Read the previous part here.
The phone is ringing. A cold shiver runs down my spine again. Whose call can it be? What if the girl wakes up? How am I supposed to act? Should I pick up the phone? I decide to pick up the phone, not because I wish to talk, but because I don't want my sleeping companion to wake up. As I lean further forward to pick up the ringing phone, the inevitable happens: she wakes up. The phone stops ringing that very instant. "Who is it?" she asks, peering into my eyes. “I don’t know”, I manage to utter, dumbfounded. Her arms circle my neck and I receive a kiss on my temple. She drifts to sleep again. I’ve never felt so intimate with a stranger before; for some reason, the feeling is a welcome one. Silencing my inner desire to stay in that position for long, with some amount of effort I set myself free without waking her up again. I get up and sit on the edge of the bed. My mind is boggled by questions. What place is this? How did I get here? Who is the girl? I breathe in and out several times to regain my bearings. I know sitting on my rear will not answer these questions. I will have to find out. I get up and walk up to the window. I look outside. There are skyscrapers around me. It turns out I am in one myself, I know there are more than ten floors below the one I’m in. This is not my town. This is not even my country. I can tell that from the strange script on the advertisement boards; it looks like French. A strange fear overwhelms me. I feel like vomiting. A string of elusive questions gnaws at me. Nothing seems to make any sense. I turn back, look at the blond again. She’s beautiful. Her serenity has the soothing effect on me. My senses come back to me; I have to think of a plan. I look around; there’s a door in the wall opposite to the bed. It must lead to somewhere. I open it and find a dead end: it’s the toilet. I get inside; it is well lit. I bow down in the wash-basin and splash water against my face. I look at myself in the mirror and realize I am no Brad Pitt; the presence if the girl is left unexplained. As soon as I’m done wiping my face with the towel, the goddamn phone rings again. I walk towards the phone with long strides to answer it; perhaps it might leave me with clues to solve the puzzle. I pick the receiver and the voice of a female is heard: “They are waiting for you in the car.” She hangs up.
Read the next part here.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
In a Stranger's Shoes, part 1
I wake up this morning and see the beautiful blue sky outside my window. What a fine morning! And I see Halle Berry in the sky, sporting a silver bracelet and dark glasses. She has the usual indifferent attitude. What in the sky is she doing up there in the sky and why is she so big? Am I still dreaming? Were I, why would I see Halle Berry and not Ashley Tisdale or Caitlin Stacey instead? Is this God's way of punishing me for my high standards? "Well sue me, mate".
There's only one way to find out. I draw the blinds, so I can have a better view. I can now clearly see the orange colour of her James Bond movie attire. It is one of those goddamn billboards. It was certainly not there, outside my window when I last slept. When was it? What place is this? I look around. There's a cup of black coffee on the table by my bed, and an egg sandwich. What is with the coffee? I don't drink coffee, it's not healthy. I could use the sandwich though. I stick my left hand's index finger in the coffee and it is hot. Damn it! It hurts. My slow mind races to the conclusion, it is not a dream. Whatever it is, it's real. And now the innocent sandwich belongs to me, I can eat the sandwich. As my right arm swings voluntarily to grab the object of my desire, I hear someone breathing. The sound's coming from behind me. I am lying on my right side, so i turn around; it is a reflex action. I have only rotated a hundred degrees out of the hundred and eighty when a shiver runs down my spine. My face just about prevents a collision with some other face. I have company. I certainly did not have it when I slept. It is a girl, and a beautiful one. She's an attractive blond all right, but the unnerving truth is I can't figure out who she is. I spot someone's visiting card on the table by her side of the bed and I lean forward to hold it, trying to avoid brushing against her body when the phone suddenly rings.
Read the next part here.
