Skip to main content

Language called Lust

The room is fully packed. Sweaty and stinking smell fills the surrounding air. A fan, which takes ages to make a revolution, does more nuisance than good. But no one seems to care about heat. In deed an experience of an evening hell! All eyes are glued to a small screen on which their raw desires are being acted out live – their hidden desires and long held longings.

Language is not a barrier. Nor is caste or creed! All men, more than fifty all communicate in one language - the language called carnal desire, the language of raw human beings. Understanding is writ large on every face. No questions, no answers.

After much hesitation, I sit next to a man. He avoids looking directly at me and I don’t want to be seen either.

Soon another man joins us and sits to my right. Something is weird about this man, but I can’t say what. I take him for a gay. Does a gay watch this stuff also? I wonder. Then this happens. He starts to reach me. I shrug him off and push his hands. But he is undeterred. I moved a little far from him only to find him moving along with me also. I feel ashamed lest others in the room see the real scene at this side of the corner, but they are more into what is on the screen. When my cell phone rings, this weird fellow has laid his hands on every part of my body.

This time I push his hands with an immense force that his left arm hits on the wooden desk. I stand up to leave. I am totally angry and my face is apple red. My brother wants me to come home. And I hurry my steps through a long pathway what seems like a dark tunnel to me. It is a great escape I tell myself. Outside a large picture of Bruce Lee in his Enter the Dragon is pasted on the wall. A man is still selling tickets to hell.

And on my way home, I find my purse missing. No big deal. I don’t want to go back. I had only twenty rupees, but I have gifted that weird and gay-like fellow, a photo of my dear girl friend along with the purse.

That summer I broke up with Sonam Sayday.

Comments

  1. He stole away your girlfriend indeed...these...so you are unvailing some part of you which we didn't know...I was worried if you would give in that gay...thank god he only landed up the rs.20 and picture(though important then) which is just a picture now.
    Keep going man...i like reading them...

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

So what do you think?

Popular posts from this blog

Alive and kicking

This feels like ages since I last posted anything here. That shows how inactive I have become on my blog. It is such a pain to let it go empty, day after day. And I am sure that all bloggers share the same sentiments.

I have attempted to blog about something for a long time now, only to find myself failing to do so. Maybe that is my laziness. But sometimes, there is nothing new or interesting to blog about. Topics are crucial. As far as my idea of blogging goes, a post cannot be a mere record of personal events - everyday affairs - although there can be blogs about such topics and interests. For example, the one I am writing now - has nothing about anything in particular,  besides citing some personal excuses.

Bhutan is going through yet another interesting era in that we have just had our third parliamentary elections and the new government is in place. I take this opportunity to welcome the new government and a new set of cabinet members, the speaker of the National Assembly and th…

Our throw-it-away culture

Like all grandparents, my late grandma would call food 'tsampa rimpoche' and any fuss made about it would invite everyone's sneer and scoldings. Food is always treated with respect and is never wasted. "If you waste food in any manner," she would admonish us. "One day food will discard you and you will go hungry." 
What remained from the previous meal would be turned either into porridge or sometimes leftover rice would be dried in the sun. The dried rice would then be fried into puffed rice and consumed with cups of suja. When there was so much food left, especially during big events, leftover rice or kharang would be mixed with a small amount of yeast and brewed into ara.  
The only thing that I can vividly recollect from my primary school days is how we would be hungry most of the time. Food we were served was hardly enough to tickle our throats. We would be sent home only once a week on Saturdays and that was our opportunity to replenish our popcorn s…

Utpal Academy - Bhutan's first All-girls High School

Welcome to Bhutan’s first all-girls school. Isn’t that wonderful news to all our parents? Certainly, as a parent of a one-year old daughter I am excited about the coming of a school exclusively dedicated to the needs of girls. Our girls need special treatment, which we can for sure entrust the responsibility to Utal Academy, Paro.
I really like the name – Utpal – in Buddhist world, Utpal is another name for lotus flower, which is believed to grow from mud and yet blossoms into a beautiful and majestic flower. It stands for purity and many deities are depicted holding flower Utpal, more prominently Jestusn Dolma, the Goddess Tara. Symbolically, it also stands for the transformation of our girls. What an apt name for the school!
The Principal’s message posted on the academy’s website promises providing our young women an “opportunity to participate fully in a wide range of extracurricular activities to develop skills and qualities that will lead to successful and fulfilling life.” That’s…