Just friendship or 'one two ka four'?

There can be no second opinion on the fact that mothers initiate sex education. How? Remember those days when you were transitioning from primary to secondary school? Particularly the day when you returned from school dancing on your toes (for you had that huge crush on your biology teacher P), and found mother standing at the gates giving a look of concern mixed with amusement, knowing all too well that you just had a brush with that one person from the other sex? As you approached mother dear, your pace lessened, your gait straightened, and out came jostling some stupid reason for how and why you had an 'acrimonious' fight with that silly Pinki/Billu sitting next to you in the class (for you have to give some reason for your 'twitching' toes). But mother (oh dear!) with that dignified air about herself, spoke nothing, carried your school bag in, and calmly asked you to wash up and sit down for lunch. Over and done with! Then and there, that very moment you became strangely aware of the challenges that talks about same and opposite sex can pose for you.

That one experience of 'fighting Pinki or Billu' during those wretched adolescent years stays with you for a long time to come. But then you move on in life, you study science, have an introduction to humanities, and learn the 'art' of commerce. As your education unravels secrets of life for you, you start to understand how tectonic movements (and not Brahma - Vishnu - Mahesh) brought about geographical changes within continents, how some 20 odd pair of chromosomes and a scary something called genes changed your life forever, and suddenly you see Pinki and Billu in a separate light. You understand that after all it was just your hormones raging a silly little war during the adolescent years causing you to dance on your toes.

Two ugly feet on ground and an egg of a head on shoulders, you lead a graduate life with a rationalistic approach to life and friends (of either sex) around you. You scoff and frown at PDA (public display of affection) when Chandu ke chacha and Chandu ke chachi eat chutney (from the same spoon) under the glare of public eyes, you try to reason out with your friends that 'it was after all nothing' when you offered 'help' to that 'bombshell' at the slightest hint (so what if it was only to offer her the hanky that she knowingly kept on dropping while entering the class?), and all the more your parents freaking out at you over the 'land lines staying engaged all the time' bared their conservative attitude towards all things rational.

Thus picking hankies and being on the telephone for long hours day in and day out, finally you have a deja vu of sorts, of raging hormones, but this time taking shape of a massive war of words. You are completely out of sorts, you can't stop thinking of chandni raat ki chhat, and dilwale dulhaniya le jayenge; your grades are falling; your mother sees red at the slightest reason; and your friends are getting ridiculous day by day singing chand khila badal mein...hum dil de chuke sanam. And since you really have to crack that CAT to meow through a successful career (after all you can't upset mother for long), you settle for a 'break up', firmly believing that 'we are just friends and nothing more than that'.

Well you have always steered through difficult phases in life, and you do 'cat'walk through that institute, you get a six figure monthly salary, and now you are a much sought after 'eligible bachelor'. For some reason your thoughts keep going back to the sweet smelling floral hankies that you always picked up to give Bambi (the bombshell?) and brood and brood. Suddenly, the songs of the bollywood masala movie screeches through your window from the neighbour's plasma television, where SRK talks about the 'friendship leading to marriage' crap salivating at the sight of a Rani from London and then eventually settling for a Kajal from India when Rani is dead turned into dust. You jump on your toes and fish for Bambi on Orkut. Heck, you come across a profile, name: Bambi Bhalotra (the last you knew she was a Malhotra), marital status: living with partner, kids: two. You sulk and sulk more. You delete your account from Orkut and ban it forever in your office.