12 Aug 2011

Threads & Knots - 1

“Madam, aapke pakoras” yelled the stallwala.

Pakoras, according to me is the best thing to happen with rains. I mean hot coffee too, but nothing can beat the spicy *ssssss* *aaaa* taste during cold rainy season. Nothing!

In case you guys are wondering, yes I am having it all by myself. One plate completely. That’s me. I hate sharing food. & pakoras, oh oh no sir no. Never. Dot. Mumbai monsoons are like river Cauvery when she is 124.8ft. Yeah full. Not beautiful and calm so that you leave “baagiNa”, but with rain water clogged everywhere and muddy puddles and raincoats and umbrellas and autowaalas splashing water to pedestrians and ok you get the point.

On such a rainy day, while I having pakoras, I saw him. Not a TDH figure, but neat, crisp and dignified sorts, kinda like Aamir Khan having paani-puri and giving credit card instead of cash in “Ghajini”. Ah that way. & he saw me too. He saw me staring him. Must have thought who is this maal? coz I am a maal material. 5”4 tall, long hair with no lattt, fair-and-lovely applied skin, koeld eyes, small bottu, nude lipstsick, black umbrella having violet flowers, no high heels. If you think that doesn’t classify a “maal” type, then to hell with you.

& like the Bollywood movie, we started seeing each other. In that pakoras stall. For some time we never spoke. I think it was me who initiated, “Do you have change”, and I asked him. Shameless of me, but what the heck, also so stupid of him not to have the change; then the meetings shifted a little higher, where there was a chath a.k.a roof. We were like the kaathe-peethe couple.

Like every couple fresh in love, it was talks and talks and chats and chats. Oops I think I forgot to introduce my self to you all. I am “Neenu, array not Upendra’s movie character, parents actually named me “Neenu”. If you have any problem, go ask them. Except that you cant, coz I will not give you my address. His name “Mahantesh”, correct not “Rahul” or “Prem” or “Sameer”.

We were done with first year anniversary too. Not the wedding, the dating anniversary. That’s when I was sure it was him. I could eat with him for the rest of my life. May be even share pakoras, & I told him I was ready. We called our respective parents and set up the meeting. The talks happened and they were fine. I know boring, no caste or poverty issues or any crap thing. It was a green signal.

The dates were fixed, rings exchanged and we were officially couple. Just when I though it was just happiness, is when Mahi’s brother returned; of course from America.

& my life shattered.

*insert a lot of glass breaking noise*


to be continued