Singin' about the fun

so, I've been typing all kinds of poems and lyrics in quick-gun-murugan kind of style. A person who shares Writer's Block with me asked me if I'd been publishing them, when I realized I hadn't. *what a tube-light*

anyways. here goes.

someday it'll be fun
someday I'll run
someday in the sun
you'll find me singin' about the fun

someday it'll be better
someday we'll all matter and
someday we'll be there
where we'll be singin' about the fun

till that day comes
till the enemy runs
till the tide turns
won't you be singin' about the fun with me?
holding my hand,
and singin'..
singin' about the fun with me..

*umm, and no, I wasn't high on anything when I wrote this*

Weird Call Of The Week

Synopsis:
Person 1 calls up Person 2's cell; call-waiting; Person 2 calls back and finds a wrong number; Person 2 keeps thinking about the call... (and their thoughts are in italics)
_________________________________________________________

The Phonetel phone you've called is currently busy on another call. Please hold the line, or call again later. The Phonetel phone you've called is ...

Beep Beep. Beep beep.

End call. Wait two minutes. Redial.

The Phonetel phone you've called is currently busy on another call. Please hold the line, or call again later. The Phonetel phone you've called is ...

Beep Beep.

End Call. Damn! What's keeping him busy?

Who's this calling me? Listen, I've a call coming in. Will call you back after sometime. Ok? yeah, bye..

End call. List missed call. Call.

Rrrring. Rrriing. Ah, finally he calls back.

Rrrin- Yeah, hello?

Hello. I got a call from your number just now.

You did? Oh I'm sorry, must've dialled the wrong number (sheepish laugh). My apologies, m'am.

That's ok.

End call.

Damn. Watch your numbers! Now what is his number after all? I should really save numbers in my phonebook and not try to memorise them! Let's call Roji, he might have the number...

Fifteen Minutes Later

I wonder who it was. The number was 98712 something, that's Delhi. Let me check. Yes. Devi is in Delhi and her number is 98713.. same service provider.. who could it have been? Surely you don't make a wrong call twice...

It was ..72 dae, not ..62. Now note it down like a good boy, or you'll end up calling somebody else the next time too. And she may not have such a Nice voice, either. Wish she'd talked for a bit longer. Ha! Hold on to your hormones!!

Could it have been Dhruv? He never called me back. It has been three weeks now.. no I guess you really don't call people you've met in train journeys.. or could it have been? Shall I call up and ask? Maybe he was feeling shy or awkward and so.. hell let's call and find out.


Rriing. Rrrinng. Rrring. Oh my god she's calling me again. Rrring Rrriing. Oh well, what the hell.

Hello.

Hello, is this Dhruv?

Uh? No look lady, I'm sorry I called you by mistake. It was an honest mistake, I swear.

No no.. is this Dhruv? Dhruv, is this you?

Dhruv? No no.. this is Sameer

Oh ok. I'm sorry. I thought... End call.

Less! Too less! Now he'll think I'm some kind of sick pervert easy girl..

What was that about? Dhruv? Huh? She sounded really worried about Dhruv.. wonder who he is..
_____________________________________________________

Something like this happened to me, of course. It's another true imaginary story. Of course, there's guesswork for the thoughts on part of person1, or is it person2...

Weird Incident of the Week

This is what happened to me at the Nzm station on the evening of 27th July. I narrated it to a friend (Melissa of the 2nd post 1st roast ) and thought of making a blog post out of it. Realized it would be better to let it stay in the chat format. So ensoi, if you will. My take? Two people decided to go a bit crazy at the same time..
(replace by suitable yahoo smilies where necessary)

______________________________________

Giles: so I'm at Nizamuddin station at Delhi to see off my bank manager by 9'o clock train

Giles: and he's gone to get a dinner packed at the Comesum food plaza

Giles: so while I'm waiting for him at the platform I notice this girl reading Super Commando Dhruva comics

Giles: you know about SCD?

