Of teary farewells... and new beginnings...

I still remember the day you came into my life. You brightened up my day, made it colourful, and made a 13 year old the happiest kid on the block.

The memories come flooding back. You shared my craze for cricket (which in itself is unusual for a girl), and I still remember watching with you the 1996 World Cup when Sachin simply destroyed the opposition.  The sound we made was loud enough for the neighbours to complain. You rolled your eyes at my infatuation with pretty girls, and I still remember us sneaking around late at night, silent as a lover's whisper. You were a loyal friend, and I trusted you to never give away our secrets. A trust that you vindicated faithfully.

And the best time of all was when we played the video games together. Jumping hurdles with Mario the plumber, searching in vain for the princess, shouting in joy at escaping the monsters, and mourning with me as we lost another life. Those lazy summer vacation hours spent in your company were some of the best times of my life.

And then I left town while you stayed behind. I found new friends, but none that could replace you. None with whom I could sit back and watch a sleazy C-grade movie without any inhibitions. They were too snooty for that. Only here did I notice that unlike these city girls, you had curves, and you were never uncomfortable about that.

Every home visit in all those years, I used to look forward to visiting you. Never knowing whether you'd be still around. And luckily for me, you followed us all the way from Mettupalayam to Coimbatore to Bhavani, and even to Mumbai. I was surprised you made it this far, but in my heart, I knew you were dying.

But all good things have to come to an end. And so it is, with us. Has it really been 16 years? It feels like yesterday! Even as I move on to a slimmer, sexier model, I'll always remember you, my first love.

Farewell, dear Videocon Bazooka, they don't make 'em like you anymore!  

"How could you forget?"

"I didn't forget. I was just... er... too busy."

"Too busy? That just makes it worse. I could have forgiven memory loss. But not apathy!"

"Apathy? Now that's too harsh. You know I care about you!"

"You used to. Nowadays I feel you are ignoring me."

"Oh c'mon. I accept that I haven't been in touch as much as we'd have liked to."

"As much as we'd have liked to? Dude, you have almost ditched me. Is there someone else?"

"There is no one. Although sometimes I wish there was."

"What? You wish? First you forget my birthday, and now you are fantasizing about cheating on me?"

"You'll always be special. But you know what, we do need some space in our relationship."

"Oh, so now you want to shut me out of your life? Might as well pack me off!"

"Trust me, I have thought of that too. Ok, there is no gentle way to put it, so let me be blunt. I am kind of bored of this relationship."

"If anything, you have become boring! All you talk nowadays is about money and houses and all material things."

"Well, I admit that those things are kind of on top of mind, but hey, I do lighten up now and then."

"Yeah, when was the last time you really did that? Remember, we used to have such good times with really sick jokes and lame rhymes. Where has all the magic gone?"

"I doubt if there was any magic to begin with."

"Well, it might have been pretty ordinary, but hey, we did laugh about it. And so many friends laughed with us."

"Yeah. Those were the days... I guess this is what happens once we get older. We forget to laugh."

"You may be getting older. I am not!"

"But you are. I mean, you are 5 years old! And that's like 35 blog years, you dog!"
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PS1: I know celebrating blog birthdays is a bit lame. But then, we are such losers. So smile and wish us.

Love. At what price?

“Maybe I should just break up with her”

“WTF are you saying? After all these years, how can you even think of...”

“I know. I know. It is difficult, almost blasphemous. And it pains me to even think of it.”

“Then?”

“Given a choice, I’ll like to be with her all my life. Till death do us part and all that. But the fact is, she is acting too pricey”

“What do you mean, pricey?”

“I don’t know, man. When we started out, I never felt the pinch. Even though I came from a small town and thought she would be too posh and high society for me, I never felt it. Or rather, she never made me feel that way. Frankly, I was surprised at how easily she accepted me.”

“Yeah, she has this tendency to make people comfortable pretty quickly”

“Besides, I was surprised at how quickly I accepted her. I forgot my old crush within a matter of months!”

“Yeah, I know about M. Pretty, but a bit laid back. I personally felt she was not your type. You were a bit too ambitious for her.”

“Yeah, but I still think some of my best days were spent in her lap. But then, we all grow out of our first love, don’t we?”

“Well, some don’t. And some are lucky to find everlasting love at the first attempt”

“Hmm, I thought I could find that with this one, after the failed first attempt. But, 12 years on, and I find myself in a quandary. I still love her, but I can’t afford to keep up with her demands.”

“What do you mean? Keep up with her demands? What the hell happenned?”

“Well, what can I say? As I was saying, in the good old days, I never felt that she was this demanding. I might have struggled a bit, but every bit of the way, I felt she was a part of my struggle. She was an inspiration, one who helped me forget my worries and helped me focus on to where I was headed.”

“And then?”

“And this is the strange part. When I was struggling and poor, I felt she was beside me, encouraging me, providing me all I wanted without demand. And now, I am much better off, and starting to dream of a lovely future with her, and she has to go and get all posh and pricey?”

“Has she given up all her goodness and changed for the worse all of a sudden? Has she really become posh and elitist? Or have you?”

**************************************

PS1: “She” refers to Bombay. The city I grew to love, in spite of initially thinking I never would.

PS2: Inspired by the ever spiraling real estate prices. 80+ lakhs for an under construction 2BHK in goddamn Kanjurmarg?!? Who are we kidding?

