Writing my way out of trouble

The greatest act in any drama is the act of committing. That is the one thing I managed to get my head around a very long while ago. But the act of execution has always been my Waterloo. I have always known and felt that surge deep down, primarily in my head, so not that deep down, that I want to be a writer. And besides the previous ill constructed sentence, there have been many reasons limiting my yet to be explored/exploited talents. This entire post can be summed up with one reason and that is laziness but then how does the audience waiting with baited breath – make that a paltry number of people who really love me – know how this story reached this not so conclusive present. Be prepared to be regaled with the greatest excuse(s) ever…and a grand stand end!

It all began with a notebook given by my uncle and aunt where I was told to pen down any story that came to my mind. At the tender age of 8 and I still wonder what is so tender about a boy who wants to break pencils for tea, I began to write my first few short stories. Tales of 5 rupee coins and trucks, Iraqi born American Air Force pilots and an ode to the west wind ( I still believe I own the rights to the original, mine being more entertaining). I managed all this and so much more at that terribly labeled ‘tender age’. The tenderness surely vanished after that because all I could think of was how to get the guys at our evening cricket game to allow me to bat and not always be the runner for some lazy player. So when life was playing these unfair tricks on me, I began to let my one lone talent slip away while cultivating another; complete disregard for my writing skills.

I returned to writing only in college after a 9 year hiatus in which time I could have become the youngest novelist in the world, the first 10 year old self-made millionaire, pin up boy for Chandamama, Tinkle, Cartoon Network and the ilk. But the constant learner in me decided to wait a couple more years to hone my talent.

The 8 year old in me is asking me right now, ‘what bloody talent?’

Pah look at the language on that. Kids these days. Sorry. Kids those days.

By then the world had moved on from the pen and paper approach to the all conquering 'blog'. A medium I have greatly admired for its ability to do the job of showing itself around. No more of those 'please have a look at what I have written' routines anymore. Typing on a keyboard I realised helped me recover from the nightmares of having to spellcheck my handwriting which by no means deserved to see the light of day. From here began my journey across the blogverse (blog + universe - better spin than the outdated blogospehere) which in true Starship Enterprise style was beyond the thrills of any earthly adventure. From setting up a blog to taking my following from a paltry 1 (that being my room mate who was tricked into following) to a loyal following of 7, I had done it all.

I managed to maintain blog decorum by posting frequently, keeping it short and crisp, minding my Ps and Q s and overall keeping it real. Yet deep down like the termites in your kitchen shelf, something was eating away. A sense of non accomplishment coupled with a feeling of no real direction to it all. I needed to be bigger and better, reach out to more people and with something more substantial. Thus began my pursuit of happiness, my yet to be completed (4 years on) novel.

The novel has been the one true enigma in my life. Very much in my hands to complete, yet so distant because of the pure will required to pull it off, which I lack in abundance. I have been laboring through those 50 pages I have written for the past so many years, yet don’t quite see where I’m going with it. I put this down to my inability to keep an audience entertained over the duration of a novel. Somehow blogging has shown me the joy of quick returns on low investments, a positioning unfortunately my novel writing cells are happily lapping up. So is blogging really killing the novelist in me? A question I have pondered on many lonely and alcohol filled nights and I have finally reached a suitable answer.. Who cares?

So from where I see the literary world unfold in front of me I see a very well defined path ahead littered with my fast evolving writing ambitions. As long as I can keep the junta I have accumulated entertained and wanting more, I guess it really doesn’t matter in what form I churn the goodies out as long as I don’t reach a day that I stop wanting to do it anymore. So like many a rockstar has said in the past, ‘let’s keep it real’ and keep it coming.

May they write on my epitaph – He was born, he cried a bit, he woke the hell up, he lived it up, he made them all happy, he made the money and the money didn’t make him, he waited but never wasted, he always loved never hated and whenever it all went pear shaped..he wrote his way out of trouble.

