Before starting to put pen on paper, when I named the current one, I got reminded of this post from the past and hence decided to do a decent job of clearing the air with angry readers who have been bit by such an oblique title to a personal blog post. I shall not do a Hi-Ye or Hi-Hi kinda thing to confuse one and all and will teach my sinhalese-uninitiated readers their first phrase in sinhalese before proceeding - "I am coming to Sri Lanka this Friday". That is what my title means in sinhalese. So, breathe a heavy sigh, forgive me for the encryption and sit back to digest my pre-travelogue kinda post on my vacation to Sri Lanka starting this friday.
Yes, I am going to Sri Lanka on this year's tour (we do this thing every year) during the summer vacation. And by doing that, we are on track for an amazingly new feat in the country's history by and large. Geographically speaking, Sri Lanka is a small country with a pea-shaped structure sitting merrily beneath India on the world map. Demographically, it is a scarcely populated nation. More so since a good number of inhabitants from the northern side were wiped off from the landscape recently during the war. A debate as to whether that act was right or wrong would best be left to another day. Coming to matter, the country has very few people littering its soil. And now, we are going to be the single largest party walking at large, on sri lankan soil for a good long while. Records from the shelf indicate that the most populous bunch of homo sapiens spotted on a 2 square meter patch of land in Sri Lanka is not in double digits. We are going to beat history by overgrowing the native population by a handful for about 9 days. Yes, we are about 20-25 members on the roster for this tour down south.
The idea of making trips with such large number of asses on the flight is definitely a questionable idea. Many of my friends and acquaintances have spoken to me about the fact in private. The general consensus is that, it is a really tough job to handle such a large group in the first place and with the members of the fairer sex outnumbering the members of the other in the touring council, the idea of social discipline and community etiquette are flatly defeated. More often than not, people tend to worry about behavioral aspects of men and women in such large companies. But, for me the one single advantage that defeats all the cons of the large group affair in general, is this:
Suppose that a group of two (say husband and wife) go on a vacation. According to the cosmopolitan distribution of the technology of probability in the evolution of mankind, the probability of Person A getting bored with/pissed off with the other party (Person B) in the congregation, during the span of the trip is as high as the himalayas. Hence, when such a situation arises, the poor soul (in most cases, the husband) is left to stare at things, animals and other living beings around, so as to kill time for the rest of the tour.
Now alternatively, consider such a large group of 25 with a camouflage of age, sex, height, weight, character, facade etc, it is as clear as a glass of aquafina water that one has so many options to try out in the event of one getting pissed of with another. For instance, if perima (mom's elder sister) behaves like a flat moron and keeps talking about marriage or some such equally infernal thing day and night, one can go ahead and try to socialize with chithapa (mom's younger sister's husband) who talks about beer, alcohol, whisky, vodka and/or related things incessantly. Or for another instance, if young cousin, who is obsessed with PJ's, as a result of going to school from June to April year after year, bugs one with nasty and stinking jokes from his peers and teachers, one can go for refuge to chithi (mom's younger sister), who talks of youth or love or sex or one of those empowering things in general. One gets the broad idea here, I suppose.
So, getting back to the argument of managing to come unscathed from a tour with 20 odd white-crossed relatives along, the variety of personalities in the gang is a single and sufficient reason to prove my questioning friends and acquaintances wrong.
So many friends and colleagues who are waiting to see me off are praying to God for my safe and secure return with no change whatsoever to my inner self. In the modern and civilized world that we live in, it is an accepted fact that a man's character and inner self are quintessential for harmony and happiness of the human race. And with a tour of sorts like the one I am talking about, it is very highly probably that one loses one's mind and in turn harms one's inner self, in the end leading to the collateral damage of society by and large. So wish me luck for a lengthy ordeal with old flesh and blood which is sure to be filled with socialistic festivities, including but not restricted to
1. consuming different varieties of species like fish, crab, whale, dolphin etc from the sea shores of colombo
2. secretive hanging out of like-aged cousins ranging from 20 to 25 at the bar parlour or tea kadai
3. late night sessions of seatu kattu (playing cards)
P.S : I shall draft a post once I am back to en iniya tamil nadu (my favorite tamil nadu) and that would be a proper travelogue covering details of places and incidents. Skeptic onlookers from my immediate friends circle who are apprehensive about my returning from the trip as my own holy self, can then evaluate the person in me, post tour!
