Avik's Story

The morning was heavy with nightlong rains and chill winds – my eyes were fluffy due to oversleeping - I could see hefty grey sky from dusty window, and then my mobile chimed. Two messages, one confirming a booking of a movie and then another providing a buy-one-get-one-free coupon in a momo-joint. I got down from my crumpled bedsheet and took some water. I was sure my maid would skip today – rainy day, like we used to bunk classes back days. I went to kitchen, switched on the kettle and made coffee with extra coffee powder. It tasted bitter, but the aroma was exactly what I needed at this awful morning, not a damn hindi movie, funnily titled ‘Newton’. I went to balcony and sat on a chair, and sipped coffee while gazing at sky. How much rains will it need to prove that it wasn’t raining for a while? Look at my car – parked under a tree, surrounded by ankle length clogged water. Rain stopped momentarily around eight thirty, and the show was scheduled at nine. I didn’t chan

I was never comfortable with girls. And one girl taught me the weirdest thing possible in my ordinary life – and that too when I was in primary school. Suck my toe. It was gross – as I think of now. How could I do that? Didn’t I feel yucky? Didn’t it occur to me that it was way too bizarre? I guess, those questions are redundant, as in most of the cases, logic can’t explain your happiness. All I had to do, sit on the torn mattress and bend down as far as possible – way to my folded legs – and then select a toe posed near ankle, and suck until either of it became smelly – so smelly that I couldn’t tolerate anymore, or the teacher noticed me. I was not alone though. The girl - a tiny figure, whose oily hair was neatly divided into two strong ponytails and who did walk like hopping, with her ponytails swaying like two free beasts – taught that trick to a few others. But she was the best toe-sucker I ever seen. It was my stop-gap school – a government run pri

I am a vividly happy guy – everybody perhaps knows that; but what only few of them know is that I’m a bigtime crier too. Tears are familiar to me just like the smile of mine. They’re infectious. Tears are my best immune and sometimes survivals. They’re mostly hidden, literally behind walls – in safe custody of bathroom sometimes. But they’re precious. They bring life out of me everytime. They make me more humane everytime. And this time I cried seemingly for no reason. I was in Airport. I was on duty. Some big hot-shot bureaucrats were in city to attend a massive seminar hosted by the most powerful person in country, and when it was over they were returning their places of working – to different states. My job was to facilitate their departure procedure – a mundane boring job – mostly receiving calls from someone from hotel or drivers and then passing the same to Protocol Division inside airport. I preferred to seat outside - beside a café-stall and under a decorative shed, rather th