What I feel is – Not joy. The absence of happiness. Am I lonely? Am I Depressed?
I always maintained I did not care about money. Do I still? Can I still maintain that? And yet I left a perfectly cozy job – one that had crazy timings, minimum two weekends on the job in a month, shit pay, and unspoken, alluded-to future benefits but satisfaction of a job well done and the ability to speak your mind – for one that is almost the exact opposite. I became a whore – for the money. Paisa phek tamasha dekh. Now that I’ve got it do I feel any better? No. Is my life more comfortable? Not really. Do I have a bigger bank balance and savings? Yes. Shouldn’t that make me happy? I don’t know.
Im no longer a child, and yet I refuse to accept it. Even when I’ve got one of my own.
What am I? I’ve never introspected. I’ve done everything the wrong way around my entire life. Acted too old in childhood, too mature in teenage and now I behave like A child. Did this when I should have done that. And the other way round. Sometimes for years and years.
Joy. Sometime. Please let me feel some joy. Any joy.
Let me not welcome work in the middle of a party so I don’t have to make a pretence of dancing. Or speaking to other people.
I was a flirt who respected women too much when I should have been horny. And now that it’s time to pack it in I’m horny.
I cannot dance freely. I’ve bound myself so much that I’ve locked myself and thrown away the key. I cannot remember the last time I had a decent, witty, interesting conversation with a beautiful girl. I don’t even know how to talk anymore.
Confused confused confused.
What are my priorities? Do I even have any?
A role model? More like a scale model of a human being. The dimensions are ok, and expanding, but something’s off.
Is it too early for a mid life crisis? Or too late? Who knows?
I never know. Anything. I’m never sure. It’s a consequence of knowing that you can’t know everything.
And yet, obliviously confident people thrive. Not an iota of self-doubt.
My ability to hide is diminishing.
And the shittiest part is that I’m not actually lacking for anything. Everything’s fine. It really is. It’s just not joyful.
Only his smile gives me joy. That’s my one and only source of happiness. I treasure each one because nothing else gives me what that does.
Just a few random notes that have been on my mind forever for your Monday morning.
1. I’ve never ever gotten a ‘sexy’ vibe off Shraddha Kapoor. I mean, she’s got a bangin’ bod but she just looks like she wouldn’t know anything once you actually get into bed and then you have to kind of do all the work on your own and it just gets awkward you know. And you finish and she doesn’t and you know she hasn’t but she says she has and you just take it at face value and clean up and leave. You both end up miserable and never call each other again and when you meet it public it’s just the worst. Yeah, that one.
2. You know who’d be the best? Asin. I’m 100% sure of this. Besides the fact that’s she’s a Mallu, girl looks like she’d be a freakin’ storm in the sheets. Just look up any random pic. Do it. She knows exactly what the fuck she wants and how the fuck she wants it and how long she wants it for. Only trouble is you gotta be up to that level man. Freshers need not apply. Don’t disappoint her man.
3. Funnest? Alia. You’d both enjoy, there’d be laughs and giggles. She’d have a couple of tricks up her tongue, it’d just be a great time for everyone involved. As I said, fun times.
4. Aishwarya, man. For the 3 days a year she drops the Ice Queen routine, there’s not a woman in the country who comes close.
Anyone else you’d want? Besides everyone, of course.
Before I unveil who she is, let me take a moment, on this auspicious Mahashivratri day, to explain in a few inadequate words, the concept of Bhabhi.
Who is a Bhabhi?
A Bhabhi (always with a capital ‘B’) is a near-mythical creature existing in the minds of several Indian men of a certain age group, almost always associated with a curious mix of respectfulness and seductiveness.
The concept of Bhabhi springs from the eternal human longing for incest, a longing certainly undiminished by the peculiar Indian cultural response towards anything sexual.
Who are the women closest to a typical horny young male? Mother, sisters, assorted cousins, and bhabhis. Now, every guy has his Bhabhi, from this group of bhabhis. The first three related by blood, but the Bhabhi? Someone from the outside, related only by marriage. Not very much older to you, but still not nearly as young as you. A Bhabhi is ‘safe’.
A Bhabhi is real, someone you can touch. Someone, whom you know has experience touching another man in his special place, in special ways. Someone who has been touched too, and not gently, you presume. You even hear them, sometimes.
However, The Bhabhi, in this scenario, is unsatisfied, or not satisfied enough with her sex life. While everything on the surface might be going swimmingly well, whether she’s married to the most average guy in the city or the richest/handsomest dude in town, there are deep cravings within her that need to be satisfied. And fortunately for everyone, you have been given this special insight into this burden she bears, and you alone can bear it in the most manly way possible. (Sidebar: This was also why the Savita Bhabhi comics worked so brilliantly. They captured the essence of the Bhabhi in the body of a supermodel.)
