The twist in the tail

There are days when you think that everything will be fine. There are days when you think that things will be great. And then there are days when you know, just know that life has dealt you with a loaded deck but for the life of you, you cannot fathom what, how, when and where. It was just such a hand that I felt I was holding when she said it. Loyana. NOT my benefactor?

The obvious question under such circumstances should have been, if not her then who? But no. Trust me to come up with an entirely tangential approach.

"Do you do this regularly so that you can afford your designer labels or is it just a one off thing?"

Anger. Red hot. Lava hot. Bubbling out of me, seething over my insides with enough venom to destroy even her at that point.

Hatred. Intense, sharp and finely honed, my secret weapon that I kept inside, never letting anyone know that it lived and breathed within me.

I had perfected the art when my step mother began to beat me. When I would scream for mercy and she'd keep hitting me. Using any and everything that she could think of. Slippers, tongs, tempering ladles - whatever came to hand. It came in handy that day.

"No,"she said,"This is a special exception I'm making. For someone I owe a lot to. And you needed the money. So I figured I could help two friends in one go. I am a very helpful person darling. And I shall help you even further. I am going to introduce you to Raoul."

And with that she picked up her cell phone and summoned Raoul.

Topsy Turvy - Turvy Topsy

I walked out with my head spinning. My mind awhirl with what she had just told me. Very casually she had said that she wouldn't be the one partaking of my virginity, someone else would do that. In the mean time I would meet some one. Someone who would tell me what to do. Someone who would be my hand holder.

That someoen turned out to be Raoul - Physically perfect, mentally flawed. A man with no morality, no scruples and a seemingly logical justification for nearly every evil in the world. When people began raping not just my body but my mind as well he'd watch me try to pick up the pieces and lend a helping hand.

Raoul and I had met before. Where? Lets leave that till tomorrow shall we? Right now my benefactor awaits my presence in their bed.

Yatharth Yashwantrai Thakore

Yash. Call me Yash. Or Raoul if you don't mind. Say it with me now. Raa - uul. Strong emphasis on the last syllable please. Thank You.

Woodsmoke and the sea. That's me. I'm that guy they show in the risque advertisements. Every woman's fantasy. Every girl's dream. Lush black hair, straight nose, strong jaw line, smooth skin, muscled body, dimples, you name it and I've got it. My artistry is perfected to the extent that I become whatever my client desires.

I built Raoul with care. Every muscle group, every nuance honed till it threatened to trip off the skeleton. My own mother wouldn't recognise me. Not that it matters. I am here because Loyana wanted me to be here.

I am available. For a fee I do things that your husband/lover/boyfriend wouldn't even dream of. I take your body and play, play with it and get paid for it. I caress, kiss and stroke, your hair, your eyes, every nook and cranny that you are either ashamed of or fear revealing to your partner. I make you feel beautiful, desirable, ecstatic even. I don't play games. No name calling, no barters.

I demand nothing except that for those few hours you put yourself in my capable hands and let my instinct, my intuition take you to places where maybe you have never ventured before. Let your senses go, leave your inhibitions on the other side of the door. Take part in the feast of the senses and at the end, don't 'forget' to pay me. Because hey, a man's got to eat. And this is what puts bread on my table.

I am a Gigolo. I do almost anything in that line as long as you are not into pain. But there is a price tag for everything. Because my dear friend, there's no such thing as a free lunch. As I realised when my gym instructor took my virginity.

For now suffice it to say that I provided pleasure of a different kind to Loyana, she paid well. and I had no qualms about sharing knowledge with someone who had willingly gotten into it. An educated intellectual manwhore. That was a new one. And when Loyana told me about him, I was intrigued enough to enter this story and play my part.

Loyana's Letters - III

Terrible times befall us all dearies. It wasn't all that long before Niki was enamored with my persona. Love? He was, still is, incapable of loving anyone. Niki wouldn't know love if it danced naked in front of him. He's always mistaken love for being a pure, crystal clear emotion - as fine as a diamond of the first water. Little did he know that love is pain. Sharp, tangy, a double edged sword that cuts both ways. Poor boy still looks for it.

