Revisiting DAIICT – Trip to Thol (Final Episode)

Some adult content where Rishabh expains pregnancy. Read at your own risk.

The morning and the ride back

What do you do after reaching a bird sanctuary before the sun wakes the birds? Well ideally you wait and chit chat. Our good friends did the same. However, the subject was not some random chick or college professor or course…… it was Mahabharata.. I know. Don’t ask.


They sat at the platform form where the skyline was visible as it turned from dark to faint grey to orange to mild red….. They saw it all. It is not that they hadn’t seen sunrises. They all had. In fact they had been awake so many times together that the charisma of the sun rising beyond the trees in DAIICT had lost its charm. But not today. No…. Today they stood.. I mean sat in full awe as it rose and they talked with the minimum knowledge of the same. Gupta started with the genealogy of the KAuravas and Pandavas. We all know that Kauravas were bad goons who did wrong to the Pandavas. Gupta decided to dig deeper. Frankly, most of us know until Dhritrashtra….. Few know of the family tree beyond him. Gupta boasted of the same as if it were his own family tree.

Prashant added what he knew. In a while the subject shifted to something else. Pregnancy. Yes trust me. In the wee hours of the night Rishabh explained them the intricacies of how to get/avoid pregnancy. Following are the excerpts:

“Dekho. The cycle starts let us say today. So if you have sex today you are fine. But seven days from now it is risky business. Maa ki… bachha ho sakta hai. “ Gupta listened with utmost attention. For some reason he was counting something.

Gupta: “Abe ye batao…for sure pregnant ho sakti hai ladki us din?”

Rishabh was like a teacher to them. He talked glibly about the biology of female anatomy and explained it completely. It involved complex discussion on the movement of semen and fertilization of the egg. The details however can be disturbing for some readers. So we will end with the final line…. ”…..aur kuch jaanana hai?”

All: “Nahi be…. Abhi ke liya itna hi kaafi hai….”

Pratik knew stuff too but was inclined on birdwatching.

“Maa ki….. ye chidiya kab uthengi… Bh****d machhar kitne hain… yahaan…”. Gupta again broke into his uncontrollable laughs. Rishabh twisted his arm and asked for a smoke. Gupta took the pack out and handed it over. The first smoke of the day and sun and friends… what else does one want?

****

The birds came in small groups and as the light dispersed the vast stretch of land shedding away the humid cold Gupta jumped off the platform and stretched. Words cannot capture the stretch because it was a characteristic stretch and wriggle. I however will give it a try in steps:

Step 1: Stand erect and spread your hands as if you are pushing the sky out of earth’s atmosphere

Step 2: Get on your toes and yawn

Step 3: Pull you hair and descend on the floor by a quiet but audible “Ahh!! Fuck Bhen*** …..”

Step 4: Exhale

I am pretty sure I am not able to capture the essence but it sure gives you a high level understanding of how Gupta does it. So where were we? Ahh!! Sunlight. Pratik came down and decided that the place was apt for a photograph. He at a precise 22.5 degrees from the angle of the camera such that the sunlight lit his pretty face and highlighted the features to… (I better stop lest my girlfriend has second thoughts… ;)) Gupta roamed around pulling grass from the land and hurling it high in the sky. I have no clue what he was trying to achieve… Rishabh was finding the perfect spot to be photographed. Prashant photographed the bastards.

Rishabh soon found the perfect place: “Yaar..!! Yahaan se kheench. Click when a fresh batch of birds flow from the horizon and are perfectly in the scape of me and the sky… Ensure that the light is on my face… Click from near the ground…The timing needs to be perfect…” on and on he went…. Prashant listened. Timing ki maa ka bh****…. Photographer samajh rakha hai kya madar****

Pratik: “Hahahaha”… Gupta: “AHHA !!! FUCK BHE*****”…

*****

The birds had been watched. The moist cold had been enjoyed. It was getting warm. Something was amiss. Yes…. Food. Rishabh, let me tell you is a meticulous man. He sets everything perfectly. He wakes up at precisely 6:47 am and takes a dump at around 7:00 am. Rumor has that he never attends a lecture without having breakfast. So the plan was laid. They would be eating at the roadside vendors outside IIM-A. The ride began soon. They bid goodbye to the sanctuary and left. Meanwhile on the way, one of the bikes ran low on fuel. Gupta was riding it. From where the bike stopped, he could see the petrol pump but it was afar. What to do? Gupta thought for a while and lit a cigarette. Prashant looked a little worried. Gupta assured him and took out his phone. Made a call… “Haan be!! Kahaan ho? Hamari gaadi ka petrol khatam ho gaya hai….. Wapas aao”. The other bike rode back and joined them.