The Frustration of a Writer’s Block

What I thought was only a myth actually happens even to the best of us (modesty shall prevail eventually). The dreaded writer’s block has afflicted me, an uncommon yet over worked and abused condition which takes away from a writer ( 2 blogs so I guess I qualify) his sense of imagination rendering him worthless to himself anymore. I haven’t written a post for extremely long and in the interim period have written very little else. So how did this excruciating disease afflict my mind after having taken that entire gamut of keep-the-writing-going vaccines? A question worth pondering about.. Let’s rewind the past few weeks and attempt to reach a formidable argument which can thus cure me of this condition.

Here we go…

Work is my true master and I love being its slave

Really?? Work? That’s your excuse!! You walk in at 9 and get out by 6 and have the rest of the evening to make sense of life and put it down on paper, so don’t you dare give me that as an excuse. But wait, I never said that work drains me or leaves me unfit to write. Unlike many people who will scoff at this idea and others who will sink into it like quick sand, I am enjoying work. It challenges my faculties, pushes me to think (not like I had given up on it till now) and makes me want to go back for more. I know you all are waiting for me to burst out laughing and say I’m kidding but I’m not and NO my boss won’t be reading this. So strangely you get a little wrapped up in what you do, you think it, you plan and begin to believe it’s all you have. While that is not such a bad sentiment to throw at my baffled readers, it surely cannot be the path of my existence. So yes maybe the work got to me but no excuse to run away from what quite surely drives my yet to be defined existence.

Chennai and building a life

So one is thrust upon this world with a new city, a new job and asked to switch to a mode you never knew you had. ‘Life is your responsibility’ mode. Considering I had a day’s break to segue from college days to work bays I could not ask for a timeout and it really isn’t a tag team sport now is it. So besides finding my way around a new job I also had to fit into a new city with a complete identity of its own, of the kind I have never experienced before. This was surely made easy thanks to friends you should die for and my general ability to love any place I have lived in (Look up Binnaguri on the Indian map and you shall know what I’m talking about) But Chennai kept throwing surprise after shock at me. Falling in love with this city, for me, and I may have an army full of detractors, but it been the easiest ever. From finding small places to eat to neat pubs to drink to a little piece of heaven on a terrace to live, I covered the basic needs quite easily. There on, discovering this city and its many facets, faces, facades has just been fascinating (Read Chennai, Oh Chennai). Well, maybe then discovering this new city has absorbed me in a much needed journey of self discovery coupled with a desire to have something of my own, but could it possibly have taken away from me the only talent in my repertoire, my writing. I think not.

A Lot like Love..

So besides being my favourite romantic comedy, this feeling is quite possibly another reason for the condition. So without breaking into a cross between a tap dance and a highly questionable Bhangra like jig, I surely do have all the symptoms of the much dreaded yet breezy ‘K’ word. So taking off from there, the last month has been a whirlwind discovering this whole new side to life. Something that has reinvigorated me and shown me a whole new path. You spend sometime with a person and life’s perspective begins to change, that is not some filmy funda, it’s a real life in the face believe-it-or-not kind of awakening. So every day seems a little more beautiful than the previous, the motions you go through everyday begin to have an end to it and if that end is in a little house full of all that you love, it just begins to fall in place. You start getting that epiphany they all talk about, of how life suddenly clears its windscreen one day for you and you see clearly again. That vision is upon me and surely I know who has helped me see it and that makes this feeling all the more special. So evenings spent in deep conversation and the thrills of life, early mornings spent in despair of leaving that beautiful vision, the day spent constantly hoping for the evening to come.. Could this be the reason then for my writer’s block? Hmmm…

I guess I will never know the correct reason or the set of reasons but I surely know one thing, these set of reasons have surely helped me advance to the next level of my writing, not necessarily in my skill but surely in my persistence and need to churn out the good stuff.

And funnily, in the process of finding the reasons, I have forgotten the fact that I have been cured..

P.S. If you are still searching for Binnaguri, you may take longer than you think.

And if you are wondering what is the ‘K’ word. Learn some Tamil.

