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Novella: Hot on wheels (15)

Chapter 15

Splaying on the bed, Hardik twisted her curls into his fingers and rubbed her face with his hand as if applying an anointment, she guffawed, “What are you doing?” “Just loving the caress, don’t you?” he asked. She lisped, “As if you are not enjoying. How do you do that? Tickling my face and running your hand. Orgasmic climax, hai na.”

Geet inched closer to him and gently caressing his hand, taking it on her soft waist, held tightly as if it’s a teddy he doesn’t want to part with. He felt an electric rush running deep like feverish temperature and tries to control his urge. “Feeling something inside…let it be. Don’t push them away,” she teased. Geet slowly unlocked her fingers and twirled her hands on the edge of his jeans pressing on his private. “I knew that…you were getting hard inside. It’s okay. Just my waist arousing you.”

Hardik tried not to resist and pointless denying his arousal in holding her waist. It gave him the hots. He held tightly to her waist, biting into her ear, kissing her nape and a stroke of hair planted on his lip. “Ouch! This shit feels so good,” she lit the roll.

“Which one is better?” he lisped.

“I prefer the roll, not your lip,” she turned around. Lips melted and stroking each other, tongues curled into a maelstrom running like steam. A short interlude like in the movies and a wine bottle waiting, frothy sensation on mouths feeling like an aphrodisiac. “Better than kissing,” he let off. “Agree,” she quipped, “Except that I’d prefer wine over you after sex and not the cigarette.”

His fingers pressed on her neck. She jerked her neck up and down. Fingers pressed on the back shoulder, pulling her off the bra strap with his tooth and hands moving on her back. She faked the moans, “Ouch! Oh! I wanna more. Give me what I want…ooh…aah,” before bursting into a seductive laugh.

Hardik didn’t utter a word and intentionally pressed his palm on her neck, almost strangulated her. “Ouch! It hurts fucker,” she protested. “Do that again, bitch. I gonna kill you for real,” he pressed his tooth.

“Dude, you are really sounding now like Dhirubhai Ambani whom the Government screwed for real. And I ain’t some Kingfisher model mistaking you for Vijay Mallya. Is it some sexual frustration and not liking these tender, soft moments?” she placated him.

He moved his hand away from her shoulder, massaging the neck and pressed her head, twirling her curls into his hand, asking, “This is better than the neck.” She smiled seductively, “Totally dude. You still didn’t tell why you were plotting to strangle me. Is it your idea about BDSM?”

“Arre na, I don’t get ejaculation pressing your neck. Your fake orgasm, man and you think I am the unphunny fuck,” he sniggered. Geet turned around and pulled his hair, tickling him on the hairy chest. He pulled away from her, “Stay away. Don’t spoil my hair.” It gave her wings and pressed on his body with t-shirt on, “Oh! My thinny weeny teddy getting all worked out and telling not to spoil his hair and all. I own you and cannot do or say what I want. What? You need listen to the mistress, my little slave,” she pressed her knee on his chest. “Are you hurt, my chocopie, tell na? “ She pressed harder on his chest and pressing knee on his stomach. “I wanna wolf you, my kissie kissie munchie burger.” He almost choked, “No! Not hurt.” He lost his voice. She collapsed on the other side of the bed and panted.

“What do you say? We should do it more often and actually better than rainy fuck. Me on top and you gasping for breath,” she whispered.

Hardik wheezed, “Hey! Forget about all the full clad orgasm and for fuck sake, we are not some sanskari God and Goddesses. You are such a perv woman. How did you create this pagdi guy, imagining him to be your ex and new fiancée?” he cackled. She hit him lightly with her hand. The garrulous laughs didn’t stop.

“It’s just that you didn’t notice. Not pagdi but the condom you’ve put the last time with strawberry foamed flavor on top. I thought you got the scent. Just saved it, dude.” Geet made the perfect comeback.       

“You know one thing?” Geet winced with a pause in her voice. “Had we not known each other before that and meeting you in college only, perhaps we would never be together, forget about saying Hi to you. I would probably wonder what kind of weirdo you are…I love my chubby cheek weirdo. So cute my Punchu?”

“Punchu, what the fuck is that,” he pretended to be offended.

“Arre, punchbag!” she smiled.

“And, me pursuing you and getting rejecting several times, giving you blank calls and messages in college,” he doled out.

“Haha! Ya go on with this zero fuck list…m already hitting a climax with our imaginary second life in campus,” Geet simpered.

“Tell me something, na,” Geet egged on him, “Is there any girl from class that you would love to date or making mad love to, apart from me.”

Hardik was taken aback by this question like many guys hating to confess in front of the one. “Remember that girl in class, always wearing hippie jeans and playing with earrings?”

She became curious and jealous at the same time. “Kaun? Divya!”

“Arre nahin re. The other one who would always come late and sit behind Divya, hiding her face away from Economics teacher…hint the nautanki wali. She is also from Mumbai…Dadar I think!!

She tossed her head, right to left, pretending to unaffected and felt heartbeats, wondering whether he had some action. Geet pretended to be brave, “I mean how would I know! You just took me to Divya and now some other chick…who is this nautanki wali and that too who stays in Dadar. I mean, Dadar is fucking huge and crowded in Mumbai, man!” It skipped her mind hovering on that female. Right now, Geet wanted to murder her.

“Who is she?” he coaxed him into spelling her name.


“Aree wohi na. Woh woman you told about just now. I mean other than me,” she pretended not to be unfazed. The trick worked big time. She was shaken and behaved abnormally as if someone sprinkled chilli sauce in her drink. Geet would soon be spitting fire on him. He was enjoying this abnormal behavior, getting hyper and bout of red on her face. An idea struck in his mind, He gotta act fast. Should he or not?

He took a risk and took the game forward, flipping a mobile showing her a hot chick she clicked picture on saree day. Both of them stood close to each other and holding a rose. “This one,” Geet almost jumped. “You had some scene with that bitchy woman,” she was aghast. Hardik simply nodded. Geet stormed out of the bed and kicked the bin. She was shaking and lit a cigarette. I really need a drink, right now. She poured herself a whisky.

Geet came back inside the room. She was composed and told, “Let’s party next Saturday. It’s alright. I am telling you.” Hardik was surprised at the split personality.



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Novella: Hot on Wheels (14)

Chapter 14:

“I am getting married. I am leaving Mumbai for good and will continue college there…Mithibhai, Xavier’s or Jai Hind, something,” Geet nonchalantly says while rummaging through clothes in her wardrobe and flung them on the luggage bag unfolding open on the bed.

“What? Are you crazy? Last time, you run away from the engagement and fought with uncle and aunty before coming to Fergusson. It’s the best college in Pune. You must be out of your mind to leave such a place and that too for some fixed match,” Hardik protested. He didn’t know what fell on his head and felt like lightning piercing his heart into pieces.

She stopped in her track, the oscillation from bed to the cupboard and turning in a statuette that someone could have mistaken for the Indian version of Mona Lisa. He felt absolutely helpless and mad. The statue started talking and stared straight at him, “Now! What? You tell me what to do? We need to listen to parents, sometimes. See, Mom has been adamant for me to get married and this time, the guy is well settled and works as scriptwriter for TV serials. At least, I can give him ideas about Mom’s crazy Ekta Kapoor’s K Serial fixation. Mom can give her inputs and we will mint money together as one sukhi parivar (Happy family)!”

“Pyar sab kuch nahin hota hai janab aur kabhi kabhi peth ka sawaal bhi hai…now let me go before I become emotional,” she walked unaffected to the balcony. (Love is not everything Sir and sometimes we need to feed ourselves). He followed her. “Why are you fucking doing that? What happens to us and our world?”

She turned towards him, “Heylo dude! What love? I told you my decision that I am leaving the city and in case you are thinking, Mom never forced me for this match and second, I accepted of my own will. We cannot forever be like that, sex, high on smoke and alcohol, fun, laughs, fighting and again mushy love.”

