Left Right…Romance Chowk: Chasing the mermaid

Chapter 4: ‘Chasing the mermaid’

The yellow-and-black taxi chugged slowly and was stuck in the pool of mud and water splash escalating higher at every second. Vehicles on the road were flowing like paper boats in a directionless manner. The entire city was brought to a standstill for more than three hours.

Mann was tensed, anxious and bored at the same time. The car lumbered, stumbled on the broken road and all of sudden jerked to stand still that provoked a thud noise that splattered his earlobe.  A thick fog surfaced to cover the beautiful Mumbai sky. It was raining everywhere. The cloud has lost its sheen and every space turned into dark spots as if some ghosts were wrecking havoc on the city by spitting fire balls and black smoke. The wind roared like wild sirens to conspire with angry foes and the thunder sparks shrieked like angry Goddesses.

The cab driver turned to Mann, “Bhaiya! We don’t have any choice. I am turning off the key. It’s impossible to move and I am very scared. Pray Bhaiya for our well-being. Everything is dark.” The man quivered and fidgeted with the car’s key. Mann nodded. Sejal occupied his thoughts and wondered whether she is stuck somewhere in the city. At that point of time, he didn’t mind her making out with a female friend or having sex with a random guy in a house or hotel, surrounded by a bonfire. As long as she is safe…he will turn a blind eye to extremities or human frailties that accompany the human mind and the quest for sensual adventure.

He was trapped in the myriad thoughts. Suddenly, he felt something sharp inside his heavy back pack that hurt his knee. He unzipped the bag and his hand flew inside to reach a dead-end at something thick that he removed. A pink wallet was snuggled inside the comfort of his bag. Mann was bemused, ‘How the fuck this pink wallet entered my bag?’

Mann pressed the button and the wallet flipped open. It contained a letter written by Sejal in bold, ‘You know where to find me.’

“If I go missing one day, don’t freak and become dukkhi like some jilted lover. Remember Devdas. It’s so passé. Mom will call you and blow her top. It’s her normal best. Excitement is me. Clue No 1, remember our conversation during sex. I love to mumble during the act like a flattened parantha. I disappear out of the blue. Thunder, rain and monsoon excite me to no end. I am a mermaid.”

Mann was amused. A feeble smile enlarged his jaw. He couldn’t help stop the frantic heart beat. His mind was stuck on the letter but at the same time was fighting demons like the ferocious rain spreading its might like arrows speckled on the car. The brain has stopped functioning. His eyes were glued to the letter that he caressed with his hand.

“Hey! Wondering what I am blabbering right now. Babe! Time for clue no. 2: You love girls who stand in the middle of the rain and getting drenched from top-to-toe? Sounds sexy and revealing when they wear everything white? The water makes the skin translucent. Gives you an orgasm…in your head. Stop being hard and stiff inside, you pervert. Imagine the rain sending the whole of a Mumbai in a tail spin and folks running for their life. See! Sirjee, I am Jhansi ki Rani and love to flirt not with men but danger. I love caressing the rain and the violent tree branches falling on my face feels like sensual love and lip smacking sensation. I ain’t crazy. It’s just a shade of me that you never knew till now. Slow baby! Dheere dheere, you are approaching my location and no, cabs are not GPS enabled. You gotta do some hard work to find me. You will be handsomely rewarded with a sprinkle of wet kiss and loaded sex for a full week. Wrack your brain.’

Mann almost cursed in frustration. “First, the cab is not even moving and she is telling me that I am coming closer to her.  Where the fuck do I find her? She lost it. I could be sleeping on my bed, wrapping myself under a thick blanket. But, no, I am out looking for her in the rain. I am the one who is mad. I am shivering. But, for whom! But, Madam doesn’t care. Right now, I don’t mind watching those ugly Ekta Kapoor soap operas that serves as a good substitute for porn.”

The letter was long like a scholarly dissertation and his eyes bore shades of tiredness. “Now, should I tell that guys like you are fascinated by Mumbai locals and railway station that you like to explore as if it’s some playboy hub! Stop guessing, baby. The clue lies within. Follow the heart. Heard the classic and oft-repeated ritual? Dhudne pe bhi bhagwaan milta hai. It’s not like I am some fucking bhagwaan but well, Run Lola Run.”

