Perfect Disaster ..

"Aaine ke sau tukde.. karke humne dekhe hain ..
Ek mein bhi tanha they .. sau mein bhi akele hain .."
One of my favorite sherz .. I love it the most.. in the ghazal sung by Munni Begum. She sings in a voice so soulful that it melts one’s very being.

Rays of Sun has tagged me to write 8 things – I want in a perfect lover. I must add, she wrote an extremely thoughtful post, herself. I'm happy for this tag as it provided me a perfect topic to rant about.

I don’t seek perfection coz I aint perfect myself ..and what could make me fall in love again? What would force me to relinquish the peculiar features of my solitary life ..in these self-denying years… lost in the excessive caution of failed expectations and injured feelings? Nothing less than - another perfect disaster.
I’m as unstable as the weather! Some great impulse.. ruinous and engaging could propel me again …

I am no Psyche, Eurydice or Venus looking for my Cupid, Orpheus and Adonis respectively. I’m not talking about a "perfect husband" either.. coz a perfect husband needs to be a perfect son-in-law, brother-in-law .. and a perfect uncle for my little niece. Rays thought - I would be a "sexy maasi" so the sexy maasi needs a sexy companion. (I should divulge here - my sis had a baby girl .. about 20 days back!) He should at least (amongst a zillion other things) own a massive Palladian mansion overlooking the sea and a Mercedes Benz.

Ergo ..I should stick to the list of - solely a lover. We would live episodically .. without any planning for the future .. as long as we manage to endure each other .. heh ..

1) I’m tempted to say .. he should be a nice person but I have seen even the nicest of the lot turning queer in no time. I would love to have someone who respects women and dares to be just himself - good or bad .. no pretense ..

2) My first ever crush was a 6 footah. I was about 5-6 year old then. Those innocent reveries of childhood .. I didn’t even know .. what crush meant but as I grew up I realized he had always been at the back of my mind. I carried his memories through the exorbitant worlds of love and danger and I’d been obsessed with tall men, for that matter tall people… since then. The only exception being – Sachin Tendulkar. So my perfect lover should certainly be a 6 footah. Height is my biggest "turn on" ..

3) Whenever I see John Abraham on the idiot box .. I feel like singing … "aap jaisa koi .. meri zindagi mein aaye .. toh baat ban jaaye .." He is awfully manly .. macho .. he looks like a dream – I could wholly sink into without any fretful hankering of getting up. How could someone be - so perfect? If I have him .. I would ‘just lust’ ..
He looks terribly sexy in the Pepsi and Bombay Dyeing commercials. BD ad says .. "all men are same .. some just have a better suit" .. uhh .. who wrote that silly line? All men aren’t the same .. n he definitely looks better .. without that damn suit. He should be- even better without any single piece of clothing. When he smiles n says "Go Play" in the Pepsi ad .. my heart nearly bursts with its own beating… wanting to be held within those strong arms. Those luminous eyes . finely chiseled .. fresh mouth - ready to be kissed ..the deadly stubble.. beguiling expression .. awesome body .. sigh ..

4) My perfect lover shouldn’t be a teetotaler and he should be pure vegetarian. Tough I guess .. but that’s the way I am. I have had my share of frowns .. "you drink n smoke.. and you are a veggie?" . Yes sir/mam . .whats the connection between all three ? None at all.
We gonna get sloshed every weekend .. n we gonna quit smoking together .. :)

5) I don’t like "gentlemen" .. Btw .. Do they exist ? If they do .. they are a passé. I would prefer to go with a brute ..any day. Perfect guys make predictable swains .. I take delight in imperfect spotaneous creeps. If he is really "perfect" he should be the curious amalgam of both!
Prudent people who shave before a date, regard doing something unexpected as foolish, who think driving all the way to the India Gate in the middle of a cold December night .. just to have an ice cream is crazy ..aren’t my type.

6) He should have the patience to hear me coz I perpetually have so much to chatter about. He doesn’t need to talk a lot. He has to blab in his deep sonorous voice ..only when he needs to tell me – How beautiful and sensuous I am ..n how special I make him feel.

