5 simple steps: How to pretend being busy when you are not?(Part 1)

Before-note(i.e. before being fired in case higher echelons read this):Time and now, people have crossed me saying that my writing is funny and that it leaves them with smiles all over their pimpled faces. Well, I am not satisfied. I am still waiting for Katrina to come and confess the same(only the pimpled face gets replaced by silk ). It’s not that she has not read my blog, but that when she did, she was dating Salman Khan who threatened to kill me in case she goes out in public acclaiming my writing skills. And stung as she was with my infatuation, she restrained her words which these days are adding moisture to a lot of teen dreams. Anyway, the purpose of this post is not to brag about my writing skills. Its actual mission is to brag about how Katrina is smitten by me although she would not admit the same in public. Seriously, Kat, no offence. We can catch up later after you are done pampering kids like Ranbir and Imran!

Comprehension is a waste. I miss those days when I heard people praising Shakespeare without understanding one bit and claiming how (after hours and hours of roting on guide books) they came up with the idea that Caesar was gay or that Cassius conspired against Caesar because in teenage Caesar had hid his underwear in Calpurnia’s cupboard who finding the dirty piece of crap had incurred such wrath on Cassius that Shakespeare had to annotate how:

‘Hell hath no fury as a woman scorn’d over dirty underwear’.

Of course the latter part was removed to sanitize the saying and to allow dumb morons provide ample proof of their so called intellectualism in cocktail parties by wooing middle aged women with this stupid line. The joke, morons was on you. Only if you were Cassius and had not washed your underwear until the Ides of March. The purpose is not to deglamorise the Bard either. He rests happily in someone’s strong arms in peace.

The purpose my dear readers of this post is two-fold. Step one is filtering. The filtering is to filter readers who without having ample intellect have trampled upon my blog and have posted crazy comments (7 in total). I will employ Shakespeare, Dumas, Doyle and Kazka(I bet none of you morons have heard his name) to filter the people who have no consideration for the fact that Arundhati Roy has a weeping heart and that Anna Hazare is secretly conspiring with the Russian government to overthrow the British empire (Russians have finally acquiesced that the US is a pretty heavy enemy and they would much better concentrate their attention on the smaller countries which apparently have been playing really good cricket these days) Sources have also revealed that Dhoni had a small chat about the same after their terrible loss and that the fast is to divert too much of attention from India’s ignominy in the cricketing realms to the more important issues i.e., our favorite subject while travelling in trains, buses, tongas and auto rickshaws with morphed pictures of Aishwarya Rai with really enlarged boobs on one side and that of a God on the other: the System!

P.S.: The sentences will be really complicated and would herefore employ strange means like paraphrasing Shakespeare, Milton or Dumas and would encompass multiple subjects and talk of them glibly at the same time : for instance the rape of Lucrece which also affected the loss of virginity of Helen; the Greek Godess Elma’s step mom’s second cousin’s fifth daughter brought out of an alliance between the demons and the sub demons from the latin porn industry. The idea is to scare off the non intellectuals away and to retain the real jewels who are worthy of the important knowledge I am about to share with you. So if you are wondering why the text is still continuing in the post script and are trying to place the ‘script’ itself, off you go! Go home you idle creatures! Get you home! Go play with you sister’s Barbie and woo Himesh’s songs. Go study for high school and dance to the numbers of Elvis or bang your head on Heaven’s doors. The remaining who have appreciated this amalgamation of the Greek mythology and the Latin porn industry and feel Elma was wronged and betrayed I welcome thee with all my love and hereforth lead you into 5 simple steps to pretend being busy at work. It’s not that you people who have so ardently supported my writing in its troubling times, have no work. It is just that the phase of lack of work for you does not bear enough forbearance to dwell into thinking how to pretend being what you are not given that you are so true to yourself all the time!(Bazingaa!!)

Step 1) Ground Research is an important foundation which holds your employment in strong support. Do it more often.

I know the statement makes absolute sense to you. I know I do not need to speak more about this and that saying anything further or expatiating the bullet would only be an insult to your melon sized intellect which I have so solemnly patronized minutes ago. Yet bear with me my readers. I wish to speak!

The three keys to success are search, research and research some more. You have Google for the first point which searches almost anything from ‘nude scenes in Murder2’ to ‘Abhishek Bachhan’s secret gender change operation’. When you don’t have a lot of work but the pretence is necessary, try this. Type in all the even words of your Project’s name followed by the color of the west wall in your bought/rented/leased/usurped house and add a number which makes sense to your project and divides the total number of alphabets in your project title name leaving a remainder of no more than 5. Open all links in separate tabs. This you can do by right clicking on the link and clicking the ‘Open link in new tab’ options. Don’t be overwhelmed by the content. It is not for you. It is for your team to figure out unless you work alone in a secret chamber writing speeches for Sonia Gandhi. Copy the links and send it across to all your team members adding the subject line: “Additional resources for the project research”. This works instantly creating chaos in the team’s mind leading to an instantaneous representation of the pain you undertook in finding such random shit on the internet given that it’s full of so much useful information. Now shut down your laptop and hide it in the bag leaving the charger outside. Go get some tea. You have had a really tiring day and an extremely thrilling experience at work. Confused? That is step 2. Read on!

Step 2) Practice an appropriate abstraction and an even more appropriate exposure of hardware resources.

Now that you have come down to the tea stall wondering what you just did hiding your laptop in the bag and leaving the charger outside, just Relax! You are doing just fine. You are practicing the second most important step in ‘being busy’ representation (which I must say is completely different form being busy!! Ahh! The semantics of language!!)

