Every person you see is not in his/her true form. People behave differently in different situations. How a person behaves depends on the surrounding, reminiscence of a similar past experience, expectations from the current scenario and last but not the least, the I index. I index basically refers to the creativity a person puts into make a boring situation bearable. Everyone has this capability and I’m very sure most of you must have done this at some point in your life. I do it a lot (read almost all the time). All these factors have a considerable effect on how a person behaves with you.

Let’s just say you pointed out to a girl that her moustache is cute, the next time she’ll be seeing you, she’ll be in tears. Why? Because everyone is emotional at a funeral, even if the person is the one responsible for making your unexpected funeral a reality. Never do that. NEVER! Jokes apart, imagine if you met a guy and you told him that Batman is lame, trust me you’ll never see the sane side of him ever.
So you see, situations depend on the stimuli you provide. Situations can turn a gentleman into a predator.

No one can claim that this or that is his ‘true’ side. We don’t have one. There are just multiple shades, and we keep on ricocheting between them. There is no black and white in this world, there are just shades of grey. Some light as the light itself, while some are dark as Voldemort’s intentions.
I am no exception to this. How can I be? I am a general category Indian guy, born in a middle-class family, pursuing engineering and currently preparing for CAT. I’m literally the most clichéd guy possible. And to top this list, my name is Abhishek. The most unconventional thing I’ve ever done is blogging. If I were a grammar rule, grammar Nazis would’ve dug me. Trust me.

However, since I fall in the category of the masses, I too have different sides to my personality. The most interesting one is the evergreen pumpkin one, which fails to die. I try really hard to get rid of it. I’ve tried abducting, murdering and even befriending him, but with no success. The otherwise dormant alter-ego springs to life whenever I’ve to face an impromptu conversation with some beautiful girl. For this very reason, I try to avoid a female representative in restaurants like McD and KFC, while ordering something. When they ask me whether I would like to have some coke and I’ve to deny it because my wallet is laughing its wits out, I get sad, rather depressed. That’s cruel.

For someone who loves books like I do, book fairs are heaven. The smell of a freshly bound book is so enthralling and satisfying. And to add to the beauty of it, the smart girls visit book fairs! Girls who like to read, who gawk at books as if it were a chocolate mousse. The moment you realize that every second person you see has been to the magical world of books, has felt the words, has been lost in the aura a good book creates around you and has seen the world through someone else’s eyes, you know you can’t help but love that moment even more.

That’s the summary!

I was strolling through the stalls when I saw the Harper Collins pavilion right in front of me. Harper Collins, the publishing house responsible for making me fall in love with a married woman, popularly known as the queen of mysteries. Yup, I’m talking about Agatha Christie. I quickly went past the bookshelves to stand in front of the Christie’s book section. Within minutes, I had shortlisted over a dozen books that I would’ve bought that day. I sat down cross-legged on the floor holding almost a score of books. It was like a starved guy was given different cheese burst pizzas and couldn’t decide which one to eat first. I was busy selecting books when someone said, “Hi!”. I ignored the voice, after all, the odds of some unknown girl trying to initiate a conversation with me were very low. After a while, that girl spoke again, ” Hi! Can you help me in selecting books?” I looked up and saw a girl with adorable eyes asking for my help. “Yeah, sure”, I replied.
“I have heard a lot about Agatha Christie. I want to read her books, but I don’t know where to start. You seem like a guy who has a lot of her books.” She retorted.
I would’ve married her, then and there. She knew me in one glance, she wanted to read Agatha Christie, she had one of the most amazing eyes I have ever seen, her voice could melt stones and she wore a long skirt. Voila!  I had found my wife. That could’ve been a possibility if my alter-ego hadn’t made his cameo. I was finding it difficult to find words to reply to her. My mind turned dyslexic at that very moment. Words were dancing in my head. I had no clue what to say to her, but I had to speak because apparently staring blankly at a girl’s face for over a minute is not appropriate.
“So which book do I start with?” She tried to  normalize the situation, but I was in no mood to do that.
“Mark Twain is good.” I blurted out.
“I’m sorry what?” she was surprised.
“What?” I cross-questioned her like an idiot.
“You said Mark Twain.”, she was confused now.
“Mark twain? Err, no I meant Mary Westmacott. That’s her pen name.” A helpless comeback.
“So we should start with Mary Westmacott?”
“No, that was just a fact!” I was trying to be Derek O’Brian.
“Okayyy.” Her prolonged okay told me that she is about to leave any moment, better try and repair the damage.
I had examined the complete shelf and I knew that Agatha’s top three books were not there. Still I suggested her those very books. Oh God! I’m pathetic.
“Go for murder on the orient express.”
“Okay! So can you pass me that book?”
“It’s not here.”
“Okay! Then pass me any other good book.”
I went on to suggest the names of the other two of the three best books written by her. She was kind of irritated when I repeatedly told her that those books were not in that pavilion. As a result, she left with a wry face.

