In the very beginning let me tell you that many of you are probably going to hate this article or find this a hate-article and possibly begin hating me for coming out with something like this in the first place. I’m not an atheist, nor do I dismiss the whole idea of being spiritual, but there are a few things that I find insidious and therefore, worth dismissing.
So this began with a large advertisement that I saw in the Speaking Tree of the Sunday Times. It was a spiritual-teacher training programme ad that said, “Heal your life.” It was accompanied by the photo of a woman who looked like anything but capable of healing someone’s life. Right next to this was another ad that guaranteed to help you heal your money and karma on 22nd February at JW Marriott, Mumbai.
First I found this funny. Plain funny. I mean why would a man who can afford to attend a paid seminar at the Marriott need to heal his money or karma? And what is ’healing money’ in the first place? It sounds like pretty much like ’eating shoes’. Know what I’m saying? Its absolutely absurd. So anyway, laughing it off, I turned pages of the weekly journal and saw many articles by many weird people who were keen to share their ’know how’ of being happy, or achieving positive energy, and some even dared to tell how should sex be enjoyed to find the Self. And all of them claimed that they knew the final truth of life. And that’s where it began getting pathetic.
India is known for it’s gurus, sadhus, fakirs, their philosophy and as a place for seeking the whole experience of attaining peace. So far, so good. But since a long time there have been people around here who mean business, and with time, they have been myriad. And when I say this, I’m not skipping anyone. As much as Asaram Bapu is included in this list of frauds, so is Osho, so is Sri Sri Ravishankar and so are all those people who claim to have found solace at the feet of these men.
I mean I don’t get it. How can you seek happiness or knowledge sitting in one place and listening to the meaningless rants of an old man? No correct me, it’s not happiness that you seek, its ’inner happiness’. So what is inner happiness? I always thought that happiness comes from within. Like when you see a friend’s success or a pretty gift on your birthday, what you feel is happiness and that sure as hell comes from the inside. So what is this whole new concept of seeking a yet ’inner’ happiness? I’ll tell you what your gurus mean by inner happiness. According to these men, inner happiness can be achieved when you stop being ambitious. They tell you to break all your ties with the ’material world’ to attain the highest level of happiness and thereby, they kill your aspirations. Inner happiness can also be achieved if you leave behind everything else and devote all your time to the noble job of kissing the guru’s posterior. These gurus also tend to use biological words just so that they sound scientific. I have read over a hundred times about how is ’love filled in every tissue and every cell of your body’. Tissues and cells contain love? I mean it can be understood that you are faking things since you have to run your business but saying that love is filled in every cell and tissue of your body is equal to saying that the earth is a square box. We all know that its not true. And yet these gurus force such words down our throats with the help of washed out pyschatrists whose sole job is nodding to whatever the guru says.
Moreover, what these gurus say is funnier than all the jesters in the world put together. I’ll quote a line of Osho that I read: “If you trust me and feel happy about it, then trust the whole world.” Okay uncle, now explain me what you want to say. Trusting you is one thing, but how can that be a qualification to trust the whole world? I don’t trust this because I don’t understand it. And if anyone does, please explain me that line without losing the logic and common sense. And I haven’t even ever understood it when they say, “truth is not linear, it is spherical”, or “I am you. You are love. We are love. Love is God”, or “pure sex is the key to love and inner happiness”. Pure sex is something you can expect from Vicky Vette and she will never love you, and that is one thing I can be darn sure about! Humour apart, with such and many more confusing lines, they finally claim that they know the truth. And when you ask them what the truth is, they say truth is nothing, or it is void or it is contradictory. Which plainly means no one of them knows what they’re talking about. Truth is, all these gurus are just trying to feed themselves using all of us to their advantage.
