Category Archives: memories

LIBA for diva? Naah…

I have been super lazy for not updating my blog. Being a stoner has its toll. Was busy making new friends. Yes I do have new friends. Old friends do u feel like losers? You all should. Was busy making friends with people who are going to join my new Alma Mater. Now I am ready to spill the beans.

I’m moving to Chennai. And most of the people are saying that I chose Chennai over Delhi just because my ex stays there. Let the morons speak and lemme tell you the truth. The truth is she is marrying a tamil guy and she has found the love of her life. Anyway I hate her because she did not give a blowjob to me (except that I have no regrets).

Caution : Don’t believe on any of the words written above. The previous pargraph has been written to draw attention and increase the number of visitors on Baked Stale.

But the partial truth is correct. I am moving to down south and chose it over the national capital. With my pathetic performance in CAT and XAT I was able to convert only 3 colleges out of all the colleges I applied to. I am a shameless loser. I will not lie. Goa Institute of Management (GIM)  rejected me and was thrown out of GD in TAPMI. I don’t regret. Who cares?

The colleges which found me worthy enough are :

1.Lal Bahadur Shashtri Institute of Management (LBS/LBSIM), Delhi

2.Institute for Financial Management and Research (IFMR), Chennai

3.Loyola Institute of Business Administration (LIBA), Chennai

Now the results came out in the same order as the above numbering. I even took admission in LBS before Chennai results were out. When IFMR and LIBA sent their convert letters I was in dilemma. I was confused whether I should stick to LBS or cancel my candidature for any other college. In the end I decided to go for LIBA.

Now ask me why I chose LIBA over LBS. Anyway I am going to tellya.

  1. LIBA is three ranks ahead of LBS in Pagalguy 2012 rankings and I followed it diligently for years.
  2. Delhi did not impress me. The city is filled with fake attitude, snobs and show offs which a little too much for my intellect hungry bong soul.
  3. I have been to Chennai and I liked it. Anyway I kind of respect southies because they take their life and studies seriously, at least that is what I think.
  4. LIBA has slightly better placement figures than LBS. Although LIBA does not publish its placement reports officially but the conclusion has been reached by googled sources.
  5. I have been a part of Facebook group of LBS and the members over there seemed childish. LIBA converts group is way classier but less informative and less active.
  6. LIBA has hostel while LBS has no hostel which is a big problem in the issues of peer learning and will increase the financial toll.
  7. Left IFMR for ROI.
  8. I did my 12th from Loyola High School, Patna, so kind of biased with the brand name.

I don’t need more reason to choose LIBA. And it is futile if u try to convince me to choose Delhi over Chennai. Husein and Devam tried and failed.

Now since I am moving down south I will truly miss Kolkata. Although I have previously blabbered about my own city and my love for her here, but I have never mentioned any person in my life.

I will my office colleagues for sure. Frankly speaking I hate my office. Cheap politics, workaholics, timids and pets are in abundance in my office. I was lucky enough to find a group which actually made my office days tolerable. We always gawked at girls, drank for merriment, made all kind of witty and non-veg jokes and shared our frustration. Even the girls in our group did that. Yes, take it losers, they drank with me and gawked at girls too. 😀 LOL. I will not name my office guys because I may miss some but believe me they were ossum.

I will miss my SomePlaceElse group. I will miss the small adda we used to have after regular office hours. I will miss Podu, Medi, Titir, Pal and Topper. Although the group will be scattered now as everybody is moving out in different directions but the legendary moments we spent are unforgettable. I will also miss Polard Da, my weekend partner in crime :P.

I will miss my granny and granpa with whom I used to stay. I will miss their excessive attention care which I used to hate.

I will miss my company because although it did not fulfil my expectations and really pissed me off, but now I will not be able to carry its tag name. The tag has respect in India being one of the largest business houses.

Anyway I will miss Kolkata, but I am pretty eager to embrace Chennai. Determined to learn Tamil, I am ready feel the heat.

