Turning the mundane into a fiasco. Saturday, May 2, 2015. Just taking some time out until the world stops spinning and I can safely extricate my head from between my knees. Thursday, July 31, 2014. And yet, in that melee, there were a few who chose to retain the English language as it was meant to be.

The pens changed, the ink brands changed, but we kept writing. Unbeknownst to myself, I had begun the long love affair with a rather curious bunch of things that included fountain pens, mechanical watches, steam locomotives, Royal Enfields and grandfather clocks. One that extends to this day. Dude, that thing smells awesome! The chap manning the stationery shop eyed it with a grim look of the .

Rantings of a freelance writer for tv. Started in a fit of unemployment-induced itchy fingers. Friday, February 23, 2018. For you, you motherfucker. First was when you said. You fucked me one way to Sunday. Second was when you stayed. You fucked me two ways to Sunday. Third was when you danced. You fucked me three ways to Sunday. Fourth was when you kissed. You fucked me four ways to Sunday. Fifth was when you left. You fucked me five ways to Sunday.

No entry, says the guard outside the airport. The flight number is here! No entry. He can see the desperation on my face because the rest of my day is tied up in that paper.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or otherwise, is entirely coincidental. Hey, move man! Said a voice in my head . We arrived at the mall and it began to drizzle . This must be a joke! Said Rekha . Finally! She drives me crazy! The noise from those monstrous speakers was unbearable. Only in our country can people get awa.

Not just truth, Double truth. Independent Documentary Filmmakers in India. Catherine Coulson, Michael Ontkean, Kyle MacLachlan Twin Peaks. What did you do? .