A Beautiful Monday

I slept an entire 7 hours and 45 minutes. I woke up around at 6.30 am saw the clock and decided to sleep till 8.30 am. I am usually sleeping around 3/4 hours every night on most days.

I didnt get much work done today. But it isnt bothering me, i managed to do some thinking. When i dont work, i think about work. Thinking about work is as important as working, right?

I was planning to work in the evening, after cooking. But then decided, i take the day off. I even got myself some chicken to cook.

I am not able to finish work till 12 am, but today by 10.30 pm i am all tucked up. This means i got an entire two hour to catch up on the book i am reading.

Thats the silver lining, if at the end of the day, you can spend a couple of hours with a book.

PublicDomainPictures / Pixabay

Childhood memoir of Summer Vacations in Mangalore

The school summer vacations, a good 2 months of nothing to do. Dad packed us, me, my mom, and occasionally my sister to Mangalore, where his two sisters lived. My mother’s uncle too lived close.

Dad’s extended family comprised his 2 elder sisters and their children. Each aunt had many children. In our wonderful language, we called our male cousins “Bhavji” and our female cousins as “Vahini”.

My Cousins

The custom of spending summer vacations in Mangalore started around age five and abandoned after I grew ten years old. These five summers are the liveliest of my life. My cousins who were much older and in their youth were great fun and unique. They took me to restaurants for Gadbad ice-creams and other food, told me fascinating stories. These cousins were my childhood heroes, they could climb trees and get me fresh coconut water. They could jump from a floor or more, and they climbed into well’s if a cricket ball fell into it.

The Food

Though both aunt’s and my mothers uncle lived around Mangalore, the character of the food varied. At the aunt who lived in Mangalore city there used to lot of fish for lunches and mangoes and jackfruits to eat for deserts. With the aunt in “Puthige” (a village near Mangalore) there used be lot dosa and chutney and a wonderful homemade pickle which tasted divine with watered rice. When we reached at my mothers uncle place in Polali, we got treated to a huge watermelon fresh from the fields. My mother’s uncle then caught a chicken roaming around freely in his house front-yard and screwed it’s neck. The half dead chicken is then dispatched to the ladies for cooking. Thin Rice wafers (called as Roti) is usual accompaniment with the chicken curry.

Toilet Matters

But there were troubles too, the greatest issue for a city slicker, was the lack of toilets inside the house. Being a shy child and not keen on being led by an elder to the field for my daily defecation. Most of the times a girl cousin escorted me into the open, who I accused of sneaking in to see my behind. Open defecation in the field tormented me, even though now I consider it as an extravagance. Later the aunts got into a rat race to get the first toilet built. The city aunt won. The game plan for the aunts was whoever builds an indoor toilet’s will make us city slicker more comfortable and hence get more time at their place. More time, means more ability to influence. I don’t think it worked, my mom spent extra stay time with the family who provided her the intoxicant of choice.


Both my aunts (fathers sister) houses were as different as apples & oranges. The elder aunt’s house had 2 or 3 other houses in front of them with a center courtyard. There was a beautiful temple in the courtyard where every evening all the residents of that houses sang aarti’s (devotional songs). This typical village house surrounded by paddy fields and coconut tress looked idyllic.

The city aunt’s house was on a hill. It had a narrow un-motorable approach road. We left the rickshaw down the main road and walked to the house. The front yard of the house had fruit trees like jackfruit, mangoes. I recall the big Jackfruit tree right in front of the house where we would put up chairs and sit. The back gate of the house led to barren hill where a solitude cashew tree stood. We ate those cashew fruits sometime.

Work and Education

Most the girls in the neighbours houses of the village aunt, used to make “bidi’s” – (an Indian cigarette without filter) and sell it to the local manufacturer for cash. It helped them support the household. The marked difference between the village aunt and the city aunt was that some of the children of the city aunt studied to become graduates. The less educated cousins moved to Bombay to earn and support the family back home. A few of them worked with my father in the factory.


The older aunt was the like Queen bee, she made sure, they was money to feed all the mouths. She did a good job to push her relatives to work. The younger aunt aptly named “Sundari” (‘O’ beautiful) was more talkative and extrovert. She educated her kids and took pride in their success.

Relationships outgrowing in time

My father got divorced and re-married. The vacations to Mangalore stopped.

Disclaimer – My memory is rather bad, maybe I got stuff here wrong. 

