Dollar Dreams

I don’t believe in writing three thousand words to establish the identity of my story’s protagonist. His name is Vikram. He is all of twenty five and is an employee of that year’s Best Managed Company in India. He lives a shady two bedroom apartment off Hosur Road in a choked but delightful city called Bangalore.

And that his apartment houses six more gentlemen working for the same concern, should not be a matter of concern to anybody because that is the only way one can deal with the skyrocketing rents of Bangalore.

Vertical Marathon it really is.

Lest I forget, I am Vikram. I hate living with six more people however gentlemanly they may be, in a two bedroom closet however close to the office it may be. Do I have a choice here? Do you expect me to pay eight thousand rupees on an apartment when my take home pay is twelve thousand rupees? (On paper the gross stands at twenty five by the way. I have stopped looking around for the missing bucks. It is pointless. One of my friends had even filed an FIR to trace the missing potatoes. So far no news.)

Living this way and eating off an Andhra mess whose kitchen is really in a mess, I am able to save about five thousand rupees a month with only one visit to NASA pub in a month. Can’t get any simpler than this, can it? My friends who are fortunate idiots and on whom INS bestowed a lovely H-1B or L-1B are living the Great Dollar Dream. They get to share a 1 BHK and cook everyday so that they get to save a dollar more than what their neighbor – The Ubiquitous Desi Consultant – can save.

Sometimes I get confused. So what exactly is the difference between them and me? Our living conditions are the same. In fact I am slightly better off because I get to eat absolutely mouth-watering Gongura pickle in the Andhra Mess while they have to be content with their Dal Roti routine.

The power of Dollar – my inner mind tells me as-a-matter-of-factly.

Yes indeed! The power of Dollar.

The day I get into the radar of INS for all right reasons, I will leave everything behind and hop onto a Kuwaiti airlines flight to get into America. My friends told me that it was the cheapest airlines available. The world will never be the same again for me. I will also be saving dollars. Then I will look back over my shoulder and become all senti over India. I will start missing India just like my friends in the US are missing it. Man, I just can’t wait to miss India…

Miss India? Of course the spelling is different. If you are confused with Ms. India you are the one to be blamed. Nobody misses Ms Indias these days. They are ugly. The last Ms India who had some signs of real beauty was Ms Sen. Since then it has been a downslide as far as quality is concerned.

Why am I thinking about this all? Coz I have nothing else to do. I have to stay here till the end of time to get out. In case I haven’t told you earlier, I crashed my Pulsar 180 DTS-i into a truck yesterday on Hosur Rd. I still don’t believe that I am alive. It must be the helmet. Thank Helmet. Thy clan shall multiply.

In fact I don’t remember an iota of what must have happened yesterday. It is all blank. I don’t see much of Value-Add in trying to remember that incident. It is apparent you know! That you crash a bike into a truck -> You end up in the ICU or the electric crematorium. Fortunately in my case it is the ICU. Now that I have been given a fresh lease of life by Dollar… I am sorry God, I must put it to good use. I must wait for the H-1B which probably I will get by October this year. I hate this. Why does it get over on the very first day itself? I am planning to stage a revolution… an October Revolution.

Autobiography of Who???

It was quite a quiet normal day. And by this I mean there weren’t any thunderstorms and there certainly was no big bright heavenly star hanging from the sky when I was born in 1976 in a small town in India called Nellore. It just happened that night! And it could have happened any other night.

When I was four years old I could accurately reproduce the Telugu alphabets and this was not by any measure an ordinary achievement. I was supposed to be an Einstein of modern times. People used to remark, “Venu could reproduce the whole Telugu alphabets and you know, he is only four years old. He will definitely become a scientist one day.”

That shall remain as the only notable achievement in my life. Of course I didn’t become a scientist and Einstein was just opposite to me in every aspect. Speaking of alphabets.. I am reminded of a funny situation. I was four years old and was in pre-school. The teacher wanted me to write “a aa i ee”. I started with a bang.

