Just the Way You Are Read online

  I heard his friend reply disdainfully, ‘What can be done? It’s all written in fate.’

  I was almost agape at such a remark and whispered to myself, ‘What the hell! Aren’t they beautiful? Am I blind or was it the south India effect?

  The impact of my four-year stay in south India during my engineering was so profound that I fancied that every girl in this world was beautiful. You could find the spunk in every other girl you met but not in a south Indian. Who knows, one day I might start dating a Nigerian girl. The third girl sitting at the end of the sofa was a bombshell. Her lips were so thick and juicy. What did they want—Mallika Sherawat?

  I ignored them and waited patiently for the call.

  Someone came down the stairs and shouted, ‘Whoever is here to meet Ms Vatsala can leave and come tomorrow.’ A few heads flew up in shock along with mine.

  ‘Why?’ all of us shouted together.

  ‘She is on leave.’

  ‘That means that after making us wait for three hours, you realize that she is on leave.’

  He ignored this and shouted again, ‘Those who are waiting for Ms Vandana can wait for her in the canteen. She is coming in ten minutes.’

  Almost all the girls walked towards the canteen. No one followed behind me as I ventured towards the exit.

  There were no girls in my domain expertise! What the hell! Was this my destiny? I left the office building.

  Nothing seemed to go right that day. I couldn’t sleep properly, nor could I eat or take rest. Everything was chaotic inside my head and the HR issue was making me completely worked up. The only respite was the weather. Surprisingly it was cooler and the breeze seemed to be very unlike Delhi. I was hungry too, so got myself some patties. I could keep the leftovers in my room in case I felt like eating more later. I decided to go to Connaught Place again. It would look different during the day. I was clearer then. A circular block of art, I would say. The architecture was British, no doubt, but now all of those buildings were replaced by mega-shopping malls and stores. It was grandiose everywhere. People came in hordes to buy things, some of them just lingering, enjoying the place, some licking ice-cream sticks and talking of the weather, all sporting shades and brands. In the inner circular block was a garden with young couples flirting around the bushes. Evening had come down like silk and the place looked spectacular. I was thrilled.

  ‘Oh god! Where the hell did I spend my youth? The real heaven is here,’ I whispered to myself when I saw the golden Delhi girls moving around flamboyantly. Their tongues rolled around the ‘R’s and their accent could give Emma Watson a run for her money! I was bowled over by their exclamations. I tried imitating them. But each time I did, my tongue stuck midway and my throat failed me. I laughed at myself. My tone seemed so rough and broken. Someday I would, I must strive to achieve what had escaped me so far. And speaking fluent English was definitely on the list. I too would give others a run for their money. Some of the girls had taken the arms of their boyfriends and were walking around the inner circle. Something pinched at my heart. I felt deprived all over again.

  What could you have expected from someone who had spent four years of his youth in some remote village doing an engineering course? I had almost forgotten that there was a world outside and in that world, there were, of course, beautiful girls. Life had so far been an abyss of unending monotony and tedium. I had almost come to believe that beautiful girls were to be found only in TV ads and in movies. Whenever some of the boys, like me, cursed their fate of having landed up in this ghetto of darkness, guys from the metro cities would encourage us. They would ask us to not to let go of hope and assure us that beautiful girls were for real and were not just limited to TV and soaps. One day I was online on Facebook trying to the best of my abilities to befriend a new chick. ‘So, what are doing? Checking out hot girls?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Though our college has hordes of such girls,’ I sneered.

  He laughed. ‘Really? When I first came here, I thought I’d set myself up with any of the college girls and get some bang-bang, but now I honestly feel that I must propose to my Dilliwaali friend or she might too get out of my hands. The system is changing too fast there, yaar.’

  ‘Is it so? I mean, how?’

  ‘Ah! The point is, in Delhi you will find every girl attractive and if someone is not then she will do it artificially.’

