Random Deep Thoughts

Random Deep Thoughts

• I just found this article on some blog. You guys need to read it, right away.

Apparently Iceland’s declared religion as weapons of mass destruction. I found it extremely unreal, and soon enough, it was declared a hoax. Fake news. And that we all needed to chill. Well, obviously. I guess religion happened in the first place because people agreed to disagree. In a healthy way. Without deciding to bite each other’s heads off at every instance. But then the Internet happened, and people started misusing resources and here we are today, in 2019, with guns and bombs and heated debates, all going nowhere.

I wish people would stop taking things so casually.

• How did “cancel culture” get so popular? I get it, Jeffree Star is as iconic as it gets but he could use his platform to be a little more well, Jeffree.

• Is it just me, or does Billie Eilish seem to be channeling Avril Lavigne, circa 2002? Here’s Billie. The hair. The very unique voice. The music videos. The baggy clothes.

Tell me this doesn’t remind you of Lavigne. She was a seventeen at this point too, and she was a pop disruptor and she was hailed as Anti-Britney.

Mind. Blown.

• Unpopular opinion – Balenciaga is overrated. I mean, their stuff isn’t even cute.

Seriously, were they drunk while designing these shoes? I mean, who asked for this? Most importantly, who OKAYED this? It looks more like a freaking lawnmower than a shoe. Thank you, pass.

• Cooking is therapeutic. A clean station, chopping onions while channeling your inner Gordon Ramsey when you’re home alone is blissful. Take it from me. Oh my. Oh my. The sheer bliss of having produced a perfectly Instagram-y sunny side up egg is just… *bellissima*

I talk about 🥚 a lot on my blog. I need to stop. Y’all probably think I’m constantly gassy and weird. I’m not.

Do you happen to have a random thought right this second? Let me know!

Holi and Polling Season

Holi and Polling Season

I’m just going to go ahead and say it. I detest Holi. It’s this loud Indian festival of colors and pretty much everyone seems super into it, except for me that is.

I’ve never been a very social person, and I remember this fateful Holi of 2010 when my friends tried to make me come out of my dorm room and socialize. I was in the hallway and then suddenly, someone upended a whole bucket of nasty water over me. See, that’s the thing. We Indians tend to make everything twisted. You got your basic Holi stuff – you know, play with dry organic colored powder and slap it on each other, if you must, but why do you want to play with really muddy looking gross water? That’s beyond me.

And HOLI crap, did I come down with a bad cold the next day. Trying to concentrate on class while battling a sneeze-fest is the hardest thing ever.

So the Lok Sabha elections are in the pipeline and we’re dealing with a population that’s divided – one half wants BJP to win, the other half doesn’t. It’s crazy to see the supporters of Ms. Mamata stoop to seriously low levels just to try and get her the votes needed to win. We’ve had patients come to us, drunk so surreptitiously out of their skulls they couldn’t even remember their own names. Imagine that, on top of the Mamata frenzy, and the trail of colorful powder they managed to drag into the hospital. Super unsanitary. And if you refuse to see a patient, you get beaten up. Ah. Life’s sweet.

Which makes me wonder: if Holi is the festival of colors, why must you take drugs or drink too much? Does it make you experience the psychedelic rush that I’ve heard kids in college hype up? Does it make Holi better? Also, why do women get eve-teased so much on this day? Does color on your hands give you the right to molest women? The least you could do is be responsible:

• Don’t get drunk. Not only does booze have empty calories, it also messes with your last two brain cells.

• Don’t make prior appointments with your doctor if you can’t stay sober or talk sense. If you’re a doctor, close down your clinic for the day. Only tend to emergencies. Your own safety is important too.

• Don’t force people into playing Holi if they’re not into it.

• Do NOT start a political discussion in the middle of the road – it’ll end in a fight and you’ll have a brilliantly black eye and it’ll hurt. A LOT.

Happy Holi, Folks.

What Happiness Feels Like

What Happiness Feels Like

So you’ve seen it all. Heard it all. Your back, it’s now against the wall.

