Sweet Sixteen

Its so reassuring to read posts and comments from other women who went through the same "navel reaching" phases as I did. What's embarrasing is that I'm still at navel level! Well, one works with what one has ;-)

I decided to rid the "pehla nasha" string in the post title as I was worried people may not want to read more about my personal embarassments. But now that you've clicked this link, and I've already got you in here, you may as well read what I've got!

Sweet sixteen brought the most amazing man in my life. After having been burnt with karate chopping casanovas, I decided that "good guys" were just what I needed. My latest crush was again older to me (college man...drool drool), and sang in the Church choir. So eager was I to empress him, that I joined the choir too. Now he's no longer there, but I still am :-|

He was giving engineering entrances, and since he was an engg student in 11th and 12th, and so was I (will coincidences never cease), I found plenty of opportunities to seek his inputs and advice about my subjects. Every Sunday, from the time I returned home till I dropped off to sleep, I would narrate every tiny movement he'd made, or words he'd spoken, to my poor folks. They'd pretty much given up on me. I think they were just glad I wasn't in love with some lunatic (I also thought those days that Akshay Kumar was the sexiest and best actor in the world, so I can't blame them for having their doubts about my choices).

His parents were damn fond of me, so when I asked his mom (I was older so I knew which side of my bread to butter) for his old notes, she was only too glad to give me a huge pile of everything he'd ever read in 11th and 12th. At the time I thought she did this because she saw me as a potential daghter-in-law. Now I think she just wanted to get all the moth eaten and dusty books out of her pretty and clean home.

The entire affair came to an embarrasing stop one evening when the dude had to drop me home. I had run to his car earlier in the evening, so I could grab the seat upfront next to him. I'd kept the windows rolled down so we could get the cool monsoon breeze. It was just the two of us in the car after we'd dropped the other people off. Driving on a beautiful evening for about an hour together. We talked about a lot of things..well, he talked and I just listened and laughed at all his jokes (I think I may have laughed a tad too hard at some of the poor ones).

Anyway, when we got to my place, I got out of the car, and he asked me if I could just roll up the window for the backseat as he couldn't quite reach it. He didn't want people in buses aiming puke at his back seats. Brimming with joy at his request for help, I didn't open the car door at the back, but confidently stuck my hand in through the window, reached for the handle, and started rolling up the window. He was staring at me (and I thought, now I have him!), when suddenly I realized I couldn't roll up the window anymore as my arm was stuck.

Stop laughing!! Yes, my arm was stuck folks, between the glass and the top of the window. If you don't quite understand what I'm saying, please go out to your cars and try rolling up a window from the outside of the car without the door open...

At that point, I remember thinking, if there was an earthquake right now, and the earth could crack open, and I were to fall inside that crack, I think that would be a dream come true. I also remember thinking that this gorrila I'd heard about in the US who could use sign language was probably smarter than I ever would be.

I learnt my lesson that evening. I decided I preferred men on bikes.

That was till I was at the back of one, and the biker in question tried to drive off a bit too soon after dropping me off at college. My pretty top got caught between the seat and the backrest. And tore. All the way from the waist to the arm hole. It was flapping in the air. Infront of my crowded college. I was in 1st year. That was my 2nd week.

Curtains.