ESSENCE OF EX-ES

‘so…’

‘no Sojwala is not here…’

‘oh come on…’

‘no yar… we just got back na… I don’t want to go anywhere now…’

‘ok the beer’s getting to you…’

‘come on!’

‘what come on! You were the one who said you don’t want to go anywhere!’

‘I know, m just sayin we’ll go chat in my room… mom, dad, bro are not used to this kinda stuff…’

‘why they never had a best friend?’

‘maybe they did. I dunno… we never talked…’

‘my god! How have you been managing to keep mum past 20 years!’

‘it wouldn’t be so difficult for anyone you know, if they had my family.’

‘oh well, to each his own…’

‘her own, you mean…’

‘are you sure? Why does it have to be ‘his’ or ‘her’ all the time?’

‘yeah like we don’t know ‘they’ exist too…’

‘god is the beer getting the better of us or what…’

‘how would god know?’

‘god knows…’

‘no he doesn’t! he wasn’t there lifting up his glass n saying cheers to us!’

‘oh he was… didn’t you see mutthu?’

‘oh mutthu darling… don’t you remind me of that devil…’

‘and his devilicious smile…’

‘MUTTHU! MARRY ME!’

‘oh he might just say yes…’

‘is he single?’

‘oh yes…’

‘you bitch! Why didn’t you tell me before?’

‘cos then you’d go be the bitch right there and then!’

‘n what is wrong with that?’

‘nothing really…’

‘give me your mobile.’

‘I don’t have his number…’

‘n you call yourself my best friend! You can’t even hook me up!’

‘whatever…’

‘god… I can’t stop thinking of him…’

‘hmm I can’t stop thinking of him too…’

‘lay off woman! He is mine…’

‘sure…’

‘oh by the way… give me the bill, we need to split it.’

‘gosh! The beer was on the house!’

‘now you are really drunk darling…’

‘you know…’

‘yeah I do.’

‘what?’

‘a lot of things…’

‘go on… tell me one…’

‘I know you are my best friend…’

(Kissing sound)

‘yeah… ever the bitches, aren’t we…’

(Laughter)

‘you know, I know something too…’

‘what?’

‘we’re drunk and talking shit.’

‘oh no we are not!’

‘come on! Of course we are drunk!’

‘yeah we are, but we are not talking shit…’

‘prove it…’

‘well, sameer does really not love me… its true.’

(Silence)

‘and I don’t love him either.’

‘oh now you are talking shit.’

‘no.’

(Silence)

‘well good for you then…’

‘now you are talking shit. This isn’t good for me… its not. In fact it’s a total 100% complete the opposite of good for me.’

(Silence)

‘well you know… that is actually feeling good.’

‘what? Talking shit?’

‘no. accepting it.’

‘shit.’

‘what?’

‘you are losing the whole essence of our evening…’

‘what essence?’

‘getting drunk… talking shit about our ex-es…’

‘well we are, aren’t we?’

‘we are?’

‘yes.’

‘how? Enlighten me!’

‘aren’t they in deep shit that they’re our ‘ex-es’ already?’

(Laughter)

‘yeah…maybe you’re right.’

‘I’m always right!’

(More laughter… and ribaldry of course…)

BULLY

I frowned as I got out of the lift and banged the doors shut. Never had I hated going to school so much. But school is not really fun when the biggest bully in the class is made to change places and sit right in front of you. I mean, ya he is the brainiest boy I have seen in my whole life, but, so what?

He was a bully. He is a bully. He will remain a bully.

And I hate bullies. Anyone would actually, especially if you are on the receiving end. I mean ya, being a girl, and him being a boy, I didn’t really suffer much. But God! That didn’t make him any less annoying.

Plus I was about as tall as he was. Maybe that is what made him stay at an arm’s distance from me. But still, there are a number of ways to bully someone. And I was seeing them everyday.

Really. Every single day.

Each day, Monish would enter the class, and catch the first person he could see as his first bakra. And the day would begin with getting some homework done. It would be followed by scrawling the black-board with some stupid stupid cartoon which only he found funny. Of course, the cartoon would carry the artist’s name, and that would be his second bakra for the day. In the recess, no matter how much you tried to hide it, Monish would come to know if there was something yummy anybody had got in his or her lunch box. The periods between the first and the second break would go quite uneventful, and the day would again conclude with one of the teachers probably getting her sari or dress wet as she sat on her chair. And finally, as school came to an end, Monish would run down the stairs, pushing practically anyone who came in his way aside, without much caring to see the consequences.

Really, what went wrong when boys came to fifth grade?

Like many other bullies, Monish had a huge gang of boys who followed him everywhere. They would literally lay their lives down for him I guess, if he asked; they all liked him so much.

Puh-lease!

But my guess is, they were all scared of him.

Oh by the way. I guess I didn’t tell you what he did to me.

He untied my hair.

Everyday.

Without fail.

So what was the big issue?

I had hair that came down to my waist. Mamma would braid them and fold them up and tie them so that I had two short plats that just touched my shoulders. And Monish simply loved to untie them. He took care to not let me notice it, obviously. He would just loosen the knot, and the next time I turned my head, my hair would all come loose and fall on my back.

Boys. They can be irritating, I tell you.