There's only one way to find out. I draw the blinds, so I can have a better view. I can now clearly see the orange colour of her James Bond movie attire. It is one of those goddamn billboards. It was certainly not there, outside my window when I last slept. When was it? What place is this? I look around. There's a cup of black coffee on the table by my bed, and an egg sandwich. What is with the coffee? I don't drink coffee, it's not healthy. I could use the sandwich though. I stick my left hand's index finger in the coffee and it is hot. Damn it! It hurts. My slow mind races to the conclusion, it is not a dream. Whatever it is, it's real. And now the innocent sandwich belongs to me, I can eat the sandwich. As my right arm swings voluntarily to grab the object of my desire, I hear someone breathing. The sound's coming from behind me. I am lying on my right side, so i turn around; it is a reflex action. I have only rotated a hundred degrees out of the hundred and eighty when a shiver runs down my spine. My face just about prevents a collision with some other face. I have company. I certainly did not have it when I slept. It is a girl, and a beautiful one. She's an attractive blond all right, but the unnerving truth is I can't figure out who she is. I spot someone's visiting card on the table by her side of the bed and I lean forward to hold it, trying to avoid brushing against her body when the phone suddenly rings.
Read the next part here.
Friday, June 26, 2009
A Few Leaves from The Diary of Jane
Sunday
There’s this guy I know from the church. He seems intriguing. I don’t know his name but there’s certainly something in him which I find mysterious. Most of the times he appears pre-occupied. He comes alone, departs alone and doesn’t talk much. He even prays in silence; I wonder if God understands his wordless prayers. He doesn’t even close his eyes, as if he has no respect for the custom. People like him should better be atheists. He doesn’t bother much about what he’s wearing. Today he showed up in a checkered blue-black shirt and Bermuda shorts. But the worst part was: he was in sandals. What sort of a sane person does that? I’m sure there are a lot of losers like him wandering the streets, waiting for a chance to be with someone like me; like that’ll ever happen. What a loser!
Tuesday
I saw the guy from the church in market today; not that he was buying or anything, he works at the general store instead. I always knew that there was something that caused him to be the way he is. I know he’s my age, at least he looks so. What could’ve been the reason behind his working at the store? Probably his dad’s a drinker or -god forbid- is dead. He didn’t seem to recognize me. We’ve seen each other many times in the church, but I wonder if he was ashamed of the difference in our positions: his behind the counter and mine on the other side of it. That could be the only explanation of why he didn’t indulge in small talk with me. Most guys his age would give away their comforts to talk to me.
I don’t know why, but I certainly feel for him in a way a girl would feel for a boy she liked. If only I could hold him close to me and tell him that whatever he was, I would be there for him through thick and thin. If I could have him lay his head in my lap and caress his soft hair, I’d not feel this sadness I do now. Poor guy, I long for him.
Thursday
I went to the store again today, hoping I’d find him. Sadly he was not there. I asked for him and found out that people refer to him as JD. He was on a leave and he would be back tomorrow: the noon shift I was told. I will go there again tomorrow, not to let him know that I am fond of him or anything because that is the guys’ job; we girls just sit pretty and have them do the hard work: that’s the way this works. I will go there just to look at how he’s doing and stare into his deep blue eyes and gratify my eyes in the process, give him signals that will prompt him to talk to me: that’ll be the icing on the cake.
Friday
I was dressed my best today. I went to the store, right when I expected him to be at the counter. He was there, much to my joy. I waited for some time to let the other customers depart. I wanted his attention to be entirely subdued by my presence: that was plan A. As soon as the others were all gone, I went and stood in front of him, peering into his eyes, searching for the answers that had eluded my intellect. Actually that was my way of tantalizing him. He looked at me and waited for me to say something. After a while his gaze gave way and he looked away. Looking down he asked me what I wanted. I waited for him to look at me again, and gave him an inviting smile. He smiled at me, not in response to my smile but out of shyness and embarrassment. I told him I couldn’t find certain items in my list and asked him to help me out looking for them in the stalls. I led him to the stalls and he followed me. I’d look into his eyes and make him look away and then ask for a random product and make him find it, look into his eyes again and smile at his discovery; this was my little game. I did this several times, making sure he understood my signals. I swear I’d have continued this business for quite some time had a group of people not come in, forcing him to attend the counter again.
I am pretty sure he now has the knowledge that I want him to possess.
