Wednesday, August 17, 2011

"to a life, which is reason unto itself"

The blueness of the sky was giving way to a shade of fire, the Omnipotent taking a corner beyond the green visual horizon my eyes had on the west. After a long day, blessing the mundane two legged creatures on one side of earth with 'light', he was making a travel to the other side around the corner and gift them with what Prometheus went seeking, 'fire'. The Omnipotence's son, was waking his head up, on top of the skyline of Hyderabad, with huge towering buildings and shams, the Nizam's and the Vijayanagara Empire's, citizens.

It was getting cold, but not with the wind, but with a stillness, and the fire suddenly in a moment changed to shades of black. I was hungry, the beast within, rising the head when the Omnipotent went over the other side. Hungry for food, the mind and the intellect and the flesh and the stomach was hungry, starving to be precise. My hunger of the mind and intellect, I did have access to things to curb them. The stomach's hunger, as long as my Mom and sisters are about, I know I would have means to satisfy. The hunger of the flesh is when, I have reached a stage where I can't stand any more softness, which gets melted, like the gelatos.

The moments after the climax, when the ears are nibbled or maybe burrowing in the bosom or do anything the soft feminine form prefers, is the time I so very hate the copulation that occurred moments back. There is nothing left for me with the girl, she doesn't have the answers for the other three hungers of the beast. She pretends she is naive, she fails to grow up and believes she is the weakling and needs to be carried on my shoulder. The climaxes goes forgotten and mostly a repulsion to the whole act seeks in and I go for a long shower with a pack of cigarets and a book at the first possible chance.

My moments in the bathroom, I crave for Kira, the 18 year old girl who was woman enough to know to satisfy her hunger of the flesh, for the simple reason, "to a life, which is a reason unto itself." A girl would pretend, to be doing it for a thousand reason, but not that, it is to celebrate life. The big magnanimous life. She isn't woman enough to celebrate life, but just a soft form which gets scarred, with the act. A woman would have had seen the ups and downs of the life and loin. A woman knows that life in itself is reason to celebrate, each moment the best possible, for she had seen life. She would be like Kira, who celebrated "to a life, which is reason unto itself"

Thursday, August 11, 2011

the MARCH of a proletarian

From the time he cared to remember, his desires had always been hidden, because there were no ways of attaining them at the moment he desired. What fun is in the fulfillment of a desire, when the desire itself cease to exist or had been forgotten?

Growing up, things weren't favorable in the village he lived. Water, rain, food, good clothes, almost everything was scarce and not to mention a english uschool, as he used to pronounce it back then. Watching the kids from the far away city on a picnic converse gayly in a language, he couldn't follow, he knew the limitations he faced growing up. But, then the english uschool became true and he knew, this was his march, the march of a proletarian, to leave of the poverty struck, dusty-dirty village and make true the gayness he found on the faces of the kids from the city. He planned his march, though not blessed with the acutest brain around, he fared good on the score-card, not near the top, but sure good enough to further his years and get to the next level, in the hierarchic educational system Macaulay introduced.

The moment he set his eyes on the white maruti, driving which the head-master's son came from the city, another thing was added to his 'to own' list. He didn't sit in vain, but gathered all his wits and went ahead and asked the head-master's son, how to get in possession of a maruti and he was given the advice, to keep studying, even if it didn't make sense or even if he didn't understand half the thing nor did it matter to him. Be a post graduate, get a job in some city and that is the way to maruti.

Years went by, our protagonist had always been on the march, towards his dreams. The post graduation he sure did, that too on the smartest selling cake in the market - "business administration" from a discreet, hidden around the corner B school. And thankfully as promised at the time of interview, by the time he completed the two years learning how to administer a business, the B school management was successful in convincing a bunch of companies to recruit from their freshly baked cakes. The stars shined on him bright for a week and the special prayers in the village temple worked finally. He got selected for a job in a big company in the city and he remembered his old head master's son and the line "get to a job in city after post graduation..that is the way to maruti." The old maruti 800, which was an inspiration behind his march till now was now not being sold to city inhabitants, but sure that car didn't fancy him as much as it had first kindled his heart. He thought to himself, "a maruti swift diesel would be a good choice", and the '800' got replaced by 'swift', but the tag 'maruti' left uchanged.

He embraced the job, as if it was his long lost twin. This was the march to reach the gayness on the faces of those kids from school, whom he had seen as a child. Also, this march was to own a white maruti and drive to his village, like the head-master's son. All these desires defined him and nobody could have been at fault, if they felt he was licking instead of kissing his bosse's ass. Drawing the first month's salary he knew the awfully long distance still left to the maruti, he was disappointed, but gathered all his nerve and went on a spree not eating and saving money and stabbing everyone whom he felt might pose a threat to his march, at the back. An year went by, the money saved still didn't look good for the maruti. He sighed because he knew it would be many more years before he could actually go home driving his own maruti.

