Hot Vampires

“He is really hot. Hot enough to get me fantasising about, you know,” a distant cousin winked at me meaningfully. We were at a coffee shop, sipping cappuccinos and nibbling at a cake. The cousin had refused to order a slice of cake for herself because she didn’t want to “get balloon-y”. But that didn’t stop her from taking generous bites of the treat we were supposed to share between us.

“Really? That hot?” I enquired. “But isn’t he kind of creepy? I mean, he is a vampire who goes about slashing throats and sucking blood.”

“I wish he would suck mine.”

Her level of dedication amazed me. She was willing to donate her blood to satiate a random bloodsucker’s hunger only because he was, apparently, hot. This man appeared in a TV series about vampires—a “million times better than that crappy Twilight”—and was the latest obsession in the young girl’s life. Previously, she had fallen for werewolves, zombies, and tomb raiders. These mythical creatures were responsible for most of her sexual awakening.


When I was a child, vampires appeared in spooky Dracula films and classic novels. They kept me from going to the bathroom alone at night. I am pretty sure I had crushes on actors from televisions soaps, but they were usually people I could imagine running into in marketplaces, libraries or restaurants. They didn’t slink up on me from dark corners, pretending to like me only because they were thirsty for an iron-rich liquid.

I wonder what it is about vampires and other supernatural creatures that attracts so many young girls. Perhaps it is the thought of the forbidden, almost a frisson of danger. Perhaps they do pick hunky actors for these roles, and I am just too old to find them crushable anymore. Or maybe it is the otherworldly charm, the prospect of the kind of love that can exist only in fictional worlds.

“I find it hard to stop binge-watching that program. It is so intrusive!” The cousin was still chattering. “How do YOU keep vampires away, Di, and concentrate on other things?”

She had finished the cake, and my coffee had lost all its foam. Through the open door, I became unpleasantly conscious of the presence of other kinds of vampires. The ones that abound in summer, waiting to bite you all over and leave you scratching like a maniac.

“I keep the door shut in the evenings,” I told her.


*             *             *

I am taking up the April #AtoZChallenge 2019 and will post every day of the month, except Sundays. I look forward to your company!

Click to read my other posts for the A to Z Challenge 2019.

Find out more about the #AtoZChallenge 2019 by clicking the badge below:

#AtoZChallenge 2019


Restroom Riddles

Women's Washroom

“I’ll just be back from the restroom,” she announced, proceeded to grab her purse, and walked away from the table. I continued to slurp from my bowl of soup. Her date (and a mutual friend) nodded, focusing on his chopsticks.

Twenty-five minutes went by. She didn’t come back. Was she all right?

We were at a Japanese restaurant renowned for its ramen and miso soup. Both dishes are delicious but light and I have never known them to irritate stomachs before. But how else could I explain her long absence from the table? Her date fidgeted and glanced at the restroom door every so often. I figured I should go and check. What if she had a stomach upset? A sanitary-pad incident? A nervous breakdown? Continue reading

A Quarrel That Shook Me

In the building I live in, are many children, of different age groups. The kids are busy playing about in the evenings when I get back from work. Sometimes, I watch a few kids huddled over colourful picture books, examining and commenting on every page. The sight makes me pleased as punch. At other times, I see a squabble or two, usually over a misplaced shuttlecock. But rarely do I see a full-blown quarrel as ugly as I did that evening.

No, it wasn’t violent. The kids weren’t thrashing each other. It was essentially a verbal spat. A little guy about six years old was tugging at a book that was in the clutches of a little girl, perhaps about eight. Continue reading

Parking My Stress

Vienna tree and sky

Lately, I have discovered a fabulous way to beat stress. It isn’t a novel idea by any means, but I didn’t know how therapeutic it could be until I started doing it regularly.

