If you could hear what I hear, you would know why the silence

If you could feel what I feel, you would know why I am me

If you could know what’s in my mind, you would know why I run away from me

If you could be me, if you would be me, you would go far far away me

If you could be me and I could be you, things would have been different or maybe just the same, but I just wish you were me and I was you…

Friday night’s meet-up with the girls was routine. Getting out that one night in a week with friends gave Yasmin a sense of purpose, something constant, something steady. But lately, Yasmin dreaded Friday nights. She hated pubs. She hated the drunken garble because that is all she heard. She laughed at jokes half-heartedly because there was nothing else to do…to say. The interesting conversations seemed to always happen on the other end of the table. She would try hard to lip read and maybe make a comment but nobody heard her. Drinking did nothing for her, either. She never drank enough to get drunk. And by the end of the night, she was sober amongst a bunch of drunk women, taking the auto alone, to her place where she stayed alone.

Friday nights were the only nights she felt lonely.

But last Friday, she regretted reading lips from across the table. Lips that smiled and stunned her. Lips she couldn’t take her eyes off. Lips, she wished she could slowly touch with her thumb and trace their outline. Slowly. Lick them. Kiss them.

It was a little late by the time she realised she’d been staring too long and was perhaps being rude, for she saw that the smiling lips were attached to a face that had eyes which twinkled and were now looking straight at her. She felt flushed and suddenly it was as if the alcohol had hit her. She looked away immediately and got up to pay a visit to the ladies room. She couldn’t bear to go back and the loud thump-thumping wasn’t helping either. She quietly snuck out of the pub and decided to make her way home.

She felt like an idiot. She kept cursing herself for having silly fantasies in a public place about a total stranger. And at the same time she felt her stomach muscles tighten at the thought of those lips and those smiling eyes that were filled with mischief. She shook her head to shake the thought and berated herself for being such a coward…no, a pervert…no, just horny…no no no…coward. Focus!

‘Ok! Stop!’, she told herself. Take a deep breath. She shouldn’t have had that wine she told herself.

“Yasmin, you ok?”

She looked up to find Bindya standing there looking concerned. “Yeah I’m fine, do you have a cigarette I can …bum…” Shite! Too late! The lips! There, standing right next to Bindya were those luscious lips and twinkling eyes! “I should stop calling them that”, Yasmin made a mental note.

“Sorry. We are on our last one, but we can share?” asked Bindya. “No escape”, thought Yasmin as The Lips took a deep drag off her cigarette. “Are you leaving already?” asked Bindya. Yasmin barely nodded while she tried to keep her eyes off The Lips. “Yeah, long day. Should head home”, she mumbled while her head screamed to escape right away. “Oh, come on…we barely get to see you. You are such a party pooper. We might be going over to Moina’s after this. Come no?” “Who Moina?” Yasmin blurted.

“Hi, I’m Moina. I don’t think we’ve met.”

The Lips was speaking to her now and held out her hand. Yasmin put her hand out sheepishly and smiled. “Hi. Sorry…I really got to go.” She quickly hugged Bindya and said her byes promising to meet them again next Friday.

She did not go the next Friday only to get a call from Bindya the following morning throwing a tantrum for not having turned up. It suddenly occurred to her that she had missed Bindya’s birthday. Yasmin apologised and wished her a belated birthday and in turn got arm twisted to going over to Bindya’s for a Sunday brunch. She asked,“Who all will be there?” “The usual…but a smaller group. Hey, Moina was asking about you. But you’ll meet her tomorrow in any case.”

Yasmin barely managed to stifle a “WHAT?” and her horror…excitement…knot in stomach… She mumbled about a headache and said she’d see Bindya tomorrow.

Her head had been muddled ever since and even this shower wasn’t helping. She felt strangely trapped. She decided she didn’t want to eat anything after all. Poured herself a glass of wine and picked out the biggest bar of chocolate from her secret stash, crawled into bed and watched TV till she passed out.

The party seemed like a blur. As usual, everyone had conversations to make except for her. There was much chattering and giggling, none of which she could hear. At least this time it wasn’t the other way round! Yasmin decided to get some fresh air and walked to the balcony only to be intercepted by Bindya on her way. Bindya seemed drunk, grinning ear to ear and talking so fast that Yasmin could barely follow what she was saying. Not that Bindya seemed to mind. She abruptly turned away and started talking to someone else in the same boisterous drunk way.