Chennai, Oh Chennai

Not the most creative title but then just wanted to get into this post without further ado because it has been a long time coming…
Many people and that included me too doubted and absolutely feared me landing in Chennai and for once they weren’t fearing for the good people of Chennai but plainly just for me. Yes I am an Armyman’s son and change and adapting is all but second nature but this was truly my first big move. My first job, my first shot at taking care of my own life and that tiny thing of adjusting to a new city. The language, the people, the food, the WEATHER!! The list was endless of all the things that would take a lifetime to get used to. I will not disagree that it’s has not been a smooth transition because it has been sparkling. For some strange reason which many are still befuddled about, I fell in love with this place the moment I stepped onto it. You can attribute it to the fact that I was picked up in a snazzy car and had an amazing friend waiting at the station for me to do the bargaining with the coolie while I admired the crazy atmosphere. But as my friend took me out of the station like a child being taken to a fair, I immersed myself into what would become ‘daily life’ soon. Chennai unlike any other city I have been to, maybe you can add Mumbai to it, had a strong pumping heart to it. The city was a city in a village in a metropolitan in a country full of small villages separated by a modern city, some sewage and a whole bunch of urban dwellers and pure hearted villagers. That is the best way to describe this city which is the reason the science of physics has found a fourth dimension, just to explain what is happening here.
I live and work on what many will say the other end of Chennai, while we here will say you guys live in the other end of the world. So putting it into geographical perspective, the heart really is the Nungambakkams, Mount Streets, Parrys Corners of the world while the T Nagars and the Anna Nagars are well, the Nagars and the Thiruvanmiyurs, Adyars, Besant Nagars is home. That will sound like absolute nonsense to a blue eyed Chennaite but to me it was just so cool that I could name and spell all the places in one go. Getting back to what is important is that the much spoken about government/s in the state which are basically, two (you know who), revolve like a game of musical chairs in which the final two keep running and the music just doesn’t stop. Well one of these geniuses are the ones who sanctioned the entry of IT in Chennai, ensured it was away from the city, built a home for it and said, ‘Listen you modern non - traditional little brat, I know you are going to spoil the other children in the house so I’m going to put you in a separate room away from the others. You can come to our side once in a while for stuff you don’t have there (theatres!!) and we will come once in a while to check on you. So you make your own living, call your kind of friends and we shall live happily ever after.’ Well the conversation happened in Tamil but that is all I could translate and basically that was the birth of what is now ‘my side of town’.
I have found myself a living abode in Thiruvanmiyur with all the luxuries I could ask for around me. Bessie beach - 10 minutes away, restaurants – you name it, we have it, essentials – so what is essential for you? and all the heart could desire. In all I am living in just the right place where every bachelor has ever dreamt of living. My little penthouse on the third floor of this house is where it all comes together as I walk into what already feels like home everyday. A great set of friends from my past and present (you know who) have also made life a breeze. I have discovered many a thing in very little time and I would like to share it with future aspirants of Chennai:
• Public transport rocks which include my favourite – share autos, buses – with strange numbers though!! and the train service – not crowded like Mumbai and much cooler.
• Egg burjee is egg bodimaas. They will refuse to understand burjee.
• Biriyani is generally Briyani
• All medical stores do home delivery. ALL!
• Movie tickets will never be more than 120 bucks. Even in multiplexes. Even on Fridays.
• Taking a walk into random lanes is an absolute treat.
• The cops can be bribed. Wait!! That is everywhere
• The streets are really wide.
• The CCD in the IIT is dirt cheap and Sparkys on a Friday is like heaven on earth
• Pondy is closer than you can imagine and more heavenly than you can imagine.
• Drinking is difficult as there are very few wine stores and the pubs aint cheap but then isn’t forbidden love always more exciting.

And finally, if you walk into this city with an open mind there is no way you can’t love it. It’s got its problems but just become a part of it and you will love the problems and I know I’m speaking a tad bit too early but I can’t wait for what’s yet to come. Now that would be the summer, right?
Yevlo, Venda, Naire, Ponnam, Sollringha.. Yup that is all you need for the first few months.

Short'er' Stories of Strange Love

He told her to wait for him, she wasn’t that dim. He wrote her many a letter, she just slept with someone better. Waiting at the station he planned his future, then he saw her with another man and in him grew a creature. He walked up to them and she feigned surprise, but he saw her disguise. He looked her in the eyes and waited for an apology but it didn’t come and his head became foggy. In disgust he boarded the nearest train, while his wife waited outside the station in vain.

