Nasty Note (1)
Smartly clever Miss Supriya! Why didn’t her strategic and syrupy words wield Suresh? Why she was failed to convey her elegant request to him this time? Surprised? She had begged Suresh to oblige her to get some pages xeroxed from Dr. Saini’s book on human values from bazaar. No problem! He was leaving for his own errands and particularly he too wanted to get his own pages xeroxed. Was it hard to oblige her? No. Ever idiot Suresh could thankful to her. He, with the surge of scorn, before listening to Supriya had shaken his head. in denial then flung neck muffler back with a dash and pouted. His refusal displeased Miss Supriya. He was deliberate teaser. Even genuinely humble and obsequious request did not acquiesce him. Could he never understand the importance of her assignment? Stupid, uncooperative did all what his whims commanded. He had perfidious designs. Supriya was in utter predicament. Suresh, her boyfriend had impolitely hurt her. Why Suresh was not a bit friendly with her Supriya surprised. Why he had grown far much adamant embarrassing her because of trivial reasons. Supriya was foolish. No. She was insensible. No. She sensed all things well. She understood his sizzling desire. She knew that it was the previous behaviour of her for him that forced him to take revenge. She had once inadvertently misbehaved with him and now he was determined to revenge upon her. Although, she was enormously remorseful for her previous treatment but Suresh’s stubbornness could ever melt easily? Much to her pain, she could never expect his denial so brazenly, so blatantly. Should a boy friend have done something in this fashion? Never before, he had offended her this way. Her emotions always commanded his heart. But now Suresh has apparently altered. He now dislikes accompanying with her any coffee shop. Even today he had turned down her humble request without any reason whatsoever. Why? Supriya exactly didn’t know the evident reasons but she could guess well what a guy could expect from a lass in return of accommodating her. She decided she would restore their friendship anyway. She would take care of his emotions and feelings. Suresh was sure enough one of the best classmates. And she had gifted him soothing opportunities many a time kissing her. Suresh just within a period of a month or two had entirely acquainted with her. He thought quite differently what Supriya could not anticipate. He had the opinion that Supriya is a sort of slut and cheater- miser and corrupt except for she is emotional to a great extent for friendship. She cheats on a dozen of guileless campus boys. And badly, she has no shy displaying her body before campus boys bossily. She, on one occasion put off her Kamiz and showed off her upper body while she was betting to a group of mischievous friends. The campus boys close to her, on watching the live show of undressing her, shouted noisily. “What the big breasts, yaar.” Supriya grinned shamelessly and pompously exclaimed. “Thanks for complements.” The boys with pleasure and wetting their tongues in lust continued to clapping their hands. They began to rub their libidos and unzipped their pants. “Saali, will you see my big shotgun” One of the boys pulled down his pant. A smile on her lips greeted the unzipped boys. “No, thank you” From that day on, she was crowned as vamp around campus. Her notoriety devastated Suresh’s senses. And he instantly decided to break relationship with her forever. “What a slut! Unashamed girl!” Everybody around the campus murmured to one another. When they glanced at her, they rubbed their pants close to zips. Suresh shocked that she had been grown to such a low profile that she could even sell her beauty for just no more than photostat leaves. Such kind of skinflint! By putting her nudity on show, she could coax university folks go for photostat with no payment at all. After the photostat or such type of the job, boys sometimes asked for money they spent but she had no other way but to grin wantonly. Even she felt least ashamed to encircle her arms like a necklace around guys’ necks to cajole them for no payment errands. The sheer tantalizing way to supply herself before sleazy boys caught them unendingly fired. And Suresh too was one of the preys of her rewarding (Actually unrewarding) coquetry. He had loved her many times. Yes! On lips particularly. Yes, she hated not to be kissed on lips like most Indian women. During initial days, Suresh would have thought that she was exclusively his sweetheart. Her darling, her honey, her sugar, her all things. Her protuberant breasts and squinting ways of glances were not just only herself possessions but also his belongings. He spent lavishly on her; often escorted her sumptuous city restaurant where rare of the rarest had the nerve to go with girl friends and washed out thousands un-mathematically. She was fond of stewed mackerel. It was the lone and exclusive restaurant in the city that supplied scrumptious mackerel. Sometimes, she would have insisted