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Authors: Madhuri Banerjee
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him.
‘Personally, I think language is a manifestation of the behavioural pattern of a race,’ he said, while ordering yet more beer for us.
‘Meaning?’ I asked, interested that a man that good looking could arouse me intellectually as well. Ahem!
‘Well look at Bengali. It is a slowish language with a lot of emphasis on “o” and when do you say “oh”? When you are stretching lazily. Hence, the race itself is a lazy lot made to work hard, but the language is reflective of their nature. Look at Tamil. Tamil is spoken very fast; it’s not a languid language. That’s because Tamilians are always in a hurry to achieve something. They need a language to be curt and crisp and to the point so they can speak it fast. Phonetics is completely different. Get what I mean?’
I nodded, but said, ‘That’s a very general statement to make though. I’m sure neither a Bengali nor a Tamilian would like to hear that! I mean, I know so many hard-working Bengalis and an equal number of languid Tamilians. Okay, what do you think about Hindi or Punjabi?’ I asked. And he told me some more theories he had. And I refuted him some more.
Our conversation lasted for hours into the sunset and we were wonderfully buzzed with beer and each other. He was amazingly cool without trying to be so. He had impeccable manners and made me look like I had grown up in a village, even though I had travelled the world. He was undoubtedly the most interesting man I had ever met. We chatted about art, films, books and the French Riviera. But what was most astonishing was that he made me see life through his eyes. Even though I might have known the subjects better, he gave me a new perspective to them. I knew this man had many more tricks up his sleeve and I wanted to wait and watch!
I was having such a good time that I didn’t realize I needed to get back to my job or I would be fired. So I thought I should go check on the Princess and wash away my beer buzz and sandy hair.
We decided to meet later for dinner. I don’t know what it was, but somewhere in my heart I felt I had known him forever already. It was a strange feeling, one I had never had before. Oh my god, was this my first infatuation? Did I just have a ‘love at first sight’ day? I needed to call Aditi and tell her that just a week after giving up on men, I had found one. But then again, I knew this was something I didn’t want to share immediately. I felt that by talking about it, I might jinx it. And I did not want to jinx the only connection I’d ever felt with a man in thirty years!
I went back to the hotel feeling like a teenager. Maybe this is what people meant all along. A feeling that makes you
want
to wait for a man. The feeling called Love.
Nine
We not only had dinner that night, we ended up having a snack somewhere at two and breakfast at dawn by the beach. It was truly magical. The evening went something like this.
8.30—Lobby hotel
Greek God looked wonderful in a pair of dark blue jeans and a black shirt. He was casually smart. I went over and air kissed him on the cheek as if I’d known him forever. He smelt of Acqua di Gio, a light smelling but expensive cologne. Thank god I had showered well and washed the smell of beer and sand off my hair. I could see him checking me out in my blue chiffon top, black skirt and high heels that I’d kept only for special occasions. Just when I thought he was going to compliment my look, he turned around and said, ‘Would you be comfortable in that on a bike?’ Then I saw the Yamaha behind him.
‘I would be uncomfortable in a skirt if we were going on that. I’ll just go and change,’ I said and he nodded, ‘I’ll wait here.’
So I came down wearing my jeans and an emerald blue, sleeveless top with a white shrug, losing the heels for silver flip-flops. He saw me and smiled.
‘Ready,’ I said.
And this time he made no bones about checking me out while saying, ‘Perfect!’
Greek God seemed to know all the
‘Personally, I think language is a manifestation of the behavioural pattern of a race,’ he said, while ordering yet more beer for us.
‘Meaning?’ I asked, interested that a man that good looking could arouse me intellectually as well. Ahem!
‘Well look at Bengali. It is a slowish language with a lot of emphasis on “o” and when do you say “oh”? When you are stretching lazily. Hence, the race itself is a lazy lot made to work hard, but the language is reflective of their nature. Look at Tamil. Tamil is spoken very fast; it’s not a languid language. That’s because Tamilians are always in a hurry to achieve something. They need a language to be curt and crisp and to the point so they can speak it fast. Phonetics is completely different. Get what I mean?’
I nodded, but said, ‘That’s a very general statement to make though. I’m sure neither a Bengali nor a Tamilian would like to hear that! I mean, I know so many hard-working Bengalis and an equal number of languid Tamilians. Okay, what do you think about Hindi or Punjabi?’ I asked. And he told me some more theories he had. And I refuted him some more.
Our conversation lasted for hours into the sunset and we were wonderfully buzzed with beer and each other. He was amazingly cool without trying to be so. He had impeccable manners and made me look like I had grown up in a village, even though I had travelled the world. He was undoubtedly the most interesting man I had ever met. We chatted about art, films, books and the French Riviera. But what was most astonishing was that he made me see life through his eyes. Even though I might have known the subjects better, he gave me a new perspective to them. I knew this man had many more tricks up his sleeve and I wanted to wait and watch!
I was having such a good time that I didn’t realize I needed to get back to my job or I would be fired. So I thought I should go check on the Princess and wash away my beer buzz and sandy hair.
We decided to meet later for dinner. I don’t know what it was, but somewhere in my heart I felt I had known him forever already. It was a strange feeling, one I had never had before. Oh my god, was this my first infatuation? Did I just have a ‘love at first sight’ day? I needed to call Aditi and tell her that just a week after giving up on men, I had found one. But then again, I knew this was something I didn’t want to share immediately. I felt that by talking about it, I might jinx it. And I did not want to jinx the only connection I’d ever felt with a man in thirty years!
I went back to the hotel feeling like a teenager. Maybe this is what people meant all along. A feeling that makes you
want
to wait for a man. The feeling called Love.
Nine
We not only had dinner that night, we ended up having a snack somewhere at two and breakfast at dawn by the beach. It was truly magical. The evening went something like this.
8.30—Lobby hotel
Greek God looked wonderful in a pair of dark blue jeans and a black shirt. He was casually smart. I went over and air kissed him on the cheek as if I’d known him forever. He smelt of Acqua di Gio, a light smelling but expensive cologne. Thank god I had showered well and washed the smell of beer and sand off my hair. I could see him checking me out in my blue chiffon top, black skirt and high heels that I’d kept only for special occasions. Just when I thought he was going to compliment my look, he turned around and said, ‘Would you be comfortable in that on a bike?’ Then I saw the Yamaha behind him.
‘I would be uncomfortable in a skirt if we were going on that. I’ll just go and change,’ I said and he nodded, ‘I’ll wait here.’
So I came down wearing my jeans and an emerald blue, sleeveless top with a white shrug, losing the heels for silver flip-flops. He saw me and smiled.
‘Ready,’ I said.
And this time he made no bones about checking me out while saying, ‘Perfect!’
Greek God seemed to know all the
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