In the 3 stooges, he was a stooge... She worked at the Moulin Rouge. Together they defined unusual, their glamour under stated, they lived lives that were frugal... When she walked the streets, he hid in the shadows, on stage while the crowds cheered him, she measured up her foes... Jealousy walked in and it ended in denial and refusal... Now their love was no more unusual.

Jailed for a crime he believed he did not commit, he finally got his justice... He would sit in the dark and think about her and their last kiss... He would torture himself wondering where it all went wrong... 12 years since he had met her it had been so long... Walking out of jail he remembered her sweet voice sing, looking around he waited for her while he fiddled with his ring... Then she appeared with beauty in every stride, she still looked like a newly wed bride... They held hands and walked into the sunset, promising to pay off every cent of their love’s debt.

With the gun at his head he searched for solace, while his heart raced at an ungodly pace.. He remembered all the times he imagined this day, his mind argued and fought with him to pray.. He couldn’t understand why there was this ungodly pause before his end, maybe he had to reconcile with himself before he took the next bend.. He looked up into her eyes and saw the memories and the love disappear, until he heard himself say “Just end it Dear”.

The crowds cheered the return of their hero after so long, as she ran along his horse reminding him of their song.. She had waited and always knew he would be back, in his absence the warmth and love she did lack.. As she regaled in the victory parade, she saw the love in his eyes had begun to fade.. As he reached the city square he waved his blood covered sword to the crowd, and on it was her lover’s head with all the love sucked out.

The Business of Creation

All that is created is by Him we believe. But I guess its safe to assume that even he has a process to it. Life in a B-School teaches you that all that exists or moves has a framework supporting it and a whole load of research backing it up or else there would be no prudence in believing in its existence. So let us take this thought a step further and explore how God creates a human being. Reliable sources tell me that God has a focus group up there that does all the thinking and gives him insights into his next creation keeping in mind existing products and prevailing market entry strategies in place. Even though God is a monopolist in the human being creation process, he still believes in strict quality control and due to increasing demographics which he has to cater to, he has adopted the ‘Just In Time’ ideology from his Japanese creations.

Business intelligence provided by one of my strategic partners have given me an insight into the creation process adopted by God along with a focus group, a technique he has adopted from marketing research firms and ad agencies on Earth. Apparently he was quite impressed with the way his many earthlings^TM have evolved and in an effort to integrate human competencies with celestial innovations, he has begun a new approach to his creations.

To get the best out of his production cycle he has reduced it by a few steps thereby reducing costs and designing an extremely cost efficient system. The use of focus groups in deciding how the ‘new person’ must be is a positive step in the person development cycle as it helps glean consumer insights into the development process. These focus groups have been decided keeping His ‘global delivery model’ in place adopted from one of His favourite companies ‘Infosys’. This model allows him to decide on a focus group keeping in mind that his ‘person’ maybe launched in any market as determined by his ‘Delivery’ team and the market or customer who is in the right position to receive it. This approach has been ratified by the in-house research team and the ad agency that has taken the job of moderating these focus groups. No blind tests are allowed in these focus groups as the ‘person’ is too sensitive to such judgements. The ad agency has been working towards finding customers for the ‘persons’ created and this is a long drawn out process which begins nearly a year in advance or much more in normal cases. The ad agency is paid only after the client enters the final 9 month ‘person purchase’ window and is eligible for a further 20% commission in the case of ‘persons’ instead of a ‘person’ being acquired.

