Bittersweet Symphony.....

“We look like 2 homos”, Ishaan repeated, pissed off as they entered through the sidey doors of a really expensive pub in Worli.

“No, we don’t”, Joshua blankly reassured him, non interested. He searched for women with short black skirts and inviting plunging necklines.

“Why the fuck did you have to wear a pink shirt?”, Ishaan asked, quite worried about reactions, stares and looks, he thought they would receive.

“Stop being a macho homophobe, I need to piss, Sit at that barstool”, he blurted 3 sentences that had no resemblance to each other, but then irritating friends talking, especially when there’s so much cleavage around to concentrate on, can do that to men.

Men have tremendous visualisation skills. They can visualise the colour and type of bra a girl is wearing underneath a blouse and how she’d look naked (preferably on top of him), but ask him to visualise his future with the same girl or his career, his financial future or anything constructive or “real”, you’d get the guaranteed famed response. “Let’s see”.

Joshua sat beside Ishaan at the barstool. He ordered a tower of Fosters. It cost a fortune. 525 bucks.

Ishaan spoke finally, “So she told me she was seeing someone else”

“Why are these places so fucking expensive? even the Thumbs Up costs 100 bucks. I mean, it’s a normal place, ok seating, decent music (The Verve’s “Bittersweet Symphony” was playing in the background, compared to Sean Kingston’s Beautiful Girl in most clubs, a song that teenagers and most of Bombay’s “hip” youth had taken a liking to). But it’s still so fucking expensive. You know what the “Profit Margin” of this place would be?”, the slightly cheap, but totally money oriented attitude of the practical MBA in Joshua finally showed up.

“Your paying for the ambience and the experience”, the theoretical Marketing MBA, Ish, offered a weak response.

“You even know what that means? or your giving me crap that a typical 22 yr old girl that you went on 2 dates with, told you. These chicks feel that they have a “nice time” in such places and the money is justified. Afterall it’s their pop or their boyfriend’s pop who pays eventually. Why the fuck would they care?”

He was right. A 22 year old who Ishaan went out 4 times with told him this. She didn’t as much as kiss him, at the end of it.

“Why are you being so fucking cynical? Stop overanalysing. And Stop Generalising”, Ishaan was starting to show frustration.

“Why, your girl’s very ‘different’? How is she by the way?”, Josh finally began showing interest.

Ish – I’m fucked. Sonal’s seeing someone else. I think she’s even gone out with him. God knows what else.

Josh – You think she fucked him? (he waited for 5 seconds) or made out with him?

Ish – Keep your voice down. Why are you being such an asshole Josh? (He answered nonetheless) Maybe yes. Must have. Surely.

Josh – What? Fucked or made out? (Josh started laughing, beginning to play with Ish’s misery)

Ish – I’m leaving. (He pretended by standing up)

Josh – Sorry yaar (his first act of “friendliness”)

He knew he had to “listen” to Ish, like those “oversmart” girls who try to be everybody’s agony aunts. But more importantly he had to “be there” for his friend, rather than strike up an interesting conversation with some inviting girl out there, He knew he could pull it off. The “flirting with strangers” part, not the “being there” part.

Josh – So what are you going to do? (there were some traces of empathy)

Ish – I don’t know. I’m feeling fuckall. I really liked this one.

Josh – Fuck someone else. It really helps. Trust me.

Men consider the act of “sexual intercourse” to be the answer to all problems. Physical, Psychological, Emotional, Mental, Anything. “Fuck someone” is the first and only “manly advice” you get. The women would rather hear the guy/girl patiently, give them a ear and a shoulder and just “be there” for them and “talk” to them.

The “manly” advice has greater success rate. Trust me.

Josh – I’m serious. It will get your mind “off” things. You’d gradually meet someone else and things will be back to normal. You know there are plenty of women for both of us, buddy. (Josh was really beginning to turn a corner. He was a real nice guy once you get to know him)

Ish – It’s not so simple this time Josh, I “loved” this one. Now all I picture is “this guy fucking her, kissing her, biting her, being wild all the fucking time, like he’s never been with a woman before”

Josh – I know how you feel. I felt that way too when I lost a girl I loved. (He lied. His relationships lasted maximum of 7 days.). We feel like the girl we loved is fucking this new guy wild. Even though it’s a little perverse and naive, that’s the first and only dominating thought that enters our heads. She’s fucking someone else. Like she has nothing else in life to do besides fucking. But’s it’s OK. It’s normal and I assure you she isn’t fucking him “yet”. She hasn’t gotten over you. (He lied again)

Ish – I don’t know (He really didn’t know what to say)

Josh – And even if she is fucking him, so WHAT? (raising his voice). She’s with someone else. Get over it. I mean life will go on right? Besides, I didn’t like her. She wasn’t worth you. You deserve MUCH better. You’re a “dude” yaar. Kate Moss would bend for you.