“Honestly, I am bored being with you dude. You are being clingy with this love crap and all. I made it clear the first time and remember we agreed that the moment we start falling for each other, the whole crap is over,” ruthless woman just went on a spree.

He turned silent and asked, “So, it means there was nothing between us, no emotions at all and the love declaration you made was all false. Geet! I don’t believe you. I really don’t!”

“No! You should,” she upped the decibel. “I am not making that. Wake up to the reality. I have. We are not some Heer Ranjha or Laila Manjnu tearing our clothes nor do I plan to sing Humne ghar choda (We left home) with you and shouting Garibi Hatao (Get rid of poverty) on the street of Mumbai. Aaji kya chahiye dinner pe? Jumbo sized Vada Pav!”

“You have no answer for that, except telling how cool our Fergusson College and campus is. Look beyond that, dude.” She went on a tirade. He didn’t counter her argument and deep inside, a feeling of helplessness struck him like a bomb. The soon-to-be-turned jilted lover was persuaded that he cannot afford to let her go and already plotting in his head how to make the unknown groom run away.

“I love you Geet…something I never told any woman and never felt anything like that for any fling or date. But! This feeling is ecstatic. I want to make the most of our college days together…”

He squeezed her wrist tightly. She didn’t protest. “I am being a bitch. Your eyes shouldn’t remind me about that. Say it thousand times that Geet is a bitch leaving everything for a guy chosen by Maa,” she spoke interruptedly.

“Dude, you are fucking no squirrel. Get that in your head. You keep popping every now and then in the apartment and am fucking tired of this cat and mouse game. Head I fuck! Tail you fuck. Everything is fuckboi game we keep playing by lying on top of each other. Let’s get down to it. Got an adrenaline rush being down?” the soon-to-be bride went on a monologue.

She spoke in an interspersed, monosyllabic tone and so quick that Hardik missed bits and pieces in the conversation. “Can you please repeat everything?” he asked. It was a ploy convincing her not to leave. “I don’t repeat myself,” she countered in a mocking tone.

“You are not going anywhere,” he ran fast towards the door. She leaped behind him. Both of them wrestled the apartment’s key as if it’s some prized candy. She bit on his palm. He wouldn’t let go of it. “Leave my home key. It’s not your condom,” she broke into a splinter. Both slipped to the ground and wrestling with the stack of keys.

They lie on the floor bursting into peals of laughter. “Ouch! My stomach paining, dude?” she guffawed. “Why are you pregnant now?” he teased. “Shut up,” she howled. “Arre! Why are you after me and not letting me get married to Maa’s proposal? Go to those bimbos girls you were serenading on rose day and your tongue curling at moving tits and boobs.”

“You are definitely jealous?” he plainly told.

“Jealous and I? Of Whom? You or those bomb chickas,” she simpered.

“I dunno may be both. You might be bisexual.”

She chortled, “Haha very phunny Mister male Phoebe. You sound like singing Smelly Smelly at my wedding, except I am no cat. You know Mom showed me the picture of the man I’m getting hitched. Well! He looks dashing like a groom in traditional sherwani and pagdi. I immediately said yes…” He stopped her, “Shut up! Shut up! I don’t wanna listen.”

She raised her voice louder, “Arre! Suno na. You know the guy. I wanna tell his name.” He protested. She spoke intermittently and on a spree as if running after the last 1.40 a.m local, laughing seamless. Devdas pinched her arms.  

“Ok! Tell!” he grew tired, feeling pulsating heartbeat.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Are you telling or not? Let’s get done with it.”

“You don’t wanna hear do you?”

He was getting tired and shrugged, “Are we playing Pehle aap…pehle aap. I am not some train and you want to go to Jaipur in a local.”

“It’s Jim!”

“What the fuck,” he hid anger and jealousy. “You mean the ex you ditched to have sex with me and on whom you actually spilled coffee at the radio station.”

“Hello! I didn’t have any shauk (passion) for sex with you. I just wanna take revenge and you were the first option who came up. Now, what are you looking at? Say na, call me a bitch. Agar bharas hai dil mein toh nikalna, huzoor.”

“Arre when Mom showed me the picture, I couldn’t recognize him. He looked dapper and transformed like a bullet, the long, unkempt hair, chiseled and well-toned chest. Just imagine the bullet driving me on the bed. Are you imagining na our naughty naughty…”

“Ok! You can go and get married, do whateverrr you wanna to. You can fuck yourself.” He moved away from her and she ran after him, grabbing his hand. “Why would I fuck myself? I have my dulha doing that. Just imagine. Me and him naked on bed, caressing his chest and running my hand on…” she says with mouth open and tongue curled, lashed out.

He moved his face away and felt a sensation running high like feverish bout, “I don’t wanna hear.”

“Fine! Let’s do it then,” she simpered.

“What? You are such a pervert,” he was scandalized. “With him, then go ahead.”

“I want to do it with you only. My cute, chweet fuddu. I am getting married today to you…!

“What, where and when….today…Are we eloping? What happens to your sasta dulha?”

“Check the date my fuddu duddu?”

Hardik flipped the calendar app on his smartphone and yelped, “April First!” She leaned and kissed on his cheek, “Ban gaya tu April fool…Fool for Fuddu.” He ran after her. She jumped on the bed. They played hide and seek, pillow throwing and he grabbed her wrist from behind. Both fell on the bed with hands interlocked, stumble on the bed, and chortled.



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Novella: Hot on Wheels (13)

Chapter 13

Moist eyes and face caked with tears drenched on the white bed sheet. Dreaming and longing for someone and didn’t realize how moist imaginative eyes turned real. “You are not going anywhere…I love you…I don’t.” She shrieked in deep slumber.

A shadow disappeared in the forest and turned into ice as she stood frozen, watching and pleading. Geet lunged and heaved out of the bed, with a heavy chest. “Oh fuck! This cannot be happening to me.” For days, she has been resisting the feeling of being in love, battling emotions and fighting the emotions. She was finding it hard to accept. “No! It cannot be happening to me,” she repeated to herself every time. “So what I confessed but I was drunk?”

The emotions were not leaving her alone and the ghost of love lurking and haunting making it complex gathering her thoughts. The phone rang. A cheerful Hi met with silence. “Heylo…” lover boy pronounced with excitement. “Wots up, babe?” he repeated in an alluring, musical tone and curling tongue in whistle.

“Ya, tell me,” she was cold. “Aye! What’s happening with my babe?”

It infuriated her: “Listen fucker, don’t babe me and I’m in no mood for your silly humor.”

Hardik went blank for a second. “Ok! I thought about calling you but it seems to be at the wrong time. Call when it works for you. Declare love and all emotions when the mood suits you and then disowning the whole thing next.”  

The words hit hard and like an arrow piercing the heart. It sent her into a tizzy and shouted to herself, “Shit! Shit! What I have done? Fuck my feeling. Fuck my confusion.” What Geet wanted right now is to pacify him and why on earth would she do that! She sent dozen calls. He didn’t reply.  Slim fingers expertly held and soft lip lit a smoke, “Ok! Fuck him. Role reversal.”

Pulling on her jeans and white tee, she dashed out of the apartment like an abla naari and kept calling on his mobile but there was no answer. A Whatsapp was clicked sent, “You know what Fuck you, babe. Yes! Fuck you, Babe! Except you looking for that fuck. Is it your male hormonal?”

Tears streamed on her cheek. She drove the bike in speed and almost screeched on the muddy patch, regaining control and stormed inside the campus at Fergusson College. She drove straight to the parking lot and got down, plodding her legs past bikes and cycles.

A huge and colorful crowd greeted her on the campus and unfurling in seductive sarees as if the Principal just got hitched. The guys straddled for once in speck trousers, crisp shirt-wearing tees and some in suits as if clicking a deal crores, thinking themselves as Anil Ambani. The torn jeans and hippie denim were discarded for once. She felt like a homeless woman on her campus, and thought a beggar would dress better than her.