I am acquainted to many people from the Art of Living foundation. These people pester you to empty your pockets and get enlightened with the art of living for a thousand bucks. And that’s one thing I’ve never understood. Art of Living? And why do I have to pay for it? And if I have to whatsoever, why is such a ’great’ thing being sold at just a thousand bucks? Does that even mean anything? A man who has such a fetish for being labelled with divine words that he puts two Sris before his name begins running an organisation to teach something that isn’t even necessary and people follow him blindly. That’s how I see it. Ask them what they teach at the Art of Living and the answer is combating stress, seeking peace of mind and inner happiness. Ravishankar claims that he is helping mankind through this. I say, give me a bottle of Old Monk and two glasses and I’ll help you combat stress and seek all the peace in the world in a better manner. And in fact, in this nation where the major problems ate poverty hunger, famines and corruption, no one has time to think about peace of mind or inner happiness. No one wants to know the Art of Living here, because there isn’t any.
At the end of the day, the only thing essential in this world is the ’art of working to feed your family and yourself and not giving a fuck to anyone who claims that he knows a better art.’ You don’t need anyone to help you look after healing your life or tell you that, “I am you, you are he, she is him, we are us and truth is nothing.” That’s not what you’re born for, that’s not why your parents educated you and that’s not why you are reading this article. Look around, learn from your friends, learn from people who work honestly, aspire to grow successful and don’t lose your mind to any fool who claims that he knows the final truth. Because since “truth is spherical”, we’re anyway not going to understand it ever. Why waste time then, eh? 😉
In the very beginning let me tell you that many of you are probably going to hate this article or find this a hate-article and possibly begin hating me for coming out with something like this in the first place. I’m not an atheist, nor do I dismiss the whole idea of being spiritual, but there are a few things that I find insidious and therefore, worth dismissing.
Yesterday, I was reading this little article about the last Maruti 800 that made it’s way from the Gurgaon factory to the roads of Shillong. The article also talked about the importance the car had gained since it was launched in 1983 and the way it held it’s pride for two decades and over the years that followed, gradually lost the gleam with the rise of foreign automobile brands.
The article had a bit of nostalgia in it and like good articles are supposed to influence you with the emotion they contain, this one made me nostalgic as well. I don’t have very early memories of a Maruti 800 because my dad didn’t own one when I was a kid. However my uncle owned a white Maruti 800 and drove it like it was the costliest vehicle in the world. And maybe that is the reason why, whenever I sat in his car I had always a kind of fear on my mind that I’d do something wrong and incur his wrath, so I could never really enjoy a bumpy ride in his Maruti, and yet it was a thing I awed at.
And that very Maruti was where I learnt all the basics of a car. I remember, a very small kid then, I was sitting in the Maruti for a second or third time and I didn’t know how to open the door, the only thing I knew was opening the window. I can still cherish the whole experience of jumping out from the window of a Maruti 800. It wasn’t very awesome or something. It was, however, my first lesson of ’how to escape through the window if you can’t open the door’. And it was a big accomplishment for me then. Of course my uncle scolded me for doing something so stupid in his so precious car, but it was bearable after having achieved this feat. Then as time passed, I learnt the basics of driving a car visually, sitting next to the driver’s seat.
I also remember family trips, congested family trips to be precise, in the car. Sitting on each other’s laps, making space in the backseat with the you-sit-back-I’ll-move-forward adjustment, or sitting on the lap of someone next to the driver’s seat and being careful that my knee didn’t touch the heat were all tedious things to do. But no one ever complained anytime in between all that. All those things in fact made the journeys joyous. Everyone sticking to each other in order to make space for everyone else in the car always reminded me that this is a family trip and this is a family. And that’s why the Maruti 800 truly seemed like a family car.
My eldest cousin and his friends sometimes used to take me for a drive around the university or girls’ colleges and I was assigned the job of sticking my head out of the window for-ever and say ’hi’ to every girl who crossed paths with us. Since I was a real small boy, many girls used to find this whole thing really cute and smile or wave at us. And that’s how many of my accomplices in the car used to begin their affairs.
