Flat line it before it flat lines by itself!

“I’m in love.”
“Awwwwwww…”
“I have a boyfriend.”
“Ooiyeahh!”
“I kissed…”
“Pheeeeee!”
“Guess what? I did it!”
“Hoot! Hoot! How was it?”
See? Honeymoon fazes! Before you actually start living together. How cute!
Remember what Raj said before he met Simran in DDLJ?
“Kisi ke bal achche hote hain to kisi ke hot” (Some women have nice hair, others have pretty lips.)
After he met her,
“Kaisi hai? Simran?” (How is Simran?)
“Bahot pyaari hai.” (Very beautiful)
But dude. How long did he live with her? For an age of three hours and ten minutes! Bollywood and open ends!
Love is a strange emotion. It pulses through you, clouds reasoning and rational thought. It invokes jealousy, superiority complex and you’ll feel a bizarre sense of anger surge through you. Don’t tell me you are not insecure. Don’t tell me you don’t face the twisted threat of losing him. Don’t you fear replacement? Don’t you worry being abandoned?
Allow me to describe the stages in love, dear reader.

1. I want to get the last bite. For a gorgeous husband.
Hmmmmm. A girl’s favourite myth. Because long long ago some dumb anorexic blond chick was told by her mamma that if she eats the last bite, she’ll get a gorgeous husband. And she ate the first bite to reach the last bite. But I wonder why broad figures are not yet in trend.

2. Pleasure meeting you, see you around.
Of course. Because the answer to “was it love at first sight?” is “hardly!”

3. “So good to see you.” “Same here man, how are you?”
And the conversation ends at “here’s my number. Stay in touch.” You might even pull up a reason for sharing your number, excuses work better than “I’m kind of interested in you.”

4. “It’s me. What’re you up to?”
This and that. And more. And the conversation goes on all night. Even if it means hanging on and spending silent seconds and phone credit.

5. “How was your day?” “Ok…” “Same here.” “Life can suck sometimes.”
Go on. Tell him. He’s there. Are you worried about “she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts. She wears high heels, I wear sneakers” like Taylor Swift? He’ll accompany you to the saloon the next time. He’ll shyly wait outside for you, patiently giving you time for whimpering while your eyebrows are plucked and simpering while your hands are manicured. Oh and your pretty purple nails will make him hold your hand, and crossing the road is an excuse. Soft hands, so cute.
Congratulations, you’re in love! Awwwwwwwww!

6. “I am not sleepy.” “Awwwww! Let me put you to sleep.”
Sweet? Or seductive? That precarious pink in a momentary blush. But you won’t notice it!

7. Sidelong glances, suppressed laughter.
Because some things are better unsaid.

8. “I promise.”
The scarlet seduction of a rose in full bloom. It’s a promising flower he pushes into your hand. There’s nothing better than being wrapped together in that beautiful bond of love. True love. Your love.

9. “You look pretty today.” “Come on, it’s my usual worn out purple t-shirt.”
Oh no don’t. You can’t expect him to notice you everyday. Maybe he just realised and you pissed him off! Now hit your head on the table top!

10. Silence… The glorious kiss… Shock… Laugh… Longer… harder…
Pheeeeeeeeee! Hahahahahaha!

11. “I reached safe. Listen love, I’m missing you. Hey, do you want to talk to amma?”
How awww right? You’ll check whether your manners are intact before you hear aunty say hello. That’ll be one sweet conversation. And the conversation that will go on short for that night because of high roaming costs will be about being a son and missing a mother and more about family like ranting about the biggest idiot amongst your siblings and married siblings and nephews and nieces if there are any. A family of your own will sound good.

12. “I was sleeping, why can’t you just leave me in peace?”
That’s the problem with the extra X chromosome. It thinks too much, worries too much, cries too much and after all the energy loss, it understands too little and calls too much. Leave the poor boy alone. He is tired.

13. “How could you forget our six month anniversary?”
He just did. I don’t really know why, I couldn’t find out.

