It was 8:00 AM and it was late.
When the backup alarm of 8:00 AM went off, Chhaya sat upright in the bed and frantically typed ‘Lavasa to Magarpatta’ on Google Maps. It read 2hr 34 min. The Sales Forecast Meeting due at 10:00 AM looked evasive.
When we had bumped into each other at the coffee machine on Friday, the plan was to spend the Saturday night in the serenity of Lavasa. But, flings are tempting. Sunday was much more beautiful and the night equally exhausting. Now that we had overslept, Monday hadn’t started off as planned. The only option was to make a dash for office.
Monday traffic is an unpredictable factor on Pune-Mumbai Expressway. However, the most concerning factor was our attire on Monday than the traffic. The company policy was to strictly attend office in a business attire or ‘formals’ on Mondays. We were in the same casual or ‘informal’ clothes which we wore to office on Friday. There was no time to stop over at our places and change to a business attire.
“Let’s attend the bloody meeting first. Get dressed.” I took a decision handing over her white top & denims. “We could reach in the nick of time if we didn’t stop over for anything. Not even tea.” A peer pressure loomed but it wasn’t of much importance, “Guys are going to notice us…damn!” This point had to be covered. “HR को तुम संभाल लोगी?” I asked tucking in my collared t-shirt in my jeans.
Chhaya didn’t answer. She was already annoyed that we were late. Struggling to wear her top she said finally, “Boss…, HR को email तूम करोगे। Let guys speak the f*** they want to. We better reach on time for today’s meeting.” A bold Chhaya said. With one swift action she pulled out her damaged bra (or whatever was left of it). Shoulder straps were snapped and it looked like a Chinese lantern with the cups still in shape. My heart skipped a beat when she disposed it off.
‘Is she going braless to office…?’ I asked myself. By the time she got dressed and ready to leave, it became obvious. She was going braless to office. Was it Chhaya’s confidence or practicality or stupidity? I don’t know.. but it made sense. Nothing was visible as such. Besides, we couldn’t loose another second if we had to reach office on time.
Before leaving the Lavasa apartment, we exchanged a parting kiss. I am alien to braless culture! She was quick to impart some management wisdom between parting liplocks.
Bra-straps and Rules will break someday. The challenge lies in handling the situation once they snap.
To be continued…
Mitthu was the name of a parrot which I set free from its cage. I always wanted to do something about this incident. This gave birth to Mitthu, the Man. It’s resemblance to name ‘Me Too’ coincided at the right time.
Mitthu, the parrot was a pet for a family of three living in two rooms. The pet was a showpiece than a member. It used to be caged always. At times, it had its moments of spreading its wings during a bath. But I never saw it fly.
(The image is symbolic of Mitthu, the parrot. Cramped up in a small cage, sad, no-one to play with, no toys, nothing. Just hang in there and chirp ‘Namaste’)
While unlatching the cage, I could see the parrot’s different expression. It wasn’t expecting any titbits. Neither was he singing ‘Namaste’. It probably realized that this was something else.
So… I did it. Set the parrot free and saw it fly away for the first time. It resulted in first estranged relationship with 3 friends which hurt a lot. But today, I was right. I am happy for Mitthu, the parrot – inspiration for the character called Mitthu, the Man
A 28-year old Ronovijay listened intently to 18-year old Mitthu’s unfortunate bus incedent as they relaxed on the turf, looking at the goalpost after a tiring game.
“Goalposts are Girls”
Ronovijay started an epic chat with his much younger cousin on his birthday.
“The metal frame just stands out there, throughout the entire game…,” the elder cousin continued. “It’s decked up in a ‘one-piece’ net and whitewashed before the match.., just like a girl in a one-piece dress with make-up, all decked up for a party.” Turning around he asked Mitthu, “If the goalpost could speak during a game, what would it say?”
“Well, any goalpost would say – Don’t score a goal! I pressume” Mitthu replied like any footballer would.
“Nooo!” Rono exclaimed getting up. Standing in the metal frame. He impersonated the goal post. “The goalpost would scream – Cummon …! Score!!! For me, please…!!! I want Cameras n’ Crowd to look at me… please…!!!” Rono’s Footballing histrionics were a sight to watch!
“But…why??!” Mitthu laughed nervously.
“Goalposts need their five seconds to fame” Rono said returning back. “Only the one who scores a goal could give that fame, not a goalkeeper who stands is right next to goalposts for 90 minutes.”
Mitthu was a nice boy from a good family. Unfortunately, he lost his mom at 16 and dad at 17. “He’s a boy, he’ll manage” his relatives said.
One fine day Mitthu turned 18. Relatives had also said he had become a MAN…! That day he boarded a bus to visit his only cousin and celebrate his birthday.
On boarding the bus, it turned out that Mitthu was the only passenger who didn’t have a seat. Common sense prevailing, he occupied the only vacant seat left in the bus. Ten minutes into the journey Mitthu heard a rude female voice: “चल… उठ यहाँ से…Get up!”
