Just Another Love Story? Part 1

It was the umpteenth time that Shradha checked her watch and inestimable occasion that she told the butterflies in her stomach to settle. She was half anxious and half jubilant...barely managing to contain herself as her legs trembled under her voluptuous frame. This was a new ball game all over again...at least so after seven years of her uneventful and placid marriage. She was going on her first date...the date with a man who was not her husband!

The milling crowd at the Bandra station went past her as she got down the Mumbai local train. Mumbai-the Maximum City always made her nervous. The cosy and proverbial air of her Banaras lanes, were more of her defining element...even though her free spirit often revolted against the mental confinement there. Mumbai would provide her the relieving breather, but too many days here also had the propensity to make her feel lost among the quick footsteps and quicker changing virtues.
Being a renowned fashion designer of her quaint little town, work often brought her here...but this time it was not business...just pleasure! And this was perhaps her last visit in a long time, for she was winding up her own career to join her husband’s firm. Last though it was...one cannot term it as the least...for it was momentous by any standards!

She was supposed to meet Siddhartha here...and it was almost time now! Funny how six months ago, Siddhartha could have been just another name and six months from then, it had become a name that made the very fabric of her existence. She was not looking for love...but when it came by, slyly knocking at her doorsteps, she felt she was too weak to resist and too willing perhaps to act coy. She was left wondering today as her body moved towards the exit and mind wandered towards every other possibility. Had she been too quick in giving in? Is this right? Should she reconsider still, the bonds and faith she had shared with Param, her husband of seven years? Is this the so-called ‘seven year’s itch’?

She reminded herself how Param and she had fallen in love nine years ago. He was the event manager and she the designer of the gala show and how breathless he made her feel in the very first go. But the way she felt giddy today...it was a purely matchless feeling, hitherto unknown to her body and senses and hence making her flutter and curious, to relate to this nameless aspect of her own self!

Tried as much as she could, her mind just wavered back to Siddhartha.
She had found him on the internet or had he perhaps found her? She was never so sure about who found what first...what she was sure of was that she had found love...the kind of love that fantasies are made of...the kind of love that little girls grow up dreaming about and spending each day of their existence waiting for it to dawn on their lives.

Shraddha had taken a while to dress that morning. Though generally ready in five minutes flat...by her standards taking fifteen was a whole lot. The last five minutes in that had been spent critically analysing herself in the mirror. Do I look like the person he seems to know through the chats? Would I seem too proper in this or too desperate in that? After about another split second of a hundred analysis, she just gave up. She straightened the folds of her jeans, adjusted the flowing, semi clinging tunic, brushed her hair, added the mascara, pressed her lips to even out the semi nude shade of her lipper, flung the bag on her shoulder and dashed out.

Little did she realize how flirtishly her freshly washed hair fell over her shoulders and so did the fringe covering half of her forehead in an incline. How delicious she smelt, just out of the shower and how fresh and vulnerable her entire hesitant yet gorgeous frame projected. The georgette top accentuated her curves and the hint of make up on her flawless white skin beamed a glow that was rare. Plus it was love...love that brought the pink flush on the cheeks and the glint in her almond shaped eyes. She fussed over just a few extra pounds she had always wanted to shed! What the heck! I am 28 now and he isn’t expecting a 21 petite college girl either. Although at the back of her mind, it played on her that at 35, he could be called very well maintained. A bit of a paunch you could say, but the smooth skin and curly hair and a towering six feet frame...he could still make heads turn! Shradha silently and secretly smiled within at the thought that such a man was crazy about her and hoped that he would remain even after today’s encounter!

And one last stroke of her hair with her fingers and she was done. She came out at the predetermined spot, breathed out deep and waited. She looked around into the faces and in them searching for a face that was unseen yet not unknown...the face that didn’t matter really for she was madly in love, yet the gnawing fears rising...what if she didn’t like his face? What if he flashed a letchy expression? What if his body language completely turned her off? What if he thought she was pretty only in her pictures? What ifs went on and she had to consciously tell her mind to shut up. She closed her eyes for a flip second to ward off all other thoughts and regain her composure. But when she opened them again, she saw a car stopping in front of her. And her heart skipped a beat...it was him.
She was finally meeting him. This was actually happening...
She just stood there...too stunned to move...her heartbeat going lub dub!

He bent forward and opened the car door...and flashed a big smile at her and asked, “Are you planning to get in or has my appearance made you so horrified that you are looking for ways to run from here?”
Ah, and she came out of her spell. Oh, that wit...the instantaneous flow of the most brilliant retorts...how she had fallen for it in the first place and since then, kept falling and falling. She smiled and got in and the wheels turned to take them to destinations unknown!

(To be continued....)

What Days they were....

What days they were...
When there were no mobile phones and their fuss...
The sound of the landline ringing was always exciting,
For it created a flutter that someone unknown remembered us.

Booking STD calls and waiting for the call back from BSNL saying, “Madam, call book karaya hain? Baat keejeye!”
And the line would cut off after 3 minutes on its own as was set...
The receptionist having listened to every word that you’d breathed!

What days they were...
When we had no assault of the television channels...
When previewing movie trailers was a privilege,
And the Chitrhaar on Doordarshan was the awaited highlight of the week...
And watching an English movie was a once in a blue moon treat!

What days they were...
When we studied without being harrowed by coaching centres... When getting a first division in Board exams was a dream come true and the cut offs in colleges were not obnoxious 98%.

When teachers taught with interest and learning was fun and not drubbed...
When schools were not clubs!

What days they were....
When we could buy an orange bar from a vendor outside the school for just one buck and not care a damn if it was hygienically prepared or we’d fall sick after gulping it down!
We’d just slurp it off and bask in the glory of orange tongues!

What days they were....
When families went out for picnics like for boating across the Ganges or just spreading out sheets outside The India Gate to enjoy the meals, gardens or waterfalls...
Instead of following the mindless crowds at the heaving malls!

What days they were...
When letters were hand written and not emailed...

When waiting for the postman was in itself as exciting a prospect as the post he would bring...
When we would ponder for hours with a pen in our mouth before writing a few lines, as crumpled discarded papers would fill up the bin!

What days they were...
When time flew while reading a book on the couch and we’d move only when the bums could take it no more or the couch revolted for being squashed beyond redemption!
When the hero’s next move in the written word was more crucial than uploading status on Facebook as a convention!

What days they were...
When holidaying in India was also fun...the temples, forts, architecture, the natural panorama were all fixations we couldn’t get enough of...
Instead of wandering aimlessly in the lanes of Bangkok or looking down at anything lesser than the Swiss Alps’ tops!

What days they were...
When we preferred to wear our mothers’ hand knitted sweaters instead of the Benetton cardigan...When jeans were just jeans...not FCUK or Tommy Hilfiger or more.
When Gucci or Prada adorned just the Hollywood superstars and not reeking in a tasteless display in the manicured hands of the aunty ji next door!

What days they were...
When festivals meant celebrations and not just another holiday,
When watching a smooch scene on screen was still a taboo in front of parents!
When deadlines for outings were still 8 p.m.!
When pocket money was just that- “pocket” n not “packet” money...
When f$@# was not considered a part of the vocabulary!

When touching the elders’ feet was not outdated...
When using “aap” as an address for others was not considered so down market!
When marriages were arranged and there were butterflies about the “suhaag raat” for it really was the first night!

When a samosa was a bigger deal than a burger!
When eating rice with the fingers was just as much fun as handling chopsticks now with panache...
When speaking in Hindi was also cool,
When cars didn’t cost crores...
When helping others was not such a chore!

When diamonds were not the girls only best friends!
When porn was not a part of wallpaper clippings!
When love was still mush and not a physical rush!
When global warming was not our biggest threat,
When guilt of some kind was not there in every chest!

When psychiatrists were not a part of our lives...
When newspapers were not just scandal scribes!
When size zero was not a fixation...
When being modern was not about what clothes we wore
When simplicity was a virtue and children were not in a hurry to grow!

When infants were born without intervention with nature,
When friends were made without consideration of stature!
When mind games were not universal...
When leaders were icons and millionaires uncommon,
When husbands were gods and such gods were human!

What days they were...
What days are now!
Have we moved forward or pushed back somehow!
What we have gained and what we have lost,
Or are we too busy to give it a thought?
Things which weave our fabric, are they too dearly bought?
Or ten years from now, would even this be lost?

Big Woes of Bigger Butts!

Ever felt like you’ve walked ahead but a part of you has still remained behind?
Ask me...I feel that almost everyday...I need to check every time if my butt has followed me while I moved on or would it still be a while till it catches up!

I am always on a roll in my gym...exercising my guts out. It feels great when people come up and say, “Excuse me, you exercise a lot...you have the stamina for a marathon!”
Actually, in a confession mode, I do have a very flexible body...I believe if I try really hard I could fold and fit myself in a box...that’s a different story if you ask me about the dimensions of the poor box.