Till then, wish you all a pathetic loser life. See you all on the other side of the commercial.



Oh my fucking Gawd, I almost forgot to make an announcement. I am going to start a new blog, two actually. I know what you all jealous people will say :

‘How much more pathetic you can be. First you tormented us with your random posts on Baked Stale. We love Baked Stale just not you. Now when we are getting bored of your crappy writing you will make us read more of your shit which we seriously don’t want. Please have pity and stop writing.’

And I will answer : ‘Yes you loser readers I will not listen to your requests and will continue to torture you with my grammar less posts filled with typos which I don’t even care to rectify.’

The first blog will be about my Life in LIBA.

Aah so predictable. Trying to impress people eh? To impress one need some substance which you don’t have. Get a life.

The second will be based on management studies specifically Finance.

Gawd save this country. A person who has no financial sense whatsoever and is pretty neck deep down in loans from friends by the end of first week will preach finance. One should always implement SOPA to ban these kind of people from social media and internet.

Whatever you people say, I have decided I am gonna do it. Framework is under construction. You all will be updated soon.

Happy Reading.

PG LIBA Converts Thread



Filed under CAT, humor, job, Kolkata, life, memories, nostalgia, pleasure, random, sinbycosmoy, women

You are Beautiful

How beautiful am I? – You ask.

You ask me how beautiful you are?

I will tell you how beautiful you are.

You have the most beautiful soul on earth.

You are so beautiful that

Your beauty inflicts pain.

It really aches to see someone so beautiful like you.

Sometimes I feel so empty because of your beauty.

I am not an atheist.

But whoever created, conceptualised you

That craftsman and her creativity need Salute

The satisfaction and excitement of mystery

And discovering the new you every moment

Is never satiated

Amazing it is to find someone

With lethal grace

With crystal clear eyes

With sunshine smile

With vibrant air

With never ending legs

And country roads arms

Which make your travel feel nostalgic

You pose and laugh and play with innocence

While making silly faces

And you ask – But, How beautiful am I?



Filed under life, love, memories, nostalgia, pleasure, relationships, sinbycosmoy, society, women

Confusion and Red Rose

Aah a day to celebrate love. Cliched. I would rather masturbate and go to sleep.

V day has never been a day of importance to me. It has always been a day of confusion. I still remember that day when I took the ‘Red’ rose, stealing it from my dad’s garden, with me in my school bag and brought it back on my way back home. I am still confused as why I took the flower to school. Is it because I was hoping for a girl who would come up to me and say, “Hey, can I have your flower? You can take my candy instead.” Or was I apprehensive of the fact that people will laugh at me if I don’t take a flower to school on the Vday. I was in class five then.

I got my first kiss on V day. I remember it because it was my first kiss. I realised it later that I celebrated love. It was fast, sensuous and moist. And confusing because it was new.

This year people asked (I apologise for their stupidity), what am I doing on the ‘day’. I gave them a completely stupid and confused look (exhibiting honestly the feeling inside me) and said, “I donno.” I lied. I do know what I will do tomorrow. I will wake up. I will brush and shit (I wish tomorrow it is heart-shaped). I will go to office and (try to) solve bugs. Then I will fall in love with every next girl I will see in office. Then I will return home and eat and sleep. The funny thing is, many of us who are very close to real life will have more or less the same day as mine.

Don’t do that.

Love instead.

Love yourself, your vicinity.

Love air and love aroma.

Not only tomorrow but everyday.

Do something before you file a missing report of your balls.

I celebrated Vday by writing a small post (tomorrow office).

What are you waiting for?


Filed under humor, life, love, memories, nostalgia, pleasure, random, relationships, sinbycosmoy, society, women

That’s Why

Why? Why?

Let me tell you a small story.

This is the story of boy. And the boy is in Kolkata. Kolkata International Book Fair was in the city. He loved to read. He loved to smell. Smell the books.

