Out Of Control

            Nehan closed his text book and covered his face with his hands. A deep sense of regret filled his overworked mind as he shut down his laptop. “I should have started earlier, I should have started earlier!” he muttered angrily to himself. He left his papers and stationeries strewn all over the table and turned off his desk lamp. Walking over to the other end of the room, he opened the refrigerator door and helped himself to a few mouthfuls of ice water. Nehan had recently been employed at a highly respected financial company as one of their accountants. This fantastic studio apartment had been one of their many offers. A few years ago, he could not even have dreamt about having friends who owned luxuries such as this one.

            The studio apartment was one of the three units available on the twenty first floor of every block of a high end condominium that consisted of four towers. Nehan stayed in the West Tower. Each studio unit comprised of its own bedroom, a bathroom, a petite corner that served as a kitchen and a vast space across the kitchen which Nehan had divided into a living room and a working area. He was promised a regular cleaning service which was available only in two weeks time. He had never been much of a workaholic but this new employment was pushing him to his limits. He succumbed to all its demands only because he knew the rewards offered were equally grandiose. It was, after all, a company with impressive international reputation and he simply had to be on par.

            Deciding he would call it a night, Nehan dimmed the lights in the kitchen, turned everything else off then walked over to the bedroom. His bedroom had been furnished to his liking, all of it paid for of course, and he wasn’t too bad with his interior designing. The bedroom was rather huge for a room that was meant for one person. It had a queen sized bed to one side, a fluffy carpet was spread in front of it, and a few metres away was a huge bathroom, that had a big bathroom that was attached to a walk in wardrobe. Nehan had always felt that white was the colour of elegance and had tried to get everything in white.

            He looked at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. He felt a slight tinge of pride as he realized he was better looking than the average man. He admired his symmetrical features, his new French beard, and how his slightly tanned skin made him look more masculine than he actually was. Wiping his face, he stepped out of the door and dragged himself onto bed. He would need to start out for work earlier than usual the next morning. There were going to be road blocks.

            At 6 o’clock sharp, his phone crowed at a magnitude that would have put a rooster to shame. As per routine, Nehan coaxed his alarm to a snooze without even looking at it. Fifteen minutes later, it crowed again and Nehan woke up grumpily as he tried to shake his mind awake. He went through his customary morning duties, decided he looked good with his two day stubbles and blindly picked off clothes from his wardrobe. He walked out of his bedroom and entered the kitchen, clumsily stirred a packet of instant coffee into the milk that he didn’t have the time to allow to boil properly, gulped down his coffee, and walked out of his home with a tie over his shoulder and his things packed in a briefcase. If he had remembered to take his laptop, he would have realized that his table was neater than he had left it. 

            After parking the car in the basement, he took the lift up to the fourteenth floor and greeted the security guard as he entered his room. Like his apartment, his office too looked as ostentatious as possible. Eight floors were allocated to administration alone and every floor had a common pantry. He dumped his things on his table and walked over to the window to open the shutters. Nehan was fond of the sun. He didn’t like his working area to be dark and gloomy or to be drenched in fluorescent lights. He preferred the sun to project its rays into every corner of the room. He returned back to his desk and opened his briefcase. He took out his laptop and set it on the table.

            It was his habit to check the stock market before he started work every day. Finding nothing interesting to invest in this morning, he set to sorting out the pile of files on the table. His office phone rang. Expecting more work in his hands, he wearily answered the phone.

            “Good morning. Mr. Nehan?” asked a light, breezy female voice.

            “Yes, speaking,” he replied, slightly puzzled.

            “I’m calling from the bank. This is regarding a withdrawal you made a short while ago. We’re calling to make sure it was made by you because it seems to be rather far from your location and we were wondering if you may have left without informing us. The transaction amount was rather large too. We couldn’t get you on your mobile phone, so we tried your office.”

            Panicking, Nehan groped for his wallet and fumbled with the flaps and pockets as he searched for his ATM card. His heart calmed down when he pulled out the glinting silver card. He heaved a sigh of relief and focused back on his receiver.