What you did just now with your laptop (assuming that your employer is rich enough to provide you with one! People who work with desktops can forego this step! You have been wronged my friends! Go join hands with the ‘People’s Animal Lovers Society’ and crib about the lack of an appropriate multimedia device to work faster! Demand an i5 processor enabled laptop with high end graphics and faster i/o precision at 48.4X10^16 gigabytes of processor bandwidth, preferable in matt black color to boast of your company’s affluence) is called as ‘hardware abstraction’ and what you did with your charger is called as ‘hardware exposure’! Baffled? Don’t be!

You would have obviously heard of ‘data abstraction’ (not the one where we hide actual data from the client and churn numbers by applying a ‘rand()’ function in excel sheets). ‘Hardware abstraction’ is similar although. It means accidentally/intentionally hiding one/more of your resources which once powered on has the capability to print images, do calculations and make absurd noise when you try to poke your finger in the orifice at its side which apparently consumes the other resource which provides power source to this already powerful and complicated device. Now that we have our basics clear lets get to the point. When you are not at your seat but your laptop is out in the open has a possible syllogism attached: you have taken a pee/lunch/coffee/gaze at the girl in red break! Now when we are busy we would not let such theories thrive! Not over our dead bodies! So let’s hide our laptop. This tells that the disappearance has been an outcome of a compound effect of a need so immediate that the person forgot to carry his charger. This reeks of importance and of being busy. So all the while that you have been enjoying your tea under the shade of the banyan tree, people upstairs have been contemplating and associating your absence to an important meeting/presentation/rhetoric of your immediate requirement. See, you abstracted one resource and exposed other with utter regard for dishonesty but it made you the hero of the day in the minds of the people upstairs unless they are like you and have done the same and are sipping along side you staring at the same chick/guy in red!!

(Coming up next! Three more steps to practice pretence of busyness and to get the author fired, given that he has not been fired still! Until then chew on this sneak peak: ‘Mask your countenance with grieving and ailing faces when you come back from your tea break’)

P.S.: The following is not aimed at spreading any sort of chaos around office and is a fictional attempt of the author to write something on a windy Saturday evening. The purpose of the same should not be extended into other domains and should not be linked to any terrorist/anti terrorist activity outside. Also, the author holds all the celebrities, politicians, social activists, authors and Abhishek Bachhan mentioned in the post in high regards. Any distortion of the facts can lead to immediate suspension from the blog premises!!

Things People Say (Part 1)

Have you ever seen people talk? Have you seen them sway their hands and spit in the listener’s face as and when the enthusiasm gets over their reason? Have you seen them swear at the sound of the aircraft passing over which makes them inaudible over the din? Have you seen them sitting in coffee shops (my readers would be wondering my connection with the coffee shops! I just can’t avoid them!) munching over nuts and talking to their girlfriends as if they own the place?

Let’s get one thing straight. Idiots or non idiots, people love to talk. Some are fine with a quiet ‘Hello’ while some revel in loquacity. Some enjoy the cool breeze from a distance while some like to get right into the thick of things. So, when people are involved in the active or passive version of this verb, they throw signals to the listener. It’s not that the listener is stripped of this seemingly horrifying joy, but that his role switches across modes and that the reference to the listener is only an alias to a pacified speaker who as and when his role allows him, dons the mantle and does what people love to do: talks!

Now, when people are involved in this surreal act of self rejuvenation, it is important to see how they react to motions. However, before moving into motions, please go through a set of headers, which I have bundled without any thought process into merged sections for the shit people splutter.

1) The 'Crazy Guy' Talk: This, by far is the easiest to do. You need (at least) two idiots, some shade, cigarettes and/or tea (optional) and a hot chick’s image to discuss upon. The ingredients, though stereotyped are very much interchangeable with cricket, college or an irritating professor. The notion probably varies across nations and regions but the centrality of the theme preserves the ferocity of the talk. Now, dear readers, don’t be misled by the adjective ‘ferocious’ which here is used just to express the vigor and not the pattern of the talk. These talks are smooth as silk. The participants in such a conversation end up discussing some serious matters like the (in)appropriateness of nudity in Indian culture, the distorted ass of some random chick/guy or the impact of Bollywood on the use of birth control measures amongst the youth. The glibness is surprising but the intensity is not. However, paradoxical it sounds, these seemingly important talks end up in some crazy conclusion which is discarded with the butt of the cigarette (I was so tempted to ‘use’ the butt of the chick) and the disposal of the tea. Hence the name ‘Crazy Guy Talk’


2) The 'Cool Dude' Talk: Now, this one is tricky. It is tricky because it deals with the hip and the cool. You will find these leaders of stupidity everywhere. You can easily identify them with their loosely hanging t shirt which seems appropriate enough to house two and a half of them inside, untamed, intractable hair, pants which cling to the sides for their lives ; which these cool dudes keep pulling up every now and then as a reassurance to their asses. They have mastered the art of compaction. Not only are they compact with their sentences, but they have extended this act into the domains of words too. They break ice with a “’SSUP?” with a perfected (by years of practice) upward nod of head inclined at an optimum angle to avoid the sunlight into the eyes and bent enough to observe the listener. These guys discuss sports, music and cool arts like “shittin’ in ya pants” , “mah cool dad’s super cool car” or “’scaping to the trance”. Their ‘Ts’ are heavily pronounced and they try to miss the beginning of the words because of their resolution to compaction. These guys’ discussions are frenzied about cool things. (Dear, readers please bear with the frequent use of the word ‘cool’. It’s really un-cool to talk of them without their sacred word.) Then there are the cool parties and the catch phrases. A hot chick is ‘hoot’ and a slightly uncooked/overcooked pizza is ‘deep shit’! A word called as ‘dictionary’ does not exist for them and grammar ‘ain’t that buzzer either!’ A participant can join only after he has mastered the act of breaking things into incomprehensible shit to the average brains and coding into them, with an expressed denial to normalcy, the fervor of indifference and haughty-ness of a seven year old. Above all, it’s not cool to be uncool, dude! Hence the Cool Dude Talk!