Sunday
What a loser. I’d have told him to go get a life had he waited long enough. JD met me in the church today, dressed all smart and smiled at me. Not only did he smile at me, he said hello. How did the wuss get all the courage to act in this manner? When I did not reply and walked past him, he stopped me and said he wanted to speak. I waited and he told me that he’d seen me at the store; as if I didn’t know. He asked me if I had been passing him signals and said that he wondered if I liked him. He must sure have overestimated himself; how could a girl like me like someone like him, why would a girl like me pass signals? I told him I was not interested and he said it was fine with him. How could it be fine with him? He should have shown at least some wistfulness, some disappointment. But he did not show any. He is too full of himself. How could it ever be fine with anyone who could not get to be with a girl like me? Guys like him do not deserve the company of girls. I knew from the beginning he was no more than a worthless loafer in the search of a girl to be with.
There’s this guy I know from the church. He seems intriguing. I don’t know his name but there’s certainly something in him which I find mysterious. Most of the times he appears pre-occupied. He comes alone, departs alone and doesn’t talk much. He even prays in silence; I wonder if God understands his wordless prayers. He doesn’t even close his eyes, as if he has no respect for the custom. People like him should better be atheists. He doesn’t bother much about what he’s wearing. Today he showed up in a checkered blue-black shirt and Bermuda shorts. But the worst part was: he was in sandals. What sort of a sane person does that? I’m sure there are a lot of losers like him wandering the streets, waiting for a chance to be with someone like me; like that’ll ever happen. What a loser!
Tuesday
I saw the guy from the church in market today; not that he was buying or anything, he works at the general store instead. I always knew that there was something that caused him to be the way he is. I know he’s my age, at least he looks so. What could’ve been the reason behind his working at the store? Probably his dad’s a drinker or -god forbid- is dead. He didn’t seem to recognize me. We’ve seen each other many times in the church, but I wonder if he was ashamed of the difference in our positions: his behind the counter and mine on the other side of it. That could be the only explanation of why he didn’t indulge in small talk with me. Most guys his age would give away their comforts to talk to me.
I don’t know why, but I certainly feel for him in a way a girl would feel for a boy she liked. If only I could hold him close to me and tell him that whatever he was, I would be there for him through thick and thin. If I could have him lay his head in my lap and caress his soft hair, I’d not feel this sadness I do now. Poor guy, I long for him.
Thursday
I went to the store again today, hoping I’d find him. Sadly he was not there. I asked for him and found out that people refer to him as JD. He was on a leave and he would be back tomorrow: the noon shift I was told. I will go there again tomorrow, not to let him know that I am fond of him or anything because that is the guys’ job; we girls just sit pretty and have them do the hard work: that’s the way this works. I will go there just to look at how he’s doing and stare into his deep blue eyes and gratify my eyes in the process, give him signals that will prompt him to talk to me: that’ll be the icing on the cake.
Friday
I was dressed my best today. I went to the store, right when I expected him to be at the counter. He was there, much to my joy. I waited for some time to let the other customers depart. I wanted his attention to be entirely subdued by my presence: that was plan A. As soon as the others were all gone, I went and stood in front of him, peering into his eyes, searching for the answers that had eluded my intellect. Actually that was my way of tantalizing him. He looked at me and waited for me to say something. After a while his gaze gave way and he looked away. Looking down he asked me what I wanted. I waited for him to look at me again, and gave him an inviting smile. He smiled at me, not in response to my smile but out of shyness and embarrassment. I told him I couldn’t find certain items in my list and asked him to help me out looking for them in the stalls. I led him to the stalls and he followed me. I’d look into his eyes and make him look away and then ask for a random product and make him find it, look into his eyes again and smile at his discovery; this was my little game. I did this several times, making sure he understood my signals. I swear I’d have continued this business for quite some time had a group of people not come in, forcing him to attend the counter again.
I am pretty sure he now has the knowledge that I want him to possess.
