KNOCK KNOCK
Who's there?
Death.
What do you want?
What the fuck do you think? I have come to take you.
Where?
What are you? The dumbest motherfucker in the world or something? I have come for you..your time is up.
No.
What? What the fuck do you mean no? You think you have a bloody choice or something?
No..i meant i am not the dumbest motherfucker..in fact i am not a motherfucker even.
DEATH GROANS Let me try and explain this to you fuckface. You are about to have a heart attack. And that will be the end of you. Then we will go together to the Other Side.
Why?
WHAAT? Because I say so dickhead..now get the fuck up and get ready for that attack. What are you doing?
Pudin Hara..its good for acidity..just had some chest pain..must have been the vada pav i had in the evening. So what were you saying?
EVIL LAUGHTER Thats not acidity you dung brain..Prepare for the end!
Wait...LOUD BURP Aaah! That was better..Oh sorry..excuse me. You were saying?
Enough!! Its 9:15. Time up stink face. Let's go.
Lets go lets go..so much in hurry all the time..one of these days you will get a heart attack..ok baba ok..i will come where you want to take me..i know what this is..must be those hidden camera programs..but i am too smart for you. Wait!! just let me watch the news headlines for a minute. Ok?
DEATH SIGHS AND SITS DOWN. MAN TURNS ON TV AND STARTS FLIPPING THROUGH THE CHANNELS ONE BY ONE..DEATH'S FACE TAKES ON A GREENISH TINGE
No..no!! Stop that! How can you watch that? Please..for satan's sake! Please!
Huh! What happened? Some new joke? Haha.
No no no..please! I will leave! If this doesnt kill you I dont stand a chance!
Leave? Are you crazy! Just wait for the next program! It will blow you mind!
DEATH CONTINUES WATCHING AND SUDDENLY THERE IS A LOUD BANG AND HIS HEAD EXPLODES. A PUFF OF SMOKE AND HE IS GONE
Strange fellow. But good special effects. I wonder which channel it will come on.
MAN CONTINUES FLIPPING CHANNELS
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Apr 9, 2009
Jul 15, 2008
The last hurrah!
Lottery tickets!! That's it! He shot up in a flash. Now how the hell didnt it occur to him before? It was just 10 bucks a day. And he could cut down a pack of smokes a day for that. He knew he could do it. Initially, he had thought that moving from Marlboros to Pall Malls will be difficult. But he was used to it by now. Used to a lot of changes really. Used to moving from city to city looking for jobs. Used to staying unwelcome at friends' houses and convincing himself that they actually liked to have him stay with them for a couple of months. Used to logging in everyday to the zillion job sites and not finding anything. Used to not letting the panic and pleading come into his tone when he called ex colleagues and asked them if there were any openings. Used to the resigned acceptance of his family when he told them he was on the verge of getting something. Used to the terror stalking him every night when it seemed the tunnel had no light at its end and he would be stuck in the darkness forever.
When he bought the ticket he KNEW. He had gone for the state lottery. And the state wont cheat him. And it came as no surprise when he got the call from New York saying he had cracked the jackpot. 150 million dollars. 150 million roads to redemption. A thousand million dreams waiting to be fulfilled. Goodbye frustration. Goodbye abuse. Goodbye going to sleep and not sleeping. Hallo life.
Before entering the building he rechecked the address. As he entered the foyer he looked at the clock in the lobby. It was 8:15 AM, September 11, 2001. He would remember this date forever. He got into the elevator and pressed the button for the 98th floor.
When he bought the ticket he KNEW. He had gone for the state lottery. And the state wont cheat him. And it came as no surprise when he got the call from New York saying he had cracked the jackpot. 150 million dollars. 150 million roads to redemption. A thousand million dreams waiting to be fulfilled. Goodbye frustration. Goodbye abuse. Goodbye going to sleep and not sleeping. Hallo life.
Before entering the building he rechecked the address. As he entered the foyer he looked at the clock in the lobby. It was 8:15 AM, September 11, 2001. He would remember this date forever. He got into the elevator and pressed the button for the 98th floor.
Jul 9, 2008
The true story behind the madness of Dr X
The experiments were over. Mice, guinee pigs, chimps had all responded as they were supposed to. His lifetime's efforts, sacrifices and back breaking work had come to an end. And tomorrow he would be the most controversial man in the history of mankind.
He would be revered by 2 billion people and vilified by the other 2. But in the end, he was sure they will all pay homage to him. Because he had discovered the elixir of true happiness. And no one who was happy would be able to deny the fact when it will be in front of everyone to see. In one swipe, 90% of global problems will be gone. For he had discovered the ultimate pill. And it was called Manlinex.
The fundamentals behind this were always simple and for everyone to see - increase of testosterone would lead to male symptoms. The challenges were dual - how to restrict the symptoms to only affect behavior and attitudes, rather than having physical effects. And the second was how to achieve all this through a single dose achieved by a single pill (that can be administered surreptitously to an unwilling patient), rather than a long drawn out clinical process. And that was what all these years of research was about. And he was ready for the first human test case.
Everything was in place when his wife returned from work that night. The mood lighting, the soft music, the diamond bracelet and the glass of wine with the dissolved pill. He had absolutely no doubts that the pill would work and he was not wrong. The night was probably his best with his wife - where they polished off the wine and migrated to whiskey, and Richard Chamberlain gave way to Led Zep, and the living room was strewed with empty pizza boxes and cigerette ash, and the sex was uninhibited and raunchy and physical.
After it all, he laid a content and happy man. Not only for himself, for the incredible success, adulation and money he will get, but also for the millions worldwide who will live happier lives.
He felt his wife move beside him. He sat up and saw her getting ready to go out. Rubbing sleep from his eyes he asked 'Where are you going? Its almost midnight!'.
'I will be out with a few friends..will be late. You lock the door behind me', she said as she sailed out into the night.
He would be revered by 2 billion people and vilified by the other 2. But in the end, he was sure they will all pay homage to him. Because he had discovered the elixir of true happiness. And no one who was happy would be able to deny the fact when it will be in front of everyone to see. In one swipe, 90% of global problems will be gone. For he had discovered the ultimate pill. And it was called Manlinex.
The fundamentals behind this were always simple and for everyone to see - increase of testosterone would lead to male symptoms. The challenges were dual - how to restrict the symptoms to only affect behavior and attitudes, rather than having physical effects. And the second was how to achieve all this through a single dose achieved by a single pill (that can be administered surreptitously to an unwilling patient), rather than a long drawn out clinical process. And that was what all these years of research was about. And he was ready for the first human test case.
Everything was in place when his wife returned from work that night. The mood lighting, the soft music, the diamond bracelet and the glass of wine with the dissolved pill. He had absolutely no doubts that the pill would work and he was not wrong. The night was probably his best with his wife - where they polished off the wine and migrated to whiskey, and Richard Chamberlain gave way to Led Zep, and the living room was strewed with empty pizza boxes and cigerette ash, and the sex was uninhibited and raunchy and physical.
After it all, he laid a content and happy man. Not only for himself, for the incredible success, adulation and money he will get, but also for the millions worldwide who will live happier lives.
He felt his wife move beside him. He sat up and saw her getting ready to go out. Rubbing sleep from his eyes he asked 'Where are you going? Its almost midnight!'.
'I will be out with a few friends..will be late. You lock the door behind me', she said as she sailed out into the night.
Feb 20, 2008
Dont fight with friends
It was a typical new year eve morning. And the preparations were on for the night. As usual, the debate was about the break up of the six odd litres of booze that would be required. Meticulous planning, disaster recovery, buffer analysis and accurate estimation techniques are all required in this process. So obviously, there were disagreements. And one such disagreement reached ugly proportions and he stormed out of the house. As a parting shot, he told them all to go to hell and that he would celebrate my new year elsewhere.
There was another party on that he didnt particularly want to go to. He hardly knew anyone there and it was a stuffy high brow crowd. But there was nowhere else to go, and his ego was too big for him to call his friends and tell them that he was coming. So he went.
He suffered alone in that big crowd that night. Everyone else seemed to know each other and he was standing in a corner nursing his drink and cursing his luck. He saw her then in another corner of the room and she seemed to be in the same kind of situation. She was the most beautiful woman he had seen in his life. And she was alone like him in this big bad world. And he fell in love.
Today it was exactly 10 years to the day. And there was no particular reason why his mind went back to that night when he had met his wife for the first time. Except the lawyer's letter lying on the table asking him to meet for a consultation regarding the divorce proceedings. And that his mother was in the nursing home in shock. And that his son had stopped talking since being explained what it meant.
