Saithan Cycle la Varuthu Ft. Me

I’ve been in Chennai all my life. There are lots of things to point out to Chennai for its glory and specialty. But, there are tons of directors that talk about it. Why am I here now? To talk about traffic- the one thing no one seems to want to write about… or have I missed it? My travel through the city can be divided into three major modes: Walking, Bus and Cycle. Riding in a/a Bike or a car is unbelievably rare for me, because I’ve got a mediocre knowledge of both. There is a very little to discuss about Nada-raja service because, to get caught in traffic when you’re walking is a skill. Either you must be “yo momma so fat” fat or you must be well, have lost your screws up there.
Coming to Bus travel I have already written about it in my previous posts and blogs about all the jannal seat conundrums and ticket kashtams. People who know me, must’ve read it. Here I’d like to tell about my general adventures of Chennai traffic and with my cycle too. Before I start off, I don’t know if bikers and other two wheelers face the similar or even more difficulties, if so, let the Road-u madha bless you with all the chilra you’re gonna vaarify.
Going on Chennai roads is an art. Oru vela athan namma aalungaluku varaliyo? Probably this is the only place in Tamil nadu where the “left la indicator potu right la porathu makes sense”, and might become legal soon. Enna? people want to ban momos, why not ban logic? My cycle has two blinkers, one in the front and one in the rear. I almost always never forget the blinkers when there is no sunlight since I met with a small accident. But I’m not sure, if all these people can see the blinking light. There will be this uncle in a Fuel economy bike whom I think might have asked his wife to make murungakka sambar, murungakka poriyal, murungakka kootu and all, oh and aththi pazham juice too. He will be in ulaga-maga rush to his home, when? When sun is out kolthing. Dei it’s 11.30 da, enga mela otitu nee veetuku poi o… seri okay avarukum vazhi vittuta there will be this couple on R15. She will be sitting in 1st floor and he in basement. I often think that this setup is a sly technique by boys to make the girl hug them during brakes since oru front brake will lead to angry bird action of launching the girl into the air.
Okay da, neengalum ponga, then there will come this share auto driver who must’ve been this kid who didn’t get to ride a cycle. He will take all the inch gap and centimeter gaps and will do his best to do the “Cycle gap la Sindhu paaduvan” thingy, with his share auto. Seri share autovum pogatum nu vitta then, his younger cousin, Auto will come. He will be blessing everyone with all the cuss words and profanities known to mankind and dinosaurkind. I even feel his skills in kazhuvi oothing your family is better than his driving skills. Though these auto annas are better maps than google but they give off more heat than a Redmi phone. Beside this auto there will be one guy in lungi on a RX-100 who will have a 90’s bgm as his horn and will scare all the pazhaya aunties and thathas. Sometimes there will be a girl in his pillion seat who’s face will be mummified in the dhupatta. He will give her heart attack instead of orgasms by driving through all the sandhu bonthu. Dei that is not the gap you must… okay.
Somehow coming past all this, we come to a Major signal in that direction of the city. And past that signal will be your college, home, hostel, bathroom ellam. That signal is the ultimate barrier for all the things in life and I’m pretty sure everyone knows what signal I’m talking about. This signal is designed such a way that, all the following things will happen.
  1. You’ll reach your college for 3rd sem arrear exam if you start for 11th half yearly.
  2. You’ll reach for your child’s 3rd birthday if you’re going to meet your 1st ex-girlfriend.
  3. You start for an interview and reach for your Junior’s promotion. Wait, that won’t happen! Avanukum vela kedachirukathu.
  4. You start during Sherlock Season 5 and reach when Sherlock season 6 promo comes out.
  5. You start for Saravanan Meenatchi… uh… you’ll still end up there.
Then there are these roadu janthus, the maadu-Ola, aadu-Uber, Chinna yaanai-Tata ace, The Karadi government bus who will be ruling the roads and they might even have a will stating, “This is my Grandfather road”. You somehow pass that “ootla soltu vantiya” scooty guy who scolds us for going by rules, and the “kanna enga vechitu vara” XL aunty, aiyyo I meant TVS XL. Barry Allen eh confuse aagura alavuku timeline changes nadanthu eppadiyo green signal vizhum.
When the Signal turns green there will be these idiots who will start honking 0.0001 seconds after green goes off, why da ivlo avasaram? In a nutshell, the only possibility where you reach your destination in time is when your destination is The Signal itself.
Once you’ve time travelled through this signal you’ll then face the bigger demons of the road, oh not the direct contractors of Mr.Yeman – The elemental combo – the Mannu Lorry and the Thanni Lorry – But the all cosmetic imperfections of the road which the cosmic entity in itself would not know why. First there will be a speedbreaker, but it will be taken because it would be too bumpy for vehicles, so they will remove it half-heartedly, apparam when sky goes chucha, the bad digging will lead to potholes which will lead to plot holes in our life. The hole will develop and they will announce it as metrotrain works soon. Escaping all the holes you’ll definitely be bound to find yourself to the surprise pan missiles from bus and lorry windows. Even Kaaka does kakka on you. Onnyum panna mudiyathu.
If you have somehow crossed all this to reach your destination, then the gods bless you with a splash of mud from the rain, and the rain itself to wash it off. Ivvalavum mudichi antha edathula poi sentha, oruthan kepan, “Dei nee innuma cycle otitu iruka?”.
Tyre oda senthu namma heart layum kaathu pogum.
#CyclingSambarthayam