            “I think you must have been mistaken. My card is still with me, and no, I did not make any transaction today.”

            The female voice took some time to come back. Nehan could hear the sharp clicks of a keyboard. “The system has recorded a withdrawal at 7.34am this morning sir. However, if you insist nothing is amiss then we are very sorry for the inconvenience caused. Do let us know if you need assistance with anything. Have a pleasant day sir.”

            “Thank you, and same to you,” replied Nehan.

            He sat back on his chair, his heart somewhat still jumpy. It was 8.12am now. He must have been on the way to work at the mentioned time. We couldn’t get you on your mobile phone, she had said. That was weird. He took his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. The screen remained blank. He remembered charging it last night and he never switched off his phone. He tried turning on his phone and it showed some sign of life. There were two missed calls and a text message. The text message read:

            Your account has been debited with $5000 at 7.34am.

            Nehan froze at the words on his screen. But...that’s impossible! He checked his card again. It seemed authentic enough and it still bore his signature at the back. The phone rang again. He picked it up and the same female voice answered. This time, she sounded a bit worried herself.

            “Mr. Nehan? I’m sorry to be disturbing you again. But our security cameras have confirmed that you have withdrawn the money yourself.”

            His heart racing again, he said in a tone that sounded angrier than he was. “Look Miss...missy. At 7.34am, I was on the way to work. There is no way I could have travelled to an ATM halfway across the country then returned back here in time for work.”

            “I understand sir, which is why we would like you to drop by to have a look for yourself. You can come after working hours. The security rooms will still be open.”

            Nehan fidgeted for the rest of the day, unable to keep his nerves in check. He couldn’t take time off from work either because he was afraid it would reflect badly on him. Each time his phone vibrated with a text message he panicked. As soon as the clock ticked five, he picked his already packed things and almost ran to the lift. The lift took longer than usual to reach the bottom and Nehan drove as recklessly as he dared. When he reached the bank a security guard guided him to their control room. A woman of about average height was drinking from a mug that smelt like chocolate.

            “Mr. Nehan?” she asked with her eyebrows raised. She had friendly brown eyes and a  pretty dimple on one cheek.

            “Yes, yes. Can I see the footage please?” Nehan was surprised at the politeness he could still afford.

            “Yes, of course sir. I’m Kaushalya. We have been waiting for you and we’re terribly sorry for the inconvenience caused sir. Please have a seat.” She motioned to a chair next to her. Nehan sat at the very edge of the chair, his breath short and rapid, his imagination running wild.

            “The footage is ready ma’am,” said a man with a heavy foreign accent.

            It played on the computer screen in front of them and Nehan watched it with horror. He saw himself walking towards the ATM, and withdrawing the money. He saw himself wearing his favourite red Polo shirt, his jeans which were slightly torn at the right knee, and his pair of running shoes. But his eyes...they were a greenish brown. He mentioned this to Kaushalya and she requested the guard to zoom in on the face. It was Nehan. The new French beard, the symmetrical face, the two day stubble, the exact shade of tan...but the eyes weren’t his. Kaushalya promised to look into this matter immediately and she said she would keep him informed of the progress. Meanwhile, she offered to cancel his card. Unable to respond otherwise, Nehan merely nodded his head and left for home.

            He opened the door and walked to his working desk. He sat down on the chair and absentmindedly ran his fingers along his laptop. He suddenly stopped and looked down. The laptop bag was under his table, and its zip lay opened. He just remembered he had not brought his laptop bag to work today and yet, he had used his laptop. He looked back at the laptop on the table. He contemplated if he really wanted to open his briefcase to check if his laptop was still inside. He decided not to and ran to his wardrobe instead. The advantage of having such a large wardrobe was that everything could be organized easily. He kept all of his t shirts in one section. He searched his entire wardrobe twice but could not find his favourite red shirt. He even rummaged through his laundry and found nothing.

