Friday, September 04, 2009

That Red Sweater

The year was 1996. I was 12 years old. The year when India lost to Srilanka in a tear jerking World Cup Semifinal. It was also the year when a mouse haired, red sweater wearing, blue jeans totting girl sneaked a peek into the classroom for VI B. A guy seating in the middle of second row from the door looked up from his ink stained notebook (he never got the hang of ink pens), his eyes never wavered from the door while the teacher talked to the inappropriately dressed kid.

The kid went away and the class resumed its dull pace, I always hated Hindi classes. This hate stemmed from the fact that I couldn’t wrap my head around rules of when to use the “badi matra” and when to use the “choti matra”. I still hate Hindi! I don’t know what it was but in those days and in our school especially there was a line that divided the class into girls only area and boys only area. It was much like quarantine to protect against cooties. Yours truly on the other hand has always been blessed with a strong immune system and managed to sit in any row he liked, which usually tended to be the second row: the one in the girl’s part of the class

Afterwards as the classes resumed the aforementioned girl returned to VI B so did my heart to my mouth (or does it go to the stomach in these cases, I could never be a doctor). She was now officially a part of VI B and the Hindi classes or any other class for that matter wouldn’t be as boring as it used to be. Poets say love comes and goes in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, in high school, it goes more than it comes.....And then from somewhere, I don't know - it just came to me.

There is nothing more terrifying than calling a 12 year old girl who you like and whose number you have flicked off from the class’s attendance register (what don’t look at me like that this was standard procedure in our school). It is at these times when you need balls of steel or a particularly mayhem happy cousin to make that first call and thrust the phone in your face. It is at these prophetic moments that one makes statements that sweep women right off their feet and into your lap, I gulped the hard lump that was forming in my throat and rose up to the occasion and asked her “What was the homework given to us in the Hindi class?”. Yes, I am fancy like that. Time rolled by and I used to call her daily, she had taken over the role of my personal homework reminder services.

Around the end of 1996 a funny thing happened: 1997. Not that anyone was paying much attention. It was February and 14th day of this month had lately assumed a lot of importance, it was a new fad at that time. I had secretly bought a UNESCO card! Buying one of those fancy Archies card would raise too many uncomfortable questions with my mom and let’s face it my parents were never too big on pocket money. I sat there on the second last bench of the second row while she sat on the third last one. Whole day had come and gone by with me dilly dallying the timing for the exercise of my card delivering competency. The moment came right at the end of the school day and I gave her the card or rather held it out to her while asking about the day’s homework. The rest as they say is history and she still has that red sweater.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

D-Files Part 1

He wore a dark grey tweed jacket. The one that had been passes on to him by his father. The tweed had an interesting history, it had been made in Taiwan, shipped to South Korea and had been gifted to his father almost 20 years ago. Fashion has a weird sense on repeating itself after every 20 years and the old tweed had made a comeback.

She was in a yellow embroidered sari. The origin of the sari was unknown to him (though he had seen similar saris at his father's establishment). She looked resplendent and brought lightness to the brooding mood that lingered around him.

He arrived a little late at the movie premier and sauntered into the atrium where she was waiting for him.

He had one look at the sari and the sarcastic, wise cracking gears that whirl into action as soon as he sees a pretty young thing started well, whirling

"So are we singing the yellow brick road today" (Yea I know I surprise myself sometimes). She stared at him in frustration for a moment. Then she tilted back her head to laugh. She had a good laugh, too, throaty and rich. He
did look down at her chest when she did that, just for a second. A pure heart and mind only takes you so far-sooner or later the hormones have their say, too. He was not a teenager or anything, anymore, but he's not exactly an expert in things like this, either. Call it an overwhelming interest in his professional career, but he had never had much time for dating or the fair sex in general. And when he had, it hadn't turned out too well.

They both walked into the theater where her movie was showing, given she had a very small role in it. This was her first movie and he felt obligated to watch it, he wasn't into movies much. The movie turned out to be one of the best he had seen. It had been a long time since someone had laid her head on his shoulder and the VIP seats helped too.

To Be Continued

Friday, July 31, 2009

Love or something like it!

Some things are never meant to be together. Things like oil and water, orange juice and tooth paste.

Me and Ann

There are a thousand names for it affection, devotion, fondness, infatuation. It's an incredibly complex system of interweaving thoughts and feelings that influences us and the ones around us and it all boils down to one fairly simple fact: Shit Happens!

Apparently a good romantic Bollywood flick engenders a sense of longing that I cooperate with my heart and start thinking on the lines of What If.