Melissa: no

Melissa: whts tht about?

Melissa: :)

Giles: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Super_Commando_Dhruva

Giles: he's a comic book character which is very popular in North

Melissa: ok

Giles: so anyways usually you don't see girls reading his comics...

Melissa: ok..

Giles: and I'm interested, and I want to ask her about it but obviously this is India

Giles: and you don't go asking random ladies you meet about comics they're reading

Giles: 'cos you're afraid that you'll get beaten up types

Melissa: hmm. so?

Giles: ;)

Melissa: :D

Giles: then I notice she's got another one with her

Giles: and I am getting really bored

Giles: so I think of asking her for it

Giles: but then obviously the whole loop about getting beaten up again

Giles: :)

Melissa: hmm..

Giles: so nothing doin' and I just stand there looking at her awhile

Giles: then the train rolls in to the platform

Melissa: hmm..

Giles: now I really don't understand when people get up and start getting worried and fidgety as the train is rolling in

Giles: 'cos like there's no point to ti

Melissa: same compartment or wht?

Melissa: ok..

Giles: let it stop and then find your coach and then board

Melissa: hmm..

Giles: no I'm not boarding the train. am there to see off this guy vonly

Melissa: ook..ook

Giles: so anyways I realise she's alone and then I say

Giles: "excuse me - you're going by this train"

Giles: and she doesn't even listen to me!!

Melissa: hmm..

Giles: so much lost in the book

Giles: so I'm like "wow! "

Melissa: :-/

Melissa: why..

Giles: why? what a girl.. really loves SCD.. totally engrossed in book and not even listening to the train's whistle.. that's why..

Giles: then I go a bit closer and say "excuse me" a bit louder

Giles: she looks up, and I say - your train?

Giles: she says "yeah"

Melissa: hmm..

Giles: so I say "hi, I'm Giles"

Melissa: then?

Melissa: :)

Giles: she says "I'm Carol"

Giles: so we shake hands

Melissa: aha!

Giles: and then I compliment her being a fan of SCD

Giles: and she starts laughing

Melissa: ahemm..

Melissa: thn?

Giles: so it turns out she's going to Gwalior and she's not got a ticket and she's going to work out a seat with the TTE

Giles: so like this is a night journey

Melissa: ok..

Giles: so the TTE is in the opp. direction and she's walking towards the general bogie and I walk with her and we end up discussing what she's doing (call centre job) and what I'm doing (farming) etcetra

Melissa: ok..

Giles: Well so I say - hey I've got to see off this person, I'll meet him now - and wow! you're a fighter to be going all the way to Gwalior in general at night

Giles: so shake hands.. and here's my mobile number and we'll see each other again, maybe

Melissa: hmm..

Giles: so I write my number on a piece of paper and I rush off to the AC coach where this uncle has to bee seen off

Melissa: ok..

Giles: then I tell him I've left my home keys at the juice counter and I run off

Melissa: thn nything happned?

Melissa: wow.. smart.

Melissa: :)

Giles: find the 2nd class TTE halfway down the platform

Giles: ask him for a seat "for a girl - she's in general now.. please give a seat till Gwalior"

Giles: so he gives a number in S5 – 23!

Giles: I rush back

Giles: now the general bogie has no light!!

Melissa: ooo.. gud u did tht

Giles: so I'm like walking down the platform besides the general bogie

Melissa: hmm.

Giles: and there's no way I can see her

Giles: so I end up shouting her name into the window of the bogie and then walking on and shouting into the next window

Melissa: ok...

Giles: :D

Giles: quite filmy

Melissa: :D

Giles: finally (at the fourth or fifth window) she says "yeah"

Giles: so I'm like "would you want a seat in sleeper?"

Giles: she's like "why not"

Giles: so I say "follow me"

Melissa: wow!