I go to the park and let my mind wander. I walk briskly for a few minutes, exercising my arms and legs (and trying out cool new moves I see fitness freaks practising). Then, I let myself sit on the bench in the early morning sunshine, listen to the chirping birds freshly woken from sleep, and pamper my feet with the luxury that is dew. I don’t look at my phone; I don’t inspect any to-do lists; no calls or messages are entertained. Frequently, I don’t even listen to music but prefer to tune in to the natural orchestra: whistling winds, birdies cooing in the distance, lightly rumbling thunder forecasting more rain in Pune, rustling leaves swaying in the breeze. Continue reading

Please Stop Telling People You’ve OCD

Whenever I open my social media accounts or flip through a magazine, I find someone who has “come out” about his/her mental illness. People own up to being depressed, anxious, psychotic. It takes immense courage to accept something like that, even more so when you’re a public figure whose every action will be scrutinised. I have nothing but respect for anyone who has the courage to fight against their mental health condition and come out tops. But I have nothing but distaste and disgust for anyone who knows zilch about mental illness but claims to “have it” nonetheless, trivialising everything it means, assuming it is somewhat cool or stands for an attractive aspect of their personality. Continue reading

The Nosey Gang

NoseyThey sneak up on you when you least expect them to. You are sitting cozily in a park, soaking in the morning sunshine and the beauty of the quiet, when their jarring voices blare from behind you:

“Do you have a day off? Where is your husband? Where is your kid? Did you put on weight? Is that a blackhead on your nose? Have you been arguing with your domestic help?”

Continue reading

Lazy Weekends are Hard Work

Morning coffee

It is a quiet Saturday morning. On my table are a fragrant cup of coffee and my favourite cookie. On my laptop is the wallpaper of a far-off land, somewhere with woods and lakes and song-birds, far away from the heat and grime I can sense is building up outside. Since it is a weekend morning, the housing society seems fairly quiet; utensils aren’t clanking in kitchens, and cars aren’t speeding off to offices and colleges.

At this time of the weekend, I feel lovely. The day stretches out lazily in front, full of potential. Yes, there are to-do lists to get through. (Thanks to my obsessive tendencies, these lists are often extremely detailed and super long.) But surely we don’t need to get on with them yet. I can soak in the quiet of the morning for a little longer as the day wakes up properly… Continue reading

Karma, Please Wake Up

Karma cartoonHis children grew up terrified of him. He expected them to be eager little readers who understood and appreciated Kafka in primary school. Which six-year-old likes to play with mud and cement anyway, or worse—dolls?! His wife remained traumatised for as long as she lived; it seemed she could never learn to cook or do chores as “they should be done”. Today, he lives with a couple of servants in a big house—inherited, we hear—and has successfully and healthily outlived half a dozen family members. Worse: the 65-year-old man doesn’t look a day older than 45. Continue reading


All around me, so many people seem to be jailed outside conventional prisons. Indeed, in some ways, I am too.

I see colleagues open their tiffin boxes at lunchtime and whine about the chickpea-salad and spinach rolls they “HAVE” to eat. It is essential, they claim, to eat skinny food to lose weight, even though it makes them feel suffocated.

I watch as people suck up to their bosses, laughing at unfunny jokes, and staying back in the office after everyone has left to build a painstaking semblance of perseverance and dedication. It is a jail that they claim leads to better appraisals; well-versed with the work culture in many Indian organisations, I cannot even argue against this. Continue reading

Hair, Let Me Jump to Conclusions

Schonbrunn Palace Vienna

Sometime last year, I decided to chop off my hair. Not completely, but I started wearing it much shorter. It was summer in Pune, and this once mild Maharashtrian city now experiences crazy heat (it is already upwards of 41 degrees even though it is only the first week of April). I figured a shorter hairstyle would be easier to manage in the heat, quicker to style, and would also give me a new look. Nothing like a change in hairstyle to get an instant makeover, you know? Plus, if I wanted to sport shorter hair, surely I could, considering it was MY hair. I wasn’t hurting anyone, not even my hair follicles.

Turns out, a LOT of people are very interested in the length of hair a woman decides to keep. Continue reading