Sunday
What a loser. I’d have told him to go get a life had he waited long enough. JD met me in the church today, dressed all smart and smiled at me. Not only did he smile at me, he said hello. How did the wuss get all the courage to act in this manner? When I did not reply and walked past him, he stopped me and said he wanted to speak. I waited and he told me that he’d seen me at the store; as if I didn’t know. He asked me if I had been passing him signals and said that he wondered if I liked him. He must sure have overestimated himself; how could a girl like me like someone like him, why would a girl like me pass signals? I told him I was not interested and he said it was fine with him. How could it be fine with him? He should have shown at least some wistfulness, some disappointment. But he did not show any. He is too full of himself. How could it ever be fine with anyone who could not get to be with a girl like me? Guys like him do not deserve the company of girls. I knew from the beginning he was no more than a worthless loafer in the search of a girl to be with.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Jobless
He looked at the lines in his palm,
And wondered if they had any meaning.
The clefts, the wrinkles the crevices:
They must tell tales of his failures.
What could he ever do
To change his destiny?
He was speechless
And didn't understand the language of the lines.
That he would succeed one day,
The sightless pauper had told him.
He had believed him,
Remorse - now he felt - and self-reproach.
His old man had rebuked him
His intentions were foolish.
The poor can dream no dreams,
They're born in garbage and perish in trash.
He had fled, to the big place
To make it his own.
If only the big places had room
for small folk ...
The lines in his palm
Had become less distinct
From lifting heavy freight and cleaning cars,
And praying for a change.
He prayed for a change,
For the lines to be wiped off his palm.
Only if he believed,
Fate also favours those who’ve lost their hands.
And wondered if they had any meaning.
The clefts, the wrinkles the crevices:
They must tell tales of his failures.
What could he ever do
To change his destiny?
He was speechless
And didn't understand the language of the lines.
That he would succeed one day,
The sightless pauper had told him.
He had believed him,
Remorse - now he felt - and self-reproach.
His old man had rebuked him
His intentions were foolish.
The poor can dream no dreams,
They're born in garbage and perish in trash.
He had fled, to the big place
To make it his own.
If only the big places had room
for small folk ...
The lines in his palm
Had become less distinct
From lifting heavy freight and cleaning cars,
And praying for a change.
He prayed for a change,
For the lines to be wiped off his palm.
Only if he believed,
Fate also favours those who’ve lost their hands.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Failure
This is the best I could've ever done
I'm not what I used to be.
When I look into the mirror,
I don't even recognize the guy in there.
I'm sure she's not noticed the change:
She says I am not trying.
I'm not what I used to be.
When I look into the mirror,
I don't even recognize the guy in there.
I'm sure she's not noticed the change:
She says I am not trying.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
The Best Pickup Lines
Well, recently I have been experiencing a serious subject crisis. What I mean to say is : despite all the events that are happening around us, lately I have been feeling a lack of subjects or topics to write on/about. I cannot come up with a reason to explain this apparently strange phenomenon right now; maybe the things around me aren't inspiring the writer in me, or whatever. It need not be mentioned that the frequency with which I write blog posts is on an all time low. But the pen has to be kept in flow, lest the ink might dry up; hence I am putting forward this post. Before you judge me (on the basis of the content), let me ask you to read the opening sentence once again.
Well, pickup lines have been the basis of all population, if you know what I mean. When I say all population, I mean almost all population. Let us, for the sake of the argument, leave out India from the population I was talking about ( a logical thinker might protest this segregation, arguing that India is almost all the population in the world; oh, what the heck! ), for here the conventional protocol that leads to population is the concept called “arranged marriage”. For those oblivious of the concept of a pickup line, let me quickly enlighten you with the definition: a pick-up line is a conversation opener with the intent of engaging an unfamiliar person (usually of the opposite sex) for dating, romance or copulation. In other words, a pickup line is the hammer with which you strike the ice to break it.
Without making more fuss about it, I'll list fifteen pickup lines which I found worthy to be included in this post. Now that IIIT is full of new faces, these might come in handy for my college mates. For what it's worth, this might still make a good reading:
1.If I asked you out, would the answer to that question be the same as the answer to this one?
( I personally would give it a ten on ten. It is foolproof, only that nine out of ten people who 'd be addressed are likely to fail to figure this out. )
2.If I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put U and I together.