PS3: I have said this before and I say this again. You may object to the objectification of women. But please don’t object to my womenification of objects. Or places.

The Sixteen Sutras...

It was a normal, boring day. I was sitting in the cramped ICWA library, struggling with my Saxena-Vashisht and VS Datey. My exams were around the corner. I had this unexplainable pride in my ability to concentrate on the sub-sections and case laws of the most arcane tax laws and quote them in my exam papers. That I don’t even remember the basic definition of excise duty today is indicative of how ‘useful’ those sessions were. But I digress.

That day, my Arjuna-like concentration was disturbed. It was not my fault. Any guy would have been distracted. She was that beautiful. She caught me staring at her. Or at least I thought she did. I quickly looked away. Back to Mr. Datey’s explanation on applicability of excise duty. CENVAT and MODVAT to be done after this. “Concentrate, concentrate, you need to crack this” I told myself. Or rather, the inner voice angel did.

And then, despite myself, I looked up again. Into big black beautiful eyes. Sitting across the table. “Of all the 3 seats available, she had to sit here?” the angel asked. “Maybe, this is your lucky day!” suggested the devil (in case you hadn’t read this, I have these conflicting voices going on in my head, most of the time, but especially in situations like this). “Concentrate, concentrate!” the angel repeated.

“Excise levy cannot be imposed on imported goods or goods manufactured in Nepal. This is also true if goods are imported in SKD or CKD condition and they are only assembled in India, as no new product emerges - Walchand Nagar Industries  v. CCE - 1995 (79) ELT 485 (CEGAT - 3 member bench order)”, my eyes were merely glossing over the words, nothing registering in my mind.

“You should at least say hi. Make small talk. What’s a few minutes when you have hours of studying this crap to do?” the devil was a convincing salesman. “Yeah, ask her if she has read CENVAT rules” the angel was no less convincing when it came to reading up on Excise duty. “Duh, CENVAT rules! Can’t you think of anything better?” the devil sniggered.

I needed to stop this cacophony of voices inside. I got up, went to the water filter, wiped the film of dust off the inner side of the tumbler, and slowly filled it up. All the while, my eyes never left her. “Pervert!” the angel barked. Glug, glug, glug, refill, glug, glug, glug. “Ok, we say hi, if she responds, we take it forward, else we go back to the book”, the devil made a pact. Apparently, he is an experienced hand at that.

I walked back. Breathe in. Deep. Deeper. Ok, here we go.

.

.

.

I open my mouth. Nothing. Not the first time it has happenned. Won’t be the last time too. The tongue freezes. The brain decides to go along. Damn. Never mind, get back to the book.

And while taking that 'one last glance', I noticed something that hadn’t caught my eye till then (not surprising, considering that there was tough competition around as far as catching the eye went). A book with a bright reddish-pink cover, with “Vedic Mathematics” written in bold on it. “Ooh, a figure with a thing for figures!” the devil could hardly contain himself. “Hmm, sounds interesting. Check it out at the Fountain book sellers” said the angel. “Vedic Mathematics? What for? To calculate how many cow dung cakes to put in the homams that you don’t do?” the devil retorted, with his usual display of bad sarcasm.

But, check it out I did. Bought it too. For a hundred precious bucks. All the money I had in my pocket. Skipped lunch, went home and devoured the book instead.

Went back to the library every day of the week. She was nowhere to be seen. At least I was making good progress with Mr. Datey. However queer that sounds.

And then she turned up one day. The book was still in her hands. “This is your best chance. Make some remark about the book. Much better than those CENVAT rules anyday” the devil pushed.

“Hi, er, interesting book that, nahi?” I was surprised that I managed to say something coherent.

“This? I don’t know. My brother was preparing for CAT. He said he wanted it, so I picked it up for him. Personally, I hate Maths”, she said.

“Hate this stupid costing as well. I am here, only because my father forced me to take up this course. Said I am wasting my time doing only B.Com and loafing around. I am going to flunk this exam just to get back at him!” she continued.

Before I could say something appropriately sympathetic, a guy in a flashy tee with a picture of a fist-and-one-strategic-finger-raised appeared... “hey babes, wanna go for some coffee?”

And off they went, hand in hand, looking very much in love.

Sigh. Breathe in. Deep. Deeper.

And back to Mr. Datey.

And, to surprising fourth standard kids in family get-togethers with my ability to say “74 square? Hmm... 5476” in less than a minute. I stopped doing that only when even they started give me the “eww, the geek” look.  

An old crush comes visiting...

An old crush came visiting this weekend. Bringing with her memories unpleasant. With a tiny bit of nostalgia.

I hadn't met her for about 4 years now. Or was it 5? It seems so long ago, that I don't even remember.

What I do remember is how she used to make me feel. One word. Breathless.

She visited only occasionally. But when she did come, everything else was secondary. Food, studies, games, even sleep. I'd lie back, she'd be close to my chest, but there would be no sleep. Together, we'd dream, sometimes wonderful dreams, but mostly nasty nightmares.

She used to decide what I could eat. What I could drink. What kind of clothes I could wear. What places I could visit.

In effect, she used to rule my life. And frankly, I was beginning to feel a bit suffocated in the relationship.

