The ‘B’ Plan


Work is worship! I’m an atheist.

My perfect hairy black right leg is bent at the knee and perched on the other. The smell of warm syrup over pancakes wafts into my nostrils as I sip the yellow fluid.

Aah this is the good lif—


–What The Flower? I swivel my neck. “Kaun hai, bhidu?”

My supervisor is hovering right over me, “Monarda, You’re the laziest, the most irresponsible, the most vile–”

“—Thaamba bhai log.” I flash my badge. “Don’t forget I’m the leader of the union.”

The nerve on his neck bulges, “A union? A union of one?”

“Not one, several we’re uniting to ruin the life of ManiFornica.”

“How dare you take her name in vain. You will respect Madame Manikarnika.”

I flip my middle finger at his face, “Madame can go f–”

“This… this insolent behavior will be reported, Monarda.”

I turn my ass to him and wiggle it. Then I slap it with my open palm and make a sizzling sound followed by the perking of my lips and a smacking kiss. “She can kiss my–”

My fat supervisor waddles his way out of the cell.

A few of my friends gather around me, their eyes showing a variety of emotions ranging from false concern to I care-a-damn.

The ugliest one starts, “Why do you disrespect Madame? After all she is the reason why we all do the work that we do.”

“None of you suckers know your own worth. You know what you do? You make others have sex. Others who can not have sex without your help. You’re the sole reason why the worlds economy runs smoothly. All because you are an assistant in sex. Without you…”

“No sex…?” the monstrously obese one smiles.

“Yes, you ostentatious bastard. And what does she do? Nothing.” I point to ManiArnica’s photo, “You all work your sorry assess off all year just so Madame Middle-leg over here can sell your product off to the highest bidder.”

The nerd clears his throat, “But we’re just followers. What can we do?”

“Protest, you doofuses! Protest.” I shake my fist. “It is time to rise against this cruelty. If it isn’t bad enough that all the pesticides, insecticides and pollution is destroying us.”

“Then why do we help others have sex. Why don’t we have sex ourselves?” the eternal virgin sticks his tongue out.

“Its because of ManiScrewika’s pheromones.” I take a deep whiff of the dense air. “I think she’s too old and she has crabs.”

The waspy looking nerd shuts his ears. “Don’t say that’s she’s our leader, she’s the–”

“Not for long. It’s time we have a new Madam.It is time the old gave way to the new and I know who is the right choice. My Black-eyed Susan is perfect.” I flip to her picture, “Hoochie-wa-wa. Kya maal hai. When she bears my babies, we will kill the old madam and crown Susan.”

“But we will always remain just workers. That is how a well-oiled machine works.” The ugly one bobs his head again.

“Not me. My boo’s going to be my sugar-mama.”




O Susana. I’m so crazy lovin’ you.

O Susan baby… mmm mmm mmm…

I slick the beeswax over my short China black hair and gyrate my ass in front of my reflection. “A hump, a hump…and a pump. Ooooo Susana. Your’e mine mine mine, all mine.”

Perfection. Monarda. Perfection. No wonder Susan can’t resist you.

I hurry over to Susan. Her canary yellow dress and the black phantom mask over her perfectly set eyes makes my mandible drop down to my knees.

“Oh Monarda,” she sighs, “I can’t compete with Manikarnika.”

“Come on Susie, baby. Tu totta hai, she’s an old hag.” All my eyes stare into all of hers. “You’re the future. She’s old and saggy. Your abs on the other hand…” I run my hand on her perfectly flat—“WTF? Daaaammnnn. You’re putting on some weight babe.”

She pushes my hand, her mouth curls in anger “I have to tell you something…” she holds her head, “I am…I’m…well… You know the other day when we met behind the colony … I told you …it wasn’t the right time.”

“What are you saying to me? You can not be—Are you?”

“Yes.” She smiles at me.”

“Ohnononononono… No No No…. O hell No.” I shake my head. “Susie, baby, honeypot. Tell me that’s not true.”

Her eyes bear the sorrow, surprise and loss of faith of the entire world, “I thought, you’d be happy.”

“Happy? Sus, we’re fucked.”

“No Mondarda, we fucked. Now we’re going to be a family.”

I count up to ten and turn back to face her. ”Susan. You and me, we’re made for bigger things. This is not the right time. Nobody should know about us.”

“Monarda, get your head out of your arse, the entire colony knows about us.”

The entire colony! These bozos are just fucking idiots who will never learn. A perfectly oiled machine; my black hairy ass.

“Susan, the inhabitants of the colony just think about their own sorry families. They don’t look beyond their microcosm.”

