Deflower? anyone?

Dave Letterman (don’t ask me who he was, but someone very farsighted I suppose. You can always google him) once said,” Humans are the only animal who can have sex over the phone.” I beg to disagree. They are the only ones who have it on the internet as well. Now before all your twisted thoughts get active, this doesn’t have to do with naughty websites or actions but has to do with naughty words…

I was sitting at D’s place, with a fruit juice in hand (I am trying to stay away from alcohol, end up confessing my ‘ever’ dying love to X in drunken state). She was on her laptop typing furiously and the ‘katkatkatak’ of keyboard was almost giving me a headache.

“What are you working on?”
“Oh nothing… just like that…talking to an old friend”
“Hmmm…”

I picked up my copy of M&B. It was eight years after I picked up a M&B at the airport (Mills & Boons for all deprived romantics) and thought maybe I should read to see how they are writing nowadays, whether it is the same younger trembling women and macho, tall dark, sexy hunks (who also happen to be millionaires and great kissers). How come real life is so different? I mean the one who is handsome doesn’t have money, the who has money has mistresses and the one who has both is gay. Life is unfair tell you. I found the same soppy romantic stuff page after page. I guess some things never change or may be we don’t want them to. M&B kept my romantic fantasies going when I was a high school kid and I am sure by the way it sells, they are still doing a good job at it.

“I am just so disgusted, it is just hormones, and no one actually loves someone like forever!” D said declaring in mid air and almost throwing her laptop aside. That jerked me from my steamy kiss and most probably err… the bedroom scene and I looked at her from my glasses (I had a meeting in Mumbai and had flown down. Glasses always add an extra touch. X was busy and I had an evening free. D was also free, for a change she had no date, so I went down to her place to enjoy her big fluffy bed and to sleep in with the AC blasted at artic temperatures, and you value AC when you live in a city like Mumbai. Callous but true. Besides there is something so snuggly to sleep in a chilly room under soft warm blanket.)
“What happened?” I asked.
“These men, they just want one thing all the time”
“Food?”
“Duh!!! Sex”
“Ah. And what brings it on?”
“Hold on, I need to check on our microwave pasta, I smell something burning”

I took the opportunity to snatch the laptop and check my mail. Her G talk was still open and she was having err… what can only be called cyber sex with some bloke is US! I like a good girl closed that window, and like a bad girl couldn’t help noticing words “deflower”, “womanhood” and “manhood”. It was funnier to me than eeeeky. I thought those words had gone away with the M&B novels I read 8-10 years back. Does anyone use “deflower” nowadays or for that matter know its meaning? (Incase you don’t know, you know where to go – Google). I also noticed how D connected more on an emotionally level. Even for a verbal and may be a casual encounter the words focused around “hugs”, “kisses”, “feelings” and the man, the US dude, was pretty graphic. What is even more interesting is how men and women connect even on the internet. For all those long distance lovers, there is no other way to make out, but even in words, women focus more on emotions where men are more on – what else but as they had put it “manhood”! (And you thought I was going say food). I wonder which gene mutation made us so fundamentally different. I guess, I can say at some level it is true that sex is equally between the ears as between the legs for a woman. But till it sinks in with the majority of the opposite side, I guess there will be more “Hail womanhood, my manhood beckons!” to be heard, errr… read about.

Live to Eat

On Thursday everybody in the office had three things on their computer screens:
a travel website giving weekend options
rakhi card websites
online games and orkut
It was the last working day of the week and everyone- including me was looking toward the long weekend – Friday to Sunday, official holiday. Gods are being kind and we have Independence Day, rakshabandhan and Sunday all in a row!

Unlike my colleagues, I was not going out anywhere (since I figured I am going to bump into the same lot there too- everyone was fleeing to weekend retreats). I have no brother in town so rakshabandhan too was going to be limited to phone calls, I had my itinerary ready – sleep, eat, watch TV, read, listen to radio, sleep, eat… basically the order kept on repeat. It was a jolt, therefore, to find out that Saturday (today) was going to be a busy day.