And I slowly broke away from her. It took some dedicated effort, in fact 3 years of it. But I did not want to do anything fishy, just for a quick break-up.

And even when we were through, done and dusted, I was aware that we may move on, but we'll never be able to forget each other. And that she may come back anytime she pleases.

But she didn't return for 4 years. Or was it 5?

And I had almost forgotten about her. Even discarded the sucker gifts she had given me during her visits.

Till this Thursday, when I went Cough Cough. Acchhoooo. Sniff.

All's well, in spite of all the swine flu fear, all we have to do is visit the doc and pop some pills. Relax, relax, take a deep breath...

Wheeze.

Wheeze.

Welcome back, Ms. Asthma.

I have always had a thing for names beginning with A. Asin, Amrita (Rao, not Arora), Aish, Alyssa and of course, you.

***************************************************

PS1 : Fellow sufferers if any, please don't list down your inhaler horror stories, or miracle cures for now... I am kinda depressed as it is, so let's keep it for when I'm back in my happy mood.

PS2: In spite of the cold, cough, fever, and the associated "did you test for the swine flu" kinda depressing questions, one can't help but come up with a sicko PJ:

Q. What do they call swine flu in Tamil?

A. Panni Pani.

(non-Tams, please note the second word is not pronounced like the hindi word for water!)

It can't be two years already!

I can’t believe it’s been two years already! As clichéd as it sounds, it seems like only yesterday that we met for the first time. I had already wooed two other beauties, both of whom had dumped me at the first date. I was running around desperate, when she said yes. And of course, I said yes without blinking. Or thinking.

As is usual, the first few months were the most exciting. We discovered new things about each other, and I dare say, she helped me find myself. Every day I spent with her, I learnt something new. And exciting.

But it wasn't all smooth sailing. In those early days, I was also confused as hell. I did not know what to do, what to say, and to be honest, I have often wondered whether I deserve to be with her. And I am still not fully convinced that I am worth the riches she lavishes me with.

Of course, there have been days when we did not see eye-to-eye. When I have asked myself why the hell I am still stuck with her. When I have longingly looked at other friends who seemed happier, and wondered whether I should move on. To a better partner, one who might make me feel a bit more special.

But just when the clouds of doubt gather in my mind, she provides a new spark which revives the fire in our relationship. Yep, that’s the magical thing about her. Or at least was.

Of later, there has been a lull in our relationship. The spark, or whatever it was, is just a distant memory. Our relationship is not going anywhere. I can’t remember the last time we really had fun. To put it crudely, I am not getting any.

But I have decided to stay put. Partly out of loyalty. Partly because no one else seems interested. But mostly because, somehwere deep in my heart, I still love her.

After all, she’s my first job.

************************************************************************

PS: People, especially feminazis, who think it is crude to compare a job to a woman, please excuse. In my defence, I’m kinda married to my job. And she is no less demanding than any real woman I have met. And equally hard to please.

PS2: Yeah, yeah, you guessed it in the very first para that this is not about a real woman. For one dumb enough to read this far, you do have some smarts.

Suggest a wallpaper pic please...

I did not realize it when I kept her pic as my desktop wallpaper. For about 3 years and counting.

I did not realize it when I sat through stupid movies just for her sake. Beginning with “M.Kumaran, Son of Mahalakshmi”, going on through Ghajini (Tamil), Pokiri and Dasavatharam (Tamil). My friends thought I just enjoyed masala movies. (Aside: I do!!!)

I did not realize it when I entered a theatre on impulse (5 minutes after the show had started), alone, on New Year’s Eve for god’s sake, to watch Ghajini (Hindi). This, from a guy with a proclaimed aversion to movie theatres.

Heck, I did not even realize it when I broke off from a conversation abruptly when she sashayed to the Guzarish song on TV. Though people did start strongly suspecting that I had gone mad.

But last week really did it.

I am at work. We have this client who is so huge and well rated and stuff. So huge that our loan would get lost as a rounding off decimal in their balance sheet. Frankly, I was quite surprised (and quiet surprised, you can’t show you are surprised at work) that they even entertained us. So when our gatekeepers, the credit department, started asking numerous questions on the whys and hows of the deal, what security, clauses in the loan agreement etc.

And, my mind went, “Dude, here’s Asin asking to marry you. And you are nitpicking about what is her education, where she works, will we need to match horoscopes and stuff?” You say yes simply because she’s Asin. Period”

That was when I realized that I am well and truly obsessed with her.

I am putting a blank wallpaper to help me get over this obsession. Suggestions for new non-obsessive faces welcome.
*******************************************************************
PS: Bonus MCP PJ, to make up for the lazy post:
What did Amol Palekar call a fat woman?
Gol-maal!

Should I tell her?

Should I tell her?

How do you tell her? What do you say?

How will she react?

What if she screams? What if she slaps you? In full public view!

Why would she slap me? If anything, she'll be happy I said it. In fact, she might even ask "What took you so long?"

I dunno. Women are unpredictable. You never know how they react.

Yeah, that they are. Predictably unpredictable.

Beautiful, but unpredictable.

May be I can just reach out and...

Perish the thought!!! She'll definitely slap you. Plus she's wearing heels. Pointed heels.

But still, may be I should go ahead and say it. Damn the consequences!

Think beta think. Kuch bhi bolne se pehle sau baar socho.

