She cried, how and why...

She took out rouge and liner from Hidesign purse and went on to refurbish her tear-stained face.

Tears…probably the deadliest weapon a woman can unleash on a guy who cares about her…each drop which rolled down her cheeks were hitting me hard … I felt as if my heart was being pierced by acupuncture needles…one by one...from the inferior to the superior vena cava…Yup, she's my lifeline…has been so for quite some time now. So, I was with her in the kitchen of my one bhk apartment, preparing a modest dinner for the two of us. I thought doing this together was a great way to bond better, gotta admit that "9^1/2 weeks" kitchen scene had a lot to do with this plan of mine. She helped me by fetching vegetables from the fridge, stood by my side as my knife made precise dices and slices.

    She was no better at cooking than I'm at dancing. The intent of showcasing my culinary skills was inherent in this exercise. I got off to a good start, deboning the fish, all in one go.
The showman inside me felt I could do one better…so to display my multi-tasking abilities, I went on to tell her some 'incidents' from my college days while chopping up the items for fish curry, vegetable korma and green salad. I won't be unfair to her by saying my stories were good; she had to really put some effort in appearing eager to hear my corny tales. She stood there leaning against the fridge trying to make sense of the confusion otherwise known to me as my college life. It's said that a good listener usually comes up with a good question, she was no exception…in the pause I made to recover breathe, she fired a quick one, "Do you still love your ex?"
Like a shot from a well-concealed sniper, this question came from nowhere…(I did, however, mention my ex in the stupid stories I was serving her for appetizers) The cucumber, about to be decapitated slipped away from the edge of the blade I was wielding, proof enough that I was shaken up by this poser. She moved to a strategic position next to me and whispered over my shoulder, "I'm waiting...tell me"
    DAMN!  
Bluffing my way out of this was immediately ruled out by the one in front of the left lung while the one between my ears told me to skip the question altogether. "She will know sooner or later, it's better to settle this once and for all", some other chum (with a halo over his head) advised.
With supreme effort I managed to utter these very words, "To tell you that I don't would be lying through the teeth so I would rather say that I'm trying to un-love her" meanwhile my hands were busy chopping. Probably a few micro seconds later I realised the implication of these seemingly ostentatious words...THIS IS NOT SOMETHING ONE SHOULD SAY TO SOMEONE SPECIAL AS IT DENTS THAT "SPECIAL" IN A SPECIAL ONE. My body stiffened waiting for a reprisal.

My ears picked up a sniff, I slowly turned my gaze to her...she had just pulled a hankie out of her purse...her eyes were swelling with tears...


"Take evasive action !!", alarms went off in my head. Tears!! Oh no! tears are not on menu for this dinner date!!


"Hey, hey...I was only suggesting that she doesn't matter to me anymore"... "She's as good as gone"... "I really care about you, that's why I said what I said and please, right now, you are my only object of affection"... "Ahhh, that witch is gonna haunt me even in my afterlife"........

  I released the trigger to observe the effect of my covering fire....But, it was too late...my defence had been breached already...I dropped the knife in despair....
"I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to hurt you in any way..."
It absolutely wreaks me to see her eyes moist...Her tears start in drops, soon turn into a drizzle and a li'l later, depending on the magnitude of her emotional burden, torrential tears may come along with thunderous wails. Sometimes it bothers me so much that I end up questioning my moronic existence; For making her cry, somebody line me up in front of a firing squad, please!


Thankfully she managed to cork her outpour and said something that caught me napping.
"It's perfectly cool, it's understandable, had the same experience with one of my ex, much worse actually", she said in a wobbly tone.

Imaginary arms started scratching my head, "I reminded you of who?...your ex?"
"No".
"Then....what explains those tears?"

"Them...I can't stand them...."
I looked at the direction indicated to find the culprit... finely chopped onions on my chopping board.   


Considering the plight of my abso-f**king-lutely baffled intellect, I made it a point to purchase the book displayed below. 

Note: This has got nothing to do with me... fiction as pure as cow shit...the entire episode takes place within a span of 10 minutes.Just so you know...

    

Congratulations! It doesn't work!

My trusted ''sometimes shaken but never stirred'' PC is just 3 months away from its 3rd ''birthday'' (though assembly-day or installation-day should have been more apt). Despite all the strenuous rigors I put my machine through, it hardly ever bothered me with any technical issue, except something as routine as a hard disk formatting on a few occasions. This year (here comes the disheartening bit) my PC outlives its warranty period. So, come November, any and every repair or replacement of its hardware is gonna dent my wallet (my dad's to be precise).

This does have an impact on your mental peace. I feel pangs of morbid realisation that one day I'll have to stare at some defunct part of the PC which no longer enjoys the umbrella of warranty. At times like this, sinister thoughts cross your mind...such as what if the entire machine breaks down in a manner in which the whole machine can be replaced i.e. before the warranty expires ? I'll get a new PC in replacement...that too without dropping even a penny...cool,nah?

Of course, ''a far fetched idea this is...'' as master yoda would have put it. However, this did happen to some extent...my PC, on the 26th May, without  any prior warning, broke down and would not boot despite my best efforts. With a hope in my heart (to find a fatal yet replaceable problem in the PC) and prayer on my lips, I began diagonsis and soon found out that in all probability, its the RAM (ZION 1 GB DDR2) that had gone kaput.

