Mr. Lovely

Calcutta, Present Day.



"Ayi Shomo, where are you leaving for?", Enquired Mastermoni. Shome took out his gunnysack and easel and walked for the door as Mastermoni, his highly interesting teacher and psuedo-landord finished his cup of green tea. He didn't mind the often unwarranted queries by the old man since he not only got the good fortune to work under him, but also got to stay in his palatial house right in the middle of the city.

Little known by his original name of Diponkar Mukherji, Mastermoni during his heydays was a radical painter. Starting out as a petty graffiti boy for the communists when he was given free reign to paint the walls of Kolkata with propaganda art; he came to be one of the finest artists who was profusely patronised amongst the Tollygunge elite, and respected immensely among the junta at the India Coffee House. So much was his legacy that the street that passed through his house was known as Mukherji Para, the avenue of the Mukherji's.

As Shome put in his chappals at the door, he replied, "I'll go to the National Library, read for a while and then maybe finish the chobbi I'm working on."

"Even Picasso would have stayed home on a lovely day like this..", Mastermoni quipped as he lit his pipe and looked out of the french window to a rain drenched Kolkata on a lazy saturday.


A Couple of Minutes Later.

Amidst the shouts of market vendors, bells of the Kalighat temple and a surprisingly cool wind in the air, he walked up to the main road and then took the stairway to the metro station underneath. It is even cooler here, he thought as he passed the gates and boarded a train that was just about to leave.
As he stood with one arm clinging to the handrail, he noticed a very gorgeous and demure lady sitting right in front of him. In the next few minutes, their eyes met once or twice and she used to shy away. At least he thought so. From the top to bottom, he checked her out and he so was enamoured by her beauty, one could tell by the look on his face. Artists tend to fall in love easily.

A little later, a station came and the girl hurriedly got down. As he devoured the jasmine scent of her body when she passed by him to the door, he also felt a strange sensation around his hips. Somebody has just pinched him. Thanks to the crowd, he couldn't know who.

As he looked little further inside the compartment, he saw another man constantly staring at him. Shome looked at this stranger for a while and made a few points on his mind. He was being checked by a person who was not straight, Shome could tell. He noticed the Kajal in his eyes, the tight jeans, shaved underarms and all that. And the stranger was gradually taking steps towards the place he was standing. As he started feeling extremely uncomfortable, his station was about to arrive much to his relief.

"Poroborti Station Rabindra Sadan", the phony announcer quipped.

He used the crowd in the station to his advantage and made a dash towards the escalator, as the stranger was already hooting at him by now.

"Aiee Roxy, Tumi Aashbo na??", the stranger was shouting shamelessly with a effeminate touch to his voice.

As he touched the escalator, he looked back to confirm. He had lost Mr. not-straight. Relief.
He walked up and his eyes feel upon an inscription at the station's plaque that had a couplet from a poem of Tagore's. It read like this,

Through the silent night
I hear the knockings at my heart,
of the morning's vagrant hopes,
Sadly coming back.

Now he knew what the girl must have felt.

Conversations

the_g@l_i_just_met:
hmmm pensive..
it wnt do justice if i search for it
u shld search for it
wld be better
wld feel personal then


balls_of_steel:
I din't ask you to search for it.
Just in case, you come across such a picture.
By any chance.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
hau hela re baba (alright mate)


balls_of_steel:
I'm sorry. I think i'm being kinda difficult.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
nopes
i m good wid difficult ppl


balls_of_steel:
Diplomatic answer.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
no
i really am good wid difficult ppl
especially guys
was wid one for sever yrs u see


balls_of_steel:
Shut up. Not something you'd just joke about.
To a stranger like me.
You see.
He was ur guy re.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
m nt joking
he was a difficult guy
i mean very difficult to understand
n i loved that
i like difficult guys


balls_of_steel:
I think its better we not talk about this.
Like i said, you can nver really trust me.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
wat wld u do?
i mean wid this topic/


balls_of_steel:
I don't know.
Maybe i'm simply freaking out.
But i'm really sorry, if you find me odd at the moment.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
freak out?
why?
i mean
i dnt get it
why wld u freak out?


balls_of_steel:
Something just happened.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
wat happened?


balls_of_steel:
Will talk sometime about it. When i am saner.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
saner?
i thought u wr sane a few mins ago


balls_of_steel:
Few minutes seems to be a hell lot of a time, when you conversing on the phone with a gurl you used to date and talking simultaneously to another good frend on Facebook.
*used to date once


the_g@l_i_just_met:
oh
u wr on the phone?
wid ur ex?


