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The last time I reviewed a movie was Haider. It was beautiful, exhillirating, moving and I ended up watching it thrice on the big screen, with my excitement multiplying with each viewing. The movie I’m to review now, is Badlapur. It’s a movie I watched twice and the result was the opposite. It’s a good attempt, mind you. But my cynical side and India’s tendency to f$#k things up really worries me.

The last time a good attempt was appreciated by me was when Wanted and Dabangg were good movies. I am saying “were” good movies, because there was a time when both were,for a while, the only movies of their kind – The simplified, dumbed down, “vacation for script” writers, before they became generic. For a while, I actually thought Dabangg was an honest impression of feel-good homely cinema and I was comparing it with Tees Maar Khan, which at that time, had actually been quoted as a 70s Homage movie, which Dabangg actually turned out to be, more of. At least, in my opinion, it did. But that was short-lived, because within a few months, almost every movie wanted to be a wannabe-Dabangg – Jobless Hero who’s a dance and fight expert, “Damsel in Distress” actress with NO character development, Prakash Raaj as the villain in every third movie, Throw in awkward jokes, Hideous music, a Desi rapper with a Toy in his name and a deaf fan-following, and countless somersaults of henchmen in fight sequences and you get the last 5 years of Bollywood. I am saying “The last 5 years” because everything after Ghajini released has been to collect more money than the earlier movie, and the pre-mentioned genre is what the highest list of grossing cinema in Bollywood consists of.

Now, I’m seeing another trend here: Over-serious actor in a revenge flick. We do get a nice watchable movie every now and then, solely for the mood it creates. And at the moment, some of these movies can be counted on our fingertips – Ghajini, Haider, Gangs of Wasseypur and what-not. Now, before this, all such movies were either appreciation-worthy and/or watchable, OR extremely majorly flawed. Badlapur hung right between the center. I’m saying this, because if I watch it for the 3rd time, I won’t even be able to call it average anymore. I’ve waited about 10 days to write about this, because I’ll definitely be throwing in a lot of spoilers. Also, I’m worried because this movie has done fairly well in terms of finance as well as acclaim.

What I can connect morally with the movie:
* Protagonist gets his wife and son dead during the bank heist hostage situation gone awry.
* Antagonist gets captured.
* Protagonist yearns to seek justice.
* Hires detective agent since Indian Police DO exist.
* Shields himself from family and friends.
* Refuses to move on or let go.
* Learns of antagonist’s partner.
* Yearns vengeance.

What I cannot begin to fathom: [Includes the spoilers]
* So Nawazuddin is stalling the investigation, whereas Varun begins his own “brand of vigilante” investigation, which leads him onto Huma, Nawaz’s sex-worker love interest. He tries to sway her his side to get information from Nawaz, and when she tries tricking him, he sleeps with her – again and again. I know the movie tries to glorify the whole “getting back” angle through rage and anger. I’m all for that. Red Lantern Corps FTW! Except you can’t win against the morality of having your love destroyed by jumping into bed to get an upper hand over a low-life thug. Really?
And also, you had threatened her with the Police before? If you knew she was double-crossing you, you could have turned her in, and got her involved in the investigation to threaten the information out of Nawazuddin.
* Nawazuddin admits being the driver to the Police but provides the sketch artist with the description for Ranjeeth, the yesteryear actor. So there’s no additional sentence for withholding information from the Police on purpose, in a bank heist and with extra murder on top?
* You have a job and parents and you leave everything for 15 years? I understand the not getting over his wife. I mean Yami Gautam, I get it [*Heart Heart*]. But apart from your wife and child, you had absolutely no companion to confide in?
* You do the above thing and a social worker finds you? That too with a “Forgiveness Plea” request to let Nawazuddin free and live out his cancerous 1 year!? *Slow Clap*
* Vinay Pathak has married Radhika Apte. Yes, I believe you.
* Vinay was the second bank robber who promised to keep Nawaz’s share. Varun intercepts the promised plan, kills both Vinay and Radhika and keeps the money.
* The Best Part: To create “alibi”, he sleeps with the “divorced” social worker. Yeah right, so I’ll meet my enemies in a public spot with security cameras, dump their bodies while driving their car, knowing well that my fingerprints are all over their place, but I’ll get away with it because the day of the murder I found time to bone the semi-Milf. Right On!
* Nawaz borrows money from Huma, promises to return her, claims to settle scores with Varun and confesses his crime instead. Nice way to create the plot that leads nowhere.
* Varun has the stolen cash [Which actually caused his family’s death] and he doesn’t wish to partake in handing a part of it over to botch the Police investigation and avoid prison. Really? NOW i.e. 3/4ths into the movie, it is all about the money? Or was it an actual attempt at emulating “It’s not about the money, it is about sending a message.” moment?
* Huma meets Varun. Tells him Nawaz died of cancer in prison. “He went to prison and admitted for your murders so that you could get a second chance.” What!?

This is a classic example of how promotions fail: When you sell the wrong idea. You have posters and trailers advertising vengeance. Your trailer contains 90% of the action shown in the movie. Your first act sets itself for a good half hour, creating your intrigue; you have a premise that struggles to reach logical sense and that’s when you throw in Redemption? You bring in this premise and plot points to create some sort of poetic justice for the protagonist, who we have to feel for, through well-placed flashbacks, for 80% of the movie and then you make the antagonist the better man, who still is no-good by the end of the movie?

No, this is not my idea of how a revenge flick should be. And certainly not one with a Redemption angle thrown in. At the end, even the atheist in me prays that not all one-dimensional actors try a grey shaded role for the dark and brooding plot-line, knowing the propensity of Indian cinema to dumb down it’s scripts to appeal to more people. Don’t let this be the benchmark. Also, don’t soil this genre of cinema. It is my humble request.

With regards,
Someone who still yearns for some good out of “Bollywood”.

The above headline is something I say for a majority of 7 and a half hours everyday. Its what got me to have my first job. And it is also one of the many things that keeps me off writing, typing or even scoping within my conscience for a lost epiphany.

As of June 2014, I have been transformed from Khushrav – Struggling Law student, to Khushrav – Jobless Graphic Novel collector. And as of October 28th, I’ve been transformed to finally: Khushrav – Customer Service Executive. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Law started out pretty intriguing and new, but eventually, it grew onto me, showed me loopholes to the extent that I just couldn’t care that I was possibly “throwing away my future”. I set out on a self-imposed break from “education” [To be read as Exams] and decided to while my time away in a Call Center job.

