Ayyoooo

I was in school. There was a girl. She used to direct paper rockets at me, used to sit behind me and scribble on my shirt, followed me everywhere I went, used to bring her mom’s Activa and honk outside my house and when I would go out, used to run away. She used to stand in the school corridor and harass me. Yeah, I shamelessly admit I was a guy. I mean, I am a guy. One day realization dawned on me and I started to think. How do I behave like a man? I had sleepless nights thinking about it. While the thinking process was on, a few more girls joined her in her acts. My tail raised, eye-brows made a fish hook, red lights flashed on me, I was angry, but I still dint know what to do. I couldn’t tell my friends, they would laugh until their pants tore. What to do? What to do? What to do? Got an idea.

I decided I will stalk her. I decided to prove to myself that I was a guy. I mean, I am a guy. I thought I’ll follow her wherever she goes. For once I felt like a man. She was on her Activa. I tried my best with my bicycle. Dint work. I tried scribbling on her shirt. She looked at me like a rapist and complained to my teacher. I was cornered in more ways than one. Then, for the master plan. I filled air in my bicycle tyres and kept rounding her house ringing my silly bell. A Police van came to a halt right in front of her house. A tall, fat man with a forest under his nose walked into her house wearing a police uniform. Obviously, I disappeared like graphics. That was when I realised that monster of a man was her father. I mean, he wouldn’t have eaten me up or anything, but that sight just hid my guts, so to say. Who knows, he might have eaten me up.

While this epic was unfolding itself, there came a twist to the tale- Board Exams. ‘Bored-exams’ I stupidly used to call it then. She used to wish me every morning before the exam and I used to return silly faces. It was after the last exam, I saw her walking towards me. I thought enough is enough. I was ready for the battle. I had the Sreesanth look on my face. She came to me, dug a card out of her bag, gave it to me, said- “I love you” and walked away. I simply stood there for another 15 minutes, which seemed like ‘rest of my life’. You know, it was like sucking the air out of my bicycle tyres.



Last week, she got married. The guy looks like Munaf Patel. Apparently Munaf is a better bowler than Sreesanth. Anyway, jokes apart, the last day of board exams was the last I had seen her. I used to hate her to the core. She had some kind of feelings for me. But then, we were school children dude. Ok, so it is all fine right now isn’t it? She’s married and happy. Me, not yet married but very happy. But wait, no no, the story begins here. Today, after 9 years since I met her last, I get a mail and guess what, I hear the same words- “I Love You.” I need an air pump and a new mail id.

P.S- Forgive my exaggeration. Only the characters are exaggerated, the story is pretty much true. By the way, this is written only for Writers lounge.

P.P.S- I had a few crushes in my school and pre-university days. My first crush; I finally found her on facebook recently. She got married the day I found her.

Flashback...

I know, with this post it must have become an over dose of such posts. But then, let me write it for my satisfaction. I keep saying, the best thing that blogging did to me was 'Friends'. By 'blogging' I mainly refer to 'Writers lounge'. The chain posts, the competitions, the late night chats, the meet-ups, plenty to cherish. A few days back, I was actually reading all those '2 Point Someone' posts that I and Ste used to write. Looks very silly now, but then, the memories.. Oh Shit..!! :)

Ok, let me try to remember all the people I met here. Feel free to bash me up under the nose if your name is not mentioned. Sandeep( The King), Ste (The idiot), Asbah(The sweetest), Priyanka (My first and best), Kajal, Aarti (special), Nandini (chells), Prats (B'lore buddy), Arun (the macha), Tan dada, Nabila, Neha, Mona, Hashan, Vinay (Leo), Chirag (my hero), Freelancer. I must have missed a few names here, I'm sure. But then, its 'me' only if I forget a few isn't it? But then, i know how it feels when you see your name there, you know, in such a post that too.

Nice to see you people crawling back here. If nothing else, I think its high time we rekindle our friendship.By god's grace I have a phone and it has a number, and by god's curse I'm always on facebook. Hope to keep in touch.

See you. Cheerios. A big fuckin' 'Welcome back'. Feels great. :D

Cheers..!!
Arjun

One small moment of happiness..!!

(Sorry, it turned out to be a long post. But couldn't help it. Read it if you are patient enough. No issues otherwise. And it's been a long time. How have you all been, drop in a comment. :) )

Present……

I was getting drenched, but for a change I didn’t care. I dragged my foot along the wet mud, got into my grandfather’s old car. Again, for a change, I had the key, so I slid behind the wheel and shut the door after me. The windshield, translucent due to the relentlessly beating rain, showed me a big vehicle parked ahead; a hearse. My grandfather was sleeping in it; it was supposed to be his final journey. The door to my left, made way for my grandmother. She said to me as a tear ran down her cheek- “Follow the hearse to the cemetery.” I put the car onto ignition, clicked the wipers into action and waited to follow the hearse. The wipers danced themselves into wiping the tears off the windshield leaving our eyes craving for company.

Recent Past…..
Firing ‘hate-beams’ over the slices of bread waiting in his breakfast plate, “How can I miss you if you don’t leave…..” my grandfather managed to sing with his broken voice. My grandmother, who stood against the ‘Dressing table’ applying some kind of cream across her face, retaliated by hurling a comb at him. “Thanks for the song, hero!” he waved at me and shoved some more bread into his witty mouth. My grandmother stared at me, and I could notice that fire-balls had replaced eye-balls. So, in an attempt to please her, I said to him- “You are lucky to have such a nice wife, remember.” His mouth was full of bread, so he grunted and coughed.

A few minutes passed by, and I made a face expression suggesting it was getting late and we must be moving.

“Will you have breakfast, or will you keep painting your face?” he asked grandma.

No Reply.

“We have to get going.”

No Reply.

“Dear, can I bring the breakfast and coffee to you?”

“Yes, please.”

He stood, winked at me and said- “I’m learning. I’m learning.”

I drove along, following the hearse, across the wet streets on a cloudy afternoon. The rain had reduced to a drizzle; the world around seemed to have muted itself from us; the silence slowly pinched us into reality. As the drizzle trickled out, I put the wipers to rest and turned to my grandmother. Those tears were much harder to wipe out.



In a few minutes we were ready to leave. My grandfather sat in behind the wheel and blew the horns wildly. I had to rush grandma to the car as she fed my ears with- “What a crazy man your grandfather is!” We got in, and within two blinks, he hit the accelerator and we were cruising along the main-road.
“Do you want directions?” grandma enquired as she emptied a bottle of water.

“Do you mean, in life?”

She chuckled. “No. To the…the..…… never mind.”

My grandfather drives his car like in the American movies, where the hero is running against time to save the world from mountain sized gorillas. I observed, when in the car, grandma sits very silent. I recollect grandpa once giving me this advice- “That’s how you keep women silent. The faster you go, the silent they would be.” Though I took the advice, in this case though, it was my grandpa who needed the plastering. My grandma, on the other side, wasn’t the one to shy away. I remember her telling me- she felt much closer to God when she was in grandpa’s car than during her morning prayers.