He slit his wrists that night. And while he watched his blood lazily snaking down the water in the bucket he thought of how things could have been different. But mostly, he thought of the friends he had fought with that night.
There was another party on that he didnt particularly want to go to. He hardly knew anyone there and it was a stuffy high brow crowd. But there was nowhere else to go, and his ego was too big for him to call his friends and tell them that he was coming. So he went.
He suffered alone in that big crowd that night. Everyone else seemed to know each other and he was standing in a corner nursing his drink and cursing his luck. He saw her then in another corner of the room and she seemed to be in the same kind of situation. She was the most beautiful woman he had seen in his life. And she was alone like him in this big bad world. And he fell in love.
Today it was exactly 10 years to the day. And there was no particular reason why his mind went back to that night when he had met his wife for the first time. Except the lawyer's letter lying on the table asking him to meet for a consultation regarding the divorce proceedings. And that his mother was in the nursing home in shock. And that his son had stopped talking since being explained what it meant.
He slit his wrists that night. And while he watched his blood lazily snaking down the water in the bucket he thought of how things could have been different. But mostly, he thought of the friends he had fought with that night.
Sep 15, 2007
Duty
Finally things were in place. After months of preparation, tension, uncertainties and fear, he finally got the green signal from the Major in the hastily called meeting today. He had been unable to control himself then. And as he wept, and the Major took him in his arms, and his comrades all stood up as one and cheered for him, he knew that his life was fulfilled.
When he got back home and watched them huddled around the television watching the usual junk, THEIR junk, but he didn't shout at them or told them to switch the damned thing off as was his usual practise. Instead, he made space for himself and pulled his son on to his lap. It would be the last time he would do so. He looked across to his wife and gave her a wink and it was the first time he had done so. And when his mother reached across and caressed his hair, he allowed her to continue, and it was the first time in years that he had allowed her any such public display of affection towards him. And he thought of what might have been, how he could have lived like a human being instead of like a hunted animal, and how THEY had not made it possible for him and for thousands others like him, and his resolve strengthened.
And then he looked across to his father and saw that he was crying as he was watching the TV, one of THEIR idiotic talent shows. And he looked at the screen and saw his brother singing on a stage, and all the people watching him cheering him and loving him, then people rushing onstage to hug him and everyone spreading the message of love and brotherhood, about peace and harmony, about history and roots, about a future of togetherness..and he lurched out of the room.
He triggered the bomb at precisely 10:45 AM in the crowded market place. And in the split second before he was torn apart by the force of the blast, he thought of his grandfather's village in Punjab, and he cried.
When he got back home and watched them huddled around the television watching the usual junk, THEIR junk, but he didn't shout at them or told them to switch the damned thing off as was his usual practise. Instead, he made space for himself and pulled his son on to his lap. It would be the last time he would do so. He looked across to his wife and gave her a wink and it was the first time he had done so. And when his mother reached across and caressed his hair, he allowed her to continue, and it was the first time in years that he had allowed her any such public display of affection towards him. And he thought of what might have been, how he could have lived like a human being instead of like a hunted animal, and how THEY had not made it possible for him and for thousands others like him, and his resolve strengthened.
And then he looked across to his father and saw that he was crying as he was watching the TV, one of THEIR idiotic talent shows. And he looked at the screen and saw his brother singing on a stage, and all the people watching him cheering him and loving him, then people rushing onstage to hug him and everyone spreading the message of love and brotherhood, about peace and harmony, about history and roots, about a future of togetherness..and he lurched out of the room.
He triggered the bomb at precisely 10:45 AM in the crowded market place. And in the split second before he was torn apart by the force of the blast, he thought of his grandfather's village in Punjab, and he cried.
Jul 26, 2007
Thou shalt not cheat
We heard the key in the lock just as we were getting under the covers. White faced, I scrambled for my clothes and shoes lying scattered around the room while she made a dash for the door.
'I am home', the sonofabitch called out, from the living room, taking his shoes off.
'Under the bed' the bitch hissed at me, wrapping a towel around her before going out to meet him halfway. I had no options left. The bastard was bigger than me, and on top of that he was some bloody treasurer or something in the apartment complex. I knew what would happen if I got caught. At best, they would thrash the shit out of me and parade me around naked on the Gurgaon streets. At worst, they would call Aajtak or some such nosey parker motherfucking channel and blacken my face live on national TV. So..I dived under the bed.
I hate being under beds. Even when I was kid playing hide and seek I didnt like them. I hated cobwebs, cockroaches and forgotten junk. I hated the claustrophobia. I hated the smell. And in this case, I hated having to lie there hearing the groans and pants.
Because, nympho bloody bitch that she is, the escapade had made her horny. I saw their legs as they entered the room and then predictably, saw the towel slide to the floor. She giggled playfully and I saw one of her legs start rubbing the bastards pants.
'I am tired darling', he said, and I mentally cheered. But..the bitch was not to be denied so easily.
'A quick one sweetheart', she whispered, guiding him towards the bed, 'I need it badly'.
'You always do', he protested, as I rooted for him to stand up and be a man, 'but you also have to realise I just back from work'. But it was too late. As their weight settled on the bed, I watched aghast as one by one his discarded clothes started floating down on the floor. Soon, she was moaning and he was groaning, and then the bed was shaking and creaking and it started becoming so fucking unbearable that I started toying with the idea of trying to sneak out.
But I had underestimated the bitch. Just when her frenzied screams gave me a glimmer of hope that she was getting done, a hand snaked down and grasped my privates. I mean it was bloody unbelievable! The bloody woman was trying to fondle me while she was bloody shagging her hubby and I was just supposed to bloody lay down and bloody take it? Who the bloody hell did she bloody think I was? But my bloody dick has a mind of its own. I mean it actually quite exciting and all, and soon it was too late to resist and I gave in.
We all were done soon after that. I mean this communal orgasm was pretty ridiculous! It would have pretty funny if I had seen it on TV but at that time I wasnt laughing. She kissed him and said 'That was the best darling. Wait for me while I take a shower...and then we can do it again'.
We both groaned. She went in.
'You can come out now', he said, and I almost had a cardiac. I tried to make myself believe that he was talking to his wife, but I knew.
'Come out unless you want me to call the security', he said again without raising his voice, and I knew I was finished. With as much dignity as I could muster, I came out bare arsed and stood in front of him like a bloody kid caught stealing candy.
He measured me up very slowly and thoroughly and gave a satisifed grunt.
'You'll do', he said, lighting a cigeratte. 'From now on come here every Saturday afternoon..2-4PM..else your wife gets an anonymous call'.
I was hugely relieved. Fucker was a pervert who got off watching his wife getting screwed!! This was turning into something very good, I mentally gloated. Grinning I started putting my clothes on till I remembered something.
'Boss you forgot something..she goes to her kitty party thingies on Saturdays', I reminded him kindly.
'I know. You will come for me. Why do you think she sleeps around like a slut? I dont like women. But you will keep both of us happy'.
'I am home', the sonofabitch called out, from the living room, taking his shoes off.
'Under the bed' the bitch hissed at me, wrapping a towel around her before going out to meet him halfway. I had no options left. The bastard was bigger than me, and on top of that he was some bloody treasurer or something in the apartment complex. I knew what would happen if I got caught. At best, they would thrash the shit out of me and parade me around naked on the Gurgaon streets. At worst, they would call Aajtak or some such nosey parker motherfucking channel and blacken my face live on national TV. So..I dived under the bed.
I hate being under beds. Even when I was kid playing hide and seek I didnt like them. I hated cobwebs, cockroaches and forgotten junk. I hated the claustrophobia. I hated the smell. And in this case, I hated having to lie there hearing the groans and pants.
Because, nympho bloody bitch that she is, the escapade had made her horny. I saw their legs as they entered the room and then predictably, saw the towel slide to the floor. She giggled playfully and I saw one of her legs start rubbing the bastards pants.
'I am tired darling', he said, and I mentally cheered. But..the bitch was not to be denied so easily.
'A quick one sweetheart', she whispered, guiding him towards the bed, 'I need it badly'.
'You always do', he protested, as I rooted for him to stand up and be a man, 'but you also have to realise I just back from work'. But it was too late. As their weight settled on the bed, I watched aghast as one by one his discarded clothes started floating down on the floor. Soon, she was moaning and he was groaning, and then the bed was shaking and creaking and it started becoming so fucking unbearable that I started toying with the idea of trying to sneak out.