3.You've made me so nervous that I've totally forgotten my standard pick-up line.
4.(After the target walks in) And out of nowhere comes the sunshine!!
5.Do you have any raisins? No? How about a date?
6.I'm sorry, were you talking to me? Target: No. Well then, please start.
7.My friends bet me that I didn't have the guts to talk to the most beautiful girl in this bar. Wanna drink with their money?
8.Excuse me, but I DO think it's time we met.
9.I was blinded by your beauty so I'm going to need your name and number for insurance reasons.
10.I'm invisible. (Target : Really?) Can you see me? ( Target: Yes) How about tomorrow night?
11.Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?
12.Can I take a picture of you, so I can show Santa just what I want for Christmas.
13. Hey I just realized this, but you look alot like my next girlfriend.
14.Screw me if I am wrong, but haven't we met before?
15.I bet you $40 you're gonna turn me down.
Well, pickup lines have been the basis of all population, if you know what I mean. When I say all population, I mean almost all population. Let us, for the sake of the argument, leave out India from the population I was talking about ( a logical thinker might protest this segregation, arguing that India is almost all the population in the world; oh, what the heck! ), for here the conventional protocol that leads to population is the concept called “arranged marriage”. For those oblivious of the concept of a pickup line, let me quickly enlighten you with the definition: a pick-up line is a conversation opener with the intent of engaging an unfamiliar person (usually of the opposite sex) for dating, romance or copulation. In other words, a pickup line is the hammer with which you strike the ice to break it.
Without making more fuss about it, I'll list fifteen pickup lines which I found worthy to be included in this post. Now that IIIT is full of new faces, these might come in handy for my college mates. For what it's worth, this might still make a good reading:
1.If I asked you out, would the answer to that question be the same as the answer to this one?
( I personally would give it a ten on ten. It is foolproof, only that nine out of ten people who 'd be addressed are likely to fail to figure this out. )
2.If I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put U and I together.
3.You've made me so nervous that I've totally forgotten my standard pick-up line.
4.(After the target walks in) And out of nowhere comes the sunshine!!
5.Do you have any raisins? No? How about a date?
6.I'm sorry, were you talking to me? Target: No. Well then, please start.
7.My friends bet me that I didn't have the guts to talk to the most beautiful girl in this bar. Wanna drink with their money?
8.Excuse me, but I DO think it's time we met.
9.I was blinded by your beauty so I'm going to need your name and number for insurance reasons.
10.I'm invisible. (Target : Really?) Can you see me? ( Target: Yes) How about tomorrow night?
11.Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?
12.Can I take a picture of you, so I can show Santa just what I want for Christmas.
13. Hey I just realized this, but you look alot like my next girlfriend.
14.Screw me if I am wrong, but haven't we met before?
15.I bet you $40 you're gonna turn me down.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
To a Single Guy
Hang on there dude,
Don't just give up.
Quitting is a sport for the wusses:
This game requires more than one ball.
What are you afraid of?
Things could get no worse.
You're single, you can't be halved
Go out there and act like men.
The good times didn't last long,
She's gone; you're on the road again.
There is a lot of potential waiting to be tapped
You just need to be yourself.
What if you get turned down?
She's not the last one on the planet.
She was not meant for you anyway,
The guy up there works in mysterious ways, they say.
It's no big deal to ask someone the question,
Just do it and you'll know.
It's not the prize but the sport
That real men play for.
People fall in the races,
All the time.
It takes a winner to get up
And race again.
Don't just give up.
Quitting is a sport for the wusses:
This game requires more than one ball.
What are you afraid of?
Things could get no worse.
You're single, you can't be halved
Go out there and act like men.
The good times didn't last long,
She's gone; you're on the road again.
There is a lot of potential waiting to be tapped
You just need to be yourself.
What if you get turned down?
She's not the last one on the planet.
She was not meant for you anyway,
The guy up there works in mysterious ways, they say.
It's no big deal to ask someone the question,
Just do it and you'll know.
It's not the prize but the sport
That real men play for.
People fall in the races,
All the time.
It takes a winner to get up
And race again.
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