Sweet… Thirty.

He couldn’t sleep. It’s midnight and he is just scrolling Instagram stories of celebs and friends – with awesome lives. Or awesome phone cameras.

But then he got tired of all those cool pics, and puts the phone away. Took a deep breath, cursed social media and logs into Twitter. Then finally, Facebook.

He has one unread message. From the girl he dated four years back.
Since the last four years, they were friends. Just friends. Just on Facebook.
Who look at each other's latest uploaded photos a little longer than they do for others.
Who annually wish each other on birthdays.
Last year she sent him a gif meme on Republic day as well. So that was a step up!

He wondered why do we wish someone on their birthdays. There is no achievement. Except that we survived another year.
If anything, it should be a day of mourning for we are a year closer to death. People should send condolences:  “ Oh! we are sorry for your loss!”

----

The message was as dry as their current relationship.

Happy Birthday! enjy!!!

He didn’t feel happy. He certainly was not enjoying. Alone in that big leased apartment.
He had just turned 30 minutes ago.

Some years back he had an entirely different view of how he'd be at 30.

He always assumed he would be more sorted by the time he’d make three decades.
He thought he would be like his father.

He was 5 when his father was 30.

It felt safe with him. Big arms, in which he could sleep without a worry in the world.
His father knew everything, all about the alphabet and rhymes and constellations. He could easily spell words like umbrella and elephant.
But most importantly he brought him candies and toys that ran on batteries.

Today when he finally is that age, he doesn’t feel sorted. He is still scared of injections. He still finds it difficult to start a conversation.
And he does not know much about constellations.

----

Every passing year, the number of people who called on his birthday kept declining. Today it was down to zero.
He has learnt over the years not to expect a lot from people. But he expected a few calls, from a few people.

Parents are old now. They are certainly asleep. They will probably call in the morning.

He has an elder brother. Since they were young, he was the one who made the day special for him. Arranged parties, gifts and all.

Even he didn’t call today.

Well, Bhai is a family man now... visits parents often with his wife and kid. Last year they had a big party on his nephew's birthday. He turned 5 then. Father brought her a car that ran on battery.

All the relatives were there - he obviously could not go due to work.

Now he feels envious. Of his five year old nephew.
He feels left out.

----

Also, old and lonely.
And an old friend of loneliness is that bitch, nostalgia.

Few years back, that girl who wished him on Facebook used to wish him in person. Along with his dearest friends.
He remembered that year - in the first half of 20s, whose second half ended today.
She had organized a big get-together in the small room he lived then. She learned on Youtube and cooked his favorite Moong dal halwa. Best he ever had.
His friends had brought beer.

He has ordered some halwa today as well. While he is having it alone, he remembers that birthday when they ate together and laughed.  Good company makes cheap beer bring priceless moments.
Friends are why we celebrate such non consequential events. They bring happiness to birthdays. Also, beer. God bless them.

None of them called him today.

----

He just finished watching that episode of FRIENDS when everyone turns 30. It was one of the funniest ones. In a scripted show, we find humor even in characters' despair. Everyone knows Rachel will eventually end up with Ross. Even though they fight and fight.

In real life, despair is what despair means. It brings only restlessness.

So he stood up and start walking in the big empty house. Then he went to the mirror to wash his face.
There he saw a half burnt candle in the corner.

He said to himself – fuck it! I am gonna do it on my own.

He dimmed the lights and lit the candle. then, blew on it and sang happy birthday to himself in the mirror.
Na na na… Na na.

The door bell rang. He thought it was in his head, but then it rang again.
He went and open the door.

“Surprise!”
.

Why am I a feminist?

In this convoluted, cruel world – if you can be a lover, a dog lover or can even love automobiles; if you can be a nationalist, an optimist, or monotheist … why are you not a feminist?

Why is not every sane, logical person a feminist?
How can the term get so maligned. So distorted!

To tackle distortions let’s define it first.

Feminism : A support for social equality among genders. Opposite to patriarchy.


Men are usually physically stronger, don’t have to bear child birth or go through monthly menstruation. So historically they were the hunters or warriors.
But then over a period of time, gender roles got institutionalized, like religion, to unacceptable lengths.
Most limitations of the past are no more valid now. Not all men are hunters and soldiers. They are cooks and tailors, and comedians.
So not all women need to be just homemakers.


Here are a few stupid refutations to feminism:

It’s anti-men

Nope.
It’s not anti anything. It’s not even strictly pro-women like most think – as it does not advocate for any special privileges for them. 

It is about not discriminating against them for the only reason that they lack testosterone and thus muscle mass.

Sure, some feminists frown upon men – for they have primarily been the reason for this ism to come into existence. Like for any ideology, some feminists go too far and put forward unreasonable claims.  But that does not mean we ignore the reasonable ones.

You don’t ban all cars because some drive too fast.

Let’s face it. There are men who think that just because they can defeat a woman in arm-wrestling, that they are somehow better than them.

There once was the facade of white man’s burden that treated all non-whites as inferiors.
Similarly some still believe is the man’s burden that considers all women inferior and that it's a man's job to - you know - provide.
There certainly are men - not all but a lot - responsible for the plight, for patriarchy. 

I’m not feminist, I am humanist

At the core of it, there is no difference.
Feminism does not demand guys to open the door for their dates – that’s chivalry. Entirely different concept.

One does not have to offer his seat in a commute to a woman. One should – to an old man, or a sick person, or to a pregnant lady. But that's empathy. Again, entirely different concept.

Feminism is about freedom of choices. Legal and non-legal rights. It’s about the perception and the treatment - in the household and in the society - of people from both genders as equals, as humans.

It’s about raising voices against lynching of young girls and boys by grumpy family members for fleeing for marriage.
Or throwing acid on faces by grumpy lovers for declining to flee for marriage.

Then why are there separate seats for women in buses?

He asked the question but didn’t wait to listen to the answer.

Mostly we are so filled with our own biases and prejudices that we don’t consider the other person’s argument with an open mind.

We just find refutations and counter arguments. ‘coz ego. Male ego.

Reserved seats for women is a blinding example of the illness our society is suffering from. It’s a  band-aid trying to cover a much grossed out disease engulfing our social system.

We have creeps touching women inappropriately on crowded buses and trains. Yes, crowded.

One common news that one can find in the local newspaper here in Mumbai is about men molesting women in local trains. This is when Mumbai is comparatively safer than Indian cities.

This is unthinkable in advance societies. But our greatest fucking civilization – which has invented airplanes  thousands years ago by sages of the glorious Vedic era – have to have separate seating arrangements for women.

Not everything is lost though. We have some sensible, educated people fighting for the honor of a queen that lived  in a 500 years old poem for an alleged film sequence nobody had seen.

Why doesn’t government simply make laws to make things better for woman?

Because:

a)   It’s more of a social problem than a legal one.
     Dowry system, honor killings, sexual harassment at workplace – there are laws against them. But then, do we stop at a red signal if no traffic police is looking?

b)  Any representative government resonates the society it represents.
          So the largely patriarchal government of our wholly patriarchal society keep passing shitty pieces of legislation mostly for appeasement.

