Deconstructing A Movie Review: “Haunted”

Haunted posterTwo nights ago, my dreams were haunted by images of a crazed piano teacher trying to rape a moderately pretty woman. I didn’t understand what this meant until I realized it was a premonition of something far more horrifying. I went to see the movie “Haunted” at Inox and to my surprise, the story line was similar to my dreams. Okay, I just made that up. I did not dream any rape scenes. I was just trying to make this review a bit more interesting, because the movie has absolutely nothing to offer.

I won’t give any statutory spoiler alerts because you don’t need it. The movie’s storyline, plot, twists and turns can be predicted with pin-point accuracy after watching the first five minutes.

So, here’s the deal: In 1936, a sex-hungry piano teacher lusts after his student, who’s a moderately good-looking dame. He tries to rape her one fine day, and ends up getting hit by a candle-stand on the head and dies. (By the way, when he dies, he falls on her boobs and get a good look at them). So, this guy dies and comes back as a ghost and finishes what he started. He rapes the chick for a week (yeah, ghosts can rape women, apparently) and in humiliation, the girl kill herself. Then she becomes a ghost. But the fun is just starting – his ghost keeps raping her ghost in the house for 80 years. Yeah, its a lot of rape.

Eighty years later, the protagonist of the movie arrives in town to sell the house and realizes there are two ghosts in there, playing hanky-panky. He sees a photograph of the chick and falls in love with her (obviously) and decided to “set her spirit free”. Whatever that means.

So, get this, he goes back in time! Yeah, he goes back in time to 1936 and tries to prevent the girl from killing the pervert pianist. Instead, in a fantastically typical Bollywood twist, he fails to do so. Astonishing! Anyway, he decided to tackle the raping ghost himself and does all sorts of feats worthy of a Jason Bourne Award for Unbelievable Acts of Physical Endurance, seeks help from a church and finally a mosque, and kills the ghost. Yeah, he kills the ghost in the end.

How does he do it? Well, I think you should watch the movie for that. Why should I be the only one wasting money on such pristine crap?

Vikram Bhatt does a decent job in direction, Mahaakshay Chakraborty does not do justice to the direction. He looks as if he is about to fart all the time, he runs like a girl on dope and dances like a chimp on dope. Tia Bajpai has nice boobs and that’s just about all I can say about her acting skills.

The sound effects are good enough to keep you from falling asleep with timely crescendos and unnecessarily loud shrieks of a ghost getting raped. The movie which had a lot of hype before its release, claiming that its pushed Bollywoord’s horror genre to a new high, fails to live up to its expectations. Every one of the ten people in the huge (empty) movie hall were testament to this fact.

Its definitely worth a watch, if you have two-and-a-half hours to kill and are bored in life and need some good desi entertainment. Else, I’m surprised the movie is still in the theaters.


He was twenty-four years old when they cut off his hands. Both of them. They chained his hands to two pillars in an abandoned quarry, pulled them out and slashed them off with a pair of pick-axes. Or maybe Samurai swords, I don’t really remember. The man who cut off the hands was called Gabbar. And the soon-to-be limbless man was called Thakur. No last name. At least, I don’t remember it now. This is a story of an incident that took place close to eighty years ago, when I was still a kid, living in the remote village of Ramgarh, somewhere in the hills of South India. And this story is not for the faint of heart. I call this ‘Show-Lay’.

To understand why Gabbar cut off Thakur’s hands, we need to understand the men themselves. Thakur was a man who had an unswerving belief in the pornography industry. Back in those days, when owning a television was a luxury and condoms weren’t invented, Ramgarh had a thriving adult movie industry, run by the brilliant marketing genius Thakur. At23, he was the youngest porn star in the world at the time, and perhaps the first. The only mistake he ever did was cross Gabbar’s paths. He regretted that day for as long as he lived.

Gabbar, on the other hand, was a foot model. He had the most exquisite feet in the whole of India and brands like Cows and Alli McFeet featured Gabbar in their advertisements. No one could pull off a pair of silver-studded brown leather boots like Gabbar could, and the most famous advertisement to this day, has been Gabbar sporting the latest summer line of Cows, and walking slowly on the Ramgarh rocks, with a leather belt trailing behind him. Women literally fell over themselves to worship the ground he walked on, and naturally, he had a huge female fan following. There were rumors, don’t quote me on this one, that Gabbar had insured his feet for a whopping fifty rupees from accidental damage, sexual damage and gangrene. Yeah, gangrene – he never removed his boots during the night. Or so I’ve been told. And back in those days fifty rupees could buy you a ticket around the world with spare change left over to buy an island.

