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A quick tale 96

Heard the one about Kumar?

I had to do away with him. He was getting unmanageable.


'Yes, Kumar likes the movie too'
'Kumar? Who Kumar?', they cried in unison as if it were a chorus in a song.
'My boyfriend...', I mumbled looking down at the ground.
'YOUR boyfriend? Your BOYFRIEND?', screamed my best friend Bubbs stressing different parts of the sentence for effect.
'How long has this been going on? Why didn't you tell us?', quizzed Nimmy, her best friend.
I shrugged in response.

They wanted to know all about him. So I told them as fast as I could make up the details. He was 21, an Engineering graduate. I wanted him to have a sensitive side, so I made him work with an NGO for orphaned kids. He was 6 ft 2, slim-built and wore glasses. He coached poor kids football and organised morchas to protest the demolition of slums in his spare time ('awwww', they cooed).

They wanted to meet him. So I sent him away to Brussels to attend an international conference on child development organised by UNICEF. From time to time, I would slink away in full view of my friends to talk to 'Kumar' on the phone. I'd come back giggling and tell my friends how naughty Kumar was. They'd blush and I'd act all coy.

Couldn't they at least see his photo? No, I said, Kumar was camera-shy and hated having his photo taken. What about talking to him? Couldn't Bubbs and Nimmy say hello to him over the phone? Oh no, Kumar was very busy fundraising. As a matter of fact, he was meeting the Ambani brothers to discuss corporate funding that very day. He wouldn't like to be disturbed.

That shut them up for a while before they started again. So I gave him chicken pox, broke his leg, killed his grandmother, drowned him in work and once, I even drained his mobile phone batteries. They were persistent, those bitches! They wanted to meet him at any cost. Unless I could manufacture a boyfriend at a short notice, I was quickly running out of excuses. Which is when mother nature gave me a hand. A train in Andhra was washed away by flash floods and guess who was on the ill-fated train? Kumar was on his way home after organising donations for victims of a cyclone in Rayalseema when the tragedy happened.

I went into mourning for a few days. But secretly, I was preening. I had officially had a boyfriend and lost him. Score: me - 1, the bitches - 0. Ha!


yowza! that one was good. paavam kumar though
Anonymous said…
Ammani is back! And how!
Harish said…
Wow...first time to ur blog...
Ur really amazing...
I particularly loved ur Nilakantan story...
Anonymous said…
I've been a regular reader of your blog since a while. I know that this comment may come as unnecessary observations, but just wanted to tell you as your comments section is open, hence I believe you want to hear from the readers.
Its been a year since you started blogging, and 11 months since your first quick tale.
Today I went back and read your first quick tales. About the couple who moved away from India, and about the newly wed. Those stories had so much raw pain and feeling in them, so much deep emotion.
And your recent stories, they seem so much more self conscious, SO much more vicious. So less raw pain/ thoughts, but it's more like you are bent upon saying things that might no longer be true.
You have a knack of revealing the innermost feelings one might possess, but lately it feels like you have been just saying vicious things for the sake of saying them.

I'm not going to tell you that change the way you write or am not going to criticize the way you've changed. Just a note of observation.

Your earlier works were heart rending, and very very good. I would eagerly come here everyday to look for new stories.
Recently they just dont ring true. It seems to me like you say them for shock value more than trueness value.

Good luck. I hope you take this in a positive way.
The Muse said…
Haha! I had a friend who had invented a "girlfriend" just the same way. And when he couldn't manage her anymore, he gave her terminal cancer. I think she'd be dead by now, and my friend in mourning!
MaDnEsS said…
hi, kumar here. my swimming lessons came in handy and saved me from the train accident, while allowing me to pull fifteen other passengers to safety. give me a ring if you want to meet up. i shall be at the relief camp.
you go girrrlll...kille em all :)
Shyam said…
Best kind of boyfriend... does/is everything you'd want, no protests :D Even dies on command!
Nellorian said…
got the attention by seeing your name very unique in certain parts of AP and one of my best friend happened to be the same name person. However, I could not stop laughing after I read your blog-Rayalaseema and rains :) That is a first-of course it is a first they have good rains
Random Access said…
manufactured love is better than artificial love :)

Random Access
The search has just begun !!!
Einsteinophile said…
Hey!Visitin ur blog for the first time! The posts r really good! :)
Keep up the good work!

P.s:Blogrolled u!
Just as I was thinking that Ammani was writing below her self set standards to reach hundred...

Seriously good story!!!

One of your best. It is true that there are several things we aspire but do not have and it is also true that we end up imagining them...

Good Work Ammani and wishing you a smooth and fine deserve it...
Shilpa said…
Nice story :-)
Ginkgo said…
tht was a good one...
reminded me of the GF I had to kill:-D
there if wanted to read a variant
Hawkeye said…
not nearly as impressive as ur previous ones.. doesnt sound real world
UD said…
Hi all,Sorry to post a comment not related to this post,
We r in athe process of creating the directory of DESI bloggers all over the world.
So drop ur blog address at
tell ur frens too.
The Desi Nole said…
DAMN Woman, I do not even know you, but I would sure be careful around you.

Nice job BTW.
Jagadish said…
:D....too good...especially your score ;)
DrasticallyMe said…
You are freaking me to the core, Amani! Good job!! *thumbs up*

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Lived 52 years and some
Died exhausted

Overheard, “At least she had the satisfaction of having lived for her family”

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Found this in yesterday's paper. Again, I wish I'd written it.


Now and Then

"Now that I'm fifty-seven",
My mother used to say,
"Why should I waste a minute?
Why should I waste a day

Doing the things I ought to
Simply because I should?
Now that I'm fifty-seven
I'm done with that for good."

But now and then I'd catch her
Trapped in some thankless chore
Just as she might have been at
Fifty-three or fifty-four

And I would say to her
(And I have to bite my tongue)
That if you mean to learn a skill
It's well worth starting young

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For fifty, I've begun
To do exactly as I please
Now that I'm thirty-one.

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