Nineteen

Marathi is one of my favourite languages, especially for its slang – though I can’t speak much of it (oops! Did RT hear me?).

I’ve been abused countless number of times by this certain clerk in my college office in Marathi. She’s given me choicest gaalis, much to my entertainment. I didn’t even have to pay her, like I did for Dean’s signature. The best part is that when I laugh, it irritates her even more and a vicious cycle sets in. Sometimes, another aunty who sits next to her comes to her aid and spews more venom.

If you irritate people to a great extent, many times they suddenly stop screaming. They fume so much that words don’t seem to flow from their mouth. That’s called success. At this point, their blood pressure is so high, that they burst at least 100 capillaries in their brain. Poor them

Until next time, remember to look into your plate while eating.

(If my posts seem shorter and end more abruptly than usual, blame it on the exams. They're too close for comfort.)