Writing about Love

First of all, it is surprising among Indians to see an engineer do anything other than engineering let alone writing. And, Indians see writers either as intellects or the hard hit love song boys. It is extreme, either ways. That spectrum somehow seems so normal even across the world. Maybe it is true.

I find many venting out about their love failure, which they should, than about their work or families. Which also, they should. I too have written about my failed adventures with loving a person and to this date don’t find a reason why it should be public. Also, all kinds of audience regularly come across such articles. It has, interestingly, become a subject of regular talk over the internet.

You might hate it or be a part of it.

One aspect I like is the fact that many can talk about it now. Talking about your problems is a very good way to solve them and even realise the matters you have no control on. Writing is a form of talking.

Some want to do it in the public, and some behind the windows. But, all want to do it and only a few do.


Of laughter. There’s just no other way jokes work. They don’t function with the intention to make one cry. But, wait. Jokes don’t function either. Oh, what do I say about jokes!

Better is to lie that I won’t say anything. Instead, here’s my list of jokes on Christopher, the black-faced Indian living in Osaka of Japan.


Chris was not on top of her like his name would have suggested. It is not only hard to be that to a woman, but even smooth to do such skilled jobs in Osaka.


Chris hates being called Chris. He also comes from India, but many mistake him for Ethiopia. How could anyone stereotype the black? I wonder and correct myself for it is Japan which takes no seriousness in stereotypes.

But, Chris hates being called Chris.


Christopher taught Japanese to the Americans at Osaka. An old man learned to say “Five more jokes, and we’re done.”


Was it even remotely sad that we missed the number five without knowing?


College was never in the list of choices made by Chris when he moved to Osaka. But, so was not being called Chris.


Osaka is inviting artists from Tokyo to build the culture of western-format in their city. They ended up being the East Virginia.

And, Chris had nothing to do with it. As fate would look at it, he was still not from Ethiopia.


Nobody likes being number one. So, Chris decided to jump from the tallest building in his village and found himself on the roof of it.


He can’t move the mountains.

He still can’t fly with the birds.

He is not Chris.

Chris is a different person. He could do all of that easily even when not called in the way he’d like it.

Love from India