My First “ Love letter!”

Before I start the blog I want to declare one thing. I don't intend to offend anybody! (I might just offend with my intent).See, what’s the point in writing if I can’t even annoy someone.Tact is for people who aren't clever enough to take the p*ss. Ok, let’s get to the point: I wrote my first love letter in my 5^th grade! As characteristic to all love letters, mine was also written to “Lover”. But u see, there is a catch –it was “not my lover”. And as in all love stories there is a boy & a girl – Sriram & Deepika, though I play the main role (not surprising since I’m writing the blog). All the world loves a good loser: Welcome to the world of a loser.

Rolling back………….

It was my first moral science class in the year( Ya, v had a subject on moral science, with proper textbook, test, homework and a final exam).Every Friday 2 hrs. The new teachers name was Munna. He was the music cum moral science teacher. Weird combination! It was like Michael Jackson being asked to take up history of ancient India. But considering he was jobless apart from his morning songs in school prayer (Which sounded more like a trapped mouse’s pathetic wails) he was asked to take up the MS class. N he started with “ I speak 6 languages and English is the bestest!”. Then proceeded to give notes in his “bestest” language which was the first of a long series during which his notes became our notes without passing through the mind of neither. He finally concluded the first hr before break with some crap about discipline, “Discipline is very important in life. Even in case of a fire u have to line up in height order and leave the campus quietly!”( Wats the logic in dat? Wat, do tall people burn slower?!).

During the snacks break Sriram was staring at the space. It was not a secret, he had the brains of a 4 yr old ( n I’m sure de 4 yr old was glad to get rid of it).Smartness ran through him that the teachers in his class had to stay back for one more year to get a grip of his brain. After 3 mins of staring, he blurted out “God!, Im in love with Deepika!”.It was my turn to stare. I was as shocked as I would have been if he had told me he was gay. Now, him falling in love was relatively less shocking than whom he had fallen in love with. Deepika was considered by many as miniature lady binladen. If rumors were to be believed she bites when provoked, sneezes in her sleeves and she is the girl you often visualize with a duct tape around her mouth and smile to yourself on the temporary satisfaction. If she were a boy, she wouldn’t fall in love with herself. But you see, after all ‘Love is blind!’ (But I’ve been curious, If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular?).

After giving enough time for me to absorb the shock, he told that he wanted me to help him write a love letter . Not that I’m too good in this stuff. But he cannot write a leave letter for nuts, so a love letter was way out of league. If A was English and B was Sriram, A intersection B was a null set. Normally I wouldn’t have bulged but he tempted me with a Nestle bar. The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to itJ. So I took out a paper n tried to write something. I jus wrote –“ I LOVE U- Sriram 5^th B.” He looked at me as if he had just witnessed the making of Monalisa by Da Vinci. He requested me to hand my master piece to her on my way out. Jus 4 words and a small delivery for a Nestle din look like a bad bargain. On my way out I gave it to Deepika. She asked me what it was and I told her in a dry tone it was a Love letter and left the class.

As usual, I came to class 5 mins late after break. There was dead silence. Munna stood there like a Hindi movie villain with the letter in his hand. Oh, so Deepika has done what was expected. Sriram is gonna be screwed. But I felt it was a better result than a ‘Yes’ from Deepika. Suddenly, Munna asked me not to enter the class.I felt everyone was staring at me and it just struck me – The letter was not yet opened! Munna proved my theory right n said to the class “ This young hero has written a Love letter in my class ! My class!. How daring is this scoundrel!” All the girls in the class had a mini orgasm and the guys looked confused. I tried to blurt out “ No sir , jus open and see the letter “. He did the unthinkable. He tore the letter and threw it in my face! I looked at Sriram. He covered his face with the MS book and appeared to be engrossed. Deepika was in tears. I wondered if I must cry too.

Then Munna shouted at me “ I want you to go and meet the Principal”. Now why do teachers ask students to meet the principal? Can’t they deal with situations themselves? I wonder if they get some kind of performance incentive on the basis of cases reported. Even after much begging and fretting he dint give up. So I went to the principal’s office. The office boy stopped me outside and asked ” why do you want to meet her?” (The things most people want to know about are usually none of their business). Now, what can I say? That I came by to appeal for the unrecruited love of my friend who is making love to moral science in class now, while I got all screwed up here. “I wanted to ask for 1 week leave” I told him. Luckily she was not in office. I went back to class n told Munna. He immediately told what I had dreaded.” I want to meet both your parents”.( What was he? A matrimony website agent?)