Adios till then!
Wednesday, 18 May 2011
Tuesday, 10 May 2011
I've found out how he died!
To start with a few things that we all know, Osama bin Laden was holed up in a two-storey house 100 yards from a Pakistani military academy when four helicopters carrying US anti-terror forces swooped in the early morning hours of last Monday and killed him. So, a rather straight forward inference from that bit of news is the not-so-simple fact that the world's most wanted fugitive died not in a cave, but in a town best known as a garrison for the Pakistani military.
US officials said the helicopter raid in Pakistan was carried out by CIA paramilitaries together with the elite Navy SEAL Team Six. The Pakistan Government first came out and said "Hell Yeah, we knew it. How could they have done it without our help??". That statement became public and suddenly an uproar kicked off in pockets towards the north west. Now after going back to the drawing board and formulating a new plan altogether, the Pakistanis decided to alter things and nod their heads to the US' claims that they were indeed caught unawares. So, the stance that they had remained privy to the whole affair was clean and clear bullshit of sorts.
Coming to the dynamics of the whole operation in general, it is claimed that both helicopters and ground troops were involved in the operations. If that is assumed to be true, I don't see any application of brains from the Pakistani side as they CANNOT rule out their knowledge about the operation (Ground Operations mate!. Wouldn't you know if someone was putting his/her hands inside your shirt and tickling your tummy or some part in that vicinity?). But if we go ahead and assume that even this fact was true, it simply means that Americans have been playing at the Pakistani back gates, at their will. Tamil, as a language, is a very beautiful one to say the least. "Ooran Veetu Neiye, En Pondatti Kaiye" naanam. (Literal translation would get close to something like 'Your wife dipping her hands into your neighbor's ghee vessel'). American military is self's wife in this particular analogy and the neighbor (Pakistan) has been a silent witness to the former's exploits.
So, I think it is pretty much safe to assume that Pakistan's military and intelligence leadership knew of his whereabouts and sheltered him. Now, if Osama was being sheltered by some really smart brains in the business (viz. ISI) (Of course they are smart, for they've successfully masterminded about 100+ attacks in their neighborhood viz. Kashmir), then how the hell did US spot him right behind the back of Pakistan's biggest military area?
Tough question I know, and media all over the world is trying to figure out that particular thing. But one of my friends on the internet seems to have cracked the code. He says it has to be one of the two following things.
1. Osama must have come out on the road for some weekend shopping for self and supporters
2. He must've missed the trick in this fast socializing world of tweets and likes and hit the wrong button.
So, with two hypotheses that are really more logical than what the Pakistan Government is rendering to the world by and large, I think some insider should go and offer one of these for an explanation and thereby aim to put all speculation to rest. They can then call themselves a sovereign nation whose primary agenda includes their resolve against "non state" actors. After all, Osama stayed under their nose for 5 years and later gave himself away. No involvement monsieur! Not a single bit of it!
P.S : Now that, would be a really plausible explanation.Think of it.The thing about one hiding under another one's nose. It is difficult for the eye to find him. Try looking down to find the center of your mustache. No, you can't. It is beyond all technological advancements mate! It is also comparable to the worldly accepted fact about Tamil Nadu Policemen and their difficulty to spot the belly button below one's belly, with one's own eyes. If you know what I mean!
US officials said the helicopter raid in Pakistan was carried out by CIA paramilitaries together with the elite Navy SEAL Team Six. The Pakistan Government first came out and said "Hell Yeah, we knew it. How could they have done it without our help??". That statement became public and suddenly an uproar kicked off in pockets towards the north west. Now after going back to the drawing board and formulating a new plan altogether, the Pakistanis decided to alter things and nod their heads to the US' claims that they were indeed caught unawares. So, the stance that they had remained privy to the whole affair was clean and clear bullshit of sorts.