3) The ‘I-HAVE-READ-IT-ALL’ Talk: These are dangerous conversations. Not because they allude to a bombing or terrorist activity, but simply because the conversations are so ‘mature’ and so stuffed with ‘content’ that the lesser mortals might die of overload. Specifically, the participants find themselves in a situation of boastful boredom flaunting their boring life about books and knowledge of arts to such a level that the discussion seems an over exaggeration of an epic saga. These talks normally proceed with “Hey! Did you get to come across the book….?” The conversations delve thereby into metaphysical domains of epistemes and unexplored knowledge domains with utmost display of clarity and an unprecedent back up of ideas. These are the hollow conversationalists that you will find in every classroom and every office. They are dominantly found discussing Newton’s theory of motion with a slight hint to Arundhati’s, ‘Inheritance of loss’ with an air of seriousness hitherto unknown to the aforementioned “Crazy Guys” and “Cool Dudes”! Trust me people, these guys don’t know shit about stuff but they can speak with such clarity that the third person is confused if the guy came up with the concept , in the first place. They will blow up things that they can easily understand and worship an unknown ‘subject’ with religious sentiments. These are the hypocrites you would want to escape. These are the intellectuals who apparently ‘have read it all’ but have not comprehended shit! They praise Foucault and Rand with an equal capacity and talk of Deleuze as if he was their first cousin who stole their ideas. Arundhati Roy is shitty to them because they could understand her Preface in one go and Chetan Bhagat is too simple to be taken seriously!!


(coming up next- 'The Gossip Girl Talk', 'The Big Intellectual Talk' and more....)

Episode 8 (The Moves)

“Nice perfume, Ma’m!!”

It’s hard to ignore a lady’s perfume; especially, when it’s hot; the weather that is. The sun was beating down heavily with an enlightened intensity as the smoke came out of the chimneys nearby. The aura was neither intensively invigorating nor fresh. Everyone was waiting for the rains. Rains have this enchanting and romantic aura around them of cleansing every soul that they pour upon. The notion was borrowed across nations and continents but it never occurred to him before that incident. His wait for rains was limited to gaze at her as she walked in the room ‘soaked’! The word does little justice to the sight as it belittles the joy and I am very angry at the word. This sight, pertaining to the so solemnly referred ‘soaked joy’; he would thereby enjoy from hidden corners of the dimly lit room. This however was in store for the future as the rains hadn’t come and he hadn’t met her either until today. I can understand the misleading presumption that might creep into the reader’s mind taking the lady with the perfume as the lady we have so frequently talked about. However it might or might not leave the reader at the mercy of a surprise or shock. Who knows?

******************

They sat silently in the balcony of a coffee shop. He hated the bills at these shops. It seemed rationally irradical to pay such an amount for something so meager. It was absolutely insensible to go by what Karuna liked to use in defense of such kiosks. She used to add with an air of expressed chivalry that these places ‘Make memories!!’ He remembered the CCD at Infocom and the incident that took place there a couple of years ago and enjoyed the sweetness for some time as the waiter made his way towards the table. His thoughts kept oscillating between the tender kiss and the pink top she wore right now as he looked over at an aged family sitting silently over her shoulder. He liked the pink top and the black shorts. She had recently met his friends and they had a wonderful outing apart from a mishap which we will definitely discuss in some other episode for it has less to do with the present and more to do with the future. But do keep it in mind, for it’s an important incident that would make the ‘Train journey’ viable and justify the ‘hit by a train….’!!!

The waiter had made the distance. It is difficult for waiters to decide the right time to intrude a date. When a couple has voluntarily chosen silence, it could mean either of the two things. One, that they are enjoying the silence and would thereby not like to be disturbed and any action to disrupt the same might cut the waiter’s tip in half. Two, that they fought on the way over and when the sun went too hot for their brawl they moved into the coffee shop without any proper inclination for coffee and thereby asking about the same would lead to a tip less transaction. So, our hero (it’s the waiter in a white shirt under a black apron, who surprisingly is not Prashant for the episode) announced his presence to our sidekicks Prashant and Karuna who sat opposite to each other. He chose his words very carefully. He began with a small welcome and left it at it. Their lack of response did not deter his determination to take an order at the earliest. He left the ‘Menu’ at the table and exited saying “Whenever you feel comfortable sir! I will be in that corner!” Now, the words ‘that corner’ were tactfully chosen. We must compliment our hero for the same as these words forced Prashant to lift his eyes and to look into the ‘desired corner’. Our hero exited seeing that he had to play the game silently. He gave them some time as he watched from the corner their hands fighting over the ‘Menu’. At this moment exactly, he made his second move. Idly, passing near them he dropped a small piece of cutlery on the floor near their table and bent down to pick it up glancing at her waxed legs and keeping the spoon on their table. It was smooth. The act of glancing was impregnated with a multitude of motives but the primary idea preserved the sanctity of the act. He had broken ice twice where Prashant was struggling to hit the right spot!!

“Any developments on the order? Sir….!!!” Said the waiter as he moved close to their conversation about the night before last and they went hush to cover up the agony best left in the dimly lit room.

“Well! We are still looking..!!! I think that ‘Paneer Croissant’ looks delicious” Prashant took to the charge of answering the waiter. Ahh! That moron!! Little did he know what was about to happen…!!!

“I want dessert!” Karuna suddenly announced. Suddenly, nothing made sense. The dinner had just begun, or was it an impromptu way to end the date?
The waiter seemed non-perplexed. He retorted with an equal amazement.
“You might want to look on the 7th page under ‘Sweet Treat’ section to quench your anachronic requirement!!” Nothing beats sarcasm when it’s wrapped in the translucent sheath of respect.

“Well there is nothing that I find lucrative here!!”

