Love at first sight ? Really !

It was never a love at first sight; it could never have been so. I have known her from the 1st day I stepped in my school in lower kinder gardens. We literally grew together along with 20 other class mates of mine. Though her presence was imminent all through the primary and secondary school, I took cognizance of her only today. I thought of all this lying on bed and staring at the defunct fan which rotated with least possible momentum. The analgesic had done its job, and the beads of sweat made sure my fever had diminished. Though I felt better, I did not want to get up from the bed. It was liked a slow motion dream sequence and I wanted to feel all of it. I closed my eyes again, to recollect the timeline of events which transpired a few hours ago. As I sub-dued myself in the memories, a mild smile sprang on my face, and guess what, That said it all.
If you were born in mid-80s and brought up in middle class family in a sub urban town, you were bound to be bitten by the bug of pursuing either engineering or medical as you future career. I too joined the band wagon not knowing what actually I intended to do if I become one. Studies and career path were fed with daily course of meal at my home and mild deviation from the ideality (read scoring low in exams) often led to severe melodramatic sequences which not only bored me but also baffled to a certain extent.
Upon reaching my early teens, when a male specie in charged up with sudden secretion of testosterone, I instead found my solace in books and studies. I belonged to rather sexually balanced class, which boasted of a higher female population. I often felt that by stacking more girls in my class, my principle wanted to address the gender imbalance of the country. There was not a single day in school when I did not share my desk with a female. Contrary to other co-ed institutions, my school encouraged a healthy interaction among different genders of society right from primary classes and I think that’s what a co-ed institute is supposed to do. But all these never made me any closer to women, I liked them as friends but never thought beyond that. Even the life sciences classes in secondary school failed to drive my attention until the very fateful day.
It was business as usual at school with morning assembly and a flurry of classes thereafter. Contrary to other days, I was drowsy and my plan to study late the previous night started taking its toll on me. Things took an ugly turn as we entered into the 3rd class of the day. I could feel my body temperature rising up and a sudden bout of fever overtaking me. I am a male and that too a rigid, and egoist one, so asking for help at this juncture was not in my plans. The fever soared with every passing minute and I could feel my body shiver to maintain its heat. I ducked myself to hide my desperation from others and that is when she, the lady sharing my desk noticed. “Are you alright ?” she whispered trying hard not to garner the teacher’s attention. “hmm, yeah” I replied. I thought I answered in affirmative, but she held my hand the next second trying to feel my pulse. A chill ran down my spice as she touched me. Startled I looked at her. Though I was the one who was in a peril, I could sense tension writ large on her face. The curls on her forehead made it very clear that not all was fine with my pulse. I knew it the moment she touched me. “You aren’t alright. You have a high fever, why did you lie to ME”, she snapped back at me. Women ask you some real tough questions though they very well know the answers. Not sure of what to answer I kept looking at her. It was for the first time that I noticed her kohl lined eyes, stands of hair touching her face and glossy lips. Is this the fever or something’s abnormal?, I thought. My “lost-in-love” looks did puzzle her and further worried her. Without wasting a minute, she stood up and informed the teacher about my condition. The teacher on noticing the same asked her to company me to the Sick room. She held my hand as I stood up and kept hold of it till we reached the sick room.
I was immediately administered an analgesic and was made to lie down on a vacant bed. The drug made its effect and I started to fall asleep. I tried hard to keep my eyes open and see her for the one last time.

The loveliest Stranger !!

As the train breezed through the rural indian setting, the usual city feel seemed to diminish. I gazed through the tinted window of my AC 3 tier compartment, and all I could see in mirror was me gazing though the window. Apart from my symmetrical image, I could see someone who sat at the side lower berth, hardly a meter away from where I sat. I could’nt help but stare at the starking similarity the lady possessed with someone I have known for in past. It seemed as if time has unbound itself, and I thought time was undoing what it had done. As the “Ankahee” song blared though my earphones, and in an attempt to kill the next few hours, I tried to recollect my 1st meeting with the “loveliest stranger” I had ever known.

It was more than 2 years that I have had a “more than decent” paying job and it was my usual planned trip to home. Unlike a few years back, I could afford the luxury of traveling in AC compartments now. Though all my journeys are over-hyped with most of my colleagues knowing about my travel plans, the anticipation goes for the toss in the actual travel. A train travel in India(even in AC coaches) mean a severe melodramatic experience. You get to face elder-lies/aged people who have an opinion in whatever crap happens in, around the journey, you get to hear family sagas, wailing children and free advices. What you get to see in movies/tele-serials, but that never happens in reality, is a good company(of-course I mean beautiful too). I often spoke in lighter vein that only Shahrukh Khan gets to meet beautiful women in train travel. My past experiences have taught me that train travels in India are mostly travails, and a travesty of what you anticipate or expect of.

