Title Suggestions, Anyone?

It was the night of Saturday the 14^th. Yeah I know Friday the 13^th is supposed to be the big deal and all, but I’m coming up with this new thing where Saturday the 14^th will be the real thing.

So it was the 14^th and not having any definite plans for the night, I called up my friend S. We used to be roomies once upon a time (read a little over 4 years ago). Then he had moved out, had lived abroad for a couple of years, had come back, got married. But somehow we had never met. We had planned to catch up on New Year’s Eve, but even that plan fell through.

I called him up and we decided to go to this upscale watering hole, but before that we planned to meet up at this low-scale place. Let me explain. Like every financially challenged Bangalorean who likes to go to swanky pubs, we too followed a plan whenever we wanted to get hammered. We would first go to a economically friendly place (read a cheap bar), down a few drinks, and then head off to the happening place, where we would be more than glad to settle with just a couple of drinks and a few eats.

We met around 8pm and after gulping 5 neat whiskeys, S said, “Let’s head to the other place. My wife will meet us there at 9.”

Me: “Errr...what?”

S: “At 9.”

Me: “You invited your wife?”

S: “Yes. Is it a problem?”

Me: “Of course it is! I’ve downed 3 drinks...”

S: “It’s 4 actually.”

Me: “Yeah exactly! I’ve downed 3 drinks and I can’t meet her now!”

S: “It’s ok buddy, she isn’t gonna judge you. I’ve myself had 4 drinks...”

Me: “It’s 5 actually.”

S: “Yeah exactly! I’ve had 4 drinks, and if I don’t have a problem meeting my wife after that, I don’t see any reason why you should.”

I grudgingly agreed. We reached there, and around 20 minutes later walked in Mrs.S. Now normally as a rule, I don’t letch at my friends’ girls. But this...I mean that...I mean she...was something different. It was very tough to not notice how ravishing she was. And then there was the added pressure of having a decent conversation with her, without being too apparent with the staring. But somehow I got through that (by focussing on the other pretty young things in the place of course).

As time passed, I realized she was not just about the looks, she was pretty cool too. She was getting my jokes and cracking up some good ones herself too. After a while, I excused myself and went to the loo, where I tried to convince myself that she was off limits by coming up with 10 reasons. I got only 5. They are:

1.    S will kill me.

2.    S will kill me.

3.    S will kill me.

4.    S will kill me.

5.    S will kill me.

That not having helped much, I stepped out of the loo and headed back to our booth. When I got there, I saw Mrs.S sitting there with a confused and nervous look on her face and S was nowhere to be seen.

“What happened? Where’s S?” I asked, and turned around to see where she was staring. S was involved in a scuffle with two guys. I immediately rushed over, and pulled them apart, and got one blow on my shoulder as part of the deal. One of the two was wearing a tee that shouted “PERFECTIONIST”.

“Meet me outside if you have the balls!” yelled the Perfectionist as he headed out with his friend.

Not knowing what was happening, I turned and looked at S, and realized he was already on his way out. Drunken brawl Rule 1: “When your friend gets into a fight, you get into it too”.

So off I followed after S. The three had already started exchanging blows. I pulled away the Perfectionist and punched him across the face.

Drunken brawl Rule 2: “You never hit a guy in the nuts, not unless you are outnumbered.”

I was prepared for a right handed-punch, but unfortunately he was a left-hander and I got one on my right cheek. Before I could reel from the after-effect of the punch, I got a low-power kick on my right thigh. I was finding it funny that this guy who looked pretty huge and all couldn’t come up with a decent kick. Before I could chuckle at the thought, I got a pretty strong kick on the right side of my stomach. Trust me; a left-hander kinda upsets the rhythm of the fight.

Finally I managed to take a swing back. I aimed for his nose, and hit bullseye. He went off balance clutching his nose, and sat down on the sidewalk. With one of them out of the equation, I headed off to S’s aid and pushed the non-perfectionist away from S. He was stunned and turned to see that his ally was already down. Realizing he was out-numbered, he immediately put up his hands saying, “Ok ok I give up”.

