The Thinking Woman's Diary: Being "such a girl"

"She's a typical girl. She loves shoes. She loves going shoe shopping, right in mom's closet."

-Curtis Jackson

"Quit being such a girl, Priyanka". "I am sure you would want it in pink color". "What do you know, your'e a girl". "Do girls really know about stuff?" Sounds similar? These are the annoying questions that every woman comes across in her life pretty much frequently. There is one thing called gender stereotyping which we are not really complaining about. Because the world has stereotyped the stereotyping to such an extent that anything a person says or does is attributed to everything else but his or her individuality. What I personally cannot stand is when being "such a girl" is hurled at us as an accusation or even worse, an insult. I am not talking about men alone here, women also accuse each other of well, being a woman. The fault equally lies in us too since we take offence in being called a girl.Yes, I do understand that being "such a girl" is collectively associated to being unreasonable, vain, naive and well, a pain in the ass, But it's only fair to be called those things instead of attributing bad behavior to our gender, which btw one cannot change unless you win lottery.

Well I am not a man hater to begin with, hence I would really not jot down ways where we can make "such a guy" sound extremely offensive to the menfolk. But it doesn't mean I can't. I choose not to. I repeat. I choose not to. Spending a reasonably significant amount of time with the opposite sex, I can confidently say that yes, I really know them. And honestly speaking not one trait shown by most of the men commonly has offended me or made me say "you're such a guy!". No, I would rather embrace that difference as something inherent and make it seem endearing to me instead of annoying. Yes, it's possible. And there is nothing wrong in expecting the same kind of acceptance as women! Why do we need to be like men and trash our own belief system? In terms of work, relationships or just about anything, women these days are battling a tug inside of wanting to seem like one of the men and in turn losing their individuality. Yes, there are certain things men are really good at and yes we must constantly learn from everyone around us irrespective of their gender, color, ethnicity or just about anything. But we must also not let go or demean what we really are and probably even meant to be!

In no way my post is meant to hurt or attack men.I am blessed for not having to deal with the misogynistic attitude on a regular basis or maybe people know I will screw their happiness. Either ways it doesn't affect me. All I intend to do is urge women to embrace their individuality, don't shy away from what you really feel, express it the way you want to and don't try and be something you are not. At the same time work on your flaws for a better you, not to be like someone else. So to sum everything up I have listed few instances where I have been told to quit being "such a girl" and my mind goes "F%*k you, I am one".

• Pink. Dagnabbit! No, we are not the official mascot of Pink. We like Mauve, Wine Red, Turquoise, Magenta as much as we love Pink. And if a girl is obsessed with Pink, who cares! She likes it, she can pull it off so be it! And yes we are proud of knowing and pulling off every color in the world be it in our clothes, bags, shoes or whatever! And no, Purple and Lavender are not the same colors. 
• Talking way too much. Yes, we are super expressive about everything. We love talking. We can really really talk a lot. But why shouldn't one? You mentally feel lighter and you sleep well when you have spoken where you wanted to. Simple as that. 
• Crying. No, its not a sign of weakness. No, we are not vulnerable. This can be attributed to us being expressive. We can cry out a heartbreak or an emotional movie scene. We don't know how one doesn't cry when you feel sad. It just seems difficult to us but not impossible. But why not express sorrow when you can and be done with it? 
• Being too much into bags, shoes and makeup. Why can't men make their peace with it? We find it extremely cute how guys can take superheroes and football so seriously. Why can't we be left alone the same way? And fyi, I have known men looking down upon women who are not upto the mark in terms of fashion. But women don't really care if a guy is not into any sport so why judge those women who are not interested in reading Vogue like The Bible. Let's call it double standards, shall we?
• Being told how its our job to cook. No, it's really not. The only people whose job is to cook are the ones getting paid for it. We are just way too good in it. That one difference between women and men is yet to go away. We cook with lot of love. You can't take that away from us. We do it because we want to. It's one of our ways of expressing our love and not because our place is in the kitchen. And be thankful to the women who stayed in the kitchen to cook for you making you capable enough to say such things. A man's classy fettuccine with goat cheese and summer vegetables will kick maa ke haath ka dal chawal anyday. Beat that!
• Being picky about everything. We don't like regrets! Simple. I don't wanna go home with an ivory bag and regret when I see the same one in Burgundy carried by someone else. I am not gonna defend us on how we meticulously pick the curtains and sheets for the house because end of the day, the house looks beautiful! What I do is I don't drag impatient people along and then be picky about things. That's just not cool. And I would ask women to quit doing that and shop in peace, 
• Not knowing anything about Gadgets, Cars, Technology, Worldly affairs, Wildlife, Politics and just about anything remotely intellectual. This is the shittiest thing I personally have to deal with. I have kicked ass in terms of leading a conversation in the above mentioned things better than even a group of men. Not because I am out to prove a point but all these things genuinely interests me. And I didn't know how much I enjoyed reading and exploring about these things until I actually did. So I would suggest women to go out there and explore. You never know. The girl with the perfect nail art might end up taking interest in the Stock market equally. And I would suggest men who are sarcastic towards us, to ummm, get a life?
• Not letting go. Yes, we are stubborn. Whether it means letting go something we love that is not good for us or letting go an issue that bothers us. We are bad at doing both inspite of being very well aware of how important it is. It's not because we don't have the willpower or maturity to let go, it's because we always feel there is some room for improvement or a hope of transformation. Period.
• Being bitchy. Men bitch too. We all know that. 
• Remembering every little detail. This collectively benefits both the genders. The men won't admit but we remembering everything about them and for them has helped them massively as much as it has given us ammunition to fight as well. I would suggest, less fight and more help. Cheers!

