Tag Archives: Gaucherie

Oops I did it again (for the fourth time)

18 Aug

Right, so I have this friend, who I’ve christened Saanya (my third hag-designate) on an earlier occasion, on this blog.

Saanya and I have a rather precarious history. It seems that I love to abuse when I’m around her… which becomes slightly embarassing at times.

For instance, on one occasion, she was on the phone with an aunt, while we were all at dinner, and I happened to be talking (rather loudly) in the background about… condoms, enquiring about the differences between the various kinds. Apparently, I was audible enough for the aunt to hear.
On another occasion, once again when we were out for dinner, she was on the phone with her sister-in-law, and I happened to be screaming “Whore! Whore!” at Tanuja, loudly enough for my voice to travel into her handset’s microphone and out the ear-piece halfway across the country.

A third time occurred over the summer break. Some 7 of us were having a chat over e-mail (the reply-to-all types, that Tanuja had initiated for us to stay in touch). To one of Saanya’s vauge e-mails, I responded (in jest, as always) “You’re a wh*re”. Which she unsuspectingly opened before her father’s unexpecting eyes. An extremely embarrassing moment that was, she said months later.

So yep, Saanya and I go back, when it comes to my abusive habits.

I was at the mess last night, with a few friends. Now Saanya and I haven’t had much time to catch up the last few weeks. Since we’re in our last semester in college, it is only imperative that we spend quality time together, right? So much so that we’d had a quick chat on the phone, the day before, and had decided to meet up the following day. Unfortunately, it was dinner time, the day was just about over and our meet hadn’t materialised. And here I was, minding my own business, having my dinner, and what do I behold but Saanya sitting on another table with her best friend from school, in a hostel mess that neither of them ever visit! And the b*tch couldn’t even come over to our table to say hello, let alone join us!

So I decided to join her instead. I picked up my plate and strutted over to her and greet her with “Oi r*ndi [Indian equivalent of wh*re], weren’t we supposed to meet today?? Why couldn’t you call?”

Normally, she wouldn’t react much to my occasionally vulgar language, except maybe a burst of laughter-in-shock. 3 years were quite enough for her (and her best friend, for that matter) to familiarize themselves with my antics.

But on this particularly evening, she just looked at me in an extremely odd and uncomfortable manner, and mumbled something I couldn’t quite understand. Meanwhile, I turned to say hello to her best friend, who rather impolitely hadn’t even looked up from her plate so far. I couldn’t get down to saying hello. I just kept looking, confused. She looked… different. But then, it was her surely! But there was something amiss. What was it that was so odd about her face? Everything seemed normal… the hair, the shape of her face, the complexion… but she still looked extremely different.

And then it all came rushing back to my mind… my phone conversation with Saanya on the previous day, when she had mentioned that her best friend’s elder sister was coming into town…

So… errr… oops!

I was at a total loss for words, of course. The poor visitor must have been wondering why Saanya was tolerant of this dude walking up to her, and calling her a r*ndi

It turns out I was wrong. This afternoon, I learned that the friend’s sister wasn’t so caught unaware by the casual vulgarity in my greeting but instead… by my attire. She was, in fact, so scandalized by my choice of a dinner suit that she had asked Saanya, and I quote, “Is he gay?!”

So I know the trousers aren’t really common around here, but hello!! Let’s exhibit some civility, shall we?

Oh right, I should be the last one to be saying that :S

Before Sunrise & Bimbo Behaviour

3 Jul

I’ve got so many posts swimming around in my head nowdays, what with a new environment at work and dad’s own gay rights movement, that I’m unable to document.

So here’s a feeble attempt…

Before Sunrise

(Got the idea for the title of this post from a little prick who reads my blog. Kudos to you, Mr. Bing…)

I was heading home from work on Wednesday evening, and managed to catch a cab for once. As I got on, so did this other fellow, dressed in casuals. He wasn’t amazingly cute, but there was something about his face that I founded attractive. His pouty lips, square-shaped face, nothing was very attractive. But it was… manly!