Saturday early morning got two phone calls – my landlady decided to celebrate her 25th marriage anniversary (now I really salute all you couples out there… I can’t even think how I will stay alive for 25 years … forget stay married). It was a dinner invitation. Gran ma called next. Last week being Y’s birthday, she wished to take us out for lunch. Now even though I planned to rot at home like an alligator, I admit, I was surprised and relieved. I won’t have to cook food and no utensils to wash- Yippee! Today was going to be a great day…

It is close to eleven thirty now and I came back from that dinner an hour ago. And I feel like a python, yes a python that has swallowed an oversized prey and can’t move. Much to my embarrassed and surprise (at my eating capacity), I ponder over the list of trash that has gone in:
- breakfast – aloo puri
- lunch – galouti kabab, mutton kadai, chicken curry, biryani, rice, rabri, fresh lime soda
- dinner – chana dal, cake, lachcha parantha, mutton korma, malai kofta, fish roll, sandesh, icecream and rasgulla.

Phew! No wonder more than love, money and world peace, all I want right now (as I clutch my growling tummy) is pudinhara!

Gene Pool

I took my grandmother out. I thought she looked tried of life’s banality and needed a break (or maybe it was me), but together we went. We had stepped out of a book launch – a translation in Bengali of La Douleur. My French was rusty and I can’t even understand Bengali to save my life, so I sat there, with a fake smile counting the minutes ticking by and was the first one to flee (I didn’t even try out the flavoured tea they were offering) with gran ma in my tow. She is much more sociable than I am. It was her friend who translated that book. Mrinal Sen was there, he also knows her. I was quite thrilled for that one second to be among old people who were sparkling like precious antiques.

We wandered around aimlessly for a while, taking in the sultry, humid weather mingled with dust, honking horns and neon restaurant boards of Park Street. I asked her what she wanted to eat. She said she was game for anything, it took her to a Spanish bar and pub (atleast that’s what it said), it was first time for me too. It turned out to be a pleasant surprise- futuristic décor, eye tonic staff and good music. I think gran ma was much more thrilled than I was. Maybe she remembered her Canada days… to my surprise she asked for the drink menu and ordered a beer. I ordered a frozen watermelon margarita- something I had never heard before- and found myself staring at a huge fountain of crushed ice topped with margarita mixture and watermelon juice. By the time I could finish even half of it; my gran ma was on her second mug.

I was feeling woozy in head but relaxed and nice, I commented,” This is new you. I never thought we would have such a nice time. Now I also know which side of the gene pool I inherit. My dad’s family never even touched alcohol. They were pure vegetarian Brahmins…”

“I know darling. But I am happy you go after our side. We are more interesting,” she replied and winked.

It is strange how naïve we are as children. We have this perfect world around us and as we grow older, we start spotting cracks, blemishes and let’s say how imperfect our world really is. The final straw comes when we ourselves realize we are not perfect and become more tolerant of ourselves and maybe others. Learning how to see and not really see at times.

When I was a kid, my gran ma was someone I had most fun with. She still is a hugely entertaining person. A free spirit…but apart from just humour, jest and vitality, now, after 20 years, I also see the sadness of leaving her alcoholic husband after 20 years of marriage, of losing her sister to malaria- the deadly of all kolkata diseases, of going through the harrowing time of breaking the news to her second daughter that she was adopted… still as she herself says,” I don’t care what happened in the past, I am here to live my present, my future.”

My maasi had the perfect marriage in my eyes, I remember, 15 years back, they were posted in Dehradun, Mausaji is in the defense services. I was 13 years old and had gone to spend the summers. They had this huge old house with lots of servants. I got whatever I asked for breakfast and used to see from the window the couple sitting in the verandah sipping tea and gazing each other adoringly (yuck! Should have known then… it does sound sickly sweet). Ten years down the line … I knew enough to realize that my Maasi was having an extra marital affair and my Mausaji was too artificial in life to do anything about it (I think, he too was having an affair… pretty convenient say?). Talking of extra marital affairs… I am the not the one to pass judgements anyways.
“Why are you giving such a funny expression?”

That jolted me back to present and I asked her, “Do you think I have taken the dark side of the family too?”

“Well dear, everyone has a dark side, some people accept it and live with it and some try to hide it. It is a double edged sword, but everyone has to deal with it”

“How come ma turned out to be so different?”

“She had genes from your Nana’s side I guess; they were always prim and proper. He was too except for his alcoholism,” she replied winking at me.

I smiled at her spunk. Thankfully somethings still remain the same.