Cringe Attack: Senses

I was a northern state for a week and it was a great stay. The capital city of this state was a lovely one albeit its little discomforts. But one thing that reinforced in me was that your senses are sure to be the first point of attack every time you go out. As I returned home I realized that we wage a war of senses with the world we step out of our home. We win sometimes, we lose most times, but that doesn’t matter because every smell, every temperature, every sound, every pressure is an experience. I’ll leave the shade of feeling you feel to you. If this post makes you cringe, my job is done.

Eye-o!

There are lots of things that you see with your eyes, like the orange coat sunset over the clouds, or the trippy half-cut side of a purple cabbage, or the way the coffee powder mixes slowly into milk. These are some soothing sights that you see in your day to day life which have a positive effect or not effect you.
Here comes the Attack.
The first attack I want to talk about is the one where you’re sprayed with Influenza infected droplets of death, Saliva. Sneezing is one of the most ungodly acts of human nature when done without closing mouth. I’ve been in a situation where a light behind a man highlighted his open sneeze and I saw the particulates fly off in every direction. Brrr. I ran before I got a fresh coat of Saliva.
Everyone loves eating, but some people manage to make it the most undesirable act of the century. They chew with the mouths so open that a Crow could come and pick some food off. Also, that sound that accompanies it. “Chowk Chowk Chowk”. Please.
Human body makes a lot of wastes, some of them are disgusting, some of them go unnoticed, I’m going talk about the disgusting one. Oh, not that one, but the one that comes from your eyes and nose. Doesn’t that little white goop in their eyes want to scratch out your own eyes? Or the gummy boogers you see having a fun time swinging in their nose hairs make you cut off your own nose? If you have felt the same way, Hello. Once I saw a man whose boogers slipped and fell into his soup. I wanted to jump out of my skin. I’m not saying everyone will be aware every time, but please for the love of god!
Have you ever sat in a restaurant or a coffee shop and someone bent down right before your face? Yes, getting a butt in your face is not the greatest thing while eating food. But that’s not the worst part, it’s the butt crack that makes you spit out your intestines. If you manage to think that, ‘it’s Butt, nothing but’ then you might be built for something stronger like the spitting.
Oh. It’s not the normal spitting. This is a special kind of spitting that makes you hate physics. The spit that curves. The phenomenal bus-window spit. This guy who has been ‘arachifying’ that pan in his mouth for the past 30 minutes chooses the exact moment right before you get up, before the vehicle halts at your bus stop, and he goes “plicchhhh” towards the windows. You must have seen rainbows? That’s how the spit curves. It curves from his mouth and hits the one behind his seat. That is, you, painting you in Red. As your tears mix with the pan, I’ll let you deal with that scarring image.

