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Dusherra – Short confused love story.

31 Oct

Before I was able to speak anything in jiffy, there was flurry of statements from her side. It was like what I dreamt of but what was happening was with the divine twist. I was standing, and just listening, which was quite unlike what I normally do, where I neither stand still nor remain quite.
“You are in love with me…”
and I was about to ask whether this was a question or a statement, and was cut short.
“that’s a question” and puff of air from her lips.
“Ok I need some time to think, please, but you are a good girl, beautiful” beautiful was uttered with some care, as I was unsure about how it would be taken, though I wanted to say sexy, hot and more but I had to apply some resilience against my feelings.
Nobody would have been, of this I am sure, asked whether he or she loves he or she, on the eve of Dusherra. And why am I so sure? That’s a good question, and even I was trifle doubtful about the answer but, what I finally thought was that Dusherra is a day where we celebrate victory of good over bad, but love is all good so one should not put men under pressure to say whether they love someone or not on dusherra because on that particular day their heart would be brimming with chauvinism. Such question not only question male chauvinism, but also bring them to dingy condition.
As of her, I loved her, not in sense that I would take her on the eve of her marriage in my BMW which I might have in future, so as to marry her myself. I had a crush on her for past 3 years till one day I suddenly realized, that I need to move on, so as to get crushed by some one else whom I would like to take in my Audi. And yes I love German cars more than Japanese, but I cant marry them and neither can I take them away in cars, for that I will use TATA.
Despite of the realization, I kept on longing for her, longing in not that sense, but yes longing in sense that I needed somebody who can kuchi koo me, and sometimes pay for coffee bills, and pizza will also do.  Longing has a wonderful relationship with the length between you and the person, more the length before marriage more the longing and after marriage, well I do not know as I am still unmarried. So when she asked me, whether I loved her or not, things would have been simpler if that would have been a statement and not a question as I would have continued looking into her eyes trying to make my eyes look like that of a pup., and would have said nothing, and I bet it would have worked. But that was a question and she, with her broad jaw line, like a gritty European, or American, or Indian demanded an answer. Behind her, Ravana was standing tall with his brethren, and I felt like looking at him rather than a friend of mine who a girl by chance was asking a troubling question with severing sharpness.
Before I answered, I had more than million questions in my brain and it was busy with calculating all the sets of permutation and combinations. ‘Hang’, my brain was hanged. As far as I remembered, I could not find the moment in which spark of my crush transferred to her, or to say I was always too ignorant about her feelings, and at that moment I was cursing my pomposity. She was weighing every moment and in utter confusion said, “Yes”, and she hugged me. Men, on that day I found are filthy animals, because I wanted to say no as that would have ended many things on that very day, but I ended up saying yes, and I realized my folly only after she un-hugged me. We stood still, and we turned towards Ravana and his brethren.  They will all burn tonight, only to come next year with same might.
All that time, I kept on figuring out how did it all started, what was the triggering point and what will be the consequences.
However things started to take shape just few days back, and its great folly on my part as I could not appreciated the facts which were in front of me like a 50 ft banner in broad day light with a photo of sexy lady on it. Like a possessed man, I kept on answering her every SMS with a ratio 2:1 where 2 is mine. I was always careful not to divulge my real interests in any of the SMS ever sent to her, so my SMS were puke inducing kind, most of them originated in 2.5 kg shit between my ears.  Ahh…Now I can only condemn myself for my wrongdoings. There was only one man (of my own age) who knew what were my intentions or to say only he knew the level of confusion I had, when things came to her. Sameer, knew in and out about my feelings, though he would have skipped most of them as he in a way was also crushed by the same crush and for more time than I was, she was as a matter of fact her childhood crush. So it made sense talking to him.
“She is ass and I am hole” Sameer said enthusiastically one day, probably enthusiasm had its root in a new found phrase, that Son of bitchy Shakespeare though he could create more new words than he did, more phrases to wriggle neurons of mere mortals than Shakespeare ever though of.
“Lets put it simply, You are an ass whole and I love her”, this reply made him wriggle whatever nuts did his bitchy Shakespeare living inside him had.  Sameer has a particular serpentine ability to spew venom in a way that you do get time to defend yourself, only good thing was that he didn’t had those specific venomous gland, but he made up for that using his vocal chords. And after my reply, I made a mistake of forgetting his capabilities, and thus soon had to bring a sober smile in defense.  Sameer beyond his special capabilities was a good friend of mine, and that too after hearing my open love letters for her. My love letters were nothing more than my writing practice for an essay which I will need to prepare for any US college, all in all they were exaggerated in all regards. I do not know whether he knew that I was not that serious about her otherwise than what it seemed from the letters,  but I did told her about SMS from her which had some hint, about what was going in her mind. Girls are puzzle, more difficult than any question asked CAT, GRE, GATE or any other such examination. I feel that every lad who had cracked code of the girls should be given direct entry into any management college, because that person can be master of HR, financial management or any other stream. I ghostly remember a chat with Sameer, where I was adamant to make him understand that how much I loved her, and he was adamant on telling me how much he loved him, but as it happens, I won at the least for me, because I knew I love her, but at that time we both knew that she didn’t loved any one of us.
“What is fascism?” he asked after I questioned him about relation between fascism and bloody economics under the light of meltdown.
“Go fuck you car.” I was surprised that he didn’t knew about fascism, it was in our 10th standard course, and I remember that like a movie with Russian babes and me on a nudist beach.