14. “You don’t give me time.” “How much time do you want?” “You gave me all your time without asking when we started off, and now you are bored of me, right?”
Please try and understand. Yesterday is not today and today is not tomorrow. When you run after something, it runs away from you. When you run away from it, it runs after you. Everything is stasis in standstill situation.
Don’t only keep calling.
Don’t only wait for his calls.

15. The next time you get drunk together.
Well, it’s not just your parents’ blood that is running through your veins, alcohol is authoritarian. Hoot! Hoot!
It was great going missionary, right? Because it’s missionary. The Church, missionaries… Close to divine, right?

16. Salena Gomez sings “I, I, love you like I love some baby!” and you sing along.
But somehow, the short conversation about mothers, family and babies never came up again.
Try asking if he wants to talk to your mamma.
“What baby no! my mummy is my mummy man… others’ mummy? Scared scared!”
Poor kid… This is called mother-in-law phobia. Asshole!

17. “I’ll pick you up for dinner at 8.”
Even if it means a low budget dinner at a dhaba. Anything for butter chicken and garlic naans because they are shaped like teardrops. Bottoms up to your glasses of water, a toast to infinite romance.

18. “Did you see the way he was leering at you? I could have shoved a hot iron rod up his ass!” “how does it matter to you?” “Because you are my girlfriend!” “Your girlfriend! You had no girlfriend when you were gaping at that bimbo who calls herself a model!” “Which bimbo model?” “That bitch at Ed’s birthday party!” “I wasn’t.”
Men, for some reason they are protective only about their women. Mother, sisters, girlfriends, wife, daughters… other women are just… uhm… sexy! Only Zeus knows why.

19. A crumpled chit of love between your fingers passed on to him -
You and I are rising in love,
Just Like that flying dove.
You and I are a cute couple,
Because I love chocolate truffle!

Yes. Very touching composition.
Yes. We are creepy about the men we love.

20. “Did you tell Emma about that joke?” “I… well… not entirely.” “Babes, I know you inside out and you by far, are one of my best discoveries.”
No, that’s surely not a complement! Now you’ll blame yourself if he is not talking to you.

21. “Don’t you know I’m pissed? Don’t you? You told her. It’s our joke, our personal joke. Our personal joke!” “if that upset you why didn’t you tell me before?” “What difference would that make? Don’t you know? Tell me if I am wrong! How will you feel if I talk about kissing and sex and us to my friends? How will you feel? Will you like it? Oh of course, you’ll be very happy. Because you women like showing off! Listen, I’m sorry, but I need a break. Let’s not talk for a week.”
Of course! He’s blaming all women, and you’ll blame yourself. You will stay away, spending every minute reminding yourself that you are an idiot. And you’ll write a million mails apologising and saving them in your drafts because he wants to stay out of touch for a week. You’ll cry, listen to Unfaithful by Rihanna and wait for his call and cry more.

22. “I thought you’ll call. Didn’t you miss me? I deserved it, I’m so stupid. I’m sorry, but I didn’t mean to.” “It’s alright baby, it’s not entirely your fault. I said a lot of cutting things too. I missed you so much, but, baby, I needed a break. You get it right?”
No. you didn’t get the break concept. You’ll still nod because you missed him and his hug is warm.

23. “Baby… I’m sorry. It’s not about you, it’s me. We can’t be together anymore.” “What? After all this while?” “Baby. Lots of perfect love stories exist. Ours was one of them, not anymore. I feel pathetic. but, babes, let’s at least bid each other the best goodbye? Please don’t cry. Please?”
Weeping… howling… gnashing of teeth… pleading… praying… all to no avail. He’ll be nice. But not to the extent of coming back.

24. What sense does “it’s not about you baby, it’s me” make? Why is he blaming the break up on himself and perfect love stories? All of a sudden? Everything was going well. Why?
Trust me! You’ll go crazy trying to decipher all that he said. You’ll even start googling his name. You’ll pull your dirtiest language out of storage. You’ll throw darts at his picture. You’ll want to throw stones at him. You deserve to spew your venom on him, about him, before him, behind him and to the high heavens if you please. But he won’t pick your calls.
It’s over for him. Like a happy dream.