I was confused. Do we continue fighting, or is it over? I looked at S, who was still spewing anger. I put my hand across his shoulders and guided him back into the pub.

Drunken brawl Rule 3: “The winners always go back into the bar, the losers to the hospital, or home, or to their Mommas”.

We went back in and Mrs.S was relieved to see us with minimal injury. S had a bleeding lip and I had no outward sign of having been in a fight. S told her what happened. She hugged him and my “And I get nothing?” was met with a customary chuckle by all.

S went off to the loo to wash up. I ordered a repeat of my drink, and that’s when Mrs.S said, “Thanks”.

I looked at her and smiled. She leaned over and hugged me, and the 5 reasons that I had listed earlier on why she’s off limits went off like a fire alarm in my head!

PS: Did anyone notice that I never mentioned the reason for the fight? ;)

Time Travel

A promo of a recent movie screamed out “If you could go back in time and change one thing, what would it be?” (Oh come on MS Word “would it” sounds more correct than “it would”!)

This got me thinking. What would I wanna change if I were to travel back in time? And then it struck me!

*Rewind to the time when Blunt was somewhere in the 3^rd or 4^th grade*

Li’l Blunt was playing cricket at the base of his building. Now there’s something you need to know about Li’l Blunt. Like majority of the children, who played cricket in India, he too hated fielding. Hand him a bat or a ball, and he’s the happiest guy around, but ask him to field and he gets all grumpy.

So there he stood all sulking and grumpy, when the batter hit a shot past him and he was expected to chase the ball, which of course had crossed the boundary line, but still had to be retrieved nevertheless.

“BLUNT!” The bowler had yelled the moment the ball was hit. Like every other bowler to have ever played the game, this one too didn’t like it when he was hit for runs and inadvertently found fault with the fielder or the pitch or the weather conditions or luck or the quality of the ball or …(you get the drift right?)

Bottom line: It’s never the bowler’s fault!

“Not again!” Li’l Blunt muttered under his breath as he ran behind the ball. And then he saw it. The ball had hit the door of a cab parked there. The cabbie was washing his vehicle and looked pissed. Now you must realize that kids of this age, playing near their buildings used to play with rubber balls, the kind that didn’t cause much harm when it hit a cab.

The cabbie had picked up the ball and was staring at Li’l Blunt, anger venting out profusely from his eyes.

“Sorry” Li’l Blunt said meekly as he reached near the cab.

Cabbie: “Why did you hit the ball on my cab?”

Li’l Blunt: “My friend hit it here. I’m just fielding.”

Cabbie: “Don’t give me answers, when I’m talking!”

Li’l Blunt: “But you just asked me a question.”

Cabbie: “Shut up!”

Li’l Blunt: “I’m sorry. Can I have the ball back?”

Cabbie: “It’s not your father’s cab, that you can just come, hit it and go!”

Li’l Blunt: “Why you dragging family into all this? I said I’m sorry!”

*Whack*

The cabbie slapped Li’l Blunt right across his tiny face.

Li’l Blunt (holding back his tears): “Why did you hit me? I wasn’t the one batting, I just came to fetch…” (His voice broke away as tears started finding their way out of his eyes)

Li’l Blunt’s friends had by then gathered around him and were pacifying him.

“It’s ok buddy. Let him keep the ball. We’ll go back” They said.

“BUT WHY DID HE HAVE TO SLAP ME?” Li’l Blunt yelled over his tears and looked at the cabbie with all the anger his little eyes could conjure up.

“DON’T YOU DARE STARE AT ME!” That was the last thing Li’l Blunt heard before another *Whack* sound blared into his ear. The cabbie had slapped him again. And Li’l Blunt was crying non-stop. His friends dragged him away as he howled uncontrollably.

“I’ll go right away and tell my Dad about this and he’ll come kick the cabbie’s ass” Li’l Blunt told his friends when they were at a safe distance from the cab and the monster who drove it.

“No no. It will just create more problems. Let it be Blunt. It’s alright. You’ll be fine.” They said.

And Li’l Blunt just kept crying.

