5 Qualities That Should Be Allowed On Your CV

The time of the year when you update your CVs have arrived. So here are some qualities which you have brushed every vacation but which will never be allowed to be entered on your CV. (Spoof and Humor

  1. . I am Nice

    Crushes are like “leather jackets”. Everyone has it, be it from “Pallika Bazar” or Zara it doesn’t matter.

    2 laws are always constant.

    • Energy can neither be created nor destroyed but can be transformed from one form to the other. ( Avogadro)
    • Crushes will reject you(includes friendzoning) by saying, “You are such a nice person” (Heart Broken Avagadro).


    So, if you are ugly and still single. You must be “a nice” person.



  2. Never at Fault

    People say they break up mutual. The one getting dumped has to listen to the infamous line, “It’s not you, it’s me”.

    So this accreditation should be allowed for people who have earned it through beautiful disparity.

    “A faultless guy is an asset for a company”

    -Actor Barun

    Pros – If the company makes a faulty product which explodes. The customers would respond, “Its not you, its me who is doing it wrong”. Crisis communication solved, don’t have to pay those PRs.


    Mujhe Bhagwan Ne Bheja Hai

  3. . Rolling

    In the rapid age of automation we are getting mechanized everywhere. The only art that saves humankind is the art of rolling passed down through generations.

    “If I had to choose between a bulky-curled-whey protein-cum-steroid lover-gym freak and a receding hairline black suited corporate sold out with student loans in bank, I would always prefer a skinny guy who can roll good joints”.

    -Anonymous Girl Confessions of Amsterdam

    Pros – A good roller would keep everyone happy(literally) in the immediate environment of the company which checks the internal communication required in a company.


  4. Micro Management 

If you are the guy who buys the disposal glasses, runs to the wine shop because it’s going to be 10 PM (for Gujarat and Bihar – read milk shops) and cooks dinner getting high. You are already doing better than a diploma degree in skill development from IIP(A)M.


5. Multi-tasking

Not everyone can upload snaps on Snapchat, stories for Instagram, memes for Facebook and extra filtered photo on Instagram just to prove that you have a life. It takes real effort, wifi and Jio simcards (sim1 only).

Pros – In a world of convergence a multi-tasker would innovate new ideas like why doesn’t the Steering wheel of cars have cameras to Snapchat roads while a Punjabi song is getting played.



NOTE – The post doesn’t facilitate smoking. The scoops are intended only for humor. Cheers.



Fear of Dogs

It’s 4 in the morning and I am brushing my teeth. Not because morning has arrived but my insomnia has ended.

A normal sleepless night had gone by. A Eddie Vedder song, Society played through the silent musings the night offered. My light was on though. A mere cheap bulb cannot contain the darkness that lies outside my comfortable room. The song ended; the cravings spurred. When the habit kicks, you stop enjoying things without the chemical stick. It becomes your crutch. The only hazard I have faced. They say there is more to follow. I have to go out now. The only trouble is the big hybrid dogs that guard the society of the residency. The happy people are asleep. My cyno-phobic heart struggles. I dared outside concurrently strolling aside a brave guy who wore an ID to work. He is allowed to walk this time because he is an unskilled labour and a cab awaits for him. The tea stall is nearby the road. I bought the sweet hot tea and the cheap stick. My fag reached the highway and vanished. The life changing moment I had wanted has not arrived as of yet. All I needed was to reach my lowest potential and strive towards resurgence. I don’t know how lower I need to go. I guess I have to make more holes in my belt. I am buying the cheapest stick these days.

Capitalism allows you to have the cheapest and the best. There is no lowest. It allowed me to enjoy the poison and the sweet tea.  The only commodity it fails to enjoy is Love, an optimism to end this tiredness. The greatest ambition. Once it takeovers love, it will be launched in series, Love 7 Love 8s and differently same versions would follow. At this moment, we are safe. We can pursue. We can wait.