So anyway, we were sitting diagonally opposite each other. He was on the phone, and I was listening closely trying to decipher what language he was speaking in and what his accent sounded like. (I’m pathetic, I know)

Once he’d hung up, I pretended to be on a call, and spoke in slightly affected english. (Very pathetic, I know!) He didn’t show any interest, though.

Now I’m not one to initiate conversations. Neither did he. Then comes to my rescue this middle-aged co-passenger, who initiated conversation.

The dude (I’ll call him Squareface) turned out to be an employee of a call-centre. So while my copassenger enquired about their work ethics, timings, routine, life etc. I eased my way in,  asking Squareface about qualifications of the employees, job-requirements, accent-training (pathetic, I know) etc. etc. He saw my ID-card and asked me about my company. I informed him that I was interning and was actually studying in EFG college. Left him a bit impressed, seemingly. Either that, or the slight accent I’d put on (pathetic, I know).
Conversation went on afterwards to the monsoons, and how hot it had gotten prior to that, how warm the water in the taps was. In conversation, he mentioned that he used 20 litres of water for his bath (pronouncing bathe as bath and making me cringe), for which I condemned him (though it may have been incited, unconsciously, by his diction).

The car journey came to an end, within half an hour. We deboarded, and discovered that we were both heading for the Metro and towards the same direction. So we walked together, I waited when he had to buy a recharge, boarded the train together. We’d been making conversation throughout. I think we ran out, when we stepped onto the train, so thereafter, our only communication involved me making faces of disgust at the amount of crowd in the train, and him smiling at my expressions. As I had imagined at the beginning of the journey, he looked good with a smile on his face.

So at my stop, I deboarded, quickly whispering a “All the best with your interview” (that he was due to appear for) and him saying “Nice to meet you, take care”.

And then, as I stepped onto the platform, the doors slid shut behind me. And then he was gone.

Pathetic, I know.


As for the second part of the post…

Bimbo Behaviour

I guess I’ll just post an excerpt from a conversation I had with this acquaintance, who’s a somewhat prominent fellow on the Delhi gay scene. I was introduced to him by Daksh.

The conversation was on Gtalk. I’ve changed my own name here to “Unsung Psalm” and his name as well, to protect identities. 🙂

Unsung Psalm: I say
do you even know my name?
(I’d been wondering for quite some time if he did, because we’ve met only occasionally and he’s never addressed me by my name, opting for a more generic “Darling”)
Mohit: yes
Unsung Psalm: I’m doubtful
Mohit: Unsung Psalm
Unsung Psalm: Ahh
I’m impressed
oh shit
you’re on my Gtalk account
feel like such a bimbo! So this is what it must feel to be in your shoes
Mohit: hah
Unsung Psalm: sorry, stilettos

Open invite!

13 Jan

So I’m the nice charitable fellow, aren’t I?

I was on the train with roomie and close friend (Anjali). We were going to start our first game of cards soon, and before gearing up for it, I excused myself to the bathroom.

The entire train was full of students. In my coach, there were 2 other fellows I knew, one a friend from another college and another, a junior who several all people seem to dislike.

I was passing his berth on the way to the loo, when I caught a side-glimpse of him bending over his phone, looking lost and forlorn. Very unlike him. Most of the time, he looks a bit snooty with an air about him, but here he was looking meek and timid and all by himself.

So I went back, asked my friends if it was okay for me to invite the guy over for a game. They approved, and I popped around to his seat which was right next to ours, and said “Dude, you wanna play cards?”

He looked up at me.

I looked up at him.

He didn’t look his usual self. Not his usual self at all.

He looked at me, really really confused.

I looked back at him wondering how he managed to look so different in a month’s time.

He mumbled, “Ummm… maybe later?”

“Okay”, I mumbled, still confused.

I started walking back to my seat, and lo behold, on the berth adjacent to ours (on the other side) sat the fellow I had thought I had just invited to a game of cards.

So much for trying to be nice!

An overdose of Sisterhood

7 Jan

As mentioned earlier today, Mom decided that I escort her to meet up with her sisters, who wanted to get a bit of shopping done. With severe vehemence, I refused, locked myself up in my room and told her I’d see her in the evening when she returned. Once college starts next week (in full gusto) and I have classes daily from 8 to 4, sitting in my warm blanket on my bed in the wintry climate is a luxury I will not be able to enjoy. Especially since there will be no blanket and no wintry climate.
As the vacation is threateningly close to an end, Mom thought she’d deny me those said luxuries with immediate effect.

