3 Latest Musketeers

So what all this fuss about marriage as soon as you cross 26. Okay ya, even I thought that my parents are super cool until 22nd July, last year. Someone told me marriage is full of restrictions. You either die young or married else see yourself becoming old and grumpy all alone. But no one tells you the story of what happens until you die. Lets assume I know three people. Bittu Banwari, who is not going to live for more than, say;3 years. Second one, Bhanu Chudasama is of course married, because her family wanted her to die a slow death and the third is my friendly neighborhood, The Grandpa, living next door.

Now Banwari is a guy who live in slums of India originating from Patna. My non-Indian folks can go and watch Slumdog Millionaire to know more about Slums. Banwari has this fantasy of going to Bangkok and banging chicks there before he gets banged by life. Hot girls in Bangkok is what he keeps hearing from his friends all the time. Apparently, he is saving money for this purpose. What he does for a living? No, he does not sell movie tickets in black. That will be stereotyping him. He also does not happens to be a small time smuggler. Perhaps, he sells pan masala at a bus stop. Why only chicks of Bangkok? Well may be as they say; one life, make it large.

On other hand Bhaanu is an underrated, over hyped IT professional apart from being a Gujju girl, married to Jiten Chudasama. Her only aim in life was to get married apart from being an independent girl. She achieved it. What she is doing in this story? Well that's the next part. How I know her? She buys smoke and condoms from Banwari's shop apart from the pan masala. What to say, Banwari keeps it all. The fantasy of her life, which is on the verge of having say no to sex, is to get a divorce from Jiten and live a separate life. Date men, boys, girls, women, drink, puke, sky dive, bungee jump, climb mountains and bang every one along the way. She thinks she can do this all but the stand alone factor that keeps her at the rim is the society. The paradox is the way society keeps faith in you to allow your life being ruined by another jerk who can do the same to you, without being even noticed or bothered. 

The Grandpa living nearby is another classic example of what to do and what not to do in life. He got it all from life. A successful business, five bungalows, and four wives, (God! The last one was a hot girl of tinsel town). No wonder he had a marvelous life. He is 84 now. Living in a 1 BHK apartment in New Delhi, all alone. As he says and I quote,"Yes, I had all the fun I wanted but what I miss more is the essence of true love my first wife had for me." I could sense the fun he misses and the fun he missed. At 84, he lives it all, parties, boozes, eat everything he wants, go places he wants, with just that one regret of doing this all alone.

Asking myself what I want from life, what I am going to have from it, I am clueless. Lives of Banwari, Mrs. Chudasama and Grandpa have nothing in common but that flavor of love that was always missing. As far as I am concerned, after being dumped in the last weekend of 2010, I am going to propose this awesome girl tomorrow morning. I hope she says. And yeah, I am the guy who gets his hand down on weed with all these three.

That girl & her yellow stole ..

It was going to be 10 pm and my sick project lead Dixit (preferably Dick-shit) was pissing me off. It was like all those usual days when he used to give us small dosage of irritating advices. To me he was a perfect "catalyst"- A substance, usually used in small amounts relative to the reactants, that modifies and increases the rate of a reaction without being consumed in the process. Altogether my whole day was screwed. I always gave my 100% to the job. 13% on Monday, 20% on Tuesday, 25% on Wednesday, 35% on Thursday and 7% on Friday. 

It was Friday, supposedly a day on which people want to freak out. On the contrary, Dixit was freaking me out. Finally, I left office at 10:35 pm. I would have travelled only a mile, when it started raining. I didn't want cough and cold as the next bad thing. Parking my motorcycle near to a closed tea shop, I went under its shelter. 

P.S: I won't waste time in describing the length and width of the shelter. 

It was raining heavily. It seemed that weather was never as good as it was then in Chennai. Something distracted my swinging mood. It was a stole. A pale yellow coloured stole. Strong wind worked enough to snatch her stole away. But that girl was in no mood to give up. Her umbrella was of no use in those conditions. She was all wet. Long curls of her hair were playing with the cheek. I was lost in the beauty of that moment. I don't know how, but I felt that my heart skipped a beat. Enchanted by her charm and grace, I ignored the fact that I was completely drenched in rain. Suddenly, everything around me became so romantic. I could sense a connection between us. Any word to describe this connection would have been inappropriate. 

She never saw me or maybe she did. But that time was not to think about all this. The moment for which I even didn't care about my iPhone getting wet in rain was, she crossing the road with all her attention on the not so busy road and mine on her curls and the yellow stole. I saw her disappearing in dark. It stopped raining. I was feeling like a piece of burning wood in a dying fire. My heart never felt so happy and content. Such incidents might be common for many, but how can I ignore the fact that my heart did skip a beat.

I can never define that part of my life, those 10 minutes. It's just a pious feeling. But the memory will always be there, undefined! That girl and her yellow stole ...  

The parrot of love!

Men aren't necessities, they're luxuries. I don't say this, though my friend Richie Rich says so. Smart, talented, good persona, charming, actually a cuisine that girls love to order. But he's among those that are served in 'dhabas'. Girls do go gaga over him, but yet no money gives him no honey. 

Yesterday I had a chat with him on his recent love market crash. He didn't seem much worried but was in a deep thought. "Hey Richie, are you fine?" 

"Yes Rathore, I am fine. Busy in figuring out something." On asking, I got back a boring yet emotional story of a lover boy who failed in his love life in spite of getting all the applauds. I came back home thinking and still trying to figure out the actual problem behind his break up. I'll just share his thoughts over his own love life. 

P.S.: Resemblance to any living or dead is purely coincidental. Generalising the event is on reader's discretion.

Love is a mutual self-giving which ends in self-recovery. Love is like a war, easy to start and difficult to end. According to Richie, love is a cuckoo's song. Soothing in morning and irritating for rest of the day. It's purely like Indian seasons, changes in no time. You search love throughout your life. If lucky, you get to hear the song. Bazzinga! You are entrapped. The love that seemed angel's gift to you was an enchantment. The charm works well and the cupid’s arrow finds its target. You see your incomplete world, complete.

"Poor prey, you are already dead. Because a mindless body is scientifically dead" as quoted by Albert Einstein. On the contrary, you don't die at once, as in tasting cyanide. But it’s something like you die running whole life behind love for love! This kiss of love is actually meant for 4 days, and rest, the side effects.

Soon love becomes an illusion and life a myth. And one day the cuckoo goes off just like that and poor parrot is left behind with no song. You spend your whole life behind the same genre of song and then one day you become old thinking of past glories. Who says Men are from Mars and women from Venus. Men are from Earth. Women are from Earth. Deal with it! 

"To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving. Therefore to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer. To suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy then is to suffer. But suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness." So that's love. Lovely yet complicated.