My smoke is about to end and the dirty part of tea gulped. I have to go back to my room. There is sadness when things end even if it is happy loneliness or a cup of tea. I think this useless morning contemplation won’t change anything. I will still be the same hypocrite with a low moral code for other people. I will still fail to pursue my greatest ambition. I will still walk with my head low.

But I don’t fear the night dogs like before.


A Fat Life, A Thin Death 

I used my eyebrows to greet him. That was the proximity of our relationship. The guy, who weighed a lot. He was not that important to analyze even. He sat in the pharmacy and went back home. This to and fro motion defined his life. He was alone and he ate. We all stereotyped him. Maybe he deserved it for his lack of attempts to get fit and be valid to the world. I was fascinated with him always. Does his kind get true love? Does his kind feel? We had a professional relation of conduct. I used to buy medicine from his shop whenever I visited my paternal home. My grandmother was a patient of stretched urban existence and hence needed drugs.

Stretched Urban Existence The average age of mortality increase, coupled with the lack of any valid purpose fostered with Dementia and other ailments. Delaying your property investments.

I had currency and a scribbled page by an educated human (prescription) on my hands every time I met him. The currency wasted on an exiguous tablet which won’t matter after it is diluted in the stomach. The eye brow courtesy stood because this guy was related to us. Their family shared the same neighborhood with my paternal side for ages and he was the guy I connected the least. He was unimportant, unfunny and unexplored. He was like the tablet inundated. The guy died. Strangely at a faraway place from our paternal home. The epicenter of the country. The adults with bad handwriting could not save him. They could not play god with weight I guess. In short the guy had died from fat disease.

Why is this slob important enough to be featured in a story? Probably he isn’t. No one ever will be. Not even the great doctors or the popular kid on the block. Not even Neil Armstrong. Not even her. On a cosmic level you don’t matter, someone had told me. I had visited his cremation place and the first visuals I saw was a dead meat wrapped under a white sheet. (I went because I thought an empty funeral would have been devastating. My self-pity turned into guilt eventually.) Until then and always I valued him as mere flesh. Mere fat to be precise. I saw the wife and she was in a ventilation of mere existence without the monetary ICU expense. Just plain breathing and pain. She struggled though she carried the ritual; presumably done by the son. In his case there was lack of. The sad doctor, evidently the fat guy’s sister wept. Probably after the failed operation the sister looked into the mirror and said, “Sorry we couldn’t save him” to herself. She had been smitten by Karma for this poor last line every doctor with an unsuccessful attempt says. They have no value in a cremation ground, I have learnt.

The wife changed my perspective. He mattered to her. He mattered to a lot of people. A strange irony of life is some people matter only in cremation ground. That day a pharmacy salesman mattered over a doctor, history had been witnessed. The atmosphere of popular empathy was unexpected. This mediocre guy too had what many people never get. He had a family; love and was loved. He mattered. He had everything. The pre requisites for a happy death? Probably he even sang in the bathroom shower. In the last rites he had to be carried in the raft and there was a short of hand; he required about 10 people to carry.

I offered my malnourished hand to carry him. For the first time apart from currency and eyebrows I had offered my hand and had the greatest of guilt.

He didn’t weigh much…

Many Like YOU


Narrator 1: Bad Cop

Results out. The presentation ceremony follows. The excellence demonstrated much publicized and hyped. The media is here. They don’t want you just like Her. They want your best friend.  (Trust the voice. I have distanced both the narrators from me)

Results matter. It requires a lot of consistency to do well; the pressure is immense. When your Mom’s second cousin  came to visit before the traditional 1st English exam to gift a Parker Pen you understood. Now it is too late. This reading is not for the success stories of the exam. It is for those results equivalent to a ½ kg of ‘Mithai’ Party, a big 2 litre Coca Cola bottle and “Don’t worry. Life doesn’t end here. Be better in whatever you study next. At least you are no addict” -a drunk pep talk from the father (kind of students). Your friends thanked their teachers and family on social platforms while you lament and contemplate about bunked classes. Your reputation doesn’t threaten the school nor does it make them proud. You don’t even make it to the statistics. Your ugly passport size photo is nowhere in the Hoardings. There are many like YOU.

