Not to be... (Part 2)

Not to be: Part 1

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...continued


Now, it was the last time they would be meeting, for the foreseaable & relevant future. The setting was neutral - a coffee shop. Neither was known for an emotional outburst, and the coffee shop would prevent such a scene in any case.

He reached early and was waiting for her. She came soon, dressed in purple. The dark colour was in perfect contrast with her beautiful, smooth, fair skin. Ah, she looked angelic. He regretted not having shaved off his stubble. He convinced himself - maybe she liked the rugged look !

He held her hand - it fit perfectly into his. She did not resist. She liked the warmth of his hands. He was sad, upset. He knew how the conversation would proceed. She was smiling, the twinkle in her eyes always present. He hoped that the smile hid some amount of sadness & regret. He wanted to hear from her how she felt about him. Little did he know that he never would, ever.

He was not his usual self. He found it hard to talk, to smile, to make conversation. There was a lump in his throat, that brought tears to the edge of his eye. But, he refused to cry. He wanted to be strong. He wanted to show her that he also could be strong like her. He wanted to lie to her - just this one time.

She was truly lady-like in her approach, the only exception being that she did not withdraw her hand from his.

She kept talking, and he kept fidgeting with her fingers.

Suddenly, he interrupted her irrelevant talks.

"are you sure ?"

She was silent for a while. "Yes"

"This is just not fair", he resigned.

"I know.. but, the doors are closed on our relationship"

"they are not closed. you have shut them ! I want you to open the door for me.."

And, then, as she dithered to reply, he gave up. Whatever hopes he had, came crashing down. He knew it wasn't going to be. It was meant to be. It was perfect. But it was not going to happen.

He will be with someone else. She will be with someone else. They both might very well be happy in their individual lives. But for him, one question will always persistently bother him - What if ? What if ?

She mentioned something about them not having a snap together. He asked the waiter to click a snap. He even smiled. They would both preserve this photograph, this only photograph of their together, forever.

Although he smiled for the photograph, his mind was elsewhere. He had never felt this helpless. He was a guy who liked to be in control. He realised that this time, he would have to let go.

Soon, the coffees became as cold as the conversation died down. They stood, her hand still in his, almost like they had forgotten they are holding hands.

And they walked out. He was lost. She betrayed no sadness, gave him nothing to capitalise on, showed no weakness. In this moment, for this reason, he hated her. But not as much as he loved her.

She was about to get into a vehicle to head home. As she stepped in, he dint get go of her hand. He pulled her back towards him. And held her close. Closer than he had ever held her. Closer than public modesty would allow. But still not as close as he really wanted to hold her.

He looked into her eyes. And, for the first time, they betrayed the facade she was putting up. Yes, they said, yes i feel the same. Her eyes told him what her lips never did. Or that is what he wanted to believe !

And they stood for what seemed like an eternity. He closed his eyes. He had no way of knowing that she did the same, almost immediately. He leaned in towards her. He put one hand lightly on the back of her neck, and simultaneously she placed one hand lightly on his hip. And they kissed on the street. And, she, who did not open the door for him, pliantly opened her lips to meet his.

It was not they perfect moment, by far. It was hot, humid, polluted, noisy and populated. But they did not see anything else. They did not feel anything else. It was the sweetest kiss that either of them would ever know.

Their lips parted after what seemed like forever, but still too less. She got into the waiting vehicle, her eyes still closed.

She wanted the last image of his to be that of him leaning in to kiss her. He let her hand go, tantalisingly slow, and watched her vehicle speed away from him.

That was the last time they would see each other, like I said, for the relevant future.

----The End---

Not to be... (Part 1)

It was the last time they would be meeting, for the foreseeable & relevant future. The setting was neutral - a coffee shop. Neither was known for an emotional outburst, and the coffee shop prevent such a scene in any case.

It wasn't long ago that they had met. In fact, it was only a month back that they had first seen each other in person after school.