“a” was easy. “aa” was cake walk. “i” was a little difficult and “ee” was surprisingly difficult. “u”.. “u”?? How the hell did one write “u”?

I was sweating in the class and it was in the middle of December. The teacher suddenly looked as if she were an incarnation of Goddess Durga – Kaali Ma. I was trembling.. I couldn’t write “u”.. Oh God! What should I do now?

I did what I wanted to do right at that instant. And I am quite sure I have never been able to do anything so courageously after that incident till this very second.

I ran.

I ran out from the class leaving the bewildered teacher and the envious classmates behind. I just ran out. I reached the school gate which was slightly ajar and the whole world outside was very inviting. I stepped outside and fled like a Olympic runner.. scared of everything under the sun. Oh Almighty.. What a great sin I had done!! I couldn’t recollect how the hell I was supposed to write “u”.

A kilometer it was and I covered it in ten minutes. I was four at that time you know! and it was certainly an enlightening experience. I came here.. gasping and sweating. My mother was taken aback. Exactly five minutes later my elder brother rushed in. My teacher of course couldn’t think of anything else afterwards.. Understandable! When you’ve got a four year old brat running on the road for a kilometer, you have every reason to get alarmed. She made a hue and cry over the issue and my brother who was studying in the same school was duly dispatched to inquire whether I had reached home safely.

What did you do?

Nothing.

Why did you run home?

Because I didn’t feel like staying in the school.

Spank Spank..

Waaaa!! Sorry! I’d never again do that. Nope! I know the roads are dangerous. I won’t repeat it.

Spank Spank!..

Waaaa!!

I overdid it. I knew I knew.. I knew that even before I typed the first alphabet of this story. Sometimes I just lose control over what I write and produce three hundred pages of useless stuff which I later use as my toilet paper. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaak! Well truth is sometimes bitter. Now don’t let your imagination run wild.

So that was how I started my education.

Well, my academic performance has been on the decline since that moment. I managed 87% in class 7, 79% in class 10 and failed in Intermediate second year mathematics. I scored a great 41 out of 150. A record no one has broken till now in my college.

Thanks to Nandamuri Taraka Ramarao.. There was this thing called “instant re-examination” and I could pull it off gracefully. Otherwise I would have had to forego my EAMCET rank! (I bow to you NTR! For this and this one only)

So the adventurous Venu entered Sri Venkateswara University in 1993. My very first day in the college deserves a few keystrokes here.

‘What is your name?’

‘Venu.’

‘Where from?’

‘Nellore. Heard of it?’

SLAP!

‘Amma!’

‘Say Sir at the end of each sentence.. and don’t kochchen me!’

‘yeah.. yes sir!’

‘So what is your name again?’

‘Sir, Venu sir’

‘Sir Venu? Are you a knight?’

‘No sir.. My name is Venu, sir’

‘That’s better. I don’t like this name.’

‘Sir?’

‘Choose something else.’

‘Sir?’

SLAP!

‘Urgh...’

‘Choose another name.’

‘Nirmal, sir’

‘Good! go around the campus shouting that you are Nirmal’

‘Sir.. please’

SLAP! BANG.. DABB...

‘Yes sir’

And suddenly God appeared from thin air in the form of our college principal. The guy in front of me vanished. ‘What are you doing here?’ asked God.

‘Aw.. err..??’

‘Get into your classroom NOW!’

So, Nirmal had become quite famous in his college in no time. He was that atypical tall guy with an undeniably freaky set of spectacles and who always ‘thought’ about something or the other... who knew what a time-cone was.. and who could get 87% in Microprocessors and Microcomputers in which the university first student could get only 62%.

I spent most of the time in our computer center trying to master the seemingly simple task of hacking UNIX passwords. At that time ‘everyone used to crack UNIX passwords’. No one told me how to do it. They simply laughed at me when I asked them. ‘Oh look at this item! He doesn’t know how to crack passwords.. Ha Ha Ha...”

I was ashamed. I felt like committing suicide. Why should I live when I couldn’t do such a simple thing as cracking UNIX passwords? Everyone else seemed to have done it. BUT HOW?