With changing times, everyone’s lifestyles changed and after a point it became impossible to chalk out those family trips and since I wasn’t a small boy any more, my cousin and his friends couldn’t even ’use’ me to impress girls. So that connection I had with the car began to fade gradually and in the midst of all the Skodas and Toyotas that began rooting the Indian roads, the Maruti 800 looked pretty dull. Sometimes I even used to feel embarrassed while pushing the car on cold winter mornings when it used to refuse roaring to life. In an ever-globalising nation due to the introduction of capitalisation, where foreign car brands had begun becoming house-hold names, Maruti 800 was sure not a thing you could proudly talk about. In summer, driving the Maruti with closed windows was equal to suicide. And I had begun observing these things and cringing about them as I grew increasingly acquainted to better cars.
And when my disliking towards the car was on a rise, one day a friend offered me to teach how to drive the car. Getting behind the wheel, changing gears and putting a foot on the accelerator was a great experience. Knowing that you can drive is a thing of joy. And that was when I again developed a crush on the little ’matchbox’ car. By this time, many of my friends had also learned to drive their respective Marutis and it was funny how everyone wanted to learn a Maruti when there were so many other cars out there.
I cannot forget canoodling with my girlfriend in the backseat of a friend’s red Maruti 800 when the heavy rains outside were making things more romantic. After a few kisses and cuddling, my girlfriend sat with her head on my shoulder and told me that she would marry me and not mind it even if I didn’t become very successful and drove an old Maruti exactly like the one we were sitting in. After that the ’red Maruti’ was an inside joke we enjoyed for quite a few days. We broke up a couple of months after that incident and while parting ways, what she told me with tears in her eyes was this: I hope you get someone better than me, or at least someone who won’t mind you taking her around in an old Maruti. I love you.
Somewhere between that first jump out of the Maruti’s window as a kid and the parting lines my ex-girlfriend said, I grew up. And all that while I had some kind of connection with the car on my mind. It was good, sometimes it wasn’t so good and a very few times it was utterly beautiful. But as time flies, you forget things that happened to you, you forget what and how much some things meant to you and so, over the past few years, I had forgotten these little things that happened, things that had the Maruti at their centers. But the departure of the car from the markets made me think, it made me remember and compelled me to write about something that I had never written before, a car.
Yes I miss the Maruti 800 and the times I spent with it. It represents the India before capitalisation and more importantly it represents a large part of my childhood and boyhood. But it isn’t anywhere in sight today when I’m entering the prime of my life. And that’s okay. I am happy with what runs on the roads today and I honestly don’t wish that the Maruti should be in this buzzing crowd. But sure enough, when I talk about the happy and carefree days of my life, the match-box car will be cherished, always.
I was at this friend’s place for a house party the other day and while I was listening to a group of newly acquired friends engaged in a really interesting debate over ’what is the right manner of drinking a whisky? ’ I could see with the gradual progress in the conversation how little some men know about whiskys. The level of their intellect began deteriorating with their common belief that there is no much difference between a whisky and a vodka but the color because both have almost similar alcohol content and I was compelled by my own intellect to drop the role of the audience and leave the conversation altogether when they decided that it’s okay for beginners to drink whisky with Coke.
The next day, the conversation hadn’t lost its grip over my mind even when the party had ended. So I talked to a few friends of mine about whiskeys and again, saw how little they knew about it. That was when I decided that I have to talk whiskys here. And I find it important to talk to you about whiskys because I want to correct some common misconceptions that people have about how this drink should be drunk and in the process, make you fall in love with it.
