The three of them

[[Fiction]] [[Part 4, concluding]] [[Part 3 here]] [[Part 2 here]] [[Part 1 here]]

Who am I, I shall not answer. For I'm nobody, nowhere, and yet everywhere. I'm the one who listens to you when you sob in your pillow in the darkness of the night, talk in the air on solitary walks, curse under your breath, and wish with your eyes shut. I'm the one who talks to you when nobody's around, helping you decide the right from the wrong. I'm everywhere, yet nowhere. But I know you.

And I know them. All three of them. Her, him and him.

They are caught among questions, desires, doubts and fears of love that are theirs, yet not theirs alone. They are caught because they love someone more than their own selves, even if they don't realise this, or realise who it is. They could be anyone else, for their stories are only painful, not unique. They are nameless, not heartless.

I know the time has come when I need to help them. I love them, their spirits, too much to let them kill themselves like this. I have to take responsibility and figure out a solution to whisper to them in their ears when they are not seeing. I have to infiltrate their dreams and show them the way out. But before that, I must know the way out myself.

And I don't.

It's a shame, really, but I don't know either the correctest or the least painful way. They say Destiny is powerful. Crap. I'm a slave to their wills and their choices. It's their choices that will tell me what is correct, and that's what I'm going to wait for now.

I'm going to give them the choices.

To him, I'd ask, does he love her or not? If he does, is he ready to trust her again? Is he ready to forgive her if need be? Is he ready to correct for what he knows he's done wrong?
If he doesn't, is he courageous enough to tell her that? To free her? To apologise and let her go?

To her, I'd ask, does she love him, or him, or even herself? Does she remember love means respect, integrity and honesty? Is she willing to be honest with him, and him? Is she willing to break the shackles of self-pity and selfishness and bare herself to the two people who have known and understood her the most? If not, is she ready to guarantee herself to be happy in the future?

To him, I'd ask, do you remember friendship, even more than love, is about respecting your friend? Is he ready to sacrifice and yet stay happy? Can he accept and forgive? Can he forgo and forgive? Does he realise that in becoming a lover from a friend, he needs to remember to remain being a friend first? Is he courageous enough to confess? Is he courageous enough to hear a confession and judge on merit?

I'd ask, and I'd let them choose.
Then, things will happen. Break or join. But happen. One of them may end up dead or wasted, or all three may stay happy. Destiny can't tell.
But they can. Soon they'd choose.

Meanwhile, I'd have to stay my toes. Either way, lots of tears are going to fall. Someone has to catch them.

Me, and them

[[Fiction]] [[Part 3]] [[Part 2 here]] [[Part 1 here]]

Friends are precious. It's as hard to find them as it is easy to lose them. At least that's what I've learnt in my life, and that's why, I'm always conscious about holding on to the few good friends I make. Not that I've been really successful so far. Sooner or later, everyone who I've loved and cared for has left me. Either fate, or distance, or silly misunderstandings/inevitable ego tussles have caused me losses and pains at regular intervals in life. Often, I lost trust in this world and everyone in there. But life still goes on.

Four years back I fell in love. She was a really pretty girl who studied with me. For almost a year, all I did was look at her and dream of her. Then, suddenly, luck shone on me and we became good friends. One day, I told her I loved her. She said yes; I couldn't believe it. But eventually, that didn't work out. A few months later she said she never loved me and thought we weren't working out. She wanted to leave. I let her.

It was with this, and other lesser ghosts in my life that I spent all my time struggling with, when I met her. She was this bubbly energetic girl with a knack of making anybody feel comfortable enough to share unconfided secrets with her within a few meetings only. At least that's what I did, and when I found cheer and hope in her comfort, I also discovered the loneliness in her life and the darkness beneath her cheer. I knew about her boyfriend from day one -- all of her friends do -- and when I met him I quite liked him too.

In fact, I remember that my first thought was they look great together. My second was a pang of jealousy. I subdued it.

I've never quite understood why he was indifferent to her to the extent I saw it happening. But she never complained of him. She always said she must understand his constraints and problems. But too often I saw the light in her eyes fade away after a brief phone conversation with him if I happened to be around them. Initially, I did not think anything of it. It was their life, their way. And she always insisted he loves her even more than she does. She always insisted being with him was her only happiness. .

Other than my friendship, she would add as an afterthought.

