Breasts
I’ve always been fixated on breasts .. And breasts onto me ..Symbiosis has been a rather large part of my life.
“Be careful” , screamed a rather innocent looking headline
Sender – Srinivas road pulipati
Recipient – Doha
I wish i could italicise the thousand emotions ...
and speak the thousand lives this woman was in one
Happens to all of us ..Especially me
Honestly the “ Everything you wanted to know about sex but were always afraid to ask” -
The theme should have been explored in the Indian context. Would have been a classic case of
“JUST WHEN I THOUGHT I HAD ANSWERED ALL THE QUESTIONS THEY CHANGED THE QUESTION PAPER “
However I digress .. By profession I am a trumpeter , a blow-Horner , a man with a mouth, full of gas if you will … many adjectives have been associated with me
I do the most solemn duty of all ..Blow it when it needs to be blown .. Not many people would exchange places with me ..And THAT I think makes me rather special ..
Nayna the cradle snatcher
It happened many moons ago .. I was comfortably perched atop my feathery, cloudy bed trying to take the whole wide world in one giant stare when another pair of eyes locked mine
From experience I could gather she was at least 42 hours older however she had me in a trance
Staring at me from the adjacent cradle ..asking me if there was another ? “Noo” , I helplessly stammered , She had me ..Then and there.. A complacent grin stroked her cheeks as she looked upwards and breathed peacefully.
She bawled her head off when they tried to pull her out of the cradle and they did.. And for three days she would not stop crying … the nurse had a bright idea .. Let’s take her amongst the other kids … I had not been adopted yet .. She immediately calmed down.
She knew me.. A tryst with destiny ..
And until they adopted me for the helper’s family, she would not budge from the nursing room
Both of us stared at each other wide eyed .. Each nursing a breast and content ..The predator and the preyed.
I have to be fair to them of course, they gave me all that could be asked for .. A fine education.. Even pretence of jealousy when I would top her.. In the exams ..The excuse being .. “Oh she did not really study “ …would drive me mad for almost weeks when she would just come upto me and parrot the same thing over and over again.. I remember what getting mad at her was like
Nayna Nayna Nayna Nayna
Who’s the taller bol na ?
Ahh yes the helper and his wife, in whose home I was fostered … every night a dream would come and haunt me …after I had shared the meager meal …after I had watched them go hungry for an illusion ..a son they’d never have.. I would be haunted by a dream too.. of nayna, asleep peacefully in her mansion and us in her outhouse and I would dream… of riches and of bright lights and fireworks..
Coincidence or whatever ..the day I was appointed to get the morning newspaper from the gate on the bicycle I saw that Nayna had breasts. A little mound on the dress ..maybe it was the morning sun or my headiness on a bicycle as I flew past on it and turned to look back and her arms waving frantically at me, pointing forward …. Lost and bruised.. as I picked myself up from the ground and mounted the atlas once again, I felt like I could wade through a thousand brambles if only they would serve as an excuse for me to look back. The first ride is the loneliest one …after that the mobility is just an excuse…
Not only did she have breasts.. she was taller .. This was unacceptable, of course. Especially when she and I went to different schools and walked back for 1/4th of the way, from where our buses/rickshaws would drop us off. I was walking beside her ..and then not.. I would pretend to tie my shoelaces every time we would pass a bus stop. She kept saying “ I’m going to ask dadu to get you new shoelaces” …she never did ..
Her breasts however kept growing until one day they stopped and this was miraculous…she would stop growing now and I could compete …
Nayna nayna nayna nayna
Who’s the taller bol na ?
Was my constant refrain
I outgrew her by almost a foot …
Gangly, my thinness became subject of ridicule.. New questions to answer.. Every time I would catch up she would be there ..With a new book , with a new role for me to play ..Never a word as to how I had done so far..
Nayna the ..
Just nayna ..the bubblegum
I would take the atlas everyday and fetch the milk from the front gate ..the milkman drifting away as the gates closed was a morose sight to start the day with …however I always used to think of what he left behind
They did not send me to college and nayna . she went ..
“It’s always good to have a social service project at home , isn’t it ?” , I said
“I never thought of you like that , you know that” , nayna said
“ Why the fuck are you crying ?