Gupta welcomed Rishabh with “Lo sutta pio.” Rishabh denied saying “Nahi be..!! Bahut garmi hai abhi. Kya karna hai?” Prashant and Pratik went to the cigarette kiosk close by and got a bottle of 7 up.

Pratik : “Lo pio madar****on”

Gupta: “Sahi be…!! Diek pepsi ka can nahi tha kya?”

Prashant:”Gupta main gaa** maar lunga”

Gupta:”Tension mat lo be”

Rishabh:”Jaldi khatm karo … hum aage us petrol pump se petrol le aate hain iss bottle mein”

All:”Hmm”

The bike was refueled and the ride began again. This time the stop was scheduled at IIM-A and that is where the heroes stopped. The roads were awesome I remember. They ate like crazy. Poha, omlette, tea… cigarettes. That is what a young body yearns for. They paid the guy and rode back to college. The rest of the journey was uneventful except for the brief minute where they were checking licenses at the circle and our hero Prashant did not have one buy was driving the bike. Gupta subtly asked him to take a right and avoid the cop. It was awesome.

The came back to college by 10 am. Gupta got down from the bike and wriggled in 4 steps as told before. Rishabh decided that his daily bowel movements were already delayed by 3 hours and he could not hold them any longer. Pratik said it was time for his sleep and went to sleep. Just when all were dispersing…..

Prashant asked Gupta… “Kya karna hai?”
Gupta: “Aaao…galle chalte hain”


The end

Their Story : Filler

Trust me readers... there is a lot more to me than a lazy bastard.... it is called as meticulous ass warmer...
Some of you have been waiting for this... so here goes...

Content


The rains had come and gone. The soil still held the scent of the moist air. The air still had the color of the dark clouds. The clouds had lost their color. They were white in a cumulus cluster hiding the sun. The sun had lost his will to shine and hid behind the clouds to cover his laziness. The clouds had lost their color from the dark tint they had a couple of days ago when the air was wet and the soil dry anticipating a wild precipitation of heat into sudden bursts of drizzling dreams. But that was two days ago! A lot was well only two days ago.

*****

Shujit packed his bag as he was preparing to leave for work. Prashant walked to the door as Shujit remarked about ‘what an absolute bitch’ the soil outside was.

“Damn it man! My shoes are dirty again! ” It was outstanding to see him complain about muddy issues. Prashant closed the door and wished his customary goodbye with the mandatory assurance, “Bhai main tiffin le aaunga!”

“Aur sewai bhi!” Shujit added to the already offered luxury.

As he closed the door, Prashant uttered in subdued exaggeration, “Bastard!”

Now, the readers would be wondering (along with Shujit) as to why the sudden allusion to Shujit! We did not even know him before. Is he making a guest appearance or is he here to stay?

Readers do not worry! He is not here to screw things up. He is playing his part just like Karuna is. Ahh!! Karuna! Now we had almost forgotten about her. Hadn’t we? Let me tell you something. Karuna is an author’s muse. Especially for this author, she is the ideal painting. We love to talk about paintings because we like to talk about abstract things. However, this is not the reason we like to talk about Karuna….. Her, we definitely like and most definitely love for reasons we can’t share on this blog. We normally harness the idea that most people are stupid. But Karuna is not stupid. She has a master’s degree in pharmaceutical management. She can tell you what medicines to take when you are sick and also manage your pill popping exercises. But she will not do this for you. She would grace only us with this favor because she is in love with us- the author and Prashant.

You should have seen her eyes the day she came to meet us in Bangaur. She was here for some time and we spent some time with her in the coffee shops and shopping malls. Not once did she lose sight of us and grew tense when we coughed and almost cried when we almost threw up after eating a crappy burger at ‘Pubway’ – avoid it readers. We cried with her because we did not like to see her cry and we like all people, cry when we are upset. Yes we were upset. We did not eat for 2 straight days. We only ate in the nights when she was fast asleep because she was sad and we were upset, but we were also hungry and hungry people do crazy things like eat sofas while sitting on it and trying to imagine black color in water taking it for cola. Yes, my readers you see… we did all these things because we were crazy in love. She did all this because she was crazily in love with us. All three of us were so happy the day she came to us. She thinks we love Shujit and Pratik. Poor kid… how she does not see that we think of her eyes and that tiny little freckle on her forehead when it is windy, of the moist cheek when it is gloomy, of her ability to not weep when a jackass of a doctor told her to get lost and how impotent we felt that day …. Both of us…. We wept that night for three straight hours on our bed and tried to console us but to no effect. Were gloomy the next day but we knew this will pass because we believed in GOD. I am lying. She believed in GOD and a tenet that good things happen to people who believe…. If only I could….

