YARNS OF LAMA-3

                                                                   MIRAGE


            "Damn , this thing ain't working... ".

            "Still not answering , Saheb ?? ".

            "Nope...... Godforsaken rat sh**t ; where are those bu**ers ... ?? . Are they fishing in these sunken sands ??. Tell them this fu**king radio has to be kept abreast always. Not when they poop...";

Rage radiating from him spooked the young cortege . He cursed his father for senting him with the man in front of him ; taut, well-cut , fair man whose silver goggles glistened in the noon Sun.

  'God damn night pilferers...' ; the cortege mused....

Scorching heat dried his eyes and throat . They were at least 3 miles away from their tent and it was almost out of sight. His current master ; a freelance photographer from Mumbai ; slouched in the car like a lion , pretending a catnap to pounce on his prey. The beautiful wrangler jeep had no diesel left in it and served only as a shade from  the Sun. Those covert thieves might have emptied the tank , the previous night. Adding insult to the 'ass-injury' ,their wireless remained unanswered for the past 8 attempts. He knew, remaining abandoned for a long time called in queer dacoits , ceding physical harm in these barren havens. Initiation waited for his prod..

           "Saheb , I'll go to the tent and get some help. Its not safe to wait a reply.. ".

           "Hell... then why didn't you blurt it earlier, idiot?? ..  Move you're carcass fast. We ain't 3 miles away from you're shith**le tent.. ".

  'Insolent marathhi..' , he clutched his teeth.

           
           "Pls get me a gulp of water. I won't survive it with my dry throat ".

The Mumbaikar squinted that young lad with a despicable grimace in his arid lips. Like a person lending his vests to a panhandler, he gave his waterbag.

           " Don't drink full.. ".

Nodding head in utmost reverence; the cortege took a voracious gulp and started his return journey.

  'Poor lad.... But he deserves it. ' .

Sitting in the jeep, he didn't stop trying the walkie-talkie , but none answered. ...  It was his third and the last day in the outskirts of Rajasthan. His assignment on the vegetation and fauna of India's hottest hotspot would be completed with its credentials by that day. Apart from his assignments at Silent-valley in Kerala and at Sunderbans; the year had so far been  pathetically dry. The top grossing tabloids and journals; overwhelmed with their own snapshooters didn't valuably welcome his talents ; and those guesstimating contests inside the inner pages of peer magazines and eye-swelling exhibitions embedding the suburban nights tallied him to somewhere away from the hitlist. All his hopes relied on the THAR project ; which was his last contributor to a lukewarm professional year.But..

  'Here I'm ..... in middle of the-Great-nowhere-thar....  waiting for the service of a bunch of creepos..'

            He raked the backseat for a packet of cashew nut . Keeping his bare feet immersed in the sand he focussed his 42x optical zoom Nikon Coolpix P510 , and fidgeted his knuckles across the moving sand dunes . The sand was hot, but not scalding. Wind made the clouds meander in vortex; forming aberrant figures . At once he felt he was benched at Juhu beach ; in an afternoon sea breeze, the repercussions of air tooling through his ears.. and the exotic solitude inside the eddies of boisterous wind...
Moving the lens in a browbeating motion, his mind hovered in unison with the wind. He felt the encapsulation of all terrains on the world as one; anointing its significance in each and every corpuscle.
 
           In his engrossing stare, he saw something, shaking vigorously. Tremors unseated the surrounding sand in commotion ; a feeble sound with it. The horizon of small sand mounts hindered his LOS view.

  'What is it ?'

Eagerness is the best attribute of a successful lensman ; he knew that , but deep in his heart he felt trepid . Frivolous sands seemed to him as a formidable bait as he longed to take a snap of whatever that phenomenon was. Hopping on the bonnet of Wrangler, he zoomed at the maximum resolution. Still he couldn't get a pellucid image; ... toing and froing at his steps, he could fathom it was a man.., the phenomenon.. His squiggles professed clearly an enduring...,  the man was enduring severe pain and agony...

             Photographers of his kidney never craved for a dying man's final vitruvian snap and make the path-breaker moment; like those journalist accomplices.But the situation was different. Loosening his eyes from the lens, he marvelled in confusion. He looked around in a circle to find any trace of a living tissue; but all of it secluded to two souls.He tried the wireless again, just to hear the oblivious sound.
It occured to him pointless to careen his face away until that slight swiftly motion got over; but he felt more futile to rescue that person while himself was castaway.
In his lens, the person was , now , completely visible ; in his standing posture... but just for a jiffy... The next moment he fell like a bashed goat...  He couldn't choose between his imagination and senses..; his scruples prodded him to move. Snatching his camera, water-bag and the walkie-talkie, he ran on to him..

            As he got closer, feeble moans came audible. The man's overcoat was lying beside; his water-bag unbosomed. He prayed God this was not a bait from bandits, who would pounce all on a sudden on reaching that man. Those sand hills around that man might house more than one dacoit with double barrels. Optimistic; he reached an echelon shallow to which the man was prostrated.
The non-stop swagger made him perished and stale. Moving closer to the man, he started opening his water-bag to gulp a dollop,, when he first heard from him.

            "Water.............. water............ " ; his lips didn't seem moving.

He jerked fast to the man and gave the leftover 'wreckage' in his water-bag.

            "What happened ???"