Giles: explain the seat number and tt details to her

Melissa: :)

Giles: she walks on towards sleeper, I go to AC and tell my uncle that the keys are with me only

Giles: that I'd got confused a bit

Giles: then he's like ok you go

Giles: so I rush off to S5

Giles: where this girl is sitting

Melissa: u really are smart :P

Giles: ask her - did you talk to the TTE

Giles: she's like - nope

Giles: so I ask her to 'follow me'

Giles: again

Giles: and take her to TTE

Giles: TTE-- meet girl

Giles: Girl -- meet TTE

Giles: ok - done

Melissa: hmm..

Giles: bye

Giles: see you around

Melissa: thts gr8..

Giles: oh and I got her email ID sometime in between all of this

Giles: so that's the weird thing of the week for me

Melissa: train had stopped fer suich a long tiem..

Melissa: ?

Giles: it came in at 2030 - starting station

Giles: starts at 2100 from Nzm

Giles: you're doubting me kya

Melissa: u really knw how to manage things...naturally i gues.s. u being a manager

Giles: this is not about management silly this is about being stupid at the railway station with a stranger

Giles: :P

Giles: and both ways, I must say - for her and for me too

Giles: though I'll accept the compliment - yep I'm quite good at managing - nothing to do with my PGDM though

___________________________________________________

Update: I sent the girl a mail asking her if she'd reached safely. No reply yet. No call/sms either. So maybe she decided that there was a limit to interaction with wierd strangers. Or something like that.

Snake

Yesterday a snake came to my room. About two feet in length, and black like pencil-lead -- a soft sort of black, with a dull shine. I shooed it away, but he left some thoughts in my head which I must note down.

How it all happened:

Around 10 pm last night, I was chatting with a friend, when I heard my landlady call me in a worried kind of a tone. I typed "one sec brb" and then fairly sped out of the room. I looked up to the first floor where she stood waving her hands towards the drawing room, "Snake! God knows where it came from!", and I followed her gaze to see a black tail curving away into the drawing room.

So I rushed back to the computer, typed out
"there's a snake in my room"
"poor thing"
"will send it out and be back"

And then I rushed back out, went to the kitchen and picked up the broom. My landlady was standing (quite calmly, come to think of it) watch from the first floor (ah! she was calm 'cos she was on the first floor); she made me shut the other doors so that I could be sure of sending the snake out in the right direction.

The snake was resting about two feet inside the drawing room, and I thought for a second about walking into the dark room so close to him. Then the moment was over and I walked briskly past him and went to the other side of the room and switched on the light. Then I opened the other door, from which guests usually entered but from which I hoped to make this guest leave.

The snake was still resting where I'd last seen him, and I walked behind him and touched him with the broom. He moved off slowly (polished Kota stone gives no purchase to a snake's slithering movement) and reached the corner. Then, another prod made him turn left and move towards the door. A few seconds later, he was moving out of the door and towards the intermediate channel gate. Job almost done, I thought.

My landlord and his cousin came down the steps by this time. The snake had gone in hiding behind an old, disused washing machine that lay near the channel gate. Continuing the 'prodding' logic, I swished the broom below the washing machine. Which act seemed to tickle the washing machine, for it made a loud noise. I repeated the swish, and then realised that it was the snake that was hissing at the broom. Quite disconcertingly loud, but I couldn't let myself think about the hisses I'd heard in movies and various other hissy topics, so I swished the broom again. This must've happened two or three times more - swish! Hiss! swish-swish! Hiss!

By this time, my landlord and his cousin had got a peek at the snake, and they got agitated as they believed it was a King cobra, the most venomous of snakes. I was cool, 'cos the snake was about five feet away from me, the snake was much more afraid than I was, and I figured I was smart enough to know when to move. Plus I remembered vaguely that King Cobras are not found in this part of India, and though there are venomous snakes around, not every snake you see is. (note: need to research on this)

To come back, we were in a deadlock right now, a stalemate, if you so wish. My landlord came to the rescue. He reached out and tipped the washing machine over, till it hit the wall about two feet away and stood leaning at about 40 degrees to the vertical. The snake, poor thing, had no where to hide anymore. So at my next Swish! he hissed, and then put his hood down and moved away. I wonder if he was berating us for our choice of flooring. All kind of polished floors! How's a snake to get away from these pesty humans, you tell me! And those itchy brooms, how they make you sneeze!