They weren't friends in school. She was the prettiest girl & he was among the many who only looked from a distance wishing they could be friends. She had left school before the final year and moved to Indonesia.

Since, there was no friendship to begin with, they had never been in touch. Also, there was not mechanism to be in touch. Neither had cellphones, there was no Facebook.

Fast-forward 10 years. He was now a confident young man. She was, for him, still the prettiest girl. They were "friends" on Facebook, which meant that he checked out all her latest photograph uploads, but never chatted with her.

One fine day, there was a photograph upload that he could not resist admiring and staring at for hours together. He had to tell her ! The internet medium, wherein you can chat without being face-to-face, lent him a lot of courage. He chatted - "you are looking absolutely stunning in your dp". And thus began a friendship. He realised that beautiful girls are also from the same planet & equally human. She realised that the geek from school, a non-entity to her at that point of time, had grown into a fine, young, funny man.

They kept chatting and with the advent of BBM, became even closer. Predictably, the guy fell in love with her. Predictably, the girl's feelings were never explicitly expressed !

And then something happened that the guy was waiting for. The girl decided to travel to India...for a month. He decided to woo her, as much as she allowed him to !

The first time they met, again, was a neutral place - an early morning jogging park. He saw her for the first time in person for over 10 years. She was as enchanting as ever. A pristine face, a "come fall in love with me" smile, long black-brown tresses that fell below her waistline. He, largely a confident guy, fell inadequate, even undeserving. For him, she felt as unattainable now as she felt unapproachable in school. But he wasn't gonna sit on his ass this time round !

And when they met, after the first few awkward moments - he kept stealing glances at her, and felt a loss of words, she wondered why the normally chatty guy had lost his tongue - they started talking. The ice shattered, and a comfort level was soon established. They laughed - he cracked the jokes, however, she was witty in her own way. They spoke about everything and nothing. They shared their feelings. They spoke about their families. They spoke about their insecurities. They spoke about their dreams.

The guy was elated, he was in love. The girl was scared, maybe she felt the same too. He wanted to hold her, maybe she wanted it to. But, that day and on the days following, he did no such thing.

And, thus, their talks continued. She really felt that he was the guy she would want to be with, he was the guy who she would be happy with, in every which way. However, it wasn't just her feelings that mattered. She envisaged a lot of opposition from her family for reasons that she felt convincing enough.

They spoke about it. He was livid. All that mattered to him was that 2 people love each other (mind you, she had never uttered those words explicitly, and would never do so...ever) and want to be with each other. Everything else can be taken care of.

However, she felt otherwise.

He was not known to explode with anger. He respected her and her feelings. He was sad, upset, angry. But those feelings were nothing against the feelings of love, respect and trust he had for her. If she said it ain't happening, it ain't happening.

And so, the month ended.

Now, it was the last time they would be meeting, for the foreseaable & relevant future. The setting was neutral - a coffee shop. Neither was known for an emotional outburst, and the coffee shop prevent such a scene in any case......


.....to be continued........

Think of the Devil....

He looked down, what looked like miles below, cars zooming past signals, humans looking like ants running amok among scattered crumbs. The moon, of course had no business interfering, so it stared, nonchalantly and continued to shine upon a dismal world. He wiped away a tear that seemed almost on the verge of stepping out of the comfy confines of his eyelids. "Today i shall fall; from the top of a building",he thought and that's when the past came hurtling back, like an unruly truck without a driver. His life was the way it was supposed to play out in the movies; his girl dumped him for someone richer, he lost his job to recession. The latest was his landlord finally asking him to vacate the house. So here he was, talking to himself, playing out the movie of his Life, and close to writing the climax. This is how it was all supposed to end. He would jump off this building, stop traffic for sometime,till a few screams later, someone would finally scrape him off the sidewalk. Quite simple actually.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you", someone spoke from behind him. The shock almost knocked him off balance, into the screaming nothingness below, but he just managed to balance himself. He couldn't let his death be an accident.It had to be a well thought of exit from this world to the next.No accidents please !

