Tag Archives: Joybrato Dutta

Ishaq da Dhaaba – Day 1

By Joybrato Dutta

how-to-live-life

Note – Had written a play long back. This is the edited version of it. 

Zindagi jhand hai phir bhi ghamand hai, charo aur ladkiya hai phir bhi haatho mein …….. Sheher mein rehta to ghamand ko kayi baar thes pahunchta. Yehi soch kar mai wapas apne gaon Chamiyatown chala aaya. Socha koi dhanda shuru kar lunga. Sheher ne do cheezey sikhayi thi –  ghodo par betting aur doosro ki setting. Betting ke paise abb setting se doogna karne ke vichar se mai gaon mein ek pyaar ka consultant ban gaya.

Abb gaon mein TVC, radio spot, print ad, poster, dangler, loha lasoon prakaar ki advertising to hoti nahin. To main bhopu lekar shuru ho gaya

Deviyo aur sajjano

Suniye suniye aur sunte jaiyye

Intezar ki ghadi hui khatam

Mohabbat ki kaksha mein abb aap aayenge pratham

Ameer ho ya gareeb

Hamesha hoga koi na koi kareeb

So kholiye dil ka darwaza

Kyunki aa gaya Ishaq da dhaaba

By the way this has nothing to do with Ramdev Baba

Iske saath hi maine bajaya gaon ka most romantic gaana “Khulla hai mera pinjra aa meri maina, chura na aise ankhiyaan ladne de naina, Haaaaaaaaaaan”

Pehle grahak ne kadam rakkha. Yeh the Humraaz gang ke leader Abbas Gwaala.

Abbas – aur hero dhanda kaise chal raha hai

Me – Bas bhaai dua hai aapki

Abbas –  Bhaai se dua hi lega ki kuch dega bhi

Me – hukum kijiye bhaai

Abbas Bhaai mere table par padey kuch ex and y Miss Chamiyatown ke photos dekhne lagey.

Abbas – yeh laundiya jawan lagti hai, kitne ki hai

Me – ji pachhis ki

Abbas – sau ya hazar

Me – ji matlab

Abbas – abbey pachhis sau ki ya pachhis hazar ki

Me – ji yeh pachhis saal ki hai

“Abbey rate bata”

Me(clearing my throat) – Bhaai mai date set karta hun rate nahin

Abbas – abbey kamaal karta hai. Naam hai dhaaba aur jab khaane ka daam poocha to mana karta hai

Me – ji aapko galat faimi hui, mai yahan ladkiyo ke saath setting karwaata hun. Aggar aapko kisi se pyaar hai to mai aapki setting karwa sakta hun.

Abbas (disappointed) – Abbey pyaar to humko har doosre din hota hai. Aur setting ka kya hai ladki ke ghar 2000 bhej deta hun. Maani to theek, nahin to uthwa leta hun.

Me (in a very phati huyi condition) – Bhaai aap rockstar ho. Par kar kisi ke paas aap aapke jitney suvidhayein uplabdh  nahin. To unki madad karne ke liye maine yeh dukaan khola hai.

Abbas bhaai left with dejection. Pehla grahak disappointed. Bad omen. But himmat nahin haari maine.

Doosra grahak tha gaon sabse coolest playboy. Naam tha Abhi Dey

Aate hi bole Abhi dey

Me – Kya dun?

Abhi – Abbey naam hai mera Abhi Dey

Me – Maaf karna par kaafi raub jama kar bheekh maangte ho aap

Abhi – yo man. English talk to me. Hindi is below aukaat.

Me – Ok. So do you like anyone?

Abhi – Girl name Rita, sister name Sita, mother name Sangeeta, and babuji sells pheeta. Aur usi ne my heart jeeta

Me (after cracking the riddle) – Babuji ne?

Abhi – Ritaaaaaaaaaaaa Rita  you fool

Me – So do you love her?

Abhi – No no no. Her body big. Backside bigger. I want the girl. Ma babuji want bachha. Total mamla sex mein nipta.

Me – Sorry but I don’t deal in sex. I will help you only if you are in love.

Abhi – Don’t panga with me. I see gory filmein all day and I watch 60′s ka porn. Mera setting karwa else I’ll tell everyone that you sell such cheap stuff.

Yeh keh ke Abhi Dey ne humaari le li aur nikal liye.

Sar phat chukka tha aur pichwada chipak chukka tha. Itne mein ek bewde ne kadam rakha. Andar aaye aur bade pyaar se apne tashreef ko kursi par rakh diya.

Me – Ji mai kaise aapki seva kar sakta hun

Bewda – ek chicken tandoori, ek kaleji fry aur paanch naan. Aur thande mein kya hai?

Me – Abbey mere ko dhaabe ka waiter samjha hai kya?

Bewde – Abbey maal maara hai kya. Baahar itne bade board mein Dhaaba likha hai.

Me – ji yeh Ishaq ka dhaaba hai

Bewda – Ishaq? Veg hai ya non-veg

Kisi tarah apne gusse ko shaant karke maine uss bewde ko baahar nikaala. Thaka hara mai wapas apni kursi par baitha ki woh balkhaate huye aa gayi. Chamiyatown ka official speaker Miss Bhookhi Sawant.