A blogger friend of mine once reacted on a post, (I think that would be you again Amnn...gawsh, mentioning you in two posts...back to back...Is it your lucky month or what! Hehe!)
Okay, he said, “My god...you gym, you walk...What’s next?”
And I had said, “Err...how about losing some god-damn weight?”

And then another morning, another question (What a blissful world it would be when we’d just stop establishing the f@#$in inquiry counters, that everyone in India is born with the skill to pop out with, after anything and everything you may say!):
“You are very regular to the gym...How is it going?”
And I ironically retorted, “Well, that’s the problem you see...I go to the gym every bloody day...my legs go to the dogs everyday (not literally, stop imagining any licking action)...hours go by as I tread on the mill...treadmill...size goes from L to XL...my khoon paseene ke kamai goes whoosh out of my pocket at every subscription or shoes bought (for they refuse to take my weight anymore...I could swear that I’ve heard my pair talking to each other ... “Let’s prefer to tear than wear!” Smart asses!)
But the f@#$in weight, which is supposed to go, is just not ‘go’ing and clinging to me like second skin...actually first skin...the original sin...aaah...whatever!”

A dear friend of mine who saw me on facebook after ages remarked, “Wow Suruchi! You’ve reeeeeeeeally thinned down!” (Such statements I never really understand how to react to...they make you wonder na, how fat you actually were in the first place to deserve such an emphatic tone and raised exclamation! And simultaneously fear OMG let me not return back to that!)
I whined in reply, “Na na...I have just thinned ‘up’ yaar. When would I bloody thin ‘down’? Boo hoo!

You know what...sometimes I feel how wonderful it would be if people could see just my top half...I am perfect here...not Pamela Anderson people...she’s obnoxious (god’s wrath on mankind...in a merciless and choking attempt to crush those who get caught in between them. It’s like a woman with two arses...one behind at the bottom where it should be and one in front at the top where it seems to have mysteriously connived and reached...threatening to explode out at enough pressure as that of a blink of her eyelid...I mean does anyone know ANYTHING else about her?)
Damn...ting, ting...Oye writer sahiba, please remember this is not a boob post...it’s a butt post...focus, focus...
Arre...and you bhaisaab...focus only on the lines my dear reader, get Pamela out of there!

And just in case you do need to get imaginative here to get the ‘broader’ picture...let me tell you, I could pass of as someone with a nice Indian hour-glass figure, especially if I don’t decide to get up from the table...
And there, when I do, my bottom half comes to full view...hey, somewhat like a dollop of an ice cream scoop on a cone...only just imagine the cone upside down (Do I really need another human being to completely humiliate myself? No I don’t...I excel in screwing myself and walking with my very own pao=feet on the kulhaadi=axe! @#$!@^$#@%...that was for myself...mein aur mere tanhaaye aksar ek doosre ko ya mereko gaaliyan dete hain!)

I think it’s the gravitational force that is working with all its mettle, concentrating just on my lower outline...it keeps bringing all the weight down. Or my mother must have eaten just pears when she had me in her tummy and my little dim brain would have construed it as the only shape to be!

While growing up I thought I could become a VJ because:
No.1 I could talk till I drop
No.2 I am nautanki reincarnated...or if she never existed as a person before....born to life!
No.3 (And most importantly) They appear just waist up on screen...
But it turned out to be a wasted idea when I saw them running about on field work too, as lanky as undernourished specimens from Somalia (I mean, my premise of life and a career in that was rudely shaken...I was awoken and heart broken...They actually use the rest of the body too and not just their hands and mouth...in veejaying that is! Who would have thought?)



And just when I just about make my peace with my back ‘biting’ on me...the world mercilessly brings me ‘back’ to square one...or rather ‘round two’ or the two rounds....
Grrrrrrrrrr.....

Another statement awaited me this morning. I was grinding myself on the cross trainer when in walked my brother (who happens to have lost 16 kgs in half a year...Nalaayak...lost all the traditional, inherited, heirloom kinda weight, but gained a pompous overflowing ego of a narcissist model instead...I mean hamare Kapoor khaandaan ke pushtaine bada pichwaada is as must an accessory as say a moustache is for a Rajput)

Anyways, he was lifting weights (no not his own...he prefers to throw it around) just behind me and viewed my rear side...
Not as in view-view...but then as in a thunder-striking, ground shaking, glass breaking sight that blurs your vision and just might make you deliver dialogues aka A. K. Hangal uncle in ancient Hindi movies, who’d say after getting up from a shocking swoon, “Mein kahan hoon! Itna andhera kyon hain yahan?”
Oye unckel...nope I am not covering the whole length of the tube-light here with my fulsome awesome butt...it’s the andhkaar of your dim mind!
(Moral of the story...make sure you and your sibling does not go to the same gym...hundreds of horrors can materialize...let me just suffice here with a statutory warning!)

Poor fellow didn’t say anything at that time...but later in the day when I spoke to him over the phone...this is what he had to say:
“My god, have you seen you hips?”
(With an expression as that of a gaping blonde who saw a bad make-up day on her face in the mirror)
“Hello, dumb question asker...how can I “see” my own hips?”
(With the expression of smug pride that is screaming...oh I am so cool...I have made a wise retort)
“But you’ve got to see them...baap re baap!”
(Still looking as aghast as I do when I watch this television serial called CID...it’s supposed to be a detective dream but I view it as hamming comedy at its worst)
“Oh my sweet brother, you mean I have an awesome derriere, is it?”
(Smug still, with eyes closed, all set to be drenched in compliments...forgiving that he is my brother and the only reason he came after me into this world was precisely this...to come after me for every damn thing)
“No my dumb dear sis, it’s awesomely big for a human being...
What have you been doing in the gym from all these months?
Mein to ghabra gaya dekh kar...you must start climbing stairs from today only, doing alternatively and in two months dekhna, it would disappear!”
(By now he’s going out of breath with his irritating enthusiastic expressions of know-it-all and I have lost all of mine!)
And blah, blah went on his ranting to save the obese world just because he no longer belongs to the classification! Bloody discriminators!

Ah, big butt! If it would have been another big B in my body...I would have probably survived the crisis...even managed to get free tickets to shows, free shopping splurges and what not just by the strength of a tight fighting t-shirt up my sleeves...oho...Focus! Focus!
But for the butt...you never really know if it’s tighter the better or tighter the worse!
It’s like you happen to be walking ahead of or crossing by a cute looking hottie and think ‘Oh god, please let him not look at my butt’...knowing full well, as if he’s got a bloody choice!

My dear butt...we have got to talk...do you mind coming across the table?
I always tell you Sunny praaji style... “No if, no but”
But you nut...you always butt in between!

But then I thought it was always an asset!
Look at Jennifer Lopez or back home Kareena Kapoor...What butts yaar!
So, big n cute n round is good....
Oops correction...cute n round n not so big!
Size does matter but sadly it also asks for proportions!
And no matter how red and juicy the watermelon looks...the musk melon is always easier to handle when you already have your hands full! No puns intended...any reference to anything dead or spread is purely coincidental!

Ah, now I perceive the dint of smile on your face!
My dear beloved too manages to extract a good laugh more often than not, at the cost of my ‘bumpy’! He says that if I ever happen to fall from a multi-storeyed building or jump from a flying aeroplane...I would never need a parachute. I should just raise my legs and land on the cushioning that others view commonly as my butt!
At such times I can’t even call him a butthead for that would imply him having a big brain!

In fact sometimes he can be such a pain in ‘you-know-where’ (I am tired of using the word now)! Like when there’s a broken pair of spectacles or a de-shaped chair seat or a walnut needs to be crushed open....he’d ask for my services or blame them for the mischief done! Wtf!
If anything’s squashed in the house...it could just mean one thing...I have probably gone and obliged on it like a hen sits over her eggs!

Ab bas...before I end up having nightmares of my own butt and you might too...it is butt naturally the time to butt out from here!
Even the chair’s complaining now of over-use and being over warmed!

Things I Kinda Hate!

When you really like reeeeeeeeally wanna pee and your bloody naada of the salwaar decides to get knotted in a gaanth at just that moment...wt bloody f! (It’s your supreme moment of pain when your legs wriggle n fingers juggle n the rest of the body parts...aaaa....I better not tell you about the rest of the body parts)

When you know that they won’t understand you but you still keep saying ‘f@#$ off’ to the mosquitoes who decide to hum in your ears with all the excitement in their tiny lungs at the proposition of keeping you from sleep (Hellooo...I said ‘f@#$ off’ and not ‘f@#$ me’ okay...get an education n so stop flirting with me mosqy...
Grrr...I am from a different species all together!)

