SRIJAN 2002-2003(1st Edition)

♦ CONTOURS OF THE MIND/Bubbling Arroyo
YAI.E/Miit BLUES!
By:
Souvik Kumar Chakravarty,
First Year,
Electronics and Communication Engineering.
It was Valentines Day yet again. The spring air was flagrant
with love. My friends could even smell it. I, however, could smell
nothing.
"You're probably suffering from a nasal congestion. Why
didn't you instill NASIVION (nasal drops) before leaving
home?" opined Sushma, clearly irritated at my nonchalance to the
fragrance of love (oops! Platonic love is the word for the day)
"You'll remain the same moron that you were! Better
smarten yourself up or else you'll get nothing but a whip on your
butt from these Kolkata girls," said Natasha, with a sarcastic
smile.
The three of us, along with Rahul and Sashi, were out on a
mission. The latter two had met Sushma and Natasha before and
had been 'in line' since then. It was I who had acted the
Matchmaker then, but how this V-Day love had rollicked on into
its first anniversary, is beyond my comprehension. It's not that
there hadn't been a few hitches in between, but I had ironed them
out. (Never mind the occasional sandal blows I had received from
these two girls in the process!) I thus got a feeling of the fact that
if I emerged jobless after passing out from this institute, I could
definitely take up the profession of a matchmaker. I had a knack
for it.
I am definitely a matchmaker sans match. (Pun intended)
Although I have compiled a book "Ladki Patao aur Life Banao,"
I am not quite adept at this art. However I find my life no less
'banaya' without a girlfriend. Actually, preaching and practicing
are quite distinct from each other, and according to my maxim, "a
good preacher of Kaliyuga never practices his own preaching."
About a month ago, the five of us had been sitting at a café,
talking about Balasaheb Thackeray and his Shiv Sainiks, who
were out on a mission to cleanse India by lashing out at Archie's
unethical and immoral business tactics. 'Fathers' day' and
'Mothers' day' were all right; even 'Wife's day' is acceptable. But
Valentines Day with its cousin 'Friendship Day' (especially when
people find it difficult to differentiate friendship from love-blame
it on Kuchh Kuchh Hota Hai) was an attempt to steamroll over
India's cultural grasslands. It was unacceptable to the point of
fanaticism. Ransacking of Archie's galleries by Shiv Sainiks was
discussed at length, and our hearths went out the owner of the
shop and the insurance company which had to bear the brunt of
the lathis of the followers of Lord Shiva.
My heart went out to such an extent that I followed up with
an emotional blitzkrieg. Only if I had a girlfriend like Rahul and
Sashi-I helped 'catch' one. So it was their duty to get me one.
" Girlfriend kya market mein bikta hain, jo bhao bola aur
kharid liya. # \ % @# (censored), to have a girlfriend, hard work
and labour is essential. Doodh-shoodh pee kar body banao.
Unless you have a body like Salmaan, no girl's gonna look at
you." How Sashi's 5 ft.5 in. skeleton resembled Salmaan's from
any profile, I couldn't make out. I was on the verge of breaking
down when the girls reminded them that a friend in need is a
friend indeed. After a lot of haggling they agreed to help me get
a girlfriend.
I haven't specialized in woman psychology, so I was not in a
position to decide how to start. The girls advised me to select V-
Day for an auspicious beginning.
So here I was, clad in Newport jeans (Rs. 399 only). My
friends asked me to go in for a 'mustache', but the price tag
created flutters in my economical heart. I didn't go about Salmaan
style. I roped in one shirt from my father's collection of Peter
England. I wanted to go out in a kurta pajama, but my friends
warned that this outfit would only encourage wild chases from
stray dogs.
I was walking down Park Street in this outfit, I was least
used to. Needless to say, my gait was distorted beyond
recognition.
"Uncouth, don't hop. Walk smartly!" said one of the girls.
"Can't you see? This jeans is too small for me. I can hardly
move my legs. Wont it rip off if I try to stretch or sit?" I queried.
All the answer I was fed with was a kick in my back.
Later I saw a girl at a distance, trying to cross the road
bustling with traffic. The scene reminded me of Vivek Oberoi in
Dum, and was about to start an emulation when Natasha
interrupted, "Stupid, can't you differentiate a married woman
from a girl." Ashamed at my foolishness, I blushed and walked
on.
Halfway down the street came the Archie's Gallery. We
hopped in. I was left mesmerized by a card. It had the following
caption printed on it:
"I am Laloo, you're my Rabri;
I am a Bhaisa (buffalo), you're my Bhaisey;
I am a ganda (rhino), you're my gandee..."
I proudly showcased my latest purchase to Natasha. At first
she burst into peels of laughter, but when I told her that I was
@002-N)
MESMERISM, n. Hypnotism before it wore good clothes, kept a carriage and asked Incredulity to dinner
(sItIJAPI