Anyway, as he drove along like a rich, reckless teenager, me and grandma sat quietly. In front of us, a school bus made steady progress. The children in the bus made themselves busy by waving at strangers, and cheering when their bus over-took other vehicles and exchanging high-fives. I saw their expressions change as we proceeded past them; I could hear them boo’ing us. My grandfather disappointed my expectations by not waving out at them. Sometimes I exaggerate his childishness.
Anyway, we had to stop for petrol, so we pulled up at a Petrol pump. “This petrol pump is like this car’s own mother. It’s never been fed anywhere else. Ask your grandfather about this, he’ll have something stupid to say about it” my grandma whispered to me. I got down, and as I saw the petrol being pumped into the car, I had a few silly thoughts running through my head. Anyway, once grandpa completed his joke filled conversation with the petrol-guy, we were set to leave. Just about then, the school bus sailed past us, and the children screamed their lungs out cheerfully.

The road was empty and that meant that there was nothing stopping grandpa. It took less than a minute to overtake the bus. For those children, it was like their ‘Games’ period being replaced with ‘Moral Science’. This time, my grandfather waved at them. If I was in that bus, I would be so pissed off that I would have frowned and skipped my evening glass of milk. Anyway, my exaggerated assumptions about grandpa proved to be right, and I dint know if I should feel good or bad about it. Just when I thought my grandfather emerged Mr. Victorious, the car started losing pace. In a few seconds, the car coughed itself to the side and grandpa got down for the surgery. He opened the bonnet, mulled over it and later kicked the grill in disgust. I didn’t want to see those school children dancing over the aisles at our pathetic defeat. None the less I could hear the cheer as their bus whizzed past us. I got out and asked grandpa- “You said your car never gives a head-ache?” He didn’t reply, rather he just closed the bonnet, asked me to sit as he slid into his seat. He put the car into ignition and it roared without a glitch. “This is my car. I maintain it. It neither gives a headache nor a typhoid.” He released the clutch, steered the car along the road to his left and headed along.

My grandfather is not the greatest person since mankind nor did he intend to be one, but that day he exhibited traces of simple humanity. My grandfather, he gave those children some disappointment, then some thrill but ultimately a little moment of happiness. I thought maybe I was making too much of it, but I just couldn’t resist thinking that way. I began liking him; in fact I liked him a lot. I turned to grandma, and we exchanged a simple smile. That smile, somehow I could never forget. It had a story to tell.

Somewhere along the route, it dawned to me that I was driving my grandfather’s car; the one which never gave a headache; the one which he never let me touch. My grandma, next to me, sat too silent for comfort. As I threaded along, following the hearse, which had my grandfather’s body in it, I was flooded with thoughts aplenty. I craned my neck and saw through the rear view mirror something which was the last thing I wanted to see on that day. It was a school bus approaching from behind, full of children involved in their regular activity of cheering and boo’ing. Call it ‘co-incidence; call it whatever, I hated it. I was worried for my grandma. Even as thoughts ran by and emotions ran high, the school bus steadily moved ahead. The children waved at me and signaled a ‘thumbs-down’. The bus moved ahead, now right parallel to the hearse. I don’t know what went through those young, innocent minds, but I was taken aback. They realized there was a dead body in the van; they lost the smiles on their faces, motioned their hands from head to chest in such a way as to offer a prayer, then turned around and maybe started off another game or so. At that very moment, I turned to my grandmother. Amidst all those tears, she gave me another unforgettable smile. This one had a bigger story to tell.

P.S- Snow, for me is Grey..!!

Some kind of a realization dawned. He troubled his old muscles as he glanced up at the somber sky and scratched his chin- “It will only get worse.” His cheeks were sunken and hollow; his eyes depicted poverty. It was Christmas and he was at work; he poked at the far side of the grave with his spade and it split wide open.

I love Christmas, more so for the gifts that continues to flow into the next day, my Birthday. Adoring the season’s first snow fall outside my little window, I awaited my tenth birthday. My dad owns a bakery, my mom’s a school teacher. There’s another boy in my home; dad says he’s my brother. My mom's love towards me is infinite. I love her but I hate my dad. For two reasons- he gifts nicer things to my brother; He never talks to mom. Meanwhile, the snowfall intensified and I noticed mom. She sat in a corner, her eyes, as though set deep inside their sockets. I waited for dad as she sat still, dangerously still.



He cursed the relentless snowfall, which was making his job tougher. But he had to do it, for his living. His face appeared as though it had lived with pain as a constant companion. He leaned over his spade and started to dig again.

My mom hadn’t moved an inch, I got tensed. Just then my dad arrived. He surprised me with a hug and hurried towards mom and put his arms over her shoulder. Her head collapsed into his chest. For the first time I noticed a tear drop down my dad’s cheeks. He shook her face vigorously until finally mom moved. That relieved me; the snow outside appeared better now.

He finished his job of digging, covered his face with a scarf against the snow and waited impatiently.

Within a minute, I saw my mom burst into tears. My dad hugged her and brought her to me. My mom hugged me tight; she didn’t want them to put me into the coffin. I couldn’t hug her back, I couldn’t say I loved her, I couldn’t even cry. The snow turned grey to my eyes yet again.

I had to be taken to the graveyard; the old man was waiting. I made him struggle, but I made his Christmas. My parents, I love them. By the way, my name is Kevin.


WORD COUNT - 399

2 POint Someone (Season-2) - 2 ..!!

Note- All characters in the story are fictitious. Though we have used some real names, its just intended for fun. So no hard feelings.:) And thanks to Ste for the cartoon.

You can catch the previous parts by clicking on the cartoon on the right hand sidebar of the blog. Enjoy

Kajal Iyer’s lecture commenced, Prats drowned herself into her text book, Chirag exhibited his teeth, Meow slept like an innocent cat and Rashmi blew paper rockets on to Ste and RJ. Kajal continued, her cheeks turning red- “Talking about Chemistry, it reminds me of my first crush in Primary School. He completely swept me off my feet with his love” she blushed and continued- “and his broomstick. He was a sweeper.” RJ yawned and Ste snored. Ste got lost into his own dreams where he was sorting out a relationship crisis- A triangle love story between him, Avantika Singh (of Headlines Today) and Taylor Swift. Meanwhile RJ felt like a superman with his powers; he just couldn’t listen to Kajal’s lectures. “Oh, damn! This lecture’s so boring” RJ banged his foot and looked out of the window. He spotted Priyanka under the mango tree writing a novel. No, in fact it was a leave letter. Apparently her attendance for the whole year was 6%.

With every minute of Kajal’s lecture, RJ felt the urge to become deaf. Ste, who was still snoring and dreaming, every now and then sleep-talked- “Hey Taylor, shall we name our daughter Avantika?” Anyway, RJ gathered bits of paper, made it into a ball and hurled it at Prats in search for company. Prats, in return, abused him in her style; she showed her text book. RJ then turned to Chirag only to find him staring at the tube light. With a sense of pride, RJ decided not to disturb him and tried looking out for others. RJ then hurled another paper-ball onto Rashmi and she returned a terrifying look- “aagey dekh be.” Ste, in the meanwhile continued with his sleep talks- “Avantika, I’ll marry you next time. Bbyee.”