When I have typed a loooooooong (I am stretching it show how long...most of us females understand the length better when things are stretched)...okay so long mail response to a friend...
All geared to impress with my wittiest comments and on the spot brilliant rendition...I grin with smug pride and my mind’s telling me...“You are too good Suruchi” (Imagine this in slow motion with screeching opera music in the background). I am about to press the save button...with a deep breath as though I am ‘saving’ the world! But just then my computer ji decides to crash for a few minutes and make me lose it all (It’s just like imagine you are at the height or peak or explosion of a mind blowing physical act and someone decides to knock at your door as though his bloody life depended on it...Ouch, yup, thaaaaat bugging! Oops and ya, add the physical-act-disturbance case to this list too...People, there are other and better ways to control the population!)

When I decide to dress down for a party, thinking that people there would not be too formal, but there dressed to kill, cute hoity toities look down on me as though I were Cinderella without her magic wand wonder...As if saying ‘Ewww...Did she come here straight from the bed?’ And when I connive to dress up as a lickable cake, with all the artillery suited to win any over the top battle...I still get the looks that scream “What’s with her...did she think she was the host or something?” (Dress up n dress down...who the f@#$ tells us to waste our dressing skills on parties and women anyways?)

When I am in the middle of a very important job (now...it could be any job...why get prejudiced or presumptuous here just because I mention the word “job” with no connotations what so ever of any word before it) that needs my fullest of attention and just then a lizard decides to saunter into my range of vision on the room’s wall...And boy I’m screwed...by the presence of the lizard and NOTHING else. My eyes travel along with her...to and fro after every two seconds till it bids me good bye and leaves the room...or f@#$in worse decides to stay, for like me, it loves being stared at which it interprets as being ogled...wtf! (It just takes a lizzy to make me dizzy...hmm...I have to stop my obsession of wanting to rhyme things before my sexual preferences are called in doubt)

A woman with big errr...mmm...you know those round things which move ahead of her...like they reach the finishing line in a race, way before she does...actually they ensure she is not a runner or at least not a high jumper...Like they make you wonder if they are for real or is there a padded console or stuffing or surgery to blame...Doesn’t she topple over those when she walks?
Like how you guys wish...as they make you sigh when she wears a backless blouse, thinking ‘why couldn’t she have worn it the other way round, just by mistake?’ Alrite now...time to stop being prudish...I guess anything beyond a mouthful is quite a waste...
So big women stop looking down on the ‘normal’ ones....nope we didn’t use Clearsil there by mistake and nope we don’t think we are lemons either just because you choose to be a puffed up watermelon (Phew! Some people can be so ‘full’ of themselves!)

I suck at technicalities...I think that’s a general knowledge issue with those who know me well...if you want me to get lost just suggest some technical steps that I should take to freak the life out of me...And for a change I would have the zapped and zipped expression on my face instead of the Smart Aleck one. I don’t know how this blog transpired here...ask me about making it high tech and I just might chose to leave the blogosphere instead! It took me like a 100 years to fathom how to upload a picture here and another 50 to make the picture come in between the texts. (They should have a step-by-step guide for nerds like me!). Tell me to go googling to find reservations for a vacation on the net and I just might (only for two seconds though) think that vacations can be injurious to health.
Now I really want to give bloggie awards to fellow bloggers (sans the paparazzi pictures of course, where I could have smiled coyly handing down a trophy or better still taking one...with my palms on my cheek and OMG-I-can’t-believe-this expression reeking off my pores) ...but, but, but...not my butt...just life’s sucking but...I don’t know how to!

I absolutely detest making calls to find information or get errands done...like calling up the gas agency to tell that the pipe is leaking...the mechanic for the washing machine is not working (wtf...can’t you make machines that run on like forever?)...the BSNL office when my internet decides to die on me. I first try to revive it by saying... ‘Nahhhhin, tum mujhe chodh ke nahi ja sakte...kya meine isse din ke liye tumhe paal poos kar bada kiya tha?’
But when it dies even more on hearing me croon these c-grade dialogues, I make those dreaded calls.

‘Madam, please tell us if the WLAN is blinking?’
‘Sir, I am blinking n blinking but I’d be damned if I know where to find that light!’
‘Okay got to the settings...there would be a button called ‘wtf’ (that’s my understanding of it by the way...the guy is not horny), press it n a page would open...change ‘screw’ tab to ‘god save me here’ and blah blah blah...I am too busy gasping for air by this time to fidget any more with my fingers!
‘Hello, hellooooooooo...madam is there someone educated in the house who can understand what I am saying?’
‘Grrrrr...Damn you...you bloody ‘sadhe hue pakode ke nok ke gilgille badbodaar pyaz ke chilke’...you call MY education skills in question...you know I bloody write a blog!
I don’t say that people...so stop expecting a retaliation here where he may turn around to call me “O madam...you ‘modernity ke naam pe khaak mein mila kaala gudda hua messy daddhu sa dhabbha’
I instead coax and seduce my beloved to follow up with the rest of the procedures....better to get laid in the sack than screwed on the phone!


Okay the post has already run out its length...
So in a quickie wrap up, some more things I hate:
The sound when nails are scratched upon an iron surface...that would almost make me scrunch my face, how you would do with yours when that first piece of shit refuses to get out of your body no matter how hard you push!

I hate it when little babies first act pricey and refuse to come to you in front of an audience of like a hundred people judging you and when they do come obligingly, they chose to piss on you before they leave, just to piss you off more...

I detest having to eat tinda, karela, kaddu and some other god-forbid unpronounceable names of vegetables, every f@#$in day and night for a week...perhaps god’s way for making up for the mess he created after bringing in the ‘forbidden’ apple!

I absolutely grill n grind when a guy I like and am flirting with chooses to ignore me (doesn’t happen too often by the way, just to set the record straight) and worst still actually comes up with corny ‘drop-off’ lines (Is there a term like that...I assumed the opposite of ‘pick-up’ lines would do here!) Some people just don’t have the taste, do they? So just one last word here...Guys, those who like me...raise their hands and those who don’t...raise your standards!

Why on earth are men scared of being called Cute?

Girl...err...hot gurl: “Hey you are so cute!”
Boy’s reaction: “Huh? NAHHHHIIIIIIN” (Don’t look up my friend...the roof has not collapsed on his head...neither has his izzat been loot-oed)...Blasphemy of a different kind at work here. A horrified expression follows on the chocolaty face, as though a 440 volts shock was given. He rolls up his sleeves to show his muscles, runs fingers through his hair to show he’s unkempt and rugged, smiles mischievously to prove he can be wild n notorious...anything to remove the cute tag...for according to latest researches (done by me only....but pssst...at least let me sound grim n meaning business here)...cute isn’t sexy for boys anymore!

They’ll accept it with restrained emotions but they secretly pine to hear that they are delicious, appetizing, scrumptious, luscious, delectable, succulent....alright, I am getting carried away again....Suruchi, it is NOT the time for food yet!

Right, right...the modern guy or for that matter...even those in their third or fourth or fifth decade...for boys would always be just boys...want to be hunks. Six packs ho na ho...they want you to refer to them as only and downright sex symbols...mentally stimulating and physically irresistible. Cute almost means non-bed-able or something close or rather not so close or...whatever!
They want your mind to create a picture of them getting down a Harley Davidson with a shiny black leather jacket, long boots, loads of chains, huge sunshades with a cow boy hat, (never mind if they are wearing a helmet over it), etc.

And as they take off that helmet...they sway their heads from side to side (not like Mandakini with wet hair after she bathed in that waterfall) as though repositioning the scrambled hair and walk in slow motion towards you...kat, kat, kat...the sound of their shoes...going like the beating of an excited heart....and you can imagine some hard rock being played in the background for they would die if they were found to be hearing mushy tones! Hey, should we give this guy some stubble and a toothpick in the mouth too? Acha...I guess you get the picture anyways!

Before I begin (yes, I have not actually begun yet) I have to see the dictionary meaning of this...
Cute: 1. Pretty and attractive
2. Sexually attractive...ahem, ahem!
3. Clever, sometimes in an annoying way because the person is trying to get an advantage for him or herself!
N my computer ji’s thesaurus says: attractive, pretty, delightful, charming, appealing, endearing, adorable and sweet.
Now why can’t you bloody demanding species of men be happy with so many positive sounding adjectives?

Why on earth would cute guys just not accept that they are cute...period? Cute, cute, cute...as I say it in an echo and I can almost feel some guys cringing within and wriggling outside, with their palms cupping their ear lobes as though to prevent a jarring, ear-splitting noise from reaching their inner cores. Like I remember Superman’s powers would be sucked in by that blue liquid thingy in that flick...looks like I’ve got a similar eureka-portion with the label of ‘cute’ to deal with the modern super man! “Mere pass na aana dusht-paapi nahi to mein yeh bottle khol ke chidak donge...” Hehe...looks like the new pack to keep in women’s purse instead of red chilli powder! Imagine Ranjeet coming towards you with letchy eyes and wavering fingers and you tell him you are finding that “cute” ....screeeeeeeeeech...halt dead in tracks... kya yaar...Ranjeet ka saara mood kharab kar diya!



