I think it should be made a rule that only Mothers should have the power to name their babies. Unfair, you say? No, I think.
Look at it this way, the surname of the baby is almost always the father’s, right? (except of course a certain Miss Konkana Sen Sharma). So it’s only fair that the other part of the baby’s name be the Mother’s choice!!
And if the father wants to name the baby, he can. Sure!
But in that case, the baby will have the Mother’s surname!!! Fair enough, I think.
Is it just me or is everybody feeling as low?
This is what I have been asking all and sundry since morning. In their bid to comfort me, some reassured me saying, “ Oh! Don’t worry it’s the balmy weather, you see”.
Yeah, right. Balmy you, more like it (*sticks out her tongue at these people*).
Yesterday, I saw a friend’s innovative wedding invite. For privacy reasons I can’t share it here (their privacy, of course), but there was something that caught my eye.
Right at the end of the innovative invite, they had listed some “partners” who helped facilitiate their “merger” (excuse the bad pun. If you must, blame it on my financial journalism milieu). So the point I was making was that after reading it, I unconsciously thought of such “partners” and the great part they have played in my love story.
And I thought it would be fun to list them (yeah, the truth is I am completely jobless right now with nothing better to do).
So here goes (in no particular order):
Art of Living: No, none of us are part of the NGO. But purifying your body and mind by exfoliating the negative inside you is definitely one of Art of Living’s mantras, right? Ah, the joys of being able to bitch about your boss, the favourite sidekick (whom I have named Langda Tyagi) and others like them, is almost like an orgasm. Haven’t tried it? You must.
Andhra Bhawan canteen: An austere-looking uncle glares at us every time we land at their gates to gulp down their awesome thaali. “No uncle, we have only come to eat, we won’t do any hanky-panky”, I almost feel like telling him. Alas! The courage always deserts me at the last moment—and nothing else matters (not even the boyfriend!) at the sight of that thaali. Drool!
Langda Tygai (LT): Yes, she deserves one whole exclusive point to herself. Okay, a major reason behind this is that she is in my direct line of vision and I have this great urge to beat the pulp out of her and then hang her to dry in Rajasthan—along with BT (Big Tyagi). Our daily conversations (me and my boyfriend’s of course) are never complete without me following Art of Living’s mantra (see point 1) to banish the LT-BT-ness around me.
Letters to Editor: No, we didn’t write them. We sort of faked them. This was when we were working for the other newspaper. The Edit page was a big pain-in-the-ass. The nutcase Editor had an allergy against most writers. So we found ourselves bantering over fictional names. Whether he should be called Ramlal Kanpuriya or Vijay Dinanath Chauhan.
Well, this is all I can think of now (truth is, I am already bored). So ciaao, till we meet again.
