The Story of Jane and John Diss

Once upon a time, there was a young couple, Jane and John Diss. And, as young couples go, they were very much in love. They had been managed to put up with each others’ shenanigans for three years, and had decided, on that basis, to get married in a few months’ time.

As I have mentioned before, the two were deeply in love, and wanted to spend as much time as possible with each other. So they’d meet almost every single day after work, and go out together – for movies, dinners, drives, ice cream…whatever caught their fancy.

Wedding talks had just recently concluded between their parents, to the satisfaction of all concerned. There was much excitement in the air because, children, marriages come once in a lifetime (twice, thrice at the most), and are made in Heaven.

The Disses had just settled on the wedding venue, and the fun part was around the corner – the shopping.

Then, one fine Saturday afternoon, Jane Diss fell ill.

It didn’t seem like anything serious. Just fever. But it didn’t go away. It carried on through Sunday. And on Monday, Jane went to work and just came back, feeling sick.

John was spending his time working really hard, and worrying really badly.

So Doc came over to meet Jane, and told her to stay home. And she did. But she didn’t feel much better. She went back to work on Wednesday, but was bedridden on Thursday and Friday.

On Friday, a worried John took the day off, and summoned the pathologist to draw a sample of blood from Jane’s veins (and that, children, is sheer poetry). And woe! Because the results, obtained later that evening, suggested that Jane had contracted jaundice.

John’s parents immediately took their soon-to-be daughter-in-law under their wing. Special food was prepared for her. She was sent to spend the night under the roof of Doc, whose parents are also practitioners of the medical arts. Thank Heavens for that, children, for do you know what happens in jaundice? You cannot retain any food. You feel breathless and uneasy. And Jane went through all of that, multiple times, that Friday night. So bad, that it took a late-night injection to quell her symptoms.

On Saturday, John took Jane for an ultrasound to determine if the bile ducts in her liver were obstructed. Thankfully, this was not the case. But later that evening came the shocking news! Jane had contracted not just Hepatitis A (the usual cause of jaundice), but Hepatitis E as well!

The next evening, Jane’s worried parents arrived from Delhi to take their ailing daughter into their care. And a Godsend that was, children. For John’s soon-to-be in-laws took strict and loving care of their daughter. Not allowing outside food. Making sure she got the right nutrition. Crushing eighteen sweet limes a day for their juice. Anything to make their daughter better.

And, as John Diss worked really hard to finish a campaign, Jane Diss started to recover.

John would meet her almost every night, spending time with her and her parents. Fetching them books, magazines and comics to make their time in Bombay a little more leisurely. For their part, John’s parents turned in a sterling performance, visiting often and taking Jane’s folks out for dinners and brunches. This had a twofold effect, children. It meant that Jane’s parents were kept entertained, and that John and Jane managed to snatch some time out together.

As Jane recovered her strength, her folks decided to take her to Delhi. They would therefore be able to get back to work, and yet take excellent care of her. And so it was ordained. And before John could blink twice, Jane was winging her way to her hometown.

The weeks stretched by, long and lonely, for John. What was there for him when Jane was gone? He was too busy to meet his friends very often. And while bonding over the phone is possible, it is also limited, children, as you will find out when you grow up.

Then, one weekend, John decided to go to Delhi to visit his sweetheart. And simultaneously, meet her Grandfather, something on which Jane was very keen. And so he flew to Delhi, where he spent a glorious 28 hours with his wife-to-be and her family. Then he flew back. And was promptly despatched to Bangalore for a meeting on Tuesday.

When John Diss awoke at 4.15 AM on Tuesday, he was running a fever, and really not feeling all that well. Yet, he pushed on through the day, popping paracetamol tablets at regular intervals. He returned home later that evening, knackered. The next day, it was worse. He went to work feeling miserable, and returned feeling worse. On Thursday, he took the day off.

By now, his stomach had started acting up. Doc’s dad examined John, and pronounced antibiotics. But they didn’t help. After agonising all weekend, John noticed that his urine had turned dark yellow on Sunday afternoon. And on Monday, blood tests confirmed his worst suspicions. He too, had contracted jaundice. Hepatitis A, to be precise.

The rest was obvious. Jane Diss returned to Bombay after her birthday ( that very Tuesday) to be with her ailing boyfriend. Who, as the latest blood tests confirm, is recovering slowly.

And that, children, is the story of John and Jane Diss. A story of two people who fell in love, so deeply that when one fell sick, so did the other. A story of true love.

There's Something About Rachel

A.

B.













Long time, no C.

Ok, that’s enough of an apology to the three people I know for sure who missed the blog. Slappy, the Nag and Doc. So I’m back. And (armed with my trusty brand new laptop, just couldn’t resist mentioning it), hopefully this time I know it’s for real.

I’m going crazy just to let you know…
You’ll be amazed how much I love you so-o-o-o
Oh baby!!!

Alright, done digressing.

So, like every time I come back from Blogger Death, here’s a quick update on what’s going on in ze life.

(Bulleted, even, for a professional-looking post. All that’s missing is a clear plastic binder.)

• The ad agency I work for (yes, it’s still the same) sold out to its international partners. Then they gave us the money. Lots of it. So, I bought Rachel. A brand new (photos coming soon) fiery red Chevrolet Spark LS. Who’d have ever thought that my first car would be a Chevy? And that too, paid for in cash?
  