25. A fling before the ring
As you sit there, draped in something absolutely gorgeous, something you picked with your favourite someone for this perfect moment, you’ll hear Jonas Brothers sing “Now I’m speechless over the edge, and just breathless… I never thought that I’d catch this love bug again. Hopeless, head over heels in the moment, I never thought that I’d get hit by this love bug again.” As the ring is slipped on to your finger.
Well, loneliness reaches saturation after a point. Thanks to your nagging friends, his indifference is commonplace and by extension, ok.
You will realise that some things almost come a full circle before they change shape leaving the circle incomplete. And you’ll thank the misshape. You will understand the difference between a loving relationship and giving into blind passion. You will realise the element that led you to celebrate your engagement, and you’ll thank your former relationship for showing you why you didn’t go full circle the previous time.
It might take six months, a year, or even more, but you’ll berry his memories in the past. That's because you’ve grown with time. And the next time you see him on the street, you’ll return his smile or respond to his hello, even if he is with another woman. And you’ll be surprised to realise that it doesn’t affect you anymore.

Dude, now, the actual part… you’ve got to be strong. Bad surprises are meant to be given before you get them. Break up in the first place, I know, it’s going to hurt equally bad, but at least you’ll not feel betrayed or dumped.
What if you don’t predict the announcement? Happens. Almost all the time. Just agree with him about the break up. Don’t call him. Leave him alone. He might just come back. But for how long?
Well, take your call. But whatever has to happen will happen. You can’t force it, you can’t predict it, you can’t stop it, you can’t blame it on anyone. You can just play along.

So, after all, this is what I learned…

A second attempt at everything is better, including relationships and chocolate cookies!

Beautiful!

Enough said!

Rendezvous

… In the women’s hostel!

I walked into every room, with a stone in my hand assuring everyone that he will not stay for long. The responses were not greatly positive. Ok, didn’t expect too much of positive energy anyway. At least not with a stone in my hand. I heard him walk up the stairs and into the lobby. I wished he was a little quiet. Does he want the world to know? Yikes! Men were, are and will always be men! I’m sure he’s going to chant about entering the women’s hostel during the day and his version of the story will have fifteen million exaggerations! Couldn’t she shut him up? Well, she, let’s just call her Peanut here, because she is tiny. Well, Peanut was helping me in bringing him up to my room. And she was of great help.
There, he entered the corridor. Ohmigosh bigosh! No guy ever entered my room before.
I put out my hand to shake his.
“Thanks very much”
“Pleasure.”
Pleasure of course! What confidence! Has he entered the women’s hostel before?
“I’m Sai. What’s your name?”
He was tall, muscular, had all the charm of a moderately attractive gentleman, and he was Komal (meaning tender and delicate. Usually a girl’s name in the northern part of India.)!
He took the stone from my hand in an un-Komal style and knock! Strike! Smash!
The lock broke.
So, I had returned from my aunt’s place that evening. And I forgot to carry my room keys with me. My roommate was out of town with her boyfriend and I was locked out. I made continuous, unsuccessful phone calls to the hostel authorities and Peanut and I collectively mustered all the strength we could to stone that lock to no avail.
Finally, Peanut offered to bring a guy up, as the guard had gone for tea. And there he was, sans red nose!
He walked in with Peanut after me.
”huhh! First time!”
I didn’t really believe him. I only smiled. I wanted to say stuff, but he helped.
“Guys…”
Peanut piped up “we know. Don’t worry. We’ll feel free to ask if ever we need help from you.”
“Yeah man. Anytime.” Komal said.
But I wasn’t really thanking them. I was worried about something else.
“The guard. You guys got to be going.”
Uh-oh. Subtle!
“I mean…” *sheepish grin*
“I know I know. Really nice room man. I’ll come back on the hostel night (hostel fest).” He patted the awkward, scared, borderline rude girl on the shoulder and walked away with Peanut who gave me a fleeting hug before leaving.
I just stood there, speechless. I mentally kicked myself to at least utter a final thank you. I swear, I must have lost that social mechanism that gauges social situations and handles them appropriately. This is crazy. Whoever took my social abilities away is lucky I’m not trained on using a gun.
And I never got to see him again. Chacha was right, what a ‘Trist with Destiny’!
Hmmm. Rendezvous never the less.
Cheers to anti-climax!
Because I don’t stun people within a fifty meter radius of my, err, charming personality!