balls_of_steel:
Ex, note xactly.
But ex's are bitches. Bigtime.
A confession.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
nt true
nt always
cmon


balls_of_steel:
I can't think much now.
My mind is jammed.
Its a long bad story re.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
kya hua re?
what she talk about?


balls_of_steel:
nothing. All bullcrap.
maybe, some guy dumped her of late.
And what am i.?
Spare wheel.?


the_g@l_i_just_met:
cmon
maybe she was just depressed
wanted smone she can trust to talk to
so she called you


balls_of_steel:
Tell you what.? For the record, She is not a nice lady.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
ok maybe i shldt comment whn i dnt knw her


balls_of_steel:
Or maybe i just hate her, unconditionally.
But to be honest
~ before she happened to me, Ex-Gfs used to be so much fun.
But not anymore.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
lolz
wats that supposed to mean


balls_of_steel:
I said na, bahut lamba story.
I'll tell you over coffee kal, maybe.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
hau (alright)
muh sunibi (I'm all ears)
How's your mood now?


balls_of_steel:
Yes. Metallicca helps.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
hmmm
sun i gtg offline
muh moh frnd lappy ru online thli (Been online from a friend's notebook)
i ll try to cm online
so unless i cm online again,
nite nite
sd
n peace to you.


balls_of_steel:
yes. I like peace.
good nite


--the_g@l_i_just_met has logged out. When the fuck will you? And oh, you can send an off-liner given that you are such a prick and such a dummy like the_g@l_i_used_to_date had told you, in the face. Yes, that bitch. Or so you assume. Now just try suppressing the involuntary frustration you have in you and stop stalking good girls under my nose. Please get a life you ass, for your own good. Your's truly, Chat Engine--

Rains.

Login.

Facebook-> Notes-> Write a Note-> 
Why do rains have to be so cruel, calculating and contemplative, condescending at times?
In a time like this, i feel like shedding a tear or two everytime it pours. Tears of pain, regret. Period. I can't stand that tear on Amma's eyes with whatever happened a while back. Even though it had always been destiny's call with stuff like this and nobody could avert such a thing, i so wish i could do a thing or two, to make her feel better. Even the pyre won't burn properly with such a rain around, I thought. But my heart did burn, nevertheless.
We have our own problems to take care of. Problems with grades, to begin with. We fuck it up, voluntarily.
Secondly, problems with girl(s). No matter how much we try to set things right, we end up screwed, involuntarily. But then isn't life about carrying all these many problems/issues/ complex/ think-of-a-more-cockier-name-shit in your satchel and moving on. Life has been shit, showing me the door, all this time.
So now, what do i do? give it back the shit? Or do i get busy with washing all the shit it's been giving me? In this very rain. Eh?
Was it the same me, who once upon a time used to eagerly wait for the showers?
And at times when they didn't materialise, would land himself into a prolonged fit of mood swings- the bad and ugly ones.? Bitch.
Save Draft-> Logout.

This one had been lying in my drafts since a year or so. This was when, it had first rained last year. Things were real bad then. High on emotions, i typed this out. Today's rain reminded me of this. Feeling the first rain, it never felt so good like today. Couldn't have asked for a better time to share this out. 
Life has taken a perfect circle. After reading this, i put forth my belief on the fact that time heals all.
Sure it does :)

Random Memoirs #2

Those blood-shot eyes screamed heart-break all over, yet again.

He took a glance at his wrist and grinned wickedly, almost like a kid.

The swiss knife did a pretty nice and neat job, he thought.

The pain had begun to slacken, as he slowly went off his senses and moved towards dreamscape.

Even though, his reddened eyes screamed vengeance, he could do nothing about it.

The doctors tried, and the nurses chanted silent prayers.

That's it, he said. and then he arised. He tore the ventilator pipes off his system.

When he reached the door of the cabin, he felt like turning back. And so he did.

They were busy zipping him up and the mortuary guys were pulling the strecher in.

He smiled at his flesh. He had never felt this way. this better.

Random Memoirs

And Life takes a perfect circle. Now, i very much believe in the fact that What goes around, comes back around. You do good to people, better things happen to you. You do bad with them, shit happens to you in the same way and style you made it happen to them. Either ways, in the end it comes back to you. Its feels good, this big lesson of life has been learnt.

Random Musings- Chapter One.

Okay. I know that I've been an asshole all this time. Period.

