To the guilty

2 p.m.

I am flattened on my laptop while Impassive Adult tries to manipulate me into going to a dinner with two of his friends before catching up with popcorn and Spiderman. “Come on, it’s Pizza Hut anyway.” I take a deep breath.

Letter to the guilty

Un-Dear Impassive Adult,

Rather than getting you to apologise to me for your messy plan, I have soulfully made a Message Montage for you. A Message Montage which you may or may not find after six lines of wrath. With my passionate anger and fury I am gifting you my darling gift. Here’s why:

1. One of your friends ditched us.

2. The second friend of yours ditched us.

3. Pizza Hut was closed.

4. I had to sit and ponder about my sad life for 45 minutes.

5. We stumbled upon the idea of McDonald's, and the family behind me howled about the pink chuni of their family member the whole time.

Sincerely,

Your worst nightmare

MESSAGES FROM THE SUFFERER

Your brother slapped a flop plan on your face? Husband made the only Sunday a horrible dream? Parents suggested the most exquisite place for a birthday party? You live in the second dirtiest city of your country? Friend ate pizza but you couldn’t? Then, this is for you.

*Disclaimer: The Messages From The Sufferer consists of factual incidents of sad people which may pierce your heart.*

1. Hi, my name is Tea. I am ashamed of my doleful choice of friends. One of them recognized me because of puffer jacket after strolling in Vijay Sales for twenty minutes. I love poha, and life. The only thing I don't love is badminton. I am not a sportsy person. But neither is Impassive Adult. If descending eleven stairs to eat the leftover pasta is a sport, let's change the already said.

2. Hi, my name is Chill. Guess what, people, I basically slept on the floor if you don’t consider a thin layer of cotton that was laid beneath my body. That's my story and that is it.

3. Hi, my name is Two French Braids. One of my greatest achievement is clenching Impassive Adult's hair to tug out a bee stuck in the dark forest.

4. I feel ashamed to be a mother of the one who steals bread from the fridge like a homeless. I am Doyenne and ashamed. He stands in the sun feeling like a sober bird who is going to be burned by some desi Vitamin D.

5. I am the Oke. The fact that my Impassive Adult looks like a criminal in the photo glued to his driver's license-