The Love that Wasn't (weep!weep!)....

Ok.. here's another spoof... yeah, i know its getting stale, but i really really really couldn't resist putting myself down... lol... not to mention my already lost self respect due to previous posts :P... not like i have any or need any.... C'est la vie!

This post is a spoof on ma favourite book (Yeah, u guessed it, i think!) ERICH SEGHAL's LOVE STORY. Of course, since like i said, i can't resist embarrassing (learnt it at last!) myself in public, its an entry a boyfriend will write to his girlfriend. Indian Style!....

What can you say about an 18-year-old pain in the neck (yes, she's still alive, unfortunately) who is brilliant (in all weird ways) and refuses to let go of me?!? I mean, if anyone has any means of making me get rid of her, please do let me know. Oh yeah, i forgot.... she loves me, me and me. I'm getting claustrophobic already! I don't know which order it comes in... but she says "Alphabetically"... even so, me, me and me stay in the same place, don't they ? I, Musilaamani III , a boy who has a slum named after him in my area, proudly dedicated to me by my father for my 10th birthday (i couldn't be happier! NOT!!!), met Raakamma Collikutti in the area where she sweeps, near the namesake slum.

"Are you new?", i asked. "What do you want, pakki", she retorted, in slum-slang. Well, not that i was prepared for this. I looked at her closely. Her dirty, smelly hair tied in a bun, a huge bindi on her forehead, huge dove shaped eyes, loosely clad saree that didn't cover what it was supposed to cover! And the only lookable part of her were her legs, with the saree strewn up for convenience. "What you staring at pakki" came a rude voice, then she stomped off......

In the next three days, i tried my best to talk to her. But in vain. On the fourth day, i plucked up my courage to go tell her who i really am. Maybe if she knew my royal (yeah, right. Who am i kidding!) lineage, she would fall on my knees, begging for forgiveness. "Do you know who i am?", i asked her. "Yeah, you own this dump don't you. And you also got your name from it", she said, putting me in momentary shock. Ok, so she does know who i am. "Then why do you not give me respect?", i demanded. "I don't go around begging people like you, pakki", she retorted, AGAIN.

This went on for weeks, until i realised, i had actually fallen in love with the foul mouthed sweeper. I called her to me once. "I love you", i said, not knowing how big a mess i was getting into. "Don't joke pakki. People like you don't know what love is", she said. "But i do. I really do", i persisted. She walked away. I should have let it go when i was winning, but it was then that i began to fall, never to be able to rise again (literally! HELP!).

One sunday winter morning she came to see me play cricket, like she always does. "Kick'em in the shin, pakki" she cheered. And guess what. My team WON! I treated her to a couple of bondas and tea in the tea kadai next to the ground, after which she whispered in my ear "I love you too, pakki". And it began....... no.... love did not blossom. We did not share passionate kisses and sweet nothings. It took all my effort to keep her at bay and make sure that she doesn't see me when i get out of the house. Ah!!! She's no woman. She's a demon!!!!!!!


Suddenly one day, she found out that i was avoiding her and confronted me. "Sorry, but i don't love you anymore", i said. "Love means never having to say your sorry" came the reply. "But i don't love you". "I do", she said and came forward, arms wide open, following which i ran at record breaking speed toward home.

Some wise guy in the book 'Love Story', which i read long after i was in the clutches of that woman ended the book with the girl dying and the guy not telling the readers what made him fall in love with her in the first place (vague, i tell you! No wonder i didn't know about love.). And my love story goes on (unfortunately!! did you hear me? Help!! for crying out loud!)..... and i shall end this endless (sob!sob!) epic without actually telling anyone why i fell out of love and why i will never again fall in love with Rakkamma Collikutti.......

P.S: Please make sure the suicide note attached to this entry is safe, in case something happens to me.

------- Musilaamani III

5 comments:

VIDYA said...

LOL! Soopar cool.

luekamia bcumes lies in te hair (substitute word with a suitable word). *smirk*

Moonlight n Magnolias said...

soooper ma!!! :-)

Elithraniel Arawion said...

thank u hehe

BloggerMouth said...

Actually, there is a famous landmark at Kollikuppam street where Rakamma created Musa Mahal in Musilamani's memory after he died :) She 'loved him to death'. :) It's made up of recycled stuff that she had collected over the years during her 30 years of career in sweeping :)

Elithraniel Arawion said...

oh really? u shud take me there sometime :)