She wondered what Bindya had meant by ‘a smaller group’ since the house was swarming with women she knew and those she had never seen. So far there was no sign of Moina. Yasmin let out a sigh of relief but she was also disappointed. She decided to make her way to the restroom. She washed her face and stared at the mirror for a while trying to figure out if she was drunk or just fatigue. The latter, she decided.

After what seemed like a long time she noticed that there was someone behind her in the mirror. There she was. Those lips pursed, looking concerned but a smile waiting to appear. Their eyes met in the mirror and Yasmin felt her cheeks flush. She looked away only to realise that Moina had moved forward and was standing right behind her. So close that she could feel Moina’s warm breathe on her hair. Yasmin felt her body tense up begging silently for Moina to touch her.

She wasn’t sure what or how it happened but there she was, kissing those lips and those lips were kissing her back. They moved from her mouth and traced her jawline, slowly down to her neck and ran along her shoulder blade. They tumbled somehow onto Bindya’s bed while Moina’s hands slowly but steadily unpinned Yasmin’s saree and unwound her out of it. Moina’s lips in close tandem with her tongue were working wonders on Yasmin’s skin. The neck…the cleavage and finally devouring her right nipple while her fingers worked on her left. She could feel Moina’s wetness while she straddled Yasmin’s thigh. Their collective moans had drowned out the loud party noises. Her back arched and Moina’s grip tightened around her thigh.

She ran her thumb on the contours of those lips that smiled while they drifted off into a blissful slumber.

She woke up with the start to broad daylight and a noisy television. It took her a moment to realise she was in her bed, in her house, alone. Confused, she walked around her house to make sure she was fully awake and that this wasn’t her imagination. So then, if this is real, was that a dream? She sat back on her bed feeling dejected. She pulled her covers up to her knees and sat staring mindlessly at the TV. Slowly she smiled, grinned…

Like she willed, she slept and when she woke up she knew exactly what she had to do.
“So which saree shall I wear today?” she said aloud to herself.

Now I find, what I thought was just mind and body
Is a love that ideally, should be of the soul and spirit too.

I know I said I would be here for you
But I can’t…please…please don’t ask me to…
…not while you learn to love someone new.

I scan through a couple of classifieds in The Hindu to check out the ‘Health and Wellness’ classifieds. Massage-wala ads offering full relaxation by M2M. Nah, too much money wasted on too little. ”I’m not too old for paid sex”, I tell myself. Ditch the newspaper. Ditch masseurs and their knack for kneading, arousing, relaxing and providing pain-relief to tensed muscles and frayed nerves that yearn for touch.

Let’s hit the Blue Site now. Maybe check out the users in my locality or city looking for ‘sex’. No, not that. Maybe look for guys who want a ‘Date’. That way I can have conversations and some brain-tingling before and after sex. Also, most of these intellectual bastards are super hot in bed, they seem sexy when their mouths are open and shut.

I hit the ‘search’ button – the search results for the sexiest butts, hottest cocks and bodies in my area, under my age/interest/sexual role categories. I find over two dozen vivacious men, dying to die another death in my arms, when I thrust my organ into their mouths and undersides, when I rim them so much that they don’t remember to put down their arses, and let their juices flow unending as I venture into their ‘heart-underneath’, that area of pleasure that makes them touch heaven and hell at the same time, while I get to playDevil and Deity. Puppets they shall be in my arms, dancing to my rhythm and their sensory perceptions. Wait, let’s concentrate on the search results again.

I have a couple of men to choose from, I realize. There’s this twink from Manipur with lovely spiked-up hair, flat abs to die for and a cute, yet small butt. He’ll be the bottom I know. But hell yeah, I love the smooth kinds. And there’s this Goan-Catholic boy with the right amount of hair on his chest and face, a look-alike of Gael Garcia Bernal, only slightly darker and muscular. Huge dick and versatile. Then there’s my good old Bengali sailor-turned-teacher whose butts resemble footballs, ones I could bury my face in and never see the light of the day again. And a perfect chest with nipples to play with – clips, bites, nibbles, the man likes it all.

