Relevance

I screamed in my head, though I didn’t make a noise, aware that there was nothing to scream about, as I watched the man I’d pushed out of the Bombay Loal train, fall to the tracks… and suddenly my brain was blind, in all senses, A flash of light, as bright as a camera’s and as complete as a blizzard. In my mind’s eye the man’s body fell to the tracks. It bounced off, trailing behind us, very quickly lost to sight, but still, travelling fast enough that the impact with the rails shattered his jaw, and the side of his head collapses into his brain, causing, hopefully, instant death, as his arm snagging on one of the bolts on the railway line, tears of, leaving this pool of blood, similar to those gory images from South Park, or any of those adult animation cartoons which find death such a hilarious joke.

Roadside Show

“… I could not believe it,” Mr. Singh was saying.


I had just sauntered of the basketball court, and wanted to speak to him about something. Only to find he was already speaking about something, and had collected a bit of an audience and so I would have to wait.

Mr. Sing, referred to as Mr. S, from here on, was our sports teacher… you would not call him a coach… he knew too little about any sport. Personally, I feel he was just a formality for the school. He did know a lot about the goings on in school. In our school sports were conveniently relegated to a position of no consequence. Equipment collected dust for most of the year, except on the day when it needed to be photographed for the prospectus, after the brief respite it was put under lock and key. The large, supposed football field had a fence around it, and placards saying, 'please do not walk on grass.' Obviously making playing or running on the grass a little hard.

Given the state of the sporting equipment, I guess its easy to figure out that the sports teacher was an appendage… he knew a lot about college, because instead of looking after the sports equipment, he’d sit in staff rooms and administrative offices, gossiping, taking stories from the top floor to the bottom, from the senior to the junior section… stuff like that.

Need

It was going to be another one of those nights, she thought, as they got into his car, a low strung monster of a sports car, entirely inappropriate for Indian roads, yet it was one of those stupid dreams, as he called them, that it made sense to make real, now that all the others were out of reach. And she didn’t mind, it wasn’t his fault, and there wasn’t any reason, really, anymore for him to not splurge on himself. She couldn’t expect anything from him, nor could he really do anything for her, anymore. It was sad, but there was no reason to pretend that things were any different, to what they were.

Still, even this car, to him was merely a consolation prize, an empty trophy, that reminded him every time he revved it of everything else he would never have anymore. He looked over at her as he got into the car, and smiled, the smile that looking at her always brought to his lips. The smile, that told him everything was still good, at least he still had her, and in so many ways that was more than he could have wanted.

She looked so gorgeous, in a red chiffon saree, tansluscent and seductive. Her blouse was cut so low, showing off her beautiful cleavage, and her entire midriff, she wore her sarees low, the way he liked, the way he had fallen for her, again and again. And tonight was no different, he was in love with her, as he leaned over, and gave her an open mouth kiss, in their drive way, and the passion they shared, passed through him again. And he felt warm and alive.