Tuesday, February 28, 2012
(This Post contains Strong and Explicit content and is suitable only for Adult Readers and those above 18+ yrs.....)
Manoj is back in town. This is a warning to all right thinking person’s and a warning not to be taken easily. When Manoj comes back things happen and not ordinary things at that. For those who think I am exaggerating, please read on. I only learnt that he had got back when i got a text message that day from Manoj saying “Back in India”…that made me pause whatever I was doing and start thinking about taking precautions. “Back in India”? I mused, as usual he doesn’t mention from where he was back or how he had arrived. Had he been deported, having overstayed his welcome and had caused chaos and confusion in the visiting country? Escorted up to the tarmac by whatever country’s govt had got hold of him? Put on a nonstop plane and sent home to India? With Manoj that was very real possibility.
He could make things look so interesting to you that you only realized how idiotic the idea was long after he disappeared having left you to hold the can. It was time to make sure that you emptied your purse of all excess cash and debit cards and hide your passport somewhere (and forget where) because with Manoj around anything could happen. He could convince one that partying in Rio De Janeiro for the weekend would be a good idea and by the way why not touch down in Las Vegas for a day just to have some extra fun on the way to Rio. And you would be standing in the airport buying tickets on the first available plane to Rio via Vegas, having previously emptied your bank account of all your life’s savings, just to have a good time right now, until sense dawns, the spell gets broken and you head home thanking god for the narrow escape you just had. Manoj meanwhile would have just made that plane (even minus any luggage) and would be on his way to Vegas by the time you got back home and unlaced your shoes.
If you really think I am exaggerating Manoj’s many qualities please wait till I describe a small incident which occurred maybe two or three years ago. One night, late night, I got a call on my mobile. After letting in ring on, hoping it would cease by itself, I had to push myself out of the bed to the nearby table where I usually place my mobile at night. Eyes half closed I peered at the phone to see it was Manoj calling me at the unearthly hour of 1:30Am in the night. “What the F**?” I asked in my best unprintable language. Manoj totally unperturbed asked cheerfully “Hi dude, did I wake you up?” I bit back more unprintables and asked “Wassup?” he said “I need a favour dude, a big favour...I need your help right now”.
I immediately woke up, damn, maybe the guy was in some kind of genuine trouble….”Where are you Manoj? What happened? What do you want?” I asked in a concerned voice. He replied cheerfully “I am parked right below...in the parking lot of our apartment block and I need a special favour from you” I was perplexed for an instant, what was he doing in the underground car park? Had he lost his keys or something and needed a place to crash for the night? His mom would be home as far as I knew and wouldn’t mind opening the door for him however late he turned up- as he usually did… “Dude, are you still there?” he was asking “I need you to come down right now to our parking lot and help me zip up this jeans”…
I thought I had misheard him in my sleepy state “Zip up your jeans? Why should I do it? I don’t get it, we aren’t that kind of friends man…?” Manoj in a unnaturally cheerful voice for that time of the morning replied “Not mine,,, you see there is this girl sitting in the car with me here who works in my company and we were out clubbing earlier tonight at Pasha and she had too much to drink or something and she cant keep her drink and went very tipsy and started acting strange and wanted to leave there immediately- too early to go home you know and so we came out here to our car-park to make out, because our watchman would be asleep and it is safe here- no trouble from police or anything and we were making out for some time now and I got her jeans unbuttoned when we were groping around but now I am unable to button it back on.”
I almost screamed “why cant that damn b*** button herself up?” Manoj explained “oh…told you dude…she had too much to drink -she is out for the night, and she is wearing this skinny jean thing..wonder how she got into it earlier on…must have pulled her tummy in and held her breath very tightly or something..otherwise it is so tight- there is a clear 3 inch gap between the stud and the catch” “hold on” I paused him in full flow “what exactly do you want me to come downstairs for?” Manoj in his easy going manner explained “Easy dude, I just want you to push her stomach in and hold it inside, compressing it, while I somehow button up her jean and zip it up..that way I can take her back home and leave her with her parents. Otherwise she will get it hot from her parents if she came home unbuttoned and unzipped. After all,” he said reasonably, “isn’t it fair and just to put back something we have removed? and she is such a nice girl and I don’t want her to get into any trouble and also this way I can also go partingy with her again in the future”
I must have nodded off again somewhere in the middle of this long explanation and suddenly woke up with a start when he went silent “ Dude” I said in my most reasonable and adult voice, “My dad would skin me alive if he ever found out I was sneaking out of the house at 2 in the morning just to zip up a girl someone else had unzipped…I just went to sleep half an hour or so ago and have set the alarm to wake me up at 4:30am again to study for an upcoming exam, I am sleepy, I am irritable and I am not an expert on jeans or buttons..so the best thing for you to do would be to call our friend Bala in the third floor, as I recall he is alone at home this week and even if not, he would be glad to volunteer for such an arduous duty, count me out dude, sorry but I am not coming down right now to push some girls stomach in..gotta go to sleep..tell me tomorrow all about it” I said as I cut the connection and went back to sleep. Of course I heard the full story of what happened later on from Bala, but that is for another day.