I couldn’t sleep. I woke up at two in the morning, and peddled furiously towards our computer center. I wanted to do it at any cost.

Of course it was UNIX and I couldn’t have succeeded in my attempts to crack the passwords if Mr. Somebody were not there in the canteen sipping coffee at two in the morning. ‘You know! The problem with you is.. You tend to take the legal way even for hacking passwords... There are a couple of thousands of crooked ways. THINK!”

I thought then. I sat in front of our library on the grass and then ‘thought’.

It was three in the morning. There was a cool breeze.. a breeze that would make the sailors forget their homes.. a breeze that traveled all the way from the seven hills... a breeze that told me how to crack Unix passwords.

I ran to the computer center completely forgetting about my bicycle which was parked in front of the library. I opened up my login shell and wrote a simple script that acted as an “alternate front end”. It looked, felt and smelt like the original HP-UNIX logon screen.. But it was just a program running on my logon. The unsuspecting user would come at eight in the morning… enter her login and password and my program would promptly mail them to me and log her off! Poor gal... She just couldn’t realize what was going on.

I cracked UNIX passwords...

I did it. I knew what Nitya’s password was and that was enough for me. My self esteem had gone up a lot. Nirmal was arrogant, skeptical, too thin and too hi-fi... I was the most talked about guy in our class. A kind of ‘Quizzing dude’...

Unfortunately none of these accomplishments seemed to impress Nitya the only girl who had managed to gain a strong foothold in my otherwise secluded world of infinite dreams. I wanted to talk to her but I didn’t. I wanted to walk with her but I couldn’t.

Life had been pretty boring for a while after my success with the UNIX system.

No new challenges and all old faces! God! Gimme something new!

He gave me something new... High Blood Pressure... The doctor who tested me shook his head in the most complex trajectory one could ever shake his head in.

‘200/100 and you are still so calm!’ Of course I didn’t stay calm after hearing to those literally astonishing BP levels.

Why?

Perhaps your kidneys have gone bad.

How?

Perhaps you need to be examined thoroughly in Madras Apollo.

The college seemed to be on a different dimension from that evening. I was kinda detached. I spoke to none. The high blood pressure thing had killed the enthusiastic Nirmal. Even Nitya could see something was happening to me.

Why are you so dull nowadays?

I am dying believe me.

Come on!

Then a family friend visited us from Delhi.

What?

Yes!

You have high BP at the age of 19?

Yes!

Who told you so?

Mr.Arun Ganapathy MBBS.

Screw him. Let us go to some other doctor. Let us get a second opinion.

And so we went to another doctor. I was least interested in the proceedings because I was sure nothing could save me from death. I was dying. I had to die. It was my destiny. And last checked, destiny was invincible.

The doctor looked at me with a strange expression on his face.

You have high BP?

Yes.

What medication did you take for that?

Inderal.

What??

You heard me. Inderal.

FOR HOW MANY DAYS?

Three weeks.

Did it reduce your BP levels?

Not exactly.. But my pulse rate has come down to 52 per minute.

Mr Venu…

.

Yes doctor.

Your BP is 120/72.

What??

I checked it thrice on three different days and at three different times of the day. Your BP is just normal.

But...

Get another opinion if you want.

So we went to another doctor. He commented that the first doctor should better check his head for mental anomalies. When I came out from the hospital, the world seemed to be quite alright. It had shunned its mysterious dimension and returned to normalcy.

I stopped taking medication. My pulse rate improved and I started looking healthy. I got back my wit and humor. Nirmal was back to his senses. He was the guy with those great spectacles. He was the guy who could repeat the System-Internation definition of “second” without referring to the book...

All was well. Then I lost my spectacles. The world seemed quite fuzzy without them but I grew accustomed to that. I didn’t miss my glasses. They were simply gone and were not replaced. I am still without glasses and I still cannot see very well.. But I am happy because I look like Nirmal when I wear spects and I look like Venu when I don’t.

