Cheeni kum hai .. !

Main sexy kyun nahi hun … – Tabu, from the movie Cheeni Kum.

Normally, this ain’t the kind of words to tickle your funny bone, when you are a dumb-geeky-spectacle-bearing-eighty odd kg-overweight-chubby cheeked-self involved-silly boy … But what is there that is normal about me ..!

And it did something funny in my stomach and let the laugh unroll. I probably have never mentioned – and you would not know if you have not met me – that I have a Pigish sort of laughter, kind of the one that is made fun of in Hollywood teen movies. I personally consider it pretty innocent and childish ! The lady in the red outfit certainly had a different opinion for she looked at me with fiery eyes burning with anger and I dived Matriksh- style to avert the lazer .. what I did not realize was that the lady in the red outfit was not exactly a lady in the red outfit, she was a girlie girl .. aping Britney Spears in her ‘fame-endearing daring red just enough to be called a’ skirt with her Jerico-styled could-be or may-be boyfriend. And as a responsible citizen of a democratic country, realising that all I could do was stare .. I chose the obvious course.

Now, after the movie as I reached the exit of the CSM, I realised the tube-top-ped lass from the movie leaving just in front of me .. waving a flying kiss to her beau hidden from the view of the world-outisde-the-mall. Now, in a conventional Jeans walking towards a Santro with her dad in the driver’s seat ..

And the Moral of the story is -

For the girl – Who so ever you may fool, you can never fool the snoop-ing eyes of the sole soul.

For you – Though it is the obvious question, please avoid asking me ‘ Who were you with then … huh .. ? ‘ coz, all you will get is a sheepish grin !

For me – In my life,

Cheeni Kum hai

Cheeni Kum hai

Thodi Thodi Mujhme hai Kum

Cheeni Kum

Of dilli and dilli waale !

And it’d been a lousy three days since I came back from Roorkee. I felt different, in-different to all the home-going-ons. The TV serials, the card-games, the inquisitions about life at Roorkee and the countless seamlessly integrated telephones in a world, where everyone knows everyone who knows everyone who knows me.

Aunty S : Aur beta .. kitne saal rahe Roorkee main ?

Me : Ummmmm ! [ In a deep wail that rises from the heart and creeps up my spine , yet maintaining a smile ] chaar saal aunty ..

Aunty S : Ab to fir Engg. ban gaye , hain .. [ The Aunty-Smile ] kyun Rama .. baat chalaein kya ?

Me : He he he ..[ sheepish grin and a heart-felt prayer for the phone or the door bell to ring or the meteor to strike early ]

And as if there is a god .. The gong strikes 10 and I leave with dad for his office to get the PAN card formalities done with.

Oh, how extremely thoughtful of the Indian govt. to come up with something refreshingly ass-saving as the Personal Account Number.

And as soon as I enter his cabin, my eyes – both of them – rest on the beautiful personal computer – LAN and Internet enabled – and I reach for the chair .. And within the blink of an eye I am on-line . Talking with pals – long lost ( three days is a pretty long time after you have spent four years encompassing a lifetime with them ) – from dilli, roorkee and elsewhere. And I come across ‘Moji’, hereafter referred to as M. M and I plan a rendezvous at Ansal Plaza .. and I feel a strange old-book kind of smell rising from me .. oh it iss an old book . But, anyways, I feel really good.

Another set of conversation going on

Aunty K : Yeah ! hamara beta bhi you know .. topped his school in tenth .. real gem of a guy. Tutions bhi nahi lagaya .. khud hi padta hai hamesha .. hum to itna kete hai …

waise kehlne main bhi acha hai ….

Me : Hmm ! yes aunty. [ Gobbles up another piece of kaju - katli ]

{ thinks } khaana banana bhi aata hai use , silaai kadai bhi kar leta hai .. ? mujhe ladka pasand hai

{ stops thinking }

And M calls to convey that he has left for the plaza and I should too. Gladly and yet, maintaining a sullen face at losing out on an excellent opportunity of an enchanting discourse with the lovely ladies, I leave for Ansal Plaza.

And as I get off the bus, three buildings – tall beautifully crafted – arrogantly look down upon me as just another dilli-guy. I am en-nobled by the thought and move forward. Now, this may come as a surprise to you all, but it is my first time in Ansal Plaza. I am yet to see the human beauty engraved in different forms of commercial interest and brands of foreign approval. So, with a mischievous grin I enter behind a particularly interestingly dressed young lady in green and white. All my attention to her, I miss the McDonald’s which we had planned as our meeting point, and reach shopper’s stop, first floor before she turns around .

