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Left Right…Romance chowk: Passionate toilet love and train ride

Left Right…Romance Chowk

Chapter 7:

Ouch! A thunder like sensation hit the hairy chest. He almost yelped in pain.  Sejal stroke her lip with the tongue like a maniac and untied the lace on her Salwar Kameez while Mann pressed her curvy body with his hand, cupping his lip on her neck, to reach the naked back.

The sensation drizzled down his spine as he pressed and caressed the Salwar Kameez that she was wearing and ran his finger on her breast covered by the garment.  Sejal pressed his belly with her hand that ran like a hot iron up and down, towards the chest and navel.

The sun shone glittered on their faces and the heat flew past the window to surround them on all corners. Sejal and Mann were unfazed and stuck to each other like glue, laughing unabashedly. Making out inside an empty train gave them a thrill and Sejal face was cupped to her lover who was playing with her tresses. Suddenly, the local at Bandra chugged slowly and they were caught up intensely with each other as their bodies pulled together and slipped like soap that pushed them violently inside the Indian toilet that made the door flung open to hit bang close right in front of them.

“Shit! The train is moving fast. Pull the chain,” She ordered. Mann pulled the toilet flush instead and the water that roiled inside the vase splashed on their faces. He made an innocent face, “Obviously, it’s the toilet chain and it cannot stop the train. Damn it, it’s the Indian railway to Punjab or something.” Sejal was sweating, “We gotta jump somewhere and it doesn’t matter if we land up with bruises or hurt the ass.” The train stopped after a long forty minutes and they nearly choked inside the toilet. Suddenly, footsteps and loud voices scampered inside the compartment before the engine roared to life again.

She slowly opened the toilet door and saw the horrifying image of a jam-packed compartment, human mass swathing like eggs. “We are screwed, dude!” she hit a panic mode.

“Obviously, we cannot make up inside the open toilet like that under the dirty water and shit. Shitty potty and stupid love,” he let off.

She shrugged it off and laughed like a maniac. “There is little that we can do. You can squat if you wish and me shall watch your performance as your sole audience. Baby! It’s your moment of fame.”

“And it’s your moment of thrill. Where do you get such crazy ideas of sitting inside trains to do weird stuff? You get a sort of orgy like feeling and lust spurting inside your body,” he pulled a senseless joke.

The latch was stumbling up and down as if it’s going to break at any time soon. Someone knocked on the door that freaked them out and Sejal whispered in his ear, “Now! We have to play chor and police inside. Keep pulling the flush to distract attention and make those idiots think that someone is having terrible loose motion.” Mann kept pulling the flush as if it’s some gun trigger to ward off the grandkids of Osama Bin Laden hell-bent to seek revenge on the United States.

It seems that the person who wanted to relieve got the message with the toilet flush sending the signal, Do Not Disturb for serious work is in progress inside. They almost stumbled on each other and the balance in the toilet tilted as if it was under the spell of an earthquake and both pulled their legs together, carefully not to step on water flowing on the edge of the urine bowl.

He held her by the waist and she pulled his hand away. “Shut up and don’t do that, you idiot. We are not in a five-star hotel but a toilet. I am feeling suffocated now,” she felt like biting his ear.

“You asked for such fun na. Your idea of unearthing some secret and that too inside a moving train’s toilet,” Mann sarcastically hit at her. Sejal turned her face away from him and was biting her fingernail, wondering how to get out of the train.

“Listen, we need to get out of here and coaslesce with the crowd without arising suspicion,” he furtively looked at the roof. She was restless. “But how? As it is, I am dying inside this train’s toilet. Think dude, think.”

She yanked the door open and pushed her body out of the toilet, closing it with a loud thud. Mann was almost thrust to the wall with force while she wriggled her way past the crowd, relieved that she could walk away from the odor inside. She moved with great difficulty between the crowd and finally found a place to stand awkwardly near the door to breathe free.

She stood to admire the rural life and forgetting for once that they have left Mumbai behind, as the wind blew on her face.