• Yes, I named her after Jennifer Aniston’s character in Friends. Spoilt, rich and sooooooooo sexy.
  
• Slappy and I are still together. Someone up there’s having a real laugh, I think.
  
• Slappy’s folks bought her a house in Colaba, ten minutes walk from home. Considering she’s shifted to an ad agency that believes in underpaying and overworking (more than most others, at least) the house means that we don’t feel like we’re in a long-distance relationship.
  
• Doc and the Nag got married.
  
• My sweetheart from college got married. Called me after a year’s gap to invite me to the wedding. In Calcutta. I didn’t go.
  
• Minty found a boyfriend. Pilot, I’ll call him.
  
• Sis found a job. She works with Legs. Yes, Legs. My close friend and first love from college, who’s now running her own production house. Touch wood, both seem happy.
  
• I asked Slappy to marry me. Formally, this time. On Republic Day, again. Ring-shing and everything. She said yes. How could she not, honestly?
  
• We told our folks. A little later, actually. Mine were very upset that I didn’t tell them about the ring. Sorry, Mom and Dad. Forgive an inexperienced, shy little bachcha.
  
• I now work on India’s number 1 tea brand, India’s number 2 bike brand and UK’s number 1 rice brand. Strange brew, but a happier brew.
  

So that’s the update, and now for the main story.

Rachel. A month after I bought her, some ass reversed into her while trying to park. Rachel was sitting in the parking lot, I was sitting in office. So I got the dent fixed, she looked as good as new.

Then one morning, a cab decided to brake right in front of me. I braked just in time – almost! The result: Rachel has a tiny bump in the licence plate. Not worth repairing, honestly. It’s the girl equivalent of the scar which makes a guy look rugged and macho and 300% masculine.

Do I need to mention that it wasn’t my fault?

Then some other ass, a taxi driver, slammed into a parked Rachel again. Big dent. This is a month before Rachel’s 6-month service, so I wait. Then we get everything fixed at one go.

I get the car back from the service, all gleaming spit and polish. Then the damn deck refuses to show me what it’s playing. Oh, it plays all right. Just that the display doesn’t light up. And the bumper’s creaking alarmingly.

Moral of the story? She’s jinxed. Somebody seems to envy her like crazy. After all, it seems like people are queuing up to bang (into?) her.

Right now, the bumper’s fixed, the stereo’s in the shop. And there’s a little unpainted, unpolished scratch on the front that’s trying really hard to hide Rachel from that evil eye.

After the first incident, I decided to try some local voodoo. I left that notch in the front bumper to ward off the buri nazar didn’t seem to work. And the traditional nimbu-mirchi is just an eyesore.

Now I’m looking for a shaman to do some mumbo-jumbo and dance around Rachel, hollering at the heavens. Contacts anyone?

One Bright Thursday Afternoon

One Bright Thursday Afternoon
10th October 2005
This post is dedicated to all those people who helped me through a rough period in life. Especially to my best friend, on her birthday. Happy birthday!!! - FITM
It was a usual, hectic Thursday afternoon at the agency.

In the post-prandial sleepiness, I was sitting with Kiddo (one of my art directors), Dressy (my new trainee) and Secret Agent Man (servicing), discussing the latest press brief.

I was looking down at the brief, hearing the suit drone on and on, when I saw something in the corner of my eye. Or, rather, someone.

Sweetie.

There she was, outside my cubicle. Entering the conference room with some of our servicing people (downstairs folks, don’t know ‘em, don’t wanna).

She’d seen me too. And then she looked straight into my eyes.

I didn’t need to work too hard on my expression. Surprisingly.

She couldn’t hold my eyes for long. Not surprisingly. She just ducked her head, turned away and entered the conference room. With what seemed like a slightly guilty expression on her face.

I was sitting there in shock. One half of my brain was still talking about babies and nappies. The other half was numb.

But not as numb as I’d expected.

I’ve been preparing myself for this day since January. Since the last time we spoke, I’ve waited for the inevitable. The day we’d bump into each other again.

I’d always expected it to happen around Bandra, considering the amount of time I spend there these days. Or around Lower Parel, where her office is. But not in my office. Not in my territory.

What made it even more shocking is that my bosses – the Silent Assassin and Scary – were just asking about her and our break-up about half an hour before.

How’d that conversation begin? Well, it began with my all-new Nokia 7710. The smart(est)phone. Widescreen, touch screen, office applications, internet browser, email, music player, radio, everything. The coolest thing ever. The one piece of technology I’ve fallen in love with.

But I digress.

Silent Assassin asked me to show him my phone. I was sitting in their cabin taking him through it, when I told him the price (Rs. 23,000). He joked that my girlfriend would feel deprived, that I was spending too much on phones and too little on her.

Now, nobody in the office knows about Slappy and me. So I lied. What girlfriend boss? We broke up a long time back.

Silent Assassin was shocked. He’d met Sweetie in Pune during the college fest. Seen that things were serious. Didn’t know we’d split. Even Scary came to know only in April, during that drunken office bash.

And here she is, half an hour later, parading up and down in front of my cubicle.

To tell the truth, I’d always wondered how I’d handle the day. What would I tell her, how would I treat her.

I got my answer. And I didn’t even have to tell her anything.

The first thing I did was SMS Slappy, who was out of town on a research. She was zapped – asked if I was disturbed. And I told her truthfully, "Not as much as I thought I’d be." The first sign that I was way over Sweetie.

