The good ol emptiness

The cold is receding from us. There is joy in the air (so is covid) and a little sense of pride. Pride, that we, as a human race did it. We beat the virus. I’m just glad that it wasn’t as deadly as the black plague. I walked around town today feeling like a champion. A lone champion in an unknown city, just walking around with my hoodie on, looking like a sex offender, inspecting what the city has to offer ( as in food). Let me tell you something, the streets are crowded. It’s pre-pandemic level crowded now. People are going crazy. It’s a Friday night, and you know people have their priorities. Party, pussy, peace of mind, whatever floats their boat. What I came to realize or should I say ‘reminded’ is that I don’t really have any friends. It is at times like this that things become clear. In these moments of loneliness I get back the old me. The me, who wandered around the streets aimlessly because I had nothing do, or I chose to do nothing. But now, I feel it again, and it’s good. It’s good that I feel it again, because those little moments of loneliness are a reminder of how messed up I felt not too long ago. Also, there’s nothing a little KFC can’t fix. I just realized it’s a Saturday, so have a happy weekend.

Edit: I know the pandemic is far from over. Just go with it, let me have my moment.


I don’t feel hungry at night, and I don’t seem to understand why. It could either be the snacking after work, or it could be a melt down. I think it’s a meltdown. Either way, I’m saving money, and losing weight. So, fuck yes. Since last week, I’ve been posting about how awesome I feels now that my anxiety is under control, but let me tell you something, once the meditation stops, it all comes back sevenfold. I got lazy a couple of days. I couldn’t bring myself to sit down and meditate. The following few days were NOT GOOD.

Edit: Sevenfold is totally not a thing. It’s tenfold.

Week 1 Progress

Taming the anxiety dragon

Something as simple as walking down the street was stressful. What’s even worse is that I did not know this was happening to me. The difference now, is that I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way. I now have a few tricks up my sleeve (thanks to a nut-eating Psychologist) to control the anxiety. It’s too soon to say that a weight has been lifted off my chest. I still feel the weight. So now when I’m walking down the street, and someone passes by, I still panic, but I know it’s going to be okay.

Too close

Ever been to a barber shop, and the barber tries to dry hump your leg? That’s a barber who doesn’t give a fuck about anything. This is what happened to me today. I sit down, and he just climbs on top of my knee like a school kid on a see-saw, and starts riding it. Not even fazed by the fact that this is borderline sexual assault, he carried away, until I had to literally wiggle him off. So I sat on that chair, deep in thought about who would win in a fist fight. I just like imagining things. I got to hand it to him though, what he lacks in respecting personal space, he makes up for in skill. This man is an artist with scissors. He doesn’t cut, he glides over the hair. Precision movements, guaranteed to never make a scratch on your body. I felt like a work of art, after all of it was over.

Bring back the sugar

There’s now a black can of Pepsi with the picture of a hand showing the devil horns on it. It’s name, Pepsi Black. This is considered to be progress in 2022. The government decided to ‘save’ its people from sugar water. Fuck this. If there’s no sugar, what’s the point? What’s the point, healthy people? It tastes like black water, so kudos to whoever came up with the name. Give them a raise. What’s the big agenda here? Encourage people to eat healthier? The good Fat people will get their hands on sugary stuff no matter what. So what’s the point in pushing people like me, who drinks a coke once every few months, to drink a can of black water? Try ordering a KFC meal online. Those bitches give you the black water. It’s not an option now. Fuck KFC. Fuck the guy with the mustache. I want regular Pepsi with more sugar. Now that’s progress. Let society shift to a pro-choice for food. Let the fat people choose. Lets cut some weight. I know I know. Sounds so harsh. Well then, don’t mess with my KFC order.

