Saturday, August 4, 2007

Jayanti-LOL.

WARNING: THIS STORY IS RATED 18+,
HAS RIBALD LANGUAGE! YOU MIGHT GET SCANDALISED. - ROHIT


It was a wild night for Jayantilal. His girlfriend Pushpa, was in town. A fortnight long frustration found its release. A night like this, few centuries ago would have earned him an estate, and title of a great scholar, from the Emperor himself. History would have known him as Muni Jayantilal, who added seven more positions to Kamasutra. It was a pity; his nocturnal escapade won’t even make it to Xtube.com.

Sound of love on a rickety bed goes far. In the next flat, Srivastav was trying to match up to Jayanti’s moves; just that he was married to his right hand that night. Someone up there with wings, had different plans for Jayantilal that morning.

Jayantilal barely got two hours of sleep, after his mid-night pushups. He needed rest, purely because of his irregularity at such exercises of pleasure. The hand which rocketed him to pleasure last night was shaking him like a punching bag now, “Raat bhar to tumne khoob khaya, ab hamka kuch khilaiyo kee naaheen (You ate a lot at night, are you gonna feed me something now or not?)” Pushpa woke him up and ordered. She was lying on the bed; strangely she wasn’t looking as inviting and edible as last night. Jayantilal shrugged off his urges and put on his halo and wings disguise. “Arre, tohar vastey to hum zindgi bhar nasta banan ko tayyar hain! (I am ready to serve breakfast for you all my life)”, said Jayantilal. He always loved saying this; a dialogue he learnt in his spot boy days at a bhojpuri film shoot. He is still trying to forget those days. Five years back he ran away from that job, to become a security guard at an advertising agency. This morning fate had something else in store. In a few hours, he would feel like five years back. Life is funny; today Jayantilal would be its joke.


The kitchen smelled like a ‘tabela’ (a buffalo stable). Housemaid's ghost was still around. Though she quit last month, she still comes around every second day of the week at 9:30 pm, on Indian Idol. Jayantilal never misses her performance, desperately wishing that she looses. The day she left, Jayantilal tried cooking; his pressure cooker flew through the window. Same evening, Aaj Tak News, aired an story of UFO sighting in Mumbai. Jayantilal knew the truth. Since then, he has limited his culinary adventures to toasting bread and making cup-o-noodles. Deep inside he believed that World would have been a much better place, if there was no hunger and sex. This was his philosophy and he took pride in its originality. Every time he shared the later part of his theory with his native folks in Saharanpur, some guy called Sigmund Freud turned in his grave. They were connected or rather disconnected in a strange way. Fate forgot to copy both of them on this connection. Its a different story. Actually, it did'nt make any difference to fate or Sigmund this morning.


“La la laaa…lo main aa gaya! (Here I am!)” Jayantilal crooned as he entered the room with the breakfast. Pushpa was still there in the sheets. Jayantilal noticed some red stains on the sheet. He looked at Pushpa. She turned her eyes away from MTV. Hrithik was still trying to amuse her. “Tum hamse kaise itna isak kar sakat ho, hum tohar layak nahi hain (how can you love me so much, I am not good enough for you)” she said. Jayantilal’s woman quotient was low, still, like his ‘hunger & sex’ theory, he had figured the essential stuff. In his second year at Saharanpur University, Jayantilal read a book called ‘Purush Mahila achar-vichar granth’ He quickly recalled the chapter thirteen. Jayantilal never enjoyed that chapter, unlike other chapters, it had no pictures. Anyways, today that knowledge was to be tested. It was that time of the month for Pushpa. Jayantilal was ready.


“Ye le pachas rupye, or mere liye char Stayfree leke aa (here, take fifty bucks and get me some Stayfree)” ordered Puspa. “Hain (what?)” said Jayantilal. He still couldn’t believe his ears. “Arrey behrey aadmi, khade khade mera munh kya dekh raha hai, jaa! Ja ke mere liye sanitary napkin leke (Don't just stand here and look at my face, move your ass you deaf guy!)”, Pushpa blurted out in frustration. Jayantilal was already burdened with a night full of love. He thought awhile, trying to measure the brownie points he would score, if he went. There was no way out of it either. Clearly the knowledge in ‘Purush Mahila achar-vichar granth’ was outdated. He had no clue how to manly handle this situation. What will all his friends say, if they ever get to know about it? With a heavy heart, he put the breakfast plate next to Pushpa and sheepishly took the Rs.50 note from her. He looked at Pushpa one last time, as he slipped on his Rs.40 slippers.

As he stepped out, a Mig 27 fighter plane crashed on him. He died on the spot.

6 comments:

kookiejar said...

It's a pity no one commented on such fine writing! I'll do the honours mate...... waiting for the 2nd part of muni jayantilal!
Your good samaritan act piece takes the cake though!

ROHIT DUBEY said...

Thanks my man. Missed you around, but your blog somewhat substitutes.

Meenakshi said...

lol...

Rohit, classic piece of writing...

Veer jayanti lal ki jai ho!

kookiejar, 2nd part of muni jayantilal???
wo tho veer gathi ko prapt ho gaye na...

kyon chore, sahi kaha na...

njoy writing, u r good at it..

cheers*

Ankita Wasan said...

Hahahaha. Yep. That's all. xD.

ROHIT DUBEY said...

Phew, I am floored with such reactions to this piece of ribald writing...though encouraging, I still would rein my expression, after the brickbats Jayantilal got me before his sudden demise.. :)

Saurabh said...

Pushpa ke thode se khoon ke chakkar mein bechaare Jayanti Lal ka khoon ho gaya!