MR.BIG

My new story Mr.Big- part of my 100 fiction series- story in just 100 words.

 

 9:00am

Tina texts Sam:   
U lose Sam. I choose Gerry. BIG mistake mayb– but I’m BIG on badass boys & Gerry is my Mr.BIG- the smuggest sexiest son-of-a-B  I’ve eva met 

2:00pm 
Tina to Riya: 
Tonight’s the BIG night. I’m finally letting BIG shot Gerry have me.

9:18pm 
FTV Bar and Lounge, Bangalore 

Tina to Gerry: 
I love the dirty dancing. But let’s get BIG-time dirty in your room.

10.00pm

Room No. 669, Le Meridian

Tiny thinks, ‘Wowwww, Gerry has BIG bucks & BIG hands!’ 
Gerry unzips. 
And that’s how Tina laid eyes on the SMALLEST dick she’d ever seen.

ABC.. THE NEW APLHABET

Raoul walked into the projector room. It took his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the darkness.

‘Hey Sid, Does it hurt to keep the lights on?’ bawled Raoul in a mock, sing-song voice.

Silence.

The status light on the projector blinked green, as it remained in standby mode.

“I guess only my self-esteem got hurt- thank God no one saw me bellowing to an empty room. Damn You Sid!” Raoul murmured to himself in the same sing-song voice. He liked talking to himself- it gave him that extra pep on an otherwise mundane Monday.

He pressed the ON button on the Projector remote. It was a dual projection system- the two screens placed side by side suddenly brought the dark room back to life.

“And suddenly there was light…” he winked to himself with a sense of self-accomplishment.
Over the next thirty seconds, Raoul stood stupefied and tongue-tied. No words. No Sing-song gibberish.

Sheer Beauty always fit a silencer in his throat.

There were pictures of two women, side by side, on the two screens ahead of him.

The two women were as different and as alike as chalk and cheese could be. The one on the left was Anne Mirabelle: she was in her late forties – a bewitching, ‘chipped’ chalk, drawing irresistible patterns on Raoul’s mind- canvas. The one on the right was Rubelle: she was a stunning 19 year old – as invigorating as fresh cheese straight out of its first curdle.

The 19 year old Rubelle wore a white summer dress and looked like a fresh breath of air ready to take on the stench of the big, bad world. Her jet black, stray hair looked like charcoal art on a beatific face, her eyes a thousand rays of the sun’s first rays. Her full breasts were ripe and ready to pick, Raoul thought her shirt buttons to be his worst enemy for the moment. Her angelic face gave her a baby-cherry-like, cherubic glow – now, Raoul would rip open his shirt buttons to cradle that face in a father-like, protective gesture.

“It’s getting hot in here. Let’s take off all our clothes,” whistled Raoul to a bunch of non-existent guys in the background, as though he needed to force his plane off this romantic runway.

He turned to the woman on the right.

Anne Mirabelle stood there in complete contrast, as though her forty something years towered in utter defiance of the younger woman at her side. Her breasts were flat, non-existent- which gave Raoul the ‘chipped’- chalk- first- impression, but her strong and sensuous heart in that sturdy frame lent her a prolific sexiness. She looked every inch like a queen of the Immortals- like she’d weathered the toughest storms, fought the worst battles and braved all the biting bitching, and still managed to emerge a fiercely loved and staunchly respected woman. Her ear-cropped, copper-brown hair stood gelled and styled and her eyes were an open assault on the senses.

“Wine and women, the older they get, the more they have in common” said Raoul with eyes in slits.

“You’re talking to the Dating hotline 143-280-143. Which of these two women are you going to date, Sir?” Sid broke into the room with a laugh.

‘Sid, where the hell have you been?’

‘Well, you need to choose one, not me. So, I buzzed off. So, who’s the lucky one?’

‘Both of them are irresistible in their own ways. But, if you ask me, I think we have a clear winner. I’ve always had my list of corroborative conditions and my instinctive preferences. So I think I’ll go for Anne Mirabelle.”

“I knew you’d go for Anne Mirabelle. She’s the perfect choice. I got to call and let her know.”

“No, I’ll let her know myself. I will be presenting the entire Publicity Campaign of her book, ‘ABC (A Breast Cancer)-THE ALPHABET OF A BOOBLESS WOMAN’ to her today. This sensational, gutsy photo of forty-eight old Anna Mirabelle will inspire and attract women and men of all generations; it represents, in all its strength and sensuality, the Iron-Maiden who LOST it all to breast cancer, but who still came out WINNING and LAUGHING all the way.”

ANNA MIRABELLE is the Editor in Chief of PARADE, an international Fashion Magazine. In her earlier days as a model, she was known by another name – RUBELLE. After many years, as a model, fashion journalist and editorial assistant, she progressed to become ANNA MIRABELLE, Editor-in-Chief of PARADE. Her battle with Breast Cancer in recent times, followed by double mastectomy (losing both her breasts) has given ANNA a new lease of life. She shares her life- with all its ups and downs, in twenty profound and rib-tickling chapters, in her first book – ‘ABC (A Breast Cancer)-THE ALPHABET OF A BOOBLESS WOMAN’. This book is said to be a sure shot best-seller, with its sober, frank and completely ribald take on women, men, boobs, sex, cancer and much more.
Raoul is hired as Anna Mirabelle’s book publicist, and he is to choose the picture of Anna Mirabelle that would appear in her publicity Campaign, which starts a,year before the actual publishing date. He chooses the Anna of today, as opposed to the Anna 29 years ago.( aka Rubelle )

p.s.:

This entire post, including the book, is a figment of my imagination.

Don't go hunting for the book.

:)

............................THE OSSIE-PLUMES

It is a balmy Sunday morning in San Francisco. The radio blares on as the Porsche Boxter S roars down Noe Valley. 106.7 ZRock FM serves and smashes Rihaana’s ‘Shut up and Drive’ raw and hot. However, Rihaana can’t shut David and Brenda up, as they sing and talk over the top, like two very raucous love-birds fawning over each other after a high- adrenaline, sizzling Saturday night.

“What a magnificent night babe,” David smiles from ear to ear, as he effortlessly screeches to a halt at the water fountain standing at the entrance of Brenda’s one-storey condominium.

There at the end of her street, David pushes that wayward strand of hair behind her ear and smiles. He wags her finger, winks and says “Baby, stay home, do you laundry and be a good girl. You need the rest after yesterday’s heavy-duty passion and action. (winks) I’ll be out of here and back in no time.” Brenda looks into his eyes, happy tears blurring her vision, “You’re my pillar of strength and support- my well of happiness, fortitude and dynamism. I hope I make the right decision. Making it overnight is shelving it as a worst case scenario, but I know I can make it anyways.”

David had never been the counter-emotional type. He altered his tone to a teasing one, “The prognosis for the day is that you’re going to have a lazy day ahead. Go warm your butt. (Smiles)”

Brenda hugs him tight and gets out of the car. She waves to him, as he zooms out of sight. She walks into her home, kicks her stilettos into the air, puts on some loud music and decides to get real lazy.

She changes into her favorite night pajamas that smelled of flowers, from the Tide Simple Pleasures Detergent. She walks to the liquor cabinet: pours herself a glass of Zinfandel and fills her plate with the Potato Stroganoff hot from the hamburger helper her maid Maria had made her.

After the relaxed self wining and dining, she moves to the attic. “Maybe, I should pull out some old stuff, and feel good about old times,” she twitters to herself.

A cardboard box hidden in a dusty corner catches her attention. She opens it, only to find a gob of golden cookbooks collected over the years. A big blue diary catches her attention.

Her breath gets stuck in her throat as she looks at the two ostrich feathers glued atop the diary. As a six year old, when she’d been to the 600 acre Rooster Cogburn’s Ostrich Ranch on the Picacho Peak, she’d taken these two feathers as a keepsake, and filled in the dairy with marginalia of specialized ostrich egg and meat recipes, and childish doodles of the huge ostrich egg and the gummy Ostrich Goulash she’d eaten.

She carries the blue diary with ostrich feathers to bed that night. She smiles and thinks of David. She had made her decision.