You’ve fallen so far down the rabbit hole, you can’t possibly fall any farther down.

Your heart was broken, you fixed it, someone broke it all over again.

One day you looked at your forehead in the mirror, and started smoothing out that frown.

That same day, you decided, you won’t let pain cut into your veins, you’d had enough.

That very moment, you decided, you were done with people and their words – oh such words.

That instant, a fire lit within you, and you with your wounded pride, you picked up the pieces.

Your individuality, it started to shine through, despite how, all this while it lay blurred.

Your frown, where was it, now? Your eyes crinkled up at the corners.

What people called “crow’s feet” and got Botoxed for, turned into your prized possession.

Your lips stretched into a smile, and you felt the iron cage around your heart break open.

Suddenly such a weight lifted and suddenly you never knew depression.

And for the first time in what feels like years, you’re breathing like you were meant to.

You feel unburdened, and it’s not because you’re rich, it’s not because there’s a new man.

You feel like a Phoenix, that’s risen from the ashes they left abandoned in the corner.

You’ve left behind all negative energy and you’re a new woman with a new plan.

You’re going to be unflinchingly yourself – shameless, bold, bad, manipulative – so be it.

They misunderstand you, you don’t care, you’re dealing with it like it’s not important at all.

You’re happy, and finally, nothing gets to you – this bubble around you, it protects you.

And this time you’re sure, that no matter what happens, this time you won’t fall.

Why Puddin’ Is Such A Feel-Good Book

Why Puddin’ Is Such A Feel-Good Book

The first actual physical book I read this year was Puddin’ by Julie Murphy. Right off the bat, I’m just going to go ahead and say it – it’s adorable. It’s weird when you use the word “adorable” to describe a book you’ve read, but hear me out, okay?

Looking good there, Ms. Murphy!

Warning: SPOILER ALERT!

Puddin’ has two protagonists – polar opposite characters called Millie and Callie. While Millie is an overweight, craft-obsessed, good Christian girl who refuses to say the “s” word and calls it bull-“doo doo” instead, Callie is the quintessential pretty girl, she’s on the dance team and she’s also Mexican.

The story starts off with Millie and her mum and their back and forth about her going to fat camp again, which she’s completely not okay with. She wants to secretly be a Journalist and take over the world.

The next thing we see is Callie’s dance team losing their sponsorship, which was supposed to come from Millie’s Uncle Vernon’s tiny gym. So Callie and her team vandalize the place because they’re so mad at having lost their potential Nationals dream. Millie identifies Callie on the CCTV, thanks to the signature necklace she sports. Callie, being a firm believer in sisterhood, refuses to divulge the names of the rest of the girls who were a part of the prank gone wrong, and ends up getting kicked off the dance team. Vernon doesn’t press charges but Callie is asked to work for free to raise the money lost in the vandalism.

After the few initial hiccups including the fact that Vernon’s wife, Inga, detests Callie, Millie and Callie becomes good friends. Since Callie has no friends left and she manages to hurt the reputation of the Shamrocks (the dance team she was formerly a part of), Millie introduces her to her little group of friends. Routine sleepovers become a thing and Millie is given enough confidence boosting by Callie to ask out the guy of her dreams – the only Indian boy at school, Malik. The story of how they fall in love, and their cutesy dates left me going awwww.

Meanwhile, there’s trouble in Callie’s love paradise, and she has a very banshee-screaming, loud, public breakup with her rich boyfriend, Bryce. A slightly overweight guy, Mitch, shows interest in her but she pushes him away because Mitch isn’t her type. We’ve all been there and pushed away people who were perfectly right for us because we felt like they weren’t our type at all. I know I have.

On her last day at the gym, Callie accidentally finds out that Millie was the one who’d told on her to the cops, and she feels betrayed because Millie never owned up and let her go hurt the Shamrocks instead. Their friendship ends. Temporarily.

But whatever is meant to be, will always be, and they become friends again. Millie’s journalism application is rejected but Callie takes her to Austin (AUSTIN OR BUST) and practically bully the director there to accept Millie’s application despite the fact that Millie isn’t the quintessentially skinny or the prefect newsreader types.