I reached school bang on time. I parked my cycle in the parking area and bounded up the stairs. We had a ‘half day’, since it was the last day of the month. My bag was a little lighter hence, and my tiffin a little interesting. Not the regular poli-bhaji. I had corn and potato sandwiches, my favourite! A part of me was happy, and a part of me was, scared. i didn’t want Monish to eat up my tiffin! Please! At least not today, considering he ate half of it almost everyday.

He liked everything my mom made.

I hate bullies.

I HATE BULLIES!

But today seemed different.

The first four periods went uneventful, and I could see the Monish’s impatience build up. All the teachers had come bang on time too, giving Monish almost no time to plan anything. I feared this was the quiet before a huge storm, but prayed for the best.

Recess came, and my stomach sank. Me and my bench partner Kaustubh both took our tiffins out. I looked around. Monish was not in the classroom. I quickly opened my tiffin and started eating.

Suddenly the table shook.

I looked at Kaustubh. He was banging his tiffin on the edge of the table.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

“My tiffin… it’s not opening,” Kaustubh said, and banged the tiffin on the table again. My tiffin inched towards the edge of the table.

“Arre bang it against the other desk na!” I said. “My tiffin will fall.”

Kaustubh continued banging the tiffin on the table. And with his fifth bang, just as I was about to gather my tiffin Monish entered the classroom.

“Boo!” he shouted.

I looked up.

Kaustubh banged the table again.

And my tiffin fell to the floor with a big clang.

There was a momentary silence, and suddenly everybody burst out laughing.

I looked at the spilled sandwiches.

I looked at Kaustubh. He was laughing. I turned around to hit him, but he quickly got up and ran out of the classroom.

I looked at the sandwiches lying on the floor in a mess. My stomach was rumbling with hunger. I was sure the sound was almost audible to everyone around me. I got down and started cleaning the mess. Suddenly fat tears started rolling down my cheeks. I looked again and again at my empty tiffin and the sandwiches on the floor. The tears kept coming. And just about as suddenly as my tears had appeared, two more hands appeared on the floor beside mine. I looked up.

It was Monish.

I looked at him. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Was he so mad as to eat food off the floor?

He put the pieces of sandwich into the tiffin in my hand.

“What happened?” he said.

I told him the incident.

Within a few moments, his gang had brought Kaustubh in front of me.

Monish got up and hit Kaustubh.

“Say sorry,” he said, and immediately Kaustubh said ‘sorry’ to me. He helped me clean the rest of my tiffin.

My crying still didn’t stop.

“Why are you crying?” Monish asked, after Kaustubh had cleaned my tiffin. He was standing next to my desk, mute.

I didn’t answer.

“Should I hit him again?” Monish asked.

“No!” I exclaimed.

Monish looked at me.

“Then what?”

I looked down at my tiffin.

“I’m hungry,” I said.

Pronto Monish pulled Kaustubh’s tiffin out of his hands and opened it and held it in front of me.

Mooli ke paranthe.

I didn’t move.

“Eat na! He won’t say anything,” Monish said, glaring at Kaustubh. Kaustubh looked down at the floor.

I didn’t touch the tiffin.

“You don’t like it?” monish asked. I nodded. Monish immediately turned the tiffin upside down. The Paranthe fell to the floor. Kaustubh didn’t budge. Monish opened his tiffin and held it in front of me.

“Eat na!” he said.

“What about you?” I asked.

“I’m not hungry,” he said.

I looked at him

What was wrong with this guy? He wasn’t hungry??? What was he saying? How could that be?

“Really, you eat,” he said. I took a bite from his tiffin.

“Thanks,” I said. He smiled.

“Put it back in my bag after you are done,” he said. “I have to go!” and before I could say anything he had stormed out of the room, faster than he had come in.










Nothing altered much after that day. Monish was still his annoying self. But, I had seen the side of a bully which I had never expected to. And Monish now smiled at me every time we saw each other.

MY MOST EMBARASSING MOMENT

You ever had a moment when you wished the ground beneath your feet should just split open and swallow you whole and people shouldn’t even realise you have ceased to exist? Or that you could just flick your fingers and go 'POOF!' and land up in the safety and confinement of your home, where you could dance naked and not be seen for all you cared?

Sounds familiar? I bet it does...

I used to always get stuck on the 'Most embarrassing moment' blank while filling up slambooks for friends back in school... I started with my name, filled in my phone number, my address, my most memorable moment, and then I’d come upon 'Most embarrassing moment;' I’d pause, scratch my head, and then jump to the next blank... I'd continue and fill the entire slambook, and would again come back to the 'Most embarrassing moment'... I'd scratch my brain a little more, and would eventually end up returning the slambook, the blank still blank. But if i had to fill one now, I’d have loads to write about... Loads... And it wouldn’t be my 'Most embarrassing moment' but my 'Extremely mortifying and 'go-beet-root-red-in-cheeks' moment'...

