fear

Archie… Bounty Hunter Extrodinaire! (part 1)

“Chalo me gotto run… catch ya l8r” I told Apar over IM and rushed to grab a jacket and my sneakers. I was wearing a pink and white t-shirt a tan skirt and a frown.
Silv*’s mom had called me 5 mins back to tell me that her daughter hadn’t been home for the past two days and she that she was worried. I’d met Silv* 3 yrs ago in the beginning of my career and we had been on talking terms ever since. Her mother sounded distraught and I wondered if it was a prank. After some trick questions and a lot of high pitched whines and tears from the other end, my resolve broke.
Mrs. S didn’t want to go to the police,”Her father would kill me. He is in Dubai at the moment.”
Oh Boy!

I arrived at their house and could not coax anything out of Aunty S as she sobbed into her expensive looking scarf.
“She went out, to a party and didn’t come back”
I contemplated. I was not a detective or a bounty hunter, I needed help.
Do I call IJ or my friend in Bengaluru? IJ was eternally busy and I did not want to call my bengaluru friend and upset his weekend. They’d probably just ask me not to be a damn sissy.

I shuffled behind Aunty S to the kitchen and accepted a wedge of her famous spice cake… Her kitchen smelled of potpourri…Mulberry? And then it hit me. Time to go flower power!
I called Gaby*(Perfect pseudonym, given her supernatural ability to gab and gossip). “Hey Gab, It’s AJ, how you been girl?”
“OMG I heard that you were going out with someone, who is he?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about”
“Oh come on you were spotted at dinner”
“He is a friend.I ran into Silv’s mom today” How the hell!
“Oh, so on a scale of one to ten, how will you rate your level of romantic interest in your friend?” Don’t give up easy do you?
“Who? and have you caught up with Silv lately? It’s been so long, I was wondering…”
“I wouldn’t been seen dead with that bitch, she screwed my cousin over…Last I heard she was shacking with that boxer dude who hangs out with your ex-interest. That slut, whoring all around town”
“He is my ex-nothing” Hell, she probably remembered how many chipped nails I had in 6th grade…“hey I gotto go, my dog’s peeing on the carpet”
“You don’t have a dog or a fucking carpet”
She was a ‘gorgeous potty-mouth’ according to my friend Puny Todd.

 I  put on my game face called my ex-nothing. After a few pleasantries, I told him about the situation and he offered to take to me to meet the ‘boxer dude’. “If we are done early, we’ll get some dinner” he added.
Tackle that later, sigh.
Mascara, some lip gloss, Hugoboss ‘deep red’, not that it helped. I was dressed like a bum off the street and I was off to meet a stranger with an alleged ‘ex’.’Dressed to kill’ said a skinny half naked woman from Silv’s bedroom wall. More like dressed to repel, I muttered to myself.

Mr. Ex-Nothing called me from across the street and I was pleasantly surprised to see my ride. A black Skoda withfancy wheels polished to a twinkle, I half expected him to get out wearing a Suit shirt and dress pants with his tie askew.Loose fitting jeans, a muscle t-shirt under a carelessly thrown shirt and expensive looking shoes. Puma.

I looked up at the sky and cursed.

“So who is this boxer-dude? and if you say anything about the skirt, I’m calling a cab”
“What about if I say something about your legs”
“I’ll scratch the leather”
“His name is Mickey*, he boxes for the Southern Railway team. And it was going to be a compliment” I adjusted the seat threw my bag in the back seat.
“Are you kidding me? They are all goons and I think I can have cab here in 15 minutes and I carry a sharp as hell nail filer”
“Mickey’s chicken shit, scared of the cops.” He looked me over,leaned over to adjust the ac flap,(Steered well away from me)
“You’ve changed your perfume”smiled and put the car in gear.
I stared dead ahead. Game Face. “And my shampoo”. Ex-nothing alright!

We reached a small one story house in a posh locale. We parked out front and walked up to the gate.”Beware of Dogs” said the sign. Ex-Nothing seemed oblivious to it and pushed the gate open.
“If I get bitten am running a key across  the hood of your…”
This was not a dog; it was a bloody bull charging us from the shadows. I was knocked flat on my ass before I could scream and there was a slob fest.  One minute I was elated about not being torn to shreds the next minute I was mortified.
“Poo breath” I cursed and sat up making sure my skirt was in place.
A chuckle “Not fair, you must be the only girl I know who falls without her skirt riding high”
“Eat shit and die”

A shadow loomed over me. “yenna vaenum?” (What do you want?)
I looked up to see a mountain of muscle  towering over me, not the least bit happy, with a cane in hand. My heart jumped to my throat when I saw my knight in shining armor back up a few steps. It didn’t help that I was sitting on the ground, when he moved closer I had to look up and he was just endless,I think I cricked my neck.
So this is where I die, bludgeoned to death by a Neanderthal off his meds.

(To be Contd on request…)

B***h Slapped!

I went pink for a day!!!

I went pink for a day!!!

Well… that is what my friend said after visiting my blog today. <piercing whiney voice> “Why It’s pink! It feels like you’ve b**** slapped me”

Nah, for that I’d have to make you hear your voice… I think to myself.

Now, I’ve battled this all my life – PINK and all that it stood for.

When I was a little girl my world was in monochrome, colors did not fascinate me, climbing trees and falling off stuff did.

Then my world changed to windows default settings – few basic colors. I knew that plum was a fruit, wondered if salmon wasn’t a fish and thought turquoise was a bad word. I hadn’t given a second thought to pink.

And then, D came into our lives. D is a wonderful person; gentle, caring sensitive, the kind that remembers your birthday… the best friend types and oh so gay! It was D’s morbid attachment to everything pink that gave me my first ever case of ‘heebedijeebies’ (a term used my a wise man named King Julian to describe a rather unpleasant feeling). It was then that I started to run from pink and everything it stood for.

According to him, pink was not only a color but a symbol of his socio-cultural identity, a verb (oh he was totally pinking on me), an adjective (oh what a pink feeling!) and a replacement to any word his brain could not figure out…

“(sniffing)they os.. os.. pink haters (waaaah…boohoo..)”

“Ostracized you D?…”

Everytime I see a guy with a pink shirt , a pink scarf, a pink shopping bag … a little bell in my head rings “gay gay gay”.Three times I tell you, like divine intervention…I quote one Mr.Johar “Pink is the next black… I think it’s hot!” I rest my case.

I also thought pink associated with piglets. (D thinks they are ‘precious’) pink ,pink, pink, oink oink… see?

Well, applying the same theory last week, I realized – God is pink! He is loving, forgiving, sweet (c’mon say it aloud) loving, forgiving, sweet, loving-forgiving-sweet… hearts-flowers- butterflies…. candy-apples-sugar.. pink-pink-PINK! What a smooth transition!

Being a single woman, I had vowed stay away from men riding pink scooty peps, sporting pink towels on their shoulders or seem to teaching the alphabet ‘u’ to another man at close quarters. I plan to keep every one of them.

But, I have renewed respect for the color, If God is pink, it musn’t be so bad after all.

So here I am, trying to b**** slap my karma balance back into shape. It has taken all my stength, will power and sanity (what’s left of it) to sport a pink blog.

But I shall do it with my head held high.

And someday when I meet you in hell, I’ll tell you about the look on your face right now!!!!