Visit to discover Indian blogs Blog Directory Entertainment Mind Trends - Blogged MindTrends: November 2010

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

The Diary of a Hooker – Final Part

The simplicity and the finality of that statement made me smile, not smile laugh.

I released her and asked, “Do you always like your customers?”

“Mostly, but they don’t meet me in the middle of the night in the middle of the road. But your case I made an exception”, she replied in a matter of fact tone.

“Because you did not like me right”, I said curving my eyebrows towards her.

“That’s correct" , came along with a flash of gleaming white teeth.

“Well if you did not like me, then why did you want to meet me? That was pretty evident from the “look” you gave me”.

“We have been reading a lots of Mills & Boon, and watching friends rerun have we”, said she  in a flow, giving away her convent education.

“Sudha, don’t play around ……..tell me……. Why?”

“Why……… what?” , a maddening open ended retort by her.

“Why are we here?”, a soft plea from me.

“It is because I don’t like you, but I ….lust you”, came an equally soft but firm reply.

She was speaking like me, she was resonating my frequency. That perhaps explained her dislike for me. Nobody likes a duplicate version of himself, particularly if he loves his/herself too much.

It is self hate that makes you go against the world, snarling and growling at everyone. However it is a modicum of self love that makes you distrustful of a person having the same emotion.

“So what are we going to do about it?” , I asked.

“Fuck mostly”, the matter of fact tone returned.

“And …what apart from the mostly part of it? “ , I asked.

"Kiss perhaps" , a flash of gleaming white teeth , again.

This is it, I thought. Goodbye the last vestige of pubescence, the last remnant of the stretch marks on my arms. This it seems is the way it is going to end.

A hooker………in the middle of Banglooru …………a nondescript hotel and….. 11 minutes.

I will not go into further sordid details. I don’t want to do a mast ram, or a desi M&B here, but yes the hotel wasn’t nondescript.

When you have a lot in your mind, and when you have gone through a lot of unexpected, or experienced a high degree of non–conformance, within a short span of time, it manifests somewhere. Astronauts who experience the bone jarring takeoff get some fluid accumulation in their legs. I however am simpler, I just can’t sleep.

And, neither could she.

A formal goodbye later…I realized.

After blowing my half months pay, on a spur, for a mere 11 minutes, I did not really fell burdened. I just felt …happy!!

Reaching home, but first to my friends place. One look at my face told him to keep shut. We both acted that it was just another night, I took my stuff, we lunched and I came and finally crashed into his room itself.

Later when I woke up, I went on to this (winword) and put this down. On a spur, I hit Google for Sudha. Some names and hits popped up. “Sudha Bangalore”, was not forthcoming either. Finally I hit on images. I scanned each image, till the last page. (Now how many times have you gone beyond the second page, what follows next is a lesson that Google is not all that mighty)

I hit pay dirt on the last “o” of Google. There was a giggling snap of her, among a gaggle of friends. None of whom seemed familiar from the night drive before. I searched for the source, but “oops the link is broken”, appeared. It was a nonsensical link indicative of nothing; it was like an internet pensive, a ghost of information that perhaps escaped slaughter (just guessing this part)

Do I wish to see her again, not really? Do I lust her, no not much. Do I disrespect her for her profession... no …

Then probably I do respect her….. Not for her candidness, nor her brazenness or defiance. It is for the power she knew she had over people, and her willingness to use it ruthlessly for herself.

I bid goodbye to my friend, and then I made it down the staircase, to the open door. The poly bag, fluttering on his door was a common sight, it was for the milk. But it was having something inside of it and it said “Sudha”.

Darn she followed me here!

I opened it and found some wads of money. A note, written in cursive said” I lusted not you!!(It ended with two apostrophes also, which I most often do)”.

So here is the diary of a hooker!!

PS – I got a lot of dings on Google uncle, asking me if this is true. You are free to believe what you want to …………..I am neither going to deny nor confirm it.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

The Diary of a Hooker – Part 2

“Can we take a walk “?

“It will cost you “she said in a melancholic manner. I had withdrawn quite some money for my rent, and had enough cash.

“This do for a 10 minute walk...?” I said drawing a couple of notes.

She did not count or examine, she just took it and pocketed it.