Sau baar sochne ka time nahi hai. She'll be long gone by then. It is now or never.

Ok, it's your call. Don't blame me later.

Dammit, I am gonna say it.

.

.

.

"Excuse me ma'am, there's a cockroach on your shoulder..."

The Break-Up

Farewell, dear.

We were together in the best of times. And the worst of times. I could not live without you.

You have been a trusted companion. You were with me when I was pulling my hair apart unable to understand my job. You were with me on my holiday in Goa, where we admired the beauty of the sunset together. You didn’t even object when I ogled at the girls there. In fact, you helped me appreciate them better.

You have been completely transparent with me. I could rest assured in the fact that that you would always show me the true picture, irrespective of whether I like it or not. You helped me see things more clearly, and to understand subtleties that were not immediately obvious to me. I trusted you so much that you had me by the ears all the time.

You were the apple of my eye. I spent the better part of the day with you. But I never slept with you. Ours was a platonic relationship and that made it all the more special.

But I abused you. I mistook you to be indestructible, and sadly didn’t realise that you were actually quite fragile. I was so comfortable with you, that I never realized how precious you were. I took you for granted. But you were always there for me.

You tried your best, but you eventually broke. Looking back, I am amazed you held together for as long as you did.

I have moved on. Found myself a newer companion. And if I have learnt anything from our relationship, I would treat this one with more care. At least, I hope to.

Honestly, I wished that our relationship would last longer. But it was not meant to be. And the fault was entirely mine. I had to break up with you.

Farewell, my dear broken spectacles. May your unbroken soul rest in peace.

************************************************************************************

PS1: Any rich liquor barons, particularly those who move around in a Maybach with a spare Merc in tow, interested in buying my spectacles, please get in touch through a comment. I try to speak the truth most of the time, and am a decidedly non-violent guy. There is no auction and I won’t ask for millions of dollars. A case of your beer would do.

PS2: I am going home for a week. Home is a place which internet hasn’t corrupted. Yet. So, in case you take the effort of leaving a comment, and don’t find a reply, don’t think I’m being rude.

PS3: And since I am going to be away, here’s a bonus PJ for my dear friends who would miss me... “If you dump a girl and she starts crying, do you call it a break up or a break down?”

I still hate V-day

"Women like guys who make them laugh."
If you think about it for a moment, the above line is actually a very good joke. On guys like me.
Ok, some of you may argue that PJs don't actually make you laugh. Sigh, the truth always sucks.

"Women like poetry, especially that which is dedicated to them".
Again, I am not claiming that the lamericks below are poetry. That would be stretching poetic license a bit too much. Neither are they dedicated to women. But why are we nitpicking? We aren't lawyers after all.

Anyways, it is V-day, and while people are fighting over culture or the lack of it in celebrating the same, there are some losers like me who are still searching. (Aside: It doesn't matter whether you are pub-going or not, forward or backward, loose or tight. If at all you send me a pink thingy, I want you to come in it. Pun intended.)

Anyways, V-day is an excuse to whine and wallow in self-pity, and come up with some horrendously banal verse.

So, here goes...

One year ago, I whined on V-Day;
and now I have come back to say
that, forget about wooing a lovely gal,
thanks to the depressing times, dear pal,
am more worried about a cut in my pay!

“Oh my God, look at that lovely lass”
"I just luvvv the way she moves her ass!”
Ah, those days of nudge nudge wink wink,
damn f**k, these days, all I can think
is “What’s happening to RIL's KG Gas?”

There was a time when girls we used to rate,
now, we just worry about our appraisal fate!
Where have they gone, those carefree days?
Only to be replaced by (sob) some stupid KRAs;
Is this what they call the sawaal of the paapi pet?

To be frank, most girls may not really like
a poor guy who can’t even afford a bike;
thanks to those greedy buggers of Wall St.
Bankers are as desirable as rotten meat;
No bonus, not even a measly pay hike!

So, lovely ladies, this lamerick is a dedication
since you are every lovesick guy’s medication,
I know, the above lines were extremely corny
and no, I didn’t mean anything remotely horny!
As it is against the culture of this great nation!!!
*******************************************************************************

The Perfect Romantic Dinner

I have occasionally been accused of being incapable of romance. Like most things that people say about me, this is also patently false. Allow me to recount one of the most romantic dinner dates (and the only one) I had.

**************************

The year was 1999. I was just another hormone driven teenager. Struggling to come to terms with my culture shock of stepping from a sleepy little town into a city which claimed never to sleep!

I was quite a shy guy. In fact, the shy guy. Saying ‘Hi’ to a girl was the equivalent of bungee jumping. Asking one out for a date was the same jump without the rope. Why, even if God pulled a miracle and some girl actually asked, “Can we go for a coffee?”, “No, we can’t”, was my mantra. Hadn’t heard of Obama back then, you see.

Till I met her, of course. I was smitten. Totally. Stars in my eyes. Twinkling bells even.

After four months of nervous stolen glances, I mustered enough courage to say ‘Hi’. Another three months passed before I became comfortable enough to pass one of my infamous PJs in her presence. Surprise, surprise, she laughed. She actually laughed.

