A friend of yours meets you or pings you after a really long time. Once the normal niceties like how have you been, where are you these days, how is the life etc is exchanged; invariably your friend will pop up this question. “Aur bata, kya chal raha hai, kuchh naya, koi ladki shadki”(So, tell me, what’s new, some new girl in your life)?
You chuckle and say, “nahi boss, koi nahi hai”(no my friend, there is no one as such). In response of which you get these really good reactions. Sample some of them:
# Haan yaar, hume kyun bataiyegaa, koi nahi, lage raho (Yeah, why would you tell me, no problems, carry on).
# Aisa kya be. Dost ko nahi batayega, samajhta hoon, badal jaatein hain sab (Why so? Won’t even share with a friend. Yeah, I understand, people change).
# Theek hai chhupe rustam, mat batawo. Sachai chhup nahi sakti lakh chhupane se, kabhi toh hume pata chal hi jaayega (Its ok, don’t tell. You can’t hide the truth for long; eventually I will come to know about it).
# Hehehehehehehehe. Tumko kya lagta hai, hume tumhari khabar nahi. Poori news hain apne paas ((A hearty laugh). What do you think; I don’t know anything about you? I have all the requisite info).
There might be variations to the above sample, but all of them revolve around one theme. That you have a girl and you are not disclosing it. At times, its gets really difficult to convince them, at times irritating, and at times you just laugh about it.
Given the fact that I live in a place were I know only a handful of people, and where my social acquaintance aint great enough to boast about, I cant even claim to have minus half a girl with me. And I emphasize on minus, simply because I just cant see from where I will get this girl, about whom I can tell my friends, in the way they wish me to.
Agreed that I know a few girls, agreed that they think of me as this nice happy-go-lucky guy, agreed that at times they think of me as this guy with shit load of attitude, arrogance and stuff, but ask any of them if they want to be my so called ladki shadki (girl), and you will get all kinds of interesting replies.
# Who, he?? Yukkkk
# He aint that kind of a guy.
# I never thought of him like that.
# He and a boyfriend material? What a joke?
# Ask him to get a life.
So, there I go. I can be this nice friend, I can be this guy with whom you can occasionally go out for coffee, I can be the one to take you to a couple of movies, I can be an acquaintance. But when it comes for the girls to upgrade me to “my guy” status, there aren’t enough takers. Chuck the enough part, their aint even a single one.
I hardly complain, simply because this isn’t in my hand. And at times, I even enjoy the fact that I aint bound to just one, that I aint off the shelf yet, that I am still single and ready to mingle.
Someone once told me, boss, if some girl says no to you, there has to be some problem with the girl, maybe because you would be simply too good for her. Nice consolation to fool yourself, only if momentarily.
Sadly-yet-pleasantly, I am single. Take it or leave it.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Dont damn me
What is the true test of love? Most of us have our own theories. Some derive it from the old, clichéd tales of romance where the two people involved claim to do anything and everything for each other, and are ready to pay the ultimate price even. Remember the tales of Romeo-Juliet, Heer-Ranjha etc; losing their sheen gradually as we evolve but nonetheless stand true for quite a few of us. Others tend to be slightly more practical and think the true test of love is when you want your guy/girl to be around and actually find them; that the two of them are ready to slog through thick and thin together. Few others think that their love is eternal when they find a person who in a short period of time is capable of reading them inside out; one who they think will make them happy, for now and ever. For them it’s a leap of faith.
I have a slightly different take on this and I am not sure how I actually hit upon this theory and how and when I actually developed and implemented it. For me, the real test is when I have this “special lady” with me which as per the common perception has this special something about her, and I have one more lady who might not be as special as the first one, nonetheless, is talented enough. The second lady need not be a total stunner, but yeah, she should know how to carry herself. And carry herself well. And the test involves pitting the two of them against each other. In simpler terms, comparing the two. Most of my ladies have told me not to compare them with anyone else, all of them claiming that they are special. Never denied that, yeah, all of you have been special in your own styles. Still…….
There have been instances where I have been completely smitten by someone, and am not able to think beyond her. I have, at times, taken the courage to take the next step forward. Sometimes met with success, met with failures quite often also. And then we have been on these dates, these coffee evenings, long walks etc. As the days pass and I start knowing the lady more and more, I start thinking that she has to be the best thing that has happened to me for quite some time. Sometimes I also ponder that this might not be the infatuation at all, this time for sure I am in love.