I once called a dear friend of mine cute for he would come up with brilliant laughable comments in every repartee I had with him. But the next moment he turned around, with offended gesticulations and said, “Naah, not cute yaar...puppies and doggies are cute and I haven’t even developed that kind of a tail yet!”

Another one of a kind brilliant duo of my dear blogger friends...Rishi and Amn are staunch comrades of Anti-Cute Boys Campaign. On Facebook I saw these guys indulge in some mad banter and termed them “cute”...Rishi preferred to be discovered as rugged, dirty and not bathed from a while instead and Amn protested that it’s almost an insult for a boy to call him THAT for it implies he’s like a brother....LMAO!! How bloody cute is that now!

Wow...that must make at least a 100 ‘so-called’ siblings for me walking about the planet as we speak, for I normally cling to guys who are cute and often end up reinstating that to them till they are bloody convinced. And sadly the cute variety of guys is the kind that you DON’T want as brothers. Cuteness in brothers is such a waste! They are the ones who can actually make you laugh...with them and not at them! So god ji give this syndrome in abundance to normal boys and men treading about on mother earth with whom there can be a possibility of a different connotation!

Okay lemme see who are the guys among the celebrities whom we could term cute: Hey, Shahrukh is cute...sometimes, when he is not pompous or seething with romance. Shahid Kapoor, Ranbir Kapoor (actually he oscillates between being downright sexy more and adorably cute less) and....errr...mmm...why can’t I bloody think of names now? Why in god’s name are the cute ones...at least those who started as cute...converting to mean machines...Aamir, Saif, Akshay and the likes? Oh hell and the only names that are coming to my mind right now for cute then are Govinda, Arshad Warsi, Sharman Joshi, uffffff never mind. Bollywood anyways sucks when it comes to cuteness quotient.

Let’s go Hollywooding...Leonardo de Caprio (actually he’s turned into a hunk too since the Titanic sank and was gone), Hugh Grant, Jude Law and Mathew Mc conaughey- why couldn’t this latter hot dude have a simpler pronounceable n spell able surname (they arouse the sexy senses more that the cuddly ones), Steve Martin, Billy Crystal, Danny de Vito....ALRIGHT I get it...cute guys are like puppies or at least look like one!

So lemme now end on a like you cute poem for lack of any inferences that I had hoped to reach here:
Cutie cutie why do u shy?
A new tag worth a try...
You talk so fine and look divine...
Don’t make us pine...
Sometimes sexy sometimes cute...
Why whine...when we are ready to boot!

P.S. I googled for pictures of “cute men” to upload here for images...guess what it showed me...Puppies! ;-)

Hello, how are you doing? I am doing it on the Road!

I was walking along on my signature evening walk...talking to bhagwan ji. “Kya dude...earlier you used to give me so many sights and incidents to go home and write about...stalker on my walk, me getting a lift for my walking (yup, you heard it right...I’ve been guilty of “walking” in a car for a few brief seconds), finding couples in bushes...actual healthy green leaves waale bushes here ok...please rest your dirty minds, etc, etc...
But from so many days, nothing writable has been coming about.”
(Wow, my computer didn’t check me on the word ‘writable’...matlab it’s an actual word!)

Anyways, I was in my muse and devout quest for issues to rant on...when in my reverie, I almost bumped into a man. Not like a normal man...not abnormal either...Well, a man who decided to unzip and relieve himself, right at the edge of the road and make the plants sulk big time for this uncalled for shower. Thankfully my steps came to a screeching halt before I could get in ‘touch’ with anything and would later get a chance to say “ewwwwwwwww”. I almost said that anyways...I think even aloud...or at least every ghastly expression on my face did and every pore within me was screeching it...like an echo in the mountains...ewwwww.....ewwww......ewww...
Ok, I’ll stop with these irritating sound effects...I am sure you get the idea and the picture...now please don’t ask me for sizes here!

I moved on...scrunching my nose and eyes big time, clenching my fists and daring not to look back to apologize to the man for almost walking into his personal moment or for courtesy’s sake ask, did I withhold the flow or make him wet? Wtf...His ‘personal’ moment was just a public issue. He should be the one apologizing for subjecting innocent souls to such a horrendous display that might later lead to even more appalling imaginations....ughhhhhh...
I know, I know I am stopping here before you start imagining gross things! Kya aap log bhi...kya kya sochte ho yaar!

So I moved on...I know I said that in the beginning of the previous paragraph...but hello...I am still moving....
A few steps later...another man doing the honours...this time leaving prints on the wall...No wonder the exterior walls in India never need drying after whitewash...they are subjected to the curse of a lifelong drench!

But what yaar???????????????
Is it the cold that is causing a hyper activity of excretion or is the greenery too tempting a proposition to resist? Someone please tell them, this is not what the environmentalists mean when the holler ‘Return back to nature’. Please keep your nature’s call for your abodes that are more used to of seeing your vital parts. Like an actress in a movie objected... “What vital parts? All my parts are vital!” So make better use of that hand and stay covered outdoors...they say you can catch the cold from ALMOST ANY point exposed these days!

I thought I wouldn’t get third time unlucky again that evening...but na na...mein kuch socho n uska ulta na ho...Aisa to mere itihaas mein hua nahi aaj tak!
There again...a kilometre later...another son of some mother...who perhaps forgot to give him toilet manners...was caught red handed in the act. Never mind now if his hand was actually red or not...would you stop asking for graphic and colourful details....Ain’t the post rangeen enough?

Anyways, at first I thought it was a gardener in the bushes...but his hands seemed too far away from his lower body as though holding the nozzle of a pipe...Excuse now my detailed descriptions dear readers but I do have to get this picture out of my mind by sharing it (kehte hain ghum baatne se ghat jaata hain) so that it does not haunt me for the next 24 hours...uske baad I would forget it anyways...and you may spread the good word! Hehe...

Ok where was I? On the nozzle...oops on the issue of the nozzle...but then as I walked closer I realized there was no rubber pipe following it....and the water shower was also a trickle and I almost held my head in despair....
Why me today...again and again...boo hoo!
Meine pechle janam mein kaun se ache waale paap kiye the jo itne mein he mujhe chodh rahe ho aap god ji?

I was wondering if I would be able to use the loo in peace again after today or not! And this obnoxious man...what was he doing with his hands stretched so far out? Is it a show? His proclamation that size does matter...but then to what audience? People like me who care a f@#$ about it?



Guys, phuleeeeeeeeeeze...we know you are blessed...knew it since the days of Adam grandpa and Eve daadi. But don’t go around smugly proving it on every street corner. Worse then, or go about shaking hands with whomsoever you meet...and worst still, me having the habit of shaking EVERYONE’S hand when I meet him...eeeeeeeeeewwwwww...eeeeeeeeekkkkkssssss....holy s@#$ or rather not so holy pee!

Please be a little more discreet...There’s a reason why they are called private parts...a reason why even Salman Khan or Brad Pitt no matter how much they reveal...keep their izzat covered...well mostly!
Please don’t spread out your legs and stand on edges of almost anything with orgasmic pleasure on your faces.
Please don’t let the world know how you do it...knowing that you do it at home...is enough of a small mercy for us!
May we all be in peace! Amen!

My Unfailing Golden Rules for Living-The Secrets for Standing Tall and Smiling and not Fumbling...

It’s a new year and the apt time for new beginnings...
So let me share with you some living mantras that help me go through the hum drums and the stumbling blocks that life throws at us every other day! I often find myself at the giving end of advice...how fruitful or otherwise though, my friends can tell better. But their smiling faces after my ‘gyan’ session makes me a compulsive guru of sorts, always ready to open my ‘gyan ka pitaara’! So what makes me tick? It’s actually not me at all...just a few tricks that just about anyone can connive!

These are no eureka discoveries...we all know of them...but somewhere deep if we merge them in the fabric of our existence, they do help us bear the worst of storms with infinite optimism and boundless courage.

Do not take the credit or blame for whatever you are doing in life...attribute it to God!
(Before going into any sermons of any sorts...let me tell you I am not religious...I spend barely 5 minutes every day with God at an average and at my convenience.) You just have to remind yourself each time: If I gave a brilliant speech that received a standing ovation...it was not my doing or intelligence that got me there...it was God generating the ideas. I don’t have to be vain, for my intelligence or beauty or power can go whoosh within the batting of my eyelids. Then again, if I got stuck at the very crucial presentation and knew that I would be reproached and accused...it would do me good to take deep breaths and tell myself repeatedly that “I” did not falter...it was god’s will and doing.
If I take a decision for my child after deliberating over it for hours and hours and yet it backfires...I just can’t and shouldn’t blame myself for the rest of my life. I did the best that I could...the rest and the outcome is never in my hands. I have to let go of “me” to be at peace with whatever fruit I get of my 100% consistent efforts!