So he went to the Book Fair. He bought few and smelled few. And he indulged himself in some gastronomic pleasure. It is traditional in Kolkata to munch something while you shop. And he did the same. While returning from ‘Milan Mela’ ground, he and his friends decided to hop into Arsalan for some ‘Biriyani’. Arsalan was full, so they headed to Aliah near ‘Dhormotolla’ and had ‘Biriyani’ and ‘Kebabs’ and ‘Phirni’. He loved calling himself a foodie and was proud of his taste buds. While returning home he took a bus. And the realisation happened there.

The bus was moving at a very slow pace, very typical to the average speed of Kolkata city buses, that too on a holiday. He got himself a window seat, rested his tired but happy body, and started enjoying the ride. He started watching the scenery outside. He felt as if the the city is trying to share her joy and warmth with him by rubbing her nose with his. He rubbed back and smiled. While moving his head slightly out of the window and enjoying the cool breeze, he thought he looked like a dog who is enjoying his flowing hair, to people on the roads.

As soon as the bus stopped near Rabindra Sadan, a bunch of people got into the bus, and his tranquillity was broken by the sudden hustle inside the bus. The conductor of the bus, in a very harsh voice asked everyone to move towards the end of the bus and make space for other passengers.

He was sitting in the front seat and the space in front of him got occupied by a group which he considered to be a part of the lower strata of society. He tried not to look at them as it would hamper his dreamy world, he thought, but a kid from the group, due to the crowd in the bus, was forced to sit in his lap. Her mother looked at him and smiled. He noticed that the group was big. There were 6 kids, a man and a woman, probably the parents, most of them wearing torn but clean clothes. The smallest one was in the lap of his mother, who was struggling to gain balance in the suffocating crowd of the moving bus. Then the next, around 4-5 years old, got hold of the window and was enjoying the scenery outside with his elder sister, the one forced to sit in the lap. The father was instructing everyone to stick together, otherwise they may get lost. The mother was stopping her kids from keeping their body parts outside the bus. It seemed that this as their first day outside, at least for the mother and few of her kids. They looked happy and amazed.

He hated the scene. He hated the way the kids were enjoying the scenery outside. He thought the window and the scenery as seen from it, belongs to him, and cannot be shared with those lower status kids. They talked, laughed and giggled in ‘bhojpuri’. When the conductor asked for ticket from them, the father said that they don’t have money. The conductor mumbled a few expletives to them and said, ‘Why do you people get on the bus when you don’t have money. Why do you come to Kolkata?’

He got amazed when the expletives uttered by the conductor did not steal the happiness from their faces, and when the conductor did not force them to get down from the bus. There was a boy around 14 years old with them. He seemed to be the eldest one and posed as ‘know-it-all’ in front of his other siblings. He explained the brands of cars moving on the road and warned everybody to keep their heads inside the bus. As soon as the bus passed the ‘Victoria memorial’, there was a sudden wave of excitement on the kids’ face. The y all looked at the memorial which was well lit at that moment of time with the moon just visible in the sky. The kid who got hold to the window pane, pulled the fringe of his mother’s sari with his small hands and said, ‘Ma, Look Victoria.’ And the mother who was busy balancing the baby and saving her other kids, leant a bit, and started looking at the ‘Victoria memorial’ with joy, amusement, astonishment and pain in her face.

And, at that specific moment felt ashamed. He realised that the window and the city Kolkata did not belong to him. It is to be shared and enjoyed. He felt that all mothers are same. Same as the city. They are busy protecting their kids and at the same time want to feel the happiness on their kids face. They feel secure with their husbands and are mesmerised by bright lights and monumental structures. The mother bent further and started enjoying the view outside with her kids. The girl sitting in his lap, for a moment, tried to push her hands outside the window and feel the air. He took her hand and forced it inside and said, ‘Don’t do that, it is dangerous’, with an authority like a big brother. He was happy again.

