Breakfast Babble is ED’s own little space on the interwebs where we gather to discuss ideas and get pumped up (or not) for the day. We judge things too. Sometimes. Always. Whatever, call it catharsis and join in, people.
You know how they say, “Don’t bottle things up”? Yeah, well, I don’t, I Tupperware them. Airtight, leakproof, microwave-safe rage. And then I let them out in short, spicy bursts of mutters under my breath, just enough to save my sanity, but not loud enough to start a family WhatsApp war.
Take this morning, for instance. My mum asked me, while I was brushing my teeth, if I had any plans of doing anything useful with my life, or if I was planning to just become a “professional toothpaste consumer.” I smiled with Colgatey grace and muttered through the foam, “Sure, right after I win the Nobel Prize for surviving you.”
Nobody heard it. But I did. And I felt like Gandhi with sass.
Later, I was stuck in traffic because a man had decided to park his SUV diagonally across two lanes. My mouth said nothing. But under my breath, I whispered, “Wow, a Picasso of parking, a true artiste.”
It saved me from road rage. It saved him from a flying chappal. It saved the nation from one more viral video titled, “Girl Loses It Near Lajpat Nagar Flyover.”
Even during my Zoom meetings, those havens of pixelated faces and frozen expressions, when my boss said, “Let’s circle back and touch base offline,” I didn’t scream. I whispered, “Let’s also jump off a metaphorical cliff while we’re at it, shall we?”
Also Read: Breakfast Babble: Conversations I’d Have With My Future Self Over Coffee
And just like that, I was calm again. Peace restored. Om Shanti and all that jazz. Honestly, muttering is my cardio. It’s my therapy, my rebellion, my spiritual practice. It’s like venting into a black hole of sarcasm that keeps me functional in this soap opera we call society.
Because if I ever said out loud what I actually think when someone cuts the line at the metro, calls me “beta” in a condescending tone, or asks if I’ve “gained a little weight”, I’d either be in jail or on Bigg Boss.
So here’s to muttering under my breath, a silent protest, a quiet riot, a gentle “F*** you” wrapped in a sigh.
Who needs confrontation when you have covert commentary and a killer muttering game?
Namaste. And also, “May your Wi-Fi forever buffer.”
Image Credits: Google Images
Sources: Blogger’s own opinion
Find the blogger: Katyayani Joshi
This post is tagged under: passive aggressive, muttering under breath, desi humour, sarcastic blog, modern life rant, zoom meeting struggles, mom jokes, introvert problems, humour with depth, desi blogger, blog that slaps, sarcasm therapy, social commentary funny, urban India life
Disclaimer: We do not hold any rights or copyrights to the images used, as they have been sourced from Google. If the owner requires credits or wishes for removal, please kindly email us.
Other Recommendations:
Breakfast Babble: Everyday Struggles We’re Secretly Going Through