“Well!! What according to your gourmet taste will suffice as a ‘lucrative’ dessert Ma’m?” The waiter’s seemingly pretentious respect had now turned sour and he was jumping at every opportunity to be satirical.

“Well!! Truthfully, it has to be different with every bite!! That would be an ideal dessert. Something that tastes different every time I bite into it!!” Karuna was trying to fight him off..!!

“And what according to you is ‘Different’ Madam??”

“The way her tongue works and the way her lips do when she kisses me..!! That’s different!! You dumb witted moron!! Now get back to your fucking den and get me a fork!! And while you are at it try getting some etiquette as well, you son of a bitch!” Prashant jumped in to save his lady love. He had enough of the dumb waiter. She was blushing. The ‘you dumb witted moron’ and ‘son of a bitch’ had not unruffled her one bit. She found it utterly captivating, the way he had jumped in to her service.

The waiter was gone, the dessert was served and the dinner enjoyed. The boundaries had been set and territories had been protected. Ladies (read lady) won and conversations conversed. The sun was setting somewhere in the skies of Ahmednagar as he was getting dressed to take her out. They were trying some new ‘kiosks’ tonight, let’s say some new flavors lay on the table to be enjoyed!!

What he did not know however, was that someone else was making a move tonight too..!! I wish he were ready for it, just like he was ready for the ‘train’…!!!

Episode 7.1 (When Frodo flew......Alas!!!)

P.S. : The following is a slight detour from the normal course of the story and should as well be printed after Episode 8. However due to some reasons, its printing was essential. May the readers know Frodo the way Prashant and Karuna did.

They say turtles live for over hundred years. The paradox was self emanating from the situation no one had wanted and no one had foreseen. It was only minutes before they would discover the lifeless ‘Frodo’ floating in silent peace in his blue tub; the water muddy probably with his last act of self loathing or his first act of silent disapproval.
Wait! I never told you about ‘Frodo’ then! Did I??

************
Prashant was brushing his teeth in his flat that morning, admiring the new strands of goatee that had grown overnight after he had shaved and cologned. There was an inherent laziness in this act. He used to call it ‘calculated precision’, but the taxonomy was invalid. It was just dismal laziness. Not far from where he was staying, Karuna was tending her hair in front of the mirror humming softly “Aaj phir jeene ki tamanna…” oblivious to the death which had silently crept into the blue tub which lay quietly disarrayed near the window.
***********
A few minutes later Prashant received the call. Karuna was crying at the other end. What he heard did not make much sense. He heard the muffled words ‘Frodo’, ‘dead’, ’why’ and ‘Fuck’. He stopped the narcissism, splashed his face with cold water, rinsed quickly, bespectacled himself and ran. It is not that there were no taxis outside. It was just that running seemed the perfect escape. It consumed him with exhaustion tripping his brain from thinking too much. For a moment he cursed himself for the selfishness and his hatred for reality. The scene however could only be delayed but not avoided.

He reached outside flat 4/110 of Juhu Tarang building and rang the bell with a heavy heart. In some ways he had anticipated the gloom inside the hall but as he entered, the intensity of the loss hit him tremendously. Karuna sat near the window staring into her phone. He walked silently up to her. He wanted to say all sorts of comforting things but he ended up saying
“C’mon! It was just a turtle!!”
He knew he had delivered the most impolite condolence. She slapped him in his face and clung to his shirt. The crying was inevitable; the loss was not!
“How?” he asked putting a hand around her back.
“I don’t know. Why?” He had no answer.
“Maybe God works in mysterious ways and they are stupid most of the times.” She answered the question she herself had posed in silent dejection. It sure was a ponderous question. Intuition is at such a handicap at such times that the mind forgets see through things.

“Let’s go out for a walk. It will help you feel better!” his consolation continued.
“I don’t need a fucking excuse to escape the scene. Don’t you get it? Frodo is gone. The flying Frodo is no more. He has probably flown aw…..ay too….fa..r” she tried to shout but her words failed her. But now that she had got all verbal, the fact that the tiny turtle was dead was all the more hard hitting.

“I need to inform Aksu but I can’t do it on phone.” She sat fiddling with the phone but not gathering the courage to make the dreadful call.
He sat clinging her close to her thinking about the day he had first met Frodo; the day Karuna, Aksu and Mala had painted Frodo’s shell with nail paint; the day he had held Frodo on his palm and he had poked his head out of his tiny shell , slowly turning it in all directions like a visitor exploring a newfound city; how he had spread his arms and legs like a bird making his first attempt to fly out of his grasp- that was the day he had named him ‘the flying Frodo’. He remembered his quick recoil in his shell as he had tapped him on his forehead. ‘Ahh!! Shy Frodo!!’. So many names seemed nominal now that the face behind them was lost in water. He felt an itch and remembered how Frodo used to dig his tiny nails in his hand as he looked for a stable substrate to walk upon. He laughed in futile irony!

“Fuck this! I am leaving!” He had tears in his eyes as he said this.
“I’ll come with you.” They did need an escape from all this but the silently floating Frodo in his blue tub was probably smiling beneath his shell.