So generally your first few encounters with whisky are when you see a bottle in your dad’s closet or on the table sometimes. It can be anything from an Indian grain whisky to a Scotch single malt. Other words it can be anything from a Royal Stag to a Johnny Walker. And that first encounter, I believe, largely decides our perspective about whiskys. The very first thing is the bottle itself. If you look at a bottle of Director’s Special, you’re already going to hate the content inside it, but take a Ballantine’s and even if you are a non-drinking person, everything about that whisky will seem perfectly alright. Its just the bottle that makes or breaks your tendency towards wanting the drink. And even when that is true, people always tend to try whisky for the first time with the brand that they have seen or heard about since a long time. So if you’re going to begin your whisky journey with a bottle of Master’s Imperial, it is largely possible that you’d already begin disliking the drink. And when you have a strong disliking for something, you also quickly believe all the wrong things about it or at least that’s what philanthropy shows me. To the generous fortune of you, dear reader, and me the first bottle I ever saw was a Teacher’s. And that’s why the first thing I ever pushed down my throat was by default, a Teacher’s. So basically I have always been in favor of drinking whiskys than any other kind of liquor.
Vodkas are good, no doubt but a vodka isn’t just a man’s drink. People who believe that vodka and whisky don’t hold much difference because of an ’almost there’ alcohol content are nothing but brainless. That is very much like calling Sarah Palin and Kim Kardashian similar because of, well, obvious reasons. So the point is vodka and whisky hold as much difference as there is between Sarah Palin and Kim Kardashian if you overlook their figures. Vodka is many a times drunk in shots. You cannot do that to a whisky. Whisky is meant to be drunk out of a large glass slowly, accompanied by a cigar in the other hand, when meanwhile, your body has sunk in the couch, relaxed. And that is how it has been drunk since centuries. I believe whisky is a grand affair and nothing can match it. Sitting by the bar at a disc, I have seen girls looking at my glass and apparently at me in excitement when I said, “Jack Daniels. Large and neat.” There was this really strong aura of attraction produced by the drink and it stayed back as long as I was at the disc that night. And I’m sure, even if I had been ten times sartorial than what I was then, ordering a vodka won’t have created the charm that the Tennessee whisky did unless of course I was the one originally saying, “Dry Martini. Shaken not stirred.” Because that’s what women like. They like it when men behave like men. And when a man drinks a whisky, he is behaving exactly like a man should.
And now since we know that whisky is a man’s drink, it is essentially important that you drink it like a man. Pouring the whisky down your throat isn’t the last thing you’re going to do about the liquor. Not at least until you want to drink it like a man. In a conventional manner, there are a very few handful ways to drink whisky: on the rocks, neat, with soda, with water, or with both. I won’t go in the details of explaining you these styles of drinking because I believe you know it, and if you don’t there is Wikipedia at your behest, always. Moreover there is no particular way to drink a whisky. Bit I would certainly like to tell you that, no matter what happens, never drink your whisky with coke. That’s the last pathetic thing you can do in your life. When you mix whisky with coke, you’re not only damaging the taste of the drink but you’re also faking the fact that you like whisky. Men who drink whisky with coke are always just show offs who want to display their desire towards the drink because it is called a man’s drink. Faking things will always make you a lesser man than you are. So either forget the coke the next time you drink whisky or forget the whisky.
I’m not here to tell you about brands and I don’t have a prejudice against any type of whisky either. Yet, I’d like to tell you that if you’re looking forward to a great whisky experience and if you want to keep that going, always go for scotch, bourbon, or single malt whiskeys. Because as much as I know and have tasted Indian grain whiskeys, all I can say is, they might disappoint you. After all, whisky is all about satisfaction.
One last word about the question that led me to write this article, the right manner to drink a whisky is any manner as long as you drink like a man and don’t throw up. Cheers.
So what is racism? Ask that to any Indian person and most of us will refer a dictionary or relate racism to African people. Casteism, yes. We’re experts at discriminating castes but when it comes to racism, we are as bewildered as is Rahul Gandhi when he answers Arnab Goswami’s questions.