As luck would have it, an uncle called for help with his computer which I had to attend to, and she had her way eventually, as she always does.

I spent a small part of the afternoon at the Uncle’s office, then dropped in at my aunt’s where I was to pick mom up and head home. We stopped for tea and snacks of course… mom, 2 aunts, a cousin sister and her female friend. Which amounts to 5 ladies and me. Which amounts to tolerable but occasionally annoying company.

In conversation, my mother’s friend and family accountant came up in conversation and there was a short discussion on his flirtatious nature. Mom said “He’d flirt with anything on 2 legs.” I disagreed because he never tried to flirt with me or any other man, to my knowledge, so I added, “… and 2…” and gestured towards me…umm, bosom, before I realised that I was in the company of 5 ladies and 0 men. Too late. Couldn’t take it back. The ladies had a hysterical laugh at it, though.

Later, we were (supposed to be) driving home, and I kept insisting that she was driving in the wrong direction. She kept saying she was taking the route via a certain colony which is completely out of our way, which is when I began to suspect and subsequently confirmed that we were dropping in at her friend’s boutique. We were welcomed there by her (female) friend, her (female) attendant and the same 2 sisters. Once again amounting to 5 ladies and me. The absence of the cousin and friend pushed the average age up, so revise that to 5 aunties and me.
This is the third time I was entering that boutique, in this past month. I’ve effectively met that stranger-lady more times than I’ve met any friend or relative in this vacation.
We stood there for 45 minutes while the ladies discussed styles and combos for blouses for their sarees. Did you know that a net of any colour over a glittery golden cloth makes an excellent blouse? Or that having a hook at the back as opposed to a zipper on the side means you can alter the blouse later if you gain weight? Well, I certainly did not know it and I think I could’ve gone through my lifetime not knowing it, but now I do. Thanks to mom’s insistence that “we spend time together” while she spends time with her sisters.

Aaargh! I’m finally back home, back in my blanket and have effectively missed another work-out. Thus, another day in Delhi is over. Bravo!

I realise that when I’m away from Delhi and in me tiny college town, what I miss most is not the things that I would be doing if I were here, but the things that I can do (but never get down to doing). I like to have the option of doing them, without ever taking the option.
I just hope I remember this through the semester as I cry and cry over being trapped in a small place with zero privacy.


Amerika Calling… Err, Wrong number!

1 Jan

So Rakesh told me yesterday that he’d give me a call to wish me on NYE, and took my phone numbers.

Once 12 had struck, one made a few phonecalls here and there and sent out a few messages. I promptly answered all the calls I received, and was expecting Rakesh’s at any moment.

So I was in the middle of conversation, and felt a subtle sensation coming from my coat, which I realised was the phone again. It was flashing a phone number in unfamiliar format, so I smiled and preceeded to press the Answer key. A fraction of a second before I could, the phone stopped ringing and “Call Diverted” flashed on the screen.

“Shit! Mom!”

The Delhi number I use is quite unused for most part of the year, so all calls are diverted to my mom’s phone if unanswered on it.

Naturally, I panicked! “This had to happen now! How else can one explain an otherwise enjoyable evening…”

In the miliseconds that elapsed, I imagined Rakesh in conversation with mom, realising the situation a bit too late, mom ending up bloody sceptical with his alibi, and my having to answer numerous questions later!

I called him back almost immediately, and got his answering machine. “How does a person get the answering machine on a number he just received a call from?!”

I hung up, and messaged him, explaining the crists. The New Year backlog naturally would’ve delayed delivery.

In the meantime, it dawned upon me that calls diverted from my phone to mom’s would only appear as a missed call on her phone. So unless she called back, which I doubt she would,  all was safe. I could always lie later about school friends calling from the states or… wrong number (on ISD, the poor bloke 😛 )

A few moments later, Rakesh called again, and I explained the moment of panic to him (before even wishing him a happy new year!) and he calmly replied that I could always tell her it was a wrong number. Damn, I love it how he always has the answers!