Bhookhi – Ji mai Bhooki

Me – Kamaal karti hai aap, itno ko khaa chuki hai aap, phir bhi….…

Bhookhi – Ji mai Jejus par bahut trust karti hun. Jejus ne hamesha mera saath diya. Jesus har dukh mein mere saath rehte hai. Jejus nahin hotey to main nahin hoti. Kal raat Jejus mere sapne mein aaye, boley aapki dukan mein mujhe Jejus jaisa ladka milega. To mai  Jejus jaisa ladka dhundne aayi hun.

Me – ji yeh to thoda tough hai

Bhookhi – dekjhiye aagar aap meri help nahin karenge to Jejus bahut naraaz honge.

Me (dharam sankat mein) – dekhiye waise to ek ladka hai. Aaj ke yug mein wahi Jejus hai.

Bhookhi – kya naam hai?

Me – TRP

Bhookhi – ji?

Me – Aaj ke date mein TRP hi Jejus hai, wahi decide karta hai kaun jeeta kaun haara, kaun hit hai kaun flop hai. Aapke liye TRP hi sabse apt hoga. Main jald hi aapki setting karwaata hun.

Bhookhi Sawant khush ho gayi apni cleavage ki ek jhalak dikhakar chali gayi.W0h dekh kar mere dil mein dhande ko aage badhane ka jazba utpann huwa.

Aa gaye agle grahak. Pyaar mein harey huye ek bhookhe sher. Naam tha inka Sheikh Baval.

Me – to Baval ji, kya karte hai aap

Baval – Ji mai photographer hun

Me – waah lajawab. To kahiye aapko kissey pyaar hai

Baval – Apne chitro se

Baval Ji ne kuch dus ladkiyo ki tasveero ko mere saamne rakh diya.

Me – Ji aapka collection to mere se bhi zyaada hai. Do chaar tasveere mai bhi rakh sakta hun kya?

Baval – haath mat lagaana mere tasveero ko. Mai yeh tasveere sirf apne paas rakhta hun. Na kisi ko deta hun, na Facebook par upload karta hun.

Me – Magar aapko inme se pyaar kissey hai?

Baval – Jo mere se sabse pehle pategi, mujhe usi se pyaar hai. Waise inme se paanch ki shaadi ho chuki hai, aur baaki paanch ki honey waali hai.

Me (dumbfounded) – Ji yeh to kaafi kathin aur beimaani waala kaam hai.

Baval – Agar tumne mera yeh kaam kiya to mai tumhaare tasveero ko itna raunchy bana dunga ki agle 5 janmo tak tumhe apne facebook ki profile pic change karne ki zaroorat nahin padhegi.

Abb aise deal se kaun inkaar kare. Baval ji jhush huye aur nikal liye.

Shaam ho gayi thi. Dukaan bandh karne ka waqt ho gaya tha. Mai bas nikalne ki taiyyari kar hi raha tha ki, aa gaye ek aur grahak. Naam tha inka Toy Toota.

Toy – Ji hum Toy hai

Me – To kahiye Toy Ji kisne aapko chaabi ki

Toy – Ek Punjaaban ne. Naam hai Darupikar Hawan

Me – Waah kya madhosh naam hai. Koi tasveer hai aapke paas

Toy – Ji mere blog pe hai. Aapke yahan net connection hai?

Me – Ji hai. Link bataiye

Toy – bakchodi.slogspot.com

Me – waah kya naam hai

Toy – achha jab aapne blog khola hi hai to mere do chaar posts padh ke phatafat comment kijiye na

Me – ji zaroor padhunga, pehle aap apni kahani to bataiyye

Toy – arey main kahan bhaaga jaa raha hun. Padhiye comment kijiye phir baat karte hai

Cut to 4 posts par comment karne ke baad

Me (pareshan ho kar) – Toy ji abb to bataiyye. Koi tasveer hai aapke paas

Toy Ji ne tasveer nikaal ke saamne rakh di

Me – Toy Ji daru ki nahin Darupikar ki tasveer dikhaiye

Finally Toy Ji ne apne album mein kaafi ladkiyo ki tasveero mein se ek tasveer nikal ke diya.

Allah kasam ladki to Allah taala ki nayamat lag rahi thi. Shakal soorat aur size se lagg raha tha ki kaafi raes ghar ki ladki hogi. Toy Ji jaise jaise uske bare bolne lage, humara charitra waise waise phisalta gaya.

Kahani ke anth tak humey Darupikar se pyaar ho gaya. Phir humara imaan jaag utha. Humey laga ki yeh dukaan humne doosro ki bhalai ke liye kholi hai. Lekin phir humne socha ki agar dhande mein munafa na ho to dhande ka fayda kya. To humne Toy Ji ko bhatkaana shuru kiya.

Me – Toy ji, bura mat maniye par humko laundiya theek nahin lagi

Toy – kaisi baatey kar rahe ho, ladki to achhi hai. Hrisht-pusht bhi hai

Me – Kahan Toy Ji? Ladki kitni peeti hai, peene ke baad kitni ulti karti hogi. Abb aap to samjhenge, kal ko gharwaalo par ulti kar di to, phir mohalle waalo par. Aisi ladki ke saath……..

Toy – bakwas kar rahein hai aap. Uske bare bura mat kahiye. Woh meri maal hai.