And that’s exactly why.

That’s why I love Kolkata. I love the smell in the air, the warmth in the sunlight. I love the Rabindra Sangeet that is played at the traffic signals. I know people will get pissed at the music during summers in a crowded bus stuck in traffic jam, but they will nevertheless love it. I love the metro trains, the underground subway, park street rolls, biriyani. I love underground, Someplace Else. I love City Center, South city. I love Durga pujo and Saraswati Pujo. I love Yellow taxi and green autos. I love shuttles and ‘dada ektu adjust korun na’. I love the way this city accepts. The way it has place for every person. It takes care of everyone. People from different city, state, country are happy here. I love Academy and Nandan. I love Oh! Calcutta and New market and Shree Ram Arcade. I love the crowd of Goriahat and silence of Rajarhat Highway. I love Metro, Jaya, Adlabs and Inox. I love radio Mirchi, miniskirts and ‘lal-paar-sada-saari’. I love when on a weekend some Bengalis are taking part in Kolkata marathon while some are spending it as a weekend trip at Mondarmoni, while some are reading ‘Anadabazaar Patrika’ with a cup of tea and ‘maarie’ biscuit enjoying the first rays of sunlight. I love St. Paul’s Cathedral, the morning walk in Victoria Memorial Park. I love the KC Paul as well as KC Dass. I love Haldiram’s and I love the parks filled with couples exhibiting love in parking places. I love the ITC House, Chatterjee International and S.D.F. I love Dalhousie and Sector 5.  I love Burrabazaar and Saltlake. I love park Circus and College Street. I love Esplanade, Chandni, Chang Wah and Tolly Club. I love BBD Bag and Ultadanga. I love EM Bypass and Khanna Haat. I love Tollywood and fish.

I love hope.

I love Kolkata

~dedicted to 14th February – the day to celebrate love.

P.S. The spellings of the places are not to be used in spell bee. They are intentionally used to keep the feel of the place intact and has been tried to bring close to the colloquial language.


Filed under food, humor, India, Kolkata, life, love, memories, music, nostalgia, pleasure, random, relationships, sinbycosmoy, society, women


To You,

I have drunk a lot

But I will not cry.


I am sad.

I’m drunk.

I don’t usually get sad (even if I get dunk).

At least when I get drunk.

So, lets say I have drunk more than avg.

I miss you. I really miss you,’

I don’t have you.

I don’t have to be you.

I want a girl who knows me as well as you.

As if I can share my life with me.

But I really miss you.

I will never call you.

But I will feel the void.

I want you back but not in a normal way.

You know you were who mattered in my life. That’s pathetic. Even if I had cared for you at any point of my life, just dream and be a stone.


It is funny that every time I write I try to create a controversy. Is it true or just an exaggeration? I wrote the above paragraph when I was high. Now back to the present.

It is a bit strange that after so many days you called and asked me a question which I expected (not prayed). I prayed that you will ask me, “Are you happy?”. But I know You. You will never answer my prayer. But You answered my expectations. I expected you to ask me something which I will never expect. Something which has nothing to do with me being a being who is trying to survive (and so is everyone). A question which is trivial enough to be asked when you are non-trivial to be answered. So you asked it. “Can you leave cigarette?”

And ironically I answered. I answered in a way which is comforting to me more than it is to you. You know, truth gives hope. I used to think that if I speak my heart to someone, then that person will give heart for me. Not anymore. Now I pretend. You have gifted me a permanent fear of trust. Thank You. Thank You for this lovely feeling of ‘being uncomfortable’ throughout life. If I feel uncomfortable that means I am still breathing. Miracle.

So I answered and answer didn’t give hope. Not to you neither to me. So I avoided the risk of hopes being shattered. Although I am very used to this ‘hopes shattered’ kind of thing from my childhood (may be the reason for my introvert-ness), I still avoid it.