But I had underestimated the bitch. Just when her frenzied screams gave me a glimmer of hope that she was getting done, a hand snaked down and grasped my privates. I mean it was bloody unbelievable! The bloody woman was trying to fondle me while she was bloody shagging her hubby and I was just supposed to bloody lay down and bloody take it? Who the bloody hell did she bloody think I was? But my bloody dick has a mind of its own. I mean it actually quite exciting and all, and soon it was too late to resist and I gave in.
We all were done soon after that. I mean this communal orgasm was pretty ridiculous! It would have pretty funny if I had seen it on TV but at that time I wasnt laughing. She kissed him and said 'That was the best darling. Wait for me while I take a shower...and then we can do it again'.
We both groaned. She went in.
'You can come out now', he said, and I almost had a cardiac. I tried to make myself believe that he was talking to his wife, but I knew.
'Come out unless you want me to call the security', he said again without raising his voice, and I knew I was finished. With as much dignity as I could muster, I came out bare arsed and stood in front of him like a bloody kid caught stealing candy.
He measured me up very slowly and thoroughly and gave a satisifed grunt.
'You'll do', he said, lighting a cigeratte. 'From now on come here every Saturday afternoon..2-4PM..else your wife gets an anonymous call'.
I was hugely relieved. Fucker was a pervert who got off watching his wife getting screwed!! This was turning into something very good, I mentally gloated. Grinning I started putting my clothes on till I remembered something.
'Boss you forgot something..she goes to her kitty party thingies on Saturdays', I reminded him kindly.
'I know. You will come for me. Why do you think she sleeps around like a slut? I dont like women. But you will keep both of us happy'.
Jul 11, 2007
Overheard
'That's too big', she said, with rounded eyes.
'Try it', he said, with a smile, 'and you wont regret it'.
'But its too much for me. What can I possibly do with one that big?', she asked in anguish, as if its been shoved down her throat.
'Its not always that you will come across one this big', he said, obscenely caressing and fondling it as he spoke. The woman seemed rivetted. It was as if she was hypnotised by the size and texture of it. And sure enough, as if in a daze, she reached out and grasped it and pulled it towards herself.
'How much?', she asked, as she bent down and with a long, deep breath inhaled its fragrance.
'For you, 12 rupees a kg', the sabziwala said, wrapping up the cucumber in a take away pack.
And the spell broke.
'Try it', he said, with a smile, 'and you wont regret it'.
'But its too much for me. What can I possibly do with one that big?', she asked in anguish, as if its been shoved down her throat.
'Its not always that you will come across one this big', he said, obscenely caressing and fondling it as he spoke. The woman seemed rivetted. It was as if she was hypnotised by the size and texture of it. And sure enough, as if in a daze, she reached out and grasped it and pulled it towards herself.
'How much?', she asked, as she bent down and with a long, deep breath inhaled its fragrance.
'For you, 12 rupees a kg', the sabziwala said, wrapping up the cucumber in a take away pack.
And the spell broke.
Jun 1, 2007
Me and my bloody luck
'What's your name', she asked me, moving her chair closer to mine.
'Neil', I said, indicating the empty chair next to mine.
'You bastard', she said, and walked away in a huff.
Weeks later, I found out that she thought i was asking her to kneel.
'Neil', I said, indicating the empty chair next to mine.
'You bastard', she said, and walked away in a huff.
Weeks later, I found out that she thought i was asking her to kneel.
May 30, 2007
Diaries
Man
The last few days have been such that I have decided to write things down. I am not much of a writer, but I just want to record the events for future reference. You see, I have this nagging suspicion that things are not as they appear, that everyone around me is wearing a mask, watching my every move, uttering memorized lines while speaking to me. You may think I am being paranoid, but let me start at the beginning and let you be the judge.
Last Sunday I woke up without a memory. I didnt know who I was, where I was, what I was. I dialled random numbers from my cell phone, different people called me different names and spoke to me in different languages and I didnt have the guts to ask them how I knew them or how they knew me. I spent the entire day in terrified loneliness, totally helpless and desperate with no idea what the next step should be. It was then that the doorbell rang and I opened the door to find a beautiful woman standing there..and when I looked into her eyes I knew that she was my lover. It all came out then, my fear and my helplessness, and she took me in her arms and I knew things will be all right. We discussed our future and she told me not to worry, that we should let time heal things. She has moved in with me and in the evenings, we lie in each other's arms and she tells me how I used to love her, about the wonderful moments we had shared, and the beautiful life that lay ahead of us. Looking into her eyes, I believe her.
Wife
That's it. Its been over a week now. No contact, no news. No responses to messages. I think I have had it. Probably its best that this ends this way. We were meandering towards nothingness and I guess its fitting that the end came as a fizzle rather than a bang. Anyway, I sincerely hope he has a happy life..and I desperately hope that I do too.
Lover
This will be the last entry before I burn the diary. All the pages filled with angst and tears after he dumped me are behind me now. I always believed that if I didnt give up hope he will come back to again some day. The months of playing 'good friends' are thankfully gone. He is now mine. Completely. And forever.
The last few days have been such that I have decided to write things down. I am not much of a writer, but I just want to record the events for future reference. You see, I have this nagging suspicion that things are not as they appear, that everyone around me is wearing a mask, watching my every move, uttering memorized lines while speaking to me. You may think I am being paranoid, but let me start at the beginning and let you be the judge.
Last Sunday I woke up without a memory. I didnt know who I was, where I was, what I was. I dialled random numbers from my cell phone, different people called me different names and spoke to me in different languages and I didnt have the guts to ask them how I knew them or how they knew me. I spent the entire day in terrified loneliness, totally helpless and desperate with no idea what the next step should be. It was then that the doorbell rang and I opened the door to find a beautiful woman standing there..and when I looked into her eyes I knew that she was my lover. It all came out then, my fear and my helplessness, and she took me in her arms and I knew things will be all right. We discussed our future and she told me not to worry, that we should let time heal things. She has moved in with me and in the evenings, we lie in each other's arms and she tells me how I used to love her, about the wonderful moments we had shared, and the beautiful life that lay ahead of us. Looking into her eyes, I believe her.
Wife
That's it. Its been over a week now. No contact, no news. No responses to messages. I think I have had it. Probably its best that this ends this way. We were meandering towards nothingness and I guess its fitting that the end came as a fizzle rather than a bang. Anyway, I sincerely hope he has a happy life..and I desperately hope that I do too.
Lover
This will be the last entry before I burn the diary. All the pages filled with angst and tears after he dumped me are behind me now. I always believed that if I didnt give up hope he will come back to again some day. The months of playing 'good friends' are thankfully gone. He is now mine. Completely. And forever.
May 16, 2007
The seeds of the holocaust
It was a hot, sunny day and the streets of Munich were deserted, barring the stray dogs and puppies lolling about with their tongues out. Hienrich roamed the streets looking for his next target. The hand holding the magnifying glass was rock steady but his otherwise solemn face was flushed with anticipation, his normally cold, expressionless eyes sparkling with anticipation.
He had to be careful. The last time he was caught,his father had given him a hiding his arse still remembered. Joseph was normally a god fearing, mild man. But he was a fanatic about discipline. And Hienrich knew that he had just about reached the last few inches of the fuse that was wired to the keg of gunpowder that resided in Joseph's mind. So, he had been careful for the last few months. But today the temptation was too much.
He spotted his target soon. It was a beautiful Labrador pup, about 2 or 3 months old. And it was sleeping alone on the pavement, it's ears pricked and eyes closed. It looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, that Hienrich's heart swelled with love for the helpless creature. He took out the glass and carefully positioned it so that the sunrays focused on the delicate soft pink tissues of the inner ear. As the pup screamed out in pain he moved in for the kill, the blunt hammer halfway out of his pocket. He felt a sudden movement from behind and before he realised what happened, a hand clamped down on his shoulder and another wrenched the hammer out of his curled fingers..he turned around with a thundering heart and his worst fears came true..it was that wretched Rabbi Efrati again.
'You are sick', he said, 'and its time Joseph realised the depths of your depravity'.
He took the struggling, kicking boy to his home and when Joseph opened the door, one look at the rabbi and the hammer and the struggling boy in his hands told Joseph the entire story. He grabbed both and before the rabbi could say anything, the door slammed in his face.
'I think you and me have to talk boy', Joseph said, taking out the horsewhip from the cupboard.
Late that night, Hienrich lay face down on his cot, with his flayed back swathed in bandages and made a vow.
'I will get you, you fucking jew', Hienrich Himmler said.