End of play :

I somehow dodged him for one month , cut schools on Fridays, told him my parents were out of town and managed still things cooled down. Gossip had done its job and Scandal is gossip made tedious by morality. Soon the entire school knew about the episode and some idiot told my mom. My mom told my uncle n you could imagine all the advice sessions I would have undergone. All this for a Nestle bar!

P.S:

Last I heard, Deepika is in NIT Trichy. She looks stunning, no longer sneezes in her sleeves, a perfect 10 and a ‘mustwatchtwice material’ was the exact comment I got when enquired. Sriram is doing fine, got a girl friend and I hope he writes his own love letters. Now, all that is left is this looser who s got nothing better to do than post a blog.

And, for the record: I’m still single- by choice (Not my choice!)

THEY CALL IT "C.R.I.C.K.E.T"

Writing is a lot like sex! At first u might do it coz u jus feel like it, but for u to do it again, others must also like it:).And some are so good at it, that they might even end up doing it for money!! (I meant the writing part, seriously). Ok, What I’m really trying to say here is I’m writing another blog n u gotta put up with it coz a few people, apart from me, liked my previous blog (or at least that’s what they told me).N I’m writing about something that’s occupied most of my free time (technically it would be the time I’m not sleeping): CRICKET!

Now, my 70 year old neighbor has been the travel agent for my guilt trips. He instigated a serious thought when he asked “now at this age why do you still play cricket? “. Not that I take him seriously (at his age nobody does anyway).If he had followed even half the advice he’s given me he would have landed at the Whitehouse longtime back. But still his question was nagging me. Now, my age was not my botheration. I know a guy, who is so old that when he orders a 2 mins noodles they ask for payment up front, n he still plays cricket!! But still that question as to “why” we play has been nagging my mind.


We ve played almost everywhere. Starting from street, ground, terrace, garage, house, corridor, night cricket, rain cricket …. I think it covers almost all possibilities. But I’ve never considered this question “Why?” .Why do we still play can be a difficult question to answer… See, why do people fall in love? Why do guys start smoking? Why do people wear tight jeans even though they have flabby thighs covered by their stomach? Why do some people wear those ridiculous sun glasses even if they can’t tell the difference between their neighbor and his wife with the glasses on?....

Ill tell u the reason: Coz they all wanna feel heroic! They all want that micro mini moment that shrinks the world in front of them and makes them HUGE. And I think cricket is the institution that gives us the space to be heroic.

We can't all be heroes’ coz someone's gotta sit on the curb and clap as they go by.
But still we need something that gives us the chance to feel heroic. Aren’t we all something bigger in our mind and in our own little world while playing? Isn’t mani the Dhoni when he sets the field? Isn’t Ashwin the Allan Donald when he used to open the bowling? (U should have seen his run up; I don’t go that far even on a holiday!). Isn’t Bala the Yuvraj when he plays that flick? Isn’t srinivas the Shane warne when he bowls? (Now, the other main advantage I can see when he’s bowling is that he is not fielding!!). Isn’t Gundan the Sewag when he hits them miles? …. Yes we are all the heroes here!! Even a little dog can piss on a big building:).

Conclusion is a place where you get tired of thinking:

Yes I know, for some my reasoning might seem idiotic, illogical & stupid. Opinions are like assholes, everybody’s got one, n you can’t help it! I’m not trying to give justification here for wasting our time. All that I’m trying to say is that we are NOT wasting time! Coz my opinion is (forget that asshole part for a sec) that the time enjoyed wasting is no wasted time at all. And it’s all simple. The mind of us, the useless gully cricketers, starts with an H and ends with an T, listening with an EAR in-between while playing “C.R.I.C.K.E.T”

Eschew obfuscation

I ve never thought ill write a blog in the first place. Writing has been so alien to me right from the time I learned to write .This is probably coz of 3 reasons.

1. I got a damn poor mind which can think of only one way to spell a word.
2. If at all I can do something better than everybody else, it’s reading my own handwriting! &
3. I guess I’m just too lazy to put my bum in a place long enough to write something meaningful.

But I think writing a blog is different coz I’m not exactly writing but typing (I know the reasoning sucks). N moreover I can avoid the Embarrassment of a spelling mistake ( U guessed right, I spelled Embarrassment wrong the first time!!)