I was in for a surprise that day. Perhaps it was the 1st instance, that I was just in time for boarding the train. It has never ever happened in past that I had boarded the train without scanning the Chart pasted next to the front door, looking mostly for F18 to F25s. As I settled in on my side upper berth, a voice startled me from my rear. I hated and still hate the side upper berth, they are short as compared to normal berths, doesn’t have a window or a charging point and worse puts you in lone corner with no one to talk to or look at. “Excuse me Black t-shirt, That’s my seat and I have a hell lot of luggage to keep in there”, the voice said from my rear. “Damn it.” I murmured. Another aunty cribbing for luggage space and who was it that called me Black t-shirt. It was not black, it was a dark grey. I was more offended with someone calling me by names than anything else. As I looked back, a young lady in her early 20s was trying hard to pull her gigantic trolley bag. What could be in there, I thought. “Wow” I said to myself and got on to side to let her get in the compartment. I was still in appreciation of her kohl lined eyes, glossy lips and her neatly tied hair when she snapped at me yet again. “Could you pull you bag out from here mister?”. One of the few instances when somebody called me a “Mister”. I completed her by saying “Uhmm…Its Mister Gaurav. In case you wanted to know!”. All I got was frowning smirk on her face which clearly and bluntly said “I am no interested”.

I quickly obliged her. I sat down closeby and watched from my corner of my eyes as she tried hard to fit in the trolley below the side lower berth. I could have helped her lest she asked for it. I never wanted to look desperate. She kicked her bag after another few attempts proved futile and looked at me in utter despair. “It doesn’t fit in” she said. Had it been a guy I would not have bothered to continue the conversation any further or worse would have replied “so, what should I do”. I smiled at her and offered a quick solution. “Why don’t you put your luggage on my seat, anyways the compartment is not much occupied, so I can sleep elsewhere”. Oh my God, this was the fastest I ever came with a plan, and I sounded like Buddha, forgive and sacrifice were what I was willing to do for the lady in despair. It was month after the incident, that I realised that she never thanked me for my masterplan. “Okay” was all that she said and lifted her luggage to place it on the upper berth.
“Damn, what did I get?” I thought, with my seat occupied by the “Lady is need’s extra heavy baggage” and I got to look for a seat to sleep on. I laid awake until midnight rolling over from one side to other cursing me for my benevolence I showed earlier. I was still trying to pursue myself justifying what I did earlier, having said that, I also felt disgust for the arrogant behaviour of the lady in question. Its funny how a perception of seeing or judging a person changes its sides in matter of few hours.


I was woken up very early in the morning by the TTE(train ticket examiner). His 1st question :”Do you have a reservation”. I was groggy, half asleep and this question made me go nuts. “Do I look like someone who would travel in AC without a reservation”. He was prompt to reply “Yes, youngsters like you try to do this all the time”. I explained him the situation earlier and he advised me to go to my berth as the occupant of that seat would be there shortly. “Who takes train so early in the morning?” I thought as I carried my affairs(read glasses, my phone and bottled water) to my original seat. I walked along the aisle as people snored and slept merrily. I swore to myself to throw that woman’s luggage off my seat and have a good nap. I didn’t want to look creepy when I reach my home. Now, the AC compartments have something which non AC coaches do not have, curtains. Apparently, they are meant to give its occupants privacy and keep others at bay. Am sure they never fulfil this purpose, but instead hide the seat numbers from someone looking for it. It would be a huge embarrassment if I would have pulled a curtain and found a different lady over there. More trouble if she thought I was a pervert and called out for help. I quickly made my calculations and figured where my seat was supposed to be. I took a deep breath, prepared myself to be straight onto matter and ask her to pull off her luggage and keep it elsewhere.

As I pulled the curtain, I saw her clung on to the sheets neatly with only her face popping out of it.”Wow, is she the snowhite I had read about in textbooks in Lower kinder gardens” . She was deep asleep and I guess even me checking her out went ignored. I didn’t knew how to wake her up. I felt stranded. Couldn’t wake her up, couldn’t sleep either. After hovering around the coach for 10 minutes, I lost my sleep, felt as if I had morning jog, and headed straight to the pantry coach to have my breakfast. I have always believed and felt that hunger is the cause of most distress in the world and a good food can resolve any problem, be it corruption or match fixing (depends entirely on the type of food one’s looking for). A sumptuous morning meal made me feel better, and I strolled back to my seat. “Oh, my God! Looks like she’s awake”, I said to myself on seeing the pulled apart curtains. Sun shone brightly off the tinted window panes and I saw her as she looked out in the east.

