A Date after An Era

The guy was goodlooking – almost like an Israeli: dangerous and yet inviting. And so I invited myself to an opportunity that let me ask him out. And he said yes.

We met at Bandra station and then got into a rickshaw that galloped off to Carter Road. Oh it was a date for sure. He went home to change and douse a bottle of perfume before he walked back again to Bandra station. And since, I don’t mind smelling some nice cologne, I pretended to be indifferent, but secretly loved the fragrance that pervaded the rickshaw.

After the rickshaw stopped at Carter Road, we got out and walked. The Israeli – I will call him that for want of another description –  is nice to talk to but is very very sensitive to criticism. Well, he isn’t sensitive to all the criticism you throw his way. He just detests being corrected grammatically.

I noticed that trait the moment I met him and made a conscious effort to keep my mouth shut lest I correct him. After all, he wasn’t offending me and I somehow felt nice in his company.

He is very proud of the fact that he is an editor at the age of 22. The pride swells into the shape of a monster, actually. He began to tell me how much he loves his job, how you need to have several years of experience to be a sub-editor in a newspaper, and how he had landed himself with such a job at an age as tender as 22.

Usually, I when someone goes on like this, I do give them a peace of my mind. But yesterday, I really did not want to argue. Nor did I want to contest the veracity of his statement. I just nodded, smiled, and was my agreeable self. You see I had begun to like him already.

We talked a little more. And then we sat in a cafe and drank some coffee. We got along well. I have a strange feeling I might sleep with him. I don’t know why. You see while we sat at the cafe, I was inexplicably drawn to him and I felt like taking his face in my palms and kissing his lips.

It’s just that I am a stickler for proper behaviour and so refrained from doing anything that stupid. But were I drunk, I would have and that would have been quite a sight.

Anyway, moving on, as I said, I was attracted to him. Perhaps it was the accent that did the trick. It’s exotic and rather East European-esque. And since I am crazy after such accents, I have fallen (slightly) for the boy’s charms.

Half an hour later, as I finished sipping my coffee and we began to walk to the rickshaw stand, I realized I was really pleased that I had asked him out. I was smiling, he was smiling, we were talking and listening to each other, and the manner in which we went about this was akin to a symphony well played by a Philharmonic Orchestra.

So as the piece came to a close, I played the final movement: “Oh it has been great meeting you. Are you coming this Sunday for the meet?” I asked.

“I don’t know I am not quite sure.”

“Well, do come; that way I get to see you again.”

“Oh all right! I’ll try to. See you soon.”

“You too.”

And we smiled at each other, held hands a little, and then parted.

Gone With My Whimsical Acts

My back’s aching – not aching actually,  scratching. Not even scratching; it’s itching, but slightly. It’s not as if I have to tear down my clothes and rip through the itching area. My back never allows me to do so nor does it give me a chance to do so either.

I was thinking about the times I spent with my ex-boyfriend (Harry). Oh he did not scratch my back, but he did excite me no end. I was so happy being with him. Of course, had it not been for my break-up before I met Harry, I would have still been with him. I broke up with Harry because I realized I wasn’t over the ass I had dated before him.

Today, as I sat in the bus and listened to a Philharmonic Orchestra playing Christmas carols, I began to drift back in time to the days Harry and I were dating. We would meet at places in Bandra and we did coochie-coo like rabbits.

Sigh! I miss intimacy. I miss it like hell. It’s the one thing that I hankered after for so long and when it did come my way, because I was in a skewed state of mind, I dumped it and how! I called Harry and broke up with him on the phone!

Silly of me, really, but then I have reason to say that this is just one of the numerous silly deeds I have participated in in the 30 years of my life here on Earth.

Off the Block

Some people can be really irritating. Take this acquaintance of mine for example. I had gotten to know him a few months ago – a time when I had just broken up with the boyfriend. We got along well – this acquaintance and I – and we did talk a lot about stuff quite intrinsic to the affair I was in. I satisfied his curiosity about my ‘relationship’ with the boyfriend and he kept asking more.

