Short Story: No Inconsistencies

I wrote one romantic short story earlier: Whisper on a Zephyr. This is my second attempt at this genre. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


Spotting the gang drinking cocktails and laughing a little too loudly at some joke, I rushed to the bar to get a glass for myself and join them. It wouldn't do for me to be the only guy standing there without a glass in his hand, would it?

My boss was there. He's a really friendly guy at these social occasions, even if he can be quite a dinosaur at work.
"Hey Sid, meet your new co-worker. This is Ananya, you've already spoken with her on the phone right? We need the two of you to save us on the Warren project."
I shook hands with the woman whose voice I'd been hearing a little too often the past two days. It was a nice voice, mind you, but she was even more demanding when it came to work than I was. I liked her body language. She was relaxed and friendly without losing an inch of the confident air I'd come to recognize in her voice.

Her eyes twinkled with mischief when she pointed to her handbag.
"You know what I have in here?"
Sigh.
"The file. You want me to be well prepped for tomorrow's meeting. Even if the only people meeting are the two of us. Very altruistic of you!"
I was trying to be funny, not sarcastic. I hoped my smile indicated the former. She laughed, so I relaxed. I hate getting off on the wrong foot with co-workers.

Since she was laughing, I thought I'd push my luck.
"Your glass is almost empty. You should try this, it's really good. Here, try a sip."
She didn't hesitate. She took the glass and sipped.

I waited for the reaction. See, I'm a teetotaller. The glass contained water.
She said nothing. She folded her hands and rocked back on one leg and gave me a not-quite-serious angry schoolteacher look.
"Wait, wait..."
I took both the glasses off her hands to let her fold her hands more easily. I pretended to look over her critically and pronounced, "Better."

She laughed again and I beckoned her towards the bar.
"Let me order for you," I said and gave rapid instructions to the bartender. It included mint, lemon, vodka, ginger and a couple of other things. I prayed it tasted as good as it sounded because I certainly had no idea how it would taste. I was ordering based on third-hand knowledge.

"And let me, for you..."
I grabbed her hand as she started to call the bartender over and pulled it down.
"I don't drink alcohol." I pointed at the glass in my hand. "I have my water."
She raised an eyebrow. "And yet you ordered... ooookaaay lets try this."
And so she tried it. And smiled.

I heaved an internal sigh of relief as she pronounced it as tasting wonderful. Then her eyes narrowed on the person on stage.
"That's funny. I thought I saw her getting that award last year."
"Yeah, she wins it every year. She's one of our top employees. We call her Miss Felicity."
She looked puzzled. "Why, is she that good at spreading cheer?"
"Well, yes, she makes everyone in our department happy simply by virtue of being there and being good looking. But it's supposed to be a joke. She gets felicitated every year, you see. Inevitably."
Then I leaned over conspiratively.
"I heard she went through a break up recently, which means she's single and available."
I leaned back.
"I've got that from every single guy at work over the past week or two. Unbelievable."

"Well, considering how pretty she is, it's pretty believable I would say. Have you asked her out yet?"
I'm not easily surprised, but that one took me by surprise. Espying the mischievous look on her face again, I thought I'd surprise her back. With the truth.
"Nope. I'm quite a coward when it comes to asking women out. Tongue gets mysteriously tied up. Weird considering I have absolutely no difficulty talking in any other situation."
She laughed mellifluously again. "That I can believe. Especially since I am much the same myself."
"You get tongue-tied everytime you want to ask a woman out?"
She punched me on the shoulder. Ow. She's a strong one.

The speech finished and there was a big round of applause. Someone then raised a cheer for the company and there was an even bigger round of applause, including some whistling. Ananya once again surprised me by whistling with the others. She didn't strike me as the rowdy type. Guess I must be bringing out the best in her. Catching me glaring at her, she said "What?"
"Unfair. I can't whistle."
"Well, it's simple, really, you just..."
I held my hand up. "Please, I've had lessons from everyone on Earth possible. I just can't do it. I wasn't blessed with the ability."
I pointed. "See that guy over there? He's too nice to ever whistle at a girl, even too nice to whistle in applause like just now. And yet he's brilliant at whistling. What do you infer from that?"
"Nothing. You can't expect everything in life to be logical and consistent."
"Ah, but I hate inconsistencies. I've always believed that if you see something inconsistent, then you're missing a fact that resolves the inconsistency, and often you can deduce that missing fact directly."
"Okay Einstein, so what are we missing here?"
"He's a genius at music. He plays the flute, and he can whistle the most complicated flute tune."
"How can you hate inconsistencies when you're saying there is no such thing as an inconsistency?"
"Are you expecting an answer for that?"
"Nope. Totally rhetorical. I just need to have the last word, you see."
"I have that need too. Generally I do end up having the last word but I can see I'm going to have a hard time doing that while working with you."
She smiled and clinked our glasses together.

The room was getting really loud, so I suggested we walk to the balcony and get some fresh air. She agreed. We walked up to the door side by side, where she paused. I looked at her and asked, "What?"
"You're supposed to open the door for me."
"Oh, please. You can't have both equality of the sexes and chivalry at the same time. Pick one."
"How rude." She made a very loud and very fake sniff and opened the door. And pointedly held it open for me to walk through. I grinned. Touche. Point taken.
"But seriously, do you really expect men to open car doors and pay for your restaurant bills and etcetera etcetera?"
"No, but opening a door, or holding it open is common courtesy. You would do it for anyone."
"Come on. If I'd reached the door ahead of you, perhaps. But you were closer to the door than I was. Naturally I expect you to open the door."
She waved her hand. "Don't worry, I just did that to see how you'd react. We're going to be working together, I don't want you to agree with me on things just because I'm a woman. A lot of people do that and place blame on me later. I hate that. If they agree with me, no matter how half-heartedly, they should take the responsibility for that."
"So I pass?"

