Archive for October, 2009

One Fine Day…

October 17, 2009

Shit happens Rahul… I explain once again to myself.

It is one of those days when everything has to go wrong, has to go against you…
It begins with an amazing adult SMS that explains a woman’s anatomy in a brutally funny manner. One of my colleagues sends it to me when I am asleep. I wake up at around 4:30 pm, read it with sleepy eyes, and accidentally forward it to Komal, one of my old friends from the school, and a very decent girl.

I realize that after having my tea. I immediately call Komal to explain that the SMS was an accident and was not meant for her… but she cuts the call. I send an SMS explaining it was an accident. She doesn’t reply. I try calling her after an hour.

She doesn’t answer again.

Yeah… shit happens.

I miss the gym as usual. Have a hot water bath. Eat my oatmeal. And start leaving for work at 6:00pm.

Mom stops me at the door,

“Rahul beta, wear your raincoat. It’s gonna rain outside.”

I tend to ignore it. It doesn’t rain in the 2nd week of October in Pune, does it?

Mom doesn’t back out. She runs to me with the raincoat and a cap in her hands. She makes me wear the raincoat. I refuse to wear the cap. It disturbs my spikes. She lets it go.

I am 20. Fresh out of college.

I stay at Chandani Chowk. Work at a remote place called Kharadi. Fucking too far from my place.

The company that I work for doesn’t provide me with any transport, though it requires me to work at odd hours.

I button-start my Karizma and hit Paud Road.

The traffic is already in a pretty fucked-up shape. I get stuck for 15 minutes at the Paud Phata signal. My head starts spinning as some assholes don’t stop continuous honking as if they are the only ones stuck.

And the fuck up happens again.

As I make my way through the traffic towards Gulmohar Path which connects Karve Road to Law College Road from SNDT, it starts raining.

And it is not the usual one that starts with a slow drizzling and then falls in an increasing order. It just starts so heavily it knocks the air out of me.

And I just hate rains. Just hate getting drenched. Especially when I am not on my way home. It makes me feel very uncomfortable. And I am not a macho man—I catch cold easily. And I don’t particularly enjoy it.

My raincoat doesn’t prove to be efficient enough to protect me from such a hard rain. I get drenched. Inside out. I stop for a shelter on Law College Road, on the footpath opposite HDFC Bank, and take a shelter below some bushes.

Not sufficient enough to protect me though.

There are other people like me. Most of them returning home from work, not so worried.

Some seem to be enjoying getting drenched. Balls to them.

I try lighting a cigarette, but the lighter gives up.

I spontaneously say “fuck!” and a lady gives me a look.

Bitch.

I am already pretty mindfucked because of the SMS incident. Not in a mood to behave myself in the public.

It starts raining even more heavily and I realize that the bushes are not helping at all. I keep my bike parked there, and run to the shutters of HDFC Bank. There are already many of them stranded.

I become one of them.

My phone starts vibrating. Office number. My fucking boss.

“Hello?”
“Rahul, where the fuck are you? It’s already 7:15!”
“Boss, hope you know it’s raining fucking too hard here in the city. I am stuck at Law College Road.”

“Oh… aren’t you wearing a raincoat?”

“I am. But it’s not enough, boss. I am drenched completely. I will be underestimating my situation if I say I’m totally fucked.”

His tone changes a bit.
“Okay Rahul, stop there till it stops. It’s okay if you come late.”
“Boss, do I have to come?”
“Yes, you have to come. Patricia has asked for you twice already.”

Patricia is our bitch of a client. Canadian.

I have a strong feeling that she is lesbian. Don’t know why. I had recently read about an American author named Patricia being lesbian. And this feeling just struck.

This is how my mind works. Too much going on at the same time. Sarcasm, dirty remarks, frustration… all taking a creative pervert shape most of the times.

Fifteen minutes pass by. It doesn’t seem to stop raining.

And I start feeling lonely…

I broke up with someone at Law College Road… 3 years ago… memories flash by…

I start to think about my disturbing childhood… eventful teenage… girls that I went out with… girls that I ditched… girls that dumped on me… crazy life… insane…

An around 45-50 year old man pushes me from behind and asks me to stand properly. Don’t know why. Must be one of those that just can’t stand the youth. Dickhead. And there are a lot like them around.

I just give him a weird look. Don’t say anything. You can’t fuck-up with random people in big cities. You never know who has connections in the higher. And importantly, in the lower. I just let it go.

There is a couple standing with us. Cute one. Trying their best not to display any affection towards each other in public. Brings a smile on my lips. Reminds me of my current stupid girlfriend.

I call her up.

“Hey Priya, wassup?”

She starts shouting,

“Where the fuck have you been? I have been trying to call you since 4:30? Why did you not answer my calls?”

The girl standing next to me gets to hear that. The girl is wearing a swine-flu mask. Has a hot figure. I imagine her face to be equally hotter. And feel embarrassed as Priya continues barking on the other side of the phone,

“Don’t you know how special today is for me? It’s Rocky’s birthday, he turned 4 today. I thought you would call up to wish…”

I hang up on her.

The thought of that monster doggie, Rocky, makes me feel sick in my stomach.

Am I supposed to remember that dog’s birthday too? Suck this!