So, lets face it here I am with my first blog!!


School life is like a lollypop. It sucks until it’s gone!

I wanted to share one of the routine days in my school life. And this happened in my high school first week. We were five of us in our bench .Yes, can u believe it? 5x 2 butts in a bench! (V had to wait still one of them moved out to scratch in case it itches) Duba , Ash , Bharat , Vdog n me . I’m not sure what brought us 5 together. Bharath was my previous school mate, I took an instant liking to Duba probably bcoz he was shorter than me (in short, very short!) and the other two probably jus knew they belonged here.

If any thing everyone had an individuality. Bharath was really tall. Vdog(Vinay) had this peculiar habit of breaking into sunny smiles at proximity with anything remotely human . Duba(Prabakar) was an astounding thinker. (When he was 2 he became really anxious bcoz he s doubled his age in a yr and @ this rate by the time he turns 5 he d be 64!!) Ash usually tries his hand at heroism with funny side effects.

Now to our episode: Our school had this concept of having a studying hour every day end (wat the hell are v supposed to do in other hrs, not studying? I don’t know).It is as ridiculous as having a smoking zone in a pub or a pissing zone in a swimming pool! No prof wil be in class but v need to remain silent n just study. Believe me, some nerds actually do sit n study .But these were killing times. Bless book cricket and pen touch.

Pen touch might be just another useless game to kill the time. But try telling it to guys in class room who are supposed to shut up and stare at books or our class girls (the former was a better option I can tell u that). The class was unusually noisy and we were engrossed in one of those thrilling pen fighting encounters. It was a close one which dragged still the end and a nail biting finish awaited for the fight of days championship. While duba was aiming the final shot, suddenly the class fell really silent as if to pay homage to the nerve of the moment. And then there was a BANG!!

Now, my school has this unwritten rule that any professor can burst into any class anytime and whack someone so that everybody else shuts up. And today we were the lab animals. Duba got wacked so bad inspite of his innocent looks. He looked as confused as a baby in a naked bar. Imagine someone jus walking into a class and hitting u. He was nearly in tears. (It takes a big man to cry, but it takes a bigger man to laugh at that man.Yeah, I’m the bigger man.)

Next was ash’s turn. He doesn show pain when girls are looking at him. (It is this thing with men , they become a completely different creature when the opposite sex is within the visibility plane.)And I should say he managed well. Bharath is too good in surrendering under pressure. Vinay was actually experiencing equanimity in the midst of turbulences .He was still smiling l!!!

Now me!!! I ve not been a goody goody boy I know. But I ve never before considered the prospect of being smacked in front of 65 guys and 60 girls. I think he took an instant liking to me. It is this look in my eyes, I guess. I give a kind of scared rabbit pathetic look that he seemed to adore. He then staged a mini world war.

All that I did was just mutter a “Sorry” and defend one of his blows. He then stopped and gave me an eccentric look as if I jus stole one of his kidney and was about to run away with it. He s not used to defense I guess. He seemed to be moving in nanoseconds and hit me in almost 15 spots in a flash and one of the random blows hit my Hot Spot! It seemed funny to everyone except me. Now I could not scream in agony or at least hold the spot (There are times I wished there were no girls in the class).He at last reluctantly let me go.

He stood there without even a ruffle and so calm as if he’s jus given a speech on the importance of meditation to spread peace among humanity. He looked at the 5 of us to see if he had created the desired impact. He left the class shouting ‘SILENCE!” as if to add impact. Now, I ve always wondered why do people shout for silence? Aint shouting for silence as ridiculous as screwing for virginity?? (Me and my sick mind!)

And immediately after he left, Duba said “Cha, the pens are scattered. Now v have to start from first!!.” And v all smiled. At that moment I jus knew I got pals for a lifetime!!!

DISCLAIMERS:

1.”Imagination was given to man to compensate him for wat he’s not and a sense of humor to console him for wat he is”. All along I ve tried the consoling part!

2.The intension behind the blog is not to hurt anyone .(Which is my polite way of saying v cant do a shit about it, as the blog is already posted.)

3. The title Eschew obfuscation means to avoid confusion and to ensure clarity .This has got no relevance whatsoever to the blog. I jus kept it coz I liked it (after all it’s my blog rite?). N moreover I warned u dat I’m not too good in this blogging stuff!

Thanks for ur time pals!