One fine Monday morning (although how can a Monday morning be fine, that too after a rather long and tiring Sunday is beyond me) I was getting ready for college. I had just come out of the bath and was still in my bathrobe. Water was dripping from my hair. I was already running itsy-bitsy late for college… but I was too lazed to get ready. The first lecture was ‘English’ anyway, so didn’t matter if I went a little late. So there I was, hanging out in my room, going through the pile of much used and dog-eared books___ novels, reference books, text books, magazines___ while Nick, Howie, AJ and Brian all tried to convince me I was ‘One In A Million’. I swayed left-right-front-back as the song went on; its rhythm and melody like the boys had had just an extra shot of Tequila. Mom suddenly barged into my room and shrieked.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ she said. I froze. Holding my position, I turned to look at Mom, facing the mirror of my dressing table simultaneously. I took a look at my reflection in the mirror and burst out laughing.

‘God! Whats wrong with you? You are acting like you’re having a hang over!’

‘Maybe I am!’ I squealed; Mom looked daggers at me.

‘Chill Mom! I’m ok!’ I said, and swirled around. Needless to say, I lost my balance and fell on the bed. That sent me into more fits of laughter and Mom into those of anger.

‘God! Honestly, what have I been rearing the past nineteen years?’ Mom said.

‘Ok, what is it now? What did you come in to talk about?’

‘Nothing, what are you doing in the evening?’

‘Nothing. Why?’

‘Can you come with me? Got some work, could use some help.’

‘Sure.’

Happy that I had agreed so quickly, and without giving me a chance to change my decision or rethink, Mom danced out of my room and I went back swaying around my room. Somehow I was on a high that day. You know, it happens… sometimes you are inexplicably happy, for no reason. They say it is because of your karma… some of your past deeds, maybe of a past life, have been rewarded, and that is what makes you happy… But let’s not get into that… Bottom line is; I was on a high. It seemed like nothing could mar my mirth. But no! I have now learnt my lesson well; eight out of ten times when you get such a feeling, be sure something is going to happen. In fact, I should have picked up the signs when Mom marched right back into my room.

‘Now what?’ I asked.

‘What are you wearing today?’ Mom asked.

‘Oh no… not again!’

‘Mi tula jauch denar nahiye aaj (I am not going to let you go today) unless you wear your salwar-kameez.’

Ok, I’d like to add a few things here. I am not the types who hate wearing anything that speaks of my ethnicity and shows in a way that I am Indian. I like wearing salwar-kameezes… love it in fact. But what Mom doesn’t seem to get is I have my ‘days’ or my phases… There are days when I wear only salwar-kameezes one after the other. And then there are days when I just don’t feel like it, and I stick to my jeans and t-shirts. And although mom doesn’t mind the former, she hates the later.

‘But Mom___’

‘Te kay pujayala ghetlet ka?’ (Have we bought all those dresses to worship them?)

‘Nahi, pan___’ (No, but___)

‘No if, no but,’ mom said, reaching out for my cupboard door. She opened it and pulled one of my salwar-kameezes out. ‘You wear this and come out in the next fifteen minutes, ok?’

‘Yeah.’

Mom went out of the room, and I threw a pillow at the door. I heard Mom laugh. ‘Mend me, bend me, but you cant break me!’ she called out.

‘YEAH RIGHT! WHATEVER!’ I shouted back, nonetheless smiling to myself.

Note: if you are my friend, remember one thing. Never; NEVER EVER make me do something I don’t want to. Consequences can be disastrous.

As instructed, I came out of my room, twenty minutes later, clad in a white Lucknowi salwar-kameez, with long ear-rings, and with a Shabnam on my shoulder.

‘I’m leaving!’ I called out, and Mom came rushing out of the kitchen.

‘There you are! How pretty you look!’ Mom said. ‘Bye!’

‘Thanks… bye!’ I replied and stepped out of the house.

We had three out of five of our lectures off that day. And on top of that I had planned to bunk my last two lectures anyway, as I wanted to go for a movie, which meant I was not going to attend a single lecture that day. I spent most of that day hanging out in the parking and the canteen of our college with classmates, seniors and of course, my new world friends. Soon it was quarter-to-two; time for me to go. I said bye and took leave. The show was at two-thirty. Half-way to the parking, I thought I should probably just wash my face and go… I had been in college the entire day anyway, and had been sitting in the parking lot since the minute I came. So I made my way to the Ladies Room. And the minute I set my foot inside the room, I shrieked.

I looked down at the floor… it was all wet. Completely wet. There was water everywhere and no one was in sight.

Now I am someone who can’t stand it when people leave taps running, or unnecessarily waste water in any way, so obviously I was furious. I walked to where the washrooms were and saw that one of the taps in the basin was running… Someone had turned it on all the way and probably left it on even after the water ran out; so that now that the water-tank was full, the water was running at full speed.

‘Shish!’ I exclaimed, as I hurried to the basin, trying to hold my salwar up so that it wouldn’t get wet, and trying to balance the dupatta and the Shabnam on my shoulders and myself on my heels. I quickly reached the basin and began turning the faucet off.

Soon I realised it wasn’t turning off.

I looked at the tap like it had been jinxed. I adjusted my dupatta and Shabnam and stood a little more firmly, now facing the basin, and tried to turn the tap ff with both my hands. But it just kept going round and round and round. And then at one point, it just snapped.

‘Ooo! Shit!’ I exclaimed and sprang away from the tap, dropping my Shabnam to the floor in the process, spraining my leg, and hitting the wall behind me.

