Now that I am well into my forties, and have gone through many many experiences of my life, I mostly forget this one phase of my life, which had a fairly dominant effect on me at the time. I have to then struggle to remind myself that those events actually happened. And it's so strange that it's hard to analyze it. Once when I was telling my daughter about it, I had a surreal feeling that I am making it up, because she also had the look of disbelief on her face as she listened. I feel so detached from it that it feels like it didn't happen. But then it gets some validity when one of my siblings mention it. And I am again sent into the same bewilderment all over again how it disrupted my life at the time, and how unceremoniously it ended. 

It all began at the end of 7th grade, which was a tough year for me in many ways. I did bad at school, did bad socially, grew awkwardly taller. I didn't want to have a boring summer as well. So my bff and I joined a table tennis summer camp for 2 months. We used to go by bicycle to the cricket stadium where the camp was held. Girls and boys had separate training rooms, but morning workout used to be common. We used to first run around the cricket field, where cricketers also did net practice, and then all of us would stand in a big circle and do some workouts. Then we would have one hour of training, and then back home. Overall it was an enriching experience. Except that my years of nightmare began there. 

This one boy, who was more of a veteran there, used to stare at me a lot. I didn't think much of it initially. I was still too young. Not even 13. My first periods started while in the middle of this camp (luckily on a day off). Then one day my mom called me over angrily, asking me if I gave my number to a boy. I was so surprised. I denied of course, more angry on how she could even think this of me. She said someone just called asking to speak with me, and he said I gave him my number. And that I was too young to be giving my number to strangers. And she was obviously in a rage. These things never happened with my sister. So this was her first experience too. She did believe me though. She asked me who could have called. I told her I didn't know. But I instinctively knew it was him. Going back to the stadium was awkward. But I decided to pretend it didn't happen. Whenever I got out from our training room, they would be sitting on the stadium stairs. He would get up and walk across me. Sometimes, if I was alone, he would sing a song in a low voice as he walked past me. Funnily, I checked if that song existed. It didn't. I still remember what he used to sing. 'ye roop hain, hai kaisa suhana'. Either it was a very unpopular song, or he made it up. Whatever it was, it used to make me cringe inside out. And I used to pretend like I didn't hear it, and continued walking, keeping a straight face as most boys at distance would be watching. Luckily, he didn't follow me overtly. Only crossed me once daily. It wasn't enough for me to stop going to the camp, as I really enjoyed it, loved the new friends I had made there, and my coach was excellent. I didn't tell my bff about it. She was even more clueless than I was. And she would not come most days anyway. 

The phone calls continued. Only that he no longer spoke. We got used to this with time. Pick up the phone, say hello 2-3 times, and hang up. These were pre-caller id days. Dad eventually got a phone in my mother's name, and that was given to friends and family, thus kept isolated from blank callers (oh many many more were to come over the years). People usually searched the directory for my dad's name, not my mom's. Atleast now when we went to pick up that new phone, we knew it was legit. 

He used to drive by my house every evening, with a big troop of friends. Was embarrassing if I was with family. Sometimes my sister and I would be walking outside, and they would pass, mostly quietly, but still intimidating. My sister got concerned that I might start liking this attention. So she wisely cautioned me against it. Said I might just be another house on his evening route. Maybe they go through the house of all their crushes. That's what boys this age do. That advice kept me pretty leveled, for pretty much the rest of my life. If any guy paid me extra attention, I was never naive enough to believe that this was only for me. 

Once the summer was over, camp stopped too. I obviously stopped going to the stadium. Only the real players who played at some level used to go all year. One of them was my classmate. One day she asked me, 'Do you know Sooraj?'. I didn't know, but I instantly knew who she was talking about. I said I don't. She said, 'Well, he harasses me a lot over you. Keeps asking me to tell more and more about you'. Was pretty difficult to keep a straight face when inside I was chilling with fear and embarrassment. I gave a neutral reply, a little shake of head. She went on. Told me his full name. Said he was about 15 years old. And told me other information like what school he went to and where he lived. Finally, she told me to be careful about him as he keeps bad company, smokes, drinks, and keeps a folded knife in his socks. I had seen him smoking. I wasn't surprised about drinking. But I freaked out about the knife. 


