Malice

Ok, so I buy this insanely expensive, bleed your pockets out type expensive smart phone. You can call it peer pressure if you will. Personally, I was pretty happy with those unassuming little phones that happily let you call or text anyone without any fuss and without any charade to dazzle you to the point of tech worship. But then when you live with people who swear by these insanely rich pieces of circuit boards, one relents, you know. You then seek recourse in firebrand hypocrisy by buying the device one fine day. So anyway, I have a smart phone, is the point. I am goofing around and checking out all functionality and I get this watsapp thingy everyone is going gaga over. Again, Rome, Romans, you see. So I sync this thingummy with my contacts from my phone, and about 2 hours later this phone beeps. It’s a message. Watsapp. I first think its some stupid promo nonsense but then it aint that. It said “hi..”. From some female whose name brought some vague recollection. Like those tingling sensations you get when your brain tries to desperately tell you that you have come across that thing/person/sound/taste/smell/whatthef**kever it is once before. But its too vain to tell you what. So here I am with a message from a femme who I have no clue of but for a stupid tingling sensation. Well that normally happens. You see, my contacts is this roll call sort of thing that would give those guys who study people (anthropologists?) a hard on. I have the contact details of every single person I have ever met. And I never delete. I talk to a guy in the bus about how Obama’s financial ministrations are driving us off the fiscal cliff, I get his number. I help a female with her shopping baggage, I get hers. Sounds total psycho, but then people say I have great people skills. Again, not my point. Without thinking much, I “Hi..” back. And then she says “Remember me?”. The male ego doesn’t bow out just like that. I say ”of course!! How r u?”. And she says “You don’t do you? Want to meet up tomorrow and refresh that memory of yours??”. Now  I am completely curious. Wary, yes, but then, its a femme for godssakes. I might get me a nice time. And I say, “sure. Where n when?”. Looking back, I would kill myself twice over for saying that.

                                                            ****

Counselling is bullsh**.  My Post- traumatic stress disorder, or whatever they call it is my Post- traumatic stress disorder.  No shrink through any degree of soft passionate conversation and hypnotherapy and CBT or any of those things can do anything to help me. Heck, he cannot understand me, let alone breaking into soliloquies on how to cope with it. That hurts. Feigning conviction and telling me in that sickening murmur that he understands completely. That day was another of those days when I walked into that fraud place and pretended to have cottonplugs on while he proceeded with his customary drivel. I had just left the place when I got this watsapp notification saying that someone had added me. That was when all the latent hatred and revenge I had forgotten somewhere rose again. And that was how it all began.

                                                            ****

This female should have been really rich. This place she had chosen for our little rendezvous was crème-de-la-f**king-crème. So anyway, I see her and now that tingling sensation has become like a 1000 spiders crawling all over me. But I still can’t resolve the long standing issue of just who she is. We greet each other like long lost twins and give each other a bone crushing bear hug. Her dress left nothing to the imagination, by the way. This suit clad fellow gets us a table in one corner, set slightly apart from the rest of the pack and lights this big ass candle bang in the middle of the  table. “You still drink don’t you?” she asks, and I nod promptly, feeling slightly fishy about this whole business. She orders sparkling wine, and he excuses himself with a servile bow. “So tell me about what you are upto these days man, its been so long!”. She has one of the most sinfully disarming smiles I have ever seen. A perfect blend of coyness and mischief. The perfect seductress. My point is, even if I wanted to desperately man up and tell her I don’t for f**k’s sake know her, I was in it way too deep to tell her. Too far along. That’s how the male brain rationalizes. So I get on with it and chew the cud liberally, again, like long lost friends. Apart from being the seductress, she is also quite the talker. And before you know it, we are like a house on fire. Alcohol has progressed from wine to vodka,neat. And we are still talking, speech is beginning to slur and I am seeing double, but I keep going. The last thing I remember, to this date, is looking at her cleavage, in the light thrown by that candle, which was close to burning out ,by the way.

