Pieces of the Puzzle

When confronted with the above proverb and asked to comment on it, these were the few responses I got. These are by no means directly related to you as a person. They resulted out of my limited interactions with you. So sue me not!

Yogi: I am going to milk this 'Bipasha Basu' story till everyone starts crying. OSHO says Milk tastes better when licked from the….

Gorgeous: I am PMSing so I shouldn’t comment. But I still will- Oh please! What made you think I would be interested in this? I don’t drink milk coz I am Gorgeous fucking Diva!

Starfest: I like to make a big hue and cry even before the milk spills. And then think my familiy is going to drown me in milk or worse marry me off to a buffalo! Now let me watch Survivor in peace!

Wandy: ~Hey Bhagwan! ~ She is so busy with her physiological systems and manifestations of higher feelings, emotions that she cannot and should not cry over spilt milk~ She is trying to use cognitive reappraisal strategies to overcome this milky situation.

Elaichi Chai: I am pissed! I am pissed about milk! I am pissed about the cows! I am pissed with you! I am pissed that I am here in the first place! I am pissed that I might have to comment on this piss-off post!

Heretic: (promptly changes his name to - Dirty Dhoodwala) Milk? Boob? Where?

You hardly let me get out of the house.

You never let me wear short skirts and sleeveless tops.

You abuse me till my lips bleed and my skin peels.

You make me want to run far away to my parents.

You make me shiver and huddle up at the thought of you.

I have had enough of you for three long years.

Now I have decided to stand up and fight your brutal ways.

O Chicago Winter! I am going to overcome you this time around!

Few years ago, Beta gave me the password to his email id. He had to send this really important email and the server was down where he was. So he requested me to do so saying he would change the password as soon as his server was up. I am sure he might have tried other trustworthy people before finally asking me.

googoo!? What kind of a password was that and why didn’t I decipher it earlier? I guess I credited him with more novelty.

Like an angel, I sent the email to this professor and logged off immediately after scanning through his Inbox and seeing nothing interesting.

I could feel my halo transforming into horns and woops!.. was that a tail that just sprouted?

I quickly logged on again. This time I went straight to a folder called Pooch. Pooch?! ..very suspicious.

Bunch of emails from Quickiepoochie. What the holy f-word!!? Ok, I am just hoping I don’t open these mails to get nasty surprises- that too in my office. But of course, I still have to open them. Some irrelevant mushy rant about a sad life without him (who has been apparently baptized Gimbly). Tch tch...quite boring! Next.. drab!..next…next…

Till I chance upon Gimbly’s letter to Poochie. Usual sappy stuff (by now I have lost my appetite for days to come) and some dream interpretations (some sad skills Beta has) and some touchy common-friend issues (o my god, is this really my brother?)

Next para is about me!…Ahh! Finally some interesting stuff *eyes wider*

Amma told me that I didn’t put in too much effort & that’s why I didn’t get as much marks as Alpha. She thinks I spent too much time doing other stuff (wink wink). She thinks Alpha was really hardworking and clever.

Way to go ma! heh heh! Didn’t know she was so proud of me and so clairvoyant. *muah* Continued reading…

Unbelievable! What a traitor/loser/whiner! Why couldn’t he let her believe I did very well in college? Damn! My mom, she will kill me. And I’m going to butcher him before that! Gimbly, my left foot!!! I have to confront him..

Wait a min, I’m not supposed to be here, snooping around. Damn damn! What a delimma!

But seriously, how could he do that? Mainly, what would Poochie think of me?

My brother, Beta, maintains an active love life. I even see a pattern emerging. For understanding the next paragraph, basic Math is required (maybe a paper and pencil too). I have a sudden urge to prove my affiliation to the couple mentioned in the previous post. Some people actually doubted that.

Beta dates X for ‘n’ no. of years. During the (n-0.5n)^th year, he starts dating Y too. He takes ‘n/90’ days to decide if he should tell X to buzz off. Then he exclusively dates Y for another period of time ‘nx’ till he meets Z. Successive iterations and differential calculations would result in a ground-breaking formula I haven’t yet formulated.