Needless to say these last few months has just been the act of trying to balance it all. Today is my first attempt at balance. For 4 months, all I have done is Facebook – Sleep – Job on my work days and Sports on my offs. Socializing and movie-watching for a major part is on a stand-still, with an array of Cartoons and Sit-Coms yet to watch. Although I finished my 2nd Annual Breaking Bad marathon in January amid my training period. Despite that, I always make it a point to read my Graphic Novels between my calls. And it has sort of become contagious in my workplace ever since people begin recognizing minor characters due to Marvel movies and DC series and that brings in their varied opinions and intriguing conversations.

As for the job, it has its moments. Like when the customers willingly appreciate the fact that I, as an adviser am going to take my time to help them out. Its an exchange of words, so when the balance of communication is equal from both parties, it is largely satisfying. The core reason for why I blog, is because if I talk as much as I type, people punch me, metaphorically, verbally and physically. There’s a special moment when someone acknowledges what you’re speaking, like you’re needed. Also, the cherry on top – When an Englishman discusses AB De Villiers innings against West Indies, and then mentions “But he’s no Sachin Tendulkar.” Ah, *Commence Happy Dance*.

Either way, there are a few posts coming up within the hour.

PS: Just like most times, it took an Insomniac night to get me to type. :/

PPS: And I’ll be going to my shift after aforementioned Insomniac night.

Thank You For Haider.

I have a point to make. See, I love Heavy Metal [First time I’m reading this, really – Honest! :|] and whenever I was asked to mention my favorite Indian bands, I always was in a pickle. Despite knowing the odd Zygnema, Providence and Orion, there was barely anything I could explain about them because not only do I not listen to them more often, but I can’t love them until I can set them apart from their major influences. It is how you differentiate “American” bands and “European” bands, and such a distinction for an “Indian” band is very marginal. Similarly I can talk about the Indian band Avial a heck lot, like my soul depends on it because it strikes a chord within me and I can say that it is more Indian than it is Metal.

Secondly, the same can be said about movies. Unlike the odd South remakes which get swallowed by producers and directors and vomited with extra gloss nowadays, we rarely get good gems. Just recently I saw one and this topic will soon touch on that. Back to movies in general, though; that even the Marvel movies being taken from Comic books, still need a coherent script to adhere to the mass audiences. A lot of the characters and plot twists don’t add up gleefully and nor can they be directly shown on the big screen, page by page from the book or from the character itself. And that’s where the director can add his rendition and make it bordering on fictional and believable. So whether Jane Foster can call her estranged date from Svarthelfeim in it’s ridiculous form from Thor The Dark World or Arnim Zola can be immortalized as an artificial intelligence in the form of a beautiful tribute to the villain in Captain America The Winter Soldier, you can always see the influence of the director in that moment. Similarly, that is how Vishal Bharadwaj treated Hamlet. Not only did he “Indianize” it, [In a way to completely respect the base subject i.e. Hamlet], but he made it believable by the way he created a bunch of characters, placed them in a setting and let the political and personal tensions take care of the plot, even if he tweaked the third act a little.

Thank you, Vishal Bharadwaj.

And just like a playwright, I’ll bring forth to the second act of this Note. It was what the Note actually supposed to be on, but while I was descending the stairs of the theater and was making my way home, I thought of layering the post a bit. See, it needed to be lengthy so I could get a good night’s sleep.

Mahendra Singh Dhoni – Any follower of Cricket can speak for eons on this personality. You can’t criticize Indian cricket without him, nor can you hail it. At the end of the day, despite all other speculations and debates kept aside, He brought you the World Cup. Not just a fighting shot [1996] or a meek surrender [2003], but he actually helped earn it, with the innings in the final that too. As long as he has that distinction, he is a cynic’s nightmare.

Today, Shahid Kapoor attained that position. I saw his earlier movies and yes, fine – Chocolate Boy image in a growing film industry. That crossed his relationship and that was cashed in with Fanaa and Milenge Milenge. Then came Kismat Konnection. Which I watched on the big screen, by the way. Then arrived the safe and profound, traveling back-in-time Vivaah. Another supposed “relationship” with another co-actor. Recently, R …. Rajkumar, JUST so he could fit in with the other Southsters. [Note to self: Cool slang name alert for actors specifically appearing in remakes – Southsters. *Self 5*]

All of that kept aside, Haider is your World Cup. Of course, it last achieved India 28 years to lift the trophy again. OR, another chance at the World Cup won’t arrive until next year. See, that’s the thing with World Cups, if they arrive too often, they lose their sheen in comparisons to earlier recent-memory movies [Just like the IPL lost it’s sheen]. There has to be a considerable time period so you can have something to talk about among friends in a drunken stupor or to your kin during nighttime story sessions [Which, I know, are becoming a dying race of their own]. This, somehow in my mind, brings him at a crossroad. He can either continue being this off-beat, special, one-of-a-kind, getting-into-the-skin-and-teeth-of-the-character role-seeker; OR he can go back to that chocolate boy, playboy, don’t-care-a-damn-about-the-script so I won’t-certainly-give-a-damn-about-you Southster. And lets face it, despite the grandness of the World Cup, India still faces West Indies and Sri Lanka for useless tea sessions and bonding time. Oh, and while they’re at it, they play 6-10 matches among themselves as well.

And lets face it, Nawazuddin acted in Kick. Irfaan Khan was in a blink-and-miss Amazing Spider-Man role as well as the ugly-ass wannabe comedies with Arshad Warsi, also a cameo in ‘Xpose. To me, for the while, possibly until you wish to challenge yourself again, Shahid Kapoor. you’ll always remain Haider.

Thank you, Shahid Kapoor.

PS: You almost made me cry today. The kind of emotion I witness very rarely. The kind I witnessed when I saw The Dark Knight’s Joker and Watchmen’s Rorschach. The kind when watching a person portray an off-beat character with brilliance simply brings this awe-inspiring moment when you just have to punch yourself in the gut that you’re not him.

Warning: The below post contains a whole lot of nostalgia and it is going to be dreadfully long, so pull down your eye-balls if you want a read.

Back in mid-2006, I dodged a bunch of requests to join this supposed “in” thing. It was a big deal at that time. It was firstly, like that fraternity where you need an invite from an established member. It was also this stipulation and condition, where you achieved a sense of machismo, only gained from Clicking “I Accept the following terms and conditions” on computer softwares, by being on a website where you needed to be 18 and above to be a member. So much so, that many parents frowned upon when their children confessed to being on the website under-aged.