Since Nido Taniam’s death in Delhi a lot of newspapers and debates on TV channels have used the word racism. But the common Indian man is still clueless about what racism are these people talking about and in fact why is there such a big hullabaloo over the death of a North-Eastern boy? And that is obvious. Yes I call it obvious because racism is a word as unknown to us as is Superbowl or Hershey’s Kisses. We have always read about racism only in our history books while learning about Nelson Mandela or we have heard about it as something that the white Americans do to tease the Africans. Some better educated Indians might hurl the word ’racist’ to describe fair foreigners who treat Indians staying abroad in a discriminating manner. But that’s it. That’s how much we know the word.
Fact is, in a nation of so many different people living together, in a nation where there is a large diversity of religions, castes and yes, races, discrimination happens everyday, everywhere. Only, we don’t know it. A survey made by the Washington Post three decades ago put India at the second position among 80 nations for being ’one of the most racist nations’. And even when I don’t know the details of the survey, I can completely double that result. We just live in this misunderstanding that we aren’t racists because our skin isn’t as fair as is of the westerners. We argue the thought of us being racists with lame explanations: how can we be racists when we’re the ones being targeted by the white people? To a considerable extent its true that we are targeted but when it comes to people having darker complexions than us, we don’t leave a chance to comment on their color. Color has always been important to us. We have a fetish for fair skin. Color is always important in our matrimonials. Color is always important if you want to get compliments on your photos from Indians and that’s why Photoshop is so dear to many of us. And it seems so important unnecessarily because it is imbibed on our minds right since our childhoods. “Don’t play out in the sunlight. You might turn black if you do.” is a line used as a threat. So when we see anyone ’black’, we immediately react. I have seen many incidents of African students being teased as Negroes or even worse, as monkeys.
And that was just about color. If a list of ’most discriminating nations’ was to be made, we’d always stand first. Physical disabilities of others are best used to make jokes on in our nation. Everyone including fat people, bald people, people with spectacles, short people and the worse, LGBT communities are all subjected to joke on and discriminate in India.
People from the north-east have an altogether different story. These people are always referred to as Chinese. And I don’t have to go very far for examples. Right in my college I know three to four north-eastern students who are treated very differently by others. What can be worse than being called a Chinese when you don’t even belong to that nation and moreover, when your fellow countrymen say that to you? That’s called being rejected. Rejected to even be accepted as a citizen of your own nation. Where is the application of the second line of our pledge, “All Indians are my brothers and sisters”? I guess we left saying and believing that right when we left school. I’m not asking you to go far and hug everyone who comes your way, but let’s atleast begin doing that to our own countrymen.
History is a spectator to the fact that when the Jews were refused everywhere on the back of the earth, we gave them a place to live in. And not just Jews, we have, since ages, been excellent hosts to people of all religions and races. Where is that attitude now? Where is the line that Aamir Khan uses in tourism ads? Where is ’atithi devo bhav’?
Racism isn’t new to us. The word, yes it might be, but the act of creating racism is known better to no one but us. Racial jokes aren’t what we should be cracking. Humor always makes things easy to digest but we aren’t as liberal as we should be to do that. We’re still a nation of you-did-that-you-hurt-our-sentiments. Americans can do that because they have grown in all aspects to digest it. They can do that because they have a Lil Wayne who can call himself a nigga and laugh about it. We haven’t reached there yet. Not until Ramdas Athavale can make a joke on Dalit reservations and not mind it even when others do.
This is just a kind of casual conversation that we are going to have here. It might get a little serious somewhere in the middle, but you’ll get along with it, I’m sure. I’m not in a mood to talk about my breakups for a while. I know I had begun writing this series of four articles and I even finished two of those but right now I don’t think I should be talking about it and there are reasons for that.
You might wonder if it’s personal or something and if you do, let me tell you that it isn’t. Right since I have been writing this blog I have left behind the thoughts of retaining anything ’personal’. A writer grows as a writer only when he can put up a frame for the readers through which they can see what he wants to show. And such frames seldom show anything else but the writer’s own experiences and his life. Life is a huge word to use though, because I’m just 21 and I haven’t seen the world as much as I should to qualify for saying things about life. But anyway, the point is just that I’m not holding back the talk about my breakups because of any personal reasons and that in turn is because there aren’t any.