We were together for what one would call a blip in my dating life, we may even have forgotten what we said, what we did but sometimes in the night after the afore said movie I remember how she made me feel. How a simple text like 'ahem' would wake me up from my slumber, even today after all this time I don't think I have received a better text.

I have a habit of chewing on things after they are at least an year or two old. You see back when I was a kid I had an operation done which blocks out all the unpleasant things for a period of at least 2 years.

2 years ago.

I had built up all my defenses, a whole suit of armour if you will, so nothing could hurt me, then one stupid girl, no different from any other stupid girl, wandered into a metro station and therefore into my stupid life... I gave her a piece of me. She didn't ask for it. Then one day she did something as dumb as agreeing to go out on a date with me, she did this dumb thing a couple of more times and my life wasn't my own anymore.

As some of you may know I am not much of a talker usually I get by, by nodding my head at an interval of 1. 35 mins and saying I understand exactly 20 seconds after the nod. She on the other hand loved to talk and talk she did. I knew about the life of people I had never met, would never meet and probably never had the intention of meeting. And the truth is she totally pulled it off, the talking bit I mean.

And then I ended it all for good enough sane reasons which still are good enough. As I said some things are never meant to be together. Things like oil and water, orange juice and tooth paste.

Me and Ann

But tomorrow is another day!

PS: Let me know if the title is corny or not

PPS: The above post is a work of fiction which may be derived from some real life events.

Saturday, July 04, 2009

Let there be light and lets look at the past

As a famous guy once said "Let there be light", I am back biatches and I have a feeling I am going to be much more regular. Yes I have stories to spin and tell.

Last year has been errr to say the least eventful and it will all be brought to its rightful culmination in a few more months *fingers crossed*. You shall be informed and made up to date with all the gory details,don't worry.

Now that we are done with the all the niceties I shall begin the story.

College:You have four years to be irresponsible here. Relax. Work is for people with jobs. You'll never remember class time, but you'll remember time you wasted hanging out with your friends. So, stay out late. Go out on a Tuesday with your friends when you have a paper due Wednesday. Spend money you don't have. Drink 'til sunrise. The work never ends, but college does.

29th July 2003: I entered Roorkee for the very first time. I had passed this small sleepy town two years back on a school trip to Mussorie and had been teased by my friends that I might be here the next year, took me one extra year but I was finally here.

First Impressions and being late as always: I was impressed with the small colonial style department buildings and the picturesque Main Building and was looking forward to have a dekho at my Bhawan(Dorm) room but first the registration formalities had to be completed. After much asking and reading the sign boards we finally reached the Civil Auditorium and I was the last person to register for Electrical.

Dorm Room and the Roomie: I had hoped for a nice room and a nicer roomie who will follow all my orders, yes I am hitlerstic like that. But all I got was F-74, the last room in the whole frigging hostel (the one beside the common bathrooms!) with a mile wide U turn to get to the department and not to mention no garden view :(. The roomie was a small town guy who had listened to a grand total of 1 English song that too by Sucky Celine Dion or whatever her name is. I rest my case.

Pendulum swings a month or two

Muvo and Avril Lavigne: I was accompanied by my dearest friend Walkman to the campus and our friendship had its up and downs usually broken in by battery changes, but all relationships are not meant to last and this one breathed its last in about 2 months. I was left alone in the eerie silence for 2 days, unable to take it anymore I decided to venture forth and meet the weird specks guy in my row who happened to have a mp3 player. I know it is sad now but trust me it was the latest craze that had not caught on in India at that time. He has always been cool like that, the weird specks guy I mean.

Pendulum Swings 4 years

23rd May 2007: College ends, Real world beckons, I can't pretend to be Peter Pan anymore. Or so I thought.

PS: More to come when I feel like it.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Writing Project No 1

I know you haven't heard from me in a long time and I have fielded queries from people in the real world on the lack of posts here. The thing is I don't write here until I feel like writing here lol, yup that's how I roll. 

Today's post was filed away in my journal sometime in 07 and is oddly titled 


"Writing Project No1"

This came to me at a time between the night and the dawn. It was the hazy world between the asleep and awake, oh fuck it I am just scribbling away in my diary right now! either way it's all sage and junk. It had been an early Monday morning and it was going to be a long day. Yet there was something to look forward to, it was something that happens at dawn and at dusk but I won't tell you what it is !

The time seems to fly by.

Statistics on the number of Chevrolets and Toyotas.

Talks of a Bi-Dog (Yes you heard it right a BI-DOG!).

and the smiles , guffaws (her), laughs, the knowing smirks (me).

The sleeping crowd.

The bus stop.

The End with no new beginning!


PS: I made my debut at Capitol this weekend, awesome fun!