The focus group keeps changing as and when a new perspective is needed and if the focus group approves a ‘person’ which turns out to be a failure in the market. Case in point being ‘persons’ like Osama Bin Laden, George Bush, Mayawati and the likes. These ‘persons’ have been huge failures and case studies are being designed to understand what went wrong with these ‘person lines’. The entire category was disbanded but due to rampant counterfeiting, many more such ‘persons’ made it to the market like, Dawood Ibrahim, Lalu Prasad Yadav and the list goes on. To counter this problem consultants from ‘person development and integrated improvement’ consultancies were brought in for big bucks and they analysed existing markets, past markets, created revenue models, SWOT analysis, developed Aaker’s Brand Identity models for existing and future ‘persons’, developed a BCG matrix to understand the current available ‘persons’, spent some more bucks and finally submitted a comprehensive report that stated that:

‘Person lines should be altered to a point where the overall corporate strategies can be in line with business strategies to orchestrate a flank attack on counterfeiting to further improve the overall productivity and reach of the ‘person lines’ and promotional strategies so that consumers may differentiate ‘persons’ on the basis of high quality standards and improved competency benchmarking which in turn will add to the value creation frontier and bring out the superior capabilities of the manufacturer who besides running a smooth lean manufacturing process can also produce new ‘persons’ which can cut across new demographics and redefine existing business practices and establish their own set of best practices.’

The consultants spent a huge sum of money and in return have given Him not much to go on. He has therefore decided to abandon the entire project and go back to the old process of development where he makes all the decisions and no focus group or ad agency or consultancy affect his thinking. It’s just Him, His imagination and the world. He decided that people should meet on their own, decide to procreate on their own and he will just provide the raw materials. He would no more be the CEO but just the Chairman and observe the ‘person’ development stage and would then enjoy the ‘person life cycle’. His only profits would be the lives He would get to see change and his company has promised daily dividends irrespective of bull or bear markets. He has shut all futures and options markets for the ‘persons’ he produces and has opened the ‘hopes’ and ‘wishes’ market. And finally in a move much appreciated by industry observers, he has gone public and much to the joy of his under writers, the offer has been oversubscribed many times over. He has collected in his Initial Public Offering, millions and millions of prayers. Profitability is high, profits are sky rocketing and the business is back on track…

Me Brit Obsession

Ever since I could call me self a lad it’s been a blighty existence. Was born polarised with me undying hate for the blimey Brits. Hated their guts and would loved to have taken each of them down one of those dirty Southall alleys and kicked some white cockney yellow. The mention of the British would wind me up like an old Geordie seeing his pet Newcastle getting the Queen’s thrashing by some lowly unheralded Conference boys. I couldn’t swallow the fact that those sorry bobs were allowed to pillage our country like some village pub. In this constant hatred for these hapless half wits I suddenly discovered a messiah sent straight from Edinburgh royalty. They pranced in shining red and no they were not that sodding Rudolph the old gaffe. These were pure blooded, steeped in Victorian legend warriors. I am talking about those lads from Manchester (not actually Manchester but from a place I call, The Temple), Manchester United.

I lost me Indian citizenship and became a tax paying Mancunian. These were no roadside, showboating, all shirt no trousers football club (Clearly referring to Arsenal). These were a bunch of guys brought together by the Queen and the Earl to pump some hope back in these bunch of no use ragamuffins who had an entire 20 miles to call their own. The Brits have taken part in more wars then they have knickers which has left them in a very disillusioned and shoddy little corner of our world. Yet Margaret Thatcher’s ghost will let you know that they have the greatest football league in the world. I aint one to disagree with that all conquering declaration or it will be ‘off with me head’. The Bar n Clay Premiership is the tight lipped white man’s best contribution to the world (considering it has more of the world than the Brits in it) and its greatest kid has surely been the Red Devils. When they walk onto that patch of green called Old Trafford, the ‘Daily Mail’ reports that George Bush actually grows some ****s, Marks and Spencers shuts down, the dimwits at the Queen’s gates actually feel something in their pits, a small village called Wortherstirtescheshire suddenly wakes up from its slumber, some men in blue across in Manchester suddenly realise all their wives are sleeping in the barn with the wrong horse, some dodgy Merseyside goons wake up to realise that they may not ‘walk alone’ but they surely’ sleep alone’ and finally in a small French village called ‘The Emirates’, an Arse (Wenger) promises to emulate the Red Devils next year.

