Mixed signals part-3 :The end of the saga

"Why this kolaveri kaolaveri di  ........ ".Chaitra sat on the bench in platform 6, pondering over the uncanny  similarities between her life and the lyrics of the song that was playing in the tea stall. She leaned back on the bench and dozed into the memories of the 5 years that transcended on their relationship. Nothing much changed after the accidental proposal. They stayed afloat in a bubble of unsaid commitment, above and away from the realms and complications of an actual relationship. The 27 candles on her b’day cake  seemed to be taunting at the uncertainty that prevailed in her life and it was then that she decided to prick the bubble which she knew would land both of them on a bed of thorns. Kavi smudged her face with the cream, posing to the camera with a victory symbol. “Kavi where are we headed??”She asked

He stared at her for a second with a taken back expression,”Chaitra I think this is not the right ……”

She stormed out of the room as their friends saw with a baffled expression. 

Unmindful of the onlookers gesticulating  at her cream laden face she walked as fast as her legs could carry .

“Chaitra please don’t do this “Kavi grabbed  her from behind

“Ok so do we have a future or am I just wasting my time”

“All right what do you want me to do leave my long dreamt  mission and join you to live a 9.am to 9pm MNC job or do you expect me to ask you to leave yours and join me in an uncertain life where I don’t even know whether I would get my salary or for that matter make it alive the next day. Give me some more time till the tension in naxalbari settles down”.

“Kavi I want a normal life I appreciate your revolutionary thoughts but I can’t drag this any further”

Chaitra moved to Santa clara in pursuit of her onsite opportunity whereas Kavi went on to serve the conglomerate which he started with a vision to generate employment in Mao and naxal stricken areas Poverty cant be alleviated by keeping the govt at gun point or by giving charity. Only a win win assuring business can that was his ideology. He found willing venture capitalists who were ready to stake his social enterprise and a few student volunteers who were willing to survive on porridge and sleep on a cemented floor with mosquitoes and other formidable parasites biting them, because that was the life one could expect when on an exile in a place like Naxalbari. The govt and naxalites were at loggerheads and they both in unison  were against Kavi. It was the masses that supported him and the bullet that pierced his chest  during a crossfire shot him to instant fame. The people made him their local leader and fortified his residence. 

Chaitra’s every alternative weekend was spent in meeting one of the prospective grooms her parents would excitedly introduce her to until one fine day when she received  a call at 3.30am … from her dad barking at the other side of the phone “Who the hell is this Kavikrut”.

She woke up with a start to the glaring sound from the engine of Howrah express pulling into the platform. Her heart started racing fast as she saw him getting down in the end. How much she loved the way his hair fell on the forehead, the way he would innocently stroke it back, that mischievous smile that never left his lips not even when his body was pumping out blood after taking the bullet. "How do you manage to look ugly even in something as beautiful as an atpoure saree(bengali style sari)  " he guffawed greeting her with a hand shake. Those fiercely attractive eyes now were a tad wiser trying to conceal the pain Naxalbari had inflicted, the pain inflicted by the struggle he had to go through in convincing his own as well as chaitra’s parents single-handedly while she was continents away during the drama unfold". 

"And you by the way look like an aghori sadhu straight from the burial grounds of Varanasi” she replied trying to hide her tears with a teasing laughter. 

"Leaving my enterprise in safe hands here I am to start a so called “NORMAL” life with you so how are you going to please your groom". 

“Really haven’t I pleased you enough by accepting your challenge to dress up  in this Bengali sari".

“Coming to think of it neither of us really proposed, so why don’t you, like a good girl get down on your knees and propose to me”.

“What the … Me !!! here on the platform??”

“Yes you talk of an egalitarian society and when it comes to proposals why are men expected to do it all the time”.

She smiled and got down on her knees

“Dear Mr. Mukherjee thank you for creating such high octane drama in my life ,so now will you please stop giving mixed signals and marry me "

Mixed Signals -Part 2 (The accidental proposal)

                                                          A month later

 “Hey Chaitra one more work ,just make a  ppt for this quarter’s financial report , am mailing you the numbers we've crunched” . She sat back muttering abuses under her breath, the only bonus she was looking forward to for this overtime stay is a lift from Kavikrut. It had been a month and they moved no further than an eye contact or a formal polite smile. “Hey”,Kavikrut knocked her cubicle,”Do you want me to drop you till the nearest Metro station??”. Woahh what an arse he is,  its 9 in the night and he offers me only till the station.  The feminist inside her decided  not to take his favour ,”Hmm thanks I think I can manage”.

