IT HITS YOU... LIKE NO OTHER

Perhaps romance has got to do with weather. Which is why, it is never constant. Bangalore weather is back to its charm - cold winds, a half grey-half blue sky, a tingly smell in the air, little pools of puddle. Perhaps, this is calling a forgotten feeling. 'Pehla nasha is always brief. It is perishable, which is why it hits you like no other when it does. I had met him through a common friend. Pure attraction. He was an athlete, round faced, donning a dark stretch of floppy hair, with a bright, wide, captivating smile. Well,I thought he was really cute. Our common friend tried her hand at playing Cupid, though she partially succeeded, I'd like to take credit myself - for playing Cupid and Juliet at the same time!
Like no other expected route, we began with the basics: chatting. Our chat sessions were consistent.We knew each other's timings, we knew who had to say 'hi' first, without sounding imposing. I shrieked when he sent a 'smiley' and I knew when he smiled as I sent him a 'wink'. Our chat sessions sometimes drifted into the crack of dawn, which is when our conversations touched a deep crescendo - dissecting earlier crushes, relationships, likings, tastes, turn offs, music and needless to say, consistently avoiding the need to say 'bye'. Progression was called for and then our late night conversations re-located to 'create message'. The only thing we knew better than our texts, were the different schemes Vodafone offered. Well, the best things in life are not free - love too,had a price. I remember how excited and responsible I felt when I messaged him every day- either waking him up, asking him about his day, explaining my entire POA to him and patiently waiting for all the replies, pronto. FIRST MOVER ADVANTAGE : I was in Compulsory English class - day dreaming. Finally, the most awaited ordeal had arrived. He wanted to have LUNCH with me. My first date. The venue was SUBWAY. January 18, 2007 (perhaps a date, I strangely remember) - I had computer class that morning, and I was aching for the clock to strike 12 noon. A friend of mine, decided to drop me at SUBWAY. We reached the venue and I was strictly asked to stay inside the car and make him wait for 15 minutes. I was apparently committing a blasphemy by being on time. Well, we had lunch (he treated,he had to look debonair) and then we walked to Forum. Then we had Baskin Robbins ice-cream. And after a while, we ventured out on the busy street of Park Street.Nothing seemed more perfect that afternoon. The only thing I wanted to change that afternoon was his t-shirt. It said 'Bagh Bachao, Jongol Bachao' written in a terrible Bangla font. Park Street knew it all - KFC, CCD'S, Barista's, McDonalds', Golden Spoon, metro rides, and the rest, they obediently witnessed all clandestine meetings. I remember,before my University exam he had compiled a CD dumped with soft romantic numbers for me. Perhaps, music expressed much more than what he had to say. I drew him a cute Dexter card, returning a polite thank you. I'm usually out of interesting words to say, when there's too much in my heart. On one occasion, I remember watching the film 'GOAL' with him ( of course we were watching it together on the other end of the telephone), and I did appreciate the stimulating number of 'goals' in the film, while I actually didn't understand anything about the off-side and on-side. I always disliked football. But that was the day, he introduced me to Kaka. Swift, talented and most importantly, hot as hell. Soon enough, I became Kaka's biggest fan on earth. I remember, he had made me a super awesome collage with the best of Kaka's pictures. It's still lurking around on one of my Facebook albums. My friends liked him. They found him sweet and nice. Trust me, it was a huge relief. My best friends had to approve of him. He was always an introvert. I never tried forcing him to open up his deepest feelings. He took his own, sweet time to say something when he was ready. In fact, he used to take a lot of time to share his feelings. Sometimes, he would go on days without end, hiding his secrets, fears or fancies. Sometimes, it would irk the devil out of me. I was steadily getting worried because I hardly knew enough about him to even write a pamphlet. Opposites attract, I guess. But may be for a little while? The 'firsts' are always special. Same reason, why my Pehla Nasha will always be special to me.

SHORT FIFTIES'...

THE LADY KILLER

Her eyes were fixed on him. His pulse started racing and his heart was pumping... red, unmeasured adrenaline. The dim bulb near the kitchen sink, just about made it romantic. He had been avoiding her for almost three hours. She winked at him.. brutally spraying the Baygon. The cockroach died.

BALLE BALLE!

I heard Mrs Sweety Singh had bought one of the exclusive pieces of fine art in Paris. The punjabi entourage of her community labelled it profoundly 'Wow Shao'. I popped in uninvited, to see the piece of Rembrandt Revisited. It was unquestionably 'wow shao' - A canvas full of stick figures.

ANYTHING FOR LOVE

It was Valentine's Day. Her plunging black off shoulder and his afraid deep brown eyes found company. She scowled, "You will not wander below my neck, unless its a diamond necklace you want to give me."
He sipped his Martini and reclined. The lucky lizard grinned unharmed on her shoulder.

FAIR IS BEAUTIFUL

She smeared ruthlessly - Dove, Ponds, Garnier, the cocoa butter paste, the strawberry lotion, the mix of orange pulp,curd and lime. The mesh of all creams now blended into something magical, unexpected. She settled to wash it off. The splashes of water, revealed her fresh face- now,full of pimples!

FREE WILY

Breaking bonds of experience,
Free as the wind,
Unchained as laughter,
I am running,
Like the shooting comet.
A red ball of light,
Ablaze with life,
Slicing the veil
Of masked night.

My spirit enameled
With the brightness of orange,
I feel no more
The bleakness of blue.
Boundless like oceans,
Unburnt like energy,
Now am free from the chains of
World and you...

ASH

The fire's on one end,
the fool on the other.
His heart full of ache,
And lungs full of smoke
Puff grey circles around my head.
He smells like ash
I break up with him.

SPOT ME

Painting a few expressions,
I stroke a different life in my being.
Is it real?
Just a superfluous reality.
Am I loving it?
Can you pull me out amongst the teeming ants?
At least, I'm not lost in the crowd.