4. d

I wasn’t left with a face to approach Sneha again. I had almost given up eating at Aunty’s café. I used to visit it only when Aunty used to be alone. Even a glimpse of Sneha made me uncomfortable enough to leave without even touching whatever I had ordered.

The incidence had also left me with a question about my hampered masculinity. My tests included molesting myself from time to time. With thoughts from present, past and future. The mechanism was working absolutely fine. There were all stage of copulation present and well performing. But even my fantasies couldn’t go beyond my erotic moments with Aparna. Whenever I broke the barrier, I ended up spilling before benchmark timings. I had began worrying if my ability had chained themselves to Aparna and left along with her.

I became desperate to prove myself to me. I grew impatient to verify my potency beyond Aparna. But it also scared me to approach any of my previous subjects of intimate endeavours. I didn’t want one more Sneha.

I saw only one option before me.

***

“Kitna?” I asked her.

“Hajaar night ka…room ka paanchso alag”. Fifteen hundred was a too big price to pay for a test. But due to some unjustified reasons I wanted to take it. It was ludicrously essential. I was willing to spend half of my month’s expenses on a prostitute just to ensure that I could get a hard on.

A part of me was still unsure about paying the whore so much just for a night.

“Kuchh kamti nahi hoga?”

What so ever be the situation, the virtues of a middle class human does not depart from its soul with an ease. I begin bargaining with a prostitute. Over the years of shopping with my parents, I have learnt one thing for sure. In every deal, Bargain! Be it a peas, pant piece or a prostitute, no deal is complete without a bargain.

“Ghusaane aaya hai yaa ghisaane aaya hai?”
“Bolo na yaar….thoda upar neeche kuch hota hai toh…”
“Log idhar aagey peechhe karne aate hai…aur tu upar neeche karega??...”
“Budget nahi hai…”
“Bol kitna dega?”
“Hajaar…”
“Baraso se ek paisa kam nahi legi main…”
“Hajaar mein fit kardo…ho jaayega….”
“Nahi hota…”
“Theek hai…jaane do phir…”

That is the biggest trick in a bargain. Exit the deal if you don’t get the right price. It compels the seller to slash down his rates further. It does not work everytime though. There are some hard nuts. But the overall results are above satisfactory.

“Gyarahso last…”
“Hajaar…”
“Gyaraso….nahi toh jaane do…”

The trick can be played from the other end too.

“Theek hai.” I accept.

I crack a deal. I fix a prostitute for eleven hundred rupees only. I bargain. I bring down her rates from fifteen hundred to eleven hundred. My mom would have been so proud of me if she had seen this. I had proved myself worthy of my upbringings. I had won a bargain.

She took me to a small dingy room on the first floor of a building which looked like a historic ancestral house of some family involved political affairs in its times.

All the brothels on this road looked this way. One of the later Maratha kings towards end of Maratha regime had settled this street to fulfil his insatiable desire for skin. Or maybe, he was on a test like me. But his test never ended. He must’ve settled an entire locality of prostitutes through his daily testing schedule. The place now had prostitutes from around the country. But the spirit of the king still roams through all those who visit this place.

As I had entered through the small entrance, the exquisite carving on the wooden pillars make me feel like entering a royal courtesan’s abode. I had followed her to his room across several such rooms filled with an intercourse.

The room was pathetically painted in a soiled green colour. There were tiles put up at places where the colour had chipped off. One wall looked like a large game of Tetris.

She stood before me.

“Dekho saahab…fix rate mein…” She began quoting a list of rules.

Rules for a paid sexual activity:
1. Thou shalt not kiss
2. Thou shalt not lick
3. Thou shalt not bite
4. Thou shalt not suck
5. Thou shalt not be forceful
6. Thou shalt not demand a blow job
7. Thou shalt not spoil the clothing
8. Thou shalt not spoil the make up
9. Thou shalt not spoil the hair
10. Thou shalt not ask for the name
11. Thou shalt pay the tip
12. More the tip that shall thy pay, shalt each rule be dropped.

I said I had no more money left for the tip.

“Theek hai!” she said and stretched out on the bed. She raised her legs and pulled down the saree baring them before me.

“Haan…chaalu karo!”

Bare thighs as these would have other wise driven me crazy. But the edge of professionalism with which they were uncovered created a repulsion in me. To add to the ugliness. She opened them displaying her reproductive organ. The filth turned me off. I has painstakingly chosen her over the other whores because I thought she had the ability to seduce. That was a speculation based over her appearance. But I had been deceived my instincts. Even though It was nothing new for me, the level of it’s failure had dealt a shock to me.

“Jaldi…aise pakad ke nahi let sakti main jaasti time…”

So what if you can’t keep lying with your legs raised in air. Not my fault. I didn’t ask for it. Bloody Bitch. Die out of AIDS! Rot in hell!

I always had a soft corner for whores. More of a sympathy towards their profession and condition. I had lost it now.

And as far as erection was considered, no prizes for guessing that I didn’t have one. I couldn’t and never would have it before readily spread legs of a prostitute.

I turned and walked out of the room. I exit the place. I turned around and saw the road filled with many such like her. And large wooden windows of their affiliations.
My test never began, forget failing.

I thought of approaching another one. But the logic of professional similarity hit me. If one was her, rest would be intense or diluted versions of her. But like her.

Maybe the king didn’t possess this logic. Or maybe he didn’t the feel the same way as I did now. The long road stacked with brothel houses was an evidence.

As I walked away from that place, the compulsion to prove my masculinity had left me. I doubted if it made any difference to me after this incidence. With it I would join the breed of able men who would otherwise visit one such whore and thrust that erection into her ugly gateway. And without it, I would join the creed of men who would regret its absence and yet continue to live the same lives. How would it differentiate me from other men. Men who lost the battle with their lives every day.

I didn’t want to loose myself in their crowd. I had to stand out.

A strong urge to differentiate myself from the world filled me up. Aparna, her loss, the deflation, Sneha nothing held any meaning to me. Just one word left back.

'Difference'

(Contd.)