“Ok then see you tomorrow bbye” Kavikrut left with a casual indifference

Chaitra you deserve a HI-fi in your very  face with a steel chair, what a waste of time and decision  she cursed herself .  She sat in the auto  slumping back into her memory of the day she first met Kavikrut. She had hurried back to the HR ,"Hi Kumar am ready to take the offer right away right now ,what are the formalities to be completed",Kumar gave a quizzical look and continued, “Seriously Miss Krishnamachari?? I believe you had second thoughts". “Oh well no not at all just wanted to buy time to discuss with my family but then I walked into the cafeteria and behold !! there it was the most divine idly sambhar I feasted on so far  in Delhi and Mr.Kumar I totally  live to eat" Chaitra had no clue what she was muttering.

                                                              5 months later

"What are you??are you playing it hard or is it that you  being two levels above  me in the hierarchy don't  want to invite rumors,are you already taken who is that bitch ?? oh no are you gay by any chance".These thoughts kept coming as frequently as an Akshay kumar's release would .“Kavi is not a message type or chat type of a person, how do you reckon I should proceed without sounding despo??” Chaitra asked.”Your story is moving slower than the traffic under this Jankapuri flyover” Arushi said honking. "Pick up some nerve and ask him out else your Roshgulla shall be seized”. The next day she took the advice seriously and walked into the reading room, the only place where he could be found alone.  “Ah what a pleasant surprise to find a HINDU reader, all I usually see is Hindustan times and TOI across the city, yes except for CAT mongers though who read it like a bible” she cajoled. Kavikrut smiled “I read it for the language and the communist take the editorial gives on national issues. I am attending the HINDU NEWS literary festival,wanna join ?? 

                                                                 7 months later

 Mao the unknown story   (Kavi’s description ,"It shows Mao as a Tyrannist and Empress Dowager in good light), Asura: (“Here Lord Ram is the  antagonist”),  Lajja : (“As the name suggests the riots shame”),these books sat across her table. Kavikrut loved getting his hands on books that show the ugly and the flip side of what history has hidden and Chaitra had taken to reading those that made him so animated and come alive. Hey Karl Marx you better make this guy fall for me as understanding your theory of Marxism is a pain in the ass she sighed flipping page 472 of The Communist Manifesto.

                                                         New year's eve office party

Kavi settled down near Chaitra with his juice. “Finding a guy of this generation who doesn't drink or smoke totally charms me” she tried making a feeble attempt at hitting on him and just like all previous attempts this too was met with a casual smile.  “Ever wanted to go to the USA", he asked. “Nopes” she replied still feeling flustered at her inability to make an impact on him.”What kind of a guy do you like,what kind of long term expectations do you have”.  This question sent her off guard as Kavi was like a turtle instantly going inside the shell whenever he spots a danger where the danger being a personal question or an opinion  on love.Before she could respond the crowd thundered "HAPPY NEW YEAR" with people going helter skelter wishing each other. Kavi took up the responsibility of driving his colleagues back to their homes,"Monica is too drunk i think its better to have her stay put in your apartment, Chaitra". As he helped Monica up the stairs it sent up pangs of jealousy in her.  "Happy new year Beta" the  neighbouring Raheja aunty beamed. She noticed Kavi taking Monica inside and exclaimed  "This is the same guy that followed you to your house once. He kept waiting downstairs staring at your window and left only when you switched off the lights.". "When did this happen aunty?". "Hmm it happened once recently and once I guess around in May". Chaitra walked in feeling unsure on how to react when you realize that the guy your mad about actually cares for you  ,she saw Monica lay on her sofa blabbering to herself,"Monica come inside ,y don't u sleep on my bed",and then it suddenly struck her  Shitt is he inside my room and made a dash to her bedroom only to  find him watching with bewilderment at his own photo staring back as the wallpaper of her desktop. He turned around and shot that very same  intense and baffling gaze that almost killed her when they first met. At the door while seeing him off, "There is something i wanted to tell you",Kavi blurted,Chaitra's anxiety now knew no bounds,"What is it" she almost leaped turning all red. I saw two rats running around near your kitchen better use Mortein it works" and disappeared into the January fog yet again sending mixed signals 

