To whomsoever it may concern,

I think we have a problem. My electricity bill is twice what it used to be.

I pay GST every single god forsaken month. In fact, I pay GST (in illogically varying percentages) every single day for every single purchase I make. And then I top it all off with some income tax as well.

I feel mounting dread each time I venture out in my car and find myself looking at an almost empty fuel gauge. I hunt for ATMs that actually dispense cash and, more often than not, i find myself stuck with 2000 rupee notes. Thankfully, they are handy at the petrol pump since money flows like an infected tummy run. I don’t like paying by card because …

My credit card got hacked. I was being encouraged to use it across the board but no one warned me of the potential dangers. I had to survive for a week without a card. 

My building society wants to extort more money in the name of repairs. 

My phone network rarely allows a call to complete without dropping a frustrating number of times.

The roads are a joke and the traffic is a laugh riot.

Stepping out of the home is fraught with  unforeseen dangers, potential road injuries or respiratory illnesses (courtesy the air pollution) leading to potential hospital costs that could wipe out all my savings; cancelled flights because of striking pilots or worse still … drunk ones; fake news and misinformation causing sudden stupid riots; good, reliable education is like the unicorn – a fantasy … the list is endless. I think you’re getting the point, hopefully.

I’m not even sure what you can do but if things don’t improve I may have to resort to stand up comedy … cancel that … I’m not too keen on jail. 

So that leaves me with a couple of options … I could borrow a boat from a fisherman (since they are now steadily losing their fishing areas in the name of development) and sail out like Pi. Phir dekhi jayegi.

Or I could team up with some scamsters and make a lot of money from the clueless banking system and fly out of the country and spend my life as an infamous, rich socialite. 

Hmmm. This exercise has helped.

Thank you. Next.

Dear Akshaybhai,

Such a hullabaloo about me! Didn’t really expect it. I’ve been so used to being hidden, spoken of in hushed whispers, hurriedly passed from one hand to the other, tucked away under a shirt or in the pocket … god forbid someone sees me and puts two and two together.

And now suddenly, every one is flashing me around, taking selfies with me, openly flaunting me … men and women alike! Being waved around like a victory flag is so confusing. I mean. Aamir Khan was brandishing me a while ago! This sudden celebrityhood is very heady.

Hopefully, I will not get eclipsed

once all this naach gaana is over.

In the meantime, thank you for bringing me out of the closet. For setting me free.

The ‘period’ic friend and companion,

The sanitary napkin fondly called ‘Pad’

Dear heart,

You pump blood. Till that point you are my most essential, fascinating and important partner in this body. I draw the line here. I find you meddling in my affairs too often for my comfort.

If I didn’t think and analyse there would be anarchy in this world. Forget about this ‘rich tapestry of life’ and ‘wonderful memories’ and all that bunkum … this poor soul, that you allude to, would be in an asylum. My job is to see that this soul finds an easy landing in life, sticks to the straight and narrow, lives by rules, appreciates the law and enjoys a comfortable existence.

I don’t believe in rocking the boat. I have no interest in dancing. I have a lot of things to mull over and I need to prepare for contingencies. The most balanced people are those who think several steps ahead.

Please stop misleading people with impulsiveness and silly behaviour. It becomes impossible to control a situation that gets out of hand.

I hope we understand each other clearly.

Stay in your corner and allow me to run this life. In case of unforeseen developments I will consider consulting you but I have seen from past experience that it is better I stay in command.

Its a lovely day and I see this soul is already stirring with some ridiculous notions that I will need to attend to and kill.

Your warden,

The all knowing mind.

Dear mind,

Let’s just get this straight, once and for all. I need you but we are clearly not ever going to be on the same page. Not until you calm down.

If I can do the same thing (pump blood) for hours, days, weeks, months and years in the simplest and yet most sophisticated way, even if I do say so myself, why must you constantly look for complication?

And then there’s something called instinct, gut, a knowing. Why must you question it and mislead the poor soul? A perfect trajectory ruined with over thinking and analysis, both unnecessary ingredients in the scheme of life. Urm. Ok. Not unnecessary … but not always mandatory.