The Shamrocks get their funding too, from Bryce’s Dad and his car dealership ways. The ending of the book is super sweet – the girls are all sitting together and enjoying a pool party with their boyfriends, before Millie leaves for the summer program in Austin. She’s also totally twinning with Callie in their retro swimsuits. Go, girls!

The book is filled with beautiful one liners you could either put on a tee or use as a bumper sticker. My favorite?

“Love is in the details.”

And this one too:

I also realize the power of a red lipstick and I’m picking myself up a Revlon Certainly Red 740, the shade Mrs. Bradley (Callie’s Mama) wears. Love comes and goes, but lipstick is forever, you know?

Romanticizing The Morbid

Romanticizing The Morbid

Sabhyata (@palletesandpaint on Instagram) recommended this show to me. I’d thought that Gillian Flynn’s Amy Dunne was the coldest of the lot. Turns out, I was wrong.

What show am I talking about? Read on to find out.

We’ve all seen Gone Girl or read the book, and we’ve all been weirdly fascinated by the way Gillian Flynn’s mind works. She writes some of the best psychological crime thrillers in my opinion. I had no idea that Caroline Kepnes managed to create a protagonist – or an anti-hero, if you will – quite as fascinating as Joe Goldberg, and he’s clever and calculating and obsessive and I love the way Kepnes portrays him.

Joe Goldberg first makes an appearance in the 2015 novel, You. It’s now a Netflix show, same name, and there’s a season two coming. Oh JOY.

The reason why I found Goldberg so appealing was the fact that he comes across as a harmless bookstore manager. How crazy would a bookstore manager be, right? WRONG. He’s Internet-savvy, and can work Google like a pro. Also, he’s read every book out there and *spoiler alert* knows how to dispose of most evidence. Also, his stalking skills are crazy. It’s kind of chilling, you know? How far a person would go to get the woman of his dreams, whom he ultimately ends up killing. At least Amy Dunne let Nick live. Shudder.

Things people say they do in the name of love.

Now, is the show any good? And is it different from the book?

Well, yes and yes.

I made the mistake of watching the show first and then reading both You and the sequel, Hidden Bodies. It should have been the other way round, just so I could compare better. It’s kind of different from the book, because the producers of the show decided to bring Joe’s ex back. Candace doesn’t make a comeback in the book. Which means that the sequel is going to be way different from Hidden Bodies. Ugh. Now I’ll have to wait for ever to find out what’s going on.

How good is Penn Badgley’s portrayal of Joe Goldberg? On point.

Joe is a completely different character than his portrayal of Gossip Girl’s Dan Humphrey. Sure that character was shady and everything, but it feels like a completely different person. You couldn’t tell this was the same actor. The manic, crazed look in his eyes. The brooding demeanor. Oh my. Everything is perfect.

Apparently the character is so crazy and evil and sinister and all of that, that Badgley was super hesitant to play the role initially.

Left: Goldberg. Right: Humphrey.

I know a few people that happened to get so freaked out after watching the show that they had to go look at puppy videos. I’m not kidding. If you’re someone that’s sensitive and cannot stomach morbid stories, maybe stay away. Someone sent me this meme the other day, which sums up just about everything:

Did you watch this show? Or read the books? Any new Netflix recommendations are welcome. Hope your 2019 is going great.

“We Don’t Talk Anymore”

“We Don’t Talk Anymore”

Yes, it’s a smash hit. Yes it’s a Charlie Puth song (“Charlie Poof”, in Jade Thirlwall’s Geordie accent). No, I’m not talking about music today. Not today.

Even though it’s one heck of a beautiful chemistry, I have to say.

Moving on.

The commonest problem these days with many long-distance relationships would be “we don’t talk anymore”. So I did a bit of research, I asked a few people if they were actually doing okay with being miles away from the love of their lives and boy oh boy, did I find a few gems.

• People lose interest in their partners.

• People cheat on their partners.

• People fall out of love.