... cont

I used to go to school on bicycle. Mostly alone, especially in the mornings. Our house was inside a campus, so the inroads were pretty isolated. Atleast the side I biked towards. There were a couple of small unused fields broken by small roads; a defunct army canteen with its empty court and unmaintained plant/tree growth; a basketball court; an old british era building which I think was some sort of office, but never saw it functioning; and a bank behind it which was closed in the mornings. I had to cycle about a quarter mile before turning on to a main road. This is where Sooraj began hanging out on my way to school and back. Sometimes he would cross me on the road a turn away from my house. With the new found information about him, I used to get scared every time he passed me on his motorcycle. Just the two of us on a narrow road, and him driving almost in the center close to me. Most days though, he would sit on the steps of the old building. In the morning, the moment I turned from the basketball court, I would see his silver motorcycle parked by the old building's steps, and I could make out his silhouette right behind it, leaning on the door, legs stretched on the steps, sometimes smoking. Same location in the afternoons when I turned into the gates of the campus from the main road. The moment I saw the motorcycle, I would panic inadvertently. I just didn't look towards him, not even a side glance unless he was in my face on the road. This is something I was very particular about. Just be nuetral and passive, and that's how I kept it with Sooraj. Ice cold.  

Sooraj was of medium height, only slightly taller than me, and I was not even my full height then. He was neither skinny nor chubby, had sort of a wide build, but was not muscular. He had straight short black hair and neither light nor dark skin tone, He had chinky eyes, small nose, thin lips and slightly thin mustache, very few facial hair; almost a baby face if not for that light mustache which he mostly shaved off. He never had an unkempt look and wore regular decent clothes. In mornings and afternoons, he would be in his school uniform. Just by his appearance he didn't look like the goon my classmate had described to me. But I had seen him acting tough on motorcycles a couple of times. Once when he crossed me late evening, he was with a lot of friends on 5-6 motorcycles, and he angrily screamed out loud saying 'HATH' (move), and they all drove away laughing out loud. This image was stuck in my head and I was seriously scared of him. 

In the evenings, if I was outside, and saw him turning towards our road, I would go inside. Our house was a one story house (it used to be a school dorm in britishers time). It had a big front yard that had a hedge, and it ran across the road that connected two campuses, so the traffic on that particular road was constant. We had a big garden, and as a family we would sit there in the evenings whenever we could, oblivious of the fact that we could see, or were being seen by so many passers by. Most people didn't care, coz it was a slightly risky blind turn for them, it being a narrow curvy road (we had witnessed quite a few accidents). So they would be focusing on the traffic. The front wall of our house was partially open, with a steel mesh across it . So even if we were sitting there, we could see the road, and I could see him passing by, even if he could not particularly see me if I was in the house. But he passed by daily, every evening, without fail. And he came by every morning and afternoon at my school time, without fail. The fear and unpleasantness was in the fact that he was consistently there, for me, when I had absolutely zero feelings for him. Every cell of my body hoped every morning that that spot on that building will be vacant that day, and it never ever happened. He was like a thorn in my otherwise great and carefree 8th grade life. 

... cont

Our city, like any other, had subtle boundaries. To an outsider, we all were same small-town folks, but within us we had certain levels. There was the old city, which was well established but barely developed over the years. The king of those times built major buildings in the outskirts of the city, which was predominantly woods having significant wild life. The 'old money' with big industries also settled there in big palatial houses. Old money with time became the elite, who turned the old jungle into 'new' city. Then there were outsiders most of whom settled in the new city, including us. We loved the old city folks for their food and warm heart, but we mostly didn't appreciate much else about them, doesn't matter if they were rich or not, which most of them were, given the majority of old city markets were owned by them. People from that area came to our area pretty often, but the reverse commute happened only when we needed good food, or better-deal clothes or gold. There were some cross overs, like some old city folks sent their kids to our area schools, one of my close friends being one of them, but we used to constantly correct her highly local accent. I don't know the demographics in play now. Sooraj belonged to one of the old city schools, which was reportedly good, but not to our standards. 

One day, he crossed me very closely on road. I think by now it was almost summer vacation. This sent me into new panic mixed with rage. Coincidentally, one of those evenings, he also passed by with his scary group of friends. I ultimately told my parents that I have had it with him. I can't live in this fear any more. And they will have to do something about it. We only knew the name and the school of Sooraj. My father remembered one of his lawyer friends from old city, who had a lot of kids from his joint family going to that school. He took a shot that one of them might know him, and that turned out to be the case. His own son, who I know as Munnu, was a classmate of Sooraj. When he heard his name, he laughed out loud. Because, for the whole school year, Sooraj used to leave the school at 1:00 pm when the school closing time was 5:00 pm. Many times before leaving, he would announce that he has to rush to meet his girlfriend from [my school] at the other end of the city, and that she would get mad if he was late. Now Munnu was learning that not only was there no girlfriend, but that 'girlfriend' was me, with whom he had played all his childhood. 