The idea of Kate Moss bending for him made Ish beam that captivating smile for the first time in the entire evening.

Josh – Never make someone a priority in your life when you’re just an option in their life.

That line alone could get Josh laid with some fancy literary, media or advertising type.

Josh – There are 2 girls behind.

Ish looked behind and smiled again at those 2 girls

Josh – One’s Korean, looks like and the other’s Indian. I’ve been eye teasing the Korean for sometime. You "take" the Indian.

Ish - Yeah, if we’re lucky.

Josh – (Irritated and Angry) Why do you think that you’d be lucky if she responds to your advances? (He took another swig of his beer). If she does, “fine”, if she doesn’t, “fine”. I mean men like you end up giving so much “bhav” to women and they start growing wings and 100 kgs of attitude on their 50 kg bodies. They begin to think that we need to work for their “attention” and they think they’re doing us a favour if they end up having sex with us. I mean they forget that they enjoy “sex” as well and in reality, they need our “attention” to feel good about themselves.

Sexual discrimination against men was a very touchy topic with Josh.

Ish – Relax yaar, I was kidding (he patted Josh’s back)

Josh – Fuck you. (5 seconds later). Asshole.

Ish – Come on yaar, I’m not that big an asshole. You just said Kate Moss would bend for me, 5 minutes ago.

They laughed. It was 10:30 pm. The evening was moving on well. Life was nice again.

They went up to the girl’s table. They spoke. Well mostly it was Ish who spoke with Sandhya (the Indian girl, a freelance copyrighter for 2 advertising agencies)

Josh meanwhile fucked the Korean girl, whose name he couldn’t pronounce, in the loo, as was his fantasy after years of watching American TV shows. They didn’t call each other after the wild rendezvous. What would they talk about?

Ish and Sandhya, called each other, went out, shopped, fucked and broke up 4 months and 14 days later.

Ish phoned Josh, about the breakup.

They met up.

I like Like you.........

Him - What are you wearing?

Her - It's 3 at night. What do you think I'm wearing, babe?

60 days ago - A restaurant in South Bombay

Nervous energy gripping them both. After all, it was a blind date. She looked absolutely radiant. Even he picked out his clothes with caution. He looked well....presentable.

Her (Breaking the monotony of Silence and the inane, "How are yous") - So Rehan talks a lot about you

Him - I hope he speaks well of me

Her (Smiles) - Yeah, he always seems to put you at a pedestal

Him (Stone Faced) - Well I'm quite brilliant.

They laugh. Nervousness out of the window

Him (Looking into her eyes) - You're looking absolutely splendid

Her (Smiling) - Jesus Christ, you took like 35 minutes to come out with your first compliment on our first date. Doesn't augur too well does it?

Him - I promise to compliment you more often, the next time we go out

Her (Laughing) - You better!

They sip their wine and begin judging each other in silence.

Her - Is he worth the effort?
Is he cute enough?
Or if he's just one of those typical men?
He doesn't have a great sense of dressing, but he can hold a conversation
and makes me laugh occasionally
God, I'm seriously looking pretty right now

Him - Fuck, have I made any wrong moves "yet"?
No Embarrassments, Brilliant.
She's really hot.
7.5/10

Her (Interrupting his thought flow) - So what do you do?

Him - I'm almost done with my MBA, got a real nice job in the Advertising industry. I'm also a writer, software developer and a casual photographer.

Her - Oh, you write?

Him - Yeah I always mention that when I meet women. (Smiling)

Her (Chuckling) - Well Played

Her - But you're still single right now.

She adds a cheeky afterthought

Him - Well Played

Her - I'm just kidding baba, You're nice. (She gently taps her hand on his)

SCORE. He gets excited in his mind.

Him - I write columns for some magazines and websites.

Her - Real nice. What do you write about?

Him - Stuff. Doesn't matter. Tell me about you.

She mostly talks about the nice things about her.

He'l obviously find out the typical not-so-nice details in a couple of months. So will she. Doesn't matter. They'l work through all that. The first few dates are supposed to be electric.

