"I Do" Or Probably "I Don't"
This morning, he had risen in the early hours of dawn, even before the birds could do their bit of karaoke. Having finished his rituals, he sat in a pensive mood with the thought lines emerging deep on his forehead. He looked like the captain of Titanic after it had hit the iceberg, wondering what the course of action would be. There was a general bustle of people about in the house, but not an ounce of the enthusiasm of the people was reflected on his face.
He was pacing up and down his room like a caged tiger. He was very fidgety and restless. He was dressed in an exquisite black tuxedo and had put on the gold cufflinks his club buddies had given him. He had applied a profuse quantity of gel to his hair and his hair very gracefully and humbly obeyed him and stood in perfect style giving him a classy look. He looked extremely handsome in his attire, but his eyes told a different tale altogether. They had the same helpless desperation in them as in the eyes of an animal about to be slaughtered. Just a few months ago, this man was a carefree chap, playing pool with his friends. Horse riding, cocktail parties, poolside evenings, clubs, discotheques, had consumed a majority of his life. And today, suddenly it dawned on him that he was to be married…What did u think that only girls are entitled to be the Julia Robert category runway brides?? If u did, think again. Even guys get cold feet at the “C” of commitment. They are equally vulnerable to such emotions.
So, what did our protagonist do…U guessed it…he did the simplest thing at his disposal, he ran away. That’s the advantage of having a car at your disposal, esp. if it is an SUV. Driving on the highway at 110kmph, with the wind bellowing at you and almost hurting your face and slashing across your skin like a hundred daggers, leaves little scope for any kind of reasoning or sensible thinking. So, our man drove on, with his top floor machinery switched off.
After driving about aimlessly, he screeched the brakes at a wayside inn. The inn had the interiors of the Victorian era. The paneled wood was ageing and had gotten the deep blush, as on the face of a bride, due to dampness. The tables were laid out comfortably, as it was meal time. The aroma flitted through the kitchen door, mesmerizing the passerby into an epicurean trance. The freshly baked bread, the simmering hot soup and the smoked fish produced an alluring effect as the mermaid’s song draws a sailor into a danger unknown. But, sadly a preoccupied mind doesn’t respond to the rumblings of the stomach. So, he chose to sit at the bar at the far end. The glasses and the other impedimenta of the bar were not all that exquisite but definitely adequate for the thirsty visitors who would like to soak themselves in gin, ale or a martini. I wonder as to how men feel that gulping a concoction or two, would elevate spirits or for that matter solve problems. If problems were so easy to solve, I guess everyone could be spotted with a decanter. Presently, seated on the high bar stool, and having asked for ginger ale, he tried to give a direction to his desultory thoughts. The bar tender, a merry chap, noticed how unsuited an expensive tux was, for an unpretentious place as this. He had his own deductions and made a mental note of many unsaid details of his customer. But, well bred that he was, he didn’t intrude on his customer’s privacy as he knew that after having consumed the elixir called ale, even the tight lipped British would get chatty.
And our man, didn’t prove to be an exception, he poured out his deepest emotions just as quickly he had poured in those spirits. Along with all his apprehensions, he also expressed how much he loved his would-be and spoke of her as a charming and delightful angel, who was to make life heaven on earth for him. (That’s what happens when u get excessively drunk.) I wouldn’t like to be shooed and scatted away by my readers, so I will omit all the mushy details…Personally, I feel guys and mush don’t gel together, but, here we are talking of a guy with suds in his veins. So, I guess he qualifies for an exception.
Suddenly, in the course of his monologue with the barman, it struck his pea size brain, that this was the very day he was waiting for his entire life. He remembered the times he ran after his sweetheart with a flower each day to bring the words of love to his lips. He longed and pined to be with her and everything about her seemed so right. Even the way she snorted in her laughter and got all pink when she realized it. Her little curls and pretty eyes were what he wanted to see each morning, with a hot cuppa tea ofcourse and not to forget the morning news. He longed to drive to the romantic country side on the weekends, definitely not during soccer season or rugby or NBA playoffs.
He ranted a bit more and then hastily paid up the barman, who wished him luck and smiled after him which said “Another one of those fuzzy brained kids. Oh! He’ll be fine”. So, our protagonist after battling all his emotions emerged victorious, or rather, puffing and panting, to the alter. The worry on the bride’s face and the relief it showed on his presence, were not the emotions to hide beneath the veil. The scorn on the priest’s forehead and the general buzz among the people, told him that he was late for his own wedding. Soon they were saying the “I do’s”.
* Six years Later*
Scene: Two kids running around breaking the hell loose, the hum of the vacuum cleaner, our protagonist doing the laundry while his friends were basking in the sunny game of golf.