Geet in her nice white and branded blue denim just turned into a beggar. She watched from afar and wished that she knew about the traditional and rose day in college was the moment for guys to ask the girls they pinned for. A rose would do the trick. Secretly, she pinned that he would swoop her off the feet with a red rose. So, what she look like an outcast?

“Ok! Fuck it!” she cursed and walked inside the campus, ignoring the colorful crowd past the main circle and classrooms, desperately looking for the man who makes her heartbeat. She spotted someone dressed in crisp black trousers and ironed white shirt paired with a colorful tie. He seemed to ignore her and chatted with the glamorous girls, holding stack of roses in his hand, white, red, and yellow. The girls were giggling. She couldn’t believe Hardik is making flirtatious advances to the hot woman in a seductive game, walking with composure and wooing with flowers. He bent his knee in front of Miss Hottie and offering her a red rose. She made a doe-eyed face and couldn’t stop blushing not leaving his sight.

Geet eyed both of them from a distance and slowly walked towards him. She wanted to break the face of Miss Hottie. She popped in front of him, “Who is she?” He was a bit shaken at her sight and uttered, “Oh! That’s you…sorry didn’t recognize…you wearing plain jeans na like a Jane in distress.” All she could tell was, “Haha very funny. So, no rose for me?” Hardik ignored her, “Too late. Some people don’t like to be called babe and so I thought why surprise them!”

She stared in disbelief. He was unfazed, “Flowers are over. Sorry. Too much demand.” They stood face to face when a girl decked in a black saree dotted with sequined gold walked in front of them and stopped right in front of him, chirped like a morning bird, “Hey! Happy Rose Day. So, no Rose for me. How mean?”

Hardik had eyes only for her and ignored Geet, “Of course, I do. He removed a white rose and gave to her. She smiled, “Ah! White rose. Will do…will do.” Geet was aghast and seethed with anger. “How dare he ignore me like that?” she looked menacingly at him. He straddled in slow pace inside the sprawling Fergusson College campus as if she never existed.

Flailing her hands in disbelief, the avatar of a nameless, angry Goddess shouted, “Hey! You just ignored me like that. Am I Chucky’s bride or what that I will torture you? How shamelessly you are flirting with those stupid, babe bimbo types?”

He was amused and made a mocking face without saying a word, having fun at the sight of a heartless woman being tormented. Geet went on a rant, “I don’t keep getting laid with so many and yelp in pain. You get that.”

“Jealous,” Hardik simply asked. “Now, you wait and see what I do,” she shot back at you. They made way past the main gate and outside the campus when she stopped a random guy, “Hey! Dude! Will you go on a sassy date with me? I am all yours.” The guy looked at her and gave a weird expression, “Nopes, not interested.” He scampered away as if she’s corona virus. Hardik laughed gleefully.

“Guess, you are ghost into invisible mode,” he teased. “Wait! Now I know. You are taking rose day’s revenge on me for ignoring you this morning. This is it. What should I fucking do? Fold my hands! No, bend my legs right in front of our campus in Baba Ramdas coital position for you,” she spurted.

He didn’t expect this side of her. The wounded tigress was getting louder. Some students walked happily in saree and formal suits with rose, looking at them. “Yes,” she was adamant. “Let’s do it here. I shall strike this erotic asana right now.”

She was turning into Jhansi ki Rani and spitting fire. The daring charmer has turned into a henpecked kinda boyfriend who needs to pacify her but didn’t know-how. He didn’t have the heart to look around and wanted to bury his face. There was absolutely no way to soothe the fiery mood growling like stormy waters. Geet angrily went into an unstopped rant when he cupped his face to her mouth and smacking hard.

 “What and why this lip-smacking just felt like you fucked me so hard in public?! Don’t ever think that you can ever shut me out every time for I’m no Cinderella.” He hid something behind his back and in slow motion, serenading her on the road and bending on his knee, showering a red rose with a sheepish smile. “The last and special one for you only,” he winked.

It sent her in a tizzy and pretended to be unfloored by the flirting, “Show me your bag?” He didn’t protest. She sieved through, “There is none…for anyone. Chalega chalega…the last one for me.” Geet blushed and intense eyes talking and making deep love to each other.  



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Hot on Wheels (12)

Chapter 12:

The beautiful night glittered with fleeting stars and encapsulating silence in the Pune outskirt lending an old world charm, far away from the humdrum of noise and vehicles jarring in the main city.  Smoke curled in a circle and disappearing with the wind past the spacious balcony, buildings, hills and lake makes for a serene atmosphere.

Geet looked like a divine saintly woman in her white Kurti and bhindi on the forehead that she could easily pass for a religious woman doling blessings. Hardik stood at a distance, admiring the scenery and watching her in awe taking a drag. “Come close, “she nudged. “I won’t bite, promise baba.”

He made a guilt face. She laughed over it as if saying that’s alright. She took another puff and passed the cigarette to him, rubbing her hand on his palm and the male finger made round circle inside the flesh between her thumb and index.  She laughed, “Shocked about the ex-fiancée?”

He chuckled, “Are you asking me this question? I mean, it’s not that you cheated on me or some shit like that babe. Both of us wanted some action.”

Geet turned her face away towards him and sported a wry smile, “I just wanted to vent things in my own way and found in you, the perfect bakra.”

“Except that, I am a willing bakra and always looking for some swing,” he completed her sentence. He was hiding something but was too apparent to her.  Geet knew about Hardik’s jealousy pang when he tries to act all chilled out.

A single glass of dark wine stood on the cement slab which she tendered to him, “Except that we gotta share this one glass left pretty like our meaningless and emotionless sex.” He didn’t say anything and gulped without complaining. Sip by sip. No cheating. One sip for her and the next for him. Poor wine feeling like a joint playing musical chair conjuring drowsiness for both of them in a single glass.

“How does it feel to screw things up for me dude?” Geet asks nonchalantly. There was no anger but a lovelorn smile on her face and playing with her curls. She burst into an uninterrupted laugh and the next moment rollicking on the floor.

“Dude! That shit was embarrassing. Not me! Poor Ginni took over on air for me. I am smart that way, once you called and I passed the mike to her. She had no option but to entertain you. What fucking shit went into your head to profess love on air as in like L-O-V-E. Felt light kya?

Hardik was embarrassed at this remark and on spur of the moment was caught off guard for his back-to-back stupid acts and a sense of hurt. He couldn’t help it seeing her laughing at his feeling. How he hates being vulnerable. But Geet was hiding her shortcomings by indulging in this antic and warding off her emotions. She was tired of a quick bang with only one man. She is not the type of getting laid with many but only one giving her the immense joy and experience of scoring with different men. He was different men in one, a wholesome package to her. It scared her that both are in the same situation, same college and longing for each other. How to tell him that she is looking for something serious with him? She rolled a joint and took a long drag, almost passing out.

Hardik leaned on the floor and pressed her hands as she sprawled the head on the reclining chair. She tossed her eyes and was enjoying this massage. Better than sex, she thought.

She went into a slumber. The wine was playing havoc on his head and he splattered, “You asked how does it feel to screw things up? I didn’t! Yes, I am jealous. Perhaps, you are not listening and enjoying maharani nap. Should I tell how much I became restless, doing the running around, chasing you on campus, frantic heartbeat, fear of losing you and behaving like a mad person on the road? Perhaps, I am selfish and so used to you when I sat inside CCD, thinking you would miraculously pop inside.  I heard your voice on the radio. I didn’t know what went inside my head and called to declare my love for you if that’s what you wanna know. No! I am unapologetic and not sorry for doing that.”

She didn’t react and feigned sleep, taking long breaths, wondering the what and hows of facing each other next.  He wanted to ask about Jim, feeling a tinge of jealousy, trying hard to hide the expression on his face and wanting to run away. A strange sensation ran deep inside him about the other guy. Who was him? Did they have sex? Should he ask her or not?