He had to be careful. The last time he was caught,his father had given him a hiding his arse still remembered. Joseph was normally a god fearing, mild man. But he was a fanatic about discipline. And Hienrich knew that he had just about reached the last few inches of the fuse that was wired to the keg of gunpowder that resided in Joseph's mind. So, he had been careful for the last few months. But today the temptation was too much.
He spotted his target soon. It was a beautiful Labrador pup, about 2 or 3 months old. And it was sleeping alone on the pavement, it's ears pricked and eyes closed. It looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, that Hienrich's heart swelled with love for the helpless creature. He took out the glass and carefully positioned it so that the sunrays focused on the delicate soft pink tissues of the inner ear. As the pup screamed out in pain he moved in for the kill, the blunt hammer halfway out of his pocket. He felt a sudden movement from behind and before he realised what happened, a hand clamped down on his shoulder and another wrenched the hammer out of his curled fingers..he turned around with a thundering heart and his worst fears came true..it was that wretched Rabbi Efrati again.
'You are sick', he said, 'and its time Joseph realised the depths of your depravity'.
He took the struggling, kicking boy to his home and when Joseph opened the door, one look at the rabbi and the hammer and the struggling boy in his hands told Joseph the entire story. He grabbed both and before the rabbi could say anything, the door slammed in his face.
'I think you and me have to talk boy', Joseph said, taking out the horsewhip from the cupboard.
Late that night, Hienrich lay face down on his cot, with his flayed back swathed in bandages and made a vow.
'I will get you, you fucking jew', Hienrich Himmler said.
Apr 9, 2007
The showdown
She was absolutely and utterly sick of him. His apathy, his callousness, his insensitivity. Sick of his posturing and his double standards, of his smug belief that she will take all the shit he can dish out, sick of his confidence that ultimately, she was a 'traditional desi girl', who would do anything but walk out on him with the kid and shatter three lives.
Civilised conversations had long since ceased. Any attempt to do so invariably degenerated into mud slinging exercises. But these days the sheer weight of cohabitation was proving to be too much for her. On one of the rear occasions when they had sat down and talked like mature people, they had decided that at least for the sake of the child, they would make a final attempt to coexist. 'Working relationships' they were called, at least according to the hollywood movies that they enjoyed watching separately. But she had never imagined that his sheer presence could be so difficult to handle. Not talking to each other could not prevent her from hearing him talking to others, and in each conversation, all that she detested about him crashed on her eardrums in unforgiving waves, choking her with the bile that welled up inside her till her whole body trembled with disgust, leaving her head throbbing with pure, white hate.
She woke up today knowing that something had changed. After ages she felt calm. She saw things in a totally different light. Nothing could justify this existence, this utter wastage of a life, this pathetic attempt to keep up appearances and in the process making things worse. There was no point in trying to enact something for a 4 year old. Soon he will be old enough to see through the facade. And by then it may be too late. She wanted out. She wanted her life back. She wanted to live for herself.
She heard him turn the key in the lock. She went out to meet him and tell him about her decision. Their eyes locked as they faced each other. He dropped his bag and ran to her and fell on his knees and hugged her waist.
'I cannot live without you. I love you. Lets start again', he said.
Civilised conversations had long since ceased. Any attempt to do so invariably degenerated into mud slinging exercises. But these days the sheer weight of cohabitation was proving to be too much for her. On one of the rear occasions when they had sat down and talked like mature people, they had decided that at least for the sake of the child, they would make a final attempt to coexist. 'Working relationships' they were called, at least according to the hollywood movies that they enjoyed watching separately. But she had never imagined that his sheer presence could be so difficult to handle. Not talking to each other could not prevent her from hearing him talking to others, and in each conversation, all that she detested about him crashed on her eardrums in unforgiving waves, choking her with the bile that welled up inside her till her whole body trembled with disgust, leaving her head throbbing with pure, white hate.
She woke up today knowing that something had changed. After ages she felt calm. She saw things in a totally different light. Nothing could justify this existence, this utter wastage of a life, this pathetic attempt to keep up appearances and in the process making things worse. There was no point in trying to enact something for a 4 year old. Soon he will be old enough to see through the facade. And by then it may be too late. She wanted out. She wanted her life back. She wanted to live for herself.
She heard him turn the key in the lock. She went out to meet him and tell him about her decision. Their eyes locked as they faced each other. He dropped his bag and ran to her and fell on his knees and hugged her waist.
'I cannot live without you. I love you. Lets start again', he said.
Apr 2, 2007
A love story
B was in love with S. And would do anything to get him. And everyone around knew that as well. And so, bastards that they were, they used to take B for a ride. They would go to B and say "S was wanting to go for the latest Amitabh flick." And B will beg them to ask S to take B along. And they will hem and haw and confer and strategise till B will tell them that there was a big treat waiting for them if they can convince S. And then they would troupe to S and beg him to take B, to somehow sit through the 3 hours for the gastronomical good of the majority. And S would go and not talk to anyone for the next 3 days.
This went on for some time. But it seemed that B wanted more. And the fates arranged for a situation where it became suddenly possible for B to have S completely. It so happened that B's parents were going on a 10 day trip to Sikkim and B had the run of the house. And so B called all S's 'friends' for lunch one day, plied them with food and begged them to convince S to spend a night there. B had some contacts in high places and promises of jobs and substantial donations for that year's pujas were hinted at. And so, they took on the love brokerage.
These guys came and it was long hard and bitter battle. S stood his ground, refusing to be pimped around but his friends were up to it. They tried ridicule (can't you handle B for one night you wimp). They tried cajoling (just a night yaar. dont do anything if you dont want to). They tried emotional blackmail (think of T yaar, he will get the job if you do this). They even tried threats (boss if you are so adamant then we have issues about your loyalty towards friends). Whatever factor it was due to, or perhaps because he was so sick of this whole thing and wanted to put an end to it all, S finally agreed.
D day came. S didn't come. A frantic B called up all his friends and asked them to find him and bring him home. B also expressed doubts about the abilty of these guys to organise the next year's pujas. If they cant convince one guy how did they think they are going to convince the people in the neighborhood to part with donations, B was heard muttering. Tempers frayed. Decisions were taken. Everyone bayed for S's blood.
When they reached his place they found a crowd outside. They pushed inside. S was hanging from the ceiling fan.
Drastic you think? You see, B was a man.
This went on for some time. But it seemed that B wanted more. And the fates arranged for a situation where it became suddenly possible for B to have S completely. It so happened that B's parents were going on a 10 day trip to Sikkim and B had the run of the house. And so B called all S's 'friends' for lunch one day, plied them with food and begged them to convince S to spend a night there. B had some contacts in high places and promises of jobs and substantial donations for that year's pujas were hinted at. And so, they took on the love brokerage.
These guys came and it was long hard and bitter battle. S stood his ground, refusing to be pimped around but his friends were up to it. They tried ridicule (can't you handle B for one night you wimp). They tried cajoling (just a night yaar. dont do anything if you dont want to). They tried emotional blackmail (think of T yaar, he will get the job if you do this). They even tried threats (boss if you are so adamant then we have issues about your loyalty towards friends). Whatever factor it was due to, or perhaps because he was so sick of this whole thing and wanted to put an end to it all, S finally agreed.
D day came. S didn't come. A frantic B called up all his friends and asked them to find him and bring him home. B also expressed doubts about the abilty of these guys to organise the next year's pujas. If they cant convince one guy how did they think they are going to convince the people in the neighborhood to part with donations, B was heard muttering. Tempers frayed. Decisions were taken. Everyone bayed for S's blood.
When they reached his place they found a crowd outside. They pushed inside. S was hanging from the ceiling fan.
Drastic you think? You see, B was a man.
Mar 29, 2007
Was this abuse?
I was all of 11 years old. I knew all about girls, had played doctor-doctor with 3 of my classmates, I had read graphic descriptions of the adult female anatomy in Nick Carter thrillers I had smuggled in from the school library. I wasn't tongue tied or intimidated by girls. I positively strutted around them. Till the time Mlle Jenette joined our school as a French teacher.
I dont why the fuck she launched into me from the first day. At first it was trivial stuff like asking me to carry her books back to the staff room. Then she started dropping me off home after school. And then asking me to stay back after school to help me with my homework. And the constant fidgeting with my uniform - adjusting my tie, tucking in my shirt, zipping up a half open fly.
And then one day, she called me to her house one hot sultry afternoon to 'amusez-vous certains' as she put it. Have some fun indeed. That afternoon finished my confidence level with the opposite sex.