Whatever happens...happens for the good!
We may not see it then...we may not see it EVER...but some forces are at play, in the backdrop or under the surface that are making us stronger or pushing us more fiercely towards attainment of what seems to have eluded us at the last moment. If not that, the belief is helping me bear my loss with less cynicism.
You may question here, what sense does it make in saying that the loss of a loved one is happening for our good? But then again, maybe it’s God’s way of preparing us to be self dependent for greater trials in life. I have failed in a career choice that I wanted with all my heart...but then who knows ten years from now where I think I am being pushed unwillingly...is my true calling?
What good is there in a child been molested...nothing at all...but then...it’s happened and what good is there in venting endless anger over it? The key is acceptance and not struggle. For in accepting there is peace and in anger and grudge, there is conflict and clash. Even little kids know which of the either traits send a negative vibe and from where is bouncing positivity.

What’s the worst that can happen?
Most of the times, we are in a mind churn due to fear. Fear of the past resurfacing or fear of our future getting damaged. We fear because we cling to what we possess...what we think we have earned through merits of our birth (our parents, the armour of a family), our efforts (the degrees, the status, the job, the wealth) and our good luck (beauty, intelligence, a good spouse, fame). We are insecure within for we feel life is what we possess...So we keep adding strings of our attachments which in turn keep adding to our complications and woes. Also what keep accumulating very inconspicuously here are our fears. What if I lose it all someday?

Oh so terrible a thought...I must work harder to earn more and secure my future...I must put more limitations on my children to ensure they are less and less out of my sight and thereby as I assume, more out of harm! I must ensure I look pretty to keep up my market value...I must have children to secure my old age...and I must grind myself and do all that I can to keep these things around me.

Have you just stopped for say five minutes and asked yourself a few questions:
What if I have an accident and my face that I am proud of is gone?
What if I suffer a huge loss at work and all my hard earned money just frittered in the blink of an eye?
What if my children leave me and settle abroad for good?
What if the love of my life betrays or my spouse dies on me?
....Will my life stop after this?
....Will I be on the brink of death?
I would move on...not that I’d have much choice...but then I would manage to gather whatever would be left to start up again. It may not be grand...but it could still be good. That’s the phoenix...that’s in us all...to gather life from the ashes...It’s just that we don’t realize that we possess that potential and hence muster in fears. And what if the worst of worst happens...I die only...so what? There would be another life waiting for me to take the body of it...to be a child again...young...spirited...sheltered...free...

God’s with me!
I don’t need to sit in the temple or visit a holy place to reaffirm or proclaim my faith in God. I don’t need to tell on the rosary each day or close my eyes as though I’ve been transported to a different world when I croon the words of a ‘bhajan’. I will not become a greater follower of God by donating blankets or food to the less fortunate, if I do it with the motive that this would do “me” good.
It would be my way of offering my prayers if I do not hurt anyone as I tread on the path of my living...if I perform my duties...if I remain polite and smiling and spread cheer, where there lacks a smile...my aim is just to be a good human being at the end of the day!
If I do these...I can be sure that God is with me. He knows what I want better than me. He has a plan for me that is more fool proof than my own (obviously for HE is God for just that reason) or than that which has been imposed on me by my well wishers. I know God’s with me...very firmly do I know it and tell myself repeatedly...and nothing bad can happen to me.

So next time if I go for a crucial work...just as I leave home...let me tell Him... “Chalo ji, time to go for both of us... “I” am not going there by myself or by my will...you are taking me...so better be there and handle it all, ok?”
Strangely enough our mind is easy to convince...it would actually believe whatever we ourselves tell it again and again. It’s silly just like us...So it’s just the matter of what we tell it really!



Less is more!
The more we run after ‘more’ of things that buy us joy...the less we get more of things that bring us joy naturally and freely. An expanded business means less time with the family...more dieting and gyming means less heavenly pleasure derived out of chocolates and other delicacies. More money means less satisfaction derived of the joy of saving little by little for a long yearned purchase. Less is more...Don’t run after money and fame...it’s elusive and a never ending marathon...always luring you towards them with the bait of more...yet robbing you without being noticed of contentment. So we continue to be restless thinking of what we do not have, without realizing that at the very moment we are losing little by little what we do have...that is peace of mind!

I have to put myself into the other’s shoe before reacting!
I find my mother-in-law completely unreasonable...how can she talk like this or impose her will...I feel my boss is insane...he can be so humiliating...we all have pressures...he’s not the only one...I feel my father is being silly for not letting me go abroad for higher studies...it’s my life after all...
Why can’t they think like us?
...why can’t WE think like THEM for once?

Let’s put ourselves in their shoes...
If I was a mother-in-law (not like who I am, but like who she is) and I had a girl married to MY boy, who seems to be wanting to let her will prevail...I, who am used to authority all my life and living a regal existence where people bow down to my wishes...if I were such a person who’s seen elders only commanding and not considering...wouldn’t I also be unreasonable?
A sudden wave of revolt, as such, would shake my secure fort that I have built with care all my life...making me more defensive of myself and more offensive of others...

My boss is mean but he has targets to achieve and his job depends on it...he’s seen bosses like how he is now...he does not know how to get work done with politeness rather than with severity...he sees me as a threat and so naturally lashes out at me...

So there...before reacting with an explosion...
I need to realize that there’s the need for rethinking our strategy of dealing with such persons.
Coercion should give way to empathy...and some reminders would give us the motivation to hang in there:
1. If someone’s being bad to me...it’s his loss...it’s the nature of his fabric...it’s his upbringing...it’s his limitations...if I feel it is not my fault...I bloody well tell myself it isn’t. So pity the other and not curse him.
2. I have to keep on being nice...or just do my duties. I don’t want that when my life is about to close...finger should be raised at how I behaved...I may or may not get a chance then to defend myself or prove that I reacted in a certain way because I was provoked.
3. Silence is indeed golden! The more I try to justify, the more I get caught in a web that sinks me deeper in the mess. If I remain quiet I let the possible moment of provocation pass and can react when I and the other person is calmer. I also rob my opponent of giving him twenty statements more to pick them us as an issue to argue all over again at a later point.
4. Realize that some people achieve fulfilment by mocking or taunting others! They feel lighter when they vent out all their frustrations on a soft target, when they cannot explode at the source that deserves it. As such, if we just hear it out and not let it sink in...it does both party good...he’s said it and gone, feeling lighter and I have heard it and passed it out...feeling my job’s done!
5. If I am not getting something...it is for my own good and maybe when I would get it, I might not be able to handle it! Like I said earlier...what happens by my will is good...what happens by God’s will is better. I think I may deserve something but don’t realize that I possess the ability and systems to handle it if given. So till the time is not most conducive...I just have to wait or not think about it and go with the flow...

So Happy New Year friends!
Please keep telling yourself to count your blessings and not your tears! I asked my the helper at my gym today if he had a good new year’s eve...he said, “Haanji ma’m...chicken khaana ko mila...maza aa gaya”. So less is needed to make us happy...don’t broaden horizons of expectations. For every sad moment that may rattle your mind, displace it with happy ones that brought you serenity. Erase bad memories of persons who walked into your life and whenever you remember them, think only of the laughters that they left you with! Try to see good in others no matter what...and when we’ll try hard enough, we would actually see something there!
And lastly please tell yourself repeatedly “I am too blessed to be stressed!”
And may the forces transpire to make it come true!

Screwing up the English Language again!

Being an English teacher has its pros and cons!
We’ll keep the pros for some other day...anyways you guys know of them reading about my Teacher’s Day experiences last month. How much can one speak about the adoration one receives anyways? I think it’s foolish to state the obvious! ;)
So let me concentrate on the cons now...

For one I am always checking spellings....
I think it is a mental disorder and maybe such a disease has not yet been detected (I file for copyright issues hereby, in the written!)
When a wrong spelling appears on my screen on Facebook comments or otherwise....a kind of a chill passes through my spine!
And then I have to physically hold me right palm with my left one to stop it from typing the correction in the reply. Needless to say, like our ‘bade buzurgs’ (mind you...that’s ‘buzurgs’ as in elders and not ‘burgers’ as in what we gulp down thanks to Mcdonald’s bhaiyya every weekend!) have said...ant mein jeet hamesha right ke he hote hain...So there, without much that I can do about it, I spread my pearls of wisdom to the defaulter...much to my annoyance and his smug pleasure!