Summary- My brother, Beta, maintains an active love life. I am close to being the next Ramanujam.

Boy goes groom hunting for his sister. He sees Girl’s photo in that potential-groom’s house. Convocation photo. In a black robe, she was clutching a rolled up certificate. Confident and demure. Beauty and brains rolled into one person, in one single photo. He was smitten. He forgot about his sister and potential-groom and wondered about the girl in the picture.

Marriage between the sister and PG never happened, shattering Boy's dreams of ever meeting his dream girl. Duets with her in Kashmir. In every dream sequence she had her convocation hat on. He even had nightmares of her marrying someone else who looked like Prem Chopra. Wakes up sweating profusely and switches on the fan.

When he could take it no more, he hired some detectives to trace her. Agent Kamala Mami (her punch line being " I’m Mami, Kamala Mami) and Super sleuth Venkatalakhsmi Mami ( she doesn’t have a punch line, coz I couldn’t come up with one). KM and VM spread their gossiping tentacles in far reaching family circles. In exactly two days, they have good news for Boy. Girl’s parents are looking around for a suitable groom. She belongs to his community and can make upma for 19 people. "But I don’t like upma", says Boy. "That’s Ok, I’ll adjust." That’s how much he loved her.

So meeting was scheduled. Boy meets Girl. Not alone obviously. Not just KM and VM, but the whole village was present. Everyone had vested interests and no other place to be. Girl steals some glances while bringing coffee. Girl takes an instant liking to him, doesn’t know why. It felt as though she sang and danced with him some where. Chi chi, such unbecoming thoughts. She blushes.

Boy has a request that throws every Ramu, Somu and Bhimu off guard.

‘Can I speak to the girl for a few minutes..... alone?’

After a panchayat-like discusion, throwing animated glances at Boy, the elders agree to this preposterous idea. They let them sit in the corner of the same room for three minutes.

Three minutes? What good was that? But this was what he had pined for. He had to make the best of the given situation.

He asked the one ultimate question he felt that would encompass all his apprehensions. The answer that would seal the deal.

'Excuse me, What is A plus B whole square?'

Girl though perplexed felt as though these were the weird ways of men.

Nonchalantly she replied,'A square plus B square plus two AB.'

"Thanks, I think I want to marry you. I hope you say yes". She’s good, he thought proudly to himself.

Needless to say, it was a "math" made in heaven. Its takes all sorts to marry and make merry.

I still don’t get it ma, how could you say yes to papa?!

But I am so glad you did. Today I am fondly thinking of this wonderful couple who gave me life and everything else to make it a beautiful one. 

Its really sad that Nudie decided to move. Its been a shock really. Not just to me but all those who knew and liked her. My meeting with Nudie was quite a coincidence, a sudden encounter if you must. Who would have thought that we would get so intimate?

A few months ago on that memorable day, I was talking to my friend on my cell phone and decided to play with my window blinds (as a sign of boredom). We usually don’t open the blinds of this particular window which faces the neighbor building. We like to be secretive about what we do in our bedroom. That day, I started scanning other people’s homes from their open windows.

I saw this young beautiful woman walking around in her room. Quite a shabby pad for a pretty thing like her, I thought. Whats with that skimpy top, dont you know some decent/respectable folks live here? Before I could even gather my wits, this woman starts peeling her clothes. I mean actually stripping. Skimpy top and all on the floor. Had to pinch myself first: these things happen only to other people. Then I quickly hang up on my friend after explaining the grave scenario. If it were to him, he might have caught the next flight home. Rushed and switched off the lights, alerted hubby and watched this amazing live performance by Nudie. Now you would think Nudie would realize that her blinds were broken and that there were people trying to get to know her. You would think that any minute now she would run away into the dark abyss never to return.

But she didn’t disappoint us. She walked around naked, read her book naked, manicured naked and most of time scratched herself quite vigorously ( I know, it was not all that glamorous)…..till we got BORED! So we slept (I don’t know if hubby actually did).