for halibut or broth. But Suresh was purely vegetarian. He would have loved to devour pastry pie or saucy butter dosa with brewing coffee. Moreover, Supriya had the disgusting habit of puffing classy cigarettes and spent more and more time in the vicinity of restaurant to flirt the boys. Thank God! Suresh hated smoking. An awful habit. He pulled up his nose whenever he watched her smoking. He knew that spending more time in restaurant means squandering more money. He would have advised her every so often to abandon smoking. Supriya would have remained unfazed. However, Suresh nowadays had bored with her company. But Could he break relationships so hastily? Certainly was he not earning importance within the circles of cronies? Suresh claimed the possession of her beautiful. boys envied him. And Suresh enjoyed it. He would sometimes discuss Supriya chapter with friends proudly and publicise their secrets. He would exaggerate them the fabricated stories. Friends, on having heard amorous anecdotes wowed, delighted; appreciated Suresh and titled him an outstanding honcho of lovers. They, when gathered in groups, hooted at Supriya’s way of showing off body and scoffed at her. Suresh told friends once they (he along with Sandhya) had tripped campus coffee shop. At that moment she looked sexy and starving for lovemaking. “Lovemaking means, if you all understand, yaaro. Just kissing and fondling. No more, no less” Suresh boasted. And then he mixed the peppery with the story opening a spicy secret. “Then I had begged her to kiss me and when she happened to bend over me for kiss I spotted a horde of guys passing through the aisle but Supriya did not take notice of them and she kissed me. The horde surprisingly bounced with elation- Look yaar, Miss Queen is fucking our yaar.” And a fit of hoot followed thereafter. Suresh continued to express his boasting. Campus guys had crowned her with the covetous title of Miss Queen. Good news! They had glorified her, esteemed her, valued her and moreover honoured her. The story took one and half hour to catch its happy ending. Later, someone stupid devalued Supriya with a title of Chaaloo-the vamp girl. She hated this title. How disgusting it was! She vowed she would never kiss anybody in open. Days after she forgot her disgusting title. How could she forget her queen crown? whenever she pondered over it or the words of applause hummed in her ears, her chest swelled up with pride. She took herself for truly queen. She was pretty beautiful in fact, tiny eyed lass and wonderingly had the ambition of being ‘Miss India’. “What a lucky man you are, Mr. Suresh!” Campus boys more often than not praised Suresh. Their words exalted him and he boastfully erected his neck as if a giraffe. “Yaaro listen, campus queen crazily loves our Suresh.” Comments enticed Suresh to date with her. He fixed his meeting with her every evening and loved her. “You are my beautiful queen, darling.” Supriya sparkled with laughs tossing a set of tassels back over her neck. The phrase Queen thrilled her and she let herself fall into his embrace. Suresh boastfully drew a pouch of roasted popcorn from inside pocket and munched slowly tossing into mouth one by one as if to show off if she is a queen then he is not less than a prince either. He ate popcorn to Supriya with lips. He placed a segment of popcorn onto his lower lip and begged Supriya to pick it with her lips. She- the beautiful queen- obeyed and then motioned to white clad waiter to come near them and on his appearance she ordered two bottles of Coca Cola. Suresh amazed why she did not ask for his choice either? Moreover, after the drinks finished, Supriya on hearing her praise from waiter pursued Suresh to give him mammoth tip. Suresh when frowned she ate one more segment with her lips and delighted him. He gave the waiter a fat tip. Money problem? No, it was not Suresh’s domain. He could splurge lavishly on girlfriends to make them happy. Supriya was his sweetheart. But mammoth tip to waiter always stung him. Supriya did not fritter even a single penny they move to restaurant or cafeteria. But Suresh did not mind. He in fact wanted to get Supriya happy. Why? He profoundly loved her. He wanted to spend more and more hours with his sweetheart, wished to caress her. No hidden thing. Her toned body was his soothing elixir. The love which bloomed a year back, which seemed true and platonic in its initial days, had now shifted into purest body love. But they both could not have the courage to reveal truth to friends, even to each other. Eating popcorn with lips somehow satisfied their lust and they enjoyed dating where popcorn eating is certainly invited. Miss Supriya was not marvellously pretty beautiful but much to surprise, she crazily dreamt of earning Miss India Crown. If her blue-tinged glinting eyes and black long hair were sufficient to earn the crown. No. Her friends were not quite optimistic. She regularly tied trendy bandanna or colourful ribbons to promote her personality but university