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The Lady In Pink !
his wrist watch on the cold winter morning; he was standing beneath the banyan
tree near the bus stop. This was the third time in the last 5 min that he was
checking the time; it was 8:35 AM now. The bus to Chamrajpura had not yet
arrived. It was unusual as the bus was usually never late. The bus driver was
always punctual and would be there always sharp at 8:30 AM. It took him 48min
to be precise to reach his office from Shakti Nagar, where he resided.
to be a little more bothered than usual. It was not that the bus was late but
the absence of someone else at the bus stop. It was Friday and she always wore
a pink dress on every Friday. Her name
was Vishaka, our boy Karan’s dream girl, as he used to describe her to his
friends at work. Vishaka worked as secretary to MD at a travel agency which was
housed in the same building as Karan’s office.
moved to Mysore a few months back, when he landed a job as a marketing manager
with a Bangalore based hair Oil Company called LNP Enterprises. They had
recently launched non sticky hair oil for men called Ghama-Ghama. His boss Puttaswamy wanted to market this product in
tier-2 cities in the state and had hired Karan precisely for this assignment.
Few minutes later
he saw Vishaka in her pink top and black jeans, walking hurriedly towards the
bus stop piercing the light mist on the road. For Karan it was like a scene straight from a bollywood movie when the heroin makes an glam entry. May be momentarily he
felt like spreading his arms wide open like king Khan of bollywood, who does
the same in most song sequences of his movies.
finally reached the bus stop Karan stood zapped as usual, being able to steal only
few glances at her. She stood there with her hair untied, which was blowing
away with the cool morning breeze as it eclipsed her face. She looked at him
and smiled as she said hello to him while she tried to tie her hair together.
Karan was almost frozen and could only muster a feeble hi! Friday was always
the toughest day of the week for him, for she was in his favourite colour,
contrary it was a significant achievement for Karan, because it was for the
first time he had managed to say “HI” to his dream girl. Usually it was just a
smile and then 48 min of silence throughout his bus journey to his office. Today
was his day number 22 since he saw her for the first time and incidentally day
number 1 was also a Friday.
determined that he would go beyond a ‘Hi’ today and invite her to join him for
coffee post work hours in the evening. He took a deep breath and walked up to
her. He then asked Vishaka, smilingly if she was free today evening to join him
for coffee. She smiled too and just as she was about to reply, his mobile phone rang, the ring tone
was the current favourite song of the masses “Why
This Kolaveri Di”.
He took out his mobile phone from his
pockets and in big block letters he saw Puttaswamy’s name on his display. The moment
he received the call and said hello, he could hear his boss yelling at him from the other end about the dip in sales volume of Ghama-Ghama
hair oil in Mysore and other neighbouring small towns. Karan cursed his boss
(mentally) for ruining his almost perfect Friday morning. He was hoping to score the first
base with his dream girl by asking her out for coffee. The rambling of his boss
didn’t stop and by the time he could interrupt his boss and explain him the
reasons behind the products slow movement in the market, he realised that the
much awaited bus was leaving with Vishaka aboard. He thought of slamming the
phone onto the ground in the fit of rage.
Just then he
heard the screeching sound of his house door bell from nowhere. Slightly puzzled Karan looked around and then
fell on the ground with a thud. That’s when he realised he had just fallen off
his bed. He got up and checked his mobile phone on his bed to figure out if
he had any call from his boss. There wasn’t any. He was relieved that the erratic
call from his boss was just a mere dream. But he was disappointed that saying
Hi and walking up to Vishaka and asking her out for a coffee was a dream too. But he was determined he will make it all a reality today.
He looked at
the Titan wall clock in his bedroom and it was 8:25 AM. He was late yet again
today and would be missing his bus, more importantly he would be missing out on
putting into action his epic plan, to meet his dream girl at the bus stop and
ask her out for coffee.
As he was remorsing
about his lost opportunity and the door bell rang again. Karan who was quiet
disappointed and dejected by the double trouble i.e. being late and missing out
on Vishaka went ahead and opened the door. He started to blast angrily at the
person standing outside the door. And then he heard that fellow sheepishly
wishing him ‘Happy Sunday’. A close look at the man and he realised it was his
good Malayali neighbour Baby John. He always came to Karan’s place on every
Sunday morning to invite him for breakfast, which was usually appam and chicken
curry. Karan looked at the calendar hanging on the wall in the hall it was
indeed a Sunday today.
burst out laughing as Baby John starred at him with puzzled looks. Baby John
too joined Karan in his laughter when he shared with him the whole story about
the dream, about Vishaka, the call from Puttaswamy and being awakened by the
screeching doorbell and then believing that he was late to work. Only to
realise later that it was all a dream and today was a Sunday and not Friday.
It was during my trip back home that I happened to have these characters take
shape in my mind. As I sat at my desk tonight trying to put my thoughts
together this piece of fiction emerged. Hope you folks who read it liked it and
enjoyed reading it. Would be glad to get some feedbacks, laurels and brickbats
both are welcome.
As always I
sign off by saying .... VJ Says ~ Cheers & Peace!
It was yet another Friday or billions of
earthlings. May be it was a mundane day ahead for
some and exciting for others. An exciting day ahead for the ones who were certain
of the joy to be unwrapped the next day, the weekend. Well, in my case it was
the former. Blame it on being one amongst the many who work on Saturdays.
The distance between us questions possibilities, Two souls who connect yet shall stay detached, Life running along parallel tracks that shall never meet, Yet hope says they would someday be entwined. UnInhibited feelings spoken, thoughts exchanged, Unassuming how the world would read them, Prejudices can't be fought, let free thoughts sail, It's a battle less spoken, but I know many shall be fought. Feelings expressed in words for many are view points, Sometimes misunderstood, unacceptable for few. Thoughts expressed are sometimes song of a bleeding heart, These emotions maybe shunned by many as no art. Questioned and unacceptable orphan thoughts, Wish to die accepted, but denied and stay detest. Don't let yourself be consumed by the opinions of others, Your soul deserves a sweet song, let it be one about it's zest.
The other day in midst of a long tiring journey from the airport I zoned out in thoughts, looking outside the window. What was I thinking? I was trying to fathom as to what's the single most element distinguishing mediocrity from excellence.
A lot of us have this beautiful idea in our mind to be achievers of some sort. Each individual has their own definition of excellence. All of it leading to creating a happy space in our minds. But these remain mere ideas and definitions in our head.
We have a lot of clutter occupying our minds. Some of it even includes being less appreciative of others success. Being too bothered about right and wrong of others choices. A bunch of useless thoughts which in no way are going to be helping us in our pursuit of happiness. When we are done with all the wining about the world and people in it, we get on with our mediocre life.
We seem to believe that there is solace in the cocoon of mediocrity.
"There are no easy ways, no escapes, Yet we wish s…