Example: New maternity act provides for paid maternity leave up to 26 weeks for women.
Also, zero days of paternity leaves for men.
In this age and time when it’s super easy to store and bottle feed mother’s milk to babies – child care is still exclusively the mother’s job.
The better bills – like the one that provides for women reservation in our legislatures – where 90 percent present are from the un-fairer sex – is lingering for decades.

There are real problems in the society, do we really need feminism?

Absolutely.
In the absence of feminism, patriarchy creeps in. See what it has done to us!

Marital rape is not a crime. Somehow marriage eclipses rape. It is heinous here – not husbands raping their wives, but wives complaining about it.

Our public figures publicly blame increased use of telephones and chowmein for increased percentage of rapes. 

‘coz boys toh will be boys naa!

Our prime time news  - we debate nationalism in the naming of an actor’s new born. We take SMS polls on whether we should attack Pakistan or not!
A cricketer’s wedding is somehow in the breaking news segment.

We need to shift focus to the real issues – of education, employment. Of matters that affect the half of our population. Little less than half , for we kill some of them in the womb.  

But I don’t see the women around me facing any difficulties, it’s just so hyped up!

It’s not.
Most of us who read English newspapers belong to the elite section of the society. Top 10%.

Women in the rest of the society face grave hardships – which we ignorants blissfully don’t see.

Not that it's all nice and cozy for the women around us. But we have internalized things so much so  that they don’t seem to be problems at all. It’s just the way it is!

I like to go out for walks in nights. It’s serene.
So if it’s 1 AM and I want to go out, I go. All I need to consider is if I am wearing any pants and carrying my earphones or not. It’s one of the gratifications of being born here in this country – apart from the freedom to pee anytime, anywhere.

But for a girl to go out at such hours is a big big task – she need to consider a lot of things:

How safe is it outside? Am I dressed properly? What would I say to my land lady? Oh, the security guard will give me that look!  Should I call someone first?

 She is a prisoner in her own house.

---------------------------------------------------------

One more definition:

Dualism of work: A concept that describes that women now have, over decades, started taking pecuniary work outside their homes. However, their contribution in the household work have remained almost constant.
They have taken traditional men’s work. But the vice versa has not happened.
So they are stuck with doing both.

I work in a bank and I have female colleagues – who go back to their homes after office hours and, while their husbands are watching kya kool hain hum part 3, do the daily chores and take care of their nagging children. They wake up in the morning, make breakfast, face the tantrums of their in-laws, before leaving for office hoping to find a seat in the local train’s reserved compartment for women passengers.

Women, in general, work harder, longer than men. Numerous studies prove this. 

The least we can do is acknowledge. Give them a day off once in while, Make breakfast.
Make the hostilities they face in their day to day life a little less hostile.

---------------------------------------------------------

Now being a boy, I have to address the guy’s prospective as well. This is about eve teasing.

It is in-built in guys to turn their heads if they see someone attractive passing by. Like for dogs to run after cars - it just comes naturally to most of us.
It’s not offensive per se. If anything, it is an expression of an unbiased appreciation. 

But then, we take it too far. Stare too long, Stalk, Pass disgusting sexual remarks. 

Boundaries are crossed with impunity.

To make a girl uncomfortable in a public place is not cool.
Some even have the audacity to physically confront. We have stooped so low!

 In almost all animals, the mating ritual encompasses that the male try to woo the female – and then the female chooses the one she deems most appropriate.
Peacock dances, elephants fight, spiders bring food wrapped in silk.

Human males were to go to the female in a bar, use a pickup line, and offer to buy a drink. That was to be the cultural classical way.
But then who listens to classical music in the era of Honey Singhs!
They tease, then threaten and yes, they rape.

There are sons of bitches who rape. And for such despicable heinous act, we name-call their mothers!

---------------------------------------------------------

Feminism is one of the few concepts whose end objective is a society in which this concept itself becomes obsolete.

Imagine there’s no sexism, 
It isn’t hard to do. 
Imagine all the genders
Living life in peace. You.

Don’t be a pseudo intellectual or a moron – Be a feminist. Be cool.

You were wrong, Tagore!

Where are the fearless minds? Why the heads not held high?
Here knowledge is bought and then contrived 
Here the world has been broken up into fragments
By narrow-er domestic walls
Here words come out of repugnance
Here tireless striving is too tired now 
Here the clear stream of reason has lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of prejudices
Here the mind is led forward by ugly demons
Into ever-widening violations of soul and body
O Tagore! Your prayer remains unheard; my country has not awakened.

Not yet.

A beautiful predicament

Hello readers! Fun fact: when a character in a film interacts with the audience - it is said to be breaking some third or fourth wall. Like Genie from Aladdin or Deadpool.

But what if a character in a story - that is I , who is also the writer of the story - which is this, interacts with the readers. That's not breaking any wall. That's usual. Characters in stories often narrate the stories to readers.

Why this difference in discernment? While I was in the middle of forming this conjecture, I was interrupted:

"Khatam kar yaar glass, tu kitna slow pita hai! Aur agla gaana main lagaunga."

Next glass of whiskey was poured. And a next chain of thoughts. Then discussions:

“Kohli naa, sachin ka baap hai. Statistics dekh lo. Bhogle ne kaha hai: Sachin gave us hope, Kohli gives us assurance.”

“Saale, tu wohi hai jisne Sachin ke retirement pe kaha tha tu cricket dekhna chor dega!”

-------------

“Jagjeet ke saath Gajal bhi mar si gayi hai. No one aspires to be Jagjeet Singh, Sabko bas Honey Singh banna hai.”

“New Gajal singers will emerge. Naye parindo ko udne mai waqt toh lagta hai.”

-------------

It was one of our weekly rendezvous in the college hostel room where we lounge,  put our livers to work and talk about life: our college affairs in general and world affairs in particular; or is it the other way round? 

It was recently that we stepped up from beer to stronger intoxicants. It was a good time.

In those discussions, we disagreed a lot. But agreed when we planned our future, and we made a lot of them: Only a few realistic ones, others right out of the diary of Mungerilal.

The difference between those who have tabooed alcohol consumption in our society and those who have not is that when they are drunk, the former do stupid vicious things and the latter mostly talk about doing stupid things.

One should learn to keep calm and drink in peace.

There are always some plans to plan, some day-dreams to dream. We talked of everything under the sun but the one topic in which we invested the most was: Girls.

On that particular night, a particular girl was the center of our talk. She was our classmate in our graduation class and a friend -  with whom one of us wanted to be more than a friend. What she wanted was the hot topic after the third glass of whiskey.

-------------

I wonder sometimes after which glass of whiskey, in general, is the boozer the best high: happy with good ideas; When his brain conjure up the best thoughts before getting all wobbly. What is that sweet spot? The vertex of a vertical transverse axis hyperbola (we were studying mathematics in graduation).

Three, isn't it?

Three is also the right number of people to sit and get drunk with.

Two leads to too much sentimentality. Too much bro-mance.

Four is fulsome. Crowded. Might as well call a house party.

Three is right. It's more than two but not too much. There are but three musketeers. Even the wise Gandhi talked about three wise monkeys!

Pati patni aur woh, teen deewarein, Teesri kasam, teen patti: apart from the last one, the first three are great movies.

You got the point, right?