So now we had more intel on Sooraj. He was from a decent business family, and he had two older sisters. And most importantly, we knew where he lived, which was old city. What boggled my mind even more was that he bunked school all year, drove about 20 minutes to catch a 30-second glimpse of me, and he did that daily. Why? And what kind of school was it, where kids could get out at will any time of the day, everyday? 

At the time my brother was also home for summer. He went with his friend and talked to Sooraj's father. The discussion went well, as far as brother could tell. His father was very upset with Sooraj, and said he will take care of him once he gets home, which my brother anticipated as a sound beating. As a fallout of that meeting, the group motorcycling stopped. But Sooraj didn't. Once my school began for the next session, there he was, at the same spot, every morning and afternoon. And there he was, passing by my house every evening, even though alone, or with just one friend with him. 

I came home and cribbed again to my mom, who talked to my dad, with me listening. This was the time my dad told her to drop it. He said this is a teenaged boy, doing what most stupid teenaged boys do. He remembered how the boys from his own college used to cycle upto 10 kilometers just to take a chance of spotting their crushes. They meant no harm. They didn't mean to harass those girls. And this boy won't harm me either. He would have tried that by now if he was that type. He told my mom that it would be practically impossible for him to chase after every idiotic boy who took a fancy to me, and roamed our house or called our home. He said the only thing we can do is to stay safe, and do not react, thus discouraging any kind of advances. 

At first I felt bad for the helplessness of my situation. But I had to admit he was right. Sooraj had never attempted to even talk to me. Never chased me, never harassed me, except crossing me closely sometimes. He didn't particularly do anything to intimidate me other than look intimidating by always being there. I figured I could handle that. All I had to do was keep a wooden face and deal with those 30 seconds of him 2 times a day. And that's exactly what I did. Over years, people would ask me, why is my face like a statue, why don't I show any kind of reaction or emotion even when someone says something completely outrageous to me, be it a joke, be it an insult. I think it goes back to years of training, courtesy Sooraj. 

Thinking back, and I had to think hard. That was probably the last time I asked my parents to help me with any boy trouble, or for that matter, any relationship trouble. I didn't dramatically make any kind of vow that day, but it just happened that way. There was never a direct physical danger to me. The rest I could handle myself. Guess I became a little bit more independent that year. I understood that there was not much they could do for every small trouble, so why get them involved and worry them for no reason. If I am going to be out there, I will have to deal with it on my own, make my own decisions. I did keep them informed about things that mattered, but I never ever let them intervene. 

In a lighter vein, while I did try to keep them out of my situations, they were often forced into them, like if a boy called home and threatened to kill me and my boyfriend in college (XH now), they would have to ask that caller politely, 'who are you?'. By now they had also learned these were empty threats. They had to also deal with approximately 10 blank calls daily throughout my school and college years, but they dealt with it well. For example, I was banned to pick up our phone. I could be sitting right next to it, and my dad would be in the other room, but he would still come running and telling me he got it. Coz if I picked it up just once, it would escalate into 25 blank calls a day. Yes, I guess they suffered as much as I did, haha. 

But on a serious note, as far as doing anything actively, I never asked them to help me or go after someone for me. Not even when my marriage was failing. I would tell them once I had made my decisions, and I would then let my sister take the beating from them on my behalf, because talking to me was like talking to a wall. This was probably just my personality that I was going to develop anyway. I don't think I became like that because of Sooraj, but I guess I got to learn this vital lesson at 14, instead of say, at 30 in the middle of a messy marriage. That there is only so much that your parents can help in your adult problems. They will be by your side no doubt, but they can't go out and fight your battles. If you need help, try to make is as specific as possible, and something that they can practically do. As a parent now of a teenager myself, I do keep this lesson in mind when I am facing any troubling situation regarding them. 

... cont

Practically, there's nothing much parents can do. They can't go after every guy bothering their daughter. The daughter needs to learn to deal with it. 