Him - So how come you're single?

Her - What do you mean?

Him - Well women half as pretty as you, are usually guaranteed to have atleast one boyfriend.

Her (Laughing aloud) - What makes you say that?

Him - I'm a guy

Him (Continuing) - With women, you have to just pick and choose the guy you want. That's that. Here we have to build a false friendship just to get her damn number, which she obviously won't give you right away, because she doesn't give her number to strangers. Then we have to work our way up her "relationship levels" (He makes the gesture of the inverted commas in the air) just so that she gets to know we are genuienly nice guys. Then when we think we are almost "there", she'l drop the bombshell saying "You know something, I've really begun to like this guy, He's damn cute and Manager at that law firm and he's hot and he's this and he's that". You realise the guy is 5 years older than you and has twice the money and three times the muscle you have.

She can't stop smiling and laughing at the same time

She rests her hand on his. He loves that.

Her - You, You're probably the most insightful guy I've gone out with.

Him - I hope that's a nice thing

Her - I won't tell.

Him - I don't understand why women have to build this false aura of friggin mystery everytime. I mean it's hard for us guys to understand you anyways. Then you proceed to draw out even complicated puzzles in our heads.

Her - Well we are what we are

Him - You still haven't answered my question about your love life

Her - Well I liked this guy. He was "nice". After some time I realised I didn't "like like" him

Him - What the?....Just repeat what you said

Her - I didn't "like like" him

Him - How old are you?

Her (Chuckling) - 22. Well things were going good at first. I liked him, but then I suddenly realised we were quite different and wanted different things. So it never came to a point where I "liked liked" him. Your understanding what I'm saying?

Him (Confused as a bird) - ABSOLUTELY friggin NOT and I don't even want to make a sodding attempt. I sometimes think generating world peace would be easier than getting through to a woman.

Her (Flashing that cute smile) - Well we are what we are

The evening gave way to night. It was going well. They were in their "private universe" having their "private conversation". It was their first date and time moved by at a leisurely pace. Things were going their way. It was nice.

He walked her back to her place. Kissed her on the cheek while holding her hip as they said their "goodbyes".

Him - You're really looking splendid

Her - Thank you. I really had a nice time with you.

As days passed, they continued to have "nice times". He didn't kiss her on the cheek anymore. Things were going well.

60 days after the first date - On the Phone

Him - What are you wearing?

Her - It's 3 at night. What do you think I'm wearing babe?

Him - Hmm, How was your day?

They spoke. Things that lovers and friends usually talk about. About 27 minutes later

Him - So, What are you wearing?

Her - A nightdress

Him - What are you wearing inside?

Her - As if you don't know

Him - It sounds sexier when you say it

Her - Jesus....You guys naa

Him - Well we are what we are

She smiles. He could still make her smile after all that time.

Him (Breaking her flow) - On another note, you know what?

Her - What?

Him (Soft and Slow) - I really, like LIKE you

Her (Smiling) - I like like you too, baby.

Lightning Crashes.........

“How are you?”, she asked me.
I’m Fine.

Sunday 13th October, 11:50 AM
I kept the receiver down and gazed back at the television.
The Rugby World Cup Semifinals was to begin in around 30 mins.
South Africa V/S Argentina.

12:00 AM
I had a knife in my stomach. The hows and whys don’t really matter.
Actually nothing really mattered in that instant. The thought of loosing my life and the fact that I was consciously aware that these could be the last minutes of my short life somehow didn’t even make me realize the immense physical pain I was in.

I looked at my pathetic, naked, torn open chest. The fingers of my right hand trying their best to stop the flow of blood, albeit without any success. Liquid has a mind of its own.

I somehow gathered the strength and more importantly the faith to reach my cellphone to call someone. Mama.

I dialed the number. It was busy. “God was playing dirty games with me”

I surmounted every ounce of energy I had left. This was somehow not as glamourous as death as I would liked plus I’m just 22.

I reached my neighbor’s place and rang the bell.

5 seconds.

10 seconds.

15 long seconds. The blood had discolored the grey shorts I was wearing. Not a sight my neighbor would welcome at 12:05 AM.
She opened the door and screamed her throat out.

I waited for her to calm down. I told her to call an ambulance. I knew my legs would give way in another 2, max 5 minutes. The poise was beginning to wither away.

I slumped on the sofa. My neighbour had called everyone in the building. A man held a wet antiseptic cotton around the gaping wound to stop the flow of the liquid. Women were crying. People cared.

