I got a review on my post "Number 1, Number 2" from a very good friend of mine. I know him so I know he is too lazy to comment on it. He says, " When you are spectator you dont move ahead in life. When something happens you either act or react not just sit around and be a spectator. And if you are one you surely are a loser." My thoughts on it, " Point taken sir.. I dont want to be one anymore. Captain Rashmi taking charge." :-)

" I dont understand directions, I dont remember all these numbers and passwords, I cry for almost everything, almost everyday, But I dont care. And ya I still believe in the Fairytale Love.I am a woman and was meant to be this way." :-)

Michael Passion Jackson

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?

All but None...

"If I just had a mind, I would be rich;
If I just had a heart, I would be at peace;
If I just had my gut, I would never be deceived;
The Bastard, who made me gave me all three..Neither rich, nor Happy and Always Stupid"

That rainy day........

I was walking on the Poly chem road to the station, almost drenched and dreadfully was wearing not so much of a rain friendly color, especially for a local mode of transport. When no ones on the road I enjoy my walks. I saw a guy standing about 30 feet away from me. He was about 6 feet tall without an umbrella, and ya he was drenched too. He was one of those construction workers who have amazing bodies and walk around shirtless in low rise worn out pants. And when at work have cement and mud all over their body…………..A big screen version would be Arjun Rampal (in the famous Jaanleva song). All men fashions have evolved from these men and cowboys. Ladies worth all your drools. They are rare but you do find them at all new building construction sites, they usually have an “I hate you” look on their face.
I was kinda checking him out when my eyes halted at his groin. Oh my Gawd…..his thing was out but he wasn’t peeing and it was ….ahem ahem. Shee shee Rashmi get some shame stop looking at him like that. But he was the only one on the road. O god now he was just 15 feet away, wot do I do … I don’t want to be molested today. There’s no one else on the road…if he comes towards me I will hit him with my umbrella and run away. Or if I get cold feet, I will try shouting out loud. But there’s no one around God pls pls send me my hero. Damn y am I so hot, men just can’t keep it down. hehheh (All gals say this at least once to themselves in a day. It makes us feel so good inside.)
Just ten feet away my heart is pumping like a first kiss syndrome with less of excitement and more of fright. Rashmi just block your mind, look down and walk past him as fast as possible. When was just 5 feet away I looked at him. It’s just that impulse when you stop yourself from doing something and end up doing the same thing. Aaah he was one of those who keep a straight face and molest the girl and go away and the girl is still thinking did it happen or am I dreaming? And by the time she is sure he is already unreachable. I hate that kind not that I have any liking for the others. At this point I am reminded of a friend who told me once that she read in a book (I think its Fountain Head) not so sure, that a girl who was being raped starts enjoying it in the process. Sounds sick but I relate to it and to her.
This puts me in another frame of mind, when I sometimes fantasize sex with God not a physical form but something unexplainable. I feel if my sexuality is the best that I can offer to anyone then shouldn't’t it be the best thing to offer to God. I think I need therapy, anyway coming back to the guy on Poly chem road I looked down at his crotch.
What the Fuck…the guy was just holding his umbrella against his hip and standing sideways with a skin colored handle -which from my side made it seem like his penis. I think I should start wearing spectacles and some make up from tomorrow.

"I love little girls in pretty dresses, I am not a pervert. They are little drops of joy from heaven on earth.

I love men who love women, I am not a sexist. They are men who know how to live."