I’m just concerned about this image of mine as a writer and maybe an entertainer that I sometimes am. If you look at the last four to five articles that I have written over here, you’ll see that all of those are either about relationships or sex or both. And if I write a sixth article about anything even close to that, I’ll be boring you to death. In this modern world where everything that people want to say is usually compressed into a YouTube video or a 140-characters Twitter post, a blog already looks a little out of style. And to top that, my articles are a lot bigger than that of others’. So I should be grateful to all of you, my readers, that in spite of all these Waterloo conditions for me, you read my blog and help me keep it going. And since all this is the truth, boring you would only mean the death of whatever I’m doing here.
Another thing that distresses me more, and this is very serious, is that if I continue writing about the same things and you keep reading that no-matter-what, I’ll be soon tagged as maybe a relationship-guru, or worse, a sex-guru. And that is my concern. I don’t want to be called a person who can talk about a particular thing with brilliance. I don’t want to confine myself in one place. There are other things that I want to talk about and I’m even fully aware what things should those be, what I don’t know is where to begin. I have already talked a lot about the Indian system and how stupid we are to follow that, and if I talk over the same things again, it would sound repetitive. That can make me more of a forever-agitated-Indian than a writer. So I’m still just crawling in the dark, trying to light up on something that you haven’t seen before.
Some people do find an immense pleasure in being called a writer of a particular type and they guide others, in what they consider, is their area of expertise and even if they are experts, there is a limit on how far they can go with all that. I’m not that kind of person and I don’t want to be, ever. So basically, I don’t want tags. And for that I need to be versatile, and for that I need something to feed my intellect upon, and for that I really want this overly-romantic month of February, where everyone is talking about love it wants to read about it, to end (even when it’s my birthday this month! ).
The whole point of this article is to tell you that I’m going to work hard on my writing, maybe I just need a little time for that, so stick there, and keep reading. If I try going into the depths of explaining this anymore, the article may go from readable to pathetic. I guess it’s just the time to end this one now.
Don’t look at this as just a letter or a filler. It is more like a conversation with you and yet more like a promise that all this is just about to get better.
– Always grateful that you read,
The Guy Who Writes.
We’re taking a break from analyzing me break-ups for a while (say ‘yay!’) and looking upon something that the whole world is eager to celebrate. Yes, St. Valentine’s Day.
I know a lot has been said and written about this day already. Newspaper articles, magazine columns and popular blogs are all flooding with everything from suggestions about how to impress her to what’s the meaning of love to personal romantic memories. Some morons who are clueless about why to write but still want to write might tell the age-old story of how St. Valentine united people in love. Then there would be others who would write things to console people who haven’t got girlfriends or boyfriends saying that love can be with anyone and the ranting would go on till they reach the conclusion that love is God or something. I know you are bored of this so I’m not even going anywhere close to that. Fellow man, I’m here to tell you a few things about how much should you perform on this day and where should the limit be.
Okay yeah I can see the bewilderment on your face. Whose performing? And where? Well it’s you. Yeah everything you’re going to do tomorrow to impress your crush or to make it a special day for your girlfriend or wife is all a performance. You don’t do it everyday. You have planned it specially tomorrow and that’s why I say you are performing it. Everyone of you might have different plans for the day. Some might be planning extravagant dates, some others may have made reservations at a beautiful place somewhere in the woods all set to amuse her and very few might really go down on their knees and pull out a ring. I’m not telling you to do anything different but when you’re doing these things, set a boundary and do not surpass it.