With the result that I am now officially jibed at as the ‘spelling corrector’!
Sometimes I feel my friends test me in game just to ascertain if my resistance powers have been strengthened or finally cultivated!
And like I do with everything else...I just give in to temptation!

But then some cons are quite hilarious actually that need to be shared with the world...
I happen to know a very sweet lady in her early forties...
She is a darling, a complete socialite and a charmer to say the least...the most polite and magnanimous soul that you could have come across...always ready to lend a helping hand and so ready to ask you to lend her your ears for displaying her gift of gab! But, but, but...and by ‘but’ I don’t mean her ‘rear’ side baba...here I would like to give you a peek into her ‘rare’ side!
Her ability to screw up English language with her literal translations!

Statutory warning: With due respect to all those who are not so fortunate to get education at elite convent schools to be able to ramble off English like a pro...this is just in light hearted humour, which she MIGHT also enjoy...but I have no qualms in admitting that I am a ‘Phato Singh’ and wouldn’t dare to let her read this!

Let’s call her Madam X for reference’s sake!
It’s so much fun as well as a torture to converse with Madam X.
‘Fun’ because in almost every sentence she would attempt to bring in her limited knowledge of English to exhibit how “with it” she is!
And ‘torture’ because you have to press your teeth hard so that the jaw does not open in a full spirited laughter or guffaw at the horrendous errors she contrives....

Scene 1:
Madam X is angry this day because she and her dhobi are at loggerheads over some petty matter, when a poor soul walks in unaware that she would be witnessing a big bugle...
“Oh my god beta ji, you know this man is arguing and arguing and does not give down (she means give in)...I don’t know which mud he is made of (she means yeh aadmi kiss mitti ka bana hain)!

Scene 2:
Madam X is knitting...and the electricity goes off. In a hurried bid to get some light, some of the stitches from her needle slide off....
Poor Madam X...all her efforts of the last half an hour gone down the drain. How does she react?
“Oho bhabhi ji...you know what happened today...I was doing knitting (mind you...not just knitting but doing it also!) And the light went away (not to the market my dear friends...it just went, ok) and my houses were falling in the dark (she meant to say...mere sillaaye ke sab ghar udhar gaye andhere mein...phew!)

Scene 3:
Madam X has fractured her leg and is on bed rest, as well wishers pour in to find out how she is doing. A very tall visitor comes in and she tries to hug and give a peck on the cheek to the poor patient as a consolation...But obviously the restraints of space and heights come in between...
Madam X’s response with an innocent grin: “Beta ji...you would have to come down to make love to me...”
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat! (She meant the girl would have to bend down to be able to embrace her lovingly)
Thank god the visitor was a girl and thank heavens she knew of her habit or else she would have fainted at the idea of a not so acceptable proposal of ‘making love’ to her aunt!

And at another time...she was expressing her well worded concern for me when she made this rejoinder:
“Beta ji, I have a feeling that you are not feeling too well?”
OMG...my feeling being felt by her...I then felt a feeling that the ‘pulse has something black’...daal mein kuch kaala hain....
OMG again...is this thing bloody infectious because I’ve begun to talk like her!



Scene 4:
Madam X’s door has got jammed and try as much with her petite frame to push it open...she fails. So she hollers to the two sturdy young nephews who live on the ground floor to come up and help her open up...the door that is!
They oblige...use their shoulders and then their legs to shove it open, till they finally succeed....
Now in lieu of their services...she had to say something....she would have said something anyways even if they had failed or some other catastrophe may have conspired. So what does she say?
“Beta ji, thank you so much for the kicks...it feels so better now that it is opened!”
Nope...she is not semi pornographic my friend...she is just graphic and brilliantly literal at it!

Scene 5:
Madam X goes to a party looking oh-so-page-3 and wanting oh so desperately to sound like one too...
She looks around like a lioness squinting here eyes incisively for a prospective prey and catches a glimpse of me...so I am the target today, huh?
I hear the prophetic words in the backdrop as though some aakashvaani blaring: “Thou shalt not laugh...though shalt not faint...thou shalt just grin and bear!”

She walks up to me, seeing me in jeans and a top for the first time, since she has generally seen me in the traditional salwaar-suit.
And what does she come out with:
“Beta ji, you are looking nice for a change!”
Oh ya aunty ji...you mean the change is looking nice on me or is this the first bloody day of my existence on this planet when I am looking nice!!!!!!!!!!!!! Of course I didn’t say anything...I just grinned and bore!

She moved on to her next victim- the host!
“Oh my god bhabhi ji...see what your servant has done...so much water spread on the floor....
You know I was supposed to fall down here...and i saved myself from falling!” (mein shaayad yahan gir jaate aur mein girte girte bache!)
She meant she could have fallen down there...but then like the hundred other things that she supposes...she supposed this one too!

The evening concluded with the meal, as the sweet-tempered host came up to Madam X to ask if she’d take another serving of the dessert:
“Na na bhabhi ji...you know my stomach is full uptil here (she makes a line with her palm on her throat). Wow, her stomach had managed to rise up to her throat! Do we need to call the Guiness or something to inform of a new record being made here?
Boo hoo...we all could have cried for our inability to laugh at such a juncture. But then like always, we just took mental orgasmic pleasures in imagining how her hands and edges of fingers would have also been filled with food...poor soul...tch, tch...and by soul here I mean me!

Errors like these abound in everyday encounters. Although my dear friends, I don’t sit in vain pride to mock at them for each one of us is contrived of some folly. But at the end of the day...it never harms to be able to laugh at ourselves and squeeze out moments of humour that are harmless and not really at anyone’s expense. I still uphold that Madam X is a darling and the centre of attraction wherever she goes. She brings smiles on faces...knowingly or unknowingly and all adore her despite waiting every moment for her to falter...thankfully they all would be also just as willing to catch her before she falls!
Three cheers to Madam X! May she continue to screw up English language...we all are screwing it in our own right anyways!

P.S. Just to add to the screwing mode: I asked a little girl in my class to give me the female gender of a ram (a male sheep)...I was expecting her to say ewe (the female sheep)...but pat came the confident reply... “Ma’m Ram’s female would be Sita!”
Another student who insists that the abstract noun of truth would be truthness and badgers me on why make it full by calling it truthfulness? He invents words like repupulsive which means height of being repulsive...
Yet another was learning spellings when the word “jaunty” appeared...
His way of learning it....ma’m when “J” hooks up with “aunty” it becomes “jaunty”...
Phew! Would you still like to hear more?

The Love Letter of a Complete A$@#$%@!

Dear Love,
You have always wanted me to write a love letter to you and so I thought that having travelled so far on the road of togetherness, you deserve one now baby!

Today as I write, I remember the first time we had met!
That bookshop where I first caught you unawares, in that spotless white kurti and chudidaar...the cloth clinging seductively to your curves and just see-through enough to make me visualize the lack of it on your perfect body...Your pink cheeks blushing against the pastel hues of the attire...I remember how your duppatta played flirtingly with your shoulders, as you would place it firmly there but within the next moment, it would bounce down baring a hint of you perfect cleavage...You would shyly pick it up...look around if anyone’s noticed or not...and get back to work on the books...

Your curly black tresses would wantonly spread over your petite back but leaving enough scope to view the milk white skin just before the neck of the kurti took over...A lock would hang beckoningly on your forehead, trapping all men in sight with the urge to come over and run their fingers over your flawless face and put it aside...oh the whiff of it was all grappling! You would pensively bite the edge of your lower lip, touched with a dash of glimmering lipper, as u pondered over in your mind which book to pick up.

I watched it all...with a desire burning within me to pull off that duppatta and to bare those shoulders and be able to snuggle up to your nape! If we could have all we desired, I would have had you right there!

But I had to be cautious....
You didn’t look like the fiercely brazen modern kids...whom I could easily twirl on the tip of my finger...though drowned equally in vulnerability, I could perceive you had a list of do’s and don’ts for lesser mortals like me to qualify, before they could come any closer to feeling that heaving bosom against their own chest! Ah! An aching thought then and even now!

And then what followed is what generally follows when a man meets a woman:
“He’s asking her about her favourite books...listening to her own mush sequences...sharing her perspectives...poking her to give up her guard and defences...he is genuinely smiling....looking at her interestingly...being gentle when she whimpers and defensive when she goes on a guilt trip...he seems perfectly non-physical!

She’s telling him things excitedly...things no one’s ever asked before or bothered to hear...She talks without inhibitions...he compliments lavishly...Was that a pass he made at her? She smiles coyly...the corners of her mouth turn upward in a beautiful giggle instead of going wrinkly in a frown...he takes the clue and gets bolder...She basks in the glory of the triumph of her charm...he in the triumph of yet another trophy....she seems perfectly gullible!

