Love Game-Part III

Prologue
Part I
Part II

Time flew since that day at the bookstore.And I flew along with it.As I became more and more successful with women,I started seeing the ugly side of it all. An unbridgeable chasm was opening between men and women in my mind. I was beginning to see women solely as gauges and dials to give me a measurement on how I was progressing as a seducer. They were fast becoming expendable and disposable, identifiable only by skin tones and numbers—a fair glowing 7, a sultry 10. Even when I was having a meaningful conversation, learning about a woman's ambitions and outlook towards life, in my mind I was just ticking off a box in my checklist of bonding. I was developing a fucked-up, unhealthy attitude towards the fairer sex. And the most troubling thing about this new thought process was that it seemed to be making me more successful with women.

"I just don't get it," she said, playing with a lock of her hair,with an inquisitive look on her face,"How come women fall for the stuff you do?It seems mighty odd that a man who is clearly dishonest, disloyal,and has no interest in marriage would have any appeal to a woman.And yet,here you are.With scores of conquests to boast about.I can't help feeling curious,R.When does it all stop?"

"When I find the perfect victim," I said with a warm smile.

"Uh-huh!!!And who is the perfect victim gonna be?"

"The one who gives the perfect chase."

As I watched the corners of her lips draw into a smile,I couldn't help smiling a bit inside myself.I was beginning to enjoy this conversation.

"Clever.You speak well.I will give you that," she pitched in a slight appreciative nod.

"You don't understand that bad either," I replied.

Her smile widened.I was getting somewhere."Had you not been such a cheap low-life R,I might actually have started to enjoy your company."

"Cheap low-life?That's a bit harsh,"I tried to look hurt."All I do is give women a good time."

"That's the excuse you give yourself for cheating them day in day out?"

I became silent for a while.This kind of resistance required some strategy."Have you heard of Don Juan,Rashmi?" I finally asked in a serious tone.

"That  seducer of Italian legends?Yeah.What about him?"

"At first the legend was a male fantasy: the adventurous knight who could have any woman he wanted. But later, Don Juan slowly evolved from the masculine adventurer to a more feminized version: a man who lived only for women. Do you know why?"

"Why?" Her inquisitiveness was back.Which was my playing card all along.

"This shift came from women's interest in the story, and was a result of their frustrated desires. You see,most women were disgusted with their boring marriages;but Don Juan offered pleasure for its own sake, desire with no strings attached. For the time he crossed your path, you were all he thought about.His desire for you was so powerful that he gave you no time to think or to worry about the consequences. He would come in the night, give you an unforgettable moment, and then vanish. He might have conquered a thousand women before you, but that only made him more interesting; better to be abandoned than undesired by such a man."

As I paused for breath,she spat out,"And you took it upon yourself to gift woman their ideal fantasy,is it?Become the Don Juan of 21st century Pune!!!!"

Still resistant?Very good.I needed resistance to add to the thrill. In any case, an obstacle in my way only gave me the opportunity to prove myself, and the creativity I bring to matters of love. I put on an enigmatic smile and spoke slowly,"I do not offer the mild pleasures that society condones. I touch a person's unconscious, those repressed desires that cry out for liberation. Stop kidding yourself.Women aren't the tender creatures that some people would like them to be. Like men, they are deeply attracted to the forbidden, the dangerous, even the slightly evil."

"I guess there is some truth to that,"she said,looking down and biting her lip.She was pausing to think about what I had just said.Half my job was done.

"You kinda remind me of the sex-deprived middle-aged History teacher back in my school.No student seemed to be able to satisfy her."I winked at her."With their exam answers,I mean."

She smiled and punched me teasingly in the arm. The game had begun.
***

Among the most ironical facts about seduction is the desire in women to want to reform the seducer. How many think they would be the one to tame him; how many think they would finally be the one with whom he would spend the rest of his life. To the dismay of women everywhere,seducers exploit this tendency to the fullest. When caught red-handed , fall back on your weakness—your desire to change, and your inability to do so.With so many women at your feet, what can you do? You are the one who is the victim. You need help. Women will jump at this opportunity; they are uncommonly indulgent of the helpless hapless seducer, for he is such a pleasant, dashing figure. The desire to reform him disguises the true nature of their desire,the secret thrill they get from him. When President Bill Clinton was clearly caught out as a wife-cheater, it was the American women who rushed to his defense, finding every possible excuse for him. Women are funny creatures.Rashmi was no exception.I met her at a mutual friend's birthday party.I was instantly attracted to her  wit and intelligence.She was fun to be with.

What she saw in me,only she knew.

***
Two weeks later Rashmi was blogging.
"Then I met R and felt a kinship on an entirely new level. R listens. Most people don't listen because they are afraid of what they might hear. R has no preconceived notions. He is cool with however anyone wants to
be. In me he doesn't find a bitchy girl who has to be broken. But he finds a feisty girl who poses obstacles he relishes overcoming. He doesn't see a path of random obstacles. He sees an opportunity to explore new territory. Together we are a dynamite.

Yesterday night as we came out of a restaurant, R and I decided to come to my flat. We talked in hushed voices so as not to wake my flatmates. I teased R's fashion sense. He made fun of my Mallu sensibilities. We shared stories from our past and present life.

The mood was giddy. We felt on the edge of something.
"It's really amazing, Rashmi," R said. "I can't wait to see where all this leads."

He is so full of wide-eyed optimism, I sometimes feel it is childish. He seems to be in search of  something.Always.I want to tell him that the answer he is seeking lies elsewhere. But I never get around to it.