Prashant scanned the room one last time. At one end was Frodo swaying in his humble abode and at the other end on the table lay the yellow cylindrical bottle titled ‘ToTo Food’ staring in blank dismay at the sudden death of someone it had so happily fed and probably tried to feed during the last minutes as some uneaten pellets of ‘ToTo Food’ lay untouched in the blue tub.
****** end of episode***

Their Story(Episode 7)

A train, a journey and the train journey

“I smell smoke!” Karuna was sniffing all around.
“I smell awesome…!!”
“I mean I think someone is smoking.” She retaliated but her nose was still sniffing.
“Ooh!! And I thought we were playing that game where we are supposed to tell how we smell.”
“Have you always got to be this sarcastic?”
“Have you always got to be so naïve?”
There was some silence for the time being. He enjoyed toying with her. It granted him a sense of carefree dominance. He enjoyed being on top.(Ahh!! You sick witted morons!!)
“By the way, do you know that there is a Rs. 200 fine or 6 months of imprisonment or both if you are caught.”
“Yes. I created the punishment the day I created cigarettes.”
“Really!! This bad? You can be serious sometimes. I won’t elope. When I said you were funny , it doesn’t mean that you attempt a joke at a funeral.”
Silence.
The window showed various scenes as the Ahmednagar-Mumbra Express zoomed through mountains, rattled over bridges stopping occasionally at a station or two every forty five minutes. Prashant sat huddled up inside a blanket reading ‘Atlas Shrugged’ sipping tea from an IRCTC cup and cursing the tea maker with every sip. Karuna sat leafing through the pages of a Biopharmaceutical magazine.
This journey was different. Very different from the one they had undertaken four years ago. She knew he retorted to jokes to say something for he was out of words most of the time. They both sensed it, however no one spoke a word about the uneasiness that had distanced them. Something was very wrong.
“I want to tell a story.” She began by closing his book and keeping it on her side. He gave a nod of dissent.
“You really think Ayn Rand is more interesting than I am?” she was complaining.
“Well!! Intelligent…yeah sure…!! So, what story? It better be about the hot chick who lives across the apartment.”
She smiled. There was no hot chick across the apartment. There was no apartment either.
“Well… no it’s about a train journey.”
“Oooh!! Déjà vu already!! Isn’t it a little inappropriate?”
“No.”
And she began a story about a train and the journey that they both had forgotten.
“Once upon a time….” She had merely started when he cut her short.
“Why do all your stories begin with the same fricking line, Grandma?”
“Fuck off!! Get back to your aunt Ayn Rand.” She started sulking. He laughed, helped his hand across her back and said “Well….actually she is not as hot as you are!! So the story yeah…”
She sulked some more.
“Should I get some specialist in here?” he said with a yawn and a wriggle.
“No! a ‘sorry’ will do the job…” she made a face.
“Ehh!! You are getting no sorry out of me. So the story….”
“So! There was this guy who is traveling with his love interest in a train with his cousins Vyom, Rashi and Reshma.”
He had to cut her short for he could not stop grinning.
“You know they are actual people. I mean you know Vyom, Rashi and reshma are actually my cousins. You could not come up with better names?”
“Well, Rashi is fine but Vyom seems kind of out of this world and Reshma.., don’t even get me started on that!!”
“Yeah! It sure is. Like you never watched Captain Vyom. It’s uber cool…..!!”
She was eyeing him with a constant scrutiny. He stopped talking. “Very well continue…Should I get some napkins? Just in case the ending is not so convenient. Well at least stop staring. Alright I won’t speak no more.”
“You know what? Fuck you!!” She looked infuriated. Her ears were red and it seemed that she would happily kill Prashant.
“You know what? When taken literally, it is a very pleasant curse….!!!” The grin refused to leave his face. He had won this one fair and square. Even she was smiling now. She sipped from the can of Frooti until it made an irritating gurgling sound. She continued looking out of the glass window.
“Well all I can see outside is people shitting in the fields. Its an unpleasant sight for me. I am wondering which of the semi nudes caught your attention!!”
She punched him in his stomach, drew the curtains and began.
“Look I will tell you the story only under the condition that you do not interrupt me. Deal?”
Prashant nodded in silent approval. She began quietly. He knew he had to be very careful now. He could sense the after effects of the punch in his stomach. The punch had been impregnated with a sense of purpose. No more jokes. He promised himself. Suddenly the air conditioned compartment grew colder. She huddled closer in the blanket. He could smell the perfume she was wearing. He liked it. It was a gift to her from a guy who had a crush on her. It smelt a little of lavender. It had a small delightful aroma of lilies and dry twigs and a lot of antiseptic. He was laughing in his head for he smelled ‘antiseptic’. Ahh!! The healing touch of love…!!
His concentration kept oscillating between the vociferous discussion on the political situation in Bharatpur and Karuna’s mellow narration of the story he felt he remembered from somewhere. It was the story of a train journey much like today. It was about a couple so madly in love who could not keep their hands off each other. It was all mellow and beautiful that it seemed out of the world, albeit so familiar.
The evening was drawing to a close as she came to an end of the narration. She concluded saying:

“……………and he looked at her as the wind blew her hair revealing a small pimple on her forhead. She looked around and saw him staring at the small bulge as it was a stain of imperfection upon a satin cloth. She grew conscious in the presence of Vyom, Rashi and Reshma.
She was still smiling at a joke that he had cracked a minute ago. She heard a whisper: “I wish I could always keep you this happy!!!” and she understood everything. She had known who had whispered and she knew no one else had heard it.”

Karuna finished placing the coffee cup on the stand beside. “So what do you think?” she asked Prashant.
“Really? They were traveling in second class sleeper? You said that the wind was blowing her hair. Right?” He looked at her inquisitively as if he had made a million dollar observation.
“Ohh!! Crapp..!!”
**************************************
He had taken the evening off. They had not spoken since they had reached Ahmednagar.He was taking a stroll along the tracks. Walking, thinking, pondering over what went wrong and when? He could hear the distant roar of train engines leaving the platforms nearby. The phone rang.
It was Karuna. He laughed soundlessly. He answered the call.
“You know what? The story and the characters were not fictional. They were….”. There was a distant roar and none could hear either. She was confused as to where the hell was he?
He remained silent. She could only hear him breath heavily. He had known it all along. It was their story. He knew where she was getting at. His silence was unbearable. She had to know for sure. She asked him the question she had on her mind since long.
“Tell me!! They were us. Long ago. What changed?”
He coughed. A loud siren seemed approaching fast. There was light in his eyes.
“Well…..we…..”
It struck her suddenly. He was near the train station. In times like these the heart thinks the worst. And before he could finish the sentence, he was hit by a train……………..
**************************(to be continued)***************