The door bell wakes her up in the morning. She gets the door in her night robe. David walks in, gives her a hug. “So what have you decided?”

“I’ve decided that the theme for the next month is going to be ‘ostriches’; we could call it ‘The Ossie Plumes’! We’ll have big ostrich feathers at the grand entrance and ostrich masks given to every guest who enters. Ostrich artifacts and sculptures shall be placed at every table. We’ll have a special ostrich-fan dance by the ‘Ostricia Girls’ at the special hour and an entire ‘Ostrich egg and meat’ special on the menu. To ring in some extra greens, we could also auction ostrich boas, handbags, head-gear, leather belts, bags, wallets and other fashion accessories. Media and celebrities from every walk of life shall be there for a sneak peak on the opening Saturday of the month………” “Fantabulous,” he says. “I knew you are the best Restaurant Concept-Moghul I could ever ask for. You and I, our partnership is going to ‘cook’ up more than all our head-chef could. ”

The previous night had been a just-opened- pressure-cooker: starry-eyed, hot and steamy, yet eased out and very much in-its-element.
Saturday night had been the opening night of ‘Cornucopia’, the most awaited restaurant of the year. David, the Restaurateur of the year 2007 had begun ‘Cornucopia’ with great aplomb- the theme of the restaurant was to have a new theme every month. David had hired Brenda as his Conceptualiser. The first month’s theme had been ‘Starry eyed’ with Hollywood stars and their favorite foods doing the rounds.

Welcome to Cornucopia. Fall in love with David, Brenda and their ostriches.
*******************************************************************************
Last week's Wordzzle Challenge by Raven:
Cardboard box, liquor cabinet, ostrich feathers, longitudinal, hamburger helper, partnership, laundry detergent, magnificent, San Francisco, prognosis
And for the Mini Challenge: worst case scenario, marginalia, water fountain, specialized, fortitude.

.............................THE CROWN OF THORNS

The drums rolled. Louder and louder.
The drum-roll was so loud; it awoke the dormant Darth Vader living within the sacerdotal priest. He was sleeping in his plush bed that stood against the wall of an otherwise sparse room of the ancient rectory.

The priest twisted and turned in his bed. He sweated profusely. Somewhere, an alley cat screeched an eerie mew. In his dreams, he walked down memory lane…

To that fateful night in the Florida Prison cell, where he was administering the last rights to the Death Row Convict #8, Robert Flamingo. Chained from head to toe, Robert still had that determinate cause popping his eye-veins. In a corner of the prison cell, there lay the crab-cakes with cucumber tartar sauce. Prior to execution, a Death Row convict could request his favorite last meal.

The last rites had to be done in three stages: first, penance for sins committed, then anointing with holy oil, followed by Viaticum (Holy Communion).

Robert Flamingo told the Priest, “I’m an honest Christian. I killed the Kingpin of the Gonzales Banking Fraud- a heartless Investment and Securities Fraud. My family and 100 other unsuspecting senior citizens lost our entire life savings, as we put them in the hands of Gonzales in the form of the Dakoita Investment Offering, in return for a stabilized income at 12% interest.

Stabilized income? We ended up losing our stability and I, my sanity. I went to Gonzales to talk things out, and probably look at some kind of compensation, but he was a snotty bastard dripping with sarcasm as to how the Government could procrastinate the proceedings in the Court of Law by letting him slip through those loopholes that they would willingly create, as a sign of returning the ‘favors’ they had had sought from the fraud in the first place. I lost my cool when I saw no signs of compromise, I fell bait to a heated argument: one that I was losing real bad.

Gonzales liked to flaunt his misplaced sense of religiosity and had a thurible at his desk; a desk he liked to call his altar. I assume he wished the holy smoke from the thurible would absolve him from his scandalous sins.

“You people are like the ‘Crown of Thorns’ on God’s head. I just removed the thorns and made God’s life easier. Your money is gone forever, just like the crown of thorns,” he jeered.

I couldn’t digest it: the contrasting, far-from-holy atrocity of his deeds. I took the thurible in hand, and in one swift blow, took a deathly swing at his surprised-as-hell head. The evil, scarlet blood oozed in a stead stream onto the white ‘altar’.
I spotted a Moses’ burning bush in his office. The sugar-sweet irony kissed my triumphant face: I mean the man had not obeyed a single commandment; and here was a Moses Bush! I’d never seen pietism and putridness get along this well. Moses would have turned in his grave. I walked to the bush, made a small ‘crown of thorns’ and left it on his bleeding head.

That’s my story father. And I accept this death penalty with all my heart. I’m one small thorn who is alright with being removed, when I know the red rose can still be preserved.”

The priest had a sheet-white expression. This man was an exemplary Jesus. He anointed him with holy Oil and gave him ‘The Holy communion’. He felt privileged administering the last rites.

As he was about the leave, Robert called to him. “Father, would you help me in keeping the red rose alive?”

The priest stumbled a little, and then said, “What can I do for your people?”

Robert replied: “There are three Monster Trucks parked in these five different Church yards where Gonzales used to send clothes, furniture and other knick-knacks to; as part of his ‘Christian Deeds’. I’ve loaded them with the money that I got to recover from this bloody scam. No police or Government has gotten there. No Church has opened these either. I just got them filled out with my men last night. These are the keys. Get the money to my people.”

The priest took the keys, walked out of the prison cell, and blessed the Guards at the Door.

That was two years ago.

He woke up with a start. The sheets were still wet with perspiration. He had aided and abetted a criminal.

Then, his heart beat slowed down.
He saw those happy faces. They’d gotten their life back.

***********************************************************************************
Raven's Wordzzle Challenge: assorted words-just make a story out of them!
I loved the challenge : so took it up :)

The words for last week's ten word challenge were: flamingo, monster trucks, Darth Vader, cucumbers, sugar-free, banking, determinate, thurible, sarcasm, drums And for the Mini Challenge: procrastinate, memory lane, alley cat, argument, Florida
***********************************************************************************************

..........................................:BETWEEN THE LINES

It’s a bustling Thursday evening holding on to a lot of wet promises and raindrops against a hot-aired, empty sunset. Menaka looks at her reflection in the life-size mirror sitting pretty on one wall of the lavish washrooms, on the same floor as the ‘Bike and Psych’ Pub of one of the premier multi-star hotels in Chennai. The reflection smiles back at its gorgeous mistress.

The red halter neck and the swishy purple skirt clinging to those curves and contours lend Menaka a classy, yet smoking-hot look. She runs her hands down the front of her skirt out of sheer habit, and her eyes lock on to the stunning antique ruby-red ring on her ring finger ................................................................

………………………………………………….Menaka wishes for the antique ruby-red ring to transform into a red-hot partner. Maybe tonight is the night. She smiles at her mock optimism. Menaka could be quite the Queen Bee of any group: her diva dynamism, infectious enthusiasm, maternal instincts, nightingale voice, razor-sharp wit and way with words, group-political prowess and intuitive maneuvers get her buzzing right to the centre of any hive. Hiding behind that impeccable grace and spider-web charm is a spoilt little kid; a little kid who peeps out from behind the vixen veneer, a little kid who loves to laugh and help people, a little kid who is a staunch believer in family, religion, traditions, dignity, duties and responsibilities and a little kid who hankers for real romance.

“In a city of self-proclaimed Kings, would I chance upon the shining blade of my Knight in romantic armor? Well, maybe ‘Bike and Psych’ would provide the answer,” She takes a deep breath, joins her group of friends outside the restroom, smiles and nods as she breezes past the friendly bouncers into the yellow-lit club.

She orders a Tequila Martini and her friends order pitchers of beer, a mixture of shots and cocktails. Vinod, a friend of hers sits at the adjacent table with another friend of his.

“Menaka, this place gets a hard-on when you’re here. You look gorgeous. Meet my friend Varun, the dancer extraordinaire.”

Vinod and Varun join Menaka’s table. Menaka radiates a blazing smile, hugs Vinod and shakes hands with Varun. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, and you must know, I have a thing for dancers (winks).” Varun wears a red party shirt, teamed with black trousers. Menaka smiles inwardly at the thought she tries to push down her fluttering heart, “He’s your red-hot partner, something tells me….”
Varun returns a suave smile and says, “Not really a trained dancer, but invisible dancing shoes have a thing for me when I see beautiful women like you and my feet itch to dance.”

