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The Graduates

Dalli Maya sat on the handrails of a steel parapet which provided enclosure to the café. The café was on a cul-de-sac with alleys wrung in all directions. She wore a red ribbon around her braids as rings of her hair shone colorfully in the languid September sun. Goloman assuming a meek countenance produced smoke ringlets which slowly drifted and grew as it moved towards an emaciated cat and suddenly garlanding the fascinated creature made it purr gently and in wonder. Dalli passing the blunt to Goloman coughed, laughed and unveiled her plans happily and readily. It had been a week since they had graduated from the university and they felt like king and queen of the world. They had passed the dreariness of university with a sense of self-righteousness and languor. Now with a step into the unknown and another into the past, they found the company of each other more exciting and it gave them tranquility and confidence. They were in the summer of their lives and they were young, carefree, loving and not cynical enough. They spoke with each other with their eyes, smiling, pondering and embracing the moment of time which would never return even though it was filled in love, friendship and innocence. Suddenly, they had admitted each other into their confidence and shared their hidden thoughts, desires and outlaid brilliant plans for future. In the eternal day they became nutty professor with penchant for feet. An evil environmentalist lawyer. A real estate mogul in love with hooker. A gigolo. A pimp. A millionaire coder who promoted peace among worlds. An assassin politician who pursued rapists. A filmmaker with hot troupes. In the sublime moment of happiness, they were engulfed in incoherent and rash conversations leading to raillery, jokes and denunciations of all sorts, clanking their steel voices in clashes of inane excitement, furor and nonchalance; and when an unrestraint feverishness led them astray their joviality ended up in such a passionate sequence of kisses, which like a storm that gradually engendered a violent spiral of libidinal desires and carnal appetites for which they were readily thrown out of the café. This full time fun suddenly changed in matter of months. Dalli Maya’s happiness knew no limits when her father having been elected the new mayor of municipality obtained for his daughter the position of social mobilizer in office. She spent her days fooling around…

A Tragic Comedy of Human Divinity

1. He checked on his phone couple of times to see if she had replied; timid and dejected at every blink of the slick little screen.  It was exasperating that she refused to understand his predicament and it slowly weighed on him; one thing to comprehend and another thing to refute it. Times like this reminded him of his mother who despite of her noble upbringing and education was too much of a conformist for his taste. ‘Women’ thought he, ‘never too lively, never too low. They always let men take the fall’. His scarlet cheeks glossed.  He read and re-read their conversation on the phone till it dawned to him that she wasn’t cold, she was merely playing it heartless. A couple of days passed and he was grew miserable from the fact that it wasn’t up to him to conclude their mutual displeasure. It was simply a matter of time and he was getting out of time to contain his melancholic resentment towards such a petty squabble which was due to the fact that he couldn’t attend her sister’s swoyamber. How could he participate in such a trifling event when he had a job to attend to which paid his bills and with much industry could he manage to put a wee bit more than mere rice and lentils on the table for his family of six. There was no escape from his listless diligence when his own pocket was tight. ‘How can you be so selfish? What does it matter if you flunked your office, once for me? You were the one who used to say that employment is just a twenty first century invention?’ she had romped incessantly. It’s always difficult for a man to not be affected with the wrath of his woman. It is full of cruelty because it comes not from heart but from her angry yet nonchalant mind; coy, unaffected and full of logic that men have difficult time to comprehend how and from where such paroxysms originate. The loftiness of man against women’s intelligence is thus shattered. One thing that evolution has undone is men’s ability to recognize that women are as intelligent as them and in arguments of such sorts men lack courage to concede their cerebral powerlessness against so-called inferior creatures, leading to irrational and most visibly whimsical, savage behaviors and offensive languages against women which can never be…