Another time, I was coming home and I accidentally bumped into my friend who was with his friends. Since our destination was same, I joined them. One of his friends was really cute. She could’ve easily featured in one of those advertisements with toddlers. She had such cute features. A cute round nose and puffy cheeks. Maybe she ate cerelac even after she wasn’t supposed to. I was just laughing at their jokes for no reason. Finally, our station arrived. When everyone was bidding bye to each other, she turned to me and said, “It was nice meeting you.” Something which any normal person says in that situation. I wanted to say the same, but Mr. Pumpkin had taken over control before I could even think. Just try to guess what could I have possibly said to her. I’ll tell you the end result. She now probably thinks that I’m a high order weirdo.
If you think I said “Yeah sure, same to you” to her then pat your back. You’re right.

After Mr.Pumpkin takes over

Sometimes I don’t have to do anything. Even if the coolest God comes to my rescue he’d end up giving himself a face-palm. Every year during the Navratras, my mother allots me the most difficult task – breaking the coconut for the Prasadam. She wakes me up on judgment day and before I can even open my eyes properly she hands me a plier, hammer, old newspaper, screwdriver and the coconut. Please don’t ask me why. Then she points to the verandah and says with a grin, “You know the drill. Go and get this job done.”

If you think that’s an easy job, try it sometime. After that read the above passage again. I bet you won’t laugh. So unwillingly, I start the process of breaking a coconut. Before you can get to the fruit shell, you’ve to get past its husk. If husk were a man, he would be the creepiest guy in the entire history of mankind. If you think you’re very very attached to a girl, you should meet the husk. It’ll give you some handy tips on how to remain attached to someone. Getting rid of husks is a dirty job. The fibre scatters everywhere. By the time, I was through with husk, its fibres were all over me – on my clothes, in my hair. You can imagine my plight. After arduous attempts, I finally had the shell in my hands. I raised it so that I could smash it forcefully on the ground. I was just halfway through and there comes my neighbour asking for my younger sister.

They say children learn better when given live examples. If we were in an English class, the children might have learnt a handful of antonyms that day. Pairs like good-bad, clean-dirty, angel-demon and appropriate-inappropriate would have had a clear meaning in their mind. I was still holding that coconut in my arm when she asked me about my sister. I re-pointed with my already raised arm to tell her that she’s upstairs. She quickly went past me giggling at what she saw, and I just sat there trying to vent out the embarrassment on the coconut by smashing it with even greater force.

He got it right! :p

Sometimes you might have thought why do I narrate all these ridiculously funny situations when they do me no good. I just want you guys to know that if sometimes you get stuck in some weird situation, you should know that someone out there has had even worse. Don’t lament upon it. You don’t have an undo button for real. This is not a text message which you can edit umpteen number of times. All this is probably an examination with no prescribed syllabus. There are no mock tests which you can practice and you can’t cheat. No question is ever repeated. You have to deal with a new situation every time. It may seem similar, but look closely, it isn’t. All you can do is learn from your experiences and try not to repeat the mistakes.

They say, “first impression is the last impression”. If this were universally true I will probably die a virgin. For those who know me, know that I am a lot better than the guy which I probably seem in the aforementioned situations. Same is with everyone. Don’t judge anyone based on one meeting. First impressions are the most deceiving – at least I’ve learnt this.