A loner. Close the door when you leave.


Random Scribbles

A Random Sunday

We sit in a plush café, my friends and I.

Just like good old times.

How long has it been since we last met? Maybe 2 months or more.

Anyways, there we are, talking about all kinds of random stuff.

From work to friends, interesting enough!

Oh hey, one of them got a new job! Congrats bro!

And the other one just came back from a nice little vacation.

Sir, your order? The waiter interrupts.

Just give us two minutes, we send him away.

We quickly decide what to order, and get done with it.

Hey, let me call another of our friends; proposes one of them.

And then we take turns at the phone with him.

The food is here, about time.

But first, let us call the fifth friend of our unnamed group.

He’s getting married in a couple of months you know.

Ring, ring. No response. We try again, the result is the same.

Ah, chuck it! Let’s dig in. We’re all hungry.

Let’s plan for a trip together, the usual planning begins.

Lots of possible destination names are thrown in.

The three of us, oh actually four! How could we forget one of us in married, duh!

Okay, so the planning continues, possibly for November.

While all of us know it’s going to be cancelled.

We’re all busy with our own precious lives, you see!

From work to family, and everything in between.

The lunch is over now, we’re all so full.

Our bills are paid, split in equal parts.

We leave the place towards our cars.


Okay then, when will you be back? I ask.

Don’t know buddy, I’ve too much work on my hands.

Okay, whenever you get time, we’ll meet up again. I say.

Sure, he says, and we bid goodbyes.


There’s nothing thrilling in this story,

I guess you have already noticed.

But that’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time, seriously!

Friends who used to meet daily at college,

And raise he roof with our jokes.

Now meet after two months or so, without the presence of other two.


But I’ll still look ahead to the next time we meet,

Share a meal, crack a joke or two.

For this is what matters now, meeting them anyhow.

Even if it means just a lunch over usual conversation.


That was last Sunday, a good one in a long time indeed.

No matter how uneventful they are, sometimes that’s all that I need!


Turning 28!

Happy 28th Birthday! Although it is a greeting, I couldn’t be happy. I turned 28. I grew a year older. I still had a lot to accomplish. I had no friends around to celebrate my 28th birthday with me. I was depressed. But was I depressed because of being alone on the one day in the entire year when you are supposed to feel special or was I actually scared of life passing by?

I’m not a kid anymore, and yet I anxiously waited for my birthday. I even counted days like a little child excited for all the presents he will get on that special day. I mentally made a list of people whom I considered to be the ones whose wishes will brighten up the day. I guess I wanted to feel more special than the others on my birthday.

But then, none of my friends showed up. Various reasons were thrown around for their absence. Most of them genuine and believable. Yet it hurt. Feeling lonely on your birthday does hurt, no matter how old you are.

I kept contemplating the reason why I was alone on my special day. Where had I gone wrong? Where had my friends gone wrong? Didn’t they care about me? Was I not that special to them as I think I am?

I stayed sad for a long time that day. I had my parents who were excited about me being around with them for a change. They cooked my favourite food to make me happy. They let me know that I wasn’t alone.

When the day was about to end and I had finished two TV shows by binge watching, I wasn’t feeling lonely anymore. I was happy with my own company. I enjoyed spending the day all by myself. I understood that my friends hadn’t forgotten me, but they were actually caught up with their responsibilities, familial and otherwise.

I realized we had grown up. We had more pressing matters than celebrate birthdays together. What mattered was they still took out time to wish me, some way or the other. They cared enough to remember a random date when countless things keep running in our minds which demand urgent attention. They promised to make it up for their absence by being there in the days to come. And I know for sure they will.

Turning 28 and being alone wasn’t bad anymore. I grew a year wiser. I spent another year being with the people who loved me. I dedicated the most special day to myself. I took a step further into maturity and adulthood. I learned to be thankful. I learned to appreciate what I had. I grew up a little more!

Two Line Stories

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A Request to Bollywood

The Indian Film Industry, also known as Bollywood churns out the maximum number of movies compared with any other in a year. While I don’t expect much from the majority of the current batch of producers and directors, there are a few who keep my faith alive in this industry. But today, I’m not writing this for people like me; the educated and sensible audience who are highly critical of what they watch.

I’m writing this as a person who likes watching movies with his family, who likes to go to multiplexes with his parents to watch movies. My mother, although not a big movie fan, occasionally loves going to the multiplex. She keeps asking about upcoming movies which she can watch. She’s not blessed with high quality education like most of us, yet she’s not a closed minded person who gets shy of a little intimacy on the big screen.

I also look forward to taking her to watch movies and have a couple of fun filled hours with her. Now here is where the problem arises! Bollywood sucks at making family entertainers, especially since the last decade or so. There have been only a handful of movies which the young generation can sit and enjoy with their parents. Either the movies are a bit complicated to comprehend or made only for a specific class of audience which doesn’t have anything to do with the nuances of good cinema.

No, we can’t watch an ex-porn star gyrate to intentionally written explicit songs in the name of women empowerment. We also can’t stand no brainer movies which are solely made to earn hundreds of crores. And we certainly can’t watch a movie that has crappy special effects and twisted historical facts just for the sake of it.

So my question is: How difficult is it to write a decent story and translate it into a family entertainer? Why can’t the so called big shots of Bollywood understand the fact that there’s a big section of audience which simply wants a decently made movie to pass 2-3 hours of their free time? Is it too difficult to fathom that if we really want to watch people getting sleazy and intimate; there are much better options available for us?