Well, I did not have a problem answering his questions. But it began to dawn on me that I was forever in the dock so to say. The times I had a question for him, he never ever gave  me a reply that was direct. Instead, his replies roamed all around the words he knew in English and then decided to choose the ones that made his answers rather vague.

Initially, it wasn’t much of a hassle to me. I let it pass. But this morning, while we were talking, he asked me about life and what do I expect of it. I unwound and told him the truth about my opinion of life. I also dug into the recesses of my mind and bared many of my thoughts that I otherwise would not have shared with anyone.

You must understand that I did all that and more all because I trusted the guy. I felt he understood me and I was at ease talking about it all.

However, a few days ago, a bolt of thunder and lightning struck that understanding of mine.

It so happened that I had logged onto Facebook and there he was. Needless to say, we began chatting. One bit led to the other and soon we were discussing my life and thoughts as if I had laid it all out for a barnyard sale.

After I had finished selling myself, I asked him about his plans. Well, he hesitated and then told me he was going through a crisis. His study plans interfered with his career aspersions because what he was studying was not what he wanted to make a career in.

I told him that he needs to then decide and eliminate what he thought wasn’t meant for him. He said yes, he would but there are other compulsions as well.

So, I – like a gentle benevolent fool – asked what were those compulsions? Perhaps he can share them with me.

To that came an answer that put a bee sting to shame! He said: “Oh I don’t think you will understand me. It’s best we don’t discuss it. Let’s talk something else.” All this after I had laid my life bare in front of him.

The heat of the irritation that this guy caused in me swept my anger into a frenzy. I was livid with rage. How can he even come to think that I cannot understand him when he did not even let me show my understanding of him?

It was a hot volcanic rage that ran through my fingers the moment I saw his answer. But I did have the presence of mind to not let my fingers go berserk in anger. I merely typed: “I see. Okay”

“Don’t feel bad.” He typed in reply.

“Oh no, I am not feeling bad. Okay listen: I think I have to log off. I’ll catch you sometime soon, okay?”

“Okay, and I am sorry if I have caused you any hurt.” Well, if you know you have, saying this doesn’t lessen the damage. But I didn’t say that to him. Instead, I logged off and promptly blocked him in my chat list.

Forgiven

After a royal gap of, say, four months or so, I decided to forgive my boyfriend. Yes, it wasn’t easy. It was spiked with the most difficult poisons to weather and live. But the deed I did and the poisons I bore. And now, I feel so light. I am at peace with myself and that’s exactly what I want at this point in my life.

So, now that I did forgive him, I needed to tell him that I have done so. The e-mail came in handy and I typed the following letter and sent it to him an hour ago.

Dearest Tempest:

It’s been a long time since I have written to you. Of course, I had not written to you because I could not bring myself to write to you. I could not bring pen to paper nor fingertips to keys on the keyboard to send you a line since there wasn’t anything to tell you at all.

But today, as I was travelling in the train back home, I decided I must write to you again and tell you what I have to.

Tempest, I have forgiven you – completely and in the true sense of the word. Yes, it was difficult, but forgiven you I have. The realization that I have indeed done so dawned on me – I think – a week ago or so.

Now that I have forgiven you, I feel so light – in fact, I am the Shakespeare I knew: the one who delights in spending time in Church, who delights in little acts of kindness, and who is happy to sing for the Lord.

Well, so that’s me now. And I am happy – and relieved as well. I am relieved to know that I still have it in me to forgive and the joy that brings my soul is inexplicable.

So I take your leave then. This time I will – with all my heart and with every sincerity – wish all the joy and happiness in the world. And may you be content with the life you choose.