Threat: The literal failure who prohibits the school to flash their 100% pass record.

Be afraid and purchase the greatest product in the commodification of Education or the utopian ideology of pure studies. The binary has been born. One requires huge bulk of money; the latter needs a lot of hard work and extremist ways.

Commodification of Education: Lame instances include brokering for other students for an added discount.

You are in dilemma. This creates a denial from the reality. Some say they were not made for “science or commerce”. Some say they would drop out. Some say “life is shit”. Some even avoid going to the school felicitation ceremony; they are too tired to clap anymore. Too loaded are their files and folders with participation certificates. They are too bored of listening to “I told you sos” from teachers whose Internet History revolves around Jobs Searches for higher mobility.

The crisis will only increase as you encounter the results of entrances and further college rejections. The moment of truth comes when you have to buy your degree from an Institution or settle at a less reputed public college where people click selfies with cheap androids. You can use your Dad Money to buy your seat somewhere outside and feel secure. But then those childhood dreams about being a doctor, a bureaucrat, a pilot ends. You will be confused. There are many like YOU.

Different instances will follow course, all much alike. You will feel the carpediem jingo and follow your heart cliche – You would lose hope – You would buy your way to a degree – You would drop out. Decisions centered on an ugly truth – “You are not good enough”. What follows in a 3-4 year timeline is the same recurred events with further acquired habits. Why do they call it timeline when it is clearly a circle? The choice you made as an escapist and the black past crawls back again. This time the line is thin and less doors to knock. You convinced your parents again. Emotional fools understand. The hardest part is to convince you. Crap Diem it is, they never say. Crap Diem, it always will be. There are many like YOU………

Narrator2: Good Cop

So what is left for you then? The escapist mediocrity or a salvation. May be neither. So what’s next? Where to look?

I don’t know the solution. The voice has something relevant to tell.  Never base your decisions on past experiences. The future may be different. The tag of mediocre or prolific is irrelevant in terms of future. If someone makes you feel – you are not good enough – they are probably right. They point out your past in their narrow judgement by following the same mistake. They consider the past. The future is always different.

You can appear for CAT and clear the MBA, get a good job and buy a sedan.  There is always the  UPSC and the train to Delhi. If you dare enough. Go for it and bring a badddass honor to your family. Learn a foreign language. If you are skinny/fat and look average, you can even do stand up sketches. The ocean is ahead of you. The tide will get low eventually. Till now it had been a cheap public bus ride for you. On a bird eye view, passport sized celebrities are common these days. Success density has reduced exclusivity.  It is the time to make the assessment which will give you the highest freedom out of all the choices bestowed.  If all fails, maintain a healthy social media appeal. People will dig your life. One little baby step every second. There are many like US.

But for now, go clap for your best friend.




The Greatest Love Story That Never Happened


This is a love story about two people. Girl and Boy. Seems clichéd right? The writer (me) knows roughly else. A love paradigm seems thematic to explore. A real life story. Ah, JFK it’s not. When on earth you read “real life” you appear to yield it seriously. Isn’t it? Boy considered himself a realist (was not). He feared rejection to the core and fixated to a conclusion that in every relationship, arise a saturation point, “it all ends brutally” he says. Hence, a cynic. Girl considered herself an optimist. She had this utopia to fall in love and live attached forever. Happily ever after is relative here. She dreaded decisions and soughs surety. Girl believed spontaneity to be a disease which could limit real destiny. She feared the word casual. The story focuses further on the boy. The girl has been stereotyped because the canon allows.