Then I called Minty, just told her what happened. Asked her if it was normal to be disturbed. She said, yes. It’s the first time I was seeing my ex, obviously I would be a little taken aback. But she assured me the next time I saw her I’d be fine. She was right.

I went down to get a massage (another one of our HR department’s cool initiatives). And came back sleepy, relaxed and not bothered about Sweetie.

Plunged back into work like nothing had ever happened. Even when she stepped out it didn’t disturb me to see her. It obviously disturbed her – she studiously avoided eye contact every time she passed my cubicle.

I could be very mistaken about the communication between us that day. She may not have read my expression the way I wanted it to be read. But that’s irrelevant. Because as much as I was talking to her, I was talking to myself.

What was on my face? Nothing. Nothing but ice-cold rejection.

Which (in my mind) told her to go jump in a lake. That she’d lost me completely – nay, thrown me away. That I was strong enough to bounce back. To get my life back into shape without her. That I was better off without her.

What it told me was that I was completely past her. Took all my lingering doubts, and erased them completely.

That’s when I rejoiced. I was bouncing all over the place that evening and the next day. Slappy was surprised to see me like this.

What Slappy knows but doesn’t realise is that she’s been a major part of the transformation. The revertal to my old self. The moving on.

She took a chance with me. And so far, it’s paid off.

I’m glad in a way that this happened. It’s gonna change things with Slappy too. I’ve always wondered what was holding me back from committing myself fully with her...we discussed it a few days later, and I think it was my past.

Well, my past’s behind me. And I’m going to make up for lost time with Slappy. The change is already taking place – I can feel it. I’m not afraid of giving myself to someone completely.

All this time I’ve been moving on from Sweetie. But whenever I looked back, I could see her standing there.

But one bright Thursday morning, I walked on and turned a corner.

And she began to slowly disappear from sight.

Opposite Sex

Opposite Sex
5th February 2005

Not for the first time in my life, I’m wondering what makes women tick.

What puts thoughts into their heads? What makes them do those cuckoo things like shaving their legs? What makes them respond positively to men who treat them with detachment, and outright reject those who try to get close?

It’s the last question that’s been running through my head for a while, and it’s spurred off a series of conversations and insights into the female psyche. Of course, if I really want to know what a woman is thinking, I could just ask Doc – but then, I have to grow up some time.

There’s this girl, let’s call her Boxer. Tall, fair, slim, long dark hair, attractive face. The moment we met I could sense a certain chemistry in the air – not too far removed from the chemistry I once shared with Smelly.

At the time, I was struggling to deal with my break-up with Sweetie. And part of that involved subscribing to an email newsletter on dating tips. The advice, in a nutshell, was, "Run away from a woman. Treat her like she doesn’t give a damn. Be cocky and funny. Bang! (no pun intended) She’s yours."

Being in a rather confused state about the women in my life, I decided to give it a shot. Teased her, pulled her leg, was a smartass. Well, she didn’t slap me, and she didn’t stop talking to me either.

I didn’t make any moves. In fact, I recently realised that I didn’t need the newsletter – cocky and funny is who I am, naturally. So I relaxed even more. And Boxer warmed up to me even more. I call her that because she hits me playfully every time I tease her.

So one day I find myself in a conversation with Legs, asking her how the hell to ask Boxer out. Legs tells me to be Mr. Nice Guy. Phooey! Ain’t worked for 24 years, damned if it’s gonna work now. So I keep the leg-pulling going.

And next thing I know, Boxer’s telling me that I don’t drop by at her desk anymore, telling me to try harder, etc., etc. And I’m pushing back, pulling leg. And slowly the talk turns to movies, and we end up making a tentative plan to go out.

Wow!

On the other hand, let’s compare the Mr. Nice Guy approach I’ve been using since, like, FOREVER! Legs, my first love. Couldn’t think of me as anything more than a friend, and stayed that way even after I told her of my feelings for her. Sweetie, well, I didn’t play games with her, even when I was trying to get back with her. Now we’re apart. Look what Mr. Nice Guy got me.

But the moment I do play some games, I – tentatively, God-willing, hearken to my words o Almighty One – score!!!

Then there’s the strange thing with my sweetheart. It seems that, whenever a guy tries to get with her (and she doesn’t really care much about him), she tells him that she likes me! And it so happens that I’ve messaged or called her at precisely the time when she’s talking to that guy. So she tells him all about me – without, mind you, saying that we’re seeing each other – and he promptly surrenders and turns away sadly.

Feels good to be top-of-mind recall. I recently asked her to be my backup plan, and she agreed. Love that girl.

In fact, she’s been asking me today about Legs. As in, is Legs seeing someone. The moment I said no, my sweetheart tells me that I should start seeing her.

Hmmm. Interesting thought. As if it hasn’t crossed my mind at least thrice every goddamn day!!!

There’s a colleague who’s a senior of mine from Jai Hind. Ada’s worked with Legs, and naturally, they got talking. Since then, Ada’s been trying to play Cupid. Insists that the two of us are made for each other.

I deny it to Ada, but actually, I agree. I’ve never felt that any woman could be more perfectly suited to me. We’ve always shared a great mental rapport, been close emotionally, and she’s beautiful too! We complement each other. She’s spontaneous, outgoing, outspoken. I’m reserved, practical and straightforward. An amazing jodi that’ll never come to life.

