The generation gap between my mother and me is 40 kgs; I am 80 kg, while she is 40. When I was a kid, she thought I never wanted to go to school on Monday mornings. Now, she thinks I don’t want to go to office from Monday-Thursday. Fridays are casual. On both occasions, she has been presumably right. When I was a kid, she thought I was sitting with a book with my mind focused elsewhere; now, she thinks I am sitting with my laptop with my mind focused nowhere. On both occasions, her guesses have been right. However, it’s time she understood that I am closing in on 40, years - not kgs - and needs to give me MY space, MY time, MY world. She needs to grow up, bridge the gap, get a life and prep one Facebook profile to witness how virtual love has taken the world by storm! Can’t she just let go?! Or maybe, it’s good that she doesn’t let go?! After all, when the tides are against, and the whole world’s real virtual, only a Mother can, all that another can’t! #MaaMeriSchwarzenegger

There’s a real wall. And an imaginary wall. There’s a wall which separates 1-bedroom from the kitchen and the hall. There’s a compound wall which makes a 3-storey building look smaller than a 100-storey tower that’s tall. There’s an upmarket wall between an iconic Cuffe Parade and the humble Virar chawl. There are many walls within a 5-BHK Peddar Road apartment, and a single wall in a tenement in the far-flung suburbs where people crawl. There are walls everywhere: in the mind, families, homes, roads, public transport, offices, institutions, communities, nations, religion, region, caste, class, languages, gender, law, status, one-upmanship, convenience and dominance. There was a Berlin Wall. There is a Chinese wall. And there might soon be a Mexican wall. All walls have a reason; a few also come up post the electoral season. Bole toh United, States will stand, divided USA will fall; every outsider ain’t an alien, Trump ya mate, how can one size fit all?! #WallsEndBridges

It is heartening that there’s someone in this world who treats all machines, humans and animals alike. He has been there, done that, yet, gives full credit to machines for driving themselves on a pavement, credit to an imaginary driver for driving in the graveyard shift, and credit to a black buck who possesses miraculous ability to die of natural causes despite being shot at! Yes, miracles happen; inside Indian courtrooms. Of course, he discredits all witnesses; but then, isn’t he Being Human? By the way, a sequel is coming up: Tiger Zinda Hai. Just, don’t tell him where. By law, and Black Buck? Woh demonetize kar diya Narendra bhai ne; remember 2014 when they flew kites doing buck-buck? Huh? Over black buck?! #BajrangiKhaijaan

Yaar, please, for once, make me President of India. Why? I want to serve people. I feel for the poor. I love my country. All Indians are my brothers, others and sisters. I am young and DYNAMITE. Ok, honestly, I want a ride in the Maybach surrounded by beautiful horses, gun-wielding SPG commandos, live in the Rashtrapati Bhavan and retire therein. I can read with or without tele-prompter on the eve of Independence Day and Republic Day. I wouldn’t walk away when the national anthem is ON like Moody did. I can stand and salute our armed forces for one hour and 40 minutes, without chewing gum like Obama did while the Indian national anthem was ON. Donald Trump chews brains or whatever remains in that country. While Trump walked a few steps enroute to the White House from Capitol Hill, I can walk on Rajpath; jog and run, too! Awesome weather in Dilli! Please yaar, make me President. It’s a cool job, and my appointment will yield solid returns on investment. What’s more, I promise to pay the tax-bearers some of their demonetized 500-rupees. Ok? Whatever! #PresidentofIndYEAH!

Thank God, I am so privileged and fortunate to be an Aadhar card holder! Happy Republic Day, India. Thank you to Dilli, too; amazing Rajpath. The parade was awesome, the cultural manifestations were colorful and the bravehearts in our defence forces deserve much more than a nutritious meal! I LOVE MY COUNTRY. I was born here, grew up here, studied here, worked here, got a lovely family here and will die here. Here. In my Homeland. #MaaTujheNaman #MaaTujhePranaam

