Date a Girl Who Burps

Date a girl who burps. Date a girl who feels comfort in sharing stories of the time she seasoned Maggi noodles with chilli flakes and oregano leftover from a month old delivery of Domino’s pizza, on a night before her final exam. Date a girl who talks without caring for the purple of a kaala khatta chuski trickling down her chin. Date a girl who then walks down a busy Indian market with you, and jumps with joy on spotting a paan-wala selling chocolate paan.

I know you’d want to date a girl who reads; who looks lost in her book at Oxford Coffee Shop. She will discuss the characters from classics, and make you read pages from fiction that she finds really funny. But date her if she burps. Date her if she finds it funny to burp in front of you, and not embarrassed. Date her because she strips herself of all pretence when she’s with you. Date her because when discussing characters from books will become only a wonderful memory of the initial phase, she will be creating more wonderful memories with you, etching the lines of your identity to beautifully dance with hers on a transparent glass of her own character.

I know you’d want to date a girl who travels; who finds beauty in the different ways eyes gleam against the sun across various lands. She will be adventurous and have so many experiences to share. But date her if she burps. Date her if she burps after devouring a Lebanese meal, and then snorts while laughing about it immediately after, during your first weekend trip together. Date her because when her work won’t allow her to travel, she’ll find pleasure in travelling with you to the local fort on a Saturday evening, or in making her fingers traverse through your thinning hair while you sleep bare-chested in each other’s arms, feeling the comfort of letting go of all the cotton that conceals your true human image behind a carefully woven fabric to impress.

I know you’d want to date a girl who looks pretty; whose beauty your peers would want to call their own. She will get you the title of a player and raise your confidence to touch new standards. But date her if she burps. Date a girl if she burps during a kiss and then laughs at the way your eyebrows twitch immediately after. Date her because she will turn it into one of the many crazy romantic things you guys do, which you’ll be proud to know that other couples don’t share the comfort of doing. Date her because she’ll be your best friend, and there is no one prettier in the world than the person who you give that title to.

I know you’d want to date a girl who matches all the qualities on your list; who you think will be the answer to all your prayers for the perfect partner. She will understand you the way your limited perception believes she will. She will keep you enchanted in her love till ever after like your twenty years of inexperience tells you she will. But date her if she burps. Date her because this will not be a quality that you’ve put on your list. Date her because no matter how perfect a self-imagined character may appear in your thoughts, you may not feel any attraction to a high scorer on the test, but may fall head over heels for someone who fails terribly on the theoretical exam that you have set.

Date a girl who burps, who snorts, who farts, and who breathes. Date her because she is nothing of what you had thought your partner would be, but everything that a normal living girl can be. Date her because love is not something that you can limit in a checklist; it’s not something that you can choose at your will. It’s in abundance in the world around you, then why limit all that you can possibly receive?

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A Suicide Note

Dear Husband,

When I first came into this house, I was elated. I was sure that the family that I had left behind to become the bahu of this house was really happy at my good luck. I didn’t have any parents, but my Masterji, who had put so much effort in raising me, and who I give all the credit for shaping my personality, always made sure that he gave me the best of everything. A firm believer in quality of character, he knew that character develops through pain. He stuck with me through all the tough moments in my life, including the time when I told you how I got stitches all over my body. He supported me, and had faith that I will one day find my knight in shining armor, who will take me home and love me to death.

I remember how you did not come to see me the first time. Your parents came to our place and told my family that since you did not have anyone specific in mind, they had taken it upon themselves to find the perfect fit for you. It was magical how they liked me at the very instant when they first saw me. They said that they had made their decision, and were sure that they did not need to seek their son’s approval.

My Masterji knew that I would make him proud one day. So, he ensured that I had the best of company. He never let me hang out with those Salman Khan types who would have tattoos of colorful dragons painted all over their bodies. He taught me how simplicity is the best attire, and is a mark of class. He would also talk a great deal about the importance of being fit. He raised me with such care.

Ours was an arranged affair, so I thought it would take you time to open up to me. The initial silence seemed temporary. I kept waiting for the first office party where you would take me and feel proud in showing me off to your colleagues. But when the day for the office party arrived, I noticed how it took you no time in deciding that someone else would be your date. I thought it’s a modern thing and maybe you’re just not over who I thought to be your ex. But soon I realized that there were picnics, casual lunches with friends, concerts and many other events, but I was never a part of any of them.