Me – Toy Ji, zara apne hunar ko pehchaniye. Aap itne jaane mane blogwriter hai, aapke dil mein hi nahin album mein bhi ladkiyo ki bheed hai. Aap chahe to kya kuch nahin kar sakte. Arey aap jis par ungli rakhenge wahi pategi. In fact aapke liye mere nazar mein ek bahut hi khoobsoorat ladki hai.

Tasveer dekhte hi Toy Ji ke totey udd gaye. Hawaon ne rukh moda. Pyaar ki raah se digress hokar Toy Ji abb Hawas ki raah par chal pade.

Toy – yehi yehi chahiye mujhe. Aap bhagwaan ho. Item ki dukaan ho, nahane ka saaman ho. Mujhe isi ladki ke saath setting karni hai.

Toy Ji ko maine kiya setting ka vaada. Toy Ji khush hokar chale gaye. Humne bhi apni dukaaan ki shutter down kari. Dil khush tha, kyunki mujhe iss dhande ki taakt samajh aa chuki thi.

Mujhe yakeen tha

Gaon mein Ishaq da dhaaba aisi aag lagayegi

Ki Hawas ke pujariyo ki band bajj jaayegi

Dhaaba closed for the day!!!

My First Beer

By Joybrato Dutta

Q – What happens when a girl breaks a guy’s heart?

 Ans. – Two guys become the best of friends.

joy4Pic – Firangi and I flagging out our favourite T-shirts. Below you’ll notice a black thing. It’s CMKT’s trunk. 

It was a winter evening of 2003. Firangi and I were sitting in our balcony, speaking about topics which didn’t make sense (about love).  Amidst that mist we chanced upon a guy carrying a crate full of beer.

Cut to across the road. We were staring at a board which read ‘ADITYA WINE AND BEER SHOP’.

We had never tried alcohol nor were we too friendly with louts who were fond of it. Hum to apne Maa-baap ke ache bache the. As a result we weren’t really too sure of the brand and the kind. So considering the budget and the TV ads we decided to get a ‘Haywards 5000’.

As we were about to enter the shop, my girlfriend called. She sorted out our differences.

Now, wait a minute, I was about to get drunk because that’s what grown ups with broken hearts do. Now that the damage was re-paired (pun intended), I had no reason to drink. But I couldn’t leave a man behind. So I stormed into the shop and ordered for two Haywards 5000.

Initially my request was turned down, because we were under-age (we forgot about that). But then I told him that I was from Bihar and my friend was from U.P. That worked. We got the bottles to our apartment.

There was one more problem. My room-mate CMKT was the Nerdiest (MS Word says that’s not a real word) creature on the planet. He wouldn’t allow us to turn our educational abode into a bar. So, we decided to savour it before he returns. No sooner did this idea dawn upon us than the door-bell rang. CMKT was back. Panic struck. Somehow we managed to hide the bottles in a trunk. In CMKT’s trunk.

He came in and looked at our faces. We were trying to hide the expression of hiding the bottles. As usual he wanted to study, so he walked into his room and opened his trunk to take out his books.

Have you even been unfortunate enough to watch the entire episode of any Ekta Kapoor soap? You’ll surely see a scene where a particular reaction is replayed thrice, just to reiterate the significance of that particular emotion. That’s exactly what his reaction was. He lectured us in a dad-like way. Like prodigal sons Firangi and I took the bottles and walked into the other bedroom.

Beer tasted like shit the first time. But we were so used to taking shit from our fate that we continued consuming it. Finally we finished our beer. We weren’t drunk but we wanted to be drunk, so we got drunk.

Piece of gyaan – Alcohol makes you brave.

Firangi and I stormed into CMKT’s room and abused him in a way he couldn’t imagine. We scared the shit out of that poor thing. We abused him using words like Loser, Virgin, and a few harsh ones. He was devastated. Before his sars could start bleeding, his eyes started peeing. He left the room in tears.

Such was the experience; we decided to face it more times.

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And that was the beginning of the two greatest alcoholics our friends will ever know.

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My First Step Towards Corruption

By Joybrato Dutta

When I was in the 5th grade, life seemed a lot more complicated. I had to complete my homework, and the ones my tuition teacher bestowed on me. Once that was over, I had to study for my weekly exam. That’s not all, I also had to maintain my reputation of being the hero of my locality.

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tata-motors-005My school was supported by a missionary, where we were always taught about equality, of course in English. And every time we spoke in Hindi, we got penalised. Caste and status were words that never existed in our minds. We wore a common uniform and all our dads worked in TELCO (now TATA Motors). Everything was so beautiful.

Then one fine day, they arrived.

c00002-aThe people from HelpAge India (An NGO that claims to take care of elderly people by sucking the sweat and blood of yet-to-be teenagers).

Task – Every student of our class had to collect money for them. Basically we had to go around begging, only for a more noble cause (similar to most chanda-waalas). We were given a form, on which we were supposed to write names of the people who contribute and the amount.

 The student who collected the maximum amount would get a grand prize.

Deadline – A weekend

 As soon as the sun rose on Saturday, my friends and I set out to achieve our targets.