            "Snake.... at my foot . . . "; he pointed to his left thumb that bore two deep pinhole crevices surrounded by a flush aura. The shin visible under his turquoise green shortts had gone bluish. His legs had almost.. died...

            "You've more water ? "  , he pleaded hopefully.

            "No.. that's all i had.. ".  The man was twinging desperately.

Keeping on trying the wireless, he remained cautious on the surroundings ; the snake wouldn't have gone far..
  ' Damn sand boas '..

            "You alone?? " ; he asked moving closed to him

The man was trying to concentrate his pang, that feigned in alleviating the pain. His hands remained inside the shorts ; probably sufficing heat , and he kept his eyes closed.. , breathing moderately..

            "Can you save me ??.. "

The query left him dumbstruck. That really was too sheepish a question. in the middle of a sea of sand... ;

  'How can i save you.. ' , he stuttered for words..

            "I... You know, i got stuck here.. my jeep's out there.., and it's outta fuel .., and this damn wireless ain't sh*t answering.. My cortege is  on his.. "

            " Can you save me friend.. ??? " ; this time, his plead was heartrending.. affirmative...
The wireless fell from his hand; he squatted beside him sighing helplessly..

            " I don't know........ I ..,, I think.. No......... . No, I can't save you.. " . 

He knew that man demanded a straight reply ; and he seemed contended now, , lying in surety of his imminence. Affixing the walkie-talkie to his belt, he sat near him. He wanted to ask why he came to the THAR ; if he was alone ; a tourist or an expeditioner like him ; and if he should notify someone about him....
But he felt it insolent to make that dying man speak...
  'Get him company.. some heat ' ,  that was his ultimateness.   

An uneasy silence ghosted around them. All those untied sands of liberty sedimented in heaps. They both , sinked deeper, like in a crater. He feared if his cortege wouldn't find him .. , but his decision was to stay calm. A reprise of events on that day bungled him in bafflement. He hired one of those costly jeeps to manoeuvre across the desert and he was now , left barren with that big-ticket contraption muddled in brown dreck. He had his purse stuffed with both, foreign and native currency ; he couldn't take that person to medics but let him die, inch-by-inch ....The atheist in him believed Nature is God ; and now he was almost sure; Satan is God's avatar of impertinence....

Only movement left in the man was his head-shakes and nystagmus. His open mouth invited all motes and chaffs .

            "..Cold... cold... " ; he murmured..

Moving the camera to his in a dangling position , he tried to rub his foot but in a trice he recoiled. The foot felt like a glob of bloodless meat , stiff like ceramic. The man didn't show any sign of stimulus. He still shook his dome, preventing his nerves from chilling. He placed the overcoat around his torso and chafed his forehead. The windless milieu sweated it, pegging heat.

            "My..... purse.... " ,the man mumbled in gibber.

Searching his short's back-pocket , he found a leather purse .

            " F..... Photo .... " , his eyes went dingy and pale like corpse.
Juts of sand slowly started rising around them killing the ghastly silence. Surfing the inner stack, he found a photo...... . his wife and daughter smiled in it..
The man motioned to bring it close.... to kiss the photograph.. , , to see his priceless possessionsfor one last time... ; to bid them adieu..
.... . . . .

Wiping the photograph off dust, he brought it to his face, but..........
.........  a strong wind blew around them , sweeping the photograph with it...
...,, the dying man let out a grievous cry in a choked voice. . .
Putting his sunglasses on ; he went along the wind. The man's sobs screeched his ears ; he felt an uttering guilt to give away that photograph. .
Wind glided queer enough to show its sordidness against a godforsaken soul..
The loud cry went distant and fading, but he never stopped nor turned back.. ; he focussed on that 2x4 inch equiangles. Wind drove him erratically away from that man... and now he no longer heard his sob.
  'Am i that far ?? ' .

At once, when the air clutched slow , he hastily springed in a breeze to grab that photograph. He fell beside a heap , and the sand hurriedly penetrated over legs , sinking them beneath it.
Clenching the picture hard , he hopped up and happily turned to him
             
            " I got it !!!!!! " ; ......................................... . . . . . . . . . . 
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ........................

Desert . . . . . . ..... an expanse of sand that mollycoddled the winds flowing over it.. ,  ; a yellow roadbed of adaptive radiation teaching the lessons of agony . . . ;  a barony of Nature heaving fruitless yields ........... Desert .............

.....................  And the progenies of desert had engulfed that man. He was nowhere seen.. ; his overcoat , his water-bag, nothing... The screaming winds of fury annihilated the last vestiges of that life ; before battering it to the pectorals .

All heaps looked the same ; a reckon of his penultimate rendezvous was impossible. Unable to maintain poise he sat down , hands propping the body . . .

Circling in a haphazard corroboree , the wind smirked at him callously ... He could hallucinate those ruddy teeth savouring the uncouth happiness of killing . It even dessicated his eyes.. from shedding tears for that transient friendship ..He prayed that man was just a mirage.....

His walkie-talkie creaked gibberish .

             "Saheb ... are you there ?? .. I'm Fal-Ul-Rahiman .. You're guide... Saheb ??? " ; 

            "Come fast.. " ;   he said in a low voice.

He looked at the pic.. ; it was the best photograph he ever had... the one, he never shot ....................






                                                                                                    LAMA SIGNING OUT...
       