“Car, ok, car is ok.” Was he out of his mind to take my words so literally, I was astounded, but I knew, rather I believed that he was still sane, as he wasn’t invested anywhere in stock market. I later got to know that his car was safe, and wasn’t expecting.
I do not particularly remember the thing which was bugging me that day, but when I asked Sameer for solution, he told be to ask her, and I denied it out rightly.  And then he replied, “Fuck the malicious absurdities. Suck the gyrated hurdles…never bow in front of gargantuan. And u will never drop in puddles.” Yes I did referred dictionary after that to find out whether gargantuan was in some way related to orangutan or not, it wasn’t. His last statement inspired me, gave me a new word for my CAT preparation, and instigated me to go for a binge of pup eye act in front of her. I did it and I suppose it worked. Becaue it was two days before Dusherra and Dusherra became the day, when the question of love was asked to me.
So while standing there, I was keeping my hands in pocket where each hand of mine was fighting to get on her shoulder. There were list of questions in my mind, like did I really loved her, was I ready to marry her, was she really beautiful, was I the man, THE MAN.  But above all, the matter of all the fact was that I was in no position to earn, like a lousy leech was living on money given to me by my parents, though they had no problem in that and neither did I, but still I could not ask for more money to feed another person. This also reminded me of one more thing, one very reason which got me more indulged in her, and that was the most important thing ignored my most of the men, her desires, and requirement were most often met he parents, not me, in a way her desires in no way eviscerated all the money I ever had. So along my side, with her hand in mine, I was standing, like snail gaping in its weirdest dream, thinking of ways to say ‘sorry’ or ‘It is just not possible’ though the second would be long but the first one might lead me to position of all lost. And with ever dwindling female ratio in my society, I could not afford that.
As it was, in front of me, there were three large monumental, effigies standing tall and erect, ready to be burnt. And by my side was girl who was feeling happy, so much so that it was affecting the remorse I was bearing. I also started feeling happy that after all we humans were in some symbolic way were in position to tell the Satan that we will destroy him or her, and also happy for the fact that it was for the first time that I was celebrating a festival of any kind with some one out of my family. So why wasn’t I ready to take her as my girlfriend, so chauvinistic it seems when I say ‘to take her’ but at that point of time I was only thinking about it in only that way. Her brown eyes which were brown, just like curtains I have in my room, which in turn are as brown as sand with water sprayed on it…which means dark brown, were not looking at me but were fixed on the first burning effigy, but her lips were slightly apart, and they were luscious and I am no catholic and have read no Hindu scripture telling me in particular, not to kiss. I was as naïve as she was, but the kiss wasn’t or the moment wasn’t naïve, if this whole world is Gods atelier and we are part of his drama, then this scene along with many was one of the top grosser. By the time we finished with our first kiss, which came when we both are in our twenties, oh sorry, she isn’t, she will touch twenty soon. Her hands were around my neck, though her wooden bangles were hurting my neck, but it was something else, the mental disfigurement from my previous thoughts of getting out of this love binge and just after or say during those thoughts I was finding myself snuggling into her grip.  For her the fall of Ravan was the rise of new beginning. And for me, I didn’t know…but only one thing that I will tell her a NO at the end.
We sat there at the top of building from where we saw all three gigantic effigies falling down, and people below clapping and enjoying, and on my face were few questions, and I was searching answers on a face which was calm, serene and contended. Such faces never answer you, they only infuse you with same feelings, and so it happened, I also got calm, serene and contended, forgetting, slowly and slowly that I was still to plan out the way to say her no.
To tell you all, she taught me many things, and one of them was staying calm for longer durations, and patience was her forte, which I never embraced. We had more than few dates, which were not intriguing but realizing, she realized that I was the one, and I realized that I wasn’t the one. She found out that I was the guy who will keep her happy, make her smile even the most remorseful day, and I got to know that there are many things which are more than smile, its crying, and probably I will make her cry at the wrong time. It tough to estimate others and even tougher to estimate oneself, and this time around either I was going to risk one of the biggest treasure I ever got…
At that moment when people started moving for their homes, we with our arms in locks, were standing and watching sky, and then she asked me….”Do you think, that I am not the one for you?” I was astounded, and I could think of no answer but, “No”.
“will you cry if I die?”
Before I could answer anything, she was again holding my hands tightly and brought them close to her chest.
“Please don’t cry, never, you make me smile even on the worst day I am able to select for me. Just keep smiling and never cry.”
I was tuning my brows to show confusion, and I took my hands away from her grip, and brought them to my waist, and said, “I will cry, I will and no one can take that right from me.” It was sheer male chauvinism, which brought the egoistic resistance to what she was asking from me. And in that moment I thought of putting my question which would have given me an opportunity to tell her that I want to say her, NO, that this relationship can not go where you intend to, before I could say anything, she sensed that I was going to say something, and before I could utter a single word, she hugged me, this time it was tightest of all hugs and had an urgency, she was trembling, she raised herself, and came close to my ears, and told me…”I am going to die, Doc says that there is something wrong with my blood, something which I wont name and you will guess it right.”
I cried, and I am crying, I cried because I wanted to undone all those minutes I spend with her, and do not think of that single ‘No’, and concentrate on how beautiful her eyes were, how beautiful she looked in the glow of burning effigies, I had a long yearn to see her in wet hairs, her very dark brown hairs. I cry, because I feel myself tied, and the very moment torn apart by my limitations and feeling.
It was our longest hug, like a never ending one, and I was crying, but could not say anything, I was in no position to curse God, but I cried, she was there, consoling me, she sat and consoled me…
Girls are indeed puzzles, and she wanted us to crack GRE, CAT or GMAT, with smile.
DusherraFree Legal Forms