                                                            *****

The clothes were intentional. Decency was a thing I had given up on since what happened, but this was filthy even by those standards. This was moral degradation spawned by an overwhelming desire for masochism for the soul, flagellating it in a fervent attempt to exorcise the past. And I was almost there. Revenge is a dish best served cold, some fellow said. And mine had reached frigid levels. He was this close to passing out. All he needed was a prod in the right direction, and that came via a vial that I emptied into his 6^th peg. It was with some difficulty that I wrapped his hands around my shoulder and dragged him out to my car. No questions asked. My breasts were showing all the while, but who cares?

                                                            *****

I wake up to a searing pain all over my body like I am laid on a 100 burning stoves. I am totally out, ok? Totally disoriented, and i try to raise my hand and rub my eyes, which seem to be gummed together, my eyes, I mean, but I can’t move my hands, let alone raise them. And then someone splashed water on my face and I open my eyes and find the same female sitting cross legged, smoking. “ you can’t move because you have been glued to the bathtub. You are burning because I cut you a 100 times all over, superficially of course, else you would bleed out, and I bathed all those wounds with Chardonnay.”

                                                            ******

How many glue tubes did it take? A lot. And I enjoyed every moment of it. The alcohol was an inspired touch. I read somewhere that it does something to your burn receptors which lowers its threshold, in short, he suffers more. I was still surprised that he didn’t show any signs of recognition. That stung more than those wounds would be stinging him. After all, he had conquered me that day. I was his prized trophy in that pub. Admitting defeat, I asked him, “ Don’t you remember 31^st December 2011? The Watering Hole?”

                                                            *****

And then it all comes back to me, through all the pain. I had passed out in the pub that night. And it was the next day when I came to that my friend says that I did some serious nonsense bullsh** to this girl we met at the pub. Did I? He says that he ain’t playing me and that I should get in touch with her immediately. I said I would and go back the next day and tell him that we had met and that we had talked and we had made peace. He didn’t buy it, but then I always had great people skills. Well, I believe in Karma now.

                                                            *****

He is a smooth talker, that b*****d.  look how he plays it down. Sonofa***ch. There was this drinking game that night, and we were playing darts. Round of 3’s. guy v/s girl. Person making lesser points on a throw drinks a shot of vodka, neat, and should the girl lose, the guy gets to kiss her. I lose, and he comes over to kiss me. Sportingly, I oblige, and before I know it, he is kissing me awkwardly, aggressively, sloppily. I try to push him away at first, but then the alcohol gets the better of me, and I give in. Everyone is egging him on, and before I realize whats happening, he has turned me over, pulled down my pants, and begun thrusting. I am in pain, but my weak protestations are drowned out by the loud techno music. Its all over in a matter of 5 minutes. The last thing I remember is some girl coming over and asking me whether I am alright.

                                                            *****

Such things happen all the time in pubs. I didn’t know she was hurting.

                                                            *****

Purists might argue that this isn’t rape per se. I would gladly do this same thing to all of them.

                                                            *****

I should probably add that all this while, my mouth was neatly covered with masking tape, which she had peeled off when we were talking. In that time, she jacked up the stereo system volume somewhere in the next room. To drown out my screaming, I guess . All of a sudden, she puts this tape back on and starts emptying bottles of alcohol into the bath tub like crazy. The pain’s back on at full blast, and there I am, unable to writhe or move or do anything that could lessen the pain. She had thought this through. And through all this noise I hear her say “you will have to go now”. She lights a match and throws it into the tub. With a whoosh, all the alcohol fuels the flame and I have one inferno playing all over me, numbing me with pain. To hell and back would have been easier. That is when everything blacked out. I probably died, I don’t know.

                                                            *****

No matter what happens in your life, nothing prepares you for watching another human being burn to his death. You simply cannot sit back and watch. I had not reached that stage of malevolence. I knew this would happen and had kept an extinguisher handy. Without thinking twice, I opened it on him. I put out the flame in under half a minute. He was still breathing. Badly burnt, but still breathing. That is when I called for an ambulance, and fled.

                                                            *****

That’s love. That’s true love if you ask me. Nothing else can make a person intent on murder do a 180. Its pure,intense love. That is the only conclusion I can make, 2^nd degree burn injuries and multiple skin graft surgeries later.

                                                            *****

I don’t know what it was that made me do it. I am too busy trying to make good my escape to be thinking of it.