We are having too much fun. "

To be continued....

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Love Game-Part II

Prologue
Part I
My name is R.And believe it or not,I am far from attractive. I am shorter than I'd like to be and although I ain't fat,I don't have a lean, rugged or ripped physique either. So, for me, meeting girls takes work. I'm not the kind of guy women giggle over at during coffee chats or dream about taking home when they're feeling drunk and crazy. I can't offer them a piece of my fame and scope for boasting like a celebrity or a ride in a posh stylish sedan like so many rich dudes do. All I have is the machinery of my mind working quietly behind my forehead, and nobody can see that.

When I look back on my college years, I have one major regret, and it has nothing to do with not studying hard enough, not being nice to my parents, or geting into substance abuse. It is simply that I was never that good with girls. I consider myself reasonably intelligent. I am at heart a good person, and I try to avoid hurting others.But I never became comfortable around women. They intimidated me. In four years of college, female companionship eluded me like the Road Runner always eludes the Coyote.There was a girl named Shalini,and I was head over heels in love with her. But she was too busy with her extracurriculars to notice me.Some two or three random gals expressed  interest in me.However,things never worked out with them.After that, I pretty much gave up hope. Some guys had it; other guys didn't. I clearly didn't.

By the end of the final year,I was pretty downright miserable.And that's when Daksh happened.Daksh was my childhood friend who had moved to Delhi when he was ten.Daksh wasn't any taller, richer, more famous, or better looking than me. But he did possess one quality I didn't: He attracted women. Daksh landed up in the same company as me after college and we started spending a lot of time together. Daksh was what they call a natural. He had lost his virginity at age seventeen, with his class-mate as a sexual experiment, and he had been fucking nonstop since. That was Daksh's gift, his power: giving women the fantasy they kept locked away in some dark unknown corners of their hearts. I chalked this up to a simple difference of personality. Daksh had a natural charm and suave animalistic aplha-male machismo that I just didn't. Or at least that's what I thought, until my friend decided to take me under his wing. What I discovered was that he had broken down his methods to a specific set of rules that anybody could apply,including an average frustrated retard like myself.

"My job ain't really so much as to make you learn stuff,but to make you unlearn the shit you know," I remember Daksh saying, as he made piercing eye contact with me. "I need to get what's in my head into yours.Kicking out the garbage strewn around in your head in the process.Think of this whole business as a game you are playing on your cellphone. It is not real. Every time you try to pick up a chick, you are playing this game." My heart-chambers began pounding overtime. The thought of trying to start a conversation with a woman I didn't know petrified me. Dealing with client escalations and unreasonable Project Managers were a cakewalk compared to this.

"All your fears and insecurities are going to try to fuck you up," Daksh continued. "They are there to try to confuse you, so know right now that your first instincts cannot be trusted at all. You will feel shy,nervous,terrified and self-conscious, and you must deal with it like you deal with a sore throat or a blocked nose. It's uncomfortable, but you ignore it. It's just that irksome anomaly in the equation that we gotta learn to throw away.I need to teach you the whole algorithm—the sequence of moves you need to win.And you will have to solve the goddamn equation over and over to forget how to lose and learn how to win. You will fail and meet with grief.The key is to get better with each and every failure."

"One of the world's greatest mysteries is the mind of a woman," he told me proudly puffing up his chest. "I am gonna teach you how to solve it.The basic chain remains the same—Select, Isolate, Cast a spell, and Kill. The game is S-I-C-K. It's a full-proof formula.A lot of people don't know that.You up for this shit,ol' fella?"

"Umm.I guess so," I hesitantly replied with an unsure face.

"Put a smile on that glum face,my boy.The number one characteristic of a seducer is the smile," he said, beaming an artificial beam. As I got to know him better,I discovered everything about him seemed rehearsed and practised to perfection."Smile when you enter a room. As soon as you walk in a room filled with babes, the game is on. And by smiling, you look like you got your wits in your mouth where they should be and not shoved up in ur ass.It shows you're fun, and you're somebody.You gotta loosen up pal."

"That's just not me," I said. "I look funny when I smile."

"If you keep doing what you've always done, you'll keep getting what you've always gotten.Zilch. So you just have to do what I ask you to over the next few months.Trust me,you are going to see a difference."

Besides  a smile, I learned, the other characteristics of a seducer were culture and sophistication, a sense of humor, being comfortable in your own skin , and being seen as the social center of a room. Over the next few months,he made me join a gym,made me drain my first two months salary into getting a completely new wardrobe and even made me learn some rudimentary palmistry,astrology,face-reading and other cold-reading techniques. "Chicks dig this shit,"he leaned into me and said,chuckling softly.

By the time a person leaves college,he already has a set of established beliefs and rules he wants to live the rest of his life by.But the entire eco-system of my credo and values was taking a beating at the hands of what Daksh was dishing out to me.He was turning my whole world upside down,topsy turvy,hurtling me down a path I didn't know what it led to.Then again,there was my ego to deal with. Taking lessons from a guy on how to hook up with women was the most pathetic thing I'd ever done in my entire life. To do so is to acknowledge defeat, inferiority, and a total surrender of one's self-respect. It is to finally admit to yourself that after all these years, you have been able to figure it out on your own. Those who ask for help are often those who have failed to do something for themselves.  And now I had to go out and make other women bear witness to my humiliating shame and my glaring inadequacies. I was starting to have second thoughts regarding all this.

Until,one fateful day.