No interesting episodes had happened in my life after the BP fiasco till NFCL campus-interviewed me when I was in my final year of Electrical Engineering.

What is a transformer?

Something that transforms energy.

What is the difference between star and delta connections?

Star is open. Delta is closed.

What is Thevenin’s theorem?

Err?

OK.. tell me Ohm’s law

E=CR

What is E?

Electromotive Force.

You are selected.

Thank you.

And then I started my wonderful career as an electrical maintenance engineer in NFCL Kakinada. I had worked there for six months before realization dawned upon me one dusky evening.

SOFTWARE!!!! What am I doing here in this metal crap? I should be writing code for real-time embedded systems! Where is the appointments page?

I walked into Software-Solutions Ltd. one fine day. It was a great experience. Quite exhilarating you can say.. I solved a couple of puzzles and told the interviewer what Virtual Reality was all about. Dr. Ivan Sutherland would have had a heart attack if he were in the interview panel. But as a matter of fact he was NOT there in the interview panel and the guy who was doing the interview knew zilch about Virtual Reality. So he offered me a job gladly because you know! very few people knew what Virtual Reality was at that time.

It took me quite sometime to figure out that I wouldn’t be writing code for real-time embedded systems. I was placed in Powerbuilder and I spent two and a half years in that field trying to wake up from the horrid dream.

It of course was not a dream. It was real. And dreams cannot be real. Then I had a real dream.. a really nice dream.. in which the business manager approached me and asked me whether I could take up a Unix project.

I said yes!

of course I would.

Won’t you miss your Powerbuilder?

Nope I won’t.

How comfortable are you in UNIX?

I could crack UNIX passwords when I was in school.

Great! You are fit for this project.

Thank you.

And the dream is still going on friends.. Here I am working in a UNIX project and suddenly life has become so interesting.... that I am pretty sure this is all a dream.

Nirmal, as you all might have guessed, is a pessimist.

Gal Today

My face this nice Sunday morning looked quite different.

I noticed this difference when I was brushing my teeth. There really was something strange though I could not pinpoint what it was. I stared at myself. ‘Hell, what is wrong with this beautiful young lady?’ My bobbed hair was black and thick, my eyes were brownish green and my lips were tender red… My structure was just too good… enough to drive any ordinary boy out of his senses; enough to make people wonder, “To hell with dowry and issues like that. I just want Nitya.”

I laughed merrily. I was so proud of my body that for a brief moment I’d forgotten completely about that “something strange” feeling.

Not long after this chain of thoughts, my dear readers, had I stumbled upon a great stunning fact that the “something” I’ve so far been talking about, was not simply strange. It was devastatingly strange.

‘Hell! I am a boy!!!!!!!!!!!! Er… I was a boy last night.’

I pinched myself and performed a somersault to get out of this horrid dream. But the dream just stayed. I madly looked at my image in the mirror once again. It was not at all attractive then. ‘Oh God! Look at my chest!!! Hay what’s going on?’

Being an avid follower of science, I just could not believe what had happened to me. Might be I was wrong! Might be I had always been a girl! But forgot everything because of some strange disease. Might be my thought processes had undergone some hypnotic brainwashing that made me feel that I used to be a boy.

‘What is my name? Nitya?’

I wanted to check it out right away. I wanted to ask my mother, “Mom, Have I always been a gal?” but discarded the idea as it seemed just as silly if not more, as this situation itself. The burning problem of the moment was how to sneak out of Nirmal’s room without being caught by Nirmal’s mother. Pardon this ”third person usage” my dear readers… I might not be Nirmal contrary to the belief I had had for the past twenty-four years.

I am pretty sure that my intelligent readers would already have guessed why I wanted to avoid Mom… Imagine yourself in a situation where you find a twenty four year old stranger gal coming out from your twenty four year old son’s bedroom at seven in the morning rubbing her sleepy eyes.

So I used the “rajamargham”, which is more aptly defined as The-Window-Balcony-Sunshade-Parapet Wall-Garden-Backdoor-Road way.