guys (who were jealous to Suresh) had nothing to do with her personality or dreams. They sizzled to see her bustline and hunted for sleeping with her. They were all prepared to buy her love even spending their pocket money and hostellers were ready to squander even their long-waited money orders over her. Suresh was amazed even some hostellers knew her periods. They discussed it mockingly in their hostel rooms. During periods if someone all of a sudden bumped into her he asked her to show Jalwa. Supriya clearly could not understand their meaning (to show off breasts) and grinned. “I will show you another day.” The wayward boys laughed tauntingly. During menses day, Supriya grew sullen and exhausted and she walked strangely as if legs separating from pelvis and her gait became the source of their mockery. They mimicked her insultingly and remarked. “Look buddy, a ghost is creeping between our queen’s legs. “Wow! They look really very sexy yaar.” A friend spoke to another with a sarcastic grin over his face. “In fact, they are lovely magic wands.” Another crony answered derisively. “I think they are artificial yaar. Don’t you?” The first one then spoke with a surprise in his voice. “No, they are real yaar.” Another stressed the word ‘real’ and chuckled. “Could she fleece body organs from any other you think? Are they photostat-leaves?” A senior boy who was wearing his trousers purred narrowing eyes. Then jerked his shoulders vaguely. “Suresh once told me.” Another whispered. “Suresh? Shrugged trouser senior. “Her lover, yaar” “You can say him the lovely magic wand’s lover.” Another crony winked and grinned afterwards. “True?” Both laughed lasciviously. “Hundred percent, yaar. You don’t believe?” “He bastard is a fortunate man.” Another murmured with smile. “No, imp man yaar, I can imagine.” The first one yelled. “But our campus queen likes him either he is imp or god. She has nothing to do with his evil spirit.” “You know she kisses him openly” “Wow! Yaar, ask her kiss me, my cheeks are itching” And it followed a burst of laugh. They all shrieked wildly, clapped, danced and romped. Over a week, someone told Suresh about her prize of one thousand rupees she earned participating in a ‘Fancy Dress Competition.’ Why didn’t Supriya herself tell him? He grew sulked. Boastfully, he would have explained to hostel friends their mutual understanding and he was proud of her friendship. What would have their friends thought? I damn your friendship, cheat. you know my heart is bruised. He knew that Supriya had participated in fancy dress competition organised by Shri Ram Mandir Committee on the eve of auspicious day of Janam Ashtmi. Supriya had played the adorning role of seraphic Radha and Rohit, her classmate was given the role of Lord Krishna who had nothing to do but for playing flute artistically onto his artificial pinkish tender lips. Most of their friends had watched the show. After the show, the president of the committee had conferred to them mementos and one thousand rupees cash to Supriya. Everybody present there had the knowledge of her achievement. Suresh too had watched them but the news of winning prize was new to him. When they were honoured, Suresh was confused. Why he could not watch her getting prize? Supriya happily had told about her prize to all friends except for Suresh. Why so? Had he been a man of low worth, little value? He grew emotionally perturbed but neither he did complain nor show any sort of tantrum to her like freak lovers. Supriya felt ashamed why she could not tell her achievement? Indeed Suresh did not want her participation with Rohit even detested her intimacy with him. The evening someone told him about Supriya’s prize, next morning he saw Supriya’s photograph in popular Hindi daily Punjab Kesri getting prize from the president of Mandir Committee, Rohit standing huddled against her, smiling and exchanging looks with her, showing off close friendship between them. Burnt Suresh instantly resolved to penalise Supriya. Supriya was ready to get punishment she allowed him what she desired to placate his lust. Supriya’s family: She was the single difficult daughter of her parents, lovely, too much pampered. Mother was staunch religious, generous and pure at heart lady, devoted to ‘Ram Sharnam Institute of Spirituality’. She always remained worried about daughter. And father, sheer opposite to mother, an audacious police cop, far much agonistic, atheist, hated religious rituals at home but vivacious in love with spouse. Daughter Supriya was his world, exclusive gem and diamond. He cared for her. And she almost begged father to get leaves of concerned book xeroxed. Father always had a gentleman promise. He was by rank no more than sub police inspector but clever too much and had the dares to send off his subordinates for individual errands. Too brainy, even so, not used to fleece people by the way of getting in cash but in jewellery and no end of saving documents. He indeed was cunning and shrewd police cop but people thought him a