           


           

YARNS OF LAMA - 2

                                                                  THE UPSHIFT

            He always loved the nighttime.The night... .If anyone asked him the gender of the night, he would say, definitely male. It sheds darkness to obscure the cheeky deeds and 'only male' mischiefs of the youth, and incubates all those 'good' girls in their dilapidated homes.The traffic policeman, after a hectic schedule, won't be there to calibrate his waist size and to peek at the strips of his undergarments. High mast light in his town; a small 'city' away from the tints and tinsels of the real city; would glow like a torchlight in a queer tunnel, abetting those dim eyes of 'spirited souls; searching aimlessly for their lungis. Tri-junction of his town at the night would be a pandemonium with fazed travelers searching private buses or cabs to hack their shelter. 'Hustles are meant for men', he believed so. To base his ideologies he believed or rather, pretended that he acquired the credentials as he worked for '4 and a half' hours late night in the most infamous mercantile of the town as a steward. After a gloomy, unsrupulous study hours in a Government institution; like most bourgeois youth, Reghu too underwent a servility to earn a chunk of sweaty notes bearing the grimaced grin of Gandhiji. It definitely supplied him with the dough requisite to pay his tuition fee; a lifeline for a fatherless child living under the shade of two female souls. He was proud to utter among his dudes about the night-mutation. More conclusive factor was the job...; he loved it muchh.. Taking the stocks, improvising himself to the different tempered customers and impressing the blonde cookies, savouring their interstices of freedom. Among the last shops to shutter, the mercantile brought an eerie coincidence of palates and thereupon secluding him with the night. A happy youngster who enjoyed living his life.

            Such a night was that, when Reghu, after an industrious day at the store enjoyed his nightly promenade to his home.Diligence to work often caught him in those cobwebs of solipsistic deeds from the store manager who would suck unduly advantage out of him. Most ugly toil would be to meander inside the warehouse of a supermarket. Stench and reek of the uncooked food would vilify the body and mind and none a bloke, other than a young lad like him, would stand for warehouse-keeping at such late hours. Its the love for company of stars and those additional notes of more-stinky-sweat that allured him to do the worse shit.
            'After all, its a Saturday, and those extra sum would fetch a ginger bear for tomorrow' ; he mused and moved on.

            He could feel his rising appetite ; a home-sick lad in the case of food. Those lethal Arabian dishes and grilled edibles , even before their scandalous outrages , didn't appeal to him. His palates stood for those spicy foods made by his mother. Financially his family was insecured ; with lot a debts waiting their payments and an assortment of drugs needed for prolonging life in an ill-bid body of his mother. Whole household budget lied in the shoulders of his sister. She worked in a private money lending enterprise as an accountant and the whole family debt stood as depository in the same firm. His father was its major custodian; a trusted employee of George kaalan, the proprietor . Reghu respectedly hated this person, for trenching hid family's stance in the tangled threads of accounts. In his walk, he saw the embellished name-board of the patron-house of his family ;         'KAALAN FINANCIERS',....... ,   he boggled in angst on watching that board; which he always did. Thoughts of sudden death of his father, the drastic twist in his life that bickled him to earn when learn, and the routine nightmare of indebtedness resurfaced in him...
            ' It really meant what it said ..' .

            When he almost passed the KAALAN premise; that included both, the house and the 'slaughterhouse'; he heard a hinging sound at the back-gates. Instincts alarmed him of a thief, but even in the faint lights of a furlong away street lamp, he could recognize the slender figure moving towards the house. At once, the nerves of his brain rejected the signals but soon it was double-checked; confirmed....
            'But what is she doing here?????? '.
It was his sister....

            His mental composure was bungled with a mixture of questions at that instant. He knew she worked in a packing unit of Kudumbashree in all Saturdays..
            'But why is she not going there??
             May be she has come to debug or submit some tax accounts...
             But why is she going through the back door??? ;
thoughts engulfed him like a storm..

            Mother was alone at home,, but he felt more concerned for his sister. He careened towards the concrete barricade fenced around the house; in the astriding position squinted if any vagabonds would call out loud. Lights glowed dim inside. Hesitantly with a tint of fear, he grappled on the vertical beam that supported the balcony and parapet. Watchman was not present which induced awe in him He was not sore about his pursuit but something from his spirit ensured he was right. Wasting no valuable tempo, standing wide-legged on the italian marbles he searched for an ajar window or a crevice on the wall to peer. Tremors and murmurs from a corner-room directed his move. He prayed vehemently to prevent the weird thoughts squeezing his mind being projected in there. A parallel plane sheet of light from a western window locked his eyes. Sticking like a lizard , he tiptoed on the sunshade and threw a timid glance......
...... Beam of light pierced into his eyeballs; at once..
...... He hallucinated a free fall,,; begging God to take his life; at once..
...... aggregate beneath his feet seemed rearranging ,; at once..

            The unfathomable curse that left a brother , stand dumb like a grotesque to see his sister molested by an old hairy mongrel ravaged his head like a bullet.. His sister; one who accompanied him to the school at younger ages; at whose bosom he slept for innumerable nights ,,, stood like an execrated statue in front of that paunchy hustler. He wished he could grab her away and dress her up.., he longed to press a dagger into that financier's potbelly.., he prayed that omnipresence to make him small..; that he could lament pitifully for his sister..
  but all he could do was to stand still............