I know some readers are wondering what happened to Shujit…..!!

Revisiting DAIICT - Trip to Thol (Part 2)

Almost there – Before sunrise

 “Yaar Jacket le lun kya?? Thand ho jaayegi….” Rishabh was not a man to leave a place without ample preparation. He took his bright red colored jacket.

Meanwhile, Gupta came out in his long sleeved jacket that he had been wearing for the last four days. Rumor has that it belonged to Mishra but they had struck a deal which involved Mishra borrowing Gupta’s dumbbells without any queries. Anyhow, Mishra is not pivotal to the story.

Prashant came out of his room wearing a grey jacket over a dark blue Nike T-shirt. Pratik emerged from his room donning a green shirt over a black under tee. He was the most stylish of all four.

And thus, aptly prepared for the chilly wind, our heroes made way for the parking lot. Gupta stopped at a couple of stops to light cigarettes and finally reached the parking lot once Pratik lost his temper and shouted out his blasphemies aloud: “Abe Gupta Bho*** ke! Main teri g*** maar lunga… Jaldi aa “.

Boy! They had a colorful vocabulary. Gupta came smirking. He stood for a moment at the parking lot, took a final drag from the Gold Flake he was regally holding between his fingers, dropped it, stubbed it under his shoes, looked up towards the sky (and the flickering light overhead) and exhaled with a smile stating “Yeh saali!! Light be*** ki **** kabhi thik nahi hogi.”

Rishabh had already occupied the black pulsar belonging to Nigam and Pratik had undertaken Gupta’s red pulsar. The remaining two took to their seats. The red pulsar was kickstarted and the black pulsar came to life at the touch of an electric button. Both the bikes thereby made way through the narrow alley covered with trees, came out on to the college road, zoomed past the cafeteria and came to a brief stop at the main gate to make the ‘OUT’ entry.

Rishabh as usual indulged in a small and a quick banter with Surendranath sir. The small chit chat was important to smuggle booze into the college campus later in future.

Now, it is important to notice that there were 4 guys and two bikes which allocated two guys on a single bike. In a campus where seating any less than 3 people on a pulsar was regarded as a waste of real estate space, this was sheer crime. However, beating all odds of social norms, our heroes took a left turn from the college gate and jumped on the Gh-0 road gaining speed quickly towards Infocity.

Somehow, I do not remember the petrol station they stopped to get their bikes refueled, but I shall put the onus on the frequently visited Gh-0 petrol pump. The tanks were fueled for 100 bucks each (those were the good days when a mere 50 bucks gave you one full liter of petrol). A silent sign language and the index finger raised by Rishabh from the bike ahead had affirmed that 100 bucks worth petrol should suffice. No one doubted his views. Not even Monal, the DBMS professor.

And such was the night, full of a dark road lit only meagerly by the insufficient moonlight. The clouds blew over the moon hiding the white circle frequently under their cover. The trees swayed in the wind. All shops were closed until the next 20 kms. The riders rode hard. They stopped for none. They rode with peace and happiness leaving everything behind. Nothing could touch them tonight. Prashant folded his hands in the backseat as Rishabh swiftly sped towards the shop they all knew they would be stopping at. It is weird how silence played tricks on their minds. Gupta was getting numb in the backseat as Pratik rode cautiously to the rendezvous point which was still 15 kms ahead.

Keeping up with the gravity of the situation, I have however been able to penetrate within the minds of all four. The following is what they thought about until the first rendezvous point:

Pratik: Fuck it is dark!! I can barely see the road. Aur madar Gupta ki bike lights bhi kitni kam hain.. MAan kasam kahin bika na gir jaaye….

Gupta: Fuck!! Ye Pratik to bike chalana seekhk gaya hai be…Itni kam light mein bhi kya mast chala raha hai…Light se yaad aaya… Bike ki light bhi thik karaani hai…roshni kaafi kam aati hai…(and suddenly) Abe FUCK!! ROSHINI ko phone karna bhool gaya…

Rishabh: ?? ????!!!!!???-----QQWEASDSDCWSC!! (Bhai kitna kuch chalta hai iske dimaag mein….)