Human rights because humans wrong!!! :P

This was someone’s Facebook status few days ago. Duh! Duh!
Love, you are my friend, but no. Sorry. But I still love you.

So, the point of this post is that it’s blogger activist day today and bloggers all over the world, irrespective of cool or not, are posting this and that and more about human rights. And me being super cool, decided to follow suit and change directions midway.

There’s generally something very cool about bloggers. I’m a chicken in public sometimes. When someone seemingly very cool starts intellectual masturbating in front of me, many smart and witty come backs knock on the back of my lips. But my mouth wouldn’t open.

Sometime ago, this guy sharing the dinner table with me:
“Sai, you’ve bloated since I saw you first, 3 months ago. Please!”
“Okay?”
Yeah. That was all what I said. I wanted to ask what was troubling him. As if I was hogging on his dad’s income (Tum pareshaan lag rahe ho. Tere baap ke paison se thoos rahi hun kya? What the fuck does “please” mean?). But no. I didn’t say anything more. However, we became friends.

Another random conversation:
“1$=55RS and 100$=…”
“What?” he growled.
Ok, I know it’s around 65RS now. I read the news.
“What world are you living in?”
Chill. My dad is a currency exchange trader. I know. I was just recollecting something he said to me 5 years ago while explaining about US hegemony and the value of dollar.
But what’s the point? I was answering myself.

See! It’s as if all of my social skills automatically recognise that I am thoroughly dependent on them and decide to take a vacation all at once. But, when I tell people that I am a blogger, I suddenly start appearing under a bright, white light. I’m thrown off my throne of social ineptitude. Intellectual bullshitters recognise my levels of intellect.
“Hey, I’m a blogger too (don the pseudo American accent). What do you blog about?”
How very cool!
“Stuff. Generally about this. Sometimes about that as well.” *smiles like Abhishek Bachchan from the idea 3G add*
KICKASS!

That’s what! That’s how! Some people are cool on the net. If they can’t show off in public, then I propose to the law, showing off should be declared as a human right. Every person is entitled to possessing and displaying their knack for coolness. And everyone is cool in some way. I am, she is, you are and he is. We are all cool.

Choose your style! Show off! Stay cool!

Only you and I know why!

“When?”
“Soon.”
“How soon is soon?”Well, my persistent question.
I never got the answer. Or maybe I did. In the form of extermination of a flurry of emotions.
I looked forward to a moment that would never come. It was only meant to be lived in dreams.
So I lived. Then re-lived. Then re-re-lived and many times more. In dreams of course.
Then I asked for it. Then I asked again and again and again. In reality.
Then the realization hit me like a steam train, soon was a polite way of saying never.
Because…
Sometimes, everybody lives.
For themselves.

Well, take your call!

“Here, let me light it for you” I offered.
I took it between my right fore and middle fingers and between my lips, trying hard to imitate the damsel in distress style of holding a cigarette, feigning the confidence of an advanced smoker. Honestly, I only read about ways to smoke online, second hand experience does not equal to firsthand experience.
Click. Click. And another click and a hard draw!
Cough cough cough cough cough… Cough cough cough cough cough…
I must have drawn stares. Maybe even sniggers. Surely a few “first timer! Huh!”’s.
The best way to stop worrying about it is caring two hoots about it.
“here.” I sounded choked, but I still aimed at nonchalance.
He just patted me on the head.
“Ok?”
I nodded.
“Water?”
I nodded again.


* * * * * * * * * *

“First timer?”
“First timer!” I was extraordinarily loud, aiming splashes of Zandu Balm at the guessing numbskulls. But I think the guy was slightly taken aback.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to…”
“Mean to aim splashes of tobacco down my throat? I was helping.” With that I smiled to put the conversation to bed.