I have chosen the Goan boy for the forenoon, the Manipuri for the evening and the Bengali for supper. I message them all, finalize timings, what our Plan of Action would be and what the men should each wear. The Goan would come commando, the Manipuri would cross-dress once he comes over, and the Bengali man would wear semi-transparent underwear and a cock-ring.  I’m ready for the feast, guys!

My filter kaapi is done. A huge pot of it. So is the morning dose of fruits. A nice long shower and a thorough clean-up. Some deo, some perfume, some moisturizer. In the right places, the right amount.

There’s music playing in the background. I can’t wait to have them all in one go, but I shall wait. And I wait. My cuckoo-clock ticks noon. Hickory dickory dock, why is there nobody on my cock?

I call the D’Mello boy, but nobody picks up. I call him again. Twenty times. Send him a message. No response. Did he die? Nah, he’s probably sleeping or has forgotten. I drop a sweet message saying I’ll meet him later, I’ve got some work to do. I’ll fuck the boy next time.

A walk around the park in the colony with my camera. Click some snaps in the winter haze – crows, old people, some kids and a couple of cycles rusting and rotting in the corner. I grab a quick bite at the Dosa-stall outside. I come home, brush my teeth. Wait.

The Manipuri boy has called on my phone twice. I’d left it on my desk while going out for lunch. I try calling back but I can barely hear him. The reception is so bad, I can hear only syllables. We try calling each other again in the next two hours. Some phone tagging and some muffled conversations. I hear practically nothing. I hang up. I wait.

The boy hasn’t turned up. No text, no rings. He’s gonna get it from me next time, I tell myself. I’ll fuck him so hard, he’ll cry for his mother. Gag him, so he doesn’t cry, wring his neck once in a while. I sense I’m getting a hard on. Wait for the Bong sailor, I tell myself. Calm down. Tonight’s gonna be a good night.. I hum. And smile.

A couple of work mails keep me busy till dusk. I attend a conference call with this guy from Argentina who sounds exactly like the sailor. I fantasize, almost, but I stop myself.

9 pm he’ll be here, I make a note in my head. I wait for him. And he calls. At 10.30 pm.

He calls to say he’s been forced to join his folks for a family dinner at Bhojohori Manna near the Koramangala Club. I feel a pang of rage going up my larynx. I tell him – that’s like a 3-minute walk from my flat. He tells me, he’ll see me for dessert. I blush. I’m pacified. I know this man for the last 3 years, he’s a bomb in bed. I smirk looking at the clock, another hour, he’ll be here.

I pour myself a glass of Cognac to lighten my mood. We shall make love with all we have, hands, feet, genitals, butts, toys, whipped cream and chocolate mousse, spanks and bites. It’ll be a celebration of sex itself, in a small way.

He calls at 12.30 to say he’s too sleepy. And that he’s already home. That he’ll meet me another time when nobody’s home. He promises to make it up to me next time, at his place. After all, it’s just 20 minutes away.

I hate you. I hate you all. I hate myeself.

We stood still… the only movement now
Paused, staring into each other
With scorching orbs,
One pair brown, the other blue.

Ignorance with primal instinct roiling
In the pits of regions not wholly considered…
Yet waiting to be devoured
With flavours only fear evokes.

“Lick it…you gotta lick it right…”
Reverberated through the stalls
In the high school girls’ wash room
As prom night reached its zenith.

A short trimmed blue painted finger
Lightly touched a burgundy stained lip…
Moving gently up its contour to the left…
…up and around to the right…

Big brown eyes, speechlessly, dropped to
Saliva glistening lips…a partially visible
Pink wet tongue…an opening
Exuding rasping breaths

Passionate focus was jolted
At the intrusion…of a finger
Into the wetness and warmth
Of my lower lip, gently inquiring

Violet speckled eyes
Raised their lids to mine
As synchronistically, blues and browns
Closed softly to mingled breaths

The painted blue fingers slid out
Trailing wetness around
Into my curls as my hands
Rose involuntarily to her waist
Our lips convening…in tentative bliss

Parted mouths now afire with
Moisture and heat that
Liquefy to voracious excavations
As our tongues deliriously collide…

This is the final installment of a multi-part series. Read previous stories here:

Part 1: Why This Kolaveri?
Part 2: Why This Kolaveri?
Part 3: Why This Kolaveri?

