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Dobermans Might Fly (standard:humor, 769 words)
Author: AurponAdded: Sep 13 2000Views/Reads: 2365/1Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
I am rejected by my first love? Why? Well, come on in and find out!
 



DOBERMANS MIGHT FLY 

Aurpon Bhattacharya 

I had loved. "So what?" you may say. But ah! My love affair was
different. "So was mine", you will say. But wait, let me tell you my 
story before you drag in comparisons between your love and mine. I was 
in Grade X preparing for the final examinations when it happened. I had 
fallen for this lovely girl--love at first sight--in July. She finally 
condescended to be mine on October 3. We were going steady [I always 
believed in the maxim of winning the race by going slow and steady] for 
three months before it broke up. Between these three months [3x30 days 
or 3x30x24 hours or 3x30x24x60 minutes is a long time, don't you 
think?] we had exchanged vows of sincerity, of being together forever, 
inseparable, tied by an unbreakable bond, pledged never to deceive each 
other; the list was unending. It was then that the unseen hand struck. 
A total misunderstanding de-glued our love. She rung up one fine day in 
January--or should it be one dark day-- and uttered one monosyllable, 
"Over." "Over?" asked I, "I didn't know you played cricket!" "Over", 
she repeated. "Six balls up?" I still couldn't understand. You see, I 
belonged to that group of people who were playing cricket among 
themselves while God was distributing brains. When our group finally 
remembered that it was "Brain Time", the cerebral stores had been 
cleared. God, stroking his white lustrous beard [Head and Shoulders 
beyond a shade of doubt--consumerism, don't you see?], had somehow 
managed to equip us with brains. He never told us where he got it 
from--and made us happy. Strangely, a species of monkeys became extinct 
soon after this incident--you don't think it had anything to do with 
us, do you? Anyway, let the past bury its dead and let us revert to the 
tragic scene. "Six balls up?" I had quipped. "It's all over", Mona 
said. "It is? Good, very good. But -er- what exactly is over?" I asked. 
"Our relationship; it's over," she barked like a Doberman. "Nooo!" I 
almost shouted, but instead contented myself with a modest, "What!" "I 
don't think I need to offer any explanations as to why this is 
happening," said Mona. "But dash it! Mona darling," said I, "listen to 
me." "No! It's all over", Mona barked, like a Doberman once more. Now, 
I can tolerate an Alsatian, I can tolerate a Spitz, but give me a 
Doberman and I will present you with a painful upper-cut--the Mike 
Tyson variety. It is then needless to say that I unloosed my repertoire 
of grand expletives. "What the...(censored) do you think you are doing, 
you (censored) guinea pig? Who the...(censored) do you think you are? 
You..." Well, I said a lot after having begged, pleaded, rolled on the 
ground, stood on my head, done all sorts of things to make her budge 
from her position. Immovable as a stubborn hippopotamus, I thought. 
"Very well, R.I.P." I concluded. "What!" She did the Doberman act once 
again. This was getting to be too much of a strain for me. "REST IN 
PEACE!" I boomed and banged down the receiver. Depression came soon. No 
longer was I the type of person who would try to cheer up Napoleon by 
talking about the winter sports in Moscow. I was severely shaken, my 
foundations shattered. And then I saw that beauty of an innings. I had 
switched on the TV set in a vacant, pensive mood, and what did I see? 
No, not daffodils, but Azhar's ecstatic innings. That single sight 
changed my life. No longer had I the pressure of thinking about our 
future; about meeting Mona secretly or taking her out. I was free, free 
as a lark, free as Azhar in full flow, rid of his captaincy. I did a 
quick somersault [the Paul Adams type] and scored a scintillating 
century within a week. I mean, I finished revising my entire ICSE 
syllabus within a week. What next? February flashed by and then came 
the ICSE. I hooked, pulled, cut and drove with the ease of Azahruddin. 
By the time the exams had finished, I had scored a double century. I 
knew my aggregate wouild be above 90 per cent. My results were out by 
late May and they were match-winning-- 96%!! And so i say, "If you want 
a carve a niche for yourself in life, terminate your love affair and 
watch Azhar scoring a century against the hapless South African 
bowlers. Believe me, your success is guaranteed." You still say that 
your love affair was different? Hah! Dobermans--oops--pigs might fly. 


   


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