Coming to the dynamics of the whole operation in general, it is claimed that both helicopters and ground troops were involved in the operations. If that is assumed to be true, I don't see any application of brains from the Pakistani side as they CANNOT rule out their knowledge about the operation (Ground Operations mate!. Wouldn't you know if someone was putting his/her hands inside your shirt and tickling your tummy or some part in that vicinity?). But if we go ahead and assume that even this fact was true, it simply means that Americans have been playing at the Pakistani back gates, at their will. Tamil, as a language, is a very beautiful one to say the least. "Ooran Veetu Neiye, En Pondatti Kaiye" naanam. (Literal translation would get close to something like 'Your wife dipping her hands into your neighbor's ghee vessel'). American military is self's wife in this particular analogy and the neighbor (Pakistan) has been a silent witness to the former's exploits.
So, I think it is pretty much safe to assume that Pakistan's military and intelligence leadership knew of his whereabouts and sheltered him. Now, if Osama was being sheltered by some really smart brains in the business (viz. ISI) (Of course they are smart, for they've successfully masterminded about 100+ attacks in their neighborhood viz. Kashmir), then how the hell did US spot him right behind the back of Pakistan's biggest military area?
Tough question I know, and media all over the world is trying to figure out that particular thing. But one of my friends on the internet seems to have cracked the code. He says it has to be one of the two following things.
1. Osama must have come out on the road for some weekend shopping for self and supporters
2. He must've missed the trick in this fast socializing world of tweets and likes and hit the wrong button.
So, with two hypotheses that are really more logical than what the Pakistan Government is rendering to the world by and large, I think some insider should go and offer one of these for an explanation and thereby aim to put all speculation to rest. They can then call themselves a sovereign nation whose primary agenda includes their resolve against "non state" actors. After all, Osama stayed under their nose for 5 years and later gave himself away. No involvement monsieur! Not a single bit of it!
P.S : Now that, would be a really plausible explanation.Think of it.The thing about one hiding under another one's nose. It is difficult for the eye to find him. Try looking down to find the center of your mustache. No, you can't. It is beyond all technological advancements mate! It is also comparable to the worldly accepted fact about Tamil Nadu Policemen and their difficulty to spot the belly button below one's belly, with one's own eyes. If you know what I mean!
Wednesday, 4 May 2011
A Guide to Wembley and after (for Man United, I mean)
Hell Yeah! It is truly fascinating to note that "people" are merrily writing off Manchester United for the final at Wembley on May 28th (After writing off Schalke of course). I request "people" to hold on for a second and listen to a few facts compiled by one fellow reader at Mr. Bean's hometown (should be something to that effect for the kind of humor they produce) viz. F365 (yet again). I have been trying to find out why I am so obsessed with stuff from F365 and not able to avoid mentions or similar analyses or mere lifts from there, in this blog.
Cutting tangent and coming to matter, the compilation that I was referring to goes thus.
Whilst Barcelona play great football, I would suggest that the fact that haven't scored many goals against 11 men in good teams recently means United, if they reach the final, have a good chance, if Ferdinand and Vidic are both fit (and probably also if Darren Fletcher is fit). In the roughly 440 minutes played against 11 men over the recent four El Clásicos and the two matches with Arsenal, Barcelona scored three and conceded five, whilst in the roughly 100 minutes against 10 men, they scored five and conceded one. That's one goal scored per 147 minutes against 11 men and one goal scored per 20 minutes against 10 men. Van Persie's sending off was obviously a mistake, whilst opinion is divided over whether Pepe's offence was a yellow or a red - personally, I think it was an orange at worst. Barcelona also failed to score in 111 minutes against 11 man Holland in the World Cup Final. So the best advice for United? Don't get anyone sent off.
Now, on the contrary, I don't see United winning that game (assuming 11 players keep their feet on the playing field for round about 90 minutes, that is), if they play a tactic like the one in the 2009 final with a 4-5-1 where Rooney plays in the 5s.