Prashant: Achha.. .to petrol dalwaya 100 rupaye ka… Chai naashta hoga 50 rupaye ka… Pathak ko 38 rupees dene hain…To…hisaab ho gaya… (Bhai ye kitna sochta hai hisaab ke bare mein…)



Within the next 20 minutes our heroes parked near ‘Adalaj circle’. A tea shop was open. There were a few people sitting on the ‘charpai’ placed outside the shop. Prashant went in and ordered four cups of tea and a got a couple of smokes. Happily they sat outside the shop for the next 15 minutes enjoying every sip, relishing every fag……

The tea was consumed. The smoke was recycled. They got back to the bikes. The riders were now exchanged. Prashant was riding one with Rishabh at his back while Gupta took to the other. They took a right from Adalaj circle and moved into the remote villages which would lead them to the ‘Thol lake’. They were attacked by a pack of dogs near the circle. They survived and moved on…..

Within a span of 30 minutes they were bordering on the city and village and were riding into the deep of a village. The morning was close…. The destination was closer.

Cutting through fences and crossing roads frequently, they reached a dry heath with sand all over the road. It was a difficult terrain to tread upon. Rishabh took to the task of riding. The ride continued in the dark….. The night swiftly bordering on morning, gloom quietly bordering on chirpiness…

In no time they had reached the gates of ‘Thol Bird Sanctuary’. It was an overwhelming arch that allowed for the entrance of bikes, cars and humans into the sanctuary. The bikes had to be parked on the level ground. The two bikes took to the stop and quickly became silent and dark once the ignition was turned off. Prashant was the first to get down. His getting down had a purpose:

“Abe bahut tez aa rahi hai… Bha*** raaste mein kahin karwa dete…” He started to complain.

Pratik was slightly sleepy and realized they had reached the place. “Abe!! Bas itna sa hi hai kya?? I thought it would be grand!!” he exclaimed with a yawn.

“Bhai koi karwa do … bahut zoooooor se aa rahi hai…. !! Gupta madar.. sutta kyun jalaya??” Prashant started to lose his calm. He was on the verge of relief…(if you know what I mean)

“Udhar kinaare me chal…” Rishabh pointed.

In around 15 seconds, four guys stood in a file unzipped and watered a corner of the sanctuary… Gupta still had the smoke in his mouth… Pratik still complained about the smoke. He stood dangerously close to Gupta. Rishabh swayed slightly… Prashant was too eager to dwell on any activity.. He just pissed in peace….

It was almost sunrise….

Revisiting DA-IICT - Trip to Thol Lake (Part 1: Character sketches and build up)

Foreword
Don’t ask me what prompted this. I will not tell you. What I will tell is this….. “Somewhere down very deep in every human lives an emotional bastard. Some live with it every day, some are too scared to expose the world to it and some just let it take its course……” . I said the same to mine…. “Thou art afoot!! Now write what thou wilt….!!”
The acronyms used are slangs and are self explanatory wipect to the context.
The content
It gets surprisingly chilly during the nights in Ahmedabad in the anticipation of winter. DA-IICT fell in the landscape and accepted the hard truth. The night which we are interested in took place during September (For obvious reasons my memory is marred and I can’t place the exact month. But who are you to judge… You weren’t there anyway..!!).

The air was still that night. The characters we are interested in; Prashant, Pratik, Suvrat and Rishabh were sitting on the stairs that led to the third floor. The stairs were tactfully placed at the junction between two hostel wings and provided easy access to the adjacent wings. However, the actual purpose of the ‘junction’, as it was referred to by the hostel dwellers, during the night was more than just transit. The one which we are interested in (at the junction of A and D wings) had transitioned into a common hangout for smokers and lovers smitten by long distances (and Reliance night pack of course). The balcony was aptly suited for long conversations for it allowed the wind blowing from the east during the night to carry away the smoke and soothe the altercations on the phone. The huge neon light strategically located near the parking lot kept flickering during the night. It only added to the charisma and somehow never got fixed during the four years of stay of our heroes at DAIICT.

I want to rant so much about the characters but shall be terse.

Suvrat was the guy every girl would hate. He stank. He stank of smoke, a month old jeans, a quarter old shirt and a lot of deo to cover up the smell. Suvrat was no ordinary guy. Apparently he had topped the UP board twice. His list of achievements included collecting an award from Md. Kaif (yeah the same one who granted Dada the luxury to strip his hairy chest right at the Lord’s and show to the world that we can grow hair too.) He remained a mystery to a lot of people in college for he was never in college. Somehow, girls kept falling for him and he kept first running after and then from them. These days he was dating some Gujju chick from Ahmedabad who we are told was well versed with the preparation of Khaman Dhokla and Phaafda. He was infamous amongst the professors; because not attending lectures was his right that the college founders had bestowed upon him and ‘Medical emergency re-examination’ policy was his best friend. It is told that he had passed seventeen courses (which is more than twice the number of technical electives Pratik opted for) at the policy’s aid. The dean of Academic affairs Sameer Suhaag (or Sam Su like they called him fondly) was befuddled at Suvrat’s ability to fall sick during all exams. These days he was dwelling in the room right opposite Prashant’s and they used to share the light moments over tea and smoke every now and then. One tiny detail: people who knew him fondly and upon whom he had by his grace rained the luxury of intimacy, never referred to him with his first name. They simply called him Gupta.