The Story of my Gut – Part One

I am 20 and in my second year engineering. Exams were on the brink, and I endured first gut problems. Not being equipped for important occasions of life is my USP. I wanted to become an Engineer, without the hard work.

Inside the messy brain of a 20-year-old, there was no time to study. I couldn’t eat and when I needed the energy, my gut betrayed me!!

This is the start of my problems with the gut. I researched on gut issues. This is what I found out.

When the brain is stressed, it needs energy, and it borrows this energy from the gut. The gut sacrifices the energy which it needs to digest. The brain tricks the Gut into False Signals of stress, creating a cycle of sustained indigestion issues.


I flunked maths and other subjects. During non-exams period, the gut didn’t trouble so much.
The 2nd gut incident happened when I was to get married.

continued in Part 2….

Eaves dropping on my Uber pool co-riders.

It is a long ride to Powai considering the Friday evening. I carried my iPad and my 500 GB hard-drive to binge on videos.

As soon I got into the cab, I tried connecting to the wireless drive. Something has gone wrong. Meanwhile, the driver is fetching the other co-passengers.

Young Girls

So here come 2 young girls, they ask me if I could shift in the front seat? I cringed at being displaced from my comfort zone, but they looked thick friends and I didn’t get in the way.

The Conversation

I got interested in fun talks the girls were having and listened. One liked music and was playing English songs while the other girl wanted to listen to Hindi. They were best friends and had affiliation with Hyderabad. One was trying to talk about her ex’s and her current relationship but the younger girl kept changing the topic to music or crack a funny joke.

One had a nice husky and seductive voice while the younger one as the older one said was “besuri” (one who cannot sing in tune).

They read the WhatsApp a guy sent them ” Baby you are so HOT, I blame you for global warming.” I found the message funny and wondered if I should send it to a crush, but disposed off the idea.

The girls used the “F” word a few times, and addressed each other as bitches” now and then, but the usage of such words declined over the time of the ride. Maybe it was a sub-conscious defence, in response to being in a closed enclosure with total strangers.

Bye Bye

The younger one thanked me for adjusting and apologised for the trouble. I looked at her surprised but gathered my wit soon enough, to remark “You are welcome” before she got off.


Do you take Uber pool, do you eavesdrop?

Textile Bobbins

I was on my vacations, had given my 12th standard board exams. So with nothing to do, I went to dad’s factory.

I wanted to be an industrialist like him. Dad suggested I go and work on the factory floor. The lower section was the moulding section, and the first floor was the textile bobbin’s section.

I preferred the first floor. The moulding section was too hot (literally) for me to handle. I preferred the lathes and drills in the textile bobbin’s section.

Furthermore, the people in textile bobbin’s section were a little more refined. They could talk to me, and we used to chat in between work. The moulding section had crude workers who were not so good at holding a conversation.

I hated Ratnagiri then, where the factory was, now after 30 years, I am nostalgic. I yearn for that place. The silence in the small town of Ratnagiri used to frustrate me. Now I feel like I should retire there.

Things change as you grow older. I miss the people from that place. A big price to pay for hating the place that it comes back into your memories and haunts you like a long-lost love.


The place where I grew up, a place where I held my dad’s finger, and we would go about walking the busy markets. I would absorb the sights and the sound, while people would almost give him a salute.

I asked Dad, why do they salute you, he would say, some people think he is in the police. Dad was broad built and well over 6 feet tall, so I didn’t find that hard to believe then.

I loved the fact that he would get so much respect on the streets, and looking back at my life now when I walk the streets, people must be thinking what a loser this guy is? I mean these people don’t even know me. However, I don’t have that charismatic commanding presence which demands awe.

Goregaon, I was there today, had some work. After work, I reached the station on the west side, the memory of dad and me walking came back, I am holding his hand, I, being so much tired to climb those stairs to the bridge, and I would tell him, I am tired. Nevertheless, he kept walking, and I tried to pace up.

We did most of our shopping on the East side, like the fish and the vegetables. However, our lady doctor was on the west side. I wanted to find the doctor; I walked there, but seems there is now a tall building, couldn’t find her clinic.

Goregaon has changed and those sheltered days of holding my dads hand and walking will never come back. My heart was heavy at the loss of this larger than life person (Dad) , maybe if I had got mother’s love; I wouldn’t have made my Dad into so much of a hero. However, dad has to bear the brunt of hero worship, cause, there wasn’t any mother figure to hero worship or hold my hand and walk me around.

wondermar / Pixabay

The sweet street child and the lost mother.