I said, Goodbye to Romance

My love! Do you remember the time when you whispered to me, “I would love to give you a blowjob in this moshpit”. I was ecstatic over the idea. But it wasn’t the idea of an erotic setting that set flames to my heart but the chaos and disorder that you would see through to make me happy. But in sooth, it’s been a while that I don’t feel nourished. It hasn’t been quite the surge of emotions that should have suspended me into oblivion and as I should have liked to dangle to and forth, but it hasn’t been quite so. I like despair and I loathe happiness. It’s all meaningless and if it’s meaningless then I might well be meaningless in my own existence, I have begun to ponder. But with the ugly reality clinging on to my mind, for some time now, I can’t be lost in oblivion. Yes, love has been beautiful to me, such brilliant billow of lifelessness can one be engulfed into. I wonder if I could ever feel despair again. But, I am in despair now. It`s ironic but it`s not complicated. This kind of despair is the despair of love. (more…)

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Side Effects

‘We broke up, yesterday’ said he, without the presence of any grimace, almost nonchalantly. She was stupefied. It came to her out of the blue, maybe not. She did think about it on her preconscious level. But how was she supposed to know what she thought. She can barely think before she speaks. ‘Was it her father? I told you, he looks like medieval aristocrat who cannot accept the fact that he is a homosexual’, she put in brashly. ‘Oh, come on’, it’s not about that’, he answered hesitantly. ‘Then, was it about her glamorous leggings with those silly ankle pockets. When she stooped that low, what a magnificent sight for everyone to appreciate’, sniggering as she folded her linens in an old, sturdy, trolley case. ‘I don’t know. Let it be’, exasperated with his sister’s ludicrous prattling. ‘What do you mean, you don’t know. I need to know before I fly away from you’, she insisted. ‘I don’t know. You see, it’s like why we are in love. There’s no reason. I can’t tell why. There needs to be no reason for goodbyes just like, there needs to be no rationale for romance’, he answered bluntly. ‘I knew you are addicted to vanity. Especially pertaining to that of human relationships. You are complacent the either way. I get it. But, I don’t want you to end up all alone. You may be my rival as you put it one gloomy day but you are my brother’, she grew melancholic as she was addressing him. ‘I don’t know what to say to you sometimes. How can love and separation be all the same to you, how can you be so cruel?’, she grieved. ‘It is, my dear sister. Don’t worry about our goodbye. I shall visit you in December’, he masqueraded his affection as he spoke softly and hugged her. He never visited her in December but as circumstances would have it, he reluctantly appeared at her doorstep due eight months with his new romantic endeavour. This one had comfy bosoms and had  perms, not sure if it was because of lack of a good bath or a bad stylish. Anyways she looked glossy, almost like a hooker, which his younger brother always seemed to prefer. She seemed a bit obnoxious at first glance but she had a way with speech, almost serene to listen to, but yes, she turned…

Mr. Floyd and A Year of Love

Mr. Floyd met her for the first time at Café Devkota.  They had an immediate affinity for each other. They didn’t converse with each other for another four months before she attempted her charm but he had merely produced a nod and a subtle faint smile as he walked away clumsily. Only their fleeting glances met and sometimes he stole a look here and she feigned her gaze there. It was typical of Floyd to take a liking to women during those days of solitude. It produced a gratifying effect on him even at their mere presence. He could notice everything about women from their light, brownish, beauty moles to the lustful tip of their fingers. Women meant beauty and beautiful women were always avoided by him. He liked the idea of being in a state of desire than the illusion of fulfilled desire. Hence, a bachelor. For him, beauty was better left uncharted. Any seduced beauty was aesthetically  marred and ethereally tarnished. It was psychologically purging for him to think like that. If it was up to him he would had without a second thought, have all the damsels locked on a museum only for the world to behold and admire, never to be corrupted nor be judged. She was such a beauty. She had a square face, dark hair, bristle yet fashionable and a Greek nose, pointed, almost chiselled and symmetrical. She had a fair countenance, somewhat dim Floyd thought it was very poignant. From the outset she had given him a warm feeling, like the sons feel when they are touched by the love of their mothers. There was nothing motherly about her but every man, in his deepest of heart, desires such an affection from their women. Men are lonely species because they are unable to love the world like the women can do. He always felt that if there was to be a god then god would certainly be a woman. The love of god is exactly like that of a woman and so is their scorn. They love in order to merely love. But men, they are brute. They love to be loved more. Mr. Floyd could love like a woman. Having resisted such a temptation for a long time, Mr. Floyd finally succumbed to the charm of damsel in distress. His hero Wilde had asserted, over a century ago that the necessary things…