The Story

This is story is a series of fictional events about a north Indian guy and his south Indian journey. My aim here is to entertain you by narrating some interesting and hilarious incidents.

I have no intentions of making racial remarks or hurting anyone, if I may do so accidentally then I apologies.

P.S - Movie makers will be prosecuted if they make movie on this story without my permission :D

Note:- I have not read Chetan Bhagat's 2 States, mind it.

© 2010 All Rights Reserved

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Chapter 19: Archi the Bisleri Chick

 

"Let’s go”, I got ready and got out with Deeps on her street-hawk

I was being continually coached by her on the way about what to talk and what not to with Archi.

“She might ask you about our relation”, she said in a faint tone

“Oh I thought we were going for a party !!”, I beamed

“Shut the F%$# up and listen to me I am serious”, she sounded mad

The entire ride took about 15 minutes but it felt like a year because number of instructions given to me were more then the number of instructions present in a commercial airplane flying instruction manual. In short I had to present myself as the most well-brought-up, respectful, well-mannered, thoughtful, loving, charismatic, anything I missed ?? Oh yes, most prominently,  good English !!!

“What ??”

“Yes, she speaks only English”

“??”, I gave her a shitty expression.

“But my English is horrible, according to you I am from a village”, I raised an alarm

“Stop making a mockery of the situation and pay attention; be good because she does not like people speaking terrible English”

I was dumbstruck for a minute, I could not figure out if I was going for a casual meeting with one of her family member or for the GRE interview !!!

Let’s wait and watch,

We arrived at Bazaar Hangout (Does not exists any longer) near Jaynagar 7th block. Archi was already there, we exchanged Hi and made ourselves comfortable. No one spoke for quiet some time, I broke the 20 second long silence,

“So what would you like to order ?”, I posed the question to both the females

“What’s good here”, Archi scrolled down to the menu card

There was something about her aura, the way she sat, the way she spoke and the domination she had in her tone of voice was as if she owns the place.

Superb, I just need to be a little watchful

A guy emerged with a menu card and 3 glasses of water,

“We don’t want this water, Do you have Bisleri ?”, she asked the service boy

This event is no less than 7 year old and till that age we understood just one thing that the only water that’s available in any restaurant is the water served by the server, the regular water. But this was something new, bottled water aka mineral water, which was considered to be a symbol of luxury in those days. There was something unusual about this gal, she was way too much urbane. The Gobhi Manchurian which I never hesitated to eat anywhere in the Bangalore; she made me believe how harmful can it be because it’s not made of fresh ingredients and blah blah blah. She also stated that she does not even eat panipuri because she is not confident about the water they use but she wont mind if the water is made of bisleri !! We somehow managed to eat amid all this.

After snacks she wanted some time alone with me and she asked Deeps to go away for a moment,

“So whats up Anky, How are you”, she started the discussion

“I am good, thanks for asking”, I was being the best guy that has ever been born.

“So how well do you know Deeps ?”

“We are best friends”

“I heard that, so you are thinking of getting married ?”, she said while she opened her eyes wide

I was shaken a little by her lethal gaze but I spoke “Yes why not, I like her and she likes me what is the dilemma ?”

“There is an slight unimportant hitch and just because of that we are talking in English !!”

“Look I don’t see language as a massive trouble, we love each other and we can adjust with anything”

“True but what about your parents and her parents”

“We will talk to them when we both are 100% sure and the time is appropriate. But I promise you that I am not from that breed who will sway her to abscond”, I showed some confidence

I could not decipher the reaction but she looked impressed. She clarified few more things in English and I replied her in English with acceptable grammar and articulation. I know this because I got the feedback afterwards. The conversation went pretty well and Deeps was overwhelmed. That was a relief. But it did not matter who agrees and who does not; in her family or mine because people who we care most about should be in agreement and they were our parents,

“If they differ ?”, she asked dejectedly on the phone

“Then we won’t marry, simple”, I chuckled

“What simple ? As if we will never get married”, she was annoyed

“Look, I and you do not want to get married without the consent of our parents, so if they say no, that’s all right. We will try again and we will keep trying until they agree, it does not matter how long it will take”

That reassured her and our love story kicked off officially. We started meeting at least once in each weekend because the time spent in college wasn’t adequate and we hadn’t revealed our relationship to anyone. She did not want any gossip to spread in the college. We went for loads of movies and restaurant,

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On a cool Sunday evening I was doing nothing and suddenly I wished to meet her but it wasn’t possible because she could not have come out of her house however, I had to see her, I called her up,

“Hi”

“Hi”, she giggled

“So what are you doing”, I asked

“Nothing watching television”

“Why is your mother not around ?”, I asked

“She is gone out. Hey !! How did you know that she is not in the house”, she asked curiously

“Because I can’t see her bike”, I said

“Where are you ??”, she almost screamed

“Just look outside the window”

Whenever I felt that I have to see her then there was always one thing I did, catch a bus to her place and called her from the telephone booth opposite to her house. I liked giving her shockers and she used to get shocked too, every single time.

I also devised “I Love you” miss calls, it was hopeless and mark of no-better-work. It begins with single miss call for letter “I” and then pause for about 10-15 sec and then back to back 4 miss calls to symbolize the word “LOVE”, silence for some more time and again back to back 3 miss calls for word “YOU”. I am not kidding but she always welcomed it and giggled while her parents cursed in every potential manner to the pervert who is causing these miss calls. The voyage of these miss/blank calls was very long because Hitler’s ultimate nightmare was becoming a reality and hence I could not have called to Deeps house and asked for her openly. I must call and identify the voice, if it’s not her then leave a blank call. One such day I called her up,

Tring Tring Tring

Someone picked up the phone ……… and no one spoke !!

I was even smarter, I also kept the game going,

I stood there and just did breathing

No one even spoke from other side, just breathing

[inhalation] from the other side

[Exhalation] from my side

It was as if we are talking wordlessly, both of us were trying too hard to distinguish the background noise and something which can give away the individual on the line but it was not easy because people on both sides were just too clever for each other.

[Exhalation] from the other side

[inhalation] from my side

This went on for a while and eventually she spoke, “Hello”

I smiled as if I won the breathing scuffle and I hung up;

it was Hitler

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