Miracle Dip on a Starry Night

Credits: here

Credits: this guy

Imagine this: a chilly weather, a clear night’s sky with twinkling stars, hills, meadows and forests surrounding you and nothing but time to waste… seems like something out a story book, right?

I was fortunate enough to experience this! It was a night I remember fondly. Maybe it was the fancy things that stands sharp in my memory – like the peace and quiet that the small town I was visiting brought with it. Or perhaps, it was the close-knit group of friends who sat with me on the terrace on that cold night, sharing and caring. Who knows! But one thing is for sure: it was something fantastical.

You see, when you are one of those typical students in India aspiring to be an engineer (in IT, no less), you need a break. Break from all the routine stress, from the mediocre life you think you are leading whilst you try to figure out what ‘Encapsulation and Polymorphism’ is exactly and from the pressure that’s building around you in the form of tests, exams and of course, your parents. In such a perilous time, you need fun. You need excitement. You need something different. In my case, I needed chip and dip.

And so, barely a week after my exams were over, I found myself huddled around a stove. With me were a few of my closest friends. It was not only a great night, but a messy one as well. We were preparing to face the pure tranquillity of the small but delightful village we were visiting. The cold was still sharp like daggers. And the thing we were trying to create would cut through this cold. Supposedly.

The cooks in my group were the forerunners of our little “project”. Experimentation and making a tasty mess of what we call food was something they were adept at. The rest of us were just there, hovering in the background pretending to help. Desperately cold and hungry, but also a little excited about it being past midnight and the fact that we were all awake for something other than studies, we clanked and clunked around the kitchen, fumbling for something to make. The five of us ran around, hunting for logical ingredients to put in our cooking pan, while the other two stood around the stove, trying to light it whilst yelling orders. I grabbed the cheese, someone else grabbed the sauces from the fridge and another grabbed the garlic butter. And so, the miracle dip was born. In no time, the stove was on, searing the pan. The garlic butter was bubbling on the pan’s surface as it sent wafts of smells around the house. Added to the fact that the house was a packed box of us seven, to stop the cold from entering inside, everything aromatic in no time! With extreme clumsiness and hurry, we added the ingredients one by one to the butter, whilst the two – ahem – chefs stirred.

I have never been excited about cooking food. Don’t get me wrong, I love eating food, but actual cooking it is something that does not tickle my fancy. However, that night, it was like seeing magic. Maybe that was just my hunger making me see things but when the cheese had melted, when the garlic had infused with everything else, when the sauces had turned from white and yellow to a burning orange, my stomach grumbled.

The seven of us raced upstairs, carrying the rest of the stuff in our hands. It was like a synchronized mechanism: two of us stood upstairs, ready to take the stuff and keep it on the terrace; three more stood below, passing the stuff upstairs, while the remaining brought the stuff from the kitchen. We had drinks (soft, of course because we don’t drink alcohol. No, we seriously don’t. Mummy promise), we had food, we had sweaters for warmth, we had music…

And later, we found ourselves huddled around the dip on the terrace, below the sky, drinking soft drinks and ready to attack the bowl with three huge packets of chips. The fire this dip had awoken in us roared. Our hungry stomachs were holding their breaths, waiting for the onslaught of awesomeness. Our minds were sceptical: would the dip even be good?

It didn’t matter, as we each took a chip and dipped it in the liquidy-goodness. It smelt, looked amazing and turns out – as I bit the chip hungrily – it tasted amazing, too!

And thus began a campfire-like night, dotted with stories, secrets, selfies and music. The dip was consumed entirely in no time, and we lay on the cold floor of the terrace, star-gazing through the cold night, with one hand rubbing our full stomachs, contemplating if every night could be like this: eternally fulfilling and blissful.

Hello Bleedsters!
I hope you are having a great time! This is another one of my favourite write-ups and I sincerely hope you enjoy it! Comment with any similar experiences you might have had!


As always, if any of it made you smile, laugh, frown or giggle like a little baby, comment share and like! To be up-to-date with my other posts, give a like to my Facebook page and follow on Twitter if you use it! Any images used are either taken from Google Images or from my own personal collection or other sources which will be mentioned if and when, unless stated otherwise. Contact me if you want it removed.

We bought a new car!

Our Maruti Suzuki Baleno

Buying a car is a fresh feeling. Until the novelty wears off, you feel royal as f.

And when you buy a car like Maruti Suzuki Baleno, ohh… Its a godly feeling.

On Wednesday, we bought a new car. Well, actually, we bought the car three months back but received it two days back. That alone should tell you how popular the car make is. Our Baleno stood waiting for us when we entered the showroom.

Now, officially, Baleno is a ‘NEXA’ car, which is Maruti Suzuki’s premium showroom. Which means that we were treated well. Served water and a frigging menu – just for taking the delivery of the car. And while we waited for the formalities to be complete, my eyes met with the silver beast.