So, moments later he'd moved out to the garden, and then further till the main gate. By the time I got the channel gate open, he'd vanished. After a few words from my landlord appreciating my calmness, the fact that it was the first time a snake had graced this house by a visit and a laugh from me saying that perhaps it was the Nag Devta come for a blessing, being my family's Deity, we said goodnight and moved on.

Aftermath:

I came back to the chat window to find the following text

"poor thing?"

"I’m going to eat some chocolates".

"Snickers…"

"sinful chocolates.. mmm"

I say chaps, girls have their priorities just right! At least this girl -- rather than worrying frantically and waving her hands uselessly, she was enjoying chocolates. Go girl!

After I narrated the goings-on in brief, we discussed chocolates, people who hated chocolates and some other stuff. Then we bid goodnight, and here's where I finally started thinking about what had just happened.

Afterthoughts:

Fact1: Animals are usually more afraid than human beings when forced into mutual company.

Fact2: Animals turn and fight/bite/jump only when they're forced into a corner, and see no other escape.

I knew these, and so I stayed calm at the moment. Then again, I have the knack of getting calm as my adrenaline pumps higher. On the edge, yes; Senses screaming out data, yes; brain working out thousand alternatives, yes; panic, no; calm and confident, yes. However, once the snake was gone, and the adrenaline was gone, I wondered. What if the snake came back? What had made it come into the house in the first place? What if it had turned left into the room I was chatting in? It was dark and I would never have noticed him, till perchance he came to where I sat, and then a reflex shout-and-jump would've made it nervous; would it have bit me? Was he poisonous? Ifs and Buts..

(I think this is the point where the actor would've lit a cigarette and taken a deep drag at it, all contemplative and philosophical. However, the GoI doesn't allow any more smoking scenes in Cinema, and I don't smoke anyways.)

I read D.H. Lawrence's "Snake" again. No, I don't want to write a blank verse poem about my experience. Perhaps you're thinking of it though, and wondering how I felt about the snake itself. So I should point out that I felt pity at the snake ("poor thing") for wandering into an alien environment. I didn't want to hurt it, and I didn't want to get hurt myself. All said and done, we parted plesantly enough.

And I hope the snake gives me credit for the broom. Other humans might've done worse.

(P.S. Yes this is the color I use for my chat messages)

Update 25th July: The snake was most probably a Common Krait. They're poisonous, too.

Chilli Vodka.. or Thunderbolt

:: Chilli Vodka ::

Love at first sight. A black silk shirt, with a hint of cleavage showing through the unbuttoned top button. Sparkling silver long ear-rings that caught the dazzle of the party. Luscious lips delicately dabbed with pink gloss, and eyes that promised to share the secret of happiness. A smile that blew my brain's defences to smithreens.

My heart pumped harder as I drank all this in. Hormones began their frantic journey throughout my system. And that stupid gate-keeper of a brain tried to rationalize the clamor building up in my body - I wanted that girl.

Get me right. I am no MCP. I am not a cave-man lusting after every female of the species. I am simply human. And my humanity had come to hit me for a home-run. Slam!

She had walked in to the party with another girl. I turned my head towards her at the exact moment she looked at me. I was nursing a rather large Chilli-Vodka, worrying about the variables that would decide my departure from the sorry spot that was this excuse for a party. She must've been thinking the same, because she smiled knowingly, with the full power of those killer curves. Alert! Alert! Brain defences down! We need backup!