The point is Manoj was back in town and who knew what he might attempt next? Whatever was going to happen to me when he turned up to meet me…..read on in the next part.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
(Disclaimer: this post is for Adults only- contains Strong language- so please read on only if you are 18+ yrs…all incidents and names are imaginary and fictional.)
Is Castration For Pedophiles And Rapists Justified?
Castration, def: Removal of the external genitals, especially the male sexual organ. Also known as bobitting after the famous American case.
Paedophile, def: a pervert who sexually abuses small children and even infants.
There was a lot of hue and cry over a recent high court judgement where the presiding judge offered his personal opinion that pedophiles deserved to be castrated and the law should be codified to that end. A lot of liberals and human rights activists made a lot of noise that the judge had exceeded his jurisdiction and his personal comments were uncalled for and against the principle of natural justice. I don’t know the facts of the case except for what I read in the newspapers, but I do have a problem with the liberals and activists who support so vigorously the convicted criminal and never speak up for the victim. The victim might get justice, however delayed from the majesty of the law and due legal process, but is that enough can they go back to living a normal life without absolutely no scars- either physical or psychological? Let me offer you a personal perspective on something which I have seen.
The medical profession of which I am a part- a small, miniscule part perhaps, is called the noble profession because it contains a lot of good being done to others who are in pain and suffering and the doctor gets a warm fuzzy feeling on recall when the patients turn up hale and hearty. But it also contains a lot of pain for the doctors themselves when they meet situations which they cannot handle despite all their degrees and training. It doesn’t happen often- its very, very rare- but it does happen and when it does- the doctor realizes that empathy with the patients is a curse rather than a blessing and being detached would probably help the doctor more in being an efficient person.
A few days back there was a patient who was waiting to see me when I walked into the department in the morning. An old lady with her granddaughter on her arms, a kid of around four or five years who as soon as she entered the department started bawling aloud. This was par for the course for me- children usually associate white coated people with injections and start crying in anticipation. But this seemed to be a bit different. The child absolutely refused to get down from her grandmothers arms and she refused to even look at me. The grandmother all apologetic, explained that she was afraid of men. I shrugged and said “look, she has obvious injuries all over her face and neck, that’s why she has been referred to me. If I cant examine her how can I cure her? Sometimes kids can fool you by crying- please put her down on the examining couch and stand near here” and then the grandmother started explaining what happened and I read the rest of the story in the case sheet accompanying the child.
It seems that the grandmother and mother of the child were living alone- both their men folk having disappeared long ago after just fathering- and they made their living as domestic help and cooks for neighboring houses. They alternated in going for work and taking care of the child. On the day in question, the grandmother had left the child playing in front of their house- mid morning and had gone to a nearby shop to but something to cook, planning to be back in a few minutes. When she returned the child was missing and on enquiry, she and a few neighbors’ finally discovered her inside the hut of the next door neighbor, a man around 60yrs- retired as a watchman from a factory- who was discovered to have raped the child- for she was lying unconscious in a corner of the hut and the man had disappeared. On being brought to the hospital for immediate first aid, the attending doctors had found that the child’s genital’s were extensively torn and damaged by the brutal assault on her still undeveloped sexual organs – the savage attack had caused widespread injuries and severe bleeding from the torn tissues. The man had not stopped with that- to prevent the child from crying out and alerting others- he had forcibly twisted the child’s neck and pinned it to the ground till it went dumb with the pain of a broken jaw and neck. The child having been brought to the hospital had cried out in fright at the very sight of the male doctors on duty at the emergency ward. She had been scarred for life, I guess.
Anyway after taking care of her immediate bleeding injuries by suturing all the torn parts together and putting her on sedatives for the time being- the emergency team had the next day referred her to me for the twisted neck, broken jaws and extensive facial injuries suffered. My attending nurse after hearing the story started blasting the grandmother about how careless she was in leaving a female child unattended but the grandmother defended herself saying that she had been absent for just a few minutes by going to the street corner shop and had never thought their next door neighbor would turn out to be such a beast, considering him as only a kind old grandfatherly gent till then. Anyhow, after seeing to that patient, I somehow didn’t feel well inside and couldn’t even eat lunch that day.
