#QuizIsMyValentine
The last
week has been, as has been rightly put up in some forums, the Ultimate Chutiyapa
Festival. Every ‘hatasia’ and ‘hystria’ has been living his dream these last few
days. The strange part was even I tried to experiment a bit with this lunacy.
The spirit of adventure you know. You see your peer hoolocking around like
chimps from branches to branches, and suddenly your ass starts itching. So when
everybody around me was plucking obnoxious roses from the hall garden on Rose
Day, I decided I must also fetch one. And then that quizzing sense starts
working, and I think about the durability, the reliability, about all those
melodramatic prose of love and pain for the rose leaf and balderdash. So what
do I do finally? I got a plastic Rose. See, it was a very efficient idea. Only
that the girl never showed up to take it.
On Propose
Day, I started with a fresh burst of energy. I read those usual lines from La
Belle Dame Sans Mercy, and some Yeats. I had rehearsed my lines with facial
expressions too. It was like there’s this tough quiz tomorrow, and I am
revising my database. The evening came, the girl too. And I quoted Byron. The
hapless woman looked petrified. I said it was a good poem I had read, and every
time I saw her, I was being reminded of that. Then she quoted some line from
Two States, and asked me to read ‘simple’, and I quote ‘heart-touching’ lines.
I have made it a resolution to never propose anyone again.
On Chocolate
Day, I gifted this girl a Bourneville, and she was so happy about it. She said
she loved all Nestle chocolates. Ouch. That hurt. I reminded her, quite
politely, that it was Cadbury we were talking of. There was this tale of John
Cadbury I shared with her, about the Royal Warrant from the Queen, that sada hua Bourneville village wala funda and how Mondeleez had taken
it over. The girl exclaimed that she had an assignment to complete. She went
away, and has never picked my phone again.
On Teddy Day,
I Whatsapped this girl, that classic image of the bear tied to the tree and
Roosevelt refusing to shoot it down. The girl replied immediately that I had
ruined the day for her, and that everytime she will see a teddy bear, she will
be reminded of this gore.
On Promise
day, I promised three girls the same thing. One of the girls was my sister too.
I told them I will never go for a quiz which pays less. The ironical thing was
that while I was repeating those lines on phone, I was sitting in the CV Raman
wala Quiz with the first prize being in three digits. Never mind, promises are
made to be broken.
Kiss Day is
an absolute No-No for me, given all the exchange of bacteria that Sheldon so
wonderfully points out during the course of Big Bang Theory. I also urge you to
do the same.
During Hug
Day, I was busy posting Hug De in Hindi. If you know what I mean.
And today,
the most sacrosanct of them all, Valentine’s Day, and I am studying for the Gen
Quiz tomorrow at Burla.
Basically we
are too perfect to have a Valentine.
Dude, I am
kidding!
I don’t have
a life.
At least not
by what we define life generally as. Our life is that three hours of high
intensity mind games, and its reset before every new quiz. While people
contemplate long drives with their girls, we contemplate booking early train
tickets to college fests and attending the quiz. Some people buy movie tickets,
and some pay the registration fees. Some cheat their girlfriend, and some
Google up answers. There are those who hug in the dark, and those who strangulate
answer sheets in their man-boobs. There are those women who wear great clothes,
and those who wear a finer fabric of intellect.
And at the
end of the day, there is always a way of Loving. But then, there is always
another way of Living too.
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