Geet slowly got up and sat in a relaxing position.  “In case you wondering, this guy was my fiancée for a couple of months fixed by Mom. I hated him and was suffocated in this relationship. One day, I ran away from home after a fight for there was no interest in marrying him. I sneaked out. You were a random guy. You looked decent. We fucked because I wanted to get back at my parents. But, you were not just anyone. I sensed a deep connection with you, believe it or not.”

He felt as if she heard his confession and didn’t sleep at all. He lied, “I never asked you about him. If you don’t feel like speaking, no need to justify.” “I am not justifying but just telling. I wouldn’t give a fuck even if you think I am a slut,” she told. Her words shocked him, ‘How on earth she can be so direct and casual about things.’

Lying naked in the morning, they didn’t penetrate each other. Hardik got up from the bed. She woke up from her sleep and drowsy eyes furtively followed his steps to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and removed a bottle of icy, cold water. A cold sensation dripped on his chest. A pair of hands pressed onto his skin, swiftly down till the stomach up and down, bodies pressed together. The water gulped ran deep inside and human touch stirring at speed of waterfall, making a contrast of hot and cold.

“I hate saying this…Oh my! Holy crap,” Geet’s voice slurred. “I mean, I love you. Tomorrow morning, I may deny saying it. I know I will deny saying,” she choked. A sense of heaviness lifted off her chest in a shrilled voice and soared with emotions hitting an octane. There was complete silence. Hardik heaved. He didn’t know what to say.

It felt like a snippet piercing his chest. A silence killed him and lunged on his flesh. He didn’t know how to respond to the love confession. They lay still, stuck to each other and her lip cupped on his neck. He slowly moved his hand and holding tight to her palm, like statues for minutes felt longer than an entire night spent awake. The lovers drenched in the silence and no words were needed to experience the feeling passing through the minds.



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Hot on Wheels: Chapter 10

“What is he doing here…noo…noo…noo…it cannot fucking happen?,” Geet turned red and was on the verge of a panic attack. She almost flung the CD lying on the table towards RJ G, “Why the fuck your name starts with G and if it does, why be so cool and peppy?! RJ G. My ass! Just plain call yourself Ginni. It’s not ugly or you getting laid with so many and you don’t wanna be exposed.”

“Relax babe. Just tell me how on earth it’s my fault. It’s him right,” Ginni asked. The guy caked his face on the glass panel, admiring the guitar, suddenly took a fancy to the musical instrument, microphone, cue speakers and audio process.

“No! I mean definitely no,” Geet almost fainted.

“But, who! I have many stalkers and the last thing I want is the new dude fancying me. Let me call the guards,” Ginni flipped open her mobile phone.

“No! No! No. He’s not the guy who called you by declaring love just now. I mean, he is yes, not the one I am screwing. But, this one is someone else,” Geet fidgeted with her hands. She looks dismayed.

Ginni held her friend’s shoulders and pushed her on the sofa. “Water?” she asked. Geet gulped the icy glass of water down the throat. “The guy who called is no stalker, except you have one. He is Hardik. I am having a scene with him. But, Babe I am not in love,” she flailed her hands in the air.

“Okies! Now that we know the guy standing outside the studio is different from the one declaring love for me on air is your toy boy or whatever, studying and fucking together, may I know who is this one staring at both of us?  Geet leaped on her feet, “He’s was my fiancée I ditched for fuckboi. Now, what is he doing here? Why is he in this as in this studio? How does he know that I am here? He is a fucking weirdo, do you know that! Just look at his monkey face,” she shoved her middle finger.

“OK,” Ginni reacted in a monosyllable, “We don’t have a choice, except open the door for him and let him in. Asking what he’s up to. The last thing you don’t want babe is screwing things for you, NOW,” She casually but firmly told.  As amused as she was, RJ walked to slide open the door and he popped inside by offering his firm handshake, “Jimmy.”

“OK! Jimmy how can I help you? I am RJ G.” He gaped at the radio equipment like a toddler at the sight of candies slunk at the supermarket. “I won the film contest and you promised to get me a Valentine date.” RJ G burst out laughing. “Oh! My! Sorry sorry, Jimmy. I forgot for one instant about your Valentine date. Have a seat.”

Geet was hiding in the room behind the studio. Ginni dashed inside and wore a wry smile, “Ok! Problem not yet solved. He’s a listener who won a contest. OK! Sorry! I goofed up.” Geet was incensed, “That’s why you called me to be his blind date and for all the men on earth, you got me this guy. That too, my ex fiancée I ran away from and breaking the engagement praying I to never ever see him in the world.” 

“Now, what do we do?” both of them spoke at the same time. The bell rang. Ginni forcefully tagged Geet along and she reluctantly walked to face Jimmy. Both stared at each other. “You,” Jimmy yelped. She maintained her composure, “You, dude. I can ask you the same question. What are you doing here?”

He looked confused and was unsure what to tell her. Seeing Geet in the most unlikeliest of places felt bizarrely odd and how her parents called to tell the engagement is off. He muttered, “You never called to tell me we are no longer together. I didn’t expect that.” All she could tell was, “Dude! Do you expect me to call and tell that I run away from my own house! What do you expect me to do? Call you and say I am leaving my parents’ home for forcing this stupid engagement on me and let’s do live-in.”

The encounter was getting bizarre. She wanted to press the sanitizer lying on the table on his face. Oh! Somebody, please save me. The God that doesn’t exist. Hail! Hail! She wanted to cry. RJ G walked inside and a guy followed her. He stopped at the sight of Jimmy. The new entrant smiled, “Dude! Do we know each other? Cool studio, by the way. Do you work here?”

He went on a spree asking Jimmy so many questions. He looked flustered.  Geet wanted to bury her face and nearly collapsed, looking right, left, left and right. On one side, Hardik entered, and on the other, Jimmy. Both looked as if some bromance a la Dostana gonna happen. The lover boy’s eyes veered towards Geet as if she committed the perfect crime. “So! Finally! I catch you with a random guy. Are you into threesome and it feels like sandwich sprinkled with pakoda and gobi munchurian?” he broke the lamest joke.

“Dude! I am not nonveg,” Geet protested. “Me too,” Jim and Ginni repeated in unison. “Do you know each other?” Jimmy asked. “Do you?,” Hardik countered. “Of course, we do.” Both men laughed. Four faces went blank for this eccentric and strange introduction.

Jimmy felt uneasy and spoke in slurred motion, “She was my…” Ginni jumped in quick and acted as the savior, “He’s my guest. I mean both of you are.  Jimmy, you haven’t yet won and competition with Hardik.” Geet and Hardik turned to Ginni, “What!!!” It was Hardik’s turn, “I mean, who are you to host a competition between us? Some Pehelwan sitting in a radio studio.”  She winked, “Well! Guys! Battle of sexes. Who gets to take me out for a dinner date? Geet is the RJ. I am the girl to play around.” 

The whole scene was getting too confusing for the three of them, except Ginni leading the game. “So, whom did I speak to for this filmi contest?” Jim innocently asked, “I thought it was you!” “It was her, baby. I know you guys are confused. Wohi toh game hai. It’s called the musical chair of love,” Ginny brewed a storm.

Hardik confidently brushed the confusion aside, “Arre! I am not confused. I know! Spoke to Geet on radio. Geet is not Ginni and Ginni is not Geet.” Both girls pressed their lips and the last thing they wanted to do is murder this spoilsport. He is resembling right now the guy who burst the surprise birthday party balloon.”  

Jimmy doubted this whole saga unfurling right now. He is feeling like a tennis ball flung in different directions on the court. It was beyond his wildest imagination to meet the girl who broke heart and engagement, seeing her inside a radio studio and the cherry on cake is she was acting like an innocent chick kinda abla naari turning into an invisible RJ. He has just been ghosted. He let off, “Where did all that came from? I thought we spoke on radio,” pointing his fingers at Ginni.