People were trying to comfort me, I think. I had no idea what they were saying. I was straining my ears to hear to sound of a halting automobile. Praying for the touch of a doctor’s hands. Hoping my mom somehow got the news by now. She didn’t yet.

The ambulance arrived. I can’t describe the feeling of reassurance one’s feels in such situations, knowing finally that someone is going to “look” at you. Someone who will use his expert hands and mind to see that you no longer feel the pain of a knife stab in your chest. Someone is going to mend you. Someone is going to make you feel fine.

And there I was, from waiting to watch some midnight sport, 30 mins earlier to being placed on a operating table while the doctor injected the anesthetic in my arm after he injected 4 pain killers in my bum.

I felt fine. I actually felt like an “injured dude” from the mafia minus the gun and personality.

A painful x-ray session, a painless ct scan and 2 unconscious operations later, things were looking “up”. I mean I had tubes in every conceivable hole in my body, in my nose, on my wrist, one inside my stomach and one on my d**k.

The next 7 days were pretty much the worst of my life. Living on saline and “eating” through the pipe up my nostrils. Waiting for the next day. Day after day. Day after fucking day. Time somehow filled me with its abundance, especially with the past 2 years where I didn’t have time to be with my friends, to write regularly, to just “be”. I now had time to sleep throughout the day, read the politics section in the newspaper and do the goddamn Sudoku and the rest of the puzzles. Thank the lord. Talk to my relatives. Craving to talk to my girl and know what’s happening outside. Plan the next movie with my friends, flirt with the cute medical interns and oogle at the nurses and their heavenly legs.

There was a lot of pain in the hospital, physical and mental. A lot of sadness and a dearth of hope. Some Cribbed. Some complained. Some accepted each day as their last. Some slept a lot. Some smiled. Some made small talk with the nurses. Some became friends, friends for life.

It was difficult to sleep with so many pipes in you. Try sleeping in one direction for 5-6 hours and you’ll know what I’m talking about. I dreaded the nights. I would hear screams, moans, tears of pain, struggle and general feeling that life was somehow slipping these people by. The mornings somehow brought poetic hope and happiness in the way day does, over night. Plus, early morning meant “sponge bath” from the pretty nurse. Truth be told I never felt anything sexual as in one of those fantasies that we have. I had lost all sensation down there with a cathoder stuck to it.

The hospital was a lesson in living.

You know what, Kenneth?.....Life isn’t as difficult as it is cut out to be. Life isn’t a fucking rat race. You just assume it to be impossible to win without grinding your arse against the competition and the people and the shit that goes on. Give yourself some space. Give yourself a little fucking time, to breathe, to love, to forgive, to enjoy music, to enjoy the company, to experience things, to know the truly important people, to hold her hand, to truly kiss her, to get to know yourself a little bit more because you never know. One minute your awaiting the damn match to start, the next your in the operating table counting backwards to unconsciousness or maybe worse.

Life is good, Kenneth. All you have to do is LIVE IT.

“How are you?”, she asked me, a week later.
I’m Fine.

End of the Beginning........

A gay guy to his partner – Why don’t you come over to my place right now? We’l celebrate the new year by having animal sex on the floor

The Partner – I’m too drunk, I can’t drive

The Gay Guy – Well then maybe I could come to your place

The Partner – I’m too drunk, I can’t drive


Another one bites the dust. Not much has changed. Except that I’ve put on some weight and not had any sex or even made out this year. YES I have regrown my virginity. My sexual relationship with this girl looks like a bell curve and the emotional relationship represents a zig-zag curve. Yes I have been studying a lot.

The fact that my last year’s new year post is at the bottom of this page says that not much has been written on this blog all through last year and I love writing. It keeps me sane in this bad, manipulating and plastic world. Actually it’s not that bad. But so many things have happened this year. I’ve been overworked. Realized that I’m a good leader. Chosen advertising as my line of work. Realised that I stand nowhere with her. Not truly touched her. Been stabbed in my stomach. Emotionally & Physically scarred for life. Felt truly valued by all people who matter and totally worthless by people who I thought mattered. Watched emotionless while people continued to die in the middle east and Kashmir. Cried while watching Taare Zameen Par. Had this unhealthy obsession of joining the mafia, living that life without actually using the gun (I love The Sopranos) . Fallen in love with the intellect of Brenda Chenowith from Six Feet Under. Fallen out of love and then back with the “Zig-Zag Girl”. Grown up.

