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How I spent Women's Day this year

Women’s Day on March 8 is a special day in our home. I, the man of the house, wearer of the pants, the seat of masculine power, have a day off from work to celebrate the day. My wife does not. There is some friction as a consequence. This year, 2026, the year which future historians will refer to as the year when it became unmistakably clear that it was too late for humanity, March 8 fell on a Sunday. So I am up early on Monday, on my compensatory day off to celebrate Women’s Day, time stretching before me like an open road through farm fields under a blue sky. I want to do justice to the occasion, and what better homage in my view, then to let the woman have her complete, unfettered freedom. Do whatever you like, I tell her when she wakes up. Let’s order out for dinner, I say. In fact, let’s not cook or clean, or perform any of those mindless chores whose only reward is their inevitable repetition. I have a presentation at 9, she says. Well, okay, let’s play it by ear, I tell her. Loo...
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My struggles with coffee

For most of my life I have been a tea person. Nothing fancy like chamomile or oolong or any of the other stuff that people drink with their little pinkies in the air. Just regular working-class chai , made with black tea powder, milk, and sugar. Here is how you do it. You first boil the water on low flame, add the tea powder (or leaves), and give the concoction some time to wake up. Then, you put in the sugar and optionally ginger, cardamom, or whatever else your sick heart desires. You set the flame to high and a couple of minutes later, add milk. Of course, there are some people who, unable to control their vulgar impulses, put everything together in one go. These people should be arrested and locked up for good, but I will post a petition on Change.org for that later. About a year ago, something changed. I have always treated coffee with the politeness that is reserved for acquaintances. To me, coffee is the silver medalist of beverages. It is almost tea but not quite. Every h...
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Why I don’t do most things on time

Some time ago, I happened to pay a visit to the dentist. I say ‘happened’ because I didn’t go there to get myself examined. I was there to have my daughter’s teeth checked. But while I was waiting, the dentist insisted that I should get my teeth looked at too. So reluctantly, against my better instincts, I let her examine me. It turned out that I had a couple of cavities and more than a few enamel abrasions, the treatment of which caused a small implosion in my bank account. I was also duly admonished for not taking better care of my dental health. “You should get a dental checkup every six months. Just to make sure that everything is okay,” she told me as she peeled her latex gloves off. “Also, you are brushing too hard. You should use a soft brush, not a medium one. And flossing. Very important for you, because your wisdom teeth are crooked.” I took her advice to heart and stopped by the supermarket on the way home to buy a packet of floss, a soft toothbrush, and a 5-Star chocolate...
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Why telling people you disagree with to go to Pakistan is not a bright idea

Not many of you know this, but I have been trying to become an extremist nut job of the right-wing persuasion for a long time. Something about the cultish nature of the fringe appeals to me. My progress in this respect has been a series of ups and downs but I have recently had an epiphany which I would like to share with you. To go back to the beginning, I have always been patriotic. When I got my first phone, I set my caller tune to ‘Nanha munha rahi hoon, desh ka sipahi hoon, bolo mere sang…’. I wanted to join the Army but when I was told that they wake you up at 4 AM, I thought I could serve my country better in other ways. So I have been doing whatever I can in my own small capacity. I thought the key responsibility was to be on the lookout for anti-nationals. So whenever anyone did things which could be construed as anti-national, I told them to go to Pakistan. One day, I was driving back from home and I stopped at a red light. There, I spotted this old lady begging on t...
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Miscellaneous things

We moved recently. Bought a house and all that. It is a swanky two bedroom flat replete with state-of-the-art facilities like floors, walls, and windows. There are a few doors here and there. There is even a kitchen and a balcony, and best of all—not one, but two bathrooms! No more walking to a neighbour’s lawn every morning with a jug of water and a bar of soap. I’m kidding of course. Where in Hyderabad can you find a neighbour with a lawn? I use the public parks. My wife has spent the last few weeks trying to turn this place into, for lack of a less-clichéd word, a ‘home’. She has shopped in places far and near, rich and poor, and robbed every salesman and saleswoman of patience and desire to live. Thanks to her efforts, and the best credit that money can buy, in addition to all the fancy accoutrements mentioned above, we now also have a shoe rack, a small sofa, and a bookshelf. The next step, I think, is to find a tailor and have uniforms stitched for our cook and maid. So...
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With Two and a Half Women in America – A Summary

When I published my previous blog post, I titled it With Two and a Half Women in America – Part One with the idea that there would be parts two, three, and more to follow. Clearly, I had underestimated my capacity for putting things off. In my defence, I did have a lot to do. I worked, ate, slept, occasionally bathed, and spent the rest of my time saving my daughter from certain doom as she tried to plunge from tables, sofas, and beds in our hotel room. However, I understand that this explanation may not mollify you. No doubt you checked my blog every day, even every hour perhaps, thirsting for my unique and insightful perspective on America—this remote nation, of which so little is known. I apologise. I will try to make up for it in this extra large blogpost. If you have been reading the newspapers, you already know that I am now back in Hyderabad. Just like the Indians did on our way out, the Americans gave us a warm send-off. As we tried to exit their country, they checke...
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With two and a half women in America - Part One

A few weeks ago, I decided that the time was ripe for me to bestow my gracious presence upon the United States of America. To tell you the truth, they have worked hard to deserve me. Over the last few years, they have shown considerable improvement in their economy, brought in sweeping healthcare reforms, and also, much to their credit, recovered from that terrible calamity—the Twilight series. I think. Of course, there were other minor factors that swayed the decision in America’s favour. For one thing, Suchita had to travel there for work and she felt she would need some support since we couldn’t bring along our cook, house maid, chamber maid, parlour maid, nanny, governess, or butler. I told Suchita flatly that while I was equal to the job, I in turn would need my own support system. So we packed my mother along with our bags (note that I say ‘along’ not ‘in’), put Sia in the cradle of her arm, and set out for the airport. Okay, okay. You are sharp. That is the condensed f...
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