As we were walking past a book store, I saw a woman with long earrings and curly shiny hair that danced on her shoulders. She was slim, with smooth, gentle curves, jeans that hugged her body at just the right spots, and a beautiful complexion, like a dreamy creamy butter-scotch dessert. She looked like the rightful heir to the throne of a Barbie doll-house. She walked into the store, and I decided to move on. But Daksh nudged me in the ribs and asked me to take one more look at her through the window. I can't say why but I felt she could be someone I could talk to.She had that intellectual glimmer in her eyes which I hold an inexplicable  fascination for.It was what made me pine away through four years for Shalini.Daksh urged me to approach her. I knew that if I didn't approach her, I'd scold myself afterward and feel like a failure. So I decided to take my first shot at talking to a completely unfamiliar face. Besides, I told myself, she probably wasn't that good-looking up close anyway.

I walked into the store and found her in a corner looking at comic books.I was in luck.She seemed to have the same preference in comics that I did.

"Hey, is that book you holding any good?" I asked her. "I mean I read the last couple of issues and I noticed the storyline was kinda becoming predictable.So what about this one?"

"Ohh!I was just breezing through it," she replied a bit taken aback."I didn't know this book was part of some continuing series."
She held out the book to me."Here have a look and see for yourself,"her shiny eyes glimmered faintly.
I noticed that she was even more beautiful at close range. I had stumbled across a perfect 10. And I had to follow protocol and execute the algorithm.

"He he.Thanks.By the way,I know this is wrong to say," I blurted, "but I just watched a lot of Disney cartoons as a child, and your nose reminds me too much of the adorable snout of Minnie Mouse."

I was worried I'd gone too far. I'd made this ridiculous line on the spot and was probably about to get slapped. But she actually grinned. "Ohh shit,I so used to be called Minnie Mouse when I was in kindergarten," she replied. She was flirting back with me.
Was it just my luck?Or were the rules really working?

I performed the mind-reading number-guessing routine, and fortunately she picked seven. She was amazed.Everyone picks seven.But this was my first time,and my heart almost leaped out of my throat when I uttered "Seven.". I asked her what she did for work, and she said she worked at a software company just like me. The longer we talked, the more she seemed to enjoy the conversation. But as I noticed Daksh's teachings working, I became nervous. I couldn't believe that a woman who looked like this was having fun with me. Everyone in the book store was throwing stares at us. Curiosity.Disbelief.Those had their signatures on their stares.I couldn't go on.

"My friend is waiting outside," I told her. My hands were shaking.I was a bag of nerves. "But what can we do to continue this conversation?"

This was what Daksh taught me. There was no point giving her my phone number, because she might not call. I had to make her comfortable enough to give me her number.I also had to avoid asking for it directly, because she could always say no, and instead lead her to suggest the idea herself.
"I could give you my gmail id," she offered.

Gmail id?Shit!I wanted her phone number,dammit!!
She wrote down her name, followed by her  e-mail address.
No phone number,but I still couldn't believe it.
"I don't hang out outdoors much, though," she warned, as an afterthought. Maybe she was already having regrets.

I didn't get in touch with her after that.But one thing was for certain.There was no going back for me after that day.Daksh's way was my way now.Both love and companionship,as well as,success and accomplishments,are required to seal the circle of life. Half my life's circle was on the drawing board,begging me to complete the missing semi-circle. I was only half a man. I just had to complete my other half.

It was a decision which arose from all the sexual frustration which had accumulated in my system since my adolescence.

It was a decision I regret to this very day.


To be continued..

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Love Game-Part I

Prologue
The perfect seduction requires the perfect technique.

When they walked into the night club, everyone noticed. They were both raven-haired beauties with identical outfits—tight white tank tops and tight blue jeans. How could anyone not notice? They were dressed to turn men into beasts. This was a Pune night club on a Saturday night, where testosterone levels run high, and the pair had been whistled and hollered at all night. The girls seemed to enjoy the attention almost as much as they savored shooting down the men who gave it to them.

I knew what to do—and that was to do what everyone else wasn't doing.

A seducer must be the exception to the rule. I had to suppress every evolutionary instinct inside me and pay them no attention whatsoever.With me were two of  my colleagues at office, Ashish and Nikhil.Ashish went in first, complimenting the dazzling duo on their outfits. They brushed him off like a gnat. Next, Nikhil moved in with some lame "Do you believe in rebirth?Coz I think we share some kinda connection from a past life" opener. He too crashed and burned.

Now it was my turn. This was going to take every bit of confidence and self-esteem that I had gathered in the quarter of a century I spent on this planet. If I showed even a flicker of weakness or doubt, they'd eat me alive.

"That tall one isn't a 10," Ashish leaned in and whispered to me in a mesmerized tone. "Watch out for her,R.She's an 11. Bagging her is going to take some serious hardcore shit."

The girls strolled to the bar, where they began talking to the bartender. I moved in, not even glancing at them, and greeted the bartender as if l knew him. I asked how long he had worked at the club, and he said
just a couple of months. It didn't really matter what I said to him: I was just maneuvering into position, chalking out my strategy.

Now that I was in range, it was time to bring on the fireworks. "That girl over there is hurting your style," I said to the 10, the shorter of the two. "Look at her." I pointed to another teenage chick in a white outfit and blue denims.
"She's just got the same color combo," the 10 replied, dismissively.

"No, look at her closely," I persisted. "Her get-up is almost the exact same."

They looked over, and here was the make-or-break moment. If I didn't come up with something good to follow, I'd lose their interest and be branded just another weirdo. So I continued with my plan. "You know
what?" I told them. "All three of you seem to be in some kinda college uniform.The sameness.It's getting a little dull."