*End of Flashback*

And for some reason, this incident stayed with me all these years. And if I could go back in time and change it, I might have wanted the ball to break the windshield of the cab, or ram into his nuts, or maybe both.

PS: Haven’t been around that much and don’t even have an excuse for the same. Just plain old laziness and boredom creeping in. And I know this ain’t the kind of stuff I normally write, but it’s been 5 months since I last posted, so obviously I would be a li’l rusty :)

Gang War

Final year of college. A time when life is simple. A time when nothing worries you. A time when you command respect. A time when you are king of the world (er...if not the world, at least king of the college!)

Langda came home one day all furious and angry.

Idiot: “Wassup?”

Langda: ***Angry stare***

Idiot: “Some girl turned you down again?”

Langda: ***Angry stare***

Idiot: “Some professor yelled at you in class again?”

Langda: ***Angry stare***

Idiot: “You have attendance shortage again?”

Langda: ***Angry stare***

I and SG (Smart Guy) were watching this interesting episode unfold in front of us.

SG (to me): “Do you think we should tell Idiot to stop blabbering after Langda breaks his nose or before?”

Me: “You actually have doubts on that? After of course!”

Langda: “A first year guy challenged me to a fight and there were girls around when he did it.”

Me: ***Stifled laugh***

Idiot: “And what did you do?”

Langda: “I didn’t do anything. He was huge.”

Me: ***Another stifled laugh***

SG: “Boy this is embarrassing.”

Langda: “You don’t think I know that!”

SG: “I’m sure you know that. I was just trying to rub it in some more.”

Me: ***Bursts out laughing***

Langda made a plan to go the junior’s place at night and scare the living crap out of him. The script, screenplay and dialogues are all ready and put in place. All friends who have bikes and cars are called up to set up the ambience.

At exact 9pm, 5 bikes and 1 maruti 800 screeched to a halt in front of the junior’s place. Our roles were clearly defined. Langda, Idiot, SG and DrunkA were supposed to go and talk. The rest of us had to just keep on accelerating the bikes. In exactly ten minutes, I had to enter the scene and say the stupidest line of my life, “Hey guys make it fast. We need to go meet the Triggers at Kainos also.” (Triggers was a fictional “gang name” and Kainos was a pub nearby. I wasn’t even sure if they would get what we were trying to mean with “Triggers”, but then what the heck I was just an actor and all I could do was obey the director.)

And wait, I had some more stuff to do. My second line would be, “Which is the guy?”

SG would point out the guy to me and I’ll give him a threat-filled look in slow-motion from head to toe and back to head.

Sick, I know.

So we reached there at 9pm. We waited near the gate and the foursome went in. Idiot rang the bell and waited. Around 4-5 juniors lived there and we were 14 cool (apparently) people.

SG was supposed to give the opening line. The rest were to start after that. The junior opened the door and was flummoxed to see the crowd. Langda, Idiot and DrunkA were waiting for SG to start, but they didn’t hear a single word. They turned around to look at SG, who had held up a finger pointing at the junior, but no voice came out. Stage fright had gripped SG and he just couldn’t talk!

The entire effect created by the “gang” was wilting off. A smirk seemed to be appearing on the junior’s face. The remaining three weren’t prepared for this scenario. DrunkA realized it was time he came forward and took the initiative.

Fatak!

DrunkA slapped the junior right across the face. Everyone was stunned. This wasn’t planned. All the effect and more came back. The scene turned way grimmer than what we had anticipated. The rest of them said a few words and I thought its best to enter the scene and finish the whole drama.

“Hey guys make it fast. We need to go meet the Triggers at Kainos also,” I shouted.

 The guys came back and as planned I asked SG, “Which is the guy?”

 SG pointed at the junior.

I put on the coolest look in my armoury and nodded my head and looked at him from head to toe slowly and back up. And then I noticed him looking at me up and down with much more anger and humiliation venting out of his eyes, courtesy the slap.

“Damn!” I muttered under my breath as we left the place.

A Visit Home and A New Lesson!

Every visit home teaches me some new stuff like the Pythagoras theorem, the theory of relativity and not to forget the Archimedes' principle. This time was no different. It thought me one lesson through different random incidents.