Mann was tired and felt his legs numb. He wanted to sleep in the backseat but ended up chasing the flies hovering above his head. Suddenly, the cars started to move and Mann felt a dash of hope. He read the letter all over again. It was unbelievable. Something was brewing in his head. He had an inkling where Sejal was.  A triumphant smile surfaced on his smile. “Pagal ladki,” he muttered.

Tring!!! Sejal’s Mom was calling. He picked it up, ‘Hello aunty.’ The person at the other end was worried and her voice broke, “Where are you beta? I am sitting inside my car and not able to get past my gate because of the rain and water flooding.” Mann spoke in a calm and hushed tone, “Don’t worry aunty. I think that I know where she is…saw a letter filled with clues. It’s almost impossible to get out of the city. But, we will find her.”

Sejal’s Mom broke into tears. “Beta, can you come to Churchgate. We will go together to find her in my car. My driver will take us.”

“Theek aunty. Hope the cab beats the traffic. I am coming,” Mann tried to calm her. He ordered the cab driver, “Bhaiya, please take a u-turn, speed and avoid potholes and flooded areas if possible. Churchgate.”

The driver nodded. The car screeched its way at a hurtling speed and in the flick of 10 minutes, it was speeding on the highway. Mann couldn’t believe that an Ambassador car can be so fast and furious. The driver sensed that something was wrong.




Jab Harry Met Sejal is about being hopelessly in love

Film Review: Jab Harry Met Sejal

Director: Imtiaz Ali

Producer: Red Chillies/Gauri Khan

Rating: Three stars

Genre: Rom-com

Cast: Shah Rukh Khan, Anushka Sharma, Chandan Roy Sanyal, Aru K Verma and Evelyn Sharma.


A journey of love is not about conquering or possessing hearts but making every drop of water count. Relationships are complex so are humans.  Jab Harry Met Sejal (JHMS) narrates the tale of two characters who are dramatically opposed to each other but at the same time gullible. Harry and Sejal are not flawless or infallible. Imtiaz Ali is one director who believes in the films that he makes and the human emotions he weaved in the film will remind us of people whom we have met at some point or the other in life. JHMS is a human story that will warm your heart. It is very relatable and reminds us of the follies we made in life that would light our faces with a smile.

Shah Rukh Khan effortlessly plays Harry as the travel agent who is never shy in telling, ‘Mein ladkiyon ko gande nazar se dekhte hai.’ It truly embodies the Imtiaz Ali franchise where his one-liners or dialogues have always been his forte and this is what makes his movies stand out from the rest. SRK is charismatic and endearing as Harry. He doesn’t rise above the script but is sublime as Harry, delightfully slipping into the skin of the character. It’s an act that touches the heart.

Sejal is fun-loving and full of zest. Anushka Sharma is electrifying in donning this character, at times weird and quirky with her Gujarati accent that you will drool over. She is simply stunning and wins the heart. One of the most amazing actresses that we have, Anushka is like the light feather and the hatke girl who stole your heart in the not so distant past. There is so much of Sejal in an ex-flame. She is caring. She is selfish. She can be brutal yet want to lean on your shoulder for you to take care of her.

There are some scenes in the movie that will sweep you off the feet. First, when Sejal tells Harry to consider her as his girl friend till the time they are together but is selfish for she will leave him for his fiancée back home. It’s about human weakness, compassion and reminds us that love is all that we need and triumphs over and above everything.

The discussion between Harry and Sejal about finding God is something that we all have done, dhunde mein bhi bhagwaan milta hai. It can’t get more real than that. She told me that one day. It is this vulnerability in love that Imtiaz Ali has treated in a sensitive manner. Love can hurt but is a medicine to heal hearts. The scene when Sejal and Harry sleep on the floor and end up cuddling each other will touch every soul who has ever been in love. The heart knows no reason.

Of course, there are some hilarious scenes that will make you laugh your lungs out. Sejal following Harry in the lousy bar and the letter Sejal writes in the case there is legal intercourse, Harry will be absolved of all charges. Of course, the encounter with Don Gas (Chandan Roy Sanyal) where Harry turns the table on the former breaks the monotony and brings the laughter alive.