Long story short, Thakur slept with Gabbar’s girl – the famous Basanthi. With a ‘B’. We had strange names back then. Basanthi was famous all over South India for her, er, horsing around. Yeah, there’s no better way to put it. She used to ride anything that moved and she loved her hooves. I mean, boots. She became so attracted to her stud Gabbar that she had a very special nickname for him – Dhanno. I don’t know what that means, but rumor has it that they liked to play rough – with whips and restraints and a lot of screaming. Her ecstatic cries of “Chal, Dhanno!” reverberated through the village at night. And we all knew that Gabbar was one lucky cowboy.

Thakur not only slept with her, but made a movie out of it and it was called “Basanthi ka Dhanno” starring Basanthi and Thakur. Gabbar lost his mind and chased down Thakur through the hills, caught up with him and cut off his hands. He was still wearing the boots. From that day on, Thakur made it his life’s ambition to take revenge on Gabbar, to put him behind bars and probably, strip him of his boots for good. He vowed never to smile until he achieved this. So, he hatched a plan – a plan so brilliant and so daring, that all of us village folk were astounded at the simplicity and the high projected success rates. We hoped he would succeed not because we liked Thakur, but because the plan was so good that it deserved to succeed.

Thakur paid for and got two of the world’s most famous adult movie stars from Italy – Veeru and Jai. I have changed their names because they are good men at heart and I don’t want to soil their memory. So, Jai and Veeru waltzed into town one fine summer afternoon and Veeru promptly fell into his assigned role – keep Basanthi “occupied” while Jai tries in vain to seduce Thakur’s widowed daughter-in-law from his third wife, while at the same time, trying to piss Gabbar off by copying his moves.

Veeru and Jai succeeded in irritating Gabbar to such an extent that he forced Basanthi to dance on broken bottles as punishment for sleeping with Veeru, and he made the two studs watch until they couldn’t take it anymore. By this time, Basanthi was getting pretty tired of Gabbar’s antics and his penchant for extracting horrendous vendattas and she agreed to help Thakur in his nefarious plan. Thakur smiled to himself – his calculations had been right, and everything was falling into place perfectly. Just when he thought he was ready for the master stroke, things began to fall apart.

He had sent his manservant to fetch vegetables from the market and it was around midday when he realized that his breakfast had been a bit too spicy for his stomach. He dared not go to the loo alone because he knew his weakness – he couldn’t, you know, er, how do I put it? Well, he had no hands, so you get the idea. He waited and waited, jumping from one foot to the other, squirming in agony, when he spotted Jai sitting outside blowing on a er…  a “mouth organ”, if you know what I mean. Thakur sent the naked guy away and beckoned Jai inside and asked him the favor.

“Why can’t you do it yourself? I was busy with the mouth organ. I have a few new tunes,” said Jai.

“I can’t. I don’t have to explain it to you,” told Thakur, furious.

“The loo is right there. Why can’t you go on your own? I am not cleaning anyone else’s shit. I stopped doing that a long time ago,” said Jai.

“Try to understand!” screamed Thakur. “I can’t do it!”

Just then, there was a gust of wind and Thakur’s blanked that he had wrapped around himself blew off and Jai saw that Thakur was, well, crippled. He tried hard to keep a straight face at the sight of the old horny geezer with no hands,  and helped him into the loo. Some people say that Jai slipped on a piece of soap, but others are not too certain about whether what he slipped on was a piece of soap or something else altogether. Whatever it was, he hit his head hard on the cast-iron sink and bled to death.

Veeru, in his alcohol-induced state of near-comatose stupidity, believed Thakur’s story of Gabbar sneaking in the loo and killing Jai, and went off in search of the notorious foot model. He found him hiding among the rocks, and promptly went on to beat the shit out of him. No puns intended. Thakur intervened at the last minute and ordered Veeru to stop killing the guy. He put on Gabbar’s famous boots and told him, “You took away my hands, now I take away your boots, Gabbar.”

“No!” screamed Gabbar.

“Give me those boots, Gabbar!” Thakur screamed like a rabid dog in heat.


“Give! Me! Those! Boots!”