It was a bizarre, oddball comment, but now I had their attention. I could sense it, and my heart began to pump faster. I continued with what I knew all along would be my true opener: "I have to tell you something.Your smile is almost great.Just that your teeth could use a little bit more of flossing.They are too dark in some spots."

Honestly speaking,she had a sparkling set of white dentals. They had become imperceptibly darker in some areas possibly due to smoking.I was sure nobody had even pointed that out to her till now. It was that unnoticeable. But then again,when a chick walks into a night club,all dressed to kill,trying her best to look her best, any remark on the slightest of her blemishes sets her off.

The 10 looked shocked, then recovered her composure. "My teeth are okay." she said. "Perfectly okay."

I smirked. "Sure thing.Tell that to yourself if that makes you feel happy."

"People always compliment me on my smile."

I chuckled mischievously. "Okay," I said. "I believe you. But how about your friend there?"

The 11's face reddened. She leaned over the bar and looked me hard in the eye. "That is really rude. How can you be such a prick?That could really hurt someone's feelings. It's disrespectful. How would you feel if
someone said that to you?"

Seduction is a high stakes game, and to win you have to play hard. All I had done so far was arrest their attention and provoke an emotional reaction. Sure, it was an antagonistic one, but now we had something to talk about. All I needed to do was turn her anger into interest, and I'd be in.

I leaned over the bar and stared the 11 down. "Well," I told her. "You think how you look is that important?Tchh..tchh...I kinda feel sorry for you here."
I paused, and she looked at me with her mouth open. She didn't know how to respond. Now it was time to reel her in. "And I'll tell you something else.My cousin sister is short,has a bald patch on her head and is blissfully overweight.She has a Masters degree from MIT.Wherever she goes,whatever she looks like, it doesn't change the way she's treated by other people. It's all your attitude. Don't you agree?"

Everything I say in this game has a well-defined purpose. I needed to let her know that unlike every other guy in the bar, I am not and will not be intimidated by her looks. Beauty to me was now just an entrance exam: It filtered out the losers who got dumbstruck by it.

"I lived in Mumbai for three years" I continued. "It's where the most beautiful women in the country come to try and make it. You look around a street there, and everyone's good-looking. It makes this club look like a hangout for second-rung wannabes."

I let her look around, then continued: "And do you know what I've discovered? Beauty is neither rare,nor uncommon. It's all the genes you were born with or the money you wish to shell out on it. What counts is what you make of yourself. What counts is the  personality and outlook you craft for yourself."

Now I was in. It was the girls who were dumbstruck now, not me. I had entered their world, and messed up their expectations and thought processes. And, to ensure my position there, I threw in another miniature explosive device, but softened with a slight compliment, as if they were winning me over: "And you know what? You have a great smile. I can tell that underneath all that, you're probably a good person."

The 10 sidled up to me and said, "We're sisters."

A person less versed with understanding human dynamics would have thought that his work was done, that he had won them over. But no, this was just one more aptitude test. I looked very slowly at both of them, and then took a chance. "Nonsense," I said, smiling. "I bet a lot of guys fall for that, but I ain't your average guy. When I look at you both, I can tell you two don't share any family connection.You are just too different."

The 10 broke into a guilty smile. "OMG!No one could figure that out,I tell you," she said, "but you're right. We're just friends."

Now I'd broken through her programming, moved her away from the automatic responses she gives to men, and demonstrated that I had a depth and sharpness not usually associated with men . I took another chance:I was pushing it.I just hoped,it wasn't too far.
 "And I wonder whether you two really have been friends for that long either. Usually, best friends start sharing the same mannerisms, and you two don't really."

"We've only known each other a year," the 10 admitted.

Now it was time to back off and engage in a little chit-chat. However, I made sure never to ask questions; instead,  I made open-ended statements that led them to ask me the questions.

The 10 told me they were from Jaipur, so we rambled on for a while about the deserts and Rajputs. As we talked, I kept my back to the 11, as if I were less interested in her. This was was just another ploy: I wanted her thinking more about me, wondering why I wasn't giving her the attention she was so used to. Nothing in my moves and maneuvers  is an accident.

But you can't ignore her for too long.So, just when the 11 was about to walk away to find someone to talk to, I turned around and delivered a beautiful line: "You know what? When I look at you, I can see exactly what you looked like in classes six or seven. And you weren't so outgoing or popular then,were you now?"

Sure,this statement held true for eight out of ten people. But she stared at me flabbergasted, wondering how I could possibly know that. To seal the victory, I laid out one last beauty-neutralizing precision bomb. "I bet a lot of people think you're a rotten hard-hearted bitch. But you're not. You're actually shy in a lot of ways."

Her eyes glazed over, her pupils dilated, and she just watched my lips move, entranced and attracted. I noticed, however, that the more interested the 11 became, the more the 10 touched my arms and hands.

"You're interesting," the 10 gushed, pressing her breasts against me. I could see Ashish and Nikhil staring at me with sheer admiration in their eyes in the background. "We have to hang out with you in Mumbai."

She leaned in and gave my palm a tight squeeze. "We shall see about that," I told her, pulling away my hand. "My company ain't free."

The more you push them away, the more they run toward you. "I already like him," she told her friend. Then she asked if she and her friend could stay with me next time they were in Mumbai. "Sure," I said. But as the words left my mouth, I realized, too late, that I should have made what she asked for more of a challenge. There's so much to retain and manipulate during these things that it is hard to get everything perfect. But no matter. She gave me her phone number, and I gave her mine. As we exchanged numbers, I learned that the 10 was Kannagi and the 11 was Shruti. Now it was time to separate the two of them and see if I could get close enough to seal the deal with Shruti.