Before I entered I heard her splashing in the pool. And when i reached the poolside, I saw her cutting through the water in long streaking strokes. She was a great swimmer, but that's not what I was staring at with my mouth open. It was the first time I was seeing a 2 piece bikini in real life..and Nick Carter hadn't prepared me for that. As an Indian kid surrounded by saree clad women, I had grown up seeing bare midriffs of various sizes, shapes and colours. Never had I thought that it could also be something like that. And when she came out of the water and opened her cap to let her blonde hair cascade out, I thought I saw it all. But I hadn't.
She saw me gaping and a peculiar shadow crossed her face. "Venez ici", she beckoned, patting the lounge chair next to her. I moved like an automation, and as I neared her and saw her leaning back and looking at me with a peculiar half-smile, and I saw her breasts heaving as she was catching her breath, and her nipples straining against the soft bikini top, and tiny droplets of water breaking up the sunrays into rainbows like a prism and to my horror I felt my pinky rushing up to meet my slack jaw.
"You helping me to put oil on my back, yes cherie", she asked me, and I dumbly nodded my head. Oil on your back? I would oil and entire leper colony if I can have one more chance to see you like this, I thought. She gave me a bottle and and lay down face down on the chair and for the first time I can feast my eyes on her body, without worrying that she would know I am doing so. I poured some oil onto my trembling hands, squeezed my eyes shut and touched her back and it felt as if I was getting jolted by electric sparks that travelled from my fingertips and spread through my body, leaving goosebumps on my skin and making the hairs on my arms and legs stand up. I started making circular motions on her back, gently to start with and then faster and faster, but then stopped when I heard her moaning, fearing that I had hurt her.
She sat up and looked at me. I looked back hypnotised as she reached back and untied the string holding her bikini top. As it fell away I realised that this was the most beautiful thing I had seen in my entire life. "Front I can do cherie", said with that curious half smile, and I felt my heart shatter into a billion pieces.
"You go and make swim now", she said, and starting applying the lotion on her breasts. It was too much for me. I felt something burst and to my utter disbelief I discovered that I had pee-ed in my pants. I am saying pee, but to me it felt like my wee wee had gone utterly crazy. I tried to mumble something and slide away before she saw me, but my worst fears were confirmed when I looked her and saw her staring at the patch that was spreading in my pants and her hand groped for the towel lying at her side.
"You go home now, yes Neil?", she asked me in a small voice.
Fighting back my tears I ran all the way back home. I switched to German the next week.
I dont why the fuck she launched into me from the first day. At first it was trivial stuff like asking me to carry her books back to the staff room. Then she started dropping me off home after school. And then asking me to stay back after school to help me with my homework. And the constant fidgeting with my uniform - adjusting my tie, tucking in my shirt, zipping up a half open fly.
And then one day, she called me to her house one hot sultry afternoon to 'amusez-vous certains' as she put it. Have some fun indeed. That afternoon finished my confidence level with the opposite sex.
Before I entered I heard her splashing in the pool. And when i reached the poolside, I saw her cutting through the water in long streaking strokes. She was a great swimmer, but that's not what I was staring at with my mouth open. It was the first time I was seeing a 2 piece bikini in real life..and Nick Carter hadn't prepared me for that. As an Indian kid surrounded by saree clad women, I had grown up seeing bare midriffs of various sizes, shapes and colours. Never had I thought that it could also be something like that. And when she came out of the water and opened her cap to let her blonde hair cascade out, I thought I saw it all. But I hadn't.
She saw me gaping and a peculiar shadow crossed her face. "Venez ici", she beckoned, patting the lounge chair next to her. I moved like an automation, and as I neared her and saw her leaning back and looking at me with a peculiar half-smile, and I saw her breasts heaving as she was catching her breath, and her nipples straining against the soft bikini top, and tiny droplets of water breaking up the sunrays into rainbows like a prism and to my horror I felt my pinky rushing up to meet my slack jaw.
"You helping me to put oil on my back, yes cherie", she asked me, and I dumbly nodded my head. Oil on your back? I would oil and entire leper colony if I can have one more chance to see you like this, I thought. She gave me a bottle and and lay down face down on the chair and for the first time I can feast my eyes on her body, without worrying that she would know I am doing so. I poured some oil onto my trembling hands, squeezed my eyes shut and touched her back and it felt as if I was getting jolted by electric sparks that travelled from my fingertips and spread through my body, leaving goosebumps on my skin and making the hairs on my arms and legs stand up. I started making circular motions on her back, gently to start with and then faster and faster, but then stopped when I heard her moaning, fearing that I had hurt her.
She sat up and looked at me. I looked back hypnotised as she reached back and untied the string holding her bikini top. As it fell away I realised that this was the most beautiful thing I had seen in my entire life. "Front I can do cherie", said with that curious half smile, and I felt my heart shatter into a billion pieces.
"You go and make swim now", she said, and starting applying the lotion on her breasts. It was too much for me. I felt something burst and to my utter disbelief I discovered that I had pee-ed in my pants. I am saying pee, but to me it felt like my wee wee had gone utterly crazy. I tried to mumble something and slide away before she saw me, but my worst fears were confirmed when I looked her and saw her staring at the patch that was spreading in my pants and her hand groped for the towel lying at her side.
"You go home now, yes Neil?", she asked me in a small voice.
Fighting back my tears I ran all the way back home. I switched to German the next week.
Mar 23, 2007
I love you
I have finally realised I cannot live without you. When I am with you I can forget the rest of the world. I can forget the disappointments, the failures, the frustrations. Every song I hear with you sounds better that it normally does, every movie I watch with you gives me deeper insights. I love you for always being there. I love you for never letting me down. I love you for never judging me. I love you for never changing. I love you on my lips. I love your warmth. I love your moistness. I love you when you make my head swim.
Fuck my liver. I am not quitting booze.
Fuck my liver. I am not quitting booze.
Mar 13, 2007
That's me and Shahrukh
'See this one', she said, flipping the pages of a dog eared photo album. 'Me and Shahrukh. I had put on a new dress that day'. In the faded 4 by 6 snap, he saw her standing in her pigeon hole in Sonagachi, with her arms on Shahrukh Khan's shoulder.
'Wait..I have one with Amitabh as well', she said, pulling out another album from a tin trunk that contained all her possesions and memories. 'But with Amitji I couldn't touch him', she said, giggling and blushing as she showed him the snap where she was standing coyly next to the Big B, decked up in ghastly chiffon silks of pinks and greens, but still beautiful with her breathless excitement.
'You are beautiful', he told her, giving her a quick hug. She clung to him, but he had to go. Away from her dark hole. Leaving her with her loneliness, with her pictures of bollywood actors' posters.
'Wait..I have one with Amitabh as well', she said, pulling out another album from a tin trunk that contained all her possesions and memories. 'But with Amitji I couldn't touch him', she said, giggling and blushing as she showed him the snap where she was standing coyly next to the Big B, decked up in ghastly chiffon silks of pinks and greens, but still beautiful with her breathless excitement.
'You are beautiful', he told her, giving her a quick hug. She clung to him, but he had to go. Away from her dark hole. Leaving her with her loneliness, with her pictures of bollywood actors' posters.
Mar 2, 2007
That's what friends are for
S was a very good friend of mine..and if you can manage to think beyond Bollywood he was actually a brother (such things actually exist beyond the celluloid, u know). But all that was before he fell in love..
Oh! I forgot to tell you that we were in bangkok..and BKK has these places called go-go bars (i don't know why) where the concept is that everyone (from the waitress to the pole dancer to the toilet attendant or to the sultry siren sitting in the next table) are available..for conversation i mean (what did you think?).So he liked this waitress, and every order was a looong and detailed one, just so she would stand next to him, and their fingers would touch accidentally while pointing out 'kau pak kai' in the menu card. And ultimately, inevitably, Mr Jack Daniels had his day, and he asked her out.
He came back (alone) with stars in his eyes. What a day it had been, he said. There were so many things in Bangkok that we poor souls had no idea about! Especially the boat ride, sitting on the deck with their arms around each other, eating Moo Chops and sipping Singha beer....man! i felt like loser!
And the day came when she arrived unannounced to his place, for the night. I mumbled an excuse about having some work (i was the flat mate u see), went to the nearest pool joint, lost to all the beautiful waitresses, went to the german steak house, over-tipped the lissome lass pouring dollops of Worcestershire Steak sauce, did this did that..looked at my watch (is he a superman? i dont know..better give him the benefit of the doubt)..tentatively scratched on the door, gingerly turned the knob..and the door opened.