Blood clotted his body and stiffened his tongue like a plank of wood.
' Breathe.... breathe.... ', his mind provoked.......
With utmost care penetrable to his woozy stance, he descended down the house and then the compound walls in a jiffy , and walked in mute,multiple steps towards home. Shock and agitation had restrained his lungs and his head weighed tonnes.. The panting breaths sought more oxygen and when he inhaled deeply, normalcy smothered him , and he started to cry.......
Tears fell in desolation across his cheeks in oodles, cumulating itself to a soaring pitch.. He cried loud.. .... louder and louder................
..... The sombre vignette of his sister getting undressed flashed like a lightening , concussing his imagination....

          " MY SISTER.........",   his mourn was pathetic...........


            Wiping his tears, he tried to regain calmness. His brain searched for reasons, clarifications, and loathed grievously for such a cruel fate to massacre his family. Revenge was the best option, one could formulate within, under a nullified circumstance like this ; but he was too fragile and worn out to concentrate his mind. Like his body, his thoughts were also dumbstruck.
            'Why would she go for it?,   ..   why would mother....... ' , the thought came like an explosion to him..
mother....
            'Did she know about all these...?..'
A body full of ailments..; a heart with a hole in it.., an arthritic soul that ate medicines more than rice..;      he knew his mother would never withstand for a day.
           'She knew nothing..' , it registered him...

            Reaching in his room, Reghu chaffed his head with a pain balm and rinsed the face hard to clear the stains of tear.

          "Reghu.... ? , come and have your food.. ".
          " I've no appetit, mother.. I'm going to sleep".

          He was sure he would puke whatever he ateat that moment.Quilted, he tried hard to get some sleep ASAP; praying God to keep his mouth shut during the nightmares..............         he was sure a plenty awaited him.............


            Next day, he was welcomed by the noon sun.. 11'o' clock, his watch read. A long sleep...

           "You still don't understand you're a grown up child , do you?.. See you're room. Is it a bedroom of a school-going child?..And your toilet!! ?? A mess-room....  When will you grow up reghu???/....."

           Stacking the books and clothes inside the shelf, his sister scolded. He stood up and went to his mother. She was lying on the bed; asleep after her morning hustles. Moving a safer distance from her, he called his sister.

           "What is it ??? ".
           " Pls come, chechi.., ..quietly.. Don't wake mother."

His behest was stern and directive. She stopped her works and came close.

          " Chechi...;..I ... I saw you at KAALAN'S  yesterday ,,, .... night..",....
..................................

The moping stick fell from her hand.
          " What is that sound Renju??? "
          "Nothing.., mother.. " , she controlled her arousing anxiety ; veiling it for months... ; controlling all her feelings and afflictions in her mind...

          " I saw you, and i saw everything. " , his husky voice trembled while saying that. She stood as a culprit and nodded her head in confession. Her sunken eyes were damp now; a sob of a helpless lass who was pushed into a Gehenna of cruel reality by 'the illicit fate'' ....

          " I'll never accuse you, chechii... I still love you the same way, i did ".

He hugged her tight and, embossomed. She cried intermittently ; not awaking her mother.

          "Chechii... whatever happened is over. And i'll never let it happen again.. But... i want to know WHY..?? ..
Why did you sort, submitting yourself to that evil money-lender?. He's the one who chained us in such a big trench. He cheated our father , and also brought his death. I hate him. I know you too... But why the hell, this..... " , he abstained himself from speaking about the incident again.

 She pondered for a moment and felt his question as genuine. She also ached a guilt for not sharing the answers before he ever questioned.

           "I didn't sort to this myself. It just occured to me. A foul play of fate. I don't know whom should i blame.. our father, mother, or that George ... I don't know. I'm not even sure if someone is to be blamed.. "

He watched her sobbing in despair ; but he felt it was an outbreak to be cried off. A bunch of harsh feelings that she had endured in her solitary statures only....
  ' Let she cry.. ' , he comforted himself.

           "When mother fell ill gravely, when her heart almost stopped and demanded a major operation, the only option in front of father was George... Father  had already borrowed  2 lacs for making up this house.. When he approached for another two.. , George hesitated as all money-lenders do. Father begged contemptibly ; touching his feet like a pet dog and getting dragged.. in front of me ".

          " You too went with dad????? " ; Reghu couldn't get the reminiscence.

          " Yes... .. Fate... it never spare anyone. Before death, last thing Father said me was about that.. ; taking me with him that day was his biggest mistake.........................
......................................

        When Father's weeping drenched his feet , George agreed to lend the monw=ey..... lend the money if i stood with him for that night... " .

When he heard those words, the veins on fists and cheeks juxtaposed pressurised blood from all over the body; he grumbled in anger and winced with rage.....

          "No... no Reghu... that man is not so cruel... He is,,..,, but.. it was not like he utilised the situation as an advantage to have  sex with me... actually he has not yet....
He is an impotent person.....
He's actually not divorced , but still a bachelor. He wanted me to accompany him in the bed, rub the bodies and to get him a visual aid. Father didn't concede to his deal , but i did.... for our mother. I agreed to enact a doll for him to play.
                          our father's face was pale when i last saw him. He said he hated him despicably , but loved ma and you much... He fell to my feet and apologised................
Though I was apoplectic , I was happy that on reaching back home . I could see mother with a normal heart-beat. But the night gave me another loss...
But the night gave me another loss... Our father... His heart was weaker than mother's ............ .............................................