The sight of kids playing in a pool of mud, a villager walking with a pot of water in his hand adjusting his lungi and village women trotted with water buckets on their head as the train moved with hurtling speed. It abruptly stopped at the next station that was filled with people scampering their way inside like chickens sprouting in a farm. Mann pushed the door wide open and someone who was standing with his back firmly stuck on it, almost slipped. He looked at Mann menacingly who sneaked out by muttering a quick apology to avoid being beaten black and blue.

Mann was hanging at the train’s edge doing a Shah Rukh Khan with his hands wide open admiring the paddy field when someone pushed him and his body flung in the air to fall in a huge pool of muddy water. Sejal fell on him and the force with which she threw herself hit him like a tornado on the back.

“Now, stop looking at me like that. I pushed you off the train and thank me for that.” He was at a loss of words, not knowing how to react.” Mann’s body was spinning and hurting as if he has been whipped by a belt.



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Left Right…Romance Chowk: Panda love and Anarkali

Chapter 6: Panda love and Anarkali

“Abe Anarkali, at least say something? Why are you acting pricey like a mehenga bride and I am no sasta Dulha,” Sejal ruffled his hair. He gave her cold stares. He pushed her hand away from her. Mann shunned her and was in no mood to speak.

“Don’t you dare to touch my hair or come an inch near me or I will call aunty?” he warned her. She was unfazed by his empty threats and dared him by walking seductively in her shorts, moving an inch closer to him. Sejal eyed him like a tigress lusting on its prey. Mann almost shouted like a child, “Aunty…”

She was amused and grinned. “Let it be. I am not going to molest you in any case and drag you on the bed. Cry babies should be left on their own. You such a girl, Mann.” He protested, “It’s so racist and sexist. How can you speak like that?”

“Whatever,” Sejal muttered. “Ab agey bhi kuch toh bol. I ain’t going to sit in silence and please stop this tear jerking sullen act.”

“Why did you do that?” Mann sat cross faced in front of her.

“I did what?” she was perplexed.

“Don’t you try to change the topic and pretend to be innocent? We lost our sleep and courted danger to find you sitting inside the train on the Monsoon Day when the city was sinking. Is this your idea of fun? One rainy night, to run away and sit inside a train compartment that was filled with water. Are you aware how worried aunty was?”

She became silent and suddenly broke into a cackle. “You are such a cute chamcha! Abe oye! My Mom’s chamcha. What do you think that you got a legitimate fuck entry into my house as the official damaad.” She pinched his cheek. “You look like such a sweet little munchkin yaara. I couldn’t imagine that you are so stuck with this rain incident and in the end, like filmi people, we did smooch. Guys will be guys.”

Mann exuded a faint smile and went point-blank. Deep inside, he was trying to be pricey and putting an act pretending to be all hurt since Sejal didn’t bring up the topic of the monsoon tryst.

“Stop behaving like Dadaji,” she told him. “There is a big secret behind me sneaking out in the rain to go sit inside the train with a book as companion. See! I love thrills and adventure.”

She made a straight face and pressed her naked feet on him. “I am a bit, just little bit ashamed for that day but you saved my life braving danger.  I am sorry for putting you and Maa through all this. You love me a lot, na.”

Mann slowly moved his face an inch away from her. “Tell na. What are you being so shy? You became my Dabbang hero on that day and putting your life at risk to save me from the water. I was shit scared that both of us would never be able to make it.”

“Oh! Wow! Lara Croft you are. You had the time to think about us while drowning,” he teased.

“You see. I am a thoughtful girl friend. And, you were cross with me. Acha sorry yaar. What else do you wanna me do now? Uthak Bhaitak like a monkey,” Sejal flashed a bright smile. “At least tell that you love me, na,” she was eager to hear him spell the three-letter words.

Mann breathed in and out. “No! I was saving you and not to take Paap of letting a girl die. I am in love with Shaina.” Sejal turned her face abruptly and her voice rose, “Now who the fuck is Shaina?” It felt like a pinch inside her heart.

It was his turn to laugh gleefully. “My neighbor’s pet dog. Of course, I love you, idiot.” Sejal pushed him on the bed, pressed his chest with her leg and pump fisted him on the stomach. Both wriggled and rolled with each other between laughter and cuddled each other. She smacked him on the mouth and whispered, “It’s a secret that I am going to tell you. The day I sneaked out to sit inside the train…”

He moved his eyes furtively to ask in a hush and seductive tone, “What’s your train secret?” She dragged him off the bed, “Now! Let’s go out and unravel the mystery. Another clue, the secret destination lies in a public glare.”