And then as the whole nation holds their yellow bellies, eleven men begin to restore some dignity into what is an empire that has had its ‘sun set over it’. They glide like warriors would have in the days when being a King or Queen actually mattered in that island surrounded by bolshie. Young kids sit glued to their telly with Sky TV bringing patriotism into a country which still doesn’t know if its America’s b***h or c**t, it teaches kids to aspire to be something better or atleast teach that obese bloke to beat the Asian kid, who he racially abuses, in class, and not in the playground. They try to inspire a nation to look beyond WAGs, the Tories and a forgotten history to a new future where a low ass, dole collecting Humphrey Dickinson can sit up and be proud.

So stop regaling in those Russian roubles, Arabic dhirams and those Yankee dushbag owners. Stop talking about those 500 million pound signings and 600 million pounds debt. Stop calling it the best league and then recalling those statements the moment no English team makes it to the semis of the Champions League (Fulham are in the Europa league final and a mighty cheers for that), just sit back and hold that mug of beer (atleast you farts got that right) and tune into a Man Utd game, it may not always be pretty but it will sure make you want to get out there and do something worthwhile. Make your Queen proud before one of those nitwit sons or grandsons get the crown, coz then you will have nothing left to be proud about. And yeah Gordon, stop getting your pants Brown.

PS – Sincere respect to Jeremy Clarkson, James May, Richard Hammond, The Beatles, Guy Ritchie, Kiera Knightley, Aston Martin and Jaguar. Fiji is a part of the commonwealth still, I think. You guys may as well migrate there, save some face I say.