  ‘Artificially? What do mean?’

  ‘She will spend half her day in the parlour and spend all her father’s money on perming her hair, getting a new hairstyle, and indulge in numerous other things like facial and massages and what not. Everything that can and will make her look no less than a Paris fashion-week model. Get my point? Heavy eyeliner, mascara, Zara, Jimmy Choo, Chanel, and Gucci … the list never ends. We too should run away from this college and open up a Zara franchise, I tell you!’

  He continued, ‘So what happens is, you find almost everyone committed. Even the most phatichar guys will have the best of chicks. Even if someone breaks up, within in a week he will get another chick and ultimately get committed.’

  ‘What the heck, man! Really? I mean, what about emotions and feelings?’

  ‘Emotions? Dude, which world are you in? One week of commitment and then jump into bed. The more you use your brain, the more girls will slip out of your hands. Remember, all of them like dumb guys. So, keep your emotions and feelings in the gutter.’

  I grimaced.

  ‘And what is the point of feelings and all? One gone and the next is in. Just one criterion. She needs to be hotter than the previous one. Haven’t you heard the saying?’

  ‘Which saying? I have heard so many of Oscar Wilde’s and Jane Austen’s sayings on love and romance.’

  ‘Oh no, not Oscar Wilde. Why do you try to act so intellectual all the time? These people had nothing to do in their life and couldn’t have a single good affair and hence kept on cribbing their entire life. Don’t follow their footsteps or you too will be in the same gutter. Mark my words!’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ I knew there was no point discussing all this with him any further. ‘What was the saying, by the way?’

  ‘Time and new girlfriends mend the pain. And who the hell has time in this fast-paced world? Even food is fast food. Everything is readymade now. So are girlfriends. Get committed and sleep with her …’

  ‘Okay, okay. I got your point.’

  ‘Great. See, this is greatness. Don’t get involved in matters of the heart and in these stupid things like trust, understanding, and all that funda. It never works and they will friend-zone you. Would you like that?’

  ‘Certainly not!’

  ‘Then don’t stalk anyone on Facebook. It doesn’t work,’ he sneered.

  ‘Ah, I am not stalking anyone.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I was just kidding. Will share other secrets later.’

  ‘Secrets?’

  ‘Yes. There is an art to impress girls.’

  ‘Okay. Great.’ And he left the room. His words encouraged me and that was the first time I decided that I would go nowhere else but Delhi.

  I walked ahead. Wherever my head turned I saw beauties and slender bodies whizzing past me like scent. As if the air had turned pink and lavender. The road was lit up in electric radiance. In front of me I could see a sea of girls tugging at my desperate heart like a wild wave. My eyes grew wider and at that moment it was even possible that they would pop out and I wouldn’t be surprised. Reality suddenly made me hopeful. I could see shapely, waxed legs rising up to bodies in full bloom. Some were in shorts, some in miniskirts, some even in hot pants. One could look at them for centuries and wonder if God was the perfect recycler! Something so beautiful coming straight out of a man’s rib? Impossible. As I floated through the sea of lithe, petite bodies in wonder and awe, one of them brushed past me. It was difficult to say whether she was trying to display the straps of her bra sticking out of her top or if she wanted the viewer to focus on the loose top that by some rare luck managed to cover it up. S
imilar girls brushed behind, and their faces almost became one as my eyes darted from one to the other. I could only see legs and breasts! I realized that Utsav wasn’t wrong with his bang-bang story. It was indeed true.

  The painted faces, the lined eyes, the scent of rosewater wafting through the air reminded me of Utsav’s words. How the world starts and ends in the beauty parlour for them! The first thing they do in the morning is to break a flaming mirror that tells them that they aren’t beautiful and rush to a parlour like mad dogs hunting for bones. I was finding it harder to believe. As I moved ahead the flock of girls seemed to grow in size, as if the world had suddenly burst into Eden right after the apocalypse. At that moment I honestly sought someone who could pinch me hard and tell me it wasn’t a dream after all. I told my heart, ‘Control kar saale!’

