The room is fully packed. Sweaty and stinking smell fills the surrounding air. A fan, which takes ages to make a revolution, does more nuisance than good. But no one seems to care about heat. In deed an experience of an evening hell! All eyes are glued to a small screen on which their raw desires are being acted out live – their hidden desires and long held longings.
Language is not a barrier. Nor is caste or creed! All men, more than fifty all communicate in one language - the language called carnal desire, the language of raw human beings. Understanding is writ large on every face. No questions, no answers.
After much hesitation, I sit next to a man. He avoids looking directly at me and I don’t want to be seen either.
Soon another man joins us and sits to my right. Something is weird about this man, but I can’t say what. I take him for a gay. Does a gay watch this stuff also? I wonder. Then this happens. He starts to reach me. I shrug him off and push his hands. But he is undeterred. I moved a little far from him only to find him moving along with me also. I feel ashamed lest others in the room see the real scene at this side of the corner, but they are more into what is on the screen. When my cell phone rings, this weird fellow has laid his hands on every part of my body.
This time I push his hands with an immense force that his left arm hits on the wooden desk. I stand up to leave. I am totally angry and my face is apple red. My brother wants me to come home. And I hurry my steps through a long pathway what seems like a dark tunnel to me. It is a great escape I tell myself. Outside a large picture of Bruce Lee in his Enter the Dragon is pasted on the wall. A man is still selling tickets to hell.
And on my way home, I find my purse missing. No big deal. I don’t want to go back. I had only twenty rupees, but I have gifted that weird and gay-like fellow, a photo of my dear girl friend along with the purse.
That summer I broke up with Sonam Sayday.
Language is not a barrier. Nor is caste or creed! All men, more than fifty all communicate in one language - the language called carnal desire, the language of raw human beings. Understanding is writ large on every face. No questions, no answers.
After much hesitation, I sit next to a man. He avoids looking directly at me and I don’t want to be seen either.
Soon another man joins us and sits to my right. Something is weird about this man, but I can’t say what. I take him for a gay. Does a gay watch this stuff also? I wonder. Then this happens. He starts to reach me. I shrug him off and push his hands. But he is undeterred. I moved a little far from him only to find him moving along with me also. I feel ashamed lest others in the room see the real scene at this side of the corner, but they are more into what is on the screen. When my cell phone rings, this weird fellow has laid his hands on every part of my body.
This time I push his hands with an immense force that his left arm hits on the wooden desk. I stand up to leave. I am totally angry and my face is apple red. My brother wants me to come home. And I hurry my steps through a long pathway what seems like a dark tunnel to me. It is a great escape I tell myself. Outside a large picture of Bruce Lee in his Enter the Dragon is pasted on the wall. A man is still selling tickets to hell.
And on my way home, I find my purse missing. No big deal. I don’t want to go back. I had only twenty rupees, but I have gifted that weird and gay-like fellow, a photo of my dear girl friend along with the purse.
That summer I broke up with Sonam Sayday.
He stole away your girlfriend indeed...these...so you are unvailing some part of you which we didn't know...I was worried if you would give in that gay...thank god he only landed up the rs.20 and picture(though important then) which is just a picture now.
ReplyDeleteKeep going man...i like reading them...