The man was standing in the shadows and was not clearly visible. He wore a shirt and pants, all dark colored, not revealing anything about him. Besides, when he had come on the terrace to end his life, he clearly remembered himself being alone.

"I am the Devil himself", the man said and moved forward. He was now standing in the dimmed neon glow of the single bulb that flickered on the terrace. The man was, no offence whatsoever, ordinary. He looked like he could use some upgradation. So our very own "suicide man" asked the question that would probably be bubbling in some corner of your brain now,

"You dont Look like the devil."

"If you had expected me to come with my tail and pitchfork, I am sorry to have broken your heart", he retorted, smartly fishing out a cigerette from his pocket and lighting it. The glow from the match revealed what the bleak bulb could not; two pointy little stubs sticking out of his head. That proved it then. This was the devil. The suicide man believed it and he did not need a certificate.

Smoke rose up, forming a little stinky cloud of cigarette smoke, as he continued, "I had thought you would take longer, you know. A few setbacks and you want to come storming, right up my ass! Whatever happened to perseverance and 'things get better'? Couldnt we all use a little more time?"

This was starting to get a little weird for someone who had come up to put a period to his life's sentence. He stared at the man who claimed to be The Devil and wondered if this was all a dream. He looked down at the traffic which was still moving just as he had left it.He finally mustered the courage to ask him what had been troubling his mind, "Wouldnt you be happy to have me as a part of your army? Or maybe in the league or whatever you call it?"

"Accomodation is a problem everywhere dude",the Devil said slowly, rings of smoke drifting out of his mouth. "Its this new thing that I have started.I try to reduce as much traffic up there as I can, and ask people like you to hang around here. A little bit of effort and things start getting chirpy. Trust me, its happened to people before you, and there is no reason why it wouldnt happen to you! All I am saying is stick around for a while and if you still don't like it, then you anyways have a one-way ticket to my place!"

Flashback: His things were all over the place when she had spoken her final words, "you could do better you know. Better than this atleast!" And then, with a swooping motion she had crashed the vase that had been standing like a gatekeeper at the corner of his room for years. The sound echoed in his head like a hollow drum. He shut his eyes tight and when he opened them, he was still standing in front of The Devil in overalls, smoking the common man's cigarette.

"Ok, how's this for a deal; you dont jump now, and I don't tell anyone up there that you were a sissy. Infact no one needs to know that you committed suicide.If you let it go for now, I would pass off your death as a heroic attempt to make an old lady cross the road, whenever you die. That way you get a double deal!"

Funny. He had come to end it all, and here was the Devil, trying to take him off the ledge like a cunning insurance agent.Had he not been there, his existence would have been a myth by now. Ash to ash, dust to dust.

But the last one finally struck home. Here was a chance of living off another week, maybe more, and then entering the next place in style. He would give it his best shot and hope things to work out.If it didn't, he already had, as they said "the devil on his side".
So he spoke, "All right Mr Devil. I like your proposal. I am not going to kill myself right now. Instead, as it happens in the good stories, I would try to be a better person or whatever they call it. But if that doesn't work out, you know you would have to deliver."

"You have the devil's word my boy. Now go before I change my mind", he said and looked up to a sky, blosing some more smoke. Within seconds, our suicide man, was gone from the terrace, leaving the smoker to his own tending.

He stubbed out the cigerrete and reached out for his horns. "Almost real", he smiled to himself and took off the stylish hairband that he found in the day's garbage. Removing it carefully, so the horns would not be damaged, he stuffed it in his coat pocket and walked towards the door, mumbling to himself,

"I wish being the janitor of this building was a little easier..."

Tring Tring

Tring... Tring... The landline-like ring tone of my mobile woke me up !

"Hello," I said, barely awake.

"Rajesh?" It was a girl's voice.

"Yes?" I replied, checking my watch for the time. Gods, it was 3:00 am!

"Are you ready?"