Menaka and Varun move opposite to each other. Everything and everyone around them fades into colorful oblivion. Their glasses clink and they gulp down their drinks. The hunter eyes the prey; only, neither of them knows who really the hunter was and who, the prey.

The First Time I saw you
you were standing In the Rain
there was something about you
that made Me Look Again
the Way That You Let The Rain
fall Down On You
the Way That You Smile
when Your Eyes Met Mine
ooh,Ooh...”- Courtesy Wise Guys (The first time I saw you)

“Can I have this dance?” asks Varun.
Menaka blushes and replies, “Oh Yeah, Why not?”

Varun draws her into a merengue sequence. Menaka knew a little jive and had always taken well to a male lead in a couple dance. “But this is whopping different,” she muses, as he led her into Caribbean twists and twirls.

As if he heard her muse, Varun tells her, “This is quite simple. Just follow me.” He suddenly put his hands over her head, loops it down her upper back and waist, comes spine-chillingly close for a tingling second, and when she closes her eyes to savor the feeling, he twists her on his right feet, does a side basic and leaves her untouched, into a dizzying twiddle, only to touch, steady and coax her into the next forward basic movement.

“Lady, swing you hips along with mine. It lends a deep flavor to this dance.” Menaka blushes at the all the activity hip-down.
“A lot of things are swinging in your favor, least of all the flavor,” she quips in an unperturbed voice. Inside, she was quivering.

The lady in red is dancing with me
Cheek to cheek
There’s nobody here
Its just you and me
It’s where I want to be
But I hardly know this beauty by my side
Ill never forget the way you look tonight. .. -courtesy Chris De Burgh, Lady in Red.

They settle into a romantic trance. The hunter had lost. The prey had won.
Only, here there was no hunter but two prey going in circles around each other. Only time would reveal the outcome of this chase.
....................................******************************....................................
BETWEEN THE LINES
She runs her hands down the front of her skirt out of sheer habit, and her eyes lock on to the stunning antique ruby-red ring on her ring finger ........................……………………………………..
It replaces her more expensive, but boring diamond-wedding ring. To her advantage, age is her beauty’s most unwanted alibi: ‘Forty something and sexy’ is quite rare in her part of the world. Her marriage had spoken only two exquisitely beautiful words to her all through its life- her two beautiful children. Those two beautiful words alone had coerced her into forming her marriage into a decent life-sentence. Now, those two words had also flown away and become birds with their own nests leaving Menaka all alone in her empty nest......................................
Menaka wishes for the antique ruby-red ring to transform into a red-hot partner. Maybe tonight is the night.

If ever marriage becomes an unsatisfied hunter, and the hunter becomes his own inescapable prey, there’s nothing wrong in burying the gun, taking up the gauntlet and shooting other arrows. Age is never a barrier for breaking free and seeking true companionship.
My dream is to fly
Over the rainbow so high
My dream is to fly
Over the rainbow so high..-- Courtesy Yves Larock - Rise Up

.......................Apam and fish:

“The Biblical Feeding of the Multitude:
The disciples were only able to find 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish. Jesus blessed the food, broke it, and gave it to the disciples, who distributed it to the people present - 5000 not counting women and children - all of them being fed.”

It was eight in the evening. A shrill voice piped up in the busy, noisy street: “Apam faar
Rs. 5. Big Fat Feesh faar Rs. 30.” There were too many foreigners in the place, to visit their Lady of Velankanni, the Mother of Jesus Christ, so the meager Tamil-drenched English helped. The Shrine of Velankanni stood very close to the beach, and millions thronged here to pray to the Mother of Jesus.

The 35 year-old Chellama (aka the Apam and fish lady) sat swathed in a rugged blue and brown stone-washed sari. She looked 50 though; the heat and soot from the four hot stoves right in front of her had inflicted that change. A little girl of around five sat next to her. Her hair was plaited in two and she went about helping her mother serve the Apam and fish in big banana leaves. Mother and daughter had that haggard appearance, but what contrasted their rags and no-pitch ragas that they croaked aloud while making their Apams were the cheer in their voice and the twinkle in their eyes. They were here for making two ends meet and paying the little girl’s school fees- and the ‘Lady of Velankani’ had blessed them abundantly. She was not only their Goddess, but their mother and Protector.
A Phirang lady walked towards the roadside stall in amusement. She wore a pair of khaki shorts teamed with a pink, tank top. A black backpack hugged her sun-tanned back and pink sneakers cushioned her pedicured feet from the sand and stones below. Her blond pony struggled to stay still- the sea-breeze split it in manifold stands and the wayward strands streaked her cute, cherub face.

“I want two Aapems and one big fat fish please (smiles),” said the Phirang woman.
Chellama smiled back at the lady and said, “Welcome Madam. You looking veereey bootifool. Two minutes- haat Apam and big feesh”

After two minutes, her daughter, Arokia Mary flipped two hot Apams and one big fish onto a fresh, green banana leaf and handed it over to the fairy-lady. “One day, I’ll be like you fairy-lady, they tell me stories about fairies like you at school,” Arokia Mary thought with a solemn resolution on her face.

Post-Tsunami, the number of pilgrims thronged in larger numbers at Velankanni. People, after a long day of prayer and adoration entered the busy street that led them from the main shrine of Velankani to the Beach. Chellama’s Apam and fish stall stood at the entrance alongside umpteen other similar stalls, enticing the hungry pilgrims with their steamy stoves and the delicious whiff of red-hot-curry-masala-slotted fish.

A horde of strange trinkets, colorful confetti and unimaginable paraphernalia in the string of small shops brought the place to life. A number of hair-tonsure shops welcomed people who wanted to sacrifice their hair for their beloved Mother of Velankani. When one reached the sea, there was more fried fish, varutha kadalai (fried peanuts) and a lot of horses with people riding their backs.

Sharp at midnight, Chellama and Arokia Mary wrapped up their stall, collected all their earnings and put the notes and coins it into a purple cloth-pouch that rested in Chellama’s bosom.

“1000 Rs. Arokia, after a very long time.”

Chellama hugged Arokia Mary tight and they walked back to their hut with the left-over Apam batter and marinated fish. They reached their sparse, but sufficient one-room house that had been recently built and painted in bright green along with the hundred other similar houses in the same row from the Tsunami Aid. The green paint on the walls seemed a little brighter today. Chellama took the money from the purple pouch, laid it in a bronze box and hid the box in between her saris in the shelf carved in the inner walls. She usually kept the money on her body, but decided against it today.

The small wooden clock kept ticking. The silence of the night formed a think blanket over the sleeping mother and daughter.

“Click. Click.” The wooden door creaked open, the lock having been picked. A dark figure broke into the house. He adjusted his eyes to the dark and spotted a woman and a child sleeping in sound contentment. He smirked and walked to the only furnished part of the house: the shelf. He carefully rummaged through the clothes. He found the bronze box and opened it greedily. He picked all the notes save for the sole 2 hundred rupee notes and replaced the box. He quickly walked out of the house, into the breezy night. He wasn’t smiling.

Chellama woke up in the morning, stretched a little and woke up Arokia Mary. After getting Mary dressed in her blue and white uniform, she went over to the Bronze box to collect the 200 rupee annual school fee.

The money was missing. Only two hundred rupee notes flapped in the box, as if offering an apology.

Chellama smiled!

“He’d left the two hundred rupees. He really loved his daughter. Instead of beating her black and blue and taking all the money she usually had had on her bosom, he had silently taken away all but his daughter’s school fees without a fuss. She had trusted him with the bronze box in the shelf and he had reciprocated that trust in the way he knew best. Even her fisherman- husband had a heart, and she knew ‘The Mother of Velankanni’ had begun answering her prayers.”

“Very soon, he’d stop stealing the money altogether, cease beating her for good, quit alcohol forever and love her for a lifetime.”

Faith moveth mighty mountains. Trust never rusts. Love is always a boomerang, however late the strike-back.

p.s:

1.this is my tribut eto my Velankanni trip.