Life’s Game

16 Feb

There are numerous ways to become happy, and more than those ways are ways to become unhappy. Daily as you move you encounter various things, things which are there as if they were always there, and things which are continuously on move. There are people who were there with you yesterday and then there are fellows who come in your life, mark their impressions and then just like alcohol (for girls, like nail paint remover) they evaporate. Life is such a filthy game and yet so lovely.

Something similar to what I have written happened with me, on a day before Valentines day, 13/2/2008.  I can still smile about it, and will keep doing so, but will never like to face it again. I personally do not believe in charm of St. Valentine, so I do not believe in Valentines day, what I believe is that things or girls come up to you when you expect them least, and most of the time they turn up beautifully. I think I have created enough of aura, for the lines which I am going to write. And I think I should jump straight to the events which still bring smell of fresh flowers in my nose, and some salty water in my eyes.

Like every weekday, I left college around half an hour past five and followed my usual way, hoping for nothing great, nothing unusual, same humdrum drive. After dropping my pillion at his place, I, that day, thought of following slightly different route. It meant that I was going to pass thru Bittan Market rather than, Char Imili. I had only 20 rupees and some coins, I don’t know how much. So stopping some where for coffee or for some snacks was out of question, though I had an ATM card which could have burped some big notes on my will, but using it would have meant some thoughtless spending. So I was driving straight to my home, which was still some 5 kilometers away. Around the gate of Dusherra maindan which faces the main road, I saw a girl; I knew that face, beautiful as it was always and enough for me to twitch my fingers and push the indicator switch and turning towards left. As I have already written Life is a nasty yet beautiful thing, I was going to be face to face with a girl I knew as Shraddha, surname, I never asked it even six years back when I saw her last time and neither was I going to ask on that day.

I cancelled my indicator to buy some more time and then I turned around Rajiv Gandhi, and wasn’t he smiling. It seemed at that moment every body was smiling. Even the drooling face of street dogs, were gleaming with happiness. It was after six years I was going to talk to her, and like a true human, with every rotation of wheels of my Activa, there were more and more questions surfacing up, there were more and more doubts. And as it is said in soft drink advertisement that beyond fear lies victory, I kept on moving. I parked my vehicle in front of Reebok showroom, took a deep breath, and moved on. While I was stepping ahead, I kept on thinking and rehearsing first few lines which I was going to say. All those lines which I thought ( more than ten, they were) proved useless when I said, “Hi” and she turned back, and when she said “Kartik” loudly after few microseconds I was relieved of few of my fears. I felt like hugging her, and then at that time I wished (in years) that it should have all happened in some other country, not India. All of my questions were pushed in closet inside my brain by questions fired by her. I usually do not prefer answering too much questions but none of her question was loading me with any pressure, it was so light to answer her question that today I wish that every question paper in RGTU should be framed by her. I answered every question of hers, she was angry and rightly so because when I left Bhopal for greener pastures in Kota I didn’t informed her, I just vanished from her life. We were soon back to our usual self, laughing loud on pretty normal things which were not even enough to push some smile on her friends face. That girl, was trying to put normalcy on her face and none of us, was trying to comfort her.