Ke’Kadhu’

Ears are a wonderful sense to enjoy the world, the sweet music of the nature swishing and swooshing with winds, or the consistent tapping of rain on your window or the eargasm you feel when you hear the waves rock you to sleep. But there is another side to sounds. Naaais.
Here comes the attack
One might think this is the lesser of sensory attacks, but I have some tricks for this one. You might’ve experienced this, you’d be having lunch and there would be this one guy that will have his lunch and make sounds like a whale. You can literally hear him drinking his water, or munching his murukku.
Or those loud talkers in theatres who seem to make the most irritating noises of all. And there would be another couple that will making noises that mimic rats squeaking. Get a room please.
There are those idiots who tap the table during an important meeting. Man, that makes you so mad. They must be hung with their ID cards.
And you bathroom singers. Pothum da dei
You know, you’re moving in a line, standing in a que for a bank or even Pongal in kovil, then you hear a sound, “darrrrrrr”. Let’s pray to the mighty power above it was a one of those times where a hole was made in a fabric by tearing and not the people tearing a hole in the fabric of time by releasing body air. Ewww. IKR.

Mooku Varmam

This is my favourite/unfavourite part in this blog. My special wishes and condolences to nose for enduring so many things in life. Seriously Nose, You da man.
As the heading says, using nose is an art, it has a million good purposes, like taking in the sweet smell of vadai, or the fragrance of a flower or the olfactory treat of breathing in a new book. But at times certain things are thrust upon you and you can’t hold your breath always.
Here comes the attack
First let’s start with all bodily odours. I think a bus is the place where one can experience all the human based odours. First of all, sweat, that little salt droplet that rolls down from your underarm, ever so slowly that it progresses like the dooms day that’s coming towards us. While you’re engrossed in tracking that sweat bullet on your skin, the person standing behind you is grossed out by the unmissable gappu it creates. His poor nose is bombarded by nasal bomb from you. As he tried to move away from you, someone else releases something else among the bus crowd. This thing as strong as the Bomb Trump dropped over afghan. Beware, this one is the sum product of multiple dishes from the previous day that didn’t ferment properly inside your body. I really wish there was a fart detector in public places. People would run for life.
You go to the conductor to get ticket, but your heart stops for a few minutes as your face goes into different corners of your head. The smell of bad breath demands you! It demands you to be felt! This is such a horrible experience you know. You can’t express the insane amount of discomfort your nasal cavity faces wanting you to rip off the nose but also must continue the conversation until you get what you need. All his pan, unbrushed teeth, the onions he had, makes sure you count your blessings post this experience
Seri, okay you get down from the bus and another war. The mighty koovam. This ever-present river will make sure your olfactory senses are deactivated for a few moments such that you can’t breathe.
But the other thing that trumps this is public bathrooms. If there is a place where you want to train your senses, this is the ultimate dojo. Nose, eyes, and ears will be made sure you grow a new pair.
Nose Knows Everything.
After all this if you survive you’re the best.
Remember. Everyone has problems related to body, don’t take it lightly, make sure you fix it. Also make sure you don’t offend anyone with your words.

Divisions of Mankind

Bullets of sweat rolled down her cheeks through her eyes,
her clothes were all shredded and her skin was darker than usual,
on the other end another young girl tried her best to gather funds,
funds that might help younger souls get education and food,
The engineers and wives signaled money only for signal implorers,
they earned more everytime the lights turned red,
the other one typed away until her eyes were red,
two corners of a society, one up there and one down there,
she was termed ‘underprevileged’ and her as an something unutterable,
When vehicles whizzed past at green light, her employer was at delight,
His eyes were set on the money she’d begged, little did the givers know,
She shared, commented and canvassed, none cared, none understood her plight,
Later they called her, ‘keyboard warrior’ and ridiculed her, none donated though,
Two corners of a society, one up there and one down there,
They both went home to one kid, one that was special for them,
one that didn’t have parents to look up, Two corners of a society, met there.

Drungen Mangi Shtyle

I had to go to a place near Mahabalipuram for an errand entrusted upon me on Friday, (en na sila moonjigala paatha than kothu vidanumnu thonum pola) and I was met with a certain situation while returning home which made me rethink my life choices. This peculiar situation flipped my perspective on life and made me feel like there is more to live in this life. You might have think I met with an accident or met a sage or at met a beautiful girl. Normal fate would have opted for any of the aforementioned options, but my fate had other ideas. I got to spend 90 odd minutes of bus travel with a man who was fully drunk.
 