That made me happy.And indeed, happier I've been, more than ever, around her. She's too funny, too silly at times and always cheers me up. She doesn't like talking about her too much though, but when I insist she sometimes confesses she feels lost and gloomy, as if she can't understand him anymore. At times, I have this undying urge to comfort her, to take her in my arms, to make her the happiest girl on earth. And, I must confess, become the happiest guy on earth myself by being hers.

By taking his place.But that would be so wrong, wouldn't it?

And so impossible.

In recent times I've found myself thinking a lot about her, her smiles, her presence, her impact on my life....and them. From what I've heard from common friends, they have been the nicest and most perfect couples around. But in the last few months, I haven't seen her smile after a meeting with him. She tells me silly things and is so grateful if I listen, because she feels they are not worth listening any more. I wonder why.

The one thing I don't doubt is that she has loved him a lot. But her warmth and affection towards me is unmistakable too. She says she probably can't live without me. What if...what if...the love for him has faded now?

Can I....No.

That would be an insult to our friendship.

And what would he think...me stealing his girl!

She has given me a fresh perspective to my life, and I can't insult our friendship by hurting her feelings and making her deal with the guilt of hurting me just because she doesn't love me back. I don't wanna lose her, and I won't. My job is to be around her and support her, and that's exactly what I'm doing. Already rumours are afloat there's something on between us. I think I should increase distance between us a bit, so those rumours die down and nobody bugs her...or tells him something untrue. Even if I wish it were true...sheesh..wished it were true.

I wish one could control love.

Me, her and him

[[Fiction]] [[Part 2]] [[Part 1 here]]

Whenever I think back about my life, I can't help feeling I've been largely lucky, esp in the last few years. I was always a serious, shy, responsible guy happy, even if not content, in my little world of family, career, music, books and small dreams. I was never one of those guys who are surrounded by girls most of the time, as friends or otherwise, but I am not sure I really wanted to be. Still, growing up made me more gentle, more open, less content and perhaps less happy too. But all that changed quickly when I met her. She was just like any other girl, yet like no other girl I had seen. She was fun to know, she seemed interested in just the same things I was, and she used to read my face and my mind like nobody in this world could, save Mom I guess. We quickly became friends, but I felt so comfortable with her, so open, so light, so happy that before I knew I was thoroughly addicted to her-her gentle nature, her frank smiles, her opinions, her anger, everything. Smitten I was, and I knew it was love. She suddenly looked the prettiest girl around too; she understood me, I adored her, we felt the connection.

And one day, she told me she loved me. That was the best moment of my life. With her I was happier than I'd ever been. My friends would exclaim they hardly recognised me because I was sure the comfort, the contentment and the pleasure showed on my face. She trusted me so much I felt scared at times, scared of hurting her or unknowingly breaking her trust. She has always been complicated, hard to understand, but I felt sure I knew her, I am sure the love in her heart for me is enormous. The first time I kissed her, I knew she was my strength. And I became hers.

Since then it's been so much time we've just grown used to each other. It's been seven or eight months now since life took us on different paths. We thought we could withstand the distances and still be the same with each other, but today I'm forced to wonder, even though we are still together, are we the same? Something has definitely changed, and she has been saying so for a lot of time, but I never admitted. Perhaps because I was afraid it could be my fault. But now I'm sure it isn't my fault.

I remember the day six months ago when I first saw an unmistakable look of pain on her face over lunch that I didn't understand. Maybe she wanted to tell me something, but I didn't get a chance to ask that day. Later that night I recollected some recent instances when she had felt like she was on the verge of telling me something, moments when I hadn't pushed hard enough and moments when I was so stressed or tired or busy with work I deliberately overlooked it. It was true, there had been a lot of stress in my life lately, and though she sensed it and urged me all the time, I didn't have the heart of telling her for I never wanted to burden her with my problems. And the unwillingness to talk had been my excuse for an unwillingness to listen. Some days later then I asked her, and she literally broke down in my arms. She didn't tell me everything, but she said she was feeling very lonely, very scared, and she asked me why I had changed too. I tried reassuring her, tried making up to her and she felt happy again. After that I didn't ask and she didn't say anything for a lot of time. We would talk daily, then weekly and now on and off, but it's just because I guess we've been too busy in our lives and there's nothing except routine to talk of. I guess all relationships mature. New friends, new work, new problems kept me occupied and I thought less and less about her, simply because I was sure she was happy in her life, with her new friends and new work, including him.
When she first told me about him, with enthusiasm as she told me everything, I quite liked him. We both appreciated each others' friends and he seemed a nice guy and she seemed to like being with him. She'd try to tell me all about him and what they did, but at that point I didn't listen too seriously. Life drifted along. She was still the same for me, the girl I loved.
Or maybe she wasn't. She stopped telling me things, fears, dreams, whims and all those crazy things she always had. She stopped yelling on me when I'd forget calling her for a week. She still asked questions, I always replied I had nothing to say, and now, unlike before, she silenced at that. I thought she had matured and understood and it was all fine.I felt like I should do something, but didn't know what, and hence did nothing.
I am not insecure about her, but I always have wanted to protect her, and thus when I found my strength and solace in other people and sources, I stopped bugging her for those. Now she could live her life.