I know because I can still hear his voice weaving soft moonlit threads into dreams before my eyes. "We'll find love one day Loyana. It'll be hiding behind a tree, underneath a seashell on the shore, in a lily in a garden, underneath the leaves of a Gulmohar. We'll find it Loyana. In the soft earlobe of a baby, in a blue silk ribbon, in a fine cotton sheet, in cats' paws, in seesaws - anywhere and everywhere. But we'll never share it. With anyone. Least of all with each other."

I would have liked to tell him then what I'm sharing with you now, you'll find love alright. But not in any of those places. You'll find it in a girl's tears, in a mother's anxiety, behind a father's grim facade, hidden under layers of toughness, concealed as carefully as a pirate's treasure in a big wooden trunk, as meticulously as an ageing actress' wrinkles. You won't find it coupled with happiness. It comes with a veneer of sadness - be it mine or yours, young or old, rich or poor, far or near. It will always, ALWAYS bring sadness and distress with it.

Niki went looking in all the wrong places. I didn't. But he got lucky and I? I'm still looking........

Loyana's Letters - II

Hello again. I walked into his class that day with the intention of venting my ire on a few juniors. I was feeling PMSy and in absolutely no mood to embroil myself in a serious argument, just a little verbal sparring to get me worked up. Unfortuantely, for him that is, Niki was the only one there worth bothering with.
I settled myself on to the desk meant for teachers. It was purely an act meant to intimidate, and then I had no respect for the profs. Lecherous buggers with out a single strand of moral fibre in them. I hated them more than I hated the lechers who populated the local hangouts making it difficult for a girl to move through those places without a bodyguard.
Looking back at it now maybe I should have stuck to my original plan. But then his hangdog expression and his puppy brown eyes made it very difficult for me to resist. I wanted to get up, shut the door and kiss him, make love to him, quite literally fuck him into submission but then my better sense prevailed and I began my little game of seduction.
I started it off just the way they like it - attention, attention and more attention. One of my stock opening lines - "Why are you so lonely?" came in handy,I could literally see his mind succumbing to the drug that my voice was injecting into his core. A nice little combination of poison and ambrosia, guaranteed to make men slaves over a period of time.
I've always been a charmer and honey I'm telling you,he fell for it, hook line and sinker.

Barsaat, Brownies, Cookies and Coffee

Coffee. Hot, rich, frothy - with just the right amount of chocolate and caramel. Served in a thick mug that let you wrap your hands around it to keep warm. The kind that would slide down your throat releasing an ecstasy that is seldom replicated by sex.

Cookies. The Chewy kind. With raisins. And nuts. Delectable. Delicious. Take a nibble. Take a sip of coffee and let the sensations trip over your tongue. Enjoy the tantalising taste to transport you into a place close to heaven.

Brownies. Warm, fragrant, dripping with chocolate and moistness. Icecream on the side. Vanilla. Real Vanilla. Sweet. cool.

Barsaat. Rain doesn't cover either the emotion or the intensity. Barsaat. Water gone wild with joy. Water drumming against everything that it comes in contact with. Wetness in the air. Coolth pervading the atmosphere. Slowly the chill comes in contact with your exposed skin. Goosebumps erupt.

Another paradox comes alive. Warmth is slowly moving through your body. The coolness is running its thin icy fingers along your skin. You're caught between the two. Both sensations are enough by themself to make you lose your senses, together their melody suspends your state of self.

I looked at Loyana across the steam rising from my cup. The rain had come down unexpectedly, but by then we were already safely ensconced in the warm environs of her favorite coffee shop.

"You look tired," She said,"Coffee?"
"What kind?" I said
"Would you like to pick your own or should I order for you?"
"Whatever you say, I'll go with your choice."