“Can I sit here. The place I slept is occupied now”, is how I literally pleaded to her interrupting her silent interaction with sun, just to sit on my legitimate seat. “Oh! Sure. Make yourself comfortable”. Comfortable? , did she ask me to make myself comfortable. I would be more comfortable lying down which would have certainly made her uncomfortable. I pulled up my legs and squatted looking out, though obviously gazing at her from the corner of my eyes. That’s the advantage of being myopic and wearing glasses. It’s difficult to make out where you exactly looking at. A women looks the most beautiful when she’s just out of the bed. The sun rays falling at her face, made her a photographer’s delight. Trying hard not to stare hard at her any further, I pulled out Ayn Rand’s “The Fountainhead” from my backpack. This is the book I carried in every train travel of mine, with a intention of finishing in a single read, but 2 years and umpteen journeys later, I still lagged somewhere in 300 –some pages. It was like Ekta Kapoor’s extra long tele soap. I had no idea what I had read 7 months back, but continued further just for the sake of finishing it. I tried hard to concentrate in the book, red a single paragraph thrice, but the words didn’t make any sense. I was about to close the book, when she initiated our first informal talk “Hows the book, looks quite intense”. That was one interesting question, to a person who was trying to figure out the same. College has been a stepping stone when it comes to getting in some real animated conversation, even if am not drunk. I always had an opinion, no matter I didn’t knew a thing about it. In the current case, I had read more than 300 pages which I might have forgotten, but they remained itched somewhere in my memory lanes. “Well, it a story of an intransigent young architect, his violent battle again conventional standards, and his explosive love affair with a beautiful women” , I said in a single go. This was the best I had ever spoken about anything and this came from a person who was critical of any living or non-living thing in the universe. “Hows the author, do you likes its style of writing?”, she probed further with a crafted smile on her face. “Amazing one” I said.” He wrote Atlas shrugged too, one of the best sellers of all times, you got to read it” I replied with extreme confidence. “Well, its not he, but she. Ayan rand is a lady”, she said and gave me one of the biggest shock of life. I laughed at my goof up and realized that this was the second time, I was fooled by these authors with western names. Way back in college, Sidney Sheldon who always had female protagonists, turned out to be a dude, and now this Ayan who write about a male turns to be a lady. What’s wrong with these people, I thought.
Taken aback with the disclosure of Ayan Rand’s gender, I preferred to cut my rant and silently drowned myself in the book back again. “Damn! You Fountain head. I swear I will not read anything other than Chetan Bhagat in train again”. “Its ok, even I thought she was a man until I read the Atlas shrugged”, she continued further. That was sweet welcoming gesture. I closed my book and said “So, what all do you apart from carrying heavy luggage and reading Ayan Rand’s classics”. She giggled and said “Yeah it is, but I always don’t have such heavy baggage’s”. I shot back saying “Don’t you have the bag stashed with cash and aren’t you a fugitive”, I tried being funny, but on seeing her reaction, I completed it “I am just kidding”. The literature’s best even invention, the word “Kidding”. You can literally escape of any dramatic, diplomatic and extreme situations, by telling you were just kidding. “I am a copyright intern at a law firm in Jubilee Hills. I just finished by masters and traveling back to my home with bags loaded with books” she said and smiled at me with a pride on her face. What the heck did a copyright intern did, but whatever it was it surely did damn pay well, i thought looking at her iphone, and Gucci bag near her. I nodded my head with no intention of telling what I did, as it was no way as smart as hers. However, she wanted me to blurt that out, though it was obvious just by looking at me. “Yeah, am an IT engineer, I work in Hitech city”, I mutely uttered looking down. I remember how my friends and relatives had asked me to do my masters after my graduation. I could figure out them laughing out loud pointing their fingers at me. She didn’t stop there, and said “What exactly you guys do on those computers, I never could figure that out”. Did I ask her what a copyright intern did. Damn! This woman’ curiosity!! Though I didn’t explain her with a keen interest, she tried following me whatever I spoke about code development and programming. “Wow, that sounds so very cool. You guys certainly are a productive bunch”. I felt as if somebody patted my back for my wonderful narration and I replied back with glint in my eyes “Isn’t it!. That is what we love about my job”. We laughed at it and for the next 4 hours we talked about almost everything, books, movies, actors, Indian railways, food servers in trains, IRCTC tatkal bookings, my and her friends, our college life, love life, future life and many more. What I still didn’t knew about her was her name, though she did tell me her mom called her “Nikky”, which I figured out was not her real name. She looked out for the 1st time in middle of our conversation and moved out of her seat. “Did you get so bored of talking to me that you are getting down”, I said. “No, nooo” she said. “I think my station is coming. I need to call my dad and freshen up before I get down. “Oh!” I said and there was sudden lull on my face as she left to “freshen” herself. She left her phone on the seat, and I had an unrelenting desire of looking though her phone. But the good vibes she left at me with her amazing talks, stopped me from pursuing my desires. The train slowed as the station closed in. She came just in time and I helped her with her luggage. I stood still as she started leaving. “I am Sneha. Look for Sneha Mittal on facebook and send me a friendship request. It was real good talking to you”. She said and shook hands with me for the 1st and last time. I stood like a jerk looking at her, without saying a word. I sat down preferring not to go out and confront her dad. I looked out of the tinted panes gazing her for probably the last time. Though I had hopes of finding her on facebook , but virtual friends never get real and I knew that for sure. As the train chugged, she looked at the window and batted her eye lids, bidding adieu. I sat there silently remembering the last 4-5 hrs I spent with her.