Pratik was the guy next door. I mean he was the guy next door to the door next to Gupta’s next door neighbor. Forget it. It is too complicated. Anyway, he was deeply in love with a girl whose real name shall be withheld (not on his request but on the author’s judiciousness) and shell here on be referred to as R by everyone. The girl is not of criticality to the episode but we shall spend some time on her because she was the one who Pratik talked to more than 7 and a half hours in the night and hence deprived of sleep, slept the day off on the beds which were conveniently flicked off seniors and were placed between the actual beds that the college had provided. She was in the same village that Pratik spent his childhood and like all mushy love stories, their story took shape during her childhood and our hero’s teenage. He was a skinny guy who wore spectacles. He had style apparently (I guess he was the most stylish stud in his village and that is the only reason R fell for him.) It is said that the guy could not stay awake for more than 4 hours in the day, but boy he could code (and eat). He single handedly built a website for his course on Software engineering and got placed in a fancy company in the final year. And it was not just any website. It could be accessed on other networks and know what? It worked!! The site never threw any errors and corrected any error in the input on its own. Somehow, the professor Ashwin Banerjee could never quite understand the complexities of the website and ended up granting an ‘AB’ for the effort. Fucking ‘Absolutely Blown off his heads’.

Rishabh!! Now, how do I start? The man is a phenomenon in himself. He uses words methodically and can be quite a convincer. His fame preceeds his presence and can be more dominant than Chris Gayle’s bludgeoning during IPL. To most people’s surprise Rishabh was a short guy. You never quite expect a guy like him to be of this stature but boy when he starts to talk !! … Everyone listens. The trees, the leaves on the trees, the creatures inhabiting the leaves on the tree and the kids in the womb of the expecting creature inhabiting the leaves on the tree. He speaks sense. He weighs words meticulously and ends up winning any conversation that he is a part of. It is said that once he was talking to a British delegate in his current company and the client asked a difficult question which involved a lot of technicalities. Without getting into the knitty gritties of the actual conversation I will tell you what our hero responded with: “Saar!! The caricature of an extended analysis is tangential to the project. However, leveraging resources from across business verticals from a foreign organization shall give us more visibility into the rational why the “Quantum of Solace” dunked at the theaters but was a superhit in the villages.” The client and the team stood flummoxed. It was as if the solution was right there. Someone had to just word it up. It is also beckoning to the scenario that our hero once sold Taj Mahal to an NRI under ‘Insurance and private holding act for rare artifacts’ for 30 Million $ and then got it back without reimbursing by quoting the ‘Lost artifact recollection act’. The NRI wept for one week.

We all know Prashant from his stint in ‘Their Story’. (It is not an attempt to publicize the story.)

*****

The trip
The wind played tricks in the night. Suvrat, Rishabh and Prashant sat on the stairs gazing at the moonlight. The talks were generally customary. Rishabh was worried about why the DBMS professor did not reply to his Good morning e-mail. Prashant kept looking at his cell from time to time as if expecting a call from the President. Suvrat sat holding the cigarette in his left hand. He puffed hard and rocked his head silently. He let out the smoke with a silent exhale and passed the cigarette to Rishabh. Rishabh folded his sleeves and retorted in quiet dismay:

“Abe nahi be…!! I just had dinner”

“So?” Both Prashant and Suvrat raised their concern of their friend denying them the luxury of burning his lungs together with them.

“Yaar..!! It is harmful just after dinner! A recent study has proven this. They tested it on monkeys in Mongolia and it is said that those monkeys have the strongest immune system”

“Ahh!! Harmful after dinner…. !! My ass!! I guess it is like honey for an empty stomach” No one quite understood the context but all shared a quick laugh on the comparison Prashant had created. Pratik walked in a minute later. He seemed surprisingly fresh at 2 in the night.