2.My birthday falls tomorrow, and I'm not here with family/friends- sudden, unavoidable training in B'lore :(:(

3. L0ve you all. Will be back soon.

..........................STUCK-ON-YOU!

RECAP:
The story so far (No previous episodes are co-related- this is a background check for your fancy)
Episode 1:
Stoned- The 3 MuskaJeers steal stones in place of diamonds, in the worst robbery ever!
The Characters:
The 3 MuskeJeers had nicknames for each other that swiped their personae sharp and clean:

*BEER*:He is passionate about BEER, bombshells, their b@@&$ and b*##$, big bucks, and all the good things in life- he leers lustily at whatever appeals to his senses.
*SEER*:He is the guy with unusual powers of foresight; he PREDICTS THE FUTURE with great accuracy, hence- the SEER- the MuskeJeers strategist, he plans like every tomorrow was running today. ‘Fear’ pushes and powers him.
*QUEER*:Strange are his ways: he’s ‘GAY and funny’- QUEER man! Like his penchant for mens’ rumps and rear-sides, he looks at every situation from the back and every possible corner and angle. He is quick and feminine, like a Deer

The Present:
Now, Beer, Seer and Queer have a MASTER.
This master is their penultimate boss. He is the Kingpin of ‘STUCK-ON-YOU’, an unidentified island on Earth. The Master is a Magician with powers unknown, even to the MuskaJeers. They have never seen their master. He is JUST A VOICE that calls on them, only when they are alone in ‘MUSKA-JUSKA’, the MuskaJeer’s house.

The Master’s belligerent voice bellows, “Beer, Seer and Queer: You have disappointed me with the diamond robbery. Youuuuu three stone-heads: you got me 3 stones instead of diamonds!”

Beer, Seer and Queer have no words and hang their head in shame.

The master feels sad looking at them. They looked truly sorry. Maybe, he had been a tad too harsh. “Alrigggggght, I only called you stone-heads, you don’t have to turn to stone for that reason, and turn away from me. I want you to be happy.”

The 3 Muskajeers look up with puppy-faces that prompt more pity in the Master’s heart than anger. “I know that look. I know you guys need that fantastic sexual break from reality.”

Queer lookS like an excited VODAFONE PUG on the run, “Master, You’re always more than ‘READY TO HELP’. Please Help.”

The master wraps the three MuskeJeers in his warm, invisible embrace. “Alright, MuskeJeers! It’s time for your Sex Vacation to my island, while I travel the world over the weekend. Now, here are the rules:

Rule 1:
I partition my island ‘Stuck-on-you’ into three parts, one each for the three of you. The three parts of the island shall be named after you: ‘Beira’, ‘Seirra’ and ‘Querida’. You shall not meet each other over the weekend.
Rule 2:
Here’s a ‘Muska-Juska Magic lamp’ for each of you. You can rub it once during your 2-day stay- make one wish and it shall be granted. Your wishes must be sexually mild-blowing fantasies.
Rule 3:
When you leave the island, you don’t take anything from there. Remember, they belong to me and me alone. Anything that you take, it become yours at your own risk.
Rule 4:
Close your eyes. You’ll be in and out in two days.

VACATION TIME:
The 3 Muskajeers stand with their eyes wide open, on their respective partition on the most Paradisiacal Island on earth: ‘Stuck-on-you’. A golden lamp with ‘Muska-Juska’ written across stays comfortably put in their arms.
The salty sea breeze is soothing. The night is naughty and nubile. The island’s bountiful beauty is bombastic. Sex sizzles in the air and on their minds.

On the Beira: (Beer’s third of the island)
Beer rubs the ‘Muska-Juska’ Magic lamp and wishes: “Master, Grant me the most boobalicious, buttalicious, curvalicious, sexalicious, lovealicious sex-kitten over the next two days.”

Master: “Sex-kitten? Think big- here’s a sex-tigress.”

She walks to him: a bedazzling ensemble of flesh and soul, dressed in nothing but a star-studded string bikini, midnight-blue Kajal and a tender coconut in her hand. She cuckoos into Beer’s ears, “Come. Command. Conquer.”

On the Querida: (Queer’s third of the island)
Queer rubs the ‘Muska-Juska’ lamp and wishes: “Master, Grant me the perfect bait that would ensnare my gay fancies both from front and behind, if you know what I mean. A six-pack horn that would have a hole on the top and bend backwards and fit into my ass-h*$* is what I fancy.”

Master: “Shah-Rukh is the perfect bait that would hook you on, but he’s busy with Karan Johar now.
And Queer, you said ‘master, grant me the bait’-
I as MASTER hereby grant you the BAIT- ‘the MASTERBAIT/MASTURBATE’ HORN.’
The HORNy HORN hoots to Queer: “Blow me. Caress me. Insert me.”

On the Seirra: (Seer’s third of the island)
Seer rubs the ‘Muska-Juska’ lamp and wishes: “Master, grant me the perfect crystal-gazer that helps me watch the futuristic place with the maximum population explosion: I’d like to fix the lights-out action.”

Master: “Right now, the only place where population explosion is happening is not in India/China; it’s in the ‘Brangelina House’- so many babies- adopted and real. They’re even talking of a child care centre that would house many more babies- peephole porn granted to you Seer.”

Through the crystal-gazer, Seer watches the most beautiful couple in the world go at it in bed- population or not, it definitely is an explosion.
Brad and Angelina whisper to Seer, “Ooh! Aah! Ouch! WATCH!”

THE VACATION ENDS:
The weekend passes by. At the end of it, Seer, Beer and Queer choose to play with rule no. 3. Their master had said: ‘Anything that you take, it becomes yours at your own risk.” They want souvenirs from their sexy vacation on the ‘STUCK-ON-YOU’ island. Seer hides the star-studded string bikini in his shorts, Beer flicks the ‘masturbate horn’ in his very loose shorts and Queer slips the crystal-gazer in his shirt pocket. They get back to their respective rooms in the ‘MUSKA-JUSKA’ house by Sunday night, longingly look at their souvenirs from the ‘STUCK-ON-YOU’ island and fall fast asleep.

The next day,
Beer gets up, walks to the full-size bathroom mirror and shrieks:
The star-studded bikini has become a part of his skin, permanently!

Queer gets up, and feels a pain in the front and back:
The ‘Masturbate Horn’ is naturally sheathed onto his front and back hole, permanently!

Seer gets up, and feels his right eye quake and pound:
The ‘crystal gazer’ stays molded to his left eyelid, permanently!

The MASTER’s voice floats across the ‘MUSKA-JUSKA’ house:
“Rule 3: When you leave the island, you don’t take anything from there. Remember, they belong to me and me alone. Anything that you take, it becomes yours at your own risk.”
Pauses and continues….
“And it all became YOURS- literally!!!!"

STONED!!!

Prologue:
THE 3 MUSKEJEERS:
The 3 MuskeJeers had nicknames for each other that swiped their personae sharp and clean:

(Beer): He is passionate about BEER, bombshells, their b@@&$ and b*##$, big bucks, and all the good things in life- he leers lustily at whatever appeals to his senses.
(Seer): He is the guy with unusual powers of foresight; he PREDICTS THE FUTURE with great accuracy, hence- the SEER- the MuskeJeers strategist, he plans like every tomorrow was running today. ‘Fear’ pushes and powers him.
(Queer): Strange are his ways: he’s ‘GAY and funny’- QUEER man! Like his penchant for mens’ rumps and rear-sides, he looks at every situation from the back and every possible corner and angle. He is quick and feminine, like a Deer.

*************************************************************************************
THE HAUTE-HEIST:
(The High-Flying Robbery)

It is dark, silent and ten ‘o’ clock. The 3 MuskeJEERS stand at the Ravi Gaikward residence. Tonight is their night.

BEER jeers, “Crores and crores of ‘Darling Diamonds’. I’ve already begun spending it in my head. Diamonds are a hot chick’s best friend. Just imagine the blue-eyed, hot-assed…..”
QUEER cuts him abruptly, “Blue-eyed?? You might end up getting a black-eye, if we get caught today.”
SEER says, “Guys. Shut up. Let’s observe ‘two minutes of silence’ for the 3 months we’ve been planning and working hard on this ‘haute-heist’: to finally stroke the 3 sachets of sparkling Dazzle Diamonds in Ravi’s locker with sensuous slashes.”