The age was of social networking. It was odd at first for me. Firstly, I found personal interactions uncomfortable due to severe first-impression-introvertedness. And that always clashed with my actions to gain attention. I remember, [And I have mentioned this] that I was fond of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies when they first appeared. So much so that I semi-typed in Pirate lingo using “Me” instead of the favored “My”.

I wasn’t the guy most known in my class as well. In fact, being part of 2 schools, I was a different entity for each. An invisible-sitting-quiet-in-the-corner-teacher’s-pet in my first school and an obnoxious-attention-seeking-nosey-prick in my second. Personally, I wasn’t even part of the classes my friends joined [And subsequently became part of a core group], so as to have a collection of phone numbers and/or e-mail addresses to get in touch with. And I really didn’t think that 6 years after shifting from my first school and 3 years from passing off my second, that I would even be remembered.

Orkut, hence, was THE beginning of my Virtual life. Yes, I mentioned the very website in the 4th paragraph itself. Because, when I measure these last 8 years that have whisked by, I can’t fathom where I would be, virtually, had it not been for Orkut. Of course, when I first joined, I never fathomed how addicted to it I’d be, considering it has also been a core reason for my academic failures and losses. But when I see the growth in me, independent from the academic level; when I see how I have matured as regard my typing [Syntax and Vocabulary], psychological [Epiphanies and Rants], and personal [Meeting random people miles away who I rely on], I can definitely weigh the pros to be higher. And I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one.

I joined Orkut because the person who’s invite I accepted happened to be a crush. I grew closer to her through Yahoo Messenger and shyly proposed. And on Orkut, 2 months later, after days and weeks of will-be and won’t-be, I had my first misunderstanding and consequent fight with her. I talked with this friend of ours who had shifted to USA back in 2004 and got in touch with me ON Orkut and I remember I was an ass to him when he visited my colony that summer and he couldn’t help but ask me why I was boiling myself in self-pity. 2 days after I told him what happened, I read his scraps to that girl protecting my honor. Now, at that point, I was still coming to terms with seeking pity for attention and coincidentally 2 of her friends were in touch with me. So she got a lot of flak for her outrage. Although I apologized and we patched things up cordially and everybody mentioned in this paragraph are still friends 8 years on, I cannot forget the lesson in friendship I learned.

Being part of a small limited religious community, it still took a fun-making Parsi community to meet another of my closest friends. So close that we both know of our goings-on for 8 years and need our opinions to get the respective male and female point of view to make better decisions [Which we both ignore]. She is my Goddaughter and she still thinks about the possible prospect that I might be gay. I’m not fond of her that much.

On another community, ironically titled This Isn’t A Community, I met a stranger who, for a better part of 5 years was the person I spoke the most to, virtually. Easily, the person I flirted with the most. And quite possibly, she might be my Robin Scherbatsky. [The lovable Pre-Season 7 Robin, to be precise]

I remember being one of the core group of the Born in ’88 Community from which we branched out and became a rebel group. I was fondly called as Heady there, for my pseudonym was Headbanger 24-7 then. Orkut could possibly be the platform where I documented my prowess and progress as a Heavy Metal devotee. And also, it was long before I embraced my actual last name as part of my profile. In fact, when I finally wrote Khushrav Waghchhipawalla on Facebook, I got a ton of people wondering if I was off mentally.

I remember the discussion groups – The places where you could explore your intellectual and spiritual opinions. A huge chunk of that was the MTV India Community – a place where initially being on-and-off, I slowly grew fond and settled in. It was the actual “virtual school” for me, where I went through all of my schooling and collegiate avatars – The pain-in-the-ass obnoxious wannabe, to the smartass, to the quiet invisible guy in the corner, to the protective chivalrous guy picking up fights against creeps, to the goofy creative content-writing sarcastic persona. An advice from a certain “Webbie” made me quit the Pirate lingo followed a Poetry contest and hence, I type the way I do now. A huge part of the existence and appeal of this very blog rests on that very moment. Certainly, nobody wuld b intrezted if me typd lyk thiz. Despite all of that, I never shy away from admitting that I was indeed “that” person. It is in this aspect that Facebook will always be miles behind. Facebook never protects and encourages opinions of people as Orkut did. Consequently, the growth of being a virtual dot, to part of multiple content-writing creative teams, to a sarcastically intimidating character who could be easy-going and ending up as one of the moderators will be one of the best memories of my virtual life. That and the plethora of friends who I adore and respect even though it is impossible to be in touch with most of them.

The testimonials and the fans section was a really good way to create an outlook of a profile. In personal life you don’t carry anecdotes of what other people think with you. In professional lives, you call them bio-datas and Curriculum Vitae. In the virtual life, the aspect of people explaining your importance as part of their little virtual world, meant more to one than anything. I remember this time a friend of mine wanted me to write a testimonial for him, that would get the attention of his crush. Despite my numerous jokes over a 2 hour phone conversation, he bore through with me and we managed a paragraph he was content with.

The greatest feature though, was the fact that you could see who had visited your profile. And although many-a-times, it didn’t update as quick, it proved to be a great way to meet people as well as knowing what kind of people your virtual space attracted. I made many a friends just by mustering up the courage to say a Hi to my visitors.

I don’t know and I can’t possibly say if I could be the Khushrav I am now, had it not been for you, but through the mistakes and the idiocies, you were the reason for every tiny transformation that I went through.

Through the enmities, the friends I lost touch with, and with every failure in my law academics kept aside,

Thank You for everything, Orkut. Good bye Old Friend.

The Somber Virtual Corner.

There was a line in Batman: Hush. It read “I am not, nor will I ever be, Most people.”

Yes, I took an entirely new paragraph because I want that line, that quote to sink in. It has it’s own identity, if I can so rightly say. Many people try to create their own stamp on the world, something to stand out from, and something that can stay immortal while their own bodies become ashes. The emotions that the line evokes, combined by the bravado of the fact that Batman himself narrates it, manages to set itself apart from the book.

Which brings me to this, Why? Why, the line and Why, the post?