Assistant 1: “This is a bug”
Assistant 2: “I told you! You didn’t believe me”
Assistant 1: “Now I see a pattern”
Assistant 2: “What is it?”
Assistant 1: “Every tenth iteration, the objects are swapped.”
Assistant 2: “Really?”
Assistant 1: “Yes.”
Assistant 2: “I can’t believe this! Rajnikanth’s program never has any bugs. Maybe, this is intentional.”
Assistant 1: “What could be the intention? These objects don’t belong in their swapped places. They are determined to fail”

—

Right from the age of twelve, Sruthi knew she was different. At high school, when the other girls curiously talked about women, she was strangely attracted to men. “What is this? How is this even possible?”  Sruthi was very confused as a young girl. She hoped that, with time she would change and become ‘normal’ like other girls. She hoped she would become gay.

Being gay was the only thing she knew. That was the rule of her world. That was the only accepted love. Men with men and women with women was the order of nature or so was it told. Gay was the way. Love and marriage happened within the same gender. After marriage, couples who wanted children had to select a suitable couple from the opposite sex and use non-physical insemination to have babies. This type of pregnancy happened at least twice between a pair of couples. By law, the first child belonged to the female couple and the second child belonged to the male couple. This is how Sruthi came to have a younger brother, Aniruddh. Aniruddh lived with his fathers, while Sruthi lived with her two mothers.

Sruthi was very attached to her brother. She loved him a lot. Aniruddh was her friend, her confidant. They didn’t have any secrets between them. Except the fact that Sruthi was attracted to people of the opposite sex. As much as she wanted to, Sruthi just couldn’t bring herself to come out to Aniruddh. She was scared. Sacred of being rejected.

After months and months of rehearsals, Sruthi finally came out to Aniruddh on her eighteenth birthday.

“What do you mean?” asked Aniruddh.
“I think I am attracted to men” said Sruthi.
“But how?” Aniruddh found it hard to comprehend.
“I don’t know”
“You are telling me, you are not attracted to women, but to men?”
“Yes” Sruthi nodded her head.
“Then, are you a hetero?” he asked, his tone of voice turning from confusion to disbelief.
Sruthi kept quiet.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes,” she slowly affirmed with a nod.

Aniruddh continued after a long pause. “Please don’t even mention this to your mothers. They will throw you out.”
Sruthi didn’t reply.
“Do you understand? Please don’t.”
She just stood there, quietly.
He pleaded, “This is not right, Sruthi. Have you thought this through? Can you imagine what will happen if other people came to know? It is illegal, Sruthi!”
“I am scared,” she said in a low voice.
“You should be. Ten years! Ten years in prison. And some countries even have a death penalty.”
What could she say?
“Please change yourself. This is wrong. Unnatural…” said Aniruddh. He didn’t wait for her reply. He was done. He just walked away.

Sruthi stood still as a statue. She had known there was a possibility of rejection and she thought she was prepared for it, but she clearly wasn’t. It hurt so bad! Why me? Why? What did I do wrong? Why am I straight? Tears started flowing from her eyes. Reality had hit her pretty hard at that moment. If Aniruddh, her own brother, so close to her age, couldn’t understand, she figured there was no point telling her two moms. Nobody was going to accept her. People like her had no place in the world. That day, she decided to close her closet doors forever. It was painful and suffocating but she had no choice. She forced herself to repress her feelings.

Fate opened the flood gates the day she met Dhanush at the airport. But fate had also put Sruthi behind bars today!

The cops caught Dhanush and her “red-handed” that morning at the train station. They were arrested for engaging in unnatural sex. Sruthi and Dhanush begged and pleaded with the two police men, but they didn’t show any mercy. It was not just the police; nobody showed them any mercy. Engaging in sex with the opposite-gender was the worst crime to commit. It was against the order of nature, culture, religion, almost everything in every rule book! Laws against male-female physical intimacy were very strict in Iran. Their fate was sealed the moment they were arrested. Sruthi and Dhanush were not even given a fair trial.

Three months later, the Iranian media announced to the rest of the world that Sruthi and Dhanush were sentenced to death. As the judgement day came closer, opposition arose from different parts of the world. But that changed nothing. After all, the Iranian president proudly claimed “There are no heterosexuals in our country.”

Sruthi was allowed one phone call to her family. That was her very last conversation with her parents.