                  George gave me a job in his enterprise, and didn't bother me with any acts for a long time. But the meagre sum of money he deducted from my salary to repay the debt, couldn't even fetch the requisite to nullify the interest. He was a man of reckons ; my job... , and our income was in jeopardy ........ It was like a repetition ; a clockwork. Fate brought me and him again in a truce; he charting remuneration for each night I entertained him. The debt fell down gradually... and it's been a long 15 months I've brought the debt down......
But for one thing ... for one great thing , I'm still grateful to God......     I'm a still a virgin..........". 

She broke out into a series of tears, this time louder. He assuaged her calmly and wiped his own tears. Mother was still asleep.....
Contemplating for a few seconds, he took her aback from his shoulders and moved out of the house.

           " Reghu.... wait.... ", his sister called out , but a determined mind could never be impregnated. He knew his destination. He knocked the door hard and waited for George Kaalan to reach him.

          "Hello Reghu... ; it's been a long time.H..." 
          "I want to talk something ", he snapped.

Reddish damp eyes , like two scorching stars in Reghu's face gave a foreboding prick to George's heart.

          "Of course... " , he motioned in.
          "My sister is poor and complaisant... She had abstained herself from all happiness and leisure , that her friends and contemporaries enjoyed , to save the family. And i know what she has sacrificed herself for the same " . 

Vengeance, anger and loathe resembled in Reghu's eyes that intimidated George, who was shivering in the fear of an assault.

          "She is a great person.... an angel.... my sister...........               I think she intended to be your surrogate to a time till i earned a good education; adept to pay you off ... but...   after knowing all this, i won't let her to continue. She has done enough... more than enough....
.               .             .        . 
          Sir , I don't know the exact time I'll need to reimburse you.., but upon God i promise... I'll repay you... ; whatever huge be the amount.I'll pay even staking my eyes or organs but please leave her... spare my sister...... "


George looked into the damp eyes of Reghu, thru his spectacles... He saw a determined heart .. ; a loving brother ready to die for his sister . A deep remorse clouded in him and he felt all Gods standing against him. He bowed his head down..
Moving close to Reghu , with utmost reverence, he said.

                            " Take you're own time..... " . 



Hot sun above him radiated heavy heat; but Reghu didn't wipe the sweat from his forehead. He had already started liking the day and the daylight; his bosom buddies from the moment. He was in his UPSHIFT. ...

                    His dudes called out from the playground,

         "Aey Reghu... ; come on... let's have a game... "
without stopping , he answered ,

                " Got some works to do ... " .





                                                                                                                       LAMA SIGNING OUT ......
 

 

YARNS OF LAMA - 1

                                              A DARK ENLIGHTENMENT


           Starry sky above him was fumigated by the cigarette smoke. He never used to smoke in the night but it was the third in a row now. Chemical imbalances, the bile in his mouth , and the mild spasms all over his body...., each needed a refreshment; a reheating rather. The dim light in his apartment produced a drooping milieu. It was midnight, but the city never slept. Nocturnal minds went crazy in full flow like vampires and oodled out their own blood, or others for any moronic reasons. Dope,dames,drinks,dimes.., everything got snubbed in legions and the 'outlaw' was nowhere found; or rather ;not distinguished.

           He felt his legs leaner but stronger; and throughout his waist and groins, an eerie rigidness stiffened him. It was his first time.....

He didn't wish for such a 'first time' and was not craving madly for it. But most dudes have their firsts unexpected and unanticipated. It would light on one as a routine of fate. In his case, fate had the role of a catalyst. The aim was not orgasm..,  but revenge. A revenge dedicated to someone and suffered by some other....

           Sweat evaporated from his armpits bringing a cooling effect. Fag helped him much. He could feel the contentment somewhere in his body.

'may be that is where mind lies..' , he thought.

He rose from the sedentary posture and gaped wide. Stubbing the cigarette, he recalled the night, abd the dats that led to this night.

'yup......' ,,,     he was happy...

The sound of chiming anklets drew him back to reality..

She seemed at the least 10 years elder than him, but in those red attires, she gave a thunderbolt to all. Women of her niche wore sari in such a manner that a guy would feel himself naked. The buxoms and navel lay half-hidden and the waist with wrinkles would boss the underpants. Seeing her again after the ride, he couldn't hold up belching a cud-chew; he moved close and dunked his head into her breasts. Manoeuvring hands around her body, he could recollect those moments of voracious lust. Hugging her hard to his trunk, he culminated and leaned over to the couch.

"Shall i go?" , she asked him fleeting the sari.

"What??? , I paid a f**king 1000/-  for one whole night and you gonna leave in 2 hours????? ,, bulllshit.."

" ohh , i thought you're done with me. "

 The woman cued off with a little sarcasm, intending to elevate the youngster.

" hey.. hey ..., you uncouth b***h, don't f**k my ass off like an undernourished nudnick. I ain't gonna stop with a single ride, that would cost only a quarter. you are going nowhere until dawn.. you get me??"

"aahh..., I didn't get a penetration worth 1000/- too...  but felt you are exhausted . You look too weary. First time right!. I...."

