Two nights before her 31st birthday, she looked into the mirror before she removed her lenses.
"Shit, I don't look bad at all," she began telling herself, "in fact I look good! Then why don't I still have a boyfriend? Why am I still a virgin?
"Everything else in my life happened with clockwork precision. I started learning the hymns from the age of five. I joined the dance class when I was eight. I gave my first stage performance at the age of nineteen.
"I started working when I was twenty-one, went to Harvard at twenty-two, returned three years later to get triple the salary. Ever since then, have been given handsome hikes and promotions every two years.
"Today my salary is about a lakh. Amma is happy. Appa is happy. They are happy not because of my salary and designation, but because I chose to come back. I can't find a better set of parents. They never try to persuade me to get marry. They tell me I am free to find my own guy.
"But why haven't I found a guy yet? Why am I still a virgin? Even at thirty-one?"
The next morning she shampooed her hair, slipped into the Marks & Spencer lingerie she'd bought only the Sunday before, and applied kajal and lip gloss standing half-naked in front of the mirror. Then she plucked out a pink Fab India kurta and a white pair of churidar from her wardrobe. "Not bad!" she silently exclaimed at the finished package in the mirror.
She waited all day for the clock to strike six. Five minutes before six, she went over to the cubicle of the hunk.
"Can we go for a drive after we wind up, and then do dinner somewhere?" she asked the hunk.
"Oh sure," the hunk said, "shall we go on my bike or in your car?"
"In my car, of course," she said.
The sun had long retired for the day when they finally set out. She debated between two destinations: Marina and the Besant Nagar beach. At Besant Nagar, she was likely to run into people she knew, but Marina promised anonymity. So Marina it was. She drove through Radhakrishnan Salai, drove past the statues of Sivaji Ganesan and Mahatma Gandhi, entered the service lane at Marina and parked between two large tourist buses.
The hunk, excited by the sight of the Marina at night, began to get out of the car.
"Wait," she said.
"What happened?" the hunk asked.
"Kiss me," she commanded.
"What?"
"Kiss me," she looked into his eyes.
"Oh ok, but..." he brought his mouth close to hers.
"But what?" she put her palm between their lips.
"I mean I am surprised. I thought you were a nice girl."
"Why, nice girls don't want to be kissed?"
"No, I didn't mean it that way. Just that I didn't expect you... I mean, you are such a nice girl."
"Shut up, just kiss me," she withdrew her palm.
And so they kissed.
While they kissed, the hunk tried to put his hand through the pink kurta in order to unhook the bra. He struggled his way up, and was barely half-way up her spine when she said: "Ok, leave it, leave it. I think I am hungry now. Let's go somewhere and eat."
"Are you sure?" the hunk asked.
"Very sure," she replied, as she switched on the ignition.
The hunk sat back.
"This is probably the worst kiss of my life," she told herself as they drove back into the madness of the city. Then the afterthought: "But how can I say it is the worst, when I have never kissed a man before?"
"Shit, I don't look bad at all," she began telling herself, "in fact I look good! Then why don't I still have a boyfriend? Why am I still a virgin?
"Everything else in my life happened with clockwork precision. I started learning the hymns from the age of five. I joined the dance class when I was eight. I gave my first stage performance at the age of nineteen.
"I started working when I was twenty-one, went to Harvard at twenty-two, returned three years later to get triple the salary. Ever since then, have been given handsome hikes and promotions every two years.
"Today my salary is about a lakh. Amma is happy. Appa is happy. They are happy not because of my salary and designation, but because I chose to come back. I can't find a better set of parents. They never try to persuade me to get marry. They tell me I am free to find my own guy.
"But why haven't I found a guy yet? Why am I still a virgin? Even at thirty-one?"
The next morning she shampooed her hair, slipped into the Marks & Spencer lingerie she'd bought only the Sunday before, and applied kajal and lip gloss standing half-naked in front of the mirror. Then she plucked out a pink Fab India kurta and a white pair of churidar from her wardrobe. "Not bad!" she silently exclaimed at the finished package in the mirror.
She waited all day for the clock to strike six. Five minutes before six, she went over to the cubicle of the hunk.
"Can we go for a drive after we wind up, and then do dinner somewhere?" she asked the hunk.
"Oh sure," the hunk said, "shall we go on my bike or in your car?"
"In my car, of course," she said.
The sun had long retired for the day when they finally set out. She debated between two destinations: Marina and the Besant Nagar beach. At Besant Nagar, she was likely to run into people she knew, but Marina promised anonymity. So Marina it was. She drove through Radhakrishnan Salai, drove past the statues of Sivaji Ganesan and Mahatma Gandhi, entered the service lane at Marina and parked between two large tourist buses.
The hunk, excited by the sight of the Marina at night, began to get out of the car.
"Wait," she said.
"What happened?" the hunk asked.
"Kiss me," she commanded.
"What?"
"Kiss me," she looked into his eyes.
"Oh ok, but..." he brought his mouth close to hers.
"But what?" she put her palm between their lips.
"I mean I am surprised. I thought you were a nice girl."
"Why, nice girls don't want to be kissed?"
"No, I didn't mean it that way. Just that I didn't expect you... I mean, you are such a nice girl."
"Shut up, just kiss me," she withdrew her palm.
And so they kissed.
While they kissed, the hunk tried to put his hand through the pink kurta in order to unhook the bra. He struggled his way up, and was barely half-way up her spine when she said: "Ok, leave it, leave it. I think I am hungry now. Let's go somewhere and eat."
"Are you sure?" the hunk asked.
"Very sure," she replied, as she switched on the ignition.
The hunk sat back.
"This is probably the worst kiss of my life," she told herself as they drove back into the madness of the city. Then the afterthought: "But how can I say it is the worst, when I have never kissed a man before?"
15 comments:
Only you can write this B!
Loved it! Esp the last line :-)
The Tomato
there again a good one:-)
Great post Ghosh Babu!
About the last line, you know what they say in Desi land about it, don't you?
Dehli ka ladoo, jo khaya woh bhi pachtaya, jo nahi khaya, wo bhi!
Peace!
Only you can Bhish.Good.
There was something so poignant about the piece..many years ago I had a conversation with a woman on a train and strangers sometimes reveal so much...she was single, earning well but had not met anyone yet..and being flooded with prposals that did not work.She was heading for an intensive vipasans course she said to get rid of "bad feelings"..spirituality to suppress a basic need...
Nice one! It is realistic and conveys the feelings from a woman's perspective so well. Unexpected from a male writer!
An article with the ultimate 'BG touch'!!!
whoa! incredible :)
Which is better? To voice one's true opinion or.....
I politely choose the latter.
u will nvr mend ur ways BG!!!
...every kiss other than the best is worst......we always know the worst ones while waiting,seaching or jus dying for the best one...the one that wipes off all the worst ones and indeed becomes the first ...the best ...isnt it mr. ghosh? anyways,jus now done with reading all of life in metro i had missed in the paper..... yesterday reading done chai,chai.....and tamrind city the day before....jus wanted u to know this ...if it means anything....
anon at 7:02 PM ha ha ha
Right anon at 7.02.
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