It just might be too late for a weekend report but since my weekends are usually the same so it usually doesn’t matter. We had the regular run-of-the-mill freshers party for the already stale FOB (fresh off the boat) graduate students. Since I no longer was the President for the Indian Students Association (does my tone sound pompous here?), I could afford not to care a bit but simply show up for the festivities. Indians usually do not let go of an opportunity to deck up and I tried to fit in with my spanking new khadi shirt. But as always, I stuck our like a sore thumb being the only one dressed in niceties as others had shown up in casuals. I wriggled out of the potluck contribution too and brought some music CDs instead. The expected attendance of more than seventy students turned out to be grossly overestimated and I somehow resisted the temptation of “I told you so” to the new frazzled and irritated president.
Eventually some more people sauntered in pretty late but in time according to the infamous IST. But the evening ended quite well and the party certainly wasn’t the damp squib as I had expected. Admittedly the last year’s party was one hell of a riot — the alumni hall chock full of 80 odd people playing a rather out-of control game of musical chairs but such comparisons are not fair. A new babe on the block started the buzz among guys desperate for attention. But lack of guts and panache makes those guys equally hesitant to walk up to her and introduce yourself.
Not that I am the reigning Don Juan because my tactic of ignorance always works. Ignore the gal when all guys are fawning and trying to catch her attention from under the table or any possible crevice in the room. The gal eventually notices you not trying to notice her and gives you the look. That is when you move in for the kill. Now the theory is solid but implementation is not quite there. I always manage to find excuses like she is the niece of an “ardent enemy on campus” (long story) so eventually nothing is achieved. MV knows this only too well. She has been witness to my non-existential female conquests. There is always the proverbial next time. Like the Indian cricket team, I fail to deliver the knockout punch. But the evening wasn’t a total waste. I did win the Bingo although I had to share the cash award. Not that it matters anymore.