YARNS OF LAMA-8

                          

                                                                  ABEL

          





          “I don’t want this baby … “;

          “What? “; Lalitha was already tired after traveling to the dispensary.

          “I don’t want this baby ! … “; Abel repeated his words with air throttling at the tip of his lungs ..

          “Are you mad ??? ….. Why would you say that ?? .. “ ;

Abel sat at the doorsteps suppressing the rage radiating all over his body. He was adorable,, a well grown, fair lad but in those awkward facial expression he looked a typical Indian .

Lalitha didn’t care to ask again. She lied on the bed trying a catnap before dinner.

          “ Why you want a child now ?? You’ve me right ?. That’s enough. Get rid of this baby … “;

Standing at the door, he said curtly without looking into her face. Lalitha got up from her repose, caring not to jerk her stomach and said calmly,

          “Son, don’t say such blasphemous things. Children are God-given lineage. We’re not supposed to destroy them. Creation and destruction is God’s right. We cannot take over his job. “;

          “But Manni Aunty told me there is a powder with prophetess that decimates the fetus inside your stomach before fifth month of gestation. It won’t harm your health; I reassured… “;

Lalitha got red with fury , at the thought how despicably cruel her son was …

            “Abel …!!!! , stop talking rubbish. How can you think of such Godforsaken crime ??? You are willing to banish your younger brother or sister !! … Do you realize that ?? ………. . . . .

And that busty, shit-face Manni , , , , her cunt is stuffed with chicken-shit and she can’t carry a child … . . Don’t heed to her stinky mouth my child , , That witch only spits shit …

Why son ???? Why you want to get rid of the baby ??? All love to have young ones to play. A cute, little infant who will you forever . . . even after my death .. What if I spoiled you in my womb itself ??? Do think about that before you think too much .. “;

          “ But  . . .. But it is not born to an Englishman like me …. “;

His reply struck her like a killer-wave ,,, leaving her dumbstruck…

          “It is either born from  that dingy Panwaala or to that hopeless, ugly Madraasi … …Uncle said to me so when I asked who made you pregnant . I don’t want such a brother or sister . It’ll be surely black and hideous, , with ugly eyes and foul mouth . Chiiiii . I’ll be damned in this village, all have started teasing me . . . helllll . . . I won’t love that godforsaken child a bit; you better realize that …..  “;

   Slamming the door hard hard on the wall, he marched out leaving his pregnant mother weeping at her bed ….

He went directly to the podium near Sarpaanch’s office. The sky was filled with stars, thousands of them ; bestriding a bright crescent of the Moon. He looked at them with eyes watered due to an emotion still unfathomable to him. He wiped of the tears and started counting. The latest digit he learnt from Sarpaanch was ‘78’ ; he still doubted its pronunciation … , chebanti eight or chedanti eight …….. Cautiously he counted them to reach his target, trying hard to suppress the lingering thoughts,, . . ..  but in midway the tears again blocked his vision turning the whole sky into a pale blue blotch . . .

It was Manni aunty who said him the history of his birth ..,

           “ Chokree …. You are so white in complexion because your gene is from an Englishman. In our village, English customers come once in a bluemoon, when they are misguided by escorts or when their pocket goes thinner, but still they want to fuck..  That man, your father; a tall, slender, handsome kirk, wearing a hat, and shorts, and dangling a costly camera in his neck; came by chance. He asked the guide for ‘lassi’ but that guide.. a Malayali dork , thought he was asking for a ‘pussy’ .. He brought him to your uncle. As we treat our customers with lassi, your English Daddy was happy and when your mother’s cleavage came to his eyes, your uncle had to bolt the door from outside.. “;

Abel couldn’t control his giggle. History of ‘ABEL ANGREZZI’ .. he thought. He also heard about his father; eavesdropping to the goose-talk between his mother’s colleagues ,

            “ Lalitha didn’t leave that angrezzi for 4 hours.. She was afraid if anyone of us would snatch him….  Bosediii,,,  She is such a parsimonious slattern. I wanted to see at least his pink penis .. “;

            “ How you know his dick was pink?? “; another trout asked ,

            “ I know… All angrezzis have pink penis. Not like those black ugly rubber of local buggers.. “;

           “ Did she say anything about him?? About his strength or something ?? “;

          “ Yeah …. She said he’s a stallion. His stamina is like a horse’s . . . He had a penis similar to an iron rod,,, and he took her in her hands and then pressed hers into his . . .. . Aaaahhh it was then the condom tore and the semen flushing her cunt.. “

          “ No way !!!!!!!  “;     Sheela..; one big buxom, jerked her body in astonishment.