            A sudden clink of metal caught his attention. Not sure if his heart was still inside where it was supposed to be, he picked up his golf club from the corner of the room and slowly walked out of his bedroom. There was no one outside. He inched towards his desk and saw a mug on his table. It had a faint lipstick stain on one side and smelt strongly of chocolate.

            “Looking for something?” asked a light, breezy female voice. Nehan spun around so fast that he was unable to stay balanced on his feet.

            “Kau...Kaushalya?” sputtered Nehan. His voice hardly above a whisper, his heart definitely not where it was supposed to be. His whole body seemed to be pumping blood in every direction now.

            Kaushalya looked at him with her greenish brown eyes and grinned, revealing one pretty dimple. Clamped between her jaws, was a tiny fragment of a red Polo shirt.

           

            

Children of Light

 A small hand patted my shoulder.  "Aunty, can you please put this on for me?"

  I cautiously looked at the mirrored wall across the room. Just to pacify my ego. I took the little hand in mine, pulled the owner over and made her stand in front of me.

  "I am not aunty okay? You can call me akka, chechi, or paenji. Sorry about the limited choices."

  She nodded her head vigorously, staring at me wide eyed.

  "And I'm not going to eat you, so stop looking at me that way."

  Another vigorous nod with a ghoulified expression.

  Sighing, I fixed the clasp of her chain and called the next one in line. Obediently, she sat down and waited for an instruction. "Finally," I thought. "This one is going to be easier." I thought. Too soon.

  "Look up at the ceiling and don't blink." 

  *Looks up at the ceiling for two seconds, looks back at me, and blinks*

  My blood reaches a boiling point, my hand reaches the already almost black tissue paper. "I told you not to blink sweetheart, or the eyeliner is going to smudge and you're going to be looking like Pumbaa dancing for the Mangalacharan in a pretty little pink outfit."

  "I think you meant Timon, teacher."

  "Oh...Right."

  *Awkward silence while resisting the urge to smack myself for not watching more cartoon when my dad told me to*

  "Okay now, close your eyes and don't open them until I tell you to do so." Not even five seconds pass before she forces her eyelids open against the brush I'm using to line her eyes, causing a horrendous, screamable-at, black gash above her eyelid.

  "I TOLD you, NOT to open your eyes!!"

  A pair of eyes stare back at me. Blur, or 'you-learnt-your-lesson-for-being-mean-to-me', or terror, I still don't know.

  All I know is, that after hours of screaming at little things running around me, I witnessed a very beautiful one and a half hour dance performance of pure joy, love, and divinity.

  Having screamed at the last one, I leaned heavily against the wall behind the black curtains. Somewhat exhausted, I calculated the time I had before needing to restore my energy to start putting scurrying figures back into place. 

  Darkness, music, scuffling.......magic.

  Magic, is what nearly 70 kids brought us through on two nights. Yes, I have seen a numerous number of performances to date, no, this was not the first time I was dealing with kids, yes, I still couldn't adapt to their ways, but nevertheless they had sprinkled their kiddy dust on me yet again. It was the feeling of pure bliss that they showered upon us. All that work and fuss hours before suddenly seemed insignificant beside what they were giving us that night. They were not themselves. I didn't see kids. I saw celestial maidens, the cheeky Krishna, the arrival of spring, the colors of flowers, the beauty of the world. They were part of the music, and the love that swirled amongst them. That innocence and passion to give what they felt...authentic in its simplicity.

  And then I thought to myself, so many were involved in putting this whole thing together (I only did like 0.1% of it which already seemed like a lot of effort). Is this how much everyone did for us as well? It was simply amazing. Simply amazing to see something of such a large magnitude being materialized from scratch. When I saw them blossoming in their own individual ways, I was willing to go through anything for them and with them to see it happen all over again. So...this is how it felt to see something come together. My humble prayers and offerings to my own Gurus who have tirelessly guided me for all these years.

