Yes, I know you know it.

Life is a bitch. My only advice to you is run. Run before she catches up with you and bites you in your bum. 

If you’ve read the above lines and agreed (sadly or grudgingly or whatever) you’ve been bitten already, HARD and it wouldn’t hurt to yell some well chosen curses to the wind either. Do it now. Let the pain out. Let your folks think you’re out of your mind. Let someone get offended and yell some profanities back at you. Let the birds fly away from you in shock. Let your boss fire you for going nuts. No… no, don’t. I take that back. Go yell in a bathroom or something if you’re in your office or yell at someone who works under you. Show them that you’re the boss. Be Hari Sadu from the advertisement for naukri.com if you want to and as liberating as that may make you feel, make sure the Hari Sadu of your life doesn’t get to see your performance. *winks* After all he’s the one paying who is paying you for everything you own down to your underwear, right?

You see the irony here? You can do what you want. You can dance naked, you can shave your head or color them yellow, you can swear, you can get drunk and stupid, you can spend all your money on your secret mistress, you can read Kama sutra in public, you can pee on someone’s new shoes, you can make hell break loose but you have to make sure you don’t do it in front of the wrong people. You’re the owner of the biggest alcohol brand in India but you can’t drink to celebrate your success. There’s freedom and there’s ten new laws smothering your rights to use that freedom.

I know you’re going to shout “cliché!” in your head now but life is not changing. She’s going to take two long strides and bite you whenever you stop to rest and drink water. And as many stitches and medications you take afterwards, there’s going to come a bite that will render all your needles and high priced capsules useless. You are going to shout “aw fuck” and the next thing you know, you’re dead. The point, you ask?

 The point, my friend, is that the bitch will bite you regardless of whether you’ve won a Nobel Prize for some outstanding achievement or whether you’ve screwed up big time and you’re forty and unmarried and still living off your parents’ money.

So, it’s always been upon you whether you want to spend the rest of your life being chased by a bitch or whether you want to stop, throw a biscuit at her, cuddle her and make her your pet for the rest of your life.