Take Care

And Keep laughing

And continue to make this world (not mine) a happy place to live in.



Filed under anger, childhood, death, humor, life, love, memories, nostalgia, phases, pleasure, random, relationships, sinbycosmoy, society, women

Pin prick a cocoon

Caution : This post may contain excessive usage of expletives which may not be apt for your kindergarten literary taste. So if you are a hypocrite and have an illusion of high self-esteem, just stop reading and fuck off.

Dedicated to all the sluts out there. (DRUMROLL)

Lemme tell you a fact and a little secret. It is a fact that I can talk to girls. Now that may not be an ossum fact for you guys who are pretty popular with the fairer sex but for an introvert like me it is a self-confidence booster. I can talk, make them laugh, make them feel comfortable and I am not gay. Now the secret is that I can’t talk back. I may seem pretty confident (sometimes over-confident) from time to time and scenario to scenario, but the truth is I cannot protest.

There is a page on facebook with the following name :

“I just had an argument with a girl I know. She was saying how that it`s unfair that if a guy fucks a different girl every week, he`s a legend, but if a girl fucks just two guys in a year, she`s a slut. So in response I told her that if a key opens lots of locks, then it`s a master key. But if a lock is opened by lots of keys, then it`s a shitty lock. That shut her up..”

Everyone in my office knows that I went through a breakup couple of months back and I do gawk at girls (natural masculine phenomenon. Helpless!!), everywhere and fall in love every now and then. I am not a hypocrite and I do express my feelings openly. Is that a crime? At least I am not one of those who wants do an arrange marriage and will rape his wife on the first night. Long story, we will come to that shit later.

Story 1

Now some girls in my office are paying that ‘extra’ bit of attention towards me and I admit that I do enjoy it. But since I have the tiniest amount of courage when it comes to girls, so obviously the ‘extra’ attention is never encouraged by me (nor discouraged though :P). Those girls are either married or would be married or want to get married (and want to have a fling with me). Does that make me a bad person or a person who tries desperately to get girls? At least to them it does. Let me make this very clear that just because I had a breakup and am single (and have experience), does not mean I will sleep around for fun and allow you to look down on me. I am a guy with high self-esteem and an enviable (sometimes) dick. If you want to take it in your mouth (or wherever) then just don’t make me look like a slut. Believe me, in a normal Indian society, any guy who humps any animate (or inanimate) object in his way, he is not considered a legend, rather a guy with loose character.

So if you want the beak don’t call me weak.

Story 2

Just because I talk to you and laugh with you and like you, does not mean I am all over you. The thing that changed me from my last relationship is that, I can get out of any crush/love instantly and brutally (that was what has been done to me). So girl if you think just because I have given you some slightest indications doesn’t mean that I am panting like a dog to grab your boobs (although I would love to). Just because I like being with you does not mean you can treat me like your bitch (and ironically be the good person in everyone’s eye). And if you do, although you are not a guy, I will make you become one and then kick your balls (that would be so much fun). Libra may be the zodiac sign of classy people, but with a typical Bihari accent, believe me you are too crude for my taste. You are dumb and insensitive bitch with no sense of self-respect or taste. Being a Bong, gives me an inherent responsibility to make fun of people from your state. Now if you are not angry and want a good company (guaranteed), let us go and have some ‘chai and biskut’.

By the way, our mistress looks better than you.

Story 3

That slutty hypocrite, I hate her. Just to feel powerful, she boasts of the friend requests and slaps and tells lies. I sincerely hate her. She tries desperately to prove that she not a typical girl but trust me she is a perfect example of a girl. Typical girls dress up to gain attention and try desperately to show of her stern belief on feminism (without explicitly expressing it). She does that all and more. I am sitting beside you and accidentally you give me ‘that’ look. I innocently notice that my shoulder may have unknowingly brushed your boobs, SLIGHTLY. If you don’t trust we guys, and always think that we intentionally may eve tease you, then why the hell do you hang around with guys? Feel powerful eh?? Really, are you that weak? How can you be two-faced with a big innocent grin on your face? If you were born in a different world, with more girls than boys, unlike India with bad women to men ratio, you would have been perfectly treated. Here you can only be treated psychologically. Get yourself a doctor.

