Amidst my work shift, I caught myself scrolling through instaposts of South Bombay. I know that it should be Mumbai and not Bombay. I was born in Bombay but didn't live there. Grew up everywhere else in the country.

As I scrolled further down, I couln't help but imagine what my life would have been like if I never left Bombay. How different my lifestyle would have been...But don't get me wrong, my current lifestyle isn't bad. It's well it's fine.

I worked for a major company about a decade ago and did not get the time to truly appreciate the city. Busy grinding, going from paycheck to paycheck. Life was gruelling and tough. I used to look forward to crashing on the bed. I remember I used to dream that I was somewhere else.

All my life I knew I didn't really fit in anywhere in the country. Wherever I worked, people often asked where I was from. Maybe my mannerisms, my jokes, the way I spoke, my name or the way I looked, people always guessed wrong.

Do I really sound that different? Do I have an accent? I think I have an accent of someone who is from Bombay or Mumbai...Who knows? It's weird. I have not lived there for that long either. I have been told that I was from Canada, Phillipines, U.S, Mauritius and God knows where else.

By my looks, they might also guess from the southern part of the country. But last time I checked, Bombay does not come under the South. It is part of the West. I think. I dunno, my geography is bad just like my math. But who cares, right?

All I know is that a lot has changed in the city of dreams. Some people still call it Mumbai and well others still call it Bombay. I want to visit that place again, this time as a tourist. Revisit the old places with fresh eyes and a new perspective.

I prefer to call my birthplace, Bombay. It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

I am Spider,

visible venom.

Yet you call

me dangerous?

And danger isn't you?

A head full of poison

legs, only two?

People fear me,

Loathe me,

Kill me,

Despise me...

Yet you go free,

killing so many?

Isn't it crazy?

That venom is invisible.

That danger is hidden.

Yet I'm the villain.

A day will come,

when people will realize,

that the real venom

is you.

The year was 1997 and it was summertime. My mom was around that time, busy taking care of the family and taking care of us. My dad was busy too, a breadwinner, and he had no time to chat with us. Luckily, we were happy. I spent a lot of time playing with my siblings, watching a lot of TV, worrying about school tests, and playing loads of games.

At midnight, my older brother would sneak out of his room and get into questionable things. My twin sis and I would pretend to be detectives and "investigate" the going around at home. Once on a weekend, the three of us pretended to be "The Three Investigators". It was a novel, we read growing up. Other than the radio, TV, or books, there was not much to do in Calcutta.

We moved around a lot too, seven houses to be exact. I thought it was very exciting to shift houses. I hated school. Every day I would wait for recess which would mean that half the day was over. The moment the school bell rang, it was time to go home. I was one of the weird dorky kids at school. Not the smart kids who aced all exams, not the outcastes who were anti-social, not the rich snobs, and definitely not the rich mean girls. I didn't really fit in. I still don't.

I did get a chance to go to all the social clubs, Dalhousie Institute, Saturday Club, Bengal Club, Tollygunge Club, and the Rangers Club. You see, life outside of school didn't suck that much. When it is just you, your siblings versus the world, life is not that bad.

I also remember 1997 being the year, Mother Teresa and Princess Diana died. I only saw them on TV. My mom met Mother Teresa in real life and even held hands with her. She did not have the heart to go to her funeral in Calcutta. It was too hard to bear. I was too young at the time to understand geopolitics, government relations, or media for that matter. I was more concerned about whether school was closed on that day.

Growing up in Calcutta during the 90s was indeed magical, now that I think about it. I was immersed completely in literature, finding new books and spending countless hours in the library. Of course, I didn't have friends. I did not feel the need to make any. Books were my world. Having mom's delicious home-cooked meals, coming back home after a tiring day at school, and avoiding homework to watch cartoons on TV, life was much simpler back then.

I entered the classroom. The afternoon air was cool as it entered through the windows. I looked around and saw a board with various posters and schedules on top of it. Then something caught my attention. There was a Post It with my name on it. In fact there were two. Did they know I was coming? It was dark pink in color and my name was written in red glitter. Who writes names with glitter these days? Weird.

Through the window I saw a bunch of school kids outside playing or were they marching? I could not tell. Their uniform crisp from detergent. Their faces bored and upset from standing in the sun. It was a good thing I was old. Would not want to trade places with them even if I had to revisit my youth.

To my left probably for the first time I noticed two other women chatting away about their waxing experiences. Nope not for me. I tried to avoid eye contact. I am terrible at small talk. I prefer long conversations in coffee shops with friends. Or in bars with a well-made cocktail in my hand.

I turned my attention back to the kids. Some were laughing and others were talking out loud. I have this bad habit of time traveling to my past and going through my regrets. Not a good idea for mental health.

I wish I had done some things differently. If God gave me a second chance at life, would I do it all over again? How about having the knowledge of a 30-something person in a 20-something body. Now that would make things way more interesting for sure.

"Miss Harkins. Miss Harkins? The principal is ready to see you now." A pretty young thing behind a desk just notified me. The desk had some cute decorations on it. Figures.

Dang it. I got to stop daydreaming. I hope the principal likes me. Why the eff out of all the careers in the entire universe, I had to choose to become a teacher. FML.

I've noticed lately that some people are born rich while others are lucky. And some well are both. I'm neither so I can tell the difference. Even when you meet people for the first time you tend to compare yourself to them. Wow, they're so well-off, or wow they're so much more attractive than you. Or wow, they drive a great car or ride an amazing bike. Whatever maybe the case, I found out that not everything is greener on the other side.

I'm an introvert on the journey of being an ambivert. I have learnt the subtle art of "talking". In my quest of making new friends and connections, I listened to their life stories. Of course I compared them to mine. I realized that God blessed them with talent or abundant finances or a close-knit family. However on further inspection, all was not well with these people. In a sense something was lacking.

