It all started the in the year 7 of this nacheez's life. The time when I was enjoying learning how to pee in the hole. Long before I dissolved myself into the devoted act of kick-ass acts like saving the world, peace protests in Uganda, helping the UNO, peeking into neighbours's bedrooms at night, cleaning dog-poop off the roads etc - there was an event that shook the the world, erm!
So here I am at this kiddo'z birthday party. How did I get here? My sister's not-so-good-friend, Nikita, who had not invited me(she never even knew me!) turned 8 or something. How did I get here? I don't-a-know. Seems I was best-dressed in my favorite mickey-mouse sweater that winter. I was an uninvited guest to unknown people so un-awkardly I had no company. There were girls, too many girls. Not that I was a girl-shy-boy then, accounting to the fact that all my neighbourhood kids were girls, except the twin brothers who were cry-babies. You know, they'd lose and then cry. Pfft. Then there's an elder sister effect, especially when she is your idol, in those foolish years. No sis, you still are. So much to justify a friend-circle, phew!
Laugh all you want, but I was the rocker of the mohalla, having out-played them girls in all those girly games like Posham-pa bhai ahem-ahem..! You don't want me to name others. And all you grown-up girls, I know all your dirty secrets. Haha, crappy friends- at the age of 8-9 would talk of boys using initials - GM, AA.. shhh! Khusur-pusur that I used to hate, innate. It's not like I used to sing in the bathroom "..imagination, it is your creation.. I'm a barbie girl.." No, I didn't. NO!
Ah, back to the party. Turns out, there was one girl-friend of mine amongst those mixed-up heads. Neha. Class-mate, partner for two years running, that's like a century in friend-years. Saviour, the little girl. By then Nikita had seemingly established me as a guy-intruder in her room. She started targeting me. I swear! Then it happened. In the irritating kaana-phusi I heard the words, "Manu aur Neha ka chakkar chal raha hai".
I don't remember what questions popped up in my head at that instant, what conclusions - the man inside the boy took stand - and I started crying. I cannot recall having cried so hard EVER in my life. Not even when I was forcibly sent to school each day, and boy, I did put up some show before school! Hawww-chhii thought that I had in me, I had the whole party-junta and Neha trying to distract the cranky kid. Distract, hah! I have had utter focus since childhood, immovable.
I can recall the culprit and b'day girl, Nikita, saying, "humne inhe yahaan rone ke liye thodi bulaya hai". Instantly moi shouts, "to kya insult karne ke liye bulaya hai?" I have been this I-say-things person ever since childhood. Fair-play to people who get fed-up of me! INSULT, saala mazaak hai kya? Me and my friend. Pheww! They had to get me dropped back home with the servant I remember. Not that I missed the cake though, infact got one extra packed with me. As it turns out, my gain ;-)
The next morning, after assembly, I remember not having talked to Neha till then. She came to me and said these exact words, "Manu, don't worry. Hum kal raat ke baare mein kisi ko kuchh nahi batayenge!" Sweet, it was, of her. Love her for that.
True Story.
Each person has there own wonders to interpret. As I narrated this to a friend, with a eureka-ish look on his unshaven face, he uttered, "Boy, we are all craving to hear those words at this age". What can I say about that! I was a playboy in playgroup? Would you believe me if I say I didn't make that claim then and there? :P
The friend is convinced of my unequipped-ness of this healthy-practice-for-the-youth. He wonders will I ever? I said I would but she's got cooties. Then comes the "dude, seriously!". That somehow reminds me of Bitch, Please! Anyway, I told him I will answer him, one-fine-day.
One day I will find that one special person in my life. Perhaps a tall, dark, handsome girl who apparently reminds me of my great-grandfather's photograph from the oldest of family album my grandfather has tried to maintain - for decades. She'll never have heard of Woody Allen or Wodehouse, and will crack jokes strictly based on double-meaning lines. I'll fall, into one of those love things. Instantly. And then, a wise human that I am, I won't rush into the act of getting married, even though I am 46 years old. Another fine day when I have sucked in all the marijuana I want to, I will marry her - in a church, just in case she wants to run, away. And then we'll get into an M.o.U of poking each other for a lifetime, little that I'll have left. Perfect at stories, I am, he says. Dichotomy.