All of that leads me to believe, that no one really loves anymore. Everyone is just way too self-obsessed and way too busy and every sentence normally starts with an “I want or I need or I must” and there’s no we anymore. Here’s what your mama won’t tell you, specially if you’re a brown millennial:

Relationships take work.

It takes effort. It’s a relationship, not an untreated infection and it won’t grow on its own, unless you put in something. Women turn into nagging entities and men run away, and find solace in other things because mostly no one wants to be latched on to someone these days, unless that someone had something to offer. I’ll be honest, humans are selfish and there’s no such thing as “unconditional love”. Everyone has been lying to you. If you did love someone unconditionally, you wouldn’t be bragging about it. Nuh uh.

Then we have the cheating problem. It’s directly proportional to a few parameter. Your partner is obviously likely to cheat if –

• they feel ignored, or

• they feel under appreciated, or

• they’re bored with you, or

• they’re lonely, or

• they’re habitual whores.

It’s probably mostly just the whoring and good people get cheated on all the time. It’s so rampant it’s like diarrhea. Everyone faces backlash. Everyone gets affected. It’s not even a big deal anymore. You know what happens in a long-distance thing? One partner always loves less. The other ends up feeling unloved, unappreciated and lonely despite being in a solid relationship. I should be a life guru. What a revelation. Wow. Would anyone pay me to be a life guru, let me know?!

Which brings me to what I was talking about earlier.

You don’t talk to your partner anymore and there’s no communication, because you’ve run out of things to keep the conversation flowing. You know each other’s schedules so well, you’re okay with not talking to each other for days. You know when he says that he’s gonna call back, he won’t because that’s how it is. And at some point you stop feeling bad. It’s like a swollen painful bladder. It hurts at first and then it ruptures and poof, no more pain because the damage has been done but the pain is done too.

How to fix this?

You can’t talk.

You can’t text.

You’re scared of your partner because they are grumpy due to work stress and can’t love you at that point.

You’re lonely.

You don’t know what to do, right?

Go see them. Take a flight. Pop around at their workplace if you have to. Hold them tight.

Nothing would ever make you say we don’t talk anymore because trust me, it gets better once you see them, again, in person, and talk to them and it’s like self-healing. It forces your relationship back together again. Unless of course, you’re meeting to break up, in which case I recommend taking along body armor.

Have a good day, folks.

The Silent Treatment

The Silent Treatment

You’re sitting over here, with the phone in your hand, as he leaves your texts on read.

You’re left wondering what you may have done this time, and you break your head.

You give in, and you call him up, and he disconnects the call, doesn’t call back.

And you lie there on the floor, worrying, always worrying, almost giving yourself a heart attack.

You almost call his mother, but you refrain, because you don’t wanna look needy.

You almost text his brother but you don’t because you don’t wanna look seedy.

You’ve given this relationship your all, expecting nothing just one call, and it never comes.

You’re left wondering if he’s even worth all that blood pounding hungrily against your eardrums.

If he’s even worth all the tears you’ve ever cried, all the pain you’ve had to hide.

If he’s even worth all the lies you’ve told yourself, you said you’re happy, you know you lied.

Because nothing kills a woman faster than the silent treatment, the cold, unyielding hush.

Nothing breaks her faster, so give her the cold shoulder should you wanna kill her in a rush.

Break up without a goodbye, give her no explanation as to why.

Leave her stranded, emotionally stripped naked, don’t bat an eyelid as she starts to cry.

Leave her wondering, assuming, overthinking, watch her descend rapidly into insanity.

While you, basking in your male-ego glory, wrap around yourself, even more snugly, the cloak of inhumanity.

Redefining Medical Terms…

Redefining Medical Terms…

I just realized it would be terribly funny to define medical words in terms of human relationships. So here goes, I’m going to try and include each letter of the English alphabet.

1. Aneurysm.

Stress that you experience when your mother in law is bossing you around and you’re forced to play cool, but you’re dying on the inside.

2. Bipolar disorder.

When your relationship with your man doesn’t know where the fuck it’s going. Peachy one day, rotten peaches the next.

3. Constipation.

Being forced into texting someone.

