Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Preposterous Malfunction

This incident happened to one of my closest friends.. and since he's too shy or rather ashamed to disclose this in public, I put this up before he files the copyright...(he doesn't have a blog anyways..) let it be a narrative.. and a piece for grammar-spelling-non-perfectionist.. :P

WHY??.. just why do I love cycle rickshaws??..
It has to be in my genes..
I and Mansi have been dating for past 7 months.. ummm.. yeah... 7 months and 22 days.. people at my place know that I have been subjected to something new.. My frequent mood swings.. the phone glued to my ear.. the not being so cool anymore thing.. My sister never misses to pull my legs on occasions I show total dumbness.. She expects that I retort, just like the way I used to do.. She expects some reaction out of me.. Why does everybody expect reaction out of me??.. Can't I be stable??.. well.. so she expects some reaction or funny words on which she can laugh the entire day... Well I love my sister,.. but those words don't come out anymore.. Shit comes out in place of words.. 
just like it came out of the rickshaw-wala.. 
lets come back.. to the scene.. no.. later,, lets build the scene.. 
So the thing I told you about.. Mansi and I have been dating for a long time now.. We are good people you know.. the ones with all the love involved..  We make sure that we say I Love You to each other at least thrice everyday.. I wonder how people in the west handle dating, without even saying I love You.. In my case, Mansi didn’t even agree to meet me for a coffee until I proposed.. But the sad part is, coffee never graduated to anything else.. I was getting bored of Baristas and Lavazzas and CCDs and everything.. Even though I couldn’t tell her this, but I was kind of getting bored with everything around..  I missed the fun me..
Coffee never graduated.. And I should have stopped the rickshaw-wala well before..
“Kill me or Kick me.. but please kiss me once..”, I pleaded..
God knows from where I got that line.. and so, it didn’t work.. we were sitting in the Barista at Janpath.. Even the Manipuri waiter knew my name.. and hers too.. Mansi madame.. and bhaiya.. I once asked him to call me sir.. and in lieu of that he demanded some extra tip.. Bhaiya sounds cool isn’t it.. We have been fighting over some a very meagre topic.. “Why I hate bananas??”.. and because of this, I Love You was said only twice, the previous day.. So madam was hot.. She is!!..
I had thought about this conversation before in my mind and I was expertly steering it in my accordance..
“Nhi Yaar.. No kisses.. I don’t like it.. You asked me to hold hands, and I did na???.. Now kiss??..  Its a big step Pratap..”.. she said with a simple gesture of the most beautiful hands and minimal movement of those heaven eyes.. I get caught and bowled every time.. But not this time.. I was the driver here...

“Big Step??. No I don’t think so.. Our minds and our souls have accepted each other.. Now Body!!”.., I said with confidence in my voice..
She started laughing.. she choked.. she coughed.. she laughed again.. but in a majestically beautiful way.. She was again deviating me from my seriousness.. But not this time...
I was not moved.. I didn’t laugh at all.. not even a smile.. Instead I looked straight into her eyes and said..
“I Love You Mansi, and I love you a lot..”.. I said like I mean it.. I MEAN IT..
Her smile vanished.. She must have been stunned at the sudden seriousness of the situation and the person in front of her.. She looked innocent and was clueless of what to say and what to do.. I felt like kissing her right on those artistically carved lips then and there..
“Hmm...” was her reply... another imaginary kiss..
“okay.. A kiss is fine.. Its not that I haven’t thought about it Pratap.. but I don’t want to do it in a public place.. I want it to be special for both of us.. I want it to flow naturally.. and then only we can derive the required pleasure out of it..”. she said as I was planting my 53rd kiss..
I really didn’t listen anything after the first line.. I had been successful to drive her safely to my den.. I just watched her.. Like those desperate housewife’s husband in blue line busses.. Meaningless ogling.. and I didn’t feel cheap at all..
So of the many topics we discussed about how this lack of kissing is resulting in the increased frequency of our fights.. and how to kiss.. and when to kiss.. where to kiss.. everything bore fruits...
It was decided that I will go to her place the next day when her parents go out to attend her cousin’s marriage.. She will stay back at her place.. I was overjoyed.. I called up Gangeyyo and narrated him the news.. He didn’t want to listen but I was heavily overjoyed..
Her parents were supposed to leave home at 7:00 pm..
I couldn’t have wasted even a single minute.. I got ready.. Gelled my hair.. Perfumed my armpits... :P.. ( am I not descriptive!!), got kiss ready..
So now...
The scene....
I got down at RK Puram bus stand at 6:45.. I knew I was early and I waited for her call signalling her parents exit from the crime scene.. They didn’t get out till 7:15.. and I hated waiting.. She called and the light turned green..
I took a rickshaw.. and his name was criminal.
I gave him the address and he said he knew it..
He said he knew it...
Never did I imagine that if something is not to happen at all, then its impossible to make it happen by force.. if coffee doesn’t want to graduate, we should be satisfied with it..
Mr. Criminal( call him C) stopped at a red light.. and a car stopped just beside us.. he looked at the address page and asked the gentleman in the car about it.. He read it twice and looked at me.. the light had turned green by then and he gave the paper back to C and asked him to stop after the red light.. I admired the man.. He had an overwhelming willingness to help after all.. Then he got out of his car and asked me to get down.. I got down and he asked for what purpose do I need to visit this house.. The question was funny.. I thought about telling him the true purpose but god didn’t want to screw me to that extent.. I asked him why was he so curious to know.. and while asking this, I didn’t display my politeness..  He took out his phone and dialled a number.. While the phone rang at the other end, he said the most terrible words I’d ever heard in my life..
“It’s MY house”..
Hells broke loose.. I started sweating in that cool November evening... Mansi picked up.. Her voice sounded good.. He switched the loudspeaker on and stared at me..
I was not in a position to make sense of whatever that was going on.. I surrendered my fate to the one who wrote it.. Mansi said I was Pratima’s brother, who needed to borrow some books of 3rd semester.. I was thrown in the backseat of his car.. C was paid less.. I shouted all those slangs they teach during ragging.. I smeared him with the best known bad words.. but silently.. he was smarter than Mansi’s father and I think he got hold of whatever that was going on, judging by the sudden mood swing I had.. It showed on my face..
We reached the “Gupta’s”.. She brought me a glass of water.. I think she smiled once and her eyes were teasing me... I kissed her again.. I just couldn’t stop.. I smelt like a perfume factory and looked like a party freak contrary to the surrounding I was in.. This is what is called Weird.. I asked for another glass of water and received another smile.. She got another kiss..
Mr Gupta dropped me at the same red light from where he picked me up..
As I took another rickshaw.. and asked him to take me to the RK Puram bus stop as the phone rang once again...
MANSI LANDLINE.. calling...