Lord Shiva: why didn’t you pay obeisance to Nandi the bull outside my sanctum today? Me: Er, sorry Lord, an ordinance on the bull was passed today. Lord Shiva: What ordinance? That was for Chennai, you’re in Thane; isn’t there a difference between Marina Beach and Juhu Beach?! Me: Sorry Lord. Though, even Moody with a 56-inch chest seemed confused whether he should bull or pull. By the way, Lord, I’ve heard you own a sprawling estate called Somnath in his erstwhile kingdom? And an even more legendary estate called Kashi Vishwanath in his current constituency, Benares? Lord Shiva: yes, I do, and they need to be cleaned thoroughly, of corruption and queues. But then, how could you forget Nandi the bull? Me: Very sorry, Lord. Do you support the cruelty-laden Jallikattu? I mean, earthly Gods like Kamal and Rajni do. Lord Shiva: hmm, hordes of bulls have asked me the same question. Me: Lord, er, what offends you the most: bulls eye or bulls hit? Huh? #NandiTheGul

Neighbour 1: watched the Trump inauguration, last night? Kya solid tha na? I mean, so much security and secret service? Neighbour 2: Yes, reminded me of my stint in Washington. I stayed at the Trump Hotel. Me (silent). Neighbour 1: You stayed at the Trump Hotel near the White House, the one we saw on TV last night? Neighbour 2 (gleaming with pride): of course! Neighbour 1: woohoo! I think Trump will make a great President. He is so dynamic, a businessman and a leader like our Prime Minister. Neighbour 2: That he is. I know him through a few friends of mine. Me (silent). Neighbour 1 (his 3-BHK pride shattered): Really? That’s awesome! I complete endorse and support his Presidency. Neighbour 2: I do, too. Me (silent). Neighbour 1: Sagar, why are you so quiet? Whom do you support? Me (gathering myself from a make-believe conversation): I support my family. Neighbour 1 and 2 bid goodbye; only to each other. #IndiannessPersonified

20 January 2017 in Washington seems strikingly similar to 26 May 2014 in New Delhi. America, now that you’ve cast your votes, please deposit all your notes! Haha! #IndiaThenAmericaNow

Bulls are on the run, these days, or so it appears. On a fledgling stock bourse, and for those who hold a Jallikattu procession with a grouse. But then, what’s easy? Taming a bull? Or conquering inflated egos, greed and false pride? Side bhai side, bole toh, bull**** takes you to the top, but why get used to a soul-free ride? #JallikyaFattu

Tomorrow is Friday, the 20th. Those who believe in destiny, tune into your TV sets. Those who don't believe in destiny, tune into your TV sets. Just tune in. The real estate of the world is likely to change once Donald completes his share of swears; for batter, or for purse, only 21st January will tell. #TrumpForPrecedent

Mohandas: Porbandar. Narendra: Vadnagar. Mohandas: Gandhi. Narendra: Modi. Mohandas: brave Mahatma. Narendra: modern param aatma. Mohandas: Dandi March. Narendra: 8th November to 31st March. Mohandas: Khadi. Narendra: 2.5-lakh rupees shaadi. Mohandas: charkha. Narendra: Twitter, Zuckerberg and Barkha. Mohandas: Hey Rama. Narendra: Obama. Mohandas to British: Quit India. Narendra to Mallya: When did you Quit India? Mohandas: no vest. Narendra: dapper suit + broad chest. Mohandas: Vallabhbhai. Narendra: Amitbhai. Mohandas: Noble. Narendra: Nobel. One charkha, a spinning wheel, one photo and a raging battle in the Gujarat model #MahatmaAndParmatma

I’m scared. I’m scared of my neighbour’s puppy, Tom. I’m scared of the serial-killer rom-com. I’m scared of bosses who presume I don’t work. I’m s*** scared of those who complain about about low salaries, inhospitable working conditions, absence of merit and increments, yet retire with the same company after a Golden Jubilee. I’m scared of those who talk big, think small, and act somewhere in-between. I’m wary of those who wear sunglasses at night, appear on my Facebook “friend” list, and look through me in the elevator during the day! Haha! I’m very weary of sugar, salt and spice. I’m scared of inserting my debit card in the ATM. I’m scared, a daily feature, of boarding the 8.23 am VT fast. I’m scared; and a bit confused, too. Who arrived first: the wheel, charkha, Mohandas or Narendra? Which calendar came first: Kingfisher or Khadi? And, who invented the cycle? Atlas, BSA, BSP, SP, Papa Mulayam or Beta Akhilesh? Anyway, I will conquer my fears through Yoga. But then, who came first: Baby, Baba, Ramdev or Yoga? Huh?! #TopsyCurvyWorld