Mann protested that they were not able to make out, “You are such a kabab me Haddi’ and to which she responded, “That I am! I promise you the spicy sex if we unravel the mystery together. Well! It’s not over and patience will reap the fruit, my dolled panda.” She scratched his nose.



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Left, Right…Romance Chowk: Drip of stormy love

Left, Right…Romance Chowk

Chapter 5:

The car wiper was stuck. Mann lunged towards the front seat and grabbed the dusty garment to wipe the window sheet. The cab slowly ambled its way towards Churchgate but hit a dead-end to wage a battle against the water raging its might. Water seeped inside the car that soon replicated into miniature version of a swimming pool.

The two car occupants, Mann and the car driver impassively watched people stranded, kids doing a somersault and flowing on a container substituting for a boat that turned the road into a vast sea expanse.  The driver was having a tough time, igniting the battered engine to life that screeched and timidly lurched ahead. Wrong signal. The water escalated like a rush of electrical wave and ran wild on the otherwise busy road at Eros Theater.

The black umbrellas mushroomed on the road past 2 a.m and flapped open, thrust forward and backward where people had a tough time holding on to. The car again battled the rush of water spurting under its wheel. The phone battery was almost done and Mann managed to make a call to Sejal’s Mom.  “Aunty! I cannot speak much since my phone is dying. I have reached Churchgate but we are stuck. It seems like it will take me another hour to reach your house,” his voice wobbled with emotions.

The TV reporters clumsily walked inside the flood to report and stood on their naked feet with their pants rolled till the knee, battling the heavy rain and cloud outburst to report live on the state of the city. There was panic everywhere. It was may hem everywhere. The car engine conked. There was no way it would leap to life.

The police were trying their best to help stranded citizens who were lost and moving in various directions with difficulty to find shelter under the roof of nearby restaurants, hotels and the station. Together, Mann and the car driver held to each other’s arms to wriggle their way in the water and crossed the road for shelter.

As Mann trudged inside the water that ran deep till the knee, the cab driver called, “Sambhal ke Jaana.” They exchanged sympathetic glances and smiles, a rare luxury in Maximum City. A tale of two humans and strugglers in the city who understood each others’ emotions without uttering a single word despite coming from two extremely different background.

Mann tried to find his balance by walking slowly in the water, battling the fear of being carried away by the waves when a cop held his hand and escorted him towards Churchgate. Sejal’s Mom was waiting in front of the gate housing the line up of plush apartments and she hugged him. “Are you okay, Beta? Let’s get inside the car,” she was on the verge of tears.

The car slowly trudged inside the water that made a splash like a stormy river. “Where are we going to find her?” her voice choked with emotion. “Pray that nothing will happen to her,” tears welled on her face.

The vehicle slowly ambled. It was dark everywhere. Mann called the emergency number but no one was picking up. He tweeted and sent a message on Facebook with the picture of Sejal. It was 3 a.m in the morning. The status and tweets were shared zillion times.

“Where to find her?” she stammered. Mann scratched his hair and tilted his head towards the rooftop of the car. He urged the car driver, “Bhaiya, let’s move towards Churchgate station.” The driver nodded. The tide was growing at every second. It was a five minutes distance but the car was stuck for almost one hour and the wheels turning into a ship flowing in the water.

The deserted road resembled the cramped space in the city pocked with vehicles, from cars to black-and-yellow taxis and a Best Bus all flowing together in a chaotic manner like the serpentine queue. Car drivers honked blaringly in sheer desperation. The vehicles were zigzagging inside the water from left to right and entangled in a circle. They were stuck inside the car, sandwiched between vehicles across all sides that felt as if a wall has been built.  It was impossible for the driver to thrust forward or pull back.

The car stood parallel to the platform facing gate and next to the yellow and brown local taxied on the railway track drenched into a vast pool of water. There was chaos inside the station packed with the seamless crowd mushrooming like eggs in a nest sprawled with tensed faces running amok and screaming for help. Battered faces, whispers and angry voices howled with palatable tension, wondering on how to get out of this mess.