I overheard you talking to your sister and telling her that you didn’t like me. You were planning on throwing me in the bed-box, where you had secretly shoved all the other things that you hated, including the woolen sweaters that your dadi would knit for you every year. I was scandalized at first. I could not digest the thought of you doing something so cruel to me. What were you going to tell your parents when they would ask you about me? A part of me told me that you were joking.

I remember clearly how you started making space in your bed-box on a Sunday. I could not ask you why! I just kept praying that it would be for the blankets from the recently passed winter season. But then I realized that I had to stop living in denial and accept my fate. You shoved me in with not even an iota of guilt on your face. And a whole new chapter from your history opened up in front of my eyes.

I was so surprised to see that there were other jeans, just like me, shoved into the darkness of your bed’s dungeon. They told me how there was only one pair of jeans that you loved; the same one who I thought was your ex! They told me how much it hurt them all when you spoke about getting into someone else’s pants.

Why did you let your parents befool me? Why did you let them believe that they did not need your approval when they decided to buy a pair of jeans for you? Why did you give me false hope for months, when you stacked me under your other trousers in the wardrobe? Why?

I know that you’ll cook up an excuse when they ask you why you don’t wear me. But doesn’t it occur to you how it’s so heartless, so mean of you to lie to them about liking me? They will probably realize it one day, and silently keep their sorrow from you. But do you realize how your lie has completely ruined my life? My Masterji, the poor Masterji, who stitched me with such perfection, with such devotion, will be so shattered to know that his labor bore no fruit.

And what is it about your stupid Levi’s that you love so much? I’m blue too; just as dark a blue as her. My stitch is just as orange. Does it hurt you to know that I come from a family of Koutons? Are you embarrassed of my identity even when your un-tucked shirt hides my back patch? Or are you embarrassed about the fact that I address myself as a lady despite being a pair of men’s jeans?

I am pained to see how you can ask your dad to get you a pair of boxers or briefs from the market, and wear it every day even if it’s Rupa or Lux. I understand that a man shares a more intimate relationship with his jeans than with his underwear, which is merely a slut trying to give you head. I know that a pair of jeans commands more respect. It is clean in character even when unwashed for a month; and no matter how much you wash your underwear on a daily basis, it can never command the same place in your heart.

I’ve been such a pati-vrata lady. Ek baar pehen ke toh dekhte. Tumhare kadamon ke neeche aane ko taiyar thi main. I remember when my family dressed me in bridal clothes of polythene, they told your parents: “Hum aapko apni jeans hi nahi, 50%+40% discount bhi de rahe hain.” My price tag will tell you that I’m just as valuable as your Levi’s, priced at no less than two thousand five hundred rupees. And even after accepting a heavy discount in dowry, you have the cheek to say: Fake discount scheme hai. Faltu mein bhaao badaaye huye hain local jeans ke! How dare you!

I have decided to end my life. And it’ll be no one but you to blame for it. I will shrink my waist by two inches tonight, and will wait for the day when you open your bed-box to clean out your old mess, look at my body with no sense of attachment, and then go ahead to try me for the first time. Your guilt will hit you when you’ll see that I won’t fit you.

Main mar gayi toh kya. Tumhara guilt ke maare saara khaana peena band na karvaya toh mera naam bhi Koutons ki 50%+40% discount wali jeans nahi!

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Every Friggin' Game of Antakshari!

Baithe baithe bore huye, karna hai kuchh kaam. Shuru karo Antakshari le ke prabhu ka naam. Bolo Ram Ram Ram.

Maayi ni maayi munder pe teri bol raha hai kaaga. Jogan ho gayi teri dulaari, mann jogi sang laga. *tung tung tunu nu nu tunu tunu tung tung* Ga!

Gore-gore mukhde pe kaala kaala chashma. Roop hai karishma, rang hai karishma. Gore gore mukhde pe kaala kaala chashma. Ma!

Mujhko huyi na khabar, chori chori chup chup kar. Ab pyaar ki pehli nazar haaye, le gayi le gayi. Dil le gayi le gayi. Ee!

Abey, ‘ee’ nahi ‘ya’ se gaana hai. Maatra ko consider nahi karte. Ya ke upar ee ki maatra lagi hai.

Chup bey! Aise toh ‘ee’ wala koi bhi gaana nahi aayega!

Aayega! Abhi ‘ya’ se hai.