Imtiaz Ali brings out the ring analogy to the fore in depicting the love growing between Harry and Sejal which also shows the palatable chemistry between both actors. It sends a strong but proverbial message on the lies that humans make and we look for emotions far away but its simplicity lies within and near us.  What you seek is seeking you makes for a strong statement but a down to earth philosphy about life, love and relationships. For me, the lost ring analogy depicts love and weakness in all its forms. It’s simple and endearing.

Of course, Jab Harry Met Sejal is not the best script that will blow your mind like Jab We Met, Socha Na Tha, Love Aaj Kal or Highway did. It’s not the best work of Imtiaz Ali for he borrows from the same old tried and tested formula. There are moments in the second half that moves at a sluggish pace that work against the film but also that Shah Rukh Khan’s entry is too ordinary that doesn’t live with his superstar image.

JHMS stand out for its human narration about human emotions and tribulations that tug the heart. The way the song Hawayein has been shot is not only electrifying but is a personal favorite for both SRK and Anushka brings so much energy that electrifies the screen. Do watch the film for it means to be hopelessly in love. Fuck logic. Love is not about practicalities but losing all senses.




Left, Right…Romance Chowk: Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Stony trip, flying balloons and the invisible woman

Sejal almost panted and exuded a sense of relief when she successfully thwarted Mann’s questions on her estranged Dad. She was reluctant to confess how she abhorred her Dad who left her mother in the lurch and took a mistress who was half his age. She was a new-born baby who made the cradle her universe.

It was sheer luck that Mann didn’t prod her on the family, mother and her half-brother after whom she secretly lusted. She wanted to seek revenge on her father by playing hide-and-seek and tried to seduce her half-blood brother by using her body as a bait to get even. The last time she wore a short skirt and dropped something on the floor to reveal her legs in a move to glaringly distract his attention by moving her tits and boobs. It pissed her when the half-brother from another mother didn’t react to her sensual gaze. The last thing that Sejal wanted was to have a face-off between Mann and her estranged half-brother. Revenge has always been playing on her mind but not in a tragic fashion to breed jealousy or conflict between this brother and Mann. It was the last thing that she wanted or else, her carefully laid plans would have gone for a toss.

It rained heavily that night. She slouched on the bed and emptied the tobacco to fill it with ganja leaves. Sejal expertly rolled the ganja leaves inside after rummaging to remove the dirt where everything was spread on the morning Bombay Times supplement. She took a drag deep down, wafting through her nostril and the sensation running high inside her body. The water rattled on the window bar and she enjoyed listening to the plopping sound outside. It gave her a high. She took another drag and glugged the Old Monk Rum mixed with Cola. The rum taste swirled around her tongue which was her favorite exercise as she thrust her long leg on the wooden bed handle. She sat in her short and caressed her leg. It gave her a high. There was something that occupied her mind and took another drag wondering how to solve the puzzle. Stoned to death, she burbled endlessly to herself and fidgeted with her phone when a WhatsApp message flashed. It was Mann.

“Fuck,” she moaned. It completely slipped her mind that they were supposed to hang out together in his suburban apartment. He was irritated and pissed off. The phone buzzed but she cut it off several times. Sejal wanted to fling it outside the window when her fingers accidentally stumbled to pick up the phone.

“Hella,” her voice slurred. Mann first thought that he must have dialed a random number who substituted hella for hello. “Mannnn,” Sejal broke into a cackle. “Sorry,” she coaxed him. “I forgot my munchkin.” He was bewildered but got it that she was high under ganja. He gently said, “You having the shit without me baby.” Sejal felt that she was traveling in the air and spoke in lyrical tone, “You know! I am seeing condoms in the air and spurting in the rain like blown balloons. I am whispering in its ear…you know condom can listen and that’s how we fuck,” she palavered. “Baby blow inside the condom to release air and send me a love chit. Tab, you shout Kabutar jaa jaa and it will fly in the rain to pop in front of my window.” Sejal havered and rollicked in laughter.