My gang: Bittu (the tallest guy in our class, an ardent cricket lover and a fantastic player himself), Pappu (brilliant athlete, a role model for all lechers), Franky (a wannabe Stephen Halking. Currently he’s known as Hertz). Pony (she got that name because of her weird pony tail. She also happened to be the cutest girl in our class) and me (a wannabe……… back then I just couldn’t decide)

We decided that we will start with my apartment. Our fingers were crossed as we rang the doorbell of our first victim. Mr. Pandey. He opened the door and said “What are you kids doing so early on a Saturday morning?Aaj chutti hai na? Jao so jao. Pony made the cutest face possible and said “Uncle we need money for HelpAge India”. Mr. Pandey took her form and said “Yeh school waale bhi na, bachho se majduri karwate hai ”. He looked at all our faces and said “You know what, I can give you something better than money. Chocolates!!!.

Dhishuum. No, he didn’t punch us, but that was the name of the chocolate he gave us. Back then you could buy three for a rupee. And then with a smiling face he shut the door.

Well, it didn’t really start as we had expected. But we didn’t lose hope. The next victim was Mr Mukherjee. He somehow felt sorry for us and gave us ten rupees, each. We tasted success in the next few encounters and by the time we were done with my apartment we had collected hundred rupees each.

It meant a lot. We did a group high-five and moved to the apartments across the road.

Little did we know, that our next prey would change our perspectives forever. Mrs. Prasad. A short fat woman in her mid fifties with a voice that can scare away ghosts. As soon as we told her about our mission she screamed, “idhar J-type mein kyun aaye ho, woh P-type waalo se kyun nahin lete”.

We were dumbfounded. We were clueless. Why would she say that?

That’s when we discovered that there were 4 kinds of apartments (P, M, N and J) in TELCO Colony and it’s given to the employees as per their designations in the company. P-type being the highest in the order and J type being the lowest.

I stayed in a P-type and for the first time, a feeling of superiority crept in. Bittu and Pony also stayed in a P-type, Franky in a M-type (2nd in rank) and Pappu in a J type.

We looked at Pappu with a look suggesting that he stayed in a pathetic neighbourhood. I told my gang to ignore J-type completely. Everyone agreed, except Pappu. He didn’t want to disown his neighbourhood. A small tussle followed and then we parted ways.

We decided that we’ll collect minimum fifty rupees from everyone in a P-type, thirty from the residents of M-type and ten rupees from the people staying in N-type.

The plan was fruitful. By the end of the day we had collected a lot of money. Most families co-operated. Of course there were a few who mistook us to be ‘chanda waalas’. And then there were those, who simply offered their blessings.

Pony called that night, “You know how much Pappu has collected? Twenty five hundred already”. I was startled. How was that possible? How could those poverty stricken souls of J-type contribute more than the affluent residents of P type. Then, I realised something, TELCO colony was a mini representation of our country. More poor people than rich. There were more J-types than the number of P-types.

Next morning we got together and discussed Pappu’s success. We were jealous and angry. More importantly we weren’t ready to accept defeat from a J-type lout. Just then we saw Pappu walking towards a P-type. We stopped him.

What followed next was something we had never thought of before. We uttered words we didn’t know existed. We made it clear that he cannot enter our compound because he does not belong here. He isn’t one of us.

Tears rolled down his eyes. We had never seen him like that. The fastest runner in our class used all his skills to run away from us. We looked at each other with a sense of pride. It was victory for us. We had chased away our rival. But, even in that auspicious moment a feeling of guilt clouded our minds.

We had just one more day to finish the task. And we were not going to leave any leaf unturned. We took out our bicycles and journeyed out to accomplish the mission. The scorching sun and the fearsome traffic could not dampen our spirits. We decided that we should try going separate ways. That way we could visit more people.

I started with the families I knew. My dad held quite a significant position in the company and also he was a popular doctor. I knew no one would turn me down. In fact, they were all very polite to me. They didn’t just give me the money but also gave me a glass of Rasna. A few of them were kind enough to take me around and make sure that their neighbours also helped me with the money.

We regrouped in my house at 4 PM. It was time for our favourite programme The Swat Cats. Also, we could now calculate the amount. Pony was leading. Women, they always get the edge. She had hundred rupees more than me. Damn!!! But I was glad that at least the winner will be from amongst us.

We kept wondering what our reputation will be like from now on. Everyone will respect us. Teachers won’t give us homework. And even if they give, our seniors will do it. Because they all will know that we are the richest in the school. Our dads are the richest.

Bittu spoke to a few other classmates and we figured that we had collected a lot more than anyone else. Phew!!! We all breathed a sigh of relief. But we all were scared of Pappu. He could beat us. There were a lot more J-types. That’s when Franky came up with an awesome plan.

We stormed out of our apartments and went straight to Pappu’s house. There we learnt that he was out collecting money. We cycled around the entire area but couldn’t find him. Depressed and dejected we returned to our usual hangout place –Tanki (a huge water tank).

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There we saw Pappu sitting in one corner. We walked up to him. The moment he saw us he came and hugged us. He said that he wanted to be friends again.

It was time to execute Franky’s plan. He looked at Pappu and told him that only under one condition will we befriend him. He’ll have to back out from this contest. Pappu felt cheated. He said he can’t do it because he had already collected money. Franky said that we all can contribute his money.