Yeh dil, deewana. Deewana.. hai yeh dil. Deewane ne. Mujhko bhi. Ah! Kar daala.. deewana. Maine uske shahar ko chhoda. Uski gali mein dil ko toda. Phir bhi seene mein dhadakta hai yeh dil. Maine dil se use nikaala. Jo na karna tha kar daala. Phir bhi yaad ussi ko karta hai yeh dil. Yeh dil. Deewana. Na!

Na na na na na re, na re, na re. Na na na na na re, na re, na re na. Oh saade naal rahoge te aish karoge. Zindagi de saare maze kaish karoge. Saade naal, hoye hoye. Saade naal. Bruaa! Aa!

Oye, yeh koi bruaaa-vruaaa count nahi hota. Main toh ‘la’ se gaaunga.

Kyun bhai? Bruaaa ke end mein koi maatra nahi aati. ‘Aa’ aata hai.

Pagal hai kya! Phir tu maayi ni maayi ke baad ‘tung tung tung tung’ ko bhi maan leta.

Woh guitar ki tune hai. Yeh bruaaa munh se bolta hai.

Bakwaas mat kar. ‘La’ se hoga.

Achha theek hai. Rondu saale! Gaa le. Cheating karni hai tujhe befaltu mein. Haarega toh tu hi.

Lalla lalla lori, doodh ki katori. Doodh mein batasha. Munna kare tamasha. Sha!

Bas, yehi gaana gaane ke liye ro raha tha? Saale, ek line toh gaayi nahi poori!

Sheher ki ladki. Oh-ho-ho! Sheher ki ladki. Ah-ha-ha! Sheher ki ladki. Aankh mila ke poochhe hi how are you. Haath mila ke bole how do you do. Style pe uski, smile pe uski. Haaye tabiyat bhadki, sheher ki ladki. Ki!

Kabootar ja ja ja. Kabootar ja ja ja. Pehle pyaar ki pehli chitthi… oh… Pehle pyaar ki pehli chitthi saajan ko de aa. Kabootar ja ja ja. Kabootar ja ja ja. Ja!

Oh sir ji, galat gaaya hai. Gaana “Ja ja ja” se shuru hota hai. Phir woh bolti hai “Kabootar ja ja ja”.

Pagal hai kya!

Sayi bol raha hun. Suna nahi hai toh bola mat kar. Kisi se bhi pooch le.

Haan, pooch!

Abhishek! Oye kabootar ja ja ja “kabootar” se shuru hota hai ya “ja ja” se.

*Kabootar se*

Bas, saale. Jhand ho gayi teri.

Ab tum mein se kisi ko bhi nahi pata toh kya meri galti hai! Bhaad mein ja. Meri baari hai na. Ja se gaaun?

Ja ja ja! Kabootar ja ja ja! :P

Bas kar le ab.

Achha, um.

Jaadooo teri nazar. Khushbooo tera badan. Tu haan kar. an a kar. Tu haan kar ya na kar. Tu hai meri Kiran. Tu hai meri Kiran! Na!

Naani teri morni ko mor le gaye. Baaki jo bacha tha kale chor le gaye. Achhi naani, pyaari naani, roosa roosi chhod de. Jaldi se ek paisa de de, tu kanjoosi chhod de. Naani teri morni ko mor le gaye. Baaki jo bacha tha kale chor le gaye. Ya!

Oye, ‘ae’ se gaana hai. Yeh koi maatra vaatra wala rule mujhe nahi pata. Jo sound hai use gaao.

Ek do teen, chaar paanch chhe saat aath nau, das gyarah. Barah tera. Tera karun. Tera karun din gin gin ke.. intezaar. Aaja piya aayi baahar. Ra!

Ruk ruk ruk. Arrey baba ruk. Oh my darling, give me a look. Dil mera dhadke tere liye. Dil mera tadpe tere liye. Gussa tera wallah wallah. Nakhre tere uff uff uff! Fa!

Oye, aage bhi hota hai. “Love love love love love love, tumse love hua.” ‘Aa’ se gaaunga ab main.

Ajeeb daastan hai ye. Kahan shuru kahan khatam. Yeh manzilen hai kaun si. Na woh samajh sake na hum. Ajeeb daastan hai yeh. Ya!

Yahooo! Chaahe koi mujhe jungle kahe. Kehne do ji, kehta rahe. Hum pyaar ke toofano mein giren hain. Hum kya Karen. Yahoo! Ha!

Hamma hamma, hamma hamma hamma! Aey..ae! Hamma hamma, hamma hamma hamma! Ek ho gaye hum aur tum, aur udd gaye nindere. Toh khanki payal masti mein toh kangan khanke re. Hamma hamma, hamma hamma hamma! Ma!