3 MONTHS BEFORE:
3months. Three months since they started working on Ravi Gaikward’s case- Ravi Gaikward, the owner of a 100 year old Diamond Jewellery store Tribhov Bheem Gaikward (TBG), centrally located at the majestic Canberra House, Mumbai. He was a pink-faced, baggy-eyed, rotund man with lards of hard fat insulating the circumference of his stomach. His wife was dead, and he had one daughter named Riah, and a son named Rahul. Beer, the lady-lover that he was, worked his way to Riah’s heart, while Queer being gay ‘drove’ his way through gay Rahul’s arse. Seer became Ravi Gaikward’s most trusted astrologer during the two months.

And how?Simple! One afternoon, he visited the TBG Diamond store. After loafing around for a while, he gave the usher at the entrance a chit to be passed to the owner. The next day, when he returned to the store, Ravi Gaikward himself hugged Seer strong and made him his most trusted astrologer.

And how? Simple! The chit had read, “You will find a stone that will be bigger than the biggest diamond you’ve seen. The stone shall give you a new lease of life- this is your wife’s GIFT from heaven.”

Ravi Gaikward had waited for the big diamond, supposedly sent by his wife the entire day. No supplier had brought forth the foreshadowed diamond. Late that evening, as he walked out of his store, a huge stone had dropped from nowhere, just a foot behind him. He’d escaped death by a split-second.

Ravi removed the chit from his pocket and re-read it. The stone was bigger than the biggest diamond he’d seen (You will find a stone that will be bigger than the biggest diamond you’ve seen.), the big stone hadn’t killed him- it had given him a new lease of life (The stone shall give you a new lease of life), and it was his wife who had saved him from the stone- a new lease of life had been her gift to him (this is your wife’s GIFT from heaven!) Ravi Gaikward was stunned!

Queer sat hidden between the tree-branches near the TBG Diamond Store, smiling after throwing the stone a second after his target moved. He’d just missed his target by a second, as he’d been instructed to do; for a guy who missed his target, he was the happiest assassin.

TWO WEEKS BEFORE:
Two weeks ago, they struck gold, in this case, diamonds.
Seer now spent a lot of time at Ravi Gaikward’s house. As luck would have it, he eavesdropped on a conversation Ravi had with Rahul and Riah: “I’ve three sachets of my lucky-charm Dazzling Diamonds worth crores & crores, in my bedroom locker- one sachet for you, my son Rahul, one for you, my baby Riah and one for me.
Here are your keys to the locker. You can take these sachets anytime you want. Their individual value is much beyond your combined inheritances.”

BACK TO THE PRESENT:
That happened TWO WEEKS AGO. The 3 MuskeJeers come thumping back to reality. The 2 minute silence is over. The night is young, even the diamond-studded starry sky tells them, ‘Go get the 3 diamond sachets.’

The 3 MuskeJeers huddle once and part.
“Let’s go get rich today.”

And How? Simple!
Seer walks into his 10 ‘o’clock appointment with Ravi Gaikward. Rahul sees Seer go into his father’s room: he stealthily walks out of the house to meet Queer for an hour. They had fixed their love-making appointment for 10pm. “Rahul, you’re losing 21 crores because I’m gay and intelligent and you’re gay and dumb,” Queer thinks to himself.

Beer jumps into Riah’s balcony from the tree. She has been waiting for him for half an hour. It is their first time. “She looks so beautiful naked. God, I got to remember to drug her, and get her key to Ravi Gaikward’s Diamond locker.”

Aloud, Seer tells Ravi: “Close your eyes. ‘Eyelidistry’ is my secret specialty. Let me read your eyelids and predict your future.” Silently, he thinks, “We’re robbing Ravi Gaikward blind, quite literally.”

Half an hour passes. Beer steals his way into Ravi’s bedroom. His eyelids remain shut, Seer keeps babbling on about Ravi’s future. Beer moves forward. With no hindrance, he finds the locker, opens it with the key, picks the 3 sachets and walks away-hypnotized. It has been the easiest robbery in history.

10 minutes later, the 3 muskeJEERS meet at their hideout.
They open a sachet each. They stare at the contents open-mouthed! AGAPE!
They were STONED!

Each sachet contained a third of the big stone that Queer had thrown three months ago.

They went STONE-COLD!
*************************************************************************************
And how? Simple!
EPILOGUE:

Ravi Gaikward's words: “I’ve three sachets of my lucky-charm ‘Darling Diamonds’ worth crores & crores, in my bedroom locker- one sachet for you, my son Rahul, one for you, my baby Riah and one for me. Here are your keys to the locker. You can take these sachets anytime you want. Their individual value is much beyond your combined inheritances.”
-->Ravi Gaikward’s dead wife had saved his life with the stone. His wife was his Lucky Charm. To him, like Beer had predicted, this stone was the biggest diamond. Hence, he’d split the stone in three- one third for him, one third for his son Rahul and one third for his daughter, Riah. He called his wife ‘Darling’-so he called the 3 parts the ‘Darling Diamonds’. He’d intended for the stone to be a talisman of sorts to the children. To Ravi, the stone was priceless- he liked to put them at ‘crores and crores’. He wanted the kids to have their mother’s talisman any time, so he gave them the keys.

Ravi Gaikward had no other diamonds in the locker at home. He kept every other stone in his store, under the blanket of the highest security possible. After all, his family was in the diamond business for 100 years.

Double MENace:

“Two eyes. Two lips. Two hands. Two legs. Why not two men?” Rita screamed at Polly in exasperation.

“One nose. One tongue. One navel. One life. One love. Looking at it from the other bank of the river, you have ten fingers; can you, by your cockeyed sense of reasoning, have ten men!?
You got to choose babe, and you got to do it FAST.”

Rita crinkled her nose and smiled for no apparent reason, “I want them both and I will have them both.” Polly threw up her hands in frustration and said, ‘I only wish.’

Tony and Ashoka- Fire and ice, Ice and Fire, interchangeable as usual. The two men in her life. She couldn’t live without either of them, and she couldn’t obviously live with both of them.

She knew Tony from when she was a little baby. He’d held her right after she was born. He’d been her ‘jatti’ buddy. She respected, feared and loved him in equitable, humongous proportions. He cared for her like he cared for no-one else. He’d helped her become her, like a potter shaping his favorite clay pot. The two of them shared a mirrored passion for life, and were alike in one unique aspect- they always stood out from the crowd. Invariably, she felt ‘at home’ with Tony. One evening, while he was rolling the rosary beads during his evening walk, she called him while in the midst of some baseless depression. He said in a comforting, yet steadfast tone, “You’re my baby. I would never let harm come your way.” The intensity intimidated even her.

She knew Ashoka for over a year now. She’d met him at her first job, and the lightening had struck heavy even before the dark clouds of passion gathered. They caught on to each other like wildfire let loose in an otherwise friendly forest. No science- neither chemistry nor biology could demystify their raging animal intensity for each other. Surprisingly, the passion did not turn out to be a queer, wet blanket with time. The tardy drops of rain after all the initial thunder and lightning were unexpectedly soft and tender indeed. It trickled down their bodies, uniting love and lust in a lasting embrace. One evening, as Ashoka's magician-tongue wagged its magic wand on her more-than-yielding rabbits, he whispered “You’re my queen. Let’s go conquer the world.” The excitement was too much, even for her.

She couldn’t say they were both like an eye each, mainly because both her eyes had different eye-powers (-3 and -3.5). However, Tony and Ashoka had so much in common that even her differently-powered eyes without glasses/lens saw the same thing and felt the same darn thing when she saw them.

Tony and Ashoka were both Taurians: obstinate and opinionated, fearless and kind, ambitious and generous. The two men were as well-built and purposeful as strong bulls on the chase. Broad shoulders with muscular thighs, the two of them drove her nuts about them. Sensual and strongly attractive, they were hard-pressingly loveable. They were distinct go-getters. They made her want to piggy-back their power-luring and green-minting adventures.

