For the last few days, this new glitzy fast food joint called Charlie has been our binge corner. We start the evening with PC or Bhola knocking at my door after I fail to register their 23 missed calls. I fumble around for clothes and wear whatever my hands pull out of the Kilimanjaro piled up in our armchair. Then I comb my hair, slogging to create art above my scalp, but alas, it’s always awful. I rush out, and there they are, fat and miserable, but happy anyway. And then we keep walking, till the earth turns green and the sky turns red…
It was one of those normal days. We had returned back from the stadium after a long exasperating talk session dominated by dialogues concerning counselling and admission and cutoff and ranks and courses and whatnot, but which was supposed to be a long entertaining gossip session dominated by dialogues concerning pussies and breasts and cricket and AIB and politics and anything but career and studies.
The two swines, PC and Bhola, were sitting like crabs on the red swing of my house, which I am pretty sure moves on its own after midnight.
“I am starved. I need food. “PC said it for the thirteenth time. He is always hungry. People are always hungry.
“What do you want from me? “I asked.
“Feed me anything. Or I’ll die. “He pretended to have a cardiac arrest as he grabbed his manboob and dropped his tongue out. I wanted to tell him that 1. That’s not how you die of hunger and 2. That’s not how you die at all.
“There’s nothing much in the house. Just some cheap Bengali mixture. “I lied. Actually there was Bikaji mix in the house, but there was no way I was going to sacrifice that. So instead I grabbed a bill of 100 and asked them to come follow me.
“Oh Ravish…You’re our protector, you’re our lord!!” They sang as they followed me.
On the way, we discussed our orders.
“Chicken momo for us. Veg burger for you. “They agreed.
“Fuck. I’m the one who’s paying, guys! “I protested. See, the world is pretty cruel towards veggies (shhhh….). These non vegetarians get to lay their canines upon chicken and lamb and beef and beacon and pork and mutton and crabs and squids and octopuses and what not, and here we are, lone warriors of Paneer, consoling ourselves with the belief that ultimately non veggies are going to be burned in the devil’s kitchen. The ratio of benefit in this case was 2:2:1 against me. So obviously, I was unhappy.
“Alright. I have extra twenty bucks. “Bhola said.
And so we moved ahead, fantasizing our beautiful plates.
“Doctor. “PC said as we stepped into Charlie. I kind of froze.
Yes. There she was and here I was. And on our faces was nothing but one singular expression of surprise. All I could see was her face and her hair falling all around. Just for a tiny moment. And then I turned around. It was weird as hell. I handed them the money and moved to the other side of the road. Found the darkest place and plonked my ass on one of the benches and watched giant bright wheels for a long time, thinking about what just happened there.
I wasn’t annoyed or scared, nor was I nervous or angry. Nor was I happy. She would have waved and said hello, I would have waved and said hello. Then some generic talks and more awkwardness. I mean what would the talks be about? I couldn’t imagine anything but pauses. Awkward awkward. Like we could have talked about our orders or something, or we could have maintained a silence after the casual greetings. Both would have been awkward. And how do you talk to somebody you don’t generally talk to? I mean it’s been some time since we had a proper conversation. A good conversation. She’s online and I’m online and yet we don’t talk to each other. So I just ran out of topics there. I didn’t know how to converse and nor did I had any intent desire to. I mean Facebook is enough I believe. Plus, I was wearing really short pants.
Anyway, after she left the place I went back. My friends told me that I was a wuss and I should have talked to her and all and I asked them if my veg burgers were ready yet. They were not.
Back on Facebook she didn’t text me. So I knew she was pissed off. Then she texted me the other day, obviously pissed off, and gave me an earful. I apologised, tried to explain, and also asked if I could do something to make her feel better, but she didn’t want to hear anything. So I didn’t say much, cracked some lame jokes and hoped she’ll get better on her own.
Now see, I’m the kind of person who lives dual lives. If you’ve never met me in person, you’ll never know me in person. I’m someone else on social medias – active and funny and intelligent and interesting and caring and good and romantic. However, in reality, I’m exactly the opposite – lazy, unfunny, dumb, ruthless, evil and filled with lust. I keep these two worlds apart. And unfortunately, Doctor is a part of the fb world, where she sees me through her own lens, which is what I choose to show her.
Anyway, that’s my identity crisis. For more information please watch Tamasha.