Hormones had rushed in and overpowered my brain within a millisecond of that smile. Its feeble cries of "You there! Stop! This is not the way to do this!" were hardly heard as I found myself moving towards her. I could hear my heart thudding. Time had slowed down. She had her back to me, standing as part of a general group that seemed to be familiar to each other. Her silken curls beckoned me on...

When I touched her arm, a current ran through me and silenced my brain's last valiant attempt for a rational course of things. It made me hold my breath as my blood boiled and tried to run everywhere in my body at once. I never heard what my brain said 'cos my tongue, apparently on its own, was saying to her enquiring face, "Thunderbolt".

"What?", she must've said.

"You're my thunderbolt", I must've said. And then (I swear I don't know how) I bent down three inches to her face and (goddamit!) I kissed her.

Yuck! That pink gloss was a thick layer of some crud-like stuff. And those lips were cold. What was I doing? This babe had acne! My hormones paused in mid-march, and my brain shrugged them off in one electric movement as it directed my right hand to throw the vodka into the face of her Angry-Friend-1, while the left hand shoved Angry-Friend-2 to create some space as I turned around for my flight.

Too late! She tripped me. And as I fell flat on my face, I realised that I would tell you all about this one time that my hormones led me astray, into the arms of cruel people who couldn't spare a stranger's innocent mistake. Or maybe I should blame the Chilli-Vodka. Gee whiz.

Recipe for Chilli-Vodka: Take a long-stemmed glass. Take Vodka, the variety you like. Take two, maybe three green chillies. Split them three-quarters down the middle, leaving the top intact. Put the chillies in the glass, and the Vodka on top of that. Add your favorite dilutant. Drink. And you don't have my address to sue me.

Don't know about the Thunderbolt? Revise "The Godfather" - the part where Michael goes to Sicily

unsaid, but said still

unsaid, but spoken still
hidden, but plain still,
My eyes say it all
My lips say nothing
Will you understand still?

DO you understand already
I guess you do - maybe..
.. Maybe that you are saying
that with your eyes
Which I can't see..

Writing is a tough job

Yikes!
I am getting dry eyes, watery eyes, itchy eyes - you name it I've got it in the last three days.

ok.
back to work on 'blind love'

K's last strike

I know, I was supposed to post a different story (guy loves girl's eyes, she goes blind) but I got writing about Cricket instead.

So here goes..

:: K's Last Strike::


When the Swingin Yorkers took on the Mad Maxers in the Plate final in '97, it was a dull, cloudy
day which promised lots of rain. At a green pitch where the ball swung in a vicious curve 'like Arabian swords' (so said the lad running the tea-stall in the grand-stands), the captain of the
Mad Maxers chose to play three off-spinners. And created history.

I was visiting my uncle in the princely city of G, taking a respite from my corporate life. I had
picked up a cricket bat after ages, and my uncle had been caring enough to allow me to make ample use of his largish lawns for my rendezvous with nostalgia Finally, on my third consecutive
failure to read my nephew's googly, he smiled and said, "Are you really not picking those googols
(sic) or are you pulling off a wise one like K did in the Plate finals in '97?"

Naturally, I was not pulling a wise one. I earnestly convinced my Uncle of my innocence, and then requested him for the story of Plate finals of '97. He smiled, put down his copy of The Famished Road and said, "It was a brilliant strategic move by the captain of the Mad Maxers. He went into the plate finals knowing that the Swingin Yorkers had reached there due to poor umpiring and even poorer lights. They had lost the Championship after holding it for seven straight years, and they would come at him very hard for Pride."

"A proud man respects another", I remarked, at which my uncle nodded in appreciation. "Yes", he said, "They knew it was his last Championship, and that only a poor talent pool held his team
back from glory. Sort of like you respect Mohammed Rafique when you play Bangladesh. On his day, he can spin you out of the game."

