During the last few months of my insignificant absence, I finished a semester, planned a surprise trip to India, executed it amazingly well, got engaged to one wonderful boy and travelled with a kid for more than 36 hours.
Okay, you might want to go back and read the part where I tuck a hair behind my ear like its no big deal. Yuss guys I am growing up, getting married and what not. I want to cry a few joyous tears for myself.
My wudpi (also known as fiancé in illiterate countries) has read this blog and is suitably baffled at my “humor” and I’m sure is also secretly smug of my “popularity” here. I dream.
I had a divine opportunity to read 3 of the worst books ever published on Earth. Means they’re worst of worsest of worse. (I have an indigenous talent of finding all worst things.) People demand so much from bloggers- like they have paid to read my piece of art- they troll and leave threatening comments if you write crappy blogposts. I was once told that my blog needs to have emotional, sentimental, and romantic posts. It’s a wonder the authors of these books are alive yet.
And the most annoying thing is that I found these books in the bookshelf my room, at home. WEEP.
I had dreamt long and far of the day when I would subject my parents to my new found culinary interest. I decided to make mango soufflé for father. I was casually mentioning that I needed to get gelatin and heavy cream for the same.
Father: gelatin kuchi (stick)?? I don’t want to eat anything with gelatin kuchi in fact I don’t want to eat anything you cook go away you mad daughter.
I took me some amount of Internet browsing to understand that.
There were lots of such interesting stories, but these days my memory is degrading. So badly that I want to cry.
Any Pankajakasturi type thingies you can suggest for my memory, dear reader?
There's a bit of Jalsa in Jack 