You are more pathetic than me. Ironical!!

Story 4

A girl’s parents were too eager to marry their daughter. In Indian society (at least most of it), girls are considered to be a burden. Don’t be illusioned by India’s political hierarchy with a feminine Numero Uno. India is still a country where girls are worshipped as well as raped. Unity in diversity. So, they put an ad in a matrimonial site, hence started the marketing of a fresh product. The product was picked up by prospective customers. And here the parents decide the customer they want to transfer their ownership of the product. A NRI customer, with a promising career in Silicon Valley is enough to make these parents’ jaw drop. The customer never sees the product, personally, before the transfer of ownership (popularly and deceivingly known as ‘marriage’). After the marriage, on the first night (and never a day, its full of light, fear of unmasking), it is customary for the customer to ‘test’ the product with his beak. As the customer is NRI, a general thought is that he has not dipped his dick for a long time. So throughout the night the girl, ahem, the product, gets exploited pretending to enjoy it. When ‘it’ is unable to bear anymore, she begs that she cannot take anymore. The customer being a generous fellow, stops. For five minutes. And resumes on the top. He will not stop even if tears roll out of the eyes of ‘it’.

Can we hang the customer, this guy, instead of Kasab?

I don’t pity girls who wait for the right and settle for wrong. I laugh at those, who ‘test/taste’ every right and wrong is what they deserve. I don’t care if you are princess or a self-conscious, insecure, pathetic loser who desperately tries to look like one, you will still not get respect from the core of my heart (although I can pretend). If you don’t deserve it, you will not fucking get it. Have some self-pity. Prescribed.

I told you, I can’t talk back. So I write. If you read the post and hated me, don’t come back and you are welcome. If you liked it you are the saddest person (with a littlest wiener) on the face of earth. Go and commit suicide right now.

Tada. Take care of your little ego and virginity. Laugh at mirror to detoxify.

P.S. I am proud of the post.


Filed under anger, humor, India, life, love, memories, random, sinbycosmoy, society, women

Visual Effects

The title of the post is a bit random and inappropriate. It should be ‘Visual Love’ rather than ‘Visual Effects’, but I will stick to it is catchy. Or rather ‘Effects of Visual Love’. Visual Love is part of human life. We all are victims of it (and sometimes the object of love too). We fall in love and fantasize every visible object around us. Compared to the so-called ‘real-love’, this kind of love has time constraints. Visual Love can vary in timespan from few seconds to days to few hours to max-a-month. But that is it. Not more than that. May be that’s the beauty of it. Momentary pleasure and eternal lingering. Gawking and increase in heartbeat may seem mutually exclusive but the combination is deadly. Just imagine that particular moment when you see a person in local train, bus, lift, lobby, tv and you fall in love. Instantly. And the person is gone by the end of the day or at the end of an overnight slumber. Funny but true story. But some visual loves do take a long time to forget and touches lives.


Abhi knows he is a victim. Victim of random planetary movements. She did not come to the coaching. He has been waiting for over an hour. Her class ends at 6:00 pm, he knows that for sure. He never misses a chance to have a glimpse of her. This can be his last chance. He hates the fact that his dad is getting transferred to Bombay. He will have to appear for Boards from there only. Again change of schools and new friends. His dad has promised him ‘no transfers’ after his boards. But he does not want to leave patna. He first saw her one month back when he was coming out of R.K.Singh Coaching classes and she was entering Acme Sureshot Coaching, just across the road. Since then he has been on time. Monday, Wednesday, Friday 5 to 6 in the evening he will wait just to have a glimpse of her. He did not want her look at her. He was too scared. She never looked. He does not know her name. He knows very well the he is a non-existent person in her life but thanked God that at least their coaching classes’ routine coincides. But today is his last day in Patna. They are leaving tomorrow morning. So to have a last glimpse he drove his cycle and waited. Waited for more than an hour. It is 6:30 now. She has not come. Her friends, talked, giggled and left. He has to go home now or his dad will be very angry and his mother will be very anxious. He loved his mom and was scared of his dad. He left or he will miss tomorrow morning’s train.