"No," I replied, a little confused about what I was supposed to be ready for. "Who is this?"

"Rhea. Are you still asleep?"

"Lady, it's three in the morning. Do I know you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I think I got the wrong number."

A little irritated, I nonetheless managed to fall asleep again as soon as I put the phone down.

The next morning, I vaguely remembered the phone-call, but wondered if I had been dreaming. I checked my cell phone and there had indeed been a call at three in the morning. I thought about it. Even in my sleep, the voice had sounded nice.

That night, I felt like some mischief. So I set the alarm for three the next morning, and went to sleep. At three, I woke up and dialed the number that my cell phone had dutifully recorded in the call log.
A sleepy voice picked up the phone. “Yes?” she said.

"Rhea?" I tried not to laugh.

"Yes?"

She sounded sleepier than I must have been the previous night.

"Rajesh here," I said. "You ready?"

"Ready for what?" She seemed to be crawling her way to consciousness.

"Are you still asleep?" I avoided the question.

"Rajesh, daddy's flight was yesterday. You're a day late."

At this point I ran out of things to say, so I said sorry and hung up.

The next day, at 3:00am, she called again.

"Hello?" I had been asleep, but from the moment I opened my eyes, I knew it would be her.

"Rajesh? Rhea here."

"Hi Rhea."

"So what are you doing?"

"Dreaming about you," I replied.

"Well I just wanted to say Good Night." I could almost see the grin on her face. Of course at that point I didn't know what she looked like, so all I saw was a naughty grin hanging in the darkness. But you get the picture.

"Good night, Rhea" I said cheerfully

The late night phone calls went on for a week. They'd be short, but fun. And then I got tired of waking up in the middle of the night everyday, so I decided to call her before I went to sleep.

"You're early" she said.

"Yes," I replied. "I have an early day tomorrow. So I thought we could have this conversation now instead of at three."

"Smart move."

"I know. Hey, what are you doing around seven tomorrow evening?" I wondered if I was moving too fast. Still, there didn't seem to be any harm in it.

"I'll be collecting my kids from school. What about you?"

My heart skipped a beat. For a few seconds, I didn't even breathe.

"Hello?" she said, to check if I was still on the phone. I could tell she was trying to suppress a giggle.

I relaxed. "I'm right here. Well, I'll be taking my grandchildren to have ice cream, at that time. I thought maybe you could get your kids, I could get my grandkids, and we'd all have ice cream together."

She paused for a second, and then said, "Sounds like a good idea."

The next day, I came home early from work, and took almost an hour getting ready. I wondered what she looked like.
We'd decided to meet at Baskin Robbins. When she'd asked me how she'd recognize me, I told her to look for an old man in a navy blue shirt, holding a walking stick. She had laughed at that. When I asked her what she'd wear, she said she hadn't decided yet.

At exactly seven, a little girl in a green dress walked into Baskin Robbins. The girl came straight to me, and said "Are you Rajesh Uncle?”

At that moment, I felt like the biggest fool on the planet. "What was I thinking?" I asked myself.

But then in came this girl in a T-shirt and slacks, who was definitely not the girl's mother. Elder sister, maybe, but no way was she a mother.

I lifted the little girl in my arms, and looked at Rhea. "You're quite the practical joker, aren't you?"

"Well, old man," she replied. "You said you'd get your grand-kids along. What did you think this was? A date?" She knew she had got the better of me, and a big grin was plastered across her face.

"Oh, their parents decided this was not a good day for ice cream. So I came alone. Well, what's your name little girl?"

"My name is Priya."

"Ok, Priya, which ice-cream do you want to have today?"

She looked at Rhea and asked her, "Didi, can I have Mango ice cream?"

So Priya had Mango ice-cream with chocolate chips, I had Bavarian dark chocolate, and Rhea had Blueberry ice cream with no toppings.

We talked about how expensive school fees were getting, how it was almost impossible to get empty roads in Mumbai, and the fact that there weren't enough playgrounds left for children to play in.