PS: The rape incident is based on a first person account I read somewhere. Don’t remember where. Its unnerving, to think that such things happen. Also,everything else is fiction.

Bun in the Oven

She threw up her hands in frustration.

"What is it with this city and traffic jams huh?!”

“More people, more vehicles, same road space. What else do you expect? Blame it on the burgeoning middle class wallet.” One thing he had learnt from two years of wedlock was that the only way to quell a bout of eloquence was to put off prompt replies. It worked like magic.  Both fell silent, lost in their respective thoughts. She looked around, but immediately got bored. Lots of vehicles with equally bored occupants. Her husband was humming some tune and tapping on the steering wheel, and in the process drumming up a royal cacophony.

“Stop that, will you?”

“Why, you don’t like it?”

“Not one bit.” She punctuated each word with adequate spacing to convey the message.

“OK Madame, this is your chariot, I am but a chauffeur”. She smiled at that innocent, disarming grin on his face.

She had had an incredibly happy week. He was in a really good mood. He went out of his way to please her, even took a day off to be with her. And to top it all up, they were going shopping today. It was as if he had magically transformed from that irritable, moody fellow from two weeks back. They would talk very less. She would see very less of him. And she would suffer silently. She had begun to doubt his loyalty, but then all those were put to rest. He had finally turned the corner, and she genuinely felt that the worst was over. Her thoughts were broken by the sound of a child crying in the adjacent car.

“Don’t you think its time we had children?”

“What? Oh yeah, sure! Right now?”

His cheekiness irked her. “ Its been 2 years now, how long will you keep avoiding this issue?”

“Listen, let’s just give it some more time ok? A child is an added responsibility, and I am not sure whether I am ready to shoulder that responsibility. Let’s spend some more time together, alright? I know I have been slightly off lately, but I am over that now.”

“Great, couples our age are well and truly on the family way, and here we are, still in the Know Each Other phase. Brilliant.”

“Let’s not fight and spoil our moods now. I will make it up to you, I promise.”

                                                            ***

    He was a cocktail of emotions. Anger, ecstasy, expectation, guilt and above all, revenge: allowed to ferment over time, but never watered down. He had played this scene over a million times, and it all ended in one overwhelming image: his mother and sister, whole, hale and hearty, smiling.  

   As opposed to two headless corpses, laid out unceremoniously in the snow, every inch of their bodies violated by Men of Authority. They were raped by the men multiple times; she was pregnant;before granting then the mercy of their cold knives. He had held onto that wound for 13 years, and it had culminated in an opportunity to exact his long overdue revenge. He never harboured any misconceptions of this being the Will of God.

     He knew very well that he was employing the cruel alternative of using unsuspecting civilians to get back at the Men. But ethical debates were strictly for teatime. For him, this was deeply personal, and he volunteered without batting an eyelid. He would have to get married to avoid suspicion and grant legitimacy to the whole op. He was however not to have children. He followed their instructions to the letter, while harbouring the utmost hate towards Them. But they were needed; he could not do it without Them.  All of that was behind him now. He was almost there.

“Don’t you think it’s time we had children?”

                                                                  ***

He had chosen the most crowded part of the shopping complex. It was time. He looked at her, and the only things he now felt were guilt, lament and immeasurable pain, as he clutched the Trigger one final time.

Sthreeswapnasamudram

It was turning out to be a most memorable night, a heady mix of nicotine, the zingy salty air, and an effervescent, eccentric female had more than taken care of that. He was just beginning to get over the rather peculiar way in which the night had begun, when she popped the rather uncomfortable question.

**

“What’s wrong in being angry huh? Everyone makes it out to be some sort of illness plaguing your system, and you try to weed it out by laughing away like morons with something up their arse, why?!! Its good to be angry, you know, its only when you are angry that you feel vast reserves of energy in you, you know, you keep bounding about saying stuff to yourself like a mad hatter, you are actually bustling with life when you are angry, as opposed to when you are docile and slouching like a spineless something in your couch trying to figure out what to watch on TV. Take it from me, you are healthier when you are angry.” Her conviction and rapidly moving arms seemed like something out of a Tarantino movie.

 “Do you do standup?”

 “No, why?”

 “Your mannerism reminds me of one, are you a shrink?”

 “No, why?”