Me : Hello !! [ Wave my hand at her in self be-fool-ment ]

She : [ Smiles back, As if it's a everyday affair for her ]

Me : [ Give the thanks-a-lot-for-saving-the-embarrassment look ]

She : [ 'Understood but don't act over-smart' look, hostile eyes ]

And I returned back to McDonalds, waiting for M.

As I wile away the seconds, my eyes catch the eyes of a certain lass, looking my way. I try to act hart-to-get, hostile. I am perching on the chair near red haired Ronald, I guess it’s hard to give a confident look sitting next to a red haired doll. So, I just play my natural self – the dumb act. She comes nearer and nearer .. I look around as if unable to recognise the species. She comes right on top of me .. I can feel her breathing .. and all sorts of ’stuff’ starts playing in my head.

With the dreamy eyed fool look, I let the Help-Age-Agent cool gal leave .. And then in the same half-second came M. It was a roorkee-evening after that …. enjoyable and memorable .. a deep mark on my memory.

A day well-spent despite all this .. because I got ‘Gone with the wind’- the old book remember- and now I will go on reading it … till another Roorkee evening strikes.

And this part of my life is called IITR

Sitting in the scorpio filled to the brim with all the crap I had brought with me four years ago to this place … I felt relieved, I had bore the burden of tears, in my heart to let go when i was alone ..

And in a flash, the moments passed beofre my eyes.

The late-night movies .. the sordid comments .. the crunch-your-ass bakar sessions .. the canteen sit-out sessions .. the busT .. That first year tussle with friends .. that crush on the black dressed – devil .. that forzen look on rachit’s face .. that NCC dressed moron parade … the endless canteen visits with pals .. the TT before the exams … the craze of the late night – first time – ***n in Misra’s room .. The crappy bakar with Ram and Sen and all the copiers … The govind bhawan .. The cola shikanji .. the hanish and rachit tussle .. new friends .. the Counter strike .. the thomso and the cogni the srishti .. and the SAE .. midnight madness .. and daytime laze … the fun in chirkut parties with mech pals .. the drunk delight of life .. the endless fags with moghe and harees .. and birju and vatsi .. and power cut sessions with all the pals … all came before my eyes .. in a flash

And in form of tears rolled down my chubby cheeks.

I couldn’t hold it back .. and with tears in my eyes I left the place I loved most …

The place that taught me life …. and the people that made it true .

Bid Adieu to IIT R, I’ll never forget .. the moments .. the life

And I would like to end with an ode …

Everything I know is wrong
Everything I do, it just comes undone
And everything is torn apart
Oh and it’s the hardest part

When you try your best but you don’t succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can’t sleep
Knee-deep in remorse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can’t replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Oh could it be worse?

And Whether it be prose or verse ..

I ‘ll never be able to write the curse ..

The curse of loneliness .. !

Of memories of a life diverse ..

-Rohit “Coldplay” Pruthi

Love-tickles !

I could feel her breath on my heart, it was warm and comforting. It calmed the chaos in me and ignited a desire of perpetual love. I was buoyed by the soothe, the affection. We just kept staring at each other for what seemed like eternity. Time came to a standstill and in the silence of the beach, I could hear the sound of her breathing. It was deep, slow and rhythmic – almost felt like music – comforting and light. The blend of a setting sun and a cool breeze on the sea side, it was almost unbelievable.

And as I opened my eyes, it kept on going round and round and round, slower and slower and slower- the dirt-darkened white orient fan against the white backdrop of the ceiling. My UPS was quivering and making beep-ing noises after the power cut. Someone was thudd-ing at the door.

Thudd Thudd.. I ignored the cacophony of real world and tried to go back to my lovely dream. But the thudd wouldn’t let me. I got up and a glance at the table clock made me realise, it was 2 in the afternoon and I had again missed the lunch, again. Damning the late night card-game, I opened the door and the gracious washerman stood there in all his glory and esteem.

Washerman : Bhaiyya, Kapde nikaal do zarra ..

Me : auuhhh .. gggghhh !

[ Yawn, Grunt, Yawn : He is does it again, I bet its a plan .. and there ought to be a foreign hand ]

Me : Ye ..

[ Three washed shirts from the last week : I won't let him peep in ]

Washerman : Bhaiyya thode paise bhi de dete ..

Me : … huh … kya .. agli baar

[ Smash back : And I tap my mind in self-congratulation .. Intel Inside ]

And I returned to my sweat stained bed, desperate to return to the dream. As I close my eyes, I feel the tickle. Huh ? Am I back in the dream .. Is it ? Is she .. No . Its the damn fan only.