While I was drafting this post and when I reached this point in my writing, I took a break for a cup of tea. And the tea, filled with ginger and elaichi, definitely proved to be a good refresher, like one of those magical, instantaneous Jeeves' refreshers. It sharpened my thinking faculties and gave me an idea instantly after consumption. The idea, as it ran through my mind, is as follows. In a guide to Wembley, given the nature of this year's champions league and the two teams by and large, it is more important to add some valuable points to the smaller goal of playing 11 players for 90 minutes for Manchester United rather than the bigger one of winning it. As facts stated above indicate, all suggestions and inferences point to an underlying assumption of playing 11 players from whistle to whistle. Hence, here below, I've listed down a few ingenious ideas that I contrived while plainly thinking over it.
1. Manchester United players will do well if they are handed an extra weapon (a secret one, to be used only during emergencies, though emergency is a phenomenon that is expected to arrive too often than obvious to the human mind in such encounters), The extra weapon is a 3 x 5 plastic card, painted red. They should probably make efforts to understand situations in the match, when opponent players are down to the ground and performing like in the movies. At these junctures, work of the moment would be to exercise their option of using that weapon and showing it to the referee who is in the near vicinity. By doing that, the referee is sent off at that moment and the probability of him showing a red card at the player involved in the recent tackle becomes zero. (A referee cannot use his power and exercise his options after having been sent off)
2. Quick Learners. That is the order of today's modern civilization. Manchester United players should show some tact in quickly grasping theatre skills from their catalan counterparts as soon as possible in the match. So that, if the first half is won by actors from Spain, the second one can belong to the fraternity from England.
3. In the game of counter strike, if you have noticed, it is important to stay together as a team, in order to clinch a tag team shoot out. That principle holds good in the game of football as well. It is important for the players to support one another in times of distress and grief and exchange soothing words to bring down their collective tempers. For, in a match against Barcelona, temper, taken as an emotion, can only be displayed by two kinds of people by the rule book. a.) People who fall under the category of proctors/referees in general. b.) People who represent the most populous city of Catalonia.
4. Repeatedly tell Scholes, (when he is on the pitch) that his role on that day is to be an Attacking (with a capital A) Midfielder and any tactless display of defensive skills is suicidal.
A fifth point has been suggested by a faithful reader of this space and I think it will do justice only if i include that most ingenious idea in this list of mine!
5. United management, wait and see which obscure North European country the referee is from. Once you find that out, you can send him a cable with 'From UEFA (shhhh!)' written on top and the contents being, in code language of course, 'Plan change. United win. Messi red. Barca no give 5m and show middle finger'
With such valuable inputs to the people in red, I am signing off with a cliche viz. "May the best team(not in my opinion, but in UEFA's/referee's opinion) on that day win".
Cutting tangent and coming to matter, the compilation that I was referring to goes thus.
Whilst Barcelona play great football, I would suggest that the fact that haven't scored many goals against 11 men in good teams recently means United, if they reach the final, have a good chance, if Ferdinand and Vidic are both fit (and probably also if Darren Fletcher is fit). In the roughly 440 minutes played against 11 men over the recent four El Clásicos and the two matches with Arsenal, Barcelona scored three and conceded five, whilst in the roughly 100 minutes against 10 men, they scored five and conceded one. That's one goal scored per 147 minutes against 11 men and one goal scored per 20 minutes against 10 men. Van Persie's sending off was obviously a mistake, whilst opinion is divided over whether Pepe's offence was a yellow or a red - personally, I think it was an orange at worst. Barcelona also failed to score in 111 minutes against 11 man Holland in the World Cup Final. So the best advice for United? Don't get anyone sent off.
Now, on the contrary, I don't see United winning that game (assuming 11 players keep their feet on the playing field for round about 90 minutes, that is), if they play a tactic like the one in the 2009 final with a 4-5-1 where Rooney plays in the 5s.
While I was drafting this post and when I reached this point in my writing, I took a break for a cup of tea. And the tea, filled with ginger and elaichi, definitely proved to be a good refresher, like one of those magical, instantaneous Jeeves' refreshers. It sharpened my thinking faculties and gave me an idea instantly after consumption. The idea, as it ran through my mind, is as follows. In a guide to Wembley, given the nature of this year's champions league and the two teams by and large, it is more important to add some valuable points to the smaller goal of playing 11 players for 90 minutes for Manchester United rather than the bigger one of winning it. As facts stated above indicate, all suggestions and inferences point to an underlying assumption of playing 11 players from whistle to whistle. Hence, here below, I've listed down a few ingenious ideas that I contrived while plainly thinking over it.