* * * * * * * * * *

Someone I like smokes twenty cigarettes a day. Someone I am friendly with calls herself an addict. Someone I talk to gets high on cigarettes and advices me to stay away from those ugly cancer sticks. Someone I call “mum” tells me to not entertain the ideas of “healthy motherhood” and “a good smoke” in one thought because they cancel each other out. But who do I hold responsible for my trend following fantasies? Then later who will I blame for falling ill?
Heaven is symbolic of paradise. God is symbolic of goodness. That bearded guy in the skies is kind, loving, nonviolent, and everything good you can think of. Then why do we fall sick? Why do we die at ages that are short? Why do people tell you to “ask god for help” when he does not really help?
Can’t I smoke and smile at the same time? If the word “disease” is so soothing to Mr. God’s ears, he should have let them affect lesser dangerous parts of our body.
Take my advice, Mr. God:

• Toenail cancer
Really. I am too lazy to chop off my toenails. Also, no one looks at your feet when they meet you first. And if you get them removed because of whatever reason, they’ll grow back. Or you can simply get fake nail extensions.

• Finger nail cancer
Sometimes, short coloured nails look all sporty and sexy. But whatever man, who cares about nails? Someone as stunning as Megan Fox doesn’t have thumb nails. She is still very capable of making you go wooooooooooooooooohhh like a wolf!

• Chemotherapy and loss of pubic hair
Not having pubic hair forever is a luxury, ‘nough said!

• What sounds better, heart attack or body hair attack?
You won’t require waxing for some time.

• Decay of the bacterial layer on the tooth
Dude, leave the tooth alone, and kill the germs if you want to kill.

Everyone has the right to live till hundred. Everyone has the right to die the day after their hundredth birthday. Trust me, we are not asking for a life span as long as yours. When you send that guy, Yamraj, to pick us up during our wheelchair days, we only want to jump up and sprint towards him on our weak feet with a broad grin!
Why such complicated messes, Mr. God? Are you scared that you’ll die of boredom if you did not have humans to play with? Really, you are the parent of the colonialist Briton!

Memories are funny things…

…Very randomianously random! They can come anytime. Anytime, even if it means the night before two exams.
Me and a darling boy from school!
Me: “I’ll have mansions in Paris. I’ll own vineyards and mushroom farms and chicken farms!”
Darling boy: *smiles* “I’ll live with you then. Let’s get married and become wedding planners for the firangs!”
Me: “we can become wedding planners without getting married. And don’t you dare let anyone hear about the marriage shit bit!”
*half blushing but mostly not*
Darling boy: “I’m kid…”
I cut him off.
Me: “we’ll be cool. We’ll be both like Band Baja Baraat cum Jodi breakers types. We do it all, pre-wedding, during wedding, post divorce!”

Darling boy: *pipes up* “great idea! We can do more! Clothes, venue, cake, I can also do the ‘kiss the bride’!”
*laughing uncontrollably*
Me: “no. that only her ‘lawfully wedded husband’ will do. After ‘I do’ in French!”
*clutches stomach*
Me: “’I do’! Hahahahahahahahahhahahahhahhhahaaha! Le...le...Let’s have choreographed sangeets too!”
Darling boy: “chicken dance! Monkey dance! Victory dance!”
I begin to cry! Bah! My tummy hurts!
Me: “bassssssss! Ha-ha! Mamma! Aiyo! We’ll make the best mix!”
Darling boy: “we’ll even do funerals if anyone kills their spouse!”
There! He dropped it hot!
Me: “we will also get detectives on board if someone wants to spy on their worst half!”
Haiye! Tauba mera jalva, tauba mera pyaar… Mera emotional atyachaar!
How will the guffaws stop?
Darling boy: “stop laughing; otherwise people will think we are drunk!”
Me: *gasp gasp* “Theek hai theek hai ok”
We paused for two seconds and burst out again!
We decided to call ourselves ‘The Handlers’ and commenced our deal with a high-five…