Just for her killer wink smile ;)

This is a love story; been cooked up somewhere amidst the many unimportant day-to-day dealings that have monotonized life, in general. This episode might resemble some particular instances you have seen elsewhere, all unintentionally.

STATUTORY WARNING: This story is meant to have a male protagonist. It is in fast forward mode.

Both the above warnings are not co-related.

He was there in the crowd. Sitting in a gathering of fresh-from-school college juniors, he was all the very playful, exuberant and, if you may call him, the Cassanovic guy. She was the host for the function. She had the mike in her hands and was calling the shots for the program planned. And that was where they first met. Well, not exactly, met is kind of stretching it too far.

They never talked on that fateful autumn evening,

They had no idea what destiny had in store waiting.

That one day some years down the line

Their love story would pulp, in a manner very sublime.

It all began with something like this –

He = I, She = her

Fresh in college – with ball loads of guts

Albeit with more ifs and buts;

Getting a ‘jee-eff’ was one of the things to do

Before I had to bid college life adieu. (sic)

Testosterone levels rose to levels unknown,

Deficiency of progesterone in college was a major let down.

Man! This is getting lame

After testing the waters for more than a year

And getting to know about the fairer sex from both far and near;

This one girl struck a chord like no other,

‘Maybe this is it’, I began to ponder.

My friends said, ‘soch lein 22. Aivee puhade vich na payii.

Aashiqui de chakkar vich apna na katvayii’.

She had a face I recognized and a name that I had heard,

That the two were of the same girl; was a classic case of me, an awesome nerd.

We flirted on Orkut, or were it also on Hi5!,

Or was it endless mails on which our relation did thrive?

Social Networking had a major role in getting us together, on hostel's pathetic LAN;

As did Hutch’s late night talk time plan.

On one fateful New Year’s Eve I slipped the question.

She fumbled, stumbled and thought about her apprehension,

And said, ‘yes’; a moment captured vividly in my head;

A vision of all corridors in college scrambling for space in my head.

That I was officially in a relation, on a high with glee,

Many people tried to get myself a hang of me.

The first six months, I don’t recall much about the rest,

I missed out on hostel nights and screwed up my tests.

Even when two suppli’s banged my balls blue,

I was still a bit glad, coz she had got them too.

Sense prevailed after the first major fight,

And we began to bring back things in light.

Still,

We studied, fought and tried to make the most of now;

The bike rides, movie dates and coffee chats were well wide scattered, and how.

Though the moments shared together are special and well preserved.

She had been the more daring one, and I the more reserved.

There are loads of moments that we look back and fondly remember;

Moments, encased ever so monumentally of myself and of her.

There is something about these love stories. Sometimes you just wonder that is it actually a love story or am I just fooling myself. Sometimes the sense of ultra super belongingness crops up and sometimes the chains of confinement make a mess in your mind. Sometimes you think that ‘this’ is what life is meant to be and sometimes you curse your balls / brain for having gotten you in this muddle. Sometimes you would want to and would do anything to get a smile on her face and sometimes you would crap things up on purpose. Sometimes all you need is a hug to get rid of all fears and apprehensions and sometimes, well; you feel it’s better to get it over and done with.

All these emotional traumas, if we may call them were not unknown to me. Some experienced people around had given their take on what is it all about to be in love, love and be loved in return. But, human tendency; to discover the taste of the fruit by tasting it oneself often gets the better of what wisdom is stored and shared in the mind.

So, where were we?

We have had our share of long distances between us,

Sometimes, a bit more than our share, a fact that usually gets us to cuss.

Many mobile services provided have benefitted from our crazy-roller coaster relation,

Sometimes glum with distraught and at times sickly ridden with elation.

She has been there with me, through thick and through thin.

She’s seen me on the pedestal and also in the bin.

That I have not done justice to her love, is a truth staring me bluntly in the eye;

Words have been my pacifier; I know, I admit with a sigh.

I love her, well, I kind of do.

I am confused, what am I supposed to do.

Everytime I say ‘I love you’;

I question myself, am I even true?

She has made me realize the value of a sorry;

Of a please, and of forgiveness;

Of being morose and merry;

Of knowing her and her lion-hearted-ness

Such has been our topsy-turvy time together

That going to meet her on this wintery January morning, is a prospect I envisage with a shudder.

Having brought nothing much to gift her after these 4 months,

I think and hope this poem would suffice and make her chirpy,

That I spent some time to try to make her happy...!!

PS. I saw an episode of HIMYM last night that raised a new question – which amongst us is the reacher and who is the settler. Need some light!

