My friend tells this joke about us going to Goa, and starting a life there. Over the years, I noticed that she was not joking about it anymore, and instead was expecting a serious reply every time she asked me that dumb question. “When are we going?”. Now, here’s the thing. I don’t know what I would do in Goa. I could sell underwear. Nothing much to it, really. Just demonstrate how good the elastic is, and there you go, you’re an underwear salesman. This would mean I would have to get another job to make ends meet, probably something on the creative side, like a drummer for a progressive rock band, or if all else fails, a stand-up comic. All these years I’ve been trying to tell jokes in English to a Hindi-speaking audience, so that I could blame the crowd for my failure to get laughs. Why not try it out on a beach? So, going back to the whole ‘moving to Goa’ thing. I’ve seen pictures of it, beautiful ruins, sandy beaches, and attractive pubs. Looks like Dorn, from Game of Thrones. It’s a very likable place, I’ll give you that, but every time she asked me this question, I would come up with an excuse. “I haven’t saved enough money to do that sort of thing”. “I’m moving to Canada”. “I have an irrational fear of happy endings”. Something like that. Fortunately, a world wide pandemic has put all those plans on hold indefinitely. Every time I watch a Reddit live, there’s always someone with a camera, in a foreign land, travelling from city to city, exploring life. I’ve got the guts to do it, but not the balls.

Inspiration to write

You know when’s the best time to write? When you’re drunk and you don’t care about spelling, well, unless autocorrect is tuned on. Creativity just flows like molten lava. Also, it really helps if your dog died. Then you get that extra boost/pressure to write. I call it depressure. Get it? depression+pressure? Anyway, I think I’ll go back to staring at the wall now. Oh almost forgot! I climbed a hill last weekend. Here’s a picture.



Kolakham, West Bengal


Have a good weekend!