April 3rd has eternally been the greatest day in Boy’s life. He got lucky every stint the calendar said April 3rd. His father gifted Boy, the first ever bike on April 3rd. The first kiss, first girlfriend coincided on the same date. The 3rd of April. Is he a forlorn romantic? (Overall inaction precedes romanticism). Boy was to attend a birthday party of this friend on the 3rd. He fashioned excited and a bit obstinate to nick some random girl in the ex-girl friend’s birthday party (supposed to be a big gig). The ex relocated rather well (they always do) fastened with a buffy boyfriend fostered whey protein and Iron Pumping. By and large she didn’t care. Maybe she invited Boy to prove a point of newly found bliss after her initial meltdown. He didn’t demur but felt motivated to meet some random stranger; in that came the 3rd of April. (The Urban Love Junkie Syndrome- ULJS)

Urban Love Junkie Syndrome – People go to a party. Single out individual with the shot to get some exploits. The social order hitherto created mass culture. No one knows who set the norms. Take for instance; you book an apartment the broker tries to grab big commission from your pocket.  Since you suffered losses, you drive vengeance to the universe. In today’s world after every transaction (affair) you become this broker.

April 3rd. The party was monotonous; corresponds to other chilled out shenanigans. a 3 point party. It starts with beer, hard booze through the smokes and wind-up people amidst the ones lapsed out. Then there are those couples continued their romance plug-ins in the corners of every house party. To Boy, the couples were wretched creatures in all parties, classes, markets, in all environments ever so recurring. They get engrossed with themselves to elude the world in their mediocrity. (He undermined that in reality he too acted same periodic, not in the conventional way) In his delusion, he was content; never acted like them -too afraid to be alone as they assured each other about eternity, invalid in this cosmic realm of uncertainty. The boy reared in the energetic mob and hit the booze button.

Energetic Mob – Anyone apart from the couples and the faint outs ambitioned to have a good time.

The party scene. A fat sophisticated guy strained to be funny and intellectual. In other news, a dictator, played the tracks and possessed the aux chord with authority and hope? He identified people are less critical on a guy who played good music. The power, the aux chord gives is infinite in current scheme of human appeasement. One and all strived to be different. People danced in passion, checked out every other and hoped someone clutches their attention and happily living ever after was to come. This existential loneliness would end in their lives and a happy Instagram feed about breakfast bakery exploits (selfies) to follow. Us, folks in the formative years of our reality hunt for a soul mate expected akin to a spouse. (The stomach belly and the jute bag) Your ancestors must be so proud. Boy found those people trivial and sad. Boy strived for extraordinary.

Girl was in the couch, one weirdo tried to impose his enlighten plagiarisms on her. The guy believed superiority act would help his cause. He didn’t notice sheer ugliness and the inability to hold liquor. The guy forced her to dance and Girl refused blatantly. The wannabe Shashi Tharoor absconded.  Boy kept tabs in the drama, found his object for the night and calmly approached Girl. He looked confident and casual. Not naïve and stupid. All it needed was to listen and the whole thing works out by the end of the night. The drinks, the lights, and the ambiance do the talk in the dusky environment. You friend are not worth a bottle. Boy winked at Girl and asked, “You bored?” Girl maintained her previous stationary position. She replied “Well politics and economics seem boring when drunk or maybe it comes to the person involved” Boy asked, “What’s interesting then?” “Does it matter?” the girl slammed back, headed off to the front room. If I were Boy I would have find my way out of the revelry with “rejected” stamped in my forehead. He had his way. Boy stood firm in the couch and waited. He smoked and made a new couch friend.
Couch friend – A person you get acquainted with in a pub or a party. The person shares a common bond of joints and fire. A common appreciation for the women who accompany you and the occasional (cross-friend) flirt.
The party had gone into the 4th quarter. Girl came back with two fresh glasses of gin and a grin. She sat near him (Boy). Thus, begin the phase of their conversation and world history remained unaltered.

Boy and Girl hit up instantly due to their particularities in music and importantly classic rock. Any human being who prefers Bee Gees over Kanya West needs attention and loving. The conversations grew intense and their equivalent hate towards the world helped. The greatest connect for any modern day coupling is no longer what they like. It’s what you despise collectively. Their political bashing of the pseudo politicians of the college, the dumb people on Facebook, the superficial contemporary music, people who ride the Royal Enfield(tight jeans and no socks) and the sudden burst noise it makes crossing over some girl in the streets. Boy never met anyone who shared his common hatred. A strange development formed as a result. He liked her; nonetheless mind prompted this was just a momentary forever. The mind always remembers what the heart tends to skip. It’s like when you skip copy a file in your hard drive but you get the error message. Your torrented game never gets installed. Girl had found Boy weird. At the same time a bit CASUAL. (You must be thinking why I have highlighted CASUAL. Sense the hypocrisy my reader).