I don’t know if she lied or if I heard her name incorrectly, but I still search for her name every time I login to Facebook, yet hoping to find her. I certainly did not fall in love with her, but the time I spent with her, her talks, views made me fall in love with myself. She made me feel good and it was sheer selfishness of mine that I craved and still crave to find her.

The one with Big eyes !!

Slash and there went a abrasive cut on my chin, courtesy my new 7 o’ clock razor blade. I rushed to put in some after shave lotion. The simmering effect caused by the excruciating pain made me sit down for a minute and wonder why I went on to shave in the first place, that too on a Friday for a night shift. I didn’t scramble hard for an answer as her smiling face made an appearance in my thoughts. In line with our many recent rendezvous , I saw her yet again yesterday while I made my way to my office floor. My heart skipped a moment as I saw her smiling at me. Before I would have sent a smile as a reply to her, I noticed a phone concealed within her strands of hair, and I just escaped making a fool of myself. Though I moved on to my desk, her smile remained inscribed within my memoirs. Later in night, when I described the incident to a colleague of mine, and as I made an effort to make her realize who the girl was, she exclaimed “Oh, the one with big eyes”. And yeah, offlate (couple of weeks), the girl with “big eyes” has been my centre of infatuation.
It all started a few months back, when I looked around the cafeteria. I have a weird habit of looking all around any place which I frequent to, for the reasons best known to my eyes. NO, I don’t always look for pretty young faces, they just happen to come in my line of sight, as I look around. My workplace has a insanely worse sex ratio, and of the sparse female population we do have, half of them are either old enough and the rest are married/not interested types. As I looked around, I looked at this pretty young thing again. She looked unbelievingly young, dressed to kill and had kohl lined, big eyes. Though I didn’t intend to, but I couldn’t help looking at her multiple times. As she was speaking to a colleague of hers and eating at the same time, a few strands of hers caressed her face, which she tried putting back to place with her other hand. I kept watching as she repeated the act many times. The entire incident seemed like a déjà vu moment, picked directly from a cheap Bollywood gimmick, but I was loving it. Wow, I thought as she left the cafeteria with my eyes following her till the exit. Far from being etched, I forgot about the incident the moment I reached my work station.
I saw her again the very next day. I checked my watch to see the time. No it wasn’t the same time when I saw her yesterday, but a sheer co-incidence. My being over optimistic made me believe that maybe I was destined to see her again. Though she faced her back to where I sat, I looked at her lamely. Suddenly she turned back and there was a momentary exchange of glances. Before it could have gone any further, I looked at my colleague and indulged my self in an animatic conversation, which am thankfully good at. I looked again at her from the corner of my eyes and damn, she looked back again.I wondered if I was loud or obscene with the way I looked. Moments later, I got up and went out. “Damn”, I thought. “I was being such a cow”, I said to myself as I run up the stairs to my floor.
Our cosmic connections made me see her again, not in cafeteria, but in the conf. room right next to my cubicle. Though, I was on call with headphones on, I looked right to find her in the conf. room with her team mates. I smiled as somehow, of the 1000 odd employees, we get to be in a common arena at the sametime, and that too in 3 consecutive days. I really wanted to calculate the probability of such a thing happening which by any measures would have been extremely low. While I was still thanking the scheme of things, the presentation displayed in the adjacent conf. room showed the names of people in her team. There were 3 female names, A,P and R(Sorry, can’t take names in my personal blog). I knew she wasn’t a R, she didn’t look like a A either. My gut feeling said she was P. The uniqueness of the advent of this new age technology knows no bound and I explored one of these, when I typed in the name in facebook, filtered it my location and bingo, there she was. She was indeed a P. My believe in destiny and something transpiring among us strengthened.
And this bring me to the present day, when I took to stairs for the next 6 floors, in a small attempt to attain my long lost fitness. As I crawled past the 2nd floor, and gasped for a breath, I looked up. I saw her yet again. My heart skipped a moment as I saw her smiling at me. Before I would have sent a smile as a reply to her, I noticed a phone concealed within her strands of hair, and I just escaped making a fool of myself. Though I moved on to my desk, her smile remained inscribed within my memoirs. And as I write this , I still look forward to our next rendezvous, a silent yet euphoric one(at least from my end) when I get to see that “One with big eyes”.
P.S. Way back in college in 2nd year, a self proclaimed palmist friend of mine had told me that I was a habitual offender, my offense being infatuated by women time and again. I absolutely donot intend to prove this point with the write-up above. The article is more of a perceived fun which somehow distracts me from my other daily monotonous chores of life. I have complete respect for the lady in question above and certainly would not like anyone trying to take any adverse steps towards harming any woman’s integrity and respect.

The shameful act !