Then, what is with the tickle .. I can feel the waves .. How ..

O What is it . I strain my back to look ahead of my rising and falling mountain-ous stomach and I see it. Rising slowly confidently up my bare feet, towards me … The eyes .. staring at me. Startled I get to my feet and wildly hurriedly panickingly kick the closed door …

The lizard gets off and rushes to the wall !

Shoot-out

He left his apartment with a spring in his feet – leaping with excitement. It was a big day for him, the day that brings fruit to his die hard efforts of years. He could not contain his joy. As he locked the room, a pearl of sweat … on his forehead reminded him of the sleepless nights he had put in on his work. Day in and Day out in the lab thinking-working-thinking, it had been a phase of his life when all he could see was variables floating in front of his eyes. He strolled in the garden and looked at his watch, he still had an hour and a half. He looked at the horizon wondering .. about his dream .. about his aim. This was the day it all came down to. It was his defense. The final step to his doctorate.

No, please .. tears rolled down his cheeks. At the first sight, he could not utter a word. He was stupefied .. No No please .. As he saw the gun pointed at him. He could see all his dreams shattered. All his life, he had worked for it and now a gun stood between him and his ambition, the aim of his life. He could hear his heartbeat rising .. fear took over and thoughts numbed down .. dried .. all he could now think of was .. .. ..

The young man with the gun whisked away after the shoot-out. He was left at the gate of his room .. he turned away from the road to the university … drenched .. Why Why did it have to happen .. he looked at his watch, he still had half an hour … He changed the wet shirt and briskly walked away to the university ….. The thesis in his hand.He would return a doctor today !

Smoked away ..

He puffed at the last cigarette desperate for nicotine and solace. He could not comprehend it. He should have been happy. It was the achievement of his life and yet he felt .. alone .. sad and weighed down. He should have been out, partying with friends, having the time of his life to commemorate the rise, the fulfillment of his ambition. But he was here, cowed down, cornered. He had avoided company all day, kept friends at bay, stopped life. He wished the day to pass, the day whose becoming he had wished all his life.

And yet, today he just remembered her. How different, how special this moment would have been for her. It was a dream they had watched together. It was an ambition for her as it was for him. He watched the smoke rise up … as it rose, it spread its wings, it lost the density, the cohesion, the togetherness, it lost her. He felt indifferent to all success. Nothing mattered once it had been achieved. What matters was whether it gave him the satisfaction he pined for, and it did not. This was the way he had remained alive, walked past the successes for more and more. And here he was today, at the top. The sun was setting behind the river .. a river which lost its flow to amass .. spent its steam on itself. Was it a life desired, a life that felt burdened by happiness, by success … he didn’t think so.

The blade flashed in the air and he slashed it across his wrist. The cigarette butt lay there in the dripping blood, dampened, the smoke died down and so did the spread … it was all together now. His eyes were open , his heart was closed.

Just In Time

It didn’t buzz.

12 more minutes

He is late. He grabs his toothbrush and towel. Brushes his teeth while taking a shower.

He grabs his bag. Haphazardly puts on the clothes. Keeps hankey, wallet, wristwatch.

9 more minutes

His heart is beating faster.

He is unable to lock the door. A drop of sweat trickles down his forehead. He is going to be late. He looks at his watch.

Only 8 minutes

Reaches for the lift, but unable to get a hold. Takes the stairs, two at a time, three at a time, looks at his watch, trips over the stairs. Before falling off has a look at the watch.

6 more minutes

Blames the society caretaker, shouts at labor’s kids playing outside. Runs off to parking. Spurts the engine on. Whooshes off. Desperately checks the time.

3 minutes only

Revvs up the accelerator. Speeds up to reach the stop. Overtakes rickshaw-wallah. Hurls Abuse. Checks time.

1 minute

Screeches to a halt at the stop.

She is still standing there. A breeze of fresh air … The glance is reciprocated, but she turns away. Yet he smiles, for he knows what his and her heart pines for.

Recipe of Life!

Take a geeky 16 year old kid.

Teach him Maths, Physics and Chemistry all day long.

Make him rote by heart formulas and tricks.

Get him join A coaching institute of repute.

Serve hot to an IIT with sauce and spectacles.

*Sigh.

Dish chooses a branch.

Dish has high hopes of working.

Dish works hard, very hard.

Gets good grades.

Extracurriculars and sports involvement too.

Dish makes ideal resume for GRE.

Dish joins an-other reputed college in US.

Repeat with timely modifications.

*Sigh Sigh

Even Death Is Not Worthy Of Such A Life.