Number 1 and Number 2

Thursday night I was watching the CNN IBN where they were talking about the India Pakistan talks. I agree with the argument that how is it possible to have an ambiguous statement like that- treat composite dialogues and action on terror as two mutually exclusive events. Even a commoner like me understands it’s the lamest statement ever. They say the argumentative Indian I say the ambiguous Indian. So when you can’t deal with the situation make a statement that can be twisted as per your need in future. We need a leader not escapist. I slept over with the thought.

Friday morning I was standing in the 9.30 local lined up towards the Dadar side, the thought still in my mind. I was looking down at my feet, God they need care. I turned to my right I saw a girl in blue salwar kameez with a black mangalsutra around her neck. I have seen that face and the sorrow reflecting through it before. I know her. She was my classmate in my first year of graduation. I guess hung around with for a couple of days. Let’s refer to her as No.1. She was a pleasant person but I wasn’t. I was in the “what a loser could not become a doctor phase with a grudge against everyone.” Obviously she was bored and moved to more fun people. Then we did not interact since we chose different specializations, until the October of 2003. That was the year when our college took us on an industrial visit to Kanha national Park, a must visit place- total adventure. She was in the trip too with her new found love, Amit. I knew the guy he was a lab partner very funny (typical bhaiyya dialogues.Omkara types). He has a story…
He loved a girl in their gang but the girl was seeing someone else, so the high on hormones he turned to the girl No.1 to calm him down.

Now I and my girls shared a room with gal No.1 at the visit. Every night she would sneak to the guy’s room, Amit. Next day the guys in their room would give us dope. That’s when I was shocked. He would abuse her verbally I don’t know whether physically also. He would ask her to take her clothes off like literally,”Chal abhi shirt utar, jeans bhi main hi utaru kya, randi? Etc, etc” She would do everything he asked her. Then through out the trip we saw her being insulted, verbally abused – most of which I did not even understand. She faked happiness when she was in the room with us. But her face was sorrowful….. Always not even an ounce of genuine happiness. He wasn’t the same to others; he was nice to all of us. But with her he would be the worst man on earth. All through the college years she sustained the relationship but I don’t know for what. I guess that’s love. But quite stupid indeed!!! Today she is married; wonder whether to him or someone else. I want to see her again sometime in future with a happy face. Amen.
From no where I thought of Gal No.2 from my B School. She was so beautiful every guy I met wanted her. She was rich, fun, smart … I mean like a fantasy, like a dream come true & to add to that she had found her perfect match. But something was missing; I would not feel the “REAL” in her.
My heart is jittery with these two gals. Why so much disparity one so real but sad and another so pretentious but happy. I don’t want to be in this world with inequality of such enormous levels.

Where do I fit in this scheme of things, neither am I gal no. 1 nor 2. I feel like I am in the background of my own story,
When I am with my friend, it’s my friend’s story,
When I am with a guy, it’s the guy’s story,
When I am with my sister, it’s her story,
When I am with my mom, it’s her story,
When I am with my dad, it’s his story,
When I am at work, it’s the office’s story….
It’s too late to be the main lead now. After some thought it dawned on me, my role is that of a spectator. Yes I am the spectator. No don’t underestimate it. It’s good to be The Spectator. That’s what I am!! But now help me to find it's application?