Jove

In June, the incubating heat shrouded Nazuk’s presence,  she tugged at the hem of her skirt as she sat on her chair in the poorly designed classroom of her posh South Delhi school for rich brats, where every third guy was either Raghav, Vipul or Karan, she wasn’t exactly spoilt for choice.

The air-conditioning had failed and the classroom was showing signs of ageing with the plastic paint cracking off the walls like broken eggshells, her fingers unconsciously traced the ironed pleats on her skirt,  like a catholic girl covering her mouth when laughing.

The tug was more out of anticipation intermingled with fear, she wore the shortest skirt to class, and after being severely reprimanded on more than one occasion, her defenses were on full alert, the 12th grade Rep was apparently on the rounds.

The Rep was a woman on the wrong side of thirties with a bad temper and a marked disdain for all girls considered attractive, they were a threat to her own waning beauty, she still had a body worthy of admiration, but her face had begun to show signs of ageing and weariness.

She felt a deep sadistic pleasure in pointing out how inordinately these girls were dressed to school, particularly how short their skirts were, the nitpicking also included the boys with ties too long and knots too big, much too phallic for her comfort, giving out stern warnings and threats clearly earned her month-end incentives.

Nazuk was amongst her favourites, as humiliating as it is to be singled out in the classroom for such a misdemeanor, there is also a secret delight in it, now that the ‘shortness’ of her skirt was highlighted it had grown an aura of its own, the boys from her class would boast about it to others, staking their claim on every pristine piece of flesh as boys usually do, she never forgot to grease her legs in the morning before school, the boys didn’t forget to acknowledge her in subtle ways, the sheen on them reflecting in their sparkling eyes.

She secretly enjoyed the attention conferred upon her, and she was strong and wise enough not to let this attention go wayward, but the exhibitionist in her would revel in this discreet pleasure of flaunting what she possessed as the other girls with hairy legs would enjoy seeing her being punished.

She had been drawn to Asher from early on, once when he was playing hand squash with the boys in the corridor during a free period, the tennis ball, through some quirk of fate had rolled into the girls toilet, according to the rules he had to go fetch it, the boys dared him.

His initial protest was doused by his deep curiosity and a rebellious streak which made him so popular in school, nothing was too difficult for him, so with his trademark grin and a cocky strut he made his move.

The ball had rolled into one of the loo cubicles with doors like short skirts, if you knelt down they would reveal too much on the inside and thats exactly what he did and before he realized, Nazuk was standing right up his nose with the door flung open, smiling at him. She brushed past him, walking up to the boys and asked them if they wanted to get their balls squashed, while Asher looked at her with his gape wide open.

In the Biology Lab, Nazuk was mysteriously drawn to the human fetuses preserved in glass vats of formaldehyde, like some ancient relics they decorated the Lab walls, drowned in their watery graves, to sleep; perchance to dream. There were 3 of them placed on a table, marked “12 weeks”, “18 weeks” and “24 weeks” respectively.

The lab had an air of visceral energy embalmed around it, like a living growing cyst, it made Nazuk edgy and nervous, as if she might get possessed by some alien force beyond her control, a deep desire to be touched and held against a strong muscular body ran through her spine leaving a trail of sweat across her forehead, she gulped and wiped it off with her sleeve.

The foetus marked “4 weeks” had cast a spell on her, she would spend minutes silently observing it,  after a quick sex determination test she decided to adopt him, inspite of the obvious practicalities involved, she even christened it Jove, just like she had named her laptop Chad and her cellphone Doofus, breathing life into inanimate objects made them worthy of love and showering them with attention was validated by some vague ovarian logic.

Jove’s skin was still smooth, unlike the others which were all shriveled up like botox cases gone wrong and sueing, his facial features were well formed and intact, almost of a healthy baby, his hands were suspended, pointing outwards, as if reaching out for help, his legs crossed, he was hunched up and his eyes were partly open, she gazed into them stupefied, wondering if he would ever blink.