“Let’s go somewhere” Pratik demanded and settled onto the stairs. It is important to notice that the moment he was in the vicinity, everyone had moved in opposite directions to make space for him. He settled in the empty space conjecturing , “ Maa ki… !! Kitna sutta peete ho be??? BC, ek din mujhe bhi passive smoking ki aadal lagwaoge..”

The curse seemed to hurt no one. Gupta somehow, found it very funny and started laughing in uncontrollable snorts. He frequently stopped to gasp fpr air and when he did so, he ensured to exclaim the handpicked from his colorful vocabulary, “HAHA!! Fuck BC!! ”

“Chalo Thol chalte hain” Pratik remarked as some random dude came on to the stairs and not knowing the identity of our heroes, hid his cigarette inside. Gupta on the other hand noticing that the mentioned random dude was from his city, assured him… “Abe!! Piyo be….tension na lo…”

“Saale BC, koi meri baat ka jawab to de do… What say? Thol tonight? Bike ride?” Pratik cursed again in unstoppable surges. “Naa be..!! It is too cold tonight” Prashant played the spoilsport he always played. Gupta as always did not give a damn. On the contrary he lifted the left cheek of his ass… cursing slightly..”Oh!! BC.. kahaan gayi?”, took out a key without a key ring from his pocket and said…”D wing ki parking me hai…le jaao.. I am not inclined.. I have to prepare for IAS,CFA, CAT,GRE, IPS etc….” (It is true. The guy prepared for more entrance tests than the courses he wrote during his engineering). For the enlightenment of the readers, the item which he was referring to was the deadly, red Pulsar , Registration num: GJ 01 FL- 1723

It is time now people to bring to your notice the hero who with his art of convincing will in the next 25 words, coax Gupta and Prashant to acquiesce to Pratik’s demand.

“Bhai log..!! Yeh second year hai… aur hum log kabhi kahin nahi jaate…!! Kal ke lecture ki tension mat lo. I will wake you up” (or not let you sleep the entire night tonight).

“But we need one more bike.” Prashant exclaimed as if he drew an insight from rubbish.

And then started the discussion which took place every time more than 3 had to go out in the night on a bike.

Prashant: “Nakul se maange?”

Rishabh: “Nahi be.. unse kal hi maangi thi..”

Prashant: “Satty?”

Gupta: “Wo apni laundi ko ghumaane gaya hai…” (That is all. His participation in this conversation was over)

Pratik: “Aur koi? Smarty? ”

Prashant & Rishabh: “HMM” (In thoughtfulness)

Gupta: “Main ek aur jala raha hun”

All 3: “Ch….”

Pashant: “ Abe chhodo be… bike nahi milegi…“

Rishabh: “Abe JBL, maa mat ch….. !! Ruk dekh ke aane de Smarty ke room pe…” In the meanwhile, Gupta had finished the cigarette and joining the conversation added a name that they all had missed:

“NIGAM!!”

All 3: “Hmm!! Chance hai…”

And this is how they got the second bike and left at around 3 on two biked for a place which they thought was an epitome of scenic beauty and chirping birds…. Well..!!!! Not quite so in reality..!!!

Story : Unnamed (Part 1)

P.S.: The characters are borrowed from ‘The Fountainhead’. The story is not.


Howard Roark stood naked on the cliff and laughed. He laughed because laughing made sense. Fear of death is explicitly mind boggling but the fear of dying young is subtly disturbing. He stood naked. He stood naked because he was stripped of pain. There he was, the way he had come into this world. The way it was always mean to be…..

Dominique stood far away dressed inappropriately. She felt safe. She felt safe for she knew nothing. Nothing of what had happened and what was in store. She did not know Howard. She was here to kill him because she hated the purity of nudity. She did not know that it was autumn. She did not know that the trees had shed leaves to complete the cycle. She did not know Howard had stripped to complete the cycle of life. She did not know clothes were metaphors…..

**

Far beyond the horizon, a car was approaching the cliff Roark was standing naked upon. There was sand in the air because the car was speeding through. There was a sense of purpose in the environment. Everything seemed in place for the climax Toohey had planned. He sat in the car. The stick lying safely in his lap. He cursed the dust on the road and brought his arm on his forehead. He wiped the beads of perspiration which had condensed on his forehead. The sun was shining brightly from behind the cliff. He strained hard to look into the direction to see what shone so bright…..

Howard Roark stood naked on the cliff and laughed. It was perfect.

