Thursday, September 04, 2008

What's the story

A stunned silence befell the blog neighborhood since I did the last post. In one short week, it has caused a sharp fall in already scanty readership, commentlessness from old faithfuls, and a general air of distaste. I admit that there was no point in digging up that item except to let forth some bad jokes. The incident has also jolted my deep-rooted belief in the saleability of sex and bad taste. So much so that I also contemplated pulling it out. But one should be reminded of past follies from time to time, so it keeps.

In the meantime, yours truly has uncharacteristically mustered enough enthusiasm to write an entry for the flash fiction contest organized by Caferati and Livejournal. It required a story to be done within five hundred words. For want of story ideas, I'd borrowed from a real life incident that took place in our city coupla years ago. To win a positive response from the caferati people who also organize the cultural festival with that name, I have cleverly named it Kala Ghoda. Without further pretext, then , here goes the story. I'd rather you read it while listening to the excellent rendition of Kali Ghori Dwar Khadi from the film Chashme Baddoor. The connection between the song and the story is like nobody's business, except both have a motorcycle in it.

Kala Ghoda

Su. Her dupatta , powder blue in cream. Ombre’. Her longish hair teased up in a simple pony. Her pearl white kurta, half a size too small. Making her look all the more curvy. Maybe she’s put on a little weight since moving here. Maybe it’s her not having to do house chores anymore. Tis Hazari court Metro Station. Noisy intersection. Almost seven. It’s getting dusky. Surekha, unsure. Still from Bijnor.

“Careful with that Dupatta, miss. Try and keep it off the wheel. Here, are we comfortable now?” RJ had sized the girl up while easing up his Pulsar to her side. Small-town, lower middle class. Enrolled in some college in the city. Possibly looking for part time employment. Lost look. Great rack. Attractive, if imperfect features. Rabi Johar the Lajpat Nagar smartypants went to work.

-Said you were waiting for somebody?

- I was meeting Pilu. Childhood friend. She’s been in Delhi for some time. She’s a model. She was to take me to South extension.

-I’m going that way only. Where in South-ex?

-I’m not sure. We were going to see one Mrs. Tandon. I have her address. She runs the Glitz model agency. She might have openings for new faces.

-So what happened to Pilu?

-She got stuck in traffic. Cell out of range. At last she called, minutes ago. Asked me to reach there on my own. She’ll be waiting. I don’t know that area well. See, I’m new in this city.

-No worries miss. You’ll be OK. What did you say your name was?

Too smooth, this guy. Was that beer in his breath? Beware the city slickers, Didi used to warn her. Evening fell rapidly around them. RJ talked nineteen to the dozen.

-Indraprastha College? Fresher, eh? Know Monica there? The cultural secretary? Good friend of mine. Tell her Rabi said hi.

Speed breakers near Sadar Bazaar. He knows how to use them. Touchy feely. Awkward blush from Su.

-I’m sorry. Bit of trouble with the brakes. You OK? Be there in fifteen minutes now. Where are you staying in Delhi?

Janpath is a lonely stretch even at this hour. RJ lets loose the throttle. They’re riding into the wind. Su keeping an uneasy hand over his shoulder. Doesn’t want a rerun of the brake incident.

-Stop! Stop your bike now!

A flash of powder blue and cream. A dupatta in flight. The breeze is strong.

They alight. Su with arms folded over her breasts. Conscious of her young body. Poor girl’s got a long way to go if she wants to be a model, RJ thought.

-Wait. I’ll fetch it.


Had RJ looked back, he could’ve seen her smile. Her easy confidence as she straddled the machine. The graceful flick of her leg as she kicked. But he was busy catching a swirl of powder blue. A black pulsar faded away like distant thunder.


narendra shenoy said...

Heh! Nice story. What a chump he must have felt! Double chuckle and glad it wasn't me!

About your last post, sorry I missed it. Even Shakespeare joked about this condition. "A consummation devoutly to be wished" he says in Hamlet doubtless with such a young lady in mind.

Your statement "So much so that I also contemplated pulling it out" is not without wisdom in that context.

It is 2.22 in the morning. My brains are addled because I watched "Bachna..." without protective eye-gear. So please excuse incoherence if any.

Partho said...

You wrote you were pleasantly surprised watching Bachna and drooled over Bipasha's, er, eyes a little, too. A bit incoherent you do sound, my friend.