Once I was out of Nirmal’s house, I went to the nearest park. It is ok in Bangalore at least, for a girl to walk clad fully in a guy’s attire. So no one paid any attention. I wanted to think about the whole thing. I had never had any belief in those areas, which are reportedly outside the reach of the gigantic arms of Science. I had always been a “Logician”. But now I was totally at a loss. My mind still didn’t want to believe “supernaturality”. Something should explain this I thought.

I wanted to figure out whether Nirmal was a character of flesh and blood or was he merely a figment of my imagination? And I wanted to find out whether Nitya had existed before or not.

The best way to clear any such doubts, my readers will agree, is to meet the parents. So I went to Nirmal’s house once again, made sure my appearance was not very detestable and pressed the calling bell.

My mother opened the door. “Hey, when did you go out? You woke up pretty early for a Sunday. Where have you been?” she asked me casually. I was shocked. I did not know what to say. I just stared at her crazily. This should be a wild dream I thought. Nothing else could explain that situation. I just went in and saw him there in front of the refrigerator. “Hi Nitya, what’s up? Jogging again?” he asked casually. He sounded very familiar. But I just could not remember him. My mother called from the dining room, “Come on.. Let’s finish the breakfast. I’ve got to go to the airport today. Papa’s flight lands in about an hour.”

Nirmal! Yes it was him. I could recognize myself. God, It was me myself walking in front of me at that moment. I felt as if I was being dragged into the unknown universe of metascience. ‘He is my brother?’

I badly wanted to talk to someone. ‘What about my friends?’ I wanted to talk to Bhaskar, my best buddy since college. I dialed his number. “Hello,” said a sweet voice. I said I wanted to talk to Bhaskar. She was puzzled, “Bhaskar? Ey Nitya.. pagal hogayi hai kya? Koun Bhaskar?”

I put down the receiver. If I had known the telephone number of X-files, FBI, I would have definitely told them about my strange story.

Meanwhile I kept observing Nirmal. He behaved exactly in the same way I had behaved until that morning. ‘God! It is me.. Someone help me please!!!’

The calling bell rang just then. Nirmal attended it. “Nitya, it is Venu.” He shouted from the door. ‘Venu? Oh my God! By any chance is he my boyfriend? Shucks!’ I went to the main door slowly. There he was with a bouquet in his hand.

I wanted to wake up.. I wanted badly to wake up from my dream and find out that it was just a dream. But I didn’t know how to do that. What a wretched dream, I thought. “Hi Nitya, are you ready?” Venu asked me.

“Er? What for?” I asked him hesitatingly. He was surprised, “We are going to Mysore, aren’t we?”

“Look Venu,” I said in a low tone, “This may all seem a little weird for you… But I think I need to do some kind of soul searching alone. Sorry for disappointing you. Can I call you tomorrow? Please?”

He stared at me for a minute without speaking anything. I could clearly see disappointment on his face. “This is for you” he handed over the bouquet to me and said, “Will wait for your call tomorrow.” And then he was gone.

“Why did you do that?” Nirmal was puzzled. I wanted to get things straight then. I minced no words. “See, tell me frankly.. Who am I?”

He came near to me.. and felt my forehead. “Are you all right?” I wanted to cry.. I just wanted to hug him and cry. I was totally lost. As soon as this thought entered my mind, I found out that I had behaved just like a normal girl until that moment.

I didn’t answer him. I just ran upstairs. Went to my room and found out that I actually had a room there. I could see my pictures all over the room… Nitya 5 years old, Nitya 7 seven years old, Nitya 15 years old holding a cup in her hand.. and Nitya twenty two years old laughing merrily with Venu besides her.

Nirmal entered the room. “Nitya, what’s going on?” He was very concerned. I knew he would be. ‘But who is Nitya? The only twin sister of Nirmal died in her infancy.’

I decided to tell him everything. And this proved to be quite difficult because I had to say something to someone who in my opinion was I until the day before!

