I feel lonely in a crowd. After all, the only “toast” I’ve heard of is bread-toast, maska maarke. The only precious memories of "bottoms-up" I have are those when I never completed homework at school, and the teacher cracked the whip. The only “F” word I grew up learning and using most often is F for Father, and the only "drinks" I grew up consuming are doodh, chai and paani. The only non-vegetarian bheja fry I’ve ever eaten is my parents’ brain. I grew up learning to look through objects, not people; both, in concave and convex mode. The only time I got real close to women and drooled with them was when I boarded the over-packed Thane Municipal Transport bus No 65 from Thane Railway Station to Ghodbunder Road. I am still averse to smoke; from humans and machines. Hence, I feel lonely in a crowd where the world says only “men” allowed. But then wait, I just heard my dad and mom shout out loud, like a thundering cloud: son, you've been a MAN, and we're both so proud!