Suddenly, against the run of play, Urvashi stood and sampled her voice- “Ma’am, I have a question.” Kajal had to pinch herself out of shock. Nobody ever had any questions to ask her in class. All were eager to find out who was that special person who had a question for Kajal. Prats dropped her text book and turned around like lightening. Chirag’s tube light burst and he came back to earth. As though a dog was after her life, Meow woke up in a flash. Rashmi almost fainted. But Ste was still sleeping. He was marrying Taylor Swift as per latest reports. RJ felt the urge to fall onto Urvashi’s feet, for having interrupted the lecture which was apparently putting many lives into jeopardy. Urvashi bit her nails and finally asked- “Ma’am. What’s his name, your first crush, the sweeper uncle?” and Kajal went on for another decade. This discussion had driven RJ completely out of peace and he made a mental note to write to Obama to retrieve his lost peace.

Just as all this was getting unbearable, Mr. RiverSoul (the computer science lecturer with 7 golden teeth) excused himself and entered in. RJ, with a sense of excitement jolted Ste from his sleep. Ste, in a sudden state of shock, having been shaken out of sleep yelled fearfully - “Avantikaaa.. please put that knife down.” The whole class gaped at him against the pin drop silence. An evil smile emanated out of RiverSoul’s jewel box as he said- “It’s you again? Back in action. Where’s the other idiot, your partner in crime?” It took less than a millisecond for all the eye balls in the class to change direction towards RJ. RJ stood; stood like a soldier. Mr. RiverSoul continued- “I came for you both, Arjun(RJ) and Ste. The principal wants to see you. Follow me.”

“Dude, what’s happening?” Ste rubbed his eyes.

“Nothing. Follow Mr. James Bond.” RJ winked.

Outside the principal room they stood wondering what was the fuss about. Mr. RiverSoul had vanished out of sight. They proceeded and opened the door to enter. A man of medium build and good height, neatly dressed and holding a flower in his right hand stood looking out of the window with his other hand on his hip.

RJ and Ste scanned the room with their eyes and spotted a RajniKanth’s real-size poster. Just then, the principal’s cell phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket, waved to someone outside the window and began- “Balan…… Sandeep Balan.”

Stupidity Paradise..!!

It was as much as a week ago when I rubbed my eyes as it almost popped out like pop-corn when I noticed Roshan turning the ‘volume’ knob to the left. Apparently it wasn’t one of those songs where guys with long hair rattled their lungs out or put aged hearts into mouths. Instead, it was an old, romantic, soothing number. Since I am not consecrated with super natural powers, this sudden change in him was tough to digest. I mean, it felt as weird as going to a call center and not finding an Indian. Anyway, this was all just the beginning; beginning of a possible hassle.
Since there hasn’t been a single crisis over the whole of last week; in other words, since Roshan has been out of contact, we guys at college have egressed into a consensus that if it wasn’t for Roshan, the Nobel Peace prize bore no meaning. I mean, such was the vagary of his mind. Anyway, since life without a crisis is no life, the guys nominated me as their representative for the onerous job of visiting Roshan’s place and evaluating his recent abnormal behavior. Why was I selected specially for this job?? I’ll tell you later.

I put my bike to the side and knocked at door. Roshan’s mom greeted me with tilted lips and curved eye-brows. I transformed myself like lord Rama and greeted her with a wobbling voice and a sweet smile- “Hello aunty.”

“Hello.” She said plainly, exhibited a thousand expressions, enquired her regular doubt- “You take bath with water or perfume?” and vanished into the kitchen with a disgusting face. Since I was the most equipped and experienced in handling her, I was sent on this mission. Got an idea? Anyway, I entered the hall and spotted Roshan’s 5 year old brother; he was busy breaking a tiger’s leg (plastic one of course), singing along- “Inki Pinki Ponky… His father was a donkey…” He noticed me and hurled a plastic monkey which just missed my forehead. I would have whacked him if he was my own brother. Meanwhile I could hear Roshan from the bathroom, singing some silly song of the 90s. There was something spiritual playing in the kitchen. With all this 3D effect getting on to my nerves, I made a mental note to visit the doctor later in the evening. Just as I was getting too pissed off, like how goddesses emerge from the mist, Roshan walked out from the bathroom. Such an inchoate idiot he is, he almost walked away without noticing me. I had to hurl that plastic monkey on him to grab his eye-balls. He returned an expression which reminded me of old movies where the heroes realized just before the movie ended that they were actually brothers after which followed a whole lot of hugging and stuff.

In ten minutes, Roshan came all dressed up, drowned inside his loose shirt and cargos. I stood waiting for his mom’s comment and she never disappoints. “You look like a rag picker” she said and again vanished. Finally a cup of coffee arrived which we emptied in no time. Me and Roshan decided to do the ‘walk the talk’ thing, so decided to leave. I waved ‘good-bye’ to aunty and she returned the wave with some kind of looks which I couldn’t comprehend. Then to Mr. 5yr old, I pinched his cheeks and said- “Byee..” He hurled his plastic tiger right on to my face. I am a gentleman, I didn’t retaliate.

Within a few minutes we were on to the streets strolling along checking out all kinds of stuff. After discussing various other issues of national importance, we came to the topic at hand- “What happened to you? Haven’t been to college? Cell phone’s always busy? Don’t say it’s a girl..”

“That’s exactly what it is.” Roshan smiled like Mr. Pepsodent.

“Oh my god! Where, who, when, how?” I stuttered.

“It all started when her dog barked and almost bit me on the road side,” he felt shy and continued- “I realized it was her dog when she saved me from it. That’s how it all started.”

“You shameless fellow. We’ll see you in college tomorrow right?”

“No dude. I have plans with her. I’m gonna take her out.”

“Where?”

“Surprise.” He said which pissed me off to the core. He noticed my threatening looks and said sheepishly- “Planetarium.” He smiled and continued- “Better than a movie na? It will atleast be informative.”
I controlled myself from bashing my head to the electric pole or indulging in any sort of violent activities such as pulling off my own hair or anything. I am basically a diplomatic person.

Through the walk, he said this and that, that and this. My legs started to ache, mind started to wander and that’s when I balked his non-stop talk and arrived at an accord- “See you tomorrow.”



It was 9am in the class, next day. I had recited the story to one and all. All were as much stunned as happy that Roshan now had a girlfriend. Just then, against all expectations, Roshan came rushing through, wearing a sad face. He came straight to me and sulked- “Dude, it’s over. She’s gone?”

“What the hell? Why?”

“She called me this morning and said her dog went missing. She was sad.”

“What did you do?”

“I conveyed my condolences,” he paused and continued- “ but before that……”

“What? What did you do?”