Except, what if I was wrong? An old friend told me today how she is always seen with him these days, how he seems to be the one she most trusts and most laughs with, how people who knew us both are almost sure we've broken up. My friend thinks heloves her. He also thinks she loves him too.
I told him it wasn't true.

But what if it is? My girlfriend, the girl who (I thought) always loved me so much, is she cheating on me?
All these months when I was protecting her from all problems in the world by struggling myself so that we could be happy later, was he stealing my princess from me by working his charm? He I dont care about. But does she really truly love him the way I believed all along she loved me? Why hasn't she told me then yet? Why is she pretending he is just another friend and I'm still her world? She doesn't care these days if I call or not, she doesn't beg me to meet her anymore, she always says she has nothing to tell me. I noticed the change, but I always thought it was because she was fine and understoond my constraints properly. So what if I'm too lazy or too tired to remember little things she says, she always forgives me. But is all this because she doesn't CARE any more? Because heis better looking than I am? Because maybe he kisses better than I do?
Does she kiss him with the same passion?!!?!?
Then why should she lie to me and pretend everything was normal? That bitch, enjoying two men devoted to her at the same time. And here am I, always thinking of her happiness, never allowing myself to take a crush on another girl seriously for the sake of loyalty to her.
She's cheated me. She's not mine any more.

But what do I do now? Should I ask her? What should I ask?
But she'd feel I don't trust her. What if she gets hurt? But I'm hurt too?

I don't know. Maybe I should wait...maybe I shouldn't have ever fallen for a girl like her at all.

But I think I still love her....or the old her.

Why did you do this to me?

Me, him and him

[[Fiction]] [[Part 1]]

I still remember quite clearly, the time I fell in love with him. The memory of those days and those events never fails to amaze me;it surprises me how I could fall in love with anyone, and more, how could anyone fall in love with me. But at that time, it felt the most natural, the most perfect thing. He was everything I wanted; we complimented each other to an astonishing degree. I listened to my heart and confessed my love. Those were the best days of my life.

Being with him has been an entirely new, much more colourful and much more complete life in itself. Even once the initial craze had faded, though it lasted a lot of time for me, it was the best thing to have happened to me. He was intelligent, good-lucking, very understanding and very loving. He had his flaws, whims, fallacies, yet he was perfect for me. Somehow everything worked out sooner or later. We didn't fight much and apologies exceeded disagreements at all times. I never had a future, or a certain future at least, with him, but it still was bliss.

Then, unnoticed, things became to change. It started with the distances of space and time we started living in, seeing each other very infrequently and hardly talking a half hour per week. Yet, it seemed smooth on the surface till a very long time. Actually, still does. But I don't know when, I, and perhaps him too, started feeling the emotional absence of love and support. Conversations are not just infrequent now, they are difficult because I don't know what to talk. When this phase started, I used to try to talk, tell him my deepest fears and joys like I always had, but increasingly I found him unwilling to listen, and thinking of the stress he was already under with his own issues, I silenced myself. He, on his part, had been too silent for quite some time already, and my questions and urges evoked no responses. He seemed to appreciate my silence, and thus irrespective of my lonely pangs dying to cry out to someone, I kept him out of it. The functional relationship with almost no functions that emerged out of this over a period of several months, is all that I have now. But still, I love him the same.

I think.