Mixed Signals -Part 1

When I give food to the poor they call me saint, when I ask why the poor have no food they call me COMMUNIST . This was the 4^th time she was reading his blog post. Will I ever be able to fathom the whirlpool of thoughts that take shape in your head, she mused as she was checking his facebook profile .He was an average looking guy , but there was something about his eyes which she felt were fiercely attractive.  Kavikrut Mukherjee the guy she had been stalking for over a year. It all started when she stumbled on a not so famous blog post named Hey Woman, You not given your right?? …..Don’t fight for it just snatch it . That 400 words passage had triggered her to an extent that she ended up digging out the details about the writer from all possible networking sites.

"No not again Chaitra ,you have an interview tomorrow" exclaimed her friend who hit the bed next to her yawning tirelessly . Chaitra turned off her laptop blushing furiously and settled down to catch some sleep. 

“One fine day what if you really meet this Kavikrut guy??" asked her friend

“Oh common given my below average luck levels the odds of encountering him is as slim as finding a wormhole in our galaxy  and even if I do there is no way this guy is still spared single” she smiled 

The Next day

“So Chaitra hope I have set your expectations right, this is the best place to start your career, it’s a young organization and is it grows you shall escalate across the hierarchy” finished the HR. Chaitra was contemplating between the two offers she had, one was an established company paying big bucks on the other hand was this, offering a lesser pay with a more challenging work. "Common Chaitra it’s not like you plan to be a Steve jobs or zuckerburg all you desire is less work ,more pay and a life  where you don’t have to gape at price tags before buying”,she thought.  She had all most made up her mind and rose up saying “Hey kumar I shall get back to you very soon”. She walked past the cubicles towards the entrance taking pride in having successfully tossed those words which usually prospective job seekers dread hearing from the HR(“we shall get back to you”) . 

She swiped her visitors pass to open the door, but what next welcomed her was a memory worth cherishing for her next 7 lives. “Kavikrut Mukherjee, Employee id:34768,  her eyes followed up to see the owner of id card and there he was standing almost half a foot taller looking straight into her eyes .He looked at her for more than a second as if trying to recall some familiarity ,then moved ahead with a polite 'excuse me'. Goshh what was that she wondered trying to retain her balance ,does he know me ,he works here?? Y did he stop dead like something stung him?? Did he feel the same way as I did??  

What were those mixed signals!!!!!!!  

Dear Indian Cinema : Your money our martyrdom

Every Indian at least once in her/his lifetime deserves  to be generously rewarded for having martyred  their brains ,rationale and ethics for the selfless cause of making a director or a star rich.

Welcome to the world of Indian cinema which is capable of tormenting our dead physicists in heaven with its baffling laws on trajectory and projectile motion. 

The Indian heroine

In order to make up for the injustice she is subjected to in films, I dedicate her  a paragraph that I believe is definitely longer than the duration of her role in a movie. In kuch kuch hota h it took the brushing of kajol’s saree pallo on SRK's face for him to realize that she too was a woman. Rahul made use of the perfect situation where there was a dead wife, a little kid to be taken care of and a beautiful woman in love with him. But I guess the fans would beat be black and blue as they feel that our hero testified true and timeless romance.  Rain god plays a very important role in our films by pouring in showers   at precisely the moment when our heroine realizes that she is in love and the very feeling makes her slither around in her translucent dress ,thereby giving a tribute to mandakini of ram teri ganga maili . Women like veronica in cocktail are ostracized and are deemed unfit to be marriage material by our beloved cinema. Whether the society is driving our movies with such notions or is it the other way round is still unclear as the cause and effect gets mixed up  quiet often. Our directors usually don’t have a story line strong enough to pull a movie beyond 2 hrs. It is then that he sets off a heroine bouncing around like a ping pong ball in an item song. Her twisting of lips, unfolding of the tongue like a frog and swinging in the air like an arboreal mammal over a bunch of drooling men is enough to set off an explosion in an average perverted Indian male brain. He henceforth starts living in a parallel universe where he fantasizes a Katrina or rakhi sawant in every girl passing by on the road. 

