Of Holi and that confession thingy

When I was very young, probably in the fourth or the fifth grade, my dad would pack me downstairs with a small bucket full of water balloons to play holi with my friends. Now as far as I remember, I was a shy guy (arre sacchi!). I didnt have many friends. So while all the other kids would be busy colouring each other, a drawing class gone wrong, I would wonder how to enter the colour fest. I mean how do you go about throwing water balloons at people you dont know very well. I used to stand in the corner wondering how to get into the commotion. After half an hour of standing there, I would turn around to go back home, but just so that I dont look like a complete loser to my dad, I would throw a few balloons on cars, and a few on myself, to look the part. Then I would return home, soaked in the colour of three balloons I splashed myself with, take a bath and have puranpoli for lunch.

What I didnt know is that my dad used to watch me from our third floor apartment, while I went on throwing balloons on cars and drenching myself in colour. He didnt say a word.

***

My best holi were the ones I played with my cousins. The night before the holi day, we sat in the bathroom stocking ammunition. I filled balloons with water using my new nagraj brand pichkari, while Aroop expertly tied knots to the balloons. He had names for all types of knots. Floppy knot, army knot, super knot..
"Arre main aisa knot bandhega na, Michael Jackson bhi nahi khol paayega", Aroop used to say.
"Michael Jackson kaun hai?", I asked. I didnt have cable then. My favourite shows included Phulwari bachon ki on DD1.
"Abbe Michael Jackson nahi malum? kya dance karta hai bey woh.."
Its amazing how highly kids thought of him. And who can blame them, I mean of the 6.5 billion people in the world, how many have turned snow white from jet black?
Aroop (I know you are secretly reading this), you were such a showoff! :P But not his mistake entirely if you ask me, this is what cable TV did to a lotta boys during the 90s.

***

Our colony, had two cricket groups the "bade log" and the "chotte log". My problem was that I fell in the age group which was common to both. But I chose to play in the chotte log, coz they played underarm cricket and I didnt know how to bowl overarm then and also it was easier to win there. What? Dont judge me! I like to win!

I shifted base to bade log at the start of the 7th std. I had taken a liking to overarm cricket inspite of the fact that I was terrible at batting and couldnt bowl 6 legitimate deliveries without giving away 20 extras. Anyhow, it was Bablu, who was usually the captain of my side, who had deep rooted confidence in me. How else do you explain a newbie bowler like me getting the first over in every match. As I excelled in the following years, it was as much as a triumph for him as it was for me. I have opened bowling several times now, even so for my team in college, but it still doesnt compare with the thrill that I used to experience when Bablu tossed me the ball.
Over the years I have taken Bablu's place and tried to do for kids like Debu and Nachiket what Bablu did for me. Its such a high to see them grow into such good players.

***

During my engineering, holi became just another holiday. Since last year when I started working, it ceased to be even that. I spent the that holi in the office. Ofcourse we did throw a little customary colour around. Too bad our German boss took a leave that day (clever fellow), we had decided to give him a taste of Indian festivities (if you know what I mean). So we spent the day working a little and forwarding mails a lot, which is good thing, coz the next day I had my friends (who worked in Indian companies which were more considerate to their needs of soaking themselves in colour on holi) send me queries like -
"Dude? yesterday wasnt a holiday??"
To which I replied - "Nahi re, was in the office. "
"hehe, dude!! no holiday on holi-day?? hehe he"(yeah, thats the level of jokes we crack)
"No re, had to work.. Have to finish this project before the German boss leaves for home. If I dont the assembly line in Berlin will have serious problems. Thousands of euros down the drain I tell you."
"Doood!!!"
He was in deep awe. He must have thought that I was the VP (Assembly lines) Rolls-Royce Deutschland. Here, it should be noted that he was an IT guy and for him assembly lines was pretty much the lines we stood in before the morning prayer back in school.
But I did hear him telling my other friends - "Abbe! Chaitanya kaam karta hai bey!!"(his eyes and the eyes of the one hearing this statement as big as saucers)

***

Last confession - I am planning to celebrate this holi with my cousins, it gonna be fun. I know for a fact that Aroop's favourite isnt MJ any more. So I wont get any - "Abbe Michael Jackson nahi malum? kya dance karta hai bey woh..". He might ask me questions on Metallica though- showoff I tell you :P
My dad is abroad so he wont be joining us. But I would be cool even if he was there. Coz now whatever happens, I wont splash myself with balloons to look the part...

