A night outside a call center

It was one of those days about which you have no idea as to why events transpired in the way they did and if there'll be another day like that, ever. Late evening calls with firangis, a bit excessive chatter directed at pretending to solve the world's mess and a latent wish to delay the weekend led me into a situation where polite conversation didn't help. Large, dull black gates are not generally known to open themselves at the behest of an underfed, and an ever-accepting tenant who is looking for a night's sleep and a potentially boring weekend ahead.

Anywho, the search for ik mutthi aasman led to the revelation - as it usually does - jhingur! Starting as my only friend in Pune to being my supplier of daily hygiene needs when the UP government skips sending some water my way on certain mornings, Jhings has had a broad impact on my otherwise monotonous lifey. As always, he cheerfully welcomed an unexpected raat ka humsafar and I was on my way to meet the jhings-bajpai-maggie trio, who were searching for a few steamy ... sips - gosh, you filthy mind - of late night roadside tea, one of the simple joys of middle-class life. The night seemed to promise more tafri while mates didn't, so jhings and I were back home visualizing many-an-eye-candy in our choice of attire and after some pillow talk we were almost ready to crash. And then, as in most good scripts, the phone rang.

For a simple one like me, a girl's voice, a nice one at that, at 4am is something. Anyway, having scored a bit too well in moral science all along, courtesy sometimes overflows inside. In a span of a breath or two, Jhings and I were off to meet what I had heard was a pretty, pretty nice girl. And nice she was, a walking TV so to say. I am sure all of us have experienced meeting people, who within a minute seem like long time friends, ones you feel instantly comfortable with.

Jhings' friend had brought another friend of hers. What a lovely girl! I mean, her demeanor, her rather radiant and mystic smile, her pleasant manner, her overall daintiness, and her eyes. Her eyes, boy-o-boy, those eyes of hers! Serious, that pair seemed like some sort of rare, precious gems which only a geological rarity can produce. Such depth... hazel tinge... that twinkle. I have always told people that if they haven't seen a full moon on a clear night using a powerful telescope, they haven’t quite seen what a mesmerizing thing of beauty can be. But, those eyes of her were no less than a feature rich moon surface. You know the eyes that talk, those sorts.

And as if the eyes weren't enough, she had a smile to die for! She had about five states of appearance, smiling, smiling, smiling, smiling, and smiling. And what a smile! I meant what-a-smile! The smile that tells you she can read what's on your mind. The smile that embodies genuine amusement. The smile that's infectious enough for you to see the light and bright side of life’s things. The smile that is so friendly that the age-of-acquaintance becomes immaterial. The smile that asks you to smile with it. That smile.

Post mid-night darkness led to dawn and a few bonfires and some chatter later it was decided to begin the day with some early-morning-sale shopping at UCB. Nice experience, and with the ladies lending their sense of style, Jhings and I wrapped the shopping expedition quick and with satiation. Satiation, at last.

The time had come to be gone and back home it was time to hallucinate. Hallucinate, again.

Phir kuch is dil ko beqraari hai
Seena zoya-e-zakhm-e-qaari hai

Bekhudi besabab nahin 'Jango'
Kuch to hai jis ki pardadaari hai