gentleman, an intelligent cop, a fine fellow; for he generally did no longer harass innocuous folks as other cops often. Sometimes, he manipulated criminals’ reports such a way to cough out hard cash money but general public had nothing to with his methods to deal with criminals. He had the opinions that police cops always should restore public faith. every possible way and what he said the same he acted. Once father was deputed for three months training at Shimla headquarter and Supriya in his absence fell into difficulty. There was none at home who could go for errands. All the servants too had gone for leaves except for the slothful home guard who had been unofficially deputed to their home protection. And then Supriya had no other way but to pursue Suresh to get her study notes xeroxed mostly ever without payment. And after some time, it became her habit to swindle boys with her coaxing. However, the crisis was that how she spend money. Had she heart to spend on friends? No, ultimately it was the prize money. For friends, one thousand rupees might be scant amount but for Supriya it had colossal value. It was her rare prize money she achieved first time in her campus life. Her honour. Her euphoria. She wanted to spend on something memorable. Once, in a fit of social service, she decided to dole out money among penurious folks. But it was an ugly idea. Stupid- more than ugly. How it came in her mind? How rubbish! So, this idea entirely didn’t move her mind. She rejected it right away then shook her head and shot out. Could she eliminate the poverty of country dishing out one thousand rupees? Next day, with the suggestion of her ‘Fancy Dress Competition’ co-participant, she thought of buying books of foreign writers particularly Americans. Fiction, no doubt was her obsessive passion. Indian fiction writer and columnist Khushwant Singh’s erotica-‘ The Company of Women’ was her much loved book. She had read it twice. Also, in her little library, she had the complete set of John Grisham’s fiction. A few books of American writers such as Danielle Steel and Sidney Sheldon could also be discovered in her tiny library. Rohit- her co-participant had recommended her many a time to read good fiction works of Indian writers but she had no minute to read others except for ‘Manto’s short stories. Why? Did she know? Khushwant Singh’s erotica (The Company of women) oh loving! She was mad for it. His protagonist’s different sex encounters with women burnt her with desires. She sometimes imagined herself as if she too was one of the women who frolicked in love game with the protagonist. One night, she had a strange dream. The protagonist of the novel had stuck shotgun between her legs and a moment later, the mouth of the gun itself began travelling from the back of calves to thighs and into her libido. Sometimes later, shotgun changed into penis. Erected one. Then she saw a faceless man pulling down her panties. Suddenly she awoke, she shivered. Disgusting dream. She smacked her clenched fist onto forehead repeatedly to dispel the ghost of ugly thoughts away. She gulped two three full glasses of chilled water and cooled off her body beneath bathroom shower to drive out the least possibilities of emergence of thoughts again. Definitely, the pornography had led her into emotionally and madly sensuous crisis. A week later, when she came across Poonam- her class girl, she begged. “Yaar, save me. I’m dying. I see horrible dreams” Poonam was lesbian. She had sometimes licked her cheeks to salve her body. On being asked, she revealed her every truth, Poonam reassured her. “Relax yaar, relax. This book will restore you instead, read again.” “What are you talking about Poonam dear? It is an erotica, pornography, not a book on morality. How it would restore me, darling?” Poonam noticed the quavering excitement in her voice. “Don’t ever think about your damage. You definitely be repair, I have a remedy.” Poonam counselled her to put off her Kamiz. She wanted to massage her body. “I fear I would feel his presence on my bed every night, yaar. Last night I was wet. Even in day time, I feel he crawls between my legs. And it is going from many days” After massage, Poonam took a swift look at her blossomed bustline then remarked. “What a big apple yaar. I envy it.” She then reached out her both hands and grabbed. Supriya pushed her back. “Stupid, go to hell” “Someday, come to my room, yaar. Won’t you?” She afterwards giggled and ascended upstairs speedily. Supriya nodded but she hated the idea of loving her body by a woman. She knew why Poonam had invited her in her room. And she herself finally concluded that pornography is a cheap literature. The more you read, the more you get paranoid and depressed. She decided not buy any pornography in future. She decided she would burn down the all porn books she had possessed in her tiny library. Next morning, on the way to department, Supriya accidentally came across Neerja, dusky colour lass. She was her routine acquaintance. She greeted