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| April 19, 2005
, 9:20 PM |
You know you really don't have anything to write about when you start doing stuff like this. Here is something Ahana once write that I like. This is a re-post from Nov 16, 2001. Yenjoy!!
Adam & Peeve : True Lies
(By Ahana Rao)
Honey,
The last time I tried to speak over the phone, you said you had to put it down because something was wrong with your stomach. The rest of you, I am sure, is not any better. As you can see, this letter is not a mating call. I've decided not to persist with you anymore. The purpose of this letter is to put matters in perspective. Of all the women who spurned me, you inspired me to lie the most. In my hurry to win you over, I think I went a bit overboard with hyperbole. I cannot bear the thought of a woman, however peripheral to my scheme of things, imagining that she is any better than what she really is. Since I've greatly contributed to your ballooned ego, I am duty bound today to prick( the noun form of which is what, I hear, you call me now). I remember telling you that i couldnt't resist talking to a woman like you because your eyes had "a certain siren-like mystery about them which an adventurer(like me) will want to seek and unravel".Well, the truth is that you did not remind me of any hot siren. In fact, first time I saw you, you looked like a morally loose mermaid searching for a foul-mouthed sailor. Those frills on our skirt look more like scales on the lower half of a fish, which of course, completed the mermaid metaphor. I want you to understand that i dont mean to be cheap or rude. I'm merely cleaning up some misconceptions. Continuing this labour of lost love, I would also like to point out that contrary to my uneducated initial observation, your legs are not endless. Since you understand cricket, honey, if you were to stand at the slips you would still be called short leg. And, your butt is not cute. Its over supplied and more significantly, has been inspired by Hindustan Motors Ambassador.
And your poetry is not elevating, though your roommate was on many occasions. Your clay work was never art that was never pleasing to the eye. Many times i wanted to say that you should put the raw material back where they came from. But i believe you can only take stuff out of the cranium, and not squeeze it back in. your mother is not a smart, refined, pleasing woman to talk to. How could i have been so blatant? She is foreboding of where you are headed. And though I may have told you that you are a very intelligent person, here are a few things you should keep in mind when you talk about things you dont know. You will not fall off when you reach the edge of the moon, because the moon doesnt have an 'edge'.
Glasnost is not a person. Mussolini was. He was never pasta. And you shouldnt fantasize about marrying the exchequer because all the money seems to go to him. You may not find him. And, never wonder aloud whether curtains in the East European houses rust. Iron curtain is an expression. And the space in the rear of the car is not called a dick...
Honey, if this letter has brought you any kind of grief please understand that i dont enjoy telling you where you stand in this world filled with bright and beautiful people. Of late, i've discovered that most women have grown up believing all the crap that men who wanted to sleep with them, have said. I thought i should contribute at least one dull and ugly woman to the Society who knows she's dull and ugly. Sleep well honey tonight, beside the liar. |
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April 29, 2005 