It evaded off my memory the very next day. Though the incident was one off I had ever seen in my life, I chose to ignore it just like several other people who had hogged the place then. Worst thing, the victim chose to ignore it too. However, the recent incident in Delhi which happened in posh crowded South Delhi, brought me back the memories. Here it is how it happened.
November 15th ,2012 : My flight 6E- 356 landed at Biju Patnaik Airport 15 minutes ahead of schedule. Having not checked-in any luggage, I made my way to the airport shortly. Somehow the language and people of Orissa do not impress me much. But the fact is I am critical of any damn thing in universe. The co-passengers with whom I shared my seat in the flight made the already bad impression worse. The idiots was insane enough to spit on the closed window, keep their cellphones on during the course of flight and used it to take pics of air-hostesses and people around. I couldn’t say anything other than giving a smirk and murmuring abuses at them. I thanked my stars when the flight landed ahead of its schedule. Though I had a waiting time of 4 hours before my train would arrive to continue my further journey, I frisked my way out of the airport, grabbed a quick dinner and found my way into the Platform No. 1 of Buvaneshwar railway station. I knew from my past experiences that the Platform 1 bore the brunt of maximum crowd footfall. Though crowded, It took a matter of few minutes before I found a place to sit and relax for the next 3 hours.
A girl in early 20s made her way towards me as soon as I plugged in my iPod’s earphones. I had already noticed her talking on phone for quite sometime while she looked for a place to sit. She politely asked me to make some room for her which I abided to. I kept looking around trying to pass my time. The music in my ipod, an outlook magazine and a few calls to friends and relative did little to engage me. With passing time, the platform got busier as more and more crowd poured in. The girl sitting besides me was soon joined by a bunch of guys. And it was then I found that she was pre-final or final year engineering college student, going to her native place for the festival of Chaath. I had similar reasons for my travel.
The prolonged wait tested my patience and I got up to hog around the station rather than sitting as a stationary object. I requested the bunch of guys accompanying the girl to look at my luggage and told them that I would be around. As I stood up, 3 guys, in early or mid 20s hovered around the platform 1. They used filthy language as they communicated to each other. Though it was a public place, using abusive language while addressing your friends or buddies is totally acceptable in India. The bunch of guys were highly intoxicated and one of them limped as he walked. The weird movement of his legs were certainly not a physical disability but an aftermath of intake of huge quantity of alcohol. The bunch of boys stopped by where I was sitting previously. The guy who limped pointed his finger at the girl and started hurling abuses. He also uttered “I wanna **** her” in blunt hindi. I knew what those words meant and so did a number of people sitting/squatting or standing closeby. But they all chose silence with a common consensus and carried on their state of affairs. I was shocked hearing the words and stood still for a few seconds. I somehow felt offended and disturbed. No I wasn’t related to the girl, neither I have had ever see her and nor I was by any sorts attracted towards her. My issue was with the people who chose to complete ignore the incident. A few khaki clad policemen with Machine guns were sitting closeby. I wasn’t sure if they heard what the lunatics just spoke, but they would have certainly seen them goofing around in the affect if alcohol. It was all so explicit and yet we all chose to keep quite. Worse thing, 4 boys who sat with the girl too downplayed the incident. It happened all very sudden. As the guys came back for another round of verbal abuses, I pulled up my sleeves and went close to them. I had made up my mind of hurling a blow or two if they come any closer to the girl, touch her or say any other abuses.
As they came closer, and went away just staring at the girl, my eyes followed them. Though, nothing untoward happened further and certainly I didn’t do my bit to avoid what happened. The guys, hurled abuses, strolled easily all around the platform and left the station unharmed. They would have certainly claimed victory with their hangover saying “See, nothing happened”. And in all probability they would repeat it again. Noone, neither I did anything to make them realize of their untoward behavior and the sheer disrespect they showed to a woman. Perhaps noboby can teach them that, but had the girl slapped them across their faces or I or any person raised his/her voice showing their dissent , a lesson would have been learnt. But as a nation we are very submissive, selfish and self-centric. We aren’t moved until someone we know falls victim to anything and cry around saying no one helped. And the worse part is we don’t know how to defend ourself, save our integrity or in that matter stick to our stand. We have been routed by so many Mulim rules and Britishers in the past , and its some fanatics, lunatics who are trampling us now. The sheer anger, dissent is very volatile, dies as soon as it emerges up.
I couldn’t sleep the night of this incident, neither could I when my sister asked me what did I do when I saw this. I did not have any answer to her. The gang rape in Delhi and the brutality of the incident, again asked me the same question. Apart from getting goose-bumps, getting emotional about it, I really do not have any answers to it. And neither the people of this country have any answers to it. And the question persists, What are we doing and when will we start talking and raising our voice ?

This is a part of a bigger context which i have been working for quite sometime.After a long passage of time, i re-started working on it and wanted to share a small portion of it which i wrote today.Hope you all like it and as always nothing beats a comment below the blog.Thanks!