Not that i'm proclaiming or complaining. Its just something i seldom do, ie. speaking my heart out.

Things have been not so good to me of late. Its really complicated to elaborate, but i'd try to do so.

Someone had once explained to me, people never tend to change, they stay as they are. Its the circumstances that change and shift phases in levels and multitudes.

And that was precisely what happened, in my case. Drastically, things that i once used to hate started culminating within me and cunningly attached them to my existence, piece by piece. Things that were *not so me*, bit by bit. I always thought that i was a happy person. Not exactly somebody, who would lock himself up in his room two days straight, whose mom would secure all loose electrical points and connections in his room just in case a self-gratifying thought of *you know what* comes across his otherwise sane mind. Worst case, she'd even take away all the things that'd make you bleed. Namely safety razor, the heart-shaped pencil sharpener, nail clippers, the Ganesha that was chiseled out of a single block of glass, et al just because he has listening to Lamb Of God a lot, lately.

No wonder of why i used to sport a weird beard back then.

"People don't change baby, circumstances do.", that was the direct quote. 

:x

The feeling of betraying somebody and feeling of being betrayed are bad in their own levels. 

*deep shit* in my lingo.

But what if, you put yourself in such an arrangement, that you'd feel both at the same time.?

Is there any manner by which you could do justice to yourself in such a position?

Could you forgive somebody and seek forgiveness,both at once?

Tell you what. Been there, done that.

But anyways, that was then.

And today i realize that I was born free. And it were the circumstances that chained me. 

And this very moment, i Break it away.

But then, don't you think that sometimes its safer to be in chains, than to be free?

Thoughts still keep on fighting within my mind as i get on to fight my mood swings. 

Tell you what, they are real bad.

Of Raavan, Love and Periods

October the 17th, 2010 | 2100hrs.

"Cmon dude, accept it. My smoke is denser.", Abhi proclaimed with an audacious authority as he made circles of nicotine laced smoke from his mouth, courtesy the Milds, his tenth in the day.

"Grow up bitch. Stop acting like a Montessorri wannabe.," UC replied him  and they fought over whose smoke was  whatever-it-was. Duh.! In the midst of all this, i looked up the sky where the smoke from our fags wrestled along with the smoke from the burnt crackers that had a few moments back had taken the form of an impressive display of fireworks.

These very fireworks for a moment's time had painted the Bhubaneswar sky in such a exotic manner that it would have inspired Renoir or Picasso to pick the brush and hit the canvas. That beautiful is was. Or so i believed.

My eyes glanced upon one particular type of the fireworks, the 'chakri' (read: the spinning fire wheel). It at first started glowing and began to spin. When it was at its climax, it was shimmering like some swarovski crystal at its lordly best and then, it began to dim and flickered away like a light bulb on a low voltage power source. And darkness prevailed then onwards. I still don't get it of why this thing caught my attention, but i could pretty much relate this to the elements of  Love and Sex alike.

At first, love blossoms when the sparks fly, literally.Then, the sun is at its highest peak, like the lovers say which is in turn followed by a phase of Darkness with the cold dark moon for company. Well, this is what happens, generally.

I'd choose not to elaborate the same with Sex.

*grins*

Love is like a firecracker. Love is over-rated. This was one view, the three of us shared today. By this time, the conversation over hot pakodas had also shifted to this very topic." There are other things in life that are beautiful and as much inspiring as love is. But still, why is love the only thing cellular companies, Coffee-shops and the likes cash on.eh?", UC stated. "Look at Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin. Most of their lyrics are so intriguing and addicting, yet those lines got nothing to do with love.", he continued."Totally a point.Why the fuck can't Pankaj Udhas and his ass think the same way.? He is depressing me, officially", Abhi said as some typical emotionally-wrenching ghazal played from the loudspeakers. Me and UC looked at Abhi and had a laugh over it.

"Life is way too dramatic you see. If we mortals could afford to cut most of the drama in our respective scenes and strive to live in a more practical manner, life could could be so easy, so beautiful", i don't know who said this as i was busy gazing the fireworks but this line hit me home. I actually got this feeling that God was speaking himself, totally. Maybe it was Abhi, or UC.

"Jeez man!! The fire ain't getting up its crotch. Its stuck in its skirt. I think we must leave. Its late as well.", Abhi Complained.

"Maybe, our ten-headed guy is having his periods today. So he won't burn, i guess.", That was me.

"Now, How the eff do you guess that.?", UC gave me a dirty look with this.