The green bills passing through his hand, while counting for the 12th time, the few ten thousands he had managed to save, not eating, not ever picking the tab and fooling a firang with his business idea and relieving him of some valuable foreign exchange; he understood, what his school head master's son had really intended. It was not to save the green bills earned from his sweat and try own a maruti, because that would be a long route in vain. The shortest and the cheapest route is to get married and own the maruti along with the village landlord's daughter.

He was the only post graduate in business administration in the village he hailed from and all these years of learning the language the Britishers and Americans speak and being able to stammer on it with a heavy accented tone, he felt confident about the alliance. The urge to make true the desire ensured he caught the next train home and his parents happiness knew no bounds when he suggested about the alliance to the landlords daughter. They knew, it would mean an elevation of social status, redemption from poverty and debt and the icing on the cherry, the maruti car as dowry for their beloved post graduate, employed in a city son. Things went ahead fast, the proposal was made and the landlord agreed. The price negotiations over, he boarded the next evening train. The march of a proletarian to make true his desires was coming to an end.

((NB: I feel disgusted, watching some acquaintances doing this city employment, as a part of the proletarian's strategical march to a car and riches. If ever they invite me over and let me in on the details of the exchange, I promise to spoil it at least momentary. You marry because you choose to marry and share your life with someone. You marry, not because you choose to own a car through the shortest route nor because you choose to share the girl's dad's wealth.))

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

"orgasmic-marina" again after 6 years

I am a Malayalee who was born in Madras, because of the profession Appa and Amma practiced to feed themselves and that explains my fondness for Madras ((i still am not yet in terms with the term Chennai)). The last time I have been to Madras, was back in 2005 and I had written about my travel there 'Travelogue - To Amma's Land!'. There were my friends Praneeth and Rohit, back then as side-kicks and even now I went to spend the weekend with them in Madras.

6 years have gone by, the last time we went, we were the 2nd semester students and now we were all out from the College, we took refuge in. Time have gone by, the pint of rum, we consumed on the rainy night, gave way to MORPHEUS, my friend's latest like. The drink wasn't bad, but then we had all seasoned. The freshness of the face have started giving way to lines, not that I and my friends are growing old and dying, but then things were different. We were different, we grew in stature, we grew more complete and life had always been kind on us and our relationship. ((Every time I say, 'we', I am meaning not just the three of us, but the whole group of 14-16 guys I hung out with in College and with whom I went on my travels during College.))

Last time, the rides were to places that amuses everyone. But then we did it different this time on the Sunday. Me and Rohit went exploring the slums near to the Marina beach area. Drove around, watched the dirt and the dirt that was happening all around. Some experiences are worthy and sure this was one such, because being from Kerala, my encounters with the slums is almost nil and I wanted to have a feel and Rohit helped. Some real scary places, some real scary people, scarier tales and an eerie feeling. I am sure, I don't ever want to be on that turf alone unarmed.

Drunk on MORPHEUS, I boarded the train, surprisingly there was no bad feeling for having left two close friends behind and traveling out alone. I knew, we surely were gonna meet again and get drunk again, so guess my brain never found a reason to feel sad about having left them. There was the sadness of the weekend coming to an end, but sure then these orgasmic weekends, climaxing on the epitome of friendship could be relived again and again.

Friday, August 5, 2011

frozen moments

I started from my apartment to office almost minutes after the rooster announced the arrival of dawn to the world. I find it amazing that, in the concrete jungle I am living, there still exists a rooster and it fancies the announcement. Then, apart from me and the rooster, I knew the entire concrete around me was asleep and I felt weary about waking it. Started out in the drizzle on my bike and the rain drops took away the leftover sleep, that the shower couldn't wipe out. My old bike croaked under me in protest at the speed I was going, but then neither me nor my three week old infected sinus was enjoying the drizzle and the speedometer read a 90. It was the full throttle and there was no more up to go though I would have preferred to, knowing for sure that on the wet road with the treadles back tire, I was inviting trouble, as the mallus call it, on the way to make a 'PADAVAN'.

Turning a corner, on a very acute angle with the road, I see this car dead in the middle of the road; I knew I was headed straight on to it, unless I step on the brake, trying to get the bike back on to a perpendicular position, all at the same time and risking a fall. The brain screamed, "the fall is definitely safer than crashing on to the car". I braked, tilting the bike a little back to a straighter position, the back tire gave out; skidding on the wet tarmac, making a trail like a snake. Everything went blank, two seconds when, the hands of time froze and made it seem like an eternity. I had a flash of Appa and then things started back on with the normal pace. The bike didn't fall and the grip-less back tire held it good when it mattered. The blankness left, like a curtain have been lifted, but leaving my heart pounding very slower than I have ever felt.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

dotted, flavored or ribbed ??