Because there is him whom I don't know what I feel for. He came to my life in one of those lonely pangs' stage, and with his good nature, patience and warm affection, soon became my close friend. It happened in a relatively short time, but I think we both just clicked, and even he used to like him when he got to know him as my friend. I was happy, or at least, comforted, for he gave me the comfort, the ears, the shoulder to cry on that he hadn't, or couldn't. I've grown very attached to him now I think, and the fact that he's always there for me makes him the most dependable and delightful company I have. As good as his company.It's great to have good friends, but I have a fear. I think I depend on him so much, I am already in love with him.

But is it possible? I've never loved him less. I can still die for him.

And him.

Can someone fall in love with two people at the same time?

A Small Mistake

Bit by bit
fall to pieces,
dreams that never came true.
I was wrong;
I wasn't made for you.

Shredded to bits
are all those moments
When I believed in thee.
I was wrong;
You weren't made for me.

Eyes never looked
in the same direction
To understand you never bothered
I was wrong;
We weren't made for each other.

Denial: Think it over

"Would you really, honestly blame someone who's been forced to live in self-denial all his life, if he proceeds to start living in denial?"

We the People

I start with a line I read on some blog a few days: "The spirit of Indians as a people is over-whelmingly warm; yet, the warmth and instant connection one may say between Indian and Indian is sadly found wanting when it comes to Indian and India." Also fresh in my memory is a question raised in a book review I was reading last weekend that asked: "What does patriotism mean to the common man?"

Rhetorical, yet worth thinking the question is. People are peculiar, especially the moment you start attributing general characteristics and tendencies to them in groups, and of all peoples, Indians have their own well-earned reputation for peculiarities and eccentricities, which is both laudable and remarkable in its own right. Now, keep aside the initial images of frenzied media hype, of rhetorical loud Sunny Deol dialogues, of "Ae watan, ae watan..." Chorus-singing competitions in school, of war movies, Pakistan, of saffron, green and white that spring to the mind when one thinks of "patriotism", and then think what does it really mean to you. I'm afraid this is a question quite tough for most of us to answer, especially honestly and unambiguously. What is it that you really feel for your country? And what is it that you really need to?

I have to admit that my brief stay abroad actually went a long way in helping me reflect and develop a deep perspective and appreciation for India. Once I was away from it, I could see the identity of the nation and its people and its characteristics, I could also appreciate its strengths, weaknesses and complacence from a third-persons' view, and most of all, I could determine whether I actually felt the 'love' for the country separately from the immediate environment where I resided the way I had been accustomed to proclaiming since childhood in "I love my India.." songs.

I believe that a temporary period of distance from anything that's been an integral part of our lives so much that we've hitherto always taken it as granted, always produces either of two extreme reactions in the mind: either you realise its deficiencies, lack of necessity/functionality etc and discard regard for it to a great extent in favour of new-found replacements, or you realise its importance/your regard for it, miss it and actually value it more if and when you get it back. People's relationship with their nations are also like that. People who move abroad either being hyper-actively and enthusiastically 'Indian' or begin scorning at it as the developing, full-of-social-and-economic-evils place.

My own opinion here is not so important, although I always rejoice as I increasingly see people in my generation preferring India as the place to work and to reside in even to the disadvantage of lesser evil and coming back from visits abroad as students charmed by the 'holiday' but yet feeling like coming home. So much for brain drain. The point which finally got me to write this post was the other end of this mass patriotism, or whatever it is that we feel, that leads us to aggressively establish our identity and connection with an Indian. It's the same aggression and natural bonding that you'd see among any two Indians who accidentally meet up in any part of the globe on a metro station. It's the same aggression a cricket match unites people from all strata of life otherwise ready to kill over religion, caste, quota in supporting eleven men wearing blue. It's the same aggression because of which Kalpana Chawla's achievements are proudly labelled Indians and celebrated in mass hysteria, tears and joy. It's the same aggression which makes one track Sunita Williams, who's never been to India, as she lands safely on Planet Earth.

So far, so good. But there are questions unanswered.

Is this aggression good or bad? Is THIS what patriotism is and should be? If yes, or acceptably yes, then why isn't that aggression visible between Indian and India like between Indian and Indian? Meaning thereby, why don't we protect the cleanliness of our roads, the harmony of our society, the poor of this India, fight the corruption and let our pride work for removing its deficiencies than hiding them? Why the "chalta hai" attitude there? And then again, the other question, we aggressively proclaim Sunita Williams as Indian, but why not Salman Rushdie who's actually far more connected to the country and its culture and brought equal if not more laurels but has been banned and banished here. Why disown Indian doctors in Australia found guilty of terror attacks while continue to aggressively acknowledge and claim pride in Silicon Valley's Indianness?

