Thursday, June 03, 2010

First Night

When we were in the first year of college, it was rather gentlemanly for someone to say "Maplai..I will not have sex on the first night da..Pavam Ponnu..Tired a iruppa". My curiosmometer would break down at the levels of anxiety I would have for that event, especially when its first. But gentlemanliness as portrayed by a tam hero in one of the movies and a few oaths by fellow roomies in college, it did seem like a good idea not to go for it.
The often unsaid and understood reason for not going for it, could perhaps be explained by the sheepish smiles and bountiful blushes from aunties, mamas and nandu nasukus when you get out of one of their convertible bedrooms (into honeymoon suites). Reactions can emanate in ways imaginable (just smiles or avoidance or heckling or in between) to unimaginable (Enjoy, Jamai, Enjamaai or thumsup signs from father-in-law denoting..maplai elam nala padiya pannitel polrukke)
Delicacy while it is, its delicate to face such a situation (even for a brutally shameless guy like me). For the aesthetically inclined and for those whose domicile is not where the marriage is taking place, another piquant (for the reader alone) situation is to sleep on a steel or fractured wooden cot with mattress that carries vintage urinaroma of beloved nieces, nephews and the stains of obvious multiple occurances of coitus interruptus. The idea of a crumpled jasmine flower or two sticking to the butt, however pleasantly smeling for its geographical coordinates, does not impress me and when it is manifested in front of the crowd that waits outside for us to make a federal appearance, in lines of manmohan and obama, explaining how its all good and we look forward to more co-creation.
So we decided to hit the road, veshti and podaivai laden to a nearby four star hotel with of course some perfumes, bath oils, aromatic candles and with carefully packed nightwears that are bold enough to put naomi campbell & miami beach gaurds to shame. Of course, coming from the conservative families, we never were bold or romantic enough to try them on ourselves. Our adventures reached the descent the very moment the items were billed in their respective sales counters.
The idea of doing the do in a hotel suite is however embrassing in another way. From the receptionist to the bell boy knew why we were where we were and they made no effort to hide their smiles that were products of unbounded imagination let loose in their minds. There is no scientific explanation I know, to why pleasures cannot be internalized without coupling facial expressions when the intent is not to share those pleasures with someone who is pleasured at!
The curious mami and mami who self appointed themselves to drive us down to the hotel, like in anyone married couple's case I bet, were also of age that did not preclude them from the possibilities of another production (though it would be social mockery displayed all over There was a golden handshake and controlled smiles that we ignored, much to their relief.
Moments later we both were in and how. Cozy room carefully sealed from outside noise and din, with nice aroma and dim lights, unnecessarily strewn with lotus, jasmine and other flowers. I am not sure if that night was romantic. it was surely funny even without the elements that contributed to it till we were left alone.
The protocols of the first morning (after that night) are also well understood. The mama and mami committee incharge of taking us back to the mandapam shall not call our room or knock at it. They shall wait for us at the lobby. The dilemma we had was to whether leave the complimentary breakfast after having paid a substantial amount of money to do nothing (remember the college vow). We are till date value buyers and we dint miss the elaborate breakfast buffet while the two member transportation committee waited outside, salivating.
Our trip back to the mandapam went without any word being uttered between any of us. I imagined it could have been any question and that could have turned un-intentionaly
Hope you guys had a good night? (How was sex?)
How was the room? (Did you manage to run around naked?)
How was the flower arrangement? (To which we could not have answered normally without imagining how it set the romantic mood or not)
One question they could have asked without sounding corny would have been "How was the breakfast?". However that would have brought down the social status of the transport committee by several notches.
While all went smooth, the statement of my mom swept the carpet under my feet. "Nee vera hotel-la than vechikanum nu solite..Camera keemara vechirndhana ena panradhu..adhan mama fulla check panitan. Aprom than nimmadhi! (What if there were hidden cameras? So mama checked it completely before the event)
We got punk'd!!

Wednesday, June 02, 2010

To Do or Not to do?

Someone said that India stands for "I will Never Do It Again."

I went a step closer to that declaration today.

9 Am: I frantically drive through the maze called morning traffic congestion to find a stationery shop in what is the fastest growing suburb of the decade. Found one which had no name board.

It had notebooks, books, dust, a newborn baby inside the shop, its mother who also is the shop co-owner, her husband and a few assorted things that neednt be there. They had no stapler or pins. No complaints..It happens everywhere...Why blame the country?

I made a tough U-turn made tougher by impatient users of the road. Soft pedalling all the way to office, trying to catch a glimpse on both sides of the road, I reach the 40 ft gully where the state of the art IT companies have located themselves without much thought about approach roads.

9 30 AM: A speeding car at 60 Kmph hit my car mirror and gave some unpleasant free advice about the perils of sticking to a lane and driving under 40 kmph...Why blame the country..Its just a few people here and there (mostly around me, perhaps?)

I park the car in the safest possible area that wouldnt disturb traffic and walk to the petty shop for a cigarrette lighter (Note: To melt the seal that is used to seal confidential business documents). I got free advice, free "kangu" from used cigarrette and free matchstick all without asking my purpose and all without asking me if I needed an alternative method. Finally I settled down for the wax match box. Why sulk about lack of professionalism in a shack? Okay!

10 00 AM: Office. Sir we cannot print your document because we have only black and white printer. After a few airs of disbelief, calls to remote and unimpressionable people, I found a way to reach someone who can do just that - Print in color.

10 10 AM: Sorry sir. We have file size restrictions. Your 2 MB file is too big for us. We cannot get it.

10 20 AM: Sorry Sir. we need approvals to send the file in any other means. You can try telepathy instead

10 40 AM: Sorry I am alive!

10 50 AM: I hit the road searching for a color printer. 20 Kms and 4 stopovers at seemingly purpose built shops for print outs that dint conceive the need for color printing, I went back to the maze of a place where it all started.

11 30 AM: After precariously coming close to a vertical fall from an improbably tilted and compressed stair case, I ended up in a shop that proclaimed to print in color.

11 40 AM: The shopkeeper laid the bait of "quality" job and asked me to be back in 30 mins

12 30 PM: The shop boy had been sent to print the stuff out in a japan printer and where? 20 kms from where I was! And how? In a bus! And when will he be back? - Just now Saar!

1 00 PM: After impatient wait in a sultry car in a messy traffic junction, I climb back to the shop. The hot air from the fan named "toofan" (hindi for storm) blew the sweat of my face so that replinshment can go uninterrupted.

1 25 PM: The boy was not back and could not be communicated.

I wasnt close to thinking what someone said about India (until I realized that a couple of pages were missed out).

After a few catcalls, silent protests and unavoidable ambushes to strangers' cubicles, I finally printed all the stuff.

Can I not afford to buy a printer? Not until someone scientifically proves a printer's inability to sniff data from across the floor and teleport them to competitor organizations.

I may probably not do it again!

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