The show didn’t stop there. Every night (cos we couldn’t see very clearly at daytime) we were regaled. Prancing and scratching in the nude. We started having more guests than ever before. They even brought out chairs and made themselves comfortable next to the window. Popcorn please!

Then there was this other woman (Creepy, is what we named her) who lives on the floor above Nudie who thought we were peeking into her house. She kept eyeing our window suspiciously. And I thought we were operating under immense discretion. This one time Creepy shut her blinds in anger. Huh?? Some issues you have missy! If only you knew what was going on under your snooty nose!

Maybe Nudie was an exhibitionist who loved to show off her assets. Maybe she was trying to woo someone in our building. Maybe she had psoriasis and couldn’t wear clothes. Who cared?!

But now, she’s left us forever. Some boring people have replaced Nudie and the blinds.

Suddenly, too many posts on ex-crushes, ex-loves, ex-cetra in people's blogs. So you would think I’m going to get all mushy and write my own comical tragedy. You thought right.

Summer of 90. (Do the math) The guy next door. The really tall guy next door. Dark and Handsome too. It doesn’t take much for a south Indian to be dark. You just need to be born in the vicinity. Yeah, back to my object of weak-knees. This object studied in my school, though much senior. Every morning, wandering eyes in the prayer assembly maneuvering through hundreds of heads and finally settling on his. Making unwarranted trips to the water fountain which happened to be next to his class-room. Reveling in my girlfriend’s teases, outwardly acting bugged. Stopping in my tracks and moving real slow (make that crawling) to catch his attention while he sat in the balcony oblivious to my antics. Playing volleyball with more vigor each time he passed.

Every evening at my apartment complex, he played cricket with some local bratty kids, almost half his age (consisting of my brother and his hommies). He would even pick up a fight everytime he got out. How cute, I thought! I couldn’t witness all this if I didn’t plaster my face to the window grill and cock my eyes to the extremities. I knew I would develop some kind of strange deformity if I didn’t think of a better plan.

So I took a mirror and stuck it to the glass pane with Fevicol. Now I could get an unadulterated, clear view of my Object prancing around. Sheer bliss.

Moms are generally inquisitive creatures. She wanted to know what that mirror was doing there. I conjured up some vague story about this Science project -"Effective Solar heating of a Bedroom". Ahem.. in Madras with all that er ..warmth, all we needed was a solar heater! Of course, she believed me.

For a while I didn’t even know this Object’s name. For that, I had to do something I could never dream of.

I had to take my brother’s help!! After battling with my mind, I decided it was worth the risk.

"My dumb darling brother! Er…*blush* I wanted to ask you..that if …. "

"His name is Arjun!" My brother shot back not moving his eyes from the video game.

"Wha-which-How??" Dumbfounded me stuttered.

"Yeah right! Arj told me to tell you! I guess he couldn’t take your silliness either. Eiyuck! So disgraceful. Get a grip moron!"

Shocked and flustered, I buried my self in trains and trains of thought. ‘How did he find out? Arjun, eh?’

The next few months gave me ample material for ‘FLAME’ tests. Yes! Ours would end in marriage.

Epilogue- If I knew his birthday, I’m sure I would've spent more constructive time on Linda Goodman. Never got the guts to approach him. He moved on, I moved on.

Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned. Not the eating-an-apple-pie kinda sin. This is pure cold blooded, suspense filled, heart-stopping sin. I am a living hell because of that and will be till I konk off.

But I will not tell you what it is…hahahaha! *mocking laughter fills the room*

-End of short story-

Expert Analysis- Well, if you feel like banging your head against the nearest wall in frustration, my purpose has been served as well as Ms. Jhumpa Lahiri’s! After reading the Interpreter of Maladies, I fail to comprehend her purpose of leaving us in midair wondering what should happen in the end (of every single short story).

What kind of demented, sadistic mentality is that? I am the reader, I shouldn't be the one using my brains. Maybe I’m not up there with the literary souls who fell for this ploy and bestowed her with a Pulitzer. But I'll still read her next book, which I believe is on the way. She looks good.