Catch the Flavour!

"So what happened next??" She asked.

"I don't know!" I replied nonchalantly.

September 23rd. Marine Drive. Mumbai.

A Sunday evening filled with vagabond clouds and people. Waves were responding in a fashion to support her. Hisss-husss! Really, I was trying to recollect what happened to my fucking mind when I escaped just to feel a little punk- rebellious and now was trying to hide that with my puny-egregious responses but to my misfortune, I couldn't. Although when I look back and think was it a right decision to leave calculation and revel in the moment, it still makes me cringe yet I am still trying not to run amok like last year but who cares.

Last year. December 30^th. Mumbai.

“Woohoooo!” A collective rejoicing sound is an indicator of rising party fever. This party was a double whammy. Reason one, end of the year party at an isolated beach with a bunch of college friends; Reason two, I got scholarship to study in Scotland. It was probably one of the last gala moment, I was having with my friends.

“Hey man! This beach is so dull, we should have gone to Goa”, Sid yelled.

 “Dude! Goa Is overrated. Everybody rushing there. What’s the difference?”,Jomo retorted.

“I know a place but we have to go via highway”, Ronny, who is usually reticent joined in.

“no ..no.. I am not going anywhere. I remember the last time”,Jomo said.

“Jomo! C’mon man, be a sport! What happened last time? You just blowing it out of proportion!”, Sid replied.

I remembered last time was a fun experiment gone little haywire. I smirked at the flashback visuals from last NH trip when we had exhausted our fuel and had no money to buy even a single wada pav! May be Jomo was right. Besides that, these are times quite prone to road accidents. Weekend, Year-end and Christmas-New Year bashes across the city made it difficult to drive on bottlenecked traffic.

“I second that!”, Now was the turn for me to speak.

Sid looked puzzingly at me, “ Dude! When you became such a spoilsport?”

“I gotta go home.And I think this is the last party we’re having…”I was speaking but got interrupted.

“Okay, time to reveal our little secret to our departing friend!”, All smiled.

Now was the time for me to get puzzled.

“Wha…”

A box filled with Bacardi lime flavour was opened.

“Guess what we got you wimpy boy?”, Sid smiled sheepishly.

“NH7 weekender passes!!!!”,All yelled.

Whoaa!!!!

Get into the moment man! Let us Catch the flavour of Life just like this lime”,Jomo smirked.

“Shut up. You gyaani!!”Ronny smilingly said.

“Now is the time to go!!wwwwoohoooooo!!!”

  

Dec 30th. This year. 

Now when i am sitting by the window in Scotland, I can recollect why I couldn't speak to Madhu about this trip.You know why??Because It is all about the moment and flavour and you have to catch it rather than capturing it.

catch the flavour:http://www.breezerindia.com/game.html

"Letters to mom, about love":My entry for the Get Published contest

The story

A usual love affair of an average small town boy when he comes to a big city, becomes unusual when he finds himself torn between fulfilling parent's wishes,society's expectations   

and his own ambition when he falls in love with a girl from another small town.On one side, this girl has learned worldly ways,street smart and has been to metro cities before.The boy is more like a kid who sleeps early,hate partying, shares his problem very little and finds solace in solitude.

There are very few in the hometown of this boy who believe in his ability except his parents.

There are also very few in this big city who can understand the feelings of this boy except that girl.

A simple love story is the combination of all possible complexities.

This time, an attempt has been taken to define the raw emotions involved in a love story with the help of seven letters which were written from a hospital bed, a hospital meant for HIV Positive patients. 

What makes this story real?

While going through many projects in my academic career, I have met some persons who always wanted to let their story heard to the world.They surely belong to a different class and have had some experiences which I never had but there were some mutual experiences which made me ponder over it.This story is a salute to their passion for life, when young men and women are committing suicide after just one break-up or just because they could not achieve their true love.I hope this story may let them understand the value of true love and importance of life.

Excerpt:

First letter.

Dear Mom,

A big hug to you !I am miles away from you and trying to write a letter to you. I mean, come on! who writes a letter these days when you have access to mobiles, emails, Facebook  ...  and look what an irony !I am writing a letter on love to you. Who can understand love better than a mother?

Although the concept of love, known to you, is a bit different from the depicted romance in novels and movies, yet the essence of love remains same in every relationship. What changes is only our point of view.....

Being a small town boy, I would have never dared to fall in love with a city-bred girl. When dad wanted me to prepare for Civil services (I knew it but he never said it explicitly), I chose an alternate route to big city for management education...or possibly an alternate route to my freedom.

With a limited amount of money, which dad used to send me, I managed to date this girl. Felt guilty many a times for spending this hard-earned money of dad...but shrugged it off my head....just for the reason 'cause that girl made me feel good?! Lied many a times .Cheated. Now when I have invested a considerable portion of my money and time in such affair, should I be worried about its outcome? Should I bow down against destiny? Or fight against all odds?

When a boy advances to become a man, he stops discussing his life decisions with his parents. On the contrary, I could not think of you as someone with whom I could hide something. Even if I had tried, I would have been caught within your experienced eyes. But I know that even after knowing the facts, you could not have scolded or slapped me…this extreme belief of yours in my abilities…belittles me.. makes me nervous and makes me feel guilty about the whole thing. The thing which is called love…

Some or another day, when you will be able to understand the beauty of English language..I’ll let you read this…this agony, frustration about the inability of mine to do something about my life…this self-destructive behaviour…and why I let this happen?!

But this story is not about my failures…it’s about how I started loving myself… how I started believing in moments… how I learnt to live the life with exuberance…

But it’s also about how a boy wakes up from his fairytale world and sees the real world that envelops him....

This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs fromYashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India.




Vote me at  http://www.indiblogger.in/getpublished/idea/530/