"You keep your slattern expertise to yourself. And don't f**k judge me.You are just a whore. Just lend you're holes and fill you're stomach...  such a filthy life you are leading. Aren't you ashamed saying you didn't get enough penetration?? girls.... sluts.... bu**er off ".

      the woman stood calm and composed.He felt she still didn't end her judging.  

"what??". the boy asked.

"nothing..".

"Then don't stare at me like that."

But she reprised her looks.

This time , he really got pissed . He jumped out of the couch and moved front, imminent to get her a blow.

"Aren't you ashamed??". she darted.

"What??" The question back-slapped and took him aback."What are you saying??."

"Aren't you ashamed to loathe on me, when some girl betrayed you??".

He got dumbstruck. The muscles got more stiffened and the sweat no longer cooled him. levity engulfed his whole torso. Perplexity flushed his facet in shame.

'How could she probably know it??.Was that b***h , a P.G in her brothel ???'.

She cut the imbroglio, " I heard you mumbling a girl's name when having me on the bed. I thought its you're style..., calling b***h while riding a female. But your restive stumbling and loud moaning said me you are a novice. At times you put whole weight on me and said the girl's name. It made you go wild.

She removed her sari to reveal 3 bloody marks below the breasts; .

"You plucked my chest hard at those times.... I have seen a lot of men,child... I am a prostitute. The only attribute that prostitutes possess is experience. When I saw a boy like you coming to brothel asking a night, I thought you will be like those brats with a spilling testosterone, seeking a fleshy body of plump externals. But as you had a reason, I didn't pull myself back..,, although the pain was too bad."

He felt too ashamed stooped. The woman shooed off the narcissist in him. In a moment, the triumphant hero was ambushed to a gutless bum. He brought two pieces of soaked cotton and smothered over her wounds. She could see his damp eyes. She lifted him and kissed on the forehead.

"What's the matter boy??. Nowadays I never see such delicate minds. Who brought such a misfortune to you?", caressing his visage she took him to the couch.

"Her name is Ann."

"I heard that plenty today, you rascal.." she thudded him and laughed. It helped him to come out of the farce.

"She is a hottie at my college.All longed for her and she makes good company with a guy quickly. As a matter of fact, me too had a crush, but i didn't pursue, you know!?.

as she was a chick among the ducks, cocks automatically get interested. I rather mocked others for gnawing on her bumps.A kind of derisive sophist, but too soft at heart. Now I really feel despise for that blunt heart."

She saw his veins clenching the blood tight.

"So how does i turn wrong?"

"Don't ask. I'm in a recovery."

"That is a myth,child... . There is no recovery through negligence. Suffer it , or , share it.. Share it with your saliva, not your semen."

He could see a tint of concern in her eyes.A facade of a prostitute , or , a bonhomie between two losers... but it served a boon to him .

"Problems never occur when the existed are the only extants. Though I couldn't talk with Ann or get her attention as others did, a jovial bloom existed in my heart, may be dur to the attraction towards her. The silent love was the most beautiful thing in my life when only I heard the joys and sorrows of my life. A monologist love...; one could say.

But happiness is not the only emotion one ought to feel...

Cruel fate bit me when the b***hie-b***h Ann Maria Johnson came up with hand seeking a friendly shake. It dawned like a dream-come-true to me and took me to the zenith of achievement, to bring a hottie into my curb.

We talked, roamed, ate, danced in parties, and at once , out of booze, kissed in public.. ".

" And you guessed you were in love.. " She intruded, hoping a climax.

" I was in lovve for god sake.... I never felt i wasn't. Each day we mingled, it got strengthened and the faith that 'the love was mutual' also cemented in me and NO reason i could figure out to think different. She met others , talked loud and hi-fived .., but with me, she did those for longer time and more affection. Everything was genuine and fathomable."

                     He went too weak and desolated. She could realize the depth he cared for the girl and the effort he endured to cope with her genre. She had no idea, how to console his sullen soul without breaking his composure.

He continued,

            "It was on her b'day I got my verdict. She invited only me from the class and that incurred envy from all eyes. I was so happy and i decided to express my love on the same day she was born. No better day coming soon..
Bought a new suit, went to the salon and got coiffed, gathered a bunch of blue orchids wrapped with a red heart ,. ,.  that totem of love.."
             He talked as if it was a souliloquoy. A little indifference clouded around him.

           "When i reached hers, there was nothing special done to create a b'day ambience. She was in her normals, no special attire or any make-ups. ... and .. i couldn't find a b'day girl in her.
 Her parents were absent, but a few ... a few male friends of her sat on a couch. To my surprise, she pulled me into the room holding my pant's fleets .. and .. you  know those dudes out there didn't gave a shot on that. I couldn't find a cake or a pastry but some awing fruits and packets on thr=e table. I was not sure, if i should propose her; my brain got completely numb and perplexed. Wanted to ask where her parents were,, and wanted to know why it... why it was .. different..
But i couldn't ask. I felt inept and alone among those bloodsuckers....................................................... ............................................................... .......
.. Aahhhh... I can't even think what the hell happened next.. One of those malevolent friends of her grabbed her like a python howling 'HAPPY B'DAY' and started smooching her hard..... And that b***h took off her tees and stripped his pants.. Damnn hell..
Other cuntfaces went crazy; with booze, they started fondling her and themselves,, entwining in a muddle like a wicked snake method. I stood thunderstruck ...,, it was like a fu***ng online porn... a gangbang of 4:1.. , and me standing like a voyeur unable to fathom her reckon of 5:1.... . My brain was fried dry. The smell of inhuman decoctions fumed inside the room; making me doozy dazed and setback onto a pedestal to regain senses..
Bitch..
That bloody bitch....
She got into friendship with me to serve her a BIRTHDAYGASM .. She wanted me to love her pu**y , not her. Godforsaken moments in my life... Those gigolos stumped her over the table where my bouquet was kept to decimate it into petals and stamens... I couldn't stand that naked cannibal cotillion. I ran out of that bordello.  ADIOS MOTHER F****RS...."
..........................................
After that the single passion lingering me was Revenge... revenge towards a girl who mutilated my soul with her ass***e... The urge to revenge brewed in my head, too violent and sheepish that the idea of prostitution came to me. It was the hobson's choice... But now i feel remorse. I guess I have made a wrong turn on a wrong turn.... Sorry . ".