There are some more serious and regressive accusations Indian women have to deal with. I would venture that zone with a slightly more serious writing. For know, it;s all about the freedom of expression and acceptance. And if someone accuses of being a girl, always say you are proud of being one!!!!

The Thinking Woman's Diary : Wake up calls and what happens when you answer them

"The age of a woman doesn't mean a thing. The best tunes are played on the oldest fiddles."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

     Chubby, spoiled, grumpy are probably the words my teachers remember when they think about me. Being one of those lucky few who could attend all the years of schooling at the same institution, I am also blessed to be remembered by all my teachers even after a decade of passing out. For other kids, it's usually the first few days of school that seem the hardest to deal with. But for me, it was first few years. I was the only kid who used to sit and cry till the very end of the day whilst sincerely doing everything the teacher asked to do. I used to miss my mother way too much. To make things worse, my poor working mother used to actually wait for almost half of the entire day outside the class so I would stop crying. But seeing her used to make me even more sad. My crying was not the usual wailing and stomping the foot. It used to be real tears of sadness. It might sound narcissistic but i was actually one of the most well behaved kids around (also read, very very cute). My relatives still swear by that! But I would just not stop crying when I was dropped off to school. So how did I cope with it? I would skip school! Yes, it sounds absolutely the worst way but that seemed the most convenient thing for me to do. I have made up excuses of having a pain in my heart to skip school. My family obviously didn't believe and made fun of my excuses but I used to physically feel that pain inside when I used to start getting ready for school. Obviously my mother had pampered me way, way too much (it's pretty evident even today) to force me into going to school. Most of my early childhood was spent in the comfort of my house with my Granny. And the rest of it was spent trying to survive the worst 7 hours of the day in school. I was one old peaceful soul who never wanted to go out and play but was super comfortable making up games in her own little space. Playing all alone. 

As I grew up and accepted the fact that I am too old to cry or be physically lifted and forcefully made to sit right inside the class so I don't run away, I also realized how lazy I was. I would never do my homework. The classwork books were incomplete. My handwriting was and still is beyond pathetic. My mother used to complete all my books. She used to hold my hand and do my homework and when I grew old enough to not do that, her hand stayed and mine moved away. My mother never complained or yelled at me because I used to surprisingly get good grades. My teachers were tired of complaining about my irregularity and laziness to my mother. They maintained one thing throughout that I am a very intelligent child but with a supremely lazy attitude towards life. My mother still feels bad about not being strict enough with me while I was growing up. I was the only child and I was genuinely very loving towards my family. And had a puppy face always ready to evade punishments. As I grew up I somehow had the arrogance of not being a conventional kid who needs to study everyday or even attend school everyday. To make things worse I transformed into this Lord of the last bench in the last 3 years of my school. I made sure I got punished everyday along with my poor friends. I was an absolute rogue who wanted to break rules and do every mischief possible in 3 years that kids had not done in 12 years. Yet, this never actually killed the smart child in me. I was one of those wonder kids who was made to skip one year of kindergarten for being too smart and well read for it. I was that notorious child in the class who never paid any attention yet knew the answer to any question that was asked. I used to give my teachers a lot of reasons to punish yet no reason to complain :)

Junior college and first 2 years of my graduation I was the female version of Sid (from Wake Up Sid, the movie guys!) Utterly spoiled, arrogant, had no clue about what life is all about. My grades dropped to below average. I didn't really have too many friends who could set me right. My mom somehow tried her best to make me a responsible person but I couldn't be just reformed. By then my friends, my family and my teachers were pretty sure I am not really going to be more than an average graduate girl. Who would lead a mediocre life and spend her mother's money. And no one really thought I would have any ambition of my own.