She’s thinking: Finally I get a man who thinks beyond my boobs...
He’s thinking: Finally I get a woman who doesn’t blast me at my passes and this would eventually lead straight to her boobs!”

Yes, so there we were...chatting and laughing...once you innocently, (or was that deliberately) held my hand while you gave into your clear ringing mirth and I felt my blood rushing to my head! You left me wondering baby, how it could be that after being with so many women, I could still feel the adrenalin pumping and my vision groggy when you so much as just touched me! I knew I was driven completely by my libido, but this was a novelty even for me! I sat through your recital of the characters in your big, fat joint family...I heard the irksome details about all the schools you changed...about your aunt who gets “boys” to get you “settled”...And all the while I was looking at those luscious curves of your mouth...feeling how they would feel inside my own...I was thinking of your tongue that was wagging with talks I cared a f@#$ about...I was imagining would it seem as tender when I suck it in with my own...
I was hoping you’d just stop talking and let me enclose that mouth...and let my fingers caress and run all over you before ripping to the core!

But you have been going on and on...and I have been waiting patiently like a hawk, to strike when the iron is hot...bearing my own heat with a smile to conceal my intentions and deceive that all I want is to take you to the sack!

I know you are reading this now and I can sense the lines on your forehead forming sexy cresses of distaste and horror...I know you must have already once flung the paper in an outburst at my revelations of how sexually you turned me on (you still do baby...oh how you still do!) and then picked up the paper again to look for a hint of love! My dear child...what a fool you all are! There’s no such thing as love...it is just an excuse to take unsuspecting souls like you to the first level of the game of lust!
I am writing all this to warn you baby because somewhere I did get touched by your innocence...Or maybe somewhere the man in me feels...if I couldn’t have you, no one else should either! What a waste of all that oomph crammed in your perfect mould...the oozing sensuality that needs expert hands to guide it to the peak! I feel sorry that I couldn’t do you the favour...not that I didn’t try...

It’s been a month now I suppose...I suck at dates...I pretty much “suck” at everything...provided I get an opportunity to it! And it has been a torture to be with you...to have you inches away from me but not being able to feel your breath over my own hungry lips. To see you raise your arms in a joy of abandon, as your torso swings along too and the uprising of your perfect breasts, bring back the almost physical pain deep down within me. I stand behind and watch you bend to pick up things I deliberately scatter on the floor of my pad...it’s a sight to pine in when your curvaceous rear sticks out at me, mockingly for it is beyond my reach...you gave me pleasure even in excruciating pain! I get a glimpse of your flat smooth belly with a mind blasting navel, when your skirt pulls just a wee bit down and the top goes abounding up to the ends of you fullness...and I close my eyes and yearn. You know now why I often made you get up on the stool and pick out the books from the topmost shelves of my little library!

But you have remained elusive and I can’t bear this any longer....
Also another pretty young thing has crossed my way...
She’s armed with the artillery that could make any force go to war or cease fire! I run a finger down her curves and she is ready to crumble into my arms like molten butter at the cue...
She is gentle and succumbing and could turn wild and thumping!
So baby, I give up on you...I can no longer put up the facade of love, being driven hitherto by the thought of rewards of it!

I no longer can bear the idea of you wriggling and taking steps back when I so much as touch the ends of your protruding lips with my finger. I want you from the bottom of my heart and everywhere else...but not forcefully....Oh come on...I am not a brute...wild alrite, but then can’t crush your blooming petals within my eager fingers without your consent, really!

So there my love...

Good bye and god bless...
I hope you now have a fair idea of “man”kind and would be sensible enough to not do or rather do the same mistakes with other knights that traverse your path....
As for me...just remember I am always there, in case the nights get too lonely or you need some connoisseur direction over unchartered territory....After all what are friends for...
Hahaha...I know its evil...but how I am enjoying this!

Lustingly yours
:)

Can you be in Love with more than One Person at a time?

If asked this question in 1987....
(When I was precisely 10 years in age)
My response: Huh? Love...what’s that? Of course I love my mum, pa, grandpa, bro...And the list would have gone on...tch, tch...the Mother Teresa view of love!

If asked in 1995...
(I am all of 18 now...a coy bud waiting to bloom...legally an adult and already having carved my mush sequence in the dream realm)
Me: Hmmm...Love...wow...what happens to the hero n heroine in the movies n they dance around the trees, right? My friends are doing it as a daily ritual....Let me fall soon and tell....

Ask me this in 2000...
(More grown up now...relatively...n stupid cupid has finally stricken)
Me again: Love only happens once...and no way can you love another person when you are hopelessly in love with some ONE...What a sinful bigamous thought! Ram! Ram!

And now...I am all of 32...
Older (I don’t like that word so much...let’s make it more mature, shall we?), wiser, more practical and also kinda been-there-done-that....

The glasses with which love was perceived seem to have changed or maybe the number has increased coz the earlier vision is getting hazier or rather broader!

No more is love about running around trees...holding hands and walking in the moonlight...love is not about fancy gifts or chocolates or roses (ok...it partly still is)
Like a dear friend used to remark...love is not a bloody Yash-Raj flick!
Love is not falling for the cutest girl around or the dude who’s pumped it all into his muscles...love hungers for a beautiful mind!
It is less visible now and more inherent!
I just don’t feel love now...I try to understand it!

Love is less fanatic, less conquering and more settled...less hitting like a bullet and more gradually scattering into the system even without professing...
Love is not staying together constantly; it’s about being connected even outside each other’s radar...
Love is not just a frenzied adrenalin rush (ok again...sometimes it still is)...it is more about the gentle, milder mingling of like minds and bodies may or may not follow....

I know I am still sounding dreamy about it all, right?
But then there is a sense of reality even in the dream here...
Fact to fiction...
Existence to fantasy...

Gawsh I am not making much sense here...
Let me start from where I began...the title...
Can you be in love with more than one person at a time?



Although when I began to understand the term love...I would have flatly and austerely said “no”...being in rank with the moral police who seem to have pre-decided bloody every move and attitude on this planet!
Now...when I am faced with it in ‘real’ life and relate to it...I may say here...why not?

A dear friend of mine had asked me this question and my delay had made me realize the implications of love....
Love is not Heer-Ranjha or Laila-Majnu or Romeo-Juliet...
Love is far beyond what the love stories in books and cinema disseminate....

There’s no ‘someone somewhere’ who’s made for you...
There’s no knight in shining armour who would gallop upon his horse and pick you with an outstretched hand and then trot away to live happily ever after...or a fairy like vision walking down the steps of heaven towards you...
Love is not giving your tan, man n dhan to one and expecting the same from him or her...for life!

Then what is love?
Why think love is only when your body and mind signal that you can’t live without a person?
Hellooooooooo...no one is anyways indispensible...
Even those in the zaniest of love clutches have managed to survive the pangs of separation...

Besides, why do we always have sexual connotation with love?
Who’s to say that if I am sexually attracted to a person is it love or until then it is not love at all?
So if I am very fond of a friend outside the realms of my commitment...I may or may not be physically drawn to him...how can I be so bloody certain that it is or is not love when I feel concerned for him or eager to hear his voice every day?

There are no alarms ringing anywhere that help you decide that you have officially fallen in love!
There would be no palpitation of heartbeats once you get in the comfort zone...heck no mush dreams either...
Then, then, then....

Love is ever changing...
In today’s world more than ever....love happens when two minds click...
And there’s no mandate on clicking just once or copyright issued when once the clicking’s been done...

My dear friend says...you can love one girl for her beauty...another one for her suave manners...a third someone with a sparkling wit may strike you...while a go-getter ambitious hottie may turn you on beyond control...You can’t manipulate your feelings...then why deny them even to or just yourself?
How do you know your deep admiration for a girl who’s devoted to community service and tags you along every time on her marathon is not so deep rooted to term it as affection...since you can’t refuse to go with her even when you really don’t want to?

How would you categorize these feelings?
Which one would you say is love and if that is not...then how’s that different from which you feel for that special someone...throwing aside all the soul mate crap that we’ve been duped to believe in!

In today’s scenario...it’s natural to have loads of friends of the opposite sex...
You love spending time with each one of them...they are all strong forces of attraction...yet not strong enough it seems to compel you from not straying from the orbit....You remain open to the idea of having more friends...and yet take out time for the previous ones!
You can’t become an island...you would meet personalities that repel or interest you...minds that may captivate you because they think similar or completely different!
And yet neither can you feel for them all!
Some associations get that twinge of speciality more than the others...It’s time that we opened our minds to acceptance!

Alrite then...another important aspect here that needs mentioning....
Being in love with more than a person at a time...
Does that mean we can do justice to each relation? Can we possibly be more or less in love with one than the other?
We can...
We do...
We love our parents don’t we?
Do we love our mother more than our father or less than our spouse and that too in all the situations and at all times?
How much easier it would have been if we had a love gauging machine!
But since there is none...we are answerable only to ourselves...thankfully!