Sejal weltered towards the hall and wadded to open the door, grabbing the house key from the table, almost tripping on her way out. The door was closed behind her. She oscillated from right to left, doing a zigzag of sort as she rifled her steps inside the elevator.


An unknown number flashed on Mann’s cell phone and was wondering who was calling at this odd hour. He reluctantly picked up the phone when a worried female voice gently spoke, “Hello beta! I am Anita here, Sejal’s mum. When was the last time you spoke to her? Is she with you? I have tried her phone for the last 24 hours and she is not picking up. I am really worried. Please tell.”

It was raining heavily outside. The roads were dark and deserted. Mann braved the rain and after much convincing, he hailed the taxi after agreeing to pay the cabbie double fare. The car headed towards Sejal’s apartment. He tried calling but looks like the network was jammed. He sensed trouble.




Excerpt from the novel in progress

Hey people,

The novel is still work in progress. It’s the first draft that I decided to start all over again and the good news is that I have almost reached 25 brand new pages, an entirely different product from the earlier draft that I was writing. Of course, it’s a rom-com and sharing an excerpt. Of course, looking for honest feedbacks. I shall tentatively call it, “Half-baked Love.”

Excerpt from, ‘Half-baked love.’

Walking past Churchgate Station, they hailed off the stationed black-and-yellow taxis scouting for passengers and plodded their steps past the fountain, where a line-up of shops selling cheap jeans and tee shirts put on display and hanging on ropes on the colorful tents. A shopkeeper stopped Zoya, “Salum walekum Malkin! Apne Mister ke liye kuch lijiye? (Buy something for your mister)” Kshitij face was amok with excitement and congratulated this guy in his heart , wondering why the fuck they don’t make such kind of commoners. Deep inside, he was plotting that this hawker blurts out some more rubbish.  He was amused and signaled the hawker who sported a grey beard to tell more by waving his hand. He made faces behind Zoya back. She turned towards Kshitij with a serious look and exuded a timid smile, flashing her jaws before turning towards the hawker.

She addressed him in Hindi, “Janab, aap ko kisne bola key eh mere Mister hai? (Sir! Who told you he is my Mister?)” There was no smile on her face nor sign of mild irritation. She is an expert in addressing people in a super cool manner that doesn’t make them back out nor feel apologetic. In turn, it makes plain strangers warming up to her as her cool and calm demeanour makes them feel so good. It’s this one quality that drew Kshitij towards her and wonders how she can easily gel with people like that.

The elderly hawker in between measuring legs for a client and marketing his clothing materials, gave Zoya a tenderly father figure touch. “Kya fadak parta hai! Agar Mister nahin hai toh boyfriend hai ya banjayega. Usske ankhein meindekh aapke liye bohot pyar beti. Ban jayega ek din Mister (What difference it makes? If he is not your Mister, he must be or will be boyfriend. I have seen love for you in his eyes, daughter).” He winked at Zoya. She became sheepish and her face turned red with embarrassment.

Kshitij felt like touching the man’s feet and wished that Harry Potter was real, that he would mix a magic potion to make both father and daughter. He felt like telling the guy, “Thank you Sasur-ji. Banoonga mein aap ke damaad when you adopt this girl. (Thank you father-in-law. I will become your future son-in-law with this adoptive daughter of yours).” Kshitij had to take things slow and was wary of the implications of blurting out such nonsense. He was still reeling under the nightmare.

The only  that he could do was make his heart clap like a silent spectator in his theatre of real imagination. Zoya caught his amusement and waged her middle finger at him, whispering threat into his ears, “You having fun, na. Now, you wait what I do to you? You think that I don’t understand…saala kaminey, harami.” Kshtij immediate change his expression from amused to serious before mocking her. She turned away from him and let off to the enthusiastic, “Yeh koi Mister nahin…bas raaste mein mila (He is no mister and I found him like that on the street)” The hawker let off a smile and tried not to laugh on Kshitij’s face. It was his turn to become red.

She shook the guy’s hands before asking his name, “Suleiman. It was nice meeting you.” Suleiman shook the hand of Kshitij tightly and hugged him with, “Koi baat nahin dost” and whispered in his ear, “Don’t let her go ever. Be stubborn. Yeh ladki Heera hai.”

