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Survival

That day I bumped on a lady, just when I was pondering who she was, that I have seen her somewhere, she closed in on me, meowed…hi handsome…how are you?
I was delighted, I returned her compliments saying the handsome was fine and he was very happy to meet a sexy body like her.

“Meeting? How about mating,” she asked innocently. No doubt, I was on the seventh heaven. But wondered, and finally asked, her nationality.

Indian!!! I came to know first hand. Now that was surprising. I have never come across an Indian lady openly bragging about those mating and shitting stuff. But, bastard that I am, I did not try to spoil the fun by going deep here in the street, in front of everybody.

She pointed towards North, I started walking behind her. then she pointed East, before knowing where I was heading towards, I was on a taxi. Strangely, she didn’t say anything to the taxi, as if the taxi driver knew her address. What is the relationship between the driver and this bong-shell? I was anxious, jealous too. Just to console myself I fancifully derived out they must be siblings.

After getting down at a place, she started walking. Needless to say, I followed her. The driver caught hold of me, “hey you scoundrel, going for costly fun without paying my due, who will pay the fare, you fuckface.” I was hurt. The way he described me…it was hurting. Truth always hurts.

It was all a dream walk. Following the girl of my dream. When I gained consciousness, I found myself in a corridor, full of bold girls, in cheap make-ups. I pinched myself to know whether I was alive. Girl…girl and girls everywhere, where am I, I wandered. I didn’t remember doing anything worthwhile that God should reward me like this.

I was led to a dingy, smelly room. A 40 watt bulb’s illumination was making the already dark room darker. The bedsheet was dirty with prominent stains in it. She began to undress. I have never seen such a careful deceit of an undernourished body. She was undressing as if I was just a mirror where she was weighing her beauty. My reactions were her reflections. It was not at all encouraging.

She stopped halfway, “bastard why are you not undressing too?”
I realized I am in a hell, “why should I?”

--why you don’t want to fuck me? am I that bad? Say honestly, it’s a matter of bread and butter.
--you definitely are gorgeous, but in this present state, I won’t like to have sex with you.
--why, your cock doesn’t crows or what?
--how come somebody have sex without love in it?
--why not, for the past five years I am satisfying people without loving them. and I guess I didn’t love my customers and they didn’t love me either.
--so you are a prostitute.
--I am, sir. Can we now finish the affair soon. I have other customers to fetch, unless you have good money to book me for the night.
--surely I can book you. But I cannot have sex with somebody without having a hint f love init.
--love is only an illusion dear, sometimes an instrument for what men always want. Tell me, when you came with me was your intentions noble enough. Wasn’t you allured by the sex prospects?
--yes, it was but I never thought this would turn like this. Besides, I thought I have see you somewhere.
--indeed you have seen me. Long time back…
--but I never came here, I have never had sex with you?
--do you think people like me only have sex life, we don’t or didn’t have a decent life, you think?
--I didn’t say that, but how possibly can we meet if I never came to this place? And I don’t remember having a talk with you earlier.
--you indeed were a very talkative guy, if my memory is not that bad.
--who are you and where did we meet?
--why, you want to know that, you have come here to fuck me right. Do your job and get lost.

“I didn’t come here to have sex with you. My adventurous nature always lures me to misadventures,” I protested.

--you didn’t change much darling, she said.
--who are you?

She gazed at me for a long time, finally said in a shaken voice, “you remember Mousumi, Ponchu?”

It was such a sudden revelation that I couldn’t help myself. I shoot out almost a shrill sound to shake off my choking voice. Can’t be. We studied together upto class six. I had to leave the school because my father got a transfer. I don’t remember why the kids used to call me Ponchu that time.

--you, here...how you ended up in this shitty place?
--want to know the original story or the usual one?

--original, obviously.
--that you will never know. All kinds of stories are ready for all kinds of men. And we will make sure you belief it.
--can’t you escape this?
--I can, but no use. Don’t want to actually.
--why?
--what I will do running from here? Don’t have a decent education, here at least I can feed my son. He is studying in an English medium, class one. Isn’t it exciting? A slut’s son mingling with gentlemen’s children?
--you live here with him?

--oh, no no. I have a family 20 kilometers from here. I come here for a BPO job, people think.
--and your family.
--my mother knows, can’t help. And my hired husband.
--your son?
--he is not that old to understand.
--when he realizes?
--can’t say, may be I will gather enough money to push him off from me.
--how can you live then?
--how I am living now? I never kissed my son, never took him in my lap. Always shooed him from me. he must be the most unlucky child with a witch-mother.
--why you don’t kiss him?
--if he gets any disease...