**

Two days ago, Howard Roark had packed his bag in hurried frenzy. Dominique lay naked on his bed. She looked at him. Well built, muscular and strong arms. His eyes gave him away though, she thought. Her mind raced to the last night and she smiled in sublime admiration of his love making. They had not exchanged even a single word since they had met and here she was in his room, stripped off her clothes….stripped off her metaphor….naked, free of inhibitions…

Howard packed and left without saying a word. She got up and went to the shower not wanting to wipe the smell off her body. It reeked of happiness. It reeked of freedom. It reeked of Howard…

**

Peter Keating did not know what to do. He read and re read the article. He wiped his glasses in fearful agony and cursed in wild animosity. He drank from the glass and kept it back on the table. He paced up and down the room without an ambition. He tried calling a number several times only to be responded with a recorded voice of a genteel lady who promised she would get back to him. ‘It will be too late then…’ he shouted in the empty room. The walls heard. They stood silently. Peter went to the window and looked out at the building he had designed. The sun was setting behind it. It glistened peacefully in the dusky sun. The arching top had been demolished by a madman last night. That man stood naked on a cliff and laughed…

Peter walked back to his table. He read the concluding lines of the article he had gorged every word from. ‘Peter Keating is an excellent architect. His talent needs recognition…..’ . He walked to the open window from where he had been gazing at the creation the world thought was his. He looked down from the window. He stood precariously on the ledge.

‘When you are standing precariously on the edge, the chances of you jumping are a lot higher than you slipping and falling.’

He remembered Roark’s advice. He was a coward. He could not bear the height. He jumped into the room. Meanwhile, Howard Roark stood naked on the cliff and laughed. He was not afraid of height. Today he was not scared of anyone. Not even Dominique.

**
(To be continued.... hopefully)

Their Story (Episode 10) - Of an unfinished dream and an evil prank

The dog barked before he could take any evasive action. He tried hard. He ran, shouted, ran faster, shouted louder and at one point of time even barked back, but the dog was persistent. He was running out of options. He had already tried shouting/running/shouting louder/running faster. He needed help. He thought of the SWAT team and then his thoughts wandered to the healthily built lady who held guns like fruits and sprayed canisters of ammunition like perfume on her body. Ahh! No wonder his legs relaxed and the dog gained advantage. An unfair race it was! The dog grappled with his jeans and pulled hard. He pulled harder and kept running. Bindu’s shop passed close by and he saw the twins buying sugar in small packets that they held one each in their hands. The smelly Raghu was sitting and swatting flies in his ‘samosa shop’ eagerly waiting for the first bunch of customers that morning. He chewed pan and spat outside the shop nearly missing his jeans as Chantu and Bantu made into his shop with their share of pocket money for the day. He congratulated himself. His sense of observation was bloody impeccable even with a fucking dog up his ass! Ahh!! He grabbed his ass and ran past the gloomy streets as the shadows grew longer and his shadow raced faster ahead of him before he ………

***

Readers, their friends and their second cousins who scratch their backs using pencils in sweaty summers and eat small pellets of erasers as and when they are accessible to them. What happened next? Let’s make logical conclusions. So, we have a human being. Possibly a guy; easy deduction based on the use of the pronoun ‘He’. In his early twenties. Non smoker probably; who can defy the dog this long without a healthy pair of lungs unless he is in a dream. My my; can this be a dream. Of course this is a dream. You see the reference of the morning and Raghu’s wait for the bunch of first customers and the contradiction in shadows growing longer unless…. unless.. the ‘he’ referred in the second half is not the same ‘he’ as the one in the first half. But both the ‘he’s are involved in running.My my… is the dog a metaphor for the second ‘he’ or is it a reference to the first ‘he’ and the first ‘he’ is chasing himself going round and round in swift motions defying the speed of light and a lot of high school physics. Good God!! We have a conundrum at our hand..!! What do you think?

***

“So? What do you think?” This was the 314^th dress she had tried on. Twice.

“What can I say? It is just picture perfect.” He struggled hard to avoid a yawn as she went in to try the 315^th. His mind drifted quietly to the conundrum he was trying to resolve. It had something to do with a dog and a chase. Good God! With Karuna’s constant interference he was not able to think clearly. He decided to take a walk.

“Baby where are you going?”

“To find the 316^th” he shuddered ”and a life” he added silently. Only the salesman and the lady behind the counter heard him. He passed them and the door outside. He lit one. He lit the second and then the third before she came out probably in the 319^th. It was a purple colored ...... something!! Damn! Garments for the ladies have come a long way. Gone are the good old days of ‘salwaars’ and ‘kurtis’. Now there is a balloon top, a sack top, a tank top and to top it all a half sleeved, balloon shaped ass kicking tank top which fits in a sack. So much for the F-tv fans and the midnight hot lovers. They are all there to screw up with the peace of your life. He had no idea if it was a tank/sack or balloon top. Actually he was confused if it was a top. He tried turning himself upside down but to no avail. Her head stayed where it was.