Happy Holi everyone.

Plan and effect!

I was thinking about the events and happenings that lead to me getting into Rolls-Royce plc. Was it tough? How much of hard work did I have to put in?... I cant help but replay the 2 years that I have spent in RR.

My work here is almost done. I am the technical lead now. Quite frankly, I didnt think I would be able to. I would be lying if I say that I didnt think about running off from Bangalore into the cosy, humid confines of Mumbai everytime RR pushed me into a corner and boxed the daylights out of me. It is BY FAR the TOUGHEST work profile in the country. We read these posts about software guys trying to justify how tough their life is, and end up laughing... If this project had gone for another 8 months, (along with some basic physical training) we would have been ready to take down the entire Al Qaeda Army or something.

I remember what all I had planned before I came here. Some plans:

-Will watch one movie everyday.

-Will watch lots of sitcoms

-Will learn to play tennis

-Will go running around the campus every morning (I later changed it to evening, who ll get up in the morning yaar?)

-Will try to learn, rather than just execution of tasks

-Will get to know more about the culture of Bangalore

-Will learn more about people in Bangalore

-Will be a better friend

-Will be the coolest guy I know (I have always been that)

-Will try out new things

-Will try local cuisine
-Will try to learn the local language

Now lets see if the plans materialized or not. Some effects:

-Watch one movie everyday??! I would consider myself lucky if I could see one in a week. The schedule is killing. Sleep doesnt come easy even to someone like me who values it a lot!

-Well, I did manage to watch a few seasons of a couple of sitcoms.

Fell in love with 'That 70s show' and 'Seinfeld'. Saw a bit of Scrubs too.

- Learn to play tennis? Just got enough time for a game. Nailed a German friend of mine in that game. Okay, thats a lie. I am awesome, but not Rajnikanth.

-Hmm.. I did run around the campus, but to submit reports, Technical Variances etc.

-I did a better job of learning than what I did in engineering. Infact, I am kinda proud of myself :)

-Got to know the culture of Bangalore... hated it..

-Got to know the people, hated them even more.

-I think this time I was better friend than what I normally have. I will leave this one for the friends at RR.

-I AM the coolest guy I know, so no surprises there.

-Tried out a lot of new things... lots..

hated the local cuisine - rasam bhat, sambar, chitranna rice, mysore pak, etc etc
- Did manage to get a hang of local language

So, some of my plans have been realized, others not. The ones requiring time, have been difficult to realize.

What is the point of this post? Abbe? Har time story hi chahiye kya? Sometimes hamari bhi sun liya karo!

Anyway, time for me to leave.

Take care. Have fun.

Of gujjus, colours and Holi

Holi cow! Holi is approaching & I havent had the opportunity to celebrate this colourful festival for a couple of years but this year i definitely will…Talking of colours, I think gujjus neednt buy any colours, coz they already are so colourful! You see, I had about 10 gujjus in my class,all of them colourful.. But here I would like to mention only two of them…The first one would be Siddharth Ashara (bhai).

Well bhai, is one of the colourful guys you will ever to see! The spects keep changing according to the latest fashions. Right now it is thick, big, spread out and black, like Uday Chopra's in Pyaar Impossible (dont blame him for watching such kinda movies with such kinda actor, its hereditary)…His Cell phone models change as frequently as Aamir changes his hairstyles! Has a wardrobe full of colours like red, blue, green, yellow!

However the most colourful, the one who takes the cake here and eats it too is Mr.Suril Shah! For starters he has a PURPLE(?) Pulsar with his name printed across it!!. He is a legend when it comes colourfulness…There are stories about him having yellow shoes (personally I dont think it is true..). Shirts in all colours from pink to green! He has even tried a blond streaks in his hair…The only other Indian guy I know who used blond streaks in his hair is…er…umm…no one! Suril is the only guy who could easily pull it off! Pretty normal for a guy whose favourite actress is Amisha Patel!
The whole point of this posts is that my friends are so colourful normally, I wonder how they look on Holi! I remember after last years holi which i wasnt a part of, Sid’s face had different hues of red for about a month! What colours do they use there
in Charni Road (Sid’s home) - Asian Paints??