Always,

Shakespeare

The One Least Likely By My Side

I went on a date to Mulund yesterday. The guy I was to meet had arranged for tickets for the 11:15 show of Kaminey – a new Hindi movie that stars a spanking new version of Shahid Kapoor and a surprisingly likeable version of Priyanka Chopra.

We were to meet at Nirmal Lifestyle – the mall that houses the PVR cinema where the movie was playing.

I walked into the mall rather early. So, I had all the time to look around and criticize it.  Not that I had decided to criticize it – I just have a habit of making keen observations.

So, as I stepped onto the footpath that led to the mall, I noticed a rather terrible stench that assailed my nose. Apparently, the footpath had quite cleverly concealed a massive gutter flowing underneath. I think Inorbit at Malad must take a cue from this mall. That mall too allows a gutter to flow by its side but pretends to not know of its existence. As a result, everyone who walks into that mall holds their nose and it looks as if they are willingly walking into a garbage bin to buy stuff!

Nirmal Lifestyle has a slew of outlets sleekly slotted into areas around the main court. It’s a humongous structure for sure – a huge dome encloses all that is part of it, but the structure lacks grace and is anything but subtle in its decor.

The roof looks too stale – with all those grey pipes and dull-coloured glasstops. And the court is no less boring either: It is a mix of boring cream tile and dull blue borders that criss-cross to form pentagons and triangles. I am sure they bothered about nothing else other than the completion of the mall when they were working on the floor and the roof.

What they did pay attention to is the seating arrangement. Pretty stainless steel benches dot the whole premise and it’s a treat to sit on them for they’re comfortable.

As I was about to make a few observations about the shops that lined the floor on which the PVR cinema was, my date appeared.

Dressed in a pair of jeans and a chequered shirt, he was all set to please me. He smelt good as well. I smiled, he smiled, and we headed into the movie hall.

Well, I maintain to this day that I did pay attention to the film. But I cannot say the same about my date. His hands were all over me and mine were encouraging him to get adventurous as well. In the end, we had felt and figured out each other’s genitals down to the minutest detail.

By that time, the movie had come to an end and we walked off to grab some lunch. We did talk about this and that – mundane topics you know that you drag into conversation to avoid discussing sex. I am appalled at myself as I look back on what we talked about at the lunch table. It was so useless – all that talk. I hardly even remember we analyzed anything of importance – just because we both did not want to talk about sex. For we both knew that once we did, we would end up making plans to have sex as well.

The guy did not want that for he wanted to have sex only with someone he would be in a relationship with. And yet, he thought nothing of groping me so brazenly in the darkness of the auditorium! As if that is not enough, he orders me later to grow my locks of hair all over again. Now I am not doing that. As it is, maintaining a mane is such a task. And growing it back is even worse a chore than taking care of it.

Needless to say, I haven’t called him back. Nor do I plan to. I am sure the hint has hit his head and made its presence felt. And I am not about to bandage his head at all!

Morals at The Getaway Party

I attended a house party this past Saturday. Twas fun. Everyone knew exactly how not to behave and stuck to their outrageous behaviour very well. I for one, happened to land up there because it was in Pune and I wanted to get away from the city. Pune, being three hours away, fitted into my scheme of things and off to that city I went. It also helped that I did get an invite to the party. So, I put together a few things to carry along and managed to squeeze in a book to write down my observations of people  I meet there.

My acquaintance’s place was a sweeping huge three BHK that was flanked by a humongous gallery. The gallery and the windows from all three rooms opened out to a view that was at once breathtaking and exhilirating. Mists rolled down from the hills and clouds perched themselves on the hilltops. A pretty railway line ran right across the green grass that that separated us from the where the clouds sat and every two or three hours, a diesel engine cooed its way down to the station closeby.

The apartment was on the tenth floor and so, a delightful breeze always kept us company. I spent all my time taking in the view and hardly paid much attention to the party that took place in the evening. However, when I realized that not paying attention might be interpreted as I being a snob, I decided to turn my back on the view and take in what the party at me threw.

