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The Hulk was stirring next to me. I cast an uneasy glance towards where he sat, sprawled back in a leather recliner, hands hanging over the sides of the seat. The green goop on his face was trickling down his neck and his mouth was slightly open. Everywhere I looked, there was an abundance of brawn.
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Having spent my best years in Mumbai (then it was really Bombay and so much better), it never occurred to me to ask anyone where they "put up". Who cares? Our homes were relatively small and in monsoon-blackened buildings, but most people genuinely added value to others at a "do". Yes, yes, "brand-sponsored events" were happening even then, but then Page 3 was also a real unpaid social destination. You couldn't pay your way to recognition.
In my distorted opinion, we women spend 33.3% of our lives complimenting each other about our looks. One look at a new profile pic on a social networking site and you'll know what I'm talking about. Out of the 55 comments she gets, 49 will be from her girlfriends -- Ooh, you gorgeous thing! Again there's a secret pact. In a parallel universe it's called reciprocity. You praise me and I will praise you back -- get it?