 “The way you talk reminds me of one. You are a standup the shrink cat brought in.”

 “Cats are quite wonderful creatures don’t you think? They have that quiet dignity about them, cultured, if you will, and they mind their own business, not like those stupid canines that lick you senseless at the drop of a hat. I’ve never liked dogs, you know, too intrusive, and stupid, following you around all over the place, I let go of my Vodafone the minute they started doing those stupid dog commercials.”

“ You might want to snuff out your joint, you know, you are already way beyond your senses”, he said, taking a puff off his own.

“ oh no no darling, these rants are not nicotine fuelled. I am known to be eloquent, and articulate”, a regal, nonchalant wave of the hand punctuated her words.”

“Well if I could, I would prostate before you to make you zip up”, he was reaching his wit’s end, though he had secretly begun to admire this mysterious chatterbox acquaintance he had made.

“ Oh you poor wasted boy, then do it, why don’t you?”

“I am presently indisposed”.

“Indisposed, indisposed is such a convenient word no? It is the yada yada of excuses”. He felt a pressing need to ask what yada yada was, but he somehow suppressed his urge.

“So tell me, what made you come over to this lovely place at this unearthly hour? Lizards copulating madly in your bed ?”

“ Oh I would be a fool to hive up a rendezvous with such a pretty female”, his blunt methods of flirtation were rather well known.

“ Oh so you are one of those shamelessly hopeless romantics aren’t you?”, she was known for calling a spade a spade.

“ Well it has worked to great effect previously”, he said in defence, never one to admit defeat.

Conversation died off, as they lay there in the moist sand, gazing up at a cloudless sky, silence broken only by the waves as they rolled ashore one after the other, leaving a crab or two scurrying along in its wake. The lighthouse illuminated vast swathes of the sea, as the beam of light danced around in wide arcs. Overall, it was a most tranquil, beautiful night, appealing to the romantic in him, doing nothing of the sort to the cynic in her.

“I had a dream of someone trying to kill me, it was pretty unnerving”. She burst out in peals of uncontrollable laughter.

“ So that’s why you are here? Because you saw a dream? Boy oh boy !” Her laughter eventually died down, leaving him rather red faced, though she couldn’t see that in the darkness, much to his relief.

“ Why are people so scared of death? Is it not a relief from the tribulations in life? Come on man, we need more stars up there in the sky, it will look good, the stars down here are arrogant truckloads of trash!”.

“ I get the point”, he said, through clenched teeth. She was clearly off the hook.

“ Hey tell me something, this person who killed you, was it a female who stuck a pen in your neck?”

“ How on earth..”, he was stopped midsentence, as just then she proceeded to take out a Reynolds from her pocket and sink it viciously in his neck, rupturing his jugular vein. He was too shocked to respond. A piercing pain permeated rapidly through his body, which then gave way to a gurgling sound as blood oozed out in copious amounts.

**

He was too shocked too notice the speedometer needle and the fuel needle approach red. This was not the first time he had had nightmares, but this one was different in terms of the effect it had on him, It was grotesque, unnerving, and he could not go back to sleep, not with that image playing in front of his eyes. That’s when he got on his bike and shot off into the night.

**

He was not expecting anyone at the beach, not at this hour. It was a secluded, isolated place, not someplace many people knew, and that made him more nervous. As he went closer, he realized that it was a cigarette toting female, a rather young, attractive female at that. He felt his fear steadily seeping away. He walked up to her, she seemed to be sleeping.

“ Mind if I join in?”, she woke up with a start.

“ Whoa, you scared me, I wasn’t expecting anyone to turn up at this hour”.

“ Well that makes the two of us, whats your name?”

“ Nothing significant, got a cigarette?”

“ I have something stronger”, he lay down next to her, and they lit up. “So why are you here?”, he asked, to break the ice.

“ Stormed out of the hostel, spat with warden”, they smoked their joints in silence.

“ Angry young female huh”.

**

He lay there in the sand, writhing in pain, steadily losing consciousness and a lot of blood. She stood above him, smoking, in no apparent hurry.

