This is not a story of lust, not at all. Putting 'lust' in the title was just a cheap trick to get you to start reading this piece. Indeed, in the light of falling readership, I have been forced to compromise my usually watertight integrity somewhat. This story, however, is of hearts much purer than that of a recessionary blog writer. True hearts, rendered golden by the overflow of warm virtue within.
This, my friends, is a tale of love. Earth shaking, heaven wrenching, devil defeating, nation conquering, eternal love. And not just love, but young love. Young love in the hearts of two blossoming flowers.
It can only be by the good fortune of my stars that in my youth I knew, not one, but both these flowers. Like most others who had the privilege of crossing paths with these two roses, I basked in the glory of their fragrance and thanked the creator for ever having conjured a thing as love.
Allow me to introduce the first of these fine protagonists, Sanvesh. This young gent, who I've known for a few years now, can at first come off as the shy, intelligent and prudish kind. When I first met him in a sweltry Kota classroom, my views on him were similar. I concluded, then, that he wasn't one of the 'cool dudes' you could discuss 'chicks' with. With time, however, I and many others have realised that he is just like the rest of us, a pervert at heart. Distinct from most other perverts, though, is his tendency to reveal his deep seated lust in bizarre ways.
Take, for instance, the first time he met Sshippie.
Sshippie was, in the Kota days a member of the female species that Sanvesh had his eye on. It was many years after he fell for her that he actually met her. The reasons for this were complicated and numerous.
In the beginning it was rumored that the local Gunda had taken a fancy to her. Which is why Sanvesh kept his desire for Sshippie very much to himself. It was only a very select handful who knew anything about Sanvesh's interest in Sshippie and each was sworn to secrecy. In fact, the only time Sanvesh really 'spoke' about Sshippie was in the confines of my first floor room with all the doors and windows bolted tightly from the inside. Even here, he preferred to sit under the bed while talking to be sure the sound wouldn't travel upwards through the ceiling.
This secrecy may be hard for some to understand. Some may even question the intensity of Sanvesh's emotion for this woman. In particular, those who've never spent any significant time in a small town would be baffled by this kind of behaviour. But at the time all this was happening, we were already a year old in Kota and understood the code of conduct fully. In a hamlet like Kota the neighbourhood Gunda is a very special kind of power centre. The kind of power that for years later will make you subconsciously capitalise the 'G' in Gunda. Very simply, if you happened to be a nerdy, out-of-town, physically meek JEE student, he was not the kind power whose path you wanted to cross.
When the local Gunda took a fancy to someone, you looked upon her with the respect worthy of a mother. You dared not discuss her in the filthy and objectifying manner that you wanted to. Not unless you wanted your legs broken. The process was simple: the Gunda would identify an object for his affections and lay claim to her. The Gunda's goons would spread the word regarding this through his 'territory'. Beyond this point in time, anyone talking about, looking at, getting friendly with or even thinking about the girl in question would receive a thorough and violent disciplining. This wasn't just lore, our friend Munnu could vouch for the seriousness with which this kind of business was taken. He had been unfortunate enough to be at the receiving end of one such debacle.
Ironically these women were usually unaware of all the wars being fought in their name. Somewhat like the Gods and religious violence. Yes, just like the rest of us, even small time Gundas were wholly and completely incapable of expressing their love to a woman. In fact, any form of communication between a Gunda and his love was unheard of.
Like I said, we were all fully aware of the Vigyan Nagar Gunda's position in the everyday life of Kota and I hope this explains the clandestine nature of Sanvesh's passion.
Time went by and with it our Gunda found a new fancy to keep him occupied. Sanvesh's desire for Sshippie, though, had only grown with repression. Still, it wasn't as though the removal of the threat of violence would automatically get Sshippie to come running into Sanvesh's arms. The general atmosphere of Kota was at the time unanimous in its frowning on any interaction between unmarried men and women. This combined with the remarkable diffidence of us all when it came to women, ensured that Sshippie remained as much of a stranger to Sanvesh as she had been earlier. This was a harsh reminder to Sanvesh that the he may never be able to be with Sshippie. Still, the heart is impractical and it is unreasonable. Very unfortunately, it is also foolishly hopeful. Sanvesh's heart was no different and despite everything it continued to harbour fancies of Sshippie.