That feeling of missing a train is coming back to Dia. She hated that. She has always been a dizzy headed, rom com lover girl. She loved it when a single random guy pays attention to her. She feels like a princess. Back in college there was a dearth of decent guys and she had even started believing that decent guys don’t exist. But after joining this MNC everything changed. World is different now and it is filled with random cute, lovable and decent creatures known as men. Or were all them same, seeming decent in branded outfits? She wondered. Lunch time is the best time in her tiring day full of work. At that time she can spot him. He ate from 1:30 to 2:00 pm, sat at the same place, and had fun with his colleagues.  She always entered the canteen at 2:00 so that she can have a glimpse of him. Just a glimpse. No more no less. She does not want to be a stalker. Or is she? She wondered. Her mother has been pushing her for marriage from the very moment she got the job. She knows that in her hometown, patna,  girls are considered burden and she hated that. She wants a decent guy who knows how to respect women, and she thought Bengalis are decent. She loved the city Kolkata and its spirit and its men. But that one particular man has caught her eye. She thought, he has the cutest bum and sexiest jawline in the office. But she never got a chance to talk to him. How can she, being a girl. She did not know his name and moreover he has never, ever looked at him, not even for a millisecond.

That feeling of missing a train is coming back. She fears that she will again start asking the question ‘what if’. The question has bothered her from her teens. She still misses the guy who evidently stalked her for a month. She was so scared initially that she thought of going to the police or her impending boards would have been ruined. Later she realised that the guy has no guts to go up to her and talk. She waited, and waited until one day he disappeared.

She will not let this happen this time. She decided that she will get his employee id and will mail the canteen guy. Her colleagues told her that it’s pretty lame to send an e-mail, rather she should ping him. And she did.



I am dia.

-I am Kush.

5th floor. Your building.

-I know dia. You have been stalking me for the last one month in the canteen.

What an asshole!!! Decent? My foot.


‘Passengers of Kingfisher 3571, from Bombay to Patna, are requested to head to gate no 4 for check-in.’- the loudspeaker announced in a robotic droning voice with a faint touch of femininity. Abhi is going to Patna after 10 years to attend one of his friend’s wedding. He stood up and started picking up his luggage. As he was waiting for his turn in the queue, he spotted a couple in the queue expressing their love openly. He hated queues and couples cuddling in public. He waited impatiently for his turn. He hated the couple, may be because he is still single and going to attend a marriage.

The wedding was lavish. The groom, his long-time friend was a writer and the bride was an investment banker. They met on facebook and fell in love. ‘What a tragedy’, Abhi thought. He is still single and looking for love. May be he should get one of those profiles on facebook thingy. His taste was too old fashioned. He tried to mingle with his old friends from Patna with a glass of Smirnoff Vodka and lime soda in his hand.

‘Hey dude, remember that chick’.

The words were addressed to him by a fat guy whose name he forgot, the third time in the evening. He was least interested in looking at a random chick at his friend’s wedding and seem desperate.

‘That’s Dia and her husband Kush. They live in bambai now. Remember you stalked her for like a month. Dude you were pathetic back then.’

Those words caught his interest. He looked at them and realised that they were the same couple from airport queue.

‘I am pathetic even now’, he thought and hated the couple more. And then he smiled.

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Filed under love, memories, nostalgia, pleasure, relationships, sinbycosmoy, teenage