“you know boyo, there are two types of dreams, the good dream and the bad dream. The difference between the two, is that bad dreams usually come true. She suddenly yanked him closer by the collar and whispered in his ears, “ You, my love, had a terribly bad dream”. The slow, passionate strawberry flavoured kiss had a tone of finality to it. And that’s when everything turned to an endless sea of white.

Mouse to replace elephant as Railways mascot

In a move that is bound to stir up a hornet’s nest,Union Railways minister Tinesh Dwivedi today announced his intention to replace Bholu,the endearing,cuddly elephant mascot of the indian railways with a mouse,named rather aptly as Sahyatri.

Speaking at a press conference, he revealed that it was something which was on his mind for a long time,and he felt that this was the opportune moment to roll it out. “I have talked to a lot of people,both as a minister and as common man,and I feel that I speak for a wide cross section of the junta”,he said.

Explaining the logic behind the move,he said that the ubiquitous mouse had become an integral part of any train journey. “ Among the things that you would take back from a train journey,the mouse would be right on top of the list,its actually your sahyatri, something you would inevitably associate with the Indian Railways, and hence this change in the Railways’ mascot is apt and befitting”.

The move seems to have struck a chord with frequent travellers, with a lot of them voicing their support for the same. “It takes time for the import of the move to sink in,but when it does,you marvel at its compelling simplicity and novelty and bask in its glory,absolutely splendid,one of the best things to have happened to the Railways”, said a rather eloquent and visibly thrilled gentleman. “Just to look at these harmless,amiable creatures diligently scurrying up and down the aisle is in itself a source of inspiration,and when you are sitting in a train,with little to do,these things seldom go unnoticed”,averred a psychiatrist.

However,like any other government policies,this move has had its fair share of dectractors as well. The most vociferous opposition has come in from Statue City,with a visibly upset Bhaiji  trashing the move as being absolute rubbish. “The elephant has over the years come to represent the trials and tribulations of the socially downtrodden,this move is paramount to a slap on their faces,we strongly condemn this atrocious move”, he said. He also informed the press of the party’s intention to erect a statue of an elephant outside the Statue Central as a mark of protest. Joining Bhaiji in expressing displeasure over the decision,Ms DeeDee has alleged that the states were not taken into confidence at the time of drafting the legislation. “The Railways might be centrally owned but the very fact that rails pass through all states makes the Indian Railways a state subject. The government’s policies seem to be in direct conflict with the principles of a federal structure,and this sort of autocratic rulership is not acceptable,the government must get off its high horse.”,she said. The season of rollbacks was not lost on her,and she wasted little time in asking for the Minister’s head. “He has proved that he is not capable of running such a crucial department,and has lost the mandate to be Railway minister. I demand his immediate resignation and a rollback of this nonsensical proposal. In fact,I ll be going to the Capital,on elephant back,to see to the matter myself”,she concluded in a hurry.

While the proposal  is set to hang fire for a long time to come, it is obvious that the move has captured the nation’s imagination,and it remains to be seen whether the government gives in to popular demand or satiates its political allies.

The Unholy Confluence

It was the coldest day in about a decade,they said. The news channels and papers were full of it. “thand se behaal janta”, screamed one channel; “thand ki maramari”,said another.

Bhen ke l***e,he said. You don’t have any right to talk about how cold it is,sitting in a centrally heated room with plush interiors,elaborately covered from head to toe,sipping a cup of steaming hot coffee. You’ve got to be outside,on the roads,fighting a losing battle with the merciless elements of nature. You’ve got to know how it feels like when ice cold winds rush in through a stuck window,steamrollering a meek defence in the form of a shredded blanket and cut through your bones. You’ve got to know the futile attempts involved in getting some circulation to go through your benumbed hands. You’ve got to know what it takes to steer an ailing taxi through dense fog with those hands.

Well,they were correct to some extent. It definitely was the coldest day ever.  He was shivering from head to toe, partly because of the cold, and partly because of rock bottom alcohol reserves in his system. He held the steering wheel firmly, to get a grip on himself. It wouldn’t work.  Nothing would work. He simply needed spirit. He had just finished work, and was about to wheel it for the nearest watering hole, when he was flagged down by a rather agitated couple near the flyover. 