Why the fuck are you crying …
They just convince me even more that
You took me to be a project” “that’s all”
She was still in control…
“ I just wanted to show you the new dress”
And why, WHY did you want to show me that? , just to make me feel bloody shitty and that in spite of a bachelor’s degree I can’t get a job , feed my parents? , is that why you decided to show me the new dress .. To show me what your world is and what mine is ? “
After all the day’s vitriol had been poured
“No I just wanted to show it to somebody ..Somebody who wouldn’t say how short it was”
“ITS SHORT AND ITS crass and you’re dressed up like a bloody whore!” “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
The bubblegum burst ..For the first time I saw beneath her breasts..
Nayna the woman
You know she died today.. Nayna I mean .. And I don’t want to comment on anything else except on how young she was and how unfair it all is. And I find myself unable to comment on both.
Her breasts are still. The heart that once beat within is still and I am weaned ..Once and truly of the
Fascination that was nayna .
Nayna the Ghost
“Oh did I mention the fact that “ , what a desk way of saying things , well at least what sprung to my mind and “whatever” is in order !
“Did I mention?”
That she killed herself
Srinivas Rao pulipati had this email ,all figured out …he had this woman, out to be a whore , he had her out to be, Miss Ranch , he had her out to be ,poisoned …poisoned with something “he could not figure out” …somebody all of us fight with …as the seductress, as the girlfriend, as the wife.
Nayna cackled , she laughed “Oh you men”
She cackled and burned bright tonight as she spewed and hummed
“Nights in white satin “
“Never reaching the end “
“Letter I had written “
Never meaning to send
Bright and sure …even as morning rears its head
WELL ..
Here’s to the ghosts of another day!
I did say I was the trumpeter…and I did blow … on her funeral day ….after all …a man’s got to do what a mans' got to do !?”
To nayna the whatever …
!!!
“Be careful” , screamed a rather innocent looking headline
Sender – Srinivas road pulipati
Recipient – Doha
I wish i could italicise the thousand emotions ...
and speak the thousand lives this woman was in one
Happens to all of us ..Especially me
Honestly the “ Everything you wanted to know about sex but were always afraid to ask” -
The theme should have been explored in the Indian context. Would have been a classic case of
“JUST WHEN I THOUGHT I HAD ANSWERED ALL THE QUESTIONS THEY CHANGED THE QUESTION PAPER “
However I digress .. By profession I am a trumpeter , a blow-Horner , a man with a mouth, full of gas if you will … many adjectives have been associated with me
I do the most solemn duty of all ..Blow it when it needs to be blown .. Not many people would exchange places with me ..And THAT I think makes me rather special ..
Nayna the cradle snatcher
It happened many moons ago .. I was comfortably perched atop my feathery, cloudy bed trying to take the whole wide world in one giant stare when another pair of eyes locked mine
From experience I could gather she was at least 42 hours older however she had me in a trance
Staring at me from the adjacent cradle ..asking me if there was another ? “Noo” , I helplessly stammered , She had me ..Then and there.. A complacent grin stroked her cheeks as she looked upwards and breathed peacefully.
She bawled her head off when they tried to pull her out of the cradle and they did.. And for three days she would not stop crying … the nurse had a bright idea .. Let’s take her amongst the other kids … I had not been adopted yet .. She immediately calmed down.
She knew me.. A tryst with destiny ..
And until they adopted me for the helper’s family, she would not budge from the nursing room
Both of us stared at each other wide eyed .. Each nursing a breast and content ..The predator and the preyed.
I have to be fair to them of course, they gave me all that could be asked for .. A fine education.. Even pretence of jealousy when I would top her.. In the exams ..The excuse being .. “Oh she did not really study “ …would drive me mad for almost weeks when she would just come upto me and parrot the same thing over and over again.. I remember what getting mad at her was like
Nayna Nayna Nayna Nayna
Who’s the taller bol na ?
Ahh yes the helper and his wife, in whose home I was fostered … every night a dream would come and haunt me …after I had shared the meager meal …after I had watched them go hungry for an illusion ..a son they’d never have.. I would be haunted by a dream too.. of nayna, asleep peacefully in her mansion and us in her outhouse and I would dream… of riches and of bright lights and fireworks..
Coincidence or whatever ..the day I was appointed to get the morning newspaper from the gate on the bicycle I saw that Nayna had breasts. A little mound on the dress ..maybe it was the morning sun or my headiness on a bicycle as I flew past on it and turned to look back and her arms waving frantically at me, pointing forward …. Lost and bruised.. as I picked myself up from the ground and mounted the atlas once again, I felt like I could wade through a thousand brambles if only they would serve as an excuse for me to look back. The first ride is the loneliest one …after that the mobility is just an excuse…
Not only did she have breasts.. she was taller .. This was unacceptable, of course. Especially when she and I went to different schools and walked back for 1/4th of the way, from where our buses/rickshaws would drop us off. I was walking beside her ..and then not.. I would pretend to tie my shoelaces every time we would pass a bus stop. She kept saying “ I’m going to ask dadu to get you new shoelaces” …she never did ..