There he was, sitting with an inscrutable expression on his face. My cynisim screamed to me that something was wrong, my romanticism told me he was in love (was it the same thing?). Before i could make up my mind he started the narrative..
'When she came in i couldn't believe my eyes man. I had always hoped that she would be easy, but somehow had wished that i was the exception, rather than the rule. And when she came in that's exactly what she said..told me that she didnt know what she was doing in my bedroom..she felt lost when she thought of me......'
i switched off..........yada yada yada yada......
'i had never seen a bra like that'
(i switched on)...
'how many have you seen before', i asked him...
'what do u think i am a chutiya? since i was so small (he said indicating a 2cm gap between 2 fingers in front of his zipper) i have been seeing them..fluttering on a clothesline on the next terrace..with their blue starch marks..some even with safety-pins in the back, and once i saw...'
'ok, ok i get you..so how was this one, if i may ask', i said.
the dreamy look returned..
'i dont know yaar..it was so different..i dont know how to say this..inside there was like something man..like you used to wear chest gaurds while playing cricket na?'
'uh oh', i muttered.
'what do you mean, uh uh', he barked out. 'u think i am a chutiya or what? i know about some women who have smaller breasts and use something to look big.. remember the time you went out on a date with napkin stuffed in your chaddi and...'
'sorry boss..i was just joking yaar. aage bol bhai'
'chutiya' he muttered. 'anyway, so she saw me looking and suddenly she pulled me up and took all my clothes off. i swear, the last time someone did that so fast was when i was 4 and we were entering kalighat temple and i told maa i had done potty in my pant..but then i told you na she was a nice girl. she could understand that i could not take the first step, and she also was new to this experience..'
i switched off..........yada yada yada yada......
'..and there was naked'
(i switched on)...
'huh! naked?'
'i mean i took her bra off..she was so beautiful yaar..so pure..and when she kissed me it was so beautiful yaar..and she was so innocent. she said she was seeing a dick for the first time..and she said she hadn't seen a bigger one before, and this was the first time also...i didn't understand..anyway, i was so happy and i told her to take her skirt off because i thought i will spoil her nice skirt. she told me this is the first time please switch off the light..'
'uh oh', i muttered..
'again you are doing uhuh u motherchod? remember the time you told T to switch of the light and you will show her magic and you...'
'shut up yaar..that was 16 yrs back man'.
'exactly..she is also same innocent like that..chutiya cynical bastard..anyway..so somehow i controlled and went dripping to the switch..i could hear her unzipping her skirt behind me..and the sound of her underwear going down her legs..i turned the light off, groped my way back and she was on the couch with her arms open..'
'sahi hai baap..chaa gaya beta'
'shut up chutiya sun pehle..i laid my head down against her breasts..'
'abhi bola kuch hai nehi'
'motherchod gaar maar dunga..sun na yaar..it was so nice..she said i was the nicest man she has ever met. all people only use her yaar, they think just pay money and make her do anything..yaar men are bastards, seriously. the amount of torture and harassment. and she said i was the one yaar..she wanted to share a secret with me..'
'let me guess..she was a whore', i said with a smirk.
'raand teri maa chutiya..sun na yaar..she took my hand and placed it on her breast..and slowly guided it down to her stomach..yaar how can they have so flat abs man..and then down. sahi tha yaar..trimmed and shaped..and then i felt it'
'it?'
'it', he indicated with his hand.
'IT?? MOTHERCHOD WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING??'
'abey loure sun na..its not her fault..she just wants money for the operation..she is otherwise perfect yaar..she showed me so many things one can do even if a girl doesn't have that..it was an eye opener for me yaar'.
'i dont believe i am having this conversation..u mean u actually...??'
'sun na yaar...just drop your fucking know all attitute for once..let me show you'.
Oh! I forgot to tell you that we were in bangkok..and BKK has these places called go-go bars (i don't know why) where the concept is that everyone (from the waitress to the pole dancer to the toilet attendant or to the sultry siren sitting in the next table) are available..for conversation i mean (what did you think?).So he liked this waitress, and every order was a looong and detailed one, just so she would stand next to him, and their fingers would touch accidentally while pointing out 'kau pak kai' in the menu card. And ultimately, inevitably, Mr Jack Daniels had his day, and he asked her out.
He came back (alone) with stars in his eyes. What a day it had been, he said. There were so many things in Bangkok that we poor souls had no idea about! Especially the boat ride, sitting on the deck with their arms around each other, eating Moo Chops and sipping Singha beer....man! i felt like loser!
And the day came when she arrived unannounced to his place, for the night. I mumbled an excuse about having some work (i was the flat mate u see), went to the nearest pool joint, lost to all the beautiful waitresses, went to the german steak house, over-tipped the lissome lass pouring dollops of Worcestershire Steak sauce, did this did that..looked at my watch (is he a superman? i dont know..better give him the benefit of the doubt)..tentatively scratched on the door, gingerly turned the knob..and the door opened.
There he was, sitting with an inscrutable expression on his face. My cynisim screamed to me that something was wrong, my romanticism told me he was in love (was it the same thing?). Before i could make up my mind he started the narrative..
'When she came in i couldn't believe my eyes man. I had always hoped that she would be easy, but somehow had wished that i was the exception, rather than the rule. And when she came in that's exactly what she said..told me that she didnt know what she was doing in my bedroom..she felt lost when she thought of me......'
i switched off..........yada yada yada yada......
'i had never seen a bra like that'
(i switched on)...
'how many have you seen before', i asked him...
'what do u think i am a chutiya? since i was so small (he said indicating a 2cm gap between 2 fingers in front of his zipper) i have been seeing them..fluttering on a clothesline on the next terrace..with their blue starch marks..some even with safety-pins in the back, and once i saw...'
'ok, ok i get you..so how was this one, if i may ask', i said.
the dreamy look returned..
'i dont know yaar..it was so different..i dont know how to say this..inside there was like something man..like you used to wear chest gaurds while playing cricket na?'
'uh oh', i muttered.
'what do you mean, uh uh', he barked out. 'u think i am a chutiya or what? i know about some women who have smaller breasts and use something to look big.. remember the time you went out on a date with napkin stuffed in your chaddi and...'
'sorry boss..i was just joking yaar. aage bol bhai'
'chutiya' he muttered. 'anyway, so she saw me looking and suddenly she pulled me up and took all my clothes off. i swear, the last time someone did that so fast was when i was 4 and we were entering kalighat temple and i told maa i had done potty in my pant..but then i told you na she was a nice girl. she could understand that i could not take the first step, and she also was new to this experience..'
i switched off..........yada yada yada yada......
'..and there was naked'
(i switched on)...
'huh! naked?'
'i mean i took her bra off..she was so beautiful yaar..so pure..and when she kissed me it was so beautiful yaar..and she was so innocent. she said she was seeing a dick for the first time..and she said she hadn't seen a bigger one before, and this was the first time also...i didn't understand..anyway, i was so happy and i told her to take her skirt off because i thought i will spoil her nice skirt. she told me this is the first time please switch off the light..'
'uh oh', i muttered..
'again you are doing uhuh u motherchod? remember the time you told T to switch of the light and you will show her magic and you...'
'shut up yaar..that was 16 yrs back man'.
'exactly..she is also same innocent like that..chutiya cynical bastard..anyway..so somehow i controlled and went dripping to the switch..i could hear her unzipping her skirt behind me..and the sound of her underwear going down her legs..i turned the light off, groped my way back and she was on the couch with her arms open..'
'sahi hai baap..chaa gaya beta'
'shut up chutiya sun pehle..i laid my head down against her breasts..'
'abhi bola kuch hai nehi'
'motherchod gaar maar dunga..sun na yaar..it was so nice..she said i was the nicest man she has ever met. all people only use her yaar, they think just pay money and make her do anything..yaar men are bastards, seriously. the amount of torture and harassment. and she said i was the one yaar..she wanted to share a secret with me..'
'let me guess..she was a whore', i said with a smirk.
'raand teri maa chutiya..sun na yaar..she took my hand and placed it on her breast..and slowly guided it down to her stomach..yaar how can they have so flat abs man..and then down. sahi tha yaar..trimmed and shaped..and then i felt it'
'it?'
'it', he indicated with his hand.
'IT?? MOTHERCHOD WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING??'
'abey loure sun na..its not her fault..she just wants money for the operation..she is otherwise perfect yaar..she showed me so many things one can do even if a girl doesn't have that..it was an eye opener for me yaar'.