"Oh, Cmon, he's wearing a giant pleated paper skirt with what seems to me like black Polka dots on pink. Don't you see that, macha.?", i replied.

"Bastardos, lets go home before god gets angry on this one.", this was Abhi who was ever complaining about reaching late at home.

Broken. Part #3/3

This post is the second part of a Three-piece story. For those who wish to read it, Its highly recommended you through the first part of the story. Click here and the second part, click here. And the ones who have already done it, Please proceed. For your kind consideration - 


7 Hours later, a Park near Brigade road, Bangalore /6:28PM :


He tried hard to beat sleep. Maybe this time he succeeded. Three sleeping pills at a shot ain't any joke. Kurt Cobain had succumbed to an overdose of four pills. Marilyn Monroe, just two.
He sat on the park bench, chronicling the events of the day. Of how he managed to fly down from BBSR to BLURU, passed two security checks, changed two buses here with his backpack still on his shoulders, all when he was half asleep through the time.
Nidhi always used to talk about this place. She lived nearby and used to frequent here whenever she was in town. It was even more beautiful than what Nidhi used to talk about. Reminded him of Notting Hill, Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts on a park bench.
Yes, this place has beautiful parks and beautiful girls too. Beautiful enough to kill you, nearly kill you.


"Hay-lou!!", a dusky feminine voice said as Suresh sat with his eyes half closed, lost in thoughts of the one who was standing in front of him and had just said him 'Hi'.
He found it hard to stand up.
"Sit down. was jus' thinking of you. Sau Saal jeeyegi tu."
She said nothing but smiled. Their eyes met for a moment until she glanced away out of utter shyness the next moment.


S: "Guess what? i just nearly killed myself to get to you. Hope it does something good."
N: " Why you sayin' that to me? I'm least bothered."


And they kissed passionately.
And when the next moment they hugged, something scarlet dripped down from Suresh's nostrils and stained Nidhi's Ashen white jacket near her right shoulder.
Blood.


"Everything got into place, just in time", he thought.


AFTER FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE FOR 34 HOURS IN A BANGALORE HOSPITAL, THE DOCTORS ANNOUNCED SURESH DEAD.
ACCORDING TO THE AUTOPSY REPORTS, THE REASON OF HIS DEATH WAS STATED TO BE "OVERDOSE OF DRUGS LEADING TO A CONSEQUENT CARDIAC ARREST DUE TO A LOW BLOOD PRESSURE."

Them Bastards

Once upon a time in the suburbs of a beautiful city called Bhubaneswar, lived a bunch of kids who called themselves the 'Mafia on Cycles'. Their targets included 'petty Ice-cream Wallahs', the uncles who sold Balloons - The heart shaped ones. Or the 'Bhaina' at the game parlor where they had a time of their lives playing the likes of Mortal Kombat and Re-coil. Those petty fights after the school they used to get in, for Pokemon tazos or those wrestling trump cards now seemed so childish and immature to them, but each one of them very well knew that this was the seed to something great and lovable, the undying friendship that would follow. They used to return their homes with bruised arms and knees and broken cycles, but on the contrary, the bond they developed between themselves had been deemed un-breakable. Together, they used to shout together those dirty slangs they had picked up at school in the summer evenings after a game of Cricket not caring about those colony uncles who would hear them. As time passed by, the cycles gave way to the Peps, the Dios and co. By this time, apart from the slangs, thick fog of smoke came out from their mouths that smelled tobacco. The tiny rascals had become big boys indeed. Period.
Words like Love, crush meant a whole new meaning for them now. Despite the fact that each of them wore different brands of underwear ranging from the stupid sounding 'Rupa' to the chic 'Puma undies', they had one thing, one fucking thing in common- At some point or the other they had felt for a girl. One of them was a born player, in formal words, they'd call him Casanova. He never fell in love with every girl around, it was the other way round. Sick fucktard, made me jealous at times. Gradually with the passage of time, some of em had break-ups, the Casanova did what he was best at, some just let go for they were bored, two of them were still stuck and were having a tough time on moving on and a last single bastard, the glorious and the most creative of the lot was simply confused of what he wanted. He assessed the girls in his life like stock options, where to invest, where to not. Errr sorry, 'whom to invest upon....' :P
Career wise and academically, most of them had a tough time in finishing school, the 12th grade. A few managed it and passed coolly, one of them failed badly. But the other bastards still stood by him, kept his spirits high and a year later, this tiger fought back and cleared his thing perfectly. The fact that they were now in different colleges and instis` was not a problem. They still kicked ass in town, together.
Cutting to the present, they made new friends and relationships and carefully chose the ones that they knew would last forever, probably. These bastards are indeed proud of what they are now and what they stand for. A poet, a semi-poet, a writer (probably), two photographers, a date doctor, two awe-frig-gin-some Joe Satriani-esque guitarists, a gifted foot-baller, one responsible guy ( he's the Man Friday most of the times when we end up screwing ourselves) and the perfect angry young man. Now that's what quite a many people would call a talented bunch o' individuals.
Love them, hate them, envy them. They won't give a give shit to it.
For they Love all and Rock all. Them Bastards.
Care for more, eh?