P.S-Gala would wanna feature on the list,but sorry mate, Suril is a tough contender!
Pushkar wouldnt even qualify…He is too sombre…
Jags, vishal, Abhal, Sahil better luck next time!

Dhiren, you are in a league of your own.. Taking your name in this blog, will be like your tauheen :P

Another P.S.-The above post is to be taken sportingly…
Comments invited!!

Marigold : A short story

Firstly, sorry for my absence from the blogworld. It has been a hectic time for me. Sleep deprivation has been rampant. In this cold, going to take a bath has been like going to war. Time flies here, yet, at the end of the day if you ask me - aaj kya kiya? I would be at loss of words. This is a kind of learning curve for me at Rolls-Royce plc so I want to enjoy these days fully. Will let you know more about these adventures.

Anyway, my friends have been wanting me to write a romantic story, so here goes. For all you people out there...

Note: I am deviating from the usual love stories and entering into a much serious domain. Hope I do justice to the story.

Short Story

It was quite a time to be born... India was being born, breaking the shackles of 150 years of British rule.

The year was 1945. I used to stay in Multan with my parents. I was 20 years old then, studying in the local Arts college. I was majoring in English. My father was of the opinion that the British are successful because they know English. My father was a zamindar, which is an euphemism for calling him a British puppet who took money from poor Indians and forwarded it to the Government, the English government that is, in the process getting a hefty commission...My grandfather gave up zamindari when he saw how exploitative the practice was.

I never wanted to study B.A. , in fact I didnt want to study at all... I wanted to be a painter.

The reason why I stayed in college was because of Tasleen. Tasleen was this girl who lived in the house next to my house. We didnt have a flat system then, every family owned a house, one with a courtyard, backyard and a terrace... Her terrace had a small garden in which grew lovely Marigolds.

In the winters, it would get very cold. In Delhi, winter is a lot less harsh compared to Multan. In the mornings, I would study on the terrace to soak in the sunlight... She would come on her terrace with a pitcher of water to water the plants.

Her beauty was unparalleled. I had never seen anything as beautiful as her... Her long hair, her slender frame, the way she gracefully bent to water the plants... Only the marigolds in her garden could try to match her beauty... but would still fail...

I would hide behind the book I was reading/pretending to read and would catch a glimpse or two. Those days we could not leer at girls (although we desperately wanted to). It was considered impolite.

She would never even look at me. She was 2 years younger to me, I had been to a boys school next to her school, I was now her senior in college, I had been her neighbor since ages now, but I had never got an opportunity to talk to her. Whenever I had to go to her house to get some curd or sugar, her mother would open the door and usher me into the house. She would treat me to samosas and jalebis but there would be no sign of Tasleen. Come to think of it, Tasleen's mother was beautiful too. You could see where Tasleen got her looks from...

And now here we were, just 50 meters away from each other, separated only by a terrace wall and she wouldn't even acknowledge my presence.

Those days these local goons would wait outside the college gates to tease girls. Most of us, that included me, were scared of them. One day, she was walking back home from college. She was probably the prettiest girl in college and quite naturally a target for the thugs to tease. I was walking behind her at a distance. At first, the teasing was only verbal. Then one of the guys touched her dupatta. I was furious. I ran towards her and held her hand and stood as a shield in front of her. I told them that the girl was my neighbor's daughter and it was my duty to escort her to her house. My voice was shaky, trembling... but the words and my intent were clear. They let us go.

All the time that we were walking, her eyes were transfixed on the ground. Mine were transfixed on her. I was walking withing three feet of Tasleen. It was a dream come true. She left without without even saying a thank you. Come to think of it, why should she, she was doing me a favor walking with me...

