My Feeble Attempts at Fictions.
Showing posts with label Reality Check. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reality Check. Show all posts
Wednesday, 27 June 2012

The Moment

I think I've arrived there finally. Probably, more than a decade late. But almost there. Mere presence of someone in my vicinity is stirring me. I try to remember when was the last time I felt like this, if ever. 

His eyes are playing. More as his body moves with the rhythm. His feet flawless. 

He holds out his hands, I take them. They are surprisingly cold, for a man sweating so profusely. I pretend to play distracted, while he plays distant (I'd like to think he is playing it) for such small distance between our bodies. The pace of the rhythm increases, so does his, followed by my feet, almost involuntarily. Being led by him, on the dance floor, with my heels producing a sweet melody of their own to match with the Latin music, is intoxicating if I am not understating it. He pulls me in his arms and locks me in. I can feel his rapid breath on my neck. While he motions me in circles to the circumference of the dance floor, I can see our reflections in the huge mirrors. Visible difference in our heights. He is somewhere between six feet 2 and 3 inches while I can see an invisible foot ruler hanging on my head to reach his. 

He turns me around and I find myself looking into his eyes, feeling those broad shoulders under my fingers. God, he moves so swiftly. 
The sound of applause breaks my chant and I look around to see people looking appreciatively at us. He is standing beside me, with his arm around my waist. The charge between us, I'd give anything away to be here, at this moment.
The instructor approaches us and the next thing I know is he is gone. 

I fall back into reality with a thud. 
The moment has passed. 

As I collect my things, I see him at the far end of the gym, collecting his hand towel from his bag. He smiles at me. I return the smile. The formal smile. He is again, a person I know from the dance class, not my type, with an expression that clearly tell me that I am not his type either. But then, a question pops in my head 'what exactly is your type?' I decide to put it on halt, for later.
I say bye to almost everyone on my way to the exit. I start to say bye to him (the formal one) he interrupts to ask me if I am joining the new evening class, I say I haven't decided yet. 'It's going to be fun' he is telling me. 

He persuading me. That's my ego smiling sarcastically. 'I'll think' I say and step out of the exit door.


Friday, 4 November 2011

Black Money #Day4

I pull the drawer out and there he is. Smiling.
How dubious is that. The man who led a country to independence, the man who taught a country the importance of living a simple life, is the man who allures the countrymen to loot their motherland.


70 years ago, he was the man who encouraged my grandfather to get into politics to make this country a better place to live.
Today, he is the man, who encourages me everyday to make this country a less better place to live.

- A So Called 'Public Servant'

Wednesday, 28 September 2011

Karma

I was 15 when my chastity was first sold to a man of my grand father's age, and then to another man right when I was screaming in pain and laid in a pool of blood. 


And, then, there was no looking back. It was my profession.
Today, I turn 30. I don't know if I have earned sins in the past 15 years, but probably I saved a few girls from being raped. That should balance my karma. 
________________________________________________________________________

P.S. Prostitution is outright inhuman. But prostitutes are human. If it wasn't for them, the rape index had never seen any boundaries.


Sunday, 29 May 2011

Game of Cards

'What if Amar gets to know?' Binita said in a hush voice while collecting bed sheet and wrapping it around herself. 
'He wont. he is too busy ogling at other women.' replied Chetan curtly. 
'You must get dressed Chetan. Amar must be on his way back home. Dint he say he will be back in an hour or so?' Binita started getting dressed.
'I guess he must be busy in rest room shaking himself. He is not too fortunate to get hooked up in a page three types dinner.' Said Chetan while getting back into his pants.
Binita let a giggle out while doing her hair after satisfactorily checking her saree drape in the mirror.

They were just eating when the door bell rang and Binita opened the door for Amar. She greeted him with a welcoming smile.
 'Looks like you guys had a good game of rummy while I was away.' Amar said playfully looking at the deck of the cards placed on the living room table. 
'Yes, I won. Thrice.' Chetan said sarcatically looking at Binita who gave him a cunning smile. 

'I must leave now and give you and Binita some lone time my friend. Also, Diya must be getting bored at home alone.' Chetan decided to clean behind his back after another game of rummy.
'Thanks for keeping Binita company Chetan. She feels lonely at home while I am away at these business meetings.' Amar shook Chetan's hand and they both hugged like friends.