--comeon, you don’t get any disease, STD I mean, only by touching.
--that they say…but why should a mother take chance.

We talked the whole night. I had booked her from her agent for the whole night. I left that place only after day-break.

Don’t know what happened to her or her son. It’s five year now. I guess, sometimes, you should leave people at their plight. We all are fighting for our survival. Fighting tactics are different. So are the outlook. Some fighters deserve respect. Fighters like Mousumi. You cannot extend your support to people like her. I guess, I am not that powerful.

Comments

Anonymous said…
uterly butterly delicious............
but too long.....
Shuv said…
opens a huge area of discussion ghetu which i am sure will bore everyone to tears. only thing i want to say is if possible go and stay (not visit mind u) in thailand for some time. it will give u totally different take on prostitution, where with legalisation there are no dallas or harassing cops and its actually a 'career' many girls opt for to launch them in their lives.
Nautilus said…
Interesting post Ghetu. Strong language too. Is this fact or fiction? What ever it is, I do agree with Shuv that it can start a huge debate/discussion. I have always respected women who get paid to have sex...its just so empowering! And the respect increased after I saw the red light area in Amsterdam...it is so organized and open. No body bats and eye...no judgement whatsoever! It is like any other job and girls who are in the profession are dignified even when they are parading their wares in front of their picture window for prospective customers! Amazing!
Rebel said…
If you want to see greatness, go and talk to a prostitute (and obviously i dont mean visit one). I am just reminded of a dialogue from the movie 'Chameli' which goes something like this - "Har raat bakra dhoondte hain aur khud hi halal ho jate hain" - I cant recall the words exactly but this comes close to what Kareena said. And ghetu i hope this is another figment of your imagination, and not a real incident...
Scout said…
great post.. really touching.
Ghetufool said…
anon,
loved you liked the tasty buttery elements of it. the bread was not needed.

shuv and nautilas,
i don't think we should disrespect people who sell their body for a living. indeed it's empowering. just imagine an 'ideal' society without prostitutes. your sister, my sister...all would end up getting raped!!! most of us couldn't protest as we would also have been a party to the game, raping others' sisters. and nautilas, i would say don't believe my blog if you love truth and at the same time i would request you to trust it, cause it indeed contains some elements of truth. now you judge...
Ghetufool said…
rebel,
you are so technicolor, love you. keep updating your bloody lazy cursed arsed blog, or else i will soon transform you into chameli...
and don't underestimate me, how can you know it's a figment of my imagination? tragedy that bangalore doesn't have a brothel...otherwise my drop from the office would have been there everyday. you know after a tiring day at work, you need something...life.
AND THANKS FOR DROPPING IN YOU LAZY BUTT-LER.
Ghetufool said…
scout...
you said great, thanks for that. but i for one, thought it was my crappiest post ever...really. update your blog soon. you must have enjoyed a lot with your family. i see yoy are overweight, shed some calories.
quite a post there! i didn't know what to make of it though... :) happy blogging!
kaushik said…
If its fact it is very interesting. If its fiction then very well written. As for all this debate on prostitution, sex without love.. I will leave it to experts.
Ghetufool said…
hey kaushik,
thanks a lot. it was a mix of fact and fiction, as always...

don't know about sex without love, whether it is right or wrong...but to maintain a social equilibrium, we need to respect these women. isn't it?

as for myself, i can't have sex with somebody without loving her...no, never.
Shuv said…
cant one love someone for 40 minutes? that will be a win-win situation..
kaushik said…
No shuv you cant love a female for 40 minutes. You can do that if you go to a zoo and canoodle a cute animal.. But women are not animals they are something more..

By the LOVE & SEX? No they do not often go hand in hand. And I have some crazy ideas about it..
Ghetufool said…
just stepping on two boats at a time.

i usually fall in love with my co-passenger in a bus. don't mind to sleep with her, in fact i don't bind my fantasies in this regard.

shuv's idea was indeed great...but practically impossible.
Anonymous said…
if it is reality then it is an excellent piece but if it is fiction then..................
i am curious to know,
Yves said…
I love the artistry and suspense in your story, as well as its information about India today, which can be extracted from your fiction. Are you writing a book? You have enough talents to publish in that form.
Ghetufool said…
hi yves,
thanks for the encouragement. i am not wriring a book, but would love to do so. but i strongly doubt if any publishing house would accept the manuscript.

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