“God will never forgive you. You will burn in hell” said her mother.
“Why? Why did you do this to us?” sobbed her other mother. “You shamed us. We will just tell ourselves that we never had a daughter.”

Sruthi didn’t say a word. The three months she had spent in prison had numbed her completely. For the first month, she cried her eyes out. Fear and frustration endlessly pained her. Slowly, her eyes had dried out. When she realized there was no hope, she gave up completely. She didn’t feel anything anymore. She was counting her days.

Dhanush had made peace with his fate too but he couldn’t forgive himself for the destruction he had brought on Sruthi. His mind grappled with the endless outcomes that could have resulted from a different course of action. What if I hadn’t talked to her on the flight that day? What if I hadn’t given her my email address? The guilt was a constant companion and it consumed him. “Sruthi, I am sorry. Please forgive me,” he sobbed endlessly all alone in his prison cell.

Judgement day came. They were to be hanged together that day. That was also the first day they would be together after several months.

—
Alternate Universe. Planet Earth. Country Iran. Day: June 19, 2005.

“Two male teenagers identified only as “M” and “A”, were hanged in Mashhad, Iran, July 19 for having sex with each other, the Iranian Students News Agency reported. The teens, one aged 18 and one under age 18, reportedly were convicted by Court No. 19 under Islamic Shariah law, which punishes homosexual acts with death.”

Why this Kolaveri? (Why this murderous rage?)

Why?

The stadium was packed with people, but strangely there was complete silence. They were asked to step out of the police van. Their eyes were covered with a black cloth and their hands were cuffed behind them. They were taken to the stage where they where about to be hanged. An official on the stage started reading the sentences while the crowd watched in a state of shock.

M and A were unable to see what was happening. They were about to be executed for engaging in homosexual acts which was considered against the order of nature. Both were teenagers!

While the sentence was being read, M, realizing those were his last moments decided to talk to A.

“A! Are you there? Can you hear me? ” he moved his head in either directions, without a clue whee A was standing.
“Yes! Yes! I am here.” A replied to him and tapped his foot on the ground, indicating where he was. They were standing next to each other.
“I am sorry” said M. His voice broke and he started crying.
“No! No! It is not your fault. Please! Please don’t cry” A couldn’t control his tears, he was sobbing too.
“Is this going to be our last conversation? No. Let’s talk about something nice. Let us think about something positive” said M clearing his throat.
A nodded his head and cleared his voice and then he asked, “So! Are you like “that“?”
“You still doubt that? I will kick your ass!” retorted M. For a moment M forgot his pain and laughed.

Judgement was read in full. They both were taken to the stage. The ropes were lowered and wrapped around their necks. The man holding the lever for the ropes looked at the person who read the judgment for the signal to go-ahead.

At the very same moment, in the alternate universe, Sruthi and Dhanush were being executed.

—
“This happens every 10th time. Heterosexuals and homosexuals are getting swapped.” Assistant-1 complained to Rajnikanth.
“I know.” Rajnikanth wasn’t surprised.
“Why? They don’t belong there. Look what happened to Dhanush and Sruthi… and then to A and M.”
“I know what happened,” Rajnikanth replied calmly.
“Why do you place them in the wrong environment? They are not accepted there, don’t you know?” Assistant 1 was a bit upset.
“I accept everyone,” said Rajnikanth “I create only two things. Love and Life. I didn’t create race, caste, class, gender or sexuality. I didn’t make rules for love. My only rule is to love.” He continued, “They corrupted their environment. They made their own rules. They decided some are acceptable and some are not. For me these things don’t matter. But they have to correct it themselves. I am a creator and not a controller. I respect their independence. Freedom and liberty are my gifts to them. ”
The assistants listened in silence.
Rajanikanth continued “The program swaps lives for a reason. These 10% are my agents of change. They push the envelope. They show the rest of the world what is wrong with them. They reflect like a mirror. They are my special 10%. They are in my heart. They are in a special place”.

The End.

Author’s notes: 

1) I would like to thank Gaysi editor The Cathartist for her crisp edits and creative input.

2) Disclaimer: Though the Iranian gay executions are the sad reality of the cruel world we live in, the conversation between A and M during their execution is fictional.

