d_demandasaurus

I met Aatmarama on a quiet stretch of beach, where the sea was patient to us all. While we struggled with surfboards and waves, he came and lay beside me a stray, perhaps, or perhaps simply free. At some point he rested his head on my arms and slept, as if trust were the most ordinary thing in the world. When we began to leave, I told him not to follow. But he did. Again. And again. I remember thinking then that affection was permission. That if someone chose your company, you could choose for them in return. So I lifted him and took him with me to my shelter, believing I was doing something kind. But kindness that assumes is often just another form of arrogance. My shelter was not safe for him. Something went wrong. He was hurt. Scars where there should have been none. And the anger came quietly,  sharp, deserved, and unforgiving. “You were trusted.” “You were family.” “You should have known better.” The words were not loud because of rage alone; they were loud because disapp...

This is part 2 of an ongoing rant series - Part 1 is here. Disclaimer: This might get real so buckle up. Might have examples from popular science fiction movies, novels or fan theories which fyi is a new religion and you better be ready. The producers or studios may be releasing them for the money but there is appeal in it, there is art in it and there is science in it.  I moved to Delhi in the 9th standard, which apparently is a make-or-break year for an Indian kid and for his parents because it will or will not shape their child's future. After recovering from the cultural shock, the class dilemma and the need for extra-curricular exposure, with three other classmates I became a part of the team that would compete in the National Science Exhibition. We created a theme park that would self-sustain energy, to be specific there was a train that would run on solar power and would also have a turbine that would convert the energy of the wind into electricity. A seesaw would double up ...

Dil Chahta Hai (2001) has had a significant influence on me. The first time I saw it, I was enamoured by Akash's carefree attitude and his belief in letting others live their life. At that point, I aspired to be like him. As I matured, I found myself identifying more with Sid. I then, saw myself as Sameer someone who is goofy, uncertain, romantic and often afraid of the consequences of life. As funny as it may sound as I continue to age, I have come to appreciate Subodh’s practicality and adherence to a schedule for eg: sleeping at 9:30 pm on a Friday is not a bad thing! I've always maintained, that the characters in DCH represent the different phases of a millennial's life. With this realization, I am eager to continue with my series of unsent letters from an invisible but pivotal character from DCH. [In my previous letter, I wrote to Jai from Jaane tu ... Jaane Na (2009) as Meghna, you can find the link to that letter here .] Romance in these sarcastic times is rare, Moh...

Disclaimer: My mother has always emphasized the joy of writing letters. During my school days, she guided and taught me how to write letters as a lesson in English literature. We were even taught to write telegrams as our CBSE books were outdated. She once mentioned that letter writing is therapeutic and calming. The act of pouring out one's feelings onto paper is like unpacking one's mind. You shed a tear or two, let the emotions flow through your pen, and write more until you feel better. With this in mind, I bring back the lost art of letter writing for a fictional character, Meghna Pariyar from the movie Janne Tu.. Janne Na.., who yearned to express her thoughts and feelings to Jai Singh Rathod. Letter writing allows us to heal our hearts and minds, to release our emotions, and to let them flow freely onto the page. Its obvious that the characters, their arcs and the emotional holds are fictional, they possibly have link to the few of us who have feelings but don't want...

It’s been almost 5 months since we met. The last thing I posted was Corona and Coco ka, Rona. Coco has grown now, sadly he didn’t have any option. I would give anything to keep him Mishtu small. When we thought he was a girl and could fit on my palm. Isn’t that the irony of life as we know it, when we are kids we want to grow up and when we are all grown up and adulting we want to go back to a time when the multiplication table for 12 was one of life’s biggest issues. But that’s the thing none of us have any option for growth, evolution on progress. Change is the only constant they say. Growth in these tough times isn’t avertible it’s unavoidable.  Instead of rising up the bar and staying safe, I see people loitering on the streets, getting vegetables that are available in sabzi mandis , the Baghjan gas leak in Assam has become a tourist spot, IPL has failed to divert the attention of the masses, CAA is a forgotten cause and we have a newfound rivalry for local Chinese products tha...

Disclaimer : Y es, this is another note where I am not talking about any person living or dead, the resemblance is neither uncanny nor eerie. Especially politicians or ministers or chiefs, I fear them and I have my reasons. I dare not speak against the ideology the majority is in support of.  This is my first attempt to write something about the future, a dystopian future to be precise. The idea of a dystopian plot is to predict the future bearing in mind current changes. That being said, I think a Zombie apocalypse is the first thing I would have predicted after a global pandemic. Zombies? These slow creatures that are bloodthirsty because they have none, they do not have souls, they do not have minds, they just have greed for blood. I’ve always felt Zombies are closer to greedy, self-centred leaders political or otherwise, who crave just one thing power. More Powar! Pawar over mODIfication over everything names of cities, stations, teams of Shivs’.  - - - - - - - - - - - - -...

It’s been almost 5 years since I’ve not posted anything online. People following me on Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, and Instagram @d_demandasouras and @scratchmeifyoucan3 are mostly aware of my whereabouts. There's a lot inside that has come invariably through shares, DMs and/or comments and sometimes banters on stories. So here goes everything: - Disclaimer: Nothing herein below is targeted at any political person, party or institution; any coincidence to the same is an alarm for a mental health check-up and/or revisiting some of the most popular principles of the erstwhile father of the nation (I am told Trump thinks otherwise). Yes, the man who fought with the west who were just here for business and nothing more. Any resemblance, passing remark, metaphor, simile and/or pun is not to hurt, injure, slander and/or defame anyone person, animal, or robot - living or dead. Yes, I am just writing nonsense so this is probably where you should stop reading. This happened a month ago bef...

Disclaimer: It’s been two years since I’ve written anything as a Note on Facebook. Writers Block they call it, but I am no writer, I initially had a lazy ass syndrome, then a too much work syndrome, followed by a graduation goggles attack and post-college I’ve had no time to rest my ass syndrome. So every day I’ve made a mental note but wrote nothing.  This note is just a way to unwind and is an opinion. Please do not judge Bombay (yes, it’s the Emotion and Mumbai is the name), Bollywood or Brinjals by the way I perceive them. My Dadi hates pizza, she makes an uncomfortable face when anything new is served to her. I always tell my Dadi : how can you form an opinion about something unless and until you’ve tasted it, she used to give me an argument – why don’t you try the brinjal ki sabzi , my defence – yuck! I mean I like every other vegetable in the market but brinjals, I hate! It took me 14 years to try the sabzi of brinjals – Thanks to the mess of my college I had no option but ...

Alright, guys after a long tryst with silence. I am back, to bug you with a fresh new story. A story which has only two versions hers and mine (needless to say that there are masala versions too). As usual this is a piece of fiction, any resemblance to any person living or dead, place, thing is purely coincidental. Bhau: (leaving a huge cloud of smoke) So, how serious are you? Me: (waiting for him to pass it to me) very much… No fooling around… Bhau: (looking at me with resentment) what if you mess up? (dramatic pause) Again? Me: (me with the ‘what-the-f’ expression) Trust me dude … she is different! Bhau: Bara baghu (- a Marathi way of saying ok let’s wait and watch) Me: Listen, the idea is to take her to the Bhushi dam spot, around 12ish with the moon high above in the sky (check paper for moon rise timings- Check), with some cake, roses and candles (Cakes and Bakes, Ferns and Petals for candles too- Check) and then I ask her out! What do you say? Bhau: Bara, I’ll see you sometime. M...