by Sreemoyee Kundu
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This was usually the first question.
“What’s it about?”
The next.
“Love… you mean sex right? And umm what about cars… I mean at least one sporting addiction. Okay change that to soccer… more respectable…No? Okay how about Final Fantasy XIII-2. Cool huh?”
“What’s that? I mean the last bit… of course my book has a bit of fantasy, every coming of age story has,” I butted in as three unshaven, wide-eyed faces gawked at me at an up market lounge bar, overlooking a burgeoning Monday evening in the national Capital.
“Okay, this is gonna sound mean, but you have no idea about men dude. I mean a guy book must have chicks, bikes/cars, soccer/Xbox, and alcohol… and…” paused my thirty-something, semi-balding, slightly obese childhood buddy, also an IT pro these days, as his other two colleagues grinned condescendingly.
“What did you mean by coming of age?” my 21-year-old cousin asked over E-mail, adding, “You know I just dig my friend’s older sister. She’s freaking hot man. Should I tell her… umm you think I should get a tattoo? Or, how about writing a letter? The kind dad wrote to ma, you know the one’s he’s always bragging about! Sheesh… Anyway, coming back to your survey, ‘what a guy book should have?’ Umm…. tweet you if I come up with something. Ciao.”
I shut my laptop.
“You seem pissed? Wanna grab a beer later?” an ex colleague pried, patting my back.
“I hate men!” I muttered, walking away.
“Just coz you won’t get a simplistic answer… you know figuring us out isn’t child’s play. It’s not like stepping into Zara because you want that red skinny denims, you spotted in the latest issue of Elle… you have to give us time… and be prepared that most often we won’t have the wise cracks you’re expecting us to have,” he resumed, following me into Zara.
“I wasn’t talking about you okay, stop taking this personally,” I scoffed, picking up a pair of skinny jeans.
“God you women are so damn predictable!” he threw up his hands in the air.
“Hey listen if you asked me what a good chick lit should have, I’d have the answer, and I may even rattle off three top chick lits of all time, so…” I interrupted.
“So… women have all the answers… and we’re still searching. What’s so bad about that? Why can’t you just accept that we’ll always be differently wired? I mean isn’t it bloody exciting to be a man in a woman’s head… umm I’d say body, except you’ll then label me sexist!” he hollered as I swaggered into the trial room.
And that’s how it really all began… my second novel – You’ve Got The Wrong Girl.
With a lot of questions and no answers… well at least to begin with.
Yet, looking back, it was fun swapping parts.
Walking out of bed in a pair of faded Diesel’s, not having to wax and obsess about your upper lip, enjoy plenty of casual sex, get sozzled on countless gallons of beer, watch porn on weekends, look blank when a woman asked, ‘so do you love me?’ (not having a lofty reply is permissible and usually evokes no guilt trip), ride an Enfield Bullet on a gnawing, dusty highway chasing a half finished Sunset, no PMS-ing about heart break, watching Godfather for answers and riding a horse in the last chapter.
I think it’s the sheer thrill of inhabiting a man’s skin that makes the job of a woman lad lit writer so much more liberating… almost like getting that tattoo my cousin never got/having sex with that stranger you just met at the rafting holiday in Rishikesh (the one with the pale blue eyes)/ finally quitting a high paying IT career to be a gaming expert – something my childhood pal secretly aspires for.
In his heart… somewhere.
The only place we all hide – irrespective of our chromosomal bar code.
“So, what’s your book about again?” my childhood friend quizzes, as I patiently wait for his verdict on my finished manuscript.
“A man called Dushyant Singh Kanoria… in search of a girl he once loved and lost… you know the usual boy meets girl story… but with a spin this time… told from a man’s viewpoint,” I reply, trying to retain my newfound male Zen.
“I like Dushyant,” he lazily retorts, flipping through the pages.
“He’s, he’s got soul man… he’s got a lotta that shit happening… but in a hard, I mean in a man kinda way,” he surmises, with a wink.
“So you’re finally admitting that guys too dig soul?” I ask with a half smile.
“Of course… besides there’s something sexy about a woman doing us… I mean you know what I mean right. Hey, do you still have that short, black dress? Wear it at your book reading… you know how we are with legs and shit,” he rambles on.
I laugh out loud, whispering the words, “I do!”
Sreemoyee Piu Kundu is a Lifestyle Journalist with publications such as Times of India, India Times, Mid-day, Metro Now and The Asian Age. 'You've Got The Wrong Girl' is her secondnovel that breaks new ground as a woman ladlit writer. She lives in New Delhi and is currently working on her third book - Seance, a hand book of love verse.
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