Something was wrong. He felt like the unwanted Prince, pretty much like Lord Ram in an alienated Ayodha and the trio playing Kaikeyis without the banwas. Geet stared at Hardik. He has become immune to her growling of tooth, eyes and fiery look. “Shut up! Fucking shut up everyone,” Hardik yelped.

Everyone went blank silent in the studio. Geet wore an astounded look and shocked at the guy she loves dominating both on bed and everywhere on the planet. He miraculously toned down, “Ladies and odd gentleman, yes you Jimmy, what do you think you are Jim Beam whisky. We will get drunk on your charming and innocent look. The girls will start singing Jimmy…Jimmy…aaja aaja. I just fucking want to know what you are up to here! I am going mad with everyone so fucking confusing everybody. Why are you here? Who the fuck are you?”

“And, who the fuck are you?” Jimmy countered back.

“What are you doing here I may ask,” he continued.

Hardik gave him I don’t give a fuck attitude, “India is a free country, except you are lust love kinda bhakt, dude. I am following this girl. Any problem,”

Jimmy laughed sardonically, “I mean, why on earth would I give a fuck? I won the radio contest and one among those two promised to give me a hamper plus a date with any one of them. You can go fuck yourself.”

RJ G popped in and after all, those two guys have left her with no choice. “Ok guys. We have a serious problem. I am the date. Geet is not. Let’s sort it out or else both of you guys get out of my office.”

“Your office,” both guys sauntered. “Ok sorry, sorry! Her office, not mine. But, right now, we are here and both of you are the outsiders.



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Hot on Wheels: Chapter 9

The campus was brimming with the college crowd swarming to the main circle with books in hands. Hardik held stack of Xerox copies in hand, walking restlessly and trying to remember concepts and equations. He straddled aimlessly unaware of the crowd watching him learning by rote and tension wearing thin on his face.

Boys and girls, squatted on the stairs and cement slab discussing the paper, some were chilled about the exams with the rest running amok checking roll numbers on their hall tickets.  Geet was non-plussed and walked at leisure. She slapped him gently and yelped with excitement, “Hey! All ready. A-7.” She casually said.

He felt jittery and almost shrieked. “Chill dude,” she winked. “It’s just the semester exams. Have a chill pill,” she snatched his Xerox. “Wow, padhaku (book worm) you prepared so many notes for the Psychology exams. Freud Mama would be so proud of you.”

He let off, “You are back so soon,” she completed, “And in time for the exams. I reached by train this morning and gulped three cups of strong coffee. Hardly had time to sleep ya and this stupid exam had to happen today.” Talking to her and seeing her super chilled soothed him. He found himself saying, “Ya forget the notes and let’s see how much I remember the concepts. “That’s my boy,” she quipped. “You like me na and will do whatever I say.”

He stammered, “I mean no, yes, no kinda,” unsure what to tell. One thing he hates admitting of being in love for she never declared her flame, wondering how an average guy like him can get a hot chick like Geet. The guys drooled over her. She was unfazed about the eyes bobbing and heads turning at her sight.

The clock struck thrice and students hopped on their feet, clambering on the wooden stairs and making a beeline to enter the hall. Geet hugged him and stole a peck on his cheek. He hugged her tight. “Now, move. All the best dude,” she shouted. He walked towards the bench. She smiled watching him inching towards the desk. It was a miracle, scribbling on the answer sheets, filling the margins and asking for extra papers.

Geet’s effect has been playing like musical notes and the forgotten concepts waltzed in his brain. Looking around, he couldn’t find her at the desk. Where the fuck she disappeared, he wondered. Is she done writing? There were 30 minutes left and he gave back the answer sheet, running for his life, past the canteen, library and the Kimaya ground to find her.

She disappeared from the campus. He sensed frantic heartbeats. Why is he longing for her and getting restless? Nah, he brushed it aside. It cannot be love. This cannot be happening to me. How much I am pushing away my feeling for her and her face haunts me like crazy. I am going mad. He is shaking, walking past the gate at Fergusson College and crossed the crazy traffic and horns, to walk inside CCD.

The English song blared through the ears and laughs of the crowd, couple cuddling and stealing kisses. He felt odd sitting alone in the smoking bar, ordered a cappuccino with black forest cake. Lit a cigarette, he took a sip of coffee, meandered in thoughts and didn’t realize that the English song was shifted to the Hindi chartbuster, Dil Chori Chori Ho Gaye from Sonu Ki Titu Ki Sweety. He swayed to the tune and forgot Geet and his pursuit, drowned in the music when a chirpy voice crooned, “Radio Mirchi pe mein aap ke host, dost aur hamsafar. I have a question for you: What is love? What is lust? Can love and lust be the sides of the same coin? Love can be lust buried in relics and lust is love hidden. Listen to the heartbeats and drum beating. Are you? This is love. Trust your heart. Whatsapp me your favorite song and connect with me on Facebook and Instagram. Listen to this beautiful romantic song for love is and can never be incomplete without me. Aha! Guess my name for my work is to love you. I shall take my first caller of the day.”

I have my first caller of the day. “Hello,” RJ G greeted in a seductive voice and tongue curled on top of her palette and stroking. “Heylo…”

“Hi RJ,” a shy, male voice hesitated and cracked.

“Hey! Loverboy! Don’t be shy. Take a deep breath and say I love you to me.”

 “Heylo sexy baby, there,” the RJ was flirting with him. I love you. What’s your name?”

“Well, RJ G it’s me. We know each other and pretend to be far away from each other. You may pretend that I am invisible and a stranger but your heart knows deep inside”, he regained his confidence and encouraged by G. “Yes, You love me, I know that. You are Geet. Why did you run away from exams? I searched for you on the entire campus. Are you pranking me?”

She fell silent for an instant. “Hello, Are you a stalker? I am no Geet. Yes, I play Geet (song) on radio,” the usual seductiveness was missing on faces in the studio. “I know it’s you, babe,” he persisted. He didn’t what went into his head. “I love you my G. You love me too.”

RJ G didn’t have any choice, “I love you, too sexy boy.” She plays another song, “Mein hoon aapke dost aur humdard aap ke favourite RJ. All you singletons listen to this cool Hook Up song. The music blazed loud on radio.

They looked at each other inside the recording studio. “Do you know him,” RJ G asked? “He actually declared his love for you. Geet’s face became red and didn’t know what fell on her head. “Yes! And you had to play this fucking Hook Up song. Screwed!”

“As in babe,” G was puzzled.

“We screwed each other not once but several things. He’s in my class. Didn’t know it will lead to so much intensity,” Geet.

RJ G burst out laughing at Geet. Somebody stared at both the girls from the glass panel, watching one girl laughing madly and the other looking shell shocked in the colorful decked studio with mic, monitor and equipment. He was fascinated.

“Aha,” G made a mocking smile, “Your man. Go invite him,” moving her eyebrow to nudge at Geet’s direction. The latter didn’t know what to do and was planning to murder him.



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Hot on Wheels: Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

Geet flipped a cigarette from the fresh pack and lit with curled smoke blowing into ringlets disappearing with the wind billowed past the half arc surrounding the seas. She took a drag and intensely admired the sea breeze at Marine Drive, standing alone on the parapet, wondering on the last couple of days. She gave Hardik cold stares for almost a week and secretly wished that he would leave dejectedly for Pune. Both of them were missing college. The strategy backfired and compelled Hardik to stay back in Mumbai. He was hell-bent on wooing her.

The phone beeped. It was Hardik Whatsapping, “Reaching in another 30 minutes. I am inside the train.” He cajoled her back into speaking to him. She was confused about him, one moment drew to him and the next, there were no emotions left in her heart. Geet could be cold as the ice cube difficult to break. He is a good guy and ready to leave all everything, doing the run around for me, she took another drag.

Hardik walked at a fast pace and suddenly dashed in her direction. He was panting for breath and hugged her forcefully. “Water,” she asked. “Hmm,” his voice broke. “I want water to drink and sitting in this heat, waiting for you. She snatched his bag and pulled open the water bottle. She gulped the liquid down the throat. He wondered, “Here I am breathless and running all the way to catch the bus and train at Andheri to Churchgate. She didn’t see that I am craving to be in her company and instead, of offering me, she quenched her thirst.”