That night, when I called her up, I asked her, "So Priya is a cousin, is she?"

She laughed and replied, "No, not a cousin. She's the neighbour's kid."

"So you thought you needed an escort to meet me, did you?" I had been thinking about that all evening, but hadn't got a good opportunity to say it.

"Well a pretty girl has to protect herself."

"I won't argue with that." She definitely wasn't lacking in the looks department. "But did you really think a four-year-old could protect you?" I did find that amusing.

"Oh, her dad was waiting outside in the car for us all the time."

"Beautiful, intelligent, and sneaky. I like that in a woman."

"You're not too bad yourself, for an old man."

"Why, thank you. So, would you join an old man for coffee tomorrow? Without an escort?"

"Ah. A real date?"

"Only if you prefer to see it that way. I just thought an elderly man and a single mother could go share a cup of coffee."

"A date."

"And then maybe a walk on the beach?"

"Slow down, soldier!"

"So just coffee is okay then?"

"Well," she said, pausing as if to think about it, "ok."

"That's great," I said as I started breathing again. "Good night, Rhea."

"Good night, Rajesh."

I smiled to myself as I went to bed. Next time, we'd do dinner.

Anticlimaxes

Bad Manners

The strange green light bathed the small boat in its luminescence. The boy and the girl in the boat oblivious to its presence were locked in a liplock was not meant to be opened by any key made by hands of men. Their hands roamed over each other and their bodies hot and feverish rocked the boat to and fro in the calm water of the river. All calm, except the green light that was now increasing in its intensity. It enveloped the boat like a light fog and slowly started pouring itself into the boat.

A tentacled figure rose out of the fog, and hovered silently over the boat. It observed the entangled couple with the interest a child shows in a new game.
The girl opened her eyes mid-kiss, noticed the floating tentacles and leapt off the boy with a startled yelp. The boy looked around confused at the green mist that was now covering half their boat and tried to calm the girl, but his own rising panic was enough to send the girl into a crying fit of hysteria.

"YOU!" thundered the green tentacled figure and pointed at the girl. The girl stopped crying at once, her tears choked back by the fear of the unknown.

"It's bad manners," the floating form said, "to open your eyes when kissing."

------

Really Bad Manners

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The Urge

There were times in his life when he could not control it. The urge bubbled inside him like something alive and potent, kicking and screaming to be let out. He stared at the girl sitting across the table. His first date in many years and he was feeling that old old desire again.

What will she think of me if I do it?

Will she leave, or will she strike me in disgust?

Words rumbled and jumbled in his head, he had to find a way soon or there was going to be trouble. He looked behind him at saw a waiter in the pathway, if only he could reach his leg to the side and trip him and spill those drinks…he found out in a second that he could.

The waiter missed seeing the leg and was soon making acquaintance with the cold floor in a puddle of the drinks he was carrying. Some of it, as intended spilled on the skirt of the girl.

"Excuse me dear, I have to use the rest room." she said and left.

He smiled contentedly, gave in to his urge and started to suck his thumb.

Few proposals and an answer

The first time I asked her to marry me was when we were six years old.

"I'll be the husband," I said, "and you can be the wife."
"No," she replied simply.
"Yes," I said.
"No," she replied again and walked off.
After a few moments, I walked off too. It’s no fun playing house alone.

The second time I asked her to marry me, was when we were fourteen. We were partners in a dance for the annual school program and I was waiting for her to come out of the dressing room. I was dressed in a black suit and bowtie. As she stepped out of the dressing room in a pink dress that came down to her knees, I took a deep breath. She looked like an angel that had just stepped down from the heavens. As we waited for the teachers to give the signal for us to get on stage, I stared at her and tried to find my voice.
She caught me looking and smiled as she asked, "What are you looking at?"
"Will you marry me?" I blurted out.
Her smile turned into a grin, and a second later she burst out laughing. I didn't mind. I could see stars in her eyes. Still laughing, she took my hand and led me onto the stage.