"I want to show you something," I said to Shruti, as I took her by the hand. I led her to a nearby booth, sat her down, and performed a mind-reading trick.I asked her to pick a number from one to ten and I would guess it.She was amazed when my guess clicked.By the way,the number is usually seven.

Chicks usually dig mystical stuff.So I told her about palmistry,astrology and face-reading,and, with club music and a cacophony of conversations honking around us, we stared into each other's eyes and shared a moment together. In my head, I imagined her as the awkward,ungraceful class six student she used to be. If I'd been thinking about what a knockout she really was, I would have been too nervous to woo her with my lips, as I was about to do.

I slowly moved my head toward hers.

"No kissing,R," she said, quietly.

I held up my index finger, placed it against her lips, and said, "Shhhh."

Then I kissed her—on the lips.

It would have been the most beautiful kiss of my life.But seduction has rules,and it was critical I obeyed them.Because the rules work.I pulled back, looked at her again, and then nibbled on her lower lip.
Her eyes begged me to continue. "Hey,hold on there," I told her, as if she were the one hitting on me.Holding back was almost as important as pushing forward.It's all about timing.You have no idea what I am talking about?Watch Tom Cruise in action with the heroine in the elevator scene of Top Gun,and you will.

We kissed again,this time longer, and then I returned her to Kannagi at the bar. I told them both that it was a pleasure meeting them and I should rejoin my friends. We confirmed our plans to catch a movie together, and I left with my heart in the clouds.

The next two months passed quickly.Shruti and I spent more and more time with each other.The more time we spent together,the more attracted she became towards me,and the less interested I grew in her.So one day,Shruti kept calling me only to have me disconnect all her calls.All her SMS es landed up in my Deleted folder.I was done with her.It was time to move on to the next.Greener pastures beckoned.

To be continued....

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120

Every moment we wave our final farewell to the moment which just went by, knowing for sure that it is never going to come back. Time is unfortunately a currency we cannot mint on our own. So,if the heavens opens its coffers to give us a bailout package of 2 extra hours every day, I don't think too many would complain. Time is never enough, unless of course,you are spending it in jail, or a boring lecture, or going through a post-breakup hangup, among a host of other joyous things.

Oh dear!She's back with that dreary old lullaby again.Time crawls to a halt  whenever she is at it.

I just watched Bodyguard and Force recently. Back to back. The ego of my one pack flab wasn’t exactly in top shape after watching the 6-pack and 8-packs flaunted in those flicks. 

8-pack flabs,anybody????

I just realized how much my legs miss hurting against the treadmill or my arms miss pulling the tendon tearing weights. A part of the extra couple of hours can easily be siphoned off into my desperate and till now mostly futile attempts at getting a single digit body fat percentage.

Hugging's definitely gonna be a problem here.

 Winter’s approaching. Some fancy website claimed that we actually crunch more calories in cool weather. I just might consider falling on my knees before my lazy-bone body, requesting it to carry its dead-weight bottom off my bed every morning. So that we three- I, my lazy-bone of a body and its lazy ass- can go for a jog in the fresh, soft sunlit 6 am air every day. Just like any threesome, it will involve a lot of grunting, heaving and sweating. Except this will take place off the bed.

U,Me Aur Bum!!Awesome threesome.

Speaking of bed. Snoozing is another top contender on my hypothetical-extra-hours-TODO list .I usually make do with 7 hours of sleep. An extra half an hour won’t be that bad. I can spend more time dreaming .My whole life feels like a dream. Except it isn’t mine. I wonder whose it is, and if that person is enjoying it, because I definitely am not.

So I dreamt my life is actually taking place in another person's dream.Does that make me crazy,doc? Does all that actually mean anything?

 So escaping reality on a Mach III dream-jet definitely is not such an unappealing idea. Who knows, with two extra hours to kill, I might actually bring myself to accomplish the boring task of planning for my future someday. So that next time around, when someone asks me where I see myself five years from now, I can come up with a more original answer than ‘Duh!!Facing the same question somewhere else.”

NOW!

FIVE YEARS LATER!

Need some good music?Make no fuss!
He got something for each one of us!!!

I think I might even finally get around to creating the perfect playlists for every occasion. Happy playlist, soulful soothing playlist, soft romantic playlist, rocking playlist, lonely playlist, despondent playlist, feeling downright messed up playlist-you name the mood, and yours truly will mix for you the apt cocktail of songs in a jiffy. On the rocks!!

 Good music always boosts my dopamine levels. By the way, dopamine is that juice in our brains which activates the feel-good circuitries in our nervous system. More music, more dopamine. More dopamine, more happiness.

Learning to cook, trying out each and every restaurant in my city, catching up with my school-time buddies are other hot items on that bonus-time-agenda. My wardrobe is in poor shape. Courtesy the bunch of clothes I recently threw out of my life because they no longer fit me ever since I joined the gym. My arms and chest bulked up a bit,you see.So my old outfits started hugging my body like cello-tape. It was a pain to peel them off. They threw tantrums like a toddler on the first day of school, who glues himself to his mom on that fateful day, steadfastly refusing to peel away.

Please don't leave me!!!

