food, humour



Everybody knows that you don’t drink water after you eat fish! But nevertheless, the fish shall have its revenge. No matter what.
Let’s take fish fry for instance. It’ll go all the way to your stomach, and the food and water you gulped down with it, will be like doctors who say, “The patient is very critical now, he/she has sustained 89% burns.” And then, the nutrition you so rightfully deserve shall be snatched from you, and used up by the fried fishes.


If you think that fish curry is safe… then nooooo. Think again – they are worse. They’re fishes in water! They race down your oesophagus, and once in the stomach, start partying. Party all night, party all night. Well, not all night – they drink,dance and make noise (that’s when your tummy vibrates).


And when all the food is over, only still water left, they’ve had enough. They make whirlpools inside the stomach, hit the walls – till you feel so uncomfortable that it is all expelled out of your stomach and flushed down the toilet.

description, humour

The Perfect Horror


You are obsessed with horror stories , and you want to write a decent one. But you have had a consistent history of turning your horror stories into humour. But at least, you have the Canterville ghost to support you. Only he shall be able to empathise with you, since he too had failed to scare the Otis family. But you decide to get serious. You take it to the next level.
You kick everybody out of your house, and make sure you lock only the main door ( and the balcony door) –  any door that is a connection to the outside world. The larger the house the better. You waste your time till 1 a.m. watching TV, preferably horror movies.
Then, you switch it off, get off the couch, check the door and find your pink blanket. Then you switch off every light, making sure only enough light passes through the window.  Enough light to make scary clawy shadows. ( if you’re living on the 17th floor, chances are there won’t be any claws. But you can still adjust with what you have.)
You walk to your bed, and you visualise yakshis and raktharaakshasis popping up from nowhere at your doorways. (You are allowed to imagine people you don’t like as the above mentioned.)You are on your bed, the blanket of darkness overwhelming the happy pink blanket. You imagine the worst things that can happen. Scare the shit out of yourself. You hear weird noises from upstairs. Better. You think you heard the door moan. Even better. You feel like there are evil spirits waiting for you to fall asleep so that they can have you as midnight snack. Excellent.


Hide under your blanket, and write the story down. Then go to sleep – if you can. You are not done. Post it on your blog – categorise it, and add tags. Share it on the social media.
You show it to your mother, but she is not sure where the horror is. Your dad is in no mood for horror, and thus he has no idea what’s going on in the story. So he starts asking whys and whats. You call your best friend, who lives far away, and she can no longer speak – she is on her bed with a bad stomach ache. For she imagined you narrating the story, your voice echoing in her head. She could not take it, she almost died laughing. Only almost. You take it to your other best friend in the city. He is no longer on his chair, but already on the floor hugging himself – the minute he saw your name. For the same reasons mentioned earlier.



You shall not lose hope. There are people who don’t know you at all. They will not hear your voice in their head. Only the voice of the story. So you wait. Till somebody likes it.


The Shoe

shoe1 shoe2

Cinderella was very young when her mother passed away, after which her father remarried. Everything went fine till her father passed away. Her stepmother advised her to do the household chores, so it would distract her from the grief of losing her father. Her stepmother was evil and ill-treated her all the time.

One day, Cinderella was fast asleep near the fireplace. She woke up, washed her face and was about to begin her work for the day when, something fell down the chimney. She dropped the kettle and shrieked. It was a yellow-coloured creature that dressed like humans, and also wore glasses. A minute later, the rest of its gang fell down the chimney, filling the room with black smoke.

Before Cinderella could make any sense of what was happening, her stepmother came down the stairs, furious.

“What in the world is going on here?” she screamed.

She froze when she saw the little creatures. One of them, the gang leader, handed her a letter.

“La para tu” it said.

They were the minions, and were searching for a despicable master. They had finally found one, and self- appointed themselves as her servants. The stepmother was delighted, under the impression that people were dying to work for her, and agreed to let them stay.

“Cinderella, you shall share your room with them” said the stepmother, before leaving.

Cinderella became good friends with the minions, but they would nevertheless laugh at her, when the stepmother or stepsisters made fun of her, because the three ladies were their masters after all. But they would still help her, and many a times Cinderella had to clean up the mess they create as a result of ‘helping her’.

One day, they received an invitation to the king’s ball; everybody was invited. Cinderella dressed up beautifully, but her jealous stepsisters destroyed her dress. She was asked to stay home, and given more work by the stepmother, before they left. She ran out into her garden, and started crying. The minions too felt bad for her, and for themselves, as they too wanted to go. The garden became really noisy by the time the Fairy Godmother arrived, as they too started crying.

“Husshh hush, what is all this noise about?” she exclaimed.

Cinderella looked up, and saw a lady dressed beautifully in silver, with a sapphire wand in her hand.

“I am your Fairy Godmother dear. Now wipe your tears, you’re going to the ball.” She said.

She swished her wand, and whoosh, Cinderella now had a very beautiful blue dress, a beautiful sparkling carriage, and two beautiful white horses.

