Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow. Turn this stupid fat rat, yellow.



What Women Want. Mel Gibson tried to figure that out too!

Sigmund Freud, a well acknowledged neurologist had once asked the question – “What do women want?”

Okay, lately, I’ve been trying to figure out that exact same thing – being a woman myself. (I know irony at its best. Lol!)

In the process, I’ve gotten in to the habit of reading a lot of articles. Some of the lines had a huge impact on me and instead of pursuing figuring out what women want, I side with my gender’s ability to drive men crazy. Oh hey, did I just say that out loud?

Right, all the articles seem to suggest in subtle lines with varying synonyms that all a woman wants is to drive men (the less-fortunate gender) crazy (of course without meaning to). Also, it tells us that men don’t genetically (if i may say so) have the ability to figure things out as we women do.

Well, hey, pun intended in every line of this article.

Well here are a few lines I found interesting and I had to pen my take on it. Couldn’t resist guys. Apologies in order – to my fellow female species.

Article: Women’s minds, are much more complex than men’s. Women embrace several different natures in their personality. In addition to the men’s straightforward “logical” way of thinking, they incorporate a personification of the unconscious counter-sexual image, in other words the inner man in a woman – according to the famous Carl Jung. 

I say: So you’re saying, a woman’s mind’s something like the movie Inception? Dream inside a dream inside a dream? Took me watching twice to understand, that one. That shit’s confusing, eh? All the best figuring that out peeps!


Article: “What I’m gonna share with you is simple, however it seems very counter intuitive. It doesn’t seem like it could be true. It doesn’t seem to make sense.”

I say: Er.. It’s simple but doesn’t make sense? I’m sorry but you don’t make sense. We are quiet straightforward you know. Just sense the tone buddy and you’d be fine. I’m sure you’ll get there. (Okay, now I Can Not (see – note the capital C and the capital N) stop laughing! Oh! You adorable poor lot.)


Article: “Men and women have different tests in life. A woman’s test is material and a man’s test is a woman. For example: Men have nice cars. Not coz they have nice cars but because they know women like nice cars. Coz men, men are hunters, cars, the bait and women, the victim. And a woman, comes along, “Ooh! Nice Porsche.” And he thinks, “Gotcha bitch!”

I say: You’d think that wouldn’t you? But later is when you realize that women weren’t the victim. Ha! Busted! (See, this is practice: Did you get the tone?)


So, I had fun doing the reading and trying the figuring out part at which (as you rightly guessed) I sucked big time. So this article I wrote is basically to wish our fellow species (who I rightly called the less fortunate) all the very best in getting driven crazy by the wonderful women they love!

So Mr. Freud, it was sensible of you to stop with the question and not poke around it. Good day to you sir – if you are still not all consumed by the question you’d asked (I meant if you are still alive. No I mean even if you are up there. Hey you know what? If you are up there, then you rest in peace buddy! No genders up there, right? Or so I guess. Oh forget it, I wouldn’t know.)

*Disclaimer : This permutation and combination of words written passionately, sorted in to paragraphs and punctuated so a reader who matches my wavelength can have fun. All of the world’s pun intended. (If you get the pun, that is.) I got nothing against any human being in this world that’s already dead or dying or living or going to do so in near or far future. 😛  So have a laugh ya’ll!


Why do we fall?

Remember when our presence’d made mum fat and hormonal and pukish all the time? Of course not! We’d just been a mushy blob of flesh. What we’d known back then was the darkness and warmth of her womb. What we hadn’t known was that just a few weeks back, as a teeny tiny sperm with a tail and all that, we’d won the very first of the many races life’s about to put us through. (Welcome baby, to the big fat ugly world.)

Before you we even knew it, bam! Nine months of comfort, gone. Long gone. All our athammas and ammamas would form an unbreakable knot of human chain around you and behave like bees buzzing for honey. (Baby’s mind voice: It’s annoying people, get a grip! You want me to react to the stupid faces your making? You won’t stop until I do react, will you?)

Well, then as we grew up the whole world found our maddening tantrums as cute and adorable as our chubby little baby hands and baby feet. (The whole world except 2 people – the two people involved in making this bundle of tantrums! I like to call them STOS (Souls Temporarily Out of Service) who are also TPP (Temporarily Practical People – because when the athammas and ammamas are busy cooing us their mind voice goes – Yep. Cute and all that but its been 48 hrs since I had some effing sleep!)

A couple of years go by and before you know it, everyone around you is like – Oh good god please, just please stop acting like a hurricane! (Baby’s mind voice: Er, come on, you found the same thing irresistible a few moths back and now you are all face palming me? Plus, whats with the exhausted look on that face of your’s?)

You know you are giving out conflicting emotions that the poor baby can not in its wildest dreams decipher. One minute you are like – Oh! My baby! And the next you are like – Urgh! What the effing hell man! I mean please, just spare a thought about the kids thought process.

Then there comes home one day a cousin twice removed and ruins your life. All the grown ups are like – she did this when she was a year old. And your cousin’s bunch says – oh! that’s wired he did that when he was 6 months old.

Enter: First stage of Hallucination (like Bramhanandham would say). Suddenly your parents start thinking, “Wow my kid is a little slow with the alphabets. I should do something about it!” And just like that, the baby’s perfectly fine childhood turns in to a nightmare. (No pressure there!)

Your second race begins, when you utter your first words. And the third is when and how you start walking, then is the fourth about what / do you eat. And god so help you dear baby, comes the fourth, the fifth, the sixth and goes on to even (at times) your last breath.