A few days back I was tagged in a post. It read something like “Thank you for tagging me. I belong to xyz, and hence I have to give 5 reasons why it is awesome to be xyz [Followed by nonsensical sentences], and ended with, I now tag blahblahblah [Which included me]. I appreciate the gesture, and I could have been one of the kinds continuing that trend, by way of either A] Listing 5 reasons in my own sarcastic twisted way, or B] Adding the link of the post that I have on the very same topic on this blog.

And then my mind wandered on the stem of it all, the beginning of such a chain post, recently dated back to the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. It became sort of a rage a couple months back. And it was kind of sad. Sad because of the fact that apart from getting people known of a new disease, a syndrome – all it managed to do was get a lot of people wet and cold. I mean, I read somewhere that the terms of the Bucket Challenge was A] Donate Or B] Splash a bucket of cold water and challenge other people to donate on their website and/or keep the trend moving.

When a rumor spreads from one section to another, it is bound to get dumbed down to the point when it gets absolutely ridiculous. So when the bucket challenge [Then made famous by celebrity bandwagon splashing water on themselves] spread from USA to India, it became “I can’t wait for my friend to get tagged, so that I can get tagged as well.” It became a god damn frat party. ALS was used, abused and side-swept to just being the title for the Challenge and teenagers who would probably forget the experience got themselves into their 60 seconds of fame moments.

Now I know, by this point many of you [Readers] would be thinking “Here’s another person crying sour grapes and berating someone else’s fun.” I read about the fact that barely 20% of the donated proceeds went to the actual foundation. I also read and comprehended the ridiculousness of splashing ice water over the body was to make an able bodied human realize what it felt to have that syndrome since “Icy water had a similar effect on the nerve-endings, or what not.” [I didn’t get too into it or maybe my memory faded]. It was until I saw a video of a tearing woman giving people a new challenge, to sit for a breakfast and hold a spoon full of your favorite cereal and try to feed yourselves without the will to do so. Or better yet, to manage to do it and not being able to swallow it, because your brain just can’t seem to command the throat to do so. She was someone who had witnessed and experienced the death of one of her in-laws. And the rest of the world thought that they could create a difference by splashing water, laughing and jumping around without even knowing what the cause was. But it’s all good when you mean to “spread awareness” and “have fun doing it”, Right?


Anyway, the people left out from the very bucket challenge thought “We can do something among ourselves as well.” So they created a different group of their own. Another tagged post message began circulating under the title “Book Bucket Challenge”, where a tagged person would simply write 10 of his or her favorite books, irrespective of reasons for doing so and tagging others to keep the posts alive, because, you know, it ain’t fun if you just keep the post to yourself. However I cannot point out the irony that the post was aimed at supposed readers when they couldn’t even come up with a specific interesting title.


Then, that transcended to “25 Movies that changed my life”. I also saw a “10 reasons why I love being a *Insert random Indian Religion*” which turned out to be nothing but churning up boring facts we actually know, in the sense that repeating them through a status update would make that boring fact any less boring. You. Are. Typing. Stereotypes. Not just that, multiple such posts made my News Feed look like Scoopwhoop and other idiotic stereotype-celebrating pages, only MORE boring.

Now don’t get me wrong. The Book and Movie status updates was actually a good move. We end up adding multiple people on Facebook but the amount of interaction is always minimal. It isn’t the rage like before where you would download multiple messengers and sit idly by waiting to talk with anyone who would come online. Even then, the interaction depended on pop culture, namely movies, music and books. So by virtue of such status updates you could come across wittier and interesting than usual.

But it is simply the fact that Most people were doing it. Despite comprehending the fact, that at one point of time, I did wish I was tagged [During the time when people were discussing books and movies], I soon grew out of such thought. A “lot” about “everything” becomes ridiculous. At the end of the day, I feel relieved I didn’t give in to this tempt. I may be the party-pooper, the wolf who cried sour grapes [Like wolves could actually crave for grapes] or I may be the person who throws buckets of chilled water at noisy morons, and that idea couldn’t be any more far-fetched, unless you know, I’m doing it to spread awareness about a disease.

Then again, I probably won’t be among most of you. I am stuck in a corner and I love that corner. Its the best corner I’ve known.

And I won’t be one of you most people, because Batman says so.

Ever the cynic,

The date is 15th August. I couldn’t sleep. My sleep pattern was spiraling out of control, and instead of laying around like a potato in a heap, I chose to stay awake and get on the Computer. [So from one non-productive habit, I chose something better, but still non-productive; Silly, aren’t I?]

Around 9am, my Mom rushes out. My first thought is, she’s exerting herself on her off-day again, for she can’t, and I quote, “lay around in one spot all day”. I was wrong. Her brother, my uncle had an emergency and was seeking her through phone. She leaves in a frantic hurry. Through the noon as minutes tick by, around afternoon, my Dad leaves in a rush. Brain Hemorrhage is all he uttered. I stayed silent and stayed on the Computer. Dad arrived at night, saying he’s stabilized but still in the Intensive Care and explains that Mom’s going to be staying there, as per ICU guidelines.

Next day arrives, and I get my much desired sleep. Mom arrives in the afternoon. She begins to crib about taxi drivers and other things irking her. I stay on the computer. I think maybe I’ll catch Guardians of the Galaxy who’s timings are destroyed by an unnecessary big-release. My mom packs herself a tiny bag of clothes. She has to stay overnight at the hospital. She says I’ve to take her there in a cab and come home with Dad in the evening when he leaves. I take my movie plans, place it in a box, light a stick of dynamite, close the box and walk away.

Forwarding 4 hours later, we’re in the cab about to reach the hospital. I keep thinking, why can’t I feel any worry or remorse!? My Mom tells me he’s sick and I sip my tea in my lazy jammy avatar. My Dad says Brain Hemorrhage and I chew my lunch. My Mom says I’ve to visit him in the hospital and I think about Guardians of Galaxy, the awesome movie!?

I begin delving to the past. To my behavioral evolution process, where I differentiated my life to priorities. First comes the 5 people I share my roof with, followed by my multiple friends who are separated only by a margin of who stays nearest and then followed by the rest. Is this how I consider myself human? To be so cold-shouldered to those not active in my life that I forget being human? That I ignore general base of emotions?