Dear mind, let’s work together. Heed my advice sometimes and I will learn to be cautious from time to time. I know I can be impetuous and act before I think but that’s the reason this soul has had such a rich and memorable life. Imagine following you … it would have the most boring, predictable and blah life ever. Come on. You know it. Nudge. Wink. Coax. Grin.

Let’s live a little, dear mind and let’s dance together. I know this new hot step and if you can just get into the groove without another thought … I know you will love it!

Yours truly,

Crazy Heart

Dear Veggies,

I’m torn between two choices. Should I pick you up from the vegetable vendor who has still not transitioned to cashless but needs the business and the cash to survive another day

OR

Should i order you online to be part of the self-congratulatory, cashless tribe?

Yours affectionately,

Confused but wanting to do the right thing

 

Code word, BLACK

Dear evasive 2k,

You double dholki, you! You’re clean and yet, you’re also black. You are the embodiment of social transformation, economic reform and the lighthouse of controversial change.

And yet, you are also dirty and found in numbers so huge that lone cars and hidden vaults are unable to contain you.

You were introduced so that terror would slink away with its tail between its legs.

You were revealed to the adulatory public as whitewash … washing black money and making it white, leaving a trace of pink behind.

But, you magically became black. The one thing you were meant to curb has now become a dirty river in full flow.

Not only has the earlier black become plywood. The current black, sorry pink, has become the most elusive little thing. The hottest. In demand. Ticket to survival. For the poor. What a fine reputation you’ve earned for yourself in 34 days.

You are the symbol of a ‘little inconvenience’ but an alchemic, gilt edged distant future.

The problem is this new black stain. It’s refusing to wash away.

Sincerely,

An unimpressed user

Dear Celebrity Obituaries,

I’m trying to choose the right outlet to express my loss for a beloved celebrity. On a social networking site.

R.I.P, the most often used, pithy and safe expression … it’s non-committal, on the fence and looking into the park with binoculars. No one sees you or notices you. You, however, notice it all with a token hands up in the air. A part of the tribe that wants to be part of the larger tribe. The Hail Mary #I’mwithit #IknowmyGK bandwagon. An apologetic meow.

Then, there are the quotable quotes. One step further towards committing to a stand. A neutral quote that allows you to wet your toe without getting into a provocative debate.

The forwarded article comes next. This one is a bit dicey. Is it safe enough to put your name to? Will it get the likes and will it position you as smart and up to date? Or will it give away your political ideology, your state of mind, your carefully cultivated personality type or upset friends and family? While you’ve wet your ankle by now, it still keeps you at the water’s edge. You are using someone’s views to position your own. The trolls are still distant.

Then there are the news clips and the documentaries and the audio-visual clips to share. The commentary may simper, be obsequious, surprisingly factual or just downright fake but there’s a choice to be made again. Will you associate with the genteel, intellectual, smart and factual or the frenzied, over the top and volatile editorials? Deep thought.

Then come the Originals. Downright direct, undiluted opinions. Fearless or foolish. Open to bouquets and brickbats. Expressing like or dislike of the person who has passed … may god rest his/her soul. Anything and everything is fair game to this opinionated soul. Measured, contradictory, rabid, dramatic, emotional, ridiculous, loving, angry, soulful, all embracing …. endless genres of expression. Loud roar.

So many choices. So much to weigh. My image is at stake. Definitely, my sanity. To be a fence sitter, observer, water temperature tester, ass licker, skinny dipper or just plain cussed … what will it be? Wary that the beasts on the social net whacking sites could troll. The cops could break down my door. Some jail time. Public apologies. Haters. Worshippers. Nothingness. Safe anonymity. What do I choose?

Worriedly,

A mourner.

Seriously, it’s not about me.

Dear Mr 500 and Ms 1k,

The two of you are now sum zero. ZERO. From hereon, you will be seen as the prime example of how to failao a raita.

In a split second, you have become a symbol of terror and panic. People who were hoarding you in their mattresses and underground bunkers are making a pyre of you, sending you down the ganges to commemorate your early demise or running helter skelter to replace you with more meaningful notes. People thought you would buy them security. Now there is only insecurity. How does it feel to wield such power over an entire nation? People are scurrying like little, helpless mice across the landscape, in search of ways to rid themselves of you. Shake you off their back. Slap you off their person. Its a full on maara maari dudes. That’s true Power. Sadar pranaam.