After a long discussion and a lot of brain-washing with a hint of cuteness (thanks to Pony), Pappu got convinced. He said that he’ll give the money if we promise to donate it. We assured that we will do it. After all, we wanted to win the contest. There was reluctance in his heart but alacrity on his face. Pappu agreed.

Next morning as I entered school Franky pulled me aside. Bittu and Pony were also there. Franky said that we won’t donate Pappu’s money; instead we all can share it and party with it. “It’s a lot of money and we could go to Sector Market and have Chicken Chowmin and drink as many bottles of cold drinks as we want. More importantly we were going to win anyways because our contribution would be the maximum”, he said. I agreed since everyone else had agreed.

Finally after the end of the day our class-teacher came with a member of Helpage India. “Class, this is Mr. Ojha and he will announce the name of the student who contributed the most”. Mr Ojha, a feeble looking man, started with his boring speech of how much this money meant to his organisation and how he  touched he was to see such an overwhelming response and …blah…blaaah…blaaah. We just couldn’t wait. Why the fuck does he have to get into all these formalities. Just announce the name of the winner and fuck off. Your organisation meant nothing to us. All we cared about was the grand prize.

And at last after a long monotonous speech he announced “The student who contributed the most is……. Yash Roy.

What!!!!! Who the fuck is Yash? Ohh yes, I remembered him the moment that douche bag stood up. Did he even exist? He was a loser. How the hell did he get so much money? Where the hell does he stay? What does his dad do? These were the questions running in my mind. I’m sure the rest of my gang also felt the same. Pony was shattered. She thought she would win it.

All of a sudden Yash had become a renowned figure. We got to know that his dad was a rich businessman and it was him who made the whole contribution because Yash never went around collecting money.

A few days later a list was put up, which stated the amount each one had contributed. We were shocked. Pony was second. I was third. Bittu and Franky followed. Yash’s contribution was just three hundred rupees more than Pony’s.

It also implied that if we had used Pappu’s contribution we could have won the contest by a huge margin. If only. But alas!! We gave Franky an angry stare and then started walking towards our class.

Pappu came running to us and said, “Hey guys I am sorry that even my contribution couldn’t help you win”. I felt ashamed of what we did. My eyes couldn’t meet his. In that moment of shame and guilt all I could say was “Hey Pappu, you are a true friend, you were of great help. Come I will give you a treat in Sector Market. Let’s go and eat some Chicken chowmin.” And together we all went to Sector Market.

 

 

 

Chingaari!!!

By Joybrato Dutta

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Do you know why people prefer porn that has stories in it? We don’t just want to watch two people having sex. We want to know the build-up. A slight hint of courtship can make it more relatable. And then of course the foreplay. Which by the way is more arousing than the actual sex (I mean watching). In other words we all enjoy watching other people having sex. We would love to peep through windows. No wonder MMS clips are such a huge hit. We all are voyeurs.

When I was 9 years old I witnessed such a moment without even peeping through a window. It has been enshrined in me in such a way that today after 17 years I sit to write about it.

My apartment in Jamshedpur was located at quite a height. Anyone standing on the terrace would get quite a good view of the city. However, other people can hardly see what’s happening on the terrace making it a safe house. Precisely why my friends and I often performed Planchet there. Also, every social gathering pertaining to the residents of the apartment always happened there.

The biggest event on the terrace happened to be the New Year’s party. So 17 years back on the 30th of December we were sitting in Mr. Ghosh’s house finalising the plans for 31st night. My friends and I were trying to be useful. Those days we were treated as servants by the middle-aged women.

They used to command us like:

Beta zara kursi le aana                                                                                                                            

Beta dekhna zara nal chal raha hai ki nahin                                                                                            

Beta dekhna darwaaze par kaun hai

And we proudly performed the tasks. Some future ass-lickers even tried to make sure they performed all the tasks before others, just to impress the aunties.

So we were all sitting there waiting for instructions, when suddenly Mukherjee aunty said “Chalo abb chat ka muaayna karte hain, wahin chal ke decide karte hai ki dance floor kahan banega aur Housie kahan khelenge”

So the future of then’s tomorrow hurried up the stairs to the terrace. While the aunties followed us. Rahul and I were the first ones to reach the terrace. We ran towards the corner guarded by the water tank. And then ……..I saw it.

The most gorgeous body was lying naked on the cemented porch. Along with the most hideously hairy ass.

Numerous logical questions occurred in my mind

What are they doing?                                                                                                                                  

Why are they naked?                                                                                                                                  

Why are certain parts of the body the way they are?                                                                        

Most importantly, HOW DARE THEY USE OUR TERRACE?

I was too young to know the process of sex, even the significance, probably even the meaning of the word. Bollywood closed the doors, or switched off the lights or showed waves dashing against the shores, even a cork popping out of a champagne bottle. I hardly understood the metaphors.

But what I was seeing was heavenly. The most beautiful woman in the world was lying in front of me. Naked. Blood-flow found a new passage. A road it had never travelled on before. I felt weird. I felt the urge of doing something, but just didn’t know what. All I knew was that life had unravelled its deepest secret.

Amidst that moment of revelation the super-idiotic friend of mine shouted out “Mummy dekho yahan kya chal raha hai”. They hurriedly wore their clothes. Surprisingly the hideously hairy ass guy decided to wear his shirt first.