7) Sometimes I have this overwhelming desire to share the dull agendas of a daily life with someone. Probably someone who enjoys cooking meals together .. go to the theatre and watch any nonsense take-out-your handkerchief kinda mushy mushy flick with a tray full of popcorns n coke with me .. calls me a dozen times .. only to keep me in good humor .. fights for the Sunday paper but lets me win every time.. enjoys walking and playing with my dog .. I can go n on ..

8) He should be a good kisser. Kissing is my favorite part in lovemaking. Talking of kisses – the perfect image that comes to my mind is that of Enrique kissing Anna Kournikova in the video of the song "escape". That sort of smooch, I assume should be better than the actual orgasm. :D

If these are disembodied images that would never coalesce into a single entity .. I won’t mind 8 different men with one quality each .. The more the merrier ..
Perhaps I won’t need any of them – if my man.. loves only me and doesn’t find any other woman – worth a second a look. If I have a man like that …who cares for even John Abraham! It takes so little to please a woman :)

This tag has to be passed to 8 people ..
I have already passed one tag to 1) Vi & 2) Gingko .. Would they kill me if I do that again? I need to pass it to 8 people .. so besides them ..naturally I would like to tag 3) Dooka 4) Shpriya .. 5) Nandya & 6) Bhole.
I think.. most of the people who visit my blog, have already been tagged on this. I’m tempted to tag 7)the individualist and 8) anushka (I’m not sure if they visit my blog regularly.. in case they do) coz they always have conflicting views – that’s gonna make a helluva interesting read.

I believe in democracy .. so if you guys don’t wanna do this – you don’t have to ..
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Gingko tagged me .. to invite 6 people for the dinner ..
I’m inviting them individually … three from my blogging life .. n three from my "other" life ..

1) John Abraham - for obvious reasons. I’m a foodie but if hes with me .. he would dwarf the food. I would settle for him as my dinner .. till breakfast ..

2) Zaheer Khan - hes another hot guy. I also like Irfan Pathan but he looks like a kid … So I’ll let Pathan grow and gonna invite him for dinner ..maybe after 3-4 years.

I should mention here – my favorite star is - of course Amitabh Bachchan and my favorite cricketer is no doubt Sachin Tendulkar. But I have always believed them to be visitors from the realm of legend .. who have only followed a whim to dwell with the mortals for a short while. I don’t ever wanna meet them for real and risk a heartache that might result from the shattering of a certain larger-than-life image - I have for them.

Coming back to the dinner ..

3) "R" Bhaiyya .. I called him bhaiyya coz he was at least 9 years older than me. He was that 6 footah – I’d crush on .. when I was 5 year old. He always addressed me as a kid .. and could never know ..I’d harbored such feelings for him. I have no idea .. where he stays and whats he doing. He should be married now ..with 2 kids. (I’m sure he believed in family planning.. lol) I met him last - when I was 13 or 14 max!
Upholstered on a leather chesterfield sofa in some old fashioned lounge.. sipping beer from a cut glass tumbler .. I still desire to tell him .. I love him in my own way ..

4) I recently had a virtual dinner - the one Gingko hosted .. with most of our ‘old’ blogging pals. Still I wanna go for a private dinner with Vi .. Though I haven’t interacted with her beyond blogs n comments .. I don’t know why - it seems I have known her for a very long time..

5) Dooka - I wanna know more about her .. have been touched by her writings .. her blogs.. comments .. she gives me.. certain intimate vibes .. all the time ..

6) Sweetmirchi - those who aren’t from Sulekha …can’t be familiar with this id.. and I don’t think even those.. who frequented Sulekha.. remember her ..but how can I ever forget her? She was a certain mystery woman - who commented only on my blogs. I’m always gonna miss her comments.

I find this tag kinda boring .. So I’ll let it pass to John Abraham and Zaheer Khan.
Hehe ( I love laughing on my own silly jokes!)
Its Saturday night and I wasn’t sleepy. Taking cue from.. some others – I decided to complete both tags together!
I’m gonna head for my soft sheets and warm quilt - all ready to dream about a romantic dinner with my perfect lover .. I won't mind any disaster .. before or after dinner ...

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Redeemed?