And when both of them screamed “Aaaa!”, the whole village heard them. It took us a while to realize that it wasn’t another one of Thakur’s porn movies, but the real deal. Gabbar never dared to wear boots again. In fact, he ran away and was never heard from again. Thakur lived to the ripe old age of forty before passing away in the middle of an intense 3-day marathon. No, not the running type, if you know what I mean.

Veeru and Basanthi lived happily ever after, being ridden and riding, respectively.

I grew up, moved to the city, lived my life to the fullest and now, I can barely remember my name, but this story of Ramgarh shall remain with me forever. Vividly. Someone should make a movie out of this or something. It’s really an intriguing tale.

Bollywood Does it Again

Karan Johar & Tweety Bird: Separated At Birth?Or, more precisely, Karan Johar does it again. He has taken a cliched plot, soon-to-be washed up actors, ridiculously lame jokes and unoriginal catch-phrases from How I Met Your Mother and dished out two-and-a-half hours of pure and unadulterated crap.

He calls this soporific, brain-damaging spiel ‘I Hate Luv Storys’ – a phenomenon that I had the misfortune of watching last night.

Here’s what happens in the 135-minute joy-ride from Hell:

(Relax – ignore the spoilers, you’re not missing anything worthwhile)

There’s this guy, see, who’s disgustingly like Barney Stinson from HIMYM – he’s against the concept of love and he wants to sleep with a new woman each night. He considers the age-old concept of love as lame and does not want any part of it. Ironically, he works as an assistant to a Bollywood movie-director who specializes in just this of crappy movies. So, here ends the interesting part of the movie. Before it begins.

He meets a girl, who falls in love with him. He says he doesn’t want to fall in love. I think he hides the fact that he’s ridiculously and unbelievably gay, but that hasn’t been shown in the movie. He rejects her advances – which is strange, because when he first meets her, all he’s thinking of is how beautiful she is and how he can get into those pants of hers. Anyway, contradicting plot lines are the backbone of this crapoweseome* movie.

And then, as with all the other slipshod Bollywood movies, the hero (or rather, the actor-playing-the-lead-role) realizes that he’s lost his mojo and can’t get it up with any other woman, and all he thinks about is this chick. So, he decides to fall in love lest he spend the rest of his ‘manhood’ making love only to himself and the ever-present girls-gone-wild video that seems to be playing on constant loop in his room. (How bizarre)

He tell her that he loves her and now, its her turn to bitch-slap him and walk away. Aww, the poor sod is all heart-broken and decides to follow the chick all the way to New Zealand, in the hopes of scoring with her. But he realizes that the chick has agreed to marry some other loser named Raj, who wears atrocious shirts that look like something a cat dragged in, pooped on it and dry-humped your neighbor’s barbie doll on. So, our hero (or rather, the loser-who-plays-the-actor-who-plays-the-lead-role) decides to be generous and let her be taken by his nemesis.

And, just when he seems to settle down in his head, resigned to his fate of returning home to live with his insanely liberal mother (who, it seemed, would appreciate the beauty and charisma in anything from a sordid threesome to a full-blown monkey orgy) and marry some girl that she’s chosen for him, fate delivers the knock-out punch – his flight gets delayed and he realizes that he’s not in a Bollywood movie but rather in Paulo Coelho’s Alchemist, interpreting each and every coincident as a ‘sign’ from the ‘ooparwala’.

He runs back to the chick, tells her he loves her, and this time, amazingly, she says yes. Apparently, by this time, she has realized her mistake – she did not want to spend the rest of her life smelling of cat poop.

They hug, they kiss, the movie ends and the audience pukes.

There you have it – fresh from Karan Johar’s box of unbecoming movie ideas that he cooked up while getting drunk with four hot guys from Canberra who took turns in showing him exactly how handsome he is. Well, serves him right. Inox and PVR theaters all over the country are smelling of vomit and they have decided to shut down for a day to clean up the mess, under the pretext of the Bharat Bundh today.

My rating: Minus 34.5 / 10

*Crapowesome: A word that I invented while writing this post. This means an awesome amount of crap filled into a very small space, to the point of overflowing. It’s an adjective.

How To Kill Your Landlord

After having a major fight with my conscience last night about whether to move out of the zoo I’m living in, I slept fitfully, trying out different options to hunt down and kill the rats that were wreaking havoc in the house. It’s not healthy in the first place. So, my instinct is to get the hell out. But slowly, the realization dawned on me that these rats were super-advanced than their dumb cousins in Bangalore.