Main toh hun pagal. Yeh kahun har pal. Kar koi hulchul. Hone de. Hone de. Hone de, hone de, hone de. Koi deewaangee. *taen-na-na-taen-na-na, taen-na-na-taen-na-na* Ga!

Goli maar bheje mein. Dishkyaaun! Ke bheja shor karta hai. Bheje ki sunega toh marega kallu. Tu karega doosra bharega kallu. Mama kallu mama! Mama kallu mama! Ma!

Phir ‘ma’!

Madhuban mein jo kanhaiya kisi ko pee se mile. Kabhi muskaaye kabhi chhede, kabhi baat kare. Radha kaise na jale. Radha kaise na jale. Aag tann mann mein lage. Radha kaise na jale. Radha kaise na jale. La!

Laal dupatte wali tera naam toh bata. Kaale kurte wali tera naam toh bata. Tera naam toh bata, tera naam toh bata. Tera naam toh bata. Aaye haaye. Oye hoye. Ae!

Ae ji. Oh ji. Ae ji oh ji lo ji suno ji, main hun manmoji. Karta hun main jo who tum bhi kar ji. One two ka four. Four two ka one. My name is Lakhan. My name is Lakhan. Sajanon ka sajan. Mera naam hai Lakhan. Na!

Phir na! Saale, yeh ‘na’ aur ‘ma’ se kitne gaane bana lun main!

Niboda niboda niboda! Niboda niboda niboda! Arrey kaacha kaacha, chhota chhota niboda laaye do. Laaye do, laaye do, laaye do. Haan, laaye do, laaye do, laaye do. Ja khet se ja ke la niboda laaye do. Da!

Dholi taro, dhol baaje…

Oh bhaisaab! ‘Da’ se gaana hai, ‘dha’ se nahi.

‘Dha’ bhi toh ‘D’ se start hota hai!

Abey, tu English mein Antakshari khelta hai? Chup chaap ‘da’ se gaa le.

Chup chaap ga lun?

*tsssss* PJ, saale! Koi chup karaao yaar isse!

Dulhe ki saaliyon, hare dupatte waliyon. Dulhe ki saaliyon, hare dupatte waliyon. Joote de do, paise le lo. Joote de do, paise le lo. Joote do, paise lo. Joote do, paise lo. La!

Laila main Laila. Aisi hun Laila. Har koi chaahe mujhse mila akela. Jisko bhi dekhun, duniya bhula dun. Majnu bana dun. Aisi main Laila. La!

Ladki badi anjaani hai. Sapna hai, sach hai, kahaani hai. Dekho ye pagli. Bilkul na badly. Yeh toh wohi deewani hai. Oh-oh-oh. Oh-oh-oh. Oh-oh-oh. Oh-oh-ohhhh. O!

Oh oh jaane jaana, dhoonde tujhe deewana. Sapno mein roz aaye, aa zindagi mein aana sanam. *Tun tada tun. Tun tun tada ta tun tun. Tun tun tada ta tun tun* Ma!

Maahi ve! That’s the way, maahi ve! Tere maathe jhumar damke. Tere kaanon baali chamke hai re. Maahi ve. Tere haathon kangna khanke. Tere pairon paayal chhanke hai re. Maahi ve. Nainon se bole rabba rabba. Mann mein dole rabba rabba. Amrit ghole rabba rabba, tu soniye. Jind maahi ve soniye, soniye, aaja maahi ve. Everybody say soniye, soniye, aaja maahi ve. Va!

Wah wah Ram ji. Jodi kya banaayi. Bhaiya aur bhabhi ko. Badhaai ho badhaai. Sab rasmo se badi hai jagg mein dil se dil ki sagaai. Wah wah Ram ji. Ja!

Jooth bole kauwa kaate. Kaale kauwe se dariyo. Main maayike chali jaaungi, tu dekhte rahiyo.

Yaaron, dosti… badi hi haseen hai. Yeh na ho toh kya phir… bolo yeh zindagi hai. Koi toh ho raazdaar. Begaraz tera ho yaar. Koi toh ho raazdaar. Ra!

Oye! Mera bus stop aa gaya! Bye! Kal continue karenge.

It’s crazy how all good things end with KK’s “Yaaron, dosti…”! Anyway, they’ll start again tomorrow, following the same circle, singing the same songs in a loop. Antakshari is such a Jalebi, no?

^Zabardasti ki analogy :P

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