Slumping back on the couch, he ended his confessions. She felt a neonatal charm and innocence in him. His deeds corroborated the inborn naivety and child-like thinking. Caressing his temple, she quelled his qualm.

            "I feel compassionate to your feelings,child. You've a lot of goodness at heart. Love, affection, care, and concern for that girl occured in you not because of her beauty and body. That makes you different from others, and unfortunately from her. You were not in a symbiosis with her. She might have considered you as a playmate..; like the one you had as a neighbor or flatmate in your childhood, who would join you in your child-plays. A companion meant to customize your dilly dallies in full throttle. Ample girls find it free of cost while inept, chickless chicks try it through money. The contagion of adopting the West has brought reckless adaptions in our country's culture... And you.., my child, is an obsolete youngster among this demonic society. Your heart pumps at a very sluggish rate, and it fills your body with a lot of morality. Nowadays that will cost you a good part of your life. Pleasure, competition and nihilism in people's mind have molded them to robots encoded by some invisible anti-social elements.It follows the same old theory of Darwin, the survival of the fittest, or what you call fluidity in economy. How much adhesive you are to sordidness .. , is the yardstick to measure your humanity.., that is the new law of survival... ".
                 Her words, though simple and familiar, lighted on him like a panacea to all his wounds. He could perceive an autopsy of his conscience. The blood circulated through his body for some purpose and with a determination. For the first time that night, he coughed while smoking... He stubbed it hard on the floor. It was no more needed...
                 He fumbled the wallet for 1000/-. Paying her off with ultimate contentment , he said jokingly,..

          "So with that one ride, you shove my ass for a 1000/- huh?.. That was a cute, professional manoeuvre."

          
          " Now i have the satisfaction of getting a worthy penetration. I was not subjected to nullify someone's carnal upheaval at least tonight. Could also revive my meagre knowledge from a minuscule education.........                          
                                         Let me ask you, what will you do if another heart-break occurs???.. Lets hope such a cataclysm wont make you precipitate [smirking].., but still .. I wanna know your future concern on this.

  Smiling peskily, he said,
           "Will save my 1000/- and go to some dollybabe's b'day.. how'szzat!!! ".

          "Now that's the spirit my boy, take care.. ll never see you again..... Bye.. "

  With a smiling face, she left his apartment. He didn't know her name; nor did she know his.. But the fate... the same FATE brought the two souls together, to enlighten him.... by a whore with angelic heart..

      
                                                               THE END

                                                                                                                      LAMA signing out...
            

blog no:1

                 MY FIRST LONE TRIP IN TRAIN                  

       Thanks to my bro whose reverend work in electrical engineering gave me a chance to write this blog.its to attend his convocation ceremony from iit Bombay that,i got a cruise on ma own to the metropolitan.The austerity to attend the lab allowed me a 'YES' from ma parents to grab the a train late on the day which my other family members departed.it was GARIB RATH,T the train i got into.Non from college came to see me off; an awful truth which i would leave off in my other elations of the day.Totally anticipated on the journey i took no chance of reaching in/on/about time at the railway station.Before an hour prior to the expected arrival time, i was present there with minimal goods possible for a dude ready to stay for half a week at an alien place.There were few muslim gals;commonly known as 'ummachi kutty' in recent malayali dialect, after the release of a local movie that received heavy accolades.Eating chappattis made by mom in the morning, i devoured their beauty as an apetiser and their shy peers were contingent too.Passing the time in minuscule pace,studying the by-passers astriding a number of 'crore-worth gaadis' i made up my mind that this would be my first blog... A TRAVELOGUE.