As ill luck could have it, only if to justify the Murphy’s Law, I happen to be in a situation where I have this special lady next to me and I also have one more lady with me. And then this whole theory of comparison comes into play. I look at this lady (can I take the liberty of calling her my lady); I look at the other lady. And snap, everything’s gone. Gone daddy gone, the love is gone. Finished. Never understood why this happens to me, but happens quite often. Was I living in a one-dimensional world where I could not think of and imagine about anyone else? Was I the proverbial frog of the pond that never saw the sea in all its vastness? Was it that she was the only lady with me that my mind actually perceived her to be special?
I don’t preach this theory of mine to anyone, and certainly don’t encourage anyone to implement this. I have an advice though. Don’t make your life spin around one single person, don’t make it one-dimensional. Things might go great for sometime, maybe for a long long time; still, it makes life a tad too monotonous.
About me, I don’t know. Maybe I am mentally sick. I actually confessed to one of my friends that I am a prime divorce candidate, because I might not be able to concentrate on someone for long. Maybe I will find that special someone someday, who will actually pass this weird test of mine. Again and again. And that day, I might actually contemplate tying the knots. But is that possible, cause I am supposed to do an arranged marriage, that’s what my culture and upbringing dictates me to do. For the time being, god forbid that it aint forever, I am a misogamist.
I have a slightly different take on this and I am not sure how I actually hit upon this theory and how and when I actually developed and implemented it. For me, the real test is when I have this “special lady” with me which as per the common perception has this special something about her, and I have one more lady who might not be as special as the first one, nonetheless, is talented enough. The second lady need not be a total stunner, but yeah, she should know how to carry herself. And carry herself well. And the test involves pitting the two of them against each other. In simpler terms, comparing the two. Most of my ladies have told me not to compare them with anyone else, all of them claiming that they are special. Never denied that, yeah, all of you have been special in your own styles. Still…….
There have been instances where I have been completely smitten by someone, and am not able to think beyond her. I have, at times, taken the courage to take the next step forward. Sometimes met with success, met with failures quite often also. And then we have been on these dates, these coffee evenings, long walks etc. As the days pass and I start knowing the lady more and more, I start thinking that she has to be the best thing that has happened to me for quite some time. Sometimes I also ponder that this might not be the infatuation at all, this time for sure I am in love.
As ill luck could have it, only if to justify the Murphy’s Law, I happen to be in a situation where I have this special lady next to me and I also have one more lady with me. And then this whole theory of comparison comes into play. I look at this lady (can I take the liberty of calling her my lady); I look at the other lady. And snap, everything’s gone. Gone daddy gone, the love is gone. Finished. Never understood why this happens to me, but happens quite often. Was I living in a one-dimensional world where I could not think of and imagine about anyone else? Was I the proverbial frog of the pond that never saw the sea in all its vastness? Was it that she was the only lady with me that my mind actually perceived her to be special?
I don’t preach this theory of mine to anyone, and certainly don’t encourage anyone to implement this. I have an advice though. Don’t make your life spin around one single person, don’t make it one-dimensional. Things might go great for sometime, maybe for a long long time; still, it makes life a tad too monotonous.
About me, I don’t know. Maybe I am mentally sick. I actually confessed to one of my friends that I am a prime divorce candidate, because I might not be able to concentrate on someone for long. Maybe I will find that special someone someday, who will actually pass this weird test of mine. Again and again. And that day, I might actually contemplate tying the knots. But is that possible, cause I am supposed to do an arranged marriage, that’s what my culture and upbringing dictates me to do. For the time being, god forbid that it aint forever, I am a misogamist.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Borrowed Ride
There are two types of people in this world. People who drive a bike (anything that has two wheels and runs on an engine e.g. motorcycle, scooter, scooty qualify as a bike) and people who sit as a pillion on the bike.
Members of the first community are characterized by the typical snootiness, the source of which the fact that they claim they are always in the driver’s seat. Damn possessive about their machine, they wont let the pillion touch the vehicle; forget about actually letting the pillion drive it. They claim that the pillions are the second fiddlers, not capable and suitable for the hot seat.