 Well, hard luck for the kid, but even mommy dearest bids farewell to her precious bundle of joy on that day. Me ain’t any mommy dearest. I proudly relinquished my rights over them to our housemaid’s son without a second’s thought. So, next time around, I can choose my new clothes with great caution, keeping my ever-changing body configuration into account. An extra two hours won’t really be too much of a problem to spend then.:-)

So what you folks waiting for? Do tell me what grand plans you cooked up about spending that extra 120 minutes...Tempus Fugit,my dear friends....time's slipping.. ;-)

Btw,did I mention that this whole post is going to be my entry to the IndiBlogger Surf ExcelMatic Get Smart Contest?

Seriously?Unsmart nincompoops like you trying for a Get Smart contest??Next  thing we know, Tushar Kapoor is gonna try for the Oscars....

Mom is a staunch Surf loyalist.She refuses to use any other detergent in her washing machine.Even when I was out of home for three years,she always urged me to go for Surf to do my washing.Surf has watched my mom's back for a long time in her endless war against grime and grease.

Make no mistake,gentlemen!!We are in the midst of a war with an enemy which is highly resilient,cunning  and resourceful.

And for this,I thank you Surf.Heaven only knows how many hours you helped my mom save by being the dirt disintegrating ammunition in her washing machine.

Surf to Mom: All locked and loaded,mam!!!Let's burn some dirt!!!!!

Coming back to the contest,I noticed everyone is using poems left,right and center in their entries.I couldn't help myself ;-).So here is one of my own..

Most people wish for those two more hours

Just as dry parched earth wishes for rain showers.

Whether one lives in torn huts or gilded towers,

Time crumbles everything,renders useless all powers.

It doesn't care for you,doesn't give a dime,

Such a thing is the relentless passage of time.

It's common knowledge,wasting moments is a crime

So use well all you have,this is wisdom sublime.

Time: Hard luck!!!I ain't recyclable.You WASTE me,and I will return the favor.

P.S.All images have been shoplifted from Google.Sheesh!!!Please don't sue me...
P.P.S.If my 50+ followers had 2 hours extra,I wonder if they could find the time to plaster my lonely blog with some comments.....*sighs*

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Love Game-Prologue

Rashmi stared lifelessly at the blood oozing out of her forearm.She wished her sorrow would flow out along with it.He had sent her hurtling through an endless space of tumultuous torment.Every day was the same,filled with excruciating pain.Every night chafed against her wounds,which showed no signs of healing.Every night she would stay awake,scared of tomorrow.Every tomorrow was just another chapter in her interminable saga of agonizing heart-ache.

Hope was fading away from her life at an alarming rate.Like the taillights of a train in a dark tunnel that you desperately needed to catch but missed.She had lost faith in him and conviction in love long back.She only now knew  a corrosive misery which was eating up everything inside her.Every now and then,memories of him would erupt in her heart like a volcano,with the lava scorching every bit of love she held for him.Reason was fading,sanity was dropping,time was stopping.

She wondered why he had to leave her.All alone and helplessly in love with him.He had burned a hole in her soul big enough to consume her entire existence.She clutched her guitar and violently plucked the chords.She wished those chords would cut her fingers.She wanted her blood to ooze out of them.She wanted to see its redness.

The color of pain!

She was hurting so bad.She etched his name on her forearm with a blade.Not just because she loved him more than anything.But because she wanted the pain.She hoped the pain in her arm would make her forget the one in her heart.

Foolish hope.

She wished she could kill him.Or own him.Or drown him.Or smother him with so much affection he wouldn't find any escape.She had dreamt of so much with him.Only to have all of them frozen by the iciness of his aloofness.

She longed to get back with him.Or to get back at him.It would have to be one of the two.Because he was not letting her live.She had no other options.No other doors to knock on.No windows to let anyone else through.

Just him.And his memories.Haunting.Tearing her apart.Slowly.Closing in on her.Until she was gasping for air to breathe.

"I hate you,R!" She snarled beneath her breath."I hate you for what you did to me!!If there were only a way to make you pay......"

To be continued....

P.S.And so,another one of my long stories begins.... :-)

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Kyunki Har Ek Post Zaroori Hota Hai

Horror ke liye jaise ghost hota hai--Vaise har ek post zaroori hota hai

Aise har ek post zaroori hota hai

Finally,I feel needed and appreciated.Finally,I feel ALIVE!!!

Koi subah paanch baje neend se jagaye

Koi raat ko teen baje chain vagaye

Shucks,still awake.. thinking about her.Wait,maybe I should blog about it!!

Ek teri patch-up ke bare me bataye

Aur Ek tere break-up me saath jataye

My blog attracts 50+ comments..FOR you!!

Koi nature se funny koi tragic hota hai

Par har ek post zaroori hota hai

""Ek ghadi ghadi post  par kabhi kabhi comment kare

Why won't he ever comment,dammit?????

Ek kabhi kabhi post  aur ghadi ghadi comment kare""

20 comments.10 are from you alone!!You stalking me,dude???

Galio ka istemaal kahi pe day and night

Ass fucker..mother fucker...bitch fucker...slut fucker..fucker fucker...Kyunki har ek fucker zaroori hota hai!!!

Koi aisa hasaye ho jata hai sab alright

HeeeHeeelarious!!!!!

Koi effortless koi forced hota hai

Lekin har ek post zaroori hota hai

Koi poetry post  koi fiction post

Koi comedy wala nonsense post

Social issues wala satirical post

Koi plagiarised wala copying post

Movie blog book blog

Car blog--Bekaar blog ----Gadget blog widget blog

Gaana Blog Shaana blog ---Buddy Blog Bitchy Blog

--"Kutti!!"-- "Kamini!"--

Sab log---Sab blog

A to Z

Gin gin ke naam bheja Roast hota hai

Par har ek post zaroori hota hai

Lekin har ek post zaroori hota hai

Har post zaroori hai yaaar!!!!!