-------------

So the three of us, Saurav, Praveen and I (Don't need to put a name to my character, as I will be referred to as I, throughout this) discussed about our classmate Sheha and Saurav's prospects with her.

We were in the third semester of college and as we have established, three is usually the most productive one, it was in this semester that Saurav decided to act on his feelings for Sneha. They have known each other for more than a year now. They have been good friends. Like Rachel and Ross of the first season.

We wanted them to be the Rachel and Ross of the second season.

Saurav was putting up his case with some sound arguments:

"Yaar, we sit together all the time in class. She laughs at my jokes, sometimes. I should ask her out before she starts dating someone else.”

And some sound anti-arguments too:

"Yaar, a couple of guys have already proposed to her in the last one year - which I know of. I don’t want to be the third rejection. We are friends now at least. I can at least sit next to her and borrow pens and share lunches. If she rejects me, this will all go away."

How would Saurav - in love - vulnerable - would know what's going on in the head of Sneha. Should he tell her about his feelings for her and risk their friendship, or not?

Should he do it, should he not?? (Two questions, two question-marks. #fuck_grammer+Heil_Maths).

I know I know, you all have been there. It has been an evergreen problem, without the right answer. The P versus NP problem of people in love.

But since we just had 3 glasses of whiskey - and arguably were at our optimal best - we had to find a solution.

So we came up with a workable idea: Write her a song. From Saurav to Sneha - with love.

An idea which was workable in the pre - ARPANET era.

We pulled up a piece of paper and wrote a piece of poetry. Saurav provided intentions, the other two of us added rhymes. The song was as juvenile as the idea of writing it; anything written after three pegs ought to be cheesy. Read here to decide for yourself.

Then we bottom-ed up the fourth glass, after which we planned the method of delivery. It was bound to go downhill, as everything does after the fourth.

If you are novice drinker, remember not to do anything of significance after the fourth drink. Nothing good has ever come out of it. Also, smoking is injurious to health.

“We should post a letter to her place. Pink letter with the poem written in it.”

“Achaa, and what if her father receives the letter?”

“Call her and sing the song on phone.”

“Sing her a six paragraph song. On phone. If I had that much courage, we didn't have to become all Galib in the first place."

After much deliberation we decided on the most cowardly option of all: Write the song on a piece of paper and drop it inside her notebook - Hoping that she would go home, open the notebook and read it.

One less drink and we would have known how silly the idea was!

However the next day Saurav followed suit: sneaked the letter in her notebook during the last class of the day. It was a Friday so she had the whole weekend to open the notebook and read the song.

Alea iacta est.

-------------

She was a day-scholar, we were hostelers. So we would meet her only on the next Monday with her verdict.

For Praveen and I, the weekend passed as the weekend before that. Not for Saurav. He was anxious as if his UPSC results were to be announced. If things were to go as we planned, rather hoped, he would not be spending his upcoming weekends with us.

Puppy love

The day of her first sight

Everything else turned out to be dark,

Dark as night.

And there was her face,

A face so bright.

I was frozen. Eyes fixed on her.

But she was totally unaware.

Her eyes were dark, and dark and a glare

Long, curly hair was waving in air

She didn't seem to care.

Minutes passed away - I was still frozen.

And since then:

Often at nights, I sit down to write - thinking of you.

But I just keep on thinking, writing very few.

I may not have words - for my feelings,

Feelings which are but true, if not pure

But I just want to see you happy, that's for sure.

---

Don't know what to say:

Your weird ways - good or bad?

Your loving but not liking your dad!

 But you manage to look good even when you are sad.

And anger on your face - the look drives me mad.

I can not take away your worries

And your sadness, I can not cure

But I just want to see you happy, that's for sure.

---

The people around you:

With their caliber - some can fight, some can sing.

With their money anything they can bring.

With their charm - can make you cheeks go pink.

Well, I may not be so smart, I may not be so mature.

But I just want to see you happy, that's for sure.

---

Those evenings in that park:

Your silences I hate, your smiles I seek

Your idea make me strong. Your being make me weak

You being with me - the idea seems so bleak.

But yet I try, I try, I try, and you always ignore.

Still I just want to see you happy, that's for sure.

---

Call it friendship. love or lust.

But I wish we have met first

Before it bursts, I conclude must:

What I feel is my side, you totally unconfined.

But let me tell you this -

It's for you that I have lied.

And have passed nights:

When I lived,

When I died.

Guess much of rhyming has been done

It's just one thing

I want to make you feel, I want to make you see

That I want to see you happy, happy

And if possible, happy with me.

Coup De Chance

Every single guy has multiple guys who'd give sermons on how to impress girls.
When I was in college, naïve, I had one too many such friends. There are some sacrosanct rules of seduction, they tell me. After just one drink I'd get lectures on - highly arguably - yet precise methodologies of wooing. The arguments would last three drinks after which everyone dances on Sukhbir Singh Punjabi tracks. Ishqaa Tera Tarpavee ...
Younger me always thought you just needed to smell nice and follow your heart. Apparently you also need manipulation!

It's almost strange, now that I was talking to her, I remembered those silly banal rules. One of them is that you must pretend to like what she likes, especially in music. 
If she loves Beyonce , you like Beyonce too, even though you can't tell her from Rihaana; 

and the last Angereji you listened to was Ricky Martin - And never understood the lyrics. When asked a friend to translate, he said politely, "Chutiye! yeh Spanish Hai." 


We started with the usual conversation starters: Music, weather, then somehow Dogs, uhh.
This girl, apart from Beyonce, also loved dogs, which is no unusual. Almost all girls love them. I added "almost" for the likes of my ex-girlfriend. Towards the end of our relationship, she started treating me like shit and loved calling me a dog. So I figured the bitch hated them too.

She asked me if I liked dogs too. Innocuously truth came out, "I hate the guts out of them."
Shit! what did I do. A voice in my head pointed out that I just broke the rule. I can not hate dogs. Not now. Not in the beginning of a long anticipated love affair. 
What if I put her off! It was only paranoia but I had to say something to mend.

"Why do you hate dogs?", She pondered.

"aaaa, not sure ...but I like bitches..." -I tried to mend with this. 
I could have said Puppies, even Cats. But no! 
"...I mean, not all. Just some of them."  -Nothing is gonna help now. 
How often when you try too hard, you tend to lose your natural flair and are more prone to failure.

"You're lame". -She said and then smiled, totally unaware of what those smiles were doing to me.

Dull regularities, trite events make our lives. But then there are times, always stretching shorter than desired, which are more eventful.

Few weeks back I went on a trip with a few of my friends and a few of their friends. It was one of those days that get stuck in the corners of your brain and trigger nostalgia in years to come - whenever you listen to the songs you listened to then. 
Minute details of such times are vividly remembered, something which should otherwise be difficult about this particular trip considering that we were all drunk and high during most part of those three nights four days in Goa.

She was an old friend of one of my old friends' wife. It was our second evening in Goa when I got to walk and talk with her alone. The first evening, when we first met, was when there was that blood rush to the head, which they depict in movies by playing violins in the background. Those violins were playing some amazing tunes I never heard before. 

I wonder if they were from a Beyonce's album!