Their car had broken down, apparently. What caught his attention however, was the woman.  He saw more skin than clothes.  He had no intention of taking them anywhere,not when alcohol was waiting,but the cleavage and assets and all relegated alcohol to second spot. “kahaan jaana hai?” 

“Bhai rpm lounge hai basant lok mein,wahaan chod de” ,

 “400 loonga,ulta padhega” ,

“tu 1000 le le bhai,seedha kara de”.

They seemed filthy rich,and he was ripping them off senseless. He didn’t mind,he saw it as an exercise for reducing the gap between rich and poor. The woman didn’t seem happy with her partner’s bargaining,and she was rattling off sentence after sentence in chaste English. The gentlemen seemed to be reciprocating in kind. He didn’t mind, he had dedicated all his senses to the rear view mirror.

                                               ***

“Step on it,will you? We are already late,this party is pretty important for me. “

“Well you are distracting me with that rather risqué dress preference of yours,madame,tu ekdum maal hai yaar,gaadi kaise chalaaoon?”

“Shut up and keep driving,douchebag, its an A list party,man!”

“I cant for the life of me understand whats so special about the party. You’ll start off with being slightly tipsy,you ll then graduate to being Her Holy Highness,and you ll top it off with being freelance cotwarmer. Whats the difference?”

“Hey am I dreaming or is it actually smoke coming outta the bonnet?”

“Well,you surely aint dreaming,lady..  We have a problem”

“Pull over and see if you can fix it no?”He pulled over. He checked if it could be fixed. It couldn’t.

“It cant be fixed”

That’s approximately when the lady lost it.

“What the f**k do you mean by you cant fix it??! Bloody useless vermin,try and get a taxi then!”

There seemed to be no taxis around,everyone had called it a day rather early,and the few on the roads were in a hurry to get off it. Except for one cabbie,though.  Well it was clear what prompted him to hit the brakes though, a minimally clothed female always tilts things in your favour.

. “kahaan jaana hai?” 

“Bhai rpm lounge hai basant lok mein,wahaan chod de” ,

“400 loonga,ulta padhega” ,

“tu 1000 le le bhai,seedha kara de”.

“Are you f***ing mad??!! He s ripping you off man!What nonsense is this! Its barely 4 kilometres away are you in your senses!!?”

“If you have not noticed by now,you have miraculously managed to attract the attention of a dozen  odd lecherous eyes,the best thing to do would be to get you indoors as soon as possible,so shut up and play along for once”

She had worked him up considerably,and as much as she liked bossing him around,she didn’t like it when he was in one of those moods. She knew how to cheer him up. Her agile,nimble hands slowly slid along his lean physique and came to rest roundabouts the crotch.

“What do you think you are doing??! This is a taxi for god’s gracious sake stop it !!”

That’s when he saw another pair of the lecherous eyes he was talking about staring at the duo in the rear view mirror.

“kya dekh raha hai bhen***d gaadi chalaa sharaafat se!!”

He was now positively livid. Well,so much for trying,she thought.

                                               ***

He had completely forgotten the fact that he was  the one driving the cab. The rear view was the only thing that mattered now. Heck,even those movies they showed at the theatre didn’t have such sensational females.. Subtlety and wind became one, this was now shameless ogling. Things had started to increasingly mirror the movies,the car may as well drive itself for all he cared,he had totally given in to carnal pleasures.

“kya dekh raha hai bhen***d gaadi chalaa sharaafat se!!”

Well,all good things come to an end rather rapidly. The cold and the shivering and the alcohol craving and the honking and the steering wheel  and the road all came back in an explosion of sight,smell,sound,taste  and touch. There was an awkward silence in the cab,and he drove on,looking resolutely at the road,with the feeblest of glances towards the rear view.

They were at a traffic junction now. Even the homeless seemed to have found some sort of lodging to go to,the junction was devoid of all hawkers and beggars,except for one kid,who presently came up to the taxi.. He didn’t seem to be in good shape. Tattered blanket,tattered clothes,skeletal figure..