Watched Dangal today. Aamir Khan is a master storyteller and an actor par excellence. In fact, midst dearth of quality cinema these days, he is an encouraging ray of hope for rare cinemagoers like me who calculate their grocery bills against the worth of a movie ticket! Haha! Dangal: a superb story and amazing performances. Oh boy, women can be STRONG and how. Sakshi Tanwar shows how important it is to have a resilient Mummy who holds a Home together! Phogat Sahab’s courage i...n real life to groom his daughters in a man’s world that thinks and acts Neanderthal is extraordinary. On screen, the character of the sports coach accurately portrays everything sarkari, who thinks sports equals sabzi-tarkari. Sanya Malhotra is very beautiful, and Fatima Sana Sheikh is gorgeous. They are extremely talented, too! Their younger version, Zaira Wasim and Suhani Bhatnagar, set the tone for the remainder of the movie. Aparshakti Khurana is just superb in his supporting role. Mazaa aaya bhidu. Truly inspiring. #Dangal

2016, thoda late hai, par phir bhi, THANK YOU! Like your preceding counterparts, you continued to keep me healthier, richer, fuller, privileged, safe, blessed and very-highly-extremely fortunate than many of those around the world. Richer than atleast 20 million hungry stomachs, 100 million unemployed, a billion without shelter on their heads, many million who don’t have a loving family to call their own, several million with a handicap, atleast a million who travel long distances to work on meagre salaries and no weekends to relax, and many other impoverished, sick and under-privileged. 2017, your turn to reverse fortunes; thoda woh sabka bhi setting kar na yaar! #2017KismatBadalUnkiBhi

A Republic Day. Republic Day is celebrated on 26th January. Because India became a republic on this day. What’s a republic? Something that’s got to do with 1-billion public. People salute flags on this day. There are many types of flags. Some, plain saffron, while others are starry green; to teach his own. Many flags have symbols engraved on them: railway engine, bow-and-arrow, lotuses, elephants, table-clock, haath-ka-panja, etc. There’s also an American flag that appears in the dream of atleast a million Indians, every night. And then, there’s an Indian flag at 20,000-feet, that largely appears to be the property of Indian defence forces who relentlessly defend it’s prestige against an onslaught of frenemies: unknown and own. Bole toh bhidu, bill diya hai, naan kab denge, aye watan inke liye?! #SoldiersHungerPangs

Actually, the news of a Prime Minister having breakfast with his Mummy, and the exhibition of such precious expression of love has a multiplier effect on multi-dimensional image-building, twitter traffic, Economics, Vibrant Gujarat and Uttar Pradesh. It shows that He is he, he is a man, and a man is human. The rare gesture also helps spread benefits of breakfast before dawn, and that mummy is most important, even more than the late-morning yawn. Of course, in exceptional cases, it’s fine to take her for granted, when she's made to stand in the note-exchange queue like a pawn. I take Mom for granted, too. But I am not Prime Minister. Nope, please don’t get me wrong; there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, sinister. Yes, Prime Minister? #ClickBreakfastWithMummy

It’s a matter of surprise that the “mentally unstable” Indian soldier who shot himself, albeit on video for a change, expects a nutritious meal, when soldiers are either dying or scheduled to become martyrs on the Syrian, Iraqi, Afghan, French, German, Palestinian, Israel, Ukrainian, Crimean and Mexican borders? So many wars, so many borders; isn’t the world relatively peaceful in India? And still, the Indian soldier can’t think beyond a meal? I mean, come on, within India, too, commoners die of hunger, starvation, demonetization and demonization, every second. What’s more, the country’s forever-young leaders dye for power, position, money and status, every passing minute. But do these true patriots ever ask, let alone expect, a healthy and nutritious meal? Ab ki baar toh samajh na yaar, bhookh aur pyaas ki lambi hoti hai kataar.