The trip was planned as a small respite from work during a long weekend, thanks to Lord Ganesha to have born this year on a Monday. Our group was from Mumbai, hers from Bangalore. 
Most of us have been to Goa earlier so the idea was not to explore but to lodge in it. Go to a beach every evening and get drunk. Goa is the place to be when pleasure is sought out of insobriety. We drank beer , and occasionally switched to wine when beer started tasting like water.

First half of first evening went by checking in, boring pleasantries, getting to know each others' whereabouts and stuff.
Then we went to the beach and second half got better. It had stories. Some of us were friends since college. And what's better than getting drunk and telling embarrassing college stories about flabby old buddies on an amazing evening at the Candolim beach!
By the end of the night everyone knew each other better than their own parents.


Everybody planned in the night before signing off to wake up early next morning and go to the beach again. Only time of the day better than evenings to be at a beach are mornings. However we went to bed late so I was not expecting many to wake up early. Only a few of us valiant ones got awake the next morning. We met in the hallway of our hotel and walked. It was an absolute delight to see that she was a morning person too.

 A guy took his DSLR; wanted to click pictures of the rising Sun from beyond the ocean. While walking she tried to explain, "That's not gonna happen in this part of the world."

He gave her a puzzled look, "Why?"    -Because Geography, for Christ's sake.

I was walking along so I casually joined the conversation, "Because the Gods have cursed the warrior Sun. He must travel the entire day around the earth, burning, to meet his eternal lover, the Ocean, only in the evenings. Not any other time." -I was trying to be witty.

She asked with an artificial astonishment, cute as hell, "Ohh. Where must the Sun have erred to invoke such wrath of the Gods?" -she looked directly into my eyes.
In movies, handsome looking protagonists usually come up with a wittier reply. In real life, average looking guys like me just go blank.
I fumbled, "well...I don't know. I was sleeping on the last bench when it was taught in the class."
"ohh. So you must have invoked the wrath of the teacher, didn't you?" -She giggled.
"I did. But thankfully he did not send me around the earth, only to the principal's office."

Now we both were laughing. The guy with DSLR was still puzzled.

Girls decided to spend the afternoon in the pool. Boys were given the task to go out and get a few scooties on rent. That's a cheap, convenient way of conveyance in the city of Goa. In every other street one can find locals providing scooter-on-rent services. However we were unable to locate any such place nearby. May be because it was an off-season and a relatively warm afternoon. All the shops and restaurants were closed, total contrast to the last evening. The entire Goa seems to be taking an afternoon nap, waiting for the sunlight to dim to fill the streets with the artificial ones.
After a bit of wandering we saw a board outside a house in one of the corners which read: SCOUTIE TOLET. 
Below that there was a picture of a splendor bike.

The door was closed. so we knocked. A lady in her late forties came out and in a croaky voice inquired what we wanted. After realizing that we're potential customers she mellowed down a little and called us inside. There was an another women there, slightly older. It was a big veranda on which a few scooties were parked. A younger guy was working on one of them. We negotiated the rent. The older lady was tough and was not ready to relent on the charges. After a bit of bargain we concluded the deal.

They asked us to check the vehicles, if all lights/breaks are working fine. The older lady advised us, which sounded much like an order, not to drive fast. She warned us against tripling. If they found any part broken, we'd have to pay for it.
They were irritatingly inquisitive; at one point we were tempted to ask them to shut the fuck off and leave. But most of us were working in the IT industry and were used to having similar feelings about our bosses every Tuesday afternoon. We dealt with those bike women with patience, one of the few virtues our jobs have unwittingly taught us.
 We assigned every boy one vehicle. I took the key, checked the fuel, noted down the number and finally we get to leave.


We played piction-ary on the sand.

We were back to the beach in the evening, this time the entire group. It was time to get inside the water.
We spent an hour in the sea trying to stand still in water, some at knee-deep, others little deeper. We could withstand some small waves but every minute a big one would come and storm us off our feet. Slapped, thrashed we'd try again. The ones who could remain standing longer than others would get to laugh at them. Then the next wave would come to teach them humility. We fooled around challenging the ocean knowing very well there is no winning against this old giant.
It was fun though. Losing to ocean was fun.

we got tired and came back from the sand under water to the sand on the shore. It was a picture perfect evening. There can never be a disparaging adjective assigned for evenings in Goa. Not for the evenings I spent there, not at-least for this one.

The guy with the DSLR finally gets to capture the consummation of the Sun and the Ocean. The couples in our group held hands and walked away.
A girl went to the nearby stray dogs, my best guess is to try to resolve their quarrel. Another one went to the beach restaurant seeking some variant of intoxicant.

Everyone found some niche for themselves for the dusk except She and I. We sat, unexpectedly, closely on the sand. She bent her knees, put her arms on them facing the sinking Sun and kept looking. I caught her face and I kept looking too, maybe a little longer than what should be inconspicuous. She had tanned a little and was glowing like the fine wet brown sand nearby. I had to look away before the time could stand still. So I started looking at the Sun as well. It looked pale compared to her face.

We sat there silently for a while. She seemed unaware of her surrounding, started murmuring a song. I looked at her again, to her lips particularly and somehow started lip-reading. She would pause and sing again in-audibly. I kept looking at her lips. After a while she turned to me suddenly and asked rather loudly,
"What?" - Oh, so she was not totally unaware of the surrounding.
"I was just trying to figure out the song you were singing." -I said with a straight face. It was partially correct.
"Achaa, then say which one was it?"
"aaa, David Grey - This years love...?" - I took a random shot.
"It was a Hindi song, Idiot."
"Oh. Usually I'm very good at guessing."
"Achaa, then let's see how good you are. Pictionary khelte hai: I will draw something and you have to guess which movie it points to."
"ok, Let's."

She cleaned a portion on the sand with her palm and with her fingers drew on it a stick figure of a girl and what appeared to be a snake, no no, a dinosaur. Nah, it's something else -Oh gosh, she draws well. Does she have any flaw? 
"The girl with a dragon tattoo" - I guessed correctly; She drew too well.

Then it was my turn. I tried to draw a ship waving in water. It just looking distinctly liked a boat. She instantly said, "Titanic".
We played this for a while. I was totally prosaic. Most part of my brain was inundated with her thoughts anyways. Now I brain was busy figuring out the taste of her lips if I kissed her. We were in the sea a while ago so it would be salty.
I drew lips on the sand on my next turn, couldn't think of anything else.
She thought and winked. "The movie is - It started with a kiss".
"correct again", I had no idea if such a movie exists.

She won easily and announced with exhilaration, "You suck at guessing, mister". I shrugged sheepishly; losing to her was more fun than losing to the ocean.

It was getting late and we planned to go to a beach bar place - which was around 30 km away. All of us headed backwards to the hotel. The girls brought fancy looking glow-in-the-dark hair-bands from a street hawker. They wore them and started clicking photos/selfies. She put one emitting pink light on her head and asked me how did she look. Poets have written epics pursuing such queries - I had this urge of saying something cheesy  but I restrained.
She asked again, "Does the band look ok?"
"It looks...fulfilled. I mean, nice."
"Do you always talk like this?"

This was the only night that we were going out to a club. So everyone wanted to look their best. We got ready in our rooms and met in the lobby. 
All girls were looking prettier than ever; every boy looked the same as before.