Distraught at not finding any other problem, I resigned with the job of having that RAM replaced at the Zion service center near Orient theatre somewhere on the Chittaranjan Avenue.

To look for the service centre in the heart of Kolkata's Chandni Chowk area is a daunting task. Its basically a miniature manhattan minus the skyscapers and that most of the buildings are rickety, some so dilapidated that they would soon make it to the breaking news...

Disasters waiting to happen, thats what they are. This building I was seeking for had a liquor shop on the ground floor, tailoring and laundary facility on the second and ZION help desk on the third. Frankly speaking had it not been for a ''Blue Dart'' guy(traffic cop, local paan wala, porters and others were no help at all),I would have taken hours to reach the office. Now this ''help desk'' was a door leading to an office. The door had a neatly cut window with a panel placed on the sil horizontally. On that panel was placed a register and pen, a poster which read ''no admission to non-staff'' had been fixed on the door. Inside the office from what I could gather, there were six or seven tables with motherboards, monitors, tea cups, paper littered all over them.

 The people inside the office had the air of government babus as they took momentary breaks from their gupshup to attend to the clients and customers. I went ahead and entered my name in the register...one of the fields of the register asked about the problem...I felt like writing ''RAM ram satya hai'' but did not.

A distant voice from inside the office almost instantly asked me to get in the queue. Ah, the queue! Only seven harrowed customers in there...waiting for their turn...eyes on the wall clock and ears standing out trying to make out if they were being summoned by the ''babus''. I joined the queue...and soon it became evident that it would take a while to get anywhere near that ''help desk''.

Hanging out like that with nothing happening, made my mind go into a sub-conscious surveillance mode (Interestingly, it has been scientifically ascertained that the human conscious mind gathers info at 16 bits/sec whereas the non-conscious mind works at around 11 million bits/sec...kindly refer to the movie Karthik calling Karthik to discover more about the powers vested with the sub-conscious mind) ...I could distinctly pick up what others were mumbling, my eyes were seeking targets of opportunity i.e. Bills, warranty papers, the parts which were to be repaired or replaced. Preliminary prying revealed 5 out of those seven cases were that of malfunctioning RAM. The other two had motherboard problems. I kept on assimilating ambient info.

Very soon the first guy in the line left the counter...he walked off spouting an assortment of colorful  language... I asked the gent in front about the issue...he wasn't sure himself so he asked someone standing in front of him and the question got relayed to the lady now standing at the window, being serviced. Answer was relayed back in the same fashion...they found his RAM fully functional...but our "behaved" guy won't believe them, he was hell-bent on having it replaced (probably it was the stress seeping into him realising that  some other parts of his PC might as well be damaged and it led to his erratic insober behaviour...to come this far...find this building in the urban jungle...stand in a queue braving the hot and humid corridor leading to helpdesk and ultimately  to walk off empty hand is certainly depressing...Gotta give that to him). Meanwhile, the babus(read service engineers) inside were having a good laugh over his anguish. As the minutes hand on the clock ticked on, impatience kept growing...and those intermittent bursts of laughter originating from somewhere inside the office were getting really irksome. Soon the lady being served at the ''help desk'' was relieved and she had a big grin...her face was glowing with smugness as she flashed her newly replaced RAM in front of us...However, she was very quick to realise that it wasn't the RAM which had us all gravitating towards her, that something in her left hand...a brand new ''Zebronic'' audio/PC headset worth nothing less than a 100 bucks. ''oh! This??? They are giving away small gifts for RAM replacement cases like mine...''.

 She left the place teeming with people now reeling from heightened desperation to get their peripherals replaced by any means. The next two hopefuls were denied within the first few minutes of preliminary inspection. The parts they  brought this far worked okay on being tested by the technicians inside. Both of them made a quiet exit. Next up to try his luck was a twenty something fellow who was visiting this center for the third time (his claims for a replacement were dismissed on the previous occasion), and he was confident that this time his motherboard would surely prove flawed. This unassuming, bespectacled, lanky lad tensed as a would-be father outside a maternity ward, was eagerly expecting the report...soon the technician turned up. These were his exact words, ''yeh toh apko pasand nahi karti, par maike aate he kaam karne lagi !''... A feeling of pain and dismay flushed the face of the guy as if he had been kicked in his groin,''What?? U can't be serious!'', and the argument ensued but his plight fell on wax clogged ears of the technicians. I felt pity for that guy as he went away after his hope of getting a new motherboard for his aging one was dashed.

The line moved on...3 more failures and a single successful replacement later, my turn came. The passed on my RAM to the technician...he had a suspicious look on his face,'' You sure this thing malfunctions??''. ''I would not have taken the pain of coming all the way over here, otherwise.''

The eye contact lasted for a while...we sized each other up...the technician turned away with a dry grin on his face,'' I'll be back!''

So this ''Schwarzenegger'' left the help disk in a manner which suggested he was pissed. Now normally this implies the job at hand suffers miserably, but to my surprise it did not. The RAM passed the examination with flying colors. It proved itself to be faulty enough to deserve a replacement. That technician had a heartburn uttering, '' Congratulations! It doesn't work!!''...'' We'll replace it free of cost as it is covered by our guarantee and you'll get a complimentary headset for having availed our services.'' Not often does one feel so thankful about something not working properly. I joined the elite list of customers who could afford to breathe easy even when the guarantee period  is at its fag end even if only for a RAM.