Just then the gang of aunties arrived. What followed was a deafening series of howling, shouting, swearing et.al. One aunty came and chased us out of the terrace. In fact she locked us in her house so that we can’t watch the show any longer.

We ran to our balcony to get one last view of the girl. She was beautiful. She had the most amazing body any woman can have. Her eyes were……….I don’t exactly remember her eyes. She wore a red t-shirt. I was praying to God for one last eye contact. And then for a fraction of a second she looked at me. One last look. Probably she was abusing me, probably she found me cute. I will never know. She left with the guy.

I tried looking for her, but I was too young to look harder. She will never escape my mind. She is the reason I like women wearing red. She taught me so much about life. She ignited a flame in me. A flame no one can extinguish. She turned me into a voyeur at the age of 9. And each time I watch porn I know that deep inside me, the 9 year old still lives.

  • Porn and I (missionsharingknowledge.wordpress.com)

An Abstract Distraction

By Joybrato Dutta

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‘Paid sex’, woh standard hai, jo dosto ko pata chale to kamaal hai, par gharwaalo ko pata chale to bavaal hai. Kuch logo ke liye aspiration hai, kuch ke liye redemption hai, aur kuch ke liye education hai. Kuch mere jaise hai jinke liye yeh over-expensive fornication hai.

Maine kabhi try nahin kiya tha. Par kuch dino pehle jab akela apne hotel ke room mein baitha tha, tab realise hua, it’s worth a shot. Making love to a complete stranger seemed adventurous, also knowing that she will be much better on bed, was as effort to succumb chauvinism.

So I made the call. Deal was sealed. 5000/hr.

Exactly 9:30PM ko woh room mein aayi. Shukar hai mai Love @ first sight mein vishwaas nahin rakhta, warna ho jaata.

Cut to post sex (This is not an erotic story. To read a few download from http://www.savitabhabhi.com. If you find any interesting one’s mail it across.)

Me: So, tumhaara poora naam kya hai?
She: Kyun, facebook pe friend request bhejna hai kya?

She started getting dressed. I interrupted. “I paid for 2 hours aur abhi waqt baaki hai”

She: kya karna hai aapko?
Me: Baatein kare?
She (disgusted): Kis barey mein?

Yes of all the topics in the world the one I said was Love.

She: Love? Aapko kisi se hai?
Me: Nahin, abhi kuch dino pehle hi break up hua.
She: ohh so that’s why…..
Me: NO. I don’t use sex as a distraction. It’s love that distracts me.
She: Hmm
Me: aapko kabhi
She: Pyaar waala stage mai kaafi pehle paar kar gayi hun.
Me: to abhi kaunse stage mein ho?
She: abhimaan
Me: Ji?
She: Jab pyaar insaan ko tod deta hai to abhimaan hi hai to usey sambhaalta hai

Jawab nahin tha mere paas. Sahi keh rahi thi ya galat, pata nahin, par sochne pe majboor zaroor kar rahi thi.

Me: Aap pyaar ko underestimate kar rahe hai. Aapko uske taaqat ka andaaza nahin.
She: kabhi mere daftar aana, pyaar ke kamzori ka andaaza aapko zaroor ho jaayega.

Me: You are good with words?
She – Dhanda bistar pe zaroor hota hai Sir, par shuruwat baato se hi hoti hai. Every night’s not the same. I don’t always get a call. At times I have to go out and try my luck. Words help then.

Me: Itne customers rahe honge aapke, kabhi kisi se thoda sa bhi pyaar nahin hua?
She: Hua sahab, kuch se hua
Me: really? I’m glad, phir kya kiya aapne.
She: Discount mein blowjob de diya
Me: Kya?!?
She: Kahin suna thaa ki pyaar mein saamne waale ko khush rakhna zaroori hota hai. Bas wahi kar leti hun.

‘Startled’ will be a wrong word. ‘Impressed’ would be more correct.

Me: Samajhta hun, pyaar aapke dhande ki watt laga dega.
She: galat. Pyaar na hota to iss dhande mein itna munafaa na hota. Hum jaise log, raeso ka shauq kam, harey huye aashiqo ki zaroorat zyaada hai.
Me: Matlab?
She: Ek ladki ka pyaar hi kisi doosre ladki ke pyaar ko bhoolne mein madad karta hai. Aksar meri aankhon mein inn aashiqo ko woh pyaar dikh jaata hai.

Me: pata hai. I’m sure aapko kisi ke emotions ki parwah nahin.
She: Talent hai sir. Bina emotions ko samjhe woh saantvana de jaate hai, jo aksar dost bhi nahin de paate.
Me: What the…
She: A saddened soul asks for instant gratification. Love can’t provide that. Lust can. I am simply the answer to their lust.

Me: to kabhi aap Love bante hai to kabhi Lust. Kaafi naam hai aapke.
She: Na to mera approach badalta hai, na rate, aur na hi mera kaam. Bas log hi hai jo jazbaato ko alag naam de jaate hai.