He was not your average drunkard who you see outside Tasmac. But he was your party-peppy-yo-yo-mama guy, he was wearing shorts, a plain shirt, had a metal strapped watch and a bulky wallet because, well, because he wanted me to pick pocket it from him. Yes. That’s how it was.
I got into one of those Pondicherry busses. Unlike, our MTC bus, this one had a taller and better backrest and I think they could be classified as semi sleepers. I took a ticket to Thirvanmiyur bus stop and got a window seat luckily(?). I wanted go into pulavar mode and enjoy the fresh breeze, but No. Fast forward 15 minutes there comes this man. And mind you, in all my conscious life I have seen a man so drunk only a few times, after saying something to the conductor he came and sat down in the seat in front of me, and as fate ruled, I happened to stretch my legs which hit his legs below the seat and he came and sat down next to me stating that I’m free to stretch my legs now, that was the only freedom I had. He introduced himself to me and said that he is fully intoxicated, I, being creeped out by his sudden interference offered him the window seat in case he throws up. He refused straight away, and said he just had a few beers and shots. Now even more creeped up by his non-vomiting confidence, I decided to get up and move to another place. But no, also this guy saw me starting to get uncomfortable and didn’t let me go. He started calling me “bro”, he was around 40 years and he was calling me bro. Nera kodumai.
I nice ah took out my earphones and plugged it in, he noticed that. “Bro pesunga bro, people lam ippo pesavey maatranga, veetuku pona ava tv laye iruka neengalum pesa maatringa.” He was emotional. I was awkward. Dei, you have a wife da, I’m not your bro da.
 
“Bro illa light ah thookam varuthu, athan…” For fucks sake I called him bro. Ignoring my plea he started rambling something and all, starting from, meeting Sachib, seeing Amibath Bachab, Dhonib, Bodi, Banbogan Singb, and other intelligible worbs that I didn’t quite understand. His tongue was rolling like Vandu Murgan. I tried to avoid him by not talking. For 15 mins or so he stopped, then came the next stop where a family got into the bus.(Paavam avangalukum headwriting was kirukals pola) they proceeded to sit in the seat in front of us, but the Knight in drunken armour came to the seat’s rescue. He didn’t let them sit and argued with them, why? Because he wanted that seat aam, and there was an aavi of a dead person residing below the seat. Unable to hold in my laughter I laughed out, so did the family. The conductor tried to intervene, but believe me, he threatened that he will vomit on his tickets. (nuclear, biochemical laam enna weapon, ivan paarunga saraku vomit vechey bus ah hijack pannitan). The conductor tried his best to argue the man out of that seat. But he didn’t budge. He suddenly turned to me. (aiaiyo)
 
“intha bro kitta kelunga naa evlo decent aana family nu”. (flash backs to Winner thirudan comedy)
Unable to sit there another moment, I got up, pushed him down into this seat and got up and sat in the last row which was empty. There was no other empty seat, in the bus, appada sethan sekarunu I thought.
 
But Saniyan saraku adichitu nera en kitta than vanthuchu. Pakkathula iruntha uncle ah ezhupi vittutu ukkanthiruchu.(Flashes back to avar rendu ambathu, ivar rendu ambathu aagamotham cheers) Seri innaki pozhuthu ivan kooda than polayenu nenachen. Appo than he said, “Bro hold this, inthaanga” (he gives me this thick brown wallet, full of cards, cash and more) I gave him a Quizzical look and he explained that I wanted to hide his wallet so that he can blame the conductor for getting pickpocketed. (he was telling all this loudly enough for everyone to hear). Seri pogatum kazhuthaye nu I took his wallet. Apparam he forgot that somehow and showed an expression of vomiting. (again aiaiyo)
 
I got up from my seat, asked the window seat guy to clear and made him sit there, I still had the purse and his stuff. This guy, out of nowhere begins singing. Not knowing what to do, I sat there like Inji-thinna-something. He turned towards me and did the same expression vadivel does in that bagavathar scene. I knew that he was going to explode any minute. He was a time bomb ticking.
 
