On Your Marks! Get Set! EGPG!!

Out of the approximately three lifetimes that it takes to become a real doctor in India, 2 years are spent after 10th standard making the worst decision of your life, and the next 5 and a half are spent regretting those two years. Eventually, you get the title of a ‘Doctor’ before your name, and are thrown into adult life to earn and look after yourself with a ‘best-of-luck’ message including the motivational words “just an MBBS degree isn’t enough, you must specialise in something”. Anurag Kashyap once (probably) said, “Aurat ka chakkar aur NEET PG ki preparation, pichhwaade se aansoo nikalwa deti hai“, and it was not before another frustrating MCQs-filled 18 months of life that I finally started MD, with the feeling that I had taken enough exams in life.

LOL.

Keeping in mind all the year-end, professional and entrance exams, I had taken exams every year since my nursery admission, so MD brought with it a welcome change of two long years without any exams bothering me. I did what any responsible Indian student would do in such circumstances. I got drunk. A lot. Just kidding, only every alternate day. The hit that my lifestyle and general decision-making sense took was evident by the fact that the money my garbage-guy made from the bottles that I put outside my flat was probably more than my expenditure of textbooks plus stationery. Hence, the whole ‘Indian Education System needs to change’ argument seems a little flawed to me. We are Indians. You need either to put a stick up our rear or emotional blackmail to get anything done by us.

Well, fast forward to 2 years ahead, and finally I have a stick up my rear called ‘MD professional exams’. I was given three years to study the curriculum of my subject, which I’m sure has at least 4 standard textbooks, one of which has 3200 pages with font size that can only be read if your eyeballs pop out the way they do for dresses worn by admirable ladies on a friday night at Hauz Khas village. Now, although less than 7 months are left for exams, I’m sure even if I had been given 13 years instead of 3, I would’ve been in a similar position right now. I’m an SRK fan after all and I firmly believe haar ke jeetne wale ko hi MD student kehte hain.

The last seven months will go by very quickly, and I need to get my priorities straight, hence here are the steps to my final plan for success:

1. Must study daily. At least try to study daily. At least think about studying daily. At least feel guilty about not studying daily. Ok at least every alternate day.

2. Practise my ‘poor villager with jobless father and unmarried sister’ face to perfection, also known as the ‘Sharma Viva Face’.

3. Take the question papers of the past 10 years. Pant nervously and sweat profusely for 20 minutes. Go to sleep. Repeat the cycle every weekend.

4. Avoid talking to female coPGs about the topics they have covered. Their usual response of “mera to bas <<insert the entire course plus topics that you didn’t even know existed>> hua hai, par kuchh yaad nahi rehta yaar” may pop a vein inside your head.

5. Limit further alcohol sessions only to birthdays, break-ups, anniversaries, break-up anniversaries, and special occasions like “kitna time ho gaya yaar!“.

So, as you can see, I’m set with all the false confidence in the world for the final lap. Heres wishing all the exam-going PGs the best. Remember, crying is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of strength and desperation so that someone will donate their notes to you.

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Things that make your ears bleed: Dhinchak Pooja

India is a wonderful nation, where people of different castes, cultures, languages and variable IQ levels co-exist. In this glorious nation, we have many genres of music, both the original kind and the songs re-done by Anu Malik or Baadshah. Hence, I am not entirely surprised that in India, every kind of musical talent is given a chance to prove its worth, including the new YouTube sensation, the current queen of IndiPop and possibly the mother of dragons, Dhinchak Pooja.


I was always a part of the youth who wanted their parents to stop shoving education down their throats and let them pursue their dreams. Three Dhinchak Pooja songs later, I have effectively switched sides, and now I’m a part of ‘listen to your kid’s voice at least once before you even let him/her roam near the microphone‘ team. Her songs have meaningless, borderline-absurd lyrics, computer-generated beats playing on loop, and a progression that you may end up dancing to if you have taken enough amount of drugs. Actually, that is true for every EDM song ever.


In her quest to become an international sensation, Dhinchak Pooja is not leaving a stone unturned. Her songs, for whatever reason, are getting millions of views, she has her own cult following called the Dhinchuks(Arabic for ullu ke paththe), and her lyrics include, or are in entirety, the words Daaru, Selfie, Swag and Scooter. Going at this rate, we will soon have Sanam Puri covers of her songs. Imagine Selfie Maine le li aaj in his voice. Armageddon.


