Ek the Hum........

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Tumne poochna nahin jaan, humara reading week kaisa raha?

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Naz and Rimi dragged her to the party. “Just put on anything in black, it’ll do”, they said to her protests of not having anything to wear.

She sighed as the car swerved into the driveway of a swanky glittering party. This really wasn’t her kind of place.

Loud, noisy and crowded. Oh the crowds, she thought and winced inwardly. Something about crowds made her wish she had a burqa to cloak herself in and fade into the crowd.

What a shame she wasn’t born with a shell- she could certainly use one now. Ah well.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy music or dancing. She did- dancing gave her a certain thrill.

A high.

Yes, certainly a high. Where the crowds blur, the people became a background painting and the music becomes her blood.
The rhythms to which her heart pumps.

No it wasn’t that , she loved dancing. Just not with a mansion full of people.

But she didn’t feel like protesting- any further. Naz could be like that and with Rimi, she became their favourite victim. She let them- childhood friendship tends to bring soft corners like that.

So there she stood, anxious for the night to be over. They just didn’t understand, girls like her didn’t end up getting hooked at places like these.

Coffeeshops, bookstores [Amidst musty books collecting dust. Such a romantic setting. We could even have dust blow into our faces for added drama, she thought not very seriously in case dear readers mistake our protagonist for a cheesy book-loving nerd], heck even weddings [But only at those that didn’t involve nosey uncles, matchmaker-wannabe aunties and the groom’s geeky friends. Ok so maybe weddings were only good for new lehengas, mehendi, tones of good Indian food, sangeet and of course, the fun picking on true bhaiyya log*]. But here? Naz was being very optimistic. Very.

“Madam do you want to hurry up? I can’t have Sunny holding the door for us forever you know?”, said Naz blowing a kiss to the handsome [and freshly showered, mmm Adidas] and of course, tall [We can't ditch cliches completely now can we? Outgoing, beautiful girl must land up with the tall handsome man]young man and incidentally, boyfriend.

*bhaiyya log = affectionate term for UPite men. But the writer also thinks of said bhaiyya log as not brothers [unless she ties a rakhi for them, of course] but as your simpleton soft spoken, usually shy but smart men. You do not have to agree, that is how the writer sees fit for this story, so that is how it’ll be .

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To be continued…………….. [if readers express a desire in reading what could be many many parts to this story].

Ok I really should study, I’ve spent 8 minutes and 47 seconds writing this as it is and I have an exam in 11 hours .