The third time I asked her to marry me was on her sixteenth birthday. We were at a picnic with friends and the two of us were sitting by ourselves under a tree as the rest argued about which game to play next. She laughed at something someone was talking about in the distance. I heard the tinkling of bells in her voice. I plucked a daisy that was growing nearby and gave it to her as I said, "Will you be my wife?"
She blushed as she looked at the flower, and then burst out laughing again. She took the flower and ran to join the rest of the group. I followed.

The fourth time, we were eighteen. We were sitting in the cafeteria in college as she sat sipping on a glass of orange juice and telling me how insightful the last book she read had been. After speaking continuously for a few minutes, she stopped and said, "What happened? Why aren't you saying anything?"

I looked into her eyes and said, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"
As before, she burst out laughing again and said, "You're not old enough to get married yet." And then she started talking about another book.

The fifth time I asked her to marry me was the day of our graduation. We were both twenty-one. I got down on one knee with a red rose in my hand and said to her, "Will you, now, take me to be your husband?"
She grinned this time, and replied, "You're always in a hurry. You wanted to do your post-graduation, right?"
I shrugged, got back on my feet, and walked with her to the convocation hall.

Few years later, I had finished my post-graduation and had a job in a multinational company. We were sitting in an ice cream shop when she brought it up.
"You haven't asked me to marry you in four years," she said. "What happened? Did you change your mind?" She was smiling widely.
"What do you think?" I teased.
"I think you're afraid I’ll reject you again."
"You haven't really rejected me even once, till now," I countered. "You never really said 'No'."
"I did when we were six," she pointed out.
"She remembers", I thought to myself, as I smiled at the memory.
I held out a spoon of ice cream for her to taste, and said, "Alright, so you rejected me once."
"So?" she asked as she tasted my ice cream.
"So nothing," I replied.
She rolled her eyes in silence. She was no longer smiling.
"Well?" I asked. "Do you think I've changed my mind?"
She frowned as she said, "I don't know." She looked beautiful even when she frowned.
I watched her for a few seconds and said, "Why don't you ask me to marry you this time?"
"Me?" she replied, eyes wide in surprise.
"Why?" I asked. "What's wrong with that?"
She blushed. "No," she said.
"Are you rejecting me again?" I asked.
"No, no!" she said quickly.
"So then you are saying 'Yes'?"

She stuck her tongue out at me as she realized what I was trying to do, and went back to eating her ice cream.
"Hey," I said, as I took her hand in mine. "Marry me."
She scrunched up her nose as she replied, "Are you sure?"
I'd been sure since I was six.
"Yes," I said simply.
And she just smiled and nodded.

Flowers - a Valentine's Day Story

Deodhar was disgusted. He was absolutely sick to his stomach. Not really, but he could have been. Let's assume he was sick to his stomach. He could hardly bear to look at that morning's paper, but he leafed through it hurriedly anyway, trying hard not to be driven into further disgust by all the Valentine's Day ads in the paper. Several of them were cut-out ads - "Cut out this ad and bring it to Neem restaurant along with your valentine on Valentine's day and get 20% off on all burgers!"

Deodhar was what people called a die-hard romantic, but once January passed, he counted down the days to the 14th of February with dread. Deodhar didn't have a problem with the concept of Valentine's Day itself - a day to celebrate love was probably the best idea since irrigation. But the way these greedy corporations commercialised and commodified Love - was to dilute, to pollute, a thing that was so pure, so unadulterated. And this most sublime of emotions was being sold as a 200 rupee heart-shaped box of chocolates, according to the advertisement Deodhar was now trying not to look at.

What was probably just as bad was the kind of pressure Valentine's Day put on people who didn't have their special someones - he'd seen his friends go through immense depression watching couples be all valentine-y. Of course, it's not like Deodhar had never spent Valentine's Day single - he was just a little more stoic than his friends – in this case.