Emboldened by my friends’ assurances that ladki hansi toh phansi, I tentatively walked up to her and squeaked, “Would you… er… Can we… er… I mean…?”. Some part of mind realized that I was mumbling incoherently, but then love does that to people. She, like all girls, could read my mind like Sachin reads a Warnie longhop. And she played the perfect square cut, and said, “yeah sure, we can go for coffee today evening.”

Whoopie! (not Goldberg!)

After three Shetty hotel coffees (those were not the days of Barista and CCD, in case you forget!), I summoned all my courage (and the entire pocket money of the month) and suggested a dinner date. Did not even fumble, mind you. And, she accepted.

So, the plan was in motion before you could say 'lucky bastard'. I went home whistling all the way, feet two whole feet above the air. (Note to engineers: metaphorically speaking, before you throw the law of gravity at me now!). I picked out my best shirt, ironed it myself, wore it, found a few creases, ironed it again till I feared it would burn. Took a bath, brushed my teeth, stole a few drops of after-shave from my cousin’s closet, looked at myself in the mirror and thought (hammed?), “There’s a reason why I am called SRK!”

The dinner was at a hotel (decided by her, I was new to the city) that was pricey by a struggling student’s standards. As we sat down, and I opened the menu, I left out an audible sigh. She looked up, and asked, “What happened?”. “Just thanking my lucky stars, for this lovely date”, I replied. I could be charming when the occasion demanded.

As she ordered the starters (Rs.45/-), I was calculating the odds of my charm working with the hotel’s manager. I didn’t order a starter for myself, hoping that she’d consider sharing a plate romantic.

We moved on the main course, two sabzis (Rs.65/- each) and four rotis (Rs.6/- a piece), and suddenly the four crisp fifty rupee notes in my wallet seemed woefully inadequate. “No dessert and no tip should get me out of here alive”, I thought to myself. May be she’ll not notice that I didn’t tip. Or think I was being conscious about money, and appreciate it. Maybe I can crack a smart one tomorrow about how lost I was in her eyes, that I totally forgot the tip, and she’ll laugh it off. “Hope is all you have”, said the angelic inner voice. “And one whole rupee to tip, just in case”, said the devil inside. “Wow, my devil has a sarcastic side”, I thought to myself.

I resolved to tune out these voices, and concentrate on the goddess in front of me. Man, was she beautiful. “She couldn’t have evolved just like that, God definitely created this one”, the angel on the shoulder exclaimed! “Yeah, ignore the stunner in front of you and start refuting Darwinism now. Perfect timing!”, the devil on the other shoulder squeaked.

But it was a beautiful dinner. I successfully managed to tune out the devil and the angel, and even managed a few stupid PJs. She laughed, and heartily at that. Not a polite, let’s-not-disappoint-the-idiot laugh, but a genuine oh-so-cute-giggle. “I can see you are already on cloud nine”, the angel remarked; “so what if the bill is already one hundred ninety nine!”, the devil chipped in. "Wow, my devil can rhyme too!", I thought to myself.

We finished the meal (why, oh why does time run so fast?), and I was already praying to all the Gods that I hadn’t believed in earlier, to somehow make her ignore the dessert. May be she’ll say ice cream is fattening. After all, girls are always weight-conscious. Except the fat ones.

Sure enough, she closed the menu and set it aside as the plates were being cleared. “God does exist, and he just answered your prayers”, the angel was literally jumping on my shoulder. “One coffee please”, she smiled sweetly at the waiter, and then looked at me. “I’ll skip, I’m full”, I replied weakly. "Skip on a full stomach? you'll get cramps", quipped the devil. "Hey, my devil can pun too!", I thought to myself.

“A coffee is just 6 bucks. I surely have 5 bucks change on me”, I said to myself. I didn’t want to fish around my wallet in her presence, so I excused myself and dashed into the washroom. Only to find that I had exactly four crisp fifty rupee notes, no more, no less. Maybe, I can borrow 5 bucks from her. Maybe, she’ll turn out to be this broad-minded types who insist on sharing half the bill. Maybe I can leave my watch here as ‘security deposit’ and bring the money tomorrow. My mind was going berserk and the two voices also did not have any bright ideas.

“Whatever happens, this dinner has been the highlight of your life so far, so go out and face the problem like a man”, offered the angel after some time. “yeah, she might think you have an upset stomach if you sit any longer in here”, the devil smirked. "Wow, my devil can make crappy remarks too", I thought to myself.

So, I walked out, telling myself, “With her on my side, I can face the whole damn world. What’s a few irate waiters and hotel managers?”, and took my seat.

“Thanks for the nice evening, am sure we’ll go out again”, she said and got up to leave. I looked around for the waiter, to bring the sheet of paper that will be my death sentence.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked.

“er… nothing… the bill”, I managed. I was hoping she’d not be present when the time of reckoning came.

“Hum Bill De Chuke Sanam”, she said.

.

.

.
And THAT concludes the most irritatingly long PJ that you would have been subjected to in your life!!!

*****************************************************************************

PS 1: I know, I know, lots of writers before me have made pun of this movie title. But, a little "inspiration" is excusable. After all, it is a Bollywood PJ.

PS 2: Jeffrey Archer uses this 'hotel' situation in at least two of his short stories. And, no I am not comparing myself to him. But you can sure read those to improve your mood after this stupid exercise.

Succumbing to Temptation...

She was the most beautiful ‘item’ I had seen. Looking extremely delicious, sitting pretty with an inviting look. Seducing me. Tempting me to reach out. Making me drool like a pup which has eyed a bone.