“The dog that almost bit me is gone man. Of course I laughed.”

Happy Birthday Pratsie..!!

Hey Pratsie, I think it’s been a year now since we got to know each other. I remember the first time I visited your blog through one of those Orkut communities. It is needless to say I was kind of mesmerized by what I read. I mean, I read good poetry from a lot of people around, but somehow for reasons unknown to me, what you write strikes me. I relate ; I enjoy. The best part is, it was only getting better by the day.

It was sometime then, that the big thing happened. You joined WL while I became active here and so did many others. I guess, it was the best thing that happened to so many of us here. Posts flooded as we all bonded. It will always remain special, the first meeting with you, my first meeting with any blogger. The charming person that you are, the lively one that you are, your company is something to be cherished.
I hope you miss your stops more often so that we can have those walks. ;)

I never really know how to write or express such stuff, but I wanted to write something for your birthday and here I am. Thank you Pratsie, you are a gem in this jewel box called Writers Lounge; You are a teacher in this school called Writers Lounge. Haha.. chill.. :P



Wishing You a Very Very Very Very Happpy Birthday Prats..!! Have a Gr8 Gr8 life ahead. :)

Cheers..!!
Arjun

Sleep Until You Go To Bed..!!

1.55pm, at my place.

I woke up to a brassy thud of my main door one week day. I strained my eye-balls to the corners of the eye to catch the clock but in vain. If you din’t know- laziness finds its nest in me ; I’m lazy in everything except in ‘being lazy’. So the question in hand was- how would I check the time, without actually doing as strenious a thing as lifting-my-head-and-rotating-it-towards-the-clock?

I set out with my analysis-

2 thuds per-day – both by Dad – morning or lunch time? – not morning, I couldn’t smell a Body Spray – so- lunch time – 1.30 to 2 – Dad’s office is 5 mins away - The time is 1.55 pm. I’ve slept for 14 hours – record-breaking stuff. Wow..!!

My phone vibrated like a ghost from under the pillow. – “Hello!” I sounded alert.

“Dude, me Roshan. Where are you?” You Idiot

“I’m in the Indian Institute of Science (IISc) preparing the software part of our project work.”

“That’s great. I’m in NIIT - ‘Networking’ class.” Bullshit

“That’s great!”

“I’ll meet you in an hour in IISc.” Get lost

“Nope. I’ll meet you in NIIT in an hour.” I announced putting my vocal chords into unnecessary strain.

“Nope. Let the place be Barista.” He finalised.

As I put down the phone, I raised my left hand to fetch the TV remote. Rambo on Star Movies. Lovely! With my slothful right hand I fetched the cold-coffee which I suppose would have been Hot-coffee when it was kept there. When people ask me questions like- “ Don’t you exercise? How bad?” and stare at me disgustingly, I have a few ready-made words- “ I meditate for 14 hours followed by some finger exercises ( with my TV remote), then my arms ( by moving it to and fro, in and out of my mouth), my neck ( which shuffles repetitively between the TV screen and the coffee mug) and finally my legs ( basically by stretching them).”

Anyway, as the movie was interrupted with commercials of a tooth-paste-with-salt thing, I decided to head to the bathroom in search of my tooth brush.



1.55pm, at Roshan’s place.

“Bah bah black sheep, hav………..” he sang, abrupty paused and sprung out of bed like a clown. He threw a glance at the clock and yawned. “I’ve slept for 16 hours straight. Wow!” he told himself and continued- “ my dream… oh.. my dream… “ he tried to recollect. After 120 seconds, his bulb glowed as he could picture his abruptly ended dream- 3 ghosts with invisible bottoms surrounded him, manufacturing scary faces at him. Just then a saint entered from nowhere ( like Rajnikanth) chanting- “Omm Sai Baba …. Omm Sai Baba..” He rested his arms over Roshan’s shoulder and adviced- “ My boy, chant a bhajan to praise Baba and he will take care of the ghosts.” Wasting no time, Roshan began- “ Ba-Ba Black sheep…..” and that’s when he woke up.

Anyway, he came back to the real world and retrieved a cup of tea which was placed on his book/tea-stand. He found his phone and dialled-

“Hello?”

“Dude, me Roshan. Where are you?” he enquired.

“I’m in the Indian Institute of Science (IISc) preparing the software part of our project work.” Bullshit

“That’s great. I’m in NIIT - ‘Networking’ class.”

“That’s great!” You dumb-head

“I’ll meet you in an hour in IISc.”

“Nope. I’ll meet you in NIIT in an hour.” Get lost


“Nope. Let the place be Barista.”




1 Hour Later

Barista was empty enough at 3 in the afternoon. A few tables were occupied though, with couples trialing each other’s faces. I found a seat, ordered some weird-named coffee and stared at good looking faces indiscriminately. Meanwhile Roshan rushed in hurriedly and sat facing me. He hooked his eye-brow and asked- “ IISc?”
I nodded and copied his hooking-the-eye-brow-thing and shot back- “NIIT?”
He nodded and looked away. Letting a few minutes of silence go by, I looked at him, bounced my eye-brows as if to ask him- “What?” for which he returned a half-closed eye. With all this non-sense, a third eye could easily mistake us for two dons finalising a murder or something. Anyway, another minute of silence passed and I cleared my throat and asked- “ How long?”

“What ‘how long’?”

“Ok. Me 14 hours.” I winked.

“Yup. Me 16 hours.”

“damn…” we lifted our mugs.

“Sometimes we stay up so late that we have our morning coffee just before we go to bed.”

Kids..... Ouchh..!!

I banged my foot on the ground thrice "bang .. bang … bang.." as I saw my neighbor, an old lady with her 8 year old grandson at the door. I pulled the latch in ‘action replay’ mode, more so like the way old bollywood couples ran in slow motion before they hugged each other. As I opened the door, a breeze hit me and ‘warning’ alarms went off inside my head. The granny adjusted her glasses and smiled. I observed that I could spot only one of her teeth and that resembled ‘The Leaning Tower of Pisa’. My eyes then shifted to her grandson, who wore blue colored shorts, the size of my hand kerchief. He too had just one tooth visible in the Gandhi class (I mean front row), as he squeezed through between my legs into the house.

“I’m going to the market now. Can I leave Pintu here for a while?” the granny enquired.

She looked like modern Mother Teresa, and that sent a liter of ‘good will’ into my heart, hence I replied- “Go ahead. I will look after Pintu.” After all, normal human beings can commit blunders.

I shut the door and initiated a ‘search operation’ for this boy Pintu. ‘The period of time that Pintu is out of sight’ is directly proportional to ‘Danger’. Could you guess that I love Physics? Good. Anyway, I continued with the ‘search operation’, like a hunter. I rubbed my eyes twice and discovered that Pintu was sitting on my bed, both legs and arms folded. I almost saw Swamy Vivekananda in him, when I discovered something below him. I approached him tardily as if I was there to catch a snake. I stared hard at that thing, and realized it was my laptop. I zoomed my eyes towards it and got further horrified when I noticed his blue colored shorts reflecting a darker shade now. “Oh Lord, this guy has no ‘nappy’ and he has pissed on my ‘lappy’,” I screamed inside my head, not in a mood to adore the poetic skills in me.