Later, when I was in the doctors room and we were all discussing the case, I asked one of the senior specialists there, a urologist what pleasure that man could have got from the act? Was it just like normal sex for him. The other doctors expressed the opinion that “no way” he could not have done it for any physical satisfaction it was purely for psychological pleasure as in rape cases. And the discussion deviated to rape. The consensus opinion of all the specialists there that along with the victim the rapist too doesn’t feel any pleasure in the act physically- but they enjoy it immensely psychologically because of their twisted warped minds because they are causing pain to their victims. Rapists and pedophiles are not normal- they don’t do it for their own pleasure- they do it for cruelty was the opinion of all.
So in that case why is it wrong to castrate them to punish them? Even death would be too easy a penalty for them. I guess that the law has to be changed to make it more threatening to these psychopaths for only a fear of losing something important to them would make them hesitate to do such heinous acts in the future.
So what do you think? Would you support castration for pedophiles? Please give your opinions and comments......
P.s. One of the physicians also added this interesting nugget. That in some cases of alleged Rape, it is usually consensual sex - Adultery -with a married woman in her own house- when she is suddenly surprised by the unexpected appearance of her husband/mother-in-law/father-in-law and to save her skin cries rape and abandons her illegal lover to the law feigning that she was the victim and had no choice. So the law has to be diligent in investigating the genuine cases from such cheating spouses.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
This post was written as a guest post for fellow blogger Aarti Krishnakumars blog.....and my brief was to write something on "travel" or "recipes"....as usual i muddled it all up and mixed both for a 1000 words of pure nonsense
The Travelling Recipe Of The Receptive Traveler.
There was once a gentleman born in a place called Italy who was extremely curious by even modern standards and in the course of transacting business trips went further and further until he went halfway around the world to the furthermost end of the biggest empire of that time. There he was feted and fed by the reigning emperor and was shown around everything of importance except one particular secret. Now there are conflicting reports on whether the secret involved a thin gluey thread like substance produced from boiled worms or whether the secret involved brewing the leaves of a plant to produce an invigorating (intoxicating/) drink. Both versions may be true but more on that later. He ended up stealing the secret and coming back to gain great renown for introducing it to European society. By now you might have guessed that the above mentioned participants in the reality show are Marco Polo, the Mongol emperor Genghis Khan and either silk/tea depending on who you talk to.
But before taking a journey to the far past- let us set our time machine to the recent past and examine the circumstances surrounding the evolution of the author into an expert chef. The government of tamilnadu is a capricious beast and bureaucrats are often indifferent to the plight of the normal citizens and especially its employees. My mother, a government servant was all of a sudden transferred to Madurai when my dad, another one in the family subsisting on government employment, was already working in Tanjore and I was left all alone in the house in Chennai to fend for myself. At first it was a big chance for me to party all the time and all the guys in the apartment complex kept coming over pestering me to organize party after party in my suddenly available empty flat. But after a time I put my foot down as I had to end up cleaning all the debris the next day all alone- the party goers having disappeared at first light to their respective floors.
Living alone-the one thing I missed more than my mother and father, (please keep that to yourself and don’t phone my parents) was my hot cup of morning bed coffee. Many times I used to be late because I was used to waking up to a steaming cup of coffee and refused to get up until I got one. Gradually I decided to learn the fine art of making a cup of steaming hot coffee. My mother was very particular about using only Narsus coffee but having decided to learn it the remote way- through phone counseling- I decided to start off with Nescafe instant- something which tasted like hot water and sugar, Nescafe Regular and finally conquering the art of mixing the right proportions went on to the pinnacle of coffee-making- the making of a hot brewed filter coffee- Narsus coffee-besh/besh, romba nannna erukku.
As mountaineers who having conquered one peak move onto the next one without a pause merely for the bigger challenge- I moved onto learning to make tea. This was also prompted by my gym trainer’s advice that tea is better than coffee for health reasons. I bought the usual beginners training device of tea bags and after experimenting a lot- learned the perfect way of making instant tea with tea bags. Milk is a definite no-No in the initial stages. You brew a cup of instant tea with a half cup of steaming hot water and dip your tea bags in, gently swirling it around to release the tea essence and judging by the color and steaming smell, you add the milk in increments taking care to preserve the tea taste and not smother it with milk and finally sweeten it up with sugar to suit.