They both had eyes that laughed when their lips did. Both their lips’ loved the feel of Gold Flake Kings against their pursed, cupid shaped lips. They loved to smoke, and her femininity found it so appealingly macho and masculine that at times, she’d just sit beside either of her Kings, and passive-smoke a cigarette or two- flakey, but golden. It really cleared her head, even though she had no penchant for smoking .They rarely let their faces smile, but when they did, they revealed the perfect set of ciggie-tinged teeth. To her, their faces were the most potent and the most memorized in her brain cells.

They were the only two men who could use the whip and quip to restrict and release her. She was on their leash and yet, her spirit stood unleashed.

It was impossible to decide between them, as everyone around her was prodding her to. She was caught between the devil and the dark blue sea, with religion and her acting as the prodding Moses' staff.

That is when she hatched her plan of having them both. The number TWO was ingrained in her persona- she was Gemini by birth. She needed to have them both, and love them both, to her advantage. It was a tightrope effort- she introduced them to each other over a casual lunch, as if by total chance. They took to each other in a big way. She didn’t expect that. Soon, they were laughing over a peg of Jack Daniels….

Taurians are obstinate and opinionated- lucky for her; they were both obstinate in and opinionated about one thing- her happiness. Rita, Tony and Ashoka finally made their decision.

The priest said with a pleasing finality, ‘You may now kiss the bride.’
Ashoka and Rita came together for eternity. The rain drops were falling outside the church. A colorful rainbow spread a happy smile across the sky.

Rita turned to Tony. Tears streaked his dimpled cheeks. He looked at her in stunned silence, “I’m losing my baby girl, but I’m losing her to a better man (smiles proudly).”

She kissed Tony on the cheek and said, ‘Father, Thank You’

THE CYNOSURE

CHAPTER 1:
BRAHMANIFICATION
– THE CREATION.
CYNOSURE-->sin(cyn)? no, (4) sure..

Trupper and Lowerina:

Every now and then, in a fit of creative inspiration, God liked to sit with Jesus, the Holy Spirit, Mary Magdalene and Jesus’ 11 disciples, and create a never-before-on-earth landscape.

God looked at the latest beautiful landscape he’d sculpted over the last five days. It was one of his best masterpieces. The prototype looked like no other land of his on Earth.
The mountains, the hillocks, the plains, the valleys, the passes, the forests had been molded by his archangels, under the supervision of his Creative team.

‘This landscape chef-d'oeuvre (masterpice) has got to be on South Indian soil: its dark opulence, lush mellowness, stark finesse and blatant fertility fit right there. I will call it Raish, plant it on the Sabbath day, and watch its resplendent bloom from here,’ God said.

Then, at the head of the beautiful landscape, he fitted in a wheatish, dusky plot. On this plot, Jesus and Mary Magdalene made two black nymphs in their image and likeness: Trupper and Lowerina.

Jesus said, ‘Trupper and Lowerina would be lovers who spend every day of their lives loving each other, just like we do.’

Mary Magdalene said, ‘The two black lymphs will be an example to mankind- an example of unrelenting fidelity, everlasting love, delicious trust and mutual respect.’

Jesus said, ‘They will look at the world through our eyes. They will spread love and carry forth our mission. But, like us, they will have to live separate lives to do their respective work.’

Mary Magdalene said, ‘That’s not fair Jesus. They cannot be indefinitely separated: let them consummate their love every now and then. Please.’

Jesus smiled and replied, ‘Well, alright. I will put Trupper and Lowerina on either bank of Sclierra- a fish-shaped milky-white river. Every morning, they shall guard Coripupe- the Green Lake of Visionary Wisdom, bang in the middle of the milky-white river, and once in every five seconds, in a flash of lightning- they shall meet each other for the briefest of seconds in a feather-light lip lock. A black moor called Macabrow shall stand like a protective dark cover over Trupper and Lowerina.In the nights, they can hug each other and be together in sleep. Are you happy now?’

Mary Magdalene lets out a breath of relief, ‘Yes, My Lord.’

Thus was planted the RAISH landscape in Karnataka. Trupper and Lowerina were born at the head of the land. As originally planned, from their birth, they lived on either side of the milky-white river and guarded the Coripupe- the Green Lake of Visionary Wisdom. They met every five seconds for a fleeting kiss, and parted soon after, going about their work. Their nights were spent in each other’s arms, under the prtection of Macabrow, the black moor. As they grew, they were proud of their looks; after all, they belonged to the most beautiful landscape. Their days got longer and more exciting.
Someone asked them: ' Ready to sin(cyn)?'
They replied: 'no 4 sure'


THE DEBUTANTE-
FIRST TIMER:
SIN(cyn)? O SURE!

It was Raish’s first time. Raish waited in anticipation.

Raish’s Landlord brought forth the best 'silk threads of labor'. He sheared the moor, and plucked out all the extra black sheafs. Trupper and Lowerina felt all the abominable pain in the world, as they lost some of their loveable black sheafs.

He then forced Tupper and Lowerina apart and brought a huge, transparent blue cover towards the Green Lake of Visionary Wisdom. Both the black nymphs tried to resist the intrusion and the foreign, transparent dome.

Trupper said, ‘Sclierra- the Milky-white river, start flooding. Do not let the transparent, blue dome cover the Coripupe.’

The river flooded and gushed out. However, the landlord pushed the blue dome further closer towards the Green Lake.

Lowerina said, ‘Trupper, Let’s dodge the dome. We shall move around the Coripupe, so that the dome doesn’t land.’

They huffed and they puffed, but the blue dome firmly settled on the Coripupe, which shook wildly under the dome. In a while, everything calmed down.

All of a sudden, Trupper’s body was gripped still in the tight grasp of Raish’s Landlord. He was angry and frightened at the same time. A shield of the best black was suddenly fit onto Trupper’s body. And just like that, he was released.

Lowerina watched Trupper in fascination. Trupper had always had a raw look she so loved, but now, he looked very macho.
Lowerina complimented Trupper, ‘The black shield fits you so very well, and it makes you bigger and better.’

As Lowerina progressed to kiss him hard and tight, she’d been held down by Raish’s landlord as well: she looked at him with an anxious frenzy. A big black paint was splashed at her, it lined her curves and when it just about dried, silver dust was sprinkled all over her.

This time around, Trupper stood agape at Lowerina’s new look.
‘You look like you are bathing in the dark night clouds, your body aglow under the moon’s teasing silver beams.’

The two shimmering black nymphs looked at each other for one long second. The lust was extreme; however, like every other time, the love they felt for each other raced past the lust, and they melted into a long, passionate embrace.

A huge shining light shone at them, like the bright headlights of a car. They broke away from each other, like two teenagers spotted for promiscuity. The now-blue, once-green lake flirted with the light.

The entire Raish Landscape silently writhed and moaned, curved and bent, quaked and smoothened, pouted and flattened, lived and loved ahead of the lights.

CLICK! FLASH! CLICK! FLASH! CLICK! FLASH!
Trupper and Lowerina faced the flashes of light with great élan. They loved it!
People asked Trupper and Lowerina: 'ready to sin (CYN) now?'
Tupper and Lowerina replied: 'O SURE!"

ps:
-RAIsh, The beautiful landscape IN Karnataka AKA AIshwarya Rai.
-The mountains, the hillocks, the plains, the valleys, the passes, the forests AKA the curves and figure of a Ash.
-Wheatish, dusky plot at the head of the landscape AKA Ash’s face.
-MacaBROW, the black moor AKA Ash'a Eye- BROWS.
-CORIPUPE, the Green Lake of Visionary Wisdom AKA Aish’s green eyeballs, that have the CORnea and PUPil.
-trUPPER and LOWERina, the 2 black nymphs AKA The UPPER and LOWER lashes of Ash’s eyes.
-SCLiERrA,The milky-white river AKA the sclera (white portion) of the eye.
-The Debutante AKA Aishwarya Rai’ first photo- shoot/portfolio.
-Shearing of MacaBROW with silk threads of labor AKA plucking and shaping eyebrows
-The foreign, blue dome AKA Blue Contact Lens
-The flooding of Sclierra, the milky-white river AKA Eye-watering/tearing because of wearing lens for the first time.
-The Black Shield AKA Artificial eye-lashes
-The Black paint with silver dust AKA Eye-Kajal.
-A huge shining light AKA the focus lights in a photo-shoot
-The entire Raish Landscape silently writhed and moaned, curved and bent, quaked and smoothened, pouted and flattened, lived and loved ahead of the lights- AKA Aishwarya in different poses during her first photo-shoot.
-CLICK! FLASH! AKA Lights, Camera, (photograph(er)/(ed)) Action.