1. Manchester United players will do well if they are handed an extra weapon (a secret one, to be used only during emergencies, though emergency is a phenomenon that is expected to arrive too often than obvious to the human mind in such encounters), The extra weapon is a 3 x 5 plastic card, painted red. They should probably make efforts to understand situations in the match, when opponent players are down to the ground and performing like in the movies. At these junctures, work of the moment would be to exercise their option of using that weapon and showing it to the referee who is in the near vicinity. By doing that, the referee is sent off at that moment and the probability of him showing a red card at the player involved in the recent tackle becomes zero. (A referee cannot use his power and exercise his options after having been sent off)
2. Quick Learners. That is the order of today's modern civilization. Manchester United players should show some tact in quickly grasping theatre skills from their catalan counterparts as soon as possible in the match. So that, if the first half is won by actors from Spain, the second one can belong to the fraternity from England.
3. In the game of counter strike, if you have noticed, it is important to stay together as a team, in order to clinch a tag team shoot out. That principle holds good in the game of football as well. It is important for the players to support one another in times of distress and grief and exchange soothing words to bring down their collective tempers. For, in a match against Barcelona, temper, taken as an emotion, can only be displayed by two kinds of people by the rule book. a.) People who fall under the category of proctors/referees in general. b.) People who represent the most populous city of Catalonia.
4. Repeatedly tell Scholes, (when he is on the pitch) that his role on that day is to be an Attacking (with a capital A) Midfielder and any tactless display of defensive skills is suicidal.
A fifth point has been suggested by a faithful reader of this space and I think it will do justice only if i include that most ingenious idea in this list of mine!
5. United management, wait and see which obscure North European country the referee is from. Once you find that out, you can send him a cable with 'From UEFA (shhhh!)' written on top and the contents being, in code language of course, 'Plan change. United win. Messi red. Barca no give 5m and show middle finger'
With such valuable inputs to the people in red, I am signing off with a cliche viz. "May the best team(not in my opinion, but in UEFA's/referee's opinion) on that day win".
Friday, 29 April 2011
Beat the man to it!
"All my life I've wanted to eat strawberries in the middle of winter.Get me a basket of strawberries before the end of the month and we'll take up this matrimonial proposition of yours in a spirit of serious research." said Clarice.
"Strawberries?" said Mervyn.
"Strawberries"
Mervyn gulped a little.
"Strawberries?"
"But I say dash it! Strawberries?"
"Strawberries" said Clarice.
And then at last Mervyn,reading between the lines,saw that what she wanted was strawberries.
"Strawberries?" said Mervyn.
"Strawberries"
Mervyn gulped a little.
"Strawberries?"
"But I say dash it! Strawberries?"
"Strawberries" said Clarice.
And then at last Mervyn,reading between the lines,saw that what she wanted was strawberries.
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Thursday, 28 April 2011
Not there yet, Try Again
It was not the first time,
That the thing was close to reach.
The wind pilfered that valuable possession from the trembling hands of mine.
Life, by and large, holds many a lesson, and offers to teach.
Strewn on the path of this journey called 'Life'.
Are the flowers that meet your eye from the face of mother earth.
Wise are those who spot the ones that are fresh among the rife.
But they are aplenty, there is no dearth.
Pick the ones that come your way and keep the stride going,
Never give up if the flowers meant for you are not fragrant.
There are many more for you, waiting.
Try, try, try, because Thee rewards he who is diligent.
That the thing was close to reach.
The wind pilfered that valuable possession from the trembling hands of mine.
Life, by and large, holds many a lesson, and offers to teach.
Strewn on the path of this journey called 'Life'.
Are the flowers that meet your eye from the face of mother earth.
Wise are those who spot the ones that are fresh among the rife.
But they are aplenty, there is no dearth.
Pick the ones that come your way and keep the stride going,
Never give up if the flowers meant for you are not fragrant.