Brk-Up

S,
When we were holding hands, sitting together on the bench at that so called 'Lover's Park' with your head resting  coyly on my shoulder, it was so beautiful, so lovely back then. Fuck! Did we actually love each other?
But how different are things now? They changed up so fast! For the good i guess.
I surely don't miss you at those weekend eat-out sessions at the Chaat Street or even when i'm dining alone at my flat after a boring office shift.
I'm not reminded of you even when i see the couples cosy-ing up at the beach At that moment, the good ol' Milds and a Masala Chai give me company.
I can still re-count that it was really sexy, the way you used to drink your tea. The one single bit of milk cream that stuck on the edge of your wet lips used to turn me on. I used to try hard to resist the urge to kiss you, which i failed to do so, Of course.
Now i don't miss you when i wake up to the mundane lonely mornings. Heck! i don't get it of why i always want to wake up to you. Even though i miss that black you make, The Latte' from Barista works for me. 
Its been a year and a half i guess, hope you have moved on. Honestly, i have got over it. Its over for me. But still there are bits and pieces of  you in me that i need to detach myself from get rid of.
And believe me S, its the toughest part. I'll try to do it my way, don't worry. For i kissed a cactus and it showed me the love.
 I know that you are pissed off on the fact that i didn't speak to you at Shrav's wedding last week. The truth is that i was too drunk to stand upright. The text you sent me later that evening in you said that i'm immature, i was hurt. But believe me baby, all it took me was three shots of Absolut to blank out. I didn't give a shit to it.


Okay this is it. Maybe i still love you, or maybe i don't. I'm confused, i don't know. 
Anyways, for the moment,
 My love is gone.
And i'll say that a hundred times over.


Your's in Pain,
S*

Daddy.

"Almost any man can be a Father.It takes Someone Extremely Special to be a Dad"

Hey Papa,

remember the last time when you hit me? Probably, you won't. It was during my sixth grade. For I had chewed a slice of your tobacco roll back then.

Now every time i take in a smoke, i'm not reminded of the slap on my palm, but of your words of solace after you caned me.

when i failed in my public exams, i could clearly make out that out of all you were the one who was hurt the most, though you didn't show it and put up a plain-face. You just silently supported me all this way.

Now when i fought back and cleared the papers well, why don't you let me follow my dreams? Why am i being pressed to believe that majoring in English is a bad option and that commerce is my forte when you very well know of how good i suck at numbers.

I still remember the day when you taught me the art of spinning a cricket ball. I was inspired and used to practice it all the time, whenever wherever i could. But then came a day, when the opener of the other colony's team hit a six sixes in my over. It was when i was dejected the most, and frustrated too.

That's when you without losing your cool inspired me to convert this aggression of mine into a positive energy. Probably, these were the lines you said - "Remember that failure is an event, not a person".

Every time when me or my buncho' friends during a game used to break a window pane of an irritating Aunty or some retard uncle, It was you who would bail us out.
There was a time when mobile phones didn't exist and International calls used to cost as much as a Jockey Undies cost today. You were overseas for months together and used to call up once in a few days. Though i was a kiddo back then, i could clearly make out that Amma was worried and tensed about you, so was i. She still gets worried when your cell's not reachable, though its you who would hardly charge its battery once a week. She loves you so much and cares a lot that even its been an inspiration for me. When it comes to these small things, try being a bit more responsible. Like charging up your cell and all, not forgetting the keys in the car which you do most often, over-heating the dishes in case Amma is not around.


Maybe i will stop it here for if i were writing this on a paper, it would have been wet by now already.


Bye papa. take care.


Gunnu.

Broken. Part #2/3

This post is the second part of a Three-piece story. For those who wish to read it, Its highly recommended you through the first part of the story. Click here. And the ones who have already done it, Please proceed. For your kind consideration - 




"Everything's gonna be in place. Just in time." He still thought.


Separation.