I kept thinking about her all day. Books, studies, groceries, bicycles... they all seemed so unimportant right now.. I went to the terrace to clear my thoughts and there she was, drying her long hair. There is something lovely about a girl's wet hair... I kept staring at her... She looked at me... and smiled...

I graduated in the summer of 1946. My father got me a job in a college in Amritsar. I didn't want to go. But his decision was binding and irrevocable. At least that is what I had been told ever since I was a kid. Though he always wanted the best for me, then, I couldn't help think that he was any different from those thugs outside college who impose their will.

That hot afternoon, when everyone was asleep, she came to the door of my house and said,

"Are you going to leave for Amritsar?"

That was the first full sentence I had heard from her mouth. I kept looking at her.

"Are you?" She asked again.

"Yes." I answered.

"Don't."

I kept quiet. I didn't know what to say.

"Please don't leave." She said.

She had tears in her eyes. She didn't get an answer.

It was 45 degrees outside. I kept my suitcase on the cycle rickshaw. I was supposed to catch the train at the station to Amritsar. I looked at her terrace, she wasnt there... The cyclewala started to pedal the rickety rickshaw... I looked behind at her door, for the last time... The rickshaw set into motion.. Her door opened... She walked out.. barefoot, in that scorching heat... She kept looking at me, like she would never see me again...

It turned out to be true... I never did see her again.

Her family left Multan, which became a part of Pakistan after the partition of 1947. Someone told me that they sold off the house in Multan. Where did they go, nobody knew.

I knew, if I found marigolds in a garden, trying to be more beautiful than they actually are, as if competing with someone, that would be her garden...

That story...

In 1994, my Grandson, Surabh, completed his M.S. from the US. He found the love of his life there. They wanted to get married...

While raising up my son, I had been very liberal. I tried hard to be not like my father. My son became a scientist. He now heads the ISDRO for the Government of India. I think he got Sheila's brains.

I got married to Sheila in 1950. I searched for Tasleen in Delhi, Amritsar and Chandigarh for 3 years. Eventually I had to concede to the demands of my mother. She wanted me to get married.

Sheila was lovely. She was intelligent, elegant and kind. She was everything that a man would want in a woman. I lost her 5 years ago. A huge void was left in my heart.

I still couldn't help feeling that I had wronged Tasleen. Her "Please don't leave." would echo in my head. Maybe I didn't search for her right, or maybe I didn't give it enough time. I should have had searched more...

When Surabh came back from the US, I could see he was lovestruck.

"You really love her, huh?" I asked.

The frank and friendly relationship that I shared with him allowed me to be that intrusive.

"Yeah baba. I really do." He said.

"So wont you show your baba her photo?" I said jokingly.

But I forgot he was my grandson and equally jocular.

He pulled out an old photo of a small girl of 3 or 4 years old out of his wallet.

"See, this is my girl, her name is Pritha" he said pointing to her.

I removed my specks from my shirt pocket to see.

"And this, is her grandma." He pointed to a old lady who was playing with the girl in the photo.

I looked closely at the woman in the photo...

"Could I meet Pritha?"

"Ofcourse, we are going there on Sunday. Mom and Dad want to meet her too..."

On Sunday, I dressed in my best suit. Carried my best cane. The woman in the photo was none other than Tasleen. I couldn't believe I had finally found her.. and how! My grandson fell in love with her granddaughter! And that too half a world away...

I bet her grand daughter was as pretty as her. No wonder Surabh fell for her.

Our car parked outside their bungalow. We walked through the garden. The garden had the loveliest marigolds I had seen in a long long time. I knew they were competing. And this house had two pretty women they had to compete with...

We entered the living room. Surabh helped me sit on the sofa. I was excited for a 70 year old and I guess, it showed.

I waited for Tasleen to come out. Would she be happy to see me after so many years? What will I say to her?

A photo on the wall caught my eye. It was Tasleen's photo...she looked so beautiful... the photo had a garland of Marigolds around it.

I had found her... I had lost her... A tear rolled down my cheek...

That story...

Dedicated to a friend, whose Grandfather had to leave their hometown in Multan in the partition of 1947.

Title se yaad aaya...

I have nothing to write.
Have no inspiration lately.

