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| It was She, Part 6 [Concluding] |
| Monday, August 11, 2008 |
The Trials and the trails
His vacations were over soon. He went back to the college and the first night, he got that SMS
“Sorry, I am really sorry, but please don’t take me wrong. I am moving to Delhi for studies.”
He replied back “I remember the best 30 seconds of my life. I did talk to you. Thanks for it. “
There was nothing after that.
Months simply flew by but the dust never actually got settled permanently.
N.Delhi, 2004 and back
Delhi was bigger than Ranchi, he enquired Ramjas hostel and the Miranda house based on his leads- the probable places and kept his eyes open all the time in the streets of New Delhi. The same old tricks- keep eyes open, hope to have another stroke of “signs”, pretend to be a family to get things out. There were no whereabouts.
It was out of a Bollywood movie, he laughed thinking alone at times.
He returned back to college while he still had a few days of vacations left.
Hostel was sparsely inhabitant. He got time to turn the pages of his life and think through.
He realized it to be something which didn’t have an end- just a futile mirage, a fruitless endeavor, a self- indulging obsession, a tiring journey without any mélange with the destination, an aberration or even an inflicted paranoia.
“I just don’t want to be happy and am actually enjoying this. I want to keep the wound alive; my mind is prejudiced that I can’t be complete without this.” He tried convincing himself.
But he couldn’t gather any answer for some of his own questions.
“Why something had to be born and stay alive, if it’s not destined to grow or even die?
Why isn’t reasoning, grace and response part of love?”
Why can’t love survive without strokes of multiple coincidences?
Why the most natural feeling have to be so torturous to express and tortuous to attain?
Why the sweetest of all emotions have to be so grudged and tested?
Why I have to force things to happen when it needed no force to get into me?”
He disagreed to believe this is just “it”.
He wrote a few mails, sensing no response, held back. The sporadic mails written out in the moments of enlightening weakness, borne out of drunkenness started throwing mailer demons. Her number never got through.
He went back home after his final exams and had a couple of months before he would move to Mysore for his first job.
He desperately wanted to see her, talk to her, the one chance he craved for years. He was sure he would need no more than 30 seconds. That’s all.
He used his old method of dialing 198 to find out her home number but couldn’t break through the new address.
Raj felt a tickle in his ribs remembering his Sherlock Holmes modus operandi. How he went to the telephone exchange to get a duplicate copy of her telephone bill posing as a family? How idiosyncratic of him to try sounding like a girl on phone to get more information out of her family? He smiled and gasped. He didn’t have any regrets. He owned it and loved it. He was father of the relationship and he was just nursing it.
The effort was futile as she never picked up nor was she ever seen again. He spent most of his afternoons and the evenings at the tea stall near her house for two months waiting to steal a few seconds of her fading imagery.
He thought of dropping a letter but remembered the promise to her.
In utter hopelessness, he called up her father and spoke his heart a night before he would leave.
The jest was nothing more than “him not being a philanderer and wanting just a few moments with her and requesting him to spare her from any uncomfortable questions that he might want to ask because of his call. “
He listened like a thorough gentleman and responded as a thorough protective father.
The response was not unexpected but Raj felt relieved to have given a shot.
3 years later, Now.
Raj looked at his watch. It was 5 minutes to 12 midnight now. His birthday is a few minutes later.
He got to ward off the smell of smoke before his younger brother would come looking out and put the smoke alarm on.
He had asked him the same day when he dropped him off to his school, pointing to the next crossing with an innocent twinkle in his eyes -
“Big B, This was your silky route, I remember”
“Dude, go study, you are in 4th standard now, not a kid. Come with Shubham – I won’t be able to pick you up. Bye junior.”
“Bye, senior” he said giggling.
“Yes, it’s my birthday and she would be a year married now too.” He smiled.
The smile that insinuated him “Incorrigible, you romantic fool”.
“What “this” sign suppose to mean now?” This innuendo was directed to the moon above.
“Ye,,,,,,, sweetie, come on in” . He closed his laptop and shouted exultantly as he saw the junior running towards him, rubbing his eyes to be the first to wish him.
Long Live Love
-Dheeraj
P.S : Concluding Not Ending!Labels: Let's Talk Love, Turn The pages |
posted by Dheeraj @ 10:59 PM   |
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| It was She. Part-5 |
| Wednesday, August 6, 2008 |
The Aberration
13 days after the letter
Raj was restless to get a reply from her. He kept refreshing his mailbox just to be disappointed. It was not going to be a long wait, he was hopeful.
On the 13th day after he dispatched the letter, he received an email. He read it at least 100 times
"Hi Raj,
Who are you…… how did you get my address. Please don’t create any problems for me.
Do I know you…. I admit I am overwhelmed by your letter but…… I don’t even know you" Have we met ?....
Tell me everything about yourself.
Mail back.
-BIIIIIII"
They exchanged a couple of mails. It was established that they were friends.
It was June 26 when she told it was her birthday while he was chatting with her.
She asked "So, what’s on my birthday? It’s today"
Raj "OMG, you should have told me earlier. I am leaving, bye and check your mail after sometime."
He logged off and ran to his hostel room, said sorry to his diary, tore a page from it and typed in the first poem that he had written for her and sent it.
Next day he got a mail
"Raj,
I can’t express how I feel. It is the best birthday gift I have ever received. I can’t believe someone could love me this much.
This is my cell number.
Thank you for this and I … well.. I really feel as the most beautiful girl in the world"
He spent hours in the computer lab just to read it as if trying to compensate his years of disappointments with this moment of fulfillment.
Raj threw a party for his hostel friends. A treat, which no one knew the reason for. They didn’t mind, so didn’t Raj.
Tired of sitting and conjecturing the past, Raj felt an urge to relive the moment. He went downstairs to get his laptop and a cigarette.
He came running back on roof and searched his rediff mailbox again to read the mails.