Me: Kya kabhi kisi ko aapse pyaar nahin hua?
She: Roz. Humare dhande mein bahut taaqat hai.
Me: Aapko nahin lagta ki aapka abhimaan kuch zyaada ki bebuniyaad hai.
She: Sir ek baat batao, jitni pyaar ki baatein pichle aadhe ghante mein aapne mere saath kiya, kya kabhi ek raat mein apne ex-girlfriend ke saath kiya tha.
Me: nahin
She: Tabhi to chhod ke gayi,
Me: Kya matlab?
She: Bura mat manna sahab, par human tendency hai, hum aksar ajnabiyo ko woh sab keh jaate hai to hum apno se nahin keh paate. Kyunki ajnabee kabhi dhoka nahin dete hai. Dhoka woh dete hai, jispar aap bharosa karte ho.

Me: Now you are confusing me. I thought yeh harey huye aashiq aap par bharosa karte hai.
She: Aapka waqt khatama hua. Mere aur bhi appointments hai.

Me: thehro kam se kam clarify to karo.
She: Clarification is the end of conversation. Human nature Sir. Confused rahoge to curious rahoge. Curious rahoge to jawab maangne mere paas baar baar aaoge. Humare business mein isey Insurance policy kehte hai.

She didn’t wait. She left the room. She left me confused. Although I knew she intentionally did that. I knew she does it with most customers to get them to call everyday. I knew this confusion was just a made up strategy. Yet I called her the next day. Human tendency. And look who taught me.

RIP Ex College Heroes

By Joybrato Dutta

What is it about college that we love the most? Education? Women? Strangers? Or is it the sense of power that suddenly gets bestowed on us. The power to handle situations. The power to stay unshackled. The power to write our destiny.

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This post is not about preaching the philosophies of life, nor is it about a moment of reminiscence after gulping a few shots. This is about mourning the death of my hero. The hero within me. Who was brutally murdered by maturity, responsibility and EMI.

The ‘bring it on’ attitude during college days inspired me to win, to beat the opposition mercilessly. Today, it quietly whispers ‘Survive’ in my ears.

Hostel life was all about being a strong bond. There was a reason day-boarders didn’t mess with hostelites. There was a reason day-boarders never dared to sit on a chair which had ‘H’ inscribed on it. Such a strong bond comes from trust. People say it takes a lot of time to build trust. But in hostel it’s different. It’s almost like it’s written on their faces that you can trust them. And of course after seeing each other naked for a year you can trust each other with your life. (Is that why a man trusts his wife? Sorry I got digressed)

Fearlessness is another quality that strengthens the bond. The biggest challenges – the Warden, the Dean, the HOD, the nerdy day-boarder who does not believe in the term ‘mass bunk’, the seductive vamp who invariably tries to loosen the bond, can be dealt easily. Of course the seductive vamp problem is dealt differently.

College taught us to be fearless. Fuck logic, fuck ethics. Just be fearless. Just support your friend. Precisely, why I could go watch a movie with my girlfriend during weekdays, because there was a fearless friend ready to give proxy.  Precisely, why I could spend all my money on a stupid gift, because a friend will always give me the money to recharge my SIM card.

We never cared that we could be expelled. With exams round the corner we would still bunk college and go out for trips. We didn’t have the fear of empty wallets. Yes those were the days we did things we felt like.

n563520795_429786_6491Today, I have a job. I stay in an apartment in Mumbai where the rent is more than what my pocket-money used to be. I have narrowed down my objectives to that one dream. To achieve that I need money.

There have been times I felt like reacting with as much anger I had then. But today I am scared. Scared of losing my job, scared of not being able to pay my rent, scared of not being able to pay my EMIs.

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Ya, post college we all get a make-over.

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Today that bond hasn’t weakened but we all do have second thoughts. Today most of us have shouldered one family-responsibility at least. A lot of us have to repay the education loan.

Today we have learnt to take a lot of shit. We’ve learnt to bow heads. We’ve learnt to compromise, to lose, which often is the self respect. Today I feel I am no different from that ass-licking nerdy I hated during college.

We all have a role model. A hero, who inspires us, teaches us to overcome hurdles, gives us the strength to believe in a second chance and to stand up for it. A hero who teaches us to fight for what we believe.

One Night Stand

By Joybrato Dutta

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She dumped me. That bitch dumped me. She just walked away after gulping 5 pegs of scotch.

How could she?!? Damn her!

I walked out, sat in my car and drove. Don’t know whereto. Just drove.

Traffic didn’t seem friendly either. They welcomed me with a red light each time I entered their vicinity. Hawkers, beggars and eunuchs were all over my car. There was a couple tearing their lips apart in the car next to me. Damn them. Damn all of them.

Once I got out of their reach phone calls flowed in. “Hey mate, all well? Did you break up? She changed her status message to single.” What the fuck. Damn Facebook. That slut couldn’t wait for me to absorb the fact?!? She had to declare her victory!

I steered my car towards my apartment. My bloody phone beeped. Bloody over dramatic friends were at my place. They think I need a bloody friend. They want to hold my bloody hand while I cry. Who the fuck needs them? I turned around and I switched off my goddam cell phone. It’s the biggest threat to privacy. I had nowhere to go. By now everyone must be aware of my tragedy. And there was not a single friend who wasn’t on Facebook. Why do I have to add everyone? I cursed, cursed and cursed.

I needed to pee. I parked my car and fled to the nearest tree. On my way back I noticed a shady little bar. Did that even exist? All these days I have been travelling on this road and not once did I notice it.