 I mean, why?

Seriously why?

When a kid does its own thing while growing up, basic instincts like decision making, independence, self reliance develop. But when the kid is under all sorts of pressure and all sorts of bonds and restrictions – be it the clothes, be it the walk, be it the talk, be it the play, be it the academics – please lets all remember that the poor child doesn’t know how to iterate what he / she is going through. Why put our kids through all this just for something as trivial as peer pressure?

Yes, I know what you are saying and I agree. Of course the intention is good. You want the kid to not get hurt or face difficulties. But it is high time we realize that its okay to fall.

Its like how Alfred asks – Why do we fall, Master Bruce? and Batman says – So we can learn to pick ourselves up.

The Empty Chair

A lonesome tear ran down her brown cheek.

Her eyes closed,

lips parched.

She ached for that man,

the reason she was born,

the reason she went through what she did.

She reassured herself that it wouldn’t matter;

But it did.

She told her self He wouldn’t matter;

But he did.

Every time the world threw her down,

She’d think –

It would have been different if he hadn’t left.

She cursed him in silent grief.

For what else could a daughter do?  

A Letter To The Mango Man

We all want it, don’t we? Happiness? We desperately chase it to the very ends of the realms life holds. Has any of us ever heard someone say, “Nah. I’m good. It’s not my thing, happiness.”? It kind of even feels weird to write that sentence.

Every Tom, Dick and Harry wants to be happy. The question is does every Tom, Dick and Harry know what happiness is?

Okay, I’m not about to tell you that happiness is the touch of the early morning breeze on your cheek or that it is the rays of the morning sun reflected by the dew drops on a white rose. That might be it for a traveller, may be a photographer but not us the mango people (aam jantha).

What are we doing? Are we happy doing what we are doing? If not, what the hell are we doing?

When we do things, we know what we like and what we don’t. and when we find that one thing, there is no stopping us. And when will we do that? When we realize that happiness is not the destination but the travel, the path, the experience.

One can find happiness en route if only one has a moment to stop giving chase and look around.

My Precious.

When a person leaves the Earth, where does he or she go?

Well this morning, a gracefully aged woman passed away and here I sit at work with a mind full of foggy and dazed thoughts. That warm smile of hers, that hold she had on my heart (as a matter of fact, still has), that feeling of love only a grandparent can bequeath, feels like just yesterday.

So where do people leave for?

I have no idea about the soul’s travel to another container (the body). So all I could conclude is, people pass on to this beautiful world called memories. Precious memories.

Delicious, delicious.

Heston Blumenthal. My favourite, favourite chef. Every nook and cranny of his dishes have twists. His cooking is more like experimenting. He could probably name his restaurant “The Chemist” or hey, hey, he could be Papa Smurf!

So what makes me write about this now? Well the reason is very delicious! His world famous Chocolate Mousse – thanks to Master Chef Australia!

You know how chocolate and water are never to be mixed? But this is Heston we are talking about. So what does Heston do? Heston mixes chocolate and water! 

Ya, like he is going to do something conventional!

All you need:

350 gms of (good quality)  C7H8N4O2, translation: Chocolate  (dark or otherwise).

425 mls of water – hot, hot H2O, translation: Water.

All you have to do is take the chocolate in a bowl and add the hot water and keep whisking continuously. You will observe here, that the chocolate starts to thicken up and if you know mousse, you know when to stop whisking. If you over whisk it, its really okay, you can melt it back and repeat the process..

Heston also says, if u find the mousse bitter sprinkle some salt on it. 

In fact, if anything is too bitter for your taste, add salt, not sugar.

#hestonblumenthal #inspired #foodie #fortheloveoffood

Both worlds?

So I was thinking..

Hermione Granger, connected to both worlds. Does she use Google (of course when she isn’t at Hogwarts) to look stuff up?

She reads a lot. Does she keep track of all her books on GoodReads?

Does she promote S.P.E.W on Twitter?

May be Arthur Weasley got interested in the computer (the copmuter) and the Internet (the inerten) and has his daughter-in-law helping him out on how to use them? (Of course Molly would breath fire if she knew what they were up to).

Kudzu For Hangover?

Is Kudzu what I need?

So there is this witch, disguised herself a man. Brewing the most exotic of concoctions is what she does for a living. She, (or in this case to go along with her disguise should I say) he, has that ability to keep the customer enticed for as long as the concoction lasts and leave him/her to the mercy of hangover when he/she is done with it. I call myself the victim here. And as a victim, I ask Google what i would need to get out of this hangover and Google tells me that I need Kudzu.

But I’m talking about a book hangover, Google! Kudzu is an antidote for hangovers caused by alcohol!

JK Rowling AKA Robert Galbraith – Strike Series!


I create drawings for a living.
Some one I met recently, spoke in a meeting about my team at work being “Creators” for creating drawings.
Did he by any chance, mean that I’m a Creator? Oh. My. God (Janice style), am I God?

Holy shit, I’m Bruce Almighty!

Oh and P.S: Did you just say, “Woah, drawings for a living? That must be fun.”? Get a grip y’all. Don’t you get all excited. It’s just on a 3D software which is later hauled off for manufacturing something out of steel. Trust me it’s boring and monotonous and I just hope my employer doesn’t read this post.

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The Local Tea Party

Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow. Turn this stupid fat rat, yellow.


I'm a Gynecologist by profession but an artist at heart. Forever trying to bridge the gap between Art and Science. I love good design, good food and open minds. I hope you enjoy my blog.

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