Fate had some other plans though. One massive blow on the academic front due to a serious personal loss bought me to the ground. The academic blow to me was so hard that I actually felt like a loser. Being average still seemed like the best I ever had. That's when I had the wake up call in my life. To understand what went wrong. To know how I need to prove a lot of people who wrote me off as a good for nothing spoiled brat. My arrogance never really left me even when I was beaten down. And even today, the one thing that brings out the best in me is my pride. Probably a wrong way to push oneself but hey, it works for me! Somehow the urge of making every person who wrote me off to appreciate me in the future made me a perfect student anyone could ever have. I used to make my own notes. Study like a maniac. I was sincerity personified. And not being a genuinely bad person at heart, even fate smiled upon me. I managed to gain a lot of respect at a place where I was practically written off as a good for nothing. And yes, I did successfully achieved what I wanted to (More on that part of my life later)

Today I am heading towards a very crucial and fulfilling arena of my life. It took me a lot of patience and hard work to get there. And by God's grace I have landed an oppurtunity that is only due to the hard work I had put in after my debacle. So yes! Everything has reasons! We must have patience and always remember that God's plans for us are far better than our own plans for us. Though I have not lost out too much in life by being complacent but yes my academic profile would have been 100 times more consistently better than it is today :) 

And what prompted this blog post was a visit to my school today. I was representing the NGO I am volunteering for. And I could see my math teacher smiling ear to ear seeing me all grown up and responsible. A child he has punished continuously for 4 years coz I sucked in math. Sadly.....very sadly, I still do....But I will change that soon :D Hopefully! :D

Now everyone can fly, without Red Bull!

With the recent event of a South Asian Airlne service (No, not that one, don’t worry) launching low cost domestic and international flights in India, I am expecting a humongous crowd flocking to it. By humongous crowd I don’t mean Dadar Station, locals will be hellish as always, no good news there. More than the mango people, I am actually expecting a Kingfisher kind of a crowd wanting to avail this on a desperate level. Why Kingfisher, you ask? It’s because we are too snooty to travel in a train and too stingy to travel by Jet Air.  Also known as the rassi jal gayi par bal nahi gaya types.  We as in I include myself as well, are such bitches and dawgs who would come up with jokes even if we are given free tickets on an Emirates or Lufthansa flight. We are so evil that we wouldn't mind paying few extra bucks to travel by Air India only to get some material for humor. And yeah, we will keep doing this. So some of the things that may happen (may okay? I didn't say will) if we go the railways way for flights.