Mann furtively looked around and his eyes cocked towards the road and railway station, silently longing for the sight of Sejal.  He fixed his gaze towards the train that was filled with commuters who couldn’t get out on the platform that was filled to the brink with water. A face struck him. He looked again and was bewildered. Sejal was sitting on the seat and her head buried inside a book. She was sitting in a casual manner and unperturbed about the city drowning and rain water spurting like electric waves.

He gently touched the shoulder of Sejal’s Mom, “Aunty, look there,” he pointed out to the train. She was flabbergasted and speechless. “Look at her. I can’t believe it.  We are so worried and she is casually reading a book inside,” she heaved.

“I wonder how we are going to walk past the water to save her.  Sejal! Sejal!,” her Mom lunged out. The voice went unheard and lost to the noise.  Mann yanked the door open, dithered at the water flowing till his inch and saw a long cardboard flowing in the water. He didn’t think twice and thrust his body that landed straight on the moving object. Mann held tightly to the cardboard and pushed it as if it’s the gear of a car, pressed hard planking his body on it to wriggle his way till the stairs of Churchgate station.

Mann stormed inside the station, battling the crowd of people and pushing his way between them to leap inside the train. She was oblivious to the voices and his presence. He pressed her arms and she almost yelped. “You! Almost scared me like that,” Sejal protested. Mann berated her, “You got the nerves to  complain when the entire of Mumbai is sinking under the water and the whole world is stranded.  Your Mom is in tears, sitting inside the car and I travelled on a dirty cupboard like a fish in water.”

“Oh! Yeah! That’s why you are completely wet. Dude! You are not wet. You look like a water man,” she appeared nonchalant. “Let’s go,” Mann dragged her out of the train. The tide was growing and spiralling like a tornado. Sejal and Mann clutched to each other, trying to get out through the main platform but the waves shook them as they took steps back and waded through the small door at platform No. 1.

The water was roiling like a steam bath on the road. Both of them were tensed and figuring out how to find their way inside the car that was stationed within a touching distance. They stood on the stairs and in the flick of seconds a flash of current waves knocked them off their perch that dragged Sejal inside the storm. She howled and shouted, ‘Help’. Mann flung his body inside the water and held to her fingers. The violent waves pushed him away from her and she was thrust to a faraway distance. His body spun in the water from right to left. He hollered, ‘Help! Help! Help!’

Battling the angry water that run above the knee, he struggled to stand on his feet in a stiff position to fight the angry waves. He lost control of his body that jerked backwards towards a hard object. A dash of hope surfaced. It was a motorcycle that lay abandoned against the wall. Mann removed the stand with force and held on the bike that stumbled inside the water and hit the pavement filled with water. He sat on the bike and pushed it with all his might.

Sejal was struggling inside the water and nearly tripped before getting up again. She was choking. Mann caught sight of her and was unsure what to do to save her since he didn’t want to lose the bike that would shield both of them.  He twisted his back in a reclining position and tightly held to the handle as he fell along with the bike inside the water and struggled to hold the fingers of Sejal.  The huge machine pressed his body. He was reeling in pain and stretched his hand to clutch her palm.

Sejal hands loosened away from him and he struggled to unfetter himself under the bike’s clutches. Mann limped his way towards Sejal and almost swam in the water covering the road. She was moving further away from him and was carried by the tide.  He pressed his hand to the ground to find his balance, wading through leaves and mud, battling his way and being hit by objects on the body.

It was a battle against the storm. Sejal’s body twisted and recoiled like a snake. Mann saw a wheel flowing and flung it towards Sejal who held to it by using the feeble force inside her. He finally held one side of a wheel flowing in the water and pressed her hands tightly. Mann shouted, “Don’t worry about me. Fucking put your head inside the wheel.”

He pushed the wheel and pressed Sejal’s back towards the wall, covered her with his body. She was choking. Both were tightly holding to each other. He kissed and hard pressed her back. The water has reached their necks and they exuded relief to see the rescue team of police and citizens taking a dive into the water. They were ushered towards a safe spot on the pavement coated with red bricks.