दो चार घडी की रात

आज विगत की झान्झारियों पर कम्बु नए दमकते हैं,
और पुरानी दीवारों पर झालर नए लटकते हैं ||
रात घटित कुछ हुई विभा चंचल उमगी विश्वस्त प्रखर,
कुछ पेड़ों पर आये किसलय, उर में पराग स्वछन्द भ्रमर ||१||

किन्तु उर की कथा नहीं यह स्वमुख से कहने की है,
हाय ! करें क्या, दशा मौन भी तो यह ना रहने की है||
सच है आज स्वर नए , गीत उजले-उजले से लगते हैं,
और अकर्मों के प्याले धुंधले-धुंधले से लगते हैं ||२||

कुछ पल भर को संगीत नया उद्वेलित सा कर जाता है,
जब आती तब की याद हाय, उर; उर में ही कट जाता है ||
कुछ कहो; नहीं अब मौन रहो, इस विष को अवरोधूं कैसे?
संतप्त ह्रदय की पीड़ा को, तुम ही बोलो बोधूं कैसे? ||३||

जिस पथ पल निकल पड़े थे वर्षों पूर्व अबी भी बाकी है,
कुछ गलती अपनी हाय, और कुछ मौसम की बदहाली है ||
किन्तु शिखर शोभित, जगमग सा क्षितिज प्रभा उजलता है ,
देख उसे मन का वैभव, विश्वास हिलोरें लाता है ||४||

है सत्य शांति का पथ किंचित भी शांत नहीं रह पाता है,
आपद से धूमिल नर किन्तु कुछ और निखर सा आता है ||
हाँ, सुगम नहीं थी राह किन्तु अब शिखर प्रलोभन देता है,
उकसाता है, उत्साह गरज कर मन आतुर हो जाता है ||५||

कुछ चार घडी की रात अभी दो चार कदम बस चलना है,
नर की भारी उछ्वासों से व्याधि पाषाण पिघलना है ||
हाँ! वही श्रिंग जो धमक रहा विधु की धीमी सी काया में,
हो जाएगा लुप्त प्राप्त कर तुम्हे तुम्हारी माया में ||६||

Episode 7 (The Conversation)

Over Four years later

He felt the cold of the bench on his butt. It was not weird to feel the same given the chilling weather that had befallen upon the city. The city lights were dim enough to conceal the faces and reduce the human spectacles to a silhouette. He waited. It was going to be a long night. Meanwhile, his cell beeped. It was a message. He loved messages. They gave you the comfort to not react impulsively. They nurtured your laziness in contrast to the phone rings where you have to immediately do the honors. He smiled at his immaculate logic.
Defiance is a treacherous feeling, he thought. Relationships are overhyped. He pulled out the black Nokia 6030 from his back pocket and waited for some time.
1 message received.
“C u in 15 mins at d CCD at InfoCom. --K S”
He loved those initials. They belonged to Karuna.
He had time to kill. He took out the packet of ‘Milds’ from his pocket and lit it. Smoke is dangerous. The pack said “Smoking Kills” in bold letters. He laughed at the lameness of the same. Everything kills. The question is how early. Probably smoking kills earlier. That would have been more sensible.
“Bloody Democracy” he cursed for no reason.
She detested smoke. She hated smokers. He lit it anyway.
“I have fifteen minutes.” He consoled himself. He waited outside the CCD. He thought of entering some attire shop to kill time but he refrained and stuck to the cigarette.
He finished it with a silent exhale. He cursed all smokers for the twitch he felt in his throat.
Three more minutes. He was excited. He was seeing her after a long time.


“You have been smoking.” Were her first words.
‘Hmm…’he coughed.
“How have you been?”
“Sad. You?” he inquired
“Unhappy.”
“Isn’t it the same thing?”
“No”
“How? The dictionary says they are the same”
“I hate words.”
“Do you love me? Still..??”
“I don’t know. But I do want to slap you”
“Why?”
“You have been ignorant.”
“Of what?”
“Me”
He allowed the silence to settle in for some time as the genteel lady with the plastic smile was coming in for orders.
“What will you have sir?”
He scanned the menu for the cheapest coffee. He hated coffee. But the situation wasn’t so lively either.
“One cappuccino please”
She turned towards Karuna.
“And for the la..”
“She won’t have anything. Thank you.” He cut her short. The silence was eerie. The lady took to her exit. This wasn’t a romantic date she thought and cursed herself for the tipless transaction she was about to embark upon.
“Why did you order for me?”
“I did not order for you.”
“Yes. Exactly. Why did you not order something for me?”
“You have me. Isn’t it enough?”
“No. I want coffee.”
“Do you need coffee?”
“No. I just want it. ‘Needs’ and ‘wants’ are separate nouns.”
“Would you like it with or without cream?”
“I don’t like cream.”
“So will you need cream?”
She smiled. Probably for the first time this evening. They had begun to settle in. They had a lot to talk about apart from ‘needs’ and ‘wants’. But then ‘wants’ were their first of the umpteen agendas.
***
He sat looking at a couple happily chatting at the corner in the room. She caught his gaze.
“They look happy. What do you think?” She said.
“Yeah. There’s a pair who is enjoying every penny spent on the coffee.”
“It is not coffee. It’s a milkshake and they are sipping from one single glass. On a different note, you have been unkind.”
“You never understood metaphors then. Did you?”
“Do you think it’s going to be his lucky night tonight?”
“Well if it does, she will have a lot more to thank for!” He quickly retaliated. It was a matter of loyalty to one’s tribe.
“Ehh!! She is way out of his bounds. I don’t even know how he landed this hottie?” she continued her gaze to the lady in pink.
“I wonder if someone speaks the same about me?” he blushed.
She smiled. They suddenly realized what they were talking about. Turning towards her he changed the subject.
“So, what were we talking about?”
“Metaphors ! and how I suck at them!”
He smiled, probably at the onset of another metaphor. She smiled back.
“You don’t!!”
“Tell me the difference between ‘sarcasm’ and ‘satire’?”
“They are equally suited to your remarks. Apart from the way we spell them they are more or less the same. What do you think?”
“I don’t think about them. I think about you. Do you think about me?”
“Was it a sarcastic remark?”
“What makes you think so?”
“I don’t think a lot!”
“Why don’t you think about me?”
“Will you kiss me?”
“With these smoker’s lips? No way?”
“If I had not smoked had you kissed me if I had told you so?”
“I don’t know.”
“They are your lips. You should be aware of the judiciousness you need to exercise before placing them anywhere.”
“As if you exercised yours before placing them at the base of a fucking cigarette?”
“I did! And I realized that I was wrong. Now would you exercise yours?”
She gently got up and moved towards the washroom.
“Follow me!”
He did so. The place was empty except for a pair of couples freely chattering away their falling or budding worlds. Apart from that there isn’t much to talk about.
Near the sink she pulled him towards herself by his collar.
“Nice shirt Mister and a foul cigarette!!”
It lasted for only two seconds. When he left her grasp he saw tears in her eyes.
“I miss you. Make everything right. Like old times. For old times’ sake…”
She walked away without saying anymore and he stood there confused as to what to do? Enjoy the fresh kiss or grieve her disappearance. He paid the bill. The coffee was untouched. His lips had savored sweeter pleasures.
He lit another cigarette with some guilt in the darkness outside. He allowed some smoke to collect before his mind melted into the afternoon he had first made her cry.
It was August 2005 then. It had been over four years now. He recalled the events of that afternoon clearly. His hand had brushed hers unintentionally. It had been a delight. He thought again and puffed harder. The smoke made him cough in the darkness. It really was going to be a long night.

