J for Jealousy

This post J for Jealousy is written on Day 10 as part of http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/ for Blogging from A to Z April Challenge (2015).

Things are getting out of control in my life and I am getting suffocated in this relationship with Ankita who has been bugging me for days. As we step inside college canteen, a classmate say a cheerful hi before leaving her mobile number. "Hey! Gotta run to class. You've become a rare specie. Gimme a call sometimes, soon," she waves good bye.

We settle at one of the unoccupied table and orders two cups of tea. Ankita looks at me, "So, who is that girl? Planning to call her..huh!"

"Babe", I protest. "She is an old class mate and we've been together since 12th."

"Oh! I see, so Mr Congeniality needs to catch up with the hot bitch. Dude, you are such a prick," she fumes.

I am getting irritated at her paranoid behavior of constantly checking my phone, flitting pages of my diary. I prefer not to react to her.

She tries to pacify me, "Say something, na."

"What there to say?" I am pissed at her weird behavior. I hate it when there is a trust gap in a  relationship. 

After few days, I hear from class mates that she's been asking questions about my whereabouts, whom do I go to meet after lecture and why I head to the cafe every now and then.

During the night, she calls me and start fighting with me. "I've been trying to call you several times and it seems that you are having lovey-dovey conversation with your old classmate."

I shout on the phone, "Listen! If you cannot trust me, there is little I can do and better call it quits."

She changes the tone and pretend to joke, "Hey! Chill. You got so angry. I was just kidding."

I ignore her frantic phone calls and messages. After days, I call her, "You know why I was ignoring your calls. I've heard you having an affair with this handsome neighbor of yours.

She starts crying on the phone, "How could you even think like that when the person I care the most is you? That's sad and so cheap."

I start laughing. "Exactly, Madam. You have to understand that trust matters in a relationship. It serves no purpose in doubting each other. It was my way to make you realize that both of us have a life beyond being together and romance. We have a right to have our own set of friends and that doesn't mean we are cheating each other. Space matters."

She was at a loss of words and was speechless. "Sorry baby, I got a bit jealous."

I for Internet Girl Friend

This post on Day 9 for Letter I-Internet girl friend is written as part of http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/ for Blogging from A to Z challenge 2015 (April).



It's been days, nights and years. I can't wait for her to ping me where the conversations would go till late and finish in the early morning. It's endless and infinity. if there is a Mathematics could define us. I ping her.

ME: You know what! You are my internet girl friend.

SHE: Huh! hahahha! What is that?

I try to rack my brain to come up with an explanation.

ME: Boy and girl who has a relationship on the internet. See! We spend our time on the night for very long hours,  every single day and when I can't see you, I long for your ping. The only relationship that binds us,no luv shuv or intimacy.

She: Arre! Bhagwan! Log yeh dekhenge to kya sochenge (What will people say if they see this?) You know what we are blackening our faces now. Wah!!! What a name Internet Girl Friend!

She would ping with, 'Whattya doing' and I will narrate the story of my life from A to Z during the day, as if singing the name of God or reciting some mantra. The conversation sometimes drag during the day to finish till the early morning. You see, she is the savior by sitting online with me, keeping me company post midnight in office when I have to wait some two hours for our office transport to pack me home. Idea! Yes Idea! I ask.

ME: Hey!!! Womaniya! Will you marry me?

She is aghast and finds me hilarious, "What you crazy? Haha!!"

ME: It's my wish, meri marzi. You cannot decide for yourself. I make a deal, let's marry and we live life on our own terms. There is no load and you allowed to date whoever you are. You lead your life and I lead mine.

SHE: Dream on. I've already made a deal with another friend. You came too late. He is gay and I'll marry him.

ME: Who are you to decide. I have said, You'll marry me only.

SHE: Just shut up. Will you?

ME: I can't, internet girl friend.

She tells how amazed it is when I come with such theories. Internet girl friend, it's so sidey and cliche, she chuckles. I coax her that it's a novel idea that nobody came up with her. See, it's original, I send a smiley. In fact, I should date my G-Talk who gave me such crazy idea. I must be an author, I tell her and weave a book, 'Internet Girl Friend' to rake the moolah.

Love on the net but minus the perks of dating but longing the thrill to see each other and indulging the harmless flirting. A tale of attraction, witnessed by the thing called internet who saw through friendships that buried our deep dark secrets.

We are no boy friend and girl friend but the net makes you the internet girl friend, I start troubling her.

SHE: Listen! I gotta go sleep now and cya.

ME: Arre! Wait na, Internet Girl Friend.

SHE: Taa-taa

ME: Aree.

I start typing but the internet girl friend has long disappeared, discarding my companionship during the night. 

F for Flamboyant lovers

The post F for Flamboyant Lovers on Day 6 is written as part of http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/  'Blogging from A to Z April (2015) Challenge.


We were crazy lovers. Ah! The ones who kiss passionately in public, stealing glances and cuddling affectionately to scare the crowd off the road. They called us flamboyant lovers. It was the 70s in what was called Bombay. We wouldn't give a damn to the conservative moral guardians, looking down on us and their eyes threatening us, "You are spoiling our culture. Have some shame!"