• We will have to start booking for our 2016 flights now. I mean right now.
• We will have 10027 Mumbai-Delhi Up and 10026 Delhi-Mumbai Down flights.
• The only choice of seats would be Cramped up at a window, Cramped up at aisle, Cramped up at middle. (This is coming from a 5’10” girl).
• There will be a Ladies and Senior citizen quota that will not make a difference.
• There will be a Tatkal service that will bring out the Hulk in every Bruce Banner out there.
• And the inner Hulk will smash the keyboard at least once when Makemytrip and Cleartrip will show Service Unavailable after logging in.
• There is a bright possibility of seeing WL2366/WL997 and feeling flabbergasted as to why would someone book after WL100? Height of optimism.
• Travel booking portals will give 50 Rs off on domestic flights and lodges coupons. And still terms and conditions would apply.
• We will be able to successfully book your ticket after investing  5 hours, One pack of Marlboro Lights and a bottle of Old Monk.
• No boarding passes for Wait Listed passengers. They will have to do jugaad with the Airline counter at the airport.
• Instead of tags, we will get stickers sponsored by Bank of India or Vicco
• There will be no limit to check-in baggage, because they are aware that even if they set a limit, we will still carry bags big enough to fit our grandparents inside for a one week trip.
• No limit to cabin baggage as well to allow every passenger to smack the faces of the seated aisle passengers with their big ass bags.
• We will be asked to reach at least 10 minutes before the plane leaves the runway. Those 10 minutes are allotted to buy Bisleri and Filmfare from the aerobridge before we board.
• We will be allowed to carry Milton water coolers and Ludo board game.
• For security checking, there will only be one metal detector present and we can choose whether to walk through to it or not. We are all good people. The plane people know it.
• Once we board our economy level flight of economy flights, we will be greeted by nobody.
• We will hear Khoya Khoya Chand lounge music inside the cabin, or if we are in luck, Hotel California.
• If we manage to get a window seat, a shameless pot bellied uncle would be already sitting there thinking jab aayega tab dekhenge, abhi baith jaata hu.
• If we are sitting near the emergency exit i.e. Apatkalin Dwar, the stewardess will not come and tell us what to do. Because the window will be red with a glass case for a hammer next to it. The hammer would be missing to scare the daylights out of us.
• Once everybody settles in their seats, there will be one stewardess wearing leggings and kurta giving safety instructions.
• The stewardess will give the safety instructions in the regional language. Like, Tumcha seat cha khaali aani varti kaahich naahi. Oxygen level zar kami jhala tar vitthalache nav ghya  OR Ee flight vellathil mungya guruvayurappane villikka, seatinde adiyil jacket onnum illya. Pinne belt ketti vekka, namade pilot number one kudiyan aanu.
• The seat belts would be made of Velcro.
• The stewardess will actually end the safety instructions with this joke “Aage do dwaar, peeche do dwaar, dono nahi khule, toh Haridwar” and then wink at us.
• We shall be asked to switch off our cell phones and all other devices. We will still sneakily use it because nobody will give a damn.
• The flight will take off 30 minutes late and the lavatory will have a queue outside even on the shortest 35 minutes Mumbai-Pune flight.
• In the back of our seat pockets there will be a brochure of airlines with a “wide selection of refreshments” priced 2 Rs less than the M.R.P of course. We can have bread butter and bread jam with tea, coffee and rasna sponsored by Kissan. Meals will be sponsored by Anand Bhavan. Lassi and Chhas by Amul.
• Once you are done the stewards will come to you with Rajnigandha and a tray full of tips that they had put themselves to get the ball rolling.
• The flight will land 30 minutes late by default because it will be last carrier to get the landing permission. We may also have to walk at the runway a little because it may not exactly stop near the aerobridge.
• And lastly, there will be a fleet of attendants who would fling your bags at you from the base of the plane because the stoppage is only for 10 minutes.

Either ways it's going to make travelling easy for impatient weirdos like me who cannot sit quietly for more than an hour. Because you know, Banglaore-Goa for Rs 990 is not bad at all! Too bad this is after the goafest (sorry Indian Madmen).

P. S. If I have offended someone in this post then my job here is done.

Laters!

The Unfinished Embrace

Ayesha sat near her balcony gazing at the dimly lit road. Her deep round eyes had turned red and shallow. It has been a week since she lost the guardian angel of her life, her Granny. Ayesha loved her Granny more than anyone else in the world. ”It was too soon” she mumbled. She gently rubbed the faint white line that ran through her wrist. A line left behind when jewelry or a thread is taken off after a long duration of wearing. Ayesha had taken off the sacred thread meant to ward off evil forces. That thread also signified the blessings of Ayesha’s Ganpati Bappa. She was a believer more than a follower. But she was angry with God for taking her angel away from her. She was angry she couldn't see her for the last time and embrace her for the last time. She couldn't study and didn't have a single friend in college she could share her pain with. But Ayesha was a fighter. “You know you have to be strong when you have no other choice” she thought.

Ayesha lived as a paying guest in a huge bungalow in Pune. A 300 sq feet room with a bath attached was maybe a bit too big for an 18 year old Engineering student.  But Ayesha was very different from a regular girl. She was fiercely independent and intellectual. She couldn't bear the idea of sharing a room with a “bimbo”, a term she used for all her college friends. She had issues getting along with people in general so Hostel was not an option for her. Getting a mini apartment to herself where she could cook, read, study and enjoy a cup of coffee all alone was a dream come true for her. But something was different about that particular evening. It was quieter than usual. It was breezier than ever. That was one evening when Ayesha felt lonely. “Maybe it’s because of what I am going through” she thought.