TWO MONTHS LATER...


"Life's all Screwed Up."
              This was the 34th time he was tweeting the same message since he came home after his college had finished. He switched to the next tab of his browser which had a Wikipedia article on 'CLOZE'.


'CLOZE' was an anti-depressant.Technically speaking it is a grade II tranquilizer which in Clinical terms is known as 'Sleeping Pills'.
Suresh's father was one of the most respected persons in the city's business scene. His interests lied in Real estate, scrap iron trade. But his biggest business was the distribution of pharmaceutical drugs and medicines. He was a giant in this particular domain and almost all pharmacists and Doctors of the city, directly or indirectly dealt with him. 
No wonder, why Suresh had to check the dosages on the internet instead of seeing a doc and fetching the pills through an acquaintance instead of buying it himself, Over the counter.
He reached for his drawer, took out a tablet from the strip of six, swallowed it in a moment and gulped down water in another. It tasted sweet. "So does Poison..", he thought.
A heavy stupor drove him to a state of sub-consciousness. The tab was kicking in and so did all those sweet bitter memories.
He re-counted their first meeting. Around three years ago.

 EXAM HALL- 31 / INTERNALS START IN 5 MINUTES -> The first encounter

  Suresh and Nidhi happen to be seat-mates.

S: " Guess what? Had 7 cups of coffee last night, and a peg o' Vodka this morning. The perfect solution to the perfect combo of Nocturnal studies and early morning exam blues."

N: " Why you saying that to me? I'm least bothered. don't you see?"

S: "Ummm..I thought, You might just be interested."

N: "stop dreaming, Drunko! And yes, Coffee/Vodka won't do any good to your paper. Cramming some formulae at this eleventh hour might just help..H= I²RT, H_rms=0.637I²R…...."

'Beep beep..Ghrrr..Beep beep', his phone buzzed to some stupid tele-marketing text, frustrating enough to wake him up from sleep.
He checked the time.
Fuck! It was 2AM and he had been asleep for nearly 13 hours.
He Pee-ed and then came back to the drawer. this time, he wanted more, a double dose maybe. Yes, he hated being awake, being in sense. He tried his best but couldn't accept things as they were.In short, he detested reality and gulped down two, sorry three pills at a time.
He was killing himself and he very well knew that, but wish he could help it.
This time, in his state of trance he did something he hadn't done before. He wanted to peek into it once before he could incinerate it, or himself.
He reached for the drawer and took out the cream colored card-board envelope which read,

||  शुभ विवाह ||

This card was something different, he marked. A killer in disguise. He opened the envelope and slowl, gently pulled out the card, he gazed into it for five minutes and said to himself, "this ain't reality. 'am on a high and am stoned. nd this isn't happening..."

He slept off..... 
He woke up all of a sudden.Despite the pills, he couldn't get a proper sleep. This time however, he woke up in his senses.The first thing he did was to reach for the invite.
This card was something different, like he had marked. Yes, the names of the groom and the bride were missing on the envelope.


He opened the card and read:

OM SHRI........Our Daughter

Nidhi

Weds

_________________

...........................

.........RSVP.........

  ...................

There were two more paper sheets in the envelope he had skipped and now wanted to see.

The first one read ->

"FILL IN THE BLANKS DUFFR.

DIY."

"MUAAH! KISSES! HUGS!

AND APOLOGIES. IN CASE ITS NECESSARY."

"In case its necessary!!", he grinned as he read and went on the the second sheet which read something like this ->

"MARRY ME? PLIJJJ? :P

PS: ON GETTING THIS DO NOT BOTHER CALLING

ME UP. MEET ME AT THE HALFWAY, YOU KNOW WHERE.

6:30PM.

I'LL BE WAITING, BYE."

He knew where.

(contd.)

Lolli-Pop

He took out another pill from the packet. He reached for the can of Diet-Coke from the fridge. The bearings of his Wheel-chair were gaining Junk, he thought as he moved out from the Kitchen.

This is it, he thought....

He opened the can, Popped in the tablet, Took a sip and felt the effect kicking in. The Tab hit home.

What worse could get with David and things around him. He was a diabetic since he joined the Police service and was on wheelchair when he was rendered unfit to serve them anymore, officially he was sent on a vacation-a indefinite leave. A screwed up marriage, a wasted daughter,a sick dog. how much worse could it get??

His eyes fell on the Post-it note sticked to the refrigerator. It read like this-

" Me at Martha's place. Will be late. Linda won't be returning tonight.
  Shez gotta nyt-out with classmates. And feed Anabelle, feed Yourself,
  The medicines i mean.."

