Christmas Day

Another set of ordeals 😠


Indians are gung ho about Christmas. No matter which religion they belong to, they always forward that Happy Christmas message to everybody in their whatsapp contact, even if they don’t give a monkey’s fart about the well being or happiness of the person. Today, my inbox crashed with such messages. I was irked. I mean yeah it’s good to see communal harmony and all, but nobody sends me a Happy Ganesh Chathurti or Happy Eid or Happy Kinky Copenhagen. People are so flashy these days, they care only about dazzling, boombazzling festivals. People like the blinking lights, and so Christmas is the gala day for them. 

Maybe I am being a moaning minnie, but I don’t like people who send me these festive texts. There’s no point to it. 

Anyway, I replied all of them and switched off the data connection. Last year, we had gone – full family – to watch Bajirao Mastani, and I’d blogged about the couple who broke up in the cinema theatre. This time, it’s Dangal; I don’t like Amir Khan that much. Last year, we went to the Pearl too, where we had an expensive VAT infested dinner, which I’m sure my father still remembers with a pinch of regret. This year, I stayed home. 

Well. Except for when Sumit barged in and we went to Atif’s. He bought cigarette with my money once again. This guy is going to feature in Sponge and Mukesh ads soon, of course as a dead body. And this wasn’t even the worse thing about today. The worst ordeal was watching Fan. 

Maybe I really have weird tastes, or maybe filmmakers have gone wacky these days, there are so many stupid movies flowing in that it feels like a national tragedy. And why the hell SRK gives a nod to such offers is beyond the little scope of my brain. What’s more baffling is that Doctor absolutely adores that guy. She goes all dewy-eyed when we talk about SRK. 

Fan had so many logical loopholes that you could have left your brain at home before watching it. 

Anyway, it got better at night. As the world slept, I woke up listening to Tulsi Kumar. The lyrics were dedicated to her love, and she was asking him to come back. Bullshit. But beautiful. 

Author: ravish raj

● 17yearoldboy ● capricorn ● artist ● pornaholic ● Historian ● Googlebhakt ● storyteller ● procrastinator ● virgin ● 1600+ in bullet @ ● Bihar se hain 😎 ●

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