How did they end up in specimen bottles and not perambulators?   The world reduces the horrible into the palatable, inside their glass cages, they looked so peaceful, deep in their eternal slumber, never having the need to wake up and go to school.

Obviously this morbid obsession didn’t go down too well with most of her classmates, but Nazuk wasn’t just any girl, she was aware of the quiet desperation in people to fit into sanctioned moulds, into predictable patterns of behaviour, the deep anxiety of being singled out was too much to handle for most, to be a person unto your own was a treacherous path to take,  regardless of the consequences.

“I have a surprise for you”, said Asher, startling her.
“You scared me, you idiot”, retorted Nazuk.
“Looks like this little baby has struck your fancy, let me know when you feel like making some of your own”, said Asher with a grin on his face.
“I’m considering artificial insemination, no thanks”, quipped Nazuk.

Asher gently brought his palm close to her and opened it with a quick jerk, revealing a bloody severed heart of a rat he had just dissected, he gently picked it up and placed it into Nazuk’s soft warm palms, as it continued to beat with a passionate thump.

“There, I offer you my beating heart, it’s all yours now”, said Asher.
“Then i shall return it earnestly to your safekeeping”, said Nazuk.
She smiled and slipped it into Asher’s shirt pocket.
“See ya after school, stay back okay? C-block,  3rd floor”, said Asher as Nazuk turned around and disappeared into the corridor.

Asher and Nazuk would stay back after school and lock themselves up in the classroom after the cleaners had left, sitting on the last bench they would exchange notes on the beauty of tenderness,  in the computer lab they sat together and feigned the knowledge of C#, the new department block under construction provided new opportunities to the young and restless, they were always on the lookout for new places, they were novelty seekers.

It was a warm summer morning, a girl had fainted during the assembly, the bell had rung marking the beginning of the first period, but something was amiss, the Lab assistant had noticed the absence of  the foetus marked “18 weeks”, poor Jove had gone missing, the glass vat with the formaldehyde was intact, it was quite impossible for Jove to evanescence into thin air and also quite improbable to remove him from the vat without breaking it since they are sealed and tamper proof. A strange lull had gathered over the Lab, before giving way to chaos and confusion.

Asher started to look around for Nazuk, while the teacher started taking attendance, Nazuk was also, absent, missing from her glass vat, so to speak.
*

Nazuk in her school uniform is  taking the Metro.
The sun is about to set, the sky is painted a bloody red.
She gets down and emerges into a nondescript part of the city.
She seems composed, almost aloof, yet curious of her surroundings.
Some people are staring at her, she seems out of place, some keep staring up at the hem of her skirt as they walk past her.
She is walking down a maze of streets, crisscrossing into one another, she seems to know where she is going, as if she has been here before.
She enters a dark shady opening of a cul-de-sac, a narrow passage rising in a gentle incline, which tapers down into a row of rooms with exposed bricks, painted a deep red, the paint spattered, as if slapped with clumsy furtive hands in a hurry.
She enters one of the rooms, through a soiled half closed unhinged door, and disappears.

novelty seeking cure

We made out in the classroom on the last bench exchanging notes on the beauty of tenderness and her earlobes cherried red, we made out on the train footboard at 6AM discussing organic farming, we made out in the woods under the thick foliage of trees and her blouse button came off inside my mouth, we made out in the computer lab while we feigned knowledge of C++, we made out in a kitchen at a friends place with knives and forks and grilled tomatoes and broccoli at 250 degrees centigrade, we made out on the terrace under the stars and we fainted, we made out in a soon-to-be-functional bathroom sitting atop the W/C ’s closed lid , we were novelty seekers, and we made out like horny rabbits, and amidst all the kissing and petting, sometimes we negogiated the terms of endearment, she would suddenly in the middle of an erotic frenzy blurt out inanities like, “Don’t leave me okay”, promise me, you wont leave me”, and “I haven’t let anybody touch me like this, don’t leave me”, now ofcourse  in the moment of passion i would say the needful that would get us to a glorious fleeting nirvana.