3) The alternative title of the story “A world without straight people” indicates that Sruthi and Dhanush’s world is a place where being Straight is viewed as an abnormality, like how it is to be Queer in our world. (In the beginning of the story, Sruthi sees two men with kids at the check-in counter. They are a couple.)

4) Sruthi and Dhanush’s interactions through out the story, are very similar to how Queer people cruise, chat, talk and meet.

5) Aishwarya’s character is comparable to a typical straight guy who hits on women and uses beaten-to-death pick up lines (‘You have a beautiful smile’, ‘We have met before’ etc..)

6) I used Rajanikanth as a creator instead of God, just to make it fun. He is God, isn’t he? LOL!

This is the third installment of a multi-part series. Read previous stories here:

Part 1: Why This Kolaveri?
Part 2: Why This Kolaveri?

Time never moves at the pace we want. The moments we relish, the moments we enjoy pass by in a jiffy. The moments we wait, the moments we feel desperate, move slower than a turtle. For the tenth time, Sruthi checked the time on her cell phone.

4:50 AM.

The meeting was to happen at 5:00 AM at the train station close to Sruthi’s apartment. She had been preparing for the past few days. She had picked a lovely blue color Salwaar Kameez, knowing blue is Dhanush’s favorite color. In the past two months she had learned a lot about Dhanush, from his favorite color to the school he went to. All thanks to the countless hours they spent on the internet.

She remembered their very first internet chat.

Dhanush:   “Hi!”
Sruthi:     “Hi!”
Dhanush:   “How are you?”
Sruthi:      “Fine. You?”
Dhanush:   “I am fine. Thanks”
Sruthi:     “……”

Moments of silence.

Dhanush:  “So?”
Sruthi:    ” So?”
Dhanush: “You tell me”
Sruthi:   “What can I say?”
Dhanush: “Something”

Moments of silence, again.

Sruthi:     “Why did you look at me like that in the airport?”
Dhanush:  “You don’t know why?”
Sruthi:     “Are you like “that“?
Dhanush:  “Yes. You?”
Sruthi:  

It was a funny conversation. Once they confirmed they both were like “that“, it became easy to open up. They started chatting regularly.

It was Sruthi’s first trip to Iran. Dhanush has been living there for the past four years. He was a senior engineer at a big oil company and lived a few miles away from Sruthi’s apartment. From the day they started chatting, he had been persuading Sruthi about meeting in person.

“No. That’s risky. I have never met any online friend in person before.” Sruthi kept refusing. But inside, she too wanted to meet him. As time passed, they grew closer and felt comfortable with each other. Sruthi finally gave in.

They both had roommates, so meeting at either of their homes wasn’t an option. It wasn’t safe to meet at public places. Last week, while they were chatting Dhanush suggested they could meet at the train station close to Sruthi’s apartment. “There won’t be a single soul there at five in the morning. We will get enough privacy and it is safe.”

He was right. For as far as her eyes could see the place was empty. It was still dark. Occasionally, a train would pass by the station bringing light for a few seconds. The silence and emptiness combined with the cold early morning breeze, created a romantic atmosphere. Sruthi checked her cell phone one more time. It was 5:00 AM now.

Where is he? Why is he still not here? Sruthi dialed Dhanush’s number on her cell phone.

“Hello”
“Hello”
“Hey! Where are you?”
“Turn around”
“Where?”
She turned to her right still holding her phone to her ear.
“Left, to your left” he said.

She turned left and there he was! She saw his image ten feet from her. The same image she saw for the very first time at the airport. Six feet tall, the same charming face, that sexy smile…
Sruthi was excited. Her heart jumped with joy.

He waved his hands and started walking towards her.
“Hey!” she said and started walking towards him.

They met exactly in the middle at five feet. Both their faces were now basking in glory and could barely hide their excitement.

“Wow!” exclaimed Dhanush.
Sruthi was shy. She smiled nervously.
“The smile that kills” he continued looking at her, eye to eye.

They both stood there for a few seconds looking at each other. They needed those silent moments to take it all in.

“So?” asked Dhanush
“So?”
“Are you like “that“?”  Dhanush asked, grinning.
Sruthi burst into a huge laughter. “Yes. I am like “that“”
Now Dhanush couldn’t control his laughter and he joined her in mirth.