They had evolved from being scavengers to being fine-diners; they hardly touched any of the rat poison pellets I’d left for them around the house. That’s when I made the decision to leave them be and focus instead on hunting down and killing my landlord.

My landlord is a stupid ninety-year-old fucker, who thinks he’s still young enough to drive a car by himself and lift a huge slab of granite all by himself. In hindsight, I think I should’ve let him do those things and let nature take its own course. But waiting for the elusive heart-attack takes a lot of patience, more than what I have.

So, I decided to take down two birds pests with one stone and came up with a brilliant scheme, worthy of a jail sentence just for the thought. Here’s how the four-step scheme works:

  1. Buy a rabid dog.
  2. Get the rabid dog to bite the old fucker.
  3. Get the rat to bite the rabid old fucker.
  4. Attend two funerals.

I was so pleased with myself that I went in search of a rabid dog this morning. The hunt is still on. I wonder why I keep having flashes of Hannibal in my head.

So, as you can see, I’ve been busy with matters of life and death, which is why I’ve been so inactive online. I hate myself for not having the time to respond to the comments and not having time to read any other blogs.

And I also realized that this is a great money-making scheme. If any of you want to kill your landlord, then get in touch with me. I charge by the hour.

PS: I’m not a professional killer-for-hire. I only kill landlords who are stupid fuckers. If you want me to kill anyone else, then I’m not interested.

PPS: If any law enforcement personnel are reading this post and raising their eyebrows and planning to come and arrest me, then I have two words for you fuckers – “Eat Doh-nuts!”

Hairy Potter And The Chamber Of Cigarettes

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and all names, incidents or places are fictitious. Any resemblance to any persons or characters living, dead or fictional is purely coincidental and no harm is intended to anyone through this story.

Statutory Warning: Cigarette Smoking is injurious to health and will cause smokers to think, look and act like me.

The story so far: Hairy Potter realizes he has been blessed with amazing bladder control! He has an Over-Ambitious Gall Stone in his kidney, that wants to break free! It finally manages to escape! Angry at the surgeon for losing his precious Gall Stone, Hairy Potter goes to the police and asks them to arrest the surgeon. The inspector is secretly working for someone named Lord Wall De Fart, and they both realize that they’ve been searching for the Gall Stone Who Lived, and now they are nearing their quest.

Will Hairy find justice?

Will the Gall Stone see the world?

Who is Wall De Fart and why does he want a Gall Stone?

Read on to find out…

Hairy was dejected. He was extremely depressed because of the way the inspector had treated him. He was sitting at the bar, drowning his sorrows in alcohol, oblivious to the strange stares he got from the other drunkards. Three cases of beer later, he realized that he had to relieve himself. He was startled because it was the first time in almost two weeks that he had had to pee. It was a momentous occasion.

He stumbled his way to the restrooms and in his drunken stupor, entered the ladies’ restroom. He entered a cubicle and parted his hair and started pee’ing. “Oh wow! That feels so good!” he screamed.


Image Courtesy: Photobucket

Meanwhile, in the nearby town of Dips-Hit, a cloud of fart mysteriously floated in the corridors of an ancient house and made it’s way to a well-lit room. A strange thing was sitting on the only chair in the room – it was a creature with no body and yet, it had dark brown evil eyes. A bigger cloud of fart was enveloping the creature, and the cloud that had just entered, stood in front of it’s master and said, “I have come, master.”

“What newsssssss?” hissed the fart-cloud-covered creature.

“The Gall Stone is in Sydney…” said the smaller fart cloud.

“Sssssydney?? How did it get there??” screamed the creature.

“I.. I don’t know. I just saw the airline manifests this morning,” said the small fart cloud, covering in fear.

“Hmmm…” said the creature thoughtfully. “Under what name is it traveling?”

“O.A. Gall, your fartness,” said the smaller fart, now a little relaxed as its master’s anger seemed to have ebbed.

“I ssseee. And what about Hairy Potter?” the creature hissed.

“My sources tell me that Hairy Potter is dangerously close to discovering the Chamber of Cigarettes,” said the smaller fart cloud slowly, fearing it’s life now. Its master’s anger was very dangerous.

“Whaaaat!?” screamed the creature as it sprang up the chair. “What nonsense is this?” it said, as a thin, white hand emerged from the cloud, holding a gun. “I’ll shoot you right here if you don’t tell me how this happened. How did Hairy Potter manage to get so close?”

