Cris’s World

Tony and Liz were going through Tony’s emails. Tony dropped in on his way to the dentist’s at Liz’s, whom he always considered a good friend he lost to the lunatic world. She was now drinking lime juice her mother brought them and reading his emails happily. She didn’t think of any need to look elsewhere or pretend she wasn’t interested like other girls he knew. And funnily, Tony didn’t mind her reading them. It would be as safe with her as it would be with thin air. Cause Liz never thought about them again. Telling her something was as good as not telling her something!

Bam! I was doomed. There was a bloke on my left who looked like he was 3 big blokes made into 1. There was another bloke on my right who was double the bloke on my left, which made him 6 blokes thick.

My mission: Escape

My problem: How

It is amazing how some people were born to be liars. I was standing before one on the fatal night of “The Fall”. This one, in a smaller size, aged 10 was looking bored and yawning while I took the role of the questioner.

“Didn’t you go?”

“Nope”, said the LL (read Little Liar)

“But you weren’t here”

“I was”. This LL was good with his LL-ing!

“What’s that on your left hand?” I pointed at the crumbled paper he held in his left hand.

“Nothin’”

“Of course not! There’s a paper!”

This seems to have become a habit of mine. These SRK conversations! And they all start the same way. Here goes…

I was sleeping, as I have decided I will since I found out that was the best way to spend life in the air. SRK woke me up again. “Hullo so we meet again mah lady”. I yawned, and as is my usual habit spend the next few seconds blinking. He went on “Not much change in you since we last met is there?”

“This is my second time in a plane. I don’t risk being conscious”

Publishing the entry I made for the love letter competition at my work-place and which actually came out to be one of the winning entries
Here goes:

Hullo little kid across the street,

I am another little kid on the other side of the street. I am a boy of 7 years and I expect you are a girl of 7. You certainly talk like one. In my class, 7 year old girls talk a lot so I know one when I see one. But I will tell you one thing honestly. You are not at all like any of the girls in my class. When they talk I can make out only blah-blahs. But when you talk, I can make out every word and that’s a big gift in a girl.

Me: “Dad, I think I am ready”
Dad: “Err? Oh have a nice day at school dear”
Me (groaning): “Dad I finished school an year ago. I happen to be a major as per our country rules and in case you forgot, I am doing my graduation”
Dad: “Ahh… school and college… its all the same once you have reached my age dear. I mean its all just happy no-worry childhood days”

Life is so horrible. I was a happy man till yesterday. But now I am a man with a deep sorrow. A sorrow so deep I have to cry about it every other hour.
It aches my heart, every time I pass it. The place that gave me all my happiness in life. I tried not to think of it.

I woke up just like every other working day. With 10 minutes to catch my bus. A teeth-brushing, a bath, a dress-up, no breakfast and I was right on time. Reaching my gate, the inevitable happened. I forgot something. By the time I got it and rushed back, zoom, the white bus flew past me. It seemed to be having a laugh; leaving a prospective passenger behind! I almost felt sure it somehow had a tongue it was sticking out at me!

It was the same time again. Gawd I am falling in love with these power failures!
I went up and looked at my favorite wall. My roomies thought me cranky. They think I write secret poems. I didnt bother to correct them.

Hmm..Any minute now…Aha! Finally. The same slow movements. Nose first. Perfect nose just like the ones those artisits folks draw - more like a sculpture carved with utter perfection. Next comes the lashes.. Long thick ones with a perfect curve at the edge. Gosh I so wish I was an artist. The lips .. another super pefection… and finally those small strands of curly hair falling over her well carved forehead. The same pose.. slightly leaning forwards to look down at the busy streets. Her hands must be resting on the half-walls. I cant make it out but I can see them rise to her lovely chins and cheeks sometimes.
Gosh what a beautiful picture..

It is time. I have to run away from home. Today! With no delay! I am no procrastinator. I am old enough to live on my own. I cannot ask my birth-givers before I do the most trivial things! Last week I had the misfortune to trip on a chair and fall down. Purely accidental. And all my mother could do was shout at the top of her voice for breaking her new chair! This was so offensive! She should remember I am a grown up too now!