As they say ‘Don’t judge a book by the cover’. The inside was even uglier. ‘The Afterlife’. Who the fuck names a bar like that. I took the nearest vacant table and waited for the waiter. A waitress snapped in front of me. I winced. “What would you like to have, sir?” Well how about some Potassium Cyanide for starters, and in case you don’t have them may be you can give me a MACHINE GUN. She stood there speechless. The first woman since evening, who actually wanted to listen to me. I cooled myself. One large JD with soda and some ice cubes.

In no time she got me my drink. I started drinking. 1 down …..2….3………..7. I don’t know was it alcohol or tears, but the world seemed hazier. I just hoped it remains like that. But another snap and the blur faded away. This time it came from another woman. Short leather skirts. Black stockings. Lipstick broader than her lips. Less skin and more make-up on the face. Perfect slut. She took the chair beside. “Can I buy you a drink”, she asked.

Now a slut will buy me a drink. Is that even professional? How does she manage her profits? While I was pondering over such logical thoughts she blurted “I am not an escort, stop staring at my breasts”. She definitely got me on that one. She continued “Just saw you tensed and thought may be you can use a friend”. What!!! Again!!! Is it written all over my face? All of a sudden the world is trying to empathize with me. I didn’t answer. She told me that she knows a better place where we can we can do the real stuff. Stuff that makes the pain go away. Stuff that erases every tragic memory.

Of course she was not a slut.

I walked out of the bar and drove wherever she took me.

The place looked similar to the drug-pedalling lanes shown in films. She asked me to wait there, while she got off the car. She was back in 5 minutes.

“Park your car there and follow me”

I did just the same. I wasn’t even in a condition to think for myself. Following orders seemed an easier task.

We entered this apartment filled with bigger losers. The pretentious ones. The wannabes. She guided me to this room where everyone was doing cocaine. Initially I resisted. Weed and hash are different things. But cocaine was way out of my league. She persuaded me. “Easy remedy for broken hearts”, she said.

And there I was snorting for the first time in my life. The first round hit me so bad that I flew back as if Bruce Lee had just kicked me. But I rose. To face the kick once again.

After a few rounds my nose started bleeding. But I didn’t give up. The slut who wasn’t really a slut pulled me back.“That’s enough! You don’t want to die”, she screamed.

She pulled me to the balcony. Holy fuck, we were on the 50th floor. Or was it the 5th? But the streets definitely seemed far away. Cold breeze touched my lips. And then the warmth of her lips touched them. She was a crazy kisser. I was helpless and I surrendered to her lurid desires. I caressed her back. My hand found its way into her shirt. She had a soft body. And then from nowhere, cops came.

Their sirens were so loud that it shook the building. Aren’t cops supposed to be stealthy?

“Run, run, cops are here. Throw that stuff. Burn it.” People were screaming all around. Insanity had struck in this sane world.

She pulled me up. She buttoned her shirt and then pulled me to the terrace. There she took off the lid of the water tank and pushed me inside.

Splash!!!

To all those Chemistry teachers who go around teaching that water is tasteless – Fuck you. It tasted better than anything I had ever savoured. As I was drowning in it, it seemed I was getting elevated to a more beautiful place. A paradise. I closed my eyes and lay flat at the bottom of the tank. Speechless. Motionless.

Suddenly I just got pulled out of my paradise. Reality had struck me once again.

“The cops have left. Don’t make a noise and follow me”, she whispered. I wanted to abuse her for bringing me back to reality. But I didn’t utter a word. May be it was her touch. It diminished every negative emotion.

I sat on the front seat while she took the driver’s seat. Together we just drove.

Suddenly in the middle of nowhere she took a screeching halt.

“Let’s fuck!” She exclaimed

“Just like that”, I questioned.

“How else?”

In a flash my fly got unzipped. My trousers were pulled down and I was inside her. In the middle of the night, in the middle of the street, inside my car, I was having the fuck of a lifetime. I fucked like it was the first time I was having sex. I fucked like it was the last time I was having sex.
Her soft body touched my lips. I looked up and for the first time I noticed her eyes. They were beautiful. She was beautiful. She was the best I had ever seen. She was the best who I had ever touched.

“You were good” she said while she buttoned her shirt.

Then she got off the car and started walking away. I tried stopping her. Pleaded for her name, phone number, address, but she just walked away. I was hardly in a condition to stop her. I watched her shadow fade away in the dark.

Somehow I dragged myself back into my car. Turned on the ignition and started driving. To nowhere.

My hands grew lighter while my eyes became heavier. Vision was getting blurred. But somehow I just continued driving. I was feeling the vehicle was getting out of my control. The road ahead was hardly visible. And then I fell asleep.

I slept, slept, slept and slept.

And then I woke up. It was morning and I was alive. I was actually alive! I tried to start my car but failed. Then I looked at the beeping indicator. The petrol tank was empty. On a normal day I would have cursed the car and my carelessness. But today I was thankful. It saved my life.

I walked to the nearest petrol pump. On the way I switched on my cell phone. Messages started flowing in. I remembered my break-up. I logged on to Facebook and ‘Liked’ her relationship status. I was in a mood for forgiveness.

It was the craziest night of my life and I decided to write about it in my blog.

And then I did.