Page 3 Chautha

My friend happened to attend this Page 3 Chautha the other day. Now for the uninitiated; there are Chautha's and there are Page 3 Chautha's. To put it simply, you either die a normal death where your loved ones shed a tear or two for you or you die a famous death where the 'whose who' would attend the prayer meeting offered in your name in designer 'whites or off-whites' and not to forget their matching Fendi and Gucci.

The prayer meeting was held in one of the finest auditorium in the city. The flower arrangements could have been easily mistaken for a wedding reception had it been not for the painstaking effort to use only white and off white flowers.I was appalled by the insensitivity of this section of people towards the poor soul of the dead. A couple was overheard making plans for the night at the girl's place. Even better, two families were seen match-making. The icing on the cake was the son's reaction to his father's death. He was so pained by his father's death that in the four days that he managed to take out for his father's earthly rituals, he indulged himself in endless clubbing and gallivanting. So much for love for his father! 

I felt bad when I heard this. Not that I'm not aware of the way things function in this world but more because I'm not prepared to live amidst such heartless people. And since I have no option but to live among such people, all that I sincerely hope is that I don't become one among them.  

fuck buddy

I don't know what drew me to this conclusion. Whatever it is, I think I ain't wrong altogether when I say that men for me are merely objects to derive pleasure from. I don't see myself having any kind of emotional attachment with them. Either I've been perennially unlucky to meet only insensitive men or men who cry at the drop of a hat. Both kinds irritate me to the core and therefore my opinion about men continue to remain the same.

My conversations with my girl pal A have been extremely productive because of our similar views regarding most matters concerning men. We are not anti-men ; we drool over them like dogs do at the sight of a bone but nonetheless our affection towards men also run along similar lines. There is complete absence of emotional attachment. For us men are nothing just one large chunk of flesh waiting and wanting to be used in a manner that will give maximum pleasure to the both the person's concerned. I agree it does sound like we belong to some animal race and not human beings but then that is the plain truth. I think with every passing day me and my friends have come to realise the futility of trying to find the perfect guy or someone worth compromising for. The wait seems to be endless. I don't want to sound like cynic but then do I have an option?

When friends turn lovers..

Maybe what I did was the best that a friend could probably do for another friend. I should stop feeling guilty and be happy about the fact that he is doing so well in life. Yes, I do miss his presence in life. But then you just can't keep everyone in this long journey called life. You have to leave some people along the way due to various reasons. 

I wish he had not been so possessive. I wish he had not been so insecure. I wish he had not loved me so much that I felt suffocated. I wish we could remain friends forever. I wish  I could talk to him everyday. I wish I didnt' have to call of the whole relationship... I wish..

But now that everything is gone, I've realised what he meant to me. I feel so empty from within.

Not a single day passes without me thinking about him. I wonder whether it's the same with him given the fact that I hurt him so much. I secretly wish that he'd give me a call one day. I so long to tell him how much i missed him, but not all wishes come true..    

Even among Odds

Sometime before Christmas we were invited for a pre-Christmas 'get together'. The hosts being our family friends for long were as gracious as ever. There were few others also invited along with us; most of them either leading a retired life or nearing retirement and settled in the 'posh' areas of the city.
Things went quite the usual way with the mandatory pleasantries exchanged even though their smiles were as plastic as a Barbie's smile. You would never find a Barbie not smiling..similarly you would never find these people without their lips stretched. Perhaps somebody should tell them that any idiot would be able to decipher whether they are smiling with their eyes or lips. Probably they need more training in the art of faking!
A lady who may have been in her late fifties and sitting right next to my mom turned to her and asked " so Mrs.A how much do you have to pay the maids in your locality?" My mum very innocently said that she did all the work on her own and therefore did not know how much they charge. The old b!%(# turned to her other pals and exclaimed with a smirk on her face as to how hardworking and smart Mrs.A was. Hardworking because she did all the work and smart because she avoided mingling with such 'low-standard people' by doing all the work by herself.
I turned to mom to catch her reaction..she was so pleased by the comment! My misery continued for quite sometime with various questions about the car we owned, "which part of Delhi ?" and so on.
Another thing which I thought was very irritating about all the people sitting there was that they all spoke as if they were all acting in a play. Shakespearian language and too much of aahhss and oohs at the drop of a hat! Seriously...unbearable!
Weeks later, I happened to see the old b!%(# in the church. I smiled like an idiot for reasons which i am still in the process of figuring out. She however refused to recognise me. When i told mom about it, she reasoned by saying that probably she didn't see me! Probably i should start thinking like my mom because despite all that has happened now or in the past, she has remained the same innocent person she has always been and it is something hard to find these days.
Kudos to mom for the beautiful person that she is!

P.S. I need to learn a lot from her.