The drain of thought was desperately being slowed down by the surge of Heavy Metal I was playing in my ears. Always helps make the distance of traveling shorter. I reached the hospital and waited for the hours where we would be allowed to meet. A good half hour or so later, I stand in the room – My uncle surgically “suspended” to breathalyzer and “other medical references I’m unknown of”, my mom standing beside him. I walk toward him. My mom tells him to identify me. He struggles with his thoughts, a good 12 seconds later, he calls me “Darling” [Not in the actual sense]. I joke that’s a general connotation. For a moment, he does utter my name. I grab his hand. My mom shoots a barrage of questions asking him to name his relatives. He finds it difficult to cope with the magnitude of questions. I tell Mom to give it a rest. My mom grabs her mouth. A sudden instinct tells me that my mom’s been worrying about her brother all along. My next instinct to console her was by placing my hand and firmly grabbing her shoulder.

I think to myself, that maybe my boundaries of differentiating people are too thick and psychologically impenetrating. All this while I was thinking that my robotic ambitions toward people who I don’t involve myself with, would someday mask toward the ones I do care and love. Whereas here I stood, quiet and motionless, one hand grabbing a sick and helpless human in the physical form, who is in the Stranded mental category and another hand comforting my mother, who is the reason I exist and hence, make such ridiculous groups and notions.

What was dangerously worrisome before becomes generalized assurance later, that as long as I am the decider of my logic, as long as I guide my feelings and respect toward an individual and as long as I am the one in control of my base of emotions, I’ll be able to carry myself around people of all “groups” without being frowned upon by others, or even myself. Till then though, Human I born as, and Robot I be as.

Oh, and I did watch Guardians of the Galaxy in the next few days. 😛

I am a guy, born and raised in India. I was spoon fed 90’s romantic Hindi cinema whereby the notion of sing-song love-at-first-sight stigmas became the moment of the movie. I went through the uncomfortable teen years and passed the hurdle so to speak. As my taste in movies evolved, it went to Hollywood Rom-Coms in all it’s cheesy glory.

But it’s just not it, I live in a society of evils. I cannot merely whisk away a pretty maiden without being trampled. Nobody sings songs. Nothing happens. So I just stand there, idly by waiting for the train to come. While I do that, I look at you, O stranger, laughing in the group among your friends. Your hand adjusting your curls behind your ear, like an artist working his magic on a palette. [Yeah, I’m going majorly on the metaphor front].

I can’t DO anything, but look. What else can I do? I like pretty and good things. We all do. It’s no more like passing by a music store and drooling at the guitar. [And the metaphor is killed].

I am sorry. I am sorry that my stares makes you uncomfortable, even if in the slightest. I am sorry that due to the act of a few, every little thing that I do, every thought I put in my mind, can be given an ugly name.

I am sorry, I cannot stop looking. Maybe I won’t stop looking. And I’m sorry again. I am human, I was built to love and to feel. I look irrespective of the length of the dress, or the amount of make-up, or lack of it, I find my own variations of beauty. Sometimes I hear that person speak, and the illusion is broken. I’m sorry I can be shallow.

I wish though, that I could program my vision to exclude people or genders. I wish I could be robotic in terms of mapping and controlling every possible outcome and concentrate on the trivial tiny things. I wish I could turn and look away without giving the impression that I find said-staree disgusting. But I cannot. I’m flawed. I’m human, and I yearn that someday the person I stare, looks back and smiles.

Back in August of 2012, I had, through a rant-worthy review, pointed out the redundancies of the How I Met Your Mother story-line and had predicted a sad outcome in case that path was followed. It stretched for a further 2 seasons of unfunny agony, created a high with an interesting and likable first 18 episodes of Season 9 and then killed it all in the finale. Despite what many consider a hallmark to the term “You love only once” or “You have only one soul-mate”; or every other excuse of such terms expressed in the very series, I was not amused. In words of Heath Ledger’s Joker: “Not – One – Bit”. It seemed that the directors and writers had pre-planned the outcome of the show 10 years ago and shot portions of the finale and managed to create a stretched and boring show crawling to it’s end, relying solely on the Much-Anticipated Reveal of the Mother and the very Hype that had garnered through a loyal fan base.

If there are people willing to argue on my disappointment with the finale, I’ll back it up with a solid defense. But then again, this topic is not about how I feel about the finale or the legacy of How I Met Your Mother. This topic is about another similarly once-laughworthy sit-com that is heading down the same somber and mellowed crawling path. Ladies and Gentlemen, today I discuss the apparent future of The Big Bang Theory.

The Big Bang Theory is a tale which originally to begin with, revolved around 2 flatmates and their newly arrived attractive neighbor. Further additions of the story-line managed to infuse 2 workmates, who were friends as well as colleagues of the very flatmates, their respective women and One lame out-of-luck Comic Book vendor. Now, I really can never pin-point the aim of the show. To me, there are 2 kinds of shows – One which have a distinct end, like FRIENDS [Where we knew it was of the apparent destinies of the 6 involved in the group], or How I Met Your Mother [Whose titled was more self-explanatory] or even Dexter [Where we knew a serial killer masquerading as an average can never have a happy ending]; and then there are the ones whose motives just meander on, like 30 Rock or Hannibal or Two And A Half Men. Growing through the seasons Big Bang Theory always seemed teetering off in the very center. While we all were initially spoon-fed the apparent on again – off again notions of love between their two main characters as the basis of the show, it also seemed of their relationship revolving around their self-centered kiddish flatmate [More on the characters later]. The funny thing about the majority of the characters is that they’re a bunch of misfit introverted nerds.

As the years progressed and the episodes rolled in, it became apparent that almost every character involved gathered a story-arc each of his or her own. Just like HIMYM, the review which arrived after it’s 7 seasons, TBBT has also completed 7 whole seasons. And I’m seeing the same irritating pattern once again. As last time, the review shall be written the following way:

* Characters:

1] Leonard Hofstadter & Penny: He’s the most logical and level headed out of the group of intellects. She is the neighbor. Leonard had a lot of issues with his mother, thereby making him uncomfortable around women. His tryst with Penny, created the major premise of the first 4 seasons. [In what I can call, the Wonder Years] Currently, they’re engaged.

2] Howard Wolowitz & Bernadette: He was the sleazebag, the kinds who’ll go way out of line to get his “target” to love him. His huge ego [Whilst flirting], mixed with his body language is only outdone by his tiny size. His bond with Bernadette, initially began patchy but then solidified into Marriage at the end of the 5th season.

3] Rajesh Koothrappali: He’s the most quiet person of the group – So quiet that for the first 2 seasons, he didn’t speak around women, the next 4 seasons he only managed to speak around women when drunk, and then finally he managed to break that jinx at the end of the 6th season. Currently, he’s involved with Emily.

