Stigmata

It is a cold, silent night of December and nature has painted the whole town white in its preparation for the festival season ahead. But in contrast to the outside, the atmosphere inside the town hall is buzzing with activity. Clinking champagne glasses, snapping flashlights and warm yellow glow from stand lights melting over curvaceous white figures, his exhibition has been a success.

Notwithstanding the astounding amount of money his father had left him, he had made himself a name in the society, as a man who puts clay and Plaster of Paris to life. The critics were in awe of him for his sheer talents and the press loved him for his whims. He had made it a habit of disappearing for a few months before returning to the social scene with his new creations. His early success had made him one of the most sought-after bachelors in the upper circles. And this made sure that he always had enough material to study his favorite subject, woman.

Flashy neons had given way to mellow night lamps and the bustling skyline had fallen into a slumber, covered under the blanket of fog. Walking has always been his favorite activity to rejuvenate after a hectic day. He decided to enjoy the misty night on his own and ordered his chauffer to take his car back to his place “I’ll walk and stay at my studio tonight”

The flickering lamp on the corner of the street was dissolving orange colour in the grayish-white hue of the night. He moved from upmarket areas towards downtown alleys, absorbing everything in sight. His keen eyes were checking every lost soul wandering in those streets where people with respectable family background feared to tread.

She was a girl of thin built and towering height. She had big hazel eyes and an exceptionally smooth skin. A half-burnt cigarette was hanging lazily from her lips and the smoke was adding mystery to her aura. Half of her face was covered by her long brunette hair and rest was eaten up by shadows of the alley.

“I’ll pay 150 dollars for a night”, he asked, in his usual baritone, “You’ll have to pose for me, naked!” “But there are rules. You won’t ask who I am”. And then, nobody gets to pose for me second time. His curved lips marked the ending of his sentence. Yeah, whatever! Let’s go, where’s the car, she enquired. No words were exchanged as they walked to his studio.

The place looked like a dungeon with plastic drapes hanging all around. Patches of clay and Plaster-of-Paris were splattered everywhere but in contrast to all, one corner contained a rack with shining instruments arranged in an orderly fashion. “You stay here, I’ll fix you a drink”, he uttered and got lost behind those plastic sheets.

When he returned after a few minutes, she was ready in her birth suit. Here you go, finish it and let’s get to work, he said as he handed over the glass to her. “Where’s your glass”, she questioned. I don’t drink before work, I drink to my work. Let me know if you want some more. She was amazed by the dedication and the charm of this man. Don’t you wanna touch me, she offered as she moved her body closer to his.

“I have to check the mixture; it should be ready by now. I don’t want it to get lumpy, gets difficult to pour-in”, as he moved out of the room, she gulped on her drink. The next morning, when he left the studio, he was a satisfied soul. And there she stood in his exhibition window, with her body as a skeleton to his proud creation.

I told her, nobody gets to pose for me twice….

I took L out of Lover

It’s been three months now since I broke up with Nikita. Even wearing the tees gifted by her didn’t hurt anymore, so I can conclude that it’s all over. I scrapped Tanu to check if she’s around; I’ve been very active at Orkut lately, the forum where I met her. My first scrap was a hysterical comment on one of her pictures, a trademark. And to my surprise, her reply had an equally potent punch, a quality that caught my attention and my fancy, same time.

I was about to leave when she called in to cancel our movie plan. We were to meet at “The Forum” yesterday for a late night show. My mind was lost in thinking all the possible reasons for her canceling our date; some last minute urgency was her excuse. I was knocked out of my thoughts with a shrill sound. My phone displayed “Tanu calling”. Hey, I’m sorry for yesterday. I’m going to Fuga tonight, wanna join me there, she sounded excited.

And our next first date was planned. Just look at yourself Mr. Gandalf, look at your beard, and better get a haircut as well. Shoot! Its already 5 PM and going by Bangalore’s deadline to city’s nightlife, I should be there by eight. The barber was busy as always. A swarm of wannabe doods getting facials, uncles getting their almost vanished strands coloured and a couple of friendly neighbourhood spidermans spinning their cobweb on the TV remote, a typical scenario.