There are many more for you, waiting.
Try, try, try, because Thee rewards he who is diligent.
Monday, 18 April 2011
Monk! I need a Monk!
Well, I've lost almost all of the motivation I had under my tray in this big ordeal called life. I mean, I am not that drugs kinda person. So I have nothing too specific to attribute this one to. I have been riding with this level of motivation (or lack thereof) for about a month and a bit longer now. I am part of the many crazy people on earth who love their cars. Old or New. To add to what I have been going through in the recent past, I ran into a mind block this morning when I drove my car alongside the apartment gate and bought myself a rather nasty scratch on its nice and glittery red clothing. Like the way J.D.Salinger puts it in his epic novel, I think I'd rather have a Goddamn Horse instead of this one.
The feeling of nihilism is one that is a superlative of what I am currently going through. I know it is not that bad with me. I did try out a couple of those traditional approaches of getting over these mind blocks. Once I came out of it like I never cared about anything in life. I thought there wasn't much to worry about in terms of job, love, money et. al. But then, these things grow upon you. Even a slight-ish impact on your state of mind like the one I had this morning is good enough to add salt to the wound. The picture of those long white marks keep flashing in my mind ever since and I am not able to get out of it.
These phases in one's life, by and large, tend to make one lose hope on oneself. You can go out under the sun and start dancing to your favorite tune or sit down on a couch at the bar and sip your favorite whisky with soda. But it doesn't work like any sort of magic. I've tried drinking 2 cups of tea each time I go to the corner store. I've tried losing my mind to some lengthy hours of cleaning ordeals around the house. I've even tried to go out to the beach to untangle my mind from what is currently holding it. I know these things aren't going to give any motivation to fill the void that I am referring to. But I expected them to get my mind out of the logjam. In vain.
Socializing/Finding someone to love have been agreed upon as good options out of these nasty situations. But in my case they aren't helping either. I kind of have a screen in front of my facade that filters the good energy out of what touches upon me in day to day life. It is not about the career/job. It is not about the lack of love. It is about something else that I am trying to figure out. I always believed the culprit in my case was, more often than not, the idle time that has filled most of my agenda sheet in the last months. But trying to keep me engrossed in conversations didn't help either. So I am ruling that out of question too. One intriguing thing that is probably still inscrutable to me is the fact that in this period, markedly, I had a number of unrelated and random dreams. Different and more in number than usual. I think it comes down to saying that the mind is preoccupied with something else and is not able to negotiate with its subconscious brother.
The emotional snapshots that these dreams give me are probably arising out of a good number of unanswered questions in the mind that the subconscious of mine is not able to handle. These blocks have been a burden for quite some time for me. And they've more or less made me retire from a few things that I used to keep myself busy with in life. I am totally idle. I think I need some food for my brain, mind and body.
The feeling of nihilism is one that is a superlative of what I am currently going through. I know it is not that bad with me. I did try out a couple of those traditional approaches of getting over these mind blocks. Once I came out of it like I never cared about anything in life. I thought there wasn't much to worry about in terms of job, love, money et. al. But then, these things grow upon you. Even a slight-ish impact on your state of mind like the one I had this morning is good enough to add salt to the wound. The picture of those long white marks keep flashing in my mind ever since and I am not able to get out of it.
These phases in one's life, by and large, tend to make one lose hope on oneself. You can go out under the sun and start dancing to your favorite tune or sit down on a couch at the bar and sip your favorite whisky with soda. But it doesn't work like any sort of magic. I've tried drinking 2 cups of tea each time I go to the corner store. I've tried losing my mind to some lengthy hours of cleaning ordeals around the house. I've even tried to go out to the beach to untangle my mind from what is currently holding it. I know these things aren't going to give any motivation to fill the void that I am referring to. But I expected them to get my mind out of the logjam. In vain.