I blinked rapidly and tried to regain my equilibrium. Slowly, I moved one hand, then the other, and then my legs. I looked around. My books were lying in a puddle of water… or more precisely in three inch deep water; and so was my Shabnam. My dupatta was floating away to one corner of the room; and when I finally got to look in the mirror… I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

For a few moments, I just froze. I kept looking at my books, my dupatta and my reflection in the mirror again and again. Somewhere in between I figured that my phone was in my bag too. I lifted my bag off the floor, and water poured out of it. I put my hand inside and took my cell out; and for the first time, I thanked Mom inwardly for forcing her things upon me. Just the previous day she had bought me this plastic cover for my cell, and so my cell was at that moment absolutely dry and safe. I took it out and dialed mom’s number, thinking i'd ask her to bring me a change of clothes.

Have you noticed that often when one thing goofs up… it doesn’t stop there; it goes on in a series and stops only when sufficient damage has been done to leave you feeling utterly embarrassed and miserable.

So what was the next thing that had gone wrong in my series?

Mom was not answering.

Then one after the other I tried calling Dad, my brother, my neighbour and my aunt. And with every phone call, I was almost expecting the next person to not be home/be available too… and that left me with just one option. And if you are not a really really dumb person, you must have figured it out too.

To drive back home.

On my own.

In a white Lucknowi salwar-kameez that was no longer white.

I cursed my luck several times and finally dared to step out of the Ladies room. I looked around and noticed that there was nobody in sight. I quickly got out and ran on my toes towards that parking. Luckily (ironic I should use that word under these circumstances, right?) there was nobody there either. I quickly sat on my bike and drove out of college.





That day I came home at an amazing 80km/hr; and again ‘luckily’, I didn’t get one red-signal. I didn’t get stuck in one traffic-jam, which had now almost become mandatory for every time that I drove to or from college. I drove so fast, that my dress and me were half-dry by the time I reached my house. I rushed into the bathroom and stripped the dress of… it was a sorry state. I put it in a bucket of clean water and let it soak till I took a quick shower.

Mom burst out laughing when I narrated the whole thing to her in the evening after everyone got back home.

‘You are laughing! Damn! It all happened because of you!’

‘Me?’ mom said through her fits of laughter. ‘Why me?’

‘If you wouldn’t have forced me to wear the salwar-kameez, none of this would have happened!’ I said, and Mom-Dad-Bro all broke out into more and more peels of laughter.

‘And your cells!’ I said, addressing all of them; ‘go dump them into the sewer! God! I got so fed up of listening to the same line over and over again. “The customer you are trying to reach has moved out of coverage area”. What the hell!’

By now we all had tears in our eyes… theirs out of laughing, mine rooted in fury and anger. I picked up my Mango-milkshake glass and stomped off into my room… I shut the door and could still hear the laughing and my brother mimicking me now… God! I so hated it when he did that. I grabbed the remote control lying on my bed and turned the music-system on, and of all the cassettes that could have been in it, Aqua shouted out to me;

‘FREAKY-FRIDAY! THINGS AIN’T GOING MY WAY!’

And finally, for the first time in that day, after so much of fretting and tantrum-throwing… I laughed my arse off at the bloody timing! Or should I say ‘luck’ again???

NOT FOR ME

I. Hate. Coffee.

These words weren’t supposed to go together in a sentence, if they were linked to me. I mean how could I hate coffee???

In case you don’t relate to this or fail to understand this, let me tell you about myself.

I was three when I took my first sip of this drink that tasted like it came right out of the Angel’s goblet. Hot. Bitter. Sweet. All at once. Wow! I knew I had discovered my addiction, but it wasn’t until I was in second standard that I actually caught onto it. That was the max my Mother could keep me away from my sweet poison.

‘Nandu,’ she cautioned my father, ‘this is not correct. You are spoiling her.’

‘Relax Mona, its just coffee! Besides, we make it mild and of milk only!’ Dad said, a coffee addict himself; and Mom knew she’d lost the battle.

Over the years, my coffee, and me, went through a lot of changes… and now, my coffee was strong, black, hot, and bitter; and I was… well, I was a teenager… What else can I say… What else needs to be said?

So I was now a girl who was always seen in coffee shops, with an espresso, and a cute guy occasionally… But I was waiting for my best friend that day. We were meeting after a gap of seven days… seven whole days! For people who SMS-ed each other first thing in the morning even before brushing their teeth, then called up each other on reaching their respective colleges, then met up in the evening for a cup of coffee, and still argued with their mothers’ sometimes for permission to meet for a late-night ice-cream, seven days was a time unbearable to stay away from each other! So there I was waiting for Ankita, and she came in fifteen minutes late… as usual…

‘Heyyyyyyyyyy!’ she said and spread her arms… and we engulfed each other in a bear hug.

‘Hieeeeeeeeee!’ I replied. ‘How have you been? And how was the tour?’

Oh didn’t I tell you? She had gone to Coorg… as part of the study tour organized by their college. She is doing architecture.

‘Missed you yaar…’ I said as we took our seats. And Ankita did something very uncharacteristic of her; she reached out and pulled my cheeks.

‘I missed you too yaar! We had so much fun! You would have loved it… there were so many photographic locations!! You would have loved it yaar…’

‘I know… ok now lets order first and then I want a blow-by-blow account of what you did!’ I said.