  And yup yup, there were the kids teaching us stuff all over again. They each had their own individual needs and ways, they taught us patience, how to love unconditionally, how to deal with crisis (like "Where are your earrings?"..."Oh, I didn't bring la teacher." *dismay*), how to be tolerant, the adorable smiles, innocent eyes, and true love for the art.

  At the end of the day, as I removed the last clip from a doll-of-a-girl's hair, she turned to me and smiled. In that smile, she reminded me to stop chasing the bigger things in life, stop trying so hard to pry something out of hiding, and instead, relish the trivialities in life that make the journey on earth so worthwhile...Like her smile.

  Here's to a whole new generation of lovely beings, here's to the cast and crew of Teja Putri 2. You have yet again shone like brilliant stars, casting light on dark paths through the valley of the art.

A Picture Speaks A Thousand Words

The wind was slicing through his skin. He tugged at the tattered remains of the shirt which had long lost its function of protecting. He was squatting behind a tree, trying to get much of its shelter. In his fingers he twirled a crudely carved photo frame. It was made of a type of wood he knew not. The surface was raw and the splinters had been trimmed off clumsily. All four sides hung onto each other with very thin layers of glue. A thin piece of cardboard backed this flimsy assemble. With one hand he rubbed his face, his fingers moving over skin that was clearly overdue for a shave.

         He moved towards a couple walking along the road. The man was walking with his arm around his companion. They seemed very happy. He missed that. The touch of long soft hair, looking into eyes he loved and those nice long walks. From their conversation he understood that they were planning something for the coming new year. He walked behind them, trying to keep up with their pace, and slowly put his hand on the man’s shoulder. The man turned abruptly, then pulled his wife away to the other side before rushing into the nearest shop.

         He smiled. He continued walking down the road, and stopped near a group of kids who were playing. He reached for the smallest kid and held the little girl’s tiny hands in his palms. In it, he placed the photo frame. He held her face in his hand, and that’s when he noticed the dirt caked under his fingernails, his dark brown hands, the wrinkled skin and the very little flesh that still lived under it. How far he had travelled in time... How long it had been since he had held such tiny hands. He was about to bring her hands to his lips when a hysterical woman came running in his direction, shouting all kinds of things at him. Other people joined her as well, and two men shoved him harshly onto the road.

          He smiled. The ache spreading up his legs, he sat down by the side of the road, and started watching people in a nearby restaurant. He tried to read the signboard above it but eventually he gave up. Alphabets and symbols he had never acquainted with. His eyes fell upon a man in a brilliant white coat, the cuff of a sea blue shirt peeking from underneath, the prosperous belly over which buttons struggled to hold on, gold glittering on his fingers and neck, the tip of a cigar glowing merrily from in between his lips. He was talking animatedly to a group of awed people. His wallet lay on the table, fat and happy. 

                Taking a deep breath, he willed himself to keep trying. He had not given up and he will not. His family didn’t want him anymore but he still wanted to have a purpose in life. He heaved onto his shoulder the heavy sack which he had put down earlier to relieve his shoulders and back of tremendous pain and soreness. This sack, was filled with the one hundred photo frames he had cut the wood for, torn his skin for, and put together piece by piece in the hope of earning a few dollars.

Trying very hard to ignore his gnawing hunger and the pulsating pain that had started creeping up his arm, he dragged his aching feet towards the man. He extended his blistered hands towards him, frame in hand and managed a coarse whisper from his parched throat. “Sir, please buy just one photo frame. It would mean a lot to me. You can pay anything you want, please...”

He forced to keep his eyes open long enough to see an arm covered in a brilliant white coat sleeve, the cuff of a sea blue shirt peeking from underneath, wave him away. As he closed his eyes, he saw a little girl in a pretty green dress, one hand holding her mother’s hand and in the other, a crudely carved photo frame. He smiled.

She Knew

He meant the world to her. Young hearts, wild thoughts, boundless world. She enjoyed the blissful times, she learnt from the rougher times. They learnt to adjust and adapt. But did he love her all the same? She never knew.