4. Debridement.

The act of gently scraping your partner off of your back because they’ve gotten too clingy.

5. Embolism.

You having casual sex and then ending up stuck with his baby.

6. Farsightedness.

Your inability to spot your cheating partner who’s boning your best friend right under your nose.

7. Gluteus Maximus.

Your overly curvy and irresistibly hot front desk receptionist.

8. Halitosis.

The bitter taste your ex left behind in your mouth. And which still reeks of *bleep and a half*.

9. Ibuprofen.

Your new rebound after your severe heartache.

10. Jaundice.

Wearing the wrong shade of foundation.

11. Knee Jerk Reflex.

The way your react instinctively when there are gold-diggers around.

12. Labia Majora.

A component of the classic modern day love letter. Also called “show vagene”.

13. Menstrual cramp.

Recurring texts from the old summer fling from your teenage years.

14. Narcolepsy.

Your partner’s reaction to your lovemaking skills.

15. Oligospermia.

The number of successful dates you’ve had your whole life.

16. Pineal gland.

Your know-it-all soccer wife. Beats google any day.

17. Quarantine.

The trial period you put someone in, to see if they’re viable to be in a relationship with you.

18. Roth’s Spots.

That one text on your partner’s phone which you shouldn’t be ignoring because it could be the underlying cause of something majorly serious – like side bitchery.

19. Sarcoma.

Every toxic relationship ever.

20. Tetanus.

The lock jaw situation you face once you’re caught cheating and have no valid explanation for your actions.

21. Uvula.

Your supportive partner that prevents you from regurgitating on your way to a successful entrepreneurship.

22. Vas deferens.

Your partner’s super attractive male colleague with the oh-so-amazing pecs – someone who makes you doubt your masculinity while making you feel incredibly insecure.

23. Warfarin.

Marriage counseling when your marriage is stuck in a rocky phase.

24. Xylitol.

Your neighbor with the boob job whose demeanor is extra sweet and also, slightly suspicion arousing.

25. Yersinia pestis.

That one pervert colleague you avoid like fuck.

26. Zygote.

Fruits of your labor. Your startup. Or book. Or anything. Which you nurture like crazy.

I hope you enjoyed this post. Meanwhile, don’t give me a black eye.

10 Things Doctors Are NOT Supposed to Do

10 Things Doctors Are NOT Supposed to Do

I had no idea I was some breed called a “second-generation if random doctors”: the Internet has a lot of opinions and it seems to know you better than you even know yourself. A little disclaimer here, before I begin – I’ve had problems with hyper-pigmentation. There’s a huge birthmark on my right cheek, which is in fact SO BAD, that during my internship at the dermatology department back in the day my professor thought it would be cool to humiliate my face and call it “splotchy” and in need of a makeover because the birthmark was so obvious. I’m not kidding. I know this is workplace harassment and I should have talked to someone – but it’s also India and no one listens. He would regularly poke fun of my face till the day I stopped going to his clinic to work under him anymore. I’ve worn makeup regularly – everyday since – to hide the birthmark because I’m so ashamed of it.

People will break you. Sometimes you have to pretend to be strong, right? I’m not asking for sympathy. I only need someone to listen to my side of the story. Recently, some anonymous user has been bullying me from several accounts, trying to get me to go away. I did that once when I was weak but now I don’t let it bother me too much. I mean, it’s still obviously bothering me since I’ve come on here to talk about it but here we go – a list of ten things that Anonymous thinks doctors shouldn’t do:

1. Make career switches.

I’ve been talking about going into full time makeup artistry and most of you know that. Apparently, I’m disgracing the noble profession of being a doctor by taking up something else instead. I had no idea I was capable of single-handedly destroying reputation. Sigh.

2. Have an opinion.

Everyone is allowed to have an opinion, except doctors. Why? Because we are slaves and we’re only meant to slog.

3. Wear makeup.

Makeup-shaming is still a trend guys, yes, even in 2018. Doctors apparently don’t wear makeup in India because that doesn’t look decent. I thought decency had nothing to do with covering up your blemishes or accentuating your cheekbones. But here we are – turns out I’m wrong. There’s always a mold that you’re supposed to fit in to, but a simple Google search will tell you otherwise. Take a look at Dr. Nill Tavangar.