Tick tock, Tick tock, Tick Tock…
 
My stop was almost there, I proceeded to give his stuff to the conductor who said he’ll take care. appo than I noticed, his Ticket rate was way lower than mine. He was supposed to get down somewhere long before my stop.
 
After getting down, I saw the bus stop again shortly after few meters. He got down.
“Bro…”
Oditen.
 
Onney onnu than I remember in that situation, “Manaivi amaivathellam kadavul kodutha varam, motor amaivathellam avan avan seitha venai”
#ThannilaGandam

I’m fat and its funny

Every now and then I’m reminded that I’m fat. At first it is a very hurtful thing you hear about yourself, but later it becomes funny if you look at it from a fresh perspective, i.e. basically after you’ve lost all your self-esteem (soodu, soranai, vekkam, maanam etc.). This is common to both the genders, we are equally rolled around (no pun intended) as a toy in the society. But mind you, we are neither too fat that we get serious health problems nor the proper size who seem to have a fun life(damn you proper sizes!). I tell you, we’re not obese or unhealthily fat. Our BMI only a tad bit away from the line, which could always be fixed by some exercise(pfff). We’re not that chuchubuchiki fat where people pinch your bubbly cheeks and it wobbles cutely, No. We’re a cross between the thins and the thicks. We’re the sum product of a being a Beta Taster aka Foodies and a lazyass. We’re the people whom the thin community finds fat and the fatter community finds thin.

We’re the Middle class of Fat. *epic bgm plays with the sun setting behind the fat squad*

Let me tell you why we can’t be classified as normal sizes. First thing, we’re fit okay, not like the athlete fit, but we can get onto a running bus on our own. But in a running race where you have the chance to win 50,000 we’d definitely win it, provided that the prize is for the one who comes 5th. That’s how we Roll Yo. This is one of the reasons why we’re never chosen as a runner in a sport like cricket. But I tell you this, we might not be upper class batsmen, but we’re the Middleclass Fatsmen. We’re cursed like this okay, ‘we can run when a dog chases us because we’re not round enough to give up and athletic enough to not lose a pound of fat from our Ramba thighs.’

We face a lot of problems, and some of these are tailored for us. Unlike the problems our dresses aren’t tailored for us. We have this nether region in our body called the Thoppai or the flop belly (I’m refraining myself from using the term Beer belly since it might not apply for all.) This thoppai is a wonderful thing designed to embarrass us in Garment shops and textile showrooms. There was this one incident where there was this wonderful shirt and I wanted to buy it, but sadly it was ‘slim fit’ and obviously, it did not fit me. You leatherduckers, what about us people-u?! What about the people who have extra muscles in their equator? We and all summa va?! Returning to the point, I was trying on this shirt which narrowed down in my Madhya Pradesh where I was almost 3 months (oh shuddup you idiots). I tried my best to fit into this shirt where the shoulders, arm-length and cuffs were pakka perfect. After putting on the shirt somehow I heard a ‘klannggg’ sound. The button had launched itself from my middle earth and hit the metal door so hard that it made that ‘Klang’ sound. Then what? I nice ah came out of the building. I will miss you, shirt. Don’t even get me started about tucking in shirts.

There are those times with the other gender where you have to hold your stomach inside so that they don’t see your pot belly. You have to be so conscious that you don’t look like Ganesha’s Dupe, because you do not want to end up single like him. Though we often get called names by our friends there would be these relatives and random people who automatically assume that you are the elder one in the Family, sometimes you get Chithapa and Peripa roles too, Rejoice! Your shape is so funny that it resembles a vertical Poori Kattai (dough rolling pin). Little feet, small head and a potato in between. When eating out with friends you have to simultaneously eat and also dodge the comments and bad jokes (seriously mokka people) which say that you might become fatter in future, and you have to position the camera like Periya P.C.Sreeram to get a good picture. Shabba. At the end of the day you’re left feeling funny and healthy.

On a serious note, overweight is a looming problem that is affecting so many people. please try to help your overweight friends as much as you can, emotionally and physically. Try not to tease them as much. I know many who try their best to reduce their weight earnestly and get healthy. My hearty appreciations to those people and may you be in your best health.