It was his wife. One of the many notes he used to discover after his daily afternoon siestas.

He reached for the Post-it notepad, took the Mont-Blanc pen of his and started writing, Scribbling actually.

" I just can't take it anymore. This was my third pill in the evening. I can't see Linda
 like this. No sensible Daddy can. Yes, I just fed Anabelle. Take an appointment with the
 Vet. Unlike me, She needs attention.


PS- Todd's a great guy. I know you must be surprised to know that i've been keeping
tabs on you. But still, Go on. Maybe, he screws with you better."


He stuck the note on the Fridge, finished his coke and wheeled towards his room.


He forwarded to the closet, Looked one last time at his Service ranks and his uniform. He reminded himself of his golden years as an encounter specialist and forgot it a moment later.


With his service Revolver his hand and the finger around the trigger, he sat on the wheelie besides the window  and started playing Lolli-Pop with the gun.




This Post is a solemn tribute to those officers who served the police with their best possible sincerity and valor and apathy of the later that they faced when they were rendered unfit to serve further.

Cheers To Life:Good Ol' Days

Venue- at the tarmac of the ruins of the old airport, Bhubaneswar
Date- Raan's B'day | Time- watch had stopped working :P

Raan finally was giving us guys a treat on his b'day, thanks to the mind games Patel had
played to convince him. The same evening,few hours later he was to board a flight to join his
bro out in Bangalore. So we had to decided to party out somewhere nearby. He had got his
backpack and it was the first time he was traveling alone.
"where's da booze?? Bring it on Bi-a-tch!!!!", Casanova exclaimed.
"Raha..patel must be on his way back", Baman da answered
Just then Patel called up on my cell.
patel-"hullo..aur kya laaoon?? KingCan six tho,do bottle smirnoff aur ek officer's choice ho
gaye. 100 bucks bach gaye."
me-"mere aur happy ke cigs?"
patel-"haan hai..pakode bhi laa diye, aur bolo.."
me-"bas ek matchbox laa le toh achha hoga, i don't have one"
me-"bedha!! thik hai..on my way". he hung up.
Meanwhile happy had started unpacking raan's backpack.A bottle of Deo, a pair of old
rugged jeans, sunglasses and then came a small packet with a pic of a really hot chick on it.
It read 'Moods-Ribbed'. All eyes were on Raan. Raan explained,"u know.. Bangalore got
really awesome girls, if i find one then this might help.u never know guys. :P"
me-"But you can always buy one out there na.."
Raan- yea i know mate..but anyways what do they call it in the local lingo?"
Baman da-" see now Bangalore is known as Bengaluru..so this may be turn out to be
'Protectionuru'??
"HAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!"..both me and Happy laughed like demons from those hindu
mythological soaps. Raan just grinned. Casanova was on the phone.All this left Baman Da
confused. Perhaps he expected us to burst out laughing on this joke.

Meanwhile Patel had arrived with the Booze. After a bout of drinks, Casanova exclaimed-
"i treated her like a princess and she treated me like a slave..bitch she is. BEE-A-Tch she
is.." I guess he started crying by then.
Few moments later Raan consoled him,"shit happens..dude..move on"
"I may throw up any moment..urghh..", it was baman da. I in a jiffy grabbed out a pack of
napthalene balls, opened them and put it under his nose. Moments later he said"Thanx man,
I LOOUU UU.."

The scene was getting more and more sad. Someone needed to cheer them up. I stood and
said," Dude now that u are going southbound, i need you to get a dvd of this southie flick.
Don't remember its name though."
"In that case how the _|_ am i to get it??", Raan said.
Me-"wait i'll try singing a few lines of a song of that movie..maybe that would help...."
Patel jumped up-"Garam Chaa Dhaalidebi to muhaare.Telenga gita gaaiba salaa"
He said this pointing his Beer can on me.
Generally among our troop, Patel was known to be the one who used to retain the most
control even after all that booze.A tanker he was indeed. But now he was down.Tragedy.

Time flew away like the planes did. The ones that flew past us as we boozed(and i smoke).
Then Happy said it was already the check in time for Raan's flight. Five minutes later, we
were at domestic terminal of the airport(there is no international one FYI). Everyone bade
goodbye to him.
Happy- "Dude..have a awesome time out there."
Patel and Baman da-" BANG BANG IN BANGALORE DUDE!!!"
Me-" Play it safe mate....only if you have to"
Casanova-"Haaaapi B'day dude"(full talli)

After all this we returned homes.