Zoya scolded Kshitij and pulled his hand, “Let’s go. Do you want to get married to his daughter or what and set a stall here at Churchgate. That way, both son-in-law and father-in-law will make good money.”



Fiction: Cheat Kiss and the frog

‘What did you do just now?’, Mehr’s face turned shy and red, shifted her gaze away from him in the crowded coffee shop to watch the rain splattering on the glass window. He nonchalantly said, “Oh! I was trying to count and feel the butterfly. She wore a feigned smile to express surprise in an ironical way, “WoW! Genius! Where was the butterfly roaming? On my lip. I am flattered.”

Kamal tapped the wooden table with his hand and fingers humming, “I stole a kiss. I peck her on the cheek. She turned her face away. A coy princess. The butterfly lips didn’t kiss and melt.”

“Aha! Mr Shayar. You are in total mood today and better don’t buy moods condom at the shop. Keep the smartness inside your pant,” Mehr deliberately stitched his lip with her words. Mehr has a natural flair for words and this is one thing that made her Kamal’s hot pursuit until she relented.


Image credit: Google.

The rain lashed uninterruptedly for hours. Mehr stuck her cheek like glue to the glass pane, watching the branches clattering outside and water pouring as black umbrellas resurfaced in the city, people flocking for shelter and safety under the thin roofs on the street, housing a line up of old colonial buildings in a row. The face tingling with icy cold sensation was a favorite pastime and she loved this feeling to death. Kamal inched forward to stroke her cheek but he suddenly felt a spurt of numbness on his palm and fingers. A dripping cold sensation ran down his spine and made him shudder. He jerked backward with the cold feeling that almost made his palm and fingers numb.  Mehr broke into a cackle of laughter. “Now, you know why I am a cool oven. Caress me at your own risk. I am electrical and piping red-hot.” He mocked her laughter, “I thought you were cold like the icy water.”

“Hey, Mister,” she lightly chided him. Perhaps, you don’t know how hot and desirable I am.” He was not going to let go of the moment and jumped on the occasion, “You gotta prove your hotness quotient right now here in the crowded cafe after this tall claim. Show some guts, babe. It’s a perfect time. The rain will make it something to remember. The romantic moment, rain and breeze will soon elapse. Enjoy before it melts.” She knew what he was hinting at.

Mehr would play hard to get. At least, he should do some hard work and not empty talk to kiss her most prized possession, the moist lip, She is not going to give in so easily this time. She smiled with naughtiness brimmed to her lip. “Nice try, dude. Better be more creative. After all, it’s a question of lips which I don’t barter for free.” Kamal was losing patience but faked a smile, “You wanna me move the mountains or sing Karaoke in this place full of couples busy making out to win over you. It’s just a kiss yaar.” She put her seductive smile, “Try better. Buck up your act and words. Take your time…I am a hot pursuit, after all.” She winked at him.

Kamal tapped his finger on the table and fling a rupee coin in Mehr’s direction which amused her. She looked at how he expertly tossed the coin with his index and asked, “What are you doing?” He casually distracted her, “Look at this dude wearing fancy trousers. He looks like Ranveer Singh in this funky Pyjama.” She turned her face towards the random guy. He calculated his move as she turned her face and held her waist, swiftly planting a kiss on her quivering lip.

Kamal felt the dripping sensation of moist lips that made him smile. His heart warmed as their mouths cupped. Mehr was taken by surprise and blushed, almost hiding her face under the paper napkin. She moved her face closer and kissed him back. Their hearts melted. She couldn’t stop herself from cajoling him with a tender touch on his face, “You are a cheat kisser. Look outside and see your reflection. Just do it na.” He relented and saw a frog soiling in the muddy patch.

He was taken aback and muttered, “What! You think I am a frog.” She was elated after pulling this one on him, “Of course, you will turn into a cute frog after kissing me. I am a true princess who needs no kingdom.”





Writer’s mind


Oh! Writer! Living in his own imaginative world.

Love, hate, passion, break up and sentimentality!

The orgasm of words faked.

It’s kitsch!


