The Power of A Smile(y)

Scenario 1

She: Do you love me?
He: Yes
She: Why are you so terse?
He: I am not
She: Okay
He: What?
She: Nothing
He: Why are you so upset?
She: I am not
He: Okay.
<After some time>

She: You don’t love me anymore
He: Why do you say that?
She: I don’t, it’s the tone of your SMS replies
He: Baby, I am tired
She: Well, so am I
He: Will talk to you later
She: Yeah, whatever!

Scenario 2

She: Do you love me?
He: Yes 🙂
She: I love you too 🙂
He: 🙂 🙂

GAH.

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Love and Garbage

This year, my seven-year old cousin came down to India from the United States for celebrating Diwali. He is a bright, adorable kid with keen observational powers who obviously loves being with his extended family (and our family is well extended, no doubt), people whom he meets only for a couple of weeks every couple of years. His mother stayed back in the US, for want of leave, while he cheerfully accompanied his dad to meet the garrulous crowd that was our family. The first two days for him probably sped in a haze of hugging ,cheek pinching and jet lag, and he obviously enjoyed being the darling of the crowd (who doesn’t?!). I met him as he pranced through the door of our house, excitedly showing me something on his arms. “Mosquito bites,” he declared dramatically, intently counting the red swelled spots dotting his skin, as my mom at once scoured the house for mosquito repellent and coil. He decided to spend the night with us, and throughout the night, he couldn’t sleep, with the mosquitoes causing havoc. The next day, bleary eyed, he solemnly declared to my mother “I wish God hadn’t created mosquitoes”. And I sincerely wished our civic authorities did something about the open sewage running in front of our homes and the big rain puddles that had popped out of nowhere on “roads” following the slight drizzle the day before and our people did not dump garbage right next to the empty garbage bin.
The next week sped by in a blur, and he became de facto entertainer of the family. We good-naturedly poked fun at his American accent and he made us laugh with his spot-on rendition of Indian English accent (I now wonder where he picked it up from). Toward the end of the trip, we were in our car, driving back home after yet another trip to meet our relatives, when my uncle, in a bid to stop his son from playing Gangnam Style that seemed to be on a neverending loop, asked him to spell out the major differences between India and the US. He thoughtfully pursed his lips for sometime and answered “traffic here is different”. I shrunk back in my seat, expecting him to say how chaotic the traffic is, how we never follow rules, and how traffic lights are just an adornment on the badly paved roads. He just said “the steering wheel is on the other side in the car”. As my uncle prodded him more, he was more forthcoming. “So many people in India!” he exclaimed, bobbing his head to Gangnam Style, and we smiled and nodded in agreement. My uncle tried to hide the phone blaring the catchphrase “Oppan Gangnam Style” every two seconds, and in a last, desperate bid to distract my cousin, asked him what else was different. He hesitated for sometime and then replied “It stinks here a lot”. My uncle (probably in consternation),shot back, saying it also stinks sometimes in the US. “But not all the time…” my cousin whispered to his dad. I fell back lower in the seat as an uncomfortable silence descended in the car. And as my cousin left for the US, only after extricating a promise from his dad that they would definitely return again next year, I wondered what his memories of this trip would be. Would it be the warmth and love of his grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins? Or would it be mosquito bites and dirty roads reeking of garbage? I wonder…

The remnants of love

Can’t u see,

We were not meant to be

However hard we try

We know that we are

Living a lie

I m sick

I m tired

Of all the unheard things I told you

Of being a second fiddle

To the idiot box

To try not to remember

Forgotten promises

Don’t you realize

Every time you push me away

To watch god damned t.v

How much you are hurting me?

Where is the love

After all these years

I thought it would

Mellow down to affection

But all I get

Is mono syllable answers

I cry at night

You dont hear

I bang things in frustration

You don’t listen

Why did u say u’d love me forever

When all u do

Is look at me like I m part of

The cushions and  cover

I cant take this anymore

I m walking out tomorrow

Maybe you will not even notice

What with the scheduled live coverage

of Manchester United’s pre-match practice

Some “great” pickup lines that probably would never work

1. “Hi, I am awesome. And you are?”

2. “Is it just you or is this place really hot?”

3. “I forgot my phone number. Can I have yours?”