It was the same feeling. Seemed, he was transported to the corner seat of his computer lab, 5 years back, same lisp, same beats, same moist eyes and the same cunning smile,
A smile that insinuated him "Incorrigible, you romantic fool".
They had started exchanging SMS. Every time his Siemens A-21 beeped, he rushed to see the message.
Most of the time, cursed the shameless promoters and the long "Opening Inbox" message of his cheap mobile.
A month had passed and he, first time in 3 years since he left home, actually got excited to get back for vacations.
Amidst of his exams he got that SMS from her.
"I won’t be in the city and would be back after 2 months."
It didn’t deter him. He pressed and found out which city she was, but nothing else.
She replied back "Don’t ask, Best of luck and please don’t try to contact me, please."
He called up on her cell only to find someone else asking him not to trouble her again.
His exams were over and he was at his hometown. He hadn’t heard from her for 2 weeks now.
He made an excuse at home and went to Ranchi. There she was, somewhere.
Ranchi, 2003
4 days passed. He was at his hostel roomie’s residence. He thought "how foolish of me to do this?"
Dejected, on the planned departure day, he leisurely picked up the newspaper on the table and was looking for sports section when he got startled to see an image.
"How can it be? Oh my good. It’s a sign."
He saw her snap in the supplement paper.
He called up home and said "Mom, I would come later, not tonight."
He called up the writer of the article where she had posed as a model. She refused to knowing her. He called upon the number given on the supplement and pretended to be all kind of person to get her contact number- police, journalist, correspondent, modeling agent, an estranged family. He couldn’t get through.
2 days more- nothing. Finally, he asked his friend to come with him to collect the bus tickets.
He was sitting in the pillion seat of the bike. Hardly 500 meters away from his friends place, he saw a girl in a Van passing by. He could just see her tresses.
Raj: "Mate, drive adjacent to the van"
Kam:"Dude, this is my street, don’t bring disrepute to me. You will find many to chase once we get on Firayilal"
Raj: "Just cross the van slowly, please, please, please".
Kam: "Okay."
Yes, it was she…again.
He felt tricked, exhausted by the pranks providence was playing with him.
They followed her 30 miles away from city, waited outside an apartment in the outskirts for 2 hours till he saw her coming and take the route back.
Not to mention, Raj financed the gasoline charges and promised a lot of goodies for his friend in return of the favor.
Half an hour later, she stepped into city centre’s Punjabi sweet corner. Kam tried out all the sweets that he never heard of or couldn't pronounce while Raj had coffee and chilled cola together.
He couldn’t gather courage to approach her. She was with family, it seemed.
Tomorrow! He decided after finding her place just at a long jump distance.
Next morning after waiting for 3 hours she came out and went to a grocery store.
He inhaled all the oxygen his lungs would require in a matter of few moments and went inside.
On her back he said "Hi, ummmuhh, Hi" You recognize me?"
"Well, please stop this for heaven's sake. You followed me last day, do you have any idea, how much trouble does it spell for me?
"Okay... Listen just one thing.. Give me 1 minute, please."
"Shut up and go,"
"Listen; Meet me at Kaveri tomorrow, 4. I will wait. Please, just for a few minutes."
She was gone and never turned up.
Forlornly, he scissored the newspaper to take her snap, thanked his friends and headed home.
On his way back, he thought of drugging himself to unclutter his mind from the thoughts but sense prevailed.
He called up home and said cheerfully "Mama, sorry, it was my friend's birthday, I am coming home."
-DLabels: Let's Talk Love, Turn The pages |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 8:39 PM |
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| It was She Part-4 |
| Wednesday, July 30, 2008 |
The letter
Raj felt the same old pristine heaviness settling into him. The breeze was getting milder but the chill, stronger. He found himself roof fence to rest on, and continued the reminiscence.
He had stopped following his routine of following her shadows. It had been a month now. His studies had suffered and he wanted to get over it.
He could sense there was nothing in it. It would give him more pain. He did love the pain, it was different, never-before, ubiquitous but it had hope. There was none now.
Raj moved to Delhi after his 12th. He thought that would resurrect his academics and help him get over her.
A year passed. And just like that, he kept himself moving with time. He didn’t get through any decent colleges.
It never occurred to him that it’s something to be bothered.
He couldn’t forget her. "That" bothered him.
He had ruined his dreams of getting into the Air force. He could never be a fighter pilot ever in the life.
Funnily, sometimes, he dreamt being in Uniform and appearing against her – may be that would impress her. His hopes had crashed and burnt. He decided to be back at home.
While coming back to his home, he instructed the rickshaw to follow his silky route. Nothing had changed. Cadence of the heart reflected same urgency. The air boasted her fragrance.
Premonition of her being around and appearing in front of the eyes still arrested his thoughts. The thought of infatuations were wrong.
Circumstances led him to an engineering college far south. There were lectures, seminars, labs, tests, internals, and semesters. It was good to be busy for a change. Things kept him preoccupied. He met with wonderful people, abhorrent people- a life in 4 walls, teaching him world of experience. He took time out still, though little. He wrote letters and poems for her, never meant to be sent.
Just to keep and preserve. Something to beat his fallacy and satisfy his fetish, something that made him feel good about himself. Something that no one else could feel or understand.
He called upon her house once in a blue moon. He didn’t want the flickering light to be over, just like that. He had not seen her for a couple of years now. The telephone number had changed as well.
He grew uncomfortable. The anxiety built up and then he had a shot in the dark, in his 4th semesters.
He wrote a letter which was meant to be sent. "An old outdated way but still so amorous", he thought.
He wrote:
"Dearest,
I don’t know what else I could do, I don’t know if there exists a better way of doing this and if I can do it that way.
What happened was idiotic, illogical and inexplicable, it just did. So, I am letting myself do it the same way- the idiotic and inexplicable way. Just like that.