“We will have our family too in this colony.”

“This colony? Sus..we’re going to rule this colony.” I squeeze her hand. “Remember the rule? When every body votes you as the new Madam, then you get pregnant and we can have as many babies as you want. Not before that, honeybuns.”

“You’ve said this to me a million times. Yada yaada yaada. We kill Manikarnika after I have the babies and all the other aspirants who want to be Madam.” A tear rolls down her face and rests over her mouth wetting her minute whiskers. “Don’t you understand. I don’t want to kill my friends.”

“Even if that means that we continue to lose 40% of our lot and becomes extinct 8 times faster than any other? The rate at which the world pollution is decimating us and Idiots like the US president deny climate change. Our very own Chief Minister just institutes a weird odd-even rule for cars. We should migrate our colony to Chandigarh.”

“Move Hive Haven to Chandigarh? You must be crazy.”

Hive Haven? Goodness who was the bozo who named our colony that? We’re just a bunch of idiots with shanty-holes for homes.

“At-least they have flowers there. Ever heard of the Rose-garden?”

“So I kill all my friends and become the Madam, bear your children,become the new Madam and move to Chandigarh. Is THAT the plan?”

“Yes, we’ll go on strike.” No more mindless droning and slogging and collecting honey for the humans just so they steal it from us to put our food on their cakes and bread and…”

“But Monarda, a decline in pollination is a threat to nature. If there are no fruits, what will insects eat and if there are no insects how will reptiles survive and without reptiles there’ll be more rodents and with more rodents–”

“—More crop damage.” I rest my forewings on hers. “Then the humans will use more fertilizers and chemicals to kill more insects and harm their own bodies and earth with the poisonous chemicals.” These chutiyas are so doomed.

Black-eyed Susan sighs, “Without pollination the crops won’t yield plants. We are the only species that allows the flower to have sex with itself. How can these humans not see it? Why are they killing us with the chemicals and the pollution?”

“Because these assholes can’t see beyond their own noses. They’re smart.” Fucking evolution.

Her voice falters, “And the sericulture?Goodness!”

Yep. The dreaded S word. They will put our hives in boxes. They’ll wear white body suits and steal our honey. Any we can’t stop stinging them. I’ve begged them not to sting. But it’s so damn instinctive for them. They will sting and lose their lives and be cleaned off the floor in thousands every evening.

I use my hand to wipe away my tears. “Susan, baby we’ve got to stop this. We’ve got to have you become our new Queen.

For once we have to get out of the drone mindset and go on a fly-down strike.

For once we have to stop working mindlessly and not consider work as worship.

Let humans get their own honey from somewhere else. My grandpa said his grandpa from 72 generations ago told him how once Chandigarh was lush with flowers. How the rose-festival had more roses than…

Susan coughs back her tear. “My Gammy used to say bees are responsible for 400 species of agricultural plants and species and one in six of the worlds flowering plants would be extinct without us.” She places her hind-wing on my Thorax.

“We should produce just enough honey for ourselves and stop making hives. Disband our colonies or make them in jungles and pollinate just the jungles. Let’s wait for the humans to either get their own honey or till they find a way to cut down our jungles and our colonies to make more of theirs.

To achieve the greater goal my Sweets, we have to abort our children and kill Manikarnika and make you the Queen. I know what I’m asking you to do is hard but it for the greater good”…




I sharpen my sting on the pumice stone and pace up and down my cell. In another month we drones will be cast away for from this hive by the females. We must act quickly to convince the females that ManiFornicator is old as hell and needs to go. But today…

I run the tip of my finger around the drop of the queen’s pheromone laced with Anarchy. It’s a potent concoction of chemicals and genes that is guaranteed to kill the eggs. I drop another smidge of Anarchy and stir it.

Is it too much Monarda?I’m fully aware that excess of Anarchy can easily kill Susan. I walk over to the second drop and toss lots of Anarchy in it. Aah this will certainly get the decrepit old witch.

Soon the world will see a new colony of bees. Not workers but game change—

Bzzzzz the stray ray of light coming from the east wing creates a halo around her perfect head. Her round luscious ass sashays in the air, inviting, intoxicating…

I hope she doesn’t die today but if she does Lavender Lilly will have to do. The plan must go on.

Her eyes are puffy, her wings are loose by her sides. “Monarda, are yousure–”

“Yes sweetie, we will have more babies. This is to save the– uggghhhhh.”

I clutch my aorta as the pale straw coloured blood oozes out. “Susie… you told… HER.”

I start to gag, trying to clear my head and my vision. I blink all my eyes to focus on Manikarnika hovering over me.

