I do not like the colour grey.
I do not like it that my brilliant second cousin got brain fever at the age of 12 and never recovered.
I do not like sympathizing with her.
I do not like others lending me their sympathy. Though sometimes I do whine for it.
I do not like lukewarm conversations that start with a polite hi and end with a politer bye.
I do not like it that losing weight is such a pain and sweet cravings, uncontrollable.
I do not like it when people pluck flowers only in the day because one shouldn’t pluck them at night. Why pluck them anyway?
I do not like sugar coated responses to my mistakes. I wish people were more honest.
I do not like never ending chatter of intensely self centric people. I have my bad days too you know.
I do not like getting a zit. I am too old for this kind of agony.
I do not like it that I wonder about my choice of friends and if I could have chosen more prudently.
I do not like spending hours reading Anna Karenina when all I want to do is stare at the blank sky.
I do not like blank skies. This city is full of smog. My home town is full of stars.
I do not like that I am indecisive, unstable, obsessive and neurotic.
I do not like it when a certain someone is happy.
I do not like myself for not liking that.
I do not like early mornings.
I do not like cats.
I do not like non-sweet alcohol drinks. Except beer.
I do not like it that my closest childhood friend lives in the land of the Gujjus. I need her back.
I do not like the nomadic life I lead. Some day I’d like a house without a two year lease.
I do not like Delhi as much as I like Mumbai. Yes I confess.
I do not like summer.
I do not like it that my ‘like’ list might be shorter than my ‘do-not-like’ list. Who would have known?