I am Raj, It had been almost 4 years now since I first saw you. I don’t know whether it was a crush or love at the first sight. But that sight of yours never went off my mind.
You went your way, I changed my way too, but I couldn’t let you go. You have suffused in me.
I want you to know that I have fallen for you. I have never in my wildest dream thought of demanding the love back, I am probably too scared of the thought itself.
I had decided to keep this with myself. Then after all these times, I realized its not going anywhere and it needs acknowledgement.
Not only would I be unfair to the only feeling I nursed, the only relationship I created but also to you.
I don’t believe in God, destiny or the adage - "everything happens for a reason".
Neither have I looked out for reasons. It’s your prerogative to know that someone loves you from the dead core of his heart and it is meant to be only yours.
I do admit, it just doesn’t happen this way. There would be so many who might have similar feelings. It doesn’t make sense. A stranger and a strange letter! I don’t expect you to say anything positive.
Just that you know, just that it might bring you a thought of me some night when you are in your bed, just that this could make you feel important, just that this love won’t be a zombie anymore, gives me a reason to be happy.
"It" says it’s unfair that someone be damned without being tested and not been given an opportunity. With the miniscule of hope, I ask you to give this a test, a chance to convince you that nobody else could love you more than me or even the acknowledgement that you know,I could love no one else anymore.
There had been scores of letters like this with me. I have been selfish keeping them all with me. I want to show them all to you and many more things- whole life would fall short.
Dear,
This letter is not about you, I am not putting in what you had in you that made me fall for you, without knowing you. It’s about me and my confession.
I don’t see myself falling in love with anyone ever, it’s too precarious to feel again, the way I have felt for you. You have exhausted all my tenderness.
I can feel the hole in myself, it had created. It’s only your love that can fill that.
Whilst I say that I don’t expect anything, let me implore you that if you get a slightest of idea what’s in me for you or you too feel and believe in the inexplicable ways… do tell me.
My ID is there at the bottom.
Hoping for the best and preparing for the expected.
Love is a duet and I wonder If I we could ever sing it together.
Ever Yours,
Raj
The_raj.kishore @gmail.com"
He grazed the letter slowly, tore another fresh page and copied it again.
He kept the second one in his academic file beneath all the papers, held the original one and sighed to relieve his nerves.
He said to himself "This one goes to the one I love."
-DLabels: Let's Talk Love, Turn The pages |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 9:06 PM |
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| It was She Part-3 |
| Thursday, July 24, 2008 |
On the due date
Raj scrutinized the wood in his hand under the flickering light- a light just holding itself on the support of the overloaded battery.
There were no marks.
"Might have been burnt in the winter", he thought.
"Things are created and they are perished. This never even changed its form. The love had remained the same from the day I recognized its resident and still is a part of my own entity. "
Philosophy collided with the truth.
He used to wait for his father to come in the evenings. Strolling patiently on the balcony, he used to gesture him to keep the bike outside the fence.
"I would park it in the garage, Dad"
"Okay, I m keeping the helmet here, come"
"Helmet! No, bring that up. I will be just around. And no problems, I can dodge the cops anyways." Giggle.
Raj drove the bike to the "silky route"- a nickname he and Abhi had given to the street. It was a routine. He never missed a chance to try his luck out.
Even if he was asked to bring some grocery item which was no more than 50 meters- he would take that extra distance to reach her house, just in case. .
Sometimes, he took his beloved younger brother, 5, with him on bike and talked with him what he couldn’t to anyone else. His brother shouted "Silky route!!! Silky route!! Silky route!!" and pointed his fingers to her home whenever he passed the street.
The looking around went for months, 8 months. He still couldn’t find a time where he would be assured to see her. Her picture in the mind was still hazy.
He overheard his friend saying her being already engaged with someone.
He disapproved it with a silent fear but the love had started asking for acknowledgement.
That fine day, he decided to talk to her.
He rehearsed in his bathroom and in the mom’s room when she was not around. He had been taught to practice in front of drawing mirror during his school.
She would cross that turn; usually that’s where her friends bid bye. "I will follow not for too long, would seem rude and ungentlemanly. Then from two meters behind, moving two paces away from mirror, ok- from here, I would say "Hi!" with a pretentious smile , a little raise of hands.
Then, she would turn around, I will up reach upto her and say
"Hi, I am Raj.. I don’t know if you have noticed me, I have been seeing you around for sometime and wanted to say that I actually want to be friends with you."
He had zeroed in for a few key decisions earlier- "friends formula", "On-foot soldier", "green shirt & jean" "don’t give her chance to interrupt" and "mug-vomit-run".
Raj drenched his hairs with as much water as he could to keep them in place and look fresh, wore his special green shirt (worn once, dry-cleaned thrice in 16 months to save its royal status as a party dress) and the jean which actually had to be tied down from falling apart by the belt which bore a fake lacoste brand.
He reached there 30 minutes earlier than the school’s final ring.
By the due time, he realized his hairs were dry by now and every strand was trying to play diaspora, running out at different angles.
He saw brown and white uniform clad girls coming down. Krishna Niketan was manufacturing gems it seemed. He could see guys flocking together, bird-watching , running their bikes behind buses and rickshaws. He waited for "his blue diamond" to sparkle out of the unimportant crowd of gems.
His heart was sagging and was on verge of breaking down with every passing moment.
"She wouldn’t have come" he concluded, its an hour and half past the breaking time. He convinced himself to return back home.
As he turned around to head back, he felt a lump in his mouth; he could sense the hollowness under the ribs, the lifeless and voluntary trembling in his thin legs.
In a matter of couple of seconds, his ears were ready to catch fire. She was right there coming from the opposite direction hardly ten paces away.
It took an era of five-seconds to jolt himself back to sensibilities.
"Yes", revise,, "hi".. Then name, ok...
Then what…shoot…okay … sweet lord, what was that.. Ok, "I like you"… no! It was something better.. "I love you?"... Damn me!
