I read some of behoove_me and bhakunde bhut’s stories word by word this morning. As inspiring and flawless as they are, they also make your pieces look like a fourteen year old’s random musings. I instantly hit writer’s block (thanks to them lol), but then struggled out of it to finish the second part anyways. I hope you all will like it.
Dates
This is purely an art of fiction. Resemblance to any person, living or dead, is a mere co-incidence.
I went through all of Aditya’s thirty-three profile pictures for the seventh time. Nepali men leave you displeased even when you are stalking them. After perusing Stephen’s page for about five minutes, I could have easily written a four page paper on his ex-girlfriend. His timeline displayed everything there was to know about their relationship – their trip to Cancun, their thanksgiving dinner with a tofurkey (a part of me puked a little) and her weird desire to make a duck-face every time they posed in front of a camera. I knew nothing about Aditya’s love life (or the lack, thereof) though– no pictures, wall posts, or anything else with the slightest hint of a female presence in his life. The picture of him touching John Harvard’s statue with a bunch of other guys who were all wearing shades and Nepali North Face jackets wasn't much of a help.
(God, if Zuckerberg ever put the Linkedin-style "Who has viewed your profile" option on Facebook, I bet all of us would be twice more productive.)
My phone lit up after I turned my pillow to get to the “cool side” for the fifth time. “Hey girl, its all you tonight! I’m with James”. Kathy was in bed with the ginger from the club. Not to sound like a prude, but three shots and one daddy issue later, Kathy would sleep with anything with a penis. James was ugly – like real ugly – like imagine if Sarah Jessica Parker and Charlie Sheen smoked crack, had a baby, and threw the baby down a flight of stairs. That baby would look exactly like James. Well, I’ll let her enjoy her 20s I thought – when she finds her overall wearing, tobacco chewing, rifle shooting, truck riding soul mate, she will be in it for the long haul (or that’s what I hope at least).
Stephen did text me that night, but more on that later. Not that anything happened between us; I backed off although the ball was in my court. Being in a relationship in college is like taking a 400 level class – you spend hours trying to make it work and stay sane, and sometimes, you don’t even get credit for it in the end.
As I poured some hot water into my oatmeal the next morning, I thought more of Aditya. After our first “date”, we had a few more encounters.
“Hi, I am thinking about you…”, he texted me about three days after our date at Tantra.
“Oh! Really?”, I responded, unable to decipher the three periods that followed his feelings.
“Aaja k gardaichau? Hami Jay Nepal ma film herna jadai chau, your friends are also coming. Timi aune bhaye I’ll pick you up!”
I walked into my dad’s room and grabbed a copy of Annapurna Post to check out the movie listings. The idea of a romantic date shattered completely as I read “Om Shanti Om”. Sawariya was playing in the same theatre, but I was sure my friends would take a mindless Bollywood flick with Sharukh Khan over a great and meaningful cinematic experience any day.
“ Pardaina, ma taxi ma auchu, Anju sanga”, I replied.
Have you ever walked into a room full of people and felt like they are all watching you? Well, that’s how I felt when I walked into the theatre. My dad’s side of the family consisted of avid Bollywood movie-goers and chances that one of my “uncles” was in the theatre was pretty high.
As they giggled and whispered to each other, my friends strategically placed Aditya and I next to each other.
I have immeasurable patience for bad movies. But Om Shanti Om begged for a whole different kind of extraordinary endurance to be able to sit through it. As if the tasteless movie that treated women like expendable doormats while men were reduced to tongue-wagging womanizers wasn’t bad enough, Aditya awkwardly placed his hand over mine about three minutes into the second half. (Strike one) “That’s your first move, dude?”, I thought. I complied again, although I felt nothing.
I awkwardly pulled my hand back four minutes later after I couldn’t take his sweaty palms anymore.
“Yo naya heroine is very sexy hai?”, he leaned over to my ears to make himself heard amidst the deafening music. (Strike 2). He was trying to be funny, but you don’t ask me out on a date and then describe your increased hormonal levels in response to a scantily clad girl on screen!
He leaned over a couple more times to crack a few jokes. He had the sense of humor of a twenty-year-old virgin, and even his charming eighteen-year-old smile didn’t make up for it. The sixth time he leaned over, he tried to steal a kiss on my cheeks. I pushed him away, and gave him the death glare that only my elder brother had seen until then when he totaled my scooty. (Strike 3). I excused myself, grabbed my purse, and left the theatre. This time around, I had averted two disasters – the other one being Shahrukh Khan.
Aditya had to go, and I made that very clear after the four texts that I sent him that evening. The eighteen-year old me who had never been in a relationship thought I should’ve given him a chance, but the hopeless romantic in me begged to differ.
Three years later, I kissed a guy for the first time. It was not until then that I fully comprehended that kisses aren’t supposed to be forced. When you are in it, every fiber of your being is in it, and as he leans towards you, the act is mindless.
And what better place to kiss a guy than the top of Cooper Mountain as both of you are ready to ski down the trail. The crisp air, the warmth of companionship……..more on that later.
To be Continued….
Last edited: 03-Nov-12 04:29 PM
? .... kuro gairo cha .... side ma pahiro cha... bolaune bhaye mayaa le bolau natra thaney bahiro cha.... hehe 