Car: Maruti Suzuki Baleno
Model: 1.2 Alpha (TOP VARIANT)
City / Highway Mileage: 17.8kmpl / 21.4kmpl
Fuel type: Petrol

Our Baleno was shining like a star, with its pristine look. I held my breath as I joined my brother in a 360 degree check-out of the car. My eyes were plastered to the car. I could not look anywhere else. Not to mention that I had never taken a delivery for a car ever. So you can imagine that I checked this car out more intensely than I would check out a hot girl on a Goan beach in the summer! *insert tharki face*

I initially thought that was the best part. Of course, I was mistaken. The best part came when we sat inside.

Oh! The level of comfort; the sheer capacity Baleno could hold; the airy feeling! For long-legged tall people like us, this car was a heavenly package. Our previous car, a Wagon R, was the only car at the time to fit us. So when we booked Baleno, naturally we were worried about it being shorter in height than the Wagon R. However when we sat inside, we knew this was perfection. Intricately tailored for short and tall people alike, our Baleno could fit five people with such ease that I can’t even describe. The premium feeling that the car gave off was definitely a rare gem.

While the NEXA guy gave us a detailed demo of the inner and outer workings of the car (and rather well, I might add), my excitement simply climbed with each added feature. The touchscreen entertainment system, the rear parking camera, the large boot for baggage, the voice command controls, Apple CarPlay, ambient lighting inside, etc. Everything was just spectacular.

Not just that but also, when we took the car home, it zoomed past the street lights like a magic spell. The engine was virtually non-existent, or so we thought because of zero-noise inside the cabin. The PUSH to START and STOP button to start the car was so efficient, it was perfect in case of a car shutdown. Added to the fact that Baleno was loaded with security features, and we knew we had made the right decision.

I am glad. We obviously hope that this car lasts for a long time, but only time will tell that. Meanwhile, I will make sure to soak in every bit of the car I can.

Note: For now, I am adding a temporary photo that I took of the car in the showroom. In the future, I will (mostly) add a better photo of the car.

Heya, Bleedsters!
Saying that it has been a while would be an understatement. But with the impending doom of my final year exams back in September, after my last post, I had no choice but to take a break. It has been a rough ride (*wink, wink*), juggling multiple things, but I finally found the time to whip a post up, just for you! I sinceriously hope you enjoy it.
Tell me what you think about it! Don’t be shy to drop in a comment down below!

As always, if any of it made you smile, laugh, frown or giggle like a little baby, comment share and like! To be up-to-date with my other posts, give a like to my Facebook page and follow on Twitter if you use it! Any images used are either taken from Google Images or from my own personal collection or other sources which will be mentioned if and when, unless stated otherwise. Contact me if you want it removed.

Rains on the Dadar Platform


Pudhil Station Dadar… Krupaya paydaan va falatavaril antara var lakshya dya…” *said the woman on the comms in an all-too-familiar voice. I wondered why the announcement was referring to the next station as Dadar, even when the train was nearly approaching the station already. We were already at Dadar, and yet the announcement was lacking behind. It made me smile.

God must have seen it and hatched a plan to make me frown. Realisation swept over me like the windy drizzle outside: I was approaching Dadar station! One of the busiest platforms in the fudging Universe!

As the train seemed to slow down, it still seemed to be too fast. I clutched the hanging arm-resting thingy with my dear life, trying not to be squished into a dosa by the surrounding crowd. Having lesser experience in train travelling, my heart pounded in my chest. This was it. I had to get down at Dadar, by hook or by crook.

I could see double the size of the crowd inside the train on the platform, ready to shoot themselves inside the train like bullets. I had seen that before. I wondered how on earth I would get out of the more-than-overcrowded train. I kept wondering. Meanwhile, people were shouting.

I don’t know what it is with the shouting. Will the shouting make the transition process any easier? NO! Will the pushing, yelling and mercilessly head-butting an innocent young-adult’s back make the train stop faster? NO! SO WHY THE FUDGE BE IN SUCH A HURRY?

Impatience swelled inside my compartment. The people who were shouting were pushing others who stood near the exit like bulls. They fell onto the platform, pouring out like an army of ants from a crack in the summer. And like ants, they were trained. All of them, the ones who were gushing out of the train, were ready and had landed themselves stably onto the platform. They were walking on calmly, as if nothing big had happened.

I heard a hypothetical sound of my underwear tearing into a million pieces. How the hell was I supposed to land myself perfectly onto the platform without falling out of a moving train? I sighed.

This was it, I told myself. This was my ‘pariksha’ for real. This was the test of my life.

I cursed in my mind. Who? I do not know. Perhaps the education system for not teaching me the basics of how to travel in train? Or perhaps my luck for having gotten admission into colleges and schools nearby so that buses were easier for me to travel in than trains? Heck, I didn’t even have time to think who. I just whispered something negligible to myself and took a deep breath.

The train halted. Even after 3o seconds of the shouting, there were still people inside the train who wanted to get out. I was one of them. A fleck of atomic glass particle in a sea of sand. Like others, I was being pushed out of the train like air in space. It was physics. The people at the very back of the exit, were pushing the people in the front.