I had a date for the party – a guy named Nikhil. He picked me up at 8 and we did roam around Pune for a while before we headed back to the apartment by 10 – the time when the party was in full swing. As I said, my eyes were on the hills, but then I also let them come down and enter the hall to gaze at the merriment that was in full swing.

There was the usual close dancing, the liquor-inspired bravado to approach a guy and tell him he is cute, the flirtation and the coaxing that more often than not lead to at least a kiss.

Nikhil was with me and he was slowly getting drunk. But being the boy that he is, he wasn’t willing to admit to that. Instead, he claimed he wasn’t getting drunk enough this time. The rest however, were quite inebriated to lie. In fact, they forgot their senses and propriety and out came their opinions about everyone – me including.

I was standing with Nikhil at the door that led into the balcony when three guys materialized out of the dark and came upto me.

“You know,” said the first one, “I haven’t hugged you.”

I knew he wasn’t aware of what he was talking. I said yes that’s quite true and the next moment, he hugged me and walked straight ahead.

The next smiled a 32-million watt smile and said I looked very beautiful.

I said thank you and he walked by too.

The third took a good look at me for three seconds and then realized he was courageous enough to say what he wanted to. So he opened his mouth and said: “You know Roman, you remind me of this classic icon whom I adore and admire.”

My eyes lost all their sleep and my ears twitched to hear the rest.

“Yes, you remind me of her. She’s the ultimate icon: Simi Garewal.”

I was so amused I could have burst out laughing. But instead, I smiled the way Ms. Garewal does, curtsied a little, and said thank you.

Well, in response to that, he hugged me and followed the other two into the hall.

“See see!” Nikhil said, “they hit on you even when I am here!”

“Well, they are not aware of what they are doing. Or else, they would not do it at all. And what about you? You have been hitting on so many here.”

“Oh come on. No one is hitting on me nor am I hitting on anyone.”

“Oh ho ho!” I laughed as I supported myself against the door, “let’s start counting. There’s the foreigner who just doesn’t want to leave any hint unexplained.”

“Oh he? He I am not interested in.”

“How about that guy you have kept bumping into half the time?”

“Oh he is bumping into me.”

“So you say!”

“Haha! Come on, he is. I am not.”

I smiled that away. The evening was withering away and so was my interest in Nikhil – romantically I mean. He looked good, had lovely eyes, but the problem with the man was that he did not know what he wanted.

Not even once did he grab my hand nor did he allow me to get a little close to him. All this when he did tell me he was looking for a fling. Well, I wasn’t not going to encourage him, but the fellow seemed rather cautious.

In the end, nothing happened at all. At three in the morning, I asked whether he would like to sleep over. He said no, he’d rather drive back home. I asked again and got the same answer all over again. And so I gave up.  I reached him to the lift, undressed and went to sleep.

In actuality, I just wanted him to feel as if he was saying no. I wasn’t interested in him after a while that day. Besides, a few weeks ago, I realized I had lost the urge to even look for sex.

But I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that! So, I let it play itself out and in the end, he said no. Well, I am sure he feels wanted now. He was complaining about not being hit on anymore. Now he has no reason to complain.

I, on the other hand, need to be firm. If I decide to not do what I am not supposed to, I must stick to it and not dilly dally and create a situation wherein the ‘victim’ does exactly what I want him to.

I have to do what I want to. And this I must learn to adhere to.

The Denial

This boyfriend of mine can’t just leave me in peace. I sent him a stinker and told him in no unclear terms to get out of my life. Yet, just as I stopped talking about him to all and sundry, he goes right ahead and discusses me with a common friend and claims he knows me very well.

That is so untrue. If he knew me well, he would never have left me and behaved like a complete idiot.

Anyway, I denied any knowledge of him when that friend asked me about the fellow. I said I don’t know him at all. And it is a fact: I don’t know him and I never knew him at all.

For if I knew him, I would not even associate myself with him.