Where is the climax? What is the point? The climax befell when he discovered she was the enantiomorph of his ideology.

Enantiomorph – Lateral inversion. The girl had a varied outlook whilst loving. She never had a lover and saved herself for the one she would end up forever. This reflected his views completely reverse and the resulting refraction controlled major reversal in the aftermath.

Boy was astounded to meet someone so fun and chastised uniformly. (He imagined a white background with the female form of humans wear pure white dresses. The place was called virgin-land. Her being a resident of that place) He felt sudden urge roughly stir him. You are high, you end up too straight. He told her about his exploits and gloomy take on the entire impression of loving. Both argued and paused. As they queried (the clash of perspective thundered) and in that they doubted one self. Boy regretted this entire evening, their conversation and a sudden helplessness elapsed. The first instant someone had taken hostage of his polluted mind which manipulated hundreds. He kept his gaze towards her and glared. Although I am the Omniscient narrator, I have no clue what Girl comprehended. Probably she planned to go the first room and avoid the Guy. Maybe she sat there out of courtesy or some vested interest. The scene that followed helps cognise.  She moved forward and kisses Boy. (Then they had sex together and became engineers. Oh sorry this is not a typical story written by a hack who worked at a MNC and now sells junk to masses) The guy was dazed. The happy shocked. The April 3rd enchantments finally worked. They (Boy and Girl) came out of the chaos (party) to his final destination. (Final, the word is very inconclusive)

Its early morning. Boy is awake. Near him under the sheets was Girl. She….. Wait the guy explains better in 1st person narrative.
“What is wrong with me? Why am I smiling as if she would get up and kiss me good morning? Not the French kiss just the simple kiss they do when one goes out for work while the other stays home bound. It was her first time and now she falls in love with me I guess”. He had a suppressed giggle trailed.  “Why this smile? She makes me feel I am perfect for her and some douchbag in the future is going to hurt her real bad. Is it my responsibility to save her? Why am I even talking? Ah let me make her some breakfast. It’s okay to be lame for a single day. I promise I will quit the next day. Her and smoking. Just the weekend.  Is she the last women? I mean the forever? Fuck! Why do I think even? Where is the mind support?”. He pondered over his new thoughts which streamed out of his denial subconscious, thread by thread white and sticky. He considered it was just Casual but the blood stains in the sheets encouraged him more.

Girl woke up with a tray full of breakfast perks Boy had prepared. She came out of her sheets jaded and changed hastily. It was stillness and only heartbeats. The silence eventually yields every one of us because we begin it wrong. The inception and the end points differ so much that questions “how did you ever survived for long?” After the sex and the high loses spark we get bored, start to entertain personal humiliations and mistakes. We find excitement in our quarrels and like every other people who claim loving on a daily basis. We join their crowd. The fate of your illusion rippled into space dust.

Boy finally succumbed to lose his touch and blabbed how unusual she made him feel. Girl smiled as she ate the toast and listened politely.  She finally spoke, “Listen I have an afternoon class, It was great last night. Thank You.” Boy giggled identical like the aforementioned weirdos and hugged her. He said, “No. Thank you dear” Girl stood straight and softly in a half pitched replies “Hey don’t make a deal out of it? I have to go now. Getting late. It was nice. I will call you” she kissed him in his cheek. The kind of kiss that addressed a surety about casualty. She never asked his number. Girl walked straight and gently closed the door to continue the silence that prevailed. The only change was the light that entered in that split of a second when the door opened. The sunlight disappeared. It was room darkness again.


What they both feared happened.

I Am The Hyphen

I am a lazy idealist. I have not always been one. Opinions are not absolute science. There are flaws and logic behind them. Not as awesome for a person who differs with you. But there are people who don’t have an opinion. The people who read the pros-cons and believes in the hyphen. We suffer a lot. We avoid the public bashing. We avoid this bullying. Hence we become this lazy idealist.