Generally when men are in love they know no boundaries to confine their love and they’ll do anything and everything that, they believe, might make her happy. Some might not see any harm in there. You’d say it’s good if I’m doing extra things to make her happy. Well yes, sounds good. But wait, how many of you are Management and Commerce students out here? Do you know this theory called Law of Marginal Utility? Suppose you’re very hungry and you get an apple, you’ll devour it quickly. You need it the most. But that might not be said about the second, third and fourth apple because as your stomach is getting filled, the utility of apples is eventually, gradually decreasing. Now after all this when you are given the fifth apple, you refuse to eat it because it’s surplus. It’s utility will be zero. Know what I’m saying? If you plan too many things that are meant to make her feel special, she will eventually get bored of it. And when she doesn’t react in amazement to a few ‘special’ things you did, it might spoil your mood as well. So confine yourself to a certain extent. Make her feel special, sure, but do not over do it.
At the same time, i’m not even telling you to give up all efforts to make her day special. An un-romantic boyfriend is not what a girl looks forward to on Valentine’s day or for that matter, ever. There should be something that makes her feel wonderful and makes her wonder what else can you do to make her happy. And when she is in that very phase of imagination, stop doing special things and begin being very normal. It will keep her in that sweet continuous aura of imagination and that, will make her day.
It’s not over yet. That’s not all that I wanted to tell you. There is more. We just made amendments to make her day but there’s yet the night to come. The greatest challenge will come when the beautiful day if February 14 comes to an end and when it’s close to midnight, she whispers those three beautiful words in your ears: Let’s have sex.
Don’t try being a Superman in the bed. Don’t push yourself too hard.Don’t even try talking to her when you’re doing things to her. No woman would ever want to hear how much you love her when your fingers are running all over her body. And since you are making ‘her’ day special, don’t ejaculate in eight minutes and finish the game. (Even I’m learning to carry on the foreplay for a longer time). Do not have sex like an American man. Do it like the French do. Slow, intimate and satisfying. I know that might be tough for over-eager-to-watch-that-thing-and-pounce-on-it type of men, but give it a shot at least.
So all you have to remember is too many cooks spoil the broth because for women, nothing is as repelling as the man who tries too much. Or at least that’s what Chastity Fernandes says in some other sense. And when your girl finally gets an orgasm somewhere in the dark hours after mid-night you have finally made get Valentine’s day special and worth remembering. All the best wishes bro! 😉
So continuing from where we called it off last time, let’s talk break ups. I’ve had quite some affairs in between the time from my first major break up to what can be quoted as the ’most important relationship in my life’. It was when I was studying in the first year of engineering that I began talking to a girl who was my school mate and found this bliss. I can definitely say that it was the best time I have had in the company of any girl so far. The relationship had got everything from sparks to silly sweet nothings and from a good compatibility to the best mental comfort. And that is why I dare say it was the relationship where I could see true love coming, and even today when it’s two years after the break up, I don’t deny it.
And that might as well be the reason why this break up hurt me the most, taught me the most and I regret it the most. Okay so you might now find me stupid or foolish given that I broke up with a girl so very perfect. Matter of fact, it wasn’t me, it was her. One night the girl calls me up and tells me that it won’t be working anymore. And the same night, I was at a friend’s place for a sleep-over. I cannot forget the whole experience of trying to sound normal while breaking the news to my friends and the way they exploited my situation and made fun of it. I laughed with them, I enjoyed it all. And the next day when I went back home, I realised what had really happened. Damn! I had broken up!!
And then I did the stupidest of things. I didn’t call her, did not even text her. It was my ego. And that ego stood proud and tall for a long time between us. Of course I missed her. Everyday I’d wait for her to contact me. What I was forgetting was that girls seldom do that after a break up. And then like any guy would curse the girl, I cursed my girlfriend. There was a lot bitterness inside me that I was spitting at her. And that continued for a long time. She tried talking to me once or twice after that but I wasn’t in a mood to listen. I kept saying that she broke my heart and that she didn’t deserve talking to me. Today I can see how stupid I had been. The biggest mistake I did was I had chosen not to talk to her the moment she said that she wanted to break up. I didn’t ask her to stay, nor did I try to go to the roots of the problem. I had let her go without any attempts to make it up. I still regret it sometimes. During the course of the relationship, I had been very loyal to the girl but she kind of knew the number of affairs I had before being in a relationship with her and that’s why she never had a complete faith the fact that I was loyal. I always boasted to her about my many womanising ways in the past and that might be the very thing that went against me. I didn’t realise these things for a long time even after a break up ,but today I can very well see what went wrong and what I should have done to save the relationship.