I was doing what i was best at, flipping my fountain pen between my fingers. I made sure the cap was turned ON as like the last time,spilling the royal blue ink on the shirt of the girl sitting right in front of me was the last thing in my mind.I scanned around the examination hall as i still fondled with the pen.This was certainly the best i could have done at that time as the next or say the last 4 questions were not only uncomprehending but also unanswerable. I was clueless, but still could have written something which would have fetched me a mark or two.While my fellow class-mates furiously raced on the answer sheets, I gave a wry smile.It was weird given the fact that I never scored less that 80% on any given day and in any exam.I recalculated the least marks I could have scored even if I left the rest of the questions. Though my mind wanted to be strict with the evaluation, my heart made generous attempts with score.My analysis showed that I would still pass and with marks way above the border line.I kept staring around when the invigilator stood next to me.Its insane when someone starts to have a sneak-peek in your answer-sheets expecting a lot and you have nothing to offer.Its same for a fellow student or a teacher cum invigilator.That day I would have disappointed anyone.
The teacher who had adorn the role of invigilator after staring for more than 20 seconds on my answer-sheet could resist herself from asking "What are you upto.?Finish your paper soon.The time's running out".I glanced at her,shrugged my shoulders and gave a "I dont know the answers Ma'am" look. The sheer disappointment was writ large on her face.I imagined how similar anger imbibed with disappointment would also be clearly visible on my parents face too, once my results came out.The sudden realization of reality made me panic and i took my pen and flipped the paper again in an attempt to save the last minute honor and pride. The efforts went in vain as i stil didnt have any idea about the remaining questions. The english written seemed hebrew and greek to me. I wondered why I played anawares to the questions when the entire class curiously kept writing in.Well !! I hadnt studied 3 chapters from where the questions emerged. Now the question was why. What exactly was i doing the earlier night. My last night deed was sitting in the other class, as her roll number came before me and was seated in class different to mine.Shit! I thought, had she been seated in this class,I would have stared at her rather than getting anxious and wasting my time. The girl with whom I had my 1st date in the school canteen a week back had suddenly become my need if not the necessity. I looked at my watch which showed 12.15pm, 15 minutes still to go before the final bell rang, and i suddenly drowned in the flash back of the last night events.
I was done with more than 70% of my syllabus when the bell rang. My class-mate and my rival in class had come in with a doubt.Infact he had rather come to keep a check on my progress with the subject and if he had his will, to sabotage it.I still had 3 hrs to go before the clock struck 11pm, the time when i would start my revisions. I felt like extending the break i took courtesy my rival friend and i logged on to internet to spend the next 10 minutes.I setup an alarm to ensure that the 10 minutes didnt last for an hour. I signed in to Gtalk to see if any of the other guys were online.Truth to be told, i wanted to check if she was online and pass on a few study tips to her. This is what the geeks and the studious types do, rather than sending pleasantries, they pass on study tips. She was online with the busy status and the status message being ":(:(:(".I clicked on her name trying to check out what the plural smilies meant.Since, the larger part of my mind was occupied with life sciences and other biological things, i fumbled to type anything.I closed the window and was about to sign out when she pinged me.It was like a deja vu moment.
Her: Hey, done with your studies i guess!
Me: Are you asking or telling me.. :D
Her: Asking you as i am yet to start. :-/
The beep sounds from my alarm startled me.I pressed the cancel button to switch off the alarm.
Me: Oh..! y..Dont you have your class notes ???
The multiple question-marks were for the extra attention i was showering at her.
Her: I have but noone helps me despite of having studious friends in the class.
The heart skipped at beat.Did she mean me?I was studious for sure but never before in past had she asked me to teach her.I would have surely obliged and would have been infact loved to do it.
Me: Oh.. who are those stupid friend's of urs ?
Words such as 'stupid','idiot','insane' which would have made me go really insane, if used by any guy for me, had a completely opposite effect when a girl used it.And if that girl was hot, the feeling compounded itself.All boys i guess feel the same.
Her: Well.. one of the stupid ones is chatting with me right now :P
There you go!.. wow...I am so stupid.I loved it.
Me: Are you chatting with some other guy too :P
I tried to pull her leg
Her: No, but if i did, will that bother you ?
By now, we had completely deviated away from the topic we started with "Studies".And i had no sense of realization about it.
Me: Hmm...How do i escape being un-bothered seeing the girl of my 1st date chatting with someone else.! :)
Her: So sweet of you.! but by the way, that was not a date. How can just a samosa be date, you cheapo :P
Me : Oh, i thought it was :)
As soon as i pressed enter after typing the above statement, i got a message. The user "puprplehaze" is no longer online!
Now that was ambiguous.She left leaving many questions unanswered.Did she like me being bothered ? Did she think it wasn't a date.? Did she expect another date with me?
I spent the next 30 minutes trying to figure out what she meant and in what context.I could no longer concentrate in the books and somehow I had a feeling that the shrewd neighbor of mine had conspired the entire sent of events. Damn! he seemed to have really succeeded in his attempts. My mum shouted my name for dinner as i cursed myself and the competitive neighbor of mine for the nth time.As i gulped the 3rd roti, a beep took all my attention.Somebody had pinged me on Gtalk, where i was stil logged in.Noone except me noticed that as my concentration was still transfixed at the girl who called me 'cheap' an hour back.I excused myself from the rest of dinner saying I had to study late, so wont be eating a lot.My mum was about to play her regular concerned pre-recorded "khayega nahi to padhega kaise" message, when Dad intervened and asked me to carry on. I jumped off the dining table and headed straight to the desktop rather than the washroom. It was her!!. My unbound excitement reached no limits and I spent the next 2 hrs chatting with her. No, still none of my answers were answered, I stil was 'chaep' and had to treat her in a better restuarant despite of the fact that it was me who helped her out by escorting her home.And above all i wasnt complaining.
As the clock struck 12, she logged off saying a flurry of byes and sweet dreams in a single go.I logged of my pc, and stared at the blank monitor for the next few minutes.I never realized how a broad smile also companied my staring eyes.I was too excited and pumped up to study any furthur.I wrapped my books, took a notebook and crashed on bed.People say you lose your sleep when you are in love, but i fell asleep as soon as i closed my eyes. The next 6 hours i dreamt of nothing but her.My dreams were shattered when my alarm went off at 6 Am in morning. Though i panicked for not having studied the last 3 chapters, but on looking at the larger picture where i got to be with her, it calmed me down. Though i didnt sleep back, i gazed at the roof top with eyes wide open, thinking about her.
The shriek noise of the final bell brought me back to the examination hall.Before i could react any furthur, my answer sheets were snatched off my desk as if it was an entity of a paramount importance.I hurried out of the class looking for her, unware of the truth that she didnt come for the exam. I hogged around in the school searching for her before i dragged my bicycle out of the school campus.