  He had won her heart with charm and wit. Showing her the greater things she had missed in life before this wonderful union. Did he gain equal insight to her world, the way she viewed world? Or would her thoughts and views have seemed small and insignificant? She never knew. 

  He tossed her heart like no other, making it swirl in all directions, making it savour, regret, and enjoy emotions in every possible way. Had she stirred a similar event? She never knew.

  For her, another man, was impossible. For he had asked so much of her, and she, of him. Day by day. She gave in, reluctantly, and then with a sense of acceptance. Did their sacrifices complement in weight? She never knew.

  Having given everything, expecting nothing in return, he asked for one last thing. It was all she had. Yet he asked. He begged, he reasoned, he threatened, and each time, putting forward what she saw in a totally opposite light. For this, she couldn't accept. If she had asked him of the same, would he have been as generous? She never knew.

  She thought about it for endless days. Toiling with many outcomes, many possibilites, many consequences.

  "You have my heart, you have my soul. Why do you ask me of this now? Let me have it for a while longer. Please."

  "I have changed my mind. I want it now. Why are you afraid? Don't you love me? Don't you trust me?"

  For the sake of love, she handed it to him. Handed it to him expecting nothing in return. Handed it to him having faith in trust and conviction, having faith in hope. Having faith in what she thought was love. Did the force above us all permit it? Eventually, she knew.

  Five years later, her love long lost to another heart, she stood in front of another man, who had both eyes for her. Her heart void of all emotions. Empty and without substance. 

  "Honesty has always been kind to me. And I want to pass it to you. For love I gave, for love I lost, for love I made mistakes. I stand before you, only to ask, I have done this, will you accept me?"

  "It doesn't matter what you lost, it doesn't matter what you wronged. Will you grace my heart with the same magnitude of love and emotions?"

  She stood under the dark night sky, tears her shield, the unfunctioning heart her weapon. The truth, she knew.

The Kalyaanam Critic

(The Wedding Critic)

"What are you doing!!??"

"Finding a parking place. What else does it look like to you?" Velu continued to grumble under his breath.

"Look at that Asha! Look at HER husband. Buys her such an expensive saree, look at that chain! Hare Bhagavan! Let's his wife off at the ENTRANCE. Loves her so much that he doesn't even want her to walk a distance." 

"You're lucky sarees don't come in sizes or I'll have something to say here."

"I bore your children."

"She has three. We only have two."

"Two is more than enough for us. I don't need another clone of you."

"Maybe that's well. What if the next one is a clone of YOU?"

"Why are you parking here? It'll be hot soon!"

Velu tries to let the sounds of the traffic out win his wife's miserable complaints.

Preetha was a rather...verbose woman, so to put it. Nothing left her sight without being acknowledged by her tongue. 

"Sit here. You can see the bride better. Oh wait not here. That woman is here! Can't believe they invited them. I heard she had alot of problems with the bridegrooms's mother a few weeks back. Oh well, people are always such hypocrites. Money talks. Must be because her husband is so rich. And look at you."

"Can you hear what the lady at the back of us is talking about? For all you know HER son is a crook himself. Who is she to talk about Leela's son like that?"

"Oh you see there. That is the bride's father's mother's sister-in-law. I heard he got it real hard when the shares dropped. Serves him right for investing all he had. What will they do for their kids now? Never think about the future at all these people. I heard he's not a very nice man either. Womanizer."

The bands start to play marking the arrival of the bridegroom. 

"This boy is really good looking. We have known him since young, no? Im just worried what kind of a wife he's going to get. I hope the bride is a good match."

Soon after, the bride is escorted by a few relatives into the hall.

