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One Sky - Chapter 5 : Playing with Puddles

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  • ridgeet roy
    Chapter 5 - Playing with Puddles ... Ok. So I can’t recall the last name of the guy. I don’t even remember asking him. He introduced himself as Raj, which
    Message 1 of 1 , Nov 3, 2005
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      Chapter 5 - Playing with Puddles

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      Ok. So I can’t recall the last name of the guy. I don’t even remember asking him. He introduced himself as Raj, which happens to be a very popular name in Bangalore. Every other guy seems to call themselves Raj. Is there some strange fascination behind it? It doesn’t make them any sexier, forget about charming. At the end of the day, they are still YUK.

       

      So I was least surprised when this man just mumbled the name Raj. In fact I would have taken aback had he used some other name. But like Shakespeare said, what is in a Name? So I decided to look beyond the name (or in this case, look below the name … not too much, just around the hip).

       

      I missed that play on penises and their dialogues. I read the review in The Times and I found it quite interesting. So when this guy finally undid his brief (there was not much action before that either – apparently he didn’t care for foreplays), his little thing reminded me of the play. I wonder what would be the thought of the little brown thing hanging. Probably, hey brother, this is the eighth time this week; gimme some rest.

       

      Anyway so after the ejaculation the guy had to leave for he had some very important work. Typically, all important work springs up after you are limp and done. So I just let him out of the apartment, wishing I don’t have to see him again. And then I noticed – he has left his swipe card in my room.

       

      …

       

      “Ok so let me get this clear. You feel that he is cheating on you, but at the same time you want him to meet your parents.”

       

      I ignored Urmi’s raised eyebrows on the other side of the glass partition that separated the two of us. Quickly glancing at my notes I reached for my coffee. A clear case of what Dr. Rehan always classified as too much love – but for the wrong one. Only 2 minutes left for the next commercial.

       

      “Well Sujitha, I must ask you, why do you feel that he is cheating on you? After all you said that you two have been going strong for 2 years now and that you have always trusted him. What makes you feel the change?”

       

      “Sajan, I know I sound stupid but I just …” she seemed to hesitate.

       

      “Go on. Don’t be hesitant. We are all human beings with conceptions; you cannot classify yourself as stupid. We need to know …”

       

      “Sajan, it’s just that I often find him giving glances at other women. I know he does. And when I confront him, he just gets so angry. You… You won’t understand what it feels like.”

       

      Ya right. As if I haven’t been there.

       

      “Look Sujitha, it is not fair to doubt your boyfriend just because he checks out other women. Many people do that. Both men and women. It’s just natural. What’s important is that he is still with you and wants to go around with you. We can’t call this as cheating. In fact,” I tried to laugh, an attempt to make the tensed caller feel a bit relaxed, “a dear friend of mine used to say – we don’t have control over our eyes, but our heart always knows to bring it back to where it belongs.”

       

      Urmi is already signaling me to break for commercial. I hate when I have to finish the show like this.

       

      “Well Sujitha, is there anything else that has been bothering you. Just have faith in him. After all, he loves you right.”

       

      No response. Is she there?

       

      “But I must ask you; inspite of having the feeling that he is cheating on you, why do you want him to meet your parents and get married.”

       

      “Because I don’t have any other choice.”

       

      “Why?”

       

      “I …”

       

      Urmi signaled that she is giving me only 10 seconds to wind up. I gulped the rest of the coffee and gathered my notes. I am supposed to speak in the third half of my radio show on stress management. As I quickly reached for my notes from my bag, I realized I didn’t receive a complete answer. Must be family pressure, or pregnancy. Poor Thing, I thought. As Urmi began her final countdown, I moved closer to the microphone to announce the end of this session and the  break.

       

      “I lost my virginity to him. I can’t marry another guy. What will he think?”

       

      Urmi forgot to show 1. We were all staring at the microphone. None of us knew what to say.

       

      …

       

      “Men are such assholes.” Urmi announced.

       

      “Hey come on. Just because some nut feels that her (future) husband will react if he doesn’t see blood on the first night of fuck, doesn’t classify all of us as jerks. Come on, be realistic.”

       

      Nigel has just put on a different stroke of colour on his neatly crewed hair. The Goan has been gifted with humour, charm, wit, and definitely looks. He covers sports for the station, and is a heartthrob of many females in the city.

       

      “Oh please. It’s true. After all you guys wont show blood.” Urmi was determined for a fight.

       

      “Who said?”

       

      We all quickly turned to the voice. Tharagan, the otherwise shy news reader, who was sitting in his usual place in the cafeteria, munching on his wife’s sandwiches, gave a sideways glance at us. Apparently he never joins the five of us, and I didn’t realize he was even listening. Tharagan was one of those quiet nerdy types who don’t make much of an impression, or more correctly, a difference.

       

      Sibi and Karen gave a suppressed giggle. I looked at Urmi, who was definitely dumbfounded. Nigel gave a smile to Tharagan that seemed to mean – My sympathies but wishing you didn’t have to share that.

       

      I just quietly thought what that poor girl must be going through. We call ourselves a developing country. But we are still caught up in so many reservations. We talk of women liberalization, but are we really that liberated?

       

      …

       

      “So what do you like?”

       

      “Smooching, long foreplays, a passionate sex, sucking.”

       

      “Do you like anal?”

       

      “Well with protection.”

       

      “Of course. So you have place?”

       

      “Yes.”

       

      “Where?”

       

      …

       

      107 minutes later I watched a Mr. “Raj”eev get dressed. My legs were still shaky after the banging. But one thing was for sure, I won’t be seeing him again. Even if he is interested I am not. After all, I almost choked on his dick. What was he thinking? Am I a human being or just a mouth?