I pull out a stinger out of my neck. The now amber coloured fluid oozing out over my slimy fingers.

“It’s called ‘Nature’s Balance’, Monarda,” Manikarnika touches my shoulder. You just don’t see it. That’s the way it is meant to be.”

My world starts swimming around me and I hear sounds coming from a space above me.

“But the humans–” I gag at Susie, who is leaning against the wall.

“—Yes, Moni..the humans don’t see it because of their parochial outlook.” She chokes back a tear. “Adopt the peace of Nature, my boy. Her secret is patience. You are far too anxious to create change in an un-natural way. That is exactly what the humans are doing. They forget nature and you are instigating our drones to do the same.” Her wings encompass my fading light. “This world doesn’t belong to any one species. We all work in unision for our Mother Earth.”

A peace falls over me as she kisses my forehead. The silence of nature is very real. It rummages through my body and into my soul.




There’s something about a fresh start that we all love.

Come January, we all make resolutions – This year I will do….

–From gym memberships to spa’s to running clubs to psychiatrist offices, yoga studios to de-addiction centers to social upstarts, every business is on the upswing.

What’s it about a fresh start?

It is our chance at a “do-over”

Essentially, it is the time of ‘unfucking’.


We’re all born Unfucked.

But we start fucking ourselves as we grow up. The more we complicate our life the lesser our sheen becomes, till we’re just a lack-lusture version of ourselves.


But we have hope every new year; it’s a time of revival and a time to start afresh.

But why don’t we win the battle?


The answer is simple- Because we don’t unfuck ourselves first.

We are always stuck in our own way- we have patented an approach.

We just blindly follow it with minor modifications; but the end result is always the same

-We complicate relationships with our parents, with our lovers, with our siblings, with our teachers, with our children, our neighbours.

We really fuck up our social lives.

All we can think about is what am “I going to get” out of this relationship. We want the other person to give without wanting to give ourselves, its always about what can I take, what can I get, how can I get one over this person. And the best is that we all come out of a relationship feeling like the martyr and the wronged one. Not once do we stop and take a look at our own fucked up mind

-So how do we start unfucking ourselves?

The answer is simple- Go Vegan


Being Vegan is not about the food you eat, in fact that’s only 25% of being Vegan. It is a lifestyle change based on love, compassion, understanding, care and all things we knew as children but lost somewhere down the line.

This January as the new year rolls in, Try Vegan. It will change your life.

We celebrate ‘Veganuary’ all January to favour a new start. Give yourself one month; just  30 days of a new lifestyle that will unfuck you in ways you never imagined.


Here are some  simple aspects of cause and effect-

  • Speciesism and the fucked human-

-Put a baby in a room with a piglet, a chick, a kitten, a puppy and a calf.

Do you think it will know which one to pet and which one to eat? It cant make a distinction, so it will try to love them all.

But here is when  the ‘fucked minds’ begin to develop…

We teach the baby:

‘This is food, this we can be cruel to. But this is a pet, this we must love.’

This has a hoof, but this has a paw. Our fucked up mind see’s the difference- not the similarity that both animals need it to walk. Our minds are constantly trained to see the distinctions not the similarity


-That’s how we trick and train  the toddler and a young compassionate mind who loves all animals into eating meat by ‘not telling’ them that its really a dead animal in the red box of crispy over-fried cholesterol laden chicken. Or how the animal suffered and was brutally murdered. How the animal needed its leg more than the 2 minutes it took us to eat the flesh.

-We make the child addicted to the spices, fat (butter) and salt on the meat and then we crib about a child being obese. The child gets addicted to the flesh and fat and salt and then it finds out that ‘oops’ it’s a dead animal I’ve eaten.


-We teach a child insensitivity but we don’t realize it till the child becomes a teen and shows some insensitivity to us. We wonder where it got that from?

FVCKED (as the romans would spell)

Make a pledge this Veganuary, to give up meat and ‘unfuck’ your life.


  • Environment and the fucked up human

-India is one of the filthiest countries in the world- bar none. Firstly, we need to own it.

-The meat/dairy industry is the biggest polluter of water (poop and pee), air (methane from cow-farts) and soil (from deforestation to feed corn to dairy).

-We learn how to keep out house clean, but we leave garbage on the street. We leave plates after we eat, we throw packets of snacks and biscuits, we toss empty water bottles, we throw garbage in polyethylene. We fuck up the environment.

-But in reality we are fucking up ourselves. And the world we will give our children.

-Will we ever resolve to not litter in the new year?

-Will we not drink milk and increase demand for dairy and pollute our environment, just to enable exporting beef to the rest of the world?