Bhaiya, a shave and a haircut, normal spiked, how much time is it going to take, I enquired. Those fifteen minutes ended after almost two hours but I was definitely looking better, cleaner and more human. I always made sure that I comply with the basic rules: look good, smell good and taste good. And looking good never meant that one should be good looking, it’s just that one should be presentable and it was time to take care of this requisite. After emptying half of my wardrobe, I finally found my outfit for the evening, my last clean t-shirt, a spunky black one with an almost clean pair of blue jeans. Sometimes, it’s good to be a guy, at least while dressing up.

There she was, standing in her shimmering red top and a black mini, her raven black hair falling freely over her fragile shoulders and an oh-so radiating body. Man! She is hot, I thought and was thanking my lucky stars that she was my date for the evening. As the dance floor warmed to the house, we swayed after downing a couple of tequila shots. Things were heating up as the temperature was rising. She drew my face closer to her and what followed was a long lingering kiss.

More kisses were exchanged and we landed up at my place. She was standing in the dark shadows, her sculptured body silhouetted against the backdrop of lust simmering into steam. Our warm breath creating a music with the raised heartbeats. The eyes met eyes and mirrored the feeling; wrapped in my arms, those eyes succumbed and I to her gentle embrace. Lips were locked and the escorts were removed, two bodies melting into one.

Oh Nikita ! I am getting there baby…

Big City Nights

The day has been total waste so far. Is this what I’ve been waiting for since Monday, a lonely weekend! Requiem for a dream, the fourth movie of the day and suddenly, the mood is sickening sad, the lull is lurking in the air. The anxiety and enthusiasm evident on a typical Friday morning, welcoming the forthcoming weekend after a long grueling week has vanished.

The time at the screen reads 1:30 AM. Deepak doesn’t sleep this early; it should take only five minutes to reach his place at this time. Six bachelors in a three-bedroom flat, what a nightmare, I always thought. But one thing I always knew for sure, these guys know how to have fun. After countless rounds of convincing me to move in with them, even they gave up trying. Is it that I am adamant or I love solitude.

The roads are still wet and the breeze is refreshingly cool, it looks like a bike day. I never liked the confines of a car. “Hey Deepak, wanna go for a ride to MG Road”, I called him. “No man, I’ve some office work to finish”, he replied in his usual laidback tone. “C’mon, don’t be such a spoilsport, its Friday night. Moreover it won’t take more than an hour”, I argued. “I can’t, its very urgent”, pat came the reply. “Screw you, you’re such a wuss”, what’s wrong with these bookworms, I wondered.

The roads are emptier than I expected and the speedometer zooms past ninety. A quick dash followed by a long stretch of relaxed biking and I am in my tranquil dreams. Its time to head back home as it’s already forty-five past two. Suddenly, the engine coughed, cranked and halted to death. My gods must be unhappy with me.

The tank still smelled of fuel in it, the green at the display confirmed the circuits to be working correctly. As I stood there kicking and cursing, a number of cabs ignored my existence, reminding me the true meaning of the word metropolitan. A black pulsar stops and enquires if everything is fine. Have you checked the fuel, asked the man, there is no petrol pump nearby. A receding hairline, fair complexion, medium built, he must be in his late 20s. Yes, I replied.

Do you mind if I try, he asked while parking his bike. “Please”, I offered my bike. A couple of kicks more and the engine came alive with a grunt. “Where do you stay”, he questioned. Oh BTM! I live there only, I’ll drive with you; just in case the bike ditches you again, its very late, he laughed. We chatted about where we work, where we are from, how he got stuck with work in his office till this late and regular stuff while driving back.

Can I have a glass of water, he requested. “Sure, c’mon in, that’s the least I can do for you and thanks for the help”, I replied. So what do you do on weekends, he continued. “Just a couple of movies, a drive sometimes, not much actually”, I said. Give me your number, I’ll call you sometime and we’ll hang out, he offered. Sure, its 9900112233, give me a missed call, I’ll save yours too, I said, while I created a contact in my phone for Aneesh, his name.

It must have an hour since he left when my cell beeped. Who’s sending me a message at this time, I wondered. “I am missing you- Aneesh” read the message. WTF! What is it, my mind was in a state of shock. My phone vibrated to mark the arrival of one more SMS, “I’ve fallen for you, I want to meet you for a hot shower, I can give you a good time”.

Hey man, I am really thankful to you for the help but don’t try to contact me from now on….

Ruby Tuesday

The trainer was drawing figures on the whiteboard while I was lost in the screen of my monitor. It's been an hour since I received that email selling me Viagra, into my spam folder and there has been no activity in my mailbox since then. Somehow, refreshing the page seemed more interesting than paying heed to the trainer. After a few futile attempts, the inbox showed one against it.