This Valentine's Day, Deodhar was not exactly single, nor was he exactly multiple. You see, he had a thing going on with a certain girl, called Daisy, whom he was quite fond of - but they hadn't really talked about what this 'going on thing' was about and it was kind of an on and off 'thing' - for the sake of simplicity, let's just say Daisy was Deodhar's "It's complicated".

Now Deodhar had every intention of asking Daisy to be his Valentine on the thirteenth of the month, but he hadn't quite figured out how to do that yet - and that was just his excuse for not really having the guts to ask her. But now the day was here and he knew that if he didn't seize the day, well, he wouldn't seize the day. He must speak now or forever hold his silence or something like that, because there was no more time for procrastination.

Deodhar decided to go over to Daisy's place and fix up this whole Valentine business. He didn't want to call, because that wasn't personal enough, and he didn't want to send her an email, because that's just stupid.

But just strolling over to Daisy's house and asking her to be his Valentine didn't seem enough. After all, this was a rather last-minute proposal, so he'd better have more than a lukewarm "Will you be my valentine?" to ask her if she'd be his valentine. It needed more passion, more flavour, more romance.

Deodhar considered delivering a long speech, extolling Daisy's feminine virtues, her curvy, yet sturdy figure, her slender limbs and all that. But Deodhar had never been great with words, so he didn't want to risk doing something like that. This also meant writing poetry was out of the question. Deodhar also couldn't carry a tune to save his life, so that obviously meant no serenading.
Chocolates and teddy bears were definitely out of the question - too cheesy and too commercial. So were Valentine's Day cards. He didn't like the idea of pre-packaged sentiment.

Then it hit him - flowers. Of course, flowers were a staple Valentine's Day gift, perhaps overdone, but they still had their charm. They were natural, beautiful, fragrant, just like Daisy. Besides, being a great listener had paid off - Deodhar knew exactly what Daisy's favourite flowers were.
Deodhar decided not to buy a bouquet, for that would be commercialism all over again. He had a little garden in his backyard where the flowers he needed grew. Now delighted, Deodhar picked a bunch of Daisy's favourite kinds of flowers and immediately rushed to her house.

Deodhar knocked on the door, and holding the flowers, waited for the door to open with bated breath.
Then the door opened and there stood Daisy, more gorgeous than ever before. Deodhar held out his homemade bouquet sheepishly. "Ha... Happy Valentine's Day, Daisy... will you be my valentine?"
A wave of elation and relief washed over Deodhar as Daisy smiled and took the flowers from him.
"Of course I'll be your valentine! How sweet of you! You got me my favourite flowers! Human testicles and ovaries! Oh, and I see a few penises, too! Oh, it's wonderful, Deodhar, and it smells divine! I'm so glad you asked me... I was afraid you wouldn't."

Deodhar was filled with joy. He extended a branch and Daisy held it in her slender twig. They walked together, limb in limb, out to the park, their bright green leaves and petals shimmering in the sunlight. And then a thought occurred to Deodhar.

"Daisy, imagine if the humans were people, and the plants were in their place. You think they'd gift each other our reproductive organs?"
"Eww, Deodhar! Don't be disgusting!" Daisy said.

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There, i'm late with my V-day post, but i guess that's alright ! In case any of you did not understand / follow the post, re-read & click "Flowers" to read about flowers on wikipedia :-)

Anyways, i recently went for a wedding..a typical gujju wedding & i was very surprised to find people discussing their shopping. No, shopping ain't the surprising part.. but they were discussing how they had purchased their clothes, shoes and in some cases even jewellery ONLINE. i knew that the e-tailing trend is on the rise, but i always thought that it was largely for Airline Tickets, Movie Tickets, maybe food...but, clothes, accessories, and other niche categories like baby products, Arts & Crafts are on the map for online users.

So, i thought i'll also post a few linkes to these e-tailing sites on my blog from now onwards - click on any of the hyperlinks above to go to relevant sites & shop online !