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Excerpts from “random romances 2”

    #3

                                                                                       LOVE IN THE SHORE

Its energetic enjoying a shower in a summer morning. I woke up early took a shower, wasted half an hour sorting out the perfect dress from my cupboard, too much oil and gel together due to desperation and lastly had to wore a hip-hop cap to hide my sprinkled straw hairs, annoyingly sticky and wet. Park avenue’s chocolate flavor were stinging my surrounding. A total unscrupulous unusual start bemused me of what disclosures still awaiting for me ahead today! few men of mid twenties and thirties were spring-cleaning the road side rubbish. It is their regular duty working under the municipal council. Large brooms and besoms with large canes producing large clouds of dust in the air. A very few vehicles running, tourists and local health cautious peoples returning from the sea beach after a morning walk. Red sun slowly but surely turning white warming up the morning breeze. I board an auto-rickshaw on reserve and went straight to the beach. Shree was already waiting for me. You are late enough to miss the sun rise! She spoke out mournfully. Her words flew over my ears with no effect. I was locked at her perpetual glance sharply reflecting under the morning sun. she didn’t noticed my dalliance feeling, within a blink she take hold of my wrist and unlocked my attention from her. We walked by the beach, her fingers curled over tight round my wrist was uncomfortable for me but I seemed to like it. Her partially wet hairs randomly griping each other and a sandal mark on the fore head designated  she took bath this early morning and attended any worship or holy place. Girls are so disciplined in spiritual reties I wondered. As we started exchanging tales of our families back at home, the fish catching boats numerous in quantity wobbling along with the rising and receding sea waves far from the coast caught my eyes. I was astonishingly gasping at the little lads belonging to the fishermen family trying their ability of controlling the small wooden boats in the shore. She suddenly started to blink feverishly. Something had entered her eyes. She replied in a unclear voice. I snatched my hand from her warm fingers and cupped her face, cradled her head with my other hand. After an interval of two seconds, she broke out to laughter and laughter. I was just diverting your eyes from the seashore attractions and its unchanging allure, she little stammered out, her laughter still heavier than her words. And a sudden butterfly kiss ebbed my budding annoyance. And then a prolonged lovelorn look locked at each other muted further interactions. That was the most romantic part of my life at sea beach. When you are with your beloved you have to be downright paranoid with the passage of time. You cannot tally the speed of times super-natural chariot, a super villain in every love story. Soon we reached the dock, over crowded with raucous, boisterous and energetic fishermen surrounded by fish lovers. Slippers dampening in coastal sands burned more calories than required for soft casual walking. We entered the panorama of a dense busy crowd surrounding the dock. All fishing boats after three to four hours of fishing from early dark dawn was arriving one after another loaded with sea fishes. And very next to this lively swarming fishes were a long narrow pavement with encroachments on both sides spewing fried vapors and stinking whiff of fish fries. Shree took me to her favorite fish fry window-shop. She was keenly busy in her formalities while my eyes felt tired of rolling all the varieties of fish fries. It is hard to choose one or two from these diverse range. I uttered walking forward to sit by her side on the wooden bench. The old oily polished bench logically placed to face back the yellow morning sun. my eyes moved to the young boy in the tea stall, having extreme calibre of making tea. Twelve cups of tea ready to serve in just five minutes, astonishingly fast and precise pouring of ingredients. While the other members of the shop kept on frying the wide range of fisher one after other. Piles of fish fries loaded skilfully to turn the pedestrians passing by hungry and their mouths watery. The tongue tickling smelly masala additives and chutney kept in front of the stall for the worthy display of its tasty breakfast. I turned a little to face her more easily. The cool of the breeze of the morning beach made her tingling lips sizzle. she weren’t having a self-piteous moment. Your lips are more lovely when they are working than when they are at rest. Silence does not deserve a girl who looks more charming when you are sharing your views .I sobered. Before she could reply the long golden brown oil soaking fish fries arrived in front of us. What is  the use of such big plates for two fish fries. I asked in wonder. Wait and watch. She whispered slowly with highly judge able facial expression. a variety of masala curries and deserts soon filled up my plate. I counted eight bowls, each with different colours and tastes as I tried all of them. You have tasted almost all the flavours of fish masalas available in this city. she expressed cheerfully. I cutely smiled at her with a special thanks. If you keep on thanking me, I promise your lips will dry up tired of thanking me. She uttered with a warning wide eyes and a loving grin to end up. I just love your expressions which is too comical when you restrict and warn me. I teased her with my part time joustingwarm laughter sugary again. She looked up at him balefully. ‘Oh, and you call me comical.’ Surprise flashed on her face. We kept on exchanging sugary words. We drained the remaining water from our glasses to wash our hands. Breakfast completed with little sense of taste and more eccentrically working at words. Come again, the stall owner shouted from behind with a sympathy seeking smile. The only priceless thing in life you always get back in response of yours is the smile. We smiled back at him with a nod of acceptance and sheer gratitude walking sluggish in our way. [04012012]