Scene 1:

I woke up the morning after I reached home. Mom got me my morning tea as I and Dad sat for a little Father-Son chat. It started off with an intellectual insight by Dad on the dinner prepared by Mom the previous night. I followed it up with a very thoughtful take on the dessert we had post-dinner. As Dad and I were peaking with one great point after the other, Mom called Dad for breakfast.

Both of us gladly hopped on for our first meal of the day. And when Mom saw me, she took me by surprise by asking the most unthinkable question: “Where are you off to?”

Me: “Eh? I thought you said its breakfast time.”

Mom: “Did you have your bath?”

Me: “Of course, I did.”

Mom: “Today?”

Me (sheepishly): “Err no. I didn’t realize you meant today.”

Mom (sarcastically): “Of course, you didn’t.”

Me: “Yeah big deal. I might as well have saved some water for the planet!”

Mom: “If that’s the case, you might just save some food for the planet as well. You know the rules here. No breakfast until you have your bath!”

Me: “Oh come on I’m not a kid anymore! Dad, see na.”

Suddenly Dad, who was listening intently and chuckling all this while, finds his breakfast interesting and starts staring at it as if he has to submit research papers on what constitutes his morning meal!

I let out a huge sigh and went for a bath.

Scene 2:

Lunch time at home. I had already downed what can only be described as the monthly food quota for an entire village. That’s when Mom leans to serve some more chicken on my plate.

Me (with a stuffed mouth): “No no, I’m full.”

Mom: “Are you kidding? What have you eaten till now?”

Unable to mouth anything (remember the stuffed mouth?), I just smile.

Mom: “You have lost your appetite.”

I smile some more.

Mom: “Here take some more chicken.”

I continue smiling, while Dad shakes his head.

Scene 3:

I and Dad are arguing about some very trivial issue. Now this is a very common occurrence. My visits home are incomplete without the mandatory argument with Dad.

This time it was about an IPL match. The situation heated up and decibels were raised. Mom sat between us playing solitaire on the iPod. I supported my claim with point by point analysis and live examples. I got Dad in a corner and almost literally shredded his stand and that’s when Dad took out his most lethal weapon: the veto power that all the Dads in the world seem to be born with.

He just walked off saying, “You are just talking nonsense! I don’t want to hear any more of this!”

I was left stranded there with a confused look on my face, while Mom gave out a smug smile, even as she continued playing solitaire.

So what’s the lesson I learnt from this visit home? “Some things never change!”

PS: Did you notice the new blog header? How’s it? It’s a gift from a very very sweet blogger friend for Blunt Edges’ second birthday. The said friend (yeah I have been sworn to secrecy) has sent me 11 blog headers and it’s very tough to choose a favourite, so I just randomly selected one and put it up. A huge thanks to the wonderful friend :D

I Swear To Drunk I’m Not God!

I was checking out the super hot girl who had just entered the pub. She looked around, evidently searching for a known face, and on not finding anyone headed to the bar counter. She perched herself on the high stool and looked towards the entrance. 

“Probably waiting for someone,” I thought. “And maybe that someone is sitting here just staring at her unaware of the bigger scheme of things.” Sigh! 

A tap on my knee snapped me back to reality. I turned to Absolutely-Sloshed-Friend (ASF). A very disturbed look engulfed his face.

“What?” I asked him.

He whispered something. I couldn’t hear him over the loud music.

“What?” I leaned forward and asked him again.

Again he whispered something. I gave him an irritated look and leaned even more ahead and said:

“Can you be a little loud?”

“I WANNA PEE!” He yelled into my ear. I bounced back to where I was sitting when this whole conversation began.

Me: “What’s the matter with you?” 

ASF: “I said I wanna pee!”

Me: “I heard that loud and clear.” 

ASF: “So?”

Me: “So what?”

ASF: “So I wanna pee.”

Me: “You have my blessings. Go ahead.”

Sober-Friend (SF) who had been quietly watching this scene till now decided to step in. 

SF (to ASF): “I’m happy to see that you do take expert advice before venturing into such a delicate and important task.” 

ASF: “Ok people. If funny is what you want, funny is what you get!”