-Imagine that we take our babies of our boob and put it on the udder of a cow. Nature gave the mother all the nutrition a baby needs in it’s mothers milk. Nature did the same for the cow and the lioness and the sheep and the elephant. But its almost like we don’t trust our own milk. So we have to steal the calf’s milk.

Millions of calves starve because of the milk, ghee, butter, lassi, mithai, chocolates, cheese that we eat.

Being cruel and indifferent to someone pain and suffering will only FCUK us up further.

Unfuck yourself this Veganuary and get a fresh start in life.


  • Health and the loss of it.

The Dalai Lama when asked what baffles him most about mankind said, ““Man.
Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money.
Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health.”

-According to experts there are only 2 addictions in life, “Salt and Sugar”. When we eat fatty food it is broken down in sugars. So is alcohol (hence alcoholics who give up alcohol usually substitute it with sugary foods)

-We eat animal based food and ingest the hormones we give them to make them bigger, antibiotics we give them to stay healthy in filthy conditions and their unsaturated fat and cholesterol.

-Then we wonder why our children have heavy beards in their teens or girls achieve puberty years before we did.

-We are making ourselves and our children sick and the doctors and pharmaceutical industry wants to keep us sick because its profitable to them.

In this case we let others fucks and and we get fucked.

-Food has become a fashion statement and a ‘socializing’ thing rather than merely fuel to survive. There are more restaurants and eateries registered in Chandigarh than any other business by a ratio of 3:1.

We have royally screwed ourselves. ‘What the health?’

Choose Veganuary for 1 month and see the difference in your health.



When my life as a vegan is no more important than a dogs life or an elephants life or a frog’s or a donkeys, then by default , my life is not more important than a woman’s, or a child’s or an older persons. Inclusivity and tolerance becomes a standard for all vegans.

To me it doesn’t matter if you are tall or short, fat or slim, black or white or brown or bald or bespectacled, I love you and respect you just the same.

THAT is the sort of Unfucking we need.



The major ingredient of happiness are;

-Good sleep (physical health)

-Good food (physical health)

–Good relationships (mental health)

-Kindness and compassions (mental health)

-Good fiscal health (we remain unfucked if it is ethical too)

Lets go back to a time where life gets simplified.

Let’s “Unfuck ourselves”

Try Veganuary- It will change your life:

We ‘unfucking’ guarantee it.

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Of Diwali and a Diwalia (bankrupt) Mind


The corruption of a nation is complete when bribing becomes a part of culture and a corruption of mind is complete when we can not spot the difference between bribing and kindness.

This morning while I was speaking to a friend over the phone, she said in the most non-chalant manner, “I’m at the parking lot and my parking guy is giving me a good parking spot at the Khan Market.”

I paused while wiping the down the top of my refrigerator, “you have a parking guy?”

“Yes. He helps me get a good spot–”

“—in return of?”

Her tone went to a sing-song voice. “Obviously, I give him Diwali, na.”

“So you pay him extra for doing what he gets paid to do.”

“Yes, because he does a good job for me.”

I sat down on my low-profile dining table, “You realize that you’re bribing him.”


My fingers pinch the bridge of my nose, “Not non-sense. When you give someone extra money to do what they are supposed to do so that you get some preferential treatment; that is the definition of a bribe.”

“Yes, but I like my spots he–”

“—and what have you done in life to get ‘preferential treatment’? Are you paraplegic, in any way disabled, an army veteran?”

She stuttered “No, I’m … I’m–”


She gulped “Well, yes but–”

“–This term; ‘Preferential treatment’ over others has plagued our country for centuries. The only preference he has for you is that you have more money than him. You don’t give him Diwali, you bribe him. But guess what when you go to your CEO and expect a Diwali bonus- guess what you are doing?”


I shook my head, “you’re asking for a bribe to do what you are paid to do anyway. If you wouldn’t get that bonus it makes you feel shortchanged. Then you slack at work. In effect you only work for the bonus. That’s slacking, 101.”

She turned off her SUV, “that is true, Inder. It seems like we all seek our Diwali from WHOEVER has more money than us.”

That is our culture, bribing. Like most things we do wrong, we want to blame this on the British and colonialism but somewhere this tradition had infested our minds even before they got to the Indian peninsula.

When we walk into a 5-star hotel, the durban (gate-man) salutes us. To me nothing can be more shameless than that.

Who am I?

What have I ever done in my life to deserve a salute?