4. “Guess I was wrong. So beauty and intelligence do mix”

5. So how is the  experience  of being a contest winner so far? Wait, you are Miss Wonderful, aren’t you?

Probably this pickup line works for Ryan Gosling every single time.

“Hi”

The Breakdown of a marriage

You are late

Yes, I know.

Where were you?

Where do you think I was?

I don’t know. For all I know, you could have been shacking up with your new hot secretary

I was at work.

Yeah. I believe you.

Great. I need a divorce

What do you mean?

I cannot put up with a nagging at-home spouse anymore. That’s the last thing I need now.

All these years, and then you suddenly..

I said I need a divorce

I left my job to take care of our child. I gave up my whole career!

Thanks, I will send you flowers

Since when did you become stone-hearted?

Since you became a nagging, suspecting moron. Get out of my house

“Our” house

Not the last time I checked. I paid for the house, remember?

Don’t do it. I am sorry

So am I, for marrying you.

I love you

No, I am very doubtful of that. Leave NOW!

The door slammed shut

“Bitch!, ” he muttered, walking into the darkness of the night.

Love

“Am I right in doing this?” he wondered, as she walked toward him, radiantly beautiful, arm-in-arm with her proud father.

He realized that the small voice in his head was back again. He valiantly tried burying the nagging voice deep inside his brain, and spectacularly failed.

“Oh my God, I can’t do this, I can’t, I can’t… I am not meant to…” the voice that only he could hear started growing more and more loud. He started perspiring, and his crisp white shirt bore evidence of his discomfort. He was standing in a small platform in the middle of a swimming pool. He could sense a hundred eyes poring at the back of his neck.

She looked at him, and her brows knitted for a second. Of course, she knew something was wrong. But then she gave him a reassuring smile, and as always, she managed to take his breath away. Once he caught his breath, he smiled back, a little unsure, his inner voice now practically hollering “no, No, NO!”

He waited. Gary, his best friend, was standing next to him, dressed to perfection, holding the two tiny boxes that were going to change his life. He gritted his teeth. “I never should have agreed to this. This is not me…” Random thoughts again started whirling in his head. The shrill voice inside his brain didn’t help either. He mumbled an answer when an elderly man standing beside asked him a question.

On cue, Gary proceeded to the makeshift platform. And then it all seemed to happen in slow motion.

Gary, in his impeccable suit, tripped and fell on the elderly man standing in the middle, whose shoes caught the hem of her dress. All three tumbled headlong into the pool.

There was total silence. He was stunned and the small voice suddenly vanished, accentuating the silence around him.

She was a total mess. Her perfectly coiffured hair now hung in limp strands around her face. The wet dress bunched up about her, almost as an afterthought. He rushed to her side and lifted her up, hoping she would not get teary eyed at the humiliation. To his surprise, her eyes were twinkling as she resumed her position on the stage, in all wetness. What started as a small widening of her lips turned into uncontrollable giggles. Soon the swimming pool reverberated with sounds of hearty laughter. And then the realization hit him. He loved her.

As the elderly man repeated the question, he answered “I do.”

And this time it was loud and clear.

 

Inspired from

Why Chennai makes me smile

What is is with Chennai that makes me smile every single day? Is it the vehicle clogged roads? Or serene cows in the middle of  rush hour traffic? I am not a romantic. I dont go “Aww!” and take photographs of munching cows in middle of the roads for posterity.  And by the end of the work week, I can be found at the deep end of an ever-expanding share auto, rattled to the bone by the constant vibrations of the engine, tearing my hair apart.  I hate the fact that you cant walk on pavements (those are strictly for motorists by the way). Rather, you cant walk safe anywhere in Chennai for that matter. And I hate the fact that bus conductors are always short of change. And I do not even want to go into the specifics of hailing an auto and getting into it within being robbed of your entire savings account. I hate the fact that cars are driven like bullock carts, with motorists willing to climb over vehicles to get in front of the traffic. It is all a constant jostle for space. A mad rush to get there first (“there” meaning nowhere in particular). Although I have never lived in another city in my life, I have had my share of travels across major Indian metropolitan cities. But within a few days I have nostalgic memories of Chennai. I badly miss the food, the traffic, the contant “adjust pannunga” chatter in buses, the heavenly aroma of “The Hindu,” the twangy smell of sea breeze, and the hot hot weather! Maybe I am a romantic, after all!