I was followed in the streets by mad men, boys, prostitutes. Then one day, I met a boy who knew Mazhar.
‘He was afraid of me,’ the boy said. ‘I beat him up once.’
‘But he fucked well,’ I protested.
The boy looked at me with horror, knowing it would be his turn some day, as he had probably secretly hoped it would be.
When I moved house yet again, I remembered I had left behind a ball of darkly violet opium I had bought once from Mazhar, on the kitchen shelf. My landlord must have discovered it and told my neighbours that I was a slave to opium too.
*
I share Room 11A with Darius. Darius at the moment is curled on the bed adjacent to me in his underpants.
A knock. I get out of bed.
Before I pull on my pants, a thin boy enters.
‘Where’s Darius? Don’t tell me he’s left and left all his things behind.’
I mumble something and turn in. The boy takes a once over at my pubic hair before leaving!
I snooze. An hour, maybe two.
Lights go on. It’s a hot Delhi night. I poke my head out from under the light bedsheet which I’ve torn from the mattress to cover myself.
‘Hello!’
‘Hello, Uncle! Don’t sleep on the bare mattress. Bugs will get you.’
‘Don’t call me uncle! Though I’m forty and my hair is white, my heart is young. Call me Hoshang.’
The boy undresses with his back to me showing a superb torso. I see a long dick hanging between his legs from the back.
The bathroom door won’t shut. He showers. Then leaves the shower tap running. Gently. He’s in there for three minutes, then five more. Maybe ten more.
He unwraps his towel and pulls on his bermudas again with his back to me. The shorts are printed with the BATMAN logo.
‘You’re certainly at ease with your body! Did you learn that at the gym?’
‘No! At home!’
‘You must have young parents.’
‘In their fifties. Slightly older than you.’
‘Well,’ I say. ‘I shock people when I say I sleep on the same bed naked with my sister.’
We share a cigarette. He tells me he’s going to the ‘Uran Academy’ at Rae-Bareilly.
We share the same bed. He dozes off. I go to my own bed.
He can’t sleep. He opens his eyes.
‘It’s hot.’
‘Try the cold-shower therapy.’
‘What’s that?’
‘In my day, masturbation was taboo. Doctors recommended cold showers.’
He smiled. He kept looking at me.
I saw the bulge in his pants dancing.
He was making it dance.
I was naked in bed. I wrapped a blanket over myself and climbed into his bed.
I groped between his legs. He took my hand away from his ass to his dick, turned up, erect, over his stomach.
I made him slip off his bermudas. My blanket half slipped off by itself.
‘Is it big?’
‘Yes!’
He gave a shy look at my penis. ‘Why isn’t it getting big?’
‘I’m old. Encourage it!’
‘Move it up and down,’ he said, pointing to his penis. I bent to put my lips to it. He pushed me away, an athlete.
I sat up in bed behind him. He feared for his ass. I touched his nipples and then down the hairline over his pectorals to his pubic hair. He got out of bed.
I tried to put my lips to his penis again. Thwarted again.
He went into the shower. I followed. I reached for the soap.
‘That’s no good.’
Under the water, he began masturbating himself.
‘Are you a virgin?’
‘No.’
‘When was your first time?’
‘Forget it! I’ve just come! I do it five times a day!’
‘I know it. Let me help you.’
He stands on tiptoe. He parts his legs. I thrust my left hand index finger up his ass while vigorously moving my right hand up and down his penis shaft.
Three gloriously white drops of semen splutter out as they do in gay comics. He wouldn’t let me taste them. I rub my hand over his dick head. He convulses in pain, then watches me lick his semen off my hands in disbelief.
Poems from a Vacation
S. Anand
Anand Speaks:
I want to be true to my name:
We were both alone
Then I met you
I will not let you commit suicide
I will tame you, fox, with the leash of love
Signed
L’il Prince.