Too many questions right. I can't answer for the people of the whole of this country, but even as far as I'm individually concerned, my mind is still too busy figuring out the right middle path between zealous exuberance, pride, shame, responsibility, prudence and lastly, patriotism.

Hum logon ko samajh sako to samjho dilbar jaani

ulti seedhi jaisi bhi hai apni yehi kahani

Phir bhi dil hai hindustani....

What Women Want-II

The one super-simple thing about women than men don't understand, and continue to call them (girlfriends, moms, sisters )infinitely impossibly complicated (which may or may not be true) is this:

Guys, when you don't understand what she says what she says or doesn't, or what she does and why, when she looks at you with eyes of expectation of something you can't figure out what, or with a silence you can't interpret (or one those thousand situations), don't fret too much, just look at her and tell her you love her, and say it like you mean it. More importantly, say it like she feels you mean it. And for that to happen, better mean it. Don't ask me what would repeating something so 'obvious' help? Just do it and watch the change. She knows anyway that it's hard for you to really understand the issue, but to calm her down to that knowledge, she needs to be convinced of your trust/sincerity/commitment. Try it.

Girls, what say?

Schmooze, muse, views.

News headlines for the last week read I got schmoozed. No, that's not a African/Japanese/Bihari/Tollywood/Mayawati-christened/RSS-approved/Himesh-sung version of "smooch" (I'm wayy too hapless for even those corrupted incarnations). Apparently, this schmooze thing is about how well you traverse blogosphere and move, as Dreamcatcher who gave me this award puts, in sheets of conversations with other blogs. They move around blogosphere making friends, are not just limited to highly frequented blogs but they also keep there arms open to new ones and engage in meaningful conversation so they bug you more after saying hello …

Now I don't know who gave that definition, but it's interesting enough for me to pass the baton. Mr. Dreamcatcher himself is one of those, undoubtedly, but if I have to pick five more (which is very difficult, my list is TOO long)

(in alphabetical order)

Akshay... Cute, innocent, energetic. Writes well, charms better. Always hunting for blogs and bloggers, to read. His two cents are always the brighter perspective, even when he doesn't understand anything! :P

Arpana Crazy crazy crazy girl. Blabbers, cries, sings, does everything, and instantly make u like her...even her silliness. Very loving and a wonderous friend.

Keshi Vivacious, veteran, energetic girl totally in love with blogging and her blog-family :)

VibhavKnow him through blogs primarily, though we pass by too often in college not to talk. Still, his opinions, his warmth in this world, his invaluable observations and brilliant poetry make him a not-so-anonymous wonder :)

Vikram From poetry to frustaps, from life to death, from philosophy to humour, from encouraging comments to questioning ones, he has everything :)

There're at least a few more I must acknowledge...pRicky, Tapasya, Chitra, Jasmine, DC, Faith, Ady, Prude....

*******************************************************

Among other events, some of the questions raised in this post by me have invited responses even more thought provoking at times, and while I still reserve my own take, if any, on them, the one thing that gave me a strange pleasure to know was the question I thought was the trickiest for me also turned out to be the least answerable, for it concerned defining honesty, and judging people on that most important parameter. Invariably, all acceptable answers ran into the domain of intent, of "justified" lies, of morality...in short subjectivity. And thus intent remains for me the most important, most crucial concept and parameter, yet inaccurately known by its very nature. I've believed in concepts like...I don't care about whether you did it or not, I care about whether you wanted to/meant to.

And gladly, after all the thought, I still do. :)

*********************************************************

Request: One of my alter-egos, Madam as she is known for her strict bossy dictums and whims, has prevailed on me to command everyone to smile. So, for the sake of my job and health, please please please smile. :)

Marital bliss

Question Paper

1. Why is it more difficult to "forget" some things than it is to remember a lot others?
2. What do you do with suppressed, unjustified, unexpressed, yet undying anger?
3. Even not making a choice is a choice, and it's often the wrong one. Still, what to choose when you don't know anything about which choice is right, and can't wait indefinitely?
4. In an ideal world, one would say "give as much as you take, and take as much as you give" and be entirely capable of doing that. In the real world though, what do you do? Take more than give, or give more than take?
5. What does the pic on right signify?
6. If time were your slave, would you stop it when you were happy?
7. What do you do when you're pulled out of self-denial by abundance, then suddenly brought to paupership again, and by now your habits have been terribly spoiled?
8. Is "being loved when you don't love" somebody's fault? Is it something meaningful or complete in itself? Is it desirable?
9. Would you call anybody who lies as a dishonest person? What's your definition of honesty?
10. Can you love somebody enough to kill them?