I open blogger wanting to write something and end up staring at the blank screen for hours like a loser...


Loser se yaad aaya, what has gotten into Kolkatta Knight Riders? Suddenly, I have new found respect for Ricky Ponting. How did he manage to win all those matches with an ass for a coach (John Buchanan).


Ass se yaad aaya, what is wrong with Imran Hashmi.. aaj-kal koi movie nahi aa rahi bande ki.. He has done more movies in the last 5 years than what Aamir Khan has done in his two decade old career.

Note that, it was Aamir Khan who held the record for maximum kisses (on screen of course) and he was conviniently replaced by Imran in his debut year.


Debut se yaad aaya, Varun Gandhi made quite a debut in Politics in and as "Pilibhit ka goonda". He went overboard with his anctics, gave communal speeches which made LK Advani and Narendra Modi sound secular. Its almost certain that Pilibhit is voting for Varun this Loksabha elections. Next LS elections we can wait for his next movie - "The return of the goonda".


Goonda se yaad aaya, did you guys know Gulshan grover is the brand ambassador for the apparels chain - "The loot".

I mean, what were the Marketing guys thinking? How could you have someone whos every third line is - "Baaaad maaan" as your brand ambassador. Wouldnt it make more sense to have someone like Ranbir Kapoor or Imran Khan as your brand ambassador if you are selling clothes? The truth is, Gulshan Grover himself doesnt like clothes much, if he did, he wouldnt rip them off the heroine in evey fifth movie. Gulshan Grover selling clothes is like Rishi Kapoor selling annual memberships for Talwalkars gym.


Gym se yaad aaya, dont you think Mayawati should join a gym. Shes getting real big and disfigured, not to mean that she was as figure-y as Madhuri Dixit when she was young, but she really needs a workout. If she reads this blog(which in all probability she does considering my popularity) she is bound to say



"Abbe budbak, main UP ki CM hoon.. Koi nahi aayega mere aur mere khaane ke beach."
"Beach? But ma'am as far as I know there is no sea or beach in UP!"
"Abbe gadhe, there is a beach.. Playground ke beachon beach."

Hehehe... er.. sorry you had to hear a joke that bad. I am a little low on intelligence(I meant today, usually I am okay). But seriously, she needs to workout. Shes turning into the symbol of her party. Arre the symbol of her party is Elephant. Itna bhi nahi jaante (Kya jhakaas knowledge hai na mera Mayawati ke baare mein!).


Elephant se yaad aya, Ramesh Powar just gained a few more pounds. Had I been the owner of Kolkatta Knight Riders, I would buy Powar for 8 crore rupees. I think hes by far the best player in IPL right now. He can single handedly win matches. How? Here goes my strategy. But this strategy works only when KKR bat first.-

Send Powar to open. That McCulluam is an idoit. Gayle-Powar should open. Make Powar run on the pitch. The pitch will crumble under his weight. When we come to bowl we have a minefield of a pitch. Make Powar open the bowling too. On a cracked pitch even Murli Karthik can be fatal, toh Powar ki toh baat hi alag hai. Powar will end up picking up 10 wickets in 4 overs.


Powar se yaad aaya, do you guys remember which bat Sachin Tendulkar used before he started using MRF ka balla? Yes guessed it right! Power!

Sachin used to feature in print ads of Power, he also used to feature in that Action shoes wala comercial - "Joota hai ya light.. joote main hai light!" Do you know who was the girl in that commercial? Socho socho.. shenaz!! Yeah, that Ishq Vishq wali girl.. She played Shahid Kapoor's girlfriend, second girlfriend actually.. The first one was that Parkinsson disease wali girl, whats her name, yeah, Amrita Rao, she shakes her head a lot when she delivers her dialogues, next time, kindly note.


Note se yaad aaya, MBA education is very costly yaar.. Majak-majak mein bahut kharcha hone wala hai. And because of this recession I am not even sure if I will be able to recover the money that I have put in. The condition is bad for guys like me who have all their earnings in white. Now only if I had done some ghootala or something, I would have a lot of black money to splurge...


Black se yaad aaya, Obama (I am so racist ) should come up with something to resurrect this recession thingy. He should take our PM's help if necessary, afterall Manmohan singh is by far the best Finance minister we had.