Geet asked unfazed, “Have some. You must be thirsty.” He slowly twisted the bottle open and spilled the drop inside the throat. He could breathe and enjoyed the cold liquid flowing down the throat. Hardik was oblivious that she was doing everything on purpose and to appear ruthless but deep down she cared for him.

“Are we going back to Pune,” she asked.

It felt something hitting him on the head. “What? Weren’t you supposed to be in Mumbai for a long time?

“Hello! It was meant to be two days trip and you followed me all the way, complicating matters. We ended up staying for two weeks. I think it’s now time to go back and because of you, I missed all the important lectures. Dude, we are screwed.”

“Taxi,” she shouted. The black-and-yellow cab slowed down and she dragged him inside the car. The vehicle slowly moved away from Marine Drive and ambled towards Chowpatty, taking a left turn near Wilson College. In no time, they reached Kemps corner.

“I don’t have any clothes and not even a bag with me. Just a wallet for the cab and train ticket! Are you always like that, Geet,” he protested?

“Stop whining. It’s not that you are a beggar and you live in an apartment with all your stuff in Pune. Who told you to follow me all the way to Mumbai and inside the taxi,” she was nonchalant.

“But,” he wailed.

She asked the cab driver, “Bhaiya aur kitna time lagega Dadar paunchne ke liye (How long it will take in reaching Dadar)?” The driver said, “Aagey bohot traffic hoga madam and ek ghanta lagega. (There is lots of traffic ahead and we will reach in another hour).” Geet turned towards him and faces cupped to each other, “See, we still have time and one hour. That’s a lot, dude.”

“What do you want to do?” he playfully says.

“Stop your bull crap. I just want to know how on earth you got the keys into Maasi’s flat. You would be in jail by now. Don’t raise your hands. I want an answer.” He averted her gaze and there was no way he would let her in the loop.

“I am waiting Hardik,” she sounded like a school teacher.

He innocently says, “Where are you stretching this whole thing? Ok! I am sorry and shouldn’t have taken you to someone’s house who turned out to be your Maasi. We ran away from the cops. I escaped pandu like mad aimlessly to land inside the housing society. Found the key under the flower pots.” Hardik realized that he spilled more than he wanted to her.

She concatenated into laughter, “What, you were chased by the cops. Sorry, sorry?” she apologized for the laugh. He felt silly. “Go on,” she simpered. “Tell the story. And, I thought you were banging some Tinder chick and took her there.”

“I’ve been telling you that you are jealous, thinking am scoring some chicks on Tinder,” he told.

“I knew that bastard,” she smiled.

“Hello! How I wish to be that lucky,” he told.

“Stop nurturing hopes. At least be thankful that I am the only one without being your girl. You just carry a condom pack with hopes. And, I didn’t mean you are scoring,” she laughed.

He protested. “OK! Sorry dude. Are you a thief?”, she was apologetic.

“No,” he was incensed.

“A closet gay doubling as a pimp. Wait you must be into the mafia and Dawood man in India,” she pulled him uninterruptedly.

He almost fainted, “Oh! No.”

Geet cajoled him, “Ok sorry. You better tell me who chased whom and I hope not a skirt but khaki after you. I am dying to know if the danda (stick) entered your ass. I will check later if you don’t tell me the story.”

“Shut up bitch and listen,” Hardik punched.

“Yes, bastard, go on,” she egged on him.

“Arre that night, I met a couple of friends. It was raining and almost midnight when we were boozing at Gokul, ordering Old Monk. We were in the mood but they decided to close earlier, fearing a raid.”

She asked, “So, they caught you guys?”

“Nopes. We bought two extra bottles. We took the cab to Central and got down to spot a row of apartments on the main road. We decided to hide near the huge trees sprawling near the gates of apartments and were boozing when a police jeep stopped. Dude, you cannot imagine how much I ran that day and leaving my friends who went in different directions. I ran aimlessly past a gate and plodded the stairs. I felt that I would die. The cops were on our heels. The corridor was empty and felt ghostly when my leg accidentally kicked the flower pot. I saw a shining metal. It was the key to the apartment.”

She listened to him in the car as if reading a novel or watching a Netflix movie. “And, you entered inside?” she was keen to know

“Obviously. It was do or die. A miracle escape. I overheard the cops heels outside with a torch and was relieved when they said to each other, “Saala, gandu log. Let’s go and they went off.”

“This was the only apartment you ever found to hide your ass from the cops. Look at your dare and guts man. You took me there. We ended up having the most heated sex and not for once, did I realize it was Maasi’s apartment? So shameless. What if Mom had a duplicate key and saw us naked,” Geet felt a chill.

“I don’t know, babe. What would we do? And, you are no less,” he reproached.

“Oh! Mr is so innocent and took his girlfriend…not girlfriend but a chick out there,” she corrected herself. Geet repeated, “No girlfriend. It was a slip of tongue and you better get that. What were you saying that I am no less?”

“You crazy woman. When aunty was at the door, you dragged me inside the room and pushed me out of the window. I was hanging out there, wearing jeans without underwear. It hurt like hell. You made me hang in the air and my hands held on to the cement pole for my life. Are you obsessed with vertigo or what? Is this your idea of BDSM.

Geet was laughing so much and her stomach hurt. “Wait! Wait! Wait! Where are the keys? The papers?” He was confused, “Which papers?”

“Arre screw that. The affidavit and we must have left it there. Also, we had a duplicate key! I think Mom misplaced it. Wait, she must have left it inside the apartment. Let’s go back,” Geet was shouting.

“What is wrong with you,” he was at a loss of words.

“Fuck you,” Geeta shut him. “Bhaiya, gaadi ko ghumao (Turn the car), Mumbai Central. Double paisa doongi ( I will pay double).”



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Hot on Wheels: Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

“What the fuck were you doing?” she asked in a firm voice at the coffee shop. He didn’t know what to reply and where to look. There was absolutely no way to pacify Geet and her eyes were spitting fire.  Having an inkling what’s coming his way, Hardik took another sip of coffee and casually asked, “So, when are you coming to college? I am thinking to leave for Pune in a couple of days.”

“Don’t fucking change the conversation. I asked you a question and you better reply,” Geet was adamant and furious. “Are you going to explain or I should do the talking myself.” He was left with no choice, “Arre aunty told na. She looked tired while walking and sweating in the crowded Khan market when I saw her. She reminded me of my Mom, na. I think she almost tripped.”

“Did she faint? I am asking coz there is no medical condition,” Geet suddenly lowered her tone. She became suddenly worried about her mom, forgetting about the past riff, and mom’s obsession with her wedding.

“Nah! As it is, the heat in Mumbai can be excruciating sometimes and I think aunty walked with stack of veggies she was struggling to carry,” he comforted her.

 “What did you just say?” she blushed.

“Aunty for your mom?” he plainly told.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“What did you hear?” he shot back. It was her turn to feel uneasy and awkward. Geet heard him saying, ‘Maa’ and she didn’t want to admit it. It would look too weird.

She changed the conversation and didn’t know how to be angry. I was supposed to blast him but his innocence won my heart, she thought. A sip of coffee and wondering how to pretend to be angry. She is suddenly finding him cute and melted down.

“What are you thinking?” Hardik asks.

Geet tried hard not to give away a smile and her strength to him. After all, he is a guy and she is a girl. She cannot concede so easily and he will obviously take advantage.  Play hard is the mantra. She rolled her eyes and told herself, “Done deal. I am keen to know how he came home and we found ourselves in maasi’s flat. He is not going to get away with that.”

She took a water sip and played with her curls. “By the way, why the need to come with Mom inside the house and now she has been troubling me, asking about you every nanosecond. Remember our deal. No love.”