  I passed through the crowd as my eyes speared through each girl, X-raying each from top to bottom. The number of girls seemed to increase unnaturally, almost as if they were viral. I couldn’t have enough. By that time I had checked out and X-rayed so many of them that I hadn’t seen in the last five years of my life. The word ‘sexy’ was definitely an understatement. Or maybe it was only invented for them. It is here that the etymological origin of that word lay. The universe had contorted, merged, and shrunk to Connaught Place that day. The rhythm of the earth could be felt in their grace, the way they moved and carried themselves. How could everyone be so elegant and graceful? Maybe the way we had extra classes for Sanskrit, these girls too had classes to sex themselves up enough when they grew up!

  I stopped near a showroom and glanced in. It was full with customers and whoever came out of the store had at least one bag. The reason, of course, was the salesgirl. I found her inordinately beautiful. I thought of going inside but I must buy at least one thing. I must avoid looking stupid in front of her and make a khichdi out of myself, the way I always do. I called up Utsav.

  ‘Hey! How’s Delhi, man? Enjoying yourself?’ asked Utsav.

  ‘It’s beautiful. And I am standing amidst the sexiest girls of India.’

  He started laughing. ‘What did I tell you? All are smoking hot, aren’t they?’

  ‘You were right about break-ups and commitments. Who would stick to one girl and why? More so when every other chick is a bomb!’

  ‘Yes. And you will get them automatically. Only thing is, you need to spend some money. The rest will happen in its own pace or probably faster than you even imagined.’

  ‘Yes. I can believe that now.’

  ‘No doubt your tips and secrets give 100 per cent guarantee.’ And we both cracked up.

  After wrecking my head over getting one single good girl I did end up meeting an English major chick from Hindu. She came round the corner of Turtle Café and I sat with her for hours. By that time I had forgotten the salesgirl I had seen some weeks back. Every girl was worth falling for so it hardly made a difference. Our chats seemed to be never ending, not only in person but also over the phone. I was happy to offer her solutions on how to cope with her broken family and how she should be calm though her parents fought almost every day. At first I thought things were going just the way I wanted. She called me every day and I went running to help her. But when the judgment day came and I professed my love to her, she ended up saying that she had always considered me as a good friend and couldn’t think of me on those lines. I was not only upset but frustrated. I had made so much of emotional investment already. I felt broken and called up Gaurav. He seemed to understand the low tone of my voice.

  ‘So, friend-zoned again?’ he asked. I could hear his sneering tone but I was used to it.

  ‘Yes,’ I said sadly.

  ‘Dude, I seriously think you’re jinxed. Some nutcase in school must have fallen for you and must have cast something on you and you still carry that curse! I mean, honestly, how come you fail every time and nothing works out?’

  ‘Why does this happen with me every time? This time I didn’t make any mistake. In fact, I called her and talked about her every problem.’

  ‘Wait. You talked about her problems and don’t you say that you tried to preach to her?’ he asked inquisitively.

  ‘Yes. What’s wrong with that? I tried to support her.’

  ‘Well done, my boy. I understand now why you get friend-zoned every time. Do one thing. Open a girl’s problem-solution centre. And start charging a fee for this because you are anyway not going to get girls. You will get some cash to spend on yourself or at least for your phone recharge.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What is the point of calling her whenever she wanted to talk to you and why the hell did you solve her every problem and listen to her?’

  ‘I don’t know but what’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Then?’

  ‘See, a girl needs a guy who can solve her problems, listen to her all the time, and can talk to someone who listens to her without expecting anything. That’s what you were doing for her. If she was getting all this from you, then, I mean, why would she make you her boyfriend? Girls never make such guys their boyfriends.’

  ‘But what’s wrong with me? I am good looking, I care for her, and in fact love her.’