The room was dimly lit. Ayesha had the usual disappointing dinner from a local tiffin service and sat on her bed with her laptop. The room had minimal furniture. A wardrobe, a computer table, a single bed, 2 chairs and one table with a hot plate and essential vessels. These few things meant the world to Ayesha because she didn't have to share them with anyone. Ayesha got up from her bed and opened her wardrobe to take out her moisturizer. It was the chilly month of December and she wanted to apply it before bedtime. She kept back the bottle of moisturizer at the far end of the wardrobe rack to make sure it doesn't fall off the edge. Ayesha securely locked the wardrobe and checked the latch of the main door. She then switched on the night lamp which imparted a dim glow to the entire room. Ayesha checked her phone, it was way past midnight. “I must sleep now, early morning practicals tomorrow.” She said to herself. Her bed was at one end of the room close to the balcony so she wouldn't feel closeted. She took her blanket and faced the wall, her back facing the rest of the room. She was a light sleeper which made it a usual thing for her to be awake even with her eyes closed.

There was a gentle screeching sound made by the latch of the main door. Ayesha swiftly opened her eyes but she lay still. She was not sure if she actually heard something or it was a state of lucid dreaming. Her breathing had increased rapidly but she made sure not to make a peep. She heard a loud noise of a heavy object falling near her wardrobe. She froze. She just couldn’t turn her back towards the room and see what was going on. She just didn't have the courage to get up and switch on the light. Her bones felt like jelly. She couldn't muster up enough courage to even scream. She could sense a thick cloud of silence engulfing the room. She felt someone’s presence in that silence. The presence kept moving closer to her. She still hadn't turned her back towards the room. She didn't want to see whatever she was feeling. She wanted to scream real bad by then but she had lost her voice to fear. Her eyes were wide open when she felt someone sit by her side. She felt a very strong presence of someone sitting and adding a good amount of weight to the small bed of hers. That moment she realized she is going to die and her mind just stopped working. A few seconds passed by when Ayesha was completely sure it was not an illusion since the weight on her bed and that silent cloud of presence was still there. It seemed very real to her until she felt a hand graze her forearm placed on her hip in a firm yet gentlest way possible. Now the moment seemed morbidly real to her. She gathered all the courage left in her and squealed “Noooo”. And, everything stood still. In the next moment, the presence was gone. The hand grazing her forearm was gone. The weight on her bed was gone. The thick cloud of silence was gone. The room went back to a being a dimly lit breezy space.

Ayesha somehow managed to bring herself to get up and switch on the lights. She first looked at the latch which was exactly the way she had left before going to bed. She then looked at her wardrobe which lay slightly open with the weight of the moisturizer bottle tumbling down. “How can the bottle fall from so far? I had kept it at the end of the rack” She thought. She sat her bed and looked at the side where she felt the weight. Ayesha was a brave girl; she did not create a scene or call up her family living in Mumbai. She went into a state of taciturnity. A tear trickled down Ayesha’s cheek. This was the first time she had experienced paranormia. Everything had gone back to being normal. It felt like the silence after a storm. She thought if it was an evil entity, how it could simply leave the moment she said no. “I was really scared. It could have harmed me. But it didn't. The touch felt very real and yet gentle. Could it be my.....” She thought. “There is no I will ever know if my angel visited me one last time...It will always remain an unfinished embrace.....” She thought. 

Review of The Xposé :- Violation of your Intellectual Property

P.S. Himesh gave the music, story, money and the sex appeal to this movie. Which means he was pregnant with this movie and when the movie came out, so did the extra flab.