If Obama can have a cup of tea with him, they will definitely come up with some solution. All we need is some Tea, marie biscuits and some baat-cheet...


Baat se yaad aaya, I have to take a bath.. Bahut din ho gaye..


Warnings:
1.Reading this post can cause temporary neuron damage. What? You already read it and are cursing your friend who recommended you this blog? Please dont, your friend's intentions were good, mine werent!
2.This blog takes no responsibility for the low marks scored by Delhi students(rest of India is done with exams) due to the brain damage caused by this post.

Shopping in the Ladies section...

Picture this - You are roaming around in a mall..In and out the overpriced showrooms... Shelf shopping through the Mens section..

Shelf shopping coz you are still in the last year of college and cant afford this stuff... You are going through the different types of shirts and jeans that are on the shelf..Denims are in, six pockets are out, or capris are they called?

And whats with the commando prints? What guy in the right state of mind would wear something like that.?! Just then a middleaged uncle with a paunch to show for walks by you wearing the same commando shirt.. Hmm... thts the kind of guy!!

You are browsing through the casuals section, then on to the Formals, then accessories and then you stand at the entrance of that section of the mall where thou haventh venturedth yetth - The ladies section.. You dare not enter.. There are women all around and there are clothes, all girlie clothes and there are a few men giving company to their respective ladies.. every third guy has a baby balanced precariously on his right arm..

You look at those men.. You knell down..God.. Please dont let me one of those men.. Please dont ever make me enter this section..ever..

Then you see men at the payment counter.. Paying for the shopping escapades of their girlfriends, wives or sisters..

You think to yourself, what kinda sucker buys from stores this overpriced!! These men into high paying jobs, loaded with money, pushing consumerism to the limit.. You think to yourself, When I start earning, I will not spend in such overpriced stores..

You see a guy with 3 bags at the counter.. He has a lady with him, shes going through the dresses in the bag... Theres a smile on her face which refuses to quit..

You look at the guy...You cant help feeling sorry for the guy.

He swipes his credit card.. turns back and looks at you looking at him.. and smiles..
That story..




One year hence, you have a job.. Amongst design software and hard core Engineering there is no time for shelf shopping.. You have decent salary and your bank account has started to smile..

The sister has to pursue a professional course and needs a few new dresses.. Now the sister does believe in my taste when it comes to apparel, this is one the very few things she gives me credit for..

So she decides to punch my smiling bank account in the face.. she took (read dragged) me to the costliest showroom in this part of the world..

We entered the mall.. We passed through the Mens section, casual wear then formal wear.. We were getting closer, then came the accessories section.. There I was standing at entrance of the section where men had their salaries drained... hours spent... credit cards maxed..

While I had a grave look on my face calculating how much this was gonna cost me, the sister was as excited as a kid in a amusement park!!

So wht are you looking for?
Party wear..!
What? You are getting into a Professional college.. You think theres gonna be time for parties?!
I just want this one dress..
Oh..ok..
For the rest of the formal ones we will come back again..
Whaaa?

My eyes started searching for discounts.. Where were all the discounts when you needed them?
I saw some % sign at a distance.. I was pulled by its magnetic presence to its direction.. 40% discount.. Cool.. Just what I needed.. Checked out some tops there.. Rs.1940.. Hmm.. 40% off on 1940, that is..er.. A pretty salesgirl stood there smiling..
"Sir, that is the discounted price.."


I lost my love for arithmetic after that.. I just stood there looking at salesgirl for 1 minute, then at the top for another minute, then looking at her again for one minute.. then she got bored of the routine and left..

The sister by that time had found 3 dresses she liked..She handed me the three dresses to hold while she shopped for more..

I thought u didnt like green..
Oh I meant emerald green.. this is bottle green..
I see..
Yeah..

The sister was getting deeper and deeper into the section. You see, the ladies section is pretty much like a city. On the outskirts of the city you get cheap (relatively) real estate.. But as you move deeper into the city, the real estate prices shoot up.. Similarly, the cost of apparels increases as you keep going deeper and deeper.. Then we arrived at the "core" area.. The Nariman point of the ladies section.. This section is usually occupied by 30 somethings businesswomen or iit-iim grads who earn enough to make grown men cry!