He then said, “Alrighty. Come on. Lets sit there.” and walked towards the stone bench that was near by. She followed him. They both sat on the bench. Sruthi was visibly nervous. Dhanush turned back and started searching for something behind the bench.

“What? What are you searching?” asked Sruthi with a confused face.
“I am looking if Aishwarya is hiding somewhere. She might come in any minute and sit between us!” he chuckled and made a naughty face.
“Oh no! Please. Not again”
“Who knows? She might show up. You better not leave any gap.”

He winked at her, pointing at the gap between them.

Sruthi giggled and moved closer to him. He extended his hand towards her and very gently, took her hands in his, crossing their fingers. It was warm and cozy. Sruthi leaned her head on his shoulder. They both were now looking at the blue, dark sky.

“Wow! I was dying to see you!” he said in a low voice, leaning close to her face.
“Me too.” Sruthi pressed her hands on his gently.

Now Dhanush’s lips were searching for Sruthi’s lips.

Then it happened! All of a sudden, a strong streak of light appeared few feet away. The light was immediately followed by a disturbing noise. “Grrrrrrrr. Grrrrrrrr” It appeared to be from a vehicle engine.

Sruthi panicked “Who is that?”
“Shit! Police!” Dhanush screamed and untangled their hands in a hurry.
“What? You said this place is safe…” Sruthi’s voice was shaking in fear.
“Okay. Relax. Please don’t panic”
“How can I not panic? Oh my god! I should not have come here. Oh my god!”
“Stay calm. They are coming towards us, we can’t run. It will be obvious.” Before he could finish, two motor bikes came and stopped in front of them.

Two police men got down from those bikes and stood in front of them. They appraised Sruthi and Dhanush scanning them from top to bottom and then they looked at each other.

“Well bro, look what we have here!” One said to the other with an evil smile.
“A man and a woman! Unnatural sex, bro!” the other policeman smirked and started laughing, with a nasty look on his face.

Fear froze Sruthi’s brain. Her body started shaking, visibly.

Will conclude in Part 4.

Part 4: Why This Kolaveri?

I walked in and saw “him” occupying “my” desk and by extension my computer too. My first thought was “Screw it, can’t they find someone else to deprive?”. I ignored him. And 2 hours later, he was introduced to me as my new supervisor.

I was on my guard. Disappointments can be prevented by feigning detachment. That’s exactly what I did. Tried to be cold while he was around. Answered him in monosyllables. But he warmed up to me. And then I thawed. In the next 2 months, he and I went on to be labelled better halves of each other. Unnecessary provocation by nosy individuals. He was a het and had been committed for the last 3 years.

In the ensuing months, he unwittingly and unknowingly became the object of my affections. And I wished him well in whatever he did. Out of love, out of respect, out of blind adoration.

He even introduced me to his girlfriend. Pretty pretty girl. Fortunate to have him.

As time progressed, the bond that I had created in my mind grew stronger. So much so that in those days I forgot all the ill will that I had harboured for my not-so-great-place-to-work. I went to work only so that I could see him. He was my motivation. The drudgery was a cakewalk. The night shift was a welcome pleasure. I went through the daily grind just to see those twinkling eyes and the wide toothy grin with the infectious smile. I could see why girls fell for him.

And with time, the desire to possess him intensified, much to my chagrin. He would be right next to me but I could feel the chasm between us. He was unattainable.

I had allowed myself to get carried away. I would ask myself why Providence was putting me through this vexation. I would be petulant and surly. He would ask me what the matter was and I would want to retort, “You”. You caused me all this trouble. But for you, I would have continued to be a mundane worker bee buzzing around the flowerbed, near enough to fly from bloom to bloom without getting enticed by the scent of one.

What would I have given to get carnal with this man. He consumed my idle thoughts, my daydreams, my nights too. Not out at that time, I was afraid I would mumble his name in my sleep.

Many a times, he would come close and make me uncomfortable. For him, it was nothing more than his skin touching mine. For me, it was a gulf being bridged, unrequited desire being met ever so subtly. He didn’t know the power he held over me and yet when I e-mailed him after he had left, he wrote back “Are you missing me?”.

Once he assigned me a particularly uninteresting task along with a wad of sheets and said in a tone reminiscent of a vintage 90s’ Cadbury’s commercial “It’s a gift for someone you love”. I imagined giving that stack back to him saying “Here you go”.