GROWING UP III
So here I am at this kiddo'z birthday party. How did I get here? My sister's not-so-good-friend, Nikita, who had not invited me(she never even knew me!) turned 8 or something. How did I get here? I don't-a-know. Seems I was best-dressed in my favorite mickey-mouse sweater that winter. I was an uninvited guest to unknown people so un-awkardly I had no company. There were girls, too many girls. Not that I was a girl-shy-boy then, accounting to the fact that all my neighbourhood kids were girls, except the twin brothers who were cry-babies. You know, they'd lose and then cry. Pfft. Then there's an elder sister effect, especially when she is your idol, in those foolish years. No sis, you still are. So much to justify a friend-circle, phew!
Laugh all you want, but I was the rocker of the mohalla, having out-played them girls in all those girly games like Posham-pa bhai ahem-ahem..! You don't want me to name others. And all you grown-up girls, I know all your dirty secrets. Haha, crappy friends- at the age of 8-9 would talk of boys using initials - GM, AA.. shhh! Khusur-pusur that I used to hate, innate. It's not like I used to sing in the bathroom "..imagination, it is your creation.. I'm a barbie girl.." No, I didn't. NO!
Ah, back to the party. Turns out, there was one girl-friend of mine amongst those mixed-up heads. Neha. Class-mate, partner for two years running, that's like a century in friend-years. Saviour, the little girl. By then Nikita had seemingly established me as a guy-intruder in her room. She started targeting me. I swear! Then it happened. In the irritating kaana-phusi I heard the words, "Manu aur Neha ka chakkar chal raha hai".
I don't remember what questions popped up in my head at that instant, what conclusions - the man inside the boy took stand - and I started crying. I cannot recall having cried so hard EVER in my life. Not even when I was forcibly sent to school each day, and boy, I did put up some show before school! Hawww-chhii thought that I had in me, I had the whole party-junta and Neha trying to distract the cranky kid. Distract, hah! I have had utter focus since childhood, immovable.
I can recall the culprit and b'day girl, Nikita, saying, "humne inhe yahaan rone ke liye thodi bulaya hai". Instantly moi shouts, "to kya insult karne ke liye bulaya hai?" I have been this I-say-things person ever since childhood. Fair-play to people who get fed-up of me! INSULT, saala mazaak hai kya? Me and my friend. Pheww! They had to get me dropped back home with the servant I remember. Not that I missed the cake though, infact got one extra packed with me. As it turns out, my gain ;-)
The next morning, after assembly, I remember not having talked to Neha till then. She came to me and said these exact words, "Manu, don't worry. Hum kal raat ke baare mein kisi ko kuchh nahi batayenge!" Sweet, it was, of her. Love her for that.
True Story.
Each person has there own wonders to interpret. As I narrated this to a friend, with a eureka-ish look on his unshaven face, he uttered, "Boy, we are all craving to hear those words at this age". What can I say about that! I was a playboy in playgroup? Would you believe me if I say I didn't make that claim then and there? :P
The friend is convinced of my unequipped-ness of this healthy-practice-for-the-youth. He wonders will I ever? I said I would but she's got cooties. Then comes the "dude, seriously!". That somehow reminds me of Bitch, Please! Anyway, I told him I will answer him, one-fine-day.
One day I will find that one special person in my life. Perhaps a tall, dark, handsome girl who apparently reminds me of my great-grandfather's photograph from the oldest of family album my grandfather has tried to maintain - for decades. She'll never have heard of Woody Allen or Wodehouse, and will crack jokes strictly based on double-meaning lines. I'll fall, into one of those love things. Instantly. And then, a wise human that I am, I won't rush into the act of getting married, even though I am 46 years old. Another fine day when I have sucked in all the marijuana I want to, I will marry her - in a church, just in case she wants to run, away. And then we'll get into an M.o.U of poking each other for a lifetime, little that I'll have left. Perfect at stories, I am, he says. Dichotomy.
GROWING UP III
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