Okay now don’t ask me about the previous three. The fact that I have never mentioned them before on my blog should be a good indication that I won’t be doing so now. At least not for the time being.

But then why talk about No. 4?

The answer to this question is quite simple: To me No. 4 is special. Very special. It represents me. More like, it signifies the real me from within, the only difference being now I wear it on my sleeve. Sorry cross that. My ankle.

Like many other decisions of my life, this one too was taken on an impulse. Yup, pretty much like woke up one morning and the voice from deep down pronounced "It’s time for another". And imprinting a crawling Black Panther on my ankle was my choice from the very beginning. Yes, there were slight deviations – a fantastic tribal frog and the artistic wolf but the voice (from within) was hell-bent on the Panther.

Click here to continue reading ‘My Tattoo No. 4′

For many of yous (and I am certain on this) Sundays are mostly about sleeping in till late. It’s mostly seen as the “recuperating” day of the week – un-winding from office stress, Biwi’s buk-buk, boyfriend’s chuk-chuk or an extremely active Saturday night. But unfortunately, the same lutful pleasure isn’t a part of my weekly planner and this has been case for the last 3 years or so.

And the ones responsible for this outmost cruelty are – Hitler No. 2 and my dogs. Here the name Hitler has been lovingly attributed to my dearest mummy and No. 2 because the leading position rightly has been handed on to my brother. To make matters even worse, I have two more of the same kind in my life (Now stop grinning you impolite fools, sensitivity is what is needed here).

As for the dogs, well they are the reason behind Hitler No. 2’s “Sunday Sunrise Torture Camp” for yours truly. According to mommy darling, Sunday is the only day of the week where I am at home in morning (yes, this doomed soul works on Saturdays as well) and since I waste my Saturday evenings over indulging in Bollywood movies, theater, friends, parties…you get the point– this time is allocated for the doggies.

Click here to continue reading ‘Hitler, Doggies And Me.’

Love knows no boundaries.