          “ Yes….. she said so .. Also,, you know,, the man was a little jerk. He poured whiskey at her body and lipped it from there… But she said it was her favorite moment .. “;

          “Mata-ji ….!!!! , when am I going to get such a hunk???? “;  … . . . . .

. . . . . .

Abel had found himself proud from all these talks. He floated above all, fascinated of his father. He had no wish to see him or to get cared by him . Only the identity was more than enough . . , , in his village,, Natpurwa ; a remote, illiterate village in West of Lucknow. Most of the boys and girls here, were fatherless, and alike ,,, black, undernourished, pale-eyed figures . Their mothers, mother’s mothers and their female ancestors had only one single choice of occupation,, bestowed to them by the existing ritual system ,, PROSTITUTION . . They were one among the last descendants of the devadaasis, who were lend to the king or landlords by their husbands ; if existed , or by their fathers and brothers as a token of their homage. The fealty; a bond between the servile and the served; was strengthened through the vulvas of females in their homes . . .

Later, in the progress of country and people, most of the clan went into redemption, migrating to newer places and finding newer jobs ; impregnating themselves into a new lifestyle. But Natpurwa stood defiant against the change; holding their culture and rituals close to their heart and rekindling the dying sexual desires of Indian bourgeoisie alive …..

Regular customers were the policemen , minions of local political parties and middle aged neighboring villagers ; coming to the bordello-hamlet irrespective of day or night. Customers came to Natpurwa and had their surges expressed, while the villagers welcomed them; obliged to their existence considering them as the 21^st century equivalents of the old Kings or landlords . . . .

Women empowerment activists tried to retrieve the lives of their sisters and once, even launched a huge procession to Natpurwa with the Delhi CM in charge. It could pause the merchandise for a month. But when villagers complained about negligence of their culture, and an imminent poverty, the authorities diverted their POV to Aasiyan crises and Kalmaadi scam . In a country like India, negligence was easily acquainted with forgetfulness . . .

In such a hell was Abel. But he; like most other people of Natpurwa, was unaware of what happened outside the village, and knew no bread other than whoring. The females of Natpurwa rented themselves , while the males handled the accounts ; irrespective of their relation; mother, sister, daughter, wife … whatever,, the males were customized to pimp females by their culture. Lalitha was pimped by her brother; Laloo who had slowly started acquainting Abel into their clan-business, as his daughter was nearing puberty. He might not be able to take upon the charge of both. And he was anxious about the forthcoming sibling of Abel; everyday he went to Mata-ji’s temple, stuffed coins in the ‘bhandaar’ praying the omnipresence to give his sister , a girl child ….. because in Natpurwa ,, Girl means prosperity..

          “ Abel betta … Abel betta .. . . look who has come ?? !! Betta …??. “;

Sarpaanch jolted Abel at his grey head, who slept on the podium the whole night. When he opened the eyes, he saw his pregnant Mom with a boy similar to himself. At once he thought he was dreaming but in a trice he saw himself elated, recognizing the boy …..

     ‘ Shyaaammmm !!!!!!!   Ramila Aunty’s Shyaam !!!!!!!! ‘ ;

Abel jumped from his slouch and hugged him squeakily, 

          “ My pal …… “;                 He muttered in those drowsy lips ..

They ate Rumaal roti with mattar kheema;one of Lalitha’s best prep; Ramila looked fatter since she left, and Abel could see her face graceful with exuberant make-up. Her husband wore white kurtha and white pants, flaunting the attire code of his party. Shyaam had become chubbier and fairer….