KARMA- THE SALEM PAYBACK

******************************************

THE SNOOZER: March1, 2008.10.00 pm.
An old hut, Salem.

The old alarm clock goes on in an obscure, little hut in Salem, the steel city of the south; it's around six hours by road from Chennai, which in turn is the cosmoplitan hotspot of South India.

He has hardly slept four hours-he’d been drinking all evening and quite a lot lately. He turns the alarm off, walks to the corner of his one sparse house, washes his face and hands off his drunken stupor and eats an early breakfast, served by his wife - some rice porridge and thick fish curry. Fish curry is a delicacy in his house, what with his miserly sole earnings mostly feeding his kallasarayam (type of local hard liquor). He gets set for his extremely early morning shift- he works as a driver for PTC buses plying from Salem to Chennai and back.

His two little girls in torn nighties are fast asleep. He gives them a kiss each. He would never let anything hurt them- he should get them new nighties. His wife gives him his towel and a bottle of water. She seems to be worried- he must remember to get her some mallighai poo (jasmine flowers). Chellapa clearly didn’t like seeing people unhappy or hurt in the smallest possible way.

‘You should drink a little lesser, and sleep a little more,’ she silently, almost carefully admonishes.
‘Kannama, don’t start. I work like a dog, and dogs have to be fed. My kallasarayam is the only thing that could really feed me. Your family gets its food, the kids get their education, and no one else is harmed, I have never hurt a fly- so I can keep drinking more and sleeping less for all you care, why are you bothered??’

No one else is harmed, I haven’t and wouldn’t hurt a fly….

He walks towards his bus with sleep-filled eyes.
***********************************************

THE SINNER: March 2, 2008 10.00 am.
Sales office, Chennai.

She sits in her open cubicle, biting at those already cropped-to-the-flesh nails. Her eyes flash around the brightly lit office, the usual commotion and noise in her sales office suddenly a stranger invading her senses. As a Major Account Manager for a set of named/unnamed accounts only in Chennai, she sells desktops / laptops to these accounts. Officially, she isn't allowed to sell to accounts outside Chennai.

She swallows hard as her palms break into a sweat. She stares at the purchase order that has just landed her outlook mailbox. It is a purchase order for 160 desktops from ‘Bharatiar College, Salem’. She then closes the mail, closes her eyes and tries closing onto a peaceful trance.

These are the various conflicting statements from her colleagues, over the last few days that color her blanched peace:

‘Jennifer, never pick a deal/order from outside Chennai. It is against ethics, and you could lose your job.’

‘It isn’t wrong to pick an order from outside. Everyone does it here. Even losing a wink of sleep over that is fruitless- losing your job is out of question! ’

‘Ethics in business is always ahead of the business itself,’

‘Ethics in business is always ahead of the business itself, only because all the malpractices and wrongdoings serve as the backdoor junk backing the business from behind’

‘These are small things- why bother?’

‘There is a God of small things watching you always!’

Two schools of thought- one telling her it’s all wrong and one placating her anxieties. Her eyes remain shut and her eyeballs motionless. She wills the guilt away, but then, it simply keeps gnawing back at her.
In the end, this is what repeatedly pounds her eardrums as eerie whispers, ‘I’ve done IT. Everyone does IT. THIS shall also pass- Salem can never get back AT me, it's after all only a city’
************************************************

THE SUFFERER: March 2, 2008: 10.00 am
BBA Classroom, Loyola, Chennai.

HE sits at his desk, looking at the OB (Organizational Behavior) teacher with a fixed, occupied stare. His sister had helped him with, read ‘completed’ his HR Case Analysis late last night. She was his sitting duck- he loved making fun of all her: ‘full flab, flat nose, flat figure and flat feet.’ However, she had always been his ultimate saving grace when it came to completing assignments, giving tips and ideas on how to go about his BBA and lending innovative/inspiring ideas on shaping his future career.

HE turns his attention to OB- Obnoxious Bozo aka the Organizational Behavior teacher, and wonders how someone has the patience to go on for hours and hours talking, and he thinks ‘she must probably be suffering from ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder).’

His stomach groans, thinking of the Chicken Rice that was waiting for him in the Loyola Canteen. He looks across at Ashwin who is sticking pencils in Ann’s frizzy hair. ‘You Rotten Onion Burrito, here’s my pencil for her hair- way to go!’ he giggles and whispers to Ashwin.

The teacher suddenly disrupts him, ‘Jaison, how do you think the Govt. could improve the working conditions of a Govt. bus driver.’

HE gets up with a blank stare, and thinks to himself ‘Who knows, and more importantly, who cares.’
************************************************

THE SALEM PAYBACK:
March 28th 2008, 6.00 am
Traffic signal, Kathiparab Junction, Chennai,

CRASHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

Everything in the whole wild universe comes to a standstill. The deafening crash and the ensuing silence completely overpower ‘She will be loved’ playing on the Sony player. HIS body jerks forward as if a word called inertia never existed. His seat belt is like a warrior armor strap that pierces into his own chest. His head is just a nanometer short of crashing right through the windscreen.


He just about encounters death for what seems like the longest picosecond of his life.

As if it were a preconceived shot in a blockbuster movie, he suddenly sees how it happened. A huge ‘something’ had hit them from behind, while the car was stationed at the signal. He looked at his driver, seated beside him- he was ALIVE. Shaken beyond words, he finds the door handle, which is surprisingly not jammed, and opens it. He looks for any missing body parts, but the God of small mercies had gifted him yet another life.

He steps out of the crashed car. His mind gets transported to what happened around two hours ago- at home.

***********************************************

THE SAVIOUR: March 28th 2008.
Chennai, 4.30 am
Home sweet home, Chennai

HE and SHE (Jennifer and Jaison) help their mom put her bags in their Swift’s boot. She is leaving for Muscat, to see their dad, who works as a teacher there. Her flight takes off at 7am. SHE stays home, while HE hops in alongside the driver and his mom plops herself in the backseat.

They reach the airport in about forty five minutes. Before leaving, Jaison’s mother rattles ‘Jaison, take care of your sister, eat food on time, set three alarms to wake up both of you, say a little prayer every day and call me once in two days at least. Let’s say a small prayer before I leave Son.’

‘Dear Jesus, protect my children when I’m not there, and constantly be with them. Our Father who art in heaven………………………………’

************************************************
March 28th 2008.
Chennai, 6.03 am
Accident site, Chennai.

He looks at the slightly frontal-dented PTC bus, almost 10 metres behind. The bus driver sits with his mouth agape, as if he’d just woken up- from a dreamless sleep- he’d obviously been dozing when he’d hit the car. Everything still remains a traumatizing still shot, as if the director of the fictitious movie hadn’t said CUT yet.
As his eyes automatically move their line of vision to the back of his car, his eyes momentarily misses out on something.

The signboard on the bus reads ‘SALEM’.
The bus that'd hit Jaison's car came from SALEM…………’
***********************************************
Life is truly a full circle. It exactly ends where it all began.
The snoozer:
'No one else is harmed, I haven’t and wouldn’t hurt a fly…… '
AND HARM HE DID- AN OBJECT THE SIZE OF A MILLION FLIES PUT TOGETHER ALMOST LOST ITS WINGS.
The Sinner:
‘I’ve done IT. Everyone does IT. THIS shall also pass- Salem can never get back at me, it's only a city…….
AND GET BACK IT DID, THE BUS FROM SALEM GOT BACK AT JENNIFER WITH A BIG BANG, QUITE LITERALLY; HER PRECIOUS BROTHER WAS THE APPLE OF HER EYE.
The Sufferer:
‘Jaison, how do you think the Govt. could improve the working conditions of a Govt. bus driver.’
HE gets up with a blank stare, and thinks to himself ‘Who knows, and more importantly who cares.’
AND CARE HE DID, WHEN HE ALMOST LOST HIS LIFE, WITH A SLEEP-DEPRIVED GOVT. BUS DRIVER CRASHING INTO HIS CAR.
The savior:
‘Dear Jesus, protect my children when I’m not there, and constantly be with them. Our Father who art in heaven………………………………’ AND PROTECT HE DID- MOTHERS KNOW THAT PRAYERS NEVER GO UNANSWERED.