The child was not more than 6. He was looking at me repeatedly with hope. I wanted to take out something from my bag and give him something. But then I realised; I don’t have anything in my bag, not even a pen to offer.

I looked at his mother; she looked a bit disturbed. Someone who chose her dream but kept returning empty handed. I realised, if I offered anything to the child, the mother might accuse me of something and try to extort money. She looked that kind of lost, like a drug addict. She didn’t seem to be an addict, but she had the lost look.

The street boy approached the older man sitting next to me on the park bench. The elderly man tells the that he has some goodies in his bag, incidentally the old man knew the boy and his mother. The sweet kid got his stuff and thanked and backed off looking at me. I wondered why is he trying to please me?

The old man started talking to me, saying the mother is spoiling the child’s life. He says he tried to fix a job for the mother, but she prefers to roam around and doesn’t like her freedom to be curtailed, by a job.

The old man said, once a life goes off track it’s next to impossible to get life on tracks, suddenly I felt an eerie similarity between myself and the woman. I also don’t like to be tied down. The mother had left her husband for another man, he said. However, this new man she chose also didn’t have any money. He blamed the woman for choosing the wrong man again.

I got up and said to the elderly man; I have to get moving. The elderly man didn’t understand my abrupt urge to go and not want to listen to his story about the street kid and his mom.

It’s a bit scary, getting to know completely strange people on a park bench. Maybe it’s a trap for extortion or maybe he was just sharing his story. But mumbai you cannot trust totally.

Vitalii Shmorgun / 500px

Dealing with Insomnia

So I write this post earlier proudly boasting about how I sleep late and do with less sleep to do more.

At the moment I am not so proud of the earlier blog post cause, I have learnt some more lessons currently.

This is is what I have learnt!

The reason why we can’t fall asleep I have gathered is because, after dancing on others tunes/demands during the day, the only time we get for ourselves is after everyone who has been demanding on us, are tired and retired to bed peacefully.

While people who demand the hell out of you during the day are peacefully sleeping, you find yourselves awake as an owl, thinking what the F… is wrong with you. Why can’t you sleep? You dream about a good life with eyes open. Your mind is conflicted between the choices or lack of choices you have. It becomes a viscous cycle, the more you try to sleep, the more you cannot. Sleep happens in a state of effortlessness.

Now, if you are insomniac, you need to take control over your life, and see why people are demanding of you, aren’t you capable of doing what you need to do. Are people exploiting you? it’s all about loving yourself and standing up to people for your health and wellbeing.

I block off people who demand from me and interrupt my thought process, when I want to give myself a lot of time to think I am able to to do of most days, but some days people take over you.

Furthermore, one needs to block friends who try to talk to you late at night, they might be facing the same issues, no time for themselves during the day, and they are besides habitual insomniacs. So you and your friend instead of helping each other to get a healthier sleep end up aggravating the situation.

Some other tips

if you are too hungry before sleep or have had an heavy meal, you won’t be able to sleep. One needs to set the circadian rhythm right, by making sure you go out for a walk before 9am.


p dir=”ltr”>I usually go out the house around 8.30 am to get my poha and cutting chai. This helps me.

One of the most important things to remember is reading is the best sleeping pill. The sense of comfort I feel, reading my kindle before going to sleep is nourishing my soul and mind.

Another common sense avoid the white (blue) light of your mobile phone once the lights are out. It can be mess stuff up.

AmberAvalona / Pixabay

Why I quit Tinder and how it made me hate standup comedians

Now how could tinder make a person hate standup comedian? Read below and see how these two tnings are connected in my life.

I have been single for like 25 years; I mean at least it feels that way. So after much deliberation I downloaded the Tinder app. I felt shy, as I felt I was much too old to be on tinder.

I put my ugly picture on it, and started swiping. It like a visual candy store, the app feels like some kind of game, where you swipe left and right.

However, I wasn’t getting lucky and for a long time, and then I got two matches. One woman was a globe trotter, and I had severe inferiority complex seeing her having the time of her life, that I stopped talking to her.

The other woman turned out to be a standup comedian. I felt standup comics were extremely smart and quick witted, as I felt humour is available only to the most clever.