The Indian hero

The omniscient hero is the God’s messiah to save the world from evil and wipe the tears our damsels in distress shed. Quiet often than not he tends to fall for a girl by looking at her legs or her curvaceous hips and lips. This messiah is also extremely smart as he manages to fool taani to believe he is Raj not surinder sahni  just by shaving of his moustache and wearing gay colored pants tight enough to kill him  by choking his breath. Nevertheless our hero is so irresistible that not only actresses but also their daughters die to romance him during his career innings.  You have missed something really big if u missed the visual treat of watching a telugu/tamil  hero with a mustache denser  than the  amazon rain forest , give libido expressions seeing a girl half their age and twice their length. 

The Indian  Ghost

If the ghost is a female she dons a Manish malhotra’s designer white sari and it is most likely that she was raped which ultimately led her  to turning into a ghost. And if it’s a male ghost it is most likely to attack the heroine while she is in a shower . And a small hint by an ardent viewer of Indian cinema ,if u plan to shoo off an Indian ghost read the Hanuman chalisa Bible may not work 

I am glad that the Indian cinema has evolved from just showing off Anil kapoor’s hairy chest to a pregnent woman’s ordeal in finding her dead husband in kahaani. Ending on a good note I shall always vouch for Indian cinema  of being able to create high octane drama with loads of entertainment and special accolades to highly talented directors like Farah khan who firsts creates the song and choreographs it , then comes up with a story line that  sits apt for the songs . 

God if you are there ,then y dis Kolaveri ???

After having dwelled on this planet for over two decades i guess i am old enough to pen down my opinion on God, the way he functions ,whether he truly exists. Two theories have so far evolved in my highly skewed brain where the left part of it is in constant conflict with the right part . The RBT(right brain theory) proposes that God is just a figment of imagination of the highly agile human mind. Mankind has come up with logical explanations behind every natural phenomenon and there absolutely seems no trace of God. No i am not going to bore you with big bang  or Galileo's theory rather i'd site some of my perceptions on several disturbing incidents. Why din't God save that child who succumbed to his injuries in the drone attack on his school. Why din't God save that innocent girl who on her way back on the bus was being brutally raped and mutilated. I am sure in that moment of despair she would have chanted his name at-least once.

As if the world was too boring with its peace and serenity, people decided to bring about some entertainment into their lives in the form of blood shed under the pretext of religion. I have honestly given up all my efforts in comprehending the hype associated with religion as i don't see the big deal about it. If God is the chopsey(chowmein) then religion is just how you decide to eat it ,either with chopsticks , with a fork or with bare hands. Where was Allah when his followers were being slayed to death in the Gujarat riots. Where was Lord Ram when his devotees were being burnt alive in a moving train and where was Jesus while the nuns were being gang raped by some religious fanatics right inside the church?

As my pen is scribbling down all of this, the left side of my brain interrupts me in its customary fashion, thereby changing the course of words. There still remain several unanswered questions . That day, that moment it could well have been you or me on that dreadful bus of pain Nirbhaya got onto. But no we were spared but why wasn't she ? That acid attack victim decides to fight back with a magnitude of strength unimaginable to mere mortals  and manages to bounce back. Is it hope that gave the victim her new life. Is hope a metaphor of God?  
Wonders do happen!!! Isn't every day you survive unscathed a huge wonder in itself?? So how does the universe work? Does nature randomly choose its victims and screw them up badly or does it run as per a script, named destiny ? If so then who is the author of this script?

It might take me a life time to decipher the enigma of this supernatural force so mean the while i shall continue accompanying my mom to the temple just to keep her spirits high. Whilst she is breaking that coconut to be offered i shall resume my conversation with God ......."God if you are there then y dis Kolaveri ??? "

Those were the good old days

Those were  the days when all children would wait for the school bell to ring, making a dash to watch shaktiman and intently listen to the moral of the day he so melodramatically starts with “BACCHO ……. .

Those were the times when we used to sign a peace treaty with moms that assures  a completed homework in lieu of the grant to watch good evening Disney.  

Those were the times when we came back looking  just  like those dirty kids they show in the RIN SHAKTI and TIDE ads after playing a bunch of in-genuinely created insane games.

 No we definitely were not old fashioned coz the early 90’s witnessed the birth of indi pop with Baba saigal and Alisha chinnai making the average conservative Indian tap his foot.

Those were the times  when I used to look at my teenage cousins wearing high waist pencil jeans with their collar shirts tucked in, walking with their high tied pony’s swaying from left to right. I so promised to grow up into a fashionista like them but it just turned out to be one of those kinds of promises politicians make to the people before elections.