'i dont believe i am having this conversation..u mean u actually...??'
'sun na yaar...just drop your fucking know all attitute for once..let me show you'.
Dec 20, 2006
Briefcase
I dont know if any one of you is old enough to remember the briefcase. From my earliest childhood, it was something that symbolised the transition from youth to manhood. Muhalla bhaiyas who used to lounge around in the club-rooms, playing carrom or cricket or generally discussing global issues, day in day out, without break or dip in enthusiasm, suddenly became respectable and serious when they landed jobs and started taking the 8:55 bus to office with a briefcase in hand. You no longer could greet them and ask them the East Bengal Mohun Bagan score of the previous day's match, or whether the latest Mithun starrer was worth watching or not (you could of course ask him these when he held court in the club in the evenings, but then you would have to wait till he has finished a lengthy discourse on how office politics is ruining the work culture in India, or how had ticked off his boss when he had dared to ask him stay an hour after office to complete some urgent work).
Not everyone was so lucky though. There were some poor souls who got jobs where the office did not give them briefcases to carry (after all, not everyone can aspire to be an Insurance Salesman, Maintenance Engineer or Sales Executive). These guys were treated with absolute disdain and we used to ridicule these poor bastards when we used to occupy our newly inherited positions of importance in the club house. 'Imagine', we used to say, with a superior smirk and knowing winks, 'Biltuda goes to office without a briefcase and have you seen the superior expression on his face? As if we dont know what a shitpot he must have joined'.
One such dada must have shared the same opinion as us. And after scrapping through his BCom Pass and landing a job somewhere, he started for his first day in office with a gleaming VIP swinging in his hands, looking as if the moment he would be approached, he would point the damn thing and mutter 'go ahead, make my day'. But we knew Keshtoda, and his academic record and his personal magnetism. And we were pretty sure that it was quite beyond him to secure a job that would require him to carry a briefcase. This was discussed in great detail over the next few days and finally a courageous handful of decided to waylay him one morning and demand to inspect what was inside.
That fateful morning, we waited at the curb, with hearts beating slightly faster, but secure in the knowledge that the para would get a scoop that would be talked about for ages to come, ensuring out place in para folklore for eternity to come. Sure enough, Keshtoda was challenged, his briefcase siezed, opened, while he blabbered in forced indignation, shoulders already stooping, downcast eyes fighting back tears as we all stood around his open briefcase containing a ridiculous collection of children's books and stuff and his tiffin of a banana and 2 slices of sugar sprinkled bread.
In the evening it all came out. Frustrated at not getting a job he had joined some social organisation that goes to slums and teaches children how to read write and stuff like that. They pay conveyance (state transport) and a princely sum of 20 bucks a day for lunch. We all had a great time that day, ribbing him for his worthless life, the other successful dadas explaining to him that he should have gone to them, they would have arranged something for him, why even the peon in their office gets 750 bucks a month!
Keshtoda took all this quite well. He just sat there quietly, sometimes giving a rueful smile when someone said something particularly funny (like Ajitda telling him to start helping our uncles with their housework and chores and then all families in the para will pool in with some contribution for him), sometimes clenching his hands when Romada declared that these NGO-s basically supply young women and children to the Arab world (and Romada would know, his uncle was settled in Canada for the last 28 years), but generally disappointing all us neither by breaking down or trying to fight for and defend himself.
Anyway, from the next day onwards Keshtoda started going to 'work' with a jhola slung on his shoulders. Initial ribbing died down soon enough as our interest moved on to other topics and targets. We all moved on in life, in turn got briefcases of our own. Some fell, some soared. The briefcase no longer generated respect. Kids were moving around with mobile phones and laptops. Some carried only combs to work. Some sat at home and earned trading shares on the phone. But all of them had one thing in common. Everyone moved like an automation. Nobody smiled, nobody stopped to talk to people they crossed in the streets. Nobody came to the club room anymore. Nobody knew whether their next door neighbor was alive or dead. Nobody had anyone to talk to when they felt lost and hopeless and needed someone to talk about their memories or their fears or their hopes.
Except Keshtoda. He looked as serene as ever. He looked fulfilled, satisfied and totally at peace with himself. Someone was saying that he was working as an advisor to Unesco. Someone was saying that he might go to the US soon to deliver a paper. But one thing I knew. The briefcase I had lent him when I started using a laptop looked like it had finally found its way back home.
Not everyone was so lucky though. There were some poor souls who got jobs where the office did not give them briefcases to carry (after all, not everyone can aspire to be an Insurance Salesman, Maintenance Engineer or Sales Executive). These guys were treated with absolute disdain and we used to ridicule these poor bastards when we used to occupy our newly inherited positions of importance in the club house. 'Imagine', we used to say, with a superior smirk and knowing winks, 'Biltuda goes to office without a briefcase and have you seen the superior expression on his face? As if we dont know what a shitpot he must have joined'.
One such dada must have shared the same opinion as us. And after scrapping through his BCom Pass and landing a job somewhere, he started for his first day in office with a gleaming VIP swinging in his hands, looking as if the moment he would be approached, he would point the damn thing and mutter 'go ahead, make my day'. But we knew Keshtoda, and his academic record and his personal magnetism. And we were pretty sure that it was quite beyond him to secure a job that would require him to carry a briefcase. This was discussed in great detail over the next few days and finally a courageous handful of decided to waylay him one morning and demand to inspect what was inside.
That fateful morning, we waited at the curb, with hearts beating slightly faster, but secure in the knowledge that the para would get a scoop that would be talked about for ages to come, ensuring out place in para folklore for eternity to come. Sure enough, Keshtoda was challenged, his briefcase siezed, opened, while he blabbered in forced indignation, shoulders already stooping, downcast eyes fighting back tears as we all stood around his open briefcase containing a ridiculous collection of children's books and stuff and his tiffin of a banana and 2 slices of sugar sprinkled bread.
In the evening it all came out. Frustrated at not getting a job he had joined some social organisation that goes to slums and teaches children how to read write and stuff like that. They pay conveyance (state transport) and a princely sum of 20 bucks a day for lunch. We all had a great time that day, ribbing him for his worthless life, the other successful dadas explaining to him that he should have gone to them, they would have arranged something for him, why even the peon in their office gets 750 bucks a month!
Keshtoda took all this quite well. He just sat there quietly, sometimes giving a rueful smile when someone said something particularly funny (like Ajitda telling him to start helping our uncles with their housework and chores and then all families in the para will pool in with some contribution for him), sometimes clenching his hands when Romada declared that these NGO-s basically supply young women and children to the Arab world (and Romada would know, his uncle was settled in Canada for the last 28 years), but generally disappointing all us neither by breaking down or trying to fight for and defend himself.
Anyway, from the next day onwards Keshtoda started going to 'work' with a jhola slung on his shoulders. Initial ribbing died down soon enough as our interest moved on to other topics and targets. We all moved on in life, in turn got briefcases of our own. Some fell, some soared. The briefcase no longer generated respect. Kids were moving around with mobile phones and laptops. Some carried only combs to work. Some sat at home and earned trading shares on the phone. But all of them had one thing in common. Everyone moved like an automation. Nobody smiled, nobody stopped to talk to people they crossed in the streets. Nobody came to the club room anymore. Nobody knew whether their next door neighbor was alive or dead. Nobody had anyone to talk to when they felt lost and hopeless and needed someone to talk about their memories or their fears or their hopes.
Except Keshtoda. He looked as serene as ever. He looked fulfilled, satisfied and totally at peace with himself. Someone was saying that he was working as an advisor to Unesco. Someone was saying that he might go to the US soon to deliver a paper. But one thing I knew. The briefcase I had lent him when I started using a laptop looked like it had finally found its way back home.
Dec 5, 2006
Oh Calcutta!!
Just got back from a short trip from Cal. This was after a gap of almost 18 months and I just loved it. December and January are the best time to visit Cal. The nip in the air is divine. And if you want to compare the weather with that of Bangalore, I would like you to consider an incredient that Blore sadly lacks..and you would get that if you sit on the banks on the Hoogly, with a steaming hot 'bhaar' of tea in one hand and a packet of 'jhalmuri' in the other. Bliss!
Things have changed but if you dont seek them out you will find that your nostalgia will remain intact, safe from the marauding hands of progress and growth. No one I know grew up in Rajarhaat or Eastern Bypass...so no one will feel like an alien if he decides to visit his old para, or his old dating places, or his old hangout places. These remain the same, comforting you with their ageless solidity, enabling the celluloid of your memories to remain in crystal clear DVD quality.