As I was being pushed out, the millisecond was enough for my brain to overthink as per usual. That stupid comm-woman had said something along the lines of “Please take care of the distance between the platform and the train, you might fall in.” Or at least, she may as well have said that. Immediately, my grandmother’s voice filled my head: “Kunal, do you know what I just read? A small child fell through the crack between the train and the platform and was killed when the train started moving! Please take care!”

Yes, I remembered this fun piece of trivia from a year back (or maybe two) in that millisecond. Immediately, I also thought about the possibility that I might fall through the crack. Without even thinking about my size and the crack’s!

It was one of those things – one second, I was scared shitless for my life; the next, I was already on the platform, still being pushed towards the stairs.

I sighed in relief. But not for long.

The wave of people continued to push me around, so that I was carried from the train to the lower end of the stairs automatically. Somewhere behind me, a few people were screaming… An altercation! Someone was fighting!

The usual Indian inside me awoke. I turned on the spot, mimicking others around me. We all wanted to see what was going on. If there was something like a fight going on somewhere, I definitely did not want to miss it! I stopped in my spot, while others dodged me.

Of course, all I could see was a bunch of bobbing heads. I sighed once more, just as the crowd suddenly cleared away. Woah, Mumbaikars were quick! Wait, wasn’t I a Mumbaikar too?

I walked on, deciding to take the stairs at the other end of the platform, since that was more convenient. I saw a couple fight in a corner of the platform. Curiosity and interest shot high. I stopped once more in in my tracks once more. I watched the free entertainment. The girl was accusing the guy loudly. The guy looked ashamed and embarrassed. For the next five minutes, I thought of all the scenarios under which this was happening. Had he cheated on her? Was she breaking up with him? Had he been caught watching porn? Had she accused him of being “not fancy” like she was? Or was it just some other school drama?

I pondered that for a while, feeling better about my own single-dom, turning back, when I bumped into someone.

The man wore a neat coat, and had extended his arm to block my way. In his hands were tickets. He shook his arm repeatedly, a grumpy expression accompanying this action. Stupidity has never been experienced in this form on this earth, but it did then and there: I grabbed the ticket from his hand. Why? Because I thought it was a flyer or poster or something. He shouted at me and snatched it back. He spoke so fast that words combined into one single word. My hopefully apologetic expression did nothing to calm him.

Now, I was the center of attraction. I felt like I was on a display in a museum while others ogled freely. The man continued to shout at me. He pointed to his chest which had a shiny badge. It read the most logical thing I should have considered: Ticket Collector. But I didn’t. Not until he said it multiple times.

The train was gone, by then. The platform was clearer. However the noise was still there. I put my hand in the pocket, searching furiously for my ticket. As I searched, and as the Ticket Collector man waited in fury, it started to rain harshly. Not like cats and dogs. More like furiously annoying tigers and wild rabid dogs. And I just happened to stand on that place where there was no roof.

I was drenched in minutes.

At first, I felt amused. I kept on searching for the ticket as the TC stepped a few paces back, to a place where there was a roof. However, he kept his arm up and his gaze transfixed on me. He did not bother with the other passengers at all. His eyes, although angry, were glowing. Was it his lucky day?  Was he going to finally get to fine someone?

Panic set in and (again, stupidly) extracted my belongings from my pockets. Wallet, cellphone, keys etc were in one hand while the other searched longingly for the darned ticket. I found the ticket and showed it to the TC. He finally let me reluctantly. I apologized as he started to turn, but he did not look back.

I fist-pumped the air in joy. I had survived. I had been nearly caught by a TC. I had been let go by him. I had seen a commotion. A typical Mumbai commotion at that. And I felt elated. A tiring day had come to an end, and I was ready to head home from the station, finally.

I was near the exit. The station was behind me, and the people too. Trains ran by, making their characteristic sounds. A smile on my face, after a tiring day, I walked out of the station, taking care of the puddles. I opened my umbrella, trying not to get wet. My mind was still rejoicing. What an interesting day, I thought.

The initial excitement was subsiding. But the elation was so much that it drove me to grin widely to myself and fist-pump the air once more. And guess what happened?

My belongings toppled over from my hand. Wallet which had money and important receipts. An extremely delicate and water-proof-less (I just made that word, yeah) cell phone. A few other receipts. And it all fell over.

Into the puddle of murky water around my feet.

Sigh. Fuck me.

Heya Bleedsters!
The monsoon chronicles continue. Today, I had an interesting situation while travelling in the fabled Central Railway. On Dadar Station. Thought I would share it with you. Although nothing ordinary, for me, it was quite an experience.
Tell me what you think about it. Comment down below with your experiences of monsoon railway travelling.

* Next Station Dadar, please take care of the gap between the platform and the compartment’s leg rest.

As always, if any of it made you smile, laugh, frown or giggle like a little baby, comment share and like! To be up-to-date with my other posts, give a like to my Facebook page and follow on Twitter if you use it! Any images used are either taken from Google Images or from my own personal collection or other sources which will be mentioned if and when, unless stated otherwise. Contact me if you want it removed.