I got help

I felt a weight being lifted off my chest as I explained to my Clinical Psychologist, how I get anxious when I do simple tasks. Then I caught her eating nuts, which is fine. You gotta eat when you gotta eat. I just found it weird that she would do circus tricks with her mouth. I paid her. She wrote me back saying thank you, and gave me a prescription. I am now officially diagnosed with OCD among other things. I noticed that the name she uses at her clinic is different from her name on Google Pay, which is also different from her name on her bank account (my bank statement shows her real name for some reason). I’m guessing this 3-level security is kind of the norm for people who deal with crazys like myself. Infact I think it should be mandatory for doctors working in this field to use fake names. The last thing you want to see on a Monday morning, is a depressed soul waiting outside your front door, waiting to talk about their problems. Speaking of depression, I watched a movie called Arab Blues, and I found it to be very different, in a good way. I like the actress and her eyebrows. I have another session with the Psychologist in three weeks to review my progress. I want to be a normal human being by then. I don’t want to die of an anxiety attack.

Life lessons

The first few rays of summer hit me on the face and butt today, after my afternoon shower, in the form of sweat. This is usually depicted as a high point in movies, but here, in little ol Kolkata, it’s the opening up of hell itself. Once it starts, you forget that there even was a winter. Everyday becomes a fight against summer, against life itself.

I am very very confused. My mind is confused, my heart is confused. I always hated it when people equated heart to love. I always pictured it as a piece of meat, which it is. There is a reason for this wonderful, motivating post. I have been stuck at home, sick with fever for the past one week. Just when I started to plan my life out a little, beginning with some peaceful vacation time, time to spend with my mom, few days to spend with my girl, life decided to fuck me. Let me tell you something about this unpredictable ass-rapist called life. ‘Unpredictable’ does not do justice in describing how bipolar this bitch is. There is no control. Any sort of grip on life is an illusion. Nobody knows what is happening. None knows why dogs sniff each other’s butts, no one knows why wake up in the morning.

Disclaimer: Papa is depressed. Life is still beautiful.

Street sweets

I read somewhere that Omicron will peak mid February. My LIFE hasn’t peaked yet. And yet, a virus has somehow managed to peak twice in a span of two years. In the words of the great Theo Von, ‘my life has been a constant struggle, wrestling with every moment just to feel ok’. All of this spiraled down during the past few weeks, and I finally decided to reach out for help. So I talked to a local therapist, and I kid you not, I felt like she needs therapy. I felt like, if I got to spend a few hours with her every week, I could give her some life-advice, and I’ll do it for free.

Three important things happened in the past month

The legal age of marriage for women was raised from `18 to 21

The stock market saw a dip

And I ate the most delicious Chandrakala the world has to offer. It was from a sweet shop, on the way back from work. Every other sweet shop who claims to know how to make Chandrakala, should get training form this grand maestro. His face looked grumpy as hell, but I did not care, as my focus was on the round delight. He frowned when I gave him a 50 Rupee note. The Chandrakala was 10 Rs. It was oozing with sweet juices. Out-of-the-world ingredients. If I could summarize the taste, I would describe it as pure magic. Not a lot of ghee, nor liquid stuff. Just the right amount. The quality of the sweet made up for the grumpiness. He snatched the eco-friendy plate, as soon as I picked up the Chandrakala. I think I would have been choked if I stayed there any longer. The word Chandrakala has been used 5 times in this post. Was that planned? Absolutely Chandrakala not.

It’s gone, again

I am listening to a Christmas mix while going back to Kolkata. This is me, refusing to let go of Christmas. What is Christmas? I don’t know. It’s a combination of things. It’s my mom, my dogs, my sister, It’s the cold, it’s the movies, it’s the lights, it’s the music, it’s the smiles. Aaaaaaand I’m crying again.

My pants barely fit. It’s hanging on the second button, which I like to call, the backup button, and when it breaks, it gonna be like the shutters of a dam opening during the monsoon baby.

Is it just me, or do people sitting behind you, whether it be a cinema or in the plane, always feel like they are practicing for a UFC fight? What’s with the punching?