And in all this time, the seconds rolled by. The mundane consumed me. The smiles withered and the frowns remembered. The dark dominates the light. Flowing with the flow. Flowing with the fucking flow.

And then you realize, “Hey it’s the 31st of December” . Yet another year. Yet another chance to turn things around. This one is gonna be better than the previous. Another lease of life. False reassurances that things will change because the number in the calendar has changed.

“Kenneth, you’re such a fucking over analyser. Don’t you see the good that happened last year?”, Kate, my underdressed alter ego reminds me.

“Yeah, there’s been more good than bad, but its just easier to remember the fuck ups isn’t it? Besides its fodder for self pity and the blame game. It’s just human tendency to be scared of the rain rather than enjoy the feeling of being truly drenched”

“Oh shut the fuck up, bitch” Kate bitch talked and reasoned in the same sentence. She’s the best.

“You’ve had a lot of things going for you. A career. Money. A brain. Words. Friends that care. A brain”

Shit happens. But you know what? It happens to all of us but that doesn’t mean you wallow in the darkness like a cunt from hell. People go through worse and are smiling. People are enjoying the peace. The holidays. Experience the calm for once sweetheart. Take the time for yourself. Fuck everything”

“Fuck Everything?”

“Yeah baby, Fuck Everything”

“I madly in love with the idea of you, Kate”

“No Baby, You just need me to simplify things for you and give you that fucking reassurance that you crave for every time. Plus you like to see me wear this short black cocktail dress with a promise of release of your pent up sexual frustration”

“You fucking know me. Marry me 10 years later”

“I’m already married to you”

Merry Christmas and have a cracking fucking year ahead.

Coz you just never know.

You just never know.

Stuff in the air.......

A dark hallway. We were alone, for once. Stuff in the air.

I had been seeing you all the time, but in those short, dark, illuminating seconds, I looked at you for the vey first time. As I held you, you looked beautiful. Stuff in the air.

There wasn’t much light and the strands of hair falling on your face made you look so fucking sexy. Your eager, cocky eyes stared straight at me, as if inviting. I pulled you closer. Time slipped by unnoticed. For the first time I wanted to take my time, rather than ripping off a blouse or unclasping a hook. You made me feel grown up. Stuff in the air.

My hands on your hips, caressing your soft skin under your top. I looked at you. Your inviting lips. The almond eyes. The strand of hair falling over your face so fucking elegantly. You leaned in closer. That precise tilt of your head. My grip getting firm. I tilted my head so feel you against me, to truly get to know you beneath the superficial. Your lips felt like……

You closed your eyes, lady like. I pulled you even closer, touching you. Feeling you. Kissing you. Knowing you. Stuff in the air.

Hands on your hips, moving upwards, to your back. Slow. I wanted to taste me, on you. The kiss was passionate, the feeling, true, the touch, gentle, as I began playing with your hair.

Running my fingers through your hair, while I held your face in my hands. I looked at you. You truly were beautiful, the glow in the dark.

You opened your eyes, looking for me. Uninhibited. Effortless. You were comfortable, comfortable in my grasp. The smile reassured me. The wink, a cheeky reinforcement. Stuff in the air.

I thought about that night tonight. Don’t ask me why?. Maybe it’s the Stuff in the air. Maybe it’s the music. Maybe it’s just you. Whatever it is, I’d just like to tell you, that it was in that dark hallway, a place where we scrambled for privacy, I realized for the first time that I was crazy about you and you could be mine.

Before you disappear completely from view,
I’d just like to say how wonderful it was to sit with you,
The girl I never really knew………………………………

Words of finite wisdom.........

Lines in and around, that I like and remember.

Gorgeous Gandu (Gorgeous Asshole)………………A Girl to me

Life is a bitch. If it were a slut, it would have been easy….....Somebody I can’t remember

Lets waste time chasing cars……..Snow Patrol

Clean the (entire) house………Mom to me

You’re my bestestest friend………A girl I stand no chance with

I haven't had sex for that long, that if it were possible I would regrow my virginity.......Me

Faiyaz (A boy) wants to have sex with you………A friend

Accidental cleavage turns me on, more than forced cleavage…………My wise opinion

“You’re right”
“I’m Sorry”
“You don’t look fat”
Those are the only 3 lines a woman needs to hear………from “Lost”