“My dear child, I’ve put a spell on you by which nobody will be able to recognise you. The spells only last till midnight, so don’t get carried away. Be back before midnight. Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, glancing at Cinderella’s feet.

She swished her wand again, and this time a pair of beautiful shoes appeared at her feet.

The Fairy Godmother disappeared, and Cinderella left in her carriage, leaving the minions dumbstruck. They were all staring at where the Fairy Godmother had been standing, and had a sudden realisation: why not serve the Fairy Godmother? The step mother was evil enough, but was no fun. And then they wouldn’t have to laugh at their friend anymore. They started running behind the carriage. At the palace, their attention was diverted by the beautiful garden in the palace.

Cinderella was the star of the night, she danced with the Prince, and even dined with him. Cinderella’s gaze fell at the clock, and she realised she had to run. She hurriedly bid farewell to her Prince, and started running towards the door. This was when suddenly people noticed the increasing number of yellow creatures in the room. Her stepmother, quite sure, Cinderella must also be here, started to hunt for her. The minions could not resist the food, especially the banana pudding, and the fruit salad. They were digging into it, not bothering to listen to the stepmother, who was shouting at them to stop the ‘atrocious behaviour’. They threw vanilla ice cream and chicken stew at her.

In all the confusion, Cinderella realised that one of her shoes was missing. She took of the other shoe, and tried to runaway barefoot. Before the Prince could pick up the shoe, one of the minions grabbed the shoe, and started shouting, “Bellow! Cindapella! Cindapella!”

He ended up in a shoe fight with the minion.

Hearing Cinderella’s name, the stepmother turned around. And right then sounded the twelfth chime of the huge palace clock. All of Cinderella’s grandeur disappeared and she was an ordinary girl again. There was a long uncomfortable silence.

It was finally the stepmother who spoke up, “You!” That was all she could manage.

The Prince finally decided that he will marry Cinderella, because he was madly in love with her. Never mind all that had happened on the ball night. As for the minions, they were to keep the stepmother and the stepsisters away from Cinderella.


Inflammable Substance

Ring of Fire, Blurred Motion                              

Inflammable chemically simply refers to the property of a material as to how easily is ignites, or sustains a combustion reaction.

A few days ago I was quite jobless, and lost in thought, and for some weird unknown reason the term “inflammable substance” came into my mind. Now, I should probably be frank and let you know that I’ve been called a lot of things – talkative, crazy, psycho, and mad – because you see I was too cool for people who hated me. But nevertheless, “inflammable substance” was the craziest thing I was ever called. Funnily enough, it was my chemistry tuition teacher who called me so (quite obvious).

Well, this was back in 2011, when I was in tenth standard, and you really didn’t have to write board exams anymore, and CIA along with MCQ’s were introduced. I always hated tuition, but I pretty much flunked in a Physics test, so I decided to go for one, till I’m quite stable in the subject. So I send my parents to find a decent place for Physics tuition, but what do I end up with? Tuition in Physics, Chemistry and Maths – throughout the week. Thank God, my mom was sensible enough that she didn’t enroll me for Biology, which was on a Sunday – she knew I would go into Badrakaali mode.

Triumphant Institute of Management Education (T.I.M.E) was my destination, and apparently the guy in charge of that branch (HOD I think) had very inconveniently (for me) convinced my parents that Physics was incomplete without Chemistry and Maths. Biriyani is incomplete without raita, I agree, but this was ridiculous.

My classes would get over by 3:30 p.m. and I would get down near the coaching centre by 3:45 p.m., and my session wouldn’t start for another 45 minutes. Unfortunately I did not have the time to go home and then come, because my bus had a very twisted route. So, I was pretty jobless.

This Chemistry teacher had a problem with pretty much everything I did during this free time of mine. I used to sit in the reception, which was near the ‘staff room’- a large part of the room divided into cubicles. Sometimes I would simply try to sleep – there was no use pretending to study, it was way too boring. And at times, I would eat something like chips. But one day, sir came into class and said,” You can’t sit there and eat, so many of us will not have eaten our lunch.”

Obviously, I wouldn’t know who had lunch, and who didn’t – it was not my job. All I know is that I never forbade anybody from eating their lunch. And that I WAS HUNGRY. Probably, he meant himself by ‘so many of us’. I was just happy I didn’t get a stomach ache.

Since then, I started to hunt empty classes, and the room where I used to sit would be free by 4. And I would go to the washroom to freshen up, and transfer all those chocolate wrappers from my pocket to the dustbin. This trip to the washroom was a short, pleasant walk, and I would observe other classrooms on my way. One day, on my way back from the washroom, I paused for a second to examine my shoe, near the class where this guy was teaching. Big mistake.

That day, during the last 15 minutes or something, he said that I was not supposed to wander around during class hours. Pfft. I did not have any class at all, and I pay the fees, so I can use the washroom you know. And he also called me an inflammable substance, which is why I shouldn’t ‘peep’ into classes.

Though, at that time, I didn’t quite realize the complete meaning of what he said, I would rather take it as an unintentional compliment.