The lengthy boring story.

This is the story of me Cheating on my wife*; the new found love being an old sweetheart*!

Call it a fatal attraction, being unfaithful, term it as sleeping with the enemy or simply scream murder. Now I have been there and done it. Guilty as I am charged, there is no choice but to bow my head down in shame.

In my case the enchantress (Blame it on the women always) was a childhood sweetheart. Mind you I had run away from her not so long ago. That's a sweet sorrow. To make is simple let me begin at the beginning.

It happened on a Sunday afternoon full of music, I saw her beautiful face, the grace that came naturally, her dancing down for any track with a practised ease, the young maiden had bowled me over. I had never seen anything like her before, then and there she stole my heart. I never had the time to take guard and she managed to steal my heart and run away. I was head over heels.

For close to a decade and half after that Sunday I knew of no other kind of romantic love, unabated adoration, faithful following, maddening craze and the blind devotion. When it was time to tie the knot I faltered, in the moment of a life long commitment I ran away from the alter. Ran away from my own wedding. The why is more baffling to me than the how!

Why? I saw other men loving her too, she became rich, she had the most powerful weapon on her. The spoilt child in her even defied the parent. She was suddenly greedy in my eyes, the apple of my eye was now poisoned, it was jaundiced. All I could see in her was the yellow of her new found wealth. Alas "New money" changing one is something that I never ever will understand.

How? I had found this other girl, orphaned and trying to fight for an identity. It was neither pity nor sympathy that attracted me towards her. She was everything that the other one was when I fell in love the first time. This was now perfect, I did get married this time. When some of you were about to write me off with "And they lived happily ever after!", came this shocking news that my first love (when will men ever get over their first love) was about to get married. My heart skipped a beat, I nearly fainted on hearing this painful news that stabbed my heart. I could feel the million pieces that my heart was torn into. I promised my friends that I will keep away. I tried hard, shut myself away from an Internet connection (my communication with the rest of the world). I did down a few shots of Vodka.

Stirred by the warmth of the spirit I decided to go ahead and see her for one last time. One last time before she becomes far removed from me. I managed to sneak a peek at her, then started following her. Then I became aware of her presence, I called out to her and surprisingly she reached out to me. If you had seen her act so cool, then you would never have guessed how horrible I had been to her. There she was in flesh and blood, closer to me than ever before. As I started getting drunk in her power, grace and beauty, my suppressed emotions for her found an outlet. This was an entertainment unlimited. One thing led to the other and my thirst for her was quenched.

I left her to get back to my wife. She was not there any longer. I had forgotten that she had left me and gone away. She had promised to be back sometime in the near future. I do not know if she will keep the promise. My cellophane taped heart now says may be she will come back to this unfaithful monster in me. A few minutes in solitude made me turn to the rest of the vodka. As I downed almost half a litre I realised how lonely I suddenly was. Guilty, heart broken, used, stamped upon and discarded. The greedy enchantress always flattered to deceive, something I never can imagine with my truelove. She promises simple meals, cooks it well, delivers on time and keeps all her promises.

More than the act of adultery I guess my promise to a dear friend, that I will stay away from the enchantress, was broken today. This has nothing to do with how I value that friendship. Its all my fault, I am weak in mind and cannot resist the temptation. Similar to the original sin. The nocturnal snake riding from the Garden of Eden had tempted me. I was royally challenged and my garden city is now a smelly dump yard littered with empty liquor cans that was served.

To my friend all that can be said is; I am sorry Avnish(the best sports fan ever) for following the inaugural match of the IPL. Kapil will you forgive me and bring my truelove back?



*All characters and images on this post are a work of fiction under the influence of Smirnoff Vodka, any resemblance to any character living or dear is truly coincidental. The author does not encourage or promote the use of Smirnoff Vodka. He strongly believes that there is nothing official about it.

A Super Tuesday!

Tuesdays became very interesting and important when I turned eight. The Toast Masters at the YMCA Kodambakkam used to meet on Tuesdays. That tradition lives till date even though the Club survives in an another name, form and location. Any event which involved a lot of other people and a hot discussion would be a Tuesday in my dictionary. The best thing to do is to watch a cricket match with a group of friends. The Steamed peanuts, pop corn and potato chips (French fries later when we all started making money) is of course the other reason to enjoy the day.

It happened again today. The great quality of cricket played brought back the fond memories of us following the 92 World Cup where Kapil Dev, Martin Crowe and Mark Greatbatch were gods. "Us" was then largely my brother's gang of friends and as a ten year old I was on cloud nine always. That was my first time. Since then I have been hooked on to following cricket in the company of friends.

It happened again at a NCC camp. About 500 of us almost cried to see Saeed Anwar playing one of the best ODI innings ever, scoring 194 against India on 21st May 1997 in the Pepsi Independence Cup league match at Chennai.
Then it was taking my cousins to the beach to watch the World cup on the Big Screen. That was a different experience even though it was for New Zealand that we cheered for on that day.

The 2003 World cup was even better, this time it was at a friend's place where Blue Pepsi, Old Monk and Kalyani flowed like water. I still have no clue on where his parents were for the entire month. This is around the time I got a little superstitious about cricket. Not moving from my chair, performing crazy movements in the air to get a wicket or a boundary, refusing to blink my eyelids. I think I have done all that a true fan can possible do. This season was also when I met a girl and we hit it off immediately. The other important thing that happened on that day was that India played Pakistan and won comprehensively. Since then every time I call her during an India-Pakistan encounter, we have always won. All the times that we have lost is probably only because we did not speak that day. (Ah! The die hard superstitious Indian Cricket fan inside me is difficult to control at times.)

Next time I enjoyed following a match was at MAC. Ten of us were cheering Harbajan, on the fifth morning of the test between India and Australia, from the pavilion while the winning runs were scored.

Between then and now there were a few other occasions at Dell where the huge TV used to be hired to encourage all of us to come to work and cheer the Indian Team. Then at an other organisation we had to pay for online live video feeds to enjoy the World cup in the Caribbean.

Following the ICL 50's at Mayajal with friends from college was also interesting since the tickets were not expensive and we could also catch up on a movie. I have also enjoyed the Chennai Open at the Nungambakkam tennis stadium in the last few years but nothing was like today.

It has been a great fortnight for cricket. South Africa demolishing India, Hyderabad Hero's winning twice against the formidable Lahore Badshah's, The doctored wicket at Green Park, Indian Tail Wagging, Dada playing a mature innings, Chanderpaul hitting a four and a six of the last two balls to win a ODI, The mystery spinner Ajanta Mendis making his international debut and ICL India coming up with 4 great victories.

The ICL 20's International Final was too gripping, a power cut at a vital stage and my cousin throwing water on the TV and literally burning it down; all added more masala to watching the match. Somewhere today I realised I had became that 10 year old boy watching the match with excitement among my cousins and friends. Life has come a full circle and I have relived that day. Thanks for keeping the promise and making my day again Kapil!

I also finished reading Tuesdays with Morrie. So that's one more promise that has been kept. What a "Super Tuesday!"