So if you’re listening Bollywood, get you act together. We don’t expect you to make Inception and The Dark Knight, but you can surely make movies that we can enjoy with our family and have a fun outing every now and then. We have some pretty good actors, please use them to make meaningful movies. I’ve seen it happen and will optimistically expect it to happen more often. Till then, I’ll stay away from your worthless movies for good and also keep my parents safe from your nonsensical bullshit that you call art. Yours frustratingly, an occasional movie-goer.

The Youngest Child

Sitting on a rotating chair, chatting in a WhatsApp group on a high end smartphone, I was comparing my life with friends who’ve been there with me throughout my student life.

We compared our job profiles, work load, expectations and most importantly – our salaries. While some of us earned a bomb compared to the other; all of us had some or the other grudge, a complaint of how unsatisfactory our lives were. More so, it even turned into an unintended competition to prove who had the most pathetic life amongst us.

While one friend complained about his lack of savings living in a different city alone, another claimed that turning into an entrepreneur takes away your family life, lest we talk about social life.

Me, the eternal pessimist (as most of my friends would call me) was not to be left behind. I too started bantering about my lowly income and the uncertainty that loomed over my future. I blamed all the mis-happenings that had further added to my woes. These were the hurdles that kept me behind others, which I truly believed.

Between all this insane competition and incessant complaining, I realized something. A sudden flashback to the time I was a kid dressed in half pants and carrying a school bag with water bottle. Oh! How proud were my parents to see me doing well academically!

My dad, a short man with average built but a heart of a lion. How he used to provide for my little childish demands. Making sure all of them fulfilled, even though some were a mere luxury at a time when necessities were met with difficulty.

My mother. A semi literate woman from a village far away from India. Leaving everything that rooted her with her whole childhood to make a life at a totally foreign country. Frail body and wavering health, yet a woman who can easily be the ideal mother anywhere in the world.

A sister. Who worked way too hard and way too much to meet the basic expectations from her. A parent’s first child, always to be an ideal for her younger sibling. And sometimes, more than that! How she used to struggle through long walks and uncomfortable bus rides to only come back home to a bunch of irritating kids to play the role of a tuition teacher. Just for some extra bucks that could help with the rising expenses of a lower middle class household.

It was then that I realized how foolish I was. With every argument I put forward to convince my friends of my professional misery, I was insulting every tired breath and every caring sigh that my family had expended to give me a life that I am living currently. A life where I hold a smartphone in my hand, a respectable job, decent income and the ability to put my points forward effortlessly in enviable English.

Am I asking too much? Too soon? Probably yes. Not everyone is blessed with a comfortable life. A strong family background. Not everyone has it easy. But somehow here I am. Standing toe to toe with guys who’ve had it easier. Not to mention that everyone has their own share of battles to fight, but my fight, my family’s fight has definitely been more than extraordinary.

So all this comparing and competing is useless. Even morally wrong. Comparison breeds jealousy. Appreciation breeds inspiration.

Hence I’ve decided. I’ll not compare. I’ll not complain. There’s only one way to go now. And that’s where I’ll head toward. Towards a life full of passionate work, heartfelt moments and thankful memories. A life where the ever so comfortable life of the youngest child brings a fairy-tale like happiness in his family’s future.

The Homeland I Never Had

Death. Debris. Destruction. These three horrific words have been describing the Himalayan Kingdom since the last 4 days. It’s all over the news, social media and wherever you hear the name ‘Nepal’. That’s not how I remember my country, however short and limited memories I have of it. Despite being from Nepal, most of my life has been set up in India, far away from my homeland. But at this hour of tremendous grief, the faintest of the root that binds me with Nepal somehow manages to tug at every chord of my heart. So much so, I’m in a state of a mild shock coupled with depression. Thinking about the devastation sends a chill down my spine.

A trip to Kathmandu and Pokhra had always been on my bucket list of places to visit. The historic Pashupatinath Temple always caught my fancy. I fell in love with the snow-capped Himalayan Range at the first glance that I had while traveling on the snaky winding roads of the hills. Watching them up close had always been my dream. And the historical monuments that have attracted millions of tourists to this small South Asian country are on the list too. I bet anyone would fall in love with Nepal instantly, not only for its rich heritage but also for the warmth of its people and culture.

But the Nepal that’s staring at my face from TV, computers and mobile phones currently is not the one that I have imagined. It is a country’s capital that’s in shambles. People running with tears in their eyes and horror on their face, disheveled hair and mangled bodies, hopeless cries and tired breaths. My Nepal has always been the land of natural beauty and historical heritage. But all that remains now are heaps of bricks and mortar that has entrapped thousands beneath them. The fury of Mother Nature didn’t spare even the tourists who were there to appreciate its beauty. When will all of this end? When will normalcy be restored? Will it be ever?

I know the country of my origin needs me. I know my people need help. But I can’t go to them. Not now. Not soon. But I’ll be there someday. Among the people who’ve suffered and lost. Among the people who’ll always accept me as their own, even if for the mere fact that I’ve origins of Nepal. While my current predicament doesn’t allow me to leave everything behind to lend a helping hand to my fellow nationals, I’ll be there someday. I’ll be among them, as one of them. And when I’m there, I’ll help them rebuild what Nepal truly stands for – a beautiful country in the lap of the mighty Himalayas. Till then, stay strong my fellow brothers and sisters. It’s bad, really bad. But you’re not alone. We will overcome this disaster together. We will bring back the Nepal the world knows. We will witness its beauty yet again. We will show the world what Nepal truly is!

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