We exchanged numbers right away, and started taking. I shared things about my life journey so far, and she shared her journey. I asked her about her life as a standup. She wryly said she had done an online course with an American Standup comedian for a fee and it was a good way to make money nowadays. I was a tad disappointed; I thought people were born funny to become a standup.

Even so, all I wanted from this tinder match was tender conversation, some empathy, some affection, I just wanted someone to call me up and ask how am I doing.I didn’t want to meet her, as I didn’t find her attractive, but I thought maybe I would like her eventually.

However, she turned to being extremely practical, she told me, my life was highly complicated, she said, she wouldn’t like to get involved in a person like this. How could she reject me when I didn’t even wish to date her or had any interest in her. I felt I was hit by speeding truck.

Nevertheless, this was enough for me to delete the Tinder app, and my disdain for standup comedians has just grown since this.

Betrayal dynamics

Yesterday I had an epiphany. I have a crazy paranoia of betrayal.

Betrayal is just about the person who tells you, that he/she loves you, actually loves someone more than you. It’s a subtle change and sometime sudden change of attention dynamics.

You were the apple of your mom’s eye, and then suddenly a baby is born in the family. You feel betrayed. Now is it your moms fault that the baby is adorable?

Adultery, is a kind of similar betrayal. Well, now he/she finds someone cuter and more loving than you. Simple as it may sound. I am just not able to handle this betrayal.

So I put up a condition, if you are going to betray me, tell me about it. In this way, I just don’t get taken up by a nasty unpleasant surprise.

There are some people who will leave the sinking boat, but I want them to sink with me. This is crazier than the titanic gets. So I am a difficult man…

I went to the Astrologer Rant.

The day and time we are born gives the astrologer the computer programme code of our life. The astrologer cannot alter it, but he can read it. The programmer is some super human being, simulating our life.

We humans are using the astrologer to decode this code. We don’t want to live by his programme, we have a free will, which again is programme by HIM to make us believe the same .

So believing we can alter the programme by conspiring with our astrologer. The problem is the astrologer is also a human programmed by the super human to deceive us.. The code is also known as the natural laws of this universe.

The ultimate frustration is that some super powerful person can control us and make us do things. How do I hack this code and turn the tables around, so I can reverse programme and control this super human?

miradeshazer / Pixabay

Rewiring of the Brain – End of Relationships

She was never on my mind, but she was all over my life. My day started with her and it would end with her. Right from the walks to all the talks, this was not love, but companionship.

But companionship without love, how would it last? Is it convenience – “like what will I do with all the free time? I will go crazy. “

But it has it merits, it boosts your confidence and the companionship is good for health. It increases your appetite. You could travel as lovers and friends, without connecting and knowing each other.

Then it snapped. Something went wrong, like the brain got rewired over-night. Was the relationship so immaterial that I could wake up and walk away, dusting my hand’s off? Yes, I did it. It was never about me, I was an character in a play. I knew this was not real, it was acting.

But what about those in-convenient messy relationships? Those relationships you cant dust your hand’s off? Those messy relationships, you wonder if its on or off ?

These inconvenient relationship are like some road worker, sledge hammering your brain to create new neural pathways. You scream and plead, there is enough mess in my life, I don’t need a new one. You tell yourself, you have done it in the past, you could wake up one day without any residual feelings and walk away.
But these messy relationships start defining you. It becomes part of your identity, a digital signature hardwired in your memory.


p dir=”auto”>This stranglehold of the brain is of the heart. The heart likes messy, it like to bleed and weep and despair. It likes to cheat and feel guilty. It wants to forgive and start again.

We let our hearts take over our brain, the brain wants change, the heart wants permanency. We want relationships which would last and wouldn’t be easy to get out of.

Growing up with Booze – Drunk Diaries

Junior College –

I must be 18; its New Years Eve may 1990.