Stack of lies.

How proud I am of him?

Prophet of doom.

Lyrical expression,

singing the tale of ‘ideal’ romance.

Never mess with them;

Making a fool of yourself is the next course;

You shall never know!

Laugh at your own self.

Pointless ranting.

It’s art on canvas of the mind.

Sexy and glam.








UBC 31: Crazy Romance, Cuddling Hearts and Harmless Flirting (7)

This post is written on Day 31 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge that I am doing in October for The Blog Chatter. I was running late and finally, I finished. It’s a romance series and today is the climax  and last outing of Crazy Romance, Cuddling Hearts and Harmless Flirting (7): 100 crores Diwali love

UBC 31: 100 Crores Diwali Love

Dusk has crept in. The silver doorknob twisted and slid open as she walked in tired and disappointed. Ayesha plonked on the couch to rest her head and was sipping a glass of ice cold water when she felt a shadow straggling behind her. A sharp object almost nipped her back which caused her to yelp in pain.

A scruffy voice pierced in her ears, “Get up and move or else this knife will enter your skin.” Ayesha almost fainted and felt a lump in her throat to wiggle her way blindfolded on the stairs. The voice softened, “You can slowly open your eyes now.”

Ayesha turned around in fear and felt no pressure on her, threw away the red band to see that her assailant had disappeared. She felt a chill down her spine. The stairs spangled with colors and lights traversing on every step, earthen lamps, candles lit on every step.  She blighted, trusted her gut feeling that Gigoloskore will surprise her on Diwali. As she flitted her steps, black-and-white pictures capturing her movements during the chase for love at Marine Drive, Archies Gallery, Churchgate Station, holding the teddy bear close to her chest and swirling her way on the streets of Mumbai, were carefully placed in red envelopes splayed on the floor, wall and table.

She knew it was him. It had to be her Gigoloskore. Her heart beat faster for she couldn’t wait to meet the man who made her lose her sleep and making her fall madly in love with him. Her voice cracked, “I know it’s you. Come man. My lips are ready to taste the nectar of passion.”

“Please, yaar! In ten minutes, it’s gonna be six. It’s Diwali yaar,” she implored him. Someone held her waist from behind and she felt a jolt on seeing him. Ayesha couldn’t believe her eyes. “You swine! I am going to kill you for making me do that. I had an inkling that it was you. You made me ran. You almost kidnapped me in my own house. You are so cute. Worth na doing the chase like 100 crores romance. Their lips met and melted, tasting the nectar, roiling passion, exploring every inch, line, and zone in their mouths.

“I promised to you. We will light the lamps together,” he said. He wore a bright blue Kurta on white pyjama. She sizzled in a cream saree.  He caressed her hand as she lit the lick in the colorful earthen lamps, candles, tasting the sweets one by one, gulab jamun, ladoo, barfi, Kaaju Katli, and chocolates.

Ayesha broke a piece in each and every sweet splattered in a huge gold plated thali and pushed into his mouth. He unwrapped the box of Cadburi chocolate and smeared on her lip as she bit his finger. “Ouch!” he complained.  She was amused and laughed, “So much for making me lose my sleep. I told you are a dog. You think I am Basanti or what with your hero giri.”

“You are my Pathaka, my Lakshmi. I will never ever let you go,” he spoke softly. The glitter in her eyes spoke the language of eternal love with passion. Crackers flung in the air. She scampered down the stairs to see small children running to burst crackers and grown-ups wishing each other Happy Diwali in jest.

He gently held her hand as they trudged back to the apartment. Their lips melted again, singing Happy Diwali in pure Hindi film style. He untied the string in Ayesha’s saree kissing her nape and bareback. She bit into the barfi, held between her teeth which reached his dry lip. “It’s the best ever Diwali in my life. Our love is eternal like the sweet,” she breathed.

“And, the light will always shine on us, my Rosho gullah,” he winked.

Ayesha lilted, “What should I call you?” Who will kiss and make love to me every five seconds or five minutes, Gautam or Gigoloskore?

He simpered, “I am at your service day and night, you Highness…Gautam or Gogoloskore.”

The light went off.

The end

Happy Diwali