Actually, I’d rather not get together with either my sweetheart or Legs, or any other close girlfriend. Not unless the friendship suddenly blossoms into something more. I value them too much as friends to lose. I lost Sweetie completely when we broke up. I can’t lose these two.

Ok, back to Boxer.

I’ve been feeling really unsure of myself of late. Wondering if I was good for any woman. Then along comes Boxer and suddenly I’m feeling a whole lot more confident. A beautiful woman has more or less agreed to go for a movie with me. ME!!! Me of the jungle hair, the former geek (as Groper puts it), Mr. Nice Guy.

Amazing. There is a God.

It’s incredible. I bet she’d never have said yes if I’d stuck to her like glue. I’ve teased her, refused to let her intimidate me – and it’s worked. Only thing, I wish I knew why. The newsletter said that it’s because only really confident guys do this to women – and most guys aren’t confident. They play the glue.

Strange. Because I’m not feeling all that confident at this time. I don’t have much to be confident about.

Not so strangely enough, men are just the opposite. We like to be nice to a girl. We expect her to chase us. And we get put off when she plays hard-to-get. But, the only way to get women to chase us is to the anti-glue approach – which most of us aren’t quite willing to do.

Hmm…maybe that explains the number of single men these days.

Of course, none of these games will work on one’s close friends. They know me too well. So even if I did (out of some serious desperation) decide that I wanted to be with either Legs or my sweetheart – I couldn’t.

I’m not concerned about what happens with Boxer. Worst case, we’ll be the casual friends we are right now. Best case…hmmm…who can tell?

But for now I’m gonna stick with what works. Mr. Nice Guy, with some liberal doses of attitude. The Chandler-Ross combination finally meets Joey. And I’m gonna do it, no matter what.

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Beginnings

Beginnings
1st February 2005

If anyone were to bring back that classic way of greeting, "What’s new, dude?" I’d probably look at him (or her) and say, "Everything."

Actually, that isn’t quite true. I’d first look at the person and say, "Dude…where have you been for the last thirty years or so? It’s what’s up or the more colloquial whassup! that you should be using. Get with it man, get with the times!"

But I digress.

I’m not the only person making a new beginning at this time. Even though selfishness and self-pity makes me feel often enough like I’m the most important person making a new beginning, reality soon sinks in to remind me otherwise.

Let’s start with Sweetie. Having ended a relationship with me, she’s on the verge (if not in it already) of a new one. And she’s finishing her first year at work, a rough one. New beginnings for her too.

Groper’s just had her new beginning. Having successfully negotiated her problems with FBW, they’ve made a fresh start. A stronger start. And she’s now finding the happiness she’s been looking for. New beginnings for her too.

The Drunken Painting Poet. Broke off a relationship a few months before she was due to get engaged. She’s now taking the time to rediscover herself too. New beginnings for her too.

(Don’t you just love that emphatic phrase at the end of each paragraph, dear reader? Doesn’t it just make the point oh so well, leaving you panting for more?)

Minty has quit her job (another one, you ask exasperatedly, especially if you’ve known that she’s job-hopped like mad). She’s found a new one in the career she’s always dreamed of. New beginnings for her too. (Damn, I love the repetition.)

My best friend is on the verge of a new beginning. She’s in Dubai at the moment to be with her fiancé, she’s got a job there as well. Soon they’ll be happily married, and I will breathe a sigh of relief as our contract is forever voided. New beginnings for her too.

But all these friends – all girls, please notice, I’m a magnet, I say – are not the focus of this piece, merely the lead up to it.

For I’m writing this piece on my PC – with one difference. It’s the second PC in the house today. Because my Dad is two days away from selling his office and starting afresh.

Things haven’t been going too well for him for a while now. He’s made some bad choices, some bad investments, even refused to accept the obvious (a Capricorn trait, I ask, thinking about my refusal to let Sweetie go). The camera business foundered first, as clients didn’t even return to pick up their repaired cameras. His computer business lost clients, his biggest one was even stolen from him by his ex-engineer. I even feel that he got bored, lost his motivation.

Then he landed up in hospital with an arterial blood clot. And my family took a huge hit – Rs. 3 lakhs spent on treatment, Mom and me having to support the family, having to borrow money from friends to pay hospital bills, constant worry and stress.

But I get the feeling that the worst is over. Even though Dad has yet to figure out what to do with himself apart from his current IT business, has yet to even find a new office. I get the feeling that he’s ready to get up again. Backed (as he now knows for sure) by a family that loves him more than he ever thought they could.

I spent about a week dabbling in numerology, practicing on my colleagues. Dad (and strangely enough, or maybe not, Sweetie) are in for a year governed by the number 1, which indicates new beginnings. In case you’re wondering, I’m in for a 7 year, one of deep introspection. And the fact that I’m back here writing FITM should tell you that it works, and that I’m a bloody good numerologist too.

Life’s in transition for all of us, it seems. For the first time in my life I know what responsibility and cares and worries mean. And for the first time in my life I have not a clue where I’m headed. It worries me, but I know I’ll figure it out. I’ll get where I want to go.

I’m sure Dad’s in the same state, if not worse. The breadwinner in the family now knocked down. Again, I’m also sure that he’ll be up on his feet in no time. That’s definitely a Capricorn trait – success against all odds.