One look at her, and all my self-control just melted away.

I knew that the effect was not just on me; everyone around me was also eyeing her with a lustful gaze. Even the girls in the vicinity kept looking at her, jealous of her effortless ability to draw attention from their bling, muttering to themselves, “She makes us look fat”.

As I drew my eyes away with considerable difficulty and tried to move away, her delicious fragrance kept me rooted to my spot. She had a sizzling scent, one which jolted my senses in a pleasant sort of way.

She evoked a strange sense of possessiveness in me. When I saw her in another man’s arms, all I wanted to do was go up to him, kick his ass, and take her for myself.

She had this mysterious ability to make me loosen my purse strings with abandon. She knew she was the best, and she demanded a heavy price knowing that no man can resist her charms.

She was like a drug, extremely addictive. I can never forget the feeling I had when my lips first touched her.

She was HOT. SUPER HOT. A DEFINITE SIZZLER. I knew this affair was not good for me. Every time I had given in to her charms, I had endured the torture of a guilty conscience and en empty wallet. My friends knew my weakness for her, and constantly taunted me. I was immune to them.

In spite of the fact that I had burnt my fingers many times before, the temptation was too much to resist.

I finally gave in.

I called the waiter, and said “One sizzling chocolate brownie please”. And I gave in to her charms “one last time.”

Until the next pang that is.
********************************************************************************

PS: Inspired by the line “Bips looks decidedly edible” - Raja Sen, review of Bachan Ae Haseeno.

PPS: I read rediff reviews. Sigh. And get inspired by such crap. Double sigh. Such is life...

I HATE V-day...

Today they say is the day of St. Valentine
but all i can do is groan and whine...
b'coz i currently don't have a crush,
i sooo want to, but i've gotta rush
have to reach office by half past nine!

so, while ppl plan a mushy date
i sit in office very very late
no one to cosy up to and cuddle
but for an excel model which has me in a muddle
somehow, i still end up feeling great!

occasionally, i fantasize late into the night
of having a fiercely contested pillow fight
she'll aim, she'll swing and she'll miss
and when I win, she'll give me a kiss...
and say "darling, turn off the f***ing light!"

everyone builds castles in the air,
even i dream of being 'one of a pair'
sometimes i ask, "God, dear pal...
hope you haven't forgotten to create my dream gal!"
she has to be beautiful, not necessarily fair...

But God said "u write such bad rhyme"
and in My books, that's a crime...
so, I curse you, in this life,
not you, but your mom will find you a wife
and oh, "better luck next time!"
*************************************************************************
PS: For those who do have a Valentine, enjoy your day!

Illegal Dreams II - The Proposal

Pls make sure u read part I, before you read this:

**********************************************************

So, I was going to propose to her. But then, I don't have enough courage to say it. (ah, a coward, even in my dreams!)

So, I write out a love letter:

“I, son of Mr. ___, residing at ___, (hereinafter referred to as the “first party”), seek to enter into a contract with Ms. ___, daughter of Mr. ___, residing at ___, (hereinafter referred to as the “Second party”), to offer certain services (as enumerated in Annex I) and avail of certain benefits (as enumerated in Annex II). The contract will be for an indefinite period, terminable at the option of either party, or in case of death/incapacitation/insolvency of either party. The contract will be subject to Indian laws, and in addition, will also be subject to in-laws.

Annex I:

The First Party agrees to the following set of positive and negative covenants:
1. The First Party shall not partake of any substance which contains alcohol/tobacco/non-living animal, without the explicit permission of the Second Party.

2. The First Party shall not observe/look/stare/whistle at or otherwise misbehave with any member of the species of the Second Party. Seeking of permission shall lead to termination of contract, and payment of damages to Second Party.

3. The First Party shall restrict contacts with other members of the same gender to one evening per month, subject to the provision that the Second Party has been given due notice thereof and express permission has been obtained. Permission granted under this clause does not imply permission for any act specified in the previous clauses.

4. The First Party shall promise to remember all the anniversaries that the Second party may require him to remember, either through express communication or through implied conduct. These dates may include, but are not restricted to, the date of first meeting, the date of first communication, the date of first arm contact, the date of first lip contact, the date of Second Party’s third cousin’s birthday, the date of Second Party’s fourth pet dog’s vaccination day and such other dates that may be added to this list from time to time. No notice need be given to the First party as regards addition of dates to the said list, and the First Party cannot claim ignorance to the facts.

5. The First Party agrees to provide certain articles to the Second Party periodically, which may include but are not restricted to a pair of diamond earrings, bunch of flowers, perfumes, scented candles, stuffed toys and such other items that may be added to the list from time to time. No notice need be given to the First party as regards addition of dates to the said list, and the First Party cannot claim ignorance to the facts.

6. The First Party also agrees to remove the Asin Wallpaper from his desktop, and put up a picture of the Second Party in place thereof. The First Party also agrees to delete/cut or by other means remove all the pictures/videos/wallpapers/screensavers which may be deemed objectionable by the Second Party.

7. The First Party agrees by express consent, to grant all decision making powers as regards place of accommodation, decoration of said accommodation, spending of monies, timing of physical intimacy, name and place of education of children and any other contingency not covered herein, to the Second Party.