A salute: the most sacred of gestures to servicemen and women of a nation who dedicate their lives to its well-being. They deserve salutes. I deserve to salute each and every one of them. Any person who does his job with dedication and pride, I need to salute them. If the guard or watchman of the hotel took pride in the safety of its customers, it should be me saluting him.

The only reason he salutes me is because I have more money than him. But how much more. Is double what he have enough for him to make him salute me. Is ten times enough or 30 times? Where is that line in the sand?

The truth is that its in his mind. Servitude is so deeply ingrained in his tissues and his soul that he just accepts that he’s inferior. Isn’t that the worst form of oppression. To be oppressed to such a degree that one doesn’t even feel oppressed?


Somewhere during this long pause my friend has hung up the phone and my thoughts are disrupted by a knock on the door.

I open the door and the trash collectors are there. They point out to the floor outside the apartment door where I’d left some trash for them. The one with a 3 day stubble starts, “Your maid had left some dust outside the garbage bag after she wept–”

I hold up my hand, “Arre nahi, I don’t have a maid. I sweep the apartment myself. I’m sorry, will clean it up.”

Nahi-nahi, sahib, I’ve already cleaned it.” He flashes a broad grin, “You haven’t given me my Diwali yet, so I thought…” he extends his palm out.

My mind says 23 whatthefucks in 2 seconds. “Sorry dude, I don’t celebrate Diwali so I don’t pay anyone to do what they should take pride in doing.”

As I shut the door on their glazed over faces I can imagine the conversations they’ll be having about me behind my back.

I would sooner hug him and make him feel like an equal than give him a few rupees to cement the fact in his mind that he’s in any way inferior to me.

I flop into my low set couch and suddenly I can’t stop crying. A deep sigh that started from my soul has grown into a wail by the time it escapes my lips.

“Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high,” The nobel laureate Tagore had said in his epic Chitto Jetha Bhayshunyo

“Where knowledge is free.

Where the world has not been broken up into fragments

By narrow domestic walls

Where words come out from the depth of truth

Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection

Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way

Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit

Where the mind is led forward by thee

Into ever-widening thought and action

Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let  my country awake.”




What do animals in pain need from us?

They need JUST ONE person too see them.


Amritsar Junction”, Cindy squinted her eyes to focus on the yellow board the train was approaching. She thumbed the well-worn ‘Lonely planet’, guide she had purchased from the Delhi airport 20 days ago. ‘The city of a pond full of divine syrup’ – the loosest translation of this North Indian City of Punjab. A holy city for the Sikhs which houses the magnificent golden temple, made of solid gold, surrounded by the pond of holy water. For centuries its been a city the most important site of pilgrimage to the Sikhs.


Kindness and Compassion is the cornerstone of the 350-year old Sikh religion. Cindy is looking to expand her views about spirituality and diversity infused from her own sense of anti-speciesism. She is expecting to be enlightened.

As she steps out of the station she hears a low whine. A dog is lying on a mound of construction sand. His light brown fur is highlighted by spackles of blood. His black ears are curled backwards almost stuck to his big head. When she see’s his hind leg a sigh escapes her lips. All she can see is a stump. His leg is missing from halfway down with a wound bleeding, raw and infested with maggots.

She stops in her tracks and bends down to touch his head. He whines in pain. Cindy’s belief in humanity takes an instant hit. The lonely planet guide drops from her lifeless hand as she puts the hand to her trembling lips. “Who did this to you?” she forces back her tears.

In the next instant she gets up and shrieks, “Who did this to this dog? What has happened to him?” she looks around in a hysterical voice. “What the heck happened to this dog?” she shrieks till the station master comes running towards her.

After they’ve brought her a third glass of water the station master tells her of a story based on hearsay that a drunk person had come to the station one night and when the dog wouldn’t stop barking at him, he unsheathed a machete and hacked the dogs leg clear off his body.

Snot and tears dribble down Cindy’s face to her chin. The pain of an animal is not new to her – what is new is how people can just walk him by, oblivious to a dog in so much need. She wipes her tears and holds up her cell-phone…

77 animal lovers, 23 shares and 3 days later she finds an organization willing to help. Peedu’s People has the same beliefs Cindey has about veganism and kindness to animals. Inder sets off 300 miles away to check on the dog and gets the wound treated and maggots removed. 5 days of treatments later the wound starts to scab over and the dog starts to get up and eat copious amounts of food. He starts showing some of his quirky personality. He’s fun and wants to play, he has a girlfriend who has been sitting by his side and watching him heal everyday. He is pushy towards her and he starts being what we would later call- ‘ass-holey’. Once we save a dog- we name him.

An ass-hole dog, who loves to play and loves affection and has one leg hacked off- who else could he be but; Long John Silver.


