|Dobermans Might Fly (standard:humor, 769 words)|
|Author: Aurpon||Added: Sep 13 2000||Views/Reads: 2365/1||Story 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. Tweet
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