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Next.....

1.Write a mushy wushy coochie coo romcom-Check.
2.Write a dark tragic love story-Check.
3.Write a sweet and sour romcom with a not so happy ending-Check.
4.Write poem on crimes against women-Check.
5.Write something on the dichotomy of sadness and happiness in all our lives,especially mine-Check.
6.Write something insanely funny-Work In Progress...This is always work in progress........
7.Write a story whose central character is a playboy who revels in breaking womens' hearts-Hmmmm..Voila..!!!!!!!My next project!!!Yipppeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Maid of Dishonour

My mom always had a love-hate relationship of sorts with all our housemaids.She loves to hate them.And the housemaids hate to love her.;-)

Kaamwali Bai!!Mess with her at your own risk!

Their constants bickering have set many a lazy morning on fire.And today it set close to an hour ablaze with an inferno which threatened to suck in each and every member of our family.:-D

Today morning I get woken up not by any alarm clock but the high-pitched exchange of accusations and counter-accusations between mom and our maid.

 earthquake? bombs blasting? a MIG-29 aircraft crashed into our building??
*groans*Ohh dear,it's the beginning of Maid Wars Season 222.

Mom has been cribbing about her for quite some time now.To virtually anybody who cares,or even doesn't care, to listen.The guy who delivers gas to us,the guy who sometimes drives us around in our car,my aunt,my friend's mom,my father's friend,my father's friend's wife-as I said,virtually anybody and everybody,who cares to nod understandingly at her complaints and utter one or two words of sympathy and solace.

It's ok,dear.Everyone knows a 'good maid' is an oxymoron.Like 'moderate taliban' or  'honest politicos'.

But till today it's been mostly about my mom.Today my father and elder bro got their own dose of the heat of battle as well.As for me,well..I kinda hovered around in the background.

Stay put,Rahul!Let the grown-ups take care of this menace!!

They went toe-to-toe with the maid and at one point of time,our maid was valiantly fighting off the combined attacks of the three single-handedly.Much like a kick-ass Lara Croft against a mythical three-headed monster.

Before Maid Wars.

After Maid Wars!

Needless to say,she was making her points,however absurd they were,with full gusto.The three-pronged offensive strategy of my family almost got blunted by her blitzkrieg of emotion-charged excuses and rantings.And with four people shouting the roof off in my house,for a moment there,I felt like being stranded bang in the middle of some head-banging ,atrociously high-decibel Metallica rock concert.You can imagine what an exquisitely grand time your peace-loving serenity-serenading Monumentally Cranky must have been having.

All that noise!!Is it finally over?

And then there was some queer item in today's front page news,which said that a guy died in his sleep while listening through headphones to a laptop which was being charged through a live socket.My elder bro and dad were lecturing me on the vices of laptop addiction citing this rare example with a turbo-charged enthusiasm which will probably match that of Tendulkar when he will hit his hundredth century someday.Thing is they were lecturing me in English.And my maid thought that we were lambasting her in English.So again,her battle-ready mode resurfaced,with her indignant-at-the-injustice-heaped-on-her mode in tow,accusing us of complaining about her in a language she doesn't understand.

You wanna piece of me???Do ya!!!!!!???

My elder bro erupted like a mega-volcano and my dad erupted like a mini-volcano at this outrage.How dare she??I mean,how dare she??:-P

Anger Management..where art thou????

And after the maid left,our happy loving Hum Saath Saath Hai family fell to quarreling amongst ourselves.:-D

Bickering about three to four things which somehow involved the egos of all four of us ,things which bear absolutely no connection or relevance to each other and  which seem all so trifle as I write about all them now.:-)

So nobody understands nobody!!!

Quite a brilliant start to a lazy relaxing Sunday,I must say.;-) 

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HIMYM

There used to be a time I was totally into How I Met Your Mother.HIMYM in short. Season 1 and 2 kept me on the edge of my seat.As each episode unfolded,I could feel myself growing closer to the characters in that show.And my favorite was Ted Moseby.For those not familiar with the show,let me give you a brief intro.In 2030,a father(Ted Moseby) narrates to his two impatient kids how he came to meet and know their mother.Of course,the irony is that despite the show being into the seventh season,the mother has not shown up yet.It's kind of getting tiresome.The whole 'who will be the mother' suspense has lost its edge,the jokes and one-liners have become a bit repetitive,and at times you will almost be able to predict what turn events will take in the future.Season 1 and 2 didn't suffer from those drawbacks.I guess when a show runs for that long(7 years),it does tend to run into creative hiccups like the ones I described.But this post is not about the deficiencies and blind spots of the show.It is about why I liked the show very much.

Well,so as I was saying,the father is Ted Moseby.An intensely romantic fellow.Like me.In search of true love.Like me,a couple of years back.;-) He searches for the 'one' in every woman he comes across,he braves heart-breaks,stormy relationships,cruising along the crests and peaks of the highway of love.He still hasn't found her.But the eternal optimist that he is,he doesn't give up.At least this is how his character was portrayed in the first two to three seasons.After that,the show kinda changed,putting greater focus on other members of the cast and somehow side-tracking Ted's search for love,to the point that it almost become a butt of jokes,both inside and outside the show.Although I still like the show,I hold a grudge against the show's creators for what they did with Ted's character.I know they have their reasons.Two other members of the core cast were gaining much more popularity and prominence among the audience.So I guess the show's creators tweaked the show to pander to audience demand.It's a TV show,after all.