‘Ok, how about we both have espresso? Like we did on our ‘pre-result freak out’?’ Ankita suggested.

‘Sure! That’ll be cool,’ I said.

So we ordered two espressos and started chatting. Now everybody who has ever been to CCD knows what the espresso out there is like… they say if you are sensitive enough and if the coffee is hot enough, you get a kick out of it, if you drink it in one sip, like a Tequila; its so concentrated and bitter.

Ankita started telling me memoirs of the trip, right from the minute they boarded the train. From all that she told me, I gathered the best part of the tour was the two nights they spent in the train! What with everybody staying up the whole night and playing ‘truth n’ dare’… That’s one game I still haven’t grown out of… or we, as in my Old World Friends, haven’t grown out of. I cant remember one time when we all met and didn’t end up playing atleast a few rounds of ‘truth n’ dare’… and as it turned out, it was Ankita’s idea for sure; and everybody loved it.

‘And then at one point the bottle pointed out to Prajak,’ she said.

‘Oh no, not again!’ I said. I hadn’t met even one of her friends actually, but I would easily spot them on a crowded street if I were to see them… such is the magic of Ankita's anecdotes. I already knew them all like they were my friends… who did what, who liked who, who was the idiot, who was the ‘poor me’, who was the ‘wanna be’, and who was the joker… of course, it was Prajak. So I could imagine what must have happened, and I started laughing; but nothing prepared me for what she told me.

‘No no! Listen!’ Ankita said. ‘He chose dare; so one of the guys dared him to pick out any girl at random in our class and propose to her!’

‘No way!’ I said.

‘No really! And you won’t believe, he picked out Pooja, and oh my God! He proposed to her so so sweetly! He got down on one knee and all! We were all dumb-struck! For a moment after he finished, we were all just staring at them. Even Pooja was looking like she’ll drop her jaw to the floor any minute. And then he just got up and went and sat on the seat again, and we all started clapping and cheering!’

‘Really!’ I said; I couldn’t believe it either.

‘Ya…’

And then she went on to describe everything… how they reached an hour late; checked into their hotels, had food and headed straight for their rooms as they were all dead tired; then went on their first study the next day; came back home in pouring rain… and on and on it went till almost quarter to eight. Finally it was time to leave. We paid the bill and went to the parking area across the street. Ankita was waiting for a rickshaw. I opened the dickey of my Activa and threw my wallet in it. I removed the scarf and was tying it around my face when I suddenly heard someone scream out my name. I turned around. It was Ankita. She crossed the street and ran up to me.

‘Are you nuts or what?’ I said. ‘What happened?’

‘Arre I got you something and forgot to give it to you!’ she said. She fished into her hand bag and removed two small packets.

‘What is this?’ I said as I took the packets from her; and answered my own question before she could… the aroma was not one which I wouldn’t recognize, and we both ended up screaming together gleefully;

‘Coffee!’

‘Ya,’ she said.

‘Wow!’ I said and opened one of the packets. I smelled the coffee and within a minute I was in heaven. ‘God! That smells almost divine!’ I said. I smelled again. ‘Yummy!’

‘I knew you would like it! I was hunting for a souvenir for you all over! But nothing seemed to strike a chord… and then on our last tour, we were having food and I smelled coffee. And you won’t believe, I followed the smell and traced it to this really tiny shop, like a kiosk. They were selling hand-ground coffee, and I knew I just had to buy it! So I bought two packets for you and two for me.’

‘Oh my God! That’s so sweet of you! Thanks!’ I said and engulfed her into a bear hug. She hugged me back.

‘By the way, don’t mix them up. They are not same. The one with the red rubber band is ‘Chicory mixed coffee’, and the other is plain coffee,’ she said; and immediately I opened the other packet and smelled that too.

‘Hmm… smells almost the same,’ I said.

‘That ‘almost’ makes all the difference!’ she remarked and I smiled.

‘Wowie, thanks yaar!’ I said. Just then a rickshaw slowed down next to us.

‘Aana hai madam?’ (You looking for a rickshaw?) The guy asked.

‘Haan haan,’ Ankita said as she hurriedly got into the rickshaw.

‘Call me!’ she called out as the rickshaw drove off. I gave her the thumbs up.

I got home and couldn’t wait to finish dinner. Mom was rather surprised to see me in the kitchen after we were done.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

‘Making coffee; it’s quite cold.’ I replied without looking at her.

‘Deva! Wachav re baba!’ (Oh God! Save me!) She said as she walked back to the bedroom and closed the door.

I poured the steaming hot ‘Chicory mixed coffee’ into my favourite bright red mug and washed the vessel. I cleared the counter, turned the light off and walked back to my room. I was getting ready to enjoy a late night of coffee and reading, snuggled in my blanket. Mom and Dad were already in bed, trying to sleep as the cold bit into them.

I found my iPod and turned it on. Ah! What luck! My favourite song played on the shuffle list. ‘Perfect!’ I thought as I fluffed my pillow. I arranged the small stool right net to my bed and placed my cell and my coffee mug onto it. Then I got into bed and pulled the cover till my shoulders. I opened the book and took the mug in my hand.

‘This is life!’ I said to myself and took my first sip of the coffee.

I spat it back into the mug.