Anand Writes from a Vacation as Home:
I’m no more the same
I’m a Brahmin ass:
Eat/sleep . . . eat/sleep
When letters arrive
six at a time
I fear my father
But I say nothing to his jibes
Writing this I remember Kundera:
The mother reads a fourteen-year-old’s diary
And they are all laughing at her
In fear, I burst into a sweat
But writing this
I’m already better.
Night Queen
Mahesh Dattani
A tiny room with two doors. The side door leads directly to the street. The other door leads to the rest of the house. It is the sort of room which would be built for a paying guest who may need to come and go without disturbing the rest of the household.
We can see that the room is occupied by a single male. A bachelor’s room with a huge poster of a muscle man on the cupboard. Some workout equipment can also be seen. A pair of jeans tossed on a chair. We also see a window.
However, we can’t see outside on the street because there is a night queen (raat ki raani) shrub acting as a mask.
It could do with some pruning. The shrub is shaking as a result of a strong wind.
We open on an empty stage. We hear an old woman calling out, ‘Raghu! Ay, Raghu.’ The strong wind blows some flowers into the room. Raghu enters the room through the side door and quickly shuts the windows.
Raghu is a young man in his mid-twenties. He wears trendy jeans that are a little too tight. His muscles are heavy and fairly well developed but they add a certain grace, rather than power, to his movements.
Raghu: (calling out) Come in!
(Ash walks in. He looks around, still at the doorway. Ash is a little older than Raghu. He is good looking. A little selfconscious, which perhaps adds to his charm. Raghu picks up some of the flowers that had swept in.)
Raghu: I like them on the branches.
Ash: Huh?
Raghu: The blooms. I don’t like them on my floor.
Ash: Oh. (preoccupied, looking around the room) Why not?
Raghu: (taken aback at the question) Why not? I don’t know. I just like them better when they are still up there. Besides, they lose their fragrance once they fall off. No point in sticking them in vases.
Ash: Pretty strong smelling.
Raghu: Do you need to go to the bathroom now?
Ash: Er—ya.
Raghu: (pointing to the other door) You have to go through that door. It’s the first door across the living room. You might bump into my folks but don’t mind. They are quite used to it.
Ash: Never mind. I’ll go later.
Raghu: Sit down.
(Ash continues to stand. Raghu is unsure now.)
Ash: Why don’t you shut the door?
(Raghu looks at him for a while. He goes to the window instead and opens it. The wind blows in more flowers and dried leaves, before subsiding. Raghu stares at him.)
Ash: What’s your name?
Raghu: Babu.
Old woman’s voice: (off) Raghu! Raghu?
Ash: Who is Raghu?
Raghu: (throwing up his hands) All right. I am Raghu. I am so used to giving a false name. But you seem to be okay.
Ash: You didn’t think so a while ago.
Raghu: Just out of habit, I guess. (Fishing out his card) Here’s my card. I work for Microland. Assistant Sales Manager. Here, take it.
(Ash accepts the card and puts it in his wallet without looking at it.)
Raghu: I might as well have yours.
Ash: Huh?
Raghu: Your card. Can I have your card?
Ash: (putting his wallet back in his hip pocket) No. I have run out of cards.
Raghu: Then I think I should have my card back.
Ash: Why are you nervous?
Raghu: What’s your name?
Ash: Relax.
Raghu: What is your name?
Ash: I told you. Ash.
Raghu: Ash. I have used that one before!
Ash: That is my name.
Raghu: Is it short for Ashok or Ashish or Ashley?
Ash: Ash will do for you. Now that you know my name, you can shut the door.
(Raghu moves slowly to the door and shuts it.)
Ash: Leave the window open.
Raghu: Someone may peep in.
Ash: (moving to the window) For now. I will shut it after a while.
(Pause)
Ash: My grandmother wouldn’t allow us to grow night queen. She said it attracted snakes. We grew up in a village named—a village.
Raghu: There’s no danger of that here. Snakes, I mean.
Ash: I planted one anyway. Such strong fragrance!
Raghu: And did it attract snakes?
Ash: In my dreams.