Commitment level can certainly not be ascertained on the yard sticks of how many people there are with whom you are sharing your feelings!
You may be loving all souls around you with the spark that makes them wait for your sunshine and also be loving just one who feels that you are not giving enough!
All a matter of relativity then!

More questions for you here my dear friend...
If you say ‘I love you’ to your girlfriend (I am assuming you are a gal reader or else kindly apply it suitably to your gender) you are deemed to be teeming with love and such a nice soul...
But you would be socially constrained to say the same to a guy friend or run the risk to be termed slutty or with slippery virtues.
Who the bloody f@#$ has demarcated these lines?
And why the bloody f@#$ do we follow them blindly?

I don’t know if I have managed to state something worthwhile here or raised moral questions against my own sensibilities...
Just want to conclude...
Love is fun...So enjoy it however you can...for nothing calms our wandering souls more than the gentle sweeps of love!
Love is not serious...let’s not take it too seriously!
Have a LOVEly life, my friends!

P.S. A friend recently commented...The phrase ‘I love you’ is overused and overrated...maybe ‘you’ll do’ is better!
;)Just a thought!

The Quest for Prince Charming-The Frogs that I Kissed-Part 2

Alrity...for all those who were born here late...I am not enumerating my fetish for four legged croaky creatures...
I am just naturally assuming the character of a self proclaimed princess who went through the process of self display and mind churning encounters before she could land upon her prince charming...well, not literally ‘land-land’ for then my poor beloved would have been crushed before he could have had a chance to bloom...

In Part 1 of this hopefully two-part trial...I explained how the pear lump rejected me...
Lemme tell here now about a Delhi ke munda for whom I travelled again 440 kilometres in the hope of meeting my Raj, Rahul or Prem (you have to understand that Dilwaale Dulhaniya Le Jaayenge had just released then...and all maidens worth their virginity...oops mettle...were dreaming of bumping into their Raj’s in some khet with a mandolin in hand...even a dumroo would have done...as long as he stretched his arms and did “aaaye...senorita” style! And they would run to him in slow motion with hair going left and right, up and down and a starched stark white duppatta lehrao-ing in the wind...running n running...till....they don’t run into his open arms but get a pat on their heads with a thick book, delivered just in time by their moms to remind them to straighten the upside down notebook and study). Gawsh...pardon me my dear readers for this digression....

Where the f@#$ were we or rather was I?
Acha...the Dilli ka munda...
So the mediators were the same...Le Meridian was declared inauspicious and a humbler abode...in this case a coffee house in Connaught Place was selected as the meeting point.
Same my father, same my mother, same brother n same little miss me...
The same salwaar suit...coz it had been barely a fortnight and such repetitions seemed reasonable!
I was so tempted to voice my opinion...Can’t we see them all in one go, in a day and get over with this? And by now you know that the world’s been saved big time because I’ve chosen to shut my gap at the strategically right moments. So needless to say...I decided to shut the f@#$ up and oblige!

Plus then I was getting a chance to come to Delhi and a whole lot of fuss was being created around me...which not surprisingly I always enjoy to the core!
But this time mediator aunty ji decided to intervene...
“Pinky bhabhi ji (that’s my mom...I know PINKY?????????? But that’s how or rather who she has been and that’s how my brother and I have lived with it....thank god they didn’t call me Rosy...despite the obvious similarities)
So.... “Pinky bhabhi ji...this suit...please don’t mind...but it’s screaming so UP!” (that’s not UP-market mind you...or raised Upper expectations....UP here stand for apna Uttar Pradesh...I could sense how she was aching to say it was “Kanpuriya” implying simple (phuleassssssss not Kanpuriya implying flashy). But then she must have thought that a state reference may be less or rather more affronting than a city one)
Oho somebody please stop me from bloody digressing!

Phew! Focus Suruchi, focus!
Anyways... “So bhabhi ji...I was thinking that since the last munda thought this was very simple...let’s go shopping for some new clothes”. “Oh ya aunty ji”, that’s me, by the way “What do you have in mind...a sexy halter top to match a-flirting-with-the-knees skirt?”
“Na na beta ji...it must be conservative still...but maybe a little more stylish salwaar suit...these metro boys, you know!”

So there....after that began a new torture as I might have tried around 50 salwaar suits to find the right one...as bad as kissing the frogs I’d say....coz when we came out of the stores we had purchased just two of them. So much for the bloody ratio 2:50...damn such statistics. Actually most of them didn’t have my size...thanks to my hereditary big butt where they’d usually get stuck...and then there were other classifications of rejections based on colour, creed n kind...whoever said racial discrimination does not exist...must empathize with the poor breeds of clothes that are mercilessly discarded just because a stupid tailor put orange buttons on a shocking pink outfit or decided to get spade n diamond shaped cuts on the edges of a suit.
Hey bhagwaan...why did you make the side tracks so bloody tempting for my vulnerable resistances?

So cut to the scene....
This Delhi munda comes with his mother and father...he has a sister too, married away somewhere in the country, not exposed to us yet till the discussions n deliberations reach the next level. Yup...SAARC summits beware...this was more controversial, confidential n crucial than all your damned meets put together!

The munda was again not very tall...wore spectacles and had a moustache adorning his almond shaped head. Mind you I said adorning as in actually a decorative piece...not in the least must you confuse it with another adjective “adorable”. Did I just feel that his hands were trembling or was he just fidgety or worse still an early Alzheimer’s case? He was bloody nervous alrite!

My modus operandi this time around had been altered keeping in mind the previous disaster!
“Beta ji...please don’t be quiet this time...speak something...we don’t want the munda to feel you are dumb...alright?” Show him that you are not a simple small towner...okkkkkkkk?”

And when someone tells me to show something....I often go all the way...Please don’t get ideas...what I mean is I go all the way to deliver what is demanded.

So again we-the proposed ‘couple in question’ were told to go and take a walk...
By now I was more relaxed in my skin...being one boy-seeing- ceremony down...but I think that was the virgin attempt of the poor boy, this time around. And this time around, as was decided, I yakked my guts outs...I had to show him Kanpur gals can be hip n happening too...I spoke n he fidgeted...I blabbered and he became more nervous...I used my hands and expressions till he almost became expressionless....
And after the rest of the nitty gritties...
What are my hobbies...what do I like to do...how much and what I have studied...part 2 ordeal also got over! Phew!
Result time: 2 hours later
Verdict: F again...not the f@#$ yaar...big Fail...
Reason: “The gal is too bold for our seedha saadha munda”
Ji, ji...NOW is the F-time beta....WHAT THE BLOODY F@#$!

Needless to say my counsellors sucked!
And when a kingdom has courtiers like that...you can be sure of its doom...I had almost resigned to the fact that probably I would die a frustrated spinster if I followed my so-called well wishers.
But a drowning (wo)man catches at every straw....
I continued to kiss the frogs and feel my mouth turn bitter with every kiss and tell episode...thankfully most continued to be rejected at the sorting table only!

The third munda came along from Pune...
Tall, handsome, some odd 8-10 years older to me...and a Casanova in his hay days...knew it as we knew him through family friends...
This time I thought to take matters in my hands...
And just coz I was rejected two times for no fault of mine...I rejected the poor fellow for no fault of his! Come on...I was 19 then...and entitled to show little traces of dumbness that have blown up with age in my case! Actually I getting to voice my opinion here was anyways a sham as the family had already decided upon disregarding the proposal due to too wide an age gap!
Confession time: His suave manners made me a bit insecure...he was perhaps too good for me...so I backed out! Sigh! Sigh!

Then I remember another cute hottie I was being fixed up with, belonging to my own town...This guy came with almost his whole pind to my school where I was teaching (after passing out from there just a year before) and broke all laws of subtlety...as the news spread like wild fire that someone’s come to “dekho” Suruchi ma’m! He was having a smouldering affair at that time which the whole town knew of, except of course my beloved parents. Besides I knew he’d prove to be too much of a dish to be handled after marriage so that he’s not man handled by the fairer sex in the long run. So though there was a lot of hungama around this one...and everyone thought is baar to sangam hoga he...I kept mum and waited for the next grand rejection. Why rub your fingers in mud when someone else was eager to do the dirty job for you? And so the rejection came and went! We all lived happily ever after for a while!

Finally the fifth time proved lucky as my prince charming managed to find me and released me from this frog kissing spree before it would have become addictive and I might have decided to continue it for a couple of years! More on the drama there for some other time!
Enough for now...all’s well that ends well!
And in my case...by god’s grace...the ends have justified the means...no gains without pains!
And what an awesome gain it has been!
Sorry frogs...another time in another life!