Their lips sat passionately tight on each other and curled together in the monsoon drip. They stopped in their track and smooched again. Sejal and Mann embraced each other and oblivious to Sejal’s Mom standing silently behind them. They smiled sheepishly. Sejal held on to her mother like a child guilty of a crime. Mother and daughter wiped each other’s tears with their hands.







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Left Right…Romance Chowk: Chasing the mermaid

Chapter 4: ‘Chasing the mermaid’

The yellow-and-black taxi chugged slowly and was stuck in the pool of mud and water splash escalating higher at every second. Vehicles on the road were flowing like paper boats in a directionless manner. The entire city was brought to a standstill for more than three hours.

Mann was tensed, anxious and bored at the same time. The car lumbered, stumbled on the broken road and all of sudden jerked to stand still that provoked a thud noise that splattered his earlobe.  A thick fog surfaced to cover the beautiful Mumbai sky. It was raining everywhere. The cloud has lost its sheen and every space turned into dark spots as if some ghosts were wrecking havoc on the city by spitting fire balls and black smoke. The wind roared like wild sirens to conspire with angry foes and the thunder sparks shrieked like angry Goddesses.

The cab driver turned to Mann, “Bhaiya! We don’t have any choice. I am turning off the key. It’s impossible to move and I am very scared. Pray Bhaiya for our well-being. Everything is dark.” The man quivered and fidgeted with the car’s key. Mann nodded. Sejal occupied his thoughts and wondered whether she is stuck somewhere in the city. At that point of time, he didn’t mind her making out with a female friend or having sex with a random guy in a house or hotel, surrounded by a bonfire. As long as she is safe…he will turn a blind eye to extremities or human frailties that accompany the human mind and the quest for sensual adventure.

He was trapped in the myriad thoughts. Suddenly, he felt something sharp inside his heavy back pack that hurt his knee. He unzipped the bag and his hand flew inside to reach a dead-end at something thick that he removed. A pink wallet was snuggled inside the comfort of his bag. Mann was bemused, ‘How the fuck this pink wallet entered my bag?’

Mann pressed the button and the wallet flipped open. It contained a letter written by Sejal in bold, ‘You know where to find me.’

“If I go missing one day, don’t freak and become dukkhi like some jilted lover. Remember Devdas. It’s so passé. Mom will call you and blow her top. It’s her normal best. Excitement is me. Clue No 1, remember our conversation during sex. I love to mumble during the act like a flattened parantha. I disappear out of the blue. Thunder, rain and monsoon excite me to no end. I am a mermaid.”

Mann was amused. A feeble smile enlarged his jaw. He couldn’t help stop the frantic heart beat. His mind was stuck on the letter but at the same time was fighting demons like the ferocious rain spreading its might like arrows speckled on the car. The brain has stopped functioning. His eyes were glued to the letter that he caressed with his hand.

“Hey! Wondering what I am blabbering right now. Babe! Time for clue no. 2: You love girls who stand in the middle of the rain and getting drenched from top-to-toe? Sounds sexy and revealing when they wear everything white? The water makes the skin translucent. Gives you an orgasm…in your head. Stop being hard and stiff inside, you pervert. Imagine the rain sending the whole of a Mumbai in a tail spin and folks running for their life. See! Sirjee, I am Jhansi ki Rani and love to flirt not with men but danger. I love caressing the rain and the violent tree branches falling on my face feels like sensual love and lip smacking sensation. I ain’t crazy. It’s just a shade of me that you never knew till now. Slow baby! Dheere dheere, you are approaching my location and no, cabs are not GPS enabled. You gotta do some hard work to find me. You will be handsomely rewarded with a sprinkle of wet kiss and loaded sex for a full week. Wrack your brain.’

Mann almost cursed in frustration. “First, the cab is not even moving and she is telling me that I am coming closer to her.  Where the fuck do I find her? She lost it. I could be sleeping on my bed, wrapping myself under a thick blanket. But, no, I am out looking for her in the rain. I am the one who is mad. I am shivering. But, for whom! But, Madam doesn’t care. Right now, I don’t mind watching those ugly Ekta Kapoor soap operas that serves as a good substitute for porn.”

