It’s a Saturday evening and I am listening to old women reading out stories in Marathi. I don’t understand Marathi or old women. Three years back I would have been lung deep in cheap roadside hashish or my brain would have been rendered immobile with way too much Smirnoff and Red Bulls.
My advice to you guys is to not chose life. Don’t get married. Don’t have children. Don’t have families. If possible go to Jamaica and become a Rastafarian.