ASF leaned back on the couch and starred unzipping his jeans.

Me: “Whoaaaaaa! What you doing sicko?” 

ASF: “Well you just gave me your blessings, so I thought I might as well use them to pee.” 

Me: “Ok listen. Lesson number 935. When you feel like peeing, close your eyes for a moment, think of all the good times you have had in your life, re-live them again in that one moment, then GET UP AND GO TO THE GOD DAMN LOO!” 

ASF: “Eh?” 

SF: “You didn’t understand what he said?” 

ASF: “No” 

SF: “Fine. Lesson number 936. If you don’t understand lesson number 935, punch yourself in the nuts and read lesson number 935 again.”

High-fives were exchanged between me and SF while ASF just stared at us blindly. 

ASF: “I wanna pee.” 

Me: “We have heard that. Tell us something new.” 

ASF: “I don’t think I can walk by myself to the loo. I’m feeling a bit high.” 

Me (sarcastically): “A bit?” 

ASF: ***cold stare*** 

SF: “Oh. Couldn’t you have spared us this torture by telling this right at the start?” 

ASF: “I’ll try the next time.” 

Me: “Next time? What are you? An oil well?” 

ASF: “Nope. A water tank. You got any problem?” 

Me: “None, as long as it’s your tap.”

High-fives were again exchanged between SF and me. We got up from the comforts of our couch and pulled ASF up. I held his arm firmly and walked him to the restroom. SF walked a step behind us. We entered the restroom. There were 4 booths there. I and SF propelled ASF on to the fourth one. 

SF: “Go on.”  

ASF: “Not while you guys are watching!”

Me: “Just to set the record straight, we aren’t watching.”

SF: “Ok. We will move behind.”

SF moved a step backward all the while keeping a hand over ASF’s shoulder.

ASF: “Leave me!”

SF: “You are swaggering dude.”

ASF: “Whatever. But I can’t do it when someone’s holding me.”

Me: “Yeah but you sure can do it sitting on the couch right in front of a crowd!”

ASF turned around and put out both his hands.

ASF: “See. I’m still. I can do this. Now you guys just turn around and stop looking after me like I’m a little kid.”

Me: “Cool.”

Both of us moved on to the other side. I told SF about the chick at the counter and we decided to toss a coin to see who will be her knight in denims if she is still alone there when we get back.

Suddenly we heard water flowing. We turned and what we saw left us speechless. ASF was standing next to the fourth booth and peeing right where a fifth booth would have been! Unfortunately, there wasn’t a fifth one.

Before we could process what was happening, the door opened and two huge bouncer-type guys (BTGs) came in.

BTG1 (to ASF): “WHAT THE **** ARE YOU DOING? CAN’T YOU ****ING SEE WHERE YOU ARE LETTING YOUR ****ING HOLY WATER FALL?”

BTG2 (looking at us): “IS THERE ANYONE WITH HIM?”

I and SF looked at each other, and then at the BTGs, then at their biceps, and then finally at each other again. Both of us knew exactly what the other was thinking.

We looked back at the BTGs, shrugged and left the restroom.

Is It Strange?

1. That this is the fastest consecutive post in the history of this blog? (Yeah it has a long history!)

2. That I carry 3 cell phones and less than 10 people have all the 3 numbers?

3. That I feel cheese-burst pizza is the best thing that’s ever happened to mankind? (Man how addictive is it?)

4. That I feel cheese-burst pizza is the worst thing that’s ever happened to mankind? (Man how many calories does it contain?)

5. That I feel Julianne Moore, at 49, is one of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen?

6. That I feel MS Word is wrong when it’s correcting me in the previous point that the word should be ‘women’ and not ‘woman’?

7. That the last 4 points started with ‘That I feel’?

8. That somewhere in my mind a voice is telling me that if I make a list it’s gotta contain 10 points?

9. That I have a favourite booth/urinal in the office restroom?

10. That I heaved a sigh of relief that the count reached 10?

11. That I like Coke more than Pepsi? (And yeah if you give me Coke and Pepsi without telling me which is which, I can still point out Coke!)

