I Am A Stunt Woman!

There is a thing or two that dating teaches everyone. Of course I am NOT talking about those lessons where you come to know that you are in a relationship after 4 months of being in it(No, it did NOT happen to me!).

There are 3 that I learned:

1. Never sneak your date in or sneak into your date’s house while you’re still living with your parents.

2. When in violation rule of #1 always, always have a back up plan.

3. Last moment panic plans DO NOT count and are always life threatening.

How did I learn these golden rules? Well, this goes back to my 11th grade.

My boyfriend at the time and I decided to have brunch at his place. He volunteered to cook and I was impressed, hehe.

“So do you like the food?”

“Oh my my, It’s just how my mom cooks!”


How I do that? Twist, warp, mutate and yank out awkwardness and jostle it into what could have been a perfectly beautiful conversation?

Just one of my many talents.

There is this thing about telepathic conversations. I don’t know what, but you just always know the unspoken words.

‘I wanna hold your hand.’

‘Yea I wanna eat the tandoori leg too.’

And just as he holds my hand while I reach it out to pick up the scrumptious chicken leg, the doorbell rings.

“Woah, did you hear that, us holding each other’s hands sets bells ringing!”

“That was my door bell.”

“You expecting someone?”

“On a date for two? No.”

It’s during moments like these where I bless the corpses of those who invented these less significant but amazingly purposive tools.

The teeny tiny eye hole!

“Oh my God! It’s my Mom!”.

Under normal conditions, nervous sweating is something like this:


Under MY normal conditions, nervous sweating is something like this:


And it is in moments like these my creative pipes burst open. “I think I can jump over from your balcony to mona’s balcony. It’s pretty close.”

“You know my mom can see you with me. I’ll only be grounded. You don’t have to kill yourself.”

“Oh come on.”

Mona, one of my closest friends and my boyfriends next door neighbor had her balcony set pretty close to his. If two people had arms 2 feet long each they could share a handshake standing on either side of the balcony.

Mona came out to her balcony complaining about who is screaming bloody murder. Me Me Me.


“You know she can see you with him. He’ll only be grounded. You don’t have to kill yourself.”

They both think I am awful at balancing. In a minute I was gonna prove ’em wrong.


As he went on to handle the situation waiting at the door, I placed my right foot on the balcony’s railing and the left on the slab placed as a barricade to the sewer pipe. And yes! In 10 ten seconds I was standing on a slab 20 inches broad and hugging a sewer pipe like I would hug Leonardo Dicaprio.

“Are you jumping over to this side or not?”

The idea of death always bring a flashback of the life that we have lived thus far. But in moments like this I only had verbal recollections of all the cuss words I had ever known.

With my left foot on the slab and right on Mona’s balcony, I fumbled for a bit which made Mona piss her pants! Not sure if that moment was scary or too darn funny.

And voila!  In 3 minutes(or so) I performed the stunt of the century!

“Oh my God! I am awesome!”

“It was just 4 feet apart.”

“And still I am the only one who jumped the balcony and am not even a wee bit scared.”

*Is it sweat or piss in my pants?*

We moved to the door to find out whether everything is fine.

Hell! I don’t care, I jumped a balcony!

“Hello aunty, we helped Adi make tandoori.”

“I guessed as much. Thank you girls, so sweet.”

But seeing my boyfriend stand at his door, panting like a dog left on concrete desert of a summer Mumbai, I had to ask.

“Why did you change into a different pair of pants?”

“Don’t ask.”


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