She: Sir, I think I am being followed. Rahulji: Good, you are a born leader like me. Modiji: followed? It’s because of my “beti bachao, beti bhagaao” campaign that they’re following you. She: No Sir, I meant, I don’t feel secure. Rahulji: we need women empowerment. Modji: do not worry, we have designed the 8000-km range Agni-IV missile for security. She: Sir, why don’t you understand, I am being stalked. Rahulji: woman empowerment is need of the hour. Modiji: Stalking? Can’t be. In THE Gujarat, model and women roam freely at 2 am. She: But Sir, there’s Bambai, Dilli and Bangalore? Rahulji: woman need to be empowered like Mummy. Modiji: I am omnipresent, walk 18 hours a day and never see anyone on the road except Raj, Uddhav and Kejriwal. She: Sir, I was manhandled and groped in public. Rahulji: Modiji is from Mars, I am from Venus and women need to be empowered at the velocity of light (ouch!) Modiji: Groped? It’s because of the 60-year misrule. Give me 5 years, I will fast-track all verdicts to 30 years as against 35 years today. She: Sir, I was fully dressed. Rahul: I prefer a white kurta-pyjama and a stubble. Modiji: was it worth 10-lakh? She (sighs!): Sir? Sir? Could you please listen? Rahulji: hey, what’s the woman population in Amethi? Add 1 Smriti and what do you get? Aah, Mulayam Mayawati. Modiji: Mitron, aaj raat baara baje se, sab ladies ko demonize kiya jayega…….! #AbKiBaarBhiWaatLageliYaar

There is a colleague in the normal league. And a colleague from a very different league. And then, there is a colleague who looks straight, behaves crooked, ignores everyone, and pretends to be from Ivy League. His cubicle counterpart acts busy, chats crazy and keeps a watch on all arrivals and departures alongwith the Indian Premier League. And then, there’s a colleague who impresses “babes” with his knowledge of the English Premier League. He is in constant competition with... the colleague who uses cuss words religiously, while wearing an accent straight off the Martian league. Of course, there’s also the bespectacled colleague looking to strike a conversation with the Big League. He poses a townhall question from a stratospheric league; the management is impressed and include him in their league. And finally, there’s a colleague who is always in the travel league. He travels abroad, comes back, praises Whites, their skin colour, bathing frequency, Fair & Lovely, Yami Gautam, work culture and their commitment to leaving on time; all this, after arriving late, leaving even later, making his juniors wait, throwing a bait, even as they curse their career choice and fate. I also wish to be a part of such a distinguished league. God knows why I can’t start buttering? Hahaha! #TheLeagueofExtraOrdinaryMentalMen

Moody darling, grow up mate and stop shouting “60 years of misrule!”, “60 years of misrule!” After all, when they looted all this while, what were your cronies doing in the opposite aisle? Warming benches? Diverting their attention span to retain control of the world’s richest cricket body, or vying for complete control of Asia’s richest municipality to dig trenches? Relishing 100% subsidy in Lutyens’ Dilli? Or bunking office proceedings, while the commoner struggled for oil,... batti, paani, dal-chawal, atta and a spoonful ghee? Checked their attendance? Let it be. Learnt Civics at school where they mentioned that the role of an Opposition couldn’t be so cool? To me, He is You and You is He. Heads, you win. Tail, he wins. Draw? That’s owing to a caste-based voting flaw. The views expressed here are of someone who wrongly presumes himself to be an author; don’t bother. Bangalore, Dilli or Bombay, wherever women go, a network follows; hence, PROTECT YOUR DAUGHTER. #thegrassisnotalwaysgreen #howcantheybeclean

Absolutely right, the sole place for a woman is in the kitchen. Or the bedroom. Or the hall. Bus-stops, airports, streets and railway station carry a high risk of molestation. Be it the MNC-laden IT-hub of Bangalore, or an upmarket area called Juhu where stars own 4 Bungalows, there are criminal minds lurking Nirbhaya. What’s more, irrespective of so many women in power and much talk of global recognition, it is still only easier to demonetize as it is to decriminalize. Jail them? Easy. Bail them? Easier. Fail them? Easiest.