Ingredients required for instant tea:
- Hot boiling water,
- Tea Bags……Regular (that green tea is better crap is just bs)
- Milk- warm
- A large enough mug- for unlike coffee which tastes better in a dabara/tumbler tea is better in a porcelain cup.
Once you have mastered the basics of making instant tea – you move onto the next stage- making Real tea from powdered tea leaves. The ingredients for the recipe are identical to the one mentioned above. You start of in a similar way with making the boiling water (remember Boiling and not hot) and put in the tea powder to make the decoction. If you think two spoons are enough, always put in an extra spoon, because the stronger it is the better it tastes- a dull, insipid tea is better poured down the sink and start again. The milk is added as an afterthought sparingly and sugar is added to take the bitter-hint of the tea- but not completely, for too sweet a tea will not give you the lingering after taste on the back of your tongue as your hurry to catch up the bus to college. The leftover decoction can be placed in the fridge for making a cold tea in the evening- for any friends who turn up suddenly and try to stick around the house when you are desperate to lock up and go out- nothing clears them out like a left-over freezing tea, unless it is a left-over soup made a couple of days back- tomato soup preferably- as it congeals into a gooey mass better- and as you press them to share your hospitality, you can see them fly out your house like superman.
So to come back to our receptive traveler, who would have thought that Marco Polo who had gone sight-seeing would remember to bring back the recipe for the divine brew called tea- something which the Chinese had guarded jealously for centuries since the Chin emperor discovered its making by accident. Especially when there were so many other interesting brews to bring the recipes back. So hats off to our Receptive Traveler Marco-Polo who produced the first Patent theft in history. And as we all know the Recipe for tea travelled around the world in the subsequent centuries to come back to Darjeeling, just across the border from china, for the best brew. So again, a Hats off to the Travelling (much-travelled) Recipe for Tea.
P.s. this post was written as part of a challenge given by a fellow blogger to just use the title and write a post. The author does not claim any expertise in making tea, parting or chasing away friends. Any accidents, culinary or otherwise, resulting from the use of the above recipe will not be entertained on the authors behalf and any complainants in person will be treated to the authors version of Mushroom Soup. Chef’s beware.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
(Disclaimer: i have got back to writing short stories after a very, very long time, so i may be a bit rusty, please bear. and oh yeah!, its purely a work of FICTION and names and incidents are purely imaginary)
The Ghost In My Google
It was yet again a Valentine’s day and I had learned from bitter experience to dread “that” day. It involved a lot of pointless time wasting and sucking up to people you did not really like except to make a point to people who didn’t really matter, that “Hey look at me, I am not alone on V-day” and to boot heavy expenses lately. This v-day, this year, I had to attend a dinner organized by my still girlfriend or as she referred to herself “My fiancée” although god only knows when/where/how we became an item. I certainly don’t remember asking her and I am always, always, sober when it comes to women- the consequences are too horrifying not to, as the stories of my numerous friends locked in matrimony show. Well, off then, to the dinner and maybe to give her the heave-ho soon- certainly not this day but maybe tomorrow, this relationship had already been stretched to breaking point and would snap off its own accord if I left it any longer. I would though, have to be, emphatic and unambiguous, leaving no room for any mis-understandings and the inevitable, I will forgive you and you will forgive me proposals later on- that wouldn’t do. My current girlfriend had disproportionate assets, big breasts vs small brains- so she might have trouble understanding that a “no” is a “no” and not merely a feint to get anything else later on to make up, you catch my drift?
I wasn’t always this cynical about valentine’s day, for instance, three summers ago I had the most magical valentines’ day ever. And that’s the story I am going to share with you now. There was this girl in my area and somehow I started noticing her at the bus stop regularly – her dad used to bring her and drop her off at the bus stand and wait until her college bus – with the words Sree Sairam College of Engineering blazed on the sides, turned up and she would get in and wave to him, the bus would leave and then, only then, her dad would get on his bike and leave. So this kinda restricted my window of opportunity to get to know her better. And every single day, I would just stand there looking longingly at her as she waited with her dad and went away on the bus. I would let my own bus go by and wait for another one till she left, never mind that I was late for college, for, you know, which is more important in life, classes or girls?
And then one day, something strange happened – she had left by her bus and my bus having turned up later than usual I had got in and was trying to move forward in the crowded bus having bought my ticket, when the bus stopped at the immediate next stop and I saw her standing there at the bus stop. I was shocked and confused “what’s wrong? Was something wrong with her? Was she sick or something?” Meanwhile the bus had started again and I saw her piercing glare directed straight at me.