And as petty as it might sound, very small mistakes can sometimes slowly build a kind of suspicion in your girlfriend’s mind. I remember the wonderful times when I used to go out with her for long evening strolls. We used to walk, get exhausted and kiss while still running out of breath. It is one of the most romantic things I’ve enjoyed in my life so far. Now the funniest part was that there were many chicks who would come for an evening stroll at the same place. Of course I used to look at them. But it was just ’looking’. Sadly enough, my beautiful lady thought I was playing the eye-candy game with those girls and when I still thought she wasn’t serious while firing at me for all that, she had already begun being suspicious. Now let me tell you the prime reason for my break up with her. She wanted to be with her ex-boyfriend again because his continuous wooing had made her believe in his ’love’. And there, my Barney Stinson attributes (?) ruined things for me. She obviously preferred going back to the guy who was crying for her than staying with a guy who loved her with all his heart, but whom she wasn’t sure about.
Damn, I just re-read the last two paragraphs and I see that everyone can clearly see how much I still like her. Now that’s what I call vulnerability. But well yes, I do. Anyway, lets get back to my relationship’s post-mortem . Yeah so another thing that contributed dearly to my break up was my facebook status updates. Look basically I’m a man of ideas, and ideas can be funny sometimes. So I had been in this habit of posting things that were not really happening in my life but which were sure to make people laugh. I remember we fighting over this status of mine: ’Saw a hot girl today. She was so hot I could get an omlette on her back.’ Now I don’t know why my girlfriend could just see the hot girl and not the omlette, nor do I know if she thought frying an omlette on a girl’s back was my intensive incest sexual desire, but I know that she was pissed at it. Even after that, such and many new ideas kept coming to my mind and I kept projecting them on facebook and eventually incurred her wrath. Yeah, you can incur a girl’s wrath in a zillion ways. I remember I made a friend very angry a few days ago when I told her that she looked like Kristen Stewart. I thought all girls like Twilight, my bad. So making your girl angry is one of the most hapless things you can do because making it up later is a huge task.
Another thing that I learnt from this break up and which I have always carried on my mind since then is that, do not use words that would damage things I don’t know how many of you would believe this but one ’fuck off’ from my mouth had been the catalyst in tearing us apart. She asks me what’s the actual feeling behind saying fuck off, and I explain it to her in such a manner that if Harry Potter characters would have heard it, they would have begun saying Voldemort and quit saying fuck off instead. So after this explanation something happens and very casually I say to her, fuck off. End.
So what I learnt from this break up? Or what should you learn from this sad story of mine? First, never sulk and get grumpy when she says let’s break up. We’re men. We have to clean it up. Always. Go to her, talk her out, do anything but don’t let her go (like the ex-boyfriend of my girl did. Wise man eh?). Second, do not show her how easily you can impress women and in fact do not even make an eye contact with any beautiful lady when you’re out with her. You never know what can be considered as cheating. Number three, your facebook, WhatsApp and Twitter freedom is over. Come on, you can compromise that much for love. And fourth lesson, do not tell her to fuck off even if she has pissed you to the highest degrees. Of course the words can differ, so if you call her a bitch and she breaks up, don’t blame me!
I don’t know if she is reading this or has read this or might read this, but if she does, she’ll fund this as my attempt to get back to her. Always suspicious. That’s how she is, aren’t you sweetheart? 😉