‘Aaaargh!’ I said as I wiped my mouth to the back of my sleeve. I looked at the coffee like it was poison. I smelled it and looked at it again. I tried another sip, a tiny one this time, and spat it back again. I set the mug aside and immediately picked up my cell. I looked at the watch. Eleven-fifty. ‘I don’t care,’ I said as I opened the message window.

‘wht shit hv u givn me as souvenir? U tryna kil me or wht?’ I typed and sent it to Ankita.

‘wht?’ came the reply, after five minutes

‘wht is tht chicory stuf suposed 2 b?’ I replied again.

‘u din lik it?’

‘I HATE IT MOR THAN ANYTHING I HAVE EVER TASTED! ITS DISGUSTING!’ I replied.

‘thts weird. ppl luv it. funy u dnt… n u say u r adictd 2 coffee.’ Came the reply.

‘YA RIGHT!’ I shouted.

‘Mrunal! Shut up!’ came the reply, this time from my parent’s bedroom.

‘Ya ya!’ I said and threw the blanket off me. I went inside the kitchen and switched the light on. I poured the entire mug right into the basin and flushed it. I rinsed the mug and set it on the counter, inverted, to drain off the water. I opened the refrigerator and took the half finished Dairy Milk bar. I munched onto it irritatedly… but the chocolate soon took over me and I got engrossed in the book and slept off sometime around two-thirty.

For the first time in my life, I got up and didn’t have coffee the next day. It took me several weeks to start drinking coffee again… and for a few days, mom was in heaven. Everytime I looked at a mug of coffee or passed a coffee shop or saw some advertisement of Bru or NesCafe, my mouth screwed up in the most difficult way and I turned away from whatever it was that had reminded me of the coffee.

‘God! What happened to you yaar?’ Ankita asked me, the day after my ‘Chicory mixed coffee’ disaster, over the phone. She was laughing her guts off.

‘Nothing,’ I said; ‘but I hated whatever it was that you gave me. And one thing’s for sure, I like coffee, but chicory is not for me,’ I said, and Ankita laughed more…

BHAD MEIN JAA! (GO TO HELL!)

You know, there are days when you want to attend all lectures, strictly refrain from bulldozing your friends into proxy-ing for you, sit and pay attention to the teacher’s every word, scribble notes from ‘initial time: 0’ to ‘final time: t’, get up at the end of the lecture, wish the teacher ‘good afternoon’, wait till she leaves, then sit down and wait for the next teacher to come…

And then there’s every other day…

But even though today was like every other day, it felt different. Me and my new world friends (i.e. friends at my new college, where I am doing BSc) came down the stairs and entered the canteen. We had actually sat for the first botany lecture (all five of us) and had had enough of our dose of teachers, classrooms, attendance and lectures and anything remotely related to studies. We were now free to enjoy the day…

‘Su layees?’ my Gujju friend asked her twin… and immediately there were echoes of the only Gujurathi words we knew. Several ‘su layees’es later we had finally decided on the usual items… one missal-paav for the twins, and one dosa, one wada sambaar and one packet of strictly American Cream ‘n’ Onion flavored Lays in sharing for the rest of us.

‘What the hell yaar! The lecture was exceptionally boring today, no?’ the usual chit-chat began.

‘If you will sit for the lecture after so many days, it will obviously be so boring,’ Trupti, the sincerest among us patronized.

‘Ae! Baas ha!’ (Hey! That’s enough!) We all know you are the mostest sincere gal among all of us,’ I said. ‘Now no need to lecture us.’ That evoked several supportive responses from everyone, and a predictable response from Trupti: fury. She hated it when I spoke wrong English… of course only to tease her.

‘What the hell yaar! You don’t sit for the lecture, and then you call sir names!’ she said indignantly.

‘Bh___’ I began to say something, but quickly stopped myself. God! Was it really true then, what my parents and friends and people who knew me said? I couldn’t speak one sentence these days without saying those three words I was trying to get out of the habit of saying.

‘Just go yaar!’ I said finally. I tore the packet of Lays open, and munched noisily on the chips.

‘No, but really, today was utterly boring,’ one of the twins, Rupal, jabbed in. ‘God! My head is aching as if it might split any minute! I so badly need to sleep…’ she said wistfully.
‘Yeah, it was boring,’ said Tejashree. ‘I never thought Shinde-sir could get so boring. Not a single smile! I was literally dozing off. At one point all I wanted to do was get up and leave the class, right on his face.’

‘Shut up!’ Rashmi, the other twin, said suddenly.

‘Ab tujhe kya hua?’ (Now whats wrong with you?)

But Rashmi only nodded. We all looked and saw our Vice Principal walking into the canteen.

‘What the hell! Why is she coming here?’ I mused aloud; and shut up immediately as Trupti elbowed me in the stomach, but not before threatening to murder her as soon as our Vice Principal was out of sight. As we looked at our Vice Principal, our eyes following her everywhere she went, we realised she was headed for the only empty table in the canteen, right next to ours.

This is whats called ‘luck’.

As she came in and sat down, our voices dropped, but the banter kept going.

But just then I sensed; something was going to happen.

Something huge.

Something bad.

I kept putting the thought out of my head. But it kept coming. And so did Trupti’s arguments. God! I so wished I had my camera with me to click a picture of Trupti; she was arguing like her life depended on it.

