Kismet

Kismet(KIZ-met) is not remotely related to what I was going to write now.I use 'was' because using 'am' always makes me feel distinctly uncomfortable.Exactly like committing to something that I may or may not do,connected imperceptibly to the vagaries of my mind and hence as uncertain as todays weather.On second thought since the weather these days seems very much predictable(just as loads of water and misery for Bombay or slisha cloudy but with a little sunshine for dear old hyd) it would be prudent for me take back my last few words and replace the analogy not with todays weather,but say the hotness quotient(1) for NDTV's female reporters.

Yes,Kismet.Kismet supposedly comes (via Turkish) from Arabic the qismah, "portion, lot."It means fate or destiny,quite a close resemblance to the hindi kismat.The word is also as beautifully close to kishmish as it is to kiss,the former being something I absolutely adore the taste of and the latter errr..being something I wouldn't mind.(hypocrite!!)

So Kismet has it that I went today to get a new frame for my poor spectacles,as strained from being thrown about the footer fields and the badminton courts as from long pointless excursions on the internet as from being unceremoniously flung away before I go to bed,suffering probably the agony of contact with the bottom of the maids foot twice or thrice,as from being literally squished under my pillow,as from the pressure of the lascivious gazes and wide eyed stares from one side of it to the miss USA teens posing in their bikinis on the other.Not to mention the UV rays(somebody please seal the hole,they plead),the ignomity of fog and rain,dust,mud,smoke,CO,sweat...

Anyway the point of this post is not the nirvana of my long languishing specs which are not so blessed to have their owner word reparo but the fact that this bloggers confidence levels(which is not very much to say the least) dip to at least 60% of their original values in the presence of a girl.Now,not all girls have this effect,but I see it very wise and prudent to just say 'girls' rather that try being precise(do I give myself away?) with a longer 'hot girls'.You see,the blogger is making sure that he is not embarrased,with the oft-repeated girly question that the blogger wont mouth here(consider it taboo like Lord Voldemort.I only pray that the male readers of this blog dont have to answer to that question) if he ever has the most gratifying experience of meeting any of the female readers of his blog.

So there I was haggling with the optician(my old specs lay forgotten.A new,classy frame was dangling from my hand) over fourteen hundred or three hundred more because rest assured if the guy had his way(all my senses were on red alert) then I would be pretty much penniless over the weekend which was by all means to be avoided.I tried an old tactic.A little look-i-am-smart-so-you-better-stop-haggling trick.Lets say astigmatism.The greenish white card that the doc had handed to me minutes ago pronounced very clearly that i needed some 0.5-0.5 cylinders(God knows what they are) and that my sight stood at -0.75 for the right eye and -1.25 for the left(2) one.Now,already wise from the few minutes of chat with the worthy doc and a recollection of the old-high school optics fundaes,I tried proving to the optician why the specs I was buying now could not prevent me from having a different power in different directions or in more layman terms why it could not prevent me seeing the lengths of the vertical and horizontal radii of a circle as different or in pseudo-impress-listeners terms why it was no good for astigmatism.Everything was going well.I had him sufficiently muted and he looked (i think) to be on the verge of letting the three hundred bucks stay in my purse for a little more time.Then...disaster happened!

She came and stood right behind me.She was tall(5'11 i guess) and fair.She was pretty young(20 or so I think).The very thought of her now makes me write three very simple sentences which my grammar teacher would take one look at and shoot a note to my mom saying that her son did not know the basics of combining sentences, or in other words,unfamiliar to conjunctions and give me disapproving stares the rest of the week.Anyway,so she had the most beautiful eyes ever.Lips that would have made Love Hewitt(ya so?) feel inferior.And a beautifully toned skin color that would have made the white sea gulls take the next ship back to North pole.She had the most perfect ass.A statement i could well justify,having first seen that part of her in the mirror before turning around to gape at her.Well,she was beautiful and it I would not need Jeeves to open the little door at the side of my head,reach a finger inside and switch on the little bulb which seemed to have gone phusssss to tell me that she was wayyy(Note the extra y's) out of my league.

To cut a long story short,she seemed to suck up my confidence like maybe a Dementor, in those few seconds she stood behind me waiting for her turn.The three hundred bucks in my pocket went bravely to the smiling cashiers drawer.My fundaes on astigmatism seemed to evaporate,leaving a temporary bulge in my throat and a suddenly strained voice which seemed to say something like
Gurrp Burp Gurrrum Burrm Gurgle Furble Furrrrm ph Wuakkkk 300 Wuakkkkk.

And I hear there are hot chickos in the corporate world...God help me!

"We are all weirdoes together ... but the 'together' is the important part."
Rhiow, "The Book of Night with Moon" (p.216)