                                                                                           #4

                                                                        WE TOO HAD A TATTOO

i was lucky enough to get a handsome pocket money every month from my parents and they were more enough unlucky to be blessed by a son like me, who never cared about how it was utilized. My parents never asked me about the way, field and time of utilization of the money and I sturdily and profitably made a complete misuse of it. With the arrival of permanent tattoo making instruments and experts in the city a new trend grew up. Shirts and t-shirts were replaced by sleeveless tees and undies for the bestowed display of the newly fashioned of radiant tattoos. Ninety percent of the tattoos were rough, tyrant and bear no casual or formal meaning but had a great demand. The rejoiced trend easily swaged my fluctuating mind. The evening sun coloured the blue sky purple red as I accompanied by my loyal friend shree, enjoyed walking through the dusty plain of the footpath. Twittering birds returning to nests and some fighting for their nests in the tree top made their liveliness noticed. My bulged-out eyes were wide opened, busy searching the newly established tattoo parlour. The harsh bikes, especially by the youths, crowded road side pavements and the smoke spewing age old overcrowded city buses distracted my vision. The snarling road transport and howling encroachments on the roadside pavements made my search miserable. But the extra large signboard of the tattoo parlour in deep red bold letters attracted my eyes soon. I found the parlour open and few shoes gruffly arranged outside the thick murky door. With hefty excitement I pulled open the door with a low creak. A gust of cool foggy air drove out to hit me. My eyes rolled to the white AC fitted on the left wall, 16 degrees highlighted in green on the black screen. The 3by6 metres well furnished room was over lighted by the reflecting silver mirrors fitted on all the sides. Four high footed chairs with sapphire blue cushions lined up in a row, two consumed by customers. A super stylish blond blue eyed hunk with multi-coloured tattoos covering his chest and shoulders was busy mixing waxy colours. A fat lady with golden curly hairs and brown Italian spectacles was enjoying chicken burger and daintily wiping her lips and surroundings with a pinkish white napkin.. the burger was bigger in bulk than her lips could catch. The masala inside was sticking to her lips and surrounding cheek slightly with each bite. Is tattoo making available here, I asked with a chivalry tone. The fat lady with a doughy voice replied me juggling between her burger and my enquiry. She had a high calibre of attracting tattoo lovers. I browsed flipping over the dozens of designs and rolling my enthusiastic eyes while she utterly emphasised on the mentor, popularity and cost of each tattoo side by side vying with the other tattoo makers of the city. It was so irksome to resist her doughy and greedy voice vying with other tattoo makers, I just wanted to muzzle her, but until my tattoo is made she is to be treated with reverence. I was perfidious about my own decision of making tattoos as I always had a propensity to put-off decisions to last minute. Being hedonistic I booked my day and time with no delay with a meagre payment of rupees hundred. I also put my name and contact number in the register book. she straddled back to her tool shifting her oval bulky bum and smirked lightly as I ended my writing and headed out of the parlour.
The nasty polluted air churned my skin as I stepped out of the air condition ambience. Are your parents allowing you to cover your skin with a permanent tattoo? Shree asked me like a prig, her face turned purple under the scorching sun. my parents will never permit me for such nuisance. They will definitely blight all my dreams when they will learn that the tattoo is permanent and that also to be encrypted by needles on skin. I answered with a naughty grin tucking back my wallet inside the back pocket. An innocent fib will solve the problem. She berated me in an insolent way. I switched the topic as we entered the grumpy apartment of PLM local train. After few minutes of
snarling to and fro motion in the mist of boisterous local we arrived P.O station. Oh god! I should have been in my room by now. The hostel gate would close in twenty minutes. The big station wall clock warned her it was too late. She choked her throat a little and bidding me good bye left for her hostel.
AFTER ONE WEEK its scorching noon 2:30 pm. Waiting for the last customer on service to finish, impatiently waiting for my turn and her arrival, lighting the mobile screen every split minute for the time. When you are alone time loves to be with you for a longer and seems to be running slow. tattoo was my passion personified aim, but I don’t know why my heart beat was striking off-beat. the air inside this air-conditioned room was heavy with the pungent fragrance of his skin dyes and smoke from the beeswax, huge heaps of wax candles he used to sterilize his needles. Overall a suffocating foul ambiance was irksome to enjoy the tattoo. I waited watching at the busy roads, honking vehicles, dusty and heated, road side shops with residential apartments on top. My turn came quick. I adjusted myself easily on the high footed cosy chair unbuttoning the top three buttons of my white shirt.. With a oily smile he told me to open my full shirt. I removed my shirt and then shoes to ease my fingers. Skin soothed with a cool spirit like liquid. The echoes of high heels drew my attention towards the glass door. Shree entered the room and blinked—her eyes taking a second to cope with the transition from bright white road to shady blue room. Her every excuse seemed to play out on her face—she was highly readable. She sat on the bell-bottomed sofa nearby. Her immense enthusiasm for the tattoo making technology drew her early. I am fortunate she was not bored. she was sternly ogling at the idyllic hunk needling tattoo. The next moment my eyes caught that, I found myself tussling with my budding jealousy. I loved her so a it was obvious. I kept on keeping her busy drawing her attention towards me. We planned for the day ahead. Time seemed to be very much suspended. I was out of words to exchange while She continued to look up at the tattoo maker benevolently. . Girls are downright enigmatic in nature, untenable, unpredictable. That is why every love story is insecure until its gets legally granted by the society. Shree stared up at my tattoo, fascinated by the flare in her eyes. excitement burgeoning. The tattoo is complete, Shree came closer for a more detailed view of my tattoo and stopped by as the stinking pungent smell checked her sense. Hey, let it dry up, you can,__ oh! no problem it will dry within 2 to 3 hours, the artist interfered in-between. Shree stepped back with an annoying grin, a understanding look. After thirty minutes with a final finishing I am done. Cleared the payment and we two left the parlour.
The tattoo adored and kept her eyes locked. I loved it as she did. Now it was her turn. The tattoo fire ignited her. A strong interest for an eye-catching tattoo engrossed her. She was stubborn to make a tattoo on her neck. We visited the tattoo parlour again next week. The expert suggested for the belly instead of neck. Tattoos are firmly divided for males and females. A soft texture and feathery colour with non-violent and passive looks are generally preferred for females. A green and blue dancing peacock with sparky red borders highlighted her spongy belly. It was so amazing and attracting that I was magnetised to kiss her belly in the parlour itself in exult.
[04012012]

Disclaimer:
Its a winning entry in a state level story writing competition back in 2011. Not a true story !

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