***********************************************

Every little thing we do meets the master surgeon in the eye; call the Master Surgeon God, Destiny, Science or any thing you wish.

Every wound sewed.. Every drop of blood accounted for.. Every aching muscle put to rest.. Every sagging nerve brought o justice..

Every little action of ours deserves the Surgeon’s meritorious reaction- good or bad, depending upon our action; he has got to complete what we started in the first place, it’s his job.

It’s the law of his nature’s balance and the nature of his penultimate balancing law.
In the simplest of words- 'IT'S SIMPLE KARMA- what goes around comes around.’
I’ve gone around penning a true story. Now, you come around to my comments section and tell us how you’ve avenged and been avenged.

WAD-MAD MADas!! CHILLERA CHENNAI!

.................................................................................................................... THE WAD OF NOTES
It’s a lazy Thursday afternoon. The wind outside seems to have picked up a breezy tantrum from some upper air cyclonic circulation over the Southwest Bay off Srilanka-Tamilnadu. A sudden flash of rain hits the brown tiles of the ‘Isical P. Ltd’ portico- a small, but budding software company on the Nungambakkam High Road, Chennai.

Antara sits at her desk, customizing the last few slides in her ‘Comparison of the best Quality models in Customer-interface Processes’ for Abacus, her client. Antara works as a Senior Statistical Analyst at Isical. She digs what she does. After all, she wears a prestigious Six-Sigma Black Belt.

As she saves the presentation in the ‘Abacus’ folder, her stomach sends out tiny hunger growls. She ponders, ‘Tomorrow being Good Friday and thereby, a holiday, I can simply relish an extended weekend- healthy home food, a few movies, some TV and chilling out with friends.’

She shuts down her notebook, joins her colleagues Bharat and Arthi to the door, and flashes her Id at the glass door sensor. ‘Today, we’ve special Kheer with the North Indian Thali at our canteen. Yumm! Where in heavens is Anoop?’ Antara rattles.

Bharat turns to Antara and says, ‘Anoop is on the way back from a customer place. I’m just waiting for his call.’

Anoop is their team lead, an erstwhile Gulf-return Mallu. He’s one adorably cute guy in his late thirties; the cute being more attached to the soft bald patch on his head, his ever-debatable beer belly, and his penchant for Scotch, Smart women and Suave business strategies. Bharat receives a call from Anoop, and Antara watches the light drizzle outside. It’s a pleasant day.

Bharat returns with a smile. ‘Anoop tells us that he’s treating us at Crescent, since tomorrow is a holiday.’ Crescent is a typical Mallu hotel on the Nungambakkam high Road. It is swamped with the Mallu flavor- Mallu waiters, a lot of middle-aged Mallu businessmen/young, hard hair-gelled, hot-blooded Mallu Loyolites hogging on Fish curry meals, Kerala Parotta and Sear fish, and Malayalam being tossed around like a patti (dog) on the run. In fact the place is open till around one thirty in the night, and a lot of times you have the ‘party-hard-night-owls’ from Pasha flooding this place for some tummy-pampering after all the booze.

Anoop, Antara and Bharat enter Crescent at 3 pm- sharp. The kitchen is still open. The place is still like a watered down fish market- the noise is not all that loud, but the food, along with its feverish excitement is still up and running. They seat themselves in a place where Anoop can sightadichify (ogle at) the Mallu babe on the opposite side. Antara and Anita giggle at Anoop’s explicit interest in good looking women. They both mime ‘Married Mallu Men!’ in chorus. Anoop’s flour-like complexion goes beet-red. He calls onto Joji, a new waiter at Crescent.

‘I want one Egg Kothu Parotta*** please,’ Antara squeals with delight, at the thought of the Crescent Special melting in her mouth.

‘That’s pretty much her standard order cheta; get me one Mughlai Biriyani***. It would be one non-veg meals for Arthi, four Kerala Parottas and Prawn Biriyani for the muscle-hulk Bharat (everyone chuckles), one sear fish fry**, one chili chicken gravy, two sprites and one water- melon juice ‘without sugar’ for Antara- don’t ask me why, ee kochi (this girl) would eat everything packed with calories on this table, and still have her juice without sugar!
(Shakes his head with a mock sick expression)
Aan madhi joji. (smiles) Korechu fasta konduveran, sheriyo’ (that’s enough Joji, sent the food a little fast, alright.)

‘The juice with sugar chokes my throat Anoop. I cannot even taste the watermelon,’ slurps Bharat in a frigging good impersonation of Antara’s ‘I’m-pukey-voice’. (Everyone is splitting up, even Antara)

In an attempt to divert the joke that is right now on her, Antara rushes in, ‘I can never believe I keep coming to this place that reeks of all this Mallu fraternal bonding. I mean, it really goes whizzing past my pea-brain. How can two Mallus always get all over each other?’

Anoop is quick to retort, ‘a) You're reaffirming my conclusions about your pea-brain.b)being a non-mallu, you're jealous you can never get you hands all over sexy malu nri guyz b) you really must love your Crescent Egg Kothu Porotta beyond reason to keep coming here c)you can never resist my company (winks)-I'm the only mallu man you can get all over.’

Bharat says, ‘You’re wrong. Actaully, she can never resist a treat. Period.
I’m a Tamil Maghan, but the Mughlai Biriyani and Kerala Parotta are too good to really give them a miss.’

Anita pokes Bharat in the rib, ‘aaa ooh na, azhaghiya tamil Maghan Vijay nu nannaipu.’ (You talk like you’re actor Vijay at the drop of a hat)

Bharat replies with a twinkle in his eye, ‘Men like Anoop and me ooze with the charm, you see.’

Soon, the buzz diverts to Anita’s upcoming wedding in Kerala, upper-echelon politics in the organization, clients and their antics amidst other things. They end the meal with grunts, stifled burps of satisfaction and a pretty yummy coconut soufflé. Anoop asks for the bill. It comes in as 300 bucks. Anoop exclaims, ‘To the DOT!’ He places a 500 rupee note, and chews on the sounf and paan, as we all stand to leave.

The change comes in. It holds a WAD of notes- two hundred rupee notes, one fifty buck, and five tens.
Anoop collects the change, save for a solitary ten buck note as tips.

The minute we step out of the restaurant, he swears, ‘Mallu or not, Indian mentality never changes. He had to slip in those five ten bucks, and not two full hundreds, not trusting a regular like me to leave him a ten as tips. PATTI!’
*************
That, I hope was a good enough entree in a Chennai (Mallu or otherwise) meal. We count our money to the last penny. We lick and count our wad of notes like we lick our thair sadam(curd rice). No amount of world-class Kleenex butt-wipes can swipe our butts clean off our calculative instincts- we still prefer using our hands and a mug of water, gross as it may sound.
Ever wondered how you end up with a 25 paise coin in a kirana (street)shop?
Ever wondered why buying one cigarette and not a pack, in a potti kada(cornerstore) is quite unique to Chennai/ India?
Ever wondered why we would spend a 20,000 on a chic mobile, but crib when the auto guy asks us for an extra 10?
Ever wondered why we walk out of T-Nagar Saravana Stores aadi thallupadi (seasonal sale) with a million dollar smile and million dollar rags in corny bags?
Ever wonder why our beggars never throw back a one rupee coin we give him, even though he feels we’re condescending? Ever wondered why the ‘Times of India’ is launching in Chennai at a reported RS.2?’
I think I can give you ten bucks for the answer- you can retain the change!
Share with us how miserably calculative you’ve got! Don’t be ashamed! I’ve bickered over a one rupee chillera coin-chill man!