A week back, the status message on a friends profile in facebook read, "the government should change its emblem from the  Ashoka Chakra to a condom, because it more accurately reflects the government’s political stance…! A condom allows for inflation ,halts production, protects  a  bunch  of  dicks  and gives a sense of security while you are actually being screwed", it was said to have been from Amartya Sen's blog. I found the quote hilarious and couldn't help make sounds similar to that of a hyena in office, attracting curious glares.

Call it the twist of destiny and I had another condom incident in the evening, when I went to get pills to kill the three week old virus fiddling with my sinus. A couple they seemed to me, she had the splash of vermilion on forehead and mehendi  on hands and he looked groomed, licked and cleaned and laundered, an appearance men generally seem to possess at the very initial days in a matrimony. They were standing right at the counter the contraceptives were kept, but since it was locked, they didn't want to call the pharmacist and open it. It was close to midnight and I felt they did really want it, but felt embarrassed to ask. The guy looked at me and he knew, I knew what they wanted and he had his eyes out, asking me to open the drawer for him.

The time, the bill was being made, I said, "please get me a packet of condoms." I said it loud, for the couple to hear and the contraceptive counter was opened, the pharmacist looked indifferently at me and asked, "dotted, flavored or ribbed?" It didn't really matter and I just got the cheapest rubber around. Thankfully, the guy picked the cue and he asked for it as well and pharmacist gave him his rubber. Standing at the counter, the guy had a smile on his face, a thanks in his eyes and I walked out from the pharmacy.

Ten foots into the cold night and the heavens opened up, and I traced back my steps. It was a good half kilometer to my apartment and I was sure to get wet, if I ventured out, but then the rain didn't seem to stop. I tore the aluminum wrapper of the condom, took my mobile and rolled the condom over my phone and knotted the end.

I didn't want my phone to get wet, and the little ghat travel experience I have and my trysts with rain has taught me, condom actually is a travelers best friend. Not because, they could go on a sex odyssey, but because, if there are some things you didn't want to get wet, like the mobile phone or the wallet or anything about 5 inches in diameter and about 10 inches in length could be kept protected in the latex.

I slipped the phone back into my boxers and started jogging, thinking about my trysts with the latex. Yeah I have always almost carried it, ever since reading the Harold Robins book "a stone for danny fisher", when 15. Though the condoms were put to their 'real purpose of manufacture', as the mba grads with whom I work might prefer call it, at a very later stage in life, I always felt it very handy after I opened one and checked it. I had bought it hidden in the huge list of groceries and supplies I bought from a retail store.

Time has flown by, the shades of black  has some grays appearing, the huge supplies list is no longer there, I bought a packet of condoms, to make it easier for somebody else to ask for it. I felt like a good Samaritan!! Condoms and a good Samaritan, weird patterns of thoughts, I know.Hope the church is not going to excommunicate me, crying blasphemy.

Opening the door to my apartment, I shouted aloud to myself "dotted, flavored or ribbed??" I wish, if only people spoke about contraceptives, sex and everything under the stars, like the way the pharmacist said, crisp and clear, so many uncanny beasts could have been kept at bay. Alas, but yet we all prefer the comfort of  silence and feed the beasts with the chunkiest piece of our days.

Monday, August 1, 2011

a movie alone at last

I am a late entrant to the world of cinema. My Appa, with his qualities and chivalry, as what he believes is to be true, never actually took us out for a movie, for the sake of entertainment. Educational purposes, I have had my share of Jurassic Park and some more. I do have memories of going for very few Malayalam movies of the early 1990's, but then it always required a lot of cajoling and convincing.

Later in life, when I turned 14, I started going out for movies alone with my classmates (I was in love much before going for a movie alone in life. Weird patterns of growth?).I loved the cinema and I always kept going for more ever since. I loved the feel of being in a cinema hall with people around and still feeling alone and watching a story unravel on screen. But then, on most times I was always accompanied by friends, and the fun of losing oneself in the crowd, I never leveraged again during my college in a cinema hall.

I went for an early morning show of a Malayalam movie, being screened here in Hyderabad, yesterday. It was a group of twenty people from office, 20 Mallus, as we are normally referred, who went for the movie. This time with some twisted fate of luck, I had my seats alone in the last row, at the corner and there were none I knew sitting close by.  My colleagues were sitting away and I was lost in the unknown Keralite crowd, sitting in a multiplex in Hyderabad, watching 'Salt and Pepper'.

The sounds of laugh I heard from my sides, were not familiar, but yeah it had the tune of a Malayalam accent to it. In some weird way it felt nice, being in a cinema hall filled with Malayalis, in a far of land.
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...