I think the same holds true for sons too. We can give them broad advice, but can't probe into what's going on in their lives and try to solve their problems.

sigh, yet another incomplete work from me. i had a dream on Sooraj early Saturday morning. That he and his friends have kidnapped me. While I am lying on some bed in some room in some house, his mom (supposedly) comes to give me tea, sits on a mooda, and asks me what's going on, why am I here. And I began crying to her saying how Sooraj has harassed me for years. And she assures me she will help me escape before he was back.

So I woke up thinking maybe I should tackle this forgotten phase of my life. Should have finished on Saturday while I was still remembering all that. But got lazy, and then there is 'new day new prob'. Will get to it, probably this weekend.

Scarlet O'Hara wrote:sigh, yet another incomplete work from me. i had a dream on Sooraj early Saturday morning. That he and his friends have kidnapped me. While I am lying on some bed in some room in some house, his mom (supposedly) comes to give me tea, sits on a mooda, and asks me what's going on, why am I here. And I began crying to her saying how Sooraj has harassed me for years. And she assures me she will help me escape before he was back.

So I woke up thinking maybe I should tackle this forgotten phase of my life. Should have finished on Saturday while I was still remembering all that. But got lazy, and then there is 'new day new prob'. Will get to it, probably this weekend.

yeah, you said ....cont

Some kind of break regarding Sooraj came for me in the middle of the 9th grade, when we moved to our new house. Initially, I was naively glad that now he would not know where to find me. That elation lasted less than a week. I first began seeing him on street sides close to our schools, and soon enough he had found another spot on my new school route.

From this house also, I used to go to school on bicycle. First ride on my road for about 300 feet, cross a main road, drive another 1000 feet to get to a friend's place, then collect two more friends, and then hit the highway to school. At the main road connecting the two small roads, there was a bus stop. That's where Sooraj decided to park himself. Those small roads used to be relatively empty those days. But he could not have set himself anywhere on my road now, coz the corner of it had houses with armed guards, always watching. All other roads were much more populated.

Evenings also became a bit easier. Our new house had proper boundary walls, and the garden was along the side of the house, so it was not that easy for anyone to see us. I could see him sometimes from my terrace, yes, he came every day, but he could not see me.

For the first time in one and a half years, I felt less scared of Sooraj. Less intimidated. I would not see Sooraj every time I was out. Soon, I began to breathe freely, and began enjoying my new neighborhood. Nearby was a club, which I lovingly call the village. Walking on the roads or grounds of the village had no fear of Sooraj, as it was members only. No more Sooraj, except a much farther and populous bus stop sighting in mornings and afternoons.

Maybe he felt the same. One morning, when I crossed the bus stop, he was not sitting there by his bike, but was on it. Just as I crossed him, he started his motorcycle, and slowly began following me. That road was still less populated compared to others. For a guy who was so intimidating to me, his approach was that meek. He would come on my right side, say my name, and I would turn my head to the left a little. Then he would lag behind, come on my left, and call my name again, and I would turn my head to right. Do this 2-3 more times, and we would be at my friend's house, where he was forced to leave. He did this 2 or 3 more times that week, and by now my fear came back again, also my annoyance. One day I made an early turn to go to the third stop friend instead of continuing to the second stop. One day, he threw a note at me, which hit me on my arm, came on my tunic, and hit on my shoes on the way down while I looked at it blankly. That's when it ended. He stopped following me, and took his place back on the bus stop. Victory for me. Well, sort of.

... cont

In the middle of 10th grade, I began seeing my first boyfriend, who now I call XB. This is the relationship that I had started on my own. He was interested, but I had made my interest very clear to him too before he made his first call to me. 

It was short lived, lasted a month. We had kept it a huge secret. We used to either talk on phone, or he would come to meet me at my coaching classes, something that, thankfully, had either not caught attention of Sooraj, or he could not be following me at that time of the day.

We had to break up because my sister caught us. She was livid. Among many things she told me that was wrong about me and XB at the time, one was Sooraj. She claimed that my standards have been lowered because of Sooraj. She said that now I compare each guy to creepy Sooraj, and like him as long as he is even a tad better than him. According to her, I liked XB just coz he doesn't have oily short hair like Sooraj, and just because his clothes are more fashionable that Sooraj's, and that he couldspeak more words than him.  I was confused. Was this really so? I do remember comparing the two in the beginning. I guess at that point I was not willing to estimate the effect of Sooraj on my mindset, so I aggressively shot her theory down. I hated Sooraj. I loved XB. That was the end of discussion for me.  