Scary…………weird ……….and definitely something amiss.

She did not seem to treat me like a customer, rather as a connoisseur out to samples some wine or an art lover out to display her works.

“This way”she said leading, I waved to my companions and mouthed you guys leave I will find my way back.

We walked into a crack in the wall kind of lane. It was the kind of lane which silhouettes people, giving plenty of scope for hanky panky. She seemed to be floating rather than walking .We weren’t holding hands .......rather just fingers............... not even holding rather we were ............just touching tips.

There was no perfume, or spray on her but................. she was having a nice smelling sweat.

यह रंडी तो नहीं है बालक...........!!

Let’s try the brute force method of debugging, or rather the potshot theory, I thought. Sometimes when you talk to people, particularly in sales, you tend to spot tenor changes in voice if you keep giving them options to choose from. Chadda once told me this, after a meeting with UPPCL,for the veteran the right tenors can then be identified, to be built into a symphony. My boss is a veteran Zubin Mehta ,  and I have seen him in action, once.

"Where do you study? " , I asked.

“I don’t “, no change in tenor, so probably true, no skeletons.

“So what do you do other than this? I find it hard to believe that this is your only vocation” ….

“This…... “, a rather mischievous tone I her voice.

Tenor change !!

Suddenly, with no warning I grabbed the back of her head, yanked a chunk of her hair and then pushed her against the wall heavily.

“Don’t force me darling,” I tried to mimic the schizophrenic lady beater image.

There was no response; none. 

It was blank, no smile........ no rage........... no defenses and no ........peace

“Time perhaps , could make her react “, I thought. I pushed more against her, feeling the warmth of her body, getting aware of the curves and the senses.

There was a response, a definite physical response.

She then replied,” My name is Sudha and I …….do not like you”

The simplicity ............and the finality.............. of that statement made me smile....... not smile laugh.(To be Continued!!)

The last part ...Click here

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

The Diary of a Hooker – Part 1

Some stereotypes of sadness ,  are the kinds which hide their demons behind a veil of gruffness, or violence. You would expect hookers to exhibit some remnants of this sentiment. Alas, it is not so!!

Not all hookers are abject symbols of exploitation, or symbols of misery. There are indeed a lot of layers to the proverbial grease some predictable............ some surprising......... and some........ rather astonishing.

I spent a night with a surprise. Hold your horses as they undertake their flights of imagination. This is not Chandani Bar or Chameli rehashed. It however is definitely,  wild.,  unplanned and of course pleasurable. (Definite pun intended!)

This happened last Sunday when I was with a third party acquaintance stretching the term friend by a wide margin. I did not like the guy, and he had not planned in joining us for dinner, but it just so happened that we three were together.

Now a little about this guy, he is very recently married in fact he had just returned from his honeymoon, and he was the types who are victims of quantitative metrics, bigger, finer, expensive. Case in point, for sake of conversation all he could talk was about his honeymoon suite and how costly and exclusive it was.

“Lets go to MG road, you know at this time and day we can find a lot of birds, if you know what I mean”, in a rather I know and you don’t know manner.

Woho he wasn’t quite doing justice to the ideal husband part. Although his other half was not here, the activity he was suggesting did not quite fall within the ambit of ethical.

I am a horny techie, there is not much I don’t know or haven’t seen. But this guy was definitely one exotic specimen.

“ Sure “ ,  I said at once, I wanted to hang out a little bit more with this guy and see what type he actually was and of course also curious to visit a red light area after a long time.

The first time was in New Delhi, and it was a very sorry affair, or in real terms I did a bunk.

Anyways, this guy also had a new car (ostensibly to steer his wife, if only she knew!), and surprisingly the drive to MG road was traffic free too. We went in there and pretty very pretty birds’ line greeted us. They went on to the extent of throwing themselves on the car, yakketing and chattering in alternate measures.

I had suddenly spotted a very different specimen. I can’t put a finger down and say what attracted me to her but I just had to be near her to find out. Our eyes were locked for quite some time and then she did a curt disengagement.

“Stop the car, I wish to get down”, I said.

My tone had an edge of hyper in addition to authority. So there was a screech of brakes.

The guy who I had intended to meet was, concerned and turned back, only to find me staring at the fast vanishing specimen.