"Or Heath Streak when you play Zimbabwe", I ventured. Uncle frowned, "Streak has been murdered by the ZCU. Cut in Half. I think the Indian board should have invited him over long ago, especially when he had pace. But, getting back to the story - the match was held on a dull cloudy day in August at the Corporation Grounds. Its near the street-vendor we had ice-creams from the night you arrived. Not too many people can be seated, and very few can be seated comfortably. So not many saw it, and not many remember it. Since I was on the field for most of the match, I saw it closer than anybody else, perhaps with the exception of K himself."

My nephew had brought out another chair by then for himself and was listening carefully. He adores his father (which little kid doesn't?) and tries very hard to learn from him. And with Anil Kumble retiring soon, he hopes to find a spot in the Indian team. He's a leggie, you see. Oh, and uncle used to be an off-spinner himself. Played for the Ranji team for a couple of seasons, too. I've heard stories about him being kept at bat-pad for the whole day, because he was good at chatting up the batsmen. He told stories to the wicket-keeper, and of course the batsmen had to toughen up and ignore them, or get upset and make a mistake.

"We were three spinners in the Club at that time. All bowled orthodox off-spin. And usually only one of us got to play. We had two days to prepare for the Plate, after we lost the Championship semi-final, and for some reason K got all three of us to bowl a lot. I had a poor game in the semi, and so I thought maybe I had lost his confidence. Wicketless for thirty-nine runs, in five overs. I would've lost confidence myself, but I kept the three dropped catches in mind. It could've been very different. Captains think differently, though. Especially someone like K. He worked up a strategy that day, and it got all of us surprised. I tell you, when he announced the team on match-day, there was commotion in the dressing room. He'd picked only four bowlers, and all the three off-spinners. K himself could bowl a bit of leg-spin, but surely we needed all of our pace bowlers on that green-top?"

"You mean it was a grassy pitch?", I asked. "Grassy? It was naught but grass. And green, live grass at that, which would make the top soft, and trap the morning dew, and make the ball skid and swerve. On top, it was a cloudy day with a medium breeze."

"Then why did he pick three spinners?"

"None of us knew at that time. All of us tried to convince him against it. He stuck to his point. So we packed our kits and climbed into the Club jeeps shaking our heads. If that's the way he wanted to go out, so be it."

"K lost the toss, and we were put in to bat. You can trust me that the opening batsmen cursed K as they walked out. And cursed him some more when they were both back within the first over, their defense cut open by the prodigious swing. I was sent in at number four, and that's when we started getting some idea of K's tactics"

______________________

Yes, I'm sorry. It's incomplete. If you have any comment about what K's strategy could be, do post in.

love leads to crazy things

that's the story coming up in some time folks..

got the plot while driving my truck back home. and while the plot steers like my truck (no power steering), the idea is to try to work on the WAY I tell the story..

yeah..

Second Post - First Roast

Warning: Sometimes I do crazy rhymes like that because my fingers fly too fast on the keyboard and I don't like boring stuff like 'Second Post - First Story' anyways.


Here is ::The World Is A Small Place, Melissa::


Hi. I am Spot.

I am here to tell you a story. I feel a bit morose due to personal reasons right now, but this story is actually quite funny. At least it was funny when it happenned. The narrator has chosen me to tell the story as I am the 'bridge' between all the characters here. So thanks dude, I love your stuff always, hope you write more. And hey, don't make me reveal more than I should.

I'd just come back home. I'm working about 2000 km away from where I grew up, and my parents are left behind in that old town. So when I get particularly crazy with my work, and I start feeling like kissing random girls on the streets or kicking each dog that I meet, well then I book my ticket home.

You have a friend who'll die for you? I have a friend who'll come to the railway station for me. Heh. He's the first character. Character, meet people. Comb your hair first. Heh. People, meet Giles. Read Alistair Maclean's HMS Ulysses for the reference.