Snapping her fingers, a girl in her early 20s was ordering Mitthu to vacate the seat. He had occupied the seat which was reserved for ladies. The unrecognisable sign stating “Ladies Only” had evaded him too. Obeying the rule, he decided to get up. As he gathered his luggage, female passengers started passing remarks, “Parents are to be blamed too. Can’t they teach manners to their sons?” said female voice. “Today’s, girls will teach a lesson to such people, if their mother and father can’t” said another female passenger. The remarks sank Mitthu’s heart. His parents taught him whatever they could till they were with him. But their teachings always stayed with him. He recollected their golden words:
“Take a stand for righteousness”
“Are you pregnant?” He asked the lady who had ordered him to vacate the seat.
“What…???” She was alarmed. “Of course not! Who are you to…”
Mitthu didn’t allow her to complete. Instead, he replied sharply “A fit young lady can stand in a moving bus, just like I would. Please respect gender equality. The Indian Constitution believes in it. I do. And so should you. I’ll get up from my seat on reaching my destination. Please stop being a bully.”
The feminist brigade in the bus went silent. All remarks STOPPED. Mitthu had reached his destination. He had become a MAN. He took a vow to speak up against harrassment on men, especially by women.
To be continued in Goalposts and Girls
Alone in the gym, we were staring at each other through the mirror. It had been over 5 minutes. “What do you want?” I broke the silence. “Look Manisha… I haven’t signed up for this, alright?”
“Am I FAT, Yuvi?” She asked sternly
“I’m not your instructor to give that answer” I replied, eyeing her. She was 36 but she wasn’t ‘FAT’ as such. Breasts neatly packed, her wet cleavage was proof enough. Her waistline wasn’t bad either. There was a bit of flab, but that’s fine at 36 years. Manisha had very shapely legs though. Her body hugging suit and those legs had triggered an erection many a times! Only today, I needn’t go to the washroom. I stood there watching her. She wasn’t really FAT. She was a sexy.
Tanya and I had our moments after the gym. Be it kissing, foreplay, blowjobs or even a quickie. The time limit was 30 minutes however. Tanya had made a strange request today. She wanted me to do it with a much elder Manisha. Bewildered, I had agreed without knowing what was in store! Unfortunately, it was going nowhere, even after 10 minutes. I desperately wanted to pull it out and masturbate, at least.
She watched my boner which was protruding inside my sweat pants. It was awkward! You like this lady…, but never had an intense and full blown erection. Now that I had, it was not feeling right. I started concealing it with my T-shirt only to be stopped.
“It’s ok…. Don’t cover” she said, with breathlessness in her voice watching me act. “My husband doesn’t get it now. I… I want to only touch…if you don’t mind” Manisha said touching herself. My heart sank. It was 20 minutes already. If I stop now, my manhood would subside to normal in another 10 minutes. But continuing foreplay would…
Before I could complete with the calculation and tell her, she turned around and….
(Continue your version in comments)
Two artists perplex me – Mouni Roy and Kevin McNally. I wouldn’t cast either for the roles they’re known for!
Joshamme Gibbs as Kevin McNally.
Kevin is a great theatre actor. First Mate Gibbs in POTC wasn’t great choice. I’ve even grown a beard like Gibbs to get an answer to my WHY Gibbs!!!
Tulsi to Naagin, Mouni Roy – WHY?!
Mouni made herself a brand of Indian tele. Best suited for negative roles, she grabbed the opportunity of Tulsi in KSBBT. WHY Naagin now???!
Nonetheless, both are artists and they have undertaken all artistic challenges with their roles and rocked them!
It’s absolutely fine to have sexual desires. Flings or one night stands are are not a disgrace. Enjoy your personal space and relax….
There’s no algorithm fot flings like in relationships. It’s intimacy. It doesn’t mind if a girl is pretty or she’s attractive. A good guy rocks the bed in a fling. That’s it. You have a separate guy to rock your life. That’s in a relationship. Explore your sexuality, being romantic, being lusted, being touched.
Why are flings sidelined? It’s the same as being in a relationship, only it’s not love. It’s lust. If a friend with benefits is offering you his or her sexual benefits. Why isn’t it declared???!
The friendliness of Friends have earned them the tag of ‘friendzoned’. If you aren’t Friends, not even on Facebook, yet you’ve caught each other’s attention, what are you waiting for?
Friendzoned isn’t going to help.Be Flingzoned…!!!
In September, reading blogs was based on analysis than content – thanks to Blogchatter’s campaign – My Friend Alexa! It was like staring at numbers.
It’s a good campaign. Increases visibility of a blog and author. Every blog climaxes with same words like:
“I’m taking my Alexa rank to next level with My Friend Alexa. My Alexa rank is: Global – 885,233. Rank in India– 85,233”
If you have an analysis, why read the blog?! Read the title and jump to the climax – The Alexa rank. If it has dropped, then continue reading. If not, then switch to next blog…!!!
Online Marketing gone wrong hits!
A blogger tweets about unchanged Alexa rank despite writing ‘n’ number of blogposts, sharing, linking and what not. I would like to tell this blogger that Quality matters over Quantity. Rank and age are numbers!
As a storyteller, you would be in a limbo, facing a wall if you emphasize on quantity. Quantity is numbers. What do you want to do as an author? Analyse OR Develop content?
(This blog is written on a lighter vein on My Friend Alexa campaign as promoted by BlogChatter. It is a part of #FridayFotoFiction which is separate campaign)
Last 30 words are edited on Nov 20 as I am no longer a part of #FridayFotoFiction campaign. The meaning remains the same.