I was heartbroken after the breakup and in a shell until the end of 10th grade, and picked it up again with XB in 11th.

I can't place this event that I am about to narrate accurately in my timeline, but it most likely happened in beginning of 11th grade. I think his following me to talk to me (that I narrated in the last post) had happened in the end of 10th grade. It's a bit fuzzy in my memory. 

One afternoon, when I was home alone, I picked it up a phone call. The guy introduced himself as a friend of Sooraj. My usual response would have been to to bang the phone down. But there was something about the way he talked, he sounded interesting and reasonable, and most likely, I was bored that day. So I decided to talk. 

He was someone 'older', as in about 21-22 years old. All of us had that older friend at that age, didn't we.

He began pitching the idea of Sooraj to me. An idea I immediately shot down. I said I have no interest in him. All the more, I began taking out my suppressed anger on this stranger. Telling him what a mental torture it was for me to see him every. single. day. Every morning. Every afternoon. Same spot. No break. 'Do you see how annoying it is? Why can't he leave me alone? I have no interest in him, can't he see that?'

He continued explaining that Sooraj was head over heels in love with me. Then he said something interesting. He said that a normal boy goes after a girl for maximum 6 months. He gives it a shot, tries to talk, waits at the most 6 months, then moves on. 'Have you realized how long Sooraj has been loving you? It's been more than 3 years now. Can you grasp the depth of that? 3 years! Who does that? Can't you see he is for real?' I started to ponder over this point. A couple of boys had aggressively pursued me a little before that. Yeah, they lasted 6 months or less. And oh my god. It's been 3 years since this Sooraj craziness? I stood my ground. Said, 'all the more reason for him to stop now. A normal girl would have talked to him by now if she was interested in him. I have not, so he needs to accept that'.

In response, the friend began telling me a story. That a guy he knows pursued this girl for years. Finally she saw his love and agreed to marry him, so, he hoped, maybe I will see the same and fall for Sooraj. I scoffed at this bollywood'ish tale and said, 'well, the girl herself must have been characterless'. I immediately regretted saying that. It was a bull headed response from me, that I usually become when I am in an argument. He got very angry. 'How can you call a girl you don't know as characterless? Justbased on one little anecdote, you decided to label her? Do you know they are happily married now? Do you know she's the most decent girl you will ever find?'

Yeah, I regretted it. It was not my place to cast aspersions on someone's character. But was I going to apologize? Nope. I continued. 'Well, I don't see any merit in liking a boy just because he has been chasing me for years. I have to like him, and respect him. We should have some level of compatibility, interest. Most importantly, I would want to like a guy because I see something between us. Not just because he has been chasing me for years'. For strange reasons he agreed with me. He said this is why he had been egging Sooraj to talk to me (oh that explains it), but that he gets tongue-tied when it comes to me. That's why he decided to call me. I think at the end of the call he also seemed convinced it was a lost cause. He ended with some kinda promise that he will give Sooraj some more time, before asking him to back out.

For whatever it was worth, I liked talking to this guy. He was reasonable, open minded and fair. Part of me envied Sooraj for having a friend like that. I wished I had a friend like that.

11th grade was another bad year for me. I was slandered at every corner. Boys who didn't get to befriend me spread rumors about me. Girls took those rumors further. Next few years, I continued to face all kinds of names for me. Slut, whore, characterless. Yep, the same word I had casually thrown at someone else. Everytime, for years, whenever I saw that written or spoken about me, I remembered that girl whose only fault was to love a guy who pursued her for years. And I would believe in karma all over again.

... cont

Scarlet O'Hara wrote: Boys who didn't get to befriend me spread rumors about me. Girls took those rumors further. Next few years, I continued to face all kinds of names for me. Slut, whore, characterless. Yep, the same word I had casually thrown at someone else. Everytime, for years, whenever I saw that written or spoken about me, I remembered that girl whose only fault was to love a guy who pursued her for years. And I would believe in karma all over again. ... cont

'whore' why? bitch & slut, I get it, but whore..hmmm perhaps it got mischaracterized during translation?

garam_kuta wrote:

Scarlet O'Hara wrote: Boys who didn't get to befriend me spread rumors about me. Girls took those rumors further. Next few years, I continued to face all kinds of names for me. Slut, whore, characterless. Yep, the same word I had casually thrown at someone else. Everytime, for years, whenever I saw that written or spoken about me, I remembered that girl whose only fault was to love a guy who pursued her for years. And I would believe in karma all over again. ... cont

'whore'   why? bitch & slut, I get it, but whore..hmmm perhaps it got mischaracterized during translation?

someone wrote my name and number around some phone booths for 'will talk sex for money' or whatever those ads say normally. lol ... actually I had LOLed then too, when a well meaning person or two had alerted me to it. Dunno why. The guy who was telling me about it sounded way more shocked, disgusted, righteous, angry about it then I cared.