 Those were the times when tourists used relish every inch of nature with their own retinas instead of proxy retinas named cameras.  And nevertheless it was the last era to have respected human to human communication.

Here now I live in a time where mickey and Pluto seem like a million light years far into the past and all I get to see is an obnoxious looking cockroach in a bizarre show named oggy and the cockroachs.

It seems to be the only cartoon left as its relationship with cartoon network is the same as that of suryavamsham’s with sony max. 

This era has also rechristened bollywood to copycatwood  kudos to the  pioneers of this mission salman khan and prabhu deva. 

Even the entities of original musical notes have succumbed in the stampede caused by the third world duplicates of akon and Korean music.

Last but the worst, these days the thought of getting clicked with my buddies freaks me out as I dread for the moment it goes on facebook and ends up getting likes that are unreasonably minimal for the number of friends I have.  Yes its surprising how networking sites have managed to network one’s self esteem and pride with the number of likes and shares.

Well afterall Wachowski Brothers were not so wrong about the existence of a disillusioned society named the “MATRIX ”, don’t you think the good old days are over and we have almost entered the matrix ??  

Phobia and its wicked ways !!

                                                                         Vivophobia: 

This is an intense  phobia which has so far not found any cure. Fear of losing mind ,blurting out a song that’s been running on your mind, or wetting  your pants aaah the list never ends .You definitely can’t ask for anything more if your roll number falls between dreadful topper roll numbers and you are called for a group viva. But above all, the most terrific thing to happen would be when  the teacher who loathes you the most happens to come over for a chit chat while you are in the midst of your viva and that expression  you'd wear will be  so like chandler’s when he hears “Oh my god” (Janice) 

                                                                        Commitmento\marriago phobia

You never muster up the courage to fall in love owing to your far sightedness where in you see yourself taking the pain to keep the cellphone in your vicinity and always fully charged and fully recharged too because if u dare  miss a series of calls what befalls on you later is even more painful. The phobia of having to talk on the phone daily irrespective of whether  there is any thing  substantial to  talk

“Did you have dinner baby”

“Yes darling”

“Wat did u have”

“Karela(bitter guard) and dal makhni “

“Was it fried or boiled. Was it bitter like ur dad or was it sweet like me. Do u love me or the karela more” 

And if at all you  successfully manage to get past this phase the next phase termed “where are we headed” phase will surely manage to scare the shits out of you. Girls /women suffer more in this phase owing to a manufacturing defect called “over thinking”. Why does he still play temple run while am sitting next to him, why doesn’t he talk much, doesn’t he find me attractive any more or is it some other girl who is that bitch ?? And then those most dreaded words come out of your epiglottis “we need to talk” and there you go, finally managed to repel a guy and now you can safely change your relationship status to “Newly dumped” . Therefore some wise people like me decide to live a life in solitude but no the heartless world metamorphosis itself into a monster named marriage. You even start to freak out going to others wedding or your relatives house if you are the next sacrificial goat to be offered to the monster.  

The next sacrificial goat: What if I couldn’t just get myself to love my husband and start finding other men better than him. I mean look at draupadi she was married to the hottest and the most desirable men of that era ,yet she was crushing on karna and hence was sent to hell for having violated the Hindu dharma . I fear this consequence matashri.

A married woman turned ascetic: Child that will never happen because this is kaliyug and marriage with just  one MAN  will make you lose  interest in the entire “MAN” kind.

                                                                 Clickophobia 

 Ohk this is one of the craziest disorders people suffer from. That moment before the flash appears, before the camera makes a click sound the subject to be clicked sees the camera growing a mouth of its own and yelling at him/her “U look like an offspring of a mammoth and a dinosaur,do you know how obnoxious that would look and bloody hell now you want a picture F…….” and bam there it is a picture clicked with either your eyes closed or your mouth awfully twisted  and this will remain a testimonial to how hopelessly un-photogenic you are. Thanks to all the horror movies as they further add to the phobia because every time you see a photo of yours you check whether there is any white girl ghost lurking behind you. No wonder only something as evil as a camera can see another evil. 

Concluding on a serious note I believe we as human beings should have one phobia in common . KARMAPHOBIA. Karma is a wonderful bitch that follows where ever you go and barks right when you are in a mid life crisis. So people ,one good deed it comes back equally and one sin it get backs ten times multiplied.