And an hour later we were still there looking at each other, surveying each other like opponents before a fight. I was panicking. Understanding exactly what getting hot under the collar really meant.

She broke the silence. Cut through it cleanly. A warm knife moving smoothly through cold butter.

"You've been enjoying yourself."
"Yes, I have. Is it that obvious?"
"I'll assume that to be a rhetorical question."
"It wasn't but then since you've put it that way I'll take your word for it."
"So about our little arrangment........"

Panther - like seamless shift in movement. A toss of her elegant hair. An adjustment to her chiffon sleeve. Freedom granted to her lovely earrings to sway in the breeze.

"What about it? You want delivery?"
"No darling. I couldn't care less. Your benefactor does?"
"My benefactor? What's the difference between you and 'my benefactor'?"
"Me? Your benefactor? I'm just the messenger darling. Or the procurer. Or if you prefer it, the Pimp. With a capital P."

And with that, she tossed her head back and began to laugh.

Hell IX

I'd known that she wouldn't leave me alone. I knew what was owed and to whom. I just didn't know when she'd come calling to collect her dues. I had no knowledge either of what exactly was expected out of me. What form her pound of flesh would take would soon be apparent.

The phone rang early that day. March was coming to a close. I was sleeping the sleep of the contented and I wanted to carry on dozing. I didn't want to get out of bed. That delicious feeling of false security was intoxicating my senses, making me think of nothing except my own comfort. So I was justifiably annoyed when the phone rang. It made me want to shout at the caller. I almost did, until her dulcet tones sent a small shiver of anticipation down my spine.
"Hello," she purred,"How have you been?"
"I'm good, how are you?"
"Never been better. So I hope I'm not disturbing you but I think its time we had a little chat."
"So what we are having right now is....????"
"A short conversation to ascertain a mutually agreeable time to meet personally and charter unfamiliar territory my sweet, I hope that's technical enough for you?"
"Yes. So when and where?"
"After you get off work. Once you're done, give me ring and I'll pick you up."
"Okay."

Silence. An all encompassing silence that resounded like cymbals clanging in the evening prayers at the temple in my grandmother's backyard.

I got up shaking the last vestiges of innocence from my self and walked into the washroom.

Loyana's letters - I

Loyana. Loyana Sharma. Not bad Niki. I always thought you'd rechristen me in manner that would make me cringe. But you haven't disappointed me. What I do feel hurt about is that I thought that I meant something to you. I thought that if for nothing else, for friendship's sake you'd keep what happened to yourself. You wouldn't put in on a public platform. But since you have, lets give everyone something more than just your jaundiced jargon as food for thought shall we?

Dear reader, here is how I remember it -

The College Canteen. My exclusive domain. A place that was my lair and my sanctuary. An open air clearing where I held court and allowed my broken heart to heal after yet another joker dashed it to the ground. Men. Ba______s! Who needs them? I'd rant and rave and entertain my dear audience. There never was any dearth of admirers. So why the hell did I pick Niki? I don't know. He just walked into the canteen one day. Sauntered in rather. His eyes reflecting more hunger than the intelligence that he came to be known for.

He simply marched up to the little shack that sold food that was barely edible yet he bought and ate a burger with such obvious relish that told me much more about his finances than he would have cared to admit. I was falling in love then. With a boy who would ultimately betray me in the most cruel manner possible. And at that point of time I simply tossed Niki into a pile of has beens / not my types and went back to my adoring crowd. Darling I simply thrive on attention you know. And if a boy has no time for my charms, well he's not worth bothering about is he?

LOL darlings. More later. Ciao.

Hell VIII

I stepped out of my cosy little shell of mediocrity bit by tiny bit. What began with the shopping spree was further further strengthened by the lust for comfort that entered my soul. Price,in more ways than one, no longer seemed to be an issue.