I made to unlock the door, and he intervened and said, “Are you mad, we are here only to see (he said indicating the gaggle of girls), if they get you once you can’t escape. Don’t play around here it is dangerous. And you look like a newbie too.”(Clean shaven alas!!)

"I am not a kid, and I can handle it don’t worry", for posterity sake I handed all my cards, purse, sans cash and other identifiers, including my beads, and threads to him, before brushing him aside and getting down.

“I am Srikant “, I said extending my hand to her. There were guffaws and cat calls from all around including the driver I had come with. She however extended her hand and shook mine. 

Handshakes are often revealing. However hers, wasn’t soft, nor firm neither authoritative nor submissive, it was ……….seductive to say the least.

“Can we take a walk “? , I asked with a smile .......To be continued.........Cause there is a lot !!....

Click here for second part  .......

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Institutionalizing the Art of Helping

Look around, these days there is always help available. Oh corrections, modern colloquialism dictates that I use the word counseling/coaching, for “help” by its very nature seems to indicate a diminished self capability.

A kid is born ……………hallelujah!!!

The celebrations over the first couple of years rush by in a haze of dirty nappies and now, he has to go to a school. Admissions are not so easy, so in step coaching to guide the child in the form of preschools. Thanks to my humongous memory I remember my pre-school and school days as times where I just ate (and ate I used to have 5 meals a day ,  morning breakfast, school lunch, back home another lunch, evening snack and dinner, courtesy amma) , played and slept.

Now preschools are no longer about kids having fun, even if it is having fun it is always with an intent to cram in some statistic in the kid, to prepare for an interview (kids giving an interview , they are still shitting their pants and they are expected to know the name of the president of India !).

Pre-schools proudly show their success rate in getting admission to “convent” schools. Convent, again a remnant of our colonial mentality, I regret not having gone to a government school, but I kind of made it up in graduation, (unintentionally though).

Ok, school is in now. Now the harried mom needs to unwind, after all a 3-4 year gap in life has to be compensated. So she takes up her life hopefully where she left it, obviously there is less time now for the kid.

Fear not, tuitions are available.

Tuitions and school make up a major part of a kids life. Soon he enters into high school. Now tuitions won’t do pal, you need coaching. Specialized coaching granting you a chance at elitism (read engineering and medical).It is really a pity that the options that are considered good socially, are of a binary nature.

Coaching is now done; outcome is now derived, elite or otherwise. Now, studies have to be continued, and of course it is all so tough. Having been through a prop at each stage the kid (ok, a grown up), now finds it hard to walk without crutches. He sends an SOS home, “I want to leave this place “.

Parents get all harried….. They look up………. and look down…………….wondering if it is in heaven………… or is in hell ..........the dam elusive solutionel.(Scarlet Pimpernel love the sing-song of it !).

Someone is found who can give coaching at engineering level too. I came to know about it in Mumbai, for I saw a card that read, “Specializing in thermal engineering for all engineering students”.

Come on, coaching at engineering level, you are undermining the value of the course, of course with engineering colleges mushrooming all around, is also adding fuel to the fire.

What would engineers do when they realize that a bridge can’t take the load it has been designed for, or the material ordered is adding a tad bit more weight to the assembly, or there is a last minute design change that may just work? Go figure.

It’s coaching all the way, all to the point of entering an organization. Thankfully you don’t have coaching for carrying on your regular work, here of course training is there, (courtesy generous HR budgets!) Finally it is time to find your own path, your own way and throw off those crutches.

PS – I am not undermining the importance of support in life. I am merely highlighting that we have conditioned our self to rely on props for support and institutionalized the art of helping.I am one of the above cycle, having gone to coaching institutes all the while, thinking that it is a magic wand for all worries.

I realized pretty late, that the best things in life are learnt by oneself, nobody can teach it to you !

Finally, it is curious to know that while I was typing this away, an acquaintance(Gtalk!) suggested that I put something similar to this here on the blog

Monday, November 15, 2010

The Orifice Theory.. !

" Where are they going " ?

' When will we eat " ?

Remember the 3-4 year olds who have a lot of questions about everything?

