Monday, October 14, 2013

A conversation to remember

In comes a call in the middle of my sleep one night. With stubborn eyes refusing to open, a hand felt its way to the source of the noise. As I put the phone to my ear, a torrent of disgustingly spiteful words flowed through it. So disgusting that I was jolted awake in my bed. I prepared myself to launch into a retaliatory tirade but stopped just short as I realized in time that the person at the other end was a long out-of-touch friend. If you are wondering about cussing, hear it from an alpha-male that when two alpha-male buddies reunite, their conversation is liberally sprinkled with swear words. That's our way of showing we care. Show me boys who don't cuss, and I will show boys who drink a glass of milk before they hit the bed. :P

We talked of this and that and practically everything that we have been up to since we last spoke. I could list all of that here but I am sure you'd much rather amuse yourself watching your nail grow than read that. So I'll omit the uninteresting details and get down to that one part of the conversation that made feel like an ass. And I am certain you sure do like to read about anything that makes an ass of Balaji, don't ya?

Like most boys do, this pal of mine had a love-interest when we were at college. Not the kind of love that is dime-a-dozen, you know. It was more of a Idhayam Murali type love. It was a darned mystery to me how his heart had room for just one person, while I was falling head over heels in love with every other girl that came my way. But that's the way it was. He had an absolute love for, let's call her, IK. Sad and heart-breaking as it is, you know how Idhayam Murali kind of love inevitably ends. In their case career aspirations took them in different directions after college and they kind of drifted apart. The last I heard of her, she went against her parents and gone off and got married in a temple surrounded by only  her friends.

This happened some time ago and I assumed the passage of time must have mended his broken heart. The ass that I am, I didn't let it go but decided to taunt the poor chap. Our conversation went like this:

"Did you happen to hear about IK, the runaway bride?" I teased.

"Yes," he replied after a short-pause.

"Boy, weren't you birdies like the Romeo and Juliet during the college days! Who would have thought she would run away with some one else?"


An awkward silence ensued. I realized I struck a painful chord by talking about his old flames. The buddy that I am, I rallied round and tried to lift his spirit, not realizing in the least what I was getting myself in for.

"Vidu machi! Ava oru mokka figure. Unaku vera nalla figure kedaipa."


"Appove sonen nanu. Ava over-possessive. Ava kuda iruntha unaku paithiyam dan pudikum. Namaluku freedom rombha mukiyam machi."


"Enna da?"

"IK pona masam kovil la vechu yara kalyanam pannan nu teriyum mada?"

"Yaruda?" I asked, all excited to know now that it was clear that the villain in the story is not a stranger.

"Enna dan da ava kalyanam paniruka"