3 syllabus names are funny for most people- but when a dog gets a name like such- he gets more of a swag to his weird gait. Soon we have a happy and healthy Long John Silver (LJS) who is prancing on the same sand-pile with his GF and since she is such a darling to him- she gets the name, Clementine.

So begins the search of finding a home for LJS. For months Peedu’s People gets no response. Then one day, 5 months later, out of the blue shows up the ultimate savior, Niz Khan. She agrees to rescue and place him in the UK but after 5 months we do not know if LJS is still alive.

Peedu’s People take off on the task of looking for him. Tina and Inder drive the 300 miles and search every nook and cranny of the Amritsar Railway station but LJS is nowhere to be found. Tired eyes and straining backs are about to give up when Tina points to a spot on the platform. Inder turns to her, Tina’s eyes are wide and she’s trying to mouth something but no words are coming out. Inder stares in the direction she’s pointing.

There he is, playing with a 3-year old kid, rolling on the ground. His now pink stump in the air as he flops on his back. Tina calls out to him and touches his face with the kindest of touches. LJS is now all hers. Inder picks him up and puts him in the car.

“We found him…we got him”, Tina keeps repeating to Niz over the phone. Tears of relief roll down her eyes and all Niz can think of is, “Where’s Clemetine?”

Tina gasps, “She’s right here.” She focuses on Clementine standing atop a hand drawn cart.

“Let’s get her too.” Niz says.



The two dogs have been snoring in the air-conditioned car. The harsh sun is beating down on the parched 45 degree celsius ground as the car races towards Chandigarh. The dogs are safe but a far way away from their ultimate foster-home in England.

6 months later, Clementine has been adopted. She is such a darling dog that she was sought after by several adopters. LJS, The ass-hole dog is still at the fosters.

But is he really an ass-hole dog?

The answer is NO.


He is pushy to other dogs but that’s because as a handicapped dog he had to compete with healthy dogs on the streets for months. His pushiness has made him survive but he never bites another dog.

He got a lot of sympathy from passengers at the railway station but he got no affection. He lives for human affection. He will walk up to you on the tube in London and sit in front of you till you pet his brown head with cute black ears. His tail will wag till he knocks of some beer-mugs off the tables at the local pub. He will engage with every kid in the park. He is a drama queen for affection.

Imagine the pain and the fear a dog would have of a human if a human had hacked a leg off with a machete.

But LJS HAS FORGIVEN HUMANs for the sake of humanity.

He is still up for adoption and he is an excellent spokes-dog for his brother and sister strays that languish on the streets in India and elsewhere in the world. He struts his stuff on 3 legs everywhere in London. He is most at home in trains and at railway stations.

So if you are on the tube in London or national rail to Streatham Commons and you see an brown asshole, tripod dog sitting in front of you and wagging his tail for affection; please give him some because he really really really deserves it.



Letter to Ane Baapu


Disclaimer- This letter is a work of fiction. It’s been written for comic purposes only.

Dear Shyamlo,                                                        .           02nd Jan, 1948

Anae Baapu Happie New Year 1948 hau.

Not so happy new year for me.

I’m burning up. Mane aag laawi gayi. I was with you when you lost your wife 4 years ago, when the Britishers arrested you. I’ve washed and worshipped you. I’ve cleaned your streaked langot – only to be dismantled by this sukki bombil, Abhaben?

What does he have that I don’t. She’s taller but I’m so much prettier and some would even say Hote- like Betti Paige. Ane bapu, not beti like maa-beti; Beti like Beti Boop. So hot she is with her red polka dot underwear.

I’m so much better than Abhaben. That chaudail was telling me that Bapu will soon replace her with me as the woman on his right hand and I’ll be relegated to the hand that Bapu uses to wash his paacha? How dare she talk so blasphemously!

I understand how important you are, the intricate problems you’re having with Jinnah and Nehru and Mountbatten and the Raja’s. You’re getting it from all sides. Everybody loves you but nobody is happy with you… except me of course. I love everything about you. From the shape of your melon like head, to your long elephantine ears, your funny glasses and the tape you use to hold them together. I love your toothless grin to your dirty nails, from your bow-legs to your zenith pocket-watch.

Tell Abhaben that I will always be the one for you. That I’ll be with you even on the day you die.

Tameri Radha,



When a little bit of LOVE saves life.


See a dog in distress?

Do a Tsch tsch tsch/ bechara/ this is god’s will/ I hope he survives ever?

Or just act… One small random act of kindness.

  1. Columbo-

-Found on the street in Punjab, India, with an impacted tumor on his eye.