As our time in Kota drew to a close a fairly freak incident happened. At least by Kota-nian standards. The development was that one of us got to know a woman, somehow. Then because of her we got introduced to some other woman. And then in the mysterious nature of His ways, after four connections of a friend-of-a-friend sort, we were randomly introduced to Sshippie one day. As luck (or hard luck) would have it, Sanvesh wasn't part of this chain of connections. The sheer unfairness of this wasn't wasted on us and we decided to include Sanvesh in this scheme of affairs at the earliest possible opportunity .
The opportunity arose soon. A few us met at a park near my place after an exam of some sort. I called Sanvesh to let him know that he was welcome to come over and meet his beloved if he was in the area.
Sanvesh was a few kilometers away at this time. I had barely told him where we were that he abruptly cut the call and mounted his bicycle. Then he began what many refer to as 'riding like a mad man'. It didn't matter that there was a highway intersection somewhere along the way and it didn't matter that the signal wasn't in his favour. He sped on uncontrollably. Then, in the funny way that these things often pan out, he crashed into an electric pole.
It was no ordinary crash either. He was flung violently from his bicycle and landed face down on the road. The bicycle was mangled severly. The river of blood slowly moving across the road had its origins somewhere in Sanvesh's foot. In that moment of blood, pain and agony most others would have abandoned the manic pursuit. The even slightly more sensible ones would have proceeded in the direction of the nearest doctor. On that day you could have described Sanvesh in many words. Crazy, daring, possessed, maybe even romantic. But if you remotely knew what you were talking about, you would stay clear of 'sensible'.
So, amazingly, Sanvesh went about the whole thing as though this were but a minor glitch on the way. He picked up the cycle and tied it to the pole that was responsible for all this. He then hurriedly tried to shake the blood off his ankle, set his hair as best he could and wiped his face with his grimy hands. Then he was ready to go. Ten minutes later he hobbled into the park where we were, dripping blood everywhere.
At the park we introduced him to Sshippie by a simple exchange of names. She was telling everyone someone something when he arrived. Oh yes, she was saying that this was her last night in Kota and the she would be moving back to Jaipur the next morning. She was done with the place, she said, done and dusted.
Now you can imagine how this sounded to Sanvesh. After years of lovelorn loneliness he had finally met the girl of his dreams. All those nights of heartache, all those conversations of hidden desire under my bed, all that pining. It had all suddenly seemed worth it when he got an introduction with her. But for what? So the first thing he ever heard her say was that she would slip away once more?
Sanvesh sensed the opportunity slipping. Slipping away on a train to Jaipur the next morning and disappearing once and for all. He had a decision to make. No, in fact, he had already made one. He wasn't going to let this get away from him, not if he could help it.
Sshippie continued what she was saying meanwhile. She made the standard 'let's stay in touch, I hope we end up in the same college' speech, as people who are leaving often feel the need to. Sanvesh, who had now been on the scene for a grand total of thirty seconds, suddenly saw an opening.
Dripping blood and covered in mud he stepped to the front of the ten strong crowd. Then, sticking out his mobile phone he blurted out with more than a hint of madness, "But how will we stay in touch? I don't even have your number. Come-on, give me your number."
Poor Sshippie, this shabby looking fellow's sudden interest in her phone number and his embarassing request for her to feed it into his blood covered phone startled her quite a bit. She mumbled something to the effect that he should take it from one of us and wrapped up her farewell speech in a hurry before she sped off. The rest of us could only stare at Sanvesh's remarkably forward little stunt. Later Satpal slapped Sanvesh on the back and congratulated him on being 'even more of a ghaati than the rest of us'. For his part, Sanvesh had little idea what we were so amazed at.
At the beginning of this story I told you Sanvesh reveals his lust in the most 'bizarre' ways. After what you now know, I'm sure you'll agree that I wasn't kidding.
Anyway, the years rolled on and after a few million laughs the incident was, for the most part, forgotten. Sanvesh and the rest of us got into college and life changed for all of us in many ways. Sanvesh may even have forgotten Sshippie at some point. These things happen, that's how life is. Ever changing, shifting, like the course of a river. Some things, though, remain unchanged. Like deep seated lust issues, for instance. And you'll never know what can trigger off that visceral response in you. It could be something tiny, something momentary and you'll be surprised how fundamentally constant you are even after so many years.
In Sanvesh's case it was a text message, this message:
No, the message was not from Sshippie (by some coincidence it was from a close friend of hers). The message was from none other than Sneha, our second protagonist.
to be continued....