She crossed passed him.
"Think ... Think"... or rather see her once … "man… follow!!!... "Oh my buttons"... What was that?
How could I forgot, I heard she took tuitions after classes. This was the time and this was the direction.
"Forget that, act now, Set the priority, go…….." Someone from within exhorted him.
Eventually, Raj followed her and reached his stipulated "two meters" from his love moving farther away.
With the deepest breath he ever took, as he tried to open up his throat, he felt a reverse gush of air tormenting him, a thick smoke garroting him, a nerve from his stomach pulling his throat down.
"Hi…" as feeble as a sound qualified to be called as a whisper. He wondered whether he said or just rehearsed again in mind.
Lost in his own thought, he looked up to measure the distance and if he could make it.
He saw a guy talking to her a few yards away from her house. She didn’t look anguished, neither perturbed nor disinterested.
That was enough to deflate his dented confidence. Reducing the length of his steps, heads down- he remembered his friends talking about her seeing some guy.
He turned back to head home. Walking back he constantly looked at his shoes without purpose.
At times, he could see flashes of her face in front of his eyes obstructing the view of his shoes. He kept walking – crossing the 90-fit road, what they call it. He stopped. He had reached the well.
He bowed down to peep inside to see an old timber basket floating on the water, slowly sinking down. He kept looking at it till it sank and was no longer visible.
He didn’t shout that day, just added a few drops of water to the well.
To be Contd...
By
Dheeraj
Labels: Let's Talk Love, Turn The pages |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 10:26 PM |
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| It was She, Part 2 |
| Tuesday, July 22, 2008 |
The Things As they were
Raj came out of the reverie as the fag burnt his lips.
He stood up and paced sluggishly towards the log of woods in the corner, left over by the construction, soaked and charred under the open sky.
As he picked up a particular piece of wood, he sensed a black-out. It was the old custom still strong and on, "standard 1-hour power outage" time.
How he waited for power outage then! It shielded him from his dad's admonition and provided an excuse to go to the roof.
Being on the roof, looking at the sky, watching a famous TV soap- everything gave him a special kick.
"Even she would be doing the same thing at this moment. We have something in common at least." An eternal metaphysical communion.
He was given a secluded outhouse to study. It was tough for him.
"How can I study, if no one is noticing if I am?" He admitted his own helplessness naively.
At times, conceding defeat to the echoes of his own conscience, he did manage to study, never more than 15-min stretch.
However, the story never surpassed from arranging a notebook, a thick Guide to Chemistry, a Reynolds pen, placing them adjacent on the table under the study lamp and
imprinting the "Atomic Structure" with an attractive font style and solving the same set of top 5 objective questions at the most.
He had just excised from the sports section of the newspaper supplement, a picture of a girl cheering Goran Ivanisevic.
He believed or rather forced himself to believe that she was a look-alike. It "was" and "is" mandatory to have your girl’s picture.
He had put that cutting into the new diary he got from the Dad's Insurance agent.
He flipped the pages to see and imagined the modifications that she would require to be exactly like her.
Hairs a tad blacker, face contours a little more seamless, lips a little fuller.
He closed the diary, slid under the pillow as he waited for mom's call for food. He used to go to the roof for a talk with himself just after the supper.
He unconsciously compared everything he would find beautiful, to her, trying to find an alternative to the tempting torture of seeing her in entirety.
A percentage of her beauty was attainable and gave him space to breathe otherwise she was ruthless and would just choke him every time he had a glimpse.
When he tried to sketch her picture, he always realized he could actually never see her properly. An outline of the oval shape, her hairs, dazed brown eyes, fair complexion- may be.
Nothing more than that. The second time he actually saw her, he was dumbstruck. He had not gone to play volleyball. On the pretext of seeing her sister, he walked a couple of miles towards a well in the solitary fields
He had looked into the dark water of the well and shouted twice full throttle. It was the first time he went there and did that. He never knew why.
He started to like doing this but saved the act for special moments. He was always scared of over-using anything and cherished the way they were.
"Would I make it less important, would I take the charm out, would the beauty be degraded?"
Here expressionless now, Raj moved towards the light emanating from the neighbor's room with an air of anticipation. The tube light had just switched on, powered by the battery backup.
He felt the wood in his hand and remembered a similar wood log then.
He would write her name on the paper and tear them to miniature pieces so that no two letters are in once piece. He would do random check, picking up a paper and finding the half "R" and the full "a".
He did that for some time till he found this piece of soggy wood. He took the nail and inscribed her name, and as he always did- made it illegible by writing a "S" "Q" and a cursive "D" over it
"It should be the ideal way. You stay and live in this world of mortals but only I should be able to read you, find you, see you." He prayed sullenly.
-DLabels: Let's Talk Love, Turn The pages |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 3:49 PM |
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| It was She, Part 1 |
| Monday, July 21, 2008 |
Life would never be same.
Raj was sitting on the roof-top smoking the cigarette illicitly. His head was spinning because of the unusual fast drags. He couldn't throw it until completely utilized though there was this moment of relief waiting, when cigarette would be thrown away to the neighbor's portico and he would be free from the dangling fear of getting caught.
He always got flooded when he walked on the roof.
He gazed to the east, looked up to the scintillating moon and smiled thinking of the caged frozen hare in it trying to jump out of the beautiful confinement.
A mile away, he could see her house, over the cliffs and through some tall palm trees obscuring what should have been clear and obvious.
There had been hindrances that had come up lately. Taller buildings, battered roads, growing age, passing time... passed time. The time had really passed. He could see through the thick rings of his smoke. The breeze is cool tonight, it was n't then..... 11 years back..
Raj closed the door slowly, ensuring no one knew he was in the drawing hall.
The telephone had a small lock. Dad had locked it after freaking high bills for consecutive months.
He knew how to overcome "this" obstacle. He picked up the receiver and started stroking the cradles in a rhythmic unison.