The letter was long like a scholarly dissertation and his eyes bore shades of tiredness. “Now, should I tell that guys like you are fascinated by Mumbai locals and railway station that you like to explore as if it’s some playboy hub! Stop guessing, baby. The clue lies within. Follow the heart. Heard the classic and oft-repeated ritual? Dhudne pe bhi bhagwaan milta hai. It’s not like I am some fucking bhagwaan but well, Run Lola Run.”

Mann was tired and felt his legs numb. He wanted to sleep in the backseat but ended up chasing the flies hovering above his head. Suddenly, the cars started to move and Mann felt a dash of hope. He read the letter all over again. It was unbelievable. Something was brewing in his head. He had an inkling where Sejal was.  A triumphant smile surfaced on his smile. “Pagal ladki,” he muttered.

Tring!!! Sejal’s Mom was calling. He picked it up, ‘Hello aunty.’ The person at the other end was worried and her voice broke, “Where are you beta? I am sitting inside my car and not able to get past my gate because of the rain and water flooding.” Mann spoke in a calm and hushed tone, “Don’t worry aunty. I think that I know where she is…saw a letter filled with clues. It’s almost impossible to get out of the city. But, we will find her.”

Sejal’s Mom broke into tears. “Beta, can you come to Churchgate. We will go together to find her in my car. My driver will take us.”

“Theek aunty. Hope the cab beats the traffic. I am coming,” Mann tried to calm her. He ordered the cab driver, “Bhaiya, please take a u-turn, speed and avoid potholes and flooded areas if possible. Churchgate.”

The driver nodded. The car screeched its way at a hurtling speed and in the flick of 10 minutes, it was speeding on the highway. Mann couldn’t believe that an Ambassador car can be so fast and furious. The driver sensed that something was wrong.




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Left, Right…Romance Chowk: Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Stony trip, flying balloons and the invisible woman

Sejal almost panted and exuded a sense of relief when she successfully thwarted Mann’s questions on her estranged Dad. She was reluctant to confess how she abhorred her Dad who left her mother in the lurch and took a mistress who was half his age. She was a new-born baby who made the cradle her universe.

It was sheer luck that Mann didn’t prod her on the family, mother and her half-brother after whom she secretly lusted. She wanted to seek revenge on her father by playing hide-and-seek and tried to seduce her half-blood brother by using her body as a bait to get even. The last time she wore a short skirt and dropped something on the floor to reveal her legs in a move to glaringly distract his attention by moving her tits and boobs. It pissed her when the half-brother from another mother didn’t react to her sensual gaze. The last thing that Sejal wanted was to have a face-off between Mann and her estranged half-brother. Revenge has always been playing on her mind but not in a tragic fashion to breed jealousy or conflict between this brother and Mann. It was the last thing that she wanted or else, her carefully laid plans would have gone for a toss.

It rained heavily that night. She slouched on the bed and emptied the tobacco to fill it with ganja leaves. Sejal expertly rolled the ganja leaves inside after rummaging to remove the dirt where everything was spread on the morning Bombay Times supplement. She took a drag deep down, wafting through her nostril and the sensation running high inside her body. The water rattled on the window bar and she enjoyed listening to the plopping sound outside. It gave her a high. She took another drag and glugged the Old Monk Rum mixed with Cola. The rum taste swirled around her tongue which was her favorite exercise as she thrust her long leg on the wooden bed handle. She sat in her short and caressed her leg. It gave her a high. There was something that occupied her mind and took another drag wondering how to solve the puzzle. Stoned to death, she burbled endlessly to herself and fidgeted with her phone when a WhatsApp message flashed. It was Mann.

“Fuck,” she moaned. It completely slipped her mind that they were supposed to hang out together in his suburban apartment. He was irritated and pissed off. The phone buzzed but she cut it off several times. Sejal wanted to fling it outside the window when her fingers accidentally stumbled to pick up the phone.

“Hella,” her voice slurred. Mann first thought that he must have dialed a random number who substituted hella for hello. “Mannnn,” Sejal broke into a cackle. “Sorry,” she coaxed him. “I forgot my munchkin.” He was bewildered but got it that she was high under ganja. He gently said, “You having the shit without me baby.” Sejal felt that she was traveling in the air and spoke in lyrical tone, “You know! I am seeing condoms in the air and spurting in the rain like blown balloons. I am whispering in its ear…you know condom can listen and that’s how we fuck,” she palavered. “Baby blow inside the condom to release air and send me a love chit. Tab, you shout Kabutar jaa jaa and it will fly in the rain to pop in front of my window.” Sejal havered and rollicked in laughter.