Dedicated to all my friends at college hostel. Really miss those days :)

A blast of an agonizing odor filled the room as soon as my room-mate opened the door toilet attached to our room.What followed was a series of abuses and curses he uttered at me for the next 10 minutes. The culprit of the unenduring situation in which my room and my other room-mates was my clothes soaked in water and a sachet of Surf excel for the past 3 days. Now the lime-n-lemony flavor of the detergent powder stinked like puke and I was sure that if I didn’t make a move it would have certainly led to my friends throwing up. Never wanted to be a part of the bigger menace, so I slipped in my un-ironed un-washed denims, wrinkled shirts for the nearest store. No, I wasn’t gonna buy a room- freshner, as way back in 3 yr in the Engg. even a deodorant was a luxury. We preferred soaps over scents so, an unscented room hardly mattered. I had to buy a detergent soap, the very reason I couldn’t wash off clothes earlier. Yeah, the store was very far, as far as 300 meters from my Hostel gate.
When you are young and in your early 20’s you leap an extra mile. I jogged my way to the store, only to find a huge crowd. Guess the entire college seemed to buy some utilities. No, it wasn’t the entire college, but mostly girls. As a smiling guy left the store, I was the only male customer, trying to get some relief to my room-mates by buying a detergent bar. Making my way across the girls wasn’t possible as it would have certainly made them hue and cry.More over I would have been stamped with words like desperate and pervert. I was neither of them. Am impatient and certainly the view of chicks buying lip glosses and nail polished at 11 Am on Sunday morning did no help. Gosh! Who the heck dresses up and buys cosmetics on Sunday morning wee hours(yeah 11 Am was a wee hours on Sundays). Somehow, even the hottest looking chicks didn’t fascinate me then.Shopping and seeing girls shop is big turn off for me. I took out the only Rs 10 note from my pocket, waved in the air to the get salesman’s attention. The second I proved lucky(lucky as the guy actually did move his eyes from girls.You gotto be lucky for it.), I shouted “A Rin soap, anna”. What followed was a eerie silence. I re-visted my memory to make sure that I had asked for soap and not for a pack of condoms or Viagra.
More than 50 eyes stared at me and checked my unkempt and untidy looks. Its weird when people or rather say a crowd gazes at you with smirk on their face and utmost silence. I suddenly felt naked and wanted to hide myself in the nearest corner.Somehow I regained my conscience and posture and made an expression which was a combo of “What!!” and “I really don’t care!”. Am not sure if anyone over there understood my ambiguous expressions, but they certainly made a way for me to the counter. I was collecting my change when, I over heard an elegant “Excue me!” followed by tap on my shoulder. I made an about turn all set to ask “What is it so important that you cant give me a minute”. I mumbled and fumbled as I turned around.
Contrary to what I looked and was dressed in, she wore what I guess a white chiffon Salwar kameej with certainly a low neckline,low enough to give a preview of things more than required.Maybe I was the one who went in looking for something extra. The smell of “I don’t know which perfume, but it was OK, no it was great” filled the air. I admired her beauty for the next 2 seconds, which certainly did annoy her. She turned side ways to give me way and it meant I had to leave.I walked briskly only to turn around and look at her for the last time before I barged into my hostel. I had a story and the bachelor’s were always interested if it involved a girl, a beautiful one. With the finish of my pacy narration, one of the guys patted me for my bravado. I inflated my chest as if I was become the President of the country. The other guys cursed me with my good luck and the extra-enthusiasts dressed up in borrowed outfits and also made their way to the store to check out the girl in low neck line outfit. I shouted “I saw her first” as if she had my copy-write protected seal all over, but no one took a note of that.
But certainly the stink and the mess my room was in eluded everyone’s mind. The very same guy who hated me half an hour ago, was giving his tips to get the girl. The others too hogged around me to find other intricate details, which even though I didn’t see, but fake it up. Come on! Who would have cared it anyways. This is what hostellers do, Live the moment and live every second of it. No idea, who the girl was or what happened to her, but a week later, in an attempt to re-create the magic of my luck, I chanced upon another girl. This time it was the one in the color blue, my favorite!