“Arre,” he said in a jest, “How on earth can I let someone who wasn’t feeling well walk alone and be so selfish. I am not inhuman.”

“This means that you were following me and doing tehkikaat (investigation) on my parents. I really want to know what the fuck you up to?” she feigned a storm. He bit the bait. She was having fun.

“How on earth would I know that she is your Mom?” he countered.

“You know where I stay and am sure much before it was a ploy to get inside my house,” she remarked.

“I think you are in love with me,” he flung a missile at her. Geet’s mouth was wide open. “Don’t fucking change the conversation. I asked you why you came with Mom inside. The least you could do was to leave the bags near the door, press the bell and leave straight away.”

“How on earth would I know it’s my sasural…now aana jaana hoga (coming and going),” he laughed.

“Don’t ever dare doing that. What did you just say right now bhenchod, sasura…aana jana,” she slapped him on his head.

“Why are you laughing so much? Now, repeat you choot,” she grew irritated.

“What do you mean? You want me to keep visiting at home. Uncle and aunty themselves invited me,” he was having fun. She hit him playfully on his head and fluttering his hair with his hand. It was his turn to be irked, “Don’t touch my hair.”

“Of course, I will touch. Are you planning to go bald or what,” she kept playing with his hair. “Mister with virgin hair and doesn’t want to be deflowered. Are you picky with your neeche ka bal, too?”

He ignored. She wasn’t letting him getaway. “Hello! I don’t mean chest hair so much that it’s taking you on an ego trip. I am speaking about the thing that I’ve seen with my eyes. The lecher in me is asking the obvious…the hairy hairy hidden inside the bottom part.” Geet 1 Hardik 1. I scored even with him, a coquettish smile surface on her lip.

The man v/s woman battle has just started. Geet wasn’t yet done and planning a rocket to unleash on him. He asked, “Are you on Tinder?” A bullet pierced into her heart. She instinctively shot back, “Are you stalking me? Guys! I tell you. Always insecure about every small thing when it comes to women. Jealousy pang, hein!”

He casually remarked, “I am just asking. Why would I stalk you? I think you are jealous and not me, asking this question out of the blue.”

“Oh! How can I forget! People who want to bang chicks are on Tinder and waiting for the next moment for one nightstand. Remember how we met on Facebook! What were you thinking? I really want to know. First, taking me to Maasi’s apartment that nobody ever goes to and second, landing right inside my house. Gotcha.”

“Dude! How on earth you got Maasi’s keys and did you ever realize that we could have got caught? What if Mom opened the door and saw both of us inside. I need an answer. Don’t think that I will ever forgive you for that,?”

“No! You can’t be serious Geet,?” he defended himself.

“Abe chutiya! I have asked you a very simple. Got some balls! I want to know where you earthed the key where none of us have it at home.”



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Hot on Wheels: Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Geet’s fingers twitched on his jeans button and slid her palm on his hairy chest. He traced the line on her navel and finger’s toe touching the pierced ring. Tongue curled caressing the ring, lip pressed and tooth touching the ringlet as if gently licking a mouthful of ice cream. Body pressed to the wall in the living room surrounded by the couch, Khajuraho painting and lamps hung on the floor, she ran her fingers on his hair, inviting Hardik to kiss her flawless body with seductive eye moment. 

She tossed her right leg on his knee and asks, “You like it white or creamy.” Naughtily, she alludes to her white bra loosely tied and creamy skin, guiding his hand caressing the garment worn on her bosom. Face cupped to each other and lips exploring the lines in a swift movement, tongues swirled on necks interchangeably.  She panted and lit a smoke. “Listen, I have to show you something.” He couldn’t believe himself, “Now, in the middle of everything!” “Be patient, babe. You listen to me and creamy dessert on gulab jamun taste better after butter chicken,” Geet winked.

She strutted gracefully in the hall. He admires the flawless skin, flitting in her bra and denim short straddling with confidence, opened her bag and removed a file. Hardik was confused and forgot her hot body. “Is she the same woman I was making hot love minutes back?” She threw the file on his face, “Read!” He flipped through the paper document and on every page, there was a stamp of 20 bucks of the Indian Government. “What the fuck is that?” he asks.

“Chill babe! It’s no court paper but a mutual understanding or what you call a plain affidavit. Read. If you agree, both of us will sign, or else, we go our separate destination without talking to each other as if we are invisible.” Ouch! It hurts. He sheepishly flipped the bundle, hit pause, and lit a cigarette. She made eye contact as if asking him what he makes out of it. He took a drag, “I must be the only creature sitting in a luxury South Bombay apartment naked, fucked a chick and the only difference is my underwear with the condom still on, to read an affidavit. She told, “As if I’m Draupadi decked in saree covered from tip to toe.”

He flipped through the entire document for two hours, with a glass of vodka in hand and cigarette smoke, Ganja to finally breathe relief. “I never knew that this is your idea of the desert after sex.” She ignored him and asked, “Are you game to sign? Oh! Wait! Let me read it aloud for you.”

1. You will not press me for anything. I will decide when we meet, kiss or fuck.

2. You will not call at odd hours when drunk or knock on my door or stalk me on the Pune-Mumbai highway. 

3. We will not fall in love when fucking. You are no superman in bed. I am no highway for you.

4.  You will not sit next to me in any classroom on campus at Fergusson College, Deccan Educational Society, Pune without my will.

5. Don’t ever think of stalking me at any time or at night and befriending my friends. We will not be in the same gang and I will nod to you in case we wanna meet.

6. Some things are non-negotiable. When I offer you a lift, I will decide for us to make out and kiss passionately.

7. No hidden video cam during sex.

8. I don’t want you to fall in love with me and if you do, it’s the end of everything between us. We shall be strangers and if you hound me with miscalls, I have every right to send cybercrime after you. The end is the end.

9. You need to listen to what I say without drawing meaning. Accept you are in the wrong and punishment shall be, no call, or chat for days. When I say uthak baithak for you to becoming murga, it’s just that and doesn’t mean BDSM.

10. I have enough excitement in my life. Your happy-go-lucky dude image needs a stop and don’t you think you are ice cream and am a gulab jamun that we will slip into each other every time.

11. Don’t think you are some super hot dude just because we have some vibes. Don’t dare to stalk on social media and no Facebook request.

12. By mistake, never meet my parents even by accident, thinking you are the creation of the astrologer for me. Now, will you please sign the affidavit? Or else.

Hardik couldn’t believe what he just read. “Wow! I think you are in love with me and pretending to be all cool, Geet. Wait, it feels like song lyrics. Are we getting married, kya?”

She grinned: “Listen up, dude. We are not playing pehle aap and i’m no train leaving Jaipur. It’s up to you, either you sign the affidavit or forget we ever knew each other. Remember, no luv shuv. Now, stop behaving like a dukkhi aatma and whining. You are not some Devdas and am no Paro. I am a ruthless Chandramukhi, slaying balls.”

“Aww,” he winked. “You sound like the RJ on radio mirchi with dollop of sweetness and angry Goddess.”

“Shut up,” Geet protested. “Silly joke dude. I am an angry Goddess and better don’t mess up. Are you going to sign?”

He burst into a cackle of laughter. “My favorite oldie movie is Deewar. Rightish, you making us sound like siblings. I never thought that sex makes us criminals, Tum sign karoge ya nahin.”

Geet was confused about him. She wanted to be sure and this affidavit was her attempt to run away from love. She was the one falling for him but they end up having sex, minus the emotions. Hardik wasn’t far behind and falling head over heels for her every time. He reluctantly signed the affidavit, “Ok, whatever,” he was miffed and couldn’t comprehend who on earth does a badly drafted affidavit to create space between them. Geet and Hardik were not official lovers.

She slipped the papers into her bag. Suddenly, someone pressed on the bell and sent both of them in a tizzy and faces becoming red, looking at each other as if they have carefully planned murder. Pair of eyes tossed darting past the hall and wooden door. He whispered, “I don’t know the owner of this house.” She was incensed and whispered, “What the fuck? You took me to an alien house belonging to someone else to have sex. Are you mad?”