A chain mail with a picture of Ganeshji, waiting to be forwarded to ten friends within ten minutes, else it will bring me bad luck. Since when has Ganeshji started tracking my emails, I thought, cursing Rahul for forwarding it to me. There was a strange pleasure that I felt, scrolling up and down, without any reasons, any logic. I noticed an email address by the name of Heena Sachdev in the heap of names of all those good children of god who will go to heaven now. My boredom made me compose a mail addressed to the email address I just happened to pick out of hundreds of other possible addresses.

"Hi! How are you" was followed by a couple of mails exchanged and on one fine day, hesitatingly, I asked for her mobile number, which she obliged me with. Her voice was as hundreds of chimes being kissed and caressed by wind, full of youth and life. I fell in love with that voice. Our conversations graduated from minutes to hours and this is when I came to know that she is in same city I am in, Bangalore. There was no track of time when I was in her company, though over the phone only and then we decided to take it one step ahead. And thankfully, it was gradual this time.

Something near MG Road seemed a sensible option since our places were at the opposite ends of the diameter with MG Road at the center. Ruby Tuesday, she said, on Church Street, nice place with good food and soothing ambiance, let's meet up for a dinner this weekend. I checked my appointments record, even though it's been a week since I shifted to this city and didn't know anyone in town, even though the only companion I had for my weekends was my newspaper. And hence, Saturday was on.

My gaze was locked at the bunch of orchids placed esthetically in the middle of the table. Are you a non-vegetarian, she enquired, and this is when I noticed her details for the first time. Luscious long locks, a pair of tender lips, ample bosom but the cherry was those hazel eyes with a tinge of kohl at the rims. Her pink top was complementing her fair skin tone. As we sat there chatting, the band was playing soft melodies from the 80s.

I finally succumbed to the aroma from the bar which had been inviting me for quite some time now. "If you don't mind, can I order a drink for myself", I asked shamelessly. Yes, please, she replied, this is what I like about drinking that it doesn't bother the one who is accompanying the one who is cherishing it. I hate smoking and I hate smokers. “Waiter, get me one large Jack Daniels with ice, no cold drink, no soda. Adulteration mars the taste of the real thing”, I chuckled.

"You won't find an auto-rickshaw here at this time, it's already thirty past one, I have a bike, let's go to Central”, I offered. But the auto-rickshaw prices were exorbitant because of the time factor involved. Can I stay at your place for the night, I'll leave tomorrow morning. Its just one night, I hope you can adjust. “I have a small room with a single bed and I stay alone, if its ok with you, I don't mind”, I replied.

While driving back to my room, I bought one more quarter after taking her permission. “I am not feeling sleepy, turn on some music if you like”, she said. Gulping down pegs after pegs, the conversation that followed was the most interesting time I had spent in Bangalore so far. Was it liquor or was it her company, I wasn't sure, but things started to heat up and the next moment, we were in each others' arms. We made love like there is no tomorrow. Should I term it as love or should I refrain it to sex was the question. But that didn't matter at that time.

It's been a month now since we first met. Every weekend was the same, a dinner at Ruby Tuesday followed by mad, passionate sex sessions. This time, she wanted to taste the whiskey which, to my surprise, she liked. Two quarters this time, she said and I nodded. It must have been something around three, after multiple shots of alcohol and sex, the sweat dripping down our skin, when I told her that I've started liking her.

What the fuck are you talking about, she shouted, jumping out of bed. And the whole effect of whiskey went kaput. “I have sentiments for you, I have started liking you”, I uttered. How can you even think about it, who are you. Do you know, my father is a retired colonel from the army. My mother owns a newspaper in Hyderabad, do you know how large her social circle is. And what family do you come from, your father is a grocer, a petty grocer. "But what is this if you don't love me, what are we doing here”, I barked.

Its all lust baby, you want sex, so do I. The only difference between us is that you are a guy and I am a girl. I can't stick to one person for more than a couple of weeks, I need to move on. It's just a fling, a game, a game in which you are rewarded with fun and sex, no strings attached. Now you've ruined my mood, get me some whiskey. “It's all over for us now, I don't want to see your face anymore”, I said. You are my guest, so stay here tonight. Tomorrow I'll drop you to wherever you'll say.

Drop me to Ruby Tuesday ….