"tak-tak, tak-tak-tak-tak-tak-tak,tak-tak-tak-tak-tak-tak, tak,tak-tak-tak-tak-tak-tak, tak-tak-tak-tak-tak." He didn’t feel proud or guilty of his art of prison-break. He had to do it. He couldn’t help it. Correct number at first try. Ye it's right.
I can smell the ring of her phone, it's her place for sure.
His beats were ready to blow his ribs.
"Hello" after 11 rings..
A Deep sigh. It's not she. He was relieved for that moment and depressed the very next.
"Hello, Hello.. who is this...? Please don't call here. Don't you have to pay for your bills?"
"Technically No." he reassured himself.
No, it's not she. He knew
Raj kept the receiver back on the cradle.
"I could have actually waited for 36 more seconds. It all costs the same." he cursed himself.
"It was the same time, she picked yesterday. Where is she? This is my 15th call." Raj calculated.
After the great telephone-lock episode, he had imposed a self- restraint compromising his rights to follow his heart and showing his concern about dad's expenditures.
"The middle path, as Buddha preached. I can make 5 calls from Abhi's place and 3 from sis’, 5 from Nish's place. Of course, I can spare two coins from booth."
"But where is she? Why isn't she picking the call up anytime?
Let me check out. Shit, it's too hot and windy outside. There is no way she would be even in verandah. It never hurts to try."
Assuming, there was zero chance to hit her, he didn’t decorate his clumsy face or changed his not-so-clean shirt.
He took his bicycle in the hissing sun.
He could see someone moving in the verandah as he approached her house. Too scared to validate the image in his mind- he sped his bike running past the home with an unsuccessful obtuse-angled glance.
Raj just kept driving straight as if pushed by an invisible power as far as he could before he realized he is all sweaty, tired and dry. He stopped to gather his breath.
Turned the bicycle back and took an elliptical route back home to avoid going through the same path again. That costed him 2 more km through dusty roads.
As he reached his home and sat under the guava’s scanty shade he whispered " I am such a waste".
Suddenly, he smiled when he got up and said in a tone audible only to him "Look at me, My shirt is awful and so is my bike, Good I was not seen."
A punch in the air. "Ye, It was She!"Labels: Let's Talk Love, Turn The pages |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 8:39 PM |
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| The tag of the Stag- Royal Stag |
| Tuesday, May 13, 2008 |
Me and my roomie were usual unattainable stags , friends of us were even better (read bitter) stags. The biggest problem we mulled over was how to initiate the talk.
Well, he always blamed me and insinuated that I being one of the rankers and in one of the most blessed Department of college , ie CSE, should have cracked it.
I, on the other hand, shamelessly in defense, blamed him for being such a hunky and the outlaw biker, sorry ladder, and yet a stag. It’s coincidence that he loves Royal stag.
It took a discovery of a white stray in his stubble that made him take solemn oath to break the jinx that fateful evening.
Here’s his attempt.
Target location: No winners for guessing right! Yes, CSE dept.
Our guy approached this girl and asked a straight question non-chalantly "What's your name"?
A pause in steps and a scorned look..
Our guy wondered, if he asked what he rehearsed or the passcode of her bank accounts.
She didn't respond and walked away. Brave soul followed with steely determination in his heart and interrupted again.
“Why”? she asked..
A question is not to be questioned.. Well, as if this is a screening test to test suitability of the person seeking enquiry.He thought and quickly gave up, saying “Why??? ..As in simply...I mean... just asking.”
“What’s your business?” Another level of authentication.
I ain't no businessman, a sheer mediocre BE student craving for love. He rejected crude thought. Then he thought.
May be I can say this. “Oh, I have got a female baby in my paternal uncle's house and they were wondering which name is "In". Your face tells me your name must be in.”
He started weighing his options in darkness of his own mind while she gradually faded away in the far dimness of the aisle.
That night poor guy asked me.. What's the answer for this "WHY"?
I said with an air of confidence. “See, dude, no girl is so easily going to tell her name in this village just like that. Just say " You wanna friendship".”
“No ya, she must have a guy” . he sounded despondent.
"Hell no, tell me if all the girls are engaged, why most guys are single. See, Rajesh,Shashank,Amit, Manav, Shiva,Guru, all, even Rahul,and even me.. huh” It’s just their attitude.
Ahh, There is a theory about "Rahul" as well, weird one. Highlights below---
* All sweet guys are Rahuls. I swear It's Yash chopra/Johars effect.
* All shashanks/Shekars/Sidharthas are mostly fair and lean.
*All Mukeshs are uncle-types.
* All Sandeep's are little fat.
* All Shweta's are little flirt and gets fat as day passes.
* Amits/Manishs/Poojas are usually so widespread that characterizations or pattern matching is quite difficult.
* All Rishis are quite womanizers.
* All Shobhas are overtly showoffs with little substance to back it.
*All Priyas are quite beautiful and sultry..
* All Malti's, Latas are fatsos..
* Manojs are wheatish and sport moustache
Well, no offence,, just whiteboarding what we did..
Back to the discussion again.I stray a lot.
"Oh Okie." He butted out the cigarette butt on the astray lying on his chest and put it down slowly under the bed.
Next morning, he caught her while she was starting her scooty after the Microprocessor lab.
Usually you get hot headed after that.He should have consulted me.
"I am Kamlesh, Mechanical, final year"-putting special emphasis on Mechanical and final year” As if she will pity hearing this and bestow some mercy.
Engine shrieked but din’t start. “Yours?” Stooping and anticipating some movement of the lips hidden behind the generously shampooed hairs.
“Oh.. I want to be friends with you.” I said loudly thinking, she still would be expecting the reasoning of the 24-hrs old question.
She straightened up and said" Why?"
“Oh .. don’t you know.. I am such a dog.” I read his mind.
“Why mean what? I mean simply.. I like you..” This is what he actually said.