Good luck Dad. We’re all here with you. We all love you. We will never leave your side. And we’re sure you’ll make it through this.

And now I can’t resist ending with this. New beginnings for him too.

When It Rains

When It Rains…
30th January 2005

To be honest, I was - and still am - a little afraid of putting up this year's columns, starting January. The lead up to this season has been one of the roughest periods of my life, and the thoughts expressed are intensely private. But then, I took heart in the fact that all you guys who read FITM regularly have known what's been happening in my life. And have stood by me through thick and thin. So here it is. FITM - Season Two. And... thanks, everyone. For everything.

It has been a very long time since I’ve written. Nearly three years, in fact. It’s taken me a hell of a lot of growing up to realise that. It’s taken two years of industry experience – enjoyable, frustrating, rewarding; two years of finding love and then losing it; two years of making new friendships, breaking some friendships and rebuilding old ones – all in all, a hell of a long time.

A lot has happened in my life in the last year or so, and that’s what’s driven me back to this column.

I met a girl in SIMC, a junior of mine. Let’s call her Sweetie. She was cute, tall, slim, dusky. One of the most caring people I’d seen then. We got together as a couple about ten days after our first date, and life was good.

Looking back at some of my old FITM columns, I remember wondering – "Mera number kab aayega?" Well, I thought this was it. I was happier than I’d ever been. We spent a glorious year-and-a-half together, before she dumped me. Then she said she wanted to get back together. Then she said she didn’t. Then she said she loved somebody else, and that’s when all my waiting came to nought.

The story of my relationship with Sweetie is told elsewhere, and I do not want to bore more people with the tale. My friends, especially Doc (DJ) and Groper, have had it up to here with my whiny self-pitying. Ask them!

Last year, my dad’s business failed. Tensions mounted at home between mom and dad. Amma was in hospital twice. Then dad landed up needing an emergency clot removal in December 2004. The strain has been immense. He’s recuperating now, all went well. He’s selling off his old office, and looking for a new one while he tries to decide what to do. Financially things aren’t good.

Damn it! No matter how hard I try, I can’t sink into my old style of writing FITM. I guess it’s a reflection of how I’ve changed as a person in the last 8-9 months. The humour’s gone from my writing – but maybe that’s because I haven’t written.

I owe you an apology, dear PC. It was only when I wrote the story of my relationship with Sweetie a few days ago that I realised how cathartic writing had been for me. How it helped me put my feelings down on paper, and remain more or less stable. How it’s reflected my positive attitude in life.

But that attitude’s gone now. My romantic life came screeching to a halt, things began to get shaky at home – all at the same time. I’ve often wondered why, but I’m no philosopher. All I can think is, when it rains, it pours.

Why the hell am I so sad? Why the hell is it reflecting on my writing? I’m laughing sardonically – and now I realise I’m using words like ‘sardonically’. Aargh!

Ok, let’s do this. Time for round 1. In the left corner, the Brain. In the right corner, the Heart. Referee, ring the bell!

Not all has been negative. Okay, I’ve lost the only person I’ve ever really loved. But maybe there’s something positive about that too. What? Beats me. Okay, things have been strained at home. Some positives – my family’s rebuilding, and I’d sacrifice every lover I will ever have for that.

My friends – well, what do I say about my friends? Amazing, incredible, supportive, loving. Groper, Doc, The Nag, Seniorita (not to be confused with Senorita), Minty, The Drunken Painting Poet, Srimati…not to mention the troika – S, A and K – my best friend, sweetheart and Legs. They’ve held me when I’ve wept (and, believe me, I’ve wept a lot, I’m not ashamed to say it, I’m secure in my masculinity). They’ve cheered me up out of a blue funk on my birthday by surprising the hell out of me. I can’t thank them enough.

Minty and I have become very close over the last year. She’s been a true friend – as predicted by Sweetie, when we were together and I doubted Minty.

Groper and I – well, I’ve helped her through a torrid patch with FBW, her boyfriend. And I’m glad to say they’re happy together and things are rolling along. And she and I have become closer than we ever were. I talk to her three times a day! Man! What would I ever do without her.

And Doc? That man amazes me. I was an idiot after he broke up with my best friend, hurt her. Because I convicted him in my mind. Throughout my problems with Sweetie, he’s stuck by me. Advised me, comforted me, even talked to her and tried to help us get back together. That dude is full of surprises!

My job goes on well, I think. I’m still at Lowe, where I’d joined after doing an internship the previous summer. Bosses like me, I think. But I’m disappointed with myself. Haven’t done anything that’s gone for an award. Tsk, tsk, tsk. I need to focus again – and I will.

What to do about Sweetie? Well, is there anything more I can do? Nope. Time to regain some of my self-respect and self-confidence and shut her out of my life, and let her sort out things on her own. Good luck to her. I’ve got to get the mind back to more important things. Like work. And figuring out what the hell to do with my hair – ‘cause some things just don’t change.

Interesting. This is something I did with Smelly all those years ago. It worked – refer Return of the Prodigal Girlfriend. How dumb could I have been? Why didn’t I just do this months ago and save myself so much heartache!

This time it’s tougher. The relationship was far, far deeper. It’s gonna take all I’ve got to get out of this.

Like I said, when it rains, it pours. It’s been a tough time. I’ve lost sight of who I truly am, or want to be – more like the guy I was when I left Jai Hind. Happier, more confident, mentally and emotionally stronger, more optimistic.

