Back to School!

I was walking back to the tube station along with Manny when he suddenly asked, ’So how does it feel like…getting back to school?’.

Honestly, I was unprepared to answer that question. It was something I myself dreaded to ask my conscience.

Doing my masters’ in London happened quite by chance. I never really wanted a postgraduate degree to tell me what to do with my life. But alas, it was the only way I could start over, so here I am. Alone, all by myself & armed with nothing but a fake smile which I am forced to flash for the rest of the day…the same way I started my undergrad 8 years. Only things were different back then.

When I was 18, I never went around asking people if I could add them on facebook or linkedin.
When I was 18, I never had trouble remembering names no matter how weird they got.
When I was 18, my classmates knew I was one of them when they saw me gawking at a girl’s ass, not because I had an opinion to share about the markets.
When I was 18, I had the liberty to punch a guy in his face & could expect the same from him.
I am now 25…a seemingly better man than what I was 8 years ago…but feeling claustrophobic than ever. Growing up to a mature outlook has never been such a pain in the ass.

A great deal of academic institutions give importance to classroom diversity. Apart from the global perspective of classroom participation, there is an underlying (or rather much superficial) motive to let people network across hemispheres. I had a very dear senior of mine who said it would be an experience of a lifetime.

But with so much of emphasis on ‘networking’ & beer weekends, I ask myself ‘How many of them are actually willing take a walk with me instead?’, ‘How many would rather choose to count the stars with me & still not get bored?’ & more importantly ‘How many would be willing to act as my wingman to ask my crush out for dinner?’.
I doubt if there would be any. Why?
Cuz we are supposed to be big boys (& girls)!

Since when did making friends become that difficult? Or am I really making friends out here?
Have I reached a stage where I am diminished to a stage of an asset where people are willing to invest their time subject to ‘returns’?

No wonder people need a software to keep track of who I am & what I do.

I had the courage to admit to Helen that of all the people I had added in facebook in the last few days, fewer actually gave a f*** about me.

She just smiled.
Perhaps she knew what I meant. Perhaps she agreed with me on some level.
I am guessing it is probably the same with each of our friends on facebook.
Looks like we have been trying too hard to diminish ‘genuine’ human interactions.

She is the Third Kind

It was a warm summer evening in the winding streets of Cuffe Parade, Mumbai.
It is filled with old couples going out for a walk whose wrinkles are always full of life. A simple ‘Hi..’ to a Parsi lady in her 80s is invariably bound to earn you a vibrant smile in reply. Sundays are always the same.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any different, I saw her for the first time.

She was out for a walk, a rather unusual thing for a woman her age who normally prefer to jog.

She was plugged to her Ipod making her oblivious of the world around.

Her smile was peculiar. It was as if someone was whispering something to her she had been waiting to hear all her life. It seemed so everlasting which she refused to take off.

She was dressed in sleeveless top & shorts – All blue from head to toe.
Who could ever relate the colour ‘blue’ to melancholy & depression!
There was so much exuberance when it floated around her.

But her hair…I couldn’t really make out. It looked all smooth & fluid like that of silky hair. Yet her confined pony tail made it look all curly.

There are 2 kinds of women who can charm the daylights out of men at sight - One who allures all those around while radiating her clear-cut glamour & the other who merely hints her beauty leaving people guessing.

She was the third kind - A siren of charisma which left me guessing if she could look any better.
My question was answered when I met her at a party soon after. I was shocked.

There was no sign of grandeur. No more flashy colours. Her perfectly mould slander legs where obscured by her skin tight jeans which looked distinctly normal. Her florescent pink top did not seem enticing whatsoever. But her smile…she wore it like a medallion and flashed it around like an heirloom. She made it look all effortless and rammed the prestige of every single well-dressed woman around her. I couldn’t help but thank god for gifting me with vision.

Like I said, I was curious!
What was it about her hair? Curly or Silky?

I was looking for excuses to talk to her…or rather get close to her. I would try to wait behind her in the buffet queue, crack some lame jokes and laugh out loud leaning forward so I could get to feel her hair or maybe even dance with her hoping to see her whip her hair in rapture. But alas no L.

It was finally time to say good-bye & there was loud music playing.
I knew this was my chance. I took my shot.
I placed my palm on her back, went within an ear-shot to say good-bye while trying to feel her jet black locks of hair. It felt hazy all of a sudden!!

The flavour of shampoo knocked me out.
I took a deep breath of the aroma sucking in every bit of euphoria and lo…she was gone!
It would really take a man of might to shower her neck with kisses while trying to resist her scent of intoxication.

She left me guessing…along with all the other men at the pavilion.

One Last Chance

Dearest Sunshine,

Although it’s been ages since we spoke, I have always found excuses to make sure you lingered in my memories. Neither am I one of the fortunate few to greet you at work every day nor the guy who can be ‘physically’ present to hold the door open for you. Yet, that never stopped my subconscious from manifesting you in my dreams & the world around me. Distances can barely erode away your memories and your physical presence in nothing more than a mere jackpot for my senses. It is a great feeling to know we are still part of the same bio-sphere where the same stars that light up your night sky lull me to sleep every single day. That pretty much keeps me content with what I have in life.

However, I am no Buddhist monk when it comes to your pursuit. Happy with our brief association though, I still have an insatiable thirst to make you mine forever. Not because I wouldn’t be able to live without you but having your around in my life makes it so much more worthwhile.

That said, for the sake of smiles we had shared, I ask of you to grant me the privilege of one last chance to set things right as below –

• Give me another chance to walk down the corridor and greet you for the first time in school. I swear I will try my best to stifle my blush which had me gaping at your bright red ribbons.
•  Give me a chance to thank you for borrowing that pen. I was so obsessed with stealing it away from you so I could keep it as a souvenir.
• Give me a chance to sing for you one last time. I shall try to look you in the eye this time & sing my soul out, instead of doing it through a telecon.
• Give me a chance to make it better on Valentines’ day. You were sceptical & would only accept a single white rose back then. I shall respect your thoughts but fill your lunch bag with a bouquet of bright red roses this time, making my intentions amply clear.
• Give me another chance to fight with you & apologize. I want to enjoy the pleasure of bowing down my loved one.
• Give me another chance to listen to you when you are giving me an earful. I shall hold you close and kiss you instead.
• Give me a chance to gift you another teddy bear for your birthday. I shall dress up as one instead so you can hug me all day long.
• And lastly…give me one last chance to hold your hand while you trip. Come what may, I will never let go this time.

Smothering you with hugs & kisses,
Always yours,
Krishna