“Sorry I’m not interested..” This is what she ultimately said.
“I just asked your name, damn it.. what’s the deal with interest here..” :-(
Engine started .
She went and he did what he does best. Smoked!.
That night again, he challenged me .. Our challenges were of the finest & rarest quality.
“Can you show me?” he asked
“Dude, this is nasty, non-sense.” I snapped.
“Oh , I meant can you show me that you 'can' talk to girls?”
“Oh K'mon, grow up. What's there in..” I said with a pretentious ease..
Anyways, i had said No to “No” long back and accepted.
Hence, the brainstorming.
I remembered, Manish- he is quite involved with them. What does he do?
Yippy, Notes.
But, i never take notes, I don’t understand other's handwriting, no matter how filthy and illegible I write.
Plus, won’t she know that I have 54 guys in hostel from whom I can ask. This will be so embarrassing and too obvious..
What else..?? okie,, I shall ask what happened yesterday with Shilpa, why was she upset- who the hell I am to worry? I have never worried, worse, i din’t come college yesterday. Then, why haven’t I worried for all these passed years.
No, poor idea. Okay, The farewell party. I shall ask where to organize and what’s new this time around?
Oh,, I never did those,, Do i have to lie just to talk.. forget.!!
I decided and shouted to my roomie standing near the far end
“BOND.. Come on in, i lose.. I sponser your Kachauri and cigarettes and the Maaza."
-DLabels: Friends, Holy war b/w Man and Woman, Humor, Turn The pages |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 9:59 AM |
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| Tortured Love |
| Thursday, March 27, 2008 |
This has happened time and again and I am not complaining, just sharing how overwhelmed I am with their consistent,ever strong conviction and affection.
My granny up there in stars must be missing the pleasure of waking me up and seeing my defeated drooping face.
It's early morning,4.30-5 a.m(I prefer calling them late nights).
Granny comes in, slid her robust,unassuming hands in my blanket and starts pressing my legs.
"My kiddo, hadbeen so tired.All day keeps on running.. Ch ch.. get me your other leg. pain will go away. "
The act was done in such professional expertise that it took away any pain whatsoever and so my sleep. Executing one of the oldest conspiracies against enjoying sleeping in its glamour galore.
Mom tries to be silent assasin but always fail. Motherhood always takes over parenthood.
15 min after grannies act.
She removes the mosquito net or the mosquito repellant, whatever applicable exposing me to symphonic sound of the sporadic but optimistic mosquitos humming the blues and ballads right at my ear drums.
My sister follows a straight, non-chalant path.
"Dhiru, Chai(Tea)"..
1 minute after that seeing sign of a body just tossing to other side.
"Arrey Thandhi ho Jayegio( Gonna get cold).. Get up.. I am not gonna warm it gain. Wake up. "
My uncle who is quite old is quite austere and getting better at it day by day.
"Dheeraj. Come, we have to weed out the garden.. Lots of unnecesssray shrubs and grass have prop up. "
Uncle, Am I a labour?Wake up and work. I object, your highness.
The best rests with my father. So and so much for love for his logical reasoning and philosophical bible and his fortunate son.
Act 1: Switch off the fan, if summer. Take the blanket/Rajai off and fold it properly if winter.
Response1: Switch on the fan, half awake. Unfold and hid yourself making almost a circle off the angular body occupying least surface area.
Act 2: Switch on The TV. News in volumes unusually higer.
Response 2: Pillow and Blanket deeper into the ears.
Act3: Strolling to and fro across my room and extemporing the virtues of waking up early to a non-existent third person.
To: "A young boy who wakes up has the privilege of the breathing in freshest air, keeps one healthy and agile throughout. Fitness is an aspect. Mind remains sharp and fresh."
Fro: "It's not that one has to wake up and study."Dangling the carrot? i am not hungry dad:"
Simply Wake up."As if that will purge all my crimes and purjery.
"One can play , go around,exercise. Rohan, guy next door, studies,Saha's son plays football.Anything."
To: "It's not, as if , one can't sleep after waking up. One should wake up, get fresh, have a cup of tea may be. (May be means, Tea is his copyright and its his ruthness that I am allowed to have it.)
Do a tangible thing. And then sleep. No issues. (Bargaining on quantity over quality, dad?)
Fro:If someone doesn't wake up, it's going to his loss. Even at this age have you seen me waking up beyond 5?huh? Now, Mom's included.(Two adults Ganging up against a little sleeping child.) How I remember days when you forced me to pee when I didn't have to, at morning 4 o' clock. I am not kid still, please.
To: Catch the transition.Third person to Mom to the Target person.
"Dont wake up.Who the heck I am to blabber all this. To hell with waking up early.I should just can the crap.Keep on sleeping, dearest.
Act4: Fans On. Blankets properly set.Ligts off.
"Sleep. I was not barking for my own selfish needs. i have done and still doing what I could do with my limited resources and exposures. It's upto you guys. I can only show you the right way " Response4:"Mom, tea please. "
"Papa, Uth gaye na... " (Dad, i have woken up)
He is gone. Picking up the newspaper reading the news he had read/haerd/viewed atleast 3 times. Nothing new in news, dad.
~With Love To DadLabels: Funny Sides of Events, Humor, Turn The pages |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 2:23 AM |
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| The Police Dress |
| Monday, February 18, 2008 |
Last weekend, a friend of mine went to this shop near Marathalli,(a place notorious in the pub capital for spoiling your shopping glee by putting up items on sale which you are wearing right then). He was looking out for a trouser that he could wear and go to the gym. He had already bought a water bottlel that breathes, a cap, a band, special deospray and leather gloves. Inspired by the girls in the gym.Nothing bad given he doesn't follow them while working out.
Okie, so he zeroed on to a trouser which looked straight out of a combat US ranger legs. Dark green leaves designed for camouflage.