I bumped into a little guy, in a social gathering and he was one fast track shooter.No sooner had he received a answer, another question would pop up. He seemed to have internalized the lean methodology of finding the root cause for analysis .Patience is not really one of my virtues, but I really wanted to build it up, so I went on and on.Also, to a certain extent he was asking logical questions only, and I love logic and structure.

Now any traditional gathering would have some predictable items.I was sitting in a place where they were stocking up all paraphernalia, and one such item was the humble coconut.A small one rolled to where we were sitting and the little one picked it up, ready to fling it back to the mound.However he stopped midway, trudging the nut upside down , he saw what we often miss out the three black orifices at the bottom of the coconut.

" Why are there 3 holes in a coconut " ? , he asked with a genuine look of curiosity.

I was stumped.I could answer logically questions about obvious orifices in human beings, but again these were just two in number(OK, gender unspecific !! , Ignoramus).However I really could not extend the same analogy to a coconut.

Sometimes...... the answer is in the question itself.You just dig and dig......strategically. The person will say something and then a look of realization will dawn ........ so you are happy.

So I sidestepped  this motor mouth, " OK I  will tell you...first you tell me ...what is the color of the coconut "

" That's easy its brown ' , he replied gleefully.

" And the shape of the coconut".

Round...again very happily.

" What is inside the coconut " ?

" Water…

Then he rushed and said " Not just plain is sweet water and there is soft white flesh too "

" So there are two things right ..water and flesh ".

" It is sealed how do you put the two things inside the coconut "?

Funti was lost….I picked up a nut which was near me and showed him the holes.

" See one hole for putting in the water and one for putting in the flesh ".......…I realsied that I had shot myself in the foot…literally. Now I had no answer for third orifice.

The funti however had other plans…he put his tiny finger on the third orifice and said " And this last one is for taking them out ..right "............!!!

Yea yea , that’s is correct !! , I said with releif, " Now why dont you run to you amma and tell her what you just found out ...."

The rocket took off, and I  did too.Later I saw them both sitting in the dining hall waiting to be served and I caught his eye , he became animated and shook his mother, sitting besides him pointing towards me.

I waved to both of them with a smile.

Later, as I was walking out of the hall, the lady caught up with me, and " What exactly did you say to him, he is running around with a coconut, in his hand and saying one two and three again and again !! "

"I did not say anything, i just asked him questions ..." , I replied with a smile

The lady had a look of astonishment on her face, "  Now that is a refreshing change ,  for it is normally the other way round,........".Looking back at him, she added softly , " He is indeed very happy today .A pause and then a barely audible  " His father has no patience you see, and........... I am always running around... "  with just a hint of weariness in her tone.

At a loss of words again I said," I got to go, else it would be hard to get a bus , say goodbye to him from me too ...and good night to you too " ...

' Why dont you come around someday to our place for tea, I am sure he would love to see you again "  ..., she said in a rush.

" I am not a part time baby sitter.........." , I wanted to say...but I  held on and did the great Indian nod, a circular movement that can mean anything.

" This is my number "  she said handling me a scribble , just give me a call if you are planning to come.

Sure !! aur phir .............bhago !!

PS - I did not throw away the number, I got to respect that sentiment, but baby sitting......the jury is out !!

Monday, November 8, 2010

Quote/Unquote - Ver 2

These seem to have touched a chord !

The definition of a one liner:
  1. Said without much thought that is it is .... Impromptu , instantaneous....
  2. Sounds intelligent 
  3. Incomprehensible to self and now it seems to others too ( Ok Kurian sir, I get it.....the joke is on me  )
Using those filters here some one liners !!

Sometimes life feels like a ride on a Ferris wheel, you go up and up, you cover a lot of distance but in the end you come back down and the net displacement is zero ! 

God gave us two ears and one mouth...some people spend their entire lives rejecting his superior judgment.

Hope & passion are the prerequisites of good living, hope gives the power to endure and passion the reason to hope ! 

Indians keep sex on their mind and work on their dick they fuck up their work, Americans on the other hand keep work on their mind ...........and sex on their dick.......... so they fuck ............what should ideally be fucked !! (This one is by Nikhil Gupta, and is translated from Hindi)

Power ultimately flows from the barrel of a gun, not the person holding it, nor the finger squeezing it..but from the humble nondescript tube of iron.