She is getting a lot of criticism for her lack of musical talent, stupid lyrics, and existence on earth in general, but I must admire her courage. She is giving the same number of fucks that a cow dropping a turd in the middle of the road gives to the cars honking at it, where dropping a turd is also an effective metaphor to describe the act of releasing her latest song Dilon ka Shooter. People say that she is doing what she loves, and she should not care about what others think of her. I agree, because India is a free country, and nothing can stop Rahul Gandhi from being a politician, Taco Bell from being a food restaurant, and Dhinchak Pooja from being a singer.


My hatred for her reminds me of my old part-time job as a Sonam Kapoor critic, where critic is a mild word because mummy kehti hai gaaliyan dena buri baat hai, while Sonam and Kapoor are two words that along with President Trump and Arvind Kejriwal, belong to my list of ‘Two words that are hilarious when put together’. Sonam Kapoor claims she is an actress, and after 13 movies, gave us the national award winning performance in Neerja. Let’s see how many songs it takes for Dhinchak Pooja to give us a Grammy-winner finally.


Call me an optimist or a feminist. It’s your choice.


Or may be she is India’s answer to Taher Shah. We are a competitive nation, after all. 

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13 reasons why you won’t care about Manchester City Delhi becoming official

My tryst with the game of football goes back a long way. From the third to sixth year of existence on earth, my elder brother used my head as a ball on numerous occasions, and let’s just say my IQ highlights the fact that he was a good defensive midfielder in his school days. The first football tournament that I watched was International World Cup 2002, and during 2002-2010, I resurfaced every 2 years during Euros and World Cup to discuss the then-famous players, to buy a football to play for one evening and then let it be eaten by rats, and to deduce that England weren’t winning because they were, well, England.


I used to think club football has no real meaning, since it has no sense of patriotism in it. Then I was introduced to Manchester City in 2011, and they played in an entertaining way I had never seen before. Needless to say, I was the newest member of the clan of 1230AM kickoff addicts and people who enjoy jokes on Manchester United. In very less time, I found a lot of other Manchester City fans in and around Delhi, which is why I think I would rock if I ever joined Tinder. We took the initiative of contacting the club, and now have been officially recognised by the club. Here are a few reasons why you would NOT care about it:


1. The benefits of being official are easier tickets to games, which I concede I may never be able to go to because #MiddleClass, and discounts on merchandise, which I may never buy because I do my shopping at Colaba Causeway and Palika Bazaar and my merchandise compared to the real stuff, is same as what masturbation is in comparison to sex.


2. You think I don’t even know where Manchester is. Well I can pin point it on a map for you, but I won’t because I am not anti-national and I will not touch any map other than India’s.


3. You think it is useless because Indian football has no future. BC ek baar Tu FIFA 16 me aa ke dikha mere saamne.


4. You are determined that you will start watching club football only if Chennai Super Kings start playing football.


5. You think I shouldn’t waste my time on football at all and concentrate on my studies, to which my direct reply to you is “Mom! Please move aside, I can’t see the TV screen.”


6. You think Manchester City is a small club with Arab money. Yes. I support a rich, humble club, which plays beautiful football and has a sense of humour. I don’t think that it is that bad a thing.


7. You think that Manchester city has no history. Well, that is usually a long debate in which you throw Wikipedia screenshots in my face and I start to doubt if your parents were siblings. Maybe City has no history. I’ll be happy if I’m there while they make it.


8. You don’t care about English football because you’re entire knowledge of football is limited to either Lionel Messi or Cristiano Ronaldo.


9. You don’t care about English football because you’re a woman and I think casual sexism is sometimes funny.


10. You don’t care about English football because you are an Indian and care only about cricket to which I must say, “Oye Gautam Gambhir, grow up na yaar!”


11. You are a Manchester United fan and you’re jealous because you’re a Manchester United fan and that’s your superpower.


12. You think that I’m alone in this supporters group and have no one else with me. Well, that may be true for my life in general, but let me assure we are growing well as a supporters club.


13. You think this post was unnecessary and now you hate me and the idea of sports in general.


Pick your own reason. Clich├ęd City jokes and heated arguments are welcome.


Oh, and also, #WengerOut.

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