My friend Prem has invited me to his house party with his fellow friends. Prem lives in Jogeshwari just behind Ismail Yusuf College; he has rowdy friends. Rowdy is an understatement, one of the guys in the party is a tadi-paar gangster, he has several murder cases on him.
This kind of party is unique to me, before this, I must have spent most of my NYE party at home with family.
There is endless booze, every kind of alcoholic drinks are available. We are all sitting in Prem’s small living room with about 25 young guys who want to boast about their drinking prowess and their Bhai Giri status and which girl they are pursuing or harassing. I feel like not part of the crowd, but the crowd is happy to indulge me, I feel I am being forgiven and accepted for not being like them, they appreciate my courage of being there as Prem’s college friend.
The tadi paar gangster a thin guy (most popular guy in the party), sweet talks non-challantly about his nefarious activities. The bunch were too rowdy for me, my ego is hurt, because I am overwhelmed, and there is nothing I could do to impress these guys. So I shut my mouth and keep drinking the rum or vodka so that I could gather maybe a fraction of their badassery. I miserably fail, I cannot even say “madar.. behen..” I am so fuck*ing pious.
I keep drinking, and just resolve to be a good listener. I am dead drunk and don’t know what happened next and how I reached home.

Engineering College –

New Years Eve – 1993 –

I am invited to a New Years Eve with my engineering college friends, they are badass but in a studios way, they drink, they are smokers, but they don’t do drugs. I again don’t feel part of them; I am just not good at my studies like them. They all think I am a zombie, but they put up with me, I don’t have any emotional connect with them, other than Vaibhav, who I lend money for his bus tickets on and off.

Again, I have nothing to say here, that makes me frustrated, they are all competing on finishing that dreaded whisky called “green label”. I too join the game, I know, my body doesn’t puke till five pegs.
It is about 3 am, everyone has started vomiting except me, the entire apartment is full of vomit, the basins are choked up, I know, I can’t go home, everyone has puked up, and gone to sleep by 4 am, I trying to sleep in whatever dry area is there.

A trip to Ratnagiri with a friend.

Maybe 1993/94 –

Nikhil has an immense passion for life, he has so many dreams, on the contrary for me, I didnt know what the fuck I am doing in this world. Nikhil was a complete antithesis of my personality. Nikhil was aggressive, passionate and immensely curious about all the right things in life including booze.
He enthusiastically joins me on one of my trips to my parent’s house in Ratnagiri. I am quite happy, as I just don’t relate to any of the people of my age in Ratnagiri. Nikhil is somehow able to communicate with me, and we sync. He is not judgemental and doesn’t think of me as a Zombie (like others do), I feel accepted, and I am ready to accept him as a friend.

On our last day before leaving back to mumbai, we make up a last minute plan to drink ourselves to our brain. I am driving, we pick up booze, and head out to the most scenic place in Ratnagiri which is a cliff, we park our car and watch the ocean. It must be around 4 pm. By the time it is 6, we realise we are out of booze. I mean about six strong beers and a couple of small bottles of whisky were not enough for us youngsters.
We drive down back to the wine shop, and buy more booze, we drive up to the hill and drink the rest of the stuff. I am wondering if I can drive back home, about three km away, without an accident. But I don’t have much of choice, I cannot leave the car, and we won’t get a bus to get back home, I manage the drive back home without killing anyone.


p dir=”ltr”>We reach home and are both taking turns vomiting our gut out; we are in no mood to have dinner. But Dad insists saying mum, would feel hurt if we don’t have dinner. We force the dinner down our throats; dad drives us to the bus stand, and we set out to Mumbai.

We puke more in the bus, and reach Mumbai, still dazed and not sober.

What if you lost everyone you loved next minute

This week I finished two books, and they were amazing reads. One of them was Wave: A Memoir of Life After the Tsunami by Sonali Deraniyagala.

Sonali was the only survivor from her family when she was travelling on vacation to her home back in Srilanka. She lost her husband and her two boys along with her old parents in the Tsunami of December 2004.
The book is a quick read at just 274 pages and is gives you an insight on her arduous journey after her catastrophic loss.

I will just quote this one small snippet to give you an idea of the book.

Such a puny life. Starved of their loveliness, I feel shrunken. Diminished and faded, without their sustenance, their beauty, their smiles. Nothing like how I was that day before the wave, when we sat in the back of a jeep



p dir=”auto”>.

If I could write a song or a poem for every relationship

Today Leonard Cohen passed away, After reading this rather long piece by David Remnick, you realise most of his songs was autobiographical. Leonard had several romantic relationships, and he has beautifully portrayed them in his songs.

I have had my share of relationships and I realised how each one was beautiful and unique in some ways, but I am just not a poet or a songwriter to describe them like Leonard. I feel being a good writer or being able to express oneself is very important, as that’s the way the next generation, learns from the previous. My blogs are my work in progress to become a good communicator. I don’t think I will be the best, but the stories I tell will be exclusively mine so pure and authentic.

