like during my grandmother's funeral. But wokay, let's not get into that now.

Deepan is a wonderful person, and he is kind, helpful, funny, and is charmingly self-deprecatory. You just can't help but like him. We have just taken our school-leaving exam, and after a few months, maybe we won't see each other again. But Dipon, if you're reading this, I want to tell you this that PLEASE BE MY FRIEND FOREVER.

BECAUSE we are BFFFFFFFFFFFFs, BEEECH.

I the loves you so much!

That's Deepan and I at our School Farewell. Look at him in the suit and tie. Oh, he's growing up.

Smosh-ing my way through, BEECHES.

Like I said, in my earlier post, I'm a crack addict. Which proves you haven't read it. What I did say, was that my exams have ended today and I've been having a Smosh marathon. Not the Smosh bit, but the exams bit. I'm telling you NOW that I've been watching Smosh non-stop. And Ian Hecox, you shaggy, unkempt extremely hot thing, mmmm. Alright, coming back from horny teenager mode, here are a few videos that you should totally check out.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GrIwoGjvkUI

Anthony shows you the real deal!

In this one, Ian tells you how to hug another guy if you're a heterosexual (or not) man!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7CMqeVYkDo

What you need is a to be a kid when you watch these HILARIOUS videos, and if you fall in love with the Smosh men, I bear bad tidings: they both have beautiful women in their lives alREADy. What a bummer. Anthony's even going to get married soon ( am just going to go cry in the corner now.).

Have fun watching them, and spread the love...of SMOSH!

REBIRTH!

Helooooooooooo! I have MISSED you...unknown, jobless person who reads my crappy blogs! Greetings.

My Board exams were on till today, and it had shrunk me to an anxious, nervy version of myself. But as soon as that final bell struck, and the tecahers bellowed, 'STAHP WRITING!', all my energy came whooshing back, and I leapt to my feet grinning, and with a swish of my cloak, I took off into the clear blue sky. Okay I might've actually just elbowed a few people in the gut in a mad desperate rush to get my bag and get the freak out of the place, but whatever. It was a liberating experience all the same. 

This is what I feel like right now:

Like Spongebob seeing unicorns. Happiness overload.

RIIIIIGHT. Now, you must be wondering, what the HELL is a Board exam?! Well, in India, we have a FINAL, DO-OR-DIE, BITCH, kind of exam in the 12th standard which is kind of your passport to the colleges you want to get into, and kind of a bragging right for the two-year-old cousin-cum-minions who look at you wide-eyed as you say with a boastfully nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, 'I passed Maths in 12'. 

Minor detail: We had Maths today, and it was also an excellent opportunity for people to view fifty shades of red of students' faces. And their ears, too. W-ell, the sums weren't that difficult, but some of them might've had you going, 'Holy crapballs!'

More next time, Brodas and Sistahs. 

P.S. If you're male, 19-25 years of age, 6 feet tall and a lookalike of Benedict Cumberbatch, I did NOT just call you brother.