I pushed through the crowd, elbowed a few, stepped on a lot of feet and jumped down from the moving bus, with the curses of the conductor deafening me and I went straight up to the bus stop and stopped a couple of feet away from her and stared straight ahead. So here it comes, I thought, she is gonna come up to me and blast me in front of everyone for always staring at her and for making her uncomfortable before her father. But she didn’t speak a word to me or to anyone else and just stood there staring ahead. My heart did a sudden jump, was she waiting for someone else to come pick her up? Say goodbye to dad at the first bus stop and then hop onto boyfriends bike at the next one. It was an old trick. My eyes started to tear at their corners. Damn! I swallowed the lump in the throat. Can’t be. Just not possible.
And then a 41-D turned up and she hopped onto it. I couldn’t understand, but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind then to even attempt to understand. I got onto it also and bought a ticket for theGemini-MOP Vaishnav stop- the furthermost point this bus would take me before I switched buses to go back in the opposite direction to my college. The bus thankfully was not crowded, which was quite unusual for a 41-D, but maybe it was providence playing a hand in my love story, just when I needed a helping hand.
So I stood beside her while she fiddled on her mobile and the bus kept going and going. I had a sneaking suspicion that something was expected of me, but I still couldn’t figure out what. At last, just as the bus crossed the Taj hotel and my stop just minutes away she spoke loudly and clearly- email@example.com, did you get that? And she enunciated every single syllable clearly, “have you got that di?” And turning around looked straight at me. My heart did a jump, having finally got the message in the center of my forehead, and a few minutes later having got down I crossed the road vaulting the center median barrier in a single jump, like a high jumper, for I was literally floating on air all that day.
That evening, having consulted my friends, I typed in the e-mail id on Google and not surprisingly found a link to the Orkut profile. The next part was to log onto my Orkut profile, change my profile picture to something nattier, delete a few pictures of me celebrating “hostel day” with my friends and after having sanitized everything, I sent her a friend request. She accepted it immediately and within seconds I was reading through her previous status updates and going through her photo albums as I was pretty sure she would be doing the same almost simultaneously. I then posted a “hi” and got back a hi” then a “wassup” got me a “wassup” oh come on, give me a break thought I, when there was a ping in my outlook express which I had activated to pull mail from my Gmail account. I checked the message and it said “my friends might check this, I don’t want them to know, and so can we move to Google chat?” I mailed her back “sure, wait ten minutes till I download it, install it and learn how to use it..For till now I had no need” I left the rest unsaid. She Mailed back “Ok, keep it ready same time tomorrow, got to go now” and she went away.
The next day we were both at the bus stop and both avoided looking at each other and acted perfectly normal, to make sure her dad didn’t catch on. The next few nights were memorable, chatting on Google talk- we could only do it a few minutes each night but it was worth it. Then on the 13th of February, she dropped a bomb-shell on me. “I won’t be there tomorrow at the bus stop at our regular hour. I am going late- directly to the company where we are doing our final year project”.. “what?” I almost punched my monitor and then controlling my temper asked “and where exactly is it”? she messaged back “you know that tall building on mount road?” “LIC?” I asked hopefully….”no, in Teynampet- Temple towers- we are doing a project there on a banking software called temenos”.. I hurriedly saved down that name before it got deleted and we said our good byes.
The next day, I went to college as usual and maintained a low profile throughout the day trying my hardest not to attract the attention of any one of my profs. And then the minute lunch hour came I hurried onto the boys common room and did a complete costume change to total green- her favorite colour. My friend promised to cover up for me if the the profs noticed that I had failed to turn up after lunch hour. And I hurried out to catch an auto straight to temple towers.
When I got there, I hurried in and from the notice board I found that “Temenos Inc.” occupied the whole of the ninth floor and when I went onto the lift, the lift man asked me pointedly for my id, saying he only took company employees with id cards to the ninth floor and others have to call their friends down to vouch for them. I was nonplussed but decided to shake him off by pretending to go away to call my friend and the minute the lift doors closed I was off like a hare up those stairs- all nine floors without passing to catch my breath. When I went into Temenos Inc., it was kind of deserted- it was their lunch time too and a kind being, in response to my enquires asked around and told me that the students from Sairam engineering college had gone down to the basement cafeteria..Here goes I thought, another nine floors down and off I went.
