Skip to main content

Eligible bachelor needs a girl

That day I proposed a girl. She refused me saying I am like her brother.
Than again I proposed another girl, she said I look like a cobbler…I didn’t go further.
Than again I proposed a girl, she said she is suffering from aids. Ups…fishing in troubled water.
Than again I proposed a girl, she smiled and said she is single. I said great. Got the green signal. Got the go ahead. Fixed the date, venue, menu and figured out secretly items of panu (for beginners).
She came with a baby. Said, that bastard is her bundle of joy. Flight of fantasy. Chucked the idea, ran for life.
Than again proposed a girl. This time half-minded. The idea was to have fun. I was fed up exercising alone. Needed a change.
She consented to go with me. Venue mine, menu mine, idea mine, all panu party.
Went behind a bamboo bush. Had some frooty and Britannia biscuit. Played with her hands, hairs, lips…reached for the blouse. Touched something paperish. What’s this? I exclaimed?
“rate card” she said. Your bill still now is…Rs.50. she calculated. Showed the rate card.
Had only rs.35 in pocket. After some negotiation, matter settled in Rs 33. kept Rs 2 for a goldflake to cool my nerve. Was not a respectful exit though. She uttered all sorts of slangs. ‘khankee’ to start with and ‘asshole’ to conclude with.

After that stopped searching for girls.

My esteemed friends, if you don’t want me to become a misogynist. Get me a girl. Without a rate card. Caste no bar.

Promise, will invite you in our marriage.

Comments

Pip Squeak said…
How desperate can you get??
TheLadyLazarus said…
I swear. You sound like the Gopal from Inscrutable Americans.
Ghetufool said…
well pip, as you can see, i am pretty desperate :-D
Ghetufool said…
ladylazarus,
welcome.
i didnt read or seen inscrutable. so don't know who is gopal or how he sounds. hope he is handsome guy with some grey matters in his khopri.
Pip Squeak said…
Can anyone tell me what the following bloggerel mean??


BTW

:-D
Tiny Black Cat said…
girl with baby was the best choice i think. though one that brings the baby to a first date is probably not.

sad sad.
Ghetufool said…
mandy,
i amso happy to meet you after so long.
i sometimes really miss you, i miss your writing style. it's so unique. your blog was my regular reding. i simply love it. don't quit blogging dear. have some rest.
cool your nerves, than spring back to life. we all are waiting for you.
aar beshi bhao kheyo naa. aamra, tomar pathakra khub raag korbo.
Shuv said…
erm..do u have the contact number of the one with the rate card??

Popular posts from this blog

Let it rain hard

About a dozen years back, I started writing blog posts out of sheer boredom in office. The work was repetitive and the bosses were menacing. Not the fault of bosses as much as the systems put in place. It was a real-time world and you perish in seconds or become a hero. No, I was not a stock market trader, but close. I was perhaps in deep agony. I had left my family members, my root, my friends and my culture. Those years were the most important in my life, the early twenties. I was free for the first time. Free to do whatever I wanted to do. It was a lot of pent-up sexual energy really looking for an avenue to be released. I found my moksha in creativity, especially as my office colleagues started appreciating my writing, albeit with no hint of grammar in it. Slowly strangers came to my blog and I visited theirs and we became friends. And then I started connecting with people far away from my place, across oceans. With one I became friends for life – Ian Vincent Mulder. But that’s ano…

On Mithi

I became a father on 18 November, 2014. At that moment when fatherhood embraced me, perhaps I should have been elated, jumping up and down and doing all sort of activities that new fathers do, at least, that's what most sane people do. But nothing of that sort happened to me. When I heard my baby's voice, first like an angry cat and then a mild wail wafting across the operation theatre to the waiting area where we all were pacing up and down, the first thought that hit me was how was my wife? It was a C-section and she was partially unconscious. I should not have read Internet too much, for I was reading all sorts of horror stories, of mothers not waking up or recovering etc. I was petrified as I was not hearing my wife's voice. The doctors and sisters inside the operation theater must have been very busy with their other procedures. In fact, after bringing out the baby from the womb, they were busy closing the cut, I later got to know.
The realisation of becoming a fathe…

The Sculptor's Tale

(Note to readers ... mainly Ian, who is the only one who reads this blog >> i just finished writing this in office. didn't even re-read it after writing, forget editing. Expect a leaner/fatter and better written version, if my mood permits.)
Keep your hands busy, said my father every time I used to lean against the tree to catch my breath. Keep your hands busy you idiot, keep your hands busy, don’t let your head decide for you. Keep your hands busy, he would coax me to get working. And so I would again start chiselling the chunk of rock, along the lines my father, a master sculptor, had already outlined. But I would still dream with eyes wide open. When the hammer used to fall so gently yet firm on the chisel, I used to dream of the cities and the grand mansions. I was not good in sculpting, yet I wanted to be the greatest sculptor in this world. I wanted to be honoured by my king. I wanted to be the subject for which kings wage wars against each other. I was a dreamer, I …