Sejal weltered towards the hall and wadded to open the door, grabbing the house key from the table, almost tripping on her way out. The door was closed behind her. She oscillated from right to left, doing a zigzag of sort as she rifled her steps inside the elevator.


An unknown number flashed on Mann’s cell phone and was wondering who was calling at this odd hour. He reluctantly picked up the phone when a worried female voice gently spoke, “Hello beta! I am Anita here, Sejal’s mum. When was the last time you spoke to her? Is she with you? I have tried her phone for the last 24 hours and she is not picking up. I am really worried. Please tell.”

It was raining heavily outside. The roads were dark and deserted. Mann braved the rain and after much convincing, he hailed the taxi after agreeing to pay the cabbie double fare. The car headed towards Sejal’s apartment. He tried calling but looks like the network was jammed. He sensed trouble.




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Sex with an Ex (6)

The room was dark and eerie. Rohini stood frozen as a walking shadow flicked behind her on the white coated wall. A candle was lit and flashed on her near perfect and attractive face with the fading wrinkle.

Rohini’s hair fell on her round and angular face, that no sane man could keep away from. She wondered why Ajay doesn’t find her attractive anymore. She leaped to her feet and stood like a statue, shivering to death when a rapacious lip pressed and bit her ear. Suddenly, a stiff male hand traveled inside her bra and squeezed her boob that became stiff and she felt her inside exploding like molten lava.

She wore an air of relief when the male voice that whispered into her air sounded familiar. She turned around to unbutton his shirt.  He carried her into her arms to the bed and gently tells, “Your hair and colorful string of hippie necklaces are embarrassing me.” It made her desirable. “It’s simple. Remove them carefully. I am all yours tonight.” She pulled off her skirt and bra as an invitation to him and felt his force inside her.

Rohini was scheming and knew that sex is a weapon which she would control this man like a TV remote in her hand and press at will. She wore a calm demeanor, spoke seductively and paused at regular interval.  “I hope the amazing sex that we are having will not distract you from the duty. We need to act fast. Baby, it’s the time to stop losing the time or else, our plan will fizzle in the air. After all, it is a question of crores. It’s time for you to gain her trust. It’s not happening. She is confused and it’s the time to hit when the iron is hot. Mess up with her mind. She is our passport to heaven.”

He nodded but knew at the same time, that Rohini cannot be trusted. She cannot be a stupid woman who fell for his charm but today she is showing her true colors. He knows that he gotta be cautious for she will not wait a second to finish him once the mission is over.


The furtive eyes of Anita followed Ajay as he drove the gray silver BMW car on the busy street of Mumbai and almost cursed at the yellow-and-black cabbie doing a U-turn in front of them. He avoided the taxi just in time and banged on his window. “Easy,” Anita said. “Bhenchod,” Ajay cursed.

Anita cleared her throat and spoke with composure, “It’s not happening, Ajay. This relationship is not going anywhere unlike this car. Sex and just sex. Bas! You don’t have the balls to divorce your wife. I cannot be kept in the dark. Truth is I don’t have the courage to break up with my fiance.”

He stopped the car and unfastened the seat belt, caressed her hair to move closer to her. “No,” she hollered. “Don’t fucking touch me, I dare you.” “Be patient, babe,” he tried to calm her. Thud! A huge explosion deafened their ears and the glass windows splintered, hitting them on their faces. Ajay and Anita clutched to each other and their eyes slowly blinked. They fell unconscious.

It’s been months that they were closely watched by a roving eye and every move they made, be it inside the hotel room lying naked, smooching passionately or squabbled were shot on camera.

Earlier chapters can be read here.


To be continued…

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A2Z Reflection: Tale of a survivor

There was no plan. No inkling. A dim idea surfaced at the back of the mind.  Blogging from A to Z April Challenge was looming behind the door and I was totally clueless what to write. A vague and skeleton idea. Initially, I was planning to make four very short novellas every week for 26 days. I tore my copy. It was good for the bin.