An hour later my cell beeped to a text message from Raan.

"At home now, was heavy on alcohol,they
had a test done. Grounded me. btw dey askd
for a guardian's no.,gave yours. do the
needful f dey cal up. Yea i board my flight
day after tomorrow, so kal phir peene chalte
hai..same place same time..aww alc rocks dude!!!"


This is a work of fiction....Just inspired by true events,

,and an ode to my homies and the great times that we had together.

Cheers folks!

Cheers to Life!!

O pardesi....o pardesi!!!
meetha sa chadha hai bukhar....

The song played away as Patel opened up another pint of smirnoff. Everyone raised up their glasses. It was an evening to remember.Had to be. The location of the party was just perfect. 3kms off NH5 towards left, On the sun-kissed sand beds of the River Kua-khai.The sand carrying trucks had just left. We had parked our bikes back at the bank. The road as almost 300 meter from the bank. We had our bikes grounded( parked them without the stand) so that we could be not noticeable to the PCRs who used patrol the road. It was around a quarter to six.It was teh time of sunset. Nobody was on a high, even after a round of drinks. Suddenly sambalpooriya stood up and addressed -" salla nai chadhe...edkum gol re baskini piba..mast chadhiba." Meanwhile me and Ahmed had finished another pack of cigs(we don't drink na) with a bit of help from Baman da and Happy. Happy's eyes seemed red through his glasses.I guess he had his thing raw. Giving a childlike innocent smile he started off singing "dola re...dola re..". Now it was official, One guy was on a high. Sambalpooriya and Baman da stripped off their shirts and said patel"aaa--aame maan--ee ga--gadhei jaa-uchu." hell they wanted to have a bath in the river.WTF!. Ahmed exclaimed- "Sam! bag sey ek neembu kaat ke laa". Yes we felt baman bhai and sambalpooriya needed it.They were heavily drunk.
Suddenly Raan took off his tee and threw it in the air. It landed a bit far away. He exclaimed-"Run Hara!! Run!!!". Another soldier of our troop, Mr.Harish sprinted behind the shirt.Patel ran behind Hara. After all this Run fun affair got over, we started eating. We had got a plenty of Pakodas back from CRP square.Ahmed and me jumped on the packet of pakodas. We were dead hungry since an hour or so and with the cigs around, it just aggravated the hunger. The song that was playing now-

"maahi ve..mohabata....mangda naseeba.....kismet k maare..asi ki kariye."

Raan then started crying. Missing his girl perhaps.The song started casting its spell. It took 3 guys(eh! men) and 15 mins to get him back to life. Then we realised that it was around 8pm. Hell. Baman da's cell which was playing the music stopped and started buzzing. "SSHH..BOPPA KA PHONE HAI". he said. He had a 5 mins talk and then we left the place in no time.On the way back on the highway, one could see Raan and me singing-

"LADY HEAR ME TONIGHT, CUZ MY LOVE IS JUST SO RIGHT......
AND I KNOW THAT IS TRUE, I CAN TELL BY THE LOOK IN UR EYES"


This is a work of fiction....Just inspired by true events,

,and an ode to my homies and the great times that we had together.

Cheers folks!

Realize 'n' Screwed!

Today I realized that whatever i do now decides my tomorrow...this ain't philosophical....few days back i screwed up my maths board paper....i told about it to mom....she scolded...ignored it.
But all my dreams of studying at DU and other desi ivy league colleges are shattered.

Actually it is like this that i have attempted all questions but not sure of a major part of it. I have assumed it to go bad..really bad unless my paper falls into the hands of an alcoholic examiner. Just fingers crossed for now.

Two months from now I visualize myself sitting in a dingy hall at the counseling of an entrance exam. Right from day 1 i hated engineering. i never wanted to get into all those limits, mechanics shit. i suck at them, heck i just love to hate engineering. Its just a compulsion that i have to pack my bags to hell few months later. I always wanted to study B.Com in the likes of Stephens,Xavier's,Loyola,Osmania...but all gone..long gone..wish i had put a bit more effort for maths..i wud have passed off...even if i wud have managed to to better, at the end of the day its my board-The Bloody Council Of Higher Secondary Education sucks the shit outta u. You try to climb up and up and it just pulls you down in one shot.See so easy like opening a can of beer. Hell raise upon it.

With my Desi Ivy dreams on the verge of ruins i just sit staring the empty wall opposite me searching for....