(Pause)
Ash: I would go to sleep with the blooms on my body. And I would dream. The snake would slither into my bed, curl up over my belly, attracted by the scent. And I would imagine that it was attracted to my body. The warmth of my body. And I was aroused by the presence of the snake. The snake then turned into a man. A man who made love to me.
Old woman’s voice: (off) Gayatri! Gayatri, are you asleep?
Ash: (startled) Who is that?
Raghu: My mother. She is senile. And an insomniac. Just ignore her.
Ash: Who is Gayatri?
Raghu: My sister.
Old woman’s voice: (off) Gayatri!
Raghu: (going to the door) Excuse me.
(Ash surreptitiously takes out his wallet again and looks at Raghu’s card.)
Raghu: (yelling through the doorway) Gayatri, see what she wants. I have a visitor!
(Raghu comes back in. Ash quickly puts the card and wallet back in his pocket.)
Raghu: Wow! I have heard some wild gay fantasies, but this one is something special. Snakes turning into sexy men. Though it should be obvious. I mean the snake being such a classic phallic symbol.
(Ash looks at him displeased.)
Raghu: Anyway, I am happy that you mentioned it. Only a gay man could have such a fantasy. So I am sure of you now.
Ash: What do you mean?
Raghu: For a minute I thought that you may be, you know, one of those.
Ash: One of those?
Raghu: Straight guys pretending to be gay so they can pick up someone, bash them up and take all their money.
Ash: Has it happened to you?
Raghu: Sure. Twice. Hasn’t it happened to you?
(Ash shakes his head.)
Raghu: I can’t believe it. You are probably the only one. Maybe you just know how to stay away from the wrong ones. Some people can tell a hetero guy a mile away. I think it’s the way they walk.
Ash: Oh. And what about you? Can’t you tell?
Raghu: Sometimes. But I am never too sure.
Ash: What do you feel about me?
Raghu: When you sat beside me on the park bench, I was pretty sure. But after a while, I wasn’t too sure.
Ash: Why?
Raghu: You didn’t put your hand on my crotch.
Ash: And yet you invited me to your home.
Raghu: Well. I put my hand on your crotch. That’s when I was sure. At least then I was.
Ash: And now you feel that I may be one of those.
Raghu: It doesn’t matter even if you are. I am trained for combat. I bash up gay bashers.
Ash: You feel that would be necessary with me?
Raghu: You never know.
Ash: Do I look like a gay basher to you?
Raghu: Not now. Not after you told me your fantasy.
Ash: That was a lie.
Raghu: You mean it was a fantasy. There’s a difference between a lie and a fantasy. What you just said was your fantasy.
Ash: The fantasy was a lie. I don’t fantasize about snakes turning into men and giving me a blow job.
Raghu: So you made it up.
Ash: Yes.
Raghu: But that’s what a fantasy is! It’s not real, it’s made up! So it can’t be a lie if you made it up!
Ash: I lied about making it up! I don’t fantasize. I don’t fantasize!
Raghu: No. You don’t understand. If you could invent such a story, then it is a part of your fantasy. Whether you really dreamed about it then, or it came to you now is immaterial. It is a part of you.
Ash: No! It can’t be. I—I didn’t invent the story. It was told to me. By someone in the park. And I passed it off as my own now.
Raghu: Why? What was the necessity? To impress me? I am impressed already. (Suggestive) Shall we close the windows now? The smell of the night queen is overpowering somehow.
(Raghu doesn’t wait for an answer. He moves to the windows and shuts them, gently slipping the bolt in.
Raghu goes to Ash and slowly begins to caress his cheek. Ash stands frozen for a while. Raghu’s hand moves slowly to Ash’s breast.
Ash suddenly grabs Raghu’s neck and starts to push him up against a wall.)
Ash: You know what I did to the guy who told me that story? I bashed him up. I beat him till he was pulp. I could have slit his throat and thrown him in the gutter! That’s what he deserved. That’s what you deserve!
Raghu: Get your hands off me, you swine!
Ash: Why? What will you do? Shout for help? Call the police? What can you do? Call your parents? Call your neighbours to help you? You don’t deserve to be helped. You should be locked up in an institution.