Socializing/Finding someone to love have been agreed upon as good options out of these nasty situations. But in my case they aren't helping either. I kind of have a screen in front of my facade that filters the good energy out of what touches upon me in day to day life. It is not about the career/job. It is not about the lack of love. It is about something else that I am trying to figure out. I always believed the culprit in my case was, more often than not, the idle time that has filled most of my agenda sheet in the last months. But trying to keep me engrossed in conversations didn't help either. So I am ruling that out of question too. One intriguing thing that is probably still inscrutable to me is the fact that in this period, markedly, I had a number of unrelated and random dreams. Different and more in number than usual. I think it comes down to saying that the mind is preoccupied with something else and is not able to negotiate with its subconscious brother.
The emotional snapshots that these dreams give me are probably arising out of a good number of unanswered questions in the mind that the subconscious of mine is not able to handle. These blocks have been a burden for quite some time for me. And they've more or less made me retire from a few things that I used to keep myself busy with in life. I am totally idle. I think I need some food for my brain, mind and body.
Thursday, 7 April 2011
That thing that never makes itself clear
Let's imagine for a moment that a guy named John is attracted to a woman named Lisa. First real meeting, when they actually get to talk to each other, he asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, it works like magic once again. They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else. Right, we have it in our hands now. The short guide to making a relationship out of a mere attraction. But that is not the point.
One day, when they are getting back home after a joy filled evening that comprised of a wonderful beach outing, romantic dinner et al., Lisa, who is sitting on the front seat of the car that John is driving, turns towards him and asks him "Do you realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly six months?". And then there is silence in the car. To her, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself - "I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. May be he is giving a thought to the fact that it all happened in a whisker, totally unnoticed. May be he thinks I am taking a serious stance here and feels I am pushing for something which is not frivolous for once, something that is kind of an obligation that he doesn't want or isn't sure of?".
John is thinking about that day. Six months past.
Lisa is thinking over it too. She begins to feel she doesn't want this kind of a guy or this kind of a relationship may be. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I'd have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily toward...
John goes back to February when it all started when he was getting his car back from the first free service. Oooh! it's about time the next one is due.
Lisa is confused. The way she perceives things from what she sees on his face is changing. "May be he wants more from this relationship. May be he wants to call it off, but is riding on just to keep it smooth between us. May be he has figured out my reservations in the relationship hitherto."
The car is on its way for its second set of chores in the free service cycle. John and Lisa driven to the beach-way for a cup of coffee.They've found themselves a nice and cozy seat for themselves. They are sitting juxtaposed.
Lisa is thinking: He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry, too. God, I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help the way I feel. I'm just not sure.
And John is thinking: The gear box has been such a failure ever after the first service. Is it under warranty? They'll probably say it's only a 90-day warranty. I can't take a huge bill if I have to end up paying for that malfunction.
And Lisa is thinking: Maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.
There's silence for an annoyingly long while.
And then Lisa shouts "John!!!!!!"
"What???" says John, startled.
"Please don't put yourself through so much pain." says Lisa. "Please don't torture yourself like this. May be I shouldn't have....Oh God, I feel so....argh..."
She breaks down. Uncontrollable tears flowing down her cheeks.
"I'm such a fool," Lisa sobs. "I mean, I know there's no knight. I really know that. It's silly. There's no knight, and there's no horse.".
"There's no horse?" says John.
There is a long pause yet again.
"You really feel that way?", says Lisa, deeply touched.
"What way" says John.
"That way about the long wait filled with inaction???", says Lisa.
"Oh yes, I should've done something about it way back". says John.
Then he drops her home and goes to the station to give his car for service. He reasons with the manager and manages to get the repairs covered under the warranty.
Lisa calls her friend (or may be two of them, one after another) and explains the situation. She explains how John had kept his feelings to himself exactly like she had suspected.
John goes back home and switches on his TV to catch up with the Champions League clash between Man U and Chelsea. There's about 3 minutes to go. So he switches to CNN-IBN and checks out what's turned out with Gaddafi and Libya and the rest of the western world in general. He tunes in to the game right in time and has his pack of pop corn and his cup of iced lemon tea near his couch and leans back for one and a half hours of unadulterated bliss. Yet, a tiny voice from the back of his mind enquires about the confusing discussion that he had with Lisa at the beach today. He will never be able to make sense of what she was talking about. What knight was it? Sigh! Not my cup of tea.