As a rule of thumb, all guys with girl-friends were driving with them. Others had to choose whom to go with. It was then that I did the most daring thing of the entire trip. I went to her and asked, "Come with me, will you?" -I made it sound as laid-back as possible.
"Nope." -So straightforward.
"Ohh, ok."
"I mean, I would prefer you to come with me." She said, "It's been a while since I drove a two wheeler. I really want to. Can I? I won't crash, I promise."

As you'd have guessed, I nodded. One thing that's better than driving the girl you like is vice versa.
A couple of my friends winked at me and started to banter.
"Good going man! Back home you never let us drive your bike. And when a preety girl asked, you didn't even have to think twice."

"A: This is not my bike per se. And B: I'd give you my bike drunkards, only if you were half as pretty as her!" -Disguised compliments work better than the regular ones.

We laughed and hit the road.

Though I could not see her face from the back, I could tell she was enjoying driving.
I wanted to make conversation but didn't know what to say. Chatting on a two-wheeler is difficult anyway, especially if the person sitting on the back is extra careful not to make any physical contact.

At the next traffic light, she turned to her right and asked for direction,
"Straight, straight" -I got a window, so I continued talking "You drive fine. Why don't you drive more often?"
"I had a scooty when I was in college. But I crashed it once. My father got angry, scared, and sold it. Since then I don't get to drive a lot." -There was this thing about her. Sometimes she'd remain silent, lost in her thoughts, for seemingly endless time. But once she starts talking, she'd have endless stories.
She continued,"You know what the worst part is... It was not even my fault. I just was a little drunk and that Bike-wala came from nowhere."
"You were drunk!" I said,"Drunk driving and thrashing into someone. I know many boys but not a single girl who has ever done that."
"Yeaaa...Why should boys have all the fun." -She seemed proud of it.

We were talking for the whole duration, an hour of drive. It was mostly about our common friends, our jobs, our cities. That Bangalore has good weather but sucks at traffic and Mumbai has bad weather and sucks in general.

They say life is a journey not a destination. More Flow, less Stock. It manifested to me that night. I didn't want that journey to end. 
But like the season finale of your favourite TV series, it ends.

Some of the people have told us that Curlies was one of the shady-ish bars. There certainly was a lot of shades on the way to it after we parked. Even the place had dim lighing, living up to its reputation. 
It was right at the beach. One side was a big floor with tables scattered around. Everywhere you see were hookahs and alcohol bottles. 
The other side was the Sea, looking scary in the dark.
In the background there was a constant sound of some trans music and a constant smell of marijuana. Tattooed waiters were relentlessly taking and delivering orders.

Discotheque was upstairs. Girls had free entry, but obviously, not boys.
In Goa guys get to go through a fragment of what girls go through everywhere else.  

There are restrictions on their movement alone during nights. 
They could not wear anything short of full length pants if they need entry to some popular discotheques. Stags were strictly prohibited almost everywhere. If a guy needs entry, he must be accompanied by a female partner. It was Saudi Arabia upsides down. But to a small extend, and with a lot of booze. 

We were given a table near the edge. We ordered our regulars. Some of us suggested we should play a game called MAFIA. I  had never played it before. So they explained me the rules. It sounded silly and complicated.
But once the game started, I was totally hooked like everyone else. We played it like our life depended on it. Alcohol was making it more intense. Soon there were quarrels and arguments. 
We played for a couple hours. Quarrels ended but arguments remained.  
Some were clicking photos now. A familiar song started playing, so we started singing along.
There was no pattern or purpose in whatever we were doing, only respite and amusement. I guess everyone was just plain high by then.

In all the chaos my eyes were constantly looking for her, her yawns, frowns, laughs. She was at the far end of the table. I could not stare at her because I am not creepy, or maybe because there  were too many people around. But I could sneak peeks. 



A friend of mine asked me to come along to the backside where there were almost no one around. He wanted to roll a joint. 
We sat on one of the small cemented platforms present there. There was no reason why would anyone construct them except for the benefits of Charsis. 
My friend was an expert in rolling joints. He believed there  should at-least be one thing for each person where, in his words, they should to be ass-kicking-ly good. Well, the adjective he used was in Hindi, and some essence always get lost in translation.
Rolling joints was such a thing for him in which he kicked ass.

While he was doing his thing I realized that her thoughts had cluttered my mind so much so that I forgot that some of my friends were also around. The purpose of this trip was to get wasted with them, not to waste time on a girl I just met.

He lit the joint and we fagged. Temporarily, we had no aspirations. No desires. We felt what Siddhartha had felt under that Bodhi tree.
We were at the top of the world; the worldly things seemed petite. So we talked about moons and stars.

He pointed at the stars and asked, "know what, these stars remain where they are even during the day time, but we could not see them. Know why?"
"Because the sunlight obstructs them.", I said, waiting for him to make his point.
"See the Irony! The same sunlight that makes us see everything hinders us from seeing the stars." - I saw the irony. You had to be there.
He continued, "Hey! But how does the Sun blocks the Moon during daytime. Ain't the Moon closer?"
"BC! chad gayi teko!" -When you have nothing to say to a friend, that's what you say.


Weed had triggered a string of thoughts:
Friendship is awesome. Better than even love. I mean it's selfish too. Just less so than others. You just want to hang out. Talk. make fun of. Be part of. There ain't big expectations, there ain't sexual desires. Just somebody you can borrow money without saying thank you, somebody you can call at 2, irrespective of PM or AM. Somebody who knows your vulnerabilities. 
Someone with whom you'd watched the World Cup final in 2003 and shed tears, someone with whom you'd watched the Wold Cup final in 2011 and be in tears.
Somebody with whom you talk about stars and moons and ... love.

"I think I'm falling for her." -Out of the blue, I said.
"I saw it. She is nice." -He knew whom I was referring to.
"So... What do I do?"
"Enjoy the rush. And then suffer till eternity!" - Friends can be painfully truthful.

Half the group was not there at the table when we got back. Some went to dance, some to romance.
She was not there either. May be she had gone to the washroom. I took my glass of wine and looked around towards the Sea. It didn't look scary this time. A few people were by the beach.
There were rocks elevated at one end of the shore. A guy and a girl were sitting there. To the left of them was a girl in a black dress, with pink flowers printed on it.

She was wearing a tiara of flowers, the one she brought on our way here. In that tiara and that black dress, she looked like a medieval time princess; 
I, in my shorts, looked like the slave who carry her palanquin.

"Go talk to her.", he tapped on my shoulder from behind.
"Why? I mean what, what do I say?"
"Any fucking shit. I don't know. Just walk there and talk."
"I think she is having a "ME" time. I shouldn't intrude."
"Go and use your big words with her, coward. She ain't gonna fall for you any other way. It's only words, and words are all you have. Besides, if she doesn't want to talk, you'd know. Come back then but first at-least try.", He literally pushed me in her direction.

She was standing where waves came up to her feet and go back without touching. Even the ocean seemed to be keeping its distance. But I went and stood beside her. She saw me and said, "Hi!"
I gave a faint smile. I had no words. We stood there silently. Minutes passed away.

