Wednesday Evening Tinder joy @ HRC Bangalore

A 26 year old IT professional from Delhi and a 19 year old hippie from somewhere outside India meet after they swipe each other right at HRC Bangalore. The song and dance that ensues...

 

Abhay, 25, 0 km away (display picture shows him with an electric guitar, playing For Whom The Bell Tolls on his Hostel Stage, his homies banging away below the stage)

Intro: I am into string theory, and black holes are my thing.

 

Kacey, 19, 0 km away (tall, thin girl, clad in more tattoos than textile, more piercings per unit area than grass on the Old Trafford pitch)

Intro: I am a freebird, loves wine, travel, heavy metal and getting baked on Sunday afternoons. Dont swipe right if you “ryt lyk ds”. Oh and yeah, I am sapiosexual as well.

 

It starts, as all mischievous stories should, with a 26 year old going aggressive on a cocktail, while enjoying a day out of office on a business trip approximately two thousand one hundred and sixty six miles away from his home town. Abhay is sitting at the bar counter, inside the mammoth HRC Bangalore, holding his LONG Island Iced Tea, thinking about balls, urns and pigeon holes. Bored with life and slightly inebriated with the ethanol, he logs into Tinder and waits for the expanding concentric circles of his pink pheromones to pluck a naughty flower blowin in the MG Road wind. He swipes this cute 19 year old right, her piercings firing the 50 shades of fucked up in the hypothalamus inside his skull. Not expecting much to happen, he exhales the usual dioxide and vapour, which is now smelling of chicken wings and heavy metal sauce which he tried only coz his ever-so-reliable homie suggested it.

 

Lo and behold, it’s a match! His skin conductance rises beyond the max count of a handy Galvanometer, his nervous system gets too sympathetic, opening the sluice gates of his facial capillaries and draining out all the blood into his cheek brown cheeks and ears. Now he can’t decide how to start the conversation. Should I just do a “Hey there” like he homies back home? Naah, says Abhay to himself, no way can I be so lame with a girl. “If only I had taken Goel’s advice and devised a routine of my own. Damn, I am wasting time while someone else...

 

A red flame appears on the top of his Android phone.

 

Kacey: What are you thinking right now? ;)

Abhay: Is it painful?         

A: Getting pierced I mean...

 

K: The first time was. *wink wink*

A: Lolz <thinking “Lolz” would stall her and buy him sometime to access the 2GBs of dedicated pick up line space in the Hard Disk of his LTM>

K: So what are you up to?

A: NM, just enjoying a nice LIT, listening to Audioslave in the background...

K: What song!? I am listening to Audioslave too!!!!

A: Like a Stone...

K: Woah!!!!!

A: Woah what?

K: What do you think, dumbass!?

A: Oh, You also listening to Like a Stone?

K: Nice one Sherlock! Helluva coincidence, don’t you think?

A: Are you the one sitting near the Mustaine signed red guitar? :P

K: Now there’s my Sherlock, you creep! <Walks over to the bar and joins Abhay, who is suddenly feeling intoxicated with a cocktail of hormones>

 

A: Hi! So how was your day Irene!?

K: Irene? <Slightly offended and dazed>

A: Nothing, just a Sherlock thing, never mind...

K: Oh hooo! I get it! So silly! Guess the joke’s on me now!!!

A: <saying to himself> Joke’s always on you, woman!

K: You said something?

A: You’ve got pretty eyes.

K: <Her time to flush> Thanks! 

A: So what can I get you? What’s your choice of poison?

K: How’s this LIT you are having there?

A: Its good, but I have had better... I suggest you go for this classic Indian red rum; it’s called Old Monk, all time favourite!

K: Sure!

A: <Smiles in achievement having saved a few 100 bucks>

K: Don’t you think our asses deserve more comfort than these bar counter chairs? Let’s move to the corner, those cushions seem to be inviting me.

A: Cool. So where are you from?

K: Winterfell

A: Hahahaha and you are here because winter is coming? <Feeling smoother with every joke>

K: Yeah I was searching for solace from those cold and lonely nights...

A: <smiles to himself hearing the L word from this beauty sitting across him>

 

A minute passes away in not so awkward silence, both sipping their drinks and thinking of things to make some small talk.

 

K: Soooo...how do you wanna die, Abhay?

A: <feels good to hear his name spoken by a someone without a Y chromosome> Really? We’ve just met and you wanna know how I plan to die?

 

K: C’mon stop being shy, seriously! I want to know you better if I am spending the whole evening with you...

A: <Smiles at the W word, thinking of the old adage “In the garden of opportunities, it's much better to pluck the fruit rather than to wait for it to fall.” Takes her hand in his, points her index finger to the left of his chest, and says>

A bullet through my chest

Piercing through my heart

My head lying on her breast

Death is but a new start.

 

K: <Stirred, but not shaken by the gesture. Blushes, takes her hand out of Abhay’s grip, and gently caresses his stubble going further down only to grab him by the collar, bringing him close to her. Abhay can’t resist getting high on the ethanol vapour coming from her warm breath reeking of Old Monk. The background dims and fades away, a blur...

 

K: <Whispers in a mesmerizing voice>

     Let me pull that trigger

     Let that bosom be mine!

     I want to taste that crimson

     Quench my thirst with that wine

<pushes him away, lights up a smoke ignoring the No Smoking sign on the wall>

 

Old sport, I think we’ll make a nice team, like Scott and Zelda. What say?

 

A: <perplexed, blown away, feeling a new found admiration for the enchantress>

<“Wicked temptress knows how to please” starts playing in his head>

<Coming back to reality, getting a little uncomfortable at the prospect of being told not to smoke by a lowly waiter>

Shall we move to the smoking room? I am having a great time to risk being thrown out of this fortress J

 

K: <opening the smoking room’s door for him> So, what does Abhay (says “Eyy-Bhai”) mean really?

A: It means I am fearless.

K: <Chuckles> Are you really?

 

A: <Lights up a smoke, takes a deep drag, and releases a cloud of dense smoke that hides his charred face>

 

Many a men crossed my path

Some became friends, others tasted my wrath

Mon’Amie, fear cuts deeper than a sword

Only the brave doth history record

 

K: <getting more and more curious, yet a little irritated at the shields the little man conjures up as a guard> Bravo my Khal! So you always do this?

 

A: Do what?

K: Hide behind clever lines? And you call yourself fearless! Huh...

A: <shrugs>

K: You wanna know a fearless man

      I slept with one who made no plan

      Smoked pipe weed, killed for kicks

      Never saw his face, coz he was one of them Ku Klux Klan

 

A: <feeling kinky for some reason> You wanna know the real me?

K: Surer than ever, my moon and stars! <Kisses him playfully on the lower lip>

A: This wine, this music

      Makes me all poetic and absurd

      You want me to open up, my lady?

      Let’s go out for a walk

      You shall hear all that is unheard.

 

Hand in hand they walk out of the cafe, forgetting to pay their dues. Glory Box is playing while they leave; the girl is humming “Give me a reason to be a woman”.

Long is the night in front of them; surreal is the moment for our old sport, having scored the woman of his dreams. He books a cab; they step in, obediently say “Ola” to Raju the driver, who smiles looking at the rear-view mirror hoping to catch some action without opening an incognito. While our sport Abhay is thinking of excuses to stop at the drug store, cursing himself at being so unprepared for fate...

      

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Grill us on grammar, style, flow, anything...Also tell us if you see any major influences! This is one of our (yes its a collaboration) first few pieces, so we would love to learn :)