4] Sheldon Cooper & Amy Farah Fowler: He’s the main attraction of the show, as a child prodigy who abhors emotional attachments. He wants his accomplishments and legacy to be purely from his professional field with a complete ignorance for personal desires or fancies. He was set up by Raj and Howard with this similar like-minded person who turned out to be Amy and they’ve been an odd couple since. So odd, that their relationship has taken centerstage since the 4th season [i.e. Introduction of Amy].

* Changes:

Through the course of the show, there have been certain changes. Howard changed into a monogamous character through his stable relationship with Bernadette. Rajesh moulded from the socially awkward person to one with a general form of comfort among and toward each character, gelling with both genders in the group with ease. These above changes were accepted as it was a sign of proper build up and maturity of the characters through the passing episodes. However, there was one area where it slipped up.

When Amy Farah Fowler’s character first appeared in the line-up, she was a She-Sheldon [She-Hulk reference]. She was an exact mirror image in terms of a emotionless tone of voice, sarcastic humor and complete lack of “wanting to gel in the group”. That changed rapidly as she became a Penny fanatic and desperate for attention in a matter of 5 episodes. Granted, that this was just before the very mundane era of the show began; but maybe the mundane era didn’t begin immediately because that character change initially did give rise to some humorous moments.

* The Mundane:

The last 2 seasons have seemed stretched, boring and just like HIMYM, existing simply to cater to an audience. Sit-Coms to me, can sometimes be perceived as fruits – “Season”al, fresh and juicy. Leave them far long in the open and they become stale. Two and a Half Men, How I Met Your Mother went through that. And now, so has Big Bang Theory. What illustrates this boring stretch is the basic structure of each episode.

– The geek references have taken a side-step. Remember the times when they used to do science stuff? Or something that made us think and wish their characters never grow up? Like flying kites? Making killer robots? Arguing about superhero movies? REMEMBER WHEN SHELDON WOULD THROW FACTS AROUND DINNER? Remember they used to have dinners as a collective group?

– Sheldon no longer demeans people based on their intellect. If and when he does, that isn’t insulting to the point that you wished You, as a viewer and human, had been able to come up with that line, and in the end just love him and be envious of him. There was a charm to the way he expressed his superiority, and that’s absent now.

– I’ve lost count at the number of “Penny being drunk or sloppy or both” as the basis of humor-sequences are used. She’s just become a boring character with no traits except for her cleavage thrown at us.

– The desperation to have a romance arc for each character is too stressing. While we understand the arc for Howard, just to keep the heat off Leonard-Penny. And then to add Sheldon-Amy for the humorous quirks and Sheldon’s evolution as a Basic Human. But I don’t get why we should be forced Rajesh to have a relationship, especially since he evolves outside a relationship. It’s like weird relationship – talks when drunk – break up – goes on double dates – break up – manages to talk to women – gets a socially awkward girl – break up. It’s patchy and we cannot label his character together. There’s a reason Joey Tribbiani’s character was never patched permanently with someone and in the context of things, that fit perfectly.

* No Breath-Catching Moments:

Every character used to have their certain moments of awesomeness in the show. Something which would catch on and stay embedded in our memories. These consist of the few below:

– Favorite Howard Moments: Every banter with his mother before his marriage. The Bernadette song in Season 3. The short jokes. The racist jokes.

– Favorite Raj Moments: Every Skype conversation with his parents. Walking out of the room when there were women around. Being the only person made to sit on the floor. However, the best moment was when in Season 1, all friends tried hitting on Sheldon’s twin sister, and Raj made eye contact, looked down, walked through the lobby, took a right and walked out of sight, then walked back in sight on the Announcements’ board, tore a stub for a Social Anxiety experiment and walked away. In fact, that entire episode was the best from Kunal Nayyar. He had amazing sincerity and physical comic timing through that entire run, which can’t be seen anymore.

– Favorite Penny Moments: Being mannish at times like making the cyber thief return Sheldon’s stuff, and the Christmas gift for Sheldon [Which was the highlight of the show to me].

– Favorite Sheldon Moments: Bazinga! My Spot. I’ve got your Kite. Roommate Agreement. Aversion to Howard’s Professional career. BEING A PAIN IN THE ASS IN THE ACTUAL SENSE.

– Favorite Amy Moments: Everything prior to her character change, IMAPRINCESSANDTHISISMYTIARA.

All of these and many more can be best attributed to the fanhood that attracts the show. The very fanhood that has seen it stretch for 2 whole seasons. In those 2 seasons, the best moments can be Howard’s Anniversary song for Bernadette while she’s in Quarantine and 2 Dungeons & Dragons episodes. The finales were never strong points for this series, unlike other shows, but still we’ve seen a lackluster Engagement proposal from Leonard to Penny, and Rajesh managing to speak to women, and just at the end of that finale when the girls realized how agonizing it was listening to Rajesh, it was like the writers mocking us and warning us of the mundane to come.

* Clarification:

As always, my last statements before closing the post. As of the end of the Season, we’ve seen the downfall of Sheldon’s academic career, the humanification of Sheldon and Amy’s relationship progressing to a first kiss, the initiation of Rajesh turning into a dull character and “Kill Me” monologues of Stuart, the out of luck Comic Book vendor.

I’ve loved and admired this show more than I could ever for How I Met Your Mother. I was warned by my snooty Doctor friend that the show could be challenging for me to watch since it had references to academic fields I completely ignore. That made the show an even bigger delight to watch. So, thank you, my Peahen. *Sticks his tongue out to his friend*

At this moment, I can still say and cheer for the show. Although I can’t do with as much confidence and joy as I once embraced. I knew from the beginning that I couldn’t take the show seriously, just like I couldn’t take any character seriously from Game Of Thrones [Knowing most of the favorite and honorable are destined to die]. The Big Bang Theory, though is best appreciated when you root for the funny moments than for the characters, and such emotion-worthy moments just don’t arrive with as much regularity as they did before. And I still don’t seem to assume a proper end for the show. But then again, it can’t get worse than the How I Met Your Mother finale. So, *Fingers Crossed*.

Good luck, TbbT.

This is no new post. This is a poem I had written in the wake of my depressive 3 month regime last year. The timing of the post seemed bad, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The deep-hidden metaphor compiled with the word-play actually made my friends [Who were well-versed with the incident] to advise me against posting it at the time.