Scarlet O'Hara wrote:

garam_kuta wrote:

Scarlet O'Hara wrote: Boys who didn't get to befriend me spread rumors about me. Girls took those rumors further. Next few years, I continued to face all kinds of names for me. Slut, whore, characterless. Yep, the same word I had casually thrown at someone else. Everytime, for years, whenever I saw that written or spoken about me, I remembered that girl whose only fault was to love a guy who pursued her for years. And I would believe in karma all over again. ... cont

'whore'   why? bitch & slut, I get it, but whore..hmmm perhaps it got mischaracterized during translation?

someone wrote my name and number around some phone booths for 'will talk sex for money' or whatever those ads say normally. lol ... actually I had LOLed then too, when a well meaning person or two had alerted me to it. Dunno why. The guy who was telling me about it sounded way more shocked, disgusted, righteous, angry about it then I cared.

>>>TW,

You are back in full form. One suggestion: with each post, maybe you should summarize the previous post in a few lines.
By the way, the narrative reminds me of an interview I read in a business mag many years ago, which had a very cute ending. The interviewee was a British tycoon in Hong Kong, who had made it big. By way of background, he tells the interviewer that the whole thing started when he joined the merchant navy (or whatever the British equivalent is) when he was 17 just to impress a girl. He ended up in HK and got into business purely by accident and rose rapidly. At the end of the session, the interviewer asks him if he ever found out as to whatever happened to the girl who was the cause of all this . He responds with "yeah, she is in the kitchen now making your tea."  

Scarlet O'Hara wrote:... cont

don't. please.

swapna wrote:
don't. please.

that's the shortest autobiography, I have ever read, sapanna; your PTSD deserves serious attention.

Kris wrote:

Scarlet O'Hara wrote:

garam_kuta wrote:

Scarlet O'Hara wrote: Boys who didn't get to befriend me spread rumors about me. Girls took those rumors further. Next few years, I continued to face all kinds of names for me. Slut, whore, characterless. Yep, the same word I had casually thrown at someone else. Everytime, for years, whenever I saw that written or spoken about me, I remembered that girl whose only fault was to love a guy who pursued her for years. And I would believe in karma all over again. ... cont

'whore'   why? bitch & slut, I get it, but whore..hmmm perhaps it got mischaracterized during translation?

someone wrote my name and number around some phone booths for 'will talk sex for money' or whatever those ads say normally. lol ... actually I had LOLed then too, when a well meaning person or two had alerted me to it. Dunno why. The guy who was telling me about it sounded way more shocked, disgusted, righteous, angry about it then I cared.

>>>TW,

You are back in full form. One suggestion: with each post, maybe you should summarize the previous post in a few lines.
By the way, the narrative reminds me of an interview I read in a business mag many years ago, which had a very cute ending. The interviewee was a British tycoon in Hong Kong, who had made it big. By way of background, he tells the interviewer that the whole thing started when he joined the merchant navy (or whatever the British equivalent is) when he was 17 just to impress a girl. He ended up in HK and got into business purely by accident and rose rapidly. At the end of the session, the interviewer asks him if he ever found out as to whatever happened to the girl who was the cause of all this . He responds with "yeah, she is in the kitchen now making your tea."  

Hey Kris. Nice to see you! Will try to keep the summary in mind. And a cute story indeed!

Uff such priciness. Poor poor Sooraj. Clearly, you never learned your lessons from Bollywood. The second time he hummed that song, you were supposed to soften your look of haughty disdain, lower your eyes coyly and join him in singing about dil, pyar and zindagi and all that.

Merlot Daruwala wrote:Uff such priciness. Poor poor Sooraj. Clearly, you never learned your lessons from Bollywood. The second time he hummed that song, you were supposed to soften your look of haughty disdain, lower your eyes coyly and join him in singing about dil, pyar and zindagi and all that.

Eeks lol. 

The song was in the tune of this song. I think he mashed up 'roop tera mastana' on this tune. Indians uff 

https://youtu.be/hpna8d9jITY