And then there are the pillions. The reason that there are so many members of this clan is because these people either don’t own a bike or are too chicken hearted to drive one. Some pillions just submit to the bossy ways of the members of the first clan, blandly nodding to all the whims and ways of these snobs.
Still, there are some pillions who actually enjoy the whole process of sitting on the rear seat of the bike. They claim that they get the best view; putting forward the logic that the person driving the bike has to perpetually look in the forward direction, with occasional glances to left and right when approaching a curve. And they themselves can look in whatever direction they feel like. And the claim is justified to some extent. When that fine girl in the car is next to you in a slow moving traffic, the pillion can give that fullest and meanest of stares, whereas the poor biker cannot afford to do so. Add to that the laxity of traffic rules that force only the person driving the bike to wear a helmet; the poor guy is turned into “just one of them”. Ala the batsmen in a live telecast of a cricket match, don’t all of them look just the same. On the other hand, the pillion having the privilege of showing his entire face is capable of portraying his identity. Smile and chances are that the fine girl will smile back. Might notice you even.
Happened just the other day with me. I was happily dispatching the duties of a pillion while Kinjal sir (my colleague and one of the very few friends I have in my organization) was proudly driving his thunderbird. It so happens that this most gorgeous girl (happens to be crowned the most beautiful lady in our company) was right on our tail, riding her scooty (she calls it Dio, claims its better than a normal scooty) sometimes overtaking, sometimes getting overtaken by the sheer horsepower of the thunderbird, but more or less taking the same route as ours. But naturally, I jumped on the seat and said, I know this girl. Kinjal sir is like, “Ok, but she is following us. Maybe it’s me or my bike”. I just chuckled and said it might be me even. Promptly dismissed by Kinjal sir (so typical of the people of the first clan, never ready to spare any credit to the pillions). Being followed and chased by the girl for around fifteen minutes made our hearts beat ever so faster, although Kinjal sir were rather nonchalant about it, masking that joie de vivre with
“Oh, its happens quite too often with me” look. This overflowing cup of joy was spilled when we discovered that the fair lady was not impressed by either of us, nor was following anyone. She was just taking her normal way back home, which happens to be only a couple of blocks away from Kinjal sir’s place. Common, how did we fall for that? Girls never follow guys; they like to be chased around. They are the preys, not the predators. And all these days, how didn’t we know that she lives so close to our place. Shame on us.
Anyways, just to confirm if we (Kinjal sir and me) were noticed that last evening, I pinged the lady the next morning. And she is like “so it was u on the thunderbird yesterday”. Three cheers to all the pillions. Moral of the story: pillions are the better amongst the two clans. Oh, I forgot, Kinjal sir was wearing a helmet.
Being a compulsive pillion can also lead you to opportunities, where you get to be the second fiddler to ladies. And my oh my, what a wonderful feeling that is. It’s always a pleasure to go on a drive with a lady, and the feeling amplifies when the lady is actually driving the bike. And you sitting relaxed, your hair floating in the air, your face sporting a wide grin. And then there will be those stares from the normal public; oh, the girl is driving the bike and not the guy. What happened to all those theories of male dominance? Are the equations getting modified? Never read much into those lines, but must admit that those stares give you another kind of high. The grin gets wider. Plus, the lady’s knowledge of all the better places in the town (always pondered why and how these ladies always know of these better places, never could find the answer) and the experience gets richer. To all those pillions out there, if you haven’t experienced this, you actually have missed something.
Needless to say, I love to be a pillion. And enjoy every minute of it. Love the feeling of sun beating down on your face, winds gently stroking your cheeks, sky as your crown and the rear seat as your throne. Plus, it makes you reach your destination without actually having to spend a penny. Sounding like Scrooge McDuck, yeah sometimes I do.
Fellow pillions, remember we are the chosen ones. Long live the pillion clan; long live our companionship with rear seat.
P.S. I don’t own a bike, neither intend to own one. My life on the roads is all about borrowed ride. And yes, I am too chicken hearted to drive a two-wheeler.