So that night, after running around town and catching up with people, taking Ma for shopping, and taking friends out for coffee, we ended up in bed together. No, we are not gay. Heh. We had so much to talk about, and the bed was the most comfortable place. Girls will understand. Guys might. So picture us, all sleepy, talking about our dreams and what's been happening with you-know-who and do you remember what's-his-name -- that kind of usual crap when you meet after an year, when Giles comes up with 'Have you ever had a dream, which felt real? I mean, uh, have you ever kissed a girl in a dream?'

Now, Giles falls in love every 2nd Tuesday. He loves the whole world, I think. And covers it up by calling it 'Christian Love'. Heh. So I ignored him by default, about the girl bit. However, the kiss was something else. You see, it had been exactly (exactly!) 37 days and 15 hours since I'd last been kissing my girl. I mean, there she was, her head on my shoulder, crying softly because I was going away and I was a dumb dude who didn't know she was. And I was kidding around about being able to 'flirt with the girls down South'... so when I lifted her chin up to make sure she was getting angry, I got SO devastated by those wet eyes. Sheer poetry. Wish I had a camera at that time. Sometimes I think in two tracks like that. I am wiping her face, kissing her
eyes, her nose (getting closer to her honey-sweet lips) and I am (crazy) thinking I should have had a camera now.

Giles hears me out about the day I spent on the beach with her, the hours I spent making out with her, how sweet her kisses are and then starts cribbing. Which led to the funny bit which brought this zero-pay narration role to me. So to get on with it. Heh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Giles: Quit telling me about how you kissed your girl. Your graphics are getting me all hard and
ready and there's no action in sight.

Spot: Yeah? You're the one dreaming of girls so hard it feels real, and here I am, 37 days 15 hours since I kissed her mmmmmm...at least let me relive the moment while I am awake.

Giles: Listen man. You gotta hear me out. Its freaky. I have been dreaming of this girl for the last two-three weeks. Her name is on my lips.. man I am actually humming her name like.. and I thought it would pass away, it would get over. But it doesn't. And I am too old for this kind of an infatuation now. Right?

Spot: First tell me, where did you find a girl in your wilderness? I thought you only found dacoits out there. Heh.

Giles: Na. This is a junior from college. I mean, I've always liked her a lot. Intelligent. Ambitious. Pretty. But now, suddenly, I've started feeling a lot more fond of her.

Spot: Just 'fond'?

Giles: Man, it's tough. I mean, I am stuck here. I have to complete what I set out to do. It will take at least an year to get things on track. And then, I don't know what I want to do after that. You know me..

Spot: Yeah. I've been amazed you've stuck at this for so long...

Giles: Well I just can't quit after so much has been invested into the whole thing. And well she's got a career of her own. She's got dreams of her own. I don't even know if she likes me, how can I think of asking her to come here and sacrifice all that? I mean, (pause..) there are so many "If"s in this. All I know is that I like her a lot. And she likes me, but I don't know if she likes me at all. Or if she likes someone else. And I don't know if she likes what's she's doing or if she may like the life I can offer her..
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stop Press. Time for a break. You can assume Giles continues rambling about her and him and blah and nah - take it from me. You have to let it out. No point butting in before that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Giles: ... and so, basically, it's just a case of hopeless infatuation. I guess I will get lost in my work come March so everything will cool down. Till then.. man you know I call her up just to hear her voice? It's magical. Her voice, it's like the Bullet motorcycle man, it envelops you and captures you and then...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now there's so much you can hear. When the man starts to blabber, you gotta take control. Here goes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spot: She's going away? Where to? (Which shows I pay attention in between the lines)

Giles: Oh, that's another story. That's how all this started. She's going to the US for further
studies. Had doubts about things, called me up for advice, I gave enough gyan. We started talking again, we had lost track after college a bit, then boom! it hit me. Yeah.

Spot: She's got a call from any insti yet?

Giles: Not yet man. You know, everyone was telling me not to tell her I feeling this way towards her. Like, get the mood right, go there, woo her a bit. Then, over a cup of coffee maybe, when she's feeling comfortable with you, gently break it to her.