Now, irrespective of whether the worst of that incident has passed or not, I still have no qualms posting the very poem. Also, you don’t just turn your back out on your very first poem that doesn’t contain a proper rhyme scheme. So, here we go:

I was blind, delusional and gullible before,
Thinking I could have you as a part of me.
I was weak, frail and vulnerable some more,
To give into your hypnotizing charm.

I did everything to make you integral,
And you ended synonymous with me.
But your tantalizing effect became so fickle,
That I looked up to it as my escape.

You don’t entice me any more,
For I’ve looked through your dark exterior.
You no longer quench my thirst.
You no longer benefit me.
You’re not my respite from pain and sweat.

You don’t entice me any more,
For I can stare deep into your gaze.
I can look through the mirage you create.
I can simply leave you to your icy world.
As you keep luring me through the glass door.

In a moment of weakness if I do pick you up,
I’ll come back to this very moment.
I’ll thrust you down with all of my might,
For you just don’t entice me any more.

What It Takes To Be An Agnostic Parsi In Bombay.

Hi, It’s been a while. I’ve mentioned in my “About” post here, as well as on my Facebook profile intro that people can know me better by way of my posts here; but all I’ve given so far, are metaphorical life instances in a way that people can relate the incident in their lives.

So here’s a more personal detail, that only a restricted few can understand, but furthermore relate to some of the points if not all.

I’m a Parsi, born and raised. Parsis are descendants of immigrants, from the land of Persia, now known as Iran. Of course, this is no history lesson or background check. This post is just to highlight what it means to be a Parsi in a working community, in a metropolitan city or town/suburb/village or in this day and age [India specific].

Name: Now this is something pretty generic. You’d think that a father slash family gets together to think what appropriately would be the name of a newborn. OR remember that idol you always had and you weren’t named so, so you wished your son/daughter to be named? Well, you can’t in this religion. Apparently, depending on the date, day, time that you’re born, you’re supposedly to be named from either or all of 3 syllables/alphabets. And you know that idiotic notion that you ask your elders the reason for such, and you get an even ridiculous excuse for doing so? Well, I never asked my elders what would happen if I choose to name my kid out of my own choice. Guess I can just squash my ambitions of naming my son “Bruce” [Three way deal, with Dickinson, Wayne and Banner] OR better yet, I may precisely time the consummation, hoping that the child isn’t premature in any way. *Fingers Crossed*

Surname: This is again pretty standard. Apparently, it seems that since we were immigrants, most of our identities were remade or modified or Indianized [Just assuming]. I may be wrong. But when I see 70% of the surnames similar, or adhering to the regional suffix “Walla”, I’d say there’s something unimaginative in the way our families or forefathers functioned.

See, in Hindi – Walla means an unknown person called by his menial job. For instance, a tea vendor is called Chai-walla. And hence, you never call someone a Managerwalla – That’s the limitations.

It may also mean “From a region” – like, to be put in a sentence, Yeh insaan *Insert random city name*Walla hai, or Gwaliorwaali Auratein bahut khadoos hoti hai.

So hence, 70% of our surnames are *Look, this is what I’m holding*Walla or *This is where I am from*Walla.

So much so, that here’s a blueprint to 65% conversations I have with strangers.

Me: My name is Khushrav.
Stranger: Khushrav, that’s a unique name. What religion are you?
Me: Parsi.
Stranger: Does your surname end with “Walla”?
Me: Yes, it is Waghchhipawalla.
Stranger: Dude, Why?
Me [Thinking]: Because when I was asked the question by the Almighty Surname Force, as to what would my identity be; I chose the most ridiculous of surnames just so I could piss off people who’d ever try to write, speak or pronounce my name, You Douchebag! Did I ever ask you as to why you have a generic, every-third-person-has-this-name identity?
Me [Saying]: My ancestors were from this remote village in Gujarat called Vaghchhipa. Hence.
Stranger: Oh!
By this time, the conversation becomes boring and you just sip your Pepsi and walk away.

Also, You’re not a Parsi [At least not the 70% Walla surname ones] unless you’ve received 5 different renditions or nick names of your name, surname or both, simply because a retard in school couldn’t pronounce your name in his first 3 attempts.

Birthdays: Yes, plural. Like every other religion, we too have a Calendar. Our own. Every month has a different name and so does every day and all names of those respective days function on a 365 day basis stigma. Hence, every 366th day i.e. every leap year, our birth-date is reduced by a day. Ergo, from our birthday at every leap year, we get wished on 2 days – One per the Parsi birth-date as in, on XYZ year I was born today; and second, as per usual birth certificate, I grow older today. Explaining this to others, is a pain.

Me: My birthday’s today as well.
Friends: How come?
Me: According to Parsi calendar, ………..
*Friends interrupt assuming some boring mythological story*
*Friends change the topic rolling their eyes*
Me [Thinking]: Bastards.

Legacy and Superstitions: Right from the time where we begin to get capable of proper speech and understanding, and we think “Time to know how to live rationally in this world”, begins the very brainwashing and mental programming.

The elder males regale us with tales of their childhood and how we have it easier and are supposedly mentally and physically weaker than them. That they were beaten past their limitations for their indiscretions and non-disciplinary actions and we’re let off with warnings. You escape that torture and a new tale begins.
The elder women take the responsibility of commanding us on what to do and how to base our lives, all if which concludes to how you piss off God. Apart from the doses of what our religion is and how great our God is, and by what reason our religion is supposedly superior and purer in comparison to others; we’re embedded this “Hereditary Habit” chip in our conscience, reprising of a Do’s and Dont’s list for Better Living. All of this list is based on the principle, my forefathers did these and lived for 80 years [At least] and so should you, or else you’ll face God’s wrath. By virtue of this, I’m not supposed to have a haircut or chop my nails after sundown, a Rat Demon will lick my feet in my sleep if I don’t wash them before bed, and plenty of other superstitions based on the family you belong to. In fact, some of the more riveting conversations this generation of friends has is the ridiculousness of their embedded superstitions and how they overcame it.

Cuisine: 1] To any and all of my friends, I dare you to name one of your dish, preferably vegetarian, and I dare you, if that vegetable is preferred in the household, a Parsi household i.e., there’ll be a non-vegetarian rendition of it. You’ll be appalled at the number of weird vegetarian – Chicken/Mutton/Fish/Prawn combos I’ve been exposed to. It’s like going to a Subway with a blindfold on and pointing things out randomly.