-3 People couldn’t close their eyes on him. Picked up, fostered, tumor removed

-One person in Phoenix would give him love and care and a home.

-One person would agree to fly him to the US from India.


-After 2 surgeries on his eye, we find he is heart-worm +ve and advanced stage.

-He also has a tumor on his Penis that requires Chemotherapy.


Columbo might not make it, but this is not a call for prayers.

This is testament to the fact that he needed a little love and care… and he has given oodles of it back. Its basic human necessity to be loved and it extends to all sentient beings. That is the crux of Veganism; you give love and your receive love back.


2. Irina

-Found at a college campus with a softball size mammary tumor.


-Her tumor had burst and we were afraid of maggots in the wound.

-Fostered by a campus professor for days. Antibiotics and magrid.

-Tumor has been removed. She is recovering now.

– The students contributed towards her surgery. This 5 Rupee bill was amongst that cash. 5 Rs bills are rare and this worn out bill has stories to tell about what its been used for. This undoubtedly is the best purpose it tustve been used for- so here this bills journey ends. It’s purpose is now complete.


-Irina might not make it either. The tumor could come back, and she might never be adopted ( a 6 year old female stray has virtually zero chance of adoption) but she will know what love is. Love from students, fosters.

All we ask is to show these animals the love that we all seek and in doing so they will give us the love that we have sought forever.

Its a win-win-win situation.







Inertia is a funny thing.

A body in motion will continue to remain in motion unless an external force is acted upon it to make it stop.

But that is physics.

We at Peedu’s People deal with humans.

Humans defined by habits; most of them bad.

Countrymen oblivious of any sense of civic duty.

Males drowned in their own sense of fake ‘dick totting’ machismo.

We at Peedu’s People started our ‘Keep it (yep- its a double entendre) In’ campaign almost a year ago. Here’s the progress report.


We were just as shy as the next person who doesn’t stop a ‘piss’achar. We were afraid what they might say.

Worse, what they might do when we tap them on the shoulder midstream.

Would they actually turn around and spray us with urine? Would they argue?

They DON’T.

They mostly make excuses (lack of urinals/ everybody does it/ I am diabetic) but when reminded about the disease and filth their habit causes- they actually apologize.

So at Peedu’s People our theory is – They do this because NOBODY TOLD THEM NOT TO;

Not their mother’s who pulled off their elastic drawstring pants on the side of roads.

Not their fathers who stopped often on road-trips to lead by example.

Not their teachers who are just concerned with covering the syllabi.

Not their friends who held pissing matches after guzzling beer.

Not bollywood for sure who has ample heroes urinating on screen.

They’ve never been stopped.


We as Vegans believe that all humans are basically good people- they just end up becoming habitual adults as a consequence of their circumstances.

Most people are just looking for us to stop them.

They want to be stopped. They might want to change a bad habit once it’s pointed out to them.

It’s unto us to point it out and say- Hey, Keep it in. Nobody want’s to see your junk or smell your pee.






Gender (In)Equality for All

Our constitution gives us the right to equality amongst all genders.

But we thumb our nose at the constitution.


Nothing gives the right to gender equality amongst animals.

So we exploit it- It’s a free for all.


We humans will use any gender (and I include transgender in it) as long as it ‘serves our needs’.

Humans – we seek the male child.

Cows- We seek the female calf.

Dogs- We seek the male puppy.

Horses- We seek the female foal.


Someone in Chandigarh recently stole puppies from a mother and decided to drop them outside the Gurudwars in sector 23. (For the love of Bollywood- when will we get over this Hindi movie crap about being abandoned outside a temple so as to seek a compassionate, pious adopter-or if it in some way assuages our guilt a little for the dastardly crime we are committing). The eight puppies were less than 4 weeks old and had barely opened their eyes.

-Not only does a puppy need its mothers milk to give it some immunity from disease the mother is the only protection it has.

-The mother teaches a puppy not to fight with other pups or dogs.

-The mother teaches them how to not bite to hard.

-The mother teaches them the street smarts from not running onto the street.

In-effect they can’t survive without the mother.

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Within a day someone took the 2 male puppies away and left the 6 females to fend for themselves. Now we humans took away their chances of survival further as they huddled to spread warmth into each other in the biting cold.

One of the girl puppy caught a cold and subsequently Pneumonia within a day. She was picked up by a compassionate student and fostered back to health.

The other puppies continued to run into the street and 4 of them were killed within the first 5 days. The runt of the litter survived because she was too weak to run onto the street.

Now we have 2 girls who have survived.