The current order in the world has been “Either you are with us or you are not”. What if I am with no one. None of you can guarantee. I just want to know the truth and cure this insomnia. The truth which they feed us and the real truth has a fiscal deficit of 100%. This debt creates this insomnia. Every night I sleep clear but the next morning ridicules and clouds my yesterday. Thus, I have taken my refuge to music and readings. These are my past times; they don’t change my life though. I fear people who read an opinion or some “isms” and they get hulk over in their utopia. They try to break the order and establish a new order which just piles up  more human dirt. I have finally learnt to use a mask to protect me from the dirt because whatever order you may establish, the dirt is the same.

People like us are also called mediocre. I take that as a compliment as we are not an extremist. We don’t strive for great nor the ungreat. Sorry I don’t know the counterpart of great. We don’t make it to the news; agendas are not made for us because us mediocre don’t even vote.  We are not even counted in their targets. What I like is that I am not confined. I can amazed the world or carry this jute bag to the market and buy some fish for lunch. I have realized something which gives me such contentment even my first kiss, my first blunt, my first anything couldn’t. I AM THE HYPHEN.



In the ‘Srimad Bhagavatam’ it has been said, advancement in the modern age transcends into material progression and not spiritual development. We have evolved a lot substantially, we still lack to see the basic fundamentals and the simple truth.  A guy hits the gym every day to boast his physical body but does he read or converse to enhance his mental self. The question is, why have we become so materialistic? The answer is not direct and unequivocal. It can be account to the simple fact that materials have no expectations. A bachelor works all day in the office returns home to “Netflix and Chill” and finds solace. The best thing about materials is they are never jealous. You love your laptop which has an i5 Processor but that doesn’t mean you can’t cheat with another higher configured device. What’s cheating when everything is a phase? Materials are not like Scorpios, they don’t ask you 10 questions just for reassurances. You have fun with them and you keep them aside. Charge them with your electricity(love) and they are good to go. The best is they come with a warranty unlike human beings. You connect socially better through the medium as you have ample time to communicate at your own pace. Yes, The Introverted people can also find common ground here. There are times when we skip big “get togethers” just to lie down in our bed cozy and comfortably with our gadgets. Technological peace is the closest enlightenment we get in this moribund life.


There is no bigger picture; it is human to be materialistic. I have not seen eternal bliss; the glow on their faces as they smiled out from a shopping mall with hands full of bags has been the closest. No matter how pathetic life may seem to be, we spend the most amount of time with a Laptop and the phone than with real entities. I am not ashamed to replace them when I save enough for the new model. When Love ends the heart pains, when your iphone breaks there is always accidental damage warranty. However, always respect the motherboard.



The war has begun

Shut all windows and doors.

No nuclear or oil agendas

The plain human supremacy

For this trivial world.

As the migrant child floats

Without a documentation

“Kiyiya Vuran Insan Lik”

Inside me, this empathy

But a sad hypocrisy.

A migrant is no human, and

Slaves needs no religion.

With the modern currency

Or the loaded trigger;

It can be bought.

The war had already begun

When dogs became our best friends.

“Kiyiya Vuran Insan Lik” – Humanity Washed Ashore

Cartoon by KhalidAlbaih


The day was Saraswati Puja, the neo Valentine Celebrations of the State. After a long day of festivities, fun and frolic we return back to our home. The first thing we do is check the ‘News Channels’ coverage of the entire day of events. Mostly we check out the “Dhunia Suali Protijugita”, (Pretty Girls Competition) a jury of local celebrity are made to judge. So what is this competition all about? It is a show where the cameras are rotated to the beautiful girls and their jewelry. When women objectify women, where we all seem to take delight in it and it is accepted throughout the state. The news channel covers not only the popular institutional setups of the city but throughout the entire region. Such is the range. It is acceptable as the girls sport traditional attire and the utopia of the Goddess is achieved. However, begins the inception of a bigger plot. This gives the goons of the media the power that they are allowed to shoot the privacy of people. Women have always been portrayed as either a Goddess or a Witch. So just another day in the city the goons prepare for a show to show us the flipped side. “Women in shorts have lost their culture” and with a great analogy to the monkeys.