"That must be a really expensive saree. The bridal make-up is not very impressive though. THey must have gotten it cheap or something. Too much of jewelry. Makes her look like she's advertising for some gold shop. Look at the way she's walking. Looks a bit odd doesn't it. Like a limp. Oh ya I think Kapil's mum mentioned something about some accident the other day. Her nose is too big. Her eyes are too small. Such a fake smile plastered on her face. Look at that. Just look at that. The rings are too big. Why such big rings for such thin fingers. Actually she's too thin. Not very nice. She's not the right match for the boy. Let's go and see which caterers they're getting their food from."

Preetha gropes for her husband's hand. Which has turned somewhat softer, smaller, and little more withered than usual. Aware of her own senses for a splitting moment, she turns around slowly to where her husband WAS sitting. In place, is an elderly woman, draped in a simple cotton saree, with minimal jewelry and no make up. Tears are welling in her eyes. 

"Who are you?" asks Preetha still in shock.

"The bride's grandfather's sister."


p/s: If anyone who reads this comes for MY wedding, do me a favor and don't gossip about me. But you're free to comment about the bridegroom. I'm sure he would love to elevate my sorrow.

A Distant Dream

It is there, and yet...
It will not be mine.

Searching blindly in darkness, 
For something I think I lost,
Believing I owned.
Hoping its energy would guide me through the journey.

It is there, and yet...
It will not be mine.

Something I shall never stop yearning for,
For it was one of my many dreams,
That I wish would grace me in reality,
Only to realize 'possible' was a fool's conviction.

It is there, and yet...
It will not be mine.

Was it an illusion all this while?
Was I that blinded by desire that I saw not the truth?
Illusion, it may have been.
Disillusioned, I have become.

It is there, and yet...
It will not be mine.

I remain persistent and will go in pursuit,
Of a dream, I know could never be mine.
I hold not anything else in the cavity of my soul,
Except hope and faith in the one so Divine.

It will never be mine,
But it may have been mine.

Unreasonable Love (Part 4)

He cantinue coming. My two legs start woggle* woggle. I lean back to Malliga becas i vant to ask her something. I step on her leg fingers and she scream one lauvd scream. Taral stop walking. His eyes big big like moong dhal. Or did amma say mysore dhal? I stare her. "Vai you embress me like this?" 

"You step my toes yar!" she answer vith one funny sound. I think it yis called vining. 

Oh Ram! I fargot yabout Taral. I simply making myself look like phool talking to this nansense garl. I turn back to see vat Taral doing. I thought I goving to see him right behind. But ven I turn, he missing. Vhere he go? 

Yimpassible! He talking to that garl! I suddenly feel one feeling I never feel before. My blood heat up, my heart skip on my throat...I valk straight up to her and spine her to face my face. She yand Taral both look yat me shacked. Let them be. Vai I care? How dare she touch touch him yand talk? 

"What's your problem young lady?" she yask me. 

I smile yat her. I feel like laughing actully. Her accent so funny. Don't know vhere she learn how to speak like that. Then I realise I shouln't smile. I yangry with myself. I turn off my smile and pull her avay fram Taral. 

"How dare you touch touch my Taral like that and talk? Your Amma never teach you how to manners? Hah?" I ask her in timidating* vaice. 

Her two little bit hair eyebrows (not like my thick and nice nice one) go up and stay there. This girl getting vearder and vearder yar. Hare Ram! I slowly, this time yin Juhi Chawla style look yat him then try to smile styly. He sure veary proud because I vant to protect him so much. But when i turn to look yat him he still staring like moong dhal. I have to talk vith his mother yar. She need to change her style of cooking. Yeffecting his Lord Ram features too much. 

Then suddenly. You won't believe yit. My turn to have urad dhal eyes. That girl smiling yand holding his upstairs arm!!! Yand he not doving yenithing! Water start dripping yinto my eyes. I stand there in front of them. I feel like someone holding my heart yand not letting it hit. So many triangle sticks* pincing** my heart. 




*woggle- wobble 
*timidating- intimidating 
*triangle sticks- arrows 
**pincing-piercing

Unreasonable Love (Part 3)

"Malliga!! We're late, yar!"