We chit chatted for a bit. I was uncomfortable for most part, because I hate talking on the phone with people I’ve not known for a life-time, and because I was a bit woosy! And took great pains of once again explaining to him how I could not hit on any “cute guys” in small (or any) gatherings because it would have repurcussions to be felt as far as college.
Eventually, we hung up.

Haha, I wonder how many from the rest of my family had a friend calling from across the 7 seas!

Thanks a ton for that, and a happy new year, R-Babe!

What’s the good word?

6 Dec

In conversation with Rebel on topics of volatile memories, I recalled an incident on the train journey home that was rather comical.

We were in a game of Dumb Charades and were thinking of movies that would stump the other team. We were doing only Hindi movies at the time (rendering me quite useless) and my team-mate bent over to me and whispered “What about Guide? They won’t know how to act it.” I just nodded, not bothering too much about it since it wasn’t our turn to give them a film just then.

She, incidentally, had to act a film then. As soon as she was given her task, she started jumping up and down in excitement and pointing frantically at me, gesturing something to the tone of wanting to throw up right on my face. Another team-mate interpreted the gesture to be an indication that she had discussed the film with me just a moment ago, to which she nodded in agreement.
Naturally, my entire team turned towards me and I looked absolutely stunned. I simply couldn’t recall for my life what the damn name was that she had whispered into my ear 20 seconds before. Once they were fully congnizant of the fact that I hadn’t the slightest inkling, for a moment, everyone forgot that we were playing a game, and were scandalised at my ShortTermMemoryLoss.

Soon we established that the film started with G and I kept struggling to recover from my shame. “Gayatri? Gajni?” My poor vocabulary coupled with the sole recollection that it was only a single word (which too I was unsure of), did not help. She did not endeavour to act it out because she thought that it would hit me eventually, but it did not.

Thus, 3 minutes elapsed. Whereas on one hand we had little trouble guessing _______ and  __________ (I cannot recall any other film that was acted out in our game anymore), we lost out on Guide.
Sigh, talk about Ironies.

I’d mention many other instances of my absent-mindedness but, as you guessed, I don’t recall any. I shall ask Hagatha. If ever I plan to pen down a biography, she and this blog would be all that I had to bank on. Thank god for that!

Why you shouldn’t carry an umbrella that is conspiring against you…

19 Sep

In continuation of (or is it with?) the events of yesterday, I deboarded the college bus this morning to be greeted by blessed rainfall. Blessed because it validated my carrying my umbrella. All that I wanted then was for Arjun to turn around the corner and walk towards me, so that I could brandish a smug smile and an “I told you so”. As fate already decided for me when I was born, he was not around.

Hours passed. As I was entering the building, the umbrella sort of gave out on me, and my Rs. 170 worth of protection became junk. It wouldn’t close! The entire skeleton went awry!


After class, I was entering the library, carrying my umbrella with me. It was fully open of course, and wouldn’t close. Those who passed me either looked clearly, or told me that it wasn’t exactly raining indoors.

As I was nearing my seat, I turned a corner and who was to be found there but dearest Arjun! He gasped, though it sounded more like a “What the fuck!” I don’t quite recall the expression on my face but it was closer to embarrassment than a smug smile. Soon enough, the grouchy librarian came and asked me to close it. I couldn’t. So he rudely asked me to “take it outside”. I suppose he wanted me to leave it in the narrow corridor so that it would come in everyone’s way.

As I was carrying the damned thing out, I crossed Arjun’s table, who chuckled away. After walking a few more steps, Hagatha appeared and helped me close the damned thing, thereby making its (and my)  entire appearance far less embarrassing. Unfortunately, that was well beyond Arjun’s line-of-sight.


On my way back, I purchased a new one. It cost even more, and I hope it doesn’t flake out on me like its predecessor. It’s a jet black, the kind I’ve developed a fondness for, and a long one so that it fills the shoes of its predecessor.

Hence, Unsung unveils his brand new umbrella-cum-walking stick-cum-poking device! Everyone watch out!

For some reason, I hope that the first person to be poked by it is Arjun. But I suppose that’s too inappropriate a thing to do to a person I’ve spoken to three times in my life!