Spot: And you told her over the phone! ( I know my friends a bit, heh)

Giles: Yeah. She's pretty cool about it though. I mean, we're still talking.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You know people - I have no idea how people get so lucky. I mean if I had tried a stunt like this the girl would have never picked up my phone call again. And I have no idea why other people can't be half as plucky as Giles. Take my friend Mustard. He works in a technology company. To distinguish from those 'software' tailor-shops. For the last four months he has been telling me about this girl, Melissa. How he just adores her black brilliant shining eyes. How he loves her toughness in standing to her point. And since they're on the same team, he's even friendly with her. Currently, he's trying the 'gentle sage' approach where you win the trust of the concerned person by giving gracious gyan. Which leads to a shoulder you can cry upon. By which time you are intimate and comfortable with each other so other more amorous things are possible.

That approach never works. It's just not genuine. But the dude just doesn't know it. He's even been consulting with me about the gyan he should give her. Heh. Like, she got a perfect score on
her GRE (I got that info on SMS!). Then she got confused about how tough it would be to come back to India if she went abroad in the first place. And to get a loan. And to adjust to the culture. And to be so far away. And this and that.... So Mustard just can't bear her being troubled, can't take the risk of giving unadulterated advice and mixes it with caution from poor old Spot. Giles, on the other hand, is so forward that he's behind the rest of us. Seriously. He's a lap ahead and wonders why he's still tailing the rest of us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Giles: Spot? Are you listening?

Spot: Oh yeah. I gather that you (a) like the girl (b) dream of her (c) are friendly and talk often (d) are in no position to settle down in life personally (e) are too far away to generally walk around with her (f) have no hopes of winning her heart, have no dreams of it in a very logical way, and (g) she's about to go away to the US

Giles: Yeah. Something like that..

Spot: Give up. Close your eyes and go to sleep man. Dream of her. Be happy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes this 'fatalistic' approach to a problem helps you escape. Giles, on the other hand, knows my tricks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Giles: Oye! Stop fucking with me. I know all that. I just want to tell you. It's difficult to get someone to talk to. I am talking to you, fuckin-A. You wanna talk or not?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Giles uses the F-word, 'it's the time to disco'. I love teasing him. Heh. Soul-brother, man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spot: Shh... come upstairs to the terrace. I will beat you up there. Man, why do all you zombies climb unto me for these desperate prayers? I mean, there's this friend of mine from college named Mustard who's working with this company called Zungair, and he's frooling on this girl called Melissa who's got a perfect score in GRE and is going away - but he'll never tell her in his life. And here's you..
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now at this moment I looked at Giles. He's usually very cool about things. Like, once he went to sleep right before an exam and then woke up after, and all he did was to say to himself - 'Cool, you missed your Basic Statistics exam'. And that's when he knew exactly how much shit was gonna land on him. Flunking a basic course in your MBA is not funny, especially when you are in a top B-school. You get raped thereafter. So, now when I saw his eyes carry a smile and a frown AND a shout, I stopped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Giles: (even voice) Say the name again.

Spot: Melissa.

Giles: Melissa Brandes? Zungair Corp? 1600 out of 1600 GRE score?

Spot: Yeah. At the Tunnel Road office, infact. 1600 Penslyvnia Avenue it is.

Giles: (turning over and beating the pillow with a clenched fist) Same girl (muffled sounds of laughter)

Spot: What? (slaps forehead, turns Giles over, starts laughing himself)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heh. So 'Hey' to Melissa. Congo Rats on your GRE Score, and here's wishing a good quick Grant and a Student Visa to you. Now you know why two different people have been giving you similar gyan -- because the other has been consulting the one's soul-brother.

And thanks for the story. The world, as they say, is a small place.

First Post

The idea behind this blog is to post stories.

First story coming soon...