Priya tries calling me back 3-4 times. I do not answer.

I start observing the girl with the mask and tight figure. I can figure out a smile behind that mask too.

Beauty is meant to be admired, isn’t it?

And someone’s cell phone rings. Pretty loud but a good ring tone.

It is another hottie. Wearing a revealing top with low waist Levi’s. She starts speaking in a childish yet seductive tone,

“Where are you dear? I got wet, you know-“

So she means she got “drenched”. Pervert mind, Rahul, not fair. Think straight. At least for a change.

Water drops make their way from her waist in her jeans and I try my best not to look at the procedure of getting wet… lol…

She speaks a different Hindi. Must be from North. Very fair and firm. Curvy.

Why don’t I get such a girlfriend? Why doesn’t my girlfriend speak with me the way this chick is speaking to her boyfriend?

Too bad this girl has a boyfriend. Otherwise I would have asked her out straightaway. Come on Rahul, what’s wrong with you?

The dickhead that pushed me also starts speaking on the phone,

“Why isn’t my Audi ready yet? I am getting wet!”

He is loud enough to make other poor people like me understand that he is not just one of us. He has an Audi and only because it is not “ready” yet he has to spend some time with the masses.

He is probably faking the call. But has managed to make a good impression. Most of the stranded ones will find his pushing me reasonable now. Understandable though.

And another fuck up. Not a serious one. But the tight figured girl removes her mask. Don’t know what makes her do that. And she is a fuckface. Totally opposite of what her figure is. Much older than what I thought she was.

She notices a clear disappointment in my eyes. Probably repents the action of removing the mask.

I can’t help it. I am yet to reach a stage where people respect the inner beauty and stuff. At the moment, inner beauty for me is beauty inside the clothes…. Pervert, I say to myself.

My phone starts vibrating. Boss again. From his cell phone this time. I cut the call.

He immediately sends a text message, “ Rahul, please try to come as soon as possible. We have a call with Patricia now.”

Motherfucker.

Sometimes I wonder if my boss ever has sex in his life. He is thirty-five. Married. No kids yet.

I have never seen him coming in the office, neither have I seen him leaving the office. He is just always there in the office. His eyes glued to his PC.

Pretty frustrated in life. Or workaholic, for that matter.

It’s a very good learning experience though. You hate your boss’s face. He hates yours. Still you work together on projects. Meet the deadlines. Somewhere down the line both of you start respecting each other. But yeah, you still hate each other’s face.

A BMW stops in front of the bank. The door opens. The girl that got “wet” shouts,

Bhaiyya, I am here!”

Starts running towards the car. So she was speaking to her brother! Not to some other guy! That does not necessarily mean she doesn’t have a boyfriend. But the hope is still there.

I wish the hottie turns back once before entering the car. Gives me a smile. Then writes her cell number on the steam of the window glass.

She doesn’t turn back. Neither does she write the number on the glass.

I again try to light a cigarette. But to no joy. Fuck it.

The rain seems to get softer now. A few people make a move.

I don’t want to go to work. I am completely “wet”. Don’t want to go to office and spend another 7 hours with drenched clothes. I will definitely get swine flu if I am forced to work like this.

Only if my boss understood. Fucker.

My phone vibrates again. Either Priya or my fucking boss. Surprisingly it’s Komal.
I hesitate for a moment. Feel like avoiding the awkward conversation. But I finally answer, in an intentional guilty-feeling tone, I say,

“Hello…”

“Hey hiiiii…. wassup?”

What is this? Is it actually Komal? Why is she speaking in such a lively tone?

Or did she not receive the SMS?

That wasn’t possible though, as I had received the delivery report. And Komal is one of those who check their cell phone for messages and missed calls every micro second.

“Hey Komal, hope you understand it was an accident….”

“I do understand it was an accident dude… but was a great one… I just loved that message… amazing… forwarded to some of my girl—friends too. They also loved it… thanks for that one… “

Was it actually happening? Komal wasn’t the ones that tend to be sarcastic at times.

Great… so I should have taken it lightly… fucking great…

“Komal, you know what, I was feeling very guilty and awkward… can’t tell you how disturbed I was…”

“Come on dude, I know you’re a decent guy. Happens. And I am not a child anymore. You can send me such messages… no one’s that innocent anymore…”

Yeah, true!

“Then why did you not answer my calls?”

“Arre, I was “trying” to study at that time, and mom was sitting in the same room. She gave me a hard look when my phone started ringing. So could not answer. Anyway, what’ up with Priya?”

The tension eases down a lot. I speak with her for some more time, making sure she is still the same, and the bonding that we share is still there.

The rain stops completely. I tell her I need to make a move. She wishes me a nice night at work.

I move towards my bike. And this fucking phone vibrates again.

Boss’s message.

I feel like not opening it and heading straight towards work, but I do otherwise.

Rahul, I understand it is raining very badly out there. It would be OK if you did not turn up today. Do make sure you come on time tomorrow though.

Fuck! Was it some prank or was it actually my boss?

It isn’t meant to be so fucked up day after all.

I start my bike, head towards my home at Chandani Chowk, wishing my boss’s wife gives him a mind blowing blow-job tonight…

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