She looked calm but it was difficult reading her thoughts from the blank expression on her poker face. 
What is she thinking though? About work? Absolutely not.
 Is she missing someone? A boy maybe? Hopefully not.
She must think of me as a weirdo to have just come and stand there without uttering a single word. Presumably, words were all that I had. I must stop listening to those silly old romantic songs and silly television.
 I thought I should just walk away. I must be making her uncomfortable.

"It's nice here. no?", She said without looking in my direction. For a moment I thought she was talking to herself.
"You're awfully silent.", Now she looked at me. "Thinking of something or somebody?  girlfriend?" 
I replied, "Naa, no girlfriend. I mean, there is a girl. But she is not my friend". -Now that familiar smile was back on her face. See, songs and television do give you good lines.

"It's a beautiful night."
"It sure is. I wouldn't trade this night with any other night of my life, except maybe the ones when I got laid." -Not the first time that I should have remained silent.
"I mean..."
She cut me with a bigger smile, "I bet you would."

"Look at them", She pointed at three boys in their early twenties fooling around on the beach a little away from where we were standing. Two of them would drag the third one in the water. They'd scuffle and then the third one would chase others.
"I'm watching them for a while. They are at it. See, now they are having fun."

"They sure are. you don't feel like joining them, are you?"
"I'd rather do this", She knelt, took some sea water on her hands and splashed in on me. Then she ran back to a safe distance away from the water so that I couldn't do the same to her and laughed.
"Hey! What are you, eight." I slowly moved towards her. I had the glass of wine in my hand still half filled. Before she could realize I spattered it on her face. Her cute black dress was ruined now.
"How dare you!", She didn't believe I was capable of doing that. "I am gonna get you for this, boy."

In the meanwhile a few of our friends saw us and came to join us and a battle stared. Few on her side, few mine. We were dragging each other,luring, throwing water on whomever we could. Soon the allegiance was gone and everyone was for themselves. We could have shamed those three kids. All of us were drenched. We stopped only after the coastguard came and instructed us to get away.

Everyone was now cold. We all sat on the rocks carefully and lit cigarettes and made jokes. Nobody among us is going to forget for a long time how we spent that midnight.

Now was when she laughed with no inhibitions. Soaked cloths had made her sexier.
I said to her almost in whispers, "I wouldn't trade this night with any other night, including all of them." -I might not have said this had I been sober.
"Really? What changed?"

Was she aware that I was getting more and more infatuated towards her? She ought to know. I don't have a poker face. May be she knew and was enjoying my helplessness. May be it was her wicked way of getting back at me for throwing wine at her. Why, otherwise, would she sit next to me when she knew she looked like that!
Apart from my personal plights, the night till then was really amazing. Soon that was going to change.

It was 1 or may be 2 o'clock in the morning when we left. She was my pillion rider this time.

A guy offered to drive her back. But instead of asking her, the bastard asked me, I guess, mostly to tease, or may be he liked her too. I mean who wouldn't!
"Hey, Do you mind if I drive the lady back?"
"Whatever." -I was not going to make it appear that it did matter. She was, after all, just a girl I met a day before. So yeah, whatever. I can drive alone.

I did not drive back alone that night.

She replied, "I'm gonna stick with my ride. I subject him to my driving while coming here. I'm gonna subject myself to his driving now. It's only fair."
Since we met she'd been only fair, only lovely, and a little tanned.

Most of us would have failed to pass the test of walking on a straight line. So we told each other to drive slowly and carefully. By then she was comfortable enough with me, or may be just drunk enough, to put her hands on my shoulders so that we could talk easily.

I don't remember most of the chat but at one point we were yelling at each other. Then we forgot why were we yelling so we started laughing. All of us were driving in vicinity. We were making faces at each other, singing without rhyming.
It was a fun ride.

She said to me, "Oh I remember why was I yelling".
"Why?"
"Your ride is bumpier than mine. I thought you drove better. But you suck at driving as you sucked at pictionary."
"Hello madam, It was still daylight when you drove. Right now it's dark. Plus I'm a little tipsy. Plus I was not dancing in the back as you are right now."
"Hwwwww...Nooope, you just suck!"
You couldn't reason with a drunk girl but a drunk guy always tries. "ohh, then why don't you drive again and we'll see whose driving is bumpier."
"Challenge accepted."

We stopped and I was in the back seat again. In the meantime others left us behind without probably even noticing. we seem to be alone on that dark dark road. 

We all are a little prejudiced about a girl's driving. Also in this case the girl was drunk and it was dark. Plus I just remembered her college story of drunk driving.
So I feared the scooter would slip and we'd break our bones. But in the back seat I could smell her hair, so the risk was worthwhile.

"Hey mister, see what's ahead. It's a speed breaker. It is where you slow down using something called brakes so that we don't jolt." - Now she was mocking me.
"Stop gloating. You are driving just as I was" - She was driving far better than me.
"Ha Ha." - This was the first time I hated her laugh.

We were still just half way to our hotel. I wanted to put my hands on her shoulders and whisper in her ears that she was amazing. Like a while ago when I was driving, she had put her hands on my shoulders and screamed that I sucked.
But I resisted the temptation. Her beautiful neck and long curled hair were making it difficult. The accumulated Ethyl Alcohol in my body was pushing me further to say something I might have regretted later.

So I had to force my mind to think of something other than her. I started looking around. These pretty girls would never know what we have to go through in times like these.
We were crossing through a small road side market. All the shops were closed but they had left the tube lights on. There was hardly any vehicle on the road, except occasionally. While I was looking around I saw a bullet passed by. 

 I checked the number plate, it was in the multiple of three and seven.
It's just a silly game I play in my head since childhood to kill time while travelling. I would notice the number plates of the passing by vehicles and try to find how many numbers between 2 to 10 it is divisible by . The number with most factors would win.


 Then another scooty passing by. Driver was wearing a helmet. Who does that in Goa at such wee hours! Goa is totally tourist friendly that ways. 

We had only come across a total of four vehicles in the last half an hour.

"Hey! why are you so silent. You didn't sleep, did you?" - She inquired after a while.
"How could I sleep when your hair smell so nice" - I said it. I was back to thinking about her. 
She didn't reply. I was good at creating awkward moments, bad at handling them.

By that time we'd entered the city. There were more lights now, more closed shops, more vehicles on the road.
"Hey, I'm tired. Can you drive now? And please, no Dhachka. ok?"
"I'll do my best."
We were still a remarkable distance away. She asked me, "Is it possible to find a lavatory on the way. I had too much liquid, need to pee."
"It's way past 2 in the night. Best places are the dark corners by the road side. I won't tell anybody."

"Cheee, I'm not gonna do that."

This time I was extra careful while driving. After a while we saw a Pizza place by the road side which was still open. 
"This place should have a washroom. Plus I'm a little hungry as well."

We parked in front of the place at a corner where a few other two-wheeler were already parked and went inside. There were more people at the restaurant than we had anticipated.
"This looks crowded. I guess we're not the only night wanderers here."
"Well, this is Goa, not Gorakhpur."

We found a table in the corner, ordered pizza, freshened up. 

The place had an ambiance created for a music lover. Posters of western legends were scattered on the pink walls. Beetles, Kurt Cobain, Rolling Stones. Some others I did not recognize. At least one part of the wall was for the Indian greats. Bhimsen Joshi, Anoushka Shankar. Somehow Remo Fernandes also made that list. May be because he is a local.