" Who would you prefer to marry " , went the question to a PYT(pretty young thing , but of course!) ' A person with brains or one with money,assuming here that both are mutually exclusive" ? PYT replies "Of course one with money because I have enough brains...!!! "

Never force anyone....... for when you do it hurts and the outcome isn't great in point shit.(constipation, Ignoramus !! )

There are just three things free in life, Mother's love , death and free/unsolicited advice...( yea so true, 65+ posts and counting here)

Sometimes it is necessary for the lion to roar to remind the jackal of its fear (Afghan saying taken from Shantaram)

It is all about gestures..........and symbols...words are the last resort measure to express something which cannot be understood.

Vices maketh a man, else there is no difference between you and an animal , they also eat, shit and do their own work ,  (fag time gyaan , by a colleague !)

Females start late but run longer.... real long !! ( by someone who came in recently from his honeymoon ! )

Unquote :) !!

Thursday, November 4, 2010

City Lights.......... of Mumbai, Delhi & Chennai

Each city has its pulse, a feel, which is distinct from others. Staying in a place for small times like a tourist and moving around, that feel, that essence hits you hard each time. It is akin to the human sense of smell; sharp, pronounced and short lived. Many times you would have walked into a room only to be greeted by the smell of warm Sulphide (Ye Ignoramus ....somebody obviously shat!!), whilst others are blissfully unaware.

You walk into Delhi airport or even NDLS you see Mr. Ego. 

Like the golden halo on the heads of saints, Delhi has its ego, as an alternative identity, an aura around its people. “Mine is bigger than yours” sentiment is Delhi’s patent right (I am not talking about cell phones here; I am talking about just everything else other than that!). It is the place where people get cars to a gym barely two minutes walk away , because you know it isn’t about the gym or working out, it is about the fact that I have a car and I can afford an AC gym. I have it then I flaunt it, well, good and understandable but Delhi says I will flaunt it even if I don’t have it.

There is a permanent scowl on the face, and fuses are always near the burning point. At Delhi people gossip around, with intent to dissect the hurt, the sorrow. They are more interested in knowing the sadness that engulfs the others, with some kind of a weary hope that it may be more than what one has, that is it may be minuscule as compared to the giant demons he is accustomed to.

This contrast is very pronounced if you enter Delhi from Chennai or the land of the madrasis.

Politeness here is what sets people apart and I guess this word isn’t in any Delhites dictionary. Deference and simplicity, again opposites of ego are much visible in the Manhattan of India. However, sometimes this is suffocating; you need some invectives in daily life, to make it more interesting more let’s say alive.

As my friends often put it, “बहनचोद गाली थोड़े ही है..... बहनचोद तो प्यार है ( हाँ बेतिचोद इतना पयार सही नहीं है  !) ”.

A hardcore Funjabi, who has been holed in Chennai for nearly two years calls me up  and all he wanted was to abuse to his heart’s content.” Rajan, I can’t use these words here man, it is just not possible. Somebody nicked my car yesterday and even before I could use any nice terms, the uncle steeped out and said a guileless sorry. I just couldn’t do anything after that, I tried a gruff expression but my heart was not in it, I also smiled and waved him away”.

Coming now to Mumbai.The pulse of Mumbai isn’t its resilience, or its ‘spirit’ as is often depicted. Nor is it the multitudes that throng the local trains governed by the subtle laws of human compression that allow for effective transportation.

It is the indifference that sets this place apart. At Delhi people are interested in your sorrow, Chennai people are guileless, but Mumbai people …….don’t give a damm.

The best example that I can see, is the one that is applicable in many settings, sexism.

Mumbai has good females, which when walk by automatically exercise your eyeballs even if it’s for a fraction of a second. Alas, this sentiment is not visible in people here. Maybe it’s the problem of plenty, or maybe it’s my inherent nymphomaniacism, but I suspect it is more to do with the running around which mumbaikers are accustomed to that has dulled their senses.

I was meeting a friend in for dinner, at some stop near Andheri. The first thing that you notice is the nature of the market place. All shops are adorned, bedecked and doing roaring business, the only hitch being that it was close to 11 in the night.

" Boy, the festive season sure is catching up " , I remarked.

" What festive season, this place is always like this, till about 12 in the night " ,  came the weary reply of my friend.