2] Parsis hate vegetarians, since majority of them love to gorge on meat. In fact, I ignore my vegetarian friends or friends who are vegetarians on specific days, because, you know, God. A Vegetarian Parsi is one of the biggest outcasts. Like imagine, an already secluded community and a further self-imposed seclusion – The horror. In fact, the moment a Parsi tells me he’s a Vegetarian, I think two things straight away: A] I’m never coming to your home for dinner, and B] We shall always eat outside [That way I can enjoy my “No Food Share” policy in peace].

Hobbies: Common people’s perception about most Parsi males is that they love Automobiles, Alcohol and Freddie Mercury. Freddie Mercury is preferred more out of Parsi pride. In fact, 40% of those who “worship” Freddie Mercury don’t know who Brian May is, and 70% of such think Black Sabbath are satanic, and Metallica is only “Nothing Else Matters”. I am a goofball when it comes to Automobiles and I hate Alcohol, Breezers, and C[M]ocktails altogether. I’m the Secluded Hobbies version of the Vegetarian Parsi. I’m the quiet guy who sits in the corner during parties until someone pities me and engages me in a conversation, until after which it invariably comes down to the Marvel Cinematic Universe timeline and how that person gets overwhelmed by all the facts he is unknown of.

Occasions, Festivities and Ceremonies: I’m a noob in this department as well. But apart from the rather plain and simple wedding receptions [Called “Lagann” and not to be mistaken by the overrated Sports Underdog movie], we have Navjote – an initiation into Zoroastrianism of sorts, 2 New Years [One of which is our God’s birthday] and Jashns [Our equivalent of the Yagnya, where our sages pray for our well-being depending on the occasion, like a new home or anniversaries]. Background over.

Rule 1: Do not attend a Jashn without knowing of the quantity of the Maleedo. [The sweetest and nuttiest sweet dish in my world]

Rule 2: Always ignore the relative who’ll meet you after 4 years on a random occasion and ask you “Recognize me”. You will NOT recognize that person. It’s like the World Cup of unknown-ness.

Rule 3: If you see a girl in at least 4 of the functions you attended during one Wedding -Navjote season [Winters] then DO NOT and I repeat, DO NOT, approach her; she’s probably a far-off relative.

Rule 4: Irrespective of who bitches about the food, eat whatever the hell you want and judge yourself. They’re mostly old and have dying taste buds.

Religious Stigma: Apart from the religion database and various Dos and Don’ts, we’re also taught certain rules as to our interactions with other religions. Our religion forbids the mingling of inter-caste relations, calling it impure and NO, I’m not talking about the script of the Vampire-Werewolf movie called Underworld. I’m talking about a self-induced habit of racism being taught willfully all under the guise of Religious Pride, a.k.a. The Log Kya Kahenge Syndrome. Also, the offspring of such a union is not to be considered a pure Parsi. This leads to, below.

Census: A certain survey depicted there remaining only 20,000 in numbers of my religion in my city. The tag-line suggested us as a dying race. And immediately random people began singling out their respective Parsi friends [I know mine did to me] and began sermons and speeches as to how we’re some last survivors of a Dying Planet. This all sounds cool, but that’s just too much pressure, Dude. We are the Bengal Tigers of Humans in India, except we’re not mounted on some Aristocrat’s wall. Every female friend of mine that I introduce to my parents, if ever; or one who’s pictures are regularly tagged beside mine, immediately spurts my mother’s blood pressure over the roof. If ever in a relationship, then a mental expiry date gets embedded in their membrane. So many parents begin with their dosage of forced melodrama just because the religion thrived within it’s own boundaries.

Stereotypes: Barring a handful of good roles and just good regional theater, the role of the Parsi in Indian cinema is reduced to unfunny and boring cameos just for collective laughter. Newspapers though are more subjective and less imaginative but visual media has literally thwarted the image of the Community greatly considered as one which built the Metropolitan city of Bombay. Last year, a series of advertisements showed some of the people I’ve known [My football opponents] jumping and dancing for free pizza. The last usage of a Parsi in Visual Media is selling items for Flipkart. I thank our stars that Boman Irani made it big in the Film Industry.

Friendships and General People You Meet:
1] You’re not a Parsi unless your friends have called you or mocked you or refer to you as Bawa or Dikra without knowing their connotations and/or meaning.

2] You’re not a Parsi unless some unknown friend has tried guessing your race/religion based on your facial features, body language, choice of cuisine or anything and completely guessed you wrong.

3] You’re not a Parsi until you’ve celebrated almost every other festival in your childhood with all your friends, known of their origins, and yet wonder why our own festivals have nothing unique to celebrate as.

4] You’re not a Parsi unless someone has asked the “What’s this thread hanging out from your back?” question and you retorted in the 70% preferred answer, “Yeh humaare God/Bhagvaan ka hai!”

5] You’re not a Parsi unless someone has been shocked knowing that you can understand Gujarati.

6] You’re not a Parsi, unless you have been mocked or teased for mixing and matching certain soft and strong sounding syllables, or using Gujarati contexts in terms of Hindi and Marathi.

Parsi Pride: Now I know that most general things that my religion is proud of, has been joked and mocked at in this very post, but there are still various areas I feel being happy where I belong. There may be this area of laziness where I believe it’s already a huge burden learning and knowing the happenings of THIS religion, and hence it’d be too exhausting to adopt another [Even if, in a reincarnation].

* I feel proud about the things we do within the community to keep the certain sections together and within sights – The Potlucks, The tiny events, The May Queen Ball and the gamut of Sports Tournaments that happen periodically over a year.

* I’m amazed that my city gets mapped and navigated among us Parsis on the basis of the respective tiny Colony in that area.

* More importantly than not, the fact that being so few of us already remaining, and the growing dissent against inter-caste relations; it does create quite a challenge trying to find that very soul-mate. It may be exhausting for some, but I’d rather reward my patience by laying in wait or trying for the right person.

* I feel happy that none of my religious customs limiting to God, cause any civil hindrance to a region or members of other communities in areas of traffic and environmental wastage.

* And last but not least, I’m proud for the fact that regardless of my beliefs and refusal to accept blind-worship, I’m allowed to not just exist but comfortably keep my beliefs and notions, without being ostracized. And it’s not from the fact that I love who I am, but more from the thought that this is the most comforting version of me – Liberal, Stubborn and Righteous.

Looking forward to making a series based on “Story of my life”.
More posts coming soon.

– Khushrav.