This time panting and puffing I went down to the basement to see it nearly deserted, again. I enquired off the solo waiter there and he said “that group’a sir? They just now paid the bill and went up”. Oof! That took the wind off my sails. So it was back to mountain climbing again. This time whooping with deep breaths, sweating like a pig, I got up the stairs taking it one floor at a time and always keeping an eye out for that lift-keeper for if he should catch me, I had no doubt I would be escorted out without meeting Shruthi. And I suddenly noticed something the lift had started from the ninth floor again and had stopped at the eighth and then the seventh and it looked like it was stopping at every floor. Had the liftman caught on to me? I stood there frozen, physically and mentally too tired, waiting for the exact minute the lift would stop at my floor, when I would make a dash up the stairs to the floor above and thankfully avoid being seen.
Then as the lift stopped at the sixth floor with a ping and as the doors started opening and I got ready to run for my life upstairs, something, something, held me back and I stood there like a dumb sheep to the slaughter and Shruthi stepped out, she floated out of the lift straight towards me. We both stood there for the seconds it took for the door to close again with a ping and then I opened my mouth to say something and she stepped forward towards me, very near to me and we……err, something happened, something magical. Later as we were seated at the Red fort restaurant, which unlike the fancy name was a modest budget restaurant situated on the corner of Mount Road/CIT Nagar road and right next to Temple Towers.
We had a long talk and she told me that as soon as she had entered the company the marketing vice president had informed her that a gent was looking for her and had probably gone down to the cafeteria and that blessed lady had made it clear that it wasn’t someone in the fatherly age group, so Shruthi had more than a frank inkling that it would be me, but she still couldn’t imagine that I would do something so impulsive as turning up at her project and in a green shirt to boot. I shrugged and asked her what was uppermost in my mind “When we …err…did that..You didn’t mind that I was all sweaty, did you?” There, I had asked what was troubling me. She smiled the smile of an angel- “What you did was the sweetest, most romantic thing of my entire life and I don’t mind your sweat” and to prove it she wiped it off again off my forearm with her palm. That was the most incredibly erotic moment of my life and I shivered with repressed feelings.
And although we never actually expressed our love for each other, we did fall in love, became a couple and went about everywhere and had a happy time until she finished college got selected in a campus interview by a company called “Oracle” and went to work. Later differences cropped up, we had a bitter break up and drifted off losing contact with each other. And then three years after we broke up, I was again on a valentine’s day reminded off that mad dash I had made up those stairs of temple towers to meet my love. Having finished dinner with my current girlfriend and strategically reminding her that we had by now reached her expiry date and she could no way satisfy me as she was a like a candle to a flood-light when compared to the love of my life, I put into her head it was time to find herself a newer and better boyfriend.
When I came home that night, before going to bed, I steeled myself to do something I would rather not. But the spirit of the day got to me and I sat down and sent her an E-card from 123greeting.com for Valentines Day to firstname.lastname@example.org (something I will never in my life forget) with the message “Always and forever yours”. The next day when I checked my Gmail it had a copy of my card with the message “you will be notified when the recipient opens your card”. I kept logging on every day after that and five days later, was happy to see that “Your E-card has been opened and message has been read” The next two days I was on tenterhooks, expecting a call or a message or a chat window or even a mail from her but nothing. So she still hated me did she? I knew it was a bad idea to go crawling back to an ex….
And then today I suddenly happened to chance upon an old and mutual acquaintance on Facebook, and on Facebook chat after a few preliminaries, I asked her “So what’s up with Shruthi nowadays? You guys still in touch?” she replied back after a few minutes “You don’t know? You really don’t know?”
I was on tenterhooks “What? Whaaaat? Tell me..I don’t know anything, I lost touch.” She messaged back “Shruthi died in an accident a couple of years back on an overseas assignment in Germany. We even had a memorial page for her on facebook for people to pay their last respects. You really didn’t know?” I didn’t say anything but logged off silently and sat back, back away from my computer. If I remembered correctly Google deactivated an email account six months after not being used. If so who had opened that e-card two days ago? And whose call was I waiting for? ……I shuddered with fear and cried “mummy”.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
From the Archives: My Version of a Sonnet - a poor mans shake-spear effort
Thou, Distract Me
Adversity acts to spur me
Persistence paves my path
Tenacity treads beside me
But my lady, all three and more
I lay by thy feet and wait
For thy beauty defeats all
Makes my goals irrelevant
My quest pointless
My courage clouded, heart disturbed
All I crave in return
Is leave to love thee,
To distraction, if not
Empress of my Heart.