But i was young and green, i was haunted by the ghosts of conflicting emotions, I would feel an intense feeling of satiation, of excess, and feel guilty about it, and wonder, why do i keep swinging between such earth shattering passion and this prosaic impotence, and the worst feeling of all, would be this deep existential crisis, that would get triggered off whenever i went to pee, its strange, but just when i would pee after we made out, my mind would start racing, and i would ask myself “Is this girl really right for me?” I’m not sure anymore, it doesn’t feel right, I only go to her when I need to make out with her, I’m not sure if i love her, I’m not sure if this is “meant to be”, its tragic how a young man often in his salad days needs to obsessively evaluate the status quo of a relationship, we are all guilty in terms of how we delude ourselves till we get our next fix, and we need it bad, practically everything in life is a drug, people are not work oriented, they are just addicted, and my word do they suffer withdrawal. Only it doesn’t kill you quickly as promised.

The taste of her mouth, was suddenly unsavoury, i told her we wont kiss anymore, things were falling apart, she was spying on me, I called it off slowly, so it wouldn’t come as a shock, but the fault lines were visible, meeting and staying together had become a chore, and novelty seeking had gone up a few notches.

Karin

There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told, the lone nameless girl bore one too many in her heart, she stood pretty on the north bridge facing the harbour at Fontvielle, Monaco, in the most densely populated country in the world, she couldn’t feel any lonelier. She gazed over the yon, her gaze searching, restless, absorbing the imagery like a voyeurs whim, but not quite finding what she was looking for, the dense foliage like a thick craving jungle laid bare on the hillock far east side, didn’t capture her imagination, nor did the polished white luxury yatchs all lined up like coffins of guillotined men and women, she was seeking some hazy image in her mind, she couldn’t tell what it was, maybe a childhood memory, her mothers caress, warmth of a cradle or maybe some ancient incantation, she couldn’t conjure.

She leaned over the white stucco bridge with baroque pillars and a chequered floor of matted tiles lay under her feet. Her right heel slightly tipped, in anticipation, and her feet crossed, playful, flirting with the view on offer, she was petite and had a lithe languorous body, like delicate porcelain, wiped squeaky clean tucked carefully somewhere. Anywhere.

Her surroundings disappointed her, the same insipid images and sounds, rich cultured people, young couples kissing, the fast sleek sportscar, she was dressed to kill and could’ve easily adorned the cushioned couched bucket seats of a red Ferrari, she even dated men who drove them, the prim tidy men who took too long a while in the loo to relieve themselves. She was a walking contradiction, she wore a Vivenne Tam black polka dot semisheer silk chiffon dress, the bubble hem framed her well sculpted toned legs, the pleating at the bust and straps adding to her feminine grace, the ruched banding with a sash held her waist gently like a lover with his arms slipped around her with a gentle flourish, a soft cup bra held her supple breasts tenderly.

But her svelte demeanour was only a fragment of her personality, look deeper and one would find a free spirit, a childlike exuberance, and unabashed uncouthness. But there was a certain sadness in her eyes, like the one she was enveloped with, when she listened to Erik Satie’s gymnopedie no.1, music had a deep effect on her mood, she was always careful with music, her discernment was sensitive, like that of a sommelier, sniffing the aroma of an old wine. She felt removed from her existence, a broken leaf, falling helplessly in the wind, she would often drink fine merlot and play the piano, just play along, possessed, exorcising her demons, and feeling an exaltation, almost a release into the deep unknown.

i

i cant remember how it began or why?  Where reality ceased to exist among my intoxicated emotions. Without her, time began to unravel. My mornings turned into nights. A ceiling fan creaked as it swung looking down on a body draped in sheets as the light of the day waned from lemon yellow to a deep ochre. i felt a still presence in the dripping water tap over the kitchen sink. 

She was growing and calling from beyond, as i stood on the edge of my balcony, on the 56th floor of a nondescript building, a giant mass of an illuminated labyrinth lay in front of me, dotted with skyscrapers like an orgy of phalluses, dark clouds ominously clung to the horizon, mingling with the smoke of my burning emancipating cigarette. 

