Monday, July 9, 2012



Before beginning the story, it is hereby brought into consideration that this story is a real life experience of a friend of mine. But for the sake of concealing the identity, story is manipulated a bit; names and places of course are changed. To make it worth readable (as I think so, it may be my illusion) few modifications in conversations and situations are made deliberately.

Now, let me expedite the story to avoid losing some potential readers and future-blog-followers. For the sake of simplicity as well as fluent narration I deliberately represent the male protagonist as the narrator of this story. Story seems bit accentuating if narrated by the 1st person itself. Isn’t it?


I, Sachin, 21, single, male, sexually-straight, is an average looking person with a 5’8” frame. I had did my diploma in Electrical Engineering from TCT Polytechnic, a prestigious polytechnic college in Uttar Pradesh established some 25 years ago by govt. of UP to meet the excessive demand of Junior Engineers in developing India. As being an avid student, I did complete my diploma not only with a brag-able mark-sheet, but also with some theoretical knowledge (which most of the engineers devoid today). Though I hate boasting about my academic achievements but at the same time it is equally inevitable to cloak the associated proud feeling embedded within it. It’s always inevitable to mention my academic record without that “concerned” pride.

I was eventually selected in NTPC, reputed PSU branch in Haryana. I was trainee and soon to be promoted as junior engineer. In two month to be precise. This PSU plant, being situated in rural area far away from population they provided us flats in a self settled colony. It was a colony consist of around 70 flats which was shared commonly by trainees as well as by senior engineers. The number of rooms and interior arrangements though defines their ranks and make us feel “I m still a trainee”. But just for two more months, I thought.
There also lives senior engineer Mr. Akhilesh Singh. Although, he was not any special species but the only thing which accentuated him is being the father of this beautiful girl, his daughter Kritika. Kritika, 23, was a beautiful and efficient creation of god production industry. I guess even god too had took it few extra hours on her finishing operation. She was in M.Sc. 2nd year. Eventually our eyes met and not to mention, I had developed a crush on her. Though I adored her beauty and wanted her to make mine like anything but never attempted to approach her for the obvious reasons. She too was not oblivious of my feeling for her which oozed out every nano-second I saw her. She too had a thing for me, I thought or maybe I was just misjudging her looks.

One fine day I received the call from an unknown number. 

Hello” I said in interrogatively as if trying to ask who on other side is being generous enough to call on my number.

 “Is that Sachin?” a melodious female voice echoed in my ear.

Yes! Who’s it?” I asked.

This is Kritika” she said Cooley.

 “Fine thank you” I replied formally. “I m sorry but do I know u?”

Awwweee!!! We live in same colony and u don’t even know me yet.” She said in her female friendly dramatic voice as if we knew each other since ages.

My mind immediately sprang into action.

It must be Kritika, my neighborhood crush” I thought. Who else in my female-deficient colony has this euphonious voice? 

It must be Kritika, I declared mentally to myself.

Kritika?” I asked deliberately to confirm.

Who else could call you from this colony? Also I m the only ‘The Kritika’ of this area” She chuckled.

And she was right. Who else could call me from this colony, except Mr. Ranjan, our asshole supervisor, and some other not-so-important colleagues. 

And this was just the beginning. What followed next is loads of phone calls, SMSes, texting, sexting and every possible thing one could imagine to be done over phone. Our relationship was ripening and I of course wanted to extract the fruit from it. But she always knocked down the idea of real date giving some strange hard-to-believe reasons. She also insisted not to add her on facebook for the reasons of same “genre”. Though she never failed to reply my e-mails and this had become the 2nd most preferred mode of communication we share to communicate. She told me, she had no boyfriend, even though she was in M. Sc. 2nd year. I had to believe. Do I have any other options otherwise? Certainly not, unless I’d risk my just-can’t-get-enough-till-now kind of relationship.
Three months of relationship and no real date. This was something I had never imagined to be ever happening with me. Even when she saw around her house, she couldn’t even bothers to look into my eyes, let alone waving hand or wishing good day. “What kind of love is this?” I thought.  Now since I was promoted as junior engineer at same plant, I could pay worry-lessly for my ever increasing phone bills. I pleaded her to meet me once. What’s the point being in love mutually when there is no space of meeting (read it dating) each other. But It was my love story. Isn’t it enough reason to be weird? Anyway…….

Although, on my chivious demand, she had no way but to accept it. She reluctantly agreed for a date. We anyhow, decided to meet at most beautiful location our small town had.  Despite of being oblivious about latest fashion trend, I chose myself a better pair of dress for this tough-to-earned date. Three f**king months. And my irrevocable waiting paid me off. She came some 40 minutes late from the pre-decided  time, which she had fixed by herself. I should have remark her being late but I was in no position to muff. Do I? Certainly not unless I’d risk my still-not-anything relationship.


To be continued in subsequent series..........



  1. well, you always keep your readers guessing "what next" by posting in sequels.....
    looking forward to read about the climax of this "DATE TALE"..... :)

    (why do you keep this word verification for comments)

  2. it always works, I guess. Moreover this is a bit long story so it is also a demand of the story.

    And I'll surely look into this word verification thing.

    Thanks for responding

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Bhopal. Delhi. Mumbai. Thrissur, India
A grammatically challenged blogger. Typos are integral part of blogging