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PG Chronicles Part-1

PG Chronicles Part-1

Boarded Bangalore mail, there I go, Chennai to Bangalore... accompanied by my father. I was prepared for the ride! Was excited to wake up WITHOUT early morning HIGH pitched “if you-sleep-like this after marriage-you’ll be kicked out by future in-laws” yelling’s,    ” when the hell - will you learn to -do your own work”-murderous one liners and many more heated daily dose of how -to behave- yourself lectures. But not to deny, a lone, big fat tear did peep out when my father bade me bye..Ahh I never knew I would miss my home!

We Reached Bangalore. I stepped inside the pg with indefinable excitement to live an independent life..I had few butterflies inside my tummy, when I had boarded the train, which I ignored to be acidity problem.  But after shifting inside pg, the fear of finding good friends, sharing room, maintaining patience, some feeling-sorry fear sunk..and There I go; the butterflies were replaced by eagles and ostriches inside my stomach in no time. History and geography of my past were enough to declare me a competent contestant for 24x7 Nonstop Talk show. But anxiety was about finding people who enjoyed talking and listening, the same way.

When it comes to talking, I talk so much, that..,whenever i am forced to give short non-commercial break to my audience, I unconsciously hand over the baton to mind voice.which continues mumbling... to be precised, I can talk-talk-talk and bore the hell out of anyone,  except “Good morning mam-we are calling from XXXXX bank-we offer free PLATINUM credit cards..”. Trust me they are the only people with whom I have shortest conversations, to them, I fail!

OK! During the dinner time, I met the gang..., after hi-hello pleasantries; we indulged straight into the mission of random talking. I found few incredibly talented co contestants, for the first time in life! YES... Then the national geographic channel in my stomach turned off automatically. We normally had small chat sessions daily, while having the not-at all-edible dinner at pg (Whenever I saw or tasted the PG food, my MOM appeared in the mind bubble and winked at me “KARMA pays akila, KARMA RETURNS,”).  Our daily discussions were about the useful piece of information we read in PAGE 3 columns, be it sympathising the 5 year old who fainted, seeing -without-make-up Priyanka chopra in her dreams, maintaining count of number of times the xxx guy  peeped into scarcely clinging dress of malaika in the dance show, Some strong neya nana sessions on “why did Jackie sheroff name his son “TIGER sheroff”? , celebrity Kismat cross connection and art of living conversations like how to maintain right BMI , by continuing OUR diet chart  which included, cheese pav baaji, panipoori , ghee dosa, 14 idlys, and more such “dietary delicacies”.

Sometimes, the repetitive/tiresome telephonic moral science classes by  parents on late night office returns,  co-operate for marriage campaigns, avoid-late night dinner treats will be converted to rom-coms. In fact, I never knew my virtually-erased with Camlin rubber- STRICT college days can turn out to be daily dose of laugh to many people. Some days we have had constructive conversations, very useful for life, like “how to-choose the best picture-from the batch of matrimonial photos -sent by parents”, benefits of honey, methods of wooing, the laws of attractions and repulsions, etc...Generally such life -skill –sharing chat topics were based on the need for the advices, and recipient’s skill levels