Disclaimer: I’m sorry If I’ve hurt someone. Just a blob being a blogger. Thanks.

I’m gonna tell you why being imaginative is a not the greatest thing.

Yesterday night around 11.30 I was rolling uneasily on my bed. With the mosquitoes doing a Buzz session near my ears and donating my blood to themselves, it wasn’t very easy for me to sleep. Out of sheer boredom I get up to get a midnight snack from our fridge. But then something catches my eye, I see a white shade of light moving over the wall outside my room door, I feel a tinge creep through my skin, its fear. I shudder and try not to breathe loudly, but the dancing light was making it very difficult. I silently drop down on my bed.

Now, I was sitting up right on my pillow now trying to comprehend the white light over the wall. Fueled by the scary ghost stories and the horror movies I’ve seen all my life, I turned multiple time behind to see if there was any bony hand coming out of the darkness to get me or pairs of red eyes peering over me through the shadow. Thankfully there was none. But I was still spooked out by the weird light outside my room, “what was it?”. Gathering courage, I get up and take my first step and my heart stops. I realize I have stepped over something squishy and flat. I was so scared that I heard my own heart beat. *dum dip dum dip dum dip*

Too afraid to move I, keep my foot on the thing, running a thousand guesses on what it might be and how to tackle it if it attacks me. And then a a brute force pushes me out of balance. To afraid turn back, my eyes fall on the light, the light that made me question my existence, the light that denied me of my midnight snack, the light that made me forget that I needed to pee. The light that was reflecting from the new shiny chandelier/wind chime like thing my mom made out of her new hobby. I breathe a sigh of relief and switch off the light creeped me out through the chandelier.

I went back to sleep realizing two things.
1. Imagination is deadly.
2. Do not step on your brother’s hand, He will push you, even if it’s at midnight.

“Dei, Saniyaney kannu theriyatha unaku”
#SorryBro

How (not) to be Sharmaji’s Son


Pre-disclaimer– This is my attempt at portraying the difficulties of being a male child in a typical Indian family in a comic tone. There is some cringe worthy stuff inside this blog which you might not want to read, then kindly like the blog and shoo away. If I’ve hurt or if there is a lapse in logic or if I’ve made mistakes, I’d try my best to correct them when pointed out earnestly.

Unless you’re a boy child you wouldn’t know how difficult it is to be one. Ever since you’re born, shit ton of things are expected from you. Right from the moment your head stands on its own and you say, ‘chuchu’, there are a lot things people want you to be and it is not a simple feat achieving them. I have tried my best to compile a comprehensive and humorous blog on how (not) to be an ideal Male child or Be Sharmaji’s son. Also let me tell you the two reasons why I’m writing only about men and not women,

  1. I’m a Male human.
  2. Sadly, I’m a son too.

The difficulty of being a son starts early, you’re expected to be cute, intelligent and still hold the baby charm at the same time. You should know how to spell long words, know rhymes, thirukural, tell poems, write novels, solve calculus, become scientist and go to mars. Dei how da? When I was little I didn’t even know how to wear jetti(underwear) properly, how would I know how to pronounce lorry? The best I could do was Rolly, Sorry Mum and Dad. First patient eh baedhi baby.

Udaney comes the pre-school and primary. By now we should’ve been excelling at sports, studies and arts, but the tables turn when we grow up though. I’ve heard from modern parents that they’re upset that their child is unable unlock the phone by itself. Aiyo paavam

Then Comes one of the most difficult stages of being a boy – The puberty (don’t imagine flashing lights and big banners, that’s strictly for girls). For girls it’s a function for us boys it’s a hard time getting up (boys will know). Dei they celebrate you growing into pretty people and give you all kinds of jewellery, but what we get called, ‘kada maadu’(grown cow) of increasing frequency. Yes, we understand your difficulty in puberty girls, with the period and cramps and all, but there is certain stuff where men find it difficult to cope with too. One of the major frustrations is body hair, it grows everywhere, like all over da. You do not know how many times it gets caught in your clothes and punishes you every time by stripping away chunks of hair. And there are times where hair doesn’t grow where it has to, Poor bald men. May lightning slip on your heads and you never be called vazhukupaarai.