Does it matter who you are with .. when you aren’t with the person you’d pictured alongside yourself in your dreams and in the reality? No matter.. who is by your side... if ‘that’ person isn’t with you .. you are always alone. The same city stinks of somnolence.. of dejection .. where once ..your love had bloomed and the birds had sung. Where you had most passionately set your heart and mind ..you inflict injuries. You want to retrieve yourself – but every door is closed ..and then you redeem yourself through your own sins.

I met him .. don’t ask his name .. in the ghost city of my past. He wasn’t from my past but he held no future either. I turn myself off and revisit the haunted chambers of the life gone by. Isn’t memory more appealing than facts? I look around .. in the ‘Valley of the Kings’ ... my ‘Wadi el-Muluk’ .. where I buried my pharaoh.. my King of romance .. and I’m buried alongside him there .. with all my sins .. my only possessions.. my sanity and my love… in the tomb named .. ‘trust.’ I close my eyes and listen to the voices of my past and they whisper to me. I’d lived there once .. in my emotions and in my vanity. Where I saw charm and security once .. I now see dilapidation and imprisonment. For a long time I lived as a recluse thinking about my losses ..for a longer time than my pride would suffer but I gave up. Now ..I ransack that faint touch .. that whit resemblance of my past... and flow like a cheap liquor. I cross from sin to sin. Pain and pleasure are two dimensions of the same energy .. I’m addicted to both.

I found him there. He’d the glimpses of my past.. thunderous sophistication .. passion etched upon his noble features .. an unadulterated amalgam of a sinner and a saint. His fierce grey eyes had shimmer of mercury that melted me… a sweet melting melancholy ..dissolving shadowy sweetness of vague regret and dim longing. His passion for colossal went hand in hand with his love for the minute. Like Cupid he seemed to be carrying two sets of arrows: one set gold-headed, which inspired love, and the other lead-headed, which inspired hatred.

I’d read somewhere – love is the only game in this world in which there are only losers. A word without meaning .. not a rock but a whirlpool .. the emptiness that sucks down the soul. You get dumped or you dump – in either case.. you are a loser. I think the difference is.. if you are in the former category you take some time .. you need that time to accept .. and then you can easily get sympathy. You just have to tell your ‘sorry story’ with a sprinkle of curry powder… to someone and then you can fool around. I took my time likewise .. to yield to the bitter reality … I confided in him in murmured sentences .. punctured by long silences - I was dumped. My fault? I’m not sure .. perhaps .. talking .. giving .. trying too hard to please .. endeavoring to seduce. I didn’t need any ‘cooking’ .. my curry powder is untouched in the kitchen ..– that’s the truth .. In a smoky lounge we raised our glasses.. the wine glowed like rubies.. with an amber fire in my eyes I told him .. I’m only gonna marry a stranger .. coz a stranger would take at least some time to discover – where my soft nerves lie and then hit upon them ferociously.

We walked together in our castle of debauchery. The castle was no longer.. a colored picture of the Arabian Nights I’d once ventured as an innocent child. It was a familiar place full of old details that still required some digging. The Roman god of dreams and American impresario of spectacle .. were our Aides. I didn’t love him ..I’d promised someone I wouldn’t love again but I never promised that ‘someone’ I wouldn’t lose myself again. I wasn’t losing this time .. I wanted to gain .. a new flame .. that spark of life I’d lost in that ‘someone’s’ eyes when he walked away so numbly. I wanted to undergo a change or even vanish altogether. That secret ingratitude .. in one sense disturbed me and in another pleased me immensely. Look .. I didn’t break any promise .. I made a new beginning without any promise .. A few months of diversion .. to sample the joys ..this peninsula had on offer ..and as every good or bad thing ends.. this experiment ..ended too ..

I’m tired .. yet again ..I want to escape.. I seek redemption... I’m exploring a new territory. Is it my final frontier? My Mediterranean shore bathed in perpetual sunshine? The mirage of a novel journey excites me.. the glamour of voyage and the unknown thrills my senses.. as the wind snaps on my long hair ..whopping it into knots that would perhaps.. take a lifetime to untangle. I don’t know how to embark on this journey . .with tenderness or with rancor? I’m marrying a stranger tonight ..as I promised myself ... I look at this stranger … as if across a chasm .. I detect a myriad of faces ...But why do I feel.. I have been dumped again?

PS :- Fiction! After a long time.

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