12. That I love watching movies at the theatre and watching them in the TV/laptop isn’t half as much fun?

13. That I’m addicted to SMS chatting? (On an ordinary day, close to 100 texts find their way out of my cell)

14. That I can’t, for some reason, enjoy the movies that have come before my time and are regarded as “classics” (read ‘The Godfather’ series and the like. Sholay is an exception)?

15. That in the previous point, I was confused of where to put the question mark, before or after the braces?

16. That on some days, my appetite touches sky-high limits? (No matter how much ever I eat, I still don’t feel full!)

17. That I’m gonna end this list on a totally non-happening count of 17?

PS: This is the 25th post on Blunt Edges. Thanks to everyone who has ever taken out time to read at least a single line here. And a special mention to the 68 followers, I must say, you have a great taste! ;)

Namma BMTC (Not-so-loosely translated as ‘Our BMTC’)

Everyone who has been to Bangalore and has travelled in the BMTC buses here, please raise your hands! (The rest of you can scratch your chins :D)

The BMTC bus conductor takes pride in not returning the exact change when you buy the ticket. If you give Rs.30 for a Rs.25 ticket, he’ll get you the ticket, and with a ease that comes only with years of practice, he’ll write “5” behind the ticket. Now this means that any time before you get down, you had better “remind” him that he has to return you the change, that is, if you actually want the change! But if by any chance you forget to remind him about the fiver, don’t expect him to remember and return it to you. Mind you, it’s not because he has any intention of keeping your money, but the simple reason is that he is a very very busy man, who doesn’t have time to remember about the trivial amount. Which, in fact, he could have easily returned to you the moment you bought the ticket as is bag is always overflowing with loose change, but he doesn’t. Because he wants to improve the collective memory of the citizens of Bangalore! (So nice of him na?)

And when you do remind him about the change, and he returns it to you, he’ll tear the ticket or scratch off the “5” just in case you don’t ask him for the change again later! You see, there’s room for only one smart-ass in a BMTC bus!

So, last week, I boarded a bus, found myself a seat, took out the cash and bought a ticket. And I was lucky enough to get a “7” behind my ticket (yeah I like to think of it as some kinda lottery ticket!) I didn’t know how much the ticket would cost and therefore couldn’t provide the exact change and ended up with the 7 on my ticket.

Now 7 is a very odd number. Yeah you would think it’s not even, so it’s odd. But how on earth is it “very odd”, right? It’s very odd because it doesn’t matter much when it’s a 1, 2, 3 or for that matter 4 behind the ticket. Even if I forget to ask it and lose the money, I feel it’s a small amount. It’s actually “change”/“chillar”. But when it touches 5, it kinda becomes not-so-small. Its half-plate panipuri! It’s a Cadbury Munch! It’s not chillar anymore!

So, mindful of the fact that I do have to remind the gentleman in khaki about the Rs.7 he owes me, I sat there listening to 'Hey there Delilah!' on my cell. Around halfway into the journey, the conductor came near me. And me being a Bangalorean with a reasonably good memory, said:

“Boss, saat rupaye dene hai” (“You gotta pay me 7”)

The conductor looked at me as if I had asked him to give me half of his salary! I thought the busy man had, as usual, forgotten about the money and dished out the ticket from my jeans. He gave a scowl and said something in Kannada. I normally can make out the gist of most things I hear, but this was a total bouncer.

I asked: “Kya?” (“What?”)

He: (muttering some more stuff in Kannada under his breath) “Where? Stop?”

I told him the name of the stop.

He: “You don’t ask. I give”

Saying this, he turned and walked back to the front. I was stunned. Now this was a first. They normally mutter stuff and pay. By the time I regained my composure and thought I should say something, he was standing next to the driver.

I shook my head and suddenly realized that everyone around me was looking at me.

Tish-phish-doom-shoom-BOOM!!! And there lay my ego on the floor of the bus all splattered and squashed!

I just did what a man does in situations like this. I switched the song to Nickelback’s 'Rockstar' and started playing Mini Golf on my cell! So, engrossed was I putting the ball in the hole that I didn’t realize that my stop had come. I jumped out just a quarter of a second before the doors of the bus closed and that’s when I remembered that I never got the 7!