Don’t even get me started about clothes, nothing fits. In a span of 3 years you grow more than 3 sizes, I can see the eye roll from the other gender. Hey you have so many types and styles of clothes to try out! All we have is four clothes- two inners and two outers. Pants which used to be loose barely fits your arm, Zips? They’re a nightmare. Threatening to reduce your shot at making family every time you use that Zip. Maatna Margaya. Our shoulders become broad that neither L or X dresses fit. XL makes us look like a blown out balloon. But there are a few who seem to stay little even after the growth spurt, aama growth-u spurt-u.

Grow up a little more and you’re forced to become an engineer, and I can assure you that men are forced into Engineering more. Engineering goes away in a confused state whether to love or not. Don’t worry mostly Single than. You somehow manage to get a date and go to some restaurant, Anga pona etho Chivalry aam, Men must pay. Pocket money, Saavu Mani.

While you’re here trying to comprehend the stuff that’s going around you there will be a particular boy who will get more marks than you and do more internships than you, that idiot is your best friend from school. Aapu begins there. If academics is in this state, your ego takes a hit when you see a guy younger than you with more certificates. Ippovey kannakattuthey

Appadiye shifting to home, your chance of getting new things and clothes reduces if you have an elder brother or elder male cousins. You are the one that get all the second hands. After evading everything in home and college you come out. There stands a group just to brand you, the society. And I share this with our opposite gender humans, we both get judged.

Poriki if you have beard, pazham if you shave, rowdy if your haircut is snazzy, loosu if your dressing sense is different. Talking about haircuts one single mess-up can make you move to a different state and change your identity. I have seen guys skip school and college after having a bad haircut. We don’t have bad hair days, rather we have bad-hair-months-leading-to-identity-crisis situations. Beards are a lost cause, your friend has a sage beard and buys beard wax and mush oil while your chin has a single hair which you’re forced to be proud of. Ushabbba.

Seri, when you come home amma wants you to fix her grinder. You wonder why, Nee Engineer da mundam, says your brain. But how? Just because you do engineering doesn’t mean you can fix it, amma doesn’t know this. Avlothan. Appa comes over to questions you to boredom and gives career advice and life lessons, free of cost da!.

Then comes the working stage. Suddenly from being super broke you’re blessed with your own salary, wait wait, mom and dad make you responsible by handing you some bills, pfff yeah, ‘some’ bills. At the end of the month after trying your best to be a good son you’re left with spare cash which is enough only to buy two plates of paani poori.

Jumping over all this, you’re not even allowed to choose your favourite color, Men like blue da macha, No. I like purple, cyan and mauve. Maavu ah? Aama, Maavu than.

Added to this is a list where men are frowned upon if they don’t know to ride a bike. Once my relative gave had a culture shock reaction with vaai aaa open until his wife closed it. Dei I know cooking, you knowva?!, I make very good Pongal and vadakari.

All this also okanynga, the most difficult thing is managing people from your own gender, if you don’t smoke you’re a wuss, if you don’t drink you’re a loser. “if you don’t try all these then what’s the use in living life?” echoes a question from the past. Apparam, Who said all men are strong and courageous? Yov I have been in a very few fights all my life and what nambikkai you send me with mom at 10.30 pm ah? Dei road dogs da, they bow bow once and bite twice da, please no.

Sports, yet another head ache. After receiving multiple frown-downs, I found out that all you have to do is say,’oh aama la, what a great match’ to everything related to sports, believe me it works. Also men are not allowed to cry, Boys azhakoodathu man.

The worst one happens to be the judging based on physical presence, your accidental bumps can lead you to police stations, beware. After all this there is a statistics that say men have a shorter life span. I was not ready da moment.

With all this being said, being a man is as difficult as being any other Gender with all due respect, sometimes in lesser and sometimes in greater magnitude. Let men be men.

Post-Disclaimer – The events, characters and relatives depicted in this blog are fictitious (summa luluvaiku). Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or firms is purely coincidental or unfortunate (looking at the bald and short men, sorry)”. Wait what? Doesn’t that negate the whole point of the blog? Either that or some of these things is a lie. This is merely a try from my side. Any kind of comment is welcome.