de Sade ‘s dilemma

‘Juliette ’ beside I peaceful lie,
Ah! ‘ Lie’ don’t I , and preferably so;
Resonant restrains don’t peace impart,
Then how ‘blissful’ can ‘peaceful’ be??

Ennui strapped thy back decrepit,
Loathing senses! How sense departs?
Thine eyes do tell a tale; Behold!
A touch you wish! How fool of me??
(or is it you?)

Blooming buds does spring bestow,
Some wither away some gleeful glow;
You look dismay’d unmock’d within,
I wander ‘twixt Juliette’s sorrow!!

Brazen blasphemy I profess you say,
Beauty I love; its joy I savor.
Flushed with shame my countenance is,
(To) Be born in place that love devors!!


Disclaimer: The author does not in any form proposes or preaches 'Sadism'. It is but a chain of ideas which is fictitious and is not to be misread as the author's.

P.S.: Words have various meanings.
P.S.: 'Juliette' referred is the book by Marquis de Sade.

Episode 6

…..”Karuna”


He thought for a moment if he did the right thing. But there was no time to contemplate on the judiciousness of the choice. It was time to act impromptu. He tried to recall a lot of things. Scenes from clichéd bollywood flicks, sequences from love stories hitherto unknown to many crossed his mind and he knew almost in an instant what this was all about. Since the day he had understood the chemistry between the sexes he had waited to talk to a girl to win her. Prashant had no clue if he was up to the task but he knew one thing for sure. In the solace of the vacant arts room he would script something unnerving between them. He knew there would be moments more mushy and mellow than this but the beauty of this one moment will remain eternal in its nascence.

“Hmm…??” She turned inquiringly.

And as he looked at her from the distance of around five meters, he felt fearless. Calm. Peaceful.

Prashant was neither worried nor awed by her mysticism today. He was thinking trivial things. The most important agenda on his head right now was if she always wore her hair this way??

And he asked it out aloud.

“Why haven’t you tied your hair in the set of plates as you always do? ”

This was out of the blue. This guy is so reserved and he is so silent and yet he notices the way I comb my hair!! This was irksome. This was odd.

“Ahh!! Well I shampoo-ed my hair today morning. I guess that’s why! ”
“Oww…!!”
“Do you notice ??”

It was a soft sound. The one you can tell from normal dialogue. The one that lets you know “I know what you want to say”. This was nice. Prashant felt comfortable.

Prashant felt the cold of the bench on his butt. From where she was standing she could notice his every move. For some seconds there was an eerie silence.

“So…??” She knew he was too shy to start a proper conversation.

He looked up, scratched his head, adjusted his spectacles, cleared his throat and said
“There’s something I have been wanting to tell you. ” he took some time to gather his voice and continued “This might take some time. Why don’t you sit down ?”

He pointed to two vacant benches in the right corner by the window. As he got up to position himself on the benches his arm brushed hers. It was a momentary touch. Nothing sensuous about it but the lack of purpose made it even more delightful.
This really is going in a purposeful direction. He smiled with innocence.
****************************************

Seated comfortably, he could now see her more appropriately. He felt nervous now. She was staring at him with perpetual enquiring eyes. And he was thinking “Yaar!! Ye nili aankhen marwayengi!!” . he took a moment to realize that this was plagiarism and the punch didn’t fit her eyes either.

“So…??”
He gulped the spit in his mouth and began his first ever proposal.
“Would you be offended if……. I sai..d I find you beautiful??? I mean to say that you won’t hate me if I said I find you attractive..right??”

Lame .Lame.Lame. His inner voice shouted. Something inside shifted. There was uneasiness. This is by far the worst way to open up against your loved one.

Silence. Her eyelids dropped. She looked down on the ground. And she kept looking.

