Well, this is it. The one which millions of you have been waiting with bated breath for. The third and final incident of any import that happened to me in Delhi. The time the white cloth of my innocence was almost muddied in the dirty pool of beckoning lust. Not to worry. Almost, I said. With my legendary iron resolve and unquestioning disdain for anything soceity condemns, I managed to hold my own against the sin of lust! My innocence, therefore, remains untouched. O concerned reader, you can rest easy.
My friend and I, we're travelling in this sleek black Lancer that Lady Fortune (hailing from Nepal) had the grace to offer us. We're parked at CP, wondering, as we seem to do so much these days, what to do with our inconsequential little lives. And, as usual, ideas seem to have gone on holiday and don't look like they'll be returning any time soon. The tapping on the glass wakes us from our reverie on how boring a life we of this generation lead.
Shady looking stubbled guy in a monkey cap beckoning frantically to us to lower the window. He starts off with a tirade on how we're parked where we shouldn't be. Our dismissive excuses vaguely referring to and pointing at our ears and cell phones notwithstanding, he keeps saying, "No parking, no parking..". And then, without warning, and with this sudden jerky movement, he leans closer, his head almost into the car and asks in a very conspiratorial manner reminiscent of certain professors when they are taking attendance and momentarily lapse into hindi while addressing a particularly detested student (forgive the inside joke, but there was absolute similarity, i swear), "Saab, maal chaahiye?"
Stunned silence at the surreal experience which life has presented us with. My friend rises to the occassion and says, "Haan, bilkul". Encouraged by the show of interest, Shady Guy launches into an advertising campaign, "Saab, aat hazaar rupaiye ke liye first rate maal milega. First class. Dekhege kya?"
Confusion reigns. Communication gap, that much was apparent. He was offering a lot of ladies ( in a very liberal sense of the term), and I'm pretty sure none of them went by the second name of Jane.
Of course, determined youth of the generation that we are, undeterred by trivial obstacles like mistake as to the subject of the agreement and with the single minded objective of taking on anything life could throw at us, we ask gamely, "Ab?" "Aapko chahiye to ab bhi dekh sakte hai." The price, however, posed a problem. The Black Lancer must have caused him to start at 8000 bucks. With our combined net worth of 250 bucks and our unrivalled bargaining skills, finely honed through years of practice with the auto driving denizens of our very own Bengalooru, we manage to bring him down, at the cost of looking cheap, to 500 bucks.
Social propriety and self-respect take over at that instant, and we decide to withdraw before we get the guy's hopes too high. We tell him, "Aaj nahin, kal aayega. Aapko kaise milega?" From his description, we manage to gather that:
a) he is the watchman at Lady Harding Hostel,
b) his name is Dharamveer
c) to find him, we have go to Rodeo Pub and ask for Dharamveer.
To date, I haven't stopped wondering what kind of 'maal' we'd have got for 500 bucks. If you find out, please do tell me. So, those in Delhi, stroll over to Rodeo pub. The name's Veer, Dharam Veer. A whole world of pleasure awaits you inside Lady Harding Hostel. Enjoy. You can thank me back in college.
"Luck. Let me in!"
"Fuck off. "
The story of my life.
Ok. I'm just kidding. Contrary to any opinions that you might have formed in your perceptive mind through reasoning of the highest order while looking through this collection of attempts at writing, I'm not that desperate. Give me some credit. Some.