Her eyes were still bright and black. It is said that when girls feel excited in a boys presence, her eyes get dilated as a signal of getting attracted. But I could not comprehend her pupils as my eyes were locked on her eyelashes once I finished with her eyes. She was same, the way she was six years back. It was me with all the changes, and she was prompt on pointing all the changes, my quasi French cut beard, my hairstyle, my mannerism and I was unable to find a flaw in her immaculate analysis. It took another girl, her friend to make us move to café. Oh! Her smile is still being revered by empty corners of my brains. We talked and talked about probably about everything which was there on this planet and also of things which weren’t. She for all those years remembered that I loved quantum science and relativity so much that I considered Einstein and Heisenberg as demigods. She remembered that I would jump on a cup of curd just like a lactobacillus. She knew it all, and me, I never bothered asking her anything. For me, I was all that time, when she was telling me about myself, was busy matching her with the image which I had for six years based on her six year old edition. Laughable, indeed. I know I wanted to kiss her, no qualms about that, hug her, even in India on the eve of Valentine. What was the thing which was stopping me, hmm…that has to be left for another day or else I have to keep on writing.

I would once again repeat that Life is a nasty yet beautiful thing, all this time I was facing the beautiful side and now it was turn for nasty one. If life is a coin then on one side it has Venus and on other Medusa. So figuratively it was Medusa’s turn to kiss me. All the time when I was talking to the damsel, her poor friend on whom I wasn’t paying much attention was talking to someone on her cell phone. After some fifteen minutes when we entered the café, a stud type of boy entered in. And you guess is as good as mine, he was the villain in my budding love story, love story which I always wanted to continue, though which never came into any concrete form. He was the boyfriend, smart looking, no matter how jealous I was, but I wont lie and say that he was after being so smart, handsome a genuine gentleman.

When you would be reading this, and coming few lines you might be saying it in your head that it was all very predictable, and yes it is all very predictable, but the life being nasty and beautiful is very predictable and this predictability only adds up on its nastiness and beauty. He stood there behind my girl, she was all that time talking to me, and taking sips of coffee. He tapped on her shoulders and said, “Hi” very much in same way I uttered it. His presence was surprise to her, and moments she was in his arms, in India, and he kissed her on her cheeks in front my eyes, in India. After that there was war to be fought, not with that friend of hers, but with one man within. I didn’t had a gun so shooting was out of question, I didn’t had enough saliva in my mouth to spit on him, and my throat was half choked. But I was showing a brave face, showing a happy smile and within moments my condition became pretty similar to that poor girl who was her friend. There is not much to tell after that, we had normal talk, he paid for our coffees, that gentleman. My twenty rupees and some coins thus remained with me. He was doing his engineering from Indore, and his name was Aakash. That poor girl with whom I didn’t talked for majority of time had a very beautiful name, Diya, and she was the one who was involved in bringing up Aakash to café, the surprise. I was later enlightened that Aakash and Shraddha were friends for past two years and that too very good friends.

My coffee was over and at that time, my mobile vibrated, I took it out of my pocket, and as I scrolled down the message, I made a sad face. All what I said after that, “Oops, My mom is calling me home, have to go” and then I stood up. Then we shook hands, with smiling faces exchanged phone numbers. I know one thing for sure that she was indeed happy to see me after six years.

I drove off quickly, because I felt that there wasn’t much for me left over there. I crossed Rajiv Gandhi, and wasn’t he smiling he was, probably manufacturer made it that way. Those drooling face of street dogs were also smiling, they somehow always find reasons to smile, or it’s just their facial structure which gives impression that they are smiling. My mobile once again started vibrating, dash by dash, and I knew it was my mom who was calling me, because the previous message was not from my mother but was wishing me Happy Valentine day and asking me to buy some ring tones or caller tune for same. One thing of which I got reassured that day was that Life plays a wonderful game and by now you also know what kind of game life plays. No matter what kind of game life play, I will surely call Shraddha once in a while; next gap won’t be six years long. And for you all, the readers, only thing which is left to be said is that fiction indeed is less strange than truth.