her as she shook hands with her. What was stirring up inside Supriya compelled her to hunt for suggestions from her too. Neerja was not beautiful. She had freckles onto her face but her heart was beautiful. Supriya loved her heart therefore she respected her. She might give her good suggestions for the utilisation of prize money. Supriya thought. Neerja who was unfamiliar to her achievement first delighted to hear about award and congratulated her, then lavished praise on her as she wisely chose the wonderful role of pious Radha then she jokingly advised her to give party to friends. She also suggested the menu of Samosas and Mithai. Supriya outrightly turned down her silly advices and let Neerja walk off. Then she frowned, made her mouth ballooned and showed wrath jostling her new golden spires. She decided she would never talk to Neerja in future. Next, she joined a guy strutting out the other side and confirmed with him the time and set right her wrist watch. Apart from her, she got advices from various other quarters also. Nobody could have satisfied her. Now, it was the only Suresh left who could guide her as how to use the prize money. She approached him. Suresh optimistically recommended her to buy a fine quality Kashmiri Shawl. It could facilitate her need for; the winter season was just coming. And, Suresh obviously knew that she had only two- three shawls at all and needed two three more. His suggestion wonderfully charmed her and Supriya welcomed it. She asked him over tea to accompany with her to market. Suresh nodded and programme was positively chalked out. At evening, Suresh drove her plush downtown sector seventeen market and pulled up his old Fiat car in front of a gaudy showroom. Supriya amazed. Could she get a fine quality shawl from this expensive showroom? Could Suresh intentionally want to insult her before the market people? They entered the showroom, the man on the counter smiled. He seemed shrewd businessman. He displayed a large variety of shawls. They were super quality. Supriya liked many. Supriya rejected all as they all were more than one thousand rupees. Supriya tried to haggle over price but showroom owner was astute shopkeeper. After half an hour abortive bargain, they came out of the showroom. Supriya wanted to buy one good shawl she was fond of. It was white colour shawl brocaded with gold patterns. Could she not borrow money from Suresh? She looked into his eyes hopefully but he was not essentially ready to fritter away money on shawl like thing. The younger son of the showroom owner was Suresh’s familiar. He was more cunning businessman than his father. He raced after customers and grabbed Suresh’s hand, brought them back. “Bhai Sahib, Bhai Sahib believe us, your like customers are our showroom grace. Is that how could we cheat on you, sir?” “Your prices are very high” Supriya complained. “Madam, speak to us very clear how far much can you pay for this piece?” Shopkeeper’s son articulated. Supriya again hopefully looked at her boy friend. Suresh reluctantly came over to shopkeeper and sounded something slowly to him. Shopkeeper’s son nodded. “It would be fine, sir” And he again spread out the pile of poor quality shawls before them. Supriya disappointedly began to rummage beneath the large pile again and fished out one sober looking shinning shawl of turmeric colour. It too was lower quality but appeared expensive and trendy. Its coloured seemed original “Fantastic choice, madam.” The showroom guy came out with usual smile. “It’s a unique colour, madam.” The owner at once on hearing beamed and stared into Supriya as he couched into his reclining chair. “I too appreciate and recommend you madam to buy this one. It’s really a unique piece.” “Price?” Suresh asked with superficial panic. “Sir, for you, price is no problem. We’ll not take extra from you, sir.” He grinned skilfully. “Customers satisfaction is in fact our motto, sir.” His shrewd salesmanship attitude irked Supriya. She stared into owner’s eyes and laughed gravely. “Please tell us the reasonable price, Bhai Sahib.” She asked resignedly as she nibbled her nails showing she was in the state of utter puzzlement. “No bargaining please. We’re no longer clever people.” “Madam, you are our nice customer. Is that how could we cheat on you?” He then took calculator, danced his fingers with its buttons, narrowed his eyes, put his chin over his palm and mechanically calculated thereafter. “Madam, for you it’s only one thousand and fifty, exact price.” He grinned again with more silliness and Supriya pulled her nose as she disliked his silly smile. With his jump up and back while talked them, he seemed them as if a mucky frog. “This like shawl, we have retailed in one thousand ninety, madam, not less even a paisa.” Supriya surprised into Suresh’s eyes to gauge his choice but Suresh looked disinterested. “I’ll give you eight hundred, exact price.” Supriya declared as she stopped nibbling. “Oh, sorry madam.” The owner spoke abruptly.
Copyright © 2006 Ashwini Ahuja |