[EDIT: Some of my very talented friends are a part of a brilliant pan-India music group "Artistes Unlimited". Sorry for being late in putting this up, but still, they had shows in the last month in Mumbai and Bangalore and are performing in Delhi on this Friday the 13th at the Sirifort Auditorium where they'd also be launching their album "En Route". Tickets available at Teksons' Bookshop at South Ex-1 and GK M Block. Prices 150, 200, 250. Proceeds to go to AIDS awareness charity. Music lovers must visit, in support of independent music! May contact 98101 33657, 98103 44153, 98109 40965, 98116 06063]

City Lights

Cities have a life of their own as well. The sprawling city under her feet was adorned with the light of the flickering bulbs on the shops and the malls, the steady illumination on the street side, the incandescent headlights of the noisy traffic and the sparks in the eyes of those who walked the pavement. It was a happy, cold, dark, silent, lonely city. She was happy, silent and lonely too. The silence of her ambience had seeped deep inside her and brought every noise to a deceptive calm, and the calm propelled her to observe, wonder and reflect at the sparking eyes of those who crossed the pavement several storeys below her, each knowing where to go next. She also wondered at her own glass-walled existence at the moment, where a comfortable chair rocked and a kind light fell on her shoulder as she lay still, allowing the moment to soak in.

This city was not hurried; people had a destination to go to, but not the mad zeal to get there faster. Her own life had miraculously become unhurried too; there was no place she needed to get to. What she had left behind, she knew not if she could re-gather those threads even if she wanted to. What she had in hand, could slip or stay and would make very little difference to her. And dreams, she didn't have any at the moment. She looked at her watch; she needed to get home, but since no one waited there for her, she could stay; she needed to get something to eat, but since there was no reason to go on living, she might as well skip a meal and see if that changes anything. She had memories to deal with, to examine closely so she could sift the ones which still held a meaning from the ones that testified the foolisheness of her beliefs. Down on the street, a child gazed up at the building which house her, marvelling at the decorated glass walls through which she caught gleaming hope in his eyes. She smiled in recognition; she smiled in admiration for the little joy that found a deserving heart to live in. She smiled because a tear calmly escaped from her eye and brought the reflection of the city lights upon her face. She smiled because she knew that her life was simply the empty serenity of that very moment when a shining city shone beneath her feet and amidst the lights and she was happy enough not to notice the shadow she lived in.

It's indeed simple to be happy.

Women ARE weird! ;)

Me included, but at least I'm sporting enough to admit it. :P

5 rupaiya 12 aana

One day I went to a biggie-wiggie finance types and asked him to suggest me a good investment scheme that was both risk-free and profitable. After discussing (and disagreeing) for a couple of hours, he quipped with a haughty dismissive air, "The safest way to double your money is to fold it over and put it in your pocket."

I decided not to take it lying down (I may clarify I was seated on a chair at that time and "lying down" is only an English expression I learnt in Middle School :P) and answered before leaving, "Sorry bhaisahab, whatever I've earned and saved from mandir ke aage, ped ke neeche is unfortunately all made-of-steel-with-Bharat-sarkaar-ka-thappa-on-it. Doesn't fold! Thank you"

He looked at me in disbelief, then managed to say "Pessimists never make profits because they're too busy estimating the losses actually incurred w.r.t. the optimists' earlier estimates. And your pessimism extends to the point of even suspecting the sincerity of the pessimists perhaps."

This was too much. I got angry.

"You are wrong. I'm so optimistic that my optimism extends beyond the point of even suspecting that there maybe a limit to it. And that is why I'm still optimistic that I'd get the deal I want somehow, and that one day even you'd realise how incompetent you are and quit before being fired. I'm that optimistic!"

Ha! This time I managed to silence him!

I was nearly out of the room when I heard him plaigiarise Calvin:“Well, remember what you said, because in a day or two, I'll have a witty and blistering retort! You'll be devastated THEN!”