“chutta nahi hai,nikal yahaan se”;said the guy.. He still seemed to be angry.. That more or less remained the mood till he dropped them off at the lounge,and shot off for the nearest bar.
                                                         ***

It seemed to be a rather busy day for the morgue guy. All hell had broken loose in the city. Lit up lounges,illicit liquor,winter related deaths.. He was at his wit’s end.. He was having a tough time getting people to identify bodies of their folks,and to compound matters,almost all his colleagues had gone on leave:he was severely shorthanded.. He was nearing the end of his shift,and the replacement guy hadn’t turned up. He could take no more,he decided to close up the morgue and leave. It was when he was switching off the lights that he noticed the 4 unidentified bodies in the corner. 2 were charred beyond recognition; that would be the lounge fire, he said to himself.. Then there was this boy they picked up off the streets..A victim of the coldwave.. And then there was the hooch tragedy guy.. He was impressed with his memory.. Aging didn’t seem to have any effect on it.. 

His attention went back to the corpses. He somehow was fascinated by the way they lay,in eternal slumber. It was as if Death whispered a lullaby.*

                                
                                                  _____________
PS:* Credits due @opeth for the lovely ,lovely song title

Part your legs and Push

How I came to be at the receiving end of this instruction is a long and painful story, which I tried to put into fictional form, inventing this wife and husband. It must come across as a surprise to you that I could not, and cannot write a story to save my own dear life. Hence I now attempt to write this in the usual way as such, the Totalliemeh way.

.

Guest posting is NOT an easy task.And I have been bugged, nudged, threatened, blackmailed(emotionally and otherwise) into writing one. The fact that the owner of this blog wrote a kidu GP on my blog, didn't help to put it off for long. The voice of my conscience, which for some weird reason, resembles the blog owner's voice, gave me sleepless nights, I tossed around with this heavy weight on my mind, a debt, and ..er. well, here I am.

I am not fat.

It is a liberating experience to write that on someone else's blog, for a change. I guess this is my primary concern regarding my life, second only to my unemployed state and unknown dark future. Lets just not go there okay? Okay. So where were we?

Yea, Am NOT fat. Nope. No. But Somehow, everyone seems to think so. I was wondering, why is that a problem? Should it be a problem? Surely you will feel that how food is being processed and deposited on my body is none of anyone's business. but it isn't so. Right from the college store lady who inquired about "the baby" to the old classmate who didn't recognize me at the alumni meet, from a best friend who literally starved herself scolding me for taking second helpings, to a brother who called you thadichi, I have had enough of humiliating experiences, which -which prompted me to go join a --GYM.

Ah. Gym was like school. I was excited to go at first, my mother had to drag me to the place the next two weeks, and I accepted my fate and began liking the gym, after a month. But the "I love to work out" attitude was a rather strange journey, which is, am sure, quite clear in the first sentence of this post. The Leg press machine, asks you to put your legs on the press, part it slightly and push. Well, it was a rather strange analogy that the mind cooked up, but it only confirms my fears that the mind is highly perverted.

I liked walking on the treadmill, which I used to spell as threadmill, and I thought it was named so coz life was hanging like on a thread, while you are on it. I loved the machine, I used to walk , watching the tv infront of me, the hands free to use the remote, all was hunky dory till the instructor came along and asked me to increase the speed from 1.5 km/h and actually "run". Then I began to hate it as I drew analogies from my life, to explain the way I felt about the machine. It is a stupid machine, no matter how much you struggle and run you are at the same position and if you stop, you fall and die.

I was never allowed on the exercise bike as I was prone to sleep while I was on it. The dumbbell exercise was a humiliation, I couldn't lift the lowest of weights. I became a child once again who has forgotten her arithmetic while counting the number of push-ups. Abs exercises were an all in one- It was humiliating, exhausting and I was often found nodding off with my legs in the air. 

Don't wonder. I quit gym a few weeks ago. My trainer keeps calling me, even from different numbers and for all your information, I am right now in the States, married. If she asks, stick with this story. 

The profound influence this blog owner's pragmatic nature had, has, have, whatever- on my life should be mentioned now. His philosophy seems to be rather a very simple, well known and a widely followed one. Eat what you want, when you want, avoid exercise if you can help it, and die a happy man/woman. He looks everyday in the mirror and swears he will gain another kilo that day, which, he achieves quite easily, and he is a happy contented man, if there was any. And I am allowed to affectionately call him "Thadiya". and I do. and I love calling him that as well. Oye- don't get slim, ever. I hope you always remain the cushy squishy pudgy self. 