Both of them were almost naked and in the nick of time, pulled their clothes, silently walked near the door. The bell didn’t stop ringing. She peeped through and got a jolt. It was her mom. She turned around aghast and showed a menacing gaze to him. It took her a while to realize it’s the unoccupied apartment of her mausi (Mom’s sister).

“What?”, she fumed. “It’s my Mom outside. You took me to my Mom’s sister’s house. Are you mad kya?” He was equally confused, “How come?” She was planning to murder him right now. “You should know, na.” She dragged him inside the room. “Now, jump out of the window. Right now. It’s an order.”

It felt like a bullet landing straight into his heart. “Babe! We are on the 12th floor and I can’t land safe on the ground. You are a madwoman and losing your head. I swear. I didn’t know this apartment belongs to your family. I just took the key under the flower pot, thinking it’s unoccupied.”

“You weirdo. What if the door was open and my Mom entered inside, seeing us naked,” she told.

She brushed her fear, “Arre! She didn’t na.”

“I don’t know. You cannot just wipe your shit like that. When I say, jump out of the window, you do or else forget about me,” she ordered.

Hardik was trembling and put his leg on the window sill when the door creaked open. Geet rushed to close the door in the room. She pulled him down. “Now, stay silent. I think Mom entered inside. What do we do now?”

He squatted on the floor, not knowing what to tell her.



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Hot on Wheels: Chapter 3

Geet’s eyes were groggy and sieved on the couch for the mobile phone, seeing dozens missed calls. She put the phone aside, the countless Whatsapp messages, stretching her arms and legs plonked on the berth. The train whooshed in speed, flitting in the dark tunnel wading past Khandala. It halted after for a few minutes.

She typed, “I am sleeping, dude,” and yawning wondering whether his senses can sense and hear the crackling throat, miles away from Pune. “Get a life,” she almost typed and deleted the message. The phone beeped again. “I want to kiss you right now and feeling our lips moving together, tracing zones and lines, feeling a chocolate milkshake sluicing.”  

Geet ignored his message and calls. “What do I make about this lovey-dovey,” she asked herself. He was ignorant that she left for Mumbai that night without letting anyone in the loop. First of all, he is not her boyfriend or husband material, just a guy she grew fond of suddenly after their hot encounter in Maximum City. She was confused about their relationship if she can call it one, the romance and drooling on the bike. Wanting to get away from the madness and going back home to meet her parents to mend the fence but with conditions of course is what preoccupied her mind in the train.

No arranged nuptials or rishtey falling from the sky like motichoor ladoo and syrupy gulab jamun mistaken for jamoon fruits falling from the trees. Explain this to her obsessed maa and paa, dreaming about her getting hitched to dozen proposals and praying to Swami ji a cheaper version of Mumbai’s top matchmaker Seema aunty popping out of nowhere. Geet is getting weird ideas, and a legal understanding to her parents about a strict no marriage proposals and stop watching the silly daily soap opera Rishtey ho to Aisa on Zee. This Ekta Kapoor show is making them mad by the day.

He had to break her concentration and devilish plan with messages reaching her inbox one after the other so much that she wanted to break the phone of Mr Lover on his head. “The first kiss was intense, baby but but…there is always a butt…im butt head may be.”

She typed, “??”

“I am high on the good shit. Ok, just ignore me, I am the butt head not you.”

She laughed, “That I know, dude!”

“I mean, the first kiss was unreal. You know na we were not lovers. Just a fuck, smooching and kissing all over.”

“Stop, stop!” she typed, “I don’t wanna hear about our one time fuck and that too openly on a building rooftop. Waise tera naam Hardik hai not Hard Dick. Why are you all Punju like that?”

She stopped typing on seeing the notification Hardik is typing. No message came for the next 15 minutes.

It came in a flash, “I am missing you. Call na.”

“Chipku,” she replied, “But where? I am in the train to Mumbai. At Lonavla, right now.”

“Fuck! I am on my bike and driving to your apartment. Man! It’s past 1 a.m and you making me drive on the lone road at Aundh.”

Geet didn’t believe him, “You are such a natakbaaz. You should ask Ranveer Singh to lend you his multi-colored pajama. Gandu! How the fuck are you typing if you driving so fast to my apartment?”

Hardik was sitting on the backseat, waking Karan in the middle of the night to drive him to her home. “Stop! Stop!” He yelled, “Bike ko ghumao bhenchod (turn the bike).” She heard when dialing his number by mistake, hearing the wailing of wind and trees bursting in the middle of the night. “Let’s head to the station…i mean no man.” She heard two men discussing the route to take. “Oh! No! Don’t tell me…he’s following me to Mumbai. Fuck! Fuck Fuck! Why on the earth I took him on the bike the last time and we fucked celebrating I don’t know what.” She panicked and switched off the phone.

“Oh mom’s swami Ji! As unreal as you are, I don’t give a rat’s ass and please keep this man away from my house,” she clapped her hands pretending to chant bhajan and folding palms in the air. “Save me, save me and bloody save me. I don’t want my shaadi obsessed parents to discover a guy am drooling about and sneaked out to have a plain fuck.”

Two days later:

The local slowly ambled on Platform No.1 at Dadar station, pocked with crowd sprouting like eggs, some hanging at the edge of the bandwagon and rooftop. A frenzied crowd waltzed like madness, sprinted in aimless direction to enter the train, waggling past shoulders, in and out.

The phone GPS beeped. He spotted Geet wading aimlessly, eyeing the berserk crowd shouting and sipping Mosambi juice at the stall. He dragged Karan on her heels and was caught among the crowd, swirling right to left and the next moment moving within her reach. She stood unfazed by chaos and restlessness. Hands thrust upwards as if floating in seawater and squeezed by the bustling crowd, he sweated and felt the push of Karan on his back, a strategy to leap ahead among the swearing crowd. Both of them spiraled out of the railway station.

“Fuck dude,” he let off in frustration. The phone froze. Hardik shouted at his friend, “Steer the bike, man and can’t locate her. Keep moving the bike.” The crazy horns and screeching of vehicles as the bike slid, swirling from left to right on the lookout for Geet. The signal moved closer. He shouted, “Rukko bhenchod, right, left, sorry right.” The bike waltzed straight to stop in front of a rickshaw moving, adjacent to SiddhiVinayak temple.

Geet was shocked on seeing him and a random guy. She stormed out of the rickshaw. “What the fuck guys? Both of you stalked me in the middle of the night from Pune to Mumbai. I knew that, asshole.” She shoved her middle finger at Hardik.

He feigned ignorance and grinned, “Arre ask him, hum becharon ne kya kiya, driving at Lonavla and Mahabhaleshwar hoping to see you in the Deccan Queen. We fucking slept for two days at the railway station.” Karan couldn’t control his laugh and looked away, pretended not to hear their conversation. “Oho! So innocent man. First, you pursued and stalked me all the way and pretendin g that nothing happened. Maan na Maan mein tera mehmaan. I wanna know how both of you actually did that.”

“I couldn’t sleep on the pavement and the railway, spending an entire night chasing flies, thinking it was you,” he let off.

“You called me a fly,” she protested. “Now, wait and see what I can do. Bhaiya, he called to the rickshaw driver. Kitna hua?” She handed him Rs 100 note, “You can go and keep it for time lost.” Geet walked past the iconic temple. He followed her. She turned around: “Yes, what do you want?” A beggar squatted on the floor and Geet told, “Mausi! Ussko lelo apni team mein par total loss banda hai.”

He ignored her and plodded his steps towards the edge of the main road at Dr Baba Saheb Ambedkar Marg which teeming with vehicles, cascading and piling, the yellow and black cabs, BEST buses, too embarrassed to see the beggar laughing at him. Hardik was cursing Karan who left him alone. He saw her running after him, laughing and asked in a sarcastic tone, “Kya hua?”