This, my friends, is a tale of love. Earth shaking, heaven wrenching, devil defeating, nation conquering, eternal love. And not just love, but young love. Young love in the hearts of two blossoming flowers.
It can only be by the good fortune of my stars that in my youth I knew, not one, but both these flowers. Like most others who had the privilege of crossing paths with these two roses, I basked in the glory of their fragrance and thanked the creator for ever having conjured a thing as love.
Allow me to introduce the first of these fine protagonists, Sanvesh. This young gent, who I've known for a few years now, can at first come off as the shy, intelligent and prudish kind. When I first met him in a sweltry Kota classroom, my views on him were similar. I concluded, then, that he wasn't one of the 'cool dudes' you could discuss 'chicks' with. With time, however, I and many others have realised that he is just like the rest of us, a pervert at heart. Distinct from most other perverts, though, is his tendency to reveal his deep seated lust in bizarre ways.
Take, for instance, the first time he met Sshippie.
Sshippie was, in the Kota days a member of the female species that Sanvesh had his eye on. It was many years after he fell for her that he actually met her. The reasons for this were complicated and numerous.
In the beginning it was rumored that the local Gunda had taken a fancy to her. Which is why Sanvesh kept his desire for Sshippie very much to himself. It was only a very select handful who knew anything about Sanvesh's interest in Sshippie and each was sworn to secrecy. In fact, the only time Sanvesh really 'spoke' about Sshippie was in the confines of my first floor room with all the doors and windows bolted tightly from the inside. Even here, he preferred to sit under the bed while talking to be sure the sound wouldn't travel upwards through the ceiling.
This secrecy may be hard for some to understand. Some may even question the intensity of Sanvesh's emotion for this woman. In particular, those who've never spent any significant time in a small town would be baffled by this kind of behaviour. But at the time all this was happening, we were already a year old in Kota and understood the code of conduct fully. In a hamlet like Kota the neighbourhood Gunda is a very special kind of power centre. The kind of power that for years later will make you subconsciously capitalise the 'G' in Gunda. Very simply, if you happened to be a nerdy, out-of-town, physically meek JEE student, he was not the kind power whose path you wanted to cross.
When the local Gunda took a fancy to someone, you looked upon her with the respect worthy of a mother. You dared not discuss her in the filthy and objectifying manner that you wanted to. Not unless you wanted your legs broken. The process was simple: the Gunda would identify an object for his affections and lay claim to her. The Gunda's goons would spread the word regarding this through his 'territory'. Beyond this point in time, anyone talking about, looking at, getting friendly with or even thinking about the girl in question would receive a thorough and violent disciplining. This wasn't just lore, our friend Munnu could vouch for the seriousness with which this kind of business was taken. He had been unfortunate enough to be at the receiving end of one such debacle.
Ironically these women were usually unaware of all the wars being fought in their name. Somewhat like the Gods and religious violence. Yes, just like the rest of us, even small time Gundas were wholly and completely incapable of expressing their love to a woman. In fact, any form of communication between a Gunda and his love was unheard of.
Like I said, we were all fully aware of the Vigyan Nagar Gunda's position in the everyday life of Kota and I hope this explains the clandestine nature of Sanvesh's passion.
Time went by and with it our Gunda found a new fancy to keep him occupied. Sanvesh's desire for Sshippie, though, had only grown with repression. Still, it wasn't as though the removal of the threat of violence would automatically get Sshippie to come running into Sanvesh's arms. The general atmosphere of Kota was at the time unanimous in its frowning on any interaction between unmarried men and women. This combined with the remarkable diffidence of us all when it came to women, ensured that Sshippie remained as much of a stranger to Sanvesh as she had been earlier. This was a harsh reminder to Sanvesh that the he may never be able to be with Sshippie. Still, the heart is impractical and it is unreasonable. Very unfortunately, it is also foolishly hopeful. Sanvesh's heart was no different and despite everything it continued to harbour fancies of Sshippie.
As our time in Kota drew to a close a fairly freak incident happened. At least by Kota-nian standards. The development was that one of us got to know a woman, somehow. Then because of her we got introduced to some other woman. And then in the mysterious nature of His ways, after four connections of a friend-of-a-friend sort, we were randomly introduced to Sshippie one day. As luck (or hard luck) would have it, Sanvesh wasn't part of this chain of connections. The sheer unfairness of this wasn't wasted on us and we decided to include Sanvesh in this scheme of affairs at the earliest possible opportunity .