Members of the first community are characterized by the typical snootiness, the source of which the fact that they claim they are always in the driver’s seat. Damn possessive about their machine, they wont let the pillion touch the vehicle; forget about actually letting the pillion drive it. They claim that the pillions are the second fiddlers, not capable and suitable for the hot seat.
And then there are the pillions. The reason that there are so many members of this clan is because these people either don’t own a bike or are too chicken hearted to drive one. Some pillions just submit to the bossy ways of the members of the first clan, blandly nodding to all the whims and ways of these snobs.
Still, there are some pillions who actually enjoy the whole process of sitting on the rear seat of the bike. They claim that they get the best view; putting forward the logic that the person driving the bike has to perpetually look in the forward direction, with occasional glances to left and right when approaching a curve. And they themselves can look in whatever direction they feel like. And the claim is justified to some extent. When that fine girl in the car is next to you in a slow moving traffic, the pillion can give that fullest and meanest of stares, whereas the poor biker cannot afford to do so. Add to that the laxity of traffic rules that force only the person driving the bike to wear a helmet; the poor guy is turned into “just one of them”. Ala the batsmen in a live telecast of a cricket match, don’t all of them look just the same. On the other hand, the pillion having the privilege of showing his entire face is capable of portraying his identity. Smile and chances are that the fine girl will smile back. Might notice you even.
Happened just the other day with me. I was happily dispatching the duties of a pillion while Kinjal sir (my colleague and one of the very few friends I have in my organization) was proudly driving his thunderbird. It so happens that this most gorgeous girl (happens to be crowned the most beautiful lady in our company) was right on our tail, riding her scooty (she calls it Dio, claims its better than a normal scooty) sometimes overtaking, sometimes getting overtaken by the sheer horsepower of the thunderbird, but more or less taking the same route as ours. But naturally, I jumped on the seat and said, I know this girl. Kinjal sir is like, “Ok, but she is following us. Maybe it’s me or my bike”. I just chuckled and said it might be me even. Promptly dismissed by Kinjal sir (so typical of the people of the first clan, never ready to spare any credit to the pillions). Being followed and chased by the girl for around fifteen minutes made our hearts beat ever so faster, although Kinjal sir were rather nonchalant about it, masking that joie de vivre with
“Oh, its happens quite too often with me” look. This overflowing cup of joy was spilled when we discovered that the fair lady was not impressed by either of us, nor was following anyone. She was just taking her normal way back home, which happens to be only a couple of blocks away from Kinjal sir’s place. Common, how did we fall for that? Girls never follow guys; they like to be chased around. They are the preys, not the predators. And all these days, how didn’t we know that she lives so close to our place. Shame on us.
Anyways, just to confirm if we (Kinjal sir and me) were noticed that last evening, I pinged the lady the next morning. And she is like “so it was u on the thunderbird yesterday”. Three cheers to all the pillions. Moral of the story: pillions are the better amongst the two clans. Oh, I forgot, Kinjal sir was wearing a helmet.
Being a compulsive pillion can also lead you to opportunities, where you get to be the second fiddler to ladies. And my oh my, what a wonderful feeling that is. It’s always a pleasure to go on a drive with a lady, and the feeling amplifies when the lady is actually driving the bike. And you sitting relaxed, your hair floating in the air, your face sporting a wide grin. And then there will be those stares from the normal public; oh, the girl is driving the bike and not the guy. What happened to all those theories of male dominance? Are the equations getting modified? Never read much into those lines, but must admit that those stares give you another kind of high. The grin gets wider. Plus, the lady’s knowledge of all the better places in the town (always pondered why and how these ladies always know of these better places, never could find the answer) and the experience gets richer. To all those pillions out there, if you haven’t experienced this, you actually have missed something.
Needless to say, I love to be a pillion. And enjoy every minute of it. Love the feeling of sun beating down on your face, winds gently stroking your cheeks, sky as your crown and the rear seat as your throne. Plus, it makes you reach your destination without actually having to spend a penny. Sounding like Scrooge McDuck, yeah sometimes I do.
Fellow pillions, remember we are the chosen ones. Long live the pillion clan; long live our companionship with rear seat.
P.S. I don’t own a bike, neither intend to own one. My life on the roads is all about borrowed ride. And yes, I am too chicken hearted to drive a two-wheeler.
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