Amidst the posters of all those internationally acclaimed musicians, the restaurant was playing a Goan folk song. I liked it though.

There are many things to like about Goa apart from the beaches and churches. The entire city is customized for tourists to have a good time. Cheap Alcohol, cheap fuel, open restaurants way past midnight. Less heckles. Low crime rate. I even liked Remo when I was younger.
While I was lost in my thoughts eating a slice of the pizza, I saw at the other side of the table. She was dozing. She had crossed her hands on the table and put her head on them sideways. Eyes closed. Her mouth slightly open. 
Some people look sexy when drenched, cute when asleep. They have their poker face when needed. And then people like me who have, well, words,  that mostly backfires. 

She must have been exhausted from before, I was tired too. 
I didn't wake her up. I favour the cliché : If you love someone, let them Sleep. I leaned on my chair comfortably and just tried to enjoy the folk song that was playing.

It was 03:15 when the waiter guy woke us. They were to close the place. We were both sleeping. 
"Oh shit! Was I asleep?", she asked, recalling where she was.
"We both were. Let's go back to our hotel and sleep there... I mean, in our rooms, separately." -How does most people say things the right amount. 
"I know. I know."

We were the only customers left there. We washed our faces, paid the bill and while they were closing down, still half-asleep we came out.

I went to the corner where I'd parked the Scooty. It was not there. I looked around, there was no vehicle. I checked my pocket to find the key. It was not there either.
Oh! I left the keys in the scooty and someone drove it off. 
Shit! Her purse was in the storage box of the scooty, her phone was inside that. It's gone too.
Shit. Shit.

We stood there for a while not knowing what to do. I never leave the key in my bike, I'm always careful.

"Let's go back and talk to the Pizza place owners. May be they know something." - She was unusually calm. Must be yelling at me in her head.

We went inside the restaurant. The owners were almost done with closing. While she was talking to them, I checked the table we were at earlier. The key was there on the floor below the chairs. It must have fallen down while I was sleeping.
Oh! So I did not leave the key in the scooty. But then where is it? Some one stole it without the key!
I took a deep breath. At-least I was not careless. But the scooty was still gone, along with her phone and purse.

The Pizza place owners told us to wait for a while outside. It happens that drunk tourists drive someone else's scooties by mistake. These old scooties can sometime be started by any key of the same make.

"C'mon. This wouldn't have happened, if someone took ours by mistake, they must have left theirs." 
But there was no other vehicle around. There was no mistake. I knew someone stole it. So much for low crime rate in Goa!
We had no other option at the moment so we went outside and waited. I tried to call our friends but my phone had run out of battery. We looked around but by then everybody had left.

And then, it started to rain.

Rain has been totally overrated, curtsy to those silly rain-dance songs in our films. This is one of the reasons why I like Hollywood better. In their movies, the ones I have seen, if it rains, something bad happens. People got to understand that rain never induces ladies in yellow saris to go out, get wet and dance.

It's also a little ironic how film makers based in Mumbai depict rain as romantic. Don't they go out of their studios in rainy season and see what chaos it brings on the roads of Mumbai!
I hated rain since childhood. You cannot play outdoors, roads become sewers. It brings illness and reptiles. And it always rain at the wrong times.


That day reinforced my hatred for rain.

We sat outside the restaurant under the shade on the porch. Her phone was gone, mine dead. Scooty stolen. At 3:30 in the morning. And it started to rain.

Everything happened in a jiffy. At one moment we were having pizza, talking about music, listening Goan folk. And all of a sudden we were out on the road, cutoff. She was tired and cold and feverish. So She set beside me and put her head on my shoulder. 

We had to wait for the rain to stop and find a cab to get us to our hotel.

We sat there for about an hour. I had nothing to do except remain awake so I was rewinding the evening in my head. It was going so well.  Oh! why did someone had to stole our Scooty! The women who owned the rental place didn't seem friendly the first time. I remember how irritatingly particular they were about the handling of their vehicles. Now we'd have to face their wrath. And pay a hefty sum. It's gonna be messy.
Did I not lock the Scooty properly?

These thoughts kept me awake till the time rain finally stopped. Then we found a cab.
We hopped into it and finally the night seemed to get over.

"Lets just sleep now. We'll talk to others about the stolen scooty once we wake up.", She said before leaving for her room.
"Yeah, enough for one night."
"...and listen. Thanks for a wonderful evening."
"See, I'm too tired to see if you're being sarcastic or not."
"I'm not."
"you lost your phone, almost caught fever ..."
She cut me in between, "It was nice, nonetheless".

I dozed off as soon as I hit the bed.



It was 11:30 when I heard chatter around me. I woke up. Did the last night happen or was I dreaming.
The entire group was in the room. She had told them about our last night's debacle.
They was discussions about how it was nobody's fault and to share the cost of the lost scooty amongst all. Someone suggested to file an FIR with the police.

I felt guilty. Not only that the vehicle was gone, everyone's mood was also ruined. Now we'd have to go and talk to those nasty owner women. God knows how they'd react. I wanted others to deal with them. But I went along with the couple other boys.

When we reached the place the door was already open. The younger lady was talking to a foreigner couple who had come to rent a bike. The guy who was working the scooters yesterday was there too, being the translator between the two parties.

 The older one came to us. I didn't want to be part of the conversation. So I stood in the back and let others do the talking. 
I wanted to take my thoughts elsewhere. So I was eavesdropping on what the other woman was talking to the foreigners.  They had settled on the vehicle and the guy was explaining to them the way to the nearby petrol pump. Then he pull out the scooty and asked them to check the lights and the breaks. As a habit I looked at the number plate. It was an odd number...in the multiple of 2, 3... and also 6. 

Fuck! It struck me like an epiphany!

After the boys had settled the negotiation with the older lady, I took them to the next corner and explained my theory.
"Guys! I think I've figured it out. These women have played us. The two-wheeler that the foreigners have rented is the one that has followed us when we were coming back from Curlies last night. They must have with them a spare key of the scooty I had. They followed us and took it when I parked at the pizza place." I said in one breath.

"C'mon. They could not have followed us the whole evening. How would they know where we went the last night?"

"They must have heard us yesterday discussing while we were here. Also, remember they were asking us all these questions about where we planned to go, who many people, etcetra."

"It's horse-shit. You just saw a similar number-plate and deduce all this? There must have been tens of two-wheelers passed by on our way back."

"Only 4 passed by us before we entered the city. And it's the exact same number of one of them. The driver was wearing a helmet, I remember distinctively."

"Think about it. Isn't this damn lucrative? Tourists are easy targets. Especially the ones visiting for a few days, ones who go out at nights and get drunk. It is so convenient to follow them and steal their own vehicles from them." I continued, "Look at us. We're most likely to just pay for the stolen vehicle and leave and not put up with the police."

"Suppose they actually are crooks. Then why would she just leave the scooty there for you to spot it?"

"Being a crook doesn't make you any less stupid. And as you said there were tens of bikes on the road. It is difficult to remember a particular one that followed you."

"That oldie did tell us that she would file a complain with the police later on our behalf and that we should not worry about that." -They have started to believe me now.