Musing over the past, our protagonist sometimes wonders to go back to that inn and sit at the bar with ginger ale, probably with a different barman, to spill all the beans to a complete stranger in order to get a better perspective of his current life. Or probably, even better, just blow the whole damn place!!!
He was pacing up and down his room like a caged tiger. He was very fidgety and restless. He was dressed in an exquisite black tuxedo and had put on the gold cufflinks his club buddies had given him. He had applied a profuse quantity of gel to his hair and his hair very gracefully and humbly obeyed him and stood in perfect style giving him a classy look. He looked extremely handsome in his attire, but his eyes told a different tale altogether. They had the same helpless desperation in them as in the eyes of an animal about to be slaughtered. Just a few months ago, this man was a carefree chap, playing pool with his friends. Horse riding, cocktail parties, poolside evenings, clubs, discotheques, had consumed a majority of his life. And today, suddenly it dawned on him that he was to be married…What did u think that only girls are entitled to be the Julia Robert category runway brides?? If u did, think again. Even guys get cold feet at the “C” of commitment. They are equally vulnerable to such emotions.
So, what did our protagonist do…U guessed it…he did the simplest thing at his disposal, he ran away. That’s the advantage of having a car at your disposal, esp. if it is an SUV. Driving on the highway at 110kmph, with the wind bellowing at you and almost hurting your face and slashing across your skin like a hundred daggers, leaves little scope for any kind of reasoning or sensible thinking. So, our man drove on, with his top floor machinery switched off.
After driving about aimlessly, he screeched the brakes at a wayside inn. The inn had the interiors of the Victorian era. The paneled wood was ageing and had gotten the deep blush, as on the face of a bride, due to dampness. The tables were laid out comfortably, as it was meal time. The aroma flitted through the kitchen door, mesmerizing the passerby into an epicurean trance. The freshly baked bread, the simmering hot soup and the smoked fish produced an alluring effect as the mermaid’s song draws a sailor into a danger unknown. But, sadly a preoccupied mind doesn’t respond to the rumblings of the stomach. So, he chose to sit at the bar at the far end. The glasses and the other impedimenta of the bar were not all that exquisite but definitely adequate for the thirsty visitors who would like to soak themselves in gin, ale or a martini. I wonder as to how men feel that gulping a concoction or two, would elevate spirits or for that matter solve problems. If problems were so easy to solve, I guess everyone could be spotted with a decanter. Presently, seated on the high bar stool, and having asked for ginger ale, he tried to give a direction to his desultory thoughts. The bar tender, a merry chap, noticed how unsuited an expensive tux was, for an unpretentious place as this. He had his own deductions and made a mental note of many unsaid details of his customer. But, well bred that he was, he didn’t intrude on his customer’s privacy as he knew that after having consumed the elixir called ale, even the tight lipped British would get chatty.
And our man, didn’t prove to be an exception, he poured out his deepest emotions just as quickly he had poured in those spirits. Along with all his apprehensions, he also expressed how much he loved his would-be and spoke of her as a charming and delightful angel, who was to make life heaven on earth for him. (That’s what happens when u get excessively drunk.) I wouldn’t like to be shooed and scatted away by my readers, so I will omit all the mushy details…Personally, I feel guys and mush don’t gel together, but, here we are talking of a guy with suds in his veins. So, I guess he qualifies for an exception.
Suddenly, in the course of his monologue with the barman, it struck his pea size brain, that this was the very day he was waiting for his entire life. He remembered the times he ran after his sweetheart with a flower each day to bring the words of love to his lips. He longed and pined to be with her and everything about her seemed so right. Even the way she snorted in her laughter and got all pink when she realized it. Her little curls and pretty eyes were what he wanted to see each morning, with a hot cuppa tea ofcourse and not to forget the morning news. He longed to drive to the romantic country side on the weekends, definitely not during soccer season or rugby or NBA playoffs.
He ranted a bit more and then hastily paid up the barman, who wished him luck and smiled after him which said “Another one of those fuzzy brained kids. Oh! He’ll be fine”. So, our protagonist after battling all his emotions emerged victorious, or rather, puffing and panting, to the alter. The worry on the bride’s face and the relief it showed on his presence, were not the emotions to hide beneath the veil. The scorn on the priest’s forehead and the general buzz among the people, told him that he was late for his own wedding. Soon they were saying the “I do’s”.
* Six years Later*
Scene: Two kids running around breaking the hell loose, the hum of the vacuum cleaner, our protagonist doing the laundry while his friends were basking in the sunny game of golf.
Musing over the past, our protagonist sometimes wonders to go back to that inn and sit at the bar with ginger ale, probably with a different barman, to spill all the beans to a complete stranger in order to get a better perspective of his current life. Or probably, even better, just blow the whole damn place!!!
posted by megha | 11:23 PM
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22 comments