“This looks good. Actually, great. The color suits you and the…. the … .. the .. thing… whatever it is shows off your figure ……appropriately” He added the ‘appropriately’ cautiously.

‘Damn these words. They fail me when I need them the most. I remember the name of the twelfth prime minister of India and the hundred and fifth element in the periodic table but damn…. What is this thing called? I am pretty sure it was somewhere between 245 and 256^th thing she tried on!! Think baby think. It is loose. It has sleeves. So all sleeveless variants are out. It is short. Just around mid waist. Probably some tight top. Maybe a tunic. Tunic? He repeated in his head before discarding the idea. He still thought that tunic was a vegetable. Back is covered. Not tied back to the neck. Definitely not a halter. Yes… Yes… you are doing great. Elimination is the process. Let’s start off again.

Balloons a little around the neck. Trims down into a tight top as it goes down. She is wearing it on a jeans but does not look out of place. Of course a balloon top. No… trick question ..Don’t go by your instincts. It’s definitely a tank top. ‘

“Do you think I can wear this Bandeau dress to your boss’s housewarming party?”

Crap!!

“Well ..well yes..!! Definitely. The ‘Bondage’ top looks great. Better than the ‘Tank’ top you tried before.” Shut up!! Now you are just showing off your knowledge of the female apparel.

***

He woke up with a start. He had been dreaming about apparels. No! it was worse. He had been dreaming about apparel shopping with her. His head buzzed a while before he came to his senses. He looked outside the window.(Why do people always look outside the window after getting up in stories?) Low sunlight. Could be morning or dusk. How long had he been sleeping? He thought of the last memory he had.

He was talking on the phone. She was speaking. No she was questioning. He was silent. No! He spoke. Yeah, he definitely spoke. A cup of coffee lay nearby on the table. He had coffee. But he liked tea. He probably had company. But normal social protocol would require him to drink along with the company to keep up with the social customs of entertaining guests. He got out of the bed and hit a steel glass spilling the remains of tea leaves draped in the last sip of the tea left in the glass. Ahh! Mystry solved. He definitely had company last night. Probably Gupta. That bastard drinks coffee to show off!

He opened up the drapes. The shadows were directed towards the west. Defintiely ‘morning’. He exhaled with peace. He had not slept the day off. He thought about the phone call.

“So tell me, what is the best moment that we have shared?” she inquired over the phone from far away.

“Is it really necessary?” He retaliated. Office had squeezed this habit of denying everything at the first go. But not everything was ‘work’ and not everywhere was ‘office’.

He thought. I must say he thought really hard. He thought harder than the time when his parents had found him with a page of ‘Debonair’ in his ICSE physics book and he had tried thinking of a sane excuse. And bingo! He thought one.

He softened his voice. There was a reason for the sudden urge of softness. You should know it already. If you don’t; go teach Dhoni how to perfect a cover drive.

“There was this one time when we were in high school. We had not started to ‘converse’ then. I saw you walk into the classroom ‘soaked’. You put the umbrella down and then moved all your hair to the left, tilted your head and used your kerchief to dry the excess water and then rocked your head in one swift motion, tilted your head back and tied your hair in one neat semi-wet bun. Damn!! you looked wonderful that day. I slept with a smile that night for I had seen someone beautiful.” He brought the dramatic narration to a climax and like a school kid waited for her response.

“I will repeat once again. What is the best moment that we have shared?” The stress on ‘we’ was not necessary. He had intentionally ignored it the first time.

He thought again. He thought hard and then he stopped thinking for he started to remember. He remembered the beach when he saw the sun setting; casting its final rays on her face. He remembered the train journey and the wind blowing her hair and revealing the tiny speck on her forehead. He remembered the time they sat on the ledge of his balcony swaying their legs idly and she singing him the songs he wanted her to sing. And he thought some more. And some more before he smiled. There it was. He struggled for a minute. Yes! Definitely that was the best moment. He clearly remembered every bit. He wondered if she would remember. He knew he had picked up the best. Her heart would melt into butter. He laughed silently before he started his narration.

“There was this one….”

“Have you thought of all the cherished moments?” she cut him short.

“Yes……….almost” one can never be sure.

“Well then there is no need to tell. I just wanted you to recall them. Just wanted to reinstate your faith in ‘us’.” Beep. Click. She was gone.

“Evil Genius” He murmured with a crazy smile locked upon his lips.

*****End of episode*****