Dawood's mobile number ? Landline ?

"All this hair.They cover your ears.They trap dust and pollens.They hold sweat.They keep the air from getting to the scalp.All this can cause a lot of medical complications leading to anything from amputation of a couple of ears , to your scalp going flourescent yellow and glowing in the dark."

And when all this is said in a cold , technical , documentary-sque voice , and that too by a guy who has punched injections in your bottom when you were a kid and still controls the ATM cards you use merrily to buy anything from chewing gum to rum , you have no choice but to appreciate how important a haircut is.So when dad "asked" me to get a haircut , I got a haircut.The barber was gut wrenchingly intersted in the india-zimbabwe match on the television as he swiped scissors around my head.And the fact that the Indians were batting like a bunch of grandmothers wasnt helping his mood.I was particularly scared when he mouthed " Saalo kee gardan kaat deni chahiye" and picked up the razor to work on me.

It is such close shaves with death which help one appreciate how precious life is.When it ended , I ran back to home and hugged my mom.

The week at home was chatting with ma while I sat on the kitchen floor ,telling dad I do have future plans but I do not know what they are , playing ludo and carrom with sister , hot delhi , airconditioned rooms , ESPN ,bread rolls , and a lot more of normal homely stuff.But if I put in all the experiences of the week at home in a Philips juicer cum mixer and mix them hard for 15 minutes , what will come out is a slip with this written on it - "munnu beta , what are your wedding plans ? ".( Munnu beta , shaaadeee wadeeee ka kya socha hai ?)

To be honest , my only responsibility till now has been to study , wash the car on sundays , and get two polypacks of double toned milk from the mother dairy in the mornings.And since I am at the hostel now ,even the last two have gone missing.But "life mein twist" may just come soon enough.

My MBA ends next march , which effectively is the end of my formal education.And I will start working.I mean , some company will think I am capable enough of doing something for which they are willing to pay me.The thought in itself is dripping with responsibility.But even though I have a washed car and a couple of milk polypacks as my past experience , I think I will manage as long as I try to enjoy my work.So work is not what bugs me.

If responsibility is bollywood , marriage is the Amitabh Bacchan of responsibilities.If responsibilty is spin bowling , marriage is the Shane Warne of responsibilities.If responsilbity is terrorism , marriage is the Osama Bin Laden of responsibilities.

To my underdeveloped brain, marriage is a state of the art , cutting edge , ultimate responsibility.

And even though I am just almost 24, the M word was mouthed around 178 times by my parents during my week at home.As per reliable sources , a couple of aunts have been bringing in some wedding proposals for me.I read in the newspaper about Dawood being a diploma holder in kidnappings.I searched "how to contact Dawood Ibrahim for getting a few aunts kidnapped" on google.Not much information so far.

If and when I do marry , its like a responsibility of keeping someone happy for life.If some girl leaves her home , parents , family , neighbours , pet dogs and boyfriends to marry me and come to my home , it automatically becomes my responsibility to keep her happy.I have seen hindi movies.I have seen that the elders leave the boy and the girl "alone" for some time so that "wo ek doosre ko jaaan le , pehchaaan le , samajh le".I will try my best to warn her about how stupid I can be , and I will tell her about neha too.But asking me to understand a girl in such a short time makes giving a bath to a crocodile look easy , including soaping its back.And like I do not expect to know her completely , she wont know me.

And at a later stage , she may find that I am not serious even at her aunt's condolence meeting , that I like to watch govinda movies , and insist that she watches it too , that I hate attending her dad's brother's daughter's classmate's engagement , , that I look at the ceiling fan when her uncle asks me about my views on the future of Indian Automobile Industry , that I watch Tom and Jerry with my kids when I should be making them study , that I am perfectly incapable of holding any intellectually stimulating discussions with her , and all this may leave her feeling cheated for life.

And even if I ever need someone , I need someone who thinks its perfectly human to make funny faces at the waiter at an upmarket restruant.Someone who appreciates my hooting and whistling at a movie at a multiplex , and may even like to send out a shrill whistle herself.Someone who thinks bliss is a silly little evening with me and a few chirpy kids.Someone who is not irritated if I narrate poor sardaar jokes to her 35 times in a day.Someone who doesnt run away if I want to show her the latest dance moves I picked up from the last hindi flick I watched.Someone who doesnt act like some comet hit our home when our son flunks maths for consecutive years.

In short , I need a girl as stupid and dumb as me , and likes stupid and dumb people.

And considering how incompletely a boy knows a girl when the marriage happens, I do not want to go ahead with a responsibility I am not sure I can fulfill.I do not want some girl to marry me and then discover she needed someome more civilised and refined and serious.I do not want the girl to feel that she is the unluckiest wife on this planet , along with Rabri Devi maybe .If you think Rabri Devi is not so unlucky , try managing something like Bihar all day and going home to nine kids and a hairy eared ,"eager for a tenth" laloo .So I really need google to throw up something useful.And if you do manage to get Dawood's contact number , mail me.You can save a girl's life.