I wanted to get inked. You know how they say it’s a permanent mark on your body, so you need to be sure of your choice. It got me thinking. I thought of everything I did in my life that led me to that day. I had a plethora of options to choose from: Basketball and St. Xavier’s logo being two of them, because that’s how I met my husband.

But all the reminiscing made me settle on getting ‘Chutiya’ inked on my arm. It’s in Hebrew, so no one knows.

But I have a legit explanation as to why I did so…

Flashback to St. Xavier’s College days, where Rahul, my husband, and I were the ultimate example of best friends. You know, those who play basketball together, fight verbally AND physically over it because one of them cheats, but make up later. Our friendship was right out of the books- can’t stay with each other, and definitely not without. Perfectly healthy. I won’t classify our fights as hyped because everyone in the college was affected by it. The fucking radio jockey made announcements, guys. We were the shiz.

I was friends with all the oddballs (two) on the campus, and my friend Principal (saab) told me his daughter was coming from Oxford, because obviously our college is better than the world renowned Oxford. 

In hindsight, I think Principal saab made the stupidest decision of asking me to chaperone his daughter when he knew my best friend was an A-level fuckboy. If you were counting on your daughter’s cognitive ability, good going there.

Anyway, Rahul hit off as a bully initially- he made Tina sing a Hindi song (OH MY GOD. Can you believe it? A phoren return Indian knew a hymn by heart! All the anti-nationals must learn!) in front of the entire college. Because Sanskriti > Skirt. 

What started as a mis-judgement on my end in Miss Briganza’s English class,  resulted in major KLPD scenes for me when dickboi Rahul came and REHEARSED telling Tina that he loves her, with me. What the fuck!

But being the best friend (loser) that I was, I very slyly told him I loved him too and ran back to my hostel, after a melodramatic song, to pack my bags. The rejection resulted in me dropping out of college. Rahul tried to stop me from leaving so that he could pass his exams. And he cried. After all this, HE CRIES IN FRONT OF ME. I leave anyway, because self-respect. (LOL)

8 years and a makeover later, I am getting engaged to niceboi Aman – NRI with loads of money, madly in love with me. But due to the fault in our stars, our shaadi gets postponed.

Good for me, I leave for my summer camp stint, where I meet my annoying namesake, who was accompanied by her daadi.  I love these guys now, but seriously, they came across as major creeps in the beginning with how they looked at and spoke to me when we first met.

I found out that my namesake is the daughter of Rahul and Tina, who is now dead. Rahul comes to the camp too (their fam’s relationship was a bit unusual, to be honest) and our sexual tension just kept growing.

Things got weird when Rahul and I were about to indulge in sexy times when I remembered I was engaged and ran away. Things got weirder when I confessed my love to who I think was Rahul, but was Aman. 

When Rahul finds out about my engagement, he congratulates me. This was worse than the first KLPD because I was THIS close to doing it with him. Anyway, I decided to get married to Aman and leave. 

Fuckboy Rahul follows me and tells me he loves me on my shaadi day. I go weak in my knees and Rahul decides to leave me hanging with that. AGAIN. And then he just stands there with his entire fam, while my mother and Aman stand confused. Aman, being the nice guy understands what’s up and lets me marry Rahul.

I think I should have just married Aman when I still had the chance. At least, I wouldn’t have had chutiya written on my arm. In Hebrew.