  ‘See, girls are impressed by guys who remain mysterious to them, who don’t go to them so easily. Once you are available to them all the time, they will take you for granted and will dump you in the friend zone.’

  ‘But isn’t that the ironic? I mean, it’s a good thing, right? Always available for her whenever she wants to talk to you and needs support from you. I mean, how come I would lose importance?’

  ‘Because you are stupid! Logic doesn’t work here, my friend. Okay? Let me give you an example. You have immense respect for Shah Rukh Khan. Right?’

  ‘Yes. He is a superstar.’

  ‘Right. And suppose you talk to him on a daily basis, would you care for him and respect him in the same way as you do now?’

  It was a tricky question and I remained silent.

  ‘You won’t. It’s human nature, you see. You never give importance to stuff that you have in hand easily or that which is always with you. You don’t have to strive for it or be desperate about it. It’s the same with you and girls. When they know that they can have you any time they want, and for any goddamn problem they are in, you’d end up being the saviour why would they want you or, for that matter, crave you? They would, in fact crave someone who isn’t easily available to them, who flirts with them but doesn’t make it explicitly clear to them that he’s gonna be with them no matter what and in all odd hours. Girls never want someone who would be a problem-solver and who would keep on preaching to them on each and every topic. Got my point?’

  ‘But this is unfair. A relationship doesn’t work on candlelight dinners but on trust, understanding, and mutual affection.’

  ‘Great thought. Do one thing. Build a time machine and travel to a century earlier and try to use your funda there. Got it?’

  ‘I don’t know. Something is seriously wrong with girls out here. They will chase some stupid guys who will talk all sorts of nonsense with them, that too without an iota of knowledge, and flirt with them with as many dumb jokes possible. Then, of course, their usual tactic: have the girls sit behind them on bikes and apply the brakes just at the right junction and moment so that they can have the delight of “pressings”!’

  ‘And this is exactly what a girl likes, dude! A guy makes her laugh, gives her gifts. They are so soft that they would rather get impressed with a teddy bear than with a Salman Rushdie book that you carry on a date.’

  ‘Yeah! True. To add to this, something is also seriously wrong with my destiny. Hey, you know how to read the Tarot, right? Would you read the Tarot for me and check my fate?’

  ‘Okay, I’ll do that. You send me three questions and I will let you know. Before that, I will tell you once secret. The faster you bring a girl closer to yourself, probably to bed, the closer girls get to you.’

  ‘Wo
w! Wonderful. Here I am getting friend-zoned each time and you are suggesting that I go to bed with them. Are you drunk? I mean, I talk to you because I always consider you to talk sense but now you are completely out of your mind.’

  ‘Okay. Don’t believe me. Why don’t you try to hang out with a girl in Delhi? Long-term relationships don’t work out much and talking on the phone doesn’t leave much impact on her mind. Delhi has hot and sexy girls. Try your chance. And who knows, you might get a chance to take one to bed too.’ He smirked. I felt like punching his face.

  ‘Wow. I mean, how? I just need to go to the road and when I find any beautiful girl and I should start talking to her, isn’t it? And then the slaps following will surely lose their count.’

  ‘No. I mean, visit new places. Join some club. Or go to pubs. These are the best places to meet new girls. And yes, before going there, do one more thing. Get a facial and all and yes, change your hairstyle. Your current hairstyle is perfect for an interview or job but get a sexy look.’

  ‘Which style?’

  ‘How do I know? Visit a parlour and they will take care of your look. Don’t sound boring and look boring.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’ And we both started laughing.

  5

  ANIS UNISEX PARLOUR. SUCH a contradictory name. Perhaps this is how people in Delhi imbibed metrosexuality into words and attitudes. It was the weekend and in my quest for a better parlour, I landed at Anis. On that line of the road I could see many other parlours as well but then I decided on Anis, speculating on its interesting name and noticing the number of people flocking inside.