15 February 2010

Lauv Story Episode III

Ok yes, it was a setback. A big one, I admit. I mean what was the point of putting so much effort into a cause which was fruitless from the onset. I did however find her orkut profile, after much effort, and looked at all prospective boyfriends of hers and criticized each one of them. It was fun till my pesky neighbours/friends started banging my door for dinner and I swiftly closed the numerous tabs and removed the pages from the history as well (my friends really did not respect the privacy of computers). For the better part of next month, I preferred to spend more time with these pesky friends than with Anchal, in fact, every time I looked at her I visualized a wedding ring on her finger (I didn't know which finger is the ring worn on, so I imagined one on each finger) and the lechery I was committing in still pursuing her.

"The way you stare at me these days creeps me out, tell me you aren't fantasizing anything about me." She snapped at me one day, when I was looking imagining her in her wedding attire with a different man (considerably less smart than me, I ensured that).

Although, like all normal males, I really couldn't enforce those many limitations on my prospective set for long, especially when the universal set itself was meager, unsatisfactory, drought-like. I made up the list of females to substitute Anchal, and the list had two names, both written with much deliberation, and both crossed out eventually for purely aesthetic reasons. Also, I felt that the healthy start with Anchal shouldn't be sacrificed, the crowd still believed I was going out with her. There was hardly any harm in tugging along, or so I thought.

The semester was coming to an end and the comprehensive ecstasy in store for us was too much to think about such trivial matters like finding a mate for your life to eventually promote your genes in the society. So that's how the semester ended and came our hoildays Anchal refused to give me her home number despite all my valid and invalid protests. The fifteen days or so at home and the longing had been addictive, maybe she didn't give her number for this rery eason. The wait was unbearable, the next semester seemed to be a golden one.

But good things don't last long, do they? I could have so easily controlled myself, played along like a nice friend like she liked and who knows maybe that would have made her change her mind about me. But no, no no no, how could I make my story so boring. How could I, the rightful heir to the legacy of such bravados as Jeetendar, Shahrukh Khan and last, but not the least, Manoj Tiwari, not do anything stupid on the most awesome of the days imported in India by the Archies corporation.

Anchal had been warning me for weeks before the ides of Feb (well almost), directly and indirectly.

"What kind of an idiot would spend so much on stupid Valentine's day gifts?" -- Me.
"Do people really think that some day would give them the license to propose to a girl?" -- It doesn't?
"You're not planning anything, are you?" -- Oh, me.. ob not.
"I am going to slap anyone who tries any stunts on me tomorrow" -- That is not for me, I know that.

Looking back, it does seem stupid. Sane guys wouldn't try that, I wish I was sane. So sure I was of interpreting her signals since the beginning of this semester that I just couldn't screw this up. The generous souls at the CSA had organized a dance party on V-day (they probably failed at each of their basic duties as our representatives but they were most efficient at organizing dance parties at all important occasions- Lohri, Diwali, Holi, Rakshabandhan, Quark, Waves, Navratre and yes V-Day)..

And so, during the dance when she went to have a drink I went to the DJ (the sardar with the 1000 watt speakers who lived on the first floor and had the most crappy playlist on repeat), and submitted my recommendation. Perfectly timed, just as she returned to the floor, I went down on my knees with my outstretched arm holding the wrapped gift, and started lip-syncing my dedication being read out by the super awfully accented Sardar DJ. It ought to have been super humiliating because I did not even see that she had already walked off midway through the dedication and I, in my half-drunken stupor and half-closed eyes, hadn't seen it. And just as the sardar finished with the elaborately written proposal and I looked up, there were the faces of my pesky friends again, looking down with real sympathy.

Okay. At least, she did not slap me. (I also believed for a very long time that the awful reading of my awesome proposal by the sardar was the precipitating factor)

10 comments:

Teesta said...

Funny dood! really funny!! :P
n yes..i blame the sardar too...
n yes..i still believe its not fiction :)
funny writing tho!!

sawan said...

Well written...
i still doubt if its fiction or reality.....
yaar ..somehow continue this story...
i hope this is not the end

namrata said...

As others said it doesnt seems fictitious at all.gud work but i hope i wudve ben a book 2 read in 1 go rather than waitin 4 u 2 write few hundred words in a month......
nice work!!!!!!!!!!

ashu said...

wat a lauv story lambu...

4ever a Gunner said...

i liked ur prev one better ..btw keep it going :D

btw the sardar smhow reminded me of manvir :P

4ever a Gunner said...

btw wat i frgot to mention was that it obv is very fun to read!!!!!!!!

i believe it is fictitious tho :D ...and hope u get Anchal in the end ;)

nilesh said...

its reality ob... its just that i cannot imagine a sardar DJ :P

ratpik said...

Really good! Waiting for the climax :P

Anonymous said...

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nvssudheer said...

Good going! As always "DJ sucks" :D

Waiting for 4th episode!