You are open till 12 in the night and you start by morning again there is  no time at all, no time to gossip, no time to loiter and certainly none to stare. Senses are not heightened, nor are they extinct they are just dulled. You nicked my car I don’t have time to sit and fight with you (Delhi), nor apologize to you (Chennai), I just run, and I run fast, mentally booking a slot the weekend to do the repairs.

It’s funny how you think about this gyaan.It stuck me during the return trip from Dadar, when I was squashed in a corner, and staring at the stained, sign on the carriage which said “To seat ; -84”.Thankfully our Indian engineers while designing the carriage had incorporated a decent Factor of Safety !

To wrap up...these are all just nuances, nothing is good or bad. It is the differences that make travel enjoyable and it is the differences that characterize us...unite us.

Wish you all a Shubh Dipavali ! 

PS – As I was typing this away my sister glanced by and said” If you use the filters of regionalism to divide, then Mr Genius, what are you ........a Delhi brat............ a Madrasi champu or.......... a Mumbai dude…??? “.It got me thinking and before I could respond then she remarked rather thoughtfully” You are nothing, not even a hybrid……… are just weird but ……..nicely weird”

Monday, November 1, 2010

Surpise ... Surpise !!

My throat is parched, and my lips are dry. This isn’t a desert safari but rather a trip from Bangalore to Mumbai …..A 19 hr bus journey……… and Volvo or otherwise, it is tiring. 

And I am afraid to drink water…. for then I would need to pee, and for peeing I really can’t hang my fly out of a window in a bus that is doing close to eighty kilometers to the hour.(come to think of it the windows are sealed so........ !!!)

This time around it is yet again trip to Mumbai. I do not have the time nor the inclination to go back home..... to Delhi. I had just been there a month back and I don’t miss anything as of now.

I dare not make a phone call to anyone out in Mumbai… because I am sure they would find out that something is amiss!!

Darn the element of surprise!!

Finally I made it to the apartment block, my sister had her exams going on and I remembered she had to be out early today, which suited me well, as I was there pretty early.

“Good morning!!” incidentally it was Swetha who picked the call.” How come you are up so soon”?

“I am always up soon” I said.

“Yes …but not on a Sunday”, she countered; this was heading into dangerous territory.

Clang…as the lift shut I said…………“ I can’t hear you “and distanced the headpiece from me.

“ Hello….hello….”  rang her voice …the lady in the lift was giving me a puzzled look as the “hello”  was well audible and resonating in the small confines of the lift. I just stared at the cell with a smile on my face.

In I punched the 5 button to reach to her floor.


As she opened the door, I said “Can you hear me now?”

And gave her a hug, she had shrunk sizeably, she had always been small but now she appeared frail. I got the feel that I was hugging my grandma; she had indeed lost a lot of weight in her recent sick tenure.

In came my aunt from the kitchen, “I knew it….. recently joined or not, you would be back for Dipavali”

“Of course that is the only festival we all celebrate...Royally and I just can’t miss it can I”?

“So they gave you off…???

“What is there to give" I said, "I just told them that I am taking the week off”

“And they agreed? …..

Always the element of surprise and trepidation, she seemed to be frightened that I may have resigned yet again.

“Yep and don’t worry it sounded as if it was their brilliant idea of me taking the week off”

My attention then went to their rooms. The house was a mess, there were just too many things lying around, I raised an eyebrow and my aunt said” OK, now don’t get irritated, I had pulled out everything and now need to clean it, I always do it at this time of the year”.

Let’s do it now! I said.

First eat, she said pleadingly

No first clean….I said resolutely. I had been hungry since 12 hours; a couple more wouldn’t really make much difference.

An hour later …and two bulging plastic bags filled with stuff ranging from an old TV remote control; to a happy birthday greeting card…it was looking habitable.

And while I am typing this away, my dear sister is out with her non stop chatter. This she does with characteristic precision and sometimes without warning she would start giggling uncontrollably.

Bang on target it has started….

This is good!!  For I have the railroad snores of my uncle on the left and the silly girlie giggle of my sister to the right and my aunts scathing but well humored comments floating somewhere in between conversations and that too in the wee hours of the morning that is at 2 in the morning.