       

      Jerk.

       

      …

       

      As I waited for my bus the next morning, I began my usual routine – watching people. I love doing this. It’s a great study. Body language, facial expression, appearance – all contributes a lot to my research. I want to write a book on all these. Never really got a chance to sit down and work on it though.

       

      It had rained last night. The road in front of the kormangala bus depot was one of those beautiful parts of human civilization that has been completely ignored by the rulers of the same. So puddles have formed at every place.

       

      It was one of those puddles over which he ran his thunderbird.

       

      It was one of those puddles I was standing right next to.

       

      It was one of those puddles that splashed its muddy water all over a 27 year old radio psychiatrist on a Tuesday Morning.

       

      It was one of those puddles that made this city worse, this morning even worse.

       

      It was one of those puddles that made one 6 feet two, north Indian, very fair, broad shouldered, small chinky-like hazel eyed, red checked half sleeve, ivory black Newport, dark brown middle parted and long haired, dark rayban, stubbled, well built … a young MAN, look back. At me.

       

      For a moment the world stopped around me. The mud on my new Metro shoes didn’t matter. The dirt on my lucky sky blue shirt didn’t matter. The sympathy filled, mockery saturated, entertained faces around me didn’t matter. The fact that my 171 left the bus stop without me didn’t matter. Nothing did. For a moment, nothing will.

       

      I didn’t know what I had done after that. I didn’t react to a soft, hardly meant sorry that was thrown at me. When I reached the station in that state, one hour late, I ignored the hubbub around me. I just quietly walked to my place, to my microphone. I didn’t notice the time passing by. I didn’t notice the perplexed expression on Urmi’s face. I didn’t realize what my callers, who thankfully were few that day with hardly any serious issues, were saying. I didn’t even notice Jai watching me.

       

      All I could see was a face. All I could hear was a voice. All I could feel was his look. All I cared was him. All I wanted was him.

       

      Was it love at first sight? Or just a crush? Or lust? It’s not a new feeling for me. But then why is it this intense?

       

      I just don’t know. I don’t know anything, anymore. All I knew was that I had to meet him. For once. For ever.

       

      …

       

      “Is something troubling you?”

       

      I looked up at Jai. He was looking at me intently. I just smiled and nodded a denial.

       

      “Are you sure?”

       

      I laughed.

       

      “Yes Jai. Am fine. Thanks for your concern.”

       

      “If there’s anything you need…”

       

      Ya the guy from the morning…

       

      “No thanks Jai. I am fine.”

       

      …

       

      It was a quiet ride back home. Nigel had insisted on dropping me. I didn’t feel like getting into a conversation. Nigel also seemed preoccupied with his own thought. All the way he hummed some heavy metal.

       

      …

       

      “I just want to confess something to you. I realize what I am thinking is wrong, and right now I feel very ashamed about it also. Can you help me?”

       

      “Sure. Why don’t you tell me what it is?”

       

      “Last week a girl called Sujitha said that she has to get married to the guy to whom she lost her virginity. I know what the implications of such a situation can be. You see I got married just two months back. And I felt that my wife was not a virgin. I was expecting something normal, but …”

       

      “Ok.”

       

      “I hated this fact. I just couldn’t seem to make myself agree to the fact that I had to spend the rest of my life with her. The thought that someone else had touched her before me just makes me feel so disgusted. I just … I have thought of divorcing her.”

       

      “Now that is a very strong decision. Are you sure of the fact that your wife lost her virginity prior to you. I hope you know that certain facts, or rather the absence of it doesn’t prove that a girl is no longer a virgin. Often it is said that self satisfaction practices, cycle rides or even hormonal disbalance causes a girl to loose, what otherwise defines here virgin status.”

       

      “I know. I just couldn’t make myself come to agree of this fact.”

       

      “Look Prasanth. Is it really important now? Why don’t you analyze your wife’s present commitment to you – NOW. It doesn’t matter what her past is. Her present is you. And if she is devoted then her future will also be you, just like she will be yours. Don’t let such preconceptions spoil your marriage at the initial stage.”

       

      …

       

      “So what do you think that girl Sujitha must be doing next?”

       

      “Sujitha is just one who had the courage to confess this fact. There are many nameless out there who are probably facing the same issue.”

       

      “It is very sad.”

       

      I looked at Jai. He seemed deep in thought. He is trying to keep stubble.

       

      “Do you want a lift back?” He asked as we stepped out of the building.

       

      “No thanks. I will manage.”

       

      “Are you sure you won’t land up in a puddle?”

       

      …

       

      As I stood for my bus, I watched the tall buildings on MG Road. The roads were busy as ever. The sky was light grey already.

       

      Amidst the regular ones came a faint yet familiar noice of an engine. A white shiny thunderbird vroomed past me, carrying two well built bald guys.

       

      Move on. I said to myself.

       

      …

       

      A 201 stopped at the bus stand. Sajan grewal and 10 other men and women struggled to get into an already filled bus. Little did anyone pay attention to a silver bodied thunderbird coming to a stop – just next to the bus. The rayban clad driver asked his passenger to get down.

       

      “You can get a bus for Ulsoor from here. Be careful. Don’t land up into any trouble. I will call you tonight. And do not tell your dad about this afternoon. It’s not the right time. Girls are serious issues to any family.”

       

      The 201 slowly began to move. Just before anybody could do anything, it ran over a puddle, splashing its content all around.

       

      The post-teen passenger quickly ran to his brother’s aid.

       

      “This city sucks. Got a tissue Manish?” was all Aakash muttered.

       

       

       

       


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