Dum Ghutkuu

Sitting in the darkness, trying to get cozy in whatever cold the Pune winter has to offer, I conclude: this January has brought about an unprecedented turn of events. Period. Sitting eyes closed against the wall, with Arif Lohar and Meesha Shafi serenading within my newly purchased earphones (bragging rights earned), looking back at the last two weeks. With every reverberating beat of the electro-drum there is a pinch wanting to get me to write this, Dum Ghutkuu.


If The Pune Side of the Pastures was all about getting into the corporate world, and experiencing a plethora of new, candid, cherished, look-back-able moments, and rendezvous’ with new people; Dum Ghutkuu is about the inevitable fallout. It's the point where beginners luck begins to end and when it’s time to board the flight back to reality after a six month long ‘the-honeymoon-period’.

The Diwali week-off was a welcome break, and once we got back, on the job front, things were moving reasonably comfortably. On a personal front, life was on the ascendency on the sine curve it follows. Our daily room cricket matches, trying out endless option to satisfy our bellies, making the most of the weekday times we had, even tried hitting the gym, scavenging in autos and Pune’s much-more-look-forward-able bus service, Saturday cricket matches, Sunday house cleaning jobs and pretty much the Traveller-loads of bakchodi we carried on non-stop for a month to follow. With Shiela, Munni and STD, things were looking nice and bright.

Sometime in November, the four of us had our first spat – over cricket. That was a historic moment, because it hadn’t been experienced before, though, in retrospect, we did handle it nicely then, a lot to do with the senior statesmanship of Munni. Sometime then, as everyone was waiting for Sachin Tendulkar’s 100th hundred, we got to our first (and only) century in our home turf. Then the trip to Alibaug happened. And all fell back in place together. Needless to say, the Alibaug trip was indeed really awesome (So was the Matheran trip). Sometime then we also had our massive KFC gorge, before Munni pledged to give up chicken (for 2 months); and soon got deported from Lavish. Geesh that was one chicken farewell for my man!

Munni’s departure from Lavish in December was sad, though pretty much expected. His cricketing, and seniority mantle was handed over to Machau, as was his share of paying the rent. Among many incidents that transpired in the following weeks, one particular phrase is ever lasting. Once, while trying to make sense on a good yet economical meal for dinner, Machau questioned us, “Hum kama kis liye rahe hai?” A question that left us equally dazed as empty in the wallet; but yeah, well loaded in the belly.

In the mean while, Shiela and STD were fidgeting about prospects of their job postings. The part when they bitched and butchered almost everyone, I knew of, in the relocation-ing firing line, was hilarious. New Year’s Eve came by and after a classic case of health issues, auto issues, quarreling issues; the gong struck 2012 when I was in the company of 3 of the 4 best people I could have wished to be with in Pune, in the best place I could have been; and it was a pleasant experience.

Needless to say, the peak point of this period of the Pune Side of the Pastures was the moment I got my new bike’s possession. It was legendary. The GS150 had me spoilt, pampered and obsessed beyond anything I had experianced in Pune till date.

Shiela also came of age, and got a date for himself (herself). In the dying moments of his stay in Pune, before the relocation, he got his cherry on the piece of cake. STD was at his Cassanovic best, and I was well, let’s leave that for now.

The Fallout. A missed flight. A missed opportunity to make someone special feel really special. Sid’s Delhi departure. And the Order on Mukul’s relocation, like a shot of lightening, within 10 days, left us in a spate of shock and drilled in sensibility of what the demands of the corporate world are like. The original residents of Lavish were being pushed out, one by one.

In hindsight, I might not think too much about this a few months from now, but the wrenching feeling it left us in will last for quite some time. The one week how STD tried to make sense from the not so seemingly good looking opportunities he had and make a decision was a great learning experience for us.

Sitting here, in the dark, in whatever cold the Pune January has to offer, with STD trying to get a sound sleep, Arif Lohar and Meesha Shafi continuing their serenading, and with the wrenching feeling fading as sleep takes over, there is one conclusion that we talked about over dinner today; that pretty much summarizes this side of the Pune Pastures, Dum Ghutkuu: Never take a decision in a moment of extreme happiness or in a moment of extreme shock / sadness; because you are more likely to screw yourself up than when otherwise.

Oh! And did I mention the phone call that changed the Pune perspective al-together? (Scanning the draft) No, I didn’t. There was this phone call, on one fine Sunday evening, that caught me alone on the roads in this crazy city, which when I answered blew the wind out of my lungs. Needless to say, that’s when Dum Ghutkuu began.