Ok, enough whining. This doesn’t read like an FITM anymore. Reads like some sort of agony aunt column…hmmm…there’s an idea. I’ve always been a pretty good listener. Maybe I can add a new dimension to my writing – advice!

One thing for sure though. I’m not leaving FITM again. Every time there’s something to report in my life, I’m gonna write it down right over here. I’m gonna get back to being the person I used to be.

And this column will read like it once used to.

I’ll be back.

Tangoing Solo

Tangoing Solo
30th March 2002

It's finally here. The last post of season one. In the next few days, I will start uploading season two. Watch this space.

It’s spring. And, as the metaphor goes, young men’s (and women’s) fancies have turned to love.

The disease began with Minty. The guy she’s had a crush on for a while now called her and the two of them confessed to ‘having feelings’ for each other. So she runs down to Bombay to meet him and everything is hunky-dory.

Did I mention that the only reason she told him about her emotions was because I’ve been drilling it into her ears for months now?

And now – the shocker. It seems that Senorita and Mallu have been seeing each other – for a month! Holy Smoking Mackerels, Batman! The people who knew – obviously – were Bunny and Minty. The news was delivered to me this morning by Senorita – and it’s taken me till now to get over my astonishment.

It seems I’m always the last to know.

I guess that’s why I’m feeling so low these days. For the last week or so I have been longing to return home. The two people I’m missing the most in the world right now are Legs and my sweetheart. I haven’t met Legs in six months – and I haven’t spent as much time with my sweetheart as I’d have liked to.

It’s an awful feeling of loneliness that seems to have gripped me right now. The reasons are manifold. A few weeks ago the gang showed that they could ditch me without a second thought, as they took off for The Lord of the Rings without me. After I had decided not to go the previous day because Mallu was ill. They’ve since apologised, we’ve kissed and made up – but…

Groper’s my best friend here. But it seems that whenever we’re together I’m consoling her about her problems with her boyfriend – whom I’ll call Fat Breasted Woman (FBW). She’s got him and that seems to be top priority.

Senorita and Mallu. Bunny, Ads, Minty, Guzzler, Evil Man and the rest of the gang. Excluding me. It seems I never know what, where, when and why they do something. Part of the reason is that I live at a considerable distance from them – but they don’t seem to make an effort either.

My best friend is busy working and trying to sort out her problems with DJ. Consequently she has no time. As I said earlier, Legs is basically out of touch. And my sweetheart is extremely busy at work and being futilely pursued by a lovelorn man.

While I’m very happy for the couples, there’s always a twinge of sadness when I hear about two people getting together. It sort of reminds me that nobody has ever felt that way about me. When I was in love with Legs, she never reciprocated. I don’t think I’ll ever fully get over that. And now, with my sweetheart, she’s blissfully ignoring the idea that I might have fallen for her charms.

The closest I came was with Smelly and it turned out she’s sleeping with our Deputy Director. That’s why things ended the way they did. Our entire relationship was based on falsehood – a puff of smoke.

I don’t know when my number will come up in the game of romance. They say that good things come to those who wait. Hello up there! 21 years without anyone falling in love with me – wassup, dude?

And only my sweetheart knows something of what I’m feeling – and that’s only because I called her. Groper doesn’t know – I don’t want to saddle her with my illogical problems. Bunny doesn’t know either. Shivvy Dee has been incommunicado, aside from the occasional hello. My best friends in this Godforsaken place are out of my loop – for the moment at least.

I’m tangoing solo. Waltzing, dancing in the dark, waiting for someone to join me. It’s not a good feeling. I know I’ve been a loner all my life, but I have changed in the last four years.

Time for my situation to change. Mera number kab aayega?

Return Of The Prodigal Girlfriend

Return of the Prodigal Girlfriend
6th September 2001

Posts are now flowing thick and fast, as I try to catch up with real time and start season 2.

I used to always say that it’d take a miracle. That miracle has finally happened today – leaving me in stunned astonishment.

Today, sometime in the afternoon, Smelly came up to me and expressed her desire to patch up things between us.

It started this morning when she cornered me near the notice board and mentioned something about expressing her undying love for me. I took it as some more rubbish and escaped quickly.

The second encounter happened at the foot of the stairs, when she grabbed me by my collar. I calmly released my shirt from her rubber-like grip and strolled back to class.

Immediately after that she took me aside and asked me why I was ignoring her. I told her that we’d talk later, and we did.

I’ve told her exactly how I felt (and feel) about the entire episode. Thoughts that you may find in a previous episode of FITM. And then I asked her why she’d behaved the way she did.

It seems that she’s gone through a hellish three months, sort of isolating herself from all but a few. Problem was, I wasn’t among the few. That’s what caused the rift. She seemingly couldn’t tell me anything at the time. She talked about how she didn’t like SIMC – the crowd, to be more precise. The people, she feels, are pretentious, and she can’t be that way.

More importantly, on the verge of tears, she apologised for her behaviour. She’s now asked me if we can let that ugly episode remain a thing of the past. I’ve told her that we can try, and so things stand. We’re at a crossroads – we can either go forward in friendship or not at all.

There is just one problem that comes to mind. What sort of a friendship can I expect from her? Will we be just friends, close friends or the way we were in Bombay? Can I trust her to keep her end of the bargain? How long before she cracks again? And was she really using me? I don’t have a single answer at this moment. Only time will tell where we stand.