Look up. Look up. For christ’s sake say something . Swear, hit , push, kill, move. C’mon do something . He waited desparately.
But she didn’t!
He followed her move and gazed down on the ground. From the corner of his eye he saw her feet shivering. And before he could react he saw two symmetrical drops glistening in the dreary light from the window, plummet down her golden cheeks down onto the floor.

‘I love her. And she is crying.’

Someone somewhere in this universe smiled and uttered “Ahh!! The miracle of Lava Canyon!!!”


********End of episode***********

Episode 4(The First Big Step)

If you are new to the blog and the story and are wondering about episode 2 and 3..
Follow the link..
Episode 3
Episode 2

Happy Reading!!
*******************************


Walking down the aisle outside the school library, he saw her walking in his direction. When you have hots for some girl, the time taken to cross her when she is coming in your direction is highly critical for your eyes. Human mind is so restless and eyes are always up to show its incompetence at concentrating on the straight path ahead. Prashant wanted to avoid her and also grab her attention. He was thinking of a lot of things…
“Ooh!! Look at me.. Look at me plzzz.. see you have awesome eyes.. Hey wait .. was that a glimpse.. is she tying to say hi?? Man she is going to turn.. no no no wait wait wait.. look look
Yeah she looked.. yeah I am sure she did.. yeah it pretty sure was a glimpse...is she watching me from the corner of her eye..???
Hey is she reading my mind.?? Can girls do that??
Oohh no nono no man I am screwed..
Am screwed am screwed screwed screwed!!!!
I have to change my thoughts right now..
Come on you can do it.. think about Sir Projjwal..naah not him no no
Mom I love you.. I have never told you this but you make awesome tea….
Mom that time I lied to you about the broken window am so sorry ..Please forgive me..
No no no don’t let her know you broke the window…
She can read your mind. Think about it. Is she a ghost??
Ooh she is turning now…. ”
And it was a sad and endless chain.

Somedays later he decided to be a man. Not that he was not a man , but that when he was confronted with her face he usually lost his “man”.

It was august. There was heat in the air and humidity. The bit that can wet your hair enough to make it follow up the line of your forhead which makes girls (quoting Prashant) all the more “desirable”. The first week of August had passed in indecision. To tell or not to tell was the story all over the passing month. There were times when he grew sure of his non-chalance in this matter to the level of giving it up for more noble causes. Yet he clung on to Karuna….
Ooh..!! Only if she could see how my heart bleeds for her..!!
Hark!! Mine eyes cry blood for thy countenance!!
(Please bear with his boring Shakespearean adaptation of his heartly disgusts. Love can do this to you!!)
So, where were we??
August. Yes, august and the first week over. But before I tell you this you are supposed to know some more about the weeks that had passed before. He had decided to confide about his tale in some of his close friends which included Amandeep, Amarjeet , Chandan and many more..(Actually the whole class knew of his on going infatuation). So, there was this guy Amandeep whom he had talked to before confronting his lady-love.
(P.S.:: The following conversation took place on a phone)
“Dude, I just can’t bear this…Its hard to resist”
“What??” (Typical carefree Amandeep)
“Well this subject I told you of…… in the morning recess”(F**ker catch the hint…With mom around the phone most of the time I can’t divulge much)
“Oh!! That girl Karuna?? What about her??..Why use euphimisms???”(You enjoy privacy friend..Whereas I am usually hounded by half a dozen suspicious eyes all the time)
“Aaah….!! If only you could understand!! Anyway.. So I am supposing I should confront the professor about my inability to cope with the subject.”
“Hmm Hmm!! Dude I have to tell you something before you do anything. Whatever you go out to her and say her plzz don’t use such shitty metaphors because you suck at them. BIG TIME!!”
“Thnx Aman, you really help. That was very encouraging. ” he said with grinded teeth
“Haa Haa but make sure you cover up your tracks and make the “professor” understand your “impotence” …. Dude am loving this metaphor game…”
“Ahha you are a gud friend .. very gud friend ” (You son-of-b**** , I will see you tomorrow)
“Are you swearing on the phone.. I can hear it up here.. Well, whatever, have to go out to buy some vegetables. Gud Luck with your “enter-prise” ”
Click.
Over and out.

Now there’s Mom to counter.
“Kya hua ? Having some trouble with your subjects??”
“Nahi.. just the regular.. I will man-age Mom…Don’t worry!!”

He left the room in a hurry.

So, that brings us to the present day. He found himself with a dozen classmates locked in a room on the top floor of his school trying to fisnish work on the class magazine. Amandeep was the highest in the ranks and was probably the chief editor. It was he who had somehow squeezed Prashant in the team and Karuna in the “Art departent”. This way he found himself in closer proximity(yeah.. I get the literal redundancy!!) with her. Today, Amandeep was absent. Remember, the vegetable thing in the telephonic conversation. Yeah he fell down from the bicycle and broke his hand while in the market. Now, how do you do that?? Probably his big head landed on his shoulder. That was the only plausible explanantion Prashant could provide his head with.
Whatever, he was gone and with him gone Prashant was overseeing the Art work and he was handed the articles and color pens when the work was done, for the day. When Karuna was coming towards him he felt restrained from kissing her cheeks. Oh what cheeks. He was trying not to lay his gaze on her and was trying to act “man-ly”. But it was difficult. Sort of impossible. She dropped her share of color pens in his hand and said
“Thank you. bbye”
Now a normal human being must have returned her thanks and it would have all been fine with the world. But he had to put his extra effort and make it stupid. He coughed and cleared his throat and only when she had turned not expecting anything, he said in a firm tone.
“Well the pleasure is all mine and I am happy to be your guest..”(What the f*** , how do you fuck up the only chance to start up a normal conversation with the girl of your dreams??)
She eyed him suspiciously and went towards the door probably half surprised and half shocked.

And when she was about to leave he did something he had never done before.




He called out her name aloud.
“Karuna........”


(……….to be continued)