Just Googla It

From my dear experience, lately people have been turning into Googla - a sophisticated, untrustworthy, spicy version of Google which involves pretty chats about XYZ person, chats that the XYZ themselves are not aware of.

What did the girl next door do at 7 p.m.? Find out on Googla.

What did R told about the trip X took to Japan? Find out on Googla.

How’s the new daughter-in-law doing of House No. 12300d4? Find out on Googla.

You can tell me I am a gushing mother who blabbers about my child, Googla, but I am proud of myself for doing so. Because not only my unbearable trust has gained me enough dump for my brain but also some dark secretive tricks. After a span of two months, I have officially unlocked the recipe to cook gossip. I cannot spill the perky add-ons, but let me take you on a trip through the kitchen shelves of Googla and let you know what you exactly require to cook gossip.

BASIC INGREDIENTS

1. A life.

*You need life like any other human to spoil another’s.*

2. A social life.

3. A jolly nature (to act).

SPICES

1. You need to lend your spices to others.

*A great way to become friends/spoon gossip.*

2. Seven hundred and twenty four thousand packets of Chai.

*Look, here’s the fact, someone is going to knock at the door at probably midnight and you still would have to offer Chai. Preparation is never a loss.*

3. A professional system to keep track of your monthly budget.

*Because of Chai. We are talking about per month, everyone.*

4. Salt.

*As normal as it could be. Keep it more on your tongue rather than shelves because you need bitter taste to curse other people’s life.*

5. Good and brawl cheeks.

*Just in case, just in case, you get a tight slap on your cheek as a karma you need protection.*

MAIN INGREDIENT

• ‘Aacha, did you know how’

Ladies and Gentlemen, this is how you cook gossip. Now, answering your much awaited question - how did I know this? Well, I found it, in fact, on Googla.

HELPLINES to reach in cases of injury:

Brain Trauma - The thirty four year old who lives at the end of the neighbourhood.

Cheek-Ache - Dentist, to whom you offered Chai on Griha Pravesh.

Mouth-Ache - Dustbin (because that is where people often dump trash)

*Gratis Bonus:

Oke driving after buying jeans on a crowded road.

Oke: Impassive Adult, you see that cow?

Impassive Adult: Yeah? Oke: Isn’t that the colour of the jeans you just bought.

Impassive Adult laughs as if someone pushed a button in his mind to do so.

Me: sitting in two minutes of peace to process how this is exactly the humour I inherited genetically.