      The train was fully air conditioned.I could grab only a chair car seat; a last time opting of coming lone ought to have some mismatches right.... A buddy, probably a trespasser, undusted his butts after i got to my seat, just to get in to another void seat. Elated after seeing the plug point, i stuck my usuals as during the local trips; reading e-books.Already,THE DA VINCI CODE had stolen my palates. The tome was already a cruise through lots and lots of obstacles and,i devised it as my cruise control.Robert Langdon and Sophia went through a lot of  devilish tunnels.Even though i couldnt complete the book in my 25.5 hours of train maunder, i was happy to creep out a lot.
      Throughout the journey, mobile range stood abstinent.Freedom from dudes' and parents' intrusion added to my taste of recluse.Even my best friend cum sis nazreen's absentia didn't bother me much.To be lonely in a venturing scenario is a different dimension.The thriftiness,the demeanor,the bragging sophistry....,, all are never new in their interloping, but to devise and perform them, i'm the lone authority and the lone responsibility.laissez faire..Liberty in selecting junk food,skipping meals,standing near doorstep at the highest speeds of the train,heeding to songs when the phone is charging ,, all the should-nots were done at once in the camouflage of being alone.
      First half of my journey was an afternoon session,the train maneuvering through the north of Kerala till midnight.The beautiful greenery once juxtaposed at the thought of our motherland was nowhere seen on the way apart from some paddy fields and coconut trees;like survivors of a voracious catastrophe.Busy roads and banks of rails were equipped with nothing but humans and 'human wastes' to the nature.Buildings soar high with stinky clothes at their rare face;frontier to the train,adding insult to their sombre colors.Inside,the vendors were busy exhibiting and selling their products,most of them carrying tea canisters and mocking the tea themselves with an awful sound - "capppiee capppiee ,,,, sir, teaa.. teaa..".At once i thought of taking video of them,but felt it more awing than their advertising.
      The only thing i had as an anti-apetite food was a vegetable biriyani;the most worst one i've had in my life.The rice and salad together formed an 'ammoniacal' mixture by odor and tasted like it was cooked in the first bombay-to-thane trip.My co-passengers were savourosly eating the same foodstuff without a trace of disgust...Neanderthals,,, i thought.At night a dude came to me and shared a few moments of amity.He was a sailor,working at PANAMA CANAL as a second captain.His salary was around 4.5 lacs per month which got me jaw-dropped.When enquired about his lifestyle,he said his job's only attraction was money for which he had to sacrifice his friends,home,parents and lover;confining them to electronics and to an yearly visit.He was heading to meet his girlfriend.Me too shared about my whereabouts,college,about my travel and also of my excitement on first lone cruise.We thought of dozing when it was around 3.30 in the morning.He was a real gentleman.He knew from my words i liked to be alone that he never meddled in my ducks.
      Morning came early cuz of the pungent algid hibrernation from the freaked out dingy a/c of the GARIB RATH, provoking me to pee frequently.With sleep-driven eyes, i waited for a bed coffee.There was no idea of shitting as the reciprocating translation of the train would make,too an arse of mine.After few cycles of gurgling i came back to my book.But hell it was too grim and lukewarm.Travels like this would never interlope again.I strode to the doors.A lone seat was cantilevered to the wall.A resting emplacement for the staff, may be.I took my samsung galaxy phone and took queer photos and videos of anything i felt to snub.There were long bridges,multi-genred blokes, filthy godforsaken stations, clothless grotesques,, everything.at once the train paused to a signal right above a busy road.Co-passengers peeked at me as if looking at a crook taking pics of butts.The 'downtrodden' people stood and stared at the photographer in the train.To budge was not the option ,,but to continue.till thr train's next grumble, i took the video and snapshots.It was freaking fun to become a carte blanche....When the train crossed Goa , call from the vendors were soft-tuned to 'vada pav' and 'pav-bhaji' .My favorite junks.. The devoid apetite knocked by the nostrills could'nt resist buying a bowl. vaaaah... that was yummy.Typical marathhi style vada pav... A dollop of contentment.
     The milieu was getting warmer and warmer and the peoplr;taller and taller.From shabby lungis,the attire changed to full cuff shirts with inners and tight pants,still adjectived as shabby.More headgears came to the females and the distance between temples and mosques was getting fewer. Its north.. Maharashtra.The soil was affirmatively red and was hot.People live with this heat in their minds too. The heat of imbalance, the Coercion of incongruence.They were absolute and abstinenet about their GOD and had no doubts regarding evolution.The Ripe-mango people of our country,those who are calibrated to live in any mix, any jinx.... the cavalry of commotion..
Bombay is getting close and close...
     A marathhi family ,outnumbered to number them;with kids,grown-ups,over-grown and saturated were busy playing anthaakshari.Such a cluster was missing in my locale as the families got nucleated and matured much faster.
The bonhomie going on got a good-at-heart feel to me.At times when they lacked songs i thought to interfere as a helping hand, but my twin brother;hesitance; pulled me back.It seemed better to be a spectator , than to be an islet.
     After a long time at the door,slumber grabbed my mazzard. Only left over in the car was an old couple and a lone lady . Grabbing my bag tight in the a/c , i slept .A reverie welcomed the sleep casting me as a by stander at a lone station and the train speeding away fast.i could feel the tears in my eyes.A foreboding prick was hurting me.I felt i deserved to be in the train.If possible ,, only me.
The reverie and the sleep bid adieu when a sudden jerk in the traction shook my trunk.The bypassing station showed panvel..... PANVEL..!!!!.The pre-station to my destination.... "thanks to the jerk".   After piss and refresh, holding my rucksack, i got doored for the last 20 minutes of dawdle-hood.Happy moments of loneliness was ending. Destination was destined, but not the zest.Iwished if Bombay was in Delhi...........
     Yup.... thaane station reached.People rushed to the doors and the vendors fidgetted in confusion.In the crowd , i did'nt search for dad,mom or bro.I jus looked at the moving floor that left me in front at each instant.It joined all those frames that left me during the trip.Looking into the oblivion, i gave a sigh....My eyes were damp...,same as that was in my dream.............................
                                                     
                                                                                      LAMA
                                                                                        signing out........