Millions of people were sharing her body. A flesh-eating animal, she feasted on my sleepless nights, she exploded my senses. The sidewalk rendered her thousand sorrows, glistening in the night rain, the promise of the neon night. Umbrellas mushroomed in a symphonic rhythm as the furtive rain came down cascading.

i mapped the countours of her bosom, as if i knew the way. They all knew her, where she was, she hid in their gaze. Obtainable, insolent, dancing among their nervous hands. Exposing her scented assets. Her stench was palatable, like a craving tongue exploring my body. My lips burning on her spicy flesh. i thought i had lost her. 

The city, lay naked in front of me.

The moon was an accomplice to my erotic charms, waxing above the thick horizon slicing through the wispy clouds, looking down at the banalities of the earthbound, the stray dogs barked with a rabid energy, water broke inside many expecting mothers, vestiges of the hight tide crashed upon the rocky shores as huge waves and lunatics walked alone naked and drunk on streets soaked in shadows.

 My mind coiled and meandered weaving random thoughts, reflecting, gazing at the blue splendour,  the setting moon peeked through the window at 3 AM, creeping into the frame, and rousing in me, a primordial mystery, a lost memory was reborn.

Leaves

The leaves silently clung to trees

I woke up with a cold shiver, with a lump of heaviness on my left forehead like an ovarian cyst, thick and bulbous, my mouth was full of yellow bile, gelatinous, sticking to my tongue like dye to tanned leather, an orgasm of nausea engulfed my body, rising up from deep inside, lingering in the pit of my throat, like coiled snakes on Medusas head, I wanted to defecate, I wanted to drink a bottle of lukewarm saline water so i could cleanse my rotting innards, drink and purge.

I vomited twice, first, just water, while i kept fingering my navel as if to exorcise the daemons wrangled inside my stomach,  the putrid taste stuck to my mouth, i tried rinsing its acidic betrayal which made my teeth brittle, i tried regurgitating my bowels, my intestines, i wanted it all out, all the blood, bile and gore, all the horror of the night. A vomited a third time, it was thick bile, yellow and putrid, it fell into the W/C,  drowning slowly into the watery grave, leaving a trail, i flushed it before the image could get ensconced in my memory, i wanted to erase the night itself.

I lay in bed, a cold shiver, sweat breaking up on my forehead, a chilly spine, my hands searched feverishly for a sheet to cover myself while my eyes were delirious, too weak to open. I felt better in the afternoon, I waited for dusk, I waited for the dark hour before the street lights came on so I could walk on my balcony, alone, unnoticed, unwatched, but watching, become only eyes, sans my body, to draw in every whim of the evening, the teenage girl teasing the boy who listens to KoRn, the girl in her skirt, an invitation into the abyss , disembodied from the rest of her.

where can I buy one without the need for mutual acceptance and the grotesque pleasentries?

 I wanted to look west the yon,  the vast bleeding colours of a dream which was the sun,  it blushed a shameless want in ovulating red. I saw the sad silhoutte of the trees, their leaves like spines sprung out from everywhere, a repeating geometry, they clung to trees like pathetic lovers who seek to hinge themselves on people permanently, a cold mathematical equation they spread all across the branches, an algorithm, the logic of a soap opera, behind the gloss of the leaves, the velvet of the flowers, there was an equation, a dull classroom with walls bleeding from the rainwater and a teacher teaching fourier transforms.

There was silence, the leaves swayed in the gentle breeze of the evening, a beautiful disguise, a veiled romance, a gimmick. I walked over to the money plant on my balcony, I let my fingers gently caress the shiny gloss of the leaves, the taut youthful skin of pubescence trembled in my palms, I plucked out one large leaf, and bit into it, it was bitter, it bled and died, I flung it down, it fell helicoptering, twisting and turning on two axes, saving energy and momentum, the ground swallowed it, it was gone.