For example, They managed to go to college and get a degree but they lacked confidence. Or someone who is tall, handsome but is afraid of women... So nothing is a 100%. My conclusion? Nobody's perfect. Me? I'm super creative and talented. But I have social anxiety and respond very well to stress. God didn't make any human being completely perfect. We're all imperfect in a way, the sooner we accept that I think the better we would be in our daily interactions with one another.

So, God made us beautiful in our own little ways. But He kept back that 1% to Himself knowing that it would be just enough to make us human. Otherwise we would have been gods ourselves, ruling the universe...

Tbh, I really have published my first sci-fi novel on Amazon. I'm not joking. It's out there in the universe. "City of Deloro". Whatever nobody cares. I made only 2 sales which is an achievement and my personal best. Gave it to a random neighbor. You know what she said? "You should pitch this to Netflix, coz it reads less like a novel and more like a movie..."

WTF.

So now, I'm taking this challenge as a second chance and imagining that my real novel made "dream" sales. Question is, what do I do with the chunk change?

50 % will be invested in my next novel. Coz I need publishing money, I'm broke af. The other half for my family. And the other quarter for a dream vacay. Wait that doesn't sound right. Math is not my strong point.

Anyhoo, that's what I would do with the moolah. Thanks for reading. Peace!

At first, when I saw the explosion of pink everywhere, I was about to vomit. Pink is not my favorite color. I felt it was too girly for me to appreciate it. However, in this movie, I made the mistake of thinking it was a dumb-blonde-moment musical.

Oh, how wrong I was.

It was not a musical. But more of a deep philosophical take on human society as a whole. At times, it did take on a flavor of feminism, which was all right. Overall the script was so good that it made me realize that it was a comedy as well. So my final verdict is this - an unexpected social satire wrapped with a bright pink bow.

My favorite part of the entire movie was Ken's musical masterpiece - "I'm Just Ken" towards the end. Ryan Gosling was brilliant in this movie. Margot Robbie is beautiful in the movie. But I have a feeling nobody is going to be paying attention to her acting chops. The reason being the movie rides on aesthetic appeal ninety percent of the time.

Don't get me wrong I am also going to watch Oppenheimer tonight. Because of Cillian Murphy and he's Cillian it right now. (Sorry I couldn't resist.)

There is a girl named Becs,

She is tall and wears specs,

She loves dogs, food, and desserts,

She swears that “Doughnuts never hurt!”

Very spiritual, her prayers are for me and you,

No matter the situation, she stays true,

She’s really a survivor, a lover, and a fighter.

You will never find such a unique character.

She writes, writes, writes, and writes some more,

Still learning wrong from right, that’s her motto,

With God and loved ones by her side,

She is still navigating this crazy Life-sized ride…

Things were going swell for Damien. His body was still running high on adrenaline from the confrontation. This feeling was familiar to him. He had experienced it many times before a mission. Somehow this time, it was different. Something was different. Confronting Sebastian was a sensation like no other. He loved being in control. Having the boy's fate in his hands made him feel powerful.

He got hard just thinking about it. He undressed, went into the bathroom, turned the shower on, and began to pleasure himself. Suddenly, images of the boy filled his mind, his hands on his throat and his scared expression. Before he could stop himself, his body took over. He felt a wave of euphoria wash over him as he cried out. He opened his eyes. He saw his seed mix with the water before it disappeared into the drain. He dried himself with the full-bodied air dryer and got out of the shower. Then he put on some fresh clean clothes, wore his shoes, and made a beeline for the door.

After a couple of hours, Damien sat down with his buddies in the cafeteria, the clatter of utensils and chatter filling the air. He glanced around the room, seeing his fellow recruits laughing and joking over their meals. But his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't shake the image of Sebastian from his thoughts. As he scanned the room, he noticed a few of the newer recruits looking tense and anxious. He knew the feeling all too well. It was his responsibility to ensure they were ready for the challenges ahead. He made a mental note to check in with them after the talk.

But first, he needed to clear his head. He felt different after confronting the boy - energized, determined, and somehow lighter. He couldn't quite explain it, but the encounter had left him with a newfound sense of purpose. Damien took a deep breath, his mind now clear and focused on the task at hand. He would give his welcome speech to the candidates, and then he would have a one-on-one session with the boy. He couldn't wait to see what Sebastian was made of.

At times, Damien's volatile nature made it difficult for Kenneth, one of his peers to get along well with him. But for the sake of the group, he would try to maintain some decorum. The best he could do was to respond with complete sarcasm, whenever he spoke with Damien. He couldn't help it. He wished things were different but they weren't. He never really understood why his friends hung out with Damien in the first place. He had a sinking feeling that they would rather spend more time with Damien rather than keep him company. Bloody sheep. In times like these, wolves were needed for the hunt...

Mom was sick

and had to borrow some money.

Thought I was being slick

but they got me in a hurry.

Transformed myself,

as a means of escape.

Trapped in an alley,

Caught in a big scrape.

Three against one.

Isn't that unfair?

They asked, "Which one?"

They thought they were being fair.

Perfect time,

I picked to go to the store.

Should have stayed behind,

They asked once more.

I gave them my choice

as they gave me none.

I felt overpowered,

it was three against one.

I thought I was done for,

Just then I heard,

"The popo's here, are you sure?"

One of them whispered.

Sure I had taken their money

but Lady Luck was on my side,

Life's so funny,

I felt joy inside.

Uniformed in blue,

one noticed us right away.

"Hey, what's going on over there?"

Before I reacted, they ran away.

Nothing officer,

Nothing to see here.

A second chance at life was given

before I truly disappeared.