I want to fuck any of Tony Soprano’s women……………My not-so-secret wish

“We’l make out when you get here”…………A girl I didn’t make out with

When naked and vulnerable, a woman’s imperfections are what make her endearing………………Some Wise Person

When you’re young you want to change the world. When you’re older you just want to understand it……………Another Wise Person

Never underestimate the power of giving a girl flowers………………All men

Sex isn’t life. But life’s impossible with out it………Amen to that

Never make a decision when you’re high in the sky or down in the dumps………My teacher

It’s easy to love people in China. It’s tougher to love the person living next door………My pop

I'm a great quitter. I come from a long line of quitters. My Father was a quitter, my Grandfather was a quitter, I was raised to give up………George Castanza (My favorite person)

You know lesbians...they see me and they think this is why I am not a heterosexual………George Castanza

Seduction is enticing someone into doing what they secretly want to do already……Me

Before you disappear completely from view,
I’d just like to say how wonderful it was to sit with you,
The girl I never really knew…………………………………

Did you like any?

The Guy's Mall..........

A girl with long flowing hair and a short flowing skirt opened the door for me. Who knew that was all the pretty I was going to have, that evening.

But it wasn’t about women. It wasn’t about legs. It wasn’t about stealing glances. It wasn’t about plunging necklines. I wasn’t even in the “mood” of getting aroused. For once.

It was about boys. (I’m not gay). It was about what we liked to do. Smoke. Drink. Abuse unnecessarily. Give unnecessary advice as to how Christiano Ronaldo should dribble past those Chelsea defenders in the FA Cup final.

I was in a sports bar. There was more beer flowing than I had pissed throughout my life.The pre-match analysis had begun and the girls inside were already impatient. They made faces that we make when they take us shopping.

The match began. The beer was flowing. Ciggies lit. I don’t do either so was feeling left out.

I picked the menu card and my balls exchanged places. Everything was so damn expensive. Made me think that they were giving Kate Moss free with whatever you order.

I had 200 bucks with me. The cheapest thing was peanuts, for 70 bucks. It’s not a metaphor, they were actually selling peanuts for 70 fucking bucks. Sounds funny just repeating that. If I would pay 70 bucks for peanuts, then every morning, I would have to look in the mirror and call myself a “chutiya” (dickhead) for the rest of my life.

So I didn’t get anything.

2 minutes into the match. And I was hungry again. I was sitting, on the center barstool and was very easily noticeable, partly because my part of the table was the only part which was empty, devoid of liquor or those things they have with liquor.

The bartender finally made a pass on me :

“Hey man……I’m pouring u a beer”

The bastard was very forward.

“Don’t, DON’T!!!......I’m alright”. People around me began staring. The boring match didn’t help.

“Do you have coffee?”. I tried.

“What???”. He belched as if I had asked for his wife, for a night.

“Oh Come on. I didn’t ask for your wife. Don’t look so fucking stunned”. I muttered (in my head ofcourse)

The stares were all on me. I was stealing attention from Christiano Ronaldo.

“Cold Coffee?”. I wanted to play with him.

He wasn’t amused. The eyes said it all. I’m sure he hadn’t met my “type” yet.

I was beginning to enjoy this. I told you the match was boring.

“No, we don’t”. He kept his nerve.

“Gimme French Fries”, I ordered humbly.

“With what?”.

I dreaded that.

“With what?”. I repeated like a dumb fuck.

“Yeah, with what?”. He was embarrassing me more than my parents have done in 22 years. More than that, he was winning.

“Hmmm……With Water, Thank You!”. My insides were shaking. I was laughing like a madman on the inside.

I think I won. My friend was laughing quite loud and this girl gave me a cute smile. Yeah baby, I definitely won.

“That would be 195 bucks”. The bastard haunted me again.

“A hundred and ninety five?”

“Ya”

I hand him all the money I had on me.

“Pretty expensive init?”, Cute girl was on my side.

“Yeah…….but at 195, I’m sure I’m gonna find some diamonds inside………I’l give them all to you”

Cute Smile.

I won.

Who won the match?

Who the fuck cares? I don’t support either teams (which confused the people beside me, when I was cheering both teams like a madman).

I left the place with 5 bucks in my wallet. My friend didn’t have any money as usual. We walked home and had 2 cutting chais (Half-tea). It felt better than the French fries.

Some advice. If you happen to go to one of these places
1. Don’t take your girlfriend. They ruin the experience and get freaked out with the noise.
2. See that you’re loaded with money, or you may end up calling yourself a “Chutiya”.