Corruption: A menace or a price for our deeds

Corruption ,a word which flows like a blood in the veins of every Indian, more so now all thanks to the efforts of no-so-peaceful yet silent agitation by leaders who represent the masses. Indians by now have seen it all, a multi million crore 2G scam, Adarsh housing scam to name a few.Nobody has been spared , be it the armymen, sportsmen or the common man. And who has suffered the most, we the common man. The aam junta, or rather say the part of Indian Society which accumulates to more than 80% of the population, who pays taxes on time(in form of TDS), still file IT returns(that too on time) and yet pay taxes on every damn purchase thereby paying taxes of their already tax axed income. Still no one has an issue over it.Thats because we like a hassle free cosy life, a life where we want clean toilets, roads and environment every day you get up.Obviously opposition,revolutions and agitation never are a part of this life. And still we crib about population, pollution, corruption ,infrastructure or basically about every thing in life and yet don’t do anything to help about it.The maximum we do is write it as a status message of a social network which get a couple of likes and similar comments are echoed by like-minded friends who forget all this ‘aam-janta’ crap by the dusk.
The recent turn of events like ‘Anna Hazare’s fight against corruption’ and the very recent ‘Ramdev baba’ fast campaign made me think, what corruption was, was I involved in prospering it too..was I a part of it too…was I also upset with this so called menace ?..My quest for the answers led to the very source of corruption, from where it emerged and propagates. I wasn’t surprised to know it was us, we the common people, the aam junta who gives birth to corruption or basically every damn thing in this country we crib about.Its basically the price we are paying for the liberties we have so far and continue to enjoy, certain privileges we are so used to that we have somehow started living with it, and have a symbiotic affair with them.
A child never learns corruption when he is born. Its the society who teaches him about it,teaches how to deal with it or rather say compromise and live with it in a mutual understanding.We Indians always want a alternate way of getting things done, a way which is faster,shorter and yeah a bit expensive too.A middle class guy doesnt mind parting with few thousand bucks if it means getting the job done hand-to-hand in a Govt. office.Since people pay and are ready to pay more, they are asked.We always have a deadly tale of how we want things fast and in a hurry.The tale never gets any empathy or sympathy from the people, but becomes the context of paying bribe.We love jumping singnals, driving without proper documents and mostly without a helmet.When caught, we always sort out a common way which means you avoid the penalty and the traffic man is happy too.Slipping a few hundred bucks to get your waitlisted tickets confirmed even before your turn comes up is very common scenario.We love having our friends at work place and hence make a recommendation(read an approach). we term all these as legal and narrate it to our kins and friends with pride as it meant having enormous guts and valor.
Now lets get back to corruption in the system(read Government).What type is it and why people are making a big fuss about it.Someone wanted a 2G license despite of not having fulfilled the pre-requisites.So he found an alternate way, the shorter, faster way, and paid a few hundred crores to get the license.How different is this from a common man slipping a few thousand rupees to the Passport Officer to get him his passport made out of turn.The only difference is the denomination of the transaction.The attempt ,attitude is very same.The common man is angry that the above said scam cost a fortune to the Govt. exchequer, but does he ever know or tries to know what did his action of bribing the passport officer cost to the people who were in turn to get their passport, they had to wait longer.No, i do not intend to support the scams and instead believe to the core that these acts were heist of public money. But what I intend to state and ask is that the common public, who is equally responsible for this tryst of Indina’s destiny, has the right to protest against these. The people who have enraged the common public by looting the country via scams are not aliens, infact they are from our very own society. The only difference is that they had access to money which they could get away with. Perhaps any middle class guy in that situation would love to stash away with a few crores, have an account in Swiss bank , buy a villa in an uptown metropolitan and dream to finally lead a normal, stable life.
Am not against any agitation, protest, demonstrations but I strongly believe that we should look at ourselves while blaming others. One of my friends had rightly said that when you are pointing a finger at someone, your 3 fingers are pointing at you. Even Mahatma Gandhi had said “Be the change you want to see among others”.So lets change the scenario, be truthful, lets not bribe, participate in politics..yeah it’s a cluttered mess, but its we who have to get in it to clear it out and above all “Be Responsible”.