It took me an hour for the entire cleaning process to terminate as Pintu sat and watched ‘Cartoon Network’. God bless the founder of cartoons. “Children are like God” I reminded myself and tried to be Mr. Kind as I went into the kitchen to prepare some ‘corn-flakes’ for my dearest Pintu. I heated the milk, put some ‘Kelloggs corn-flakes’ into the bowl and glanced at Jnr. Danger. He was trying his vandalism skills with today’s newspaper, but that was nothing, so I counted 1 to 10 and stirred the mixture. As and when it was ready, I brought the bowl to the hall but couldn’t find my hero. The physics equation resounded with echoes somewhere inside me. I walked slowly into my room, but I was too unlucky, couldn’t find him. A few precious seconds wasted, I then walked slowly into the other room, stood at the entrance and scanned through the room but found no one. There was complete silence; life-threatening silence. Like a flash, as though like in the ghost movies, “bhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…” he screamed and jumped from behind the door to the front of me leaving me terrified and cold. I almost had my foot in my mouth for a second. “hahaha… you got scared..” he vanished into the hall.

I prayed to god, recited a few ‘mantras’ and went to the hall and sat next to him. “Children are like God..” I controlled myself by repeating it again and again as though like a tape-recorder which was out-of-order. In the meanwhile, he came to me, stood over my lap and stared long and hard at my face like a scientist. I returned a few silly expressions. He then came close to me and asked- “Anna (brother), why do you have a moustache?” and tried to pluck it. “Aaaahhhhhh…” I howled, put him over the sofa, stood and shouted at him- “Shut up.” He looked with his eyes opened wide as I went on – “ Fold your hands………. Close your mouth…Don’t open that mouth and don’t move.. Just sit.” I slid next to him, grabbed at the corn-flakes bowl, scooped it with a spoon and held it in front of his mouth. My dearest of dearest Pintu wouldn’t open his mouth (as his master instructed) .. damn… “You can open your mouth to eat..” I said as he did and once I put the spoon in his mouth he wouldn’t close it. I didn’t cry, nor did I pluck the hair out off my head but just stared at the ceiling fan.



Just when I thought I needed a trip to the brain doctor, I saw a goddess glowing away through the window with flowers in her hands, ringing my door bell wanting to introduce me to the staff members up above. No, I just saw Granny. She came in and said with a tooth-exhibiting smile- “ Hope Pintu didn’t trouble you,” and I almost began to search the number to call the brain doctor. I just returned a simple smile. She lifted Pintu, who was now having his corn-flakes on his own. The feeling of subtracting a ton of weight from my heart began as she said to her Pintu- “Say bye to anna..” The intelligent boy dropped the bowl of corn-flakes (which landed and splashed straight on my lap) and waved good-bye to me. Granny apologized and left taking away her thunder-like grandson. I headed to the bathroom for part 2 of the cleaning work. My shorts this time.

Children are fun and lovely, but man- “Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go.”

The World- It's magic..!!

The buzzing sound of the ceiling fan played a game called ‘anxiety’ amidst the playfield called ‘Silence’ as he laid down, cushioned right below it, circumferenced with ‘Darkness’. The clock ticked revealing an hour, by which he should have been fast asleep ; Dead for the day. An unresistable drop of tear trickled down to his ears, wetting the earphones which were respiring a few emotion-reviving-instrumental-compositions. He wiped the tears off his temples as his eyes transfixed itself glaring at the seemingly-infinite ceiling. He envisioned a hugely built entity, The World waging a stern battle against him. The World flashed accusations at his face which put him into a straggled stance in between ‘acceptance’ and ‘denial’. He was right or wrong, he couldn’t draw the line. For the moment though, the pain and the anguish in him sought for replacement as the oppressiveness tended to erupt its way out. His mind questioned- “Do I deserve this???” continued as though searching for something- “ God??”. He cleared his throat and heard his voice quiver- “ I’m hurt.” A growing silence (in his head) is all what he got in response.


The clock struggled to strike 6, but as it did, he grabbed a chair, dragged it to the window and sat resting his elbows on the frame with his fists supporting his jaws. The sun, his saviour, hadn’t made it’s entry yet. Alongside, he noticed a woman- his neighbour trace a colourful rangoli design over the wet, freshly watered entrance of her house. A distant sound of bells from a nearby temple caught his ears. The wind whistled across the branches, through the leaves to find his face as it slapped a quantum of freshness on his tear-wiped face. He exposed his head out the window, inhaled deeply, walked in and sensed the freshness of his toothpaste.




He retrieved his aged, unused bicycle and peddled along the silent street. Just like the good deeds of a silent man, the first rays of the yet-out-of-sight-sun hit the earth tailing off it’s darkness. The pleasant duskiness lured his mind unconsciously into a gallery of nostalgia. He cycled along ; noticed a milk van, an early ‘factory’ bus, the whitish-looking water in the lake and the peeping sun behind the bald trees.

He rested the bicycle on it’s stand and headed into a large expanse of greenery. He entered the park and glanced at the merely visible sky through the branches curving out of the tall torsos. He walked along the pathway advancing through the slides and the swings in the children’s play area to his left and a series of benches to his right. He strolled along until he found the bark of a tree and sat over the wet grass resting his back to the unready furniture. Now, the sun well out as it climbed up the tall trees, he could notice a whole lot of people in the park. The joggers began their run while the oldies in the 'laughter club' laughed their hearts out.



An hour passed as the bow on his lips switched directions. Though not a complete smile, he was sure his face got broader, his cheeks weighed lighter, his eyes opened wider, he respired deeper but couldn’t figure out why. He’d neither talked to anyone nor did his problem see an end. Only his unconsciousness-self cognized the magic that had bechanced. The very same- ‘The World’, which he had thought was waging a stern battle against him, exhibited it’s face- The face of ‘felicitousness’ ; It’s happy face ; People’s driving force. While all these thoughts wandered through his rekindled mind, a blue-jean, white-sweat-shirt clad old man walked up, sat beside him and threw his old arm over the young shoulder and cleared that little unsettled, what-so-ever feeling that he had. The old man went on in a cheerful tone-

“Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up knowing it must run faster than the lion or be killed.

Every morning, a lion awakens knowing it must outrun the slowest gazelle or starve to death.

It doesn’t matter if you are a lion or a gazelle.

When the sun comes up, you’d better be running.”

An old lady, probably the old man’s wife came by and completed –

“ Once you get into grips with this game, trust me you’ll be one hell of a runner.”

*********END************



P.S- Writer's Lounge, I am on for the RED contest. My post coming soon. Hope all you guys paint yourselves RED too.)

Ranting it out..!!

