Uncommonly in love!

Are you tensed about marriage?

What?

I asked are you tensed about marriage?

Me??? No way I am super cool.

Oh is it!!  Then why are you eating away tissues papers instead of  the Samosas on your plate?

                  My friend Nandini had a point and I couldn’t defend my gluttony for worries. It was one those occasions where you have no answer but a blushed smile that says ‘ Guys I am screwed’.  Even otherwise I have never won any arguments with her. She is invincible.

Known in the closer circles for impeccable sense of humor and ingenious skills to tease, Nandini is often the star of our get togethers.  She can charge up any party with her trade mark laughter, a skill she claims to have endowed from her mother. She was right, I was tensed. Tensed about zillion things about my marriage, most of them ridiculously trivial to the world.  I had doubts like; 

• What if my dhoti slips down when I am marching to the temple?

• What if I feel like vomiting when I am shoved down with customary spoons of milk and banana  by elder ladies during wedding?

•  What if I catch cold and have a terrible running nose?

•  What if I my tummy get upset?

• What if there is a Hartal on the wedding day?

• Or if the tire goes puncture and I reach late only to find no one in the Mandapam!

There is little one can blame a person who thinks about his marriage from an intense crisis management perspective. I was only thinking proactive and  in between I ate some tissue papers thinking it to be Samosas.

What’s the big deal??

While I was busy mulling over my not so silly feelings Nandini was on phone looking disturbed, with an expression she is not used to.  She stood up and strolled to the wash basin at the restaurant with her phone held to the ears.  I knew there was something brewing up, but poking in an unsolicited fashion can be a little annoying. I finished my coffee and signaled the waiter for the bill.

“So If you have finished eating the tissues shall we make a move.  She sat back wiping her hand in typical Madrasi style.

Everything all right, who was on phone? I asked her cutting in between.

Oh that call, it was Sidharth, called from office to say that he would come and pick me up from the next junction. We got to meet some relatives on the way.  I told him that we are here, She quipped.

We decided to walk till the next junction to meet Sidharth which was half a kilometer from the restaurant.

Nandini got married to Sidharth 6 years ago. A perfect example of  how opposite poles attract to each other, they have been a couple with dissimilar tastes and priorities. While Nandini lived in a world of books, meetings and exaggerations, Sidharth preferred to live in present with minimal words and expressions.  Their personal choices hardly marry each other, and the same applies to their professional goals too. For the world and society it may seem nothing in common between them, nothing that makes them a so called made for each other pair.  But that’s not true.

 I pity the world for its shallow outlook and superficial takes on lives around.  We often are prejudiced with retarded approaches in connecting people with stories and conclusions conveniently in a manner that pleases us.

We are all writers in our own rights. Aren’t we?

Love isn’t about pizzas, café’s, cards, gifts, movies and kuchikoos alone.  It’s beyond that and I learned it seeing this special couple together. There hasn’t been a single weekend where Sidharth hasn’t joined Nandini in Chennai continually for a year where she was working on a special assignment and while he was based out of at Trivandrum.  He made it a point to book tickets in advance, forgo his personal agendas and travel 1400 Kms every week to accompany his wife on weekends only to rescue her from the loneliness of Chennai. If not for him I don’t think a career centric woman like Nandini would  leave her high flung job to settle in a tier 3 city like this. They may not be seen strolling malls, sipping ice teas, shopping exorbitantly but then they have got what’s integral to any relationship. 'Mutual Respect'

“Hello by the way tell me what are you going to wear for reception, with your current  figure I am sure you would look like ‘Winnie the Pooh’ in your wedding album”

Nandini was back with her wits pulling my leg yet again with a winning score card and infectious smile.

We crossed the road and walked past the stand still traffic to reach the by lane where Sidharth was standing next to his car. As usual he greeted me with a firm shake hand and concerns over my growing waist line.

Hey what’s that cover, let me see?

Nandini quizzed Sidharth

She opened the back door of the car stretching her hands for the packet kept on the seat.  She pulled the cover back with an anxiety of a child. It read ‘The Immortals Of  Meluha’ , a book she wanted to buy last week.

It brought an instant smile on both their faces whipping away the delusions of the world around them.  And I only stood in testimony to a wonderful relationship of two unlikely souls who were truly in love. 

The Official Interview

Every time I talk about a place I end up talking about its food. I have been to Trivandrum umpteen times and I am familiar with the place by its culinary mood swings than by its official landmarks. My very close friends at Radio Mirchi have already acquainted me to the most yummilicious desi food joints of the town. I love Trivandrum for its slang, for its unapologetic rawness and never ending list of  temples. Trivandrum is good and is awesome for people I must say who love to work for the government. 

  But that day it was different .  One interview was going to change my life forever. When I say an interview I am not very sure to call it that way but then by all means it was an interview.  