Even more importantly – The Bhabhi, on her part, understands what your needs are, and considers it a part of her duties to relieve you. No matter if she feels guilty about it, no matter if that’s not what she knows is the right thing to do. If she’s going to be a part of this family, then goddammit, everyone’s going to be happy, if she can help it. And help it she can.
This works brilliantly both ways. Both of you, then, can fuck each other’s brains out, out of nothing more than this impersonal, heroic sense of duty.
The Bhabhi, has to be beautiful, but in a cute kind of way, rather than a hot kind of way. Approaching cute women is of course easier for you than approaching hot women. She had slimmed down for her marriage, but the weight’s coming back, and she knows it. Her husband must be a trier. He tries, and tries so hard, but he knows it, and she knows it, that he just doesn’t do it for her. This helps too. Its not really cheating, if the husband doesn’t even belong in the game, is it?
So who is this Bhabhi, who has made me stop looking, because dammit they broke the mould after she climbed out of it?
This lady, from the assorted Crompton Greaves ads.
Now, this is a slightly misleading pic. And this isn’t the ad where I sat, slightly agog, through 20 seconds of stunning Perfect Bhabhi-ness. For real, I didn’t realize myself what the hell just happened. Only after I settled down for a bit did I realize that I had seen the Perfect-est Bhabhi ever.
That was this ad:
Just look at it! It encapsulates everything perfectly!
When we first see her, she’s thinking “Why’s he buying stuff for the house? He doesn’t know jack about what goes in this house. Has to be related to money, or maybe that nice Sindian guy told him about it. I like that guy, he always treats Mrs. ST so well. And she always looks so goddamned happy in the mornings… I wonder what they get up to?”
Anyways, moving on, she asks him, Have prices fallen so much that YOU have condescended to buy stuff for the house?
This moment – captured above – was when I realized I was onto something very special. You know how? There’s this favorite ratio of mine – Boob Size-to-Stomach Rolls – which is a trademarked ratio, of course, and as soon as I saw this, it just clicked. This is THE ideal BSSR ratio for the Perfect Bhabhi.
And just like that, I was hooked.
Next, in a typical husbandly manoeuvre, he asks her to guess. And she does this:
WHO LIVES, AMONGST YOU MEN, THAT HAST NOT GOTTEN THIS LOOK FROM THY WIFE?
No one. Also, close-up BSSR.
She blurts out a number. It doesn’t matter what it is. From the time it takes her to give that look, to the time of her first guess, she realizes – at least he’s done this. At least he’s gotten some thing for this house, this room, which we share. Something where I did not need to nag him for days.
Against all her best instincts, her hopes begin to rise.
She’s almost… happy?
Before the inevitable, crushing realization. He’s just got one – for himself, for his side of the bed.
She pretends to laugh, and bends forward, so he cannot see her eyes.
And her clueless husband smiles, maybe even congratulating himself.
But you know… And I know. The truth cannot hide.
Come Bhabhi, come. Let us perform our respective duties, and let us not dither.
That’s the new, remixed version of Kate Nahin Kat Te from some new crappy movie.You can watch the new song in its entirety here – New Crap
The problem, sorry PROBLEM, here is that Sonakshi as an actress and a female has negligible sex appeal. Which is the least offensive way I can put this across.
You know who had/has oodles and oodles and – scientific term here – fucktons of sex appeal?
Not an earth-shattering discovery, but amazing nonetheless how any tweet by a girl/woman on boobs will get an avalanche of replies. I mean, its been 4-and-a-half years since I stopped play acting as @SindianTadka and its just wow to still see the exact same Pavlovian response.
I don’t go all #KidsTheseDays but yeah, been there done that.
Related: What a wonderful, primal force sex is. I mean, it just is. As I reluctantly step into middle-age, seeing (relative) kids going down that path is just so much fun.
Middle-age not grandpa age. But I’m nostalgic. So sue me. You can’t because you don’t know me. Except you. And you. And you. AND YOU. And you. But that’s it.
Oh yeah, you too.
Ohhhhh, read God’s Doodle: Life and Times of the Penis by Tom Hickman. Should be mandatory reading for anyone with a penis. The blurb says for anyone who is interested in penises, but I thought might be a tad too much for non-penis holders. Some of the parts just struck so close to home, I was laughing out loud in public transportation. Also, do not read in office meetings. Like I did.
I’m still fascinated by the mechanics and minutiae of sex. Hmmm…
I read the ridiculous Arre post on dick pics. Sigh. Nuances, ladies, nuances… Don’t make me mad.
All been good. I hope?
Have lots of sex people. Aggression is best let out that way. Do it with consent and decide on safewords.
Bhairavi Goswami couldn’t find anyone better than this model? Whenever he appears, she has to literally make him do everything. Bollywood’s way more tougher than I thought. And she’s only 29, if Google is to be trusted.
You know things are truly WTF when even I refuse to contemplate masturbating to it.