One thing is clear. She’s going to have to take the initiative to get our relationship back on track. I’ve done all I could, failed and bowed out of the race. The ball’s in her court now.

Legs was right, it seems. She’d predicted that something like this would happen. I’d give Smelly an attitude, she’d sense it and try to patch things up. Gosh, she seems to be almost as good as Nostradamus was. At least where matters of the heart are concerned.

Watch this space for more of this reality series. Only on FITM.

In unrelated matters, I’ve just returned from a 5-day stint in Bombay. Last Thursday, our Director announced that we had the weekend off due to the chaos of the Ganesh Festival. So the Bombayites decided to return to their roots. I planned a surprise trip – only my best friend, DJ and Legs knew I was coming in.

I took a bus at 1915 hrs on Friday and reached home around 0045 hrs. Was greeted at the door by Amma’s surprised exclamation. I then knocked on my parents’ door. Dad was stunned and Mom had her mouth hanging wide open. My sister’s surprised squawk added the icing to the cake.

I decided to return on Wednesday, and so had the time to meet all my friends. I went through traffic, a dodgy clutch and a stalled car to meet Legs on Saturday. I also met Hairy Puttar, Lefty, Clapton and my college gang.

A few hours were spent in college, accepting an invitation to host a Physics quiz later this month. On the whole, I had a ball.

The best part was that I spent a lot of time with my sister. I’ve missed her a lot, and I’m just waiting to return home on the 27th of September for my internships.

The sad part was the death of my old family servant, affectionately called Bhaiyya. He’d been ill for a while now, even hospitalised. I’d met him when I’d returned home for Raksha Bandhan and Ganesh Chaturthi. Each time he looked weaker. He’d insisted on going home, and so that’s where we sent him. I’d had a feeling that we’d never see him again. He passed away on Saturday afternoon, and we got the news on Monday. RIP – we’ll miss you.

I returned to Pune with Groper to give me company. And then arrived at college this morning to be accosted by an adamantly apologetic Smelly.

I have no clue as to what’s going to happen with that dame. Everything happens for the best, they say. I think I’ll believe in that for the moment.

At least for now, I’ve decided to turn to religion to salvage my eternal soul. Miracles do happen.

My Own Mills & Boon Story

My Own Mills & Boon Story
12th July 2001

The babe is no more.

That doesn’t mean she’s passed away or just been willed out of existence. It’s just that things have come to a head with us, and I’ve decided that she doesn’t hold that sort of value in my life at this time. So now I’ve got to think up a new nom de plume for her.

I can still remember our last night together. In fact, I can remember all of them. This one stands out, though. The day her exams ended, we went out on a date which was the most romantic experience of my life. Dinner, coffee and romance. An awesome experience, one that I wouldn’t change for anything.

I would, however, change the way she’s begun behaving with me since I reached Pune. Weird is an understatement. She’s been brushing me off, like some speck of dust on the floor. Ignoring me completely. We haven’t spent any time worth mentioning together, and it’s been six weeks now.
On the night our relationship began, she told me that I send out mixed signals. Today, she’s doing the same. Every now and then, I get the feeling that things are okay. The rest of the time it’s either a vibe that would freeze the Sahara or one that speaks "Indifference" in so many words.

I can’t understand why this gulf has suddenly emerged in the plateau that was our relationship. We haven’t fought or done anything of the sort. It’s as if all of a sudden she doesn’t trust me. She doesn’t talk to me or tell me things – a far cry from those months back home when every small thing was confided.

What’s worst is that she doesn’t seem to want to do anything about it. I’ve tried speaking to her, but we haven’t done enough of that. She claims to be ignorant of the way she’s behaving – and she’s hurt me in so many ways that I’ve lost count. She’s even acting flippant about the whole thing.
I was hurting until I returned home. Talked to my parents about the whole thing for the first time, got the advice that we should talk. My troika of girlfriends (the SAK group) have been amazingly supportive. And I returned to Pune with a determined mindset.

By the way, by scoring 74% in my TYBSc exams, I have justified the title of Best All-Round Student of the Year conferred upon me by Jai Hind College.

I’ve come back determined to give it one last shot. And so, on Wednesday, our day off, I tried to talk it over. And was shot down, like a bird by a hunter’s rifle. And I’ve given up.

I’ve been steeling my heart against this for a while now. And I’m prepared to face life without having the babe as a close friend. Any relationship we have now is purely superficial.

I’ve come close to losing each of the SAK group as well. S – my best friend – misinterpreted some advice I gave her. She wouldn’t talk to me straight for over a month. However, it took only one short conversation to straighten things out.

A – my sweetheart – and I were close in SYBSc. However, I didn’t like the way she was dominated by another friend – this friend also knew every little thing we used to talk about. This lack of privacy pissed me off. We drifted apart unsaid. We got close the same way – without a word being said. We’ve even talked about it now – things are cool.

K – Legs, to you all – was out of touch for three months. Repeated attempts to contact her went in vain. I had just about given up all hope when she called up one night. After three hours of my abusing her, things were alright again. It also helped that she’d gone through hell and needed a shoulder to cry on – and wanted to remain a close friend of mine.

And now these three are my closest friends. Pillars of support that I don’t want to do without. People I love and people who love me in turn.

