Hind in Sight

cute bottom is looking at me from the corner of his eye. he is gifted with the most extraordinarily powerful peripheral vision. that and the most extraordinarily attractive butt. about his other endowments, i dare not venture any descriptions, seeing as all i can see is his back side. which is not a total loss.. his bum is yum.. so i'll just give the rest of him the benefit of the doubt and continue to steadily fall for him. or just his posterior.. same difference.

so i strain against every compulsively shy muscle of my body to make my presence felt. a way must be found to make this man fall hopelessly in love with me.. or at least be mildly interested in the tiny little sliver of me visible from that inconvenient angle.

increase the volume of conversation.. but only if you have something beautiful and insightful to say. i prattle away nonetheless, simultaneously scanning my brain for something even remotely interesting. politics? haven't so much as looked at the paper in ages.. entertainment? no, watching repetitive reports of Chandrayaan in orbit do not count.. religion? God no..

evil doubts creep in.. i am hopelessly boring.. beyond any hope of remedy. and he sees through my flimsy disguise. that is if he's looking at all? something deep inside softly says- boo hoo..

no no no fool.. you must focus. carpe diem.. i mean just look at your audience. they seem mildly interested don't they now. must be all the books you aren't reading, all the movies and plays you aren't watching, all that brilliant music you aren't listening to, all the exercise you aren't getting..

sheesh.. big help you are! i see i'm going to have to go this alone.

and i manage somehow, elicit a round of giggles with some inane joke or the other.. manage to make some heads nod in agreement at exceedingly astute observation.. to shoot down an argument with a flamboyantly worded counter. and suddenly i am an intriguing person. lovely in every respect. the careful gaze of CB's bum have transformed me.

oh CB.. ever since you came into my life (3 minutes and counting) and looked at me in that special way (?) i am a changed woman.. altered irrevocably, improved immeasurably.. don't ever leave me and go.. first i'll have to recover from your loss.. and then i'll have to tolerate my own company. not the Me that you make me.. the you-less Me.. sob..

cute bottom proceeds forward.. i follow..

no i am not stalking him, we are both in line for the same thing. i only fantasize endlessly about men with whom i am mildly acquainted. but follow them around? na.. that's what the real nutcases do.. just to reassure myself of my sanity i casually shift my tractor beam like focus to other more commonplace things.. the walls, my hands, other butts (a regrettable accident), the floor, my arms.. moving briskly back to the hind in question..

alas, the bum and its owner have disappeared. fool! you should have never looked away.. so you're a loony.. swallow your pride and accept it. this tragedy would never have occurred unless common sense intervened. the same thing inside once again reiterates its stand.. boo-hoo..

*
post-script: CB left, only to stage a comeback, this time with his face in full view.. which much to my ill-conceived joy was not half bad either. i considered smiling to myself.. i ended up smiling to the whole world instead..

*
post-post-script: common sense staged quite the dramatic comeback too. which is funny because it hadn't really gone anywhere.. fortunately he was joined by a great deal of dreamy eyed optimism..

Lionesses: Of Punjab and Elsewhere

The circumstances of C's exit (or is 'eviction' a more apt word) from the Shamrock house were dramatic to say the least. Purely due to the involvement of so many drama queens in a small confined space. Far above the legally permissable limit I think. There was much yelling and screaming (the word banshee pops into my mind) followed by much impolite (albeit less shrill) small talk. And more luggage than I had ever thought one person could possess. I thought I was packing impaired, till I met C. Her idea of moving house is to cram all her assorted odds and ends into a sequence of flimsy polythene bags... and pray. Luckily, even after a hard day's work I was at my good samaritan best and supplied her with a couple of airbags. Thats me you see, steady and dependable in times of adversity. Especially if the adversity involves a nice juicy fight which I'm not a part of.
M seemed angrier than I've ever seen her. And murderously sarcastic too. And adding some much needed fuel to an already crackling fire was the latest entrant into my life.. Isabel. She fought like a lioness. Against what I'm not quite certain. In fact I didn't see the point of any of it. But that didn't prevent me from deriving bucketloads of joy from all that transpired.
Being congenitally averse to inviting conflict of any sort, I feel fortunate to be thrust in the midst of it once in a while. It makes life seem more real. Fighting my own battles is something I procrastinate about and can postpone till the cows come home. In fact, most often the cows are home, done chewing and digesting, taking a nap etc. and I'll just change my mind. All the anger just drains away.
I have enough people telling me this is a sign of weakness. And maybe it is. But changing requires too much effort. Being a mouse comes naturally. Why, pray tell, would I want to mess with nature?
I think the world could do with more people like me. Who experience the joys of conflict vicariously. Unless of course all the pent up anger comes spilling out one fine day. I doubt it will. There is something so noble about remaining calm. I feel it is my unique gift to the world.
As for M and C, both deeply regret the Tuesday Night Massacre. They may have different versions of what happened but they agree on the fundamentals: Both didn't want to part ways on a bitter note. C didn't see it coming. M is as surprised. She thought Swedish people were pacifists.
I think I managed to convince both that it was just one of those rare unfortunate incidents in an otherwise simple and blissful life. M will go on hosting dinner parties, watching movies and hopefully scripting some soon as well. C will go on with her assignments, trying to change the world's perception of itself, one photograph at a time.

And I'll be here or there, hopefully everywhere, with something or the other to say..

Roar..

*
Notes:
1. C: freelance photographer, erstwhile neighbour
2. M: aspiring script writer, die hard fan of single malt whisky, Landlady
3. Isabel: Coming attractions.. watch this space
4. Me: Innocent bystander

rhyme 1

'tis precious little fun to mope
when there's no one there to see
wiping away brave little tears
to an audience of... just me

making do with one's own shirtsleeves
when hankies are in short supply
to blow much reddened noses
who seem averse to running dry

i could hold my breath till i turn blue
punch my fists into the ground
but histrionics are so robbed of joy
when no one is around

to bask in well intended sympathy
holds contentment beyond measure
to watch guilty parties writhe and squirm
a harmless evil pleasure

so to my lower lip i give free reign
to quiver and pout i set it free
being miserable isn't half as bad
as some make it out to be

to go without spectators
may seem an awful curse
but when all else fails its good to know
that things could always be verse