He listened to my crap patiently for half an hour at the end of which my father! came into the room and said Hi to both of us.

“How have you been?” he asked. I nodded and just started examining the marble floor. Nirmal didn’t say anything. He was shocked I think. Might have thought that his sister had gone crazy.

“Met Bhaskar in the airport today, Nirmal,” My father continued, “He was going to Delhi. Said would be back in a fortnight.” I didn’t pay attention to those words.. Nirmal should answer that.

“Hey Nirmal, why are you silent?” My father was concerned. I looked up. He was staring at me. “Don’t know father, Nirmal is silent today.” I managed to speak a couple of words. “What?” father looked crazily at me.

I turned towards Nirmal. He was not there! Where had he gone? “Are you all right Nirmal?” My father asked ME.

I looked around. It was Nirmal’s room. Where had all those Nitya’s photos gone? I ran to the bathroom and checked my appearance.

Nirmal?

‘What happened to Nitya?’

“He’s been behaving quite funnily since morning.” My mother told my father, “may be he watched too much television last night.”

I was sweating. I was scared to the bone. Who? What? Why? And How?

Was it a dream? How could it be? It was real. I didn’t wake up from sleep.. I was living in a real world. To this day, my dear readers, I haven’t been able to find out answers to those questions… and I tell you… It was real. But I don’t know how to prove it. Nitya came into existence… spent some brief moments with me and then she was gone. After sharing everything for nine months we entered this world together. She developed some complications and had to leave this world after two months. I have always missed my twin sister, dear readers and this brief appearance of her had only increased my grief. But I am sure she’ll come back once again and I am just waiting for that second appearance of her.

THE END.

To Buy A Vehicle...

Aim in life at that moment: To buy a vehicle which is cheap but cost-effective.

"Oh sure sir! we are here to help you make a decision sir. Here we have Mitsubishi Lancer for just 850 thousands on-the-road sir. It is great deal you know! I am sure you know! that is why I didn't even talk about the cheap models like Fiat, Opel..."
"Tell me all about the cheap models like Fiat, Opel.. John"
"Uh-oh.. Oh sure why not! Here is Fiat Uno.. You know.. the best car in the world.. Just 600 thousand on-the-road! Though this is a premier model.."
"Wait.. You mean to say there is a not so premium model available?"
"Ah.. Yes sir! There certainly is Daewoo Matiz for 450 thousands but you know.. It is much better than Maruti's and things like that..."
"Oh.. I believe Maruthi is much cheaper!"
"Yes sir.. and you know.. I am sure you know.. Maruthi 800's and things like that don't even come close to these economical but fundoo cars."
"Tell me all about Maruthi 800 John"
"Hmm.. It is not a bad car sir! at 220 thousand on-the-road it is a damn good deal.. Better than the motorcycles of course!"
"Motorcycles?"
"No sir.. I was just comparing."
"Tell me all about the motorcycles John"
"Ah.. We have the best motorcycle here sir.. Damn cheap and very very robust.. Hero Honda CBZ .. just 65 thousand OTR sir.. I am sure you'll like this deal sir. Actually when this mobike was introduced the other bikes suffered a serious setback because they were not packed with as much energy and robustness as this one sir. Shall I write the invoice sir?"
"Wait John.. Are these other mobikes cheaper than CBZ?"
"Uh.. Yes sir..."
"Tell me all about the other mobikes John"
"Here is Splendor sir.. great buy! Only slightly costlier than CD100SS but has great looks you know. Just see it yourself."
"John! about CD100SS please!"
"Please make up your mind sir.. I don't think this is exactly a great decision making process."
"John! CD100SS.."
"It's a time tested model sir. Quite cheap and very efficient. But you know! It is for people who upgrade theirselves from a cycle.."
"Cycle?"
"Oh No sir.. no cycle.. I was just gibbering.. You know.. Hard day today and I missed my lunch."
"What kind of cycles do you have John?"
"Sir?"
"What kind of cycles do you have John?"
"Sir! We have this Atlas Moutain Bike sir.. 18 gears for easy operation sir.. Ideal for a mountain trip and is quite good on plain roads too sir. In fact at 7000 OTR it knocks off any other gear cycle sir. In fact you find the difference when you are going uphill sir and you won't repent the extra few thousands..."
"Wait John"
"I mean to say extra few bucks..."
"Wait John.."
"Yes sir"
"Do you have conventional bikes?"
"Yep sir I do!"
"Tell me all about the conventional bike John"
"Rally sir! The best cycle manufacturer in India sir. This is DA bike sir. Only 2500 Rs sir. I am sure you will like it sir."
"How about Hero cycles John?"
"Oh yes sir I forgot to specify that option sir. Sorry sir.. Hard day today and I missed my lunch sir."
"Come to the point John!"
"1500 bucks sir.. Basic cycle sir. Nice deal I guess sir. Better than walking sir."
"John!"
"Sir.. walking is free sir!"
"I will take the 1500 basic cycle John!"
"Okay Sir.. I will be more than happy to help you sir."
"And John.."
"Yes sir?"
"After helping me, please go and have your lunch. I think you badly need it."

