My fair lady

Famished as much as I was then, I couldn't help noticing the sweet aroma of caffeine mixed with Pecan and Ginger. That isn't the surprising fact, given the recent accounts of my gluttony exploits have been critically acclaimed thanks to my hyperactive socially networked accomplices. But what was surprising was that I also happened to notice a girl sulking at the corner by the window, buried over a mound of books and discreetly fiddling with a brightly colored "smart" phone that distinctly stood out from the general mood of the coffee shop. I ordered my special brew coffee/lunch and went near the glass window which insulates the cold from outside yet lets through the sunlight to provide the warmth - one of the rare moments of pleasure that one can experience on the bright days of winter.

And it was at this juncture that I heard a shuffle behind my shoulders (and thanks to the semi-reflective properties of silicon glass) and realized that the girl was now accompanied by a friend who was a guy. That observation of mine had to be further fine-tuned when I heard the very first words that he spoke to the girl. No amount of bureaucratic or social protocols would have mandated him to apologize as profusely as he did; except if he were her boy-friend. I am almost sure that it beats by quite a margin, a murder convict pleading guilty of genocide and asking for pardon from a death sentence. By that time, my lunch arrived and I was obliged to stay put and hear the ongoing conversation. In my defense, I have to say that 'overhear' is not an apt term I should have used, as the conversation was happening right behind my back and the only option I had was to walk away clumsily with the food in my hand. On hindsight though, I really think that would have been the saner choice.

Now that I have established my innocence, I shall now proceed with relating the crux of the conversation I happened to hear. I'll have to refer to them as the 'girl' and 'guy' since I did not even turn to look at them, let alone know their names. And it is least surprising that I did not learn it through the conversation either, given that human recognizable proper-nouns are to be promptly replaced by diabetic pro-nouns like sweety, sweetheart, sugar, darling, etc., during all conversation between couples. The guy had apparently committed the unpardonable crime of coming in 5 minutes later than she had called him (as he was giving a project presentation), which triggered another round of apologies tendered in all possible permutations known to mankind. To be noted is that my friends have already classified me under the emotionally-challenged species and I was already beginning to feel uncomfortable with all the emotional appeals taking place behind me. For a moment, I felt relieved when she said she was cross with him for being late and was about to walk away. Fair enough, I thought.

Destiny is never so kind! He stopped her and made her sit down which was followed by another tirade of emotions as she began to initiate the intricate process of converting anger into self-pity and started sobbing. Ouch! "Just leave! Get up and just leave the damn place.."- I thought.  The will of my mind was subdued only by the half eaten sandwich and the thought of potentially ending up with a coffee stained T-shirt (provided by my previous employers, of course). Coming back to the present, she was saying that the homework needs to be done in another hour and that "we" would not be able to do it. But it was when he asked, "What time do you need to submit it?" that its implication struck me in full (Again, I'm well known to be spontainity-challenged). Interesting..., I thought, but was interrupted by a fresh burst of vocal cacophony from behind. She said that she was not going to submit "her" homework because "he" was late and "he" was responsible for it. But what totally stumped me was when he started apologizing again and pleaded with her to complete and submit her homework. Oh! the ways of the world!

And what ensued further is chronicled for purely academic interests - She overslept and he apologized. She forgot to bring her glove and he apologized. She got to campus late and he apologized. She couldn't find an "app" for her smart phone that morning (she did have time for that!) and he apologized. She wouldn't pay the bill for the coffee and he apologized. Readers, please pardon me for my inability to elaborate further on those parts of the conversation - our language falls drastically insufficient in its ability to express them with any finer granularity than the term mushiness allows.

As you would have guessed, this emotional overdose was way too much beyond my earthly abilities of forbearance and I took flight at the earliest possible moment. I must have looked quite a sight with a half filled coffee cup in one hand, a bunch of crumpled tissues and silverware in the other and a sandwich stuffed mouth. For, the Samaritan beside me, whom I thought so far to be sunken deep into his MacBook Pro and oblivious to all the ensuing drama, looked up and smiled. The smile said one word - compassion.

~Titan.

PS. I had drafted this write up almost a year ago, but was not happy either with the phrasing/structure or the authenticity about the generality of the content. The former was remedied with rephrasing the content and latter by various similar encounters and snippets that had been related to me.

Story time..

Dedicated to my reader's who have consistently pulled my leg into writing a story...

I could see nothing, feel nothing.., numbness was overtaking me.. I knew that these were the last few minutes of my eventful life. I had been very important throughout and for the first time I realized that even I could meet with such a disastrous end. People say that when you are about to die, your entire lifetime flashes before your inward eye.., yes.. I am seeing it now.