Raghu: Who are you to decide that? Fuck you!
Ash: I know you would like to do that. I won’t let you do that!
(Ash begins to punch him. Raghu lets out a cry of pain as he doubles up.)
Old woman’s voice: (off) Raghu! Ae Raghu!
Ash: Go on! Tell her! Tell her: ‘Mother! The man I picked up in the park to have sex with is beating me up!’
Old woman’s voice: (off) Raghu! Who is that with you?
Ash: Tell her who I am.
Old woman’s voice: (off) Raghu! Answer me!
Ash: (beating him up) Answer her! Tell her who I am.
Raghu: (suddenly grabbing his wrist) Ashwin Kothari.
(Ash is stunned for a moment at this disclosure. He backs away slowly.)
Old woman’s voice: (off) Who is that in the house? Raghu!
Raghu: (goes to the door, yelling out) Nobody! Just my friend! Go to sleep!
(Raghu looks at Ash. He moves slowly to him Ash suddenly makes a dash for the door. He tries to unlock it, but Raghu manages to grab him by the waist and drag him back into the room. Raghu beats him up. Ash resists but doesn’t fight back.)
Raghu: Shall I tell her? Shall I tell her who you are?
Ash: Let me go! (struggling) Let go of me!
Raghu: You don’t deserve to be anywhere near this house!
(Pause)
Ash: (gasping for breath) Don’t tell them. Just don’t tell them!
Raghu: Let them know!
Ash: (wheezing loudly) I can’t breathe! My asthma . . . I—I can’t breathe! Please!
(Ash is on the floor now trying hard to breathe. Raghu goes to the window and opens it. A strong wind blows in more dry leaves and flowers. Ash staggers to the window and lets out loud gasps as if he is fighting asphyxiation.)
Old woman’s voice: (off) Gayatri! Gayatri! See what tha
t Raghu is doing!
Ash: (weak) Just let me go back to my room. Let’s just pretend it all never happened. I won’t say anything about you, if you . . .
Raghu: I can’t just let you go now. And tomorrow . . .
Ash: Forget it. Forget we ever met. I won’t bring it up again.
Raghu: And Gayatri?
Ash: What about her?
(Pause)
Ash: Surely, you wouldn’t tell her, would you? Then you will have to tell her about yourself.
Raghu: She knows. She knows about me. And I am going to tell her about you.
Ash: You mustn’t! If you do, I will reject the proposal! I will say she is unsuitable.
Raghu: And then? Marry someone else?
Ash: That is none of your concern. Let me go.
Raghu: Get out!
(Ash walks slowly to the door.)
Old woman’s voice: (off) Gayatri! Is there enough milk for the kheer? Is he coming alone?
(Ash turns around and looks at Raghu.)
Old woman’s voice: (off) Gayatri!
Raghu: Wait! I am not going to let you get away without doing something first.
Ash: What do you want now?
(Pause)
Raghu: If you hadn’t found out who I am . . .
Ash: I—I just want to stop people from doing it.
Raghu: Bullshit. If you hadn’t—
Ash: I wouldn’t have done anything. I am not gay.
Raghu: Bullshit. You would have sucked my cock tonight and come back tomorrow in the morning to meet my sister.
Ash: Look. If you wish, I will come tomorrow and we could go ahead as planned. I could meet my parents and—and fix the date. I promise not to tell them about you, if you promise—
(Ash stops himself, realizing what he just said.)
Raghu: I promise not to tell your parents, if . . .
Ash: Don’t bring my parents into this!
Raghu: I promise not to tell your parents, if . . .
Ash: (hysterical) What do you want from me?
(Pause)
Raghu: I don’t want anything from you, you scum.
Ash: Goodbye.
Raghu: I want to give you something.
Ash: I don’t want anything from you.
Raghu: You are going to get a nice present.
Ash: I don’t want it.
Raghu: A present you will value for the rest of your life.
Ash: All right! Give it to me and let me go out of this hell.
Yaraana Page 7