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But hundreds of puppies are going to be born this winter in Chandigarh. Most will freeze over in the cold nights, to be swept away by janitors hired to clean the streets by the government each morning. Others will be run over by cars or two-wheelers.

But we will continue to dislocate them.

We will continue to steal the male puppy (specially a black one- per superstition perpetuated by pseudo-religious belief).

The girls will continue to die.

While the girl calves are saved because we can milk them dry and then slaughter them. Male calves will continue to be starved and disposed or sold for veal to the European nations or companies like Gucci for their soft baby leather.

The girl child will continue to face foeticide.

The transgendered will continue to be used as props for wedding celebrations or some form of a novelty sexual pleasure in the dark underbelly of most cities.

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Most women/girls can relate to this form of inequality. That is the reason why most people in animal rescue are women. They can understand this pain that others inflict.

We live inequality in this country.

The constitution protects the humans but the animals are clear out of luck.




A human’s sense of owning never ceases to amaze me.

Growing up in Chandigarh, I always knew where the leisure valley was but thought I’d go visit it on a future date. This past week I was in a situation where I was on my morning run right by the valley.


This is as good a time as any to visit the valley, I told myself as I stepped on the gravely trails those circumscribe the concrete paths crisscrossing the 10 acre jogging park.


As scores of early morning joggers and walkers passed me, I noticed how clean the trails and the gardens were. “This is highly unlike my country”, I thought to myself as people wrapped up in woolen scarves, burning smoke with their breath into the cold December morning huffed by me.


That’s when the decision of exploring the periphery was taken; mid run.

Aha, true to our countries nature, there it was in all in undignified glory; plastic cups, paper plates, plastic bags, leftover food, un-usable shoes- you name it, we had it.


The main paths were being cleaned by the janitors and sweepers appointed by the city (some swatch bharat, this) and the garbage was pushed to the periphery. And true to script, there was a sweeper burning the trash and letting the noxious fumes and dark smoke pollute our ‘city beautiful’- without any check or bounds.


We are a filthy country and we are irresponsible citizens.

But we are obsessed with owning land.

What we haven’t realized so far is that we are all renters. We all rent a piece of land from mother earth- even if it is for 75 years. If we are bad renters then we leave dilapidated houses, abandoned factories, vacant plots with weeds and trash. If we are decent renters, we pass that land on to our children; who in-turn rent it from mother earth.


If, however we are good renters. Then we care for that piece of land well and other pieces of land well to; be it the land being swallowed by the landfill by the outskirts of sector 38 or our own Leisure valley.

We have the wrong idea about ownership. Ownership brings responsibility and not a right to abuse.


The Leisure valley is all of ours. Lets not leave trash there for someone else to pick up. Lets not use it for events with small plastic bottles being handed out which kill our environment. Let’s stop people when we see them burning trash or urinating on the streets.

Either we will all swim in these turbulent waters or we will all sink.

Ownership will bring pleasure to the leisure.


Close Your Eyes- Occlude the World.


My Bauji (Grand-father) used to say, “This is your country, these are your people, your animals, your environment. You can either open your arms and take it in or close your eyes and be occluded.”
In a period spanning 7 days I’ve had the following things happen;
1) I was told by my best friends wife that I take way too many liberties with my friend (to the point of being obnoxious). As I reflected on it- I realized it to be true. Because my friend is my ‘comfort zone’ I keep on pushing the envelope. It didn’t hurt my ego to hear it. It was more of an ‘eye opener’- sometimes we need to hear the facts to try to start changing.



2) Then I was told by a friend that I was a cause of so much hurt to them so many years ago. And that they haven’t been able to forgive me. My Bauji used to say- “All we can do is beg for somebody’s pardon. If they forgive us or not is their prerogative.” So despite the amends I think I’ve made- whats more imp is that my friend still feels hurt.

3) My brother told me that one of his 12 steps to quitting Alcohol thru AA involved making amends to loved ones.


He told me how he lied to me while I was making efforts to help him quit alcohol.

At the end of the conversation he was relieved because he had admitted to his lying. The 12 step program determines his journey.

Me, on the other hand, haven’t determined my journey yet. Being Vegan has helped me in a huge way in being non judgmental, but the last incident involves a reality check for me.

4) Halfway through conversing with a female friend about a part of a womans anatomy, I shut down and said, “I am vegan so I’m not going to utter the funny comments swimming in my head about the anatomy.”

To which she added, “Yes, but you thought it. However funny it sounds in your head. The fact that the thought exists is your judgement.

So the answer is – Yes, Im not there yet. I do judge and till such time that not thinking and being nonjudgmental becomes second nature to me. I am just as guilty as anyone else.