a one morning stand

‘Are you going to do this or should I?’
She had green eyes, a slight twinkle in them which adequately hid her deep seated despair and exploding paranoia. Her name was Tania and beneath all her exuberance now there was a silent prayer, pleading with the lord.
‘I think it makes more sense if you go. He won’t make a big deal then.’
Aakash was calm and collected. Not because he found himself in situations like these often but because he just always was. He didn’t want to overreact now and nor did he want to get all excited like Tania. As far as he was concerned there was nothing wrong and they both should just talk and the previous night wouldn’t seem that scary anymore.
But he couldn’t be more wrong.
Same old story..
Boy meets girl in an upmarket pub.. guy too smart for his pants..girl too hot for her heels..sparks fly..they dance, they drink..they drink a lot, they kiss a lot..they lose their bearings, they lose their head..it all seems fine, its an adventure..nothing to lose, all to gain..its just one night..the rest clears itself the next morning..the world isn’t the same anymore..same old, same old.
‘Really? I’m the girl and you want me to go?’
‘Well I can’t use what you need to buy. I won’t tell you to buy a pack of condoms so how can you expect me to buy these tablets.’
‘If only you had bought a pack of condoms last night or atleast one, we wouldn’t be standing here.’
The funny thing was that if they had been sensible enough to do that the previous night they would not have been standing here. Aakash would have been at work in his bright and snazzy office where he was the National Creative Director of a leading Ad agency. With three awards for his recent Nike print campaign, Aakash was on top of the world. Perspective and clarity had set in. A little haze, some smoke and a loss of inhibition had brought it upon him.
Tania was a journalist with a city tabloid which had taken celebrity gossip to not only the bedrooms of its readers but also of the people they reported. The irony for some reason, though abstract, was sending chills across Tania. She knew better than to be in a situation like this. She had warned and preached and begged many a friend to be careful of this very night and especially this day. It had all come apart.
‘There are too many people there. I am used to buying it from a departmental store where you can easily put it along with all your other stuff and not have too many eyebrows being raised.’
‘But Tania we don’t have that luxury today. We both messed up last night. We just got to move on with this and get done with it.’
She didn’t like his tone one bit. I mean a little compassion wouldn’t hurt. But he sounded like a god the previous night. How can men change so easily the moment the sun rises? A question no woman has been able to answer yet. She wished all this hadn’t happened but a small part of her thought the previous night had been magical. In his arms she felt alive again. Her job, her life and her friends made her forget reality. With him she felt real again, one with herself and one with him. Aakash felt like a guy she could have spent her life with. He was fun, extremely funny, a great looker, intelligent beyond imagination and amazing in bed. She really couldn’t ask for more but then maybe she was looking for something more and the way the night had unfolded worried her. For all her broad minded thinking, she wanted a guy who would take care of her and atleast buy her a bunch of pills if she asked him to.
‘The more time we waste the more pointless this entire exercise becomes.’
Aakash just couldn’t understand why he needed to do this. He also couldn’t believe he had been so reckless. He had been there before and he had come out alive. But this time was different. Tania was not just another girl. He remembered every moment of the previous night so vividly. From the moment he offered her a drink at the bar to unlocking the door to his house to feeling her hair in his fingers and then feeling her body in the darkness and then seeing her face in the moonlight which came through the window. He would never forget the look she had on her face at that moment. For the first time it felt so right. He had never expected to feel like this with anyone because he felt love was something he wasn’t ready to experience. Wait! Why was he suddenly thinking of all that? Solve the problem. Move on.
They finally walked together to the store and stood at the back of the 3 customers that were at the counter and kept looking around waiting for them to go. Eventually they walked up to the counter and stood in silence expecting the other to speak.
The pharmacist looked at them blankly and then looked at Tania for some reason as if he knew why they were there. Aakash laughed a bit in his head and conveniently turned to join the pharmacist in staring at Tania. Caught in between the stares Tania couldn’t stand her ground anymore.
‘ I need contraceptive pills. I don’t know the brands because I usually never need to buy them because I usually sleep with men unlike last night.’
Touché! , thought Aakash to himself but he was a little offended.
As the pharmacist went to the back of the store to get the pills, Aakash edged closer to Tania.
‘I think when you were screaming out my name for about an hour last night, I was pretty sure you were sleeping with a man.’
Tania blushed but then collected herself. ‘I guess I was mistaken now, wasn’t I?’
The pharmacist returned with a whole host of packs. He laid them out in front of Tania and without saying a word asked her to choose. Tania was absolutely baffled and really didn’t care which one she picked but then she couldn’t afford to buy something that may solve the problem and create a new one. She picked the brand which she had recently read about in a magazine.
Aakash watched in wonder at Tania selecting, frowning, cursing under her breath and finally paying. He still remembered looking at her the previous night somewhere between his fifth beer and her third vodka while she kept speaking about her job. She had this wild innocence about her and an easy charm. She could make you want to grab her and kiss her yet you would want to just sit for days listening to her. Her hands moved around a lot when she spoke, her eyes flashed wildly yet she was always looking at you. Her eyes seemed to ask many questions which just didn’t need answers.
‘We are done here. Let’s go now.’
‘Let me drop you to work Tania.’
They both got into the car and began to find their way across town in silence. Tania’s mind was still lost in thoughts of the previous night. She couldn’t believe how gentle he was. She had been with such monsters in the past who just seemed to be competing with themselves. Aakash was just like a cool summer breeze but so easily and much to her excitement could change to a devastating blizzard. He had at no point let the passion die and he spoke to her like they had been together for ages. She remembered him talking about his childhood and found it extremely fascinating that he could be so animated and so open about all that he had done all his life. He actually liked talking and listening, a rare combination in a guy. She distinctly remembered the look he had on his face before he slept off. It was like he was asking her to stay.
She turned to look at him driving and thought she could see the same look on his face now.
The roads were completely free and Aakash was a little annoyed at the lack of traffic and for once wished it was there. If only he could speak to her about what was in his mind but she seemed extremely pissed off about the events of the last night. He knew she wouldn’t be too happy with any recollections or praises for what had happened. He really wanted to take this night beyond just a medical shop and a drop to her office.
As they drove into the building where Tania worked, she looked at him for a sign. She didn’t want this connection to end with a few contraceptive pills and a boring drive. These are not the memories she wanted to end it with but he seemed too determined to end it at that. She just wished he would turn, hold her hand and ask her not to go.
As she got out of the car, Aakash just hoped she would ask him for dinner tonight or atleast a coffee.
‘So thanks a lot Aakash. Hope you have a good day and meet you around sometime.’
‘Yup please don’t thank me. Take care.’
Their eyes mingled in each other’s for a while and then he pulled away and drove while she looked for a few moments hoping for him to stop. Aakash looked into the rearview mirror for a few seconds and then saw her walk away into the building.
Their one morning stand had come to an end...