An hour later we had found around 5-6 dresses (some of which were from the "core" area) which she had to try on..I had three tops on my left hand, a maroon, peach and a black number.. On the right hand had I had a green, er I mean bottle green top, a pink one and a off-white one..

Then came the trying on the dresses.. You are allowed only 2 dresses inside the changing room...Here comes my part in the evening...the brother has to stand out with the rest of the 4 dresses and has to approve of the dresses he finds classy enough for his sister to wear..

So I am standing there outside the ladies changing room.. And getting those stares you get when you accidentally board a female compartment in the local train..!


I take this opportunity to go through the price tags.. All 4 digit price tags all of a sudden seemed less classy to me :P And yes, that included even the ones with "cheeky" prices like Rs.995.. I
mean even a 5th grader knows that trick..

After a gruesome half an hr of trying on the dresses, we zeroed in on one black number which I can safely say was the classiest of all dresses we had chosen..

Half an hour of alterations on the dress and we were ready to move on to the payment counter..
As the sister was busy adoring her dress, I was shelling out a few big Mahatmas..

I looked around I saw some college students looking at me.. Giving me that look, the look that I thought I had invented..

And I looked at the sister.. Still adoring her dress.. A smile adoring her face.. All grownup she was, all of 18 years, but I still see her as an 8 yr old who needs me to fetch things for her.. And all those mahatmas be damned, I would give them away for that smile.. And those college guys will know only when their sisters ask them to buy a dress for her... They will realise that its all worth it..

I swiped my credit card.. turned back and looked at the college guys looking at me.. and smiled..
That Story..

The Judge's Daughter

Short story

She joined school after the first midterm in the 8th grade.. Public schools are pretty strict when it comes to joining school on time. Her dad must a big shot, Rahul thought..

She was cute, petite, had short shoulder length hair.. She was confident, very sure of herself...

The class teacher introduced her as Kritika Rajan.. Kritika gave a friendly smile..

Rahul noticed her cute dimples.. Now Rahul wasnt a dimples guy.. never was.. But he couldnt stop staring at her as she smiled. Rahul was the tallest guy in the class, so he always took the last bench, Kritika took the third bench. Good for him, coz he could steal a glance or two everytime she smiled and those dimples flashed..

She had asked Rahul for his Geometry notes.. Apparently, Rahul's teachers had high regard for the guy, they had suggested Kritika to get his notes to cover up for all the portion she had missed the last semester.. Rahul was obviously too happy to help...
She came fuming to Rahul the next day...
"I dont get your handwriting.."
"Arre, samjha woh likh.. baki drawing nikal! hehawhaw"
"Shut up.."
Clearly, it was not the right time..
"Okay, what didnt u get?"
"This word - 'cle' Whats tht?"
"cle- cle means 'circle'!!Thats called Rahul shorthand!!" Rahul shrugged..
"Ooookay.. whats 'rle'?"
"Rectangle!"
"Oh.. and 'tle' is er.. triangle?"
"Way to go girl.."
"Oh.. hmm.. hey, can u please wait after school to help me understand more of your shorthand? Please! Pretty please!"
Now how could anyone say no to that!!

That evening, among congruent and similar triangles, she opened up to him.. She talked bout her favourite movies, the sitcoms she watched, how much she loved Tv and why..

Rahul never met her father, but was pretty sure she was her father's daughter.. She was honest, strong willed, tough..
Her dad was a high court judge, and now was on the special bench for political cases. He must be an honest guy.. They dont transfer someone at a post that high that often.. Kritika later told him that she had changed 5 schools in the last 7 years. She had stayed in Nagpur, Aurangabad, Solapur, Pune and now mumbai.. she hadnt spent more than 2 years at any one place. She had very few friends, most of them in Pune, where her dad was last placed.



There was this place behind the school building.. It was like a very small playground, with a single swing, a slide, an incredibly small see-saw and a cement bench, for the teacher to sit and govern the pre-primary kids... He had seen the kids play there in the small sandy place. It seemed big when he saw them kids play there, but now that Rahul was sitting there waiting for her, the place seemed too small.. kinda cosy..