8. The First Party also assign the right to the Second Party, by express consent, to alter, add or otherwise modify the above clauses.

9. The First Party agrees to have read and understood all the above clauses, and his obligations thereof, and claims to have been in full possession of his mental faculties, except for the legally unrecognizable factor called ‘blind love’, and hereby signs the document as an attestation of his agreement.

Annex II:
This space has been intentionally left blank.

Signed
­­____________.

********************************************

And then I woke up...

and how do I know I was awake, and not just dreaming I was awake?

b'coz when I turned over, there was no dream girl to kiss :((

The new love of my life

She is a model. A very lovely model.

I spend my entire day gazing at her. Getting lost in her myriad charms. Trying my best to understand her many facets.

I have spent many a late night with her. Just me and her. Spread out on a sheet. I go to sleep with her. I dream about her in my sleep. I wake up thinking about her. She dominates my thoughts. My dreams. My waking hours. She has made me forget Asin and Ash. In fact, she has replaced the Asin wallpaper I had on my desktop.

She is very demanding. She insists that I devote my time entirely to her and her alone. She ensures that she receives my fullest attention. Day and Night, Night and Day. Weekdays. Weekends.

She is very moody. She just clams up sometimes. Doesn’t communicate a single thought. Just refuses to talk. I just feel like walking away from her at times like these, but she somehow keeps me rooted to my seat. The only way to make her talk again is to yield control to her, alter her mood and delete everything else.

Other times, she talks a lot, but not in the language that I can understand. Her language seems to have no name, no reference point, and sometimes, no value. I try my best to decipher what she is trying to say, but after hours of effort, simply give up. And tear my hair in frustration.
Many times, I have a feeling that I understand the language, but then she links up so many seemingly unrelated things, that I have to go back and forth trying to make sense of what she is trying to tell me.

She even comes with her own assistant. Who tries his best to help me make sense of her. Animatedly gestures to me – dancing, rolling and doing impossible body contortions. But I hate him. He keeps interrupting when I least need him. Plus, his tips are no use to me. So, I pack him off, hidden away from my sight.

There are happier times too. Times when she has a very intellectually stimulating conversation. Times when I feel a real connect between us. Where nothing need be said, yet a lot is understood. When, after hours of effort, I arrive at that Eureka moment. When, suddenly, things fall into place. At times like these, I feel like jumping up shouting yippieeee.

Today, I had one such moment. After a whole week of pleading, cajoling, threatening, praying and banging my head, I finally understood what she is trying to say. And, I realized that if I press the right buttons, I can even make her say what I want her to say.

To celebrate, I went out and had a nice drink. No, not with her. She doesn’t drink.

If you are wondering when you can meet her, I’m sorry. She is ‘for my eyes only’. Only my boss is allowed to take a peek at her. That too, after I’m done with her.

But friends, please say hi to the new love of my life, the Excel Financial Model.

PS: You knew this was coming, right. After all, I am becoming too predictable nowadays.

PPS: If you can’t understand head or tail of what I have written above, don’t blame yourselves. One, I wrote this at 2.30 am, after working 12 hours and then having a few pegs. Two, unless you have spent a whole week trying to deconstruct an Excel financial model, you won’t understand or appreciate my feelings.

Thunderbolts

Ever read the Godfather? Only then will you understand what I am talking about. It is the scene when Michael Corleone gets smitten by a beauty, and his bodyguard jokes, “Our friend has been hit by a thunderbolt.”

Has it ever happened to you, that you are walking along the road, and suddenly an angel passes you by? An angel who you wish was yours, for this lifetime and the next.

I have been hot by thunderbolts so many times. I mean, she is so beautiful that I stop dead in my tracks, and just keep gaping, mouth wide open, eyes wide open and oblivious to the world around me. Her eyes are so magical, that I can look into them for a lifetime. Long after she has left, her face is still in my mind, haunting my thoughts. Till the next thunderbolt comes along ;)

I have always wondered how God can be so damn mischievous that He just throws in such a sizzler on your way just when you are in a tearing hurry to go somewhere. I mean, there are days when I am strolling along the road, with absolutely nothing to do. And all I get to see are stray dogs and even an occasional cow on the road. And then, there are days when I am literally running, terribly late for something important, and there comes along Ms. Divine Beauty. I stop, have a discreet second look, then a not so discreet third look and then, before I know it, I’m staring on. In better days, when I was younger, and in a group, I might even have let out a sly whistle.

In fact, I have been lucky a few times. These were the days when I was not in such a hurry. Once at ICWAI institute, where I stood in the same line three times just to keep looking at a sizzler. Once in Mumbai University, when me and my friend left three buses go, just to stay back at the bus stop and gape at another more attractive dame. Once in a temple, when everybody else was concentrating on the aarti, and I was staring at a goddess in front of me. Once in a college competition, when I participated in a debate competition just because the event head was a sweet gal who had a way with scapegoats like me. I had never been on stage before and I was tongue tied during the whole damn debate, and made an absolute fool of myself; but I never regret that evening because I was, well, smitten. And in junior college, where I used to stare all day at the most beautiful angel I have ever seen, without ever mustering up enough courage to go and even day ‘Hi’ to her; not even once in two whole years. There are two many thunderbolts to recollect. Whoever said ‘Lightning never strikes twice at the same place’ didn’t include thunderbolts in the same category.

