Saturday, 24 May 2014

The Dream Merchants

     The library door opened. Diya and Jyothi were walking towards me. I quickly rearranged the sheets,  and pretended to make notes from the voluminous encyclopedia of Science, afraid to meet their gaze. I never wanted to write that letter to Diya. It was my best friend Suraj, who seeing my forlorn days back at the hostel, goaded me to write the letter and convey my feelings to her. Diya was like the quintessential dream girl... the one whom every boy covets secretly but would not dare risk the ridicule of approach. My courage must perhaps have been influenced by the quarter bottle that Suraj had smuggled in after dinner and prodded my senses to take his advice. He said ‘Don’t write to her telling that you love her. It will sound so commonplace and clichéd. She must be getting such letters dime a dozen everyday. Women like honesty in men. So tell her, that you lust for her. That, she comes to you in your dreams everynight and you make passionate love. Your letter must catch her attention, dude. Only then will she look at you”. Suraj sounded like an evangelist with a halo after I had downed a peg or two, and seeking his blessings,  I had endeavoured to write a passionate letter dwelling on the intricacies of the manifestations of my love for her.

     So now, as they walked towards me, my heart was in my mouth and the sound seemed to reverberate in the empty library. I could sense that one of them had stopped midway, possible to keep a watch while the other beats the shit out of me.  Her perfume sent my head into a tizzy before I lifted it and looked at her. Her eyes penetrated deep stripping me of my layers of clothing before she even uttered a word. She leaned forward, and brought her lips close to my ears and whispered. “I liked what you wrote. I think you know exactly what a woman wants. I am not a prude as you guys think. Let us see now what you can do for me”. I couldn’t believe my ears. I looked around to see if anybody was present. I saw Jyothi standing by the door, keeping watch as she motioned us to go ahead. For a moment, I wondered if she would join us. But then considering the restricted space and the possible contortions, I decided to keep her away at that juncture. I could always write another letter.

     I stood up and extended my arms inviting Diya to step into paradise. I saw the shyness in her eyes disappear,  as she decided to take a step back and inspect the package. I pulled in my stomach, stuck out my chest and flexed my biceps and prepared myself for her scrutiny. I had read somewhere, that visual stimulation is a prerequisite for a woman, and so i decided to give her all the stimulation that i could. And so, as I stood there in my body builders pose, I saw her eyes gazing into my eyes, and then travel downward,  slowly, taking in my robust physique in the loose pyjama.

       “Pyjama”!!!!—Why was I dressed in a pyjama?   Sure, I did not expect her to consider my proposition with the speed of a hungry hyena, but at least I could have dressed better! Maybe a cargo half pant would have been decent enough, when you expect your inner feelings to be subjected to close inspection for its genuineness. The built up bravado seemed to seep away through the flimsy strings that held the lower pants together. It was then that I realized, that I had to let go of my feelings. My bladder had swelled with the tension, that I could no longer hold it under control. My head cleared with a jerk that sent the pretty damsels scurrying through the door. The library and the books evaporated into thin air, knocking me on to the ground. I was lying flat on my back. When I opened my eyes, all I could see were the white ornamental blades of my Usha fan, moving at the third degree of speed control, fanning my sweating body. The floor suddenly felt like my own bed, and as I firmly planted by feet on the floor and padded on to the bathroom to clear my bladder, my mind was still clawing at the fading images, pleading with them to return after the recess. What if I was in my pyjama? It is the inner feeling that mattered as far was Diya was concerned. But by then,  I had realized the enormous power vested in the fluid filled sacs of the male body. They were like the government…Dreams can wait, get our clearances first!!

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