The opportunity arose soon. A few us met at a park near my place after an exam of some sort. I called Sanvesh to let him know that he was welcome to come over and meet his beloved if he was in the area.
Sanvesh was a few kilometers away at this time. I had barely told him where we were that he abruptly cut the call and mounted his bicycle. Then he began what many refer to as 'riding like a mad man'. It didn't matter that there was a highway intersection somewhere along the way and it didn't matter that the signal wasn't in his favour. He sped on uncontrollably. Then, in the funny way that these things often pan out, he crashed into an electric pole.
It was no ordinary crash either. He was flung violently from his bicycle and landed face down on the road. The bicycle was mangled severly. The river of blood slowly moving across the road had its origins somewhere in Sanvesh's foot. In that moment of blood, pain and agony most others would have abandoned the manic pursuit. The even slightly more sensible ones would have proceeded in the direction of the nearest doctor. On that day you could have described Sanvesh in many words. Crazy, daring, possessed, maybe even romantic. But if you remotely knew what you were talking about, you would stay clear of 'sensible'.
So, amazingly, Sanvesh went about the whole thing as though this were but a minor glitch on the way. He picked up the cycle and tied it to the pole that was responsible for all this. He then hurriedly tried to shake the blood off his ankle, set his hair as best he could and wiped his face with his grimy hands. Then he was ready to go. Ten minutes later he hobbled into the park where we were, dripping blood everywhere.
At the park we introduced him to Sshippie by a simple exchange of names. She was telling everyone someone something when he arrived. Oh yes, she was saying that this was her last night in Kota and the she would be moving back to Jaipur the next morning. She was done with the place, she said, done and dusted.
Now you can imagine how this sounded to Sanvesh. After years of lovelorn loneliness he had finally met the girl of his dreams. All those nights of heartache, all those conversations of hidden desire under my bed, all that pining. It had all suddenly seemed worth it when he got an introduction with her. But for what? So the first thing he ever heard her say was that she would slip away once more?
Sanvesh sensed the opportunity slipping. Slipping away on a train to Jaipur the next morning and disappearing once and for all. He had a decision to make. No, in fact, he had already made one. He wasn't going to let this get away from him, not if he could help it.
Sshippie continued what she was saying meanwhile. She made the standard 'let's stay in touch, I hope we end up in the same college' speech, as people who are leaving often feel the need to. Sanvesh, who had now been on the scene for a grand total of thirty seconds, suddenly saw an opening.
Dripping blood and covered in mud he stepped to the front of the ten strong crowd. Then, sticking out his mobile phone he blurted out with more than a hint of madness, "But how will we stay in touch? I don't even have your number. Come-on, give me your number."
Poor Sshippie, this shabby looking fellow's sudden interest in her phone number and his embarassing request for her to feed it into his blood covered phone startled her quite a bit. She mumbled something to the effect that he should take it from one of us and wrapped up her farewell speech in a hurry before she sped off. The rest of us could only stare at Sanvesh's remarkably forward little stunt. Later Satpal slapped Sanvesh on the back and congratulated him on being 'even more of a ghaati than the rest of us'. For his part, Sanvesh had little idea what we were so amazed at.
At the beginning of this story I told you Sanvesh reveals his lust in the most 'bizarre' ways. After what you now know, I'm sure you'll agree that I wasn't kidding.
Anyway, the years rolled on and after a few million laughs the incident was, for the most part, forgotten. Sanvesh and the rest of us got into college and life changed for all of us in many ways. Sanvesh may even have forgotten Sshippie at some point. These things happen, that's how life is. Ever changing, shifting, like the course of a river. Some things, though, remain unchanged. Like deep seated lust issues, for instance. And you'll never know what can trigger off that visceral response in you. It could be something tiny, something momentary and you'll be surprised how fundamentally constant you are even after so many years.
In Sanvesh's case it was a text message, this message:
"I think you and I have gotten very close over the last few months. I've been thinking about it quite a lot off late. Why don't we meet tonight to discuss it, alone please. I really feel like it"
No, the message was not from Sshippie (by some coincidence it was from a close friend of hers). The message was from none other than Sneha, our second protagonist.
to be continued....