Check out Marianne by Leonard Cohen below.


How Vijay (Amitabh Bachchan) made me an Atheist.

Nowadays I don’t get influenced by Hindi movies, but when I was a kid, the only way for a new idea to take roots in my brain was via Hindi films, and mostly it was the special occasion of watching an Amitabh movie. I guess no other film has impacted me more than the movie Deewar.

Amitabh’s character Vijay in Deewar is how I modelled myself, along with a strong influence of Bruce Lee my other Hero. Our household wasn’t very religious, but someone in the house would light agarbatti and diya in the morning and evening at our house. I had nothing to do with it after I saw Amitabh blaming GOD for all the hardships his mother and he faced when he was a kid.

I also conveniently blamed the invisible Gods for all my childhood problems, cause my childhood wasn’t normal like other children in the neighbourhood, I couldn’t blend in.

Check out this scene from Deewar, its sounds almost funny now, and I cant bear to watch it.

The most dangerous man is the one who has nothing to lose.

The most dangerous man is the one who has nothing to lose.

Look at this case of the sensational murder case of Monica Ghurde. A 21 one-year-old man, a building watchman, gets fired because of a complaint from Monica Ghurde, his two months salary about Rs 21000 is withheld by the company because of Monica’s claim that he stole her umbrella, which might be maximum around a Rs 1000.

Murder is never the answer unless it’s committed by the state to protect the good people against the bad people. But individuals have surrendered their right to the state for revenge.

But where would a 21-year-old guy go for justice because of an umbrella theft ( whose salary is withheld by his employers )? Would the court trust Monica’s word or this 21-year-old watchman?

On July 22, Singh was removed from the job based on complaints from residents, including Ghurde. Gupta said Singh had linked Ghurde’s complaint to his termination. Ghurde’s missing umbrella was found in Singh’s possession. Singh’s employer refused to pay him two months’ salary…

Rajkumar showed perfumer Monika Ghurde porn clips before raping her: Cops – Times of India
By Murari Shetye on timesofindia.indiatimes.com

I have no sympathy or this watchman because of his poverty or this unemployment status. I am just trying to reason out with the well-heeled people that not to mess with people who have nothing to lose. Of course, this 21-year-old guy had an immature brain; he has a pathologically criminal bent of my mind, and this was just an outlet for him to do something is had fantasised.

But after his desperate situation, he was at a stage where he had nothing to lose.

Why I went to a method acting workshop last Sunday

Around 2009 I was at a client place who had his old friend from NY a celebrity astrologer to Bruce Willis types as he claimed. So this guy was an old friend of my client, and my client did everything only after consulting him, even hiring of the key managers for his business.

Since I was there, the astrologer asked to see my hand and told me that I would be a famous actor or something. Both my client and I were shocked and laughed it away.

But seriously, I thought, I couldn’t act to save my life! Now in 2016, since my chosen career isn’t doing all that well, I came up with this offer of a free acting workshop on a Sunday afternoon.

I said ” Abhi doodh ka doodh aur paani ka paani ho jayega” I enrolled for the workshop and landed there.

Conclusion – We were all given a scene to enact, and I was so bad that now I have no doubt that this celebrity astrologer was just having some fun at my expense.

On a serious note, there are so many talented people out there, they have figured out pretty early what they want to do. There are some people who I have met, who have told me that they wanted to be a dancer or a painter, and have been painting and dancing since childhood.

I am still not sure in my mid 40’s, what I want to become? Ahem.. this means I will always be in exploration mode. Not really a good thing, but some are supposed to be rolling stones.

luxstorm / Pixabay

Market thinking in love

She said we will be together when you have enough money, and you are not working like a dog.

He said, but I will never have enough money. Things have only been getting bad for me, in fact statistically, it is proven that people generally expect that things would be better in the future than they turn out to be.

He says – I don’t care! Let’s move in, even if we have to starve, let’s start a family.


p dir=”ltr”>She says – you are kidding. You don’t have any freaking idea what it takes to be married, you are just irresponsible who doesn’t know how to take care of himself or others. How could you even have suggested such a thing?

He says – Well, generally this is how it was done earlier, people got married and then things did take care of themselves. I guess I am still old fashioned. You obviously have a market thinking mindset. I don’t blame you. I hate millennials and their way of thinking.

geralt / Pixabay