Her breasts however kept growing until one day they stopped and this was miraculous…she would stop growing now and I could compete …
Nayna nayna nayna nayna
Who’s the taller bol na ?
Was my constant refrain
I outgrew her by almost a foot …
Gangly, my thinness became subject of ridicule.. New questions to answer.. Every time I would catch up she would be there ..With a new book , with a new role for me to play ..Never a word as to how I had done so far..
Nayna the ..
Just nayna ..the bubblegum
I would take the atlas everyday and fetch the milk from the front gate ..the milkman drifting away as the gates closed was a morose sight to start the day with …however I always used to think of what he left behind
They did not send me to college and nayna . she went ..
“It’s always good to have a social service project at home , isn’t it ?” , I said
“I never thought of you like that , you know that” , nayna said
“ Why the fuck are you crying ?
Why the fuck are you crying …
They just convince me even more that
You took me to be a project” “that’s all”
She was still in control…
“ I just wanted to show you the new dress”
And why, WHY did you want to show me that? , just to make me feel bloody shitty and that in spite of a bachelor’s degree I can’t get a job , feed my parents? , is that why you decided to show me the new dress .. To show me what your world is and what mine is ? “
After all the day’s vitriol had been poured
“No I just wanted to show it to somebody ..Somebody who wouldn’t say how short it was”
“ITS SHORT AND ITS crass and you’re dressed up like a bloody whore!” “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
The bubblegum burst ..For the first time I saw beneath her breasts..
Nayna the woman
You know she died today.. Nayna I mean .. And I don’t want to comment on anything else except on how young she was and how unfair it all is. And I find myself unable to comment on both.
Her breasts are still. The heart that once beat within is still and I am weaned ..Once and truly of the
Fascination that was nayna .
Nayna the Ghost
“Oh did I mention the fact that “ , what a desk way of saying things , well at least what sprung to my mind and “whatever” is in order !
“Did I mention?”
That she killed herself
Srinivas Rao pulipati had this email ,all figured out …he had this woman, out to be a whore , he had her out to be, Miss Ranch , he had her out to be ,poisoned …poisoned with something “he could not figure out” …somebody all of us fight with …as the seductress, as the girlfriend, as the wife.
Nayna cackled , she laughed “Oh you men”
She cackled and burned bright tonight as she spewed and hummed
“Nights in white satin “
“Never reaching the end “
“Letter I had written “
Never meaning to send
Bright and sure …even as morning rears its head
WELL ..
Here’s to the ghosts of another day!
I did say I was the trumpeter…and I did blow … on her funeral day ….after all …a man’s got to do what a mans' got to do !?”
To nayna the whatever …
!!!
posted by Doh | 7:26 AM
4 Comments:
Oh D'oh!! Why is there so much melancholy in your blogs.. but it also feels like it should not be there.. no mushiness.. no sadness.. no openly expressing deep feelings of the heart.. just narration!!
some lines that I liked:
* I wish i could italicise the thousand emotions
* take the whole wide world in one giant stare
* The heart that once beat within is still and I am weaned ..Once and truly of the fascination that was nayna.
The line that is throwing me off every time I read this:
>>And for three days she would not stop crying … the nurse had a bright idea .. Let’s take her amongst the other kids … I had not been adopted yet .. She immediately calmed down.
Is everything in that line awright? Why am I not getting the gist of it?
and
>>Srinivas Rao pulipati had this email
What email??
I know, I am D'uh!!
Gosh Doh!! You write so beautifully...
Its the seemingly emotionless narration that carries within it a thousand italicised emotions... :-))
Simply beautiful!!
second funny. on all counts.
thanks a lot funny,chay and bleu
Funny ,
this sort of thing i have been experimenting with for some time now and i found the best way to express it is if i internalise the feelings of the person in that particular situation. The choice of the situation is melancholic because its lends itself to easy play with words :)
The person narrating the katha is a bloke who was an orphan and in the same nursing home as Nayna and she chose him to be her partner for her growing years and the katha is basically what this chap felt growing up with her free spirit
the whole process is triggered at the receipt of an email titled "Be careful" and the contents i have deliberately left obscure since the only purpose it serves only as a trigger point
chay thank you, that is huge compliment :)
Post a Comment
<< Home