4. Unfinished residency.

It’s a rat race and every doctor ever is meant to push through till they die. That’s how it is supposed to be. I didn’t know that.

5. Have mental stress issues.

If you’re a doctor and you have issues related to depression and anxiety, you’re not normal. You’re an abnormal freak who seeks attention and needs to die.

6. Be nice.

You’re supposed to carry a Holier Than Thou attitude like a scepter and strike everyone dead because nice doesn’t do anything positive for your career. I did not know that either.

7. Marry someone who’s NOT a doctor.

I don’t understand India and her obsession with doctors. If your kid is one, you’ve to throw her into a pool of other single doctors so she can find a someone with an FRCS degree and millions, and get married and produce doctor children, doctor grandchildren and doctor great grandchildren. Um, okay.

8. Socialize.

If you’re a doctor and you’re socializing, God bless your soul because you’re now a whore.

9. Have a side business.

This is such a big no no. You’re. A. Freaking. Doctor. Where do you find time to manage so many things at the same time?! Go back to your clinic and examine fistulas because that’s what you’re meant to do, you’re not meant to have a blog or run a restaurant or travel places – you can’t. It is not something decent doctors do.

10. Have a life.

You can’t have a life. Your life isn’t yours. It’s everyone else’s and it’s meant to be dissected, critiques and analyzed.

Now tell me: why do you think I’m clinically depressed? And I wish doctors would stop bashing other doctors. This is ridiculous.

Dear Men

Dear Men

Show me a man who gives his undivided time and attention to his woman, and I’ll show you a man who stays online, reads his woman’s texts, communicates at the rate of one heart emoji per hour. So that’s twenty four hearts in a day, with some Can I talk to you later texts (despite the continuous online presence) thrown in.

If that’s not love, man, I don’t know what is.

Nothing tells your woman you love her so much than staying online on all social platforms and ignoring her all day. Nothing. Nothing tells your woman you love her more than sending her one dry I love you on Valentine’s Day. Nothing tells your woman you love her more than you love your alcohol and your toys and your man cave, than calling her once a week when you finally get bored of your daily skegde. Nothing.

Dear men, let me get something straight.

We don’t want your money. We don’t want your apartment key. Most of us don’t even wanna peek into your Goddamn phones. Most of us are nice enough to believe in all your lame stories about the continuously staying online but not talking situation. You tell us you’re online everywhere because you have a business meet and trust me we aren’t gullible but we believe you anyway. We don’t want drama. What we do want, however, is to be included in your life.

Dating is hard enough as it is.

And then there are islands in a man’s life. There’s the life island, which is sunny as fuck – that’s where his friends, football, alcohol, entrepreneurial dreams and family live and then there’s the love life island, on another planet – and that’s where his women live. Which has one type of climate – gloomy. Totally disconnected. It takes lightyears for a woman to be allowed to cross over from her own slot to be able to finally break into the life island scene. So dear men, how much do we women compromise? Do we settle and pretend to be okay with this whole thing of being in the sidelines?

While we do get it – that you need your space and your time as much as we do – do you really need so much space that you become an astronaut and discover new planets? I don’t understand. And it’s not just an one woman’s issue. It’s the same everywhere. All women face this. And they still stay with their men. I wonder how much we have to compromise and keep going. How many excuses we have to make to our friends because you wouldn’t show up since you had an important meeting with some other girl. How many lame twisted stories of yours do we have to believe in. And you know something, we can take that shit. What we don’t get, however, is why you’d want to get into a relationship in the first place when you think of your woman as a burden somewhere deep inside of you. Don’t get into a relationship if it’s so much work. How crazy hard is it to understand?

We can take being treated like we mean nothing, like we don’t matter and like we don’t have the capacity to think for ourselves. Doesn’t mean you subject us to all that, right? We sink when we fall in love with you, and we happily drown. We give up on ourselves to make you happy, so…

Here’s my question to you: what do you want?