He asked me: " Howzz this, dude?" I hurriedly pushed the shirt i was examining deep into the pile realizing I bought the same one in a brand shop and threw an honest remark.
"That suits you."
"Cool. Chal."
I heaved a sigh of relief . One of the most demanding, tiring pastime is to accompany a friend for shopping.Luckily, It was he, by the virtue of which I was immunized from either paying for the bags, caps,( can some validate if there is a sadist pleasure in forcing men to buy freakingly expensive accesories and not wearing them anytime) or holding those hefty and annoyingly noisy carry bags out of american chivalry.
That trouser actually unfolded a few event of my childhood.
I used to derive utmost pride and gratification in emulating someone's dress when was a kid, swear I'm kid stilll in more than 1 way.
Easiest and Prime victim of my whim was my elder bro. I made sure I accompany mom/sis when they went shopping on festivals for us. This was to ensure we wear same clothes on Holi/Dushera or whatever.
My poor bro, who was in his early teens i suppose, was pissed off. I wore the clothes early enough to be spotted first by relatives/friends/neighbours.
Now, when my bro went out .. he used to hear the jigs
"Why did you wear Dheeraj's shirt?"
"Hey look same dress as his bro".
Bro hasbeen sweet. He simply either continued or changed the dress. His angst came only during games we play. I was always discarded or given special discounts which used to hurt my ego.
Police dress episode:
I was in my village when everyone was surrounding me to hear a 7 year old kid is delivering his intro in English. My dad was seemingly excited in anticipaton of his son's praise by the jealous villagers.
He stooped low to my face and said" Dheeru Beta, give your introduction in English."
"mmmmm,, Na". was beta's sweet reply.
"Dheeru: You not scared of me?" Thunders the wind over my wavy hairs.
"mmmm, My police dress" My latest demand after the dark red tanned disco dress has sweeped off my feet.
Afraid of embarrassment and blasphemy, he conceded. "Will buy you while getting back to city. Ok?"
" Iam Mr. Dheeraj Kumar. My fathers name is Y K pandey. mmmm. Mr. Y K Pandey.
Closing my eyes with full force and commanding others to Erase all. Restart.
"I am Dheeraj. My father's name is Mr. YK... I read in.. My hometown, district,.. Post.. Police station..." Perfect shot.
I din't given a damn about the praise being showered on me or the scintillating dad's face. All i was dreaming was the "police dress".
On the way back home. I managed to catch a dress- a police dress hanging outside a shop. The board was so soiled that I couldn't read out the name of shop.I was on Priya scooter, standing on the foot-rest in front. It came involuntarily to me and i switched off the running engine.
Before dad could ask me why i did that, i screamed with childish lisp.
"Police dress!!!!!!!!!!!!" I almost stood on my thumbs , moving my hand right against his face, taking attention of his eyes towards the dirty, paleolithic police dress.
"You promised, buy now." Right in face. I am still same, straight.:) .
"hey, it's really bad. I will buy in the city." came the learned voice.
High on the heels already, I did a Mithun jump and "THUDD" on the dusted road and started rubbng my butt on road in anti-clock wise direction making semicircle on its locus and my little head in polaritically opp direction. As if trying to create an induction current.
"My dad being so genteel, picked me up from dust and gave those little good-boy doses..
"You are so sweet. This is an act of uneducated low classed kids. See , everyone is looking , Stand up and show them that u are obedient kid."
Motions -- faster, stronger.
Slap on the face and engine started .
My dad left me craving for attention and started driving away. Fearing my cries will be quashed by the engine sound, I enhanced the volume levels. Seeing no signs of mercy. I changed the frequency. "Sorry... mmm"
Here comes my dad and there goes my Police dress.
P.S: I got it eventually though.and a few more, Nehru dress and Jitendra shoes.
~DLabels: Humor, Turn The pages |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 8:19 PM |
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| Capital I @ 13 years |
| Monday, April 9, 2007 |
I was around 13 years old, I would have preferred using 13 year young but for the standards,when I first thought of writing forcefully.I purchase great honor when I admit I am a spontaneous person and it was my first attempt to hit at my sagacious thought process.
I tried to find out any subject on which I could scribble something and at the same time use the recently learnt vocabulary to a degree where I am not caught by any amateur reader atleast.
At 13-14, I was excusable for carrying megalomaniac and please-only-me attitude by the elite senior citizen, so no harm of being insinuated by them.
Here is an account of the first subject on which I wrote. This is not what I wrote though :).
It brought me pious hapiness when i stood up tall in my clumsy half pant(Yes, i wore it even till my 8th standards.For other idiosyncracies, please mail me back personally) and corrected the handwriting teacher of his 'RABIT' spelling.
"Sir, Sir, Sir(atleast 3 time is a must to catch attention of the class,No harm if you face tilts towards the female section even if talking to your teacher who is making a perfect normal to your flat torso) Rabit has double 'B', you have written the spelling wrong,you have only written one B" all in one breath to ensure somebody doesn't sense my catch and utters it before i complete.
Being too generous towards the house captain and the class monitor, he thought a bit and added
"No Dheeraj, Its correct".
Someone pulled my tiny wrist and forced me to take my seat.
"A brilliant colleague is the most hated one." I murmured in hushed tone.
The first thing after returning home ,I did was to verify my claim by looking through Bhargava's Pocket dictionary.
That thesaurus can be easily win the the oldest book available in most of the households.
And first 3 pages from 'A', 'Aba','Abbot' to 'Abandon' can win the most turned pages of the book. Every time someone tries to learn English, inevitably it starts and ends with the first 3 pages of the tiny creature more or less analogous from "Atomic Structure" to "Chemical Bonding" when it came to +2 Chemistry books.
The progression from early teen to late teen could travel for only 3 pages to 3 chapters.
Lucky me, got admission in Engineering and learnt to devour an entire book in one night-out.