We loved shaming them. It gave us pleasure. She would dress in short skirts, dragging me towards her lips and smooching. We would yell in the bus and freak out when she saw a cockroach beneath her feet. She would freak out and clutch to me. It gave me a thrill and we yelled together not once but thrice to scare off commuters who would turn around and looked at us, aghast. The conductor chided us in Marathi, before throwing us out of the double-decker bus that gave a panoramic view of the city.

We were everything that young lovers were not. We did everything in the open, swearing, taking long drag of cigarette and getting intimate on the bench in an era where our friends would meet clandestinely and pretend to be good kids in front of everyone. We wanted to shock people. After all, life is lived once.

We pranced our way on Marine Drive, swinging from one end to the other. We were high on life and love, gulped a bottle of beer openly on the backseat of the bus which our co-passengers were oblivious of.

Her voice slurred, "You are crazy, my cho chweet punching bag? You not scared of cockroach..why did you yell and distracted the boring passengers out of their slumber...See, because of you we were thrown out of the bus."

I played along, "I shouted because you shouted, Your Highness. You see, I do whatever you do."

"Oho!" She mocked me. "My sweet crazy man. We scared people. We must make a gang."

I surprised her with a peck. "This is what I was thinking. You know, Haji Mastan will be scared of us. The new aspiring don, Dawood, will fear us and we will take over the city."

"We are fearless lovers and we will become Dons in the city. But, what will people call you, Behen."

"Shut up," She gave me a gentle slap. "Obviously, you don't wanna be a bhai to a behen like me."

Nah!We protested. 

It started raining and we were drenched from top-to-toe, holding hands and sprinting to Churchgate station. Finally, we reached her flat and lay on the bed.

I teased her with a feather striking her face, "I am feeling naughty."

"Feel. I cannot stop you from nurturing feelings," She tried to ignore me.

"Let's make love," I teased her.

She suddenly became serious, "Why are you thinking about sex at this time? Let's make love to each other's soul. We are fearless lovers. We don't need to follow the routine route, followed by everyone who pretend to have unflinching moral values yet do the contrary."

We hugged each other. Our soul did the talking.

A for Amour-a parisian love story

This post is being written as part of the 'Blogging from A to Z April Challenge' and it's my second outing. Here, we go for letter 'A for Amour' where my theme is 'Romance (Short) stories. I hope you will enjoy my first entry on the first day of April.


It was during the holiday when I roamed freely the streets of Paris, longing for romance. I stood at Pont au Double, admiring lovers kissing freely and holding hands. I lit a cigarette when she approached me, asking for light. She pulled her hair with her hands and smiled.

She asked, 'Vous parlez francais?' (You speak French)

'Un peu,' (A little), I say.

We got talking and met over coffee, letting ourselves free on the Parisian streets and Champ Elysee. Ines, that's her name. She invited me to her apartment, we made love to each other, kissing passionately. We had everything going for us and the world didn't matter to us. Love couldn't be more perfect than this. Ines knew English for she studied and lived in United States for five years.

Once she asked, "You know, may be we won't be each other forever. What would you do?

"I don't know. I prefer not think about it."

I was happy living in the moment for my 'amour' (love in French). Elisa calls me 'amour.' I was losing control over the self, drawing myself to her despite knowing that we were momentarily enjoying each other's company. Once, I asked her why she is dancing with that guy in the pub.

She turned around, "Amour! I think we have a pact that we would enjoy every moment with each other and we both know that it's not forever."

"Still! I protested."

"Amour! I love you. You are the guy who makes me feel special. But, why take load?

I walk away from her, kicking my shoes in frustration/

Ines didn't return my call for days. Perhaps, it was time to call it quits. I was three weeks away from leaving France. Her weird behavior was killing me deep inside. I dropped at her apartment where I spent days and night to see the door bolted from inside. I got the hint. Perhaps, Ines found another lover. I left a letter from her, 'Amour! We spent wonderful moments together and shall always cherish the moments of love, kissing and wonderful memories you gave me.  I wish you luck and I am sure you found someone better. I left the letter and a red rose in her letter box.

I traveled to France in train enjoying the scenery, from Lyon to Bordeaux. Somehow, I extended my stay for three months since something was amiss in life. I felt incomplete without her.

I visited the cafe we first met and kissed, ordered a coffee in the Parisian winter, smoking like chimney. I again became a regular at the cafe, engrossed in the memory of Ines, the times we spent together and hoping she will come again.

One day, an elderly man patted me on the back. I turned around and he asked, 'Looking for someone?'

Uhmmm! Yes! May be! Actually No!, I stammered.

Ines?' he asked.

I was bewildered and asked, 'How do you know?' 

The gentleman eyed me and said, 'Ines left this parcel for you. She loved you a lot and hope you will forgive her. Please don't throw away the memories. She died to cancer two weeks ago. She didn't want you to suffer and asked you to find love. Gosh! I am missing my daughter.'

The old man, wiped a tear, patted my back and walked away. I was speechless. I packed my bag on the same day and took my flight, thinking about the priceless moments with amour.