Grey cells do matter. A tale of a film star losing his mind, tale of a struggler in Maximum City, Mumbai itself or intimate tales? I racked my brain. It was already Day 1 of the challenge. I took a risk. I am glad that I did. It all started with a character, a commoner who is a film star-no scant reference to anyone-losing his memory by waking up one morning. So far, so good!! The character was born. Bingo!! After all, no point in yelling victory. I was well aware what I was getting myself into.

The female character was sketched out of the blue on Day two. I was in the middle of the story when Maya-the illusion took shape in a unique manner. I remember reading how way back in the late 1980s, Madhuri Dixit was touted to play a college student who discovers a secret agent, Amitabh Bachchan and helps him recover his memory. The shelved film was Shanakht to be helmed by Tinnu Anand. It was cinema lovers loss that AB-Mads could never be paired together. I imagined Maya to be a pivotal character in the novella. That’s how the character was born. She was never part of the novella or the episodes imagined. Of course, the main character superstar Akhil Kumar is very contemporary and bears no reference to Amit Sir nor does Maya has  Maya  bore streaks of Madhuri Dixit. As the challenge was progressing, I was clueless since I was never part of the film industry and failed to do justice to the story of a film superstar losing his memory. I tried to tap the character’s struggling day as an actor but couldn’t give it the real touch. That’s how the episodes were twisted and given a thriller edge.

Pic- Amitabh Bachchan ji & Madhuri Dixit ji in SHANAKHT - unreleased film  @SrBachchan
A still from the Amitabh Bachchan-Madhuri Dixit 1987 unreleased SHANAKHT. Image credit: Moses Saphir of FMXT/

Trust me, it was the toughest thing I’ve ever done as part of A to Z Challenge by attempting a thriller the Hindi movies potboilers made in the 70s and 80s were famous for. I am not trying to be modest but it’s the plain truth. It was the first time that I was writing something that had no theme, ranging from memory loss to struggling artists and finally settling on a thriller.  It’s not my forte for I am more at ease with candy floss romance. I myself know how I completed the challenge. As we reached midway, it was decided that the episodes would be a no-brainer and a tribute to Hindi movies made in the yore days…chase scenes, hero’s entry by flying and breaking splinter of glasses and resuscitated from the ashes of death. I have always loved the no-brainers. What better way to give a tribute!

As things rolled and canned at the back of the mind, I visualized the episodes in the form of a film played in front of me. I was the spectator yet the architect. I wanted to make them as entertaining and paisa vasool, something that has no logic or rationale behind. There were some blink-and-miss cum eccentric characters like the psychologist making my character time travel, journalist suffering from cancer, pop singer cum seasonal girlfriend, maid for letter A and Shantanu Sir the director as well as the mother figure who gave him a place to stay. Of course, Maximum City played a pivotal and parallel character to the life of the star.

It’s my A to Z story. There were no characters, story structure or visualize…nothing. I am not really satisfied with the end project for the simple reason that I wanted to make it about memory loss meeting the tale of a struggling artist. Nothing of that sort happened. But, I am happy the way some episodes such as Jet speed, Rave the Rave and X letter for climax turned out. It was heart-pounding. I didn’t expect to give it the edge. Phew! I was done. I didn’t blog for couple of days. It might take the form of an e-novella and stay tune for more.

There were days where I was well in advance, posts ever ready to make the kill and before hitting publishing, editing on the alphabet day. Trust me, it works big time for the first two weeks postS were ready. However, as I ushered into the challenge, I was lagging behind and time to do soul searching to weave characters.  Bingo! It was done. And, I survived. Certainly, it was my toughest in the three years I participated.

The challenge drained me. I was sapped of all my energy. It’s my third and final outing with April A to Z Challenge. See you at the other end of the fence.

You may check some of my posts below.

Letters B E Letter F Letter G Letter H  Letter I  Letter R





Postscript: The best thing about A to Z Challenge that it helps you reflect on shortcomings. I have decided when I move to Mumbai next year, I will do a well-researched book with interviews on the lives of struggling actors in the industry.