Early Lessons
The mere sight of her sent chills down his spine. Her scent catapulted him into a yogic trance.
She was a hard task-master. He yearned to be her slave.
At the parent-teacher meeting, there were complaints of his dipping scores.
His joy knew no bounds when Maya Ma’am, his first crush, was appointed his in-charge.
The Slip
In his stealthy effort to surprise her, the ring slipped out of his palms and drowned in the sea.
Gasping, he let out a sigh. All courage that he’d mustered to finally confess his love, evaporated. She waited but the words never came.
Dejectedly, she called her Mom – I’m ready to marry whoever you say.
An Encounter with @ShashiTharoor
Circa 1564, if twitter was around and if folks at Stratford-On-Avon were tech-twavvy, their local bard would have tweeted – “A jest’s prosperity lies in the ear of him that hears it, never in the tongue of him who makes it”. Mind you, it is much less than 140 characters(the twitter limit) yet conveys so much.
Fast-forward to 2009, words of wisdom such as above deserve to be re-tweeted and that is exactly what Dr. Shashi Tharoor did at the tweetup in Bangalore yesterday, taking upon him the blame of not keeping in mind the multilingual/multicultural cauldron that India is, as a result of which the now infamous cattle class controversy erupted few months back. And made Indians in multitudes flock to twitter.
Frankly speaking, in spite of being quite a twitterphile I’d never attended tweetups until the one with @GuyKawasaki last month. That was much fun but I obviously connected with this one more.
The one hour or so session, was full of quips from the wise man. He is a delight to listen to and a gem of a human being.
My Autographed Copy! 
When asked what would he do when faced with a glass ceiling in Indian politics, he replied that he was here to serve and did not care much about the rise. He shared anecdotes of how twitter, at times, helped with social causes.
In the process, I met some amazing tweeters from Bangalore. One of them being @manuscrypts whose done a wonderful write-up on the event. Like him, I too got my copy of The Great Indian Novel autographed but unlike him I haven’t read it yet. I haven’t had the privilege(?) of interacting with politicians and if I’m not mistaken, this was my first such encounter. I’m sure that Dr. Tharoor is indeed a class apart but I’m also sure that, if other politicos have even an iota of a vision like his – India has a bright future!
Earlier at the venue, a TOI reporter had asked me why I was there. To get inspired! – I had said. And inspired I was, at the end of it.
Update
Lo and Behold! A few hours after I tweeted the link to this post, the following happened …
Midnight Madness
I jumped out of bed, horror-struck. Switching on the light, I pulled my hair back and gawked at the mirror.
There were no signs of shreds of locks and oodles of scalp, as I had imagined. I wasn’t going bald.
I applied a generous dose of olive oil. Smiled. And, I drifted back to dreamland.
May Peace Prevail On Earth
The word that describes it is … – I said. She cut me short – Smart!
In my mind, I had – Bitchy! But she wasn’t a mind reader. I smiled.
I paid for the spectacles. We headed out.
And, another argument was nipped in the bud.
We are a peaceful couple.
One, an impatient speaker. Another, a patient listener.
Zero This Zero That
No, Thank You. I’m full – she politely declined the deserts on offer.
I’ve a bad cold – she said sliding the ice-cream aside.
They cringed while others indulged sinfully.
On the drive back home, they remained sullen.
In the nude, they corroborated their stats, nudging each other out of the mirror’s view.
The perfidious size-zero beckoned.
Hold ‘em tight
A man should be able to hold his drink. I had always wondered why the rule didn’t apply to them – the sober creations of God.
By the seventh round, I was under the table.
She, now an angel, asked if I desired some more.
Later, she claimed to have stayed sober.
Dubious! – I shrugged, sheepishly.
Alter Ego
I feel a certain void - she’d admitted. She always desired to do myriad things. One life to live – she would scream. She was to me – a genuine human being and a great friend. Her ideologies resonated with mine. She was my alter ego.
Her suicide shook me, shattered my beliefs, raised infinite questions. All unanswered!
