So my college has a festival. And as cynical as I usually am about all such things (read:humbug), I decide to show up after all. Seems they were putting on a better show than our usual slumdog millionaire show every year.
They had this debate about how social networking websites are invading our privacy. And since I have this endearing knack for getting offended about the strangest of things, I decide to participate.
I also win, considering how the rest of the competition was too confused to see someone wielding a stethoscope get onto the podium.
And since all good turns deserve at least another half more…
For the first time in remembered “me” history and generally the history of the world, this “Apsara brand” woman (I’d like to think so) walks up to me and says…
“You speak very well… and I’d like to interact you” (sic).
“Also I’m not that kind of girl”.
I remember being far too stymied to correct her grammar. I remember “Rockstar” playing in the background. I also remember her not calling once.
Sigh. When women suppress good taste.
P.s. I also got first prize in the love letter writing thingie. Remind me to post that here one day.
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