‘You know what? You have a problem with everyone! You find everyone boring! What the hell! Poor sir was unwell, did you see? His nose was red like a tomato and still he was teaching!’

‘So?’ I answered in a monosyllable.

‘So? What do you mean ‘so’? Our teachers do so much for us. The least we can do is appreciate it.’ Trupti’s voice was going up by a decibel with every word.

‘Ya! So when did I say ‘no’?’

‘Then how can you call him boring?’ she was almost screeching now, to her fullest; or rather to the fullest she could while she struggled to prevent our Vice Principal from hearing it.

And just then, even before I knew it, the dreaded words were out.

‘BHAD MEIN JAA!’

Sound of steel spoon clanking onto plate.

Five pairs of eyes turned in the direction of the sound.

‘Honestly, I can’t do a thing without being clumsy these days,’ we hear the Vice Principal say to another lady sitting in front of her.

I heave a sigh of relief. She hasn’t heard me.

Resumption of all activities.

Some moments pass.

Some minutes pass.

The Vice Principal finally looks like she wants to get up.

She gets up and turns to look at us.

She looks at me, straight at me.

‘Five minutes before I see you in my cabin,’ she says, and I gulp. Damn! So she did hear me! I don’t know what words she is going to shower upon me (I choose not to think about it) but I know one thing for sure… I am damned. Five minutes, or rather four minutes and thirty-seven seconds later (I have a digital watch) I am in her cabin.

‘Welcome!’ she says, with a smile.

Ok.

Either she is mad, or I am imagining things. I swallow. Man! She is angry and she is smiling... should I be scared or relieved?

‘Please take a sit Miss Mrunal Belvalkar…’ she says. I am taken aback to know she knows my full name. In case you are wondering, I am not used to trips to the Vice Principals cabin. ‘You want water?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Please,’ I add.

A peon appears out of nowhere and puts a glass of water in front of me. I gulp it down. I am about to wipe my mouth to the back of my sleeve, but I check myself and stop short of it. I remove a never-used napkin from my bag and wipe my mouth to it. The Vice Principal looks impressed. She gives me a minute; and I think how I am going to explain it to Dad, least to Mom. Man… what a soup I was in!

‘I guess you know by now why I have called you here, to meet me…’ the Vice Principal said.

I gulped and tried to smile.

‘I had never expected this,’ she continued. ‘Neither had I,’ I thought. What yaar! Why did she have to come and sit in the students’ area in the canteen? And on top of that, why did I have to say it in front of her? Daaaaamn!

‘Your parents will be very proud of you when they hear it,’ she continued. ‘And so am I proud of you.’

Hold it. Hold it hold it hold it. I was now convinced; our Vice Principal is officially mad.

Suddenly she got up. I too automatically got up. She came to my side from across the table and took my hand.

‘Congratulations. You have stood first in the college.’

SHIT.

‘Ma’am but___’

‘But what? Aren’t you happy?’

I try to absorb what she has just said. And then it dawns on me. Today is 27th December. Our results were going to be declared today afternoon! I realise her lips are moving… she is still saying something… but I can hardly hear her! About ten minutes I find myself walking out of her cabin and towards the canteen. My friends are still there.

‘Kya hua?’ (What happened?)

‘Abe bol na! Come on! Speak up!’

‘I am first in college.’

‘What?’

‘F*#@!’

And suddenly everyone (except the five of us) was concerned the roof of the canteen was going to blow up. Suddenly Trupti looked at her watch and said, ‘Oye! We must leave! Its Micro lecture!’ But all I did was wave my hand and shout:

‘BHAD MEIN JAA!’

ORKUT MATRIMONY

So this is how Indian mothers’ brains functioned.

Correction.

So this is how Indian mothers’ (whose daughters are doing BSc and whose daughters have only GUY friends, but only guy FRIENDS on Orkut) brains worked; although it wasn’t surprising. I knew it already___ the functioning of individuals belonging to this dangerous and seemingly unrealistic category. So where’s the catch?

I didn’t know my mother belonged to this category.

Yeah… what was I thinking? Wasn’t I also doing BSc? And didn’t I also have only GUY friends, but also only guy FRIENDS on Orkut? Sigh…

I had just been talking to my friend S___ no no, hold it; at least I can save him the embarrassment, right? Let’s call him… ummm… ok, yes. Let’s call him Neel. So I had been just talking to my friend Neel, for over 20 minutes now. In case you are wondering, let me tell you, this isn’t long. We had recently gotten into the nightly ritual of calling each other up, and talking till all the lights in the neighbourhood went out one by one. (Yeah, even the one in the ‘newly-married-and-still-in-marital-bliss’ couple’s house.) I got off the phone and came out into the drawing room to have a glass of water before I went off to meet Richard Gere and do things… of course in my dreams, what did you think? And there was mom, playing solitaire on the computer; waiting for dad to come back home.

‘Who was it?’ she asked.

‘Neel,’ I replied non-challantly.

‘How is he doing?’ she asked.

‘Fine,’ I said, and sat down on the sofa. Yes, it was eleven-thirty; and yes, I had chemistry-practical next day morning at eight; but Mom looked like she could use some company.

Pause.

Long pause.