Irrfan Khan enters on a melancholic note in a deserted theater. Breaking away from all stereotypes his name is Alec and he wears a fedora. He looks stoned and broke. That’s all you need to you know about him. In a Mumbai autowaala se bhi worst accent, he goes back in 1968 where a heroine in a red dress is pushed off a building. Cut to her funeral scene where the characters are introduced one by one. The good cop bad cop/ aadhi nangi and puri nangi heroines, Sonali Raut and Zara Afroz respectively. They are roomies and they both hate each other. This is news that 2 girls don’t get along. Some generic aunty is the landlord/manager/caretaker to the good girl once she moves to the bungalow. Next in line is the director himself Anant Mahadevan who plays, guess? A director! Collectively shaming all the directors both dead and alive, Anant Mahadevan is a South import who makes it big (no pun intended) in Bollywood. Then enters our very own Blues/Jazz/Dandiya crooner...Himess Bhai!!  He plays an anorexic cop (lolmax). Like every Bollywood cop he wears a fake black Ray Ban aviator. But hey, he wears it at night, during rains, inside the police station and maybe even when he poops. He has serious temper issues and is known as the “paagal of the police peepals”. We all agree to half of that sentence. He holds a cigarette but doesn't smoke it. Bola na, paagal hai!  He gets suspended from shooting an MLA (kejru alert) coz Gussa aa gaya tha. So after only one and half years in jail he is set free. And for some reason Anant signs him up for a movie. So the mad cop, who refers to raja ka nanga beta to declare his grandeur, is transformed into Blue blazer-Yellow Pants-Rainbow Aviators-Tamil puking actor. Cut to a couple of insignificant people who I don’t feel like writing about. Then enters, the man himself, torch bearer for Delhi NCR, mascot of all the Gurgaon boys you ever wanted to slap the shit out of, Mr One-Yo-is-not-cool-enough-so-I-have-two-Yos-in-my-name Honey Singaaaaa. Unlike his songs, here in the movie, there is no statuary warning issued that he is present so you can run away. He is a lecherous looking music composer notorious for selling same tunes to different directors or as we popularly know, Anu Malik.  Jesse Randhawa plays his girlfriend who makes parallel cinema. She is dusky, tall and her hair is cropped so you believe this parallel cinema has to be an intellectual thing she does.  Then, enters a baniya looking cop in the next scene who says heroine ko dhakka maara hai, it’s a murder. Thank you for telling us, we were assuming she was measuring the height of the building by jumping down with a tape. The story begins by a collage of all these annoying turd faces into a single frame, which secretly means one of them is the killer.

Himesh Bhai has a sautela bhai who did him wrong. Please don’t ask me how. My attention span is worse than a hummingbird. He looks constipated and bleached throughout the movie for some reason. The story moves on to the shooting of a Hindi film where Himess reaches late coz he is not a hero but a superhero (somewhere Ironman, Superman, Batman and Captain America died a little inside). He doesn't rehearse, never puts on makeup,q never follows the script, doesn't shake hands and generally is not civil. In short, he plays a cocky son of a bitch who mouths corny dialogues instead of normal conversation. This will remind you of Akshay Kumar from Once upon a time in Mumbai Dobara. Cut to the slutty heroine accusing Mr Yo Yo ji of using her so he makes an I-AM-A-PIMP face and asks her to go to hell. Mr Yo Yo ji says sorry with a Dairy Milk and proposes to Jesse ji in a way that every girl will remove that part of a love story from her wish list forever. So next, on one side of the set, Himes, another shah bhai and slutty heroine are shooting for Ujwal Nirmal Sheetal (I know you all are thinking about that white saree scene now) and on the other side; good heroine is shooting for another film Reena Mera Naam. There is a fire on that set and Himes bhai rushes there to save the good heroine. Now the good heroine is so mad in love that she quits smoking for him. But Himes who is also in love continues to hold an unlit cigarette throughout coz he is simply mad.

Yo Yo is now caught because he gave the same music for two films and he laughs like a lunatic. I don’t know why. You also please don’t try and figure out why. Now both the shitty films release on the same day. In spite of the transparent wet white saree playing the lead in the movie, Ujwal Nirmal Sheetal flops because the director of the other movie plays dirty tactics with the help of Irrfan Khan. Now, a very angry Himes bhai calls up that director and threatens him by telling him a medical condition he has, he pees more blood than the director has in his body. (UTI, bro). Now there is a post award The Great Gatsbhai themed party where the slutty heroine seduces Himes. He tells her he is a 40 year old virgin like Salman and refuses to even friend zone her. Then begins a song where everyone looks high as shit and dancing to ice cream khaungi. (I am trying hard to not crack jokes on that). Courtesy puraani dushmani, the actresses trash talk and start a catfight (yay!) and the good girl’s ex breaks it up (nay). Cut to the scene where the slutty heroine falls off the roof. We have come to the beginning now. Now this scene has been played over 300 times in the move for no reason. Next we see the funeral scene again where her coffin is buried in the graveyard. The coffin looks like it has been designed by Maganlal Dresswala. The question arises, who did it? Who? Do I give a shit? Obviously No!

Now I dare you to watch this movie. I double dare you to watch it till the end because I didn't. If you manage to sit till the end and tell me who did it, I promise I will take you out for dinner. If you are a fan of Himesh or Yo Yo for any reason, I will take you to a shrink

P.S. My guess is, that the killer is the person who doesn't wear a Fedora. Now go figure.