This part of my life... it is called 'Happiness'. I was born important, an entire family was awaiting my arrival with great anticipation. I was born in Mumbai to an educated middle-class family. As I have said before, I brought joy into the family with my arrival, I gave them an identity in the society, I gave them opportunity, I gave them the oxygen they desired.. I was like Christ - the saviour for them and I relished that feeling of master-hood. I was the newest member of the family and was easily the object of interest right from Mom and Dad to the eight year old kid. Dad got through with an MNC soon after my birth and from thereon I was believed to be the lucky charm for the entire family. I was happy, very happy, happiest as any one could ever imagine.

Dad never left me alone and used to take me to all places along with him. I had become an important part of his life. There was this one time when he went to Europe on a business trip and I was the only one to accompany him. Mom repeatedly reminded him to take good care of me and to ensure my safety in the foreign land. Airports are the worst place and the officials the worst people on the entire earth. I was stunned by the amount of security checks that I had to undergo. Dozens of uniform clad officials walked around checking and re-checking each passenger and his belongings. They took me away from dad into a room for a couple of minutes, and that was the first time in my life that I was separated from my family. Those two minutes were like ages to me, I was scrutinized by a high-ranking official first and then by his subordinate and then after their approval was stowed back to dad. Gosh..! those two minutes scared me to death. Little did I know that this was just a sample of what was about to come.This part of my life... it is called 'Running'.

Switzerland was called as the 'land of dreams' and it truly was. It was so cold there that dad had to wrap me up to keep me from freezing. But I have to admit that I enjoyed my stay in the swiss lands until this incident happened..a ruffian snatched me from my dad's hands. It took a dozen police officials three days and eleven hours to trace my path before I was safely in the hands of my dad. To prevent any such mis-occurrences Dad decided to masquerade me and that changed my life altogether. I began to look different, think different...I felt as if I was slowly losing the charm that I possessed.

It has been five months since I was back in Mumbai, my birth place, a place that was dear to me. Since dad decided to stick with India having had a troubled European experience, I mostly remained confined to the two bedroom flat at Andheri(E). My exposure with the outside world ranged from the 'Kyon ki saans bhi bahu thi' that mom watched to the occasional BBC that dad watched on weekends. I hardly had any opportunity to go out either except on rare occasions where Dad took me to the nearby foreign exchange firm. This part of my life...this is called 'Sedateness'. Oh..! did I forget to mention that I was still masqueraded ?? Actually that state remained till this moment....the last one, I knew, before I would be no more.

Then came the blackest day of my life and I didn't know what was in store for me when dad decided to take me to the consulate exactly seven hours and sixteen minutes before this moment. It was raining torrents in Mumbai and the roads were flooded blocking traffic and wreaking a havoc. Dad had me wrapped in a rain-proof outfit and we were on our way in his car. We were just one block away from the consulate when the wheel got stuck in a slush irretrievably. Dad was usually a very rational and logical person, but at that opportune moment, in his desperation to reach the consulate, he pulled me out of the car and ran out in the rain. Running was easier, as the traffic had almost been at a stand-still owing to the flooded roads. Then it happened...I felt a jolt as a motorist hit dad from the behind and dad let go of me
instinctively to prevent a face first fall. I am puny sized and was pulled in by the flood current into an open drainage. Curse the MC for not maintaining the drainage properly. The last word that I ever heard from dad was "Holy Shit!"..... I flew clear off the main course and landed splash on bunch of floating scum. This part of my life is called "THE END".

I lay there with the water seeping through the so called water-proof layer at a slow pace. I knew that my end was near. I was being choked slowly and steadily by the water which was immersing me as if in an ablution. I could feel the suffocation gripping on me as darkness enveloped me completely. I could sense the stench of the gutter, the filth that surrounded me. I began to realize that these were the very last moments of my life and how helpless I was.. that was two seconds ago from now. The present had something else in store for me...."DEATH".

A gentle wind whistled past me, the first rays of the morning sun shone upon me benignly. I was lying on my dad's bed, uncleaned and dry but comfortable nevertheless. I could see the entire family standing around me and dad was examining me thoroughly. Dad's expression changed from frantic to helpless...."Shit !!" he said flinging me out of the window. I lay there on the heap of scrap wondering what I had done to deserve this treatment. All that was left of me now was a blue cover with the golden embossed letters reading "Passport"...

Inspired by an untrue story :D
Mighty Titan.


"The crappiest piece of story we have ever heard."
-The Livingston post.


"So crappy that you cant wait to finish it."
-The Wastes of India.


"The worst story ever told in this universe."
-All times.

"Enna koduma saar idhu.."
-Mr.Saravanannnn...


Disclaimers: This story is not about me, did not happen to me and is a mere figment of my imagination. Any resemblance to a person living or dead is purely co-incidental..