And as fate would have it, didi obliged her little brother with the one experience that i thought I would miss out on this trip. But, thankfully, the cruel industrialists decided to build factories that would provide jobs for a thousand families and open doors to other such elements to enter the state and spoil our culture, heritage and tradition. So didi obliged me with a bandh.
Last night, at a friends place, finishing the last peg before heading back home, and concluding the open items in our discussions on Osho, genetics, Taoism , tantrik sex and degradation of the grilled prawns in Tyangra, I thanked my stars for such a perfect experience of my roots. But...it was still not over.
After all, what would a nostalgia trip be without the women of Calcutta? You can keep your Ibizas and Rivieras and Mardi Graas or whatever provides fodder for your fantasies. If you havent experienced the Calcutta girl, your life has been one of utter wastage. So, as I was sitting alone in the share auto, my heart did 27 sumersaults, when she languidly raised her delicate fingers and signalled the auto to stop. She was like a fresh daisy, the way a daisy looks when the early morning sun passes through a dew drop resting on its petals. None of the brashness of the northern indian sisters, or the excessive conservatism of the southern sisters. She sat close to me, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder, ankle to ankle, demurely looking down, riding the speedbreakers, jumping potholes, swerving the minibuses, in perfect harmony, in a ritual dance synchronised to perfection.
She got down a couple of stops before. As she did, our eyes met for the first time, and in them i saw an answering look of ecstasy, a knowledge that what we shared will be with both of us for a long time to come.
I was walking on clouds when i got down. Can life be any more perfect? Should I finally start thinking seriously about taking a tranfer to Cal? Should I postpone my ticket tomorrow and wait at the auto stand at the same place and same time? Should I pay a 100 bucks to the auto driver?
Thoughts of money brought me back to harsh reality. The driver was waiting impatiently with palms outstretched. I aplogised and fumbled for my wallet.
It was gone.
Things have changed but if you dont seek them out you will find that your nostalgia will remain intact, safe from the marauding hands of progress and growth. No one I know grew up in Rajarhaat or Eastern Bypass...so no one will feel like an alien if he decides to visit his old para, or his old dating places, or his old hangout places. These remain the same, comforting you with their ageless solidity, enabling the celluloid of your memories to remain in crystal clear DVD quality.
And as fate would have it, didi obliged her little brother with the one experience that i thought I would miss out on this trip. But, thankfully, the cruel industrialists decided to build factories that would provide jobs for a thousand families and open doors to other such elements to enter the state and spoil our culture, heritage and tradition. So didi obliged me with a bandh.
Last night, at a friends place, finishing the last peg before heading back home, and concluding the open items in our discussions on Osho, genetics, Taoism , tantrik sex and degradation of the grilled prawns in Tyangra, I thanked my stars for such a perfect experience of my roots. But...it was still not over.
After all, what would a nostalgia trip be without the women of Calcutta? You can keep your Ibizas and Rivieras and Mardi Graas or whatever provides fodder for your fantasies. If you havent experienced the Calcutta girl, your life has been one of utter wastage. So, as I was sitting alone in the share auto, my heart did 27 sumersaults, when she languidly raised her delicate fingers and signalled the auto to stop. She was like a fresh daisy, the way a daisy looks when the early morning sun passes through a dew drop resting on its petals. None of the brashness of the northern indian sisters, or the excessive conservatism of the southern sisters. She sat close to me, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder, ankle to ankle, demurely looking down, riding the speedbreakers, jumping potholes, swerving the minibuses, in perfect harmony, in a ritual dance synchronised to perfection.
She got down a couple of stops before. As she did, our eyes met for the first time, and in them i saw an answering look of ecstasy, a knowledge that what we shared will be with both of us for a long time to come.
I was walking on clouds when i got down. Can life be any more perfect? Should I finally start thinking seriously about taking a tranfer to Cal? Should I postpone my ticket tomorrow and wait at the auto stand at the same place and same time? Should I pay a 100 bucks to the auto driver?
Thoughts of money brought me back to harsh reality. The driver was waiting impatiently with palms outstretched. I aplogised and fumbled for my wallet.
It was gone.
Nov 24, 2006
A Greek Tragedy
w: come closer
m: huh?? what's got into you?
w: just come. feeling funny
m: yippee!
w: mmm
m: mmm
w: mmmmm
m: mmmmmm
w: stop that! not now
m: what the..?
w: just hold me like this
m: (groan)
w: mmmm
m: mmmmmmm
w: take your hand out
m: christ!
w: let me
m: mmmmmmmmmm
w: take it out
m: (pant)
w: mmmmmmmmmm
m: (pant)
w: dont stop
m: (gasp)
w: (pant)
m: shit!
w: what?
m: sorry
w:
m: shit
w:
m: sorry
w:
m: i love you
w: good night
m: huh?? what's got into you?
w: just come. feeling funny
m: yippee!
w: mmm
m: mmm
w: mmmmm
m: mmmmmm
w: stop that! not now
m: what the..?
w: just hold me like this
m: (groan)
w: mmmm
m: mmmmmmm
w: take your hand out
m: christ!
w: let me
m: mmmmmmmmmm
w: take it out
m: (pant)
w: mmmmmmmmmm
m: (pant)
w: dont stop
m: (gasp)
w: (pant)
m: shit!
w: what?
m: sorry
w:
m: shit
w:
m: sorry
w:
m: i love you
w: good night
Nov 22, 2006
Not again!!!
Ordering that last one for the road proved to be a drastic mistake. As me and J stumbled into the deserted platform, we realised we had missed the last train home. And except for a few beggars bundled up in newspapers, there was not a single bastard in sight. The walk home was about 3 Km from the station, and it was not a very nice one. Especially on that cold, deserted winter night.
Perhaps the whiskey took the decision to start walking. Perhaps it was some suppressed desire to emulate adventurers who had plunged into the unknown to discover new lands. Whatever it was, it was a mistake.
This was a section of the city which was largely avoided by the everyday crowds. I mention the word 'city', but this 9 odd square kilometres could have been copied from here and pasted in Nevada and it would not have been out of place. It was a dumping ground at one time, when the municipality decided to turn it into a park. And as expected from their efficiency, the dumping stopped but the park was not constructed. And so it was now a deserted wasteland, used for drug deals in the daytime and dumping murder victims at night.
Thankfully it was a full moon night. To me it looked more of a fool moon night. Walking through the deathly silence, through mountains of waste bathed in that horrible cold white light, I finally realised what fools we had been in trying to attempt this. J must have started having misgivings as well, for he suddenly stopped. I turned to ask him what was wrong, but he was staring fixedly at a point about 100 yards to our right, and following his gaze I saw whatever it was that was staring back at us.
It was partially hidden behind the remnants of a smashed up maruti, but the upper half was visible. My screaming brains told me not to panic, that this was a human form, at worst a junkie who will whip out a knife and rob us, at best a beggar or a deranged man who probably stays here at night. But in my thundering heart I knew that junkie or beggar or lunatic - whatever it was, it was when he was a breathing, living man; now he was a creature from the other side.
to be continued (perhaps)...
Perhaps the whiskey took the decision to start walking. Perhaps it was some suppressed desire to emulate adventurers who had plunged into the unknown to discover new lands. Whatever it was, it was a mistake.
This was a section of the city which was largely avoided by the everyday crowds. I mention the word 'city', but this 9 odd square kilometres could have been copied from here and pasted in Nevada and it would not have been out of place. It was a dumping ground at one time, when the municipality decided to turn it into a park. And as expected from their efficiency, the dumping stopped but the park was not constructed. And so it was now a deserted wasteland, used for drug deals in the daytime and dumping murder victims at night.
Thankfully it was a full moon night. To me it looked more of a fool moon night. Walking through the deathly silence, through mountains of waste bathed in that horrible cold white light, I finally realised what fools we had been in trying to attempt this. J must have started having misgivings as well, for he suddenly stopped. I turned to ask him what was wrong, but he was staring fixedly at a point about 100 yards to our right, and following his gaze I saw whatever it was that was staring back at us.
It was partially hidden behind the remnants of a smashed up maruti, but the upper half was visible. My screaming brains told me not to panic, that this was a human form, at worst a junkie who will whip out a knife and rob us, at best a beggar or a deranged man who probably stays here at night. But in my thundering heart I knew that junkie or beggar or lunatic - whatever it was, it was when he was a breathing, living man; now he was a creature from the other side.
to be continued (perhaps)...
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