She came, she wore a pink sweater.. weird are these ppl who come from Pune.. After the freezing cold of Pune, they still find the need to wear sweaters in Mumbai! But then, Rahul didnt mind, she looked hot in that pink sweater..

"You have cute dimples.."
"What?"
"Your dimples.. they are cute.."
Its weird how a girl who is that tough around others melts when shes around someone she likes..
"No they are not..", she tried to look away, trying to suppress a blush..
"Yes they are.."
"Noooo", the more she tried not to, the more she blushed..
"Yes they are.."
"No, they arent.."
"Yes they are"

The Judge's daughter she was..., she liked winning arguments, but she liked him too..., she could let him win this one...


Back in school they behaved like total strangers.. Ofcourse there was a glance here and a wink there.. but they made sure not to come within 1 metre of each other.. The fact that no one knew about them made it more thrilling!

They started meeting every evening behind the school after school..
She always wore that pink sweater, now, even more coz she knew Rahul liked it on her..
"You got nice hair.. and pretty eyes.."
Its weird how naive these 8th grade boys are! No creativity they got I tell you..
"Nooo.. No one has told me that before.."
"Well, I am telling you now.."
"No, they arent that pretty.."
"Yes they are.."
"No"
"Yes"

The Judge's daughter she was..., she liked winning arguments, but she liked him too..., she could let him win this one...


December days get kinda chilly, even in Mumbai.. That day it was a bit chilly.. Even Rahul wore a sweater to school that day.. he normally thought he was too cool to wear one! He looked at Kritika who was sitting on the third bench.. she looked lovely as ever..

He kept looking at her throughout the Geometry and Science class.. Restlessness grew within him as last lecture of the day was approaching.. He wanted to be alone with her.. Talk bout stuff.. bout what he loved.. his fears.. his dreams...

The bell rang.. After everyone had left the school, he went to the playground at the back of the building..
She was sitting there.. The golden sun rays of the evening sun were falling on her face.. her dark hair looked golden brown in the sunlight.. It was very cold, she was wearing her pink sweater.. He could stand there looking at her all his life..

She looked at him.. Something wasnt right.. or so it seemed..
He sat beside her..

"Whats wrong.."
"My dad’s getting transferred.."
"Again?"
"Yep..This is my last week in the school.. My dad will be transferred to Nagpur"

She was taking it amazingly well..

"What? But it has been only three months!"
"Oh.. I know"
"You wont miss me?"
"No, why?."

This was weird.. didn’t she feel anything for him..

"Not even a little?"
"Umm.. a little.. maybe.."
He saw a mischievous twinkle in her eyes..

"You liar.. You not going anywhere, are you.."
"I sooo got you there..haha"
"Stop laughing meano.."
"Nahi re, my dad is getting transferred.. But I am staying with my Grandmom.."
"I m not even talking to you.."
"Aaww, I am so sorry re.. sorry sorry sorry.. "

She must have said sorry bout 9 times.. And there must be guys reading this thinking that it doesn’t make things better.. but trust me, it does..

Rahul’s heart melted..

Its not fair.. Men were made taller and stronger.. Men fight, eat with their hands, drink from the carton.. What was bout these girls that made men all soft inside.. damn..

"Not fair..You cant do it to me.. I like you"

It was the first time he said that to her. Both of them knew it, but it was the first time he said it to her..

"I like you too.. more than you like me.. "
"No, I like you more.."
"No, I like you more.. "
"Nope, I do.."


The Judge's daughter she was..., she liked winning arguments, but she liked him too..., she could let him win this one...

She smiled, Rahul’s heart melted. He had won the argument.. But something he lost.. And he was not sure what..

She held his arm close to her and placed her head gently on his shoulders…
Last time I saw them, they were just 14 year olds, with dreams in their eyes.. and maybe.. one day... they got married...., and had kids and yes..., like all good stories go.. They lived happily ever after...


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I am a sucker for happy endings.. Something didnt seem right in the last story. So I changed the ending..