There is Mr 2k, of course. Very pricey. Very hard to get. He has a slightly warped fashion sense. Very pink and very tacky. And very big on selfies. He has stepped in to help tide over the difficult times. 2k for a vada pav and samosa. Nice.

Mr 500 and Ms 1K, your departure was received with jubilation and mass hysteria. People have been lining up in long, never ending queues feeling like they belong to a momentous and revolutionary chapter in history. A movement that will cleanse the nation of its grime. Make it shiny and new again. A nationalistic fervour has swept across the land and people are stoically sacrificing their time, their energy and even their lives. This sacrifice is rewarded with a limited token from their very own savings. Its so nice to have someone take charge of the nation’s bank balance and limit their spend. Varna hum toh besharmon ki tarah daal chawal aur bhaaji khareed rahe hote!

Mr 500 and Ms 1k, you have unleashed a debate so powerful that it is like stepping into a minefield. There are two clear factions – National and Anti-national. They spend their days judging each other and everyone else on the basis of their belief system. There is another large faction – its called, chutney- in-the-making (CITM). Interestingly, the CITM are the ones who believe that these ‘inconveniences’ will one day gift them a world where they can buy land, feed their families without worry and live a life of dignity. Last, but not the least, is the So-rich-i-don’t-care faction. They wince a little, shrug a little … life goes on. Just another blip in business, as usual.

Hopefully, India will soon be a shining example of a seamless transition into PayTm karo. Corruption will cease to exist. India will become the super power it was always meant to be. There will be equality.

The innumerable soldiers of our hinterland can then smile with pride. Their sacrifice would not have been in vain. Hopefully.

A surprised, befuddled, confused ….
tax paying Indian

Dear Marriage,

I’ve been witness to your evolution for a long time, at close quarters and without affection. I mean, ya, as a habit you’re ok. So is smoking.

In my childhood, marriage was a symbol of stability except when cold or hot wars raged. As I grew older and financially independent, marriage was aspirational and yet something in the distant future. It often felt like an invitation to surrender the future. Finally, there was the act of marriage itself. I always wonder why I did it? All my instincts rebelled against it.

Let me be clear. I played an equal and contributory role to this whole, roles and expectations and KRAs type arrangement, little realising that work relationships and personal relationships require a different grammar. I discovered that we wanted different things after marriage, while I had romanticised that it would be just us on an island, wanting the exact same things, forever more. In time, the island got claustrophobic. We both stayed away at work for long hours. At home, we devised ways to stay out of each other’s way. The walls began to cave in. And yet, we continued in those ruins, breathing the unhealthy air and the death of affection and love. Each day and every minute was exaggerated and underscored with irritation and heaviness. We’d pretend with family and friends. The facade was so clever that even I sometimes believed in the unreality of it all … until it came to sitting at the dining table at home with no words. Just the sound of the cutlery and the heavy silence.

It’s not meant to be like this. A relationship should exalt.

Eventually, at the cost of being labeled failures, we moved apart and as with any ending, this cold turkey was distasteful.

Today, the air feels clean. I take long, deep swallows of air and smile.

Been there. Done that. Thank you very much.

Dear male protagonist of indian soaps,

I wonder how you stand up at all since you have no spine. You are so easily manipulated by the women of the house and ready to believe the worst of the woman you marry. You follow some profession or the other but it’s rarely of any consequence, till the time you succumb to politics and backstabbing and lose all your money and render your family penniless and then blather on, while your wife rises to the occasion with her miraculous and hidden powers of submissive leadership … all the while trying to ensure that she doesn’t step on your fragile little ego.

As a father, you rarely have anything of consequence to say to your kids. As a son you are respectful and dutiful and often mindless.

You come on strong and then back off in a hurry.

You are often possessed by the devil, lured by a temptress or just plain dumb but you are largely like a vessel that rolls from one point to another depending on which side the bride … Oops, I meant, bread is buttered …

You are a nice guy overall. Just mind numbingly stupid. You wanna look around and see some men in real life? They are far more evolved and while they are struggling to comprehend and adapt to the changing world, they are far more flexible and funny and dynamic and aware than you and what you stand for … LOOK at the world around you. You may find that there is still time for you to stand tall.

definitely not a fan.