I looked into the bus and saw the conductor looking at me from the window. I gave a scowl back and stared at him. The bus started moving slowly and I had to cross the road. He was still staring at me from the glasses at the back of the bus and even I didn’t move my gaze. Time stood still as neither of us looked away. The silent mature battle of the egos of two fully-grown men was on full display to the entire world but not a single soul apart from the two of us knew about it!

“You ain’t gonna win this one dude!” I yelled at him without saying a word.

SCREEEEEEECHHHHHHHHHH!!! A car braked right next to my legs. I had walked right to the middle of the road staring at the conductor.

“You blind *******! Can’t you ******* see and cross the road? Bloody ********”...” that’s the last thing I heard as I ran onto the other side of the road far from BMTC conductors and angry drivers!

Note: I know I haven’t posted in a long while. And writing this one also took some effort with all the rustiness creeping in. A huge thanks to all the people who at some point or the other coaxed me to update. It really feels good to see people wanting to read something I come up with. I have never been prolific with my posts: 20 posts in 18 months isn’t something to boast about. All I can say in my defence are the famous lines by Miss Kido:

“Cowards blog everyday...The brave blog but, once in a while!!!”

My First Time

 

 

"The first time, they say, is always special.

The first time, they say, is always memorable.

The first time, they say, is the best."

My first time was in college. I had stayed in the college hostel for the first sem. N after 5 or so months of terrible food, a terrible timetable n an even more terrible warden, we shifted. “We” is a group of 4: me (has there ever been a “we” without a “me”), Idiot, SG n Langda.

Note: These characters (yup they really were some characters!) have made fleeting appearances in A Police Story and Jhumbalaka Jhum.

So “we” found ourselves an apartment n started a new life without any warden, without any timetable n most importantly without any food. Idiot n Langda claimed they can cook like a dream, guess all they meant was they can cook IN their dreams. So we ended up eating outside all the time!

Now the problem was that we almost always skipped breakfast coz by the time we woke up n pulled ourselves to college, it would be late. N we all being quite “liberal” eaters, this directly affected our academic performance ;)

Then one day Idiot came with the news that a lady in the building provides breakfast to many families there. He suggested that even we should try this breakfast outsourcing thing to which we all readily agreed coz when it comes to matters of food, no one argues with Idiot!

So it was decided! The lady was assigned the honour of getting us the 1^st meal of the day every morning n we could no longer give “lack of breakfast” as an excuse for not performing well in the exams!!!

N thus started our tryst with idlis, dosas, neer dosas n the like. She used 2 get it by 7.30 every morning and we had to tell her how many plates she should get the next day. Plain n simple.

The food was good, we were happy, but for some reason, our grades never improved!

The lady knew only kannada and only SG knew the language of the land. So we were at his mercy 2 talk 2 her every day. One day SG wasn’t there and this lady came n said something, which by our loose translation skills meant: “My kid will bring in the food tomorrow”

Now this lady had 2 children: a teenage daughter and a school-going son. We got into a guessing game about who would bring the food the next day. No points for guessing who the favourite was! :D

So the next morning, the 3 of us woke up early n waited for the breakfast to arrive. The bell rang! I beat the other 2 to open the door. N there was a 10-year old kid standing at the door with our food.

***Collective sigh***

Sadly, I took the food and passed it to Langda, who, even more sadly, took it to the kitchen. The kid hung around to get back his plates n all of us just ignored him. That’s when he asked me THE question: “Mummy asked how many plates should I get tomorrow uncle?”

***Silence***

“Uncle?”

***More silence***

“UNCLE?”

“OK! Four, FOUR, FOURRR!”, I think I might have shouted!

He ran off scared. My friends were still in shock. N not a single soul spoke for 5 whole minutes. N the silence broke after exactly 5mins, when Idiot asked, “Breakfast anyone?”

N that’s the first time someone called me “uncle”.

"The first time, they say, is always special.

The first time, they say, is always memorable.

The first time, they say, is the best."

Wish I could get my hands on the moron who said that!