Indeed a stress full one

I reached her house to be welcomed by a battalion of well built yet modestly dressed future in laws.  My home work on the family album came in handy in identifying faces.

Branch Manager?

Illa uncle it’s Brand Manager.

Brand as in….. Brandy!!!

Introducing yourself is an art and I am not an artist. I have always goofed up in giving out a rosy picture of mine to others whenever it mattered.   My unexpected black out syndromes, abrupt linguistic disorders and tentative abdominal malfunctions have complicated my life a lot. I begin making simple matters sound complex  with definitions that have no meaning in today's google world. I am more than fine defining myself in writing but speaking out confidently in chivalrous fashion that too in front of my future in-laws was like clearing CAT and making it to IIMs. 

I was served with an elaborate platter of palatable delicacies in front of me. Ranging from conventional laddoos to convoluted jilebis to imported dry fruits. On a normal day  it won’t take me more than 20 minutes  to eat away the whole some spread but that day it wasn’t about my tummy . My heart needed attention and I had to keep my eyes out from those  momentary distractions. 

By now I had completed introducing myself 5 times.  Each time I finished there’s a new entrant to the party and I begin explaining it all over again. To her uncles, cousins and even to the bacha party. Actually that gave me confidence and I repeated my spiced up achievements story to the gallery again and again.

So what’s next?

Next is what uncle?

Silence is  scary. I can vouch for that . Suddenly the whole gathering went to a mute mode. It was like those moments in popular reality shows where the host ruminates over elimination episodes  and contestants  wait with bated breath and filled up eyes.

 Will I be selected?

 Do I have enough sms support?

 Will I get a wild card entry ?

 Will I be the winner?

 Or should I leave the show?

The questions were many and I wanted to shout my lungs out to the whole clan of people sitting around asking for a yes. Her dad sat as composed as Budhha, periodically staring at my tummy . It aggravated my whole composure and scraped away the little confidence I had in me.

I looked around like a lost puppy in an airport (that’s too much may be in a bus stand) for some relief and support. And suddenly  I had a glimpse of  her. A smile of hers got me hooked from the farther corner of the hall. There she was winking at me , behind her expressionless mother  with a thumbs up .

It doesn't take a man a lot to feel better. We men feel better with most simplest of things. A smile does wonders for us. We are like that you know.

That was the best interview I had so far. And I had the yes from the most important interviewers of my life.

 A yes from Lord Padmanabhan 

 A yes from Trivandrum..

I love you Netravati Express!

“You sure it’s the north railway station right?

God it’s already 1.30pm and still we have another 2 kilometers to cross”  

She expressed frantic concerns for her train, luggage and dear amma who was waiting at home. Honestly speaking I wanted her to miss the train and probably postpone her journey and sit with me in café coffee day.  She was sitting pillion to me straddling her bag and cell phone busy reassuring her mother periodically.

I don’t know what made me do that. Blame it on filmy disposition  I decided to open up my mind right in front of hundreds at the railway station. 

“Sree I got to tell you this now.  

Do you know which train is that?

“ What's wrong with you?, we just took the tickets right!  ” she replied staring at her watch.

    Yeah! 

"I swear by that train that my feelings for you is as strong as those railway tracks. I might be late to tell you this but then most of the Indian trains do run late and still make it to their destinations.  I want to be on a journey with my heart reserved exclusively for you.  I love you and want to be with you for the rest of my life as long as Indian Railway exists"

It was a treat to watch her after my bizarre confession. She fiddled her phone nervously avoiding an eye to eye contact. Of course she was smiling, probably at my weird style of proposal. I put her bags comfortably after placing her into a spacious compartment. She paused and looked at me. 

"Reply darling whom are you waiting for! Don’t think like a rank holder. Put aside your accounting skills and think from heart. This is the test of life, grace me with an answer"

  I couldn’t help mumbling.

“Would it be fine if I reply to you once I reach home, I need to think” Beggars are never deciders, they hardly have choices.

“Yeah that’s kind of ok” I replied half heartedly  

I must say that the estrogen command overrules the strongest and even the bravest of men. She waved me a good bye as her train chugged its heart ahead in full momentum. I walked back through the overbridge wondering what destiny had in store for me. And then I felt a vibration from within.

 My cell phone beeped.

 I prayed as I looked on to the screen just like a troubled batsman looking for green signal from third empire.

“I think I am in love with you too. And I wish from the bottom of my heart to spend rest of my life’s journey with you”

 That’ was the finest moment of my life and I understood why Mani Ratnam showed  railway station shots in his every film. The entire station seemed like in chorus with me. Train announcements sounded a lot more sweeter and I felt like hugging the ticket collector who was busy tallying the checked in passengers.

I was in love.

Hail Indian Railways...