Tag Archives: Wife

Happy birthday.

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I met her when she was 17. She was a free spirit. Lived one day at a time, never planned for tomorrow, loved unconditionally. For a regimented fool like me, she was a breath of fresh air, as though someone unlocked the dark dungeons of my heart, cleared the cobwebs and let sunlight stream in.

Fifteen years, marriage, two kids and innumerable ups and downs later, we still remain that intensely volatile couple, with emotions always at the surface. We love passionately and fight bitterly. So much has changed and yet, nothing has.

I can’t believe you’re 32, the mother of our two lovely children. I still see you as that girl in cotton world tees, faded denim, sneakers and that ridiculously heavy backpack filled with books and food, running to catch your bus back home. And as you made it on the bus, you’d fight your way to a window (injuring a few fellow passengers with that bag of yours), with a big grin on your face and wave to me.

Happy birthday Riddhi. You’ll always be 17 to me.

Ugly legs, a man’s crotch and a lovely blue jacket : The hazards of reading People magazine at work.

For some reason, the clinic was exceptionally light today. Just a small trickle of patients compared to the daily deluge. I don’t know whether it was the Royal wedding that kept people away, it couldn’t be, I’d like to believe it was the heat.

So anyway, I just received the latest People magazine, so I thought I’d flip through a few pages. And before you wonder, I DON’T subscribe to people magazine, it must be one of the girls in the house.

As I’m flipping around, I catch a glimpse of Rani Mukherjee’s legs. Fat and blotchy with ugly knees (it’s all about the knees for me). For people not familiar with bollywood stars, she’s as big as they come. And after seeing her legs, I mean that literally.

Then, I come face to face with a male underwear ad. To all advertising gurus out there, seeing a picture of another man’s sock-enhanced crotch isn’t going to make me run out and buy a pair. Maybe if you had an in-built iPod, I’d think about it.

As I flip some more, I come across a picture of Sonam Kapoor, she’s the daughter of Anil Kapoor, the hairy ‘Mill-a-naaaaiiiirrr’ guy from Slumdog. I confess, I haven’t seen any of her movies, nada. But I’ve sort of become a fan ever since I saw her taking the mickey out her colleagues on a certain talk show. Plus, I believe she has a very avant garde style of dressing. Very Valentino meets McQueen. Look at her in the picture below, who’d wear ridiculously puffed sleeves like that? She has fashion courage. And now, my respect.

Then I come across this lovely blue jacket in raw silk. It’s been designed by Masaba Gupta, the love child of Vivian Richards and Neena Gupta. It’s very well fitted. Plus, I’m pretty partial to anything raw silk, especially trousers. If I had to design something for my wife, it would be a white, completely beaded, chinese collared shirt, with 3/4th sleeves, very structured and rigid, ending at the waist. The trousers would be straight legged in gold raw silk, ending at the ankles. Sky high heels of course. The thing is, those clothes would end up spending more time on the floor of the bedroom than on my wife. ๐Ÿ˜‰

Blimey! (In the royal wedding spirit, I shall use english exclamations), this blog entry started off as vaguely mean and condescending and has ended on a mildly horny note. Oh well.

Horrible, splotchy, knobby knees

Horrible, splotchy, knobby knees

I didnt subscribe to see this.

I didnt subscribe to see this.

Avant garde

Avant garde

Killing time

Killing time

Blue, raw silk jacket by Masaba Gupta

Blue, raw silk jacket by Masaba Gupta

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