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The BadCow story

I love stories. Specially narrating stories. Exaggerating them and narrating. I have stories associated with just about anything. Bird shit, car, lock, missing flights, chasing buses, maid servant, broken pyjama strings, coffee, blog...Give me anything and I will tell you a story that happened to me with that subject. The BadCow story has nothing to do with being bad or cows or cows that are bad. It is just my tryst and obsession with bad words. If only my dad had an iota of idea about the extent of my 'galeez maatalu' vocab, he would jump from his 5th floor apartment. Going by the number of bad words I know and use, the way I drive and cuss at drivers ( and yeah my love for night life too ), my mum feels I should have been born as a boy and If I were born a boy and got married, my wife would've committed suicide within the first 2 months of the marriage. See..exaggeration you see. It runs in the family. BadCow ...reminds you of any bad words? For non-native Telugu...
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Women here, there and everywhere...

Neither have I lived in a lot of places nor have I already started going grey, but it is not beyond the comprehension of any woman (to be addressed as a girl has already started sounding annoying to me!) of any age to comprehend that women here, there, elsewhere and everywhere( yes, even if there were women on Venus) are no different. From the moment I landed here in the United States, and every new city I visit, the first thing I do is compare the women( its altogether a different thing that I end up checking their footwear and if they got a pedicure). Definitely women here in the US of A and the so called developed countries are more independent, self-respecting and self-loving and a lot more when compared to those back home. But, underneath the mask of independence and achievement are the same old layers of vulnerability, insecurity and uncertainty. Don’t mistake me to be another 379,856th feminist. It is just that I haven’t come across any house-husband or dads who ar...
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An open letter to the all the aunties who want to know when I am having a baby

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I recently came across a blog post where the author says: I’m 25. I’m a girl. I’m Indian.If you’re an Indian girl above 21 with female body parts; I’m sure by now you have already heard this ‘cute’ question a million times,  “When are you getting married?”. And I replied her saying: "Hello! I’m 28. I’m a girl. I’m Indian. And I'm married. If you are 20+ and married and just because aunts cannot ask you the “When are you getting married?” question anymore, they shift focus to “When are you having the kid?” question. It doesnt stop there and simply calls for another blog post. :) Seriously! Does this ever stop? Annoying aunts and their equally annoying questions.  The 'real' me cannot give in-your-face kind of an answer and i just smile, avoid the topic and try to avoid that person for God knows as long as possible. Hence the virtual me decided on giving an answer to all the aunties across the globe pestering young women with their stupid question. ...
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