He was Abel’s only true pal since childhood. When his instinctive pride and jealousy from other contemporary infants towards a Fathered boy, alienated him in his childhood, Shyam came with helping hands like a Guardian Angel enacting a perfect buddy of abel’s taste. When their mothers made money, they both played together, waited together, and got hungry together till one of their mothers got recess for cooking the meal.

Their well-bred bond was broken when the man-in-ehites came to fuck Ramila. He was then, a minion of BSP in the local area; the rulers of Lucknow for a few consecutive years. He fell in love with the whore’s cunt and then finally with the heart, but when he asked her hand to her father, He eas ill-treated; beaten up, and thrown out of the village. Ramila’s lament was answered by Mata-ji when at the same night, her man came and took her, with the extant son , Shyam, after retaliating with his party henchmen…

It was the fifth month after the elope occurred and the party-man had rose to higher echelons in the commune..; he was the P.A of the current M.L.A. Natpurwians had to get into truce with him and their bonhomie visit after a long time back to the village, meant the same….

         “Lalitha, we are taking father  with us. He is going old and with no me, he can’t get a penny here. My man didn’t a bit at first, but yesterday my father went to him and cried holding his feet . . . . .   

Shyam is still reluctant to accept  this recall;  he still hates his grandfather . But he heeds  to his new father. They are a good couple . . . . I’m happy now, Lalitha!!! …”;

Abel saw Ramila’s eyes brim with water. He knew it was out of an emotion . . . .  palliation . .

          “Abel . . . , are you coming to town with us ??? “;

The words pushed Abel into a reverie. In his 14 years of life, he had not yet crossed the boundaries of his Neanderthal hamlet. He looked his mother and saw a complaisant smile, saying “ GO MY SON, you won’t get such calls often .. “;

He got into         a  strange contraption on wheels that he had seen only on roads. Inside the vehicle he felt too chilling and the Dolby music pierced into his ears. Ramila smiled on seeing his childish pump-ups; something she saw in her son few months ago . . .

          “Life outside our village is very different, Abel. Now I go to school where a lot of children group up. We write, read, play together, and ate golas….. its like a world of kids. Though other mates in class are younger, they form a good commune . . There is T>V at home, and you can see Amitabh Bachhan movies at least ‘5’ times a week, . Also cricket  . . .

In the flat where I’m living, few boys are there who talk only in ANGREZZI . . . They deride me a lot, but you know, I’ve started learning it and one day, will supersede them. Also- “;

  The happy blabbers of Shyam continued and Abel silently heard, buttoning his lips. He felt both, jealous and marooned, and felt miles away from his friend sitting beside. He wished if his father had rescued his mother . . .

Returning to the car after a big banquet, the man in whites called Abel close, that Shyam couldn’t see them ,

He gave him three crispy thousand rupee notes and said ;

          “There is a Govt school in Mirzapur and they don’t take fee, but also give free lunch. You must go there from next June . . . .

I’ll say to the headmaster. Save this money for those stuffs you need, , , slate, pencil, whatever … “;

The hand kept on his shoulder surpassed a hatching warmth to Abel's heart; a paternal oversight, something he never experienced . . . . 


Waving them off, Abel cried ...,,,,, He didn't know why ..  . . . . ..  , , , ,   Was it for Shyam ? Was it for that caring man ?? ... or was it a downpour of emotions out of unanswered questions he darted towards God ????????????? .......


Few days passed ... and the day had come ... 
                                             DELIVERY DATE ....

The midwife predicted the baby would come by noon and Abel's house was packed with mother-whores. Laloo had bought jalebis and laddoos from Mirzapur and waited for the godly moment. He shouted loud to the elders , 

           " It ll be a girl !!. Mata-ji came to my dream yesterday and said she'll be the auspice of our family's prosperity . Also today morning Mata-ji sent a GOMATHA to my home in morning !!  What more !!!!! Good riddance !!!!! ";

Abel sat at the podium and peered his populated house. For the last few days he stayed away from home ; coming only for lunch & dinner. He hated the elderly aura surrounding his mother , and their chatterboxes full of hot air. He was also in a cold war with his mother as Lalitha didn't heed to his behest . 

          "I care this baby not a bit less than you .. "; she had said him blatantly.

Seeing everybody busy and delightfully agile for something he hated much , Abel found himself choking and alien. . 

