Sep 6, 2007

Battle of the Blues

         It was not funny at all. I was there, sitting in that wretched coffee shop, trying to drown myself in the nitty-gritties of microeconomics, with a lukewarm capuccino that tasted like it was made with the same mud, that Vasco Da Gama shook out of his boots when he landed in Kerala. I was trying to concentrate and was completely, successfully unsuccessful. I was in utter despair and turned to look out through the glass, seconds before I toppled out the chair and poured the muddy beverage all over my precious gold-wrought knickers.
         There was a huge crowd staring right at me, through the glass. I looked and felt a fool. It was not a new feeling anyway, as my girlfriend would comment with immense sarcasm. But still, it was a bit too sudden. I was trying to look dignified and delicately picked myself up, trying not to lose my sex appeal in the process. They were still staring at me. I was puzzled.
         I have never been stared at for so long by anybody; let alone a bunch of awestruck, pretty specimens of the fairer sex. The last time anybody stared at me was when I was hopping around in apparent pain, in the middle of the road, having caught myself in the zipper. The phenomenon was and is not regular. I rationalized. After pretty, heavy-duty calculations that would have required the processing capacity of at least six supercomputers, I made the obvious conclusion. It was not me that they were staring at.
         And after making a thorough and extensive study of the surroundings that included two old men who were trying to dump their wives and elope, I decided that neither was it because of,

     1) the hot female in a bathing suit, with shapely thighs sitting behind me; nor

     2) the hot female in a bathing suit sitting behind me; nor
     3) the hot female in a suit sitting behind me; nor
     4) the hot female sitting behind me; nor
     5) the female sitting behind me, even.
         I was still looking around, making assumptions and discarding them like Bluebeard's wives, when I heard the crowd roar a single word in unison and a brick loosened from the ceiling.
     The fog cleared. Clarity rose. Cognition proceeded. Enlightenment dawned. Birds flew. Crows pooped. Mosquitoes bit. The brick fell. Trains ran. Goats bleated. DFock yawned. Etc.
         I slowly swivelled in my chair to see a 40 inch monitor, mounted high on the wall and watched a white ball being tossed around a green field. I could not help myself cheering though I would have rather preferred women wrestling. And surprisingly, we won.


love and squalor said...

female cricket fans?
almost as rare as a bathin-suit clad lady in a coffee shop.

perhaps you were hallucinating.
oh. and we won.
see? you were definitely hallucinating.

Rathna said...

wasn't that obvious? you don't need a super computer to find that out...

and yeah, i commented. :P

Santosh said...

hey nice post. the post had a good climax loved the twist but the photo gave a little hint.

Added to my feed reader!!

PurpleHeart said...

cool one ! :)

ScRiBbLeR said...

Yeah that was a nail bitting finish :)

Bharat said...

@love and squalor

if there was a bathing suit clad lady there, and I was watching the match and not her, then I was must definitely have been halluccinating...

Bharat said...

@ OMG, finally the genius tells me!!!

Bharat said...


Thanks dude..:) overlooked the giveaway.. will be more careful next time..

sirpy said...


Bharat is not my alter ego.. by some freak play of fate, I had to reply through his account..


Thanks.. !! :)


He.. he.. last thing, I expected.. :)