Loser!

On my way home, an old friend saw me and seeing me disappointed at the unproductive day, gave the conventional wisdom piece, "Don't worry. People have to really suffer before they can risk doing what they love." I reflected and realised, that it means people really suffer and struggle so that later they can happily really really suffer doing what they love, or who they love.

I got home cribbing to Hubby about the waste of the day and the impolite chap.

After half-listening for an hour, he sermonised before dozing off, "Idealism is what precedes experience; cynicism is what follows."

In between comes a blog post, I thought to myself.

F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

Mona..show me the sona...

Good morning bhai logsss aur bhaiyon ki behen logssss

(Woh kya hai na apun females types ko khali girl-frands banata hai ;-) )

Aaj Phoenix offices nahi aaya, nets pe bhi logins nahi mara...watta lazy girls hai na. So I thinked apun, the responsibles alter-ego, should do her jobs and gives-shives the update-shupdates.

Friday ko Phoenix ne thoda kaams dhaams kiya aur thoda naach ganas bhi. Woh kya hai ki friday tha na..weekend ata dekh ke adhi duniya Sreesanth ke mafik naachne lag jati hai. Aur fir India ne South Africa ko dho dala, hamesha ki tarah thoda rone dhone ke bad hi sahi, to Phoenix aur apun ne mil ke kar dala Jhingalala-hoo-jhingala-hoo.

Baki time apun to sota raha...Phoenix madams thoda hasta raha thoda rota raha...ek mast line bhi bola angrezi mein...

"If we have a certain right, at some level it is our duty to exercise it. Inappropriate use can be as wrong as no use at all."

Apun ki samajhs mein to nahi aaya...bahut bhashans deti hai ye ladki logss...dimagss ka dahi kar daala re...kitna bada bada wordss.

Oye circuit, tera bhi short-circuits ho gaya kya?

Agle din apun jaldi utha aur Phoenix ko saala khud uthaya....do laats marne ka jab naa uthe to..nautankis hai aur kuch nahi...fir apun dono ghoomne ko gaye...khoob gappe maari aur icecream khayi...fir Phoenix ka frands log aaya to apun ko jaana pada...shaam ko apun us se poochha ki aj tu kya seekh ke aya (homework bhi karwane ka hota hai na, responsibles hai apun).

Woh bola...

"Aajse maine bhi kha lee hai kasam har pal muskurane ki

Aj apni udaasi ko auron ki aankhon mein utartaa dekh liya.."

Ab intelligences note karo apun ki..itni solid baat bhi bheje mein ghuss gayi aur happys hoke ek jadoo ki jhappis de daali use...kabhi kabhi to achhi baats karti hai...bole to apun itna khush hua saamne se ek jhataak patakha nikal gayi aur apun notice hi nahi kiya... :D

Fir hum dono ek budday partys mein gaye aur cake khaya aur gana gaya...bache log se apun ko bahut darr laga (bahut tough question poochhta hai re..teacher mafik) to apun nikal liya (jaise skool se nikla karta tha) par baahar nikla to Ray-shum-aee-yaa ne apun ko gaali dene ka try mara...chilla chilla ke Tera tera tera... keh raha tha...is se pehle ki woh gaali de apun usko peet dala aur ghar chala gaya. Apun koi chhota mota thodi hai!!

Phoenix khel kood ke kha pi ke raat ko aaya aur apun dono jhappi marke so gaye.

Sunday ko Phoenix so raha tha to apun bahar ghoomne ko gaya. Ek bada cartoons types banda mila..ingliss mein baat karta tha but har words pe "s" laga ke..sab kuch plural...times foods suns celebrations...Mona darling bhi wahi tha...apun dono bahut hasa...wapas aake phoenix ko bola to woh apun ko ghoor ghoor ke dekhne lagi...bahut hi danger ladki hai..apun dar ke mare bhag liya aur woh movies dekhne lagi....raat ko match dekhke Shakalaka baby bhi kiya

Aj subah boli...ye weekend itna chhota kyon hota hai! Apun bola tereko apne khud ke sath rehna padta na to maloom padta kitna lamba hota hai weekend. Apun itna thak gaya sachhi use jhelte jhelte...ab sone ja rela hai...

Bye

Mona...wheres is the sonaaaa? Monaaa....