     ' I hate this place ...... hate this life .. '.

Suddenly Manni Aunty came out the front door, panting ; 

          " The baby is coming !!!!! . ..  baby is coming .... ";

Two more ladies entered the house, slamming the door with a deafening sound. . . .   All fell into silence ...... Laloo walked back and forth in short stroke lengths, chanting some unknown watchwords and counting beads off a newly bought pearl chain .. 
Abel found himself tensed ..... Might be the concern for his mother ,,,,, No ... it was not that ..,,, there was something more . . 

Minutes of uncertainty passed and the air trespassed mourns of Lalitha, reverberating it like an owl's hoot . . 

And then . . . . . . . 

 . . ..  the news came . . . . 

It was the same Manni aunty who broke the silence . . 

          " Badaai-Ho Lalooji . . . !!!!!! Badaai Ho ...!!!!     its a boy !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  . A cute, fluffy tad just like his brother . .Lalitha is perfectly fine .., Mata-ji's blessings have been always with her .... ....
Abel !!!!!! Come here son ... ,    there is a little pup for you . . . .. You won't take your eye once you see him . . . ";

Abel hesitated first , but when he saw his all other boys and girls rushing into his house, he couldn't resist his invoice, he couldn't neglect his levity from the lingering tension....................... The words, ' cute like his brother' echoed in his mind . 

     'She must be boasting ......        .... is he fair ?? ';

          "Come fast you sisterfucker... ";  his friends pushed him forward . 


The women were singing an ancient folklore praising Lord Rama, marking the beginning of a new era, that cried delicately with that neonatal charisma . 

          " Give way to the brother . . . . Let him see the Kumar ... ";          Manni Aunty made way for Abel . 

When the heads and buttocks moved for him, in the hands of his aunt, he saw a chunk of creamy butter slightly smiting its hands up and down ..... The tiny fists held the fingers close and the eyes, deliberately shut in hesitation of the new light never found inside the mother's womb. Abel couldn't believe his eyes !!!!!! ,,. except for the strands of black hair on the tiny head, the baby looked exactly like him,,, a CARBON COPY .... Instinctively he squatted near the baby and took him in his hands. The cotton like skin tickled his fingers and the teeny legs stroked his chest infrequently. He pecked him on the forehead, dwelling his lips for a few seconds; passing the warmth and calling in silent voices ,, " CHOTTU ...... ";

Lalitha opened her eyes for the first time since delivery, and saw the most blessed vignette, she thought would never happen . . . . 
She thanked Mata-ji wuth eyes brimming in joy . . . 
Abel couldn't fathom the reason why his neonate bro looked so fair. He could do the best guess that the Madraasi or the Panwaala , ,  his father had got black skin due to sun-burns or UV bleach . . 

            " You both are like Luv and Kush ,,,,, children of the omnipotent himself .... ";

     'Yeah it made sense.. ' ; Abel voted the midwife.

            " Mother , from next year I want to go school in Mirzapur. When he grows big I'll take him too . You must agree ,,,,, and you must say uncle .. ";

Lalitha nodded her head.

Outside, Laloo was heartbroken. He didn't move inside to see the new nephew but was reckoning the money of sweets and the losses in future . An oldie said to him ;

            "Laloo , , when your nephew grows big, you can retire from your works . Your girl can be under him then . Don't be upset laude .. ";

            " Hmmm .... ";

Laloo hummed and nodded his head, looking at his daughter , who gave away the sweets . 

After a long series of crying , the baby boy opened its eyes. . It first saw Abel and bulged the tiny eyeballs in utter amazement , and then touching his pink cheeks . . .  . . . smiling like an angel . . . 


     For life to go on in Natpurwa, the only capital needed is HOPE . . .  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  . . . . . . . . . . .. . . .        . . . . . . . . . . . .  ...................  ....... .............................................................................. .................... A hope of more customers, and more and more money. . . . . 
                     Life goes on here,,,,,,, with small joys like Abel's , interloping the hellish life , , , , ,  like a rain in the desert  . . . . . . . . . . . . . 



                                                                                                 LAMA SIGNING OUT . .