P.S. – I got over him (no, not literally). And I recently wished him a happy 30th

This is the second installment of a multi-part series. Read ”Part 1: Why This Kolaveri?”

“Uhfff “ Sruthi was clearly frustrated by this unexpected turn. Blue shirt’s face also sulked in disappointment.
“Oh, good. Thanks for letting me know” Sruthi thanked Aishwarya.
“By the way, you look very familiar. I am sure we have met before,” continued Aishwarya.
“I don’t think so,” Sruthi replied irritatedly. Seriously? Leave me alone, lady.

Moments passed. Blue shirt stretched his hands, as if he was relaxing. He casually and intentionally placed his left hand on the back of the chairs. His hand rested just shy of Sruthi’s back, passing Aishwarya. He is not giving up that easily, thought Sruthi and that very thought brought a smile to her face.

“You have a lovely smile” said Aishwarya. She was determined to continue the conversation.
“Thanks!” Sruthi smiled again. But this time it was a fake, forced smile.

Blue shirt slowly started drumming at the chair in a rhythm. He was signaling Sruthi, obviously. Sruthi wondered if it would be a good idea to place her hand along the back of the chairs. The very thought gave her goosebumps. But, what if someone sees us from behind?

Few more moments passed. The frequency of drumming gradually reduced.

She thought, He probably thinks, I am not going to respond. Something must be done!

Sruthi turned and looked at the seats behind them. The next four to five rows were totally empty. No one would notice, if she moved her hand to the back. She gathered courage and slowly and cautiously started moving her hand. She didn’t want to make it obvious to Aishwarya.

At the same exact moment, “Fatima Airlines 108 to Iran, is now ready to board,” said the announcement.

“Let’s board,” Aishwarya got out of her seat hearing the announcement. Blue shirt immediately pulled his hand from the back of the chairs.
Why don’t you mind your own business, damn it! Sruthi wanted to scream at Aishwarya.
“Actually, you go ahead. You don’t have to wait for me”
“Oh! That’s not a problem. I am in no rush. I will wait.” Aishwaraya was not moving, until Sruthi joined her.

Sruthi got up helplessly, dragged her hand luggage and started walking with Aishwarya. After moving four feet, she turned and looked at the blue shirt. He was sitting there frozen and was staring back at her with the same helplessness.

–

Sruthi was restless in her airplane seat. She couldn’t take her eyes off the door as she watched every single person boarding, hoping blue shirt would walk in. Suddenly an unhappy possibility occurred to her, May be he is flying in a different plane? Oh no!

Soon the aisle got crowded and the entrance disappeared from her view. I have the worst luck ever! Sruthi was about to cry. She extended her seat a little and rested her head on the head-rest and closed her eyes.

“Hey,” said a voice.

Sruthi opened her eyes but her vision adjusted to the sudden glare of the cabin light, very slowly. When she could clearly see, she found Blue shirt standing next to her seat, smiling at her.

“Here is my email address,” He was holding a small piece of paper to her face.
Sruthi was in a state of shock and surprise.
“Sir, You have to sit. The flight is about to take off,” urged the flight attendant who walked to them from the front.
“Take it,” Blue shirt insisted, as he waved the paper at her. There was a sense of urgency in his voice. Sruthi grabbed the paper and he immediately moved down the aisle.

It took a few seconds for Sruthi to realize what had just happened. She quickly opened the paper.

“Dhanush26@zmail.com,” it said.

Aishwarya was seated two rows in front of Sruthi and was watching all this unfold, curiously.

To be Continued.

Part 3: Why This Kolaveri?

“Time and space”

Justify immediate exits

With a touch of grace

“It’s about me…not you”

Another favourite – so true

To soften the blow

‘Cause they think you’re psycho

“Want to take a break”

Knowing fully well

There’s no chance in hell

To return for a retake

Probably the funniest of ‘em all

“Need to focus on my career”

Ingeniously invented

To cushion your fall

But the best saved for the end

Is when they continue to play pretend

“Someday …I’ll be back”

Keeping false hopes alive and on track

Cute brown puppy dog eyes

Would it be illogical?

To not read between the lines

Believe it’s the truth and not sugar coated lies

You had me at Hello!

Convincing me friendship was worth a try

But why do I secretly suspect?

You chose an early Goodbye!