I'm beginning to love that smile of hers.

The evening wound down and we found ourselves at the door saying our goodbyes. "Here, let me help you with that," I said as I helped her put on her jacket. She pulled the file out of her handbag.
"Wait, let me check it once," she said and went to a table to flip through the file once. Then she handed it to me and we left.

I wondered how long it would take her to discover the note I'd left in her jacket pocket. Knowing how smart she was, not long. For, having already established that I'm not chivalrous, why did I help her on with the jacket when she didn't look like she needed any help? There are no inconsistencies, she'd said. Oh, she'll spot it, in less than a day I bet. The note said "Friday night?". That gave her three days. Enough of a buffer. At times like these, I really wished I knew how to whistle as I walked down the street.

I stopped in my tracks. That woman was way too systematic in her work to need to check anything in the file at the last minute. No inconsistencies?

I opened the file. A note slipped on top said, "Friday night is good."

Darn it. She had the last word again.

X-------X--------X

Mallika Badrinath's Website Launched

I assured my Dad that I have neither the interest nor the ability in creating a website, but he insisted that I do it anyway. So, well, a very simple website is now up: www.mallikahomeproducts.com

The site is still under construction, even functionality wise (forget about aesthetics), but at least it's up. I have some work to do this month, so I will try to improve the site next month.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Speechless

My Grandmother startled me the other day with an announcement.

Grandma: I've found the perfect girl to be your wife. She's slim, fair and pretty, lives in Chennai, and her family has crores and crores of money.

Knowing my Grandmother, if the family is as rich as she claims, the meanings of the words "slim" "fair" and "pretty" are quite flexible. But I digress.

Me: Grandma! I told you already, I'm just 24 years old, I don't want to get married for another year, minimum!

Grandma: So marry her after a year.

Now, if my Grandmother gets fixated on a topic, the only way to shut her up is to let her talk and pretend to listen.

Me: (sigh) What does she do?

Grandma: She is studying B.Com.

Me: Oh, so she is finishing her studies only this May?

Grandma: Er... not quite.

Me: Grandma! How old is she?

Grandma: Seventeen.

Leaving me speechless and my Mom struggling to control her laughter.

Welcome to my life.

(This is apparently my 200th post. I feel old.)

Cheers
Prashanth.

42

(If you haven't read Douglas Adams, you may not understand this post)

Recently, my Dad shifted our cell phones to one of those "family" schemes with four lines. That is, we were all getting new phone numbers, and we could talk to each other on those lines for an unlimited amount of time. Great, nah? Now, even when I am not at home, my parents can call me at any time and talk to me for however long they want. Sigh.

So, my Dad told me what my Mom's new phone number would be, adding, "You can see, her number ends with 44..."

At this point I got a deep sense of foreboding.

"... mine is the same, except it ends with 43..."

And I knew what was coming next.

"...and yours is 42."

42. The answer to life, the universe and everything. This has got to be some kind of a sign, a message, from God. I wonder what the message is.

Probably, "SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE."

Cheers
Prashanth.

The Sweet and the Bitter

I just realized that I've lost some of my taste for sweets and I've come to like eating things like bittergourd (really! imagine!).

For some reason, that scares the hell out of me.

I guess I have a tendency to over-psycho-analyze. Sigh.

An Inconvenient Truth

I've been meaning to watch the documentary for nearly a year now but I misplaced the DVD and then my health troubles made me forget all about it. But I found it today when cleaning my room and finally watched it, and it is brilliant, it is hard-hitting, and it is all truth. I was particularly pleased by the wonderful combination of science, data, common sense and sentiment he uses so as to touch every type of audience. Not for one minute did I find it boring, and Al Gore touched all the proper nerves.

The message of the documentary is crystal clear. The world is in denial about global warming, and if we don't do something soon, there won't be much of a world to save. I was particularly impressed by the way he countered the major arguments against taking drastic measures against global warming.

Myth. You have to choose between the economy and the environment.
Truth. How good was Hurricane Katrina for the economy?

Myth. Money spent in combating global warming would better serve us in things like fighting terrorism.
Truth. The World Trade Center Memorial site will be underwater in another 50-60 years or so due to rising ocean levels at the current rate of global warming.

Some quotable quotes:

"That is what is at stake. Our ability to live on planet earth. To have a future as a civilization."

"We have everything we need to solve the global warming problem, save, perhaps, the political will."

And a couple of screenshots:

(A graph of atmospheric CO2 levels alongside Temperature in Antarctica over the past 650,000 years. The way scientists built up this data is brilliant. They drilled into the snow and measured the dissolved concentrations of two different isotopes of oxygen. The atmospheric temperature could be calculated accurately from that ration. And, of course, they measured the dissolved CO2 concentration. Note the close correlation. Also note the current CO2 level and take a guess as to where the temperature curve is going to go.)




(A rough illustration of the major ocean current "loop" in the world. Gore gives a chilling example of how the last ice age was triggered by fresh water getting dumped into the North Atlantic, thus upsetting the salinity levels and consequently the global ocean current pattern. Demonstrates how delicate the global climate balance is.)




PLEASE DO WATCH THE DOCUMENTARY IF YOU CAN GET HOLD OF IT. I was greatly impressed by it, not that I need any more convincing regarding the gravity of the global warming situation.

Cheers,
Prashanth.