"I coming I coming!"

I grabbing the silly garl's hand and drags her down my house stairs. She don't understand the yimportance of me being there on time. I turn around yand shacked to see her one eye big yand other eye chmall. 

"Vat happened di??"

"You never let me finish draaving my eyes buddhu!!"

"Ai, ai! Here I late far cricket game yand you busy painting face? Look me! I yam more yimportant guest than you yand even I come so simple. You think you competitioning with Juhi Chawla?"

I see Malliga look me up down. I awarely think back vat i vear. I finally wash hair with *meti and **sikakai, something carry away my jasmine flower when i bath, yand i vear pink t shart with yellow pant. Then only can extract Taral, no? Oh, I wolso vear lot of bangle. Then only can 'jingacha jingacha' yand clap when he throw goal.

* * *
"Eh di, vear is the net?? How they put goal?"

"Madhu!! Far the killionth time! This is cricket, yar!"

"Ahh.vokay vokay. Stap shauvting"

Once the game start I turn to the garl on other side and tell, "My Taral play like Michael Jardan yand David Begyam, no?"

I laugh pridely. I vant to show vone or two peeple I wolso know yinternational cricket workers. She stare at me. I collect the liquid in my mouth. Then I think nevermind. Let her jealous.

Far so lang I vatch him. Then sudenly yeveryvone start jumping yand shauvting. Oh, must be game finish. I look far him speedly. My heart almost stap. Hare Ramm! Why he flying?? Aiyo...they carrying him. Ai, ai!

Malliga call me to go home. I look saddedly at Taral while she pull my hand. Suddenly he look at me. My heart hop like horse, run like rabbit, turn like tortoise. He look at me! My hand pull this side, my heart and eyes pull other side. He still looking at me. Rama! Krishna! Oh lard! Vat do i do? Shankara! He valking! He coming! Ai, ai! 



*meti-fenugreek seeds
**sikakai- soap-nut powder
(both very good sources of protein for hair :P)

Unreasonable Love (Part 2)

"How vas school today chveetheart?"

"Mum! Can you please knock that accent off? Go take a course, get a tutor! Do whatever it takes. Just don’t talk to me in English till you learn to speak normally!"

"Vat is this rude behaviour abouvt? Do you want me to tell your acha?" asked my mum in a clearly hurt tone.

Sighing heavily and feeling bad almost immediately I said "Sorry mum, but you just remind me of that disgusting girl."

Her eyes immediately lit up like oil lamps in a temple shrine and it didnt take long for the light to spread all over her face. "Vich garl, mone?" she asked excitedly.

"Smells like a concoction of fermented coconut and sour milk, sounds like a parakeet and looks like an oiled grasshopper," I said in a dull voice.

"Mone," my mother started as she came and sat beside me. She took my hand in hers and said "You say she smells like yan Yindian garl, souvnds yas chveet yas ye bard, yand yis yas yactive yas ye grasshapper. Vat more could you ask far? I’m satisfied, go far her."

Unable to decide if my mother was mocking me, I gave her THE look and dragged my bags to my room. As much as I didn’t want to think about her, she kept coming back into my mind. Why? I had no clue. I didn’t even have the strength to force her out of my mind, and yet I couldn’t stand anything about her. From her name to her appearance to her pathetic intellectual abilities. "Taral! What is wrong with you? You’ve got maths to complete. Start now," said a stern voice inside me.

Another voice intruded. "Well indeed, Taral! I think Madhukshara is a really lovely and significant name if placed beside yours. And you know there’s something she’s hiding. Don’t even want to know what it might be?"

Complicated equations sat in front of me. But all I could concentrate on was Madhukshara. Voice number 2 was right. There was definitely something that she was hiding. Despite feeling like vomiting when she came near me something told me that there was definitely something behind that string mushroom like appearance.