While driving back to home, Chetan thought about his best friend Amar and his super sexy wife Binita. How rude of Amar to ignore a beautiful woman like Binita alone and not taking her care. When I can read her unsatisfied needs in her eyes, why cant Amar? For a minute, his consious gave him a hard time when he thought about the game he was playing with his best friend and cheating on his wife, but then he thought it was not going to be permanent. Some day or the other, both Binita and him are going to end it. Amar and Diya would never know about it. 


He parked the car in the basement and walked towards the lift to his apartment. 

'Namaste sa'ab' the lift man greeted him as he pressed the button which would take Chetan to his home.
'Namaste Farukh. How are you? When did you come back from the village?' Chetan was pleased to see Farukh back.
'Bas sa'ab, Yesterday only. It was my sister's wedding.' Farukh was rubbing khaini on his palm with his thumb.
'Acha acha. Did someone come to see me today while I was away?' Asked Chetan out of habit.
'Haan sa'ab, Amar sa'ab came. I told him you were not at home, he decided to wait for you but then, he left some half an hour ago.' Farukh said chattily.
'Amar?' 
Chetan went numb. Farukh shook him to say his floor had arrived. 

Chetan rang the door bell. Diya opened the door. She looked unusually happy. 

'Farukh said Amar came?' enquired Chetan from his beautiful wife.
'Yes, we played a game of Rummy while he waited for you. He won. Thrice.' Diya pointed towards the deck of cards neatly placed on the table.

Chetan smiled at his wife and his luck.

Wednesday, 2 February 2011

Dhobighat- Not the movie.

I come out in the balcony with a bucket full of washed clothes.
My husband gifted me a FBI fully automatic washing machine on my last birthday. But I hardly use it. I like washing clothes with my bare hands. Its not because I am too naive to understand how it works, it is because removing dirt from the clothes gives me weird comfort.

I start spreading the clothes on the cables. Mrs. Mehra from the opposite balcony smiles at me. She tries to engage me in a conversation, I smile and come back telling her my phone is ringing.
I come in and spot the dirty duster in the corner, I pick it up and start rubbing the fingerprints from the glass top of the center table. 
Will those dirty fingerprints on my body come off ever, I always wonder. 
My husband is here. He is going to see water dripping off the wet clothes in the balcony and ask me again to use the washing machine.
He will then ask me to get a dhobi come to our place and collect laundry because everyone does that. 
And I will start screaming on the mention of dhobi and faint. Like everyday.


Tuesday, 25 January 2011

When I did not take Dump in time

The morning was Cold. The alarm clock snoozed, and I took the first look on my Twitter Timeline. 
She was there. Enough reason to make my morning.
I pulled over my quilt.
That was when my phone rang and I realized I had an important meeting to look forward to in office and I was already 30 minutes late. 
I splashed water on my face and ran.
Everyone in the conference room looked at me as if I came straight out of my bed. And I had.
I connected the laptop to the projector and thats when I realized I could not wait for the meeting to get over to go to the washroom.
I fumbled in the wires and my laptop jumped from the table and committed suicide.
And, then something in my pants committed suicide.

P.S. This one is for @chulbul_pandi ;) 

Monday, 11 October 2010

मेरा घर

'हाँ मेरे घर आजा, बैठ कर गप्पें मारेंगे..' पिछले हफ्ते ही तो अपनी सहेली से कहा था उसने.


'कल मैं अपनी माँ के घर में थी और आज अपने ससुराल..'
एक रात के अंतराल में उसका अपना घर कहाँ खो गया?

 
Saturday, 9 January 2010

The Confession


I felt too weak to stand up and walk or cover myself.
He just tore me apart and emptied himself.
I could not see him walk away as if I was just a utility with no emotions.
And before I knew anything, there was blood all around and a broken beer bottle in my hand.




Wednesday, 30 December 2009

Reality Check

She hit him hard in the face.
All she felt was rage.
How shallow could he get.
What about the vow to stand by her side?

How could he tell her to kill his own daughter growing inside her womb?

P.S. Save the girl child.


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