Wake Up Idiot
Aashima Prasad | 6 Min reads | December 16, 2017

If you think being stuck in shit sucks, you're wrong. Seeing your loved ones stuck in shit sucks big time. This is what I have been up to these days. My baby sister Shruti, is falling for this douchebag who drinks enough beer to bath an elephant, reads trashy literature that too if he reads at all, and his vocabulary can put Roadies contestants to shame. She is just 2 years younger than me and hasn't dated anyone yet. I don't want Mr. Douchebag aka Karan to be the first one and break her heart into a million pieces which I won't be able to glue back together.

So, in order to save her, I am setting myself on a mission: WAKE UP IDIOT.

My first course of action is very basic. Telling her all his obvious flaws, which are curtained by his crooked smile in my idiot sister's eyes. She is sitting in her room with her laptop, probably chatting with him. 

I walk up to her and casually start a conversation,

"Hey. What do you even see in him?"

Did I tell you that I am also no less an idiot than her?

She just stares at me and gives that "Seriously, Riya" kinda look.

But instead of taking the hint, I sit down on her desk chair. I don't know what force takes over me and I start blabbering all his aforementioned flaws.

Shruti calmly says - 

"You haven't even met him Riya. He drinks within limits. Also, he is interested only in reading Indian writers but the poor guy doesn't know where to find the gems. Hey, maybe you can help him."

Poor guy, my foot. She is attacking on a weak point knowingly. I love recommending good works by Indian authors, preferably ones that no one has read, to other people. But I am a badass ninja and I strike back, 

"What about the filthy language he uses?"

She now gives me her Sushi chef look. I don't step back and repeat the question, which I must tell you is a very brave thing to do after THE look.

She keeps her laptop aside. And my mind says -


I make the escape.


I and my sister have this kind of a ritual where we read before going to bed and read out aloud the parts from the book which are worth sharing. I being an awesome ninja pick up Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur because I know it has the very poem which I desperately need to prove my point. I say - 

"Hey Shruti, hear this."

And I start reading with a whole lot of theatre antics:

You are in the habit

of co-depending

on people to

make up for what

you think you lack

who tricked you

into believing

another person

was meant to complete you

when the most they can do is complement

Shruti picked up her Emily Dickinson collection and began reading to me:

Longing is like the seed 

That wrestles in the ground,

Believing if it intercede

It shall at length be found.

The hour and the zone

Each circumstance unknown,

What constancy must be achieved

Before it see the sun!

Shit! Dickinson wins. And we retire to our beds. Meanwhile I have an idea which will work because as they say - men will be men.


I and my friend Anna sit in front of my laptop creating a fake Facebook account and you already know why. Time for the TRUST TEST.

We decide on a very phony name - Aisha Raichand, then send out a few friend requests and keep posting photos of one of my friend who lives in Dubai now, of course we had to involve her to make this a gang attack. Also, we shared few memes which could add some credibility to the profile.

A week later comes THE SHOWTIME. We send Mr. Douchebag a friend request and wait for him to fall in the trap. 

I have already begun to imagine me and Anna as Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson when there's a jolt to the proceedings in my mind. He hasn't accepted our request. Shit! What do we do now?

I do not back off and decide to go full ninja-mode and we decide to send him a - "Hiiii"

No reply.

Urgh! Come on Mr. Douchebag. I've got a point to prove. Now, I know what our parents feel like when we show up at the door with totally incompetent guys, gloating about how they can put the ball in the basket from half court.


I fail miserably. When I enter the room, I see Shruti bathing in glee of her victory. I am about to take a desperate step. God help me, even though I spend an awful amount of time on internet, debating your existence. Wow, Riya! He'll surely help now.

I gear up to deliver my Shakespearean monologue -

"I was just trying to protect you. But, I realised keeping you in a glass jar doesn't help. If we keep you inside forever, you will end up alone and hate us for snatching away your chance at life. And if we let you free into the world, there always is the fear of you getting hurt. There is no escape."

Okay I felt like throwing up that moment.

Shruti starts laughing like a hyena at my pathetic display of theatrical talent. When she regains her sanity as well as her breath, she says -

"Oh Cheeseball. You answered the big question yourself. There is no escape. And it's okay. If everything goes right, I might end up with someone who loves me as much as you guys do. And if not, I can become a heartless ninja, devoid of emotions, opening a training school for ninjas in the Himalayas."

She signals for a fist bump and I oblige.

About the author