Of late, I am realizing that I’m grown up and matured. I’ve started noticing social problems and general public’s feckless behaviour. Ok, what good does it do to me noticing apathy all around?? Answer to it would be - Nothing except maybe that I would end up branded as the youngest BP patient or something. This time its not about our government and their exhibition of neglect, but WE… The General Public. Small issues like Public behaviour, manners, etc…..

Just this morning, on my regular jogging routine in a park I noticed the same two girls who I guess are in their late twenties. The park is a rectangular one, with a walking track outlining the area. Generally, though not as a rule, people walk in the clock-wise direction. These two special beings, as me and my dad noticed since 3 months or so, walk opposite to the general way of walking thereby causing a break in the flow of many brisk walkers. Again, it’s not a rule that people have to follow the clock-wise cycle, but then if it’s only the RULES that rule you, it is sick.

My dad, for once made up his mind to inform them about it and he did so in these exact words- “ Hello… Excuse me… Wouldn’t it be better if you could walk the other way. You are obstructing other brisk walkers and joggers.” One of those girls hit back- “ Thanks for your advice. Mind your business,” after which, ofcourse an argument followed. I mean, how hard would be to say a simple- “ Okay” when an elderly person suggests you something, leave alone following it. Is it fashionable to be sarcastic? “Sarcasm, as long as it is for fun or for yourself is okay. Once you exhibit in public, its no more called ‘sarcasm’ .. Its Arrogance” was one of my point in the argument. Where has manners, simple general behaviour gone?? Is education all about scoring the passing marks or the ‘distinction’ marks?

I read an article in yesterday’s papers that it’s more for the fact that Indian people are very badly behaved in public, that they are being targetted in Australia. Right or wrong, I don’t know, but I’m fed up witnessing it here. On the roads, seeing a few people drive, I’ve got ideas of keeping goats as drivers and still it would make no difference. Yes I know, we as Indians in general are not into following traffic rules (reasons plenty.. government neglect, bribery, corruption….etc), but atleast certain basic unsaid things. Not a single second can a person spare on the road. Also in other general places- arguments, fights all around. Maybe the fact that, excess money into the hands of ill-mannered ( or rather, people unaware of a concept called behaviour.. or manners) are making matters worse. You can still be nice to your driver, your servant maid, a co-passenger, a waiter and end up losing nothing.

Anyway, thinking deep and worrying would take me where?? .. Nowhere .. And hey guys, I’m the same Arjun if you are still rubbing your eyes. I’ve never written such a post, but this was just long pending. Today’s incident just worked up the needed ‘driving force’. Just a request to all- Behaviour and manners go side by side with your BE, MBA.. so on. Thanks for hearing me out. Have a great Sunday.

My Travel Companion..!!

“When I die, I want to go peacefully like my Grandfather did, in his sleep -- not screaming, like the passengers in his car.”

“Hoooo…hahahah..” laughed….. coughed……… laughed………. coughed harder… Man, I was having the time of my life.

It was a small town which was on view through the caged windows of the train, as it retarded in speed before coming to a halt. I resembled an asthma patient gasping for breath, with the company of this man sitting beside me. He’d introduced himself as- “ Mr. Prasad, a proffessor for class 12 for English” raised his glasses and continued-“One who talks while students are asleep” for which I had let out a bomb blast like laughter, terrorising people sitting around me. I’d then offered him some peanuts, for which he fixed a stared at them, examined them in such a way that it made me feel aweful that I hadn’t had a magnifying glass handy. He continued his contemplation, and finally, like a scientist, gave me some advice- “ Peanuts are to be well roasted. Then salted. Then neatly packed. Then thrown into the dust bin. I hate peanuts.” This time I didn’t quite jump off my chair nor did I laugh like a dinosaur. I had a distant feeling like that of - Kissing a Policeman.



Meanwhile, as the train was back in motion, a girl, whom I had named- ‘The Social Secretary of the Compartment’, came by carrying a small baby of some lady who was seated rows away. I mean, some people, in the name of socialising start pissing you off. She brought the baby close to me and whispered to the baby- “ Say ‘hii’ to uncle” and the baby started playing with my nose. God damn… Uncle?? Anyway, I drew the girl closer and whispered- “ Looking at the baby’s expressions, I feel it might piss any moment.” Needless to say that my plan succeeded and she slid out of sight in a nanosecond. Meanwhile, I observed ‘Mr. Professor’ busy reading ‘Chandamama’ as I tried my level best to shut up.

Anyway, after another two hour long, entertaining journey, the train touched Bangalore, which meant that Mr. Prasad had no other option but to give some rest to his mouth while I made a mental note to visit the doctor with my jaw. As the train and his mouth came to a complete halt, we fetched our respective bags, waved ‘good-bye’ to our social secretary and stepped out of the train as I began a ‘search operation’ for the one and only Roshan, who was supposed to be here to pick me up. I phoned him to find him on the other side- “ Heylo! When is your train gonna reach man? I’m in the third platform waiting for you.”

“My dear Roshan. Third platform from the ‘Front’ entrance not the ‘Back’ entrance.”

“2 mins.” ….Damn…….

In two minutes, I spotted him sprinting like Sharukh Khan ( without a bouquet of course) towards me as I turned to offer Mr. Prasad a drive upto his place. Like all professors, he shamelessly accepted the invitation. I mean, atleast a simple“ no, It’s okay” would have been nice. Anyway, we walked out of the station with Roshan leading us, as though escorting us. After a walk which almost tended to infinity, I spotted a huge, erect ‘No Parking’ sign board and Roshan’s car right below it. The sight, nothing new to me though. Talk about irresponsible citizens.

As we were about to enter the car, Roshan noticed a piece of paper stuck onto his wipers. Roshan retrieved the piece of paper, which said ‘ Parking Fine’. He got back to us and held it with enthusiasm, and said- “ Look at this. Parking Fine.”

The reflexes were enough for Mr. Prasad to reply- “When u find a slip – “Parking Fine” on your car… It doesn’t mean your parking was fine.”

“You dumb head,” I completed the sentence….. laughed…. Coughed… laughed… coughed harder…

Happy B'day Mr. Humor

Wishing Arjun a lotsa love and luck on his special Day !!

Have fun !!

(more wishes later)

One Bullet Is All That It Takes..!!

Room No. 301

He flash opened his eyes, as he heard a distant silencer of an idle motorbike. Turning over on his bed, he craned his head to catch a glimpse through the little window of his dim lit room. Pitch darkness, a far away and the only illuminated street light was all that his eyes could gather. His wrist-watch reminded him that the sun would rise in just about two hours. The sound of the motorbike diminished into silence: a scary silence. Charlie could hear his shaky, heavy breath. He could feel his heart pacing up and down. He closed his eyes to calm himself but in vain, as he heard human movements outside his door in the corridor. He locked his lips tight in trying to mute his breath. He browsed through his pockets for his revolver, with leaking hopes. The revolver was lost the day before, he knew it. Three… two…one…. “Knock knock” his door was knocked. Charlie said to himself, pressing his eyes- “They are here…Help me God…. They are here..”