The smaller fart cloud was shivering and crying by now, and in between sniffs, it said, “Please. please don’t kill me, master. One of my sources told me, I swear. It’s true. I don’t know how this happened. Please don’t kill me.”

“Get out,” said the creature quietly. “I have to think.”


Half an hour had passed and Hairy was still going strong. He was creating patterns on the wall with his never-ending stream of urine, when finally, the flow reduced intensity and trickled down to a stop.

“Oh wow! Wow! Oh yeah!” he cried in satisfaction. As he reached for the flush handle, his feet hit something strange on the ground. Bending down, he saw a small metal ring with something carved on it. Curious, he picked it up and turned it around. It was a cheap metal ring, which anyone could pick up off the flea markets, but the inscription on the ring was quite stunning – it showed a toilet cubicle much like the one in which he was standing, and the flush handle in the carving had been pushed up, instead of down.

Hairy looked at the ring and then at the flush handle in his own cubicle. “Why not?” he said and pushed the flush handle up, instead of down. He could hear a strange rumbling noise somewhere beneath him and in a few seconds, something strange rose up from inside the commode, from the depths of the ground.

It was a small iron box, about two feet wide and two feet high, standing on a metal pole, with the words, “The Chamber of Cigarettes,” written on them in a nice flowing font. On the side facing Hairy, there was a hole in the center, and by instinct, he put the ring in the hole. It clicked and the box swung open. He looked in and his eyes widened in surprise by what he saw inside.

There were two cigarettes, identical to each other, guarded by a small lizard-like creature. It was a common house lizard and Hairy picked it up by the tail and threw it down the drain. He then picked up the two cigarettes and pocketed one of them and lit the other. It was the best cigarette ever.


At this precise moment, the fart-cloud-covered creature let out a horrible scream – a scream of agony, pain and defeat.

“Hairy Potter! I will get you for this! Do not cross Lord Wall De Fart! Hisss!”


Totally oblivious to all these happenings, the Over-Ambitious Gall Stone was sitting in a bar in Sydney, munching on peanuts, totally enjoying it’s vacation. Two tables away, watching O.A Gall, sat a small cloud of fart…

[to be continued…]
[Rambodoc and Shefaly win the Secret Hell Smell Award for being the only ones to point out that Gall Stones are not present in kidneys. There is a specific reason why this particular Gall Stone was in the kidney and that will be revealed in later chapters. The Secret Hell Smell Award comprises of a free lunch/dinner in a restaurant of your choice. Congrats!]

Hairy Potter And The Over-Ambitious Gall Stone

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and all names, incidents or places are fictitious. Any resemblance to any persons or characters living, dead or fictional is purely coincidental and no harm is intended to anyone through this story.
Image Courtesy:

“I stirred from my sleep at around 8 in the morning. The sun streamed through the window and made my hairy chest glow a brilliant red. I looked around my room and saw bits and pieces of pottery lying as they had been the night before – haphazard and lacking order. My flowing beard got caught in under my feet as I stepped off the bed and I couldn’t prevent my head-long fall. The ground rushed up and I hit my head on the hard red-oxide floor and I passed out.

“When I woke up a little later, I was surprised to find that the fall had driven my brain against the walls of my skull and opened up a new dimension. I was blessed with excellent bladder control. I haven’t pee’d for two week now…”

“Whoa, wait. Hold on a minute!” said the police inspector as he switched off the tape recorder. He looked skeptically at the strange man sitting in front of him – he was covered in hair from top to bottom; hair was flowing from every part of his body, and the inspector wondered if he was wearing any clothes.

“Are you telling me that your beard got caught under your feet?” asked the inspector.

“Yes, it’s true,” said the hairy man. “Please believe me!”

“It’s hard to, but I’ll let you go on, Mr – “

“Potter. Hairy Potter. So, as I was saying, I have excellent bladder control.”

“Ok,” said the inspector. “Where does the Gall Stone come into the picture?” He didn’t sound convinced.

“Ah, the Gall Stone,” said Hairy Potter, and smiled…

In the dark recesses of Hairy’s kidneys, there lived an Over-Ambitious Gall Stone. It wanted to break free from it’s confines and see the world. Unfortunately, Hairy’s bladder movements were punctual and he had an excellent bladder control. For a whole week now, the Gall Stone hadn’t been able to move. Then, it made a drastic decision – it decided to break out of prison.