I enjoyed myself. I would be lying if I said that I didn't. I ate with abandon. My sweet tooth manifested itself with a righteousness that bordered on gluttony. I discovered the joys of Tiramisu, the fusion of cheesecake and the crunch of butterscotch, chocolate in myriad forms that belied the imagination. From eating penny pastries that were little more than shortbread smeared with commercial cream, I graduted to being a connoisseur of all things divinely sweet.

I kept up pretences, refusing to accept favors from anyone, refusing to loan even ten bucks as bus fare to a classmate, demanding prepayment for group photostats, etc citing empty pockets as a valid excuse when all the while I wouldn't step out with less than a thousand rupees in my pocket at any given time. But then hadn't I already begun to deceive myself?

Try as I did I could not conceal my new found prosperity for long. I had bought myself a new wardrobe and I proceeded to wear it with aplomb. My trusty old jeans were consigned to a space at the back of the wardrobe, my blue jacket I gave away to a beggar shivering with cold and I dressed myself in the colors of autumn leaves and winter foilage, bringing forth grudging appreciation from coworkers and batchmates alike.

Like Coco Chanel once said, if you look average people will fall over themselves trying to convince you otherwise, but if you are actually looking good, people will be too busy dying of jealousy to bother about letting you know how you look.

When my sweet tooth began showing up on my waist, I took my vanity another step further, I joined a state of the art Gymnasium. Counting calories, Dieting, Workouts, Jogging, Fat Burners, Protein Shakes - name it and I did it. The net result being that I left my old fairly fit self behind and in two months managed to sculpt my body into some kind of shape.

By then Winter had given way to Spring and life was about to dip down the moral slippery slope. With the advent of March and the festival of colors, life took on a hue that was neither black nor white. It was the color that truth cloaks itself in, that you see shining through a middle aged man's carefully blackened locks, that colors the rain clouds, that represents experience and wisdom, that is shunned as being dull, with a little bit of shine it turns into a precious metal - Grey.

Hell VII

I reached home laden with bags. I set down my purchases and splashed some water over my face and hands - a ritual that would usually make me feel instantly better but today all it did was highlight the lack of air circulation in my room. The water clung to my face, running in lazy rivulets down my cheeks, settling in the tiny little crevices where my lips meet only to overflow and run further down. My ability to enjoy the cooling sensation that the restorative power of water would bring had diminished. It had evaporated in the glare of the harsh lights that I had subjected it to and was now lost, perhaps forever.
I walked out into my small private balcony and felt the smooth flooring beneath my feet. The touch of the cool floor brought home memories of the environs of the Mall that I'd just left behind.
I sat down, concious of the hard softness of marble chips embedded forever in mortar, possessed within a singular space, prisoners of a permanence that would end the day that the house would be razed to the ground. I smelt it then I as I do now - change. The first whiff of rain.
The sky darkened, moving from a robin's egg blue tinged with black to a grey that deepened with each passing moment. And then without preamble came the rain. Beating down hard on ground, sending up small puffs of smoke wherever it hit, bringing to life the scent of the earth and all thats contained within.
I sat there mesmerised. Soon when the cold began to seep into my bones I got up and made myself a cup of warm coffee. I sipped it slowly and peacefully while the earth and the sky made love to each other and mere mortals like me watched.

Hell VI

Move I did. Further and deeper into those cool environs. Watching myself staring out of shop window after shop window, looking at the world with tinted glasses and the merchandise on display with renewed appreciation for the finer things in life - branded clothing, shoes, eyewear and accessories beckoned with sly flashes of light that compelled you to seek the source, I wandered for an eternity and a half without any sign of fatigue.
My mind went from one possibility to another weighing, measuring, balancing the fate of one thing against another while dimly concious that the objects being measured against each other and against the value of th ecurency in my pocket were not necessities.
Consumerism afflicted me that day in a manner that would shame the most die hard shopaholics. I browsed, shopped and 'picked up' things.
I never for a moment thought that the price was being paid from the deepest recesses of my sense of self.