"Rabbit": Gotcha, i shouted throwing my shoes off and removing back straining, ink-scarred, butt-torned, ball-penned, super-faded school bag at the same time on the first step at the entry to my sweet home.
To collect everything from everywhere is not the task of a brilliant student and scorned class monitor. Mamma can help herself.
The first thing that Mamma always looked from my bags is my tiffin box ,unlatching top pouch(she actually didnt need to, I could take that tiffin out from the small gap adjacent to central latch.)
And she invariably got a half loaf of bread, roti, paratha and little bit of whatever complimented the maincourse. And yes, a bit of foreign material. Friend's tiffin box and tiffin material always looked and tasted better, read in the same order. :)
Next day, "Holi shit!! That goon doesn't have his class today." I cried foul.
I was impatient to hilt.
First thought, "Go and catch hold of him anywhere and throw that thesaurus flat on his crooked face."
Instanteous thought, "No let him strip off in front of the class."
Final thought" Yes, I will wait till tomorrow."
An attacked,proud and incredibly able teenger needs no second thought.
Thinking weakens decisiveness.
No harsh decisions can be taken upon rational thinking.
Ohh, i am a born thinker, best intellect, best fighter, brilliant student, commanding leader,best looking "almost man" , and prospective great lover.
No wonder i shouldn't try my luck on the most beautiful girl in the school. She should come to me.
"Why did the beauty detoriate today though?"First thought
"That 5th standard Manisha looked amazing today". Second thought ,which I wasn't supposed to.
The night had been more torrid than some other night which was nothing but yesternight.
Next day. All hail Mr. Crooker
I cleaned up the blackboard as if I am clearing all the obstacles of delaying the chance to prove my mettle against the class.
Every girl is present. Good.
"She looks better than yesterday."
" What about the girl behind her?" Hey , I never noticed she has some special aura.
I will steal a look getting back to my seat. not a problem.
Enters the teacher.
"Good Mooooo....rnin......................nnnnnnnnnnnnnn Sir" in unison - perfect harmonics, but did anyone even used "g" at the end of "morning" in the class?
"Waste"!
"Sir,Sir ,Sir" hands raised before I detached my aching spine bone from the wood bench.
"I looked into dictionary; Rabbit will carry double b and not single b"
Thought of saying" You were wrong , I was right, I am right" I am always right.
"Yes, Dheeraj.You are right. I was confused. Good.Look , he takes so much interests in his convictions.He pays attention in the class. Good."Crooked one was a person crowning me now and so he is a good teacher now.
I felt an urge to keep standing till the last bell rings like the chivalrous soldier in shining armour had beaten a caged tiger and wants every flower in the arena to be showered on him.
But I sat. Knowledge comes with dignity.
Everyone was talking of me during lunch break and on way back home.I tried to avoid listening to self -praise but wanted more of it.
At home, waited for Papa to come eagerly.
He arrived at 5:45p.m (he goes by 9:55 am , he is a govt employee).
And told him the story and got a 2 rs new coin as a reward( A samosa for me and my new friend) and later on a few discussions with less-enlighted tenants about my brilliance.
"Way to go Dude" .Another restless night.
~DheerajLabels: Humor, Turn The pages |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 4:08 AM |
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| Maa, tum kahi.. |
| Wednesday, April 4, 2007 |
Mujhe sote me niharti ho
Mujhe rote hue dularti ho
Ek kale tike se na jane kaise
Meri balaye utarti ho
Jis bhagwan ki baatei tum kerti ho,
Maa--- kahi tum wo bhagwan to nahi ho
Mere ek roti kam khane me ruth jati ho
Maa--- kahi tum wo bhagwan to nahi ho
Tumhe dard nahi hota, Tum athak ho..
Tum jeevan deti ho,jab bhi pukar lu,tum har waqt ho
Tum Janani,palnhar ho,Iska aur kya arth hai-
Tumhara sneha agadh hai, wo bi niswarth hai
Tum kahti thi bhagwan humesha dukh me yad aate hai
Mujhe bhi kal chot lagi, par maine tumhara nam liya
Maa-- kahi tum wo bhagwan to nahi ho
Tum kahti thi bhagwan har jagah hote hai,,man ki aakho se dekho
Par Mai tumhe dekhta hu,tum har kahi ho
Maa-- mujhe batao tum wo bhagwan to nahi ho
Har kathin ghari me tum kahti thi bhagewan becha lete hai
Kal jab mai ro reha tha,,Tumahre aachal ne mere aaso sonkh liye
Meri khushi ke liye tum kitne dukh sahi ho..
Maa --kahi tum wo bhagwan to nahi ho?
Maine bhagwan ko to nahi dekha
Maine tumhe dekha hai
Aur jaisa tumne bhagwan ke bare me bataya hai,
Tum bilkul waisi ho
Jis bhagwan ki baatei tum kerti ho
Maa tum devi ho, par anjan ho ki usi bhagwan ka vardan ho
Maa-- Tum wahi bahgwan ho,,,!!!
~DheerajLabels: Poems, Turn The pages |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 12:52 AM |
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| Bacho ki kavita |
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Aaj shukrawar hai,
Hafte me aata ek baar hai
Laata khushia hajar hai
Har din bas iska intejar hai
Mumbai wale ghar jate hai
Kabhi kabhi mithai late hai
Humara ghar dur hai
Jana jarur hai
Chuthi jama kar ghar jate hai
Waha se aam ka achar late hai
Meri mumy mere liye banati hai
Par sara achar mere dost khate hai
Kal humko office aana hai
Kuch hisab chukana hai
Mere dost der tak soyenge
Aur Sham ko film dekhenge
Koi baat nahi hai
Jo hai sahi hai
Humko extra chuthi milegi
Credit me 1 din aur judegi
Hum ghar jaenge,achar nahi laenge…
Jitna hoga ,sab wahi khaenge!!!!
~DheerajLabels: Poems, Turn The pages |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 12:51 AM |
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