But I don’t know what’s going to happen with the babe. Friendship to me has always been a two-way thing, even with the SAK group. I can’t rebuild a bridge that was originally built by two. That’s what’s going on with the babe. I’m trying to mend fences – she’s trampling over them with every little thing she does or says.

I cannot describe my feelings for her too well. It’s deep affection, I guess. But that extra something that could have turned our friendship to love has now been subdued by the way she’s been behaving.

I guess all that talk she gave me about valuing our friendship more than anything else was crap. She’s been hesitant about entering a relationship with me – a view I respect. We were close friends who were also physically intimate. It’s what she was also looking for. Now we’ve got to redefine our friendship – something madam has no time to do.

I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t miss the physical intimacy. It was great. However, I’m willing to do without it – something I think she thinks I can’t do.

These developments have now narrowed down my short-list of prospective brides to three – the aforementioned SAK group. One good thing has come out of all this, though. I’ve learnt how to kiss.
No Mills & Boon has ended with the protagonists unhappy. I’d like to hope that my story still has a couple of chapters left. But I’m prepared for the more probable eventuality that it doesn’t. Things won’t work unless a miracle occurs and she sees the light.

I’d like to consider it more her loss than mine. I’ve been a very good friend. I’ve dropped everything for her when she’s needed me. Unfortunately, I don’t think she’s capable of doing the same. I guess I’ve figured out who my true friends are.

It’s the end of what could have been so beautiful. What has been now turned into something banal and insignificant by her mental block.

And now I return to the dilemma I’m in. I doubt that the nomenclature ‘the babe’ will appear in this column any more. So I’ve got to figure out what to call her.

She always wears a very distinctive perfume that may have contributed to my attraction towards her. So I’m going to call her Smelly.

If she’s offended, I don’t really care. There’s not much chance that she’s going to read this.
And now I recall the words of Bonnie Tyler’s Total Eclipse of the Heart, which I misquote slightly:

Once upon a time we were falling in love;
Now we’re only falling apart.
Nothing I can say…total eclipse of the heart.
Nothing I can do…total eclipse of the heart.

Love's Labour Lost

I'm starting off with the earliest FeetITM. Once I've gone through these, I'll upload the current season. Enjoy...

Love’s Labour Lost
3rd May 2001

Something’s happened. Something that has just changed my life – for better or worse, I know not – something that still has me stunned.

It all started when I met her. Long legs, cute smile and an attitude to match. Total chemistry. And then, on the 19th of April, at about 1.15 AM, after a conversation I later realised was aimed at pulling me out of a confused shell, I had my first kiss.

I really am amazed at her bravado. Most girls are quite terrified at the idea of engaging in lip-lock with yours truly.

Anyway, I am not going to blather on about how I was manipulated, or how great it felt, or how far we have gone. That is really none of your business.

A few nights later, on what has now become part and parcel of my routine, we decided to enjoy our newfound passion at Worli. To be more specific, Worli Sea Face. We landed up there around 12.30 AM, and had just begun to relax, when our friendly neighbourhood Pandu havaldar showed up.

Not in any mood to understand that I was being trained at the hands – or should I say lips? – of a master, he irritably waved us off. Shades of Navalkar and Swaraj? We didn’t bother to find out, but sped back to the locale of our first experience together – Nariman Point.

We’ve just realised how lucky we were that night. For the only person who could have spiked our wheels was a sleepy watchman, who we later figured was enjoying a show. He must have gotten bored later – we did get monotonous to watch. I must add here that we did have a lovely time – the babe’ll probably kick me if I suggest otherwise.

The other night, we proceeded on our nightly jaunt. Drove into Nariman Point quite confidently, only to find it blockaded. By a fleet of taxicabs. Gun-runners and lovers, beware! Overwhelmed by sheer force of numbers, we beat an honourable retreat, to kiss another night.

But two young people with active hormones are not to be denied. We then decided to explore Colaba, and damn near got lost around Navy Nagar. No secluded khopcha here either. We then proceeded to get lost somewhere around Mantralaya, where we were able to spend a few precious moments together. Ably guarded by the watchfully lusty eyes of a couple of cabbies and a watchman.

And we have no idea where to go the next time around. What with the idea that public displays of affection are contrary to Indian culture, couples around town have nowhere to go when feeling even slightly amorous. So, in the best interest of love – and me and the babe – I compile a list of a few possible late night hangouts around South Mumbai.

• The little lane near the National Centre for the Performing Arts (NCPA), outside Ashoka Hall. The dogs put a spanner in the works – I think they expect to be allowed to go at it in total privacy.
  
• The bylanes around Mantralaya. With watchmen and cabbies always hanging around to give budding exhibitionists an extra thrill.
  
• The area near Hanging Gardens and Café Naaz, provided there ain’t too much traffic coming through. A lovely view, hopefully no cops.
  

Chowpatty beach, at Rs. 15 an hour. However, one – two – cannot go too far. Get more adventurous than a hug and you are promptly warned. The heat could also be detrimental to romantic interests and stripping to stay cool may lead to temporary internship in a city gaol.

I haven’t been in this relationship long enough to explore the underbelly of our oh-so-liberal city completely. If you know a few spots around South Mumbai where one – two – can canoodle in peace, please be kind enough to let us know. The babe and I will be extremely grateful.

Which leaves me with one stray thought. Navalkar and the ilk hate kissing in public. Wonder if he’d allow us to use his guest bedroom…