Room No. 302 >

‘Deal Agreement, Mr. Vinod, VV & Co.’ Mr. Vinod couldn’t believe his eyes scanning through those words in the ‘Agreement papers’. He couldn’t help smiling. As if talking to the dark sky outside his window, he said- “ The sun has already risen in my life. You still have two hours of darkness.” He realised that the sun would be setting back home in India at that point of time, grabbed his cell phone, hit the numbers on them as his lovely wife greeted him on the other side- “Congrats dear. Got the news. I’m preparing sweets.”

“Love you dear. What’s a sweet if it’s not you Ani?” his smile almost touched his ears.

“ Oh come on ya. Waiting for you. Another 8 hours and you will be here. Just can’t wait baby.”

“Yeah. And hey, what’s my kitty doing?”

“She’s watching cartoon on tv. Hey can’t you reach here faster than 8 long hours?”

“Awee.. Love you baby. I’ll run even in the flight and reach soon. Don’t worry.” He joked as they cut the call.

Vinod, stood by the window, the soft carpet beneath him, the sky clearing, as a weak moon showed itself between the rolling red clouds. The silence was broken with a sudden thud on his door. It took him a long ten seconds to realise the sound and then hurried to the door, peeped through the view-finder but found no one. As though his brain was resting, he motioned his hands, reached the latch to open the door not realising that he was about to commit the biggest mistake of his life.


Room No. 301

Charlie, who didn’t respond to the door knocks, freezed to discover that the locks were being jimmied using foreign substances. He literally felt his blood rush inside him as he found his head go blank. It took two minutes for the door to be flung opened, thereby exposing two white men wearing black caps, holding a revolver each. They were revolvers fitted with silencers, making them appear longer than normal. Charlie, as a last resort, leapt out of his bed and tried to speed out into the corridor and it took no time for those huge men to grab him and let out a shot. The bullet pierced through his palms as it began colouring the carpet red. Charlie, acting entirely on his reflexes, stood and dragged himself as he covered some distance in trying to break away. Within no time he received another shot, on his shoulder this time, ripping off the upper part of his shirt along with a lump of skin. The uncontrolled running doubled with the gun shot led him crashing straight into another door : Door No. 302.

Vinod drew the latch and the door gave way, exposing him straight to the back of a wounded man (Charlie). Standing face-to-face to Charlie were two hugely built white men, with revolvers and sprinkled blood stains on their faces. One of them, with a forceful voice whispered, as he pointed his revolver into Charlie’s chest- “ You think you can get away?? Go to hell” and bhoom. The relatively silent bullet hit Charlie straight on his chest thrusting his body right into Vinod’s arms. Vinod, who, in a state of shock withdrew his hand allowing the body to drop vertically down over the soft carpet.



Mr. Vinod, the Founder of VV & Co., there he was facing straight into two gunmen, fresh murderers. His worst fears came alive as the hand with the revolver raised once again, this time Vinod’s chest the target. “No Evidence, no bullshit please. Sorry” said a voice, as the bullet sped and ripped apart a pure chest. The thud lifted his legs above the ground, dropped identically beside the dead Charlie. The air gushed out of him, the heart stopped as he breathed his last.

Certainly the sun was setting back home in India as the sun rose over Vinod’s dead body.

Midnight Outing..!!

(Guys, writing after a long gap. Lost touch. But anyway (try to) enjoy it :) )

“Damn… These mosquitoes….. Dude, I'm not able to sleep at all.” Roshan almost cried.

“Think about your ex, think about the day you got your board exam results and the day your neighbour’s dog bit you…..” I went on like a ‘Reality Show’ judge..

“Shut up. Oh my god, you just ruined my night’s sleep.” Roshan sat up trying to forget everything that I had told him to recollect. He shook his head and continued- “Okay. Now tell me, how to get rid of these mosquitoes? Man, they come close to my ears and make stupid sounds.”

“You’ve got to take revenge on them man. Show them your man-ness.”

“But how??” Roshan said, though the ‘how’ was dragged so much that it sounded like a wolf’s howl.

I stood and marched to the cupboard to fetch my CD pouch, slipped out an audio CD from it and passed it on to Roshan- “Take this.”

“Latest Hits OF Himesh Reshammia?”

“Yup. What better way to take revenge on those mosquitoes uh??”

He kicked me hard after which he hurt his toe, howled like a wolf again and went back to his bed. I mean, any mad fan of Himesh would have done the same. All was well from my side, as eventually I had ended up irritating him more than those little useless mosquitoes.

An hour later……

I noticed Roshan sitting against me wearing one of those Shilpa Shetty’s fake IPL smiles. He growled - “You ruined my sleep you idiot.”

I returned a girlish smile, which pissed him off even more. He pulled my blanket out as if he was planning to strip me, but just said, rather ordered- “We are going for a ride. Get up.”

Cruising at a high speed, there we were, on the streets of Bangalore as the clock struck 2 in the morning. We rode along as the cold breeze tickled our ears, the silence around gave a becalming effect and the blood pressures raised with every turn he took. I yelled at him from the rear seat- “Ride carefully. I almost met god last time I sat behind you.”

“You are not on the pavement, so you are safe.” He yelled back.

I didn’t actually quite stab him but I was tempted to say – “Go to hell” but again, I was intelligent enough to hold it back realising the irony that it would present considering that I was sitting behind him.




Anyway, finally Roshan spotted the brakes and the bike was brought to rest. I realised that we had tripped 10kms in pursuit of a cigarette. His wafer-thin wallet had enough in it to afford a cigarette for him and a cool-drink for me. He gazed strenuously at me and enquired out of frustration – “When will you grow up?”

“I read about the evils of smoking, I gave up smoking.” I smiled.

“I read about the evils of smoking, I gave up reading.” He smiled.

I returned the stare like I had glasses slipping from the tip of my nose. He continued gazing at me, now like a devil with his face engulfed in smoke. I continued with my cool-drink, staring at the sky as he continued puffing away smoke staring at street dogs. Just as it was getting boring, a girl wearing pants which almost started from her thighs came by and asked Roshan- “What kinda' person are you?”

“Who? Me?” Roshan bulged his eyes showing excitement as he hid his tautness.

“Yes baby.” She smiled.

“I’m basically a diplomatic person.” Roshan replied in a way which reminded me of my class 10, slightly eccentric Maths teacher.

“If you think, completing your ‘diploma’ course is what is being ‘diplomatic’ then you are wrong you stupid.” I said clamorously busy staring at ‘nothing’.

The girl, an intelligent one I concluded, turned to me and asked me straight- “You want that stuff?” as she dug out a packet of a whitish powder from her bore well sized pocket. Roshan, who was aghast at seeing her with drugs, leapt on to the bike and threw it into ignition and rustled –“ Dude, come over. Fast.” I walked to the bike with one eye fixed to the girl ( like James Bond), said- “ Tell me if that powder doesn’t work, I have a CD of Himesh Reshammia’s latest hits” and off we went as Roshan played with the accelerator putting the lives of street dogs into jeopardy.

