Tag Archives: New Year

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)
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New Year Resolution

By Joybrato Dutta

By the time Aarav reached Ronnie’s house he had smoked three cigarettes. The task of choosing the right gift for Shreya was as cumbersome as reaching Bandra from Mahim.

As he entered the elevator, he chanced upon a huge mirror. He ruffled his hair with his fingers and had a good look at himself. In spite of his alluring personality, Shreya never went out with him. But tonight that was about to change.

Ronnie was the son of a well known Bollywood producer. Money, Page 3 parties, women, cars, and arrogance were part of his legacy. Not many can boast of a pool on their terrace but Ronnie was one of them. And his best friends, Aarav and Shreya were enthralled to welcome 2013 at such an exotic location.

It was 9:30 PM and Aarav had lost his patience by then. Since the last two hours he had been trying to tell Shreya something but his friends always came up with hindrances he could never overcome. Finally he summed up all the courage he had and pulled Shreya aside. Intimidated by his courage she walked with him to the bar. Aarav poured her a drink. Gin with tonic water, her favourite poison. Alcohol truly makes a person brave. The otherwise hesitant and over-cautious Shreya dragged Aarav to the dance floor. There’s nothing more elegant than a woman on high heels dominating the dance floor. Aarav knew his moment had arrived. He whispered something into Shreya’s ears. She chuckled and followed him.

They quietly sneaked into one of Ronnie’s bedrooms. There Aarav made her another drink. She emptied her glass and with all her passion, she kissed him. And then, she experienced the most painful pleasure. Her sigh never screamed so loud. Her body never felt so satisfied. The princess in her never felt like a queen, ever before. She wanted to prolong this. She could forfeit everything she possessed just to live this moment, all her life. She was finally out of her shell.

At 11:30 PM Aarav kissed a naked Shreya and whispered “Happy New Year” in her ears. She didn’t respond, she lay like a corpse. Aarav wore his clothes. Something fell off his pocket. He picked the pack of Roofies and slipped it back in his jacket’s pocket. As he was about to leave the room he looked at a camera placed on the left corner of the ceiling and winked. He exited the room and entered the adjacent one.

Ronnie greeted him with a smile. He said “I am probably the only man who knows how good you are in bed. But tomorrow the world will know”. He gave Aarav a cheque. The words “Rupees One lakh only” had never looked so beautiful. Aarav thanked him and left his house. As he sat in a cab, he took out a small diary and struck out the words “My new year resolution is to earn one lakh rupees by the end of the year”.

roofies

What the Luck!!!

A light-hearted story by Joybrato Dutta

She called off our engagement. She simply hung up, denying me a chance to apologise. Seven years of friendship, five years of love, ended with a mere phone call. What a parallel cinema way to end a candy floss love story!

swearing1Year 2012 could have been the best year of my life. It was going perfect. I had met her parents in February. They loved me. My family loved her. All that was left, was to finalise a date, which could only be decided by their most trusted astrologer. A sixty year old scum bag whose wife and son had disowned him, after which he swore to ruin every other life. The moment he saw me he spoke in a manner that could make politicians sound poetic. Apparently, our horoscopes didn’t match. Apparently I would have divorced her in a year. All of a sudden his fake philosophies started dominating my real emotions. The worst part, her father’s expressions clearly stated that he was about to reject me. Patience was a virtue I never possessed and in a fit of rage I asked him to fuck off. Using the exact words.

Uttering cuss words in front of a rural Brahmin family wasn’t a great idea. Her astrologer found new points to defend his accusations against me. She fought hard. From my educational qualifications to my salary, from my family history to my career prospects, she quoted everything that could have convinced even the harshest people. Alas! People blinded by superstitions can never see the real picture. They in turn tried to convince her to stay away from me. And on a warm afternoon of March 2012 she succumbed.

That was the day I made a New Year resolution to never utter blasphemous words. One might say that March is a bit too late for a resolution, but for me, that day marked the beginning of a new year. Or should I say a new life!

The following nine months posed the toughest challenge of my life. Simply because I couldn’t even slander her family or that scum bag to feel better.

cuss_balloonSo, here I am on the last day of 2012, attending a dear friend’s wedding. She was invited too. That was the only reason I had decided to step out of my cocoon. But she didn’t come. Probably to avoid me. This infuriated me. I had sacrificed an integral part of my vocabulary for her family and they won’t even give me a second chance. Just then a friend of mine walked up to me to console me. Sympathy was something I hated more than the astrologer. The nine month long drought was about to end. I looked at her and said, “I don’t need your fucking advice. She, her family and that fucking astrologer can rot in hell”.

Wow! That felt nice. Oh dear slang, I missed you! With a lighter heart I turned to leave. And there they were, my ex fiancée standing with her parents, flabbergasted at my outburst.  I smiled as the tears of sorrow rolled down. And all I could say was, “What the”.