Getting the Hint

Today I ate a batch of extremely fiery puchkas and asked the girl of my dreams out for lunch. The two, seemingly unconnected incidents taught me something about myself: I do not get the hint.

The puchkas were eaten at a road side stall in Sovabazaar. This area is a perfect example of the magical world of North Calcutta: boisterous Bengali gentlemen discussing philosophy over endless cups of sweet tea, angelic Bengali women with their heart-shaped faces and dangerously deep eyes.

The puchkas were served by an old Bihari man with the most wrinkled face I have ever seen. A definite believer in the old school of puchka preparation, he would alter the taste of the stuffing according to the fancies of the eater. Which, in this case, was a slightly homicidal gorilla with a craving for spicy food. A gorilla who asked for an extra dose of lethal green chutney. This thing was strong; brought tears to me eyes and all that. And then the gorilla asked for some more.

“Babu, thoda meetha kar do? [Should I make it slightly sweet?]”, he asked me on seeing that I was nearly crying after the first bite. I should have taken the hint then, but no I bravely asked for some more. Now you must realize that this is some extremely explosive stuff.

I polished off twenty bucks worth of puchkas even as my stomach and my brain had effectively launched a Cold War against each other.

And then later that day I asked the girl of my dreams out for lunch. To study an animal’s reaction to stress, scientists often resort to placing a thin metal sheet at the base of a cage. A laboratory rat is then placed into the cage and tiny electrical shocks are sent through the metal plate and the reactions of the rat are then studied in great detail.

What I write is a rough account of the conversation which transpired:

Me: “So would you like to join me?”

She: “Umm… well how come? All of a sudden?” [Hint no.1 or the “polite piss off”]

Me: “Well why not?”

She: “No, not really interested” [Hint no.2 or the Still-polite “piss off”]

“Why don’t you ask my friend over there, she may be interested?” [Hint no.3 or The Polite Deflection]

You would have thought that most people would have realized that the girl aint interested right? They would have backed out then and there and managed to save some face. But then do I really want to be normal? Be just like everyone else? Of course not! So what do I do? Well, bravely soldier on. To the battlefield men!!

Me: “No. I mean why don’t YOU come?” [Sounding more and more like a serial stalker. And then the very icing on the cake, that very cherry, the M&Ms sprinkled on the warm, gooey fudge] “Can’t you come PLEASE?”

She: “Well, I am seeing someone else. Sorry” [Insert hot metal rod through eye now]

Me: “Oh [as blood flow to brain resumes]…….oh well THANKS”

Exit stage right.