Love,

Chyechu.

                                                                         ***

Ladies and gentlemen,

That was the fabulously magnificient Totalliemeh opening up on a rather touchy issue. This unprecedented exclusive from the elusive,secretive,mysterious woman's pen brought to you by Oldblighter_Vanwinkle productions. Stay tuned for more sensational scoops.cheers.

Kahani

Alright listen. There’s this downright amusing thing that happened some time back. I m sure you would read it in the papers,but then you know how these paper guys are.. they see a chick with her strap slightly askew,and you read about a female walking topless in public glare ,”in what can be called a blatant disregard of public decency”. Anyway,I digress. This is going to happen quite a few times,so kindly bear with me.

Alright,so there was this guy,who had this shop right next to the main road. You know that road which is perennially clogged to the hilt? The one which has all these insanely,vulgarly rich shops lining it?playground of the bourgeoise?yeah that one.. This dude had this shop which sold cigarettes and all… Not quite keeping up with the rich boys,I know,but then if its there its there..

Anyway,this guy had a problem. I mean,its not something which is out there for all to see,its as if he was going around filling cigarettes with cyanide and all,but you could tell,you would not be able to put a finger on it,but you could tell. The sort of problem any hotshot shrink would kill to check out.

Now,this guy used to open up shop at about 8 in the morning..he had this kid as a help,he d picked him up from the pavement or something.. And the only thing this guy would do was sit in this rather comfyish arm chair he had,put his feet up on the counter,and stare at the traffic on the road through this glass pane his shop had,which,by the way,was bedecked with an inch thick layer of grime and muck and avian excrement and all sorts of dirt you could think of.. Coming to think of it,I don’t remember a single day someone did something to that glass.. It just stayed on the glass pane,etched in permanence,as those poet fellows or the writers would put it.. Personally,I wouldn’t put it past the guy to have thought of it as some sort of a crazy “COME ON IN,MAN!!” signboard.. And somehow,he stared through all that.. And he wouldn’t even acknowledge his regular customers,a cursory,imperceptible nod of the head,perhaps,but that was merely mechanical more than anything else.. ya,so anyway,this was all he used to do.. He seemed to be fascinated by the incessant flow of traffic,obsessed,like a child would be with his toys,minus the childlike enthusiasm of course,perfunctory obsession,if you will..

Now,let me bring in some perspective of my own.. Listen to this closely,because this might explain why this dude did what he did.. What he did will come at the end,obviously,like all good stories.. I guess he was probably appalled by the levels life has stooped down to.. yeah this dude metaphorically extrapolated the flow of traffic to the ebb and flow of life.. Badass no?wait,it gets badasser.. What I mean is,what sort of life are you leading when you don’t have the slightest regard or respect for another individual? No? you simply cannot bring yourself to be behind a guy for some time,no,you have to honk the other guy out senseless and get past.. You are so bloody obsessed with leaving the pack behind in this stupidass world,that you ll do anything to acheive whatever stupid thing it is that you want to achieve.. The last dregs of humanity have been drained out forever. You cannot,wll not get out of your insanely sophisticated automobile to help a guy with a flat tire or something,unless it’s a buxom chick with lots of cleavage visible. Oh you get a hard on with that kitschy stuff don’t you? Where are we headed yo? The light turns green and bang,it’s a deafening cacophony of a zillion odd stupid horns,you just cant wait.. well,you have got millions riding on every second haven’t you?Understandable..
I guess this guy became morbidly fascinated with this whole ruddy concept with each passing day.. a never ending saga of degenerating decencies.. why morbid?

One day,I mean the day I m talking about,the day which this amusing incident happened,this guy wanted to do this social experiment sorta thingy to actually gauge the extent of this rut.. What he did, he took out his gun,went to the junction,this happened during rush hour,mind,and blew his goddamn brains off.. Now that’s dramatic for you.. alright,anyway,thanks for your attention,now forget this,and get back to whatever it is that you were doing.. cheerio..

PS: to the cop or whoever it is that finds this bit of literary genius.. Get this published,man,just give it to one of em douchebag reporters.. And,oh,sorry about all the blood and all,just wash it off or something.