As we reached home, Roshan went into a mood where he sounded like a retired senior citizen, with his ears being fed with some ‘latest hits’ of those silly mosquitoes. He went on and on with his morality talks, which reminded me of a line – “If electricity comes from electrons does it mean morality comes from morons?” Anyway, that’s when I realised that there are worse things in life than death, spending an evening (sounds better than ‘night’) with Roshan.

Inaugurating a Public Toilet..!!

(Been out of WL for a long time. Too many things happening too fast in life... hehe :) Will post something exclusive to the lounge soon. Meanwhile here's a re-post from my blog. Have a gr8 weekend.)

“Arjun…Arjunnnnn….. hey idiot Arjunnnn…….” I heard screams at 7 in the morning as my alarm clock had just been exhausted of it’s battery life. As usually I was in the US, sightseeing with Mr. Obama. I mean I was in my dreams. “Abeee Oyeeeeee” someone screamed again.

“Who the hell is that nut head??” I wondered, rolled and dived like an Olympic Gold medalist into the ground bruising my forehead over the floor. I stood up rubbing my head to realize that I was in my bed room and my trip was over. In other words, the night was over.

“Dabba nan magane (useless fellow)…Arjunnnnnnn…” I heard again. I walked to the front door and opened it to find Roshan with his jogging gear on.

“Hi da, what’s up?” I asked which pissed him off like crazy.

“Bloody damn ass. We decided to go jogging today… Don’t you remember?

“Did we? Isn’t it late now? Can we go now?” I enquired in an American accent.

“Yes We Can” he announced like Mr.Obama.

I walked back still rubbing my eyes convincing myself that I was awake now and I was in India. I too put on my jogging gear on, banged the door behind me and said to Roshan who was tying his shoe laces- “Don’t delay man. This is what I hate about you.”
He found a stone and pelted at me. Anyway, we finally hit the road, jogging along towards the park. As we jogged along, we discussed matters varying from national issues like- “If it was NIKE or REEBOK that was pelted at our Home minister” to local issues like- “The best Bunking strategy for the next day’s class.” He then noticed a street dog to his right and hence immediately shifted his position to the left of me. Anyway, we jogged along talking about this and that, though we were occasionally distracted by either very good looking girls or either very bad ones.

As the jogging had come to a halt and we were both puffing with our hands on our knees, we found a huge gathering a few meters ahead of us. The banner said- “Inauguration Of Nirmala Public Toilet.”
At first we thought, Mrs. Nirmala was the owner of this toilet, but then realized that ‘Nirmala’ meant ‘Clean’and not a name. As we read further we learnt that it will be inaugurated by a local MLA. And the most exciting and funny part was that free breakfast would be served after the inauguration. I was picturing a scene on my mind where Roshan runs to the toilet and asks- Is the breakfast ready?



Roshan who was standing with his eyes fixed to the newly built public toilet was lost in thoughts. I dint want to disturb him, so went to check out as to what was getting prepared for breakfast. Nice hot Kesari Bath was getting ready and I returned to Roshan to convey the good news. Roshan still stood staring at the public toilet as if he was staring at an ex-girl friend who’d ditched him. He finally, slowly turned to me and said with a low voice- “Dude, now I really need to go to the toilet.”

“Just by seeing a toilet??”

“Yeah man. That’s my weakness.”

“How tragic!!”

“I’m going in. Urgent” he said and walked towards it. People were tying the ribbon which the MLA was supposed to cut for the inauguration. He pushed a 10 rupee note to a cleaner and entered the toilet from under the ribbon. Meanwhile I walked to the dining area and enquired as to when the breakfast will be ready. Meanwhile, the MLA had arrived and Roshan was still inside the White-House. I climbed a nearby compound wall and watched the scene.

The MLA cut the ribbon and a loud round of applauds made its way. Just then, with ultimate grace, like in a fashion show, Mr.Roshan was seen walking out from inside and everyone looked with their eye brows hooked in amazement. The MLA gaped astonishingly and disgustingly at him in confusion. Roshan mustered a shameless smile and even more shamelessly said- “ Nice Toilet” smiled and hurried out like a sheep.

Anyway, finally we had the Kesari Bath and coffee after which I had to visit the White-House. Later, as we were ready to leave, I announced- “We have just ‘inaugurated’ a public toilet in the true sense of the word. I’m proud.”

An Expert Advice..!!

Pre-Script- New year's eve. 11pm. On the Balcony. A serious discussion is underway.

Vijay(VJ)- Dude, you must stop smoking.

aRJun(RJ)- hehe… You telling me that?? You sound like a ‘Cook’ who endorses ‘Dieting’.

VJ- Smoking will kill you man. You are my dearest friend na.

RJ- Idiot, you are drunk like a maniac. Go to bed.

VJ- Smoking is injurious to health. Sorry, I mean wealth. No, no, no.. It’s health only. Quit smoking man, atleast learn from me.

RJ- From you?? How many bottles have you emptied?? Go, sleep.

VJ- Seriously dude. Quitting smoking is the easiest thing to do, I’ve been doing it all my life.

#Lines = 8

Polit(r)ic(k)s..!!

In a congregation, at a small constituency in rural India.

Person1 - There’s been no supply of tomatoes into our town since last week. What is the matter?

Politician- (smiles) I know. I’ll look into it.

Person2- No supply of eggs too. What about that?

Politician- (smiles)I know. I’lll look into it.

Person3- You haven’t visited our constituency since the day you were elected into power. Now, all of a sudden, what makes you come here?

Politician- (smiles) You people are ‘God’ to me. I’ve come here to seek blessings from you. As you know, elections are coming up. Please vote for me.

All the gathered people, with crimson red faces, scanned around themselves in search of anything that could be hurled or pelted.

Politician- (smiles) No tomatoes?? no eggs uh???

Fishy..!!

Arjun- Yuck! What is this dude?

Sandeep- (vomits) Some kind of a liquid. Smells like an insecticide. Someone is trying to kill us, man!

Arjun- I had a fight with my neighbour last night. Is it him?

Sandeep- I fought with my driver this morning. Maybe him.

Arjun- (looks around) Yeah. Now I get it. Can you see the chemistry lab there, to your right? This one seems to have come straight from there.

Sandeep- Your neighbour or my driver? Come on, lets find out

*Ste jumps from behind excitedly and asks- “ Hey guys, how was the ‘ Special Masala Tea’ that I sent you?

King Of All, Jack of none..!!

Sandeep: French?

Ste: Yeah. Top to bottom.

Sandeep: Malayalam?

Ste: Yeah. Left to right.. I know it that well.

Sandeep: Wow… You know Tamil?

Ste: I can dance with it…Wat do you think..eh??

Sandeep: Baap re!! You know so many languages Ste..!!

Ste: Yeah, I know 20 languages. English is my bestest’est.