And I rode my new bike with pride in Pogathota, India.

Simple Things

She smiled.

I clicked. We got a photograph with bundles of memories attached to it. When we developed it, we both fell in love with the photograph. I wanted to keep the copy.

"Why? You don't plan on keeping it in the middle of a James Hadley Chase novel. Do you?" She knew.
"That's what a boy is supposed to do. Correct me." I was surprised.
"Paul, be original." She smiled again.
"You mean I should hand it over to you?" I knew what she meant.
She nodded. "You get another copy for your Chase." Pausing a brief second, she added "and get another copy of that Chase. It stinks."

What can I say to a girl who hates James Hadley Chase and Charles Dickens in the same way?

"Why? Both write. Don't they?"
"Yes they do. But..."
"I hate books. OK? And I hate my photo serving you as a bookmark."
"Can I keep you as my screensaver??"
"Save your screen before I smash it."

She hated books. She loved cheese. She wanted to go dancing. She liked to travel. And she wanted to be a kid always. I understood her. I thought I did.

So I "did". She "did" and the Father pronounced us man and wife.

The photo was lost. We did not take it seriously. She could always smile and I could always click and we could always quarrel but the thought that we could do all these anytime we wanted, was good enough for us.

"How can you hide the fact that you liked Govinda this much?"
"Well, thought it was insignificant."
"Insignificant? I would have shouted - "I don't"- at the top of my voice in the church had I known about this particular trait of yours!"

Govinda hence was history.

The TV was another important thing in my life. When we were free, we watched TV. We watched the boy meeting the world. We loved the Stevens who got even with each other. We became friends. And we silently watched the WTC bombings.

"OK. I admit I am afraid."
"What are you afraid of?"
"Duh! The aftermath of this attack."
"What can you do? If someone shoots you, it is your destiny. Now cheer up."
Her lap was so inviting. I rested my head there. She didn't mind. But she didn't react either. I wanted to hug her. So I hugged her. She didn't protest. But she didn't hug me back either.

I was confused. I started reading Couplehood.

She knew there was something wrong. "What?" she asked.
"Nothing." I said flipping the channel over to Disney.
"You are unconventionally calm today."
"May be."
"Tell me."

I told her. She looked at me in a strange way. "Stop watching too many movies. You are living in a movie or in a book. Real life is different. Stop acting like a normal husband. Be what you are. If your colleague rests his head on his wife's lap and both enjoy it, fine! Good for them. We need not follow them. Why should we? Why can't we be just like ourselves? Just the fact that we are now married should not change us. I want to be like what I have always been. I know you have also been enjoying your life. Let us continue. Let us not succumb to the pressure of holy matrimony and become a dumb telugu movie pair."

I nodded. She smiled. I clicked. We got a photograph bundled with a lot of memories. I wanted to treasure it. "Not in a Chase novel." She cautioned me. I agreed. I bought a Sheldon instead.

The End.