Shocked at my own waves of thoughts I grabbed my pillow and flopped onto the bed. If these were the beginning steps up the ladder to insanity, I was climbing steadily. I fumbled for my cellphone to call Ratish and say I wasn’t coming for the game that evening. Suddenly I remembered she had overheard our conversation. And the past few times she had, she had turned up for the game. I had felt her eyes on me.

"Where the hell did THAT come from?" asked Voice number 1.

"I have no idea," I answered. I was beginning to scare myself. I never knew that I had taken so much notice of her myself until a few seconds ago. Shaking my head, I pulled my t-shirt over my head and checked myself in the mirror. "Does Madhukshara like muscular figures?"

I opened my cupboard to take a clean t-shirt. I picked a white one. "He looks like Lard Raam in that white t-shart, no?" I overheard Madhukshara saying the other day.

Unreasonable Love (Part 1)

NO! NO! I failed my English paper again. There goes amma all over again. “Hare Bhagavan! How can I have such a stupid daughter? Won’t you ever learn this language properly?”

I wake up fram my deep sleep with the sour taste of paneer and spinach curry in my mouth. I uncomfortably try swallow down the horrible taste but it remains there. I sleepiedly valk towards the bathroom and merely touch my teeth with the toothbrush. Hurryly I pour water over my body and walk out. Today no time to wash heair. I myself can sense the sour smell of sweat and coconut oil flying fram my hair but I can’t help it. I pour somemore oil to flat my hair down and put a big group of jasmine on my hair. Today go late surely teacher vill scold.

Then I think of him. I smile. I dream about how ve might bumper into each other today. But god is bad, no? He never lets it happen. Aiyo, there is amma again. I quickly race down steps so that can reach kitchen fast and make her keep quiet.

Within 10 minutes I’m ready to hop onto bus. Hai, hai! Crowd in India buses. They drive you mad, yar! Man sitting on ladies’ seat. Tsk tsk tsk. I fight with that fat lady again for my vindow seat. There goes the brown cow, I see Chandu chacha’s black doggie. All letting out vaste and eating food from same ground. Ai, ai!

School come already. I run until the yellow colour block then slow down. He shouldn’t see me running like this, no? Then he vill think I am so dying to see him. I mustn’t make it so obvious. That’s what Kareena Kapoor said in that movie yesterday. Vaat was the other thing she said again? Ahh..She said must lift your skirt a little and make him go pagal. Aiyo! Today only I have to wear chudidhar. I think for awhile. Then vun idea come to me. I lift up my sleeves to open up my dark thinly arms.

I try to remember how Kareena valked to her lover and I follow. He looks up. I get very yexcited. I show him my peerly teeth. He raises one eyebrow and cantinues to read. I take the seat closed to him. I try to peep into the title of the book he reading. It said ‘Alchemy of Desire’. Hey Ram! Veary good. He also desiring me. thats why he showing me that title. I also vaant to show I can read. I take out my favourite copy of Tenali Raman. I purpursely lift up the book to make sure he can read the title. Surely he vill like a girl who can read books.

My friends alvays tell me. It seems, his language is veary good. He write yamazing staarys and poyems. He also talk veary well. I see him going competition. Oh Ram! He is so jasmine color and beautiful looking yar! His height also veary nice. He play tabla veary well. I laugh in my head. He vill be shacked if he knew I can play the hop-scatch and catching game. My friends alvays say I play that bestest. I’m like their captain you know.

I sense him moving a little to the yather side. *giggle* It must be becaz he is shy of me. Hare Bhagavan! How can I thank you yenuf? You are answering aal my prayers. Let this love vork out. I will do yenithing far you.

I sit there like that until school bell ring. By then his friends are already vith him. I too vill be with him like that vun day. His smile is so darshing yar. I hear them planning for a game of cricket. Ok, I vill be there too. But sometimes I scared. You see, they all 4 years older than me. He also. They aal doving engineering carse in the school. But nevermind. Far him I vill go.

I vatch him until he dissolve around corner of building. Then I smile and walk in aapasit direction to my classroom. Such a lovely day no?