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When blank calls didn't quite work, I devised a mo

When blank calls didn't quite work, I devised a more audacious strategy. Riding my Avon alone to the other end of town, leaving behind the known territory of home to school & school to home, 500 m in total. I'd jostle with speeding bikers and coughing autos for space on Dhanbad's main road. Like John Abraham. On the pretext of group study, I set out on a five km pilgrimage towards Officer's Colony. Smriti's address lifted from the slam book, yet again. By the time I reached her colony, I was in bad shape. My shirt was drenched in sweat and my face, handsome according to (only) my mother, was covered in muck. Still, I fixed my hairstyle and entered the colony with poise, like a baraati. I looked at the name plates of the officers around but realized my plan was jinxed. Smriti didn't keep a surname. Helpless, I tried to show off my cycling skills by riding with both my hands in air, hoping that she might see me from the balcony while combing her hair or whatever girls do in balconies & fall for me. A studious daredevil. None of that occurred, instead I fell & was chased by stray dogs. I pedalled for my life, hoping she hadn't caught a glimpse of the damp face that screamed: BACHAO! Chapter 1. Episode 7. Click #Amoeba to read in continuation. #NaNoWriMo
When blank calls didn't quite work, I devised a more audacious strategy. Riding my Avon alone to the other end of town, leaving behind the known territory of home to school & school to home, 500 m in total. I'd jostle with speeding bikers and coughing autos for space on Dhanbad's main road. Like John Abraham. On the pretext of group study, I set out on a five km pilgrimage towards Officer's Colony. Smriti's address lifted from the slam book, yet again. By the time I reached her colony, I was in bad shape. My shirt was drenched in sweat and my face, handsome according to (only) my mother, was covered in muck. Still, I fixed my hairstyle and entered the colony with poise, like a baraati. I looked at the name plates of the officers around but realized my plan was jinxed. Smriti didn't keep a surname. Helpless, I tried to show off my cycling skills by riding with both my hands in air, hoping that she might see me from the balcony while combing her hair or whatever girls do in balconies & fall for me. A studious daredevil. None of that occurred, instead I fell & was chased by stray dogs. I pedalled for my life, hoping she hadn't caught a glimpse of the damp face that screamed: BACHAO! Chapter 1. Episode 7. Click #Amoeba to read in continuation. #NaNoWriMo
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