"So what now? We still don't have any way to prove this."

We decided to go to the police and tell them everything. What worse could happen except that this unpleasant afternoon would drag a little longer.
There was a police station not very far. We met an inspector there and told him everything. We were half expecting him to be cynical and either be reluctant to pursue anything or may be just ask for a bribe.
We all have a skewed view towards the law enforcement agency of the country. We simply paint them all with a single brush, detest them assuming all as corrupt and rude.

However that office was sharp, toned and well spoken. He took us seriously.
In no time he asked his subordinate to perform the formalities. In the meanwhile, he took a few policemen on a jeep to search the place. A friend went with them to show the direction while we followed on foot.

The police had already searched the place when we reached there. But they couldn't find the stolen scooty or anything else suspicious. My theory was wrong after all.
"You did the right thing reporting the incident. If we find anything we'll notify you" -The inspector said as a matter of routine.


"May be I'd gotten carried away."


All gathered in a room, opened a few beer cans. Everyone was relatively in better mood.
Everyone now had something to say.

Some were talking in general:

"These cops and thieves are part of the same racket, I tell you. How we ever thought police could be of any help in this country!"
"At least this made our trip memorable, so what if we lost a few grands."

Some talks were targeted at me:

"Bro! You watch a lot of spy movies, it seems. You really thought you could catch them with mere inference."
"One should be extra careful while parking a vehicle."

Finally a friend said, "Let bygones be bygones. Guys, today is gonna be our last night in Goa. Let's do something other than pondering".

Soon everything was back to usual. We're laughing again, pulling each others' leg, having fun. Beer started doing its job.

Evening has not yet struck. So we had a little time to plan for the night. Like always, everyone wanted to do different things. Some wanted to go to south Goa to casinos, some to a disc, some again to a sea side restaurant. Someone just wanted to sleep.

I didn't want to go anywhere. I was still thinking about the last night. That Pizza place's porch where I sat with her waiting for the rain to stop somehow seemed like an incident in the distinct past. It now appeared not to be such a bad time. Any moment with her within an arm's distance cannot be so bad.

I had not talked to her since we were back. She was sitting on the other side of the bed, sipping her beer, talking to others. Some faint smiles but mostly her face had that empty look on it. 

It was then that someone knocked at the door.
The hotel attendant informed us that some policemen had come asking to meet us. The first reaction was - what now?
I, with a friend, went outside in the lobby where the same officer was waiting for us.

People usually are not entirely unjustified in painting all policemen with the same brush. But every once in a while we're proven wrong. Pleasantly, This was one of those rare times.

The officer told us that they found an FIR about six months old where a bike was stolen in a similar fashion. Curiously, it belonged to the same owners. So they further investigated the matter and found that there was an another warehouse in their name somewhere in south Goa. They raided the place. But still could not find our stolen vehicle.

The officer explained, "It was easy for them to change the number plates; and so highly inconvenient for us to track down a particular vehicle. However..."

I interrupted, "However you checked the storage box of all the vehicles and found our belongings in one of them". - I saw the constable standing behind with her stolen handbag and phone. 

"We didn't have to check all of them, only the red ones which you'd mention earlier was the color of the stolen one."
"Cool!"
His words sounded like a symphony performed by a seasoned orchestra. 

This was vindication. I felt much lighter now. 
We completed the formalities with the police and came back to the room. Everyone was still arguing about the plans for the night. Some one asked, "What took you guys so long? Why was the police here?"

I looked straight to her. Our eyes met for the first time since morning. I flashed her phone and said, "Guess what?"


We finally decided what we wanted to do for the last night: Nothing.
All of us were pretty hung, exhausted. Next afternoon there was gonna be goodbyes. The thought of going back to our mundane lives was painful. 
It's like one of those moments during your birthday party when you realize that the next day the party will be over. All the gifts opened, attention gone. You'd just be like before, only an year older. 

Everyone sat around the pool and ordered snacks. We watched the photos we clicked. 
There was not much to do, there was not much we wanted to do. We just wanted the night to not be over, I, more so than anyone else.

After a while we broke into subgroups. I sat by the poolside and put my legs in the water and lit a cigarette. One drag and I heard a friend's voice from behind.

"Never seen you light a cigarette all for yourself, machaa.", He said.
"And I never saw you dance in your chaddi, crashing into firangis. But then, this is Goa, we see strange things here."
"Like I have seen you seeing her the way you do." - He rolled his eyes in the direction she was standing.
"What's that suppose to mean?" - I knew what it meant.
"Why don't you tell her."
"Tell her what? The time that we know each other can be counted in hours. And anyways she will be going back to a different city tomorrow."
"Yeah, but it will be fun to see to get rejected. And I will have a brand new embarrassing  story to tell your future children. See the silver lining?"
"Fuck off"

I left after a while and I sat there with plethora of thoughts in my mind. There was a silver lining of this being the last night of the trip. Next day I will be at my home, lonely but relived of this agony of being near her and not near enough.

I should rather think of something else, ...like the water in the pool. It was extremely calm, opposite to the ocean a few hundred meters away. 
My time on Goa was like the Ocean; restless, unquiet, rushing to scale up to the shorelines, again and again, knowing in the heart that it will end up where it belongs. High tides happen but temporarily.
But at that very moment I was more like the pool water. Calm.

I lit a cigarette again. That bugger had smoked the most of the last one. One drag and I heard a voice from behind. Only this time it was a pleasant one.

"Never seen you light a cigarette all for yourself." - Same question.
"Well, you have not seen a lot of me. Three days is a small sample size"
"Do you mind if I see you a bit for now, Sherlock?"
Again I wanted to say something witty "you can see me indefinitely". But before I could form a sentence she sat besides me, put her legs in the pool and stirred it. The Water in the pool was not calm anymore.

"So, last night..."
"Yea, last night."

We sat there for a while without many words. Silence was not awkward this time. Like always she was the one who broke the silence.
"So you are bad with pictures and you are bad at driving. But at-least you are good with numbers?"
"Just with number plates, I guess."
"It came to good use today."
"We got lucky. Things fell in place."
"You know what they say, too much modesty kills the cat."
"I am pretty sure you are the first one who has ever said that."

It was fun talking to her. She was playing with the water and unknowingly with my heart.

"It usually takes me more time to make friends. It's difficult to believe that I know you only for two days."
"Two days and two nights.", I said. "And in that time, I believe, I know more about you than most of your friends."
"Achaa. Like what?"
"Like the fact that you sleep with your mouth open. I saw you at the pizza place."
"That is only when I have had pizza before sleeping. Feed me pasta and then I sleep with my eyes open." - When I crack such jokes they turn out to be lame. Not her's.
"A girl with so many secret talents!"
"Now you know. It's your turn now. Tell me something about you that most of your friends don't know."
"Well, I don't have any such cool secrets. I only have dark sad ones. And those I can't tell you because it usually takes me more time to make friends too."
"C'on. That's not fair. Give me something." -She made a face like a sad smiley.
"Well, you know, one of the sad times of my life is still in the making. It starts from tomorrow. This night will be over, you'd be gone and then that would be a sad time." -I had never been good at flirting.

"That's a good way to change the topic."