How can we translate that headline?

How can we translate that headline?

The real problem is the breach of privacy which we have helped them to establish. If they can make a story out of a good dress brought from an ‘Auntys Store’ or ‘Silkalay’, coupled with good hair day (courtesy parlor) than expect them to make a story out of your casual attire. You go out to buy vegetables and the next thing you do is make headlines. Bamm!!

Spiderman vs Heman

Spiderman vs Heman

With regards to the great quality of Journalism which we are bestowed along with the moral policing, those goons should look for answers in their own home. To those people who take delight in such stories, get a life or take your wife out for dinner and assuming your pseudo traditional state of mind, I suggest “Khorika” or “Paradise”. There are better things to do, even for a lowlife.

7 Different People You Encounter on a Train Journey

We have the largest network of Railways in the world but this is not what it looks like. The ticket situation is so bad that even Daft Punk are not Lucky enough to get one. But instead of being a cry-baby lets us re visit the train journey.

PS- Do share if you ever encountered one of them punks.


The annoying retired uncle is the ultimate fun spoiler but a firm believer of the system. (Anyone who gets a reservation believes in the system). He begins by having dinner at 8 and announces good night by 10. If you had plans for a late night card game or even the ginger , throw the idea out on the dirty tracks.(Well not literally as you can’t open them in the Rajdhanis). The worst part (if you are on the middle berth) is the Retired Guy getting up at 5 and asking you to put down your bedding because he is finding it difficult to do ‘Anulom Bhilom’ pranayam. The next thing we hear is a Patanjali Express coming..!!!


ref - Denethor LOTR Dialogue

ref – Denethor LOTR Dialogue


Since Railways made the rule about forbidding the use of Curtains on 3 Tier, the hungry infants and the Lactating Blessed Moms are finding it very difficult. The babies keep crying to support their campaign against the railways  for a curtain maybe. But the best part is no TOILET issue. What a win.



This cannot be a coincidence about beautiful girls and the upper berth connection. They usually hive on the upper berth, eat, do some Lappy’ing and would use the toilet once making the entire berth  known while she ramp walks to the toilet. Much like in the Cannes Festival.

Turn off – I just imagined Aishwarya Rai with Abhishek Bachchan in Cannes.



This guy would spy on to every possible seat available in the compartment. They wear an invisibility cloak of friendliness to patronize people and try to stay out of sight from the TT as compared to the RAC guy who hates his berth sharing partner and bribes the TT to get a seat before the opponent does. Let us begin the Train Games.



The most nervous person will always be a mother travelling with her kids going to her husband’s place. She becomes dubious of everyone and pitches that ‘Mother India’ looks if anybody tries to talk with her kids. She stays whole night awake and keeps an Eagle eye on every passerby. The only positive thing is that your luggage is safe (if you travel in the same compartment).

Here is what they say when you give the extra eclairs to a little kid with a weirdo smile.

So much for a Thank You Uncle. 😦



(i) Well, if you are travelling in a normal sleeper get ready for some real market action. From Chinese Testers to Handicams they can sell you anything(and he is not an MBA from IIPM) and we are compelled to buy stuffs which we would never use in our life. For example the set of Japanese fans you thought would be useful when there will no electricity.

(ii) For people travelling by AC 3/2 tier they don’t encounter such vendors but have to face the lazy workers who serve stale food at an extremely slow pace and demand tips as if it is their birth right.



This guy would lament about the pathetic condition of Railways and would mock the entire system. He would give reasons for travelling in Train as he has missed his flight or the tickets were not available. In reality, he could not afford the exorbitant price of the Airlines and preferred the Last Resort over The Quality Resort. TYPICAL INDIAN. CHEAP YET CLASSY.

And we are like


NOTE – A great man once said, “God cannot be everywhere and so he made Indian Railways.