Maybe she didn’t need the company after all. It was just a passing comment. I made to get up and leave.

‘How old is he you said?’

‘What?’ I asked, a bit lost.

‘Neel. How old is he?’

‘I don’t know… maybe 23-24.’ Ok yes. The guy was my best friend. But we never discussed trivial things like age… we had a lot of other worldly things to talk about, right? But just then I began wondering… really how old was he? I didn’t know the age of a guy who was the only other person besides my old-world friends (that is, my friends from junior college; we were six of us, and all six in six different colleges and six different fields now) whom I’d told about my ex-boyfriend. And soon the questions just kept coming… What was his favourite colour? What was his favourite food? What was his best-friends name? And they gave me enough substance to talk about the next time we talked, which is to say, tomorrow night.

‘What has he studied?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Honestly, are you awake, or have you walked till here in your sleep?’

‘No, I am awake. I was just thinking.’

‘About Neel?’

‘Yes. I mean no. I mean… anyway, what were you asking?’ I said, shaking my head, and looking at mom’s face in profile. And just then I saw something___ something that sent my sleep to the dogs.

Mom was smiling.

Ok, she was smiling… again; so where is the catch?

She was smiling coy.

BOLLOCKS.

She was smiling in an ‘aw-look-at-my-daughter-all-grown-up-and-falling-in-love’ way. God! Help! SOS! Was I witnessing proof to the existence of the kind of dangerous and seemingly unrealistic category I previously talked about? Or more so proof to the fact that my Mom belonged to this category?

I imagined a thousand ways in which things could have proceeded after my phone call with Neel, had I not felt like my life depended on that glass of water I just had to have before I met Richard. (Oh, I told you, Richard Gere.)


a) I get off the phone and come to the drawing room to drink water. Mom is playing solitaire on the computer. I say ‘Good-night’, walk back to my room and sleep.
b) I get off the phone and come to the drawing room. Mom is fast asleep in her room. I hear her snore. i walk back to my room and sleep.
c) I get off the phone. I get into the bed and sleep.

But no. I had to come out. I had to come out; I had to sit to give Mom some company while she waited for dad to come, and I SIMPLY HAD TO get myself into this situation. Why couldn’t dad be on time for once?

‘What has he studied?’ Mom repeated. But this time, I heard her alright. I was now red-alert; antennas going round in wild circles.

‘MBA Finance.’ I answered.

‘Where does he work?’

GOD NO! PLEASE HELP ME!

‘Citi Group.’

By now I was trying to remember the last time I had prayed. My mind went back to when I was in school. Suddenly I was chanting ‘Lead Kindly Light’ in my head.

‘Is he alone?’

‘No, he has a younger sister. She is doing Engineering, first year.’ I provided mom with all the details even before she asked me. That’s what happens to me when I panic. People freeze; people go weak in the knees; I resort to non-stop, and often non-sensical blabbering.

And then came the final blow.

‘Has he thought of marriage?’

BOLLOCKS. EFFING BOLLOCKS.

Suddenly the sky darkened. Ok ya, it was already almost mid-night now, but I want to make this dramatic. So; suddenly the sky darkened, and I saw myself seated on an over-sized throne. I was wearing a red sari. Aargh. Aargh! Me? Red SARI? RED Sari? These words weren’t supposed to go together in one sentence; maybe atleast till I turned thirty. But that’s what I saw; me seated on an over-sized throne, wearing a red sari, and lots and lots of jewellery. And next to me was Neel, dressed in a navy blue suit and looking handsome.

Wait.

Did I just say handsome? Yes, I did! Oh my God! Mom was passing it onto me now! Let me just give you Neel’s character sketch in one line: he is not the kind of guy I’d actually get the hots for, ever! But if I were thirty and if someone suggested his name as a possible suitor for me, I wouldn’t have a good solid reason to say no.

Yes, he was looking handsome. And there was his sister, standing next to him, guarding his shoes. And there were his parents, looking onto me, their lovely bahu. And there were his friends, giving him thumbs-up every time he looked at them and secretly envying him. And there were my old-world friends, wondering if it was really Neel sitting next to me. And there was my Mom, dabbing here eyes every once in a while. And there was Dad at the door, welcoming the guests and they came with bouquets. Neel was leaning in to say something. Whatever it was he said made me go from pink to red to crimson in my cheeks.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I was back in the drawing room. Mom was still playing solitaire. ‘Mom, why are you doing this to me?’ I thought. But I could already see my doom. Career gone. Research plans ruined. Speed-dating plans ruined. And Richard! I just chose not to think about him.

‘I don’t know…’ I found myself saying. ‘we never talked about marriage!’

Pause.

‘But, why did you ask?’ I asked.

‘Mangal-maushi is looking for a match for Saili na… So I was just thinking. Maybe she could___’

But I wasn’t listening anymore… Ah! There was still goodness in the world! God existed! I was alive! Hallelujah! Long live the King! Long live the Queen! Long live Mom!

I did a mini-jig inwardly. But I was careful enough not to show it. I got up, kissed mom goodnight, and walked back to my room. I went through my stuff and finally found my iPod. I switched it on, turned the volume full, scrolled through the playlist and pressed the play button.

My mom did NOT belong to the dangerous and seemingly unrealistic category...

It was time to celebrate.