The next morning when John talks to Peter, one mutual friend of his and Lisa's, he asked if Peter knew of any pet horse that Lisa used to keep during her childhood???..
The End...
It will never work out between a girl and a boy. I mean that thing called a relationship. To hell with it. None of them can understand what's going on in the other's mind.!
Men like their bike/car so much that they can't keep them away even for a short while.
Women need reassurance a little more than men.
Men need football a lot more than women.
P.S : This work of fiction is not entirely my own. It's a tailored version of a famous story about an unspoken dialogue between men and women.
One day, when they are getting back home after a joy filled evening that comprised of a wonderful beach outing, romantic dinner et al., Lisa, who is sitting on the front seat of the car that John is driving, turns towards him and asks him "Do you realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly six months?". And then there is silence in the car. To her, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself - "I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. May be he is giving a thought to the fact that it all happened in a whisker, totally unnoticed. May be he thinks I am taking a serious stance here and feels I am pushing for something which is not frivolous for once, something that is kind of an obligation that he doesn't want or isn't sure of?".
John is thinking about that day. Six months past.
Lisa is thinking over it too. She begins to feel she doesn't want this kind of a guy or this kind of a relationship may be. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I'd have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily toward...
John goes back to February when it all started when he was getting his car back from the first free service. Oooh! it's about time the next one is due.
Lisa is confused. The way she perceives things from what she sees on his face is changing. "May be he wants more from this relationship. May be he wants to call it off, but is riding on just to keep it smooth between us. May be he has figured out my reservations in the relationship hitherto."
The car is on its way for its second set of chores in the free service cycle. John and Lisa driven to the beach-way for a cup of coffee.They've found themselves a nice and cozy seat for themselves. They are sitting juxtaposed.
Lisa is thinking: He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry, too. God, I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help the way I feel. I'm just not sure.
And John is thinking: The gear box has been such a failure ever after the first service. Is it under warranty? They'll probably say it's only a 90-day warranty. I can't take a huge bill if I have to end up paying for that malfunction.
And Lisa is thinking: Maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.
There's silence for an annoyingly long while.
And then Lisa shouts "John!!!!!!"
"What???" says John, startled.
"Please don't put yourself through so much pain." says Lisa. "Please don't torture yourself like this. May be I shouldn't have....Oh God, I feel so....argh..."
She breaks down. Uncontrollable tears flowing down her cheeks.
"I'm such a fool," Lisa sobs. "I mean, I know there's no knight. I really know that. It's silly. There's no knight, and there's no horse.".
"There's no horse?" says John.
There is a long pause yet again.
"You really feel that way?", says Lisa, deeply touched.
"What way" says John.
"That way about the long wait filled with inaction???", says Lisa.
"Oh yes, I should've done something about it way back". says John.
Then he drops her home and goes to the station to give his car for service. He reasons with the manager and manages to get the repairs covered under the warranty.
Lisa calls her friend (or may be two of them, one after another) and explains the situation. She explains how John had kept his feelings to himself exactly like she had suspected.
John goes back home and switches on his TV to catch up with the Champions League clash between Man U and Chelsea. There's about 3 minutes to go. So he switches to CNN-IBN and checks out what's turned out with Gaddafi and Libya and the rest of the western world in general. He tunes in to the game right in time and has his pack of pop corn and his cup of iced lemon tea near his couch and leans back for one and a half hours of unadulterated bliss. Yet, a tiny voice from the back of his mind enquires about the confusing discussion that he had with Lisa at the beach today. He will never be able to make sense of what she was talking about. What knight was it? Sigh! Not my cup of tea.
The next morning when John talks to Peter, one mutual friend of his and Lisa's, he asked if Peter knew of any pet horse that Lisa used to keep during her childhood???..
The End...
It will never work out between a girl and a boy. I mean that thing called a relationship. To hell with it. None of them can understand what's going on in the other's mind.!
Men like their bike/car so much that they can't keep them away even for a short while.
Women need reassurance a little more than men.
Men need football a lot more than women.
P.S : This work of fiction is not entirely my own. It's a tailored version of a famous story about an unspoken dialogue between men and women.
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