So anyway when I used to blog in my previous company's internal blogs,I used to go on and on about the show.In various ways.I used to pick up the one-liners,the way of speaking of the characters,and used them in my posts and comments.People who already loved the show instantly connected to what I was doing.And the show being popular,there were a lot of people familiar with it.Very soon,I started being called the Ted Moseby of my company's blogs.I now remember that I even used to sign off some posts with the standard line 'Till I meet the mother of my kids'.:-P It was a phase of my life.I call it the HIMYM phase.I kinda got over it after some time.Season 5 was a total letdown.Season 4 didn't have too much to boast of either.Sure both these seasons had some moments,but they were few and far between.

The funny thing is some friends I made during blogging in my previous company still refer to me as Teddy or Ted Moseby.They still ask me if I have found the mother of my kids.I try to be all gracious and stuff.Reply with something quirky and 'undepressing'.But the truth is whenever someone asks me that question these days,I feel stupid.I feel somewhere that I had just gone ahead and made a proper fool of myself.With the type of dark,brooding,introverted personality I have,I never had a shot at the stuff people call love.And yet,I went on advertising my blind and implicit faith in love and relationships during the HIMYM phase of my life.Now when I think about that chapter of my life,I can't help disdainfully smiling at my immaturity.

When I was in college,I formulated a concept that love like anything else is just another transaction.You give something,you take away something.As long as both ends are satisfied with what they are getting in exchange for their sacrifices,the relationship works.When that ceases to happen,rough weather awaits the unfortunate couple.But watching HIMYM kinda changed that philosophy of mine somewhat.I actually honestly started believing in romance and  relationships for some time.It's not that I have lost all faith in them now.Just that,I know those stuff ain't meant for me.:-) It's a sad,sad fact of my life.I try to take it in my stride,laugh at it,joke about it,take digs at myself,take potshots at people who praise love to the skies.But the truth is-I know that if you are with someone you can share and unburden yourself with,there are very few things in the world which can compare to that bliss.It makes me sad sometimes.And it's one of the reasons I call myself ......The Sad Clown....

But this post ain't about that.I just wanted to make you realize-if you have someone special in your life,you are  a lucky person.So thank your stars.And go ahead and tell that someone how special he or she is to you.He or she might not be the reason behind your every smile,he or she might not run after you with a tissue paper to wipe away your every tear,but he or she sure makes your living a whole lot easier.:-) He or she might be doing that right now,even as you are reading all this nonsense.:-) So be thankful.Be very thankful.

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A messy conversation

Excerpts from a chat conversation-

He:Ding Dong.

She:Who's there?

He:As if you were expecting the pizza boy right now.;-)

She: Haha.So what were you up to?

He:Nothing much.So just decided to mess with your head a little bit.:-P

She: My mind's a mess already.Stuff strewn around.Cupboards bursting at the doors.Thoughts running around like crazy.Ideas scurrying about on the floor.I am afraid I can't allow you to tamper any further with my mind.:-) It's precariously balanced on sanity's knife-edge right now.

He:I don't recall asking for your permission here.;-)

She:Neither do I recall giving you unrestricted passage to my mind.:-P

He:You might not be realizing it,but I've already started doing what I came here to do.

She:You mean the messing with my mind thing?

He:You bet.

She:My mind is a horribly screwed up place.I might forget to put the 'Enter at your own risk' sign outside my door.But that doesn't mean my mind is safe territory.You can get all lost and stuff.End up with a severe migraine for all I know.So,be warned.:-)

He:Trust me,compared to my mind,yours must be a 7-star hotel.:-P

She: Ohh,why's that?

He: Just take my word for it.Trust me you don't wanna know.:-)

She:But what if I do?

He: Isn't your cranium already too messed up?You were flashing that in bright neon lights and with loud blaring sirens till now.You sure you ready for more mess to enter your head?:-P

She: Depends.:-P Your mess might be a mess I might learn to grow fond of.

He: The feeling is mutual.

She: LOL

He: So let's get our hands all 'messy',shall we? :-D

She: Why not?:-D

P.S. I like making up imaginary conversations when I get bored.
P.P.S.I was in a sour sullen mood this entire day.
P.P.P.S.I deleted my last post.Didn't want to scare people off.

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She was thinking.
The bleeding in his arm shows no sign of stopping.It is so difficult to even look at the sleeve of his white shirt now.All soaked in blood. My bandage.It's of no use.O dear lord,why can't I do anything right?


He was thinking.
I have to get her to safety somehow.Dear God,if only I could push myself harder.But this stupid arm.Pains like hell whenever I try to move it.It's slowing us down!Shit!And slowing her down!!As it is she is having a hard enough time running in her saree.
That saree...she tore it up without a moment's hesitation to cover my wound.Despite that saree being her favorite.Always used to wash it herself.Lest the maid spoil the golden yellow linings. Too bad that the wound is too deep.That Muslim sonofabitch had shoved in the dagger with all his might!!!


She was thinking.
Even in his pain,he must be  worrying himself to death thinking about my safety.If only there were a medical shop nearby.I have some cash with me.Should be enough to buy some basic first-aid,I think.But where would we find any open shop now?


He was thinking.
I know her.She is too scared to even speak right now.Yet she can't stop worrying about my arm.She is blaming herself for not being able to stop my bleeding.I know.I wish I could hug her and tell her,it's all right.
Everything is gonna be all right.We will make it through this.But I can't.
We gotta keep running.
We can't stop.
Not before we reach somewhere safe.

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