I have noticed that I’m not the only one who stops, gapes and stares… other guys on the road, whether they are fifteen or fifty, do it too. Which makes me wonder… do gals do it too? Or are they too clever, and don’t make it so obvious? I mean I have caught sooo many guys ogling at gals. But it is not often that I see a gal ogling at a guy, unless she is in a Ricky Martin concert. (Or is it Enrique Iglesias, or whoever). Is God so partial that He never chooses to hit the gals with a thunderbolt?

I have never believed in the concept of ‘marriages are made in heaven’ kinda thing, or the DTPH line of ‘Someone Somewhere is made for you’. So, I really don’t think I’d bump into my future life partner on the road, in a hotel or at the bus-stop. I’m more comfy letting my mom do the hunting job for me. I’d rather do job hunting.

But, every time I’m hit by a so called thunderbolt, I keep thinking… Someday, I’ll follow the gal to her house, and ask for her hand, a la Michael Corleone. Problem is, I don’t have two useless bodyguards with me, to save my @$$ in case the gal’s brother turns out to be the local wrestling champion.

And, so, I let my head rule my heart, and console myself by just gaping. No Michael Corleone stunts for me now. But, one day, I will…

Ennaku Oru Girlfriend vendum ada...

I have often been asked, “Why don’t you get a girlfriend?”… As with most questions, I struggle with the answers…
I mean, what does ‘get a girlfriend’ mean? Is there a market where they can be bought? Are they sold by the kilo? How much do they cost per kilo?
I also don’t get the “Why don’t you” part… It is not like I put a poster on my face saying, “Girls, back off”… (I don’t need a poster, my face does that for me :D).

As it is, I have never bothered. Am too busy admiring myself to spare time for admiring a girl. But, when so many people ask you this question, something is seriously wrong…

What is it about me that makes girls run away as if they would from a farting skunk?

Is it my long name like the famous Sidin (http://sidin.blogspot.com/2004/05/travails-of-single-south-indian-men-of.html) says?
Is it because I am an infamous miser who wouldn’t spend a penny (or a paisa) for a gal? I mean, I have never been inside a Barista, CCD or a McD… never…
Is it because I don’t go for movies with them, and coochie-coo in the last seat? FYI, I have visited the movie theatre twice in the last 8 years :D
Is it because my idea of a dinner is a thali at an Udipi restaurant, and not a Pizza at Joey’s?
Is it because I have this stupid habit of telling the truth? As in, “Dah-ling, Do I look good in this dress?” “Of course… umm… er… (whisper) not, Duh-ling”

No, it must be something more…

So, like a good Fin student, I did a CBA… in a romantic relationship -

The gal gets a free dinner, a free movie, a free ride and the attention of a guy.
The guy gets a kiss, a smooch if he’s lucky, and something more if the gal lets him…
Net positive for the gal …

The gal gets to pour out her worries, her tensions, her feelings… her fear that XYZ has a better wardrobe, or ABC has a better shoerack…
The guy gets to listen to crap, and has to nod his head along like he’s actually sympathizing.
Net positive for the gal …

The gal gets to show off her ‘trophy’ to the other gals… particularly, if the guy is rich… even better, if he’s an idiot.
The guy would like to show off his ‘trophy’ to other guys, but he’s afraid that they’ll lure her away… particularly if she’s sexy… even better, if she’s dumb.
Break even for both…

The gal gets a diamond necklace and a Shahtoosh shawl…
The guy gets a human wrap around…
Net positive for the guy…

After such a loooong analysis, [this is the exec summ], I decided that I was better off without a girlfriend…

So, now when people ask me, “Why don’t you get a girlfriend?”… I tell them, “I’m a firm believer in Arranged Marriage” :P

PS: My fav songs are 'Jaane kyun log pyaar karte hain' from DCH and 'Pyaar mein sou uljale hain' - the Vivek Oberoi-Ash wala movie :D

Love at First Sight!!!

It was a familiar scene. A crowded railway station. Porters screaming out their services. Hawkers peddling inedible eatables. Kids running around, oblivious to the chaos around them, while their parents frantically hunted around for their compartments and seats. Add the sound of the engine, and the indecipherable Public Announcement System which starts with a jingle and then goes, “Yaatriyaan kripaya dhyaan de… “

I was being shoved around by people rushing to grab the best seats in the ‘unreserved’ compartments. I had three pieces of luggage, and my miserliness wouldn’t permit me to engage a porter. [I always convince myself by saying that one should have the dignity to carry one’s own luggage]. I was late and in a mad rush to catch my train. The taxi driver had conveniently taken advantage of my desperation to reach the station in time. I had had a bad day, when nothing seemed to be going right. In short, I was fed up, and ready to bash anyone up, if they dared to cross my way.

And then, I saw her!!!

She had the most beautiful face I had ever seen. But, it was her eyes that captivated me. Round, dark, and lively. She was fair, her skin perfect and soft. Her cheeks glowed. One look at her and all my worries just drifted away. I was lost in her eyes. I wanted to reach out to her, to touch her…

I took her in my arms, and I immediately felt a buzz of energy in my body. I just couldn’t take my eyes off her. I kissed her on the cheek, and she smiled… I’ll never forget that smile!!!



Man, holding such a cute little baby truly is refreshing!!!