Bladder control or not, the Over-Ambitious Gall Stone started digging a tunnel in the kidney in order to break free. Hairy realized that he had to go check himself in a hospital to relieve himself of the pain. The doctors decided to operate and remove the Gall Stone.

As soon as the surgeon clutched the Gall Stone in his forceps and brought it out into the open, it screamed out, “I’m Freeeee!” and jumped out and started rolling towards the door. No one could find it anywhere…

“So, I want you to arrest the surgeon for losing my Gall Stone,” said Hairy Potter.

The inspector switched off the tape recorder a second time and placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. He looked at the hairy creature in front of him.

“Sir,” he said. “Do you think I’m fucking insane?”

Hairy was flustered. “Why?”

“Get out before I arrest you for attempted manslaughter!” he said. Hairy jumped up and moved towards the door, feeling scared.

“The toilet’s on your left. Go enjoy yourself,” the inspector called out after Hairy.

After making sure that Hairy had left, the inspector dialed a number.

“Lord Wall ‘de Fart?” he asked.

“Yesss,” the voice hissed.

“I think we may have found it. The Gall Stone Who Lived…”

[to be continued…]

It’s Love, Actually…

After a long, long time, a tag has come my way. Kris Bass, my queerest friend, has tagged me in this very interesting Q&A tag about love, and I will try to answer them here and pass on the tag. Two rules, though:

  • RULE #1 People who have been tagged must write their answers on their blogs and replace any question that they dislike with a new question formulated by themselves.

  • RULE #2 Tag 6 people to do this quiz and they cannot refuse. These people must state who they were tagged by and cannot tag the person whom they were tagged by continue this game by sending it to other people.
  1. If your lover betrayed you, what will your reaction be?
    If I can call someone my ‘lover’, then there has to be enough trust between us to know that we can never betray each other. Else, she’d be just a very close friend. So, unless the question is worded properly, I guess I can’t answer it.
  2. If you can have a dream to come true, what would it be?
    There’s only one woman who dwells in my dreams, and the day she says, “Stop wooing me, Nikhil. Let’s get married!” my dream would’ve come true.
  3. Whose butt would you like to kick?
    Well, I’d make all the politicians of the world bend over and kick them on their butts one-by-one. (What has this got to do with Love, anyway??)
  4. What would you do with a billion dollars?
    Pay off my loans, buy a house by the seaside in Kerala, hire a bunch of actors to act like thugs and ask them to surround my Jodha while she’s walking home, when I appear from nowhere and kick their butts and save her life, hoping that she’ll swoon and fall into my arms.  Then, use the remaining money to live happily with her ever after.
  5. Will you fall in love with your best friend?
    Yes. I already have.
  6. Which is more blessed, loving someone or being loved by someone?
    I think it’s the latter, because knowing that someone loves you and cares for you as much as you love them and care for them, is bliss.
  7. How long do you intend to wait for someone you really love?
    Until I’m either dead or married to someone else, which is pretty much the same thing.
  8. If the person you secretly like is already attached, what would you do?
    I tell her I love her. Everyday. I will prove it to her that no one else in the world can love her the way I will. And I do not love her ‘secretly’.
  9. If you like to act with someone, who will it be? Your gf/bf or an actress/actor?
    I’d like to act in an action scene with SRK and kick him in the balls real hard when no one’s looking.
  10. What takes you down the fastest?
    It’s a tie between a fall down the stairs and an empty wallet.
  11. How would you see yourself in ten years time?
    I don’t know. Honest.
  12. What’s your fear?
    I fear she’ll regret her choice.
  13. What kind of person do you think the person who tagged you is?
    Awesome rockstar, good friend and, according to him,  the craziest guy ever.
  14. Would you rather be single and rich or married but poor?
    If these are my only two choices, I’d say Married and Poor, if and only if I can marry the woman I love. Otherwise, I’d want to single and filthy rich.
  15. What’s the first thing you do when you wake up?
    Say a small prayer. They haven’t been answered yet.
  16. Would you give all in a relationship?
    I’d give more.
  17. If you fall in love with two people simultaneously, who would you pick?
  18. Would you forgive and forget no matter how horrible a thing that special someone has done?
    Of course. It is always my fault.
  19. Will you marry me? (Original Question: Do you prefer being single or having a relationship?)
    I’ll let her answer this. 🙂
  20. List 6 people to tag:
    Apar, Deeps, Po, Suda, Vaudevillian, Vimal

Anyone else who want’s to pick up the tag is free to do so. Cheers! 🙂

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