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The Story of Latpat Desi Friday, 31 December, 2010

Posted by ~uh~™ in Stories.
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5 comments

This is the story of Latpat Desi.#

Those who have met Latpat Desi could never remember him as he doesn’t have anything special to remember. Latpat is one of the million common men in the crowd with no unique quality, no special talent. He was one of those daily commuters who owned a car but could not afford to use it. He took local train to work everyday. He was working on the same company for the last 16 years where he joined before his marriage. But because he was neither smart not good in office politics, he was left behind as a manager while his colleagues climbed the ladder of growth much faster. Latpat was afraid of change. After leading a mundane life for years he was afraid to break his routine. The only adventure he has is when he takes his daughters to the suburban shopping mall’s gaming arcade and collide each other’s cars. He was afraid of spiders, beautiful women, smart colleagues and new technologies. He used a primitive mobile phone. He has not changed his Maruti Zen since last thirteen years though he could easily afford a bigger car. He did not drink or smoke regularly, but kept a bottle of Johny Walker Black label received as gift, waiting to open it for want of a suitable opportunity like a promotion at job or India’s qualification in the football world cup.

Being the only earning member of family, he always wanted to limit his expenditure on unnecessary luxuries and save for his daughters’ education, marriage etc. While planning for the future he forgot to live in the present and always waited for something good to happen to feel happier. His wife on the contrary was a very outgoing and jovial personality. She used to dance before marriage and was fond of movies and music. Now her only entertainment is plateful of assorted food in the food court of the suburban shopping mall and a movie or two. They had two daughters, aged 8 and 14 who studied in the neighborhood school. When they completed 10 years of marriage Latpat wanted to gift her something of her choice. She asked for a DVD player. Latpat did gift her one with two DVDs, namely Titanic and Hum Apke Hai Kaun. Her wife gifted him a set of aroma therapy candles with aphrodisiac oil.

On the eve of their tenth marriage anniversary, Latpat’s wife wanted to have a good time eating out and spending time together. She found out from her friends about a lounge bar in downtown and convinced Latpat to take her there. In exchange she offered to keep the lights on, wear the translucent negligee at night, which Latpat gifted her on their 5th anniversary. So, after they make arrangements to keep their daughters with a relative for the night, Latpat took his vintage Zen out. He felt little distracted and he could not decide if it was because of the squeaking noise from the car or the thought of night with his wife in that negligee.

Being a weekday, they reached the seaside lounge bar quite fast and chose to settle on an open air table for two by the beach overlooking the sea. The food on the menu card was mostly unknown to Latpat, so his wife took the responsibility to order. She ordered two exotic cocktails and some finger foods to start with. It was only nine in the evening. The lounge played nice contemporary music which Latpat never heard, but with the fusion of fine alcoholic taste and relaxed senses, he enjoyed it. Her wife was looking beautiful with the dark tinted lips and a hint of dusky eye shadow. They made small conversations, mainly about what they did in their earlier anniversaries and how they have forgotten to spend time with each other, over the years with responsibilities of children taking the top priorities. Latpat kept looking at his wife for ten years, and pondered how their love gradually transformed into a series commitments and responsibilities. Tonight he will rekindle the long lost passion, he thought.

By the time the sizzlers arrived, Latpat downed two more drinks. After long time he was feeling relaxed and happy. For once, he was relieved of all his anxieties of life, savings for his daughters and office politics. The music changed to a soothing saxophone, the stars above the open deck was shining bright. Latpat was never so happy.

At that point someone called her wife’s name, a female voice. It was an old friend of Latpat’s wife from school, they saw each other after ages. As it happens, the two women started talking relentlessly, trying to catch up with all that have happened in their lives. With nothing much to do Latpat sipped his last drink for the road, while gazing at the stars, enjoying his high. After all, this was a special night.

*******************************************************

He could not remember how long it was, but his wife woke him up from his state of trance. It was little past midnight and only few patrons were left in the lounge. Latpat settled the bill and waited for the valet to bring his car. Looking at his wife’s sparkling eyes, he just couldn’t wait for the excitement awaited for the rest of the night. As soon as he hit the road, he pressed the accelerator hard, took a screeching turn. His wife cautioned him’, what’s the hurry dear, drive carefully”. With his blurred vision and the dimly lit road he saw some silhouette figures on the road, a hundred meters ahead. When he realized it was a group of cops with a ‘naka-bandi’, it didn’t take him long to realize what he is driving into. There’s a group of cops on their routine drink and drive check-post and there he is behind the wheel, alcohol filled up to his neck. The next thing would be a breath analyzer on his mouth which will ensure suspension of his license, a quick trial and atleast three days inside a jail, the least being the fine of couple of thousand rupees. He read in the newspapers how stringent cops have become these days, especially after few fatal accidents by drunken drivers. He trembled inside, by the thought of him being inside jail with all those rapists and criminals, while his wife facing humiliation from the neighbours, colleagues and relatives. How will he face his daughters? He will be degraded in front of everyone known to him. Forever.

He looked at his wife, who had turned pale, probably from the same thought. Latpat slowed down. There was no way to get out of this. The cops have already noticed him and one constable on the bike started approaching him. There was not a single moment to lose. He looked at his wife again, who tried to say something, but then he had already decided what to do. He took a deep breath, pressed the accelerator as hard as possible and released the clutch pedal. With a shrieking noise the Zen sprang towards the iron barricade set up by the cops. A glaring light from the standing police vehicles blinded his vision as he drove in breakneck speed. The cop on the bike shouted and waved before Latpat hit his bike, which flung on to his bonnet, shattering his windshield. His car ran over the constable, felt from the bump below the tires. Latpat tried to brake and turn towards the gap between the barricade just wide enough to let him pass through it. He could see a mosaic of blinking lights through the thousand pieces of glass of his windshield. To his horror, he found the brake is not functioning. His unused vehicle has given up at this moment of emergency. As a last try as he pulled up the hand brakes, the car turned clockwise with a screeching sound. Smell of burnt rubber engulfed his olfactory before the car hit the first barricade sideways, hit a police van and rammed the second line of barricade before coming to a halt.

Within police siren blaring, smoke and acrid smell of burnt rubber and metal, Latpat sensed a stream of hot fluid oozing out of his nose. Another stream tricked down his forehead over his eyes, making it difficult to open. He could gather a blurred image of his wife on the front passenger seat, her head bowed down while her motionless body is hold by the seat belt. He could see her lips, dark and red, gently dissolving and dripping on her arms, flowing over her fingers reaching toward her nails. As his senses plunged into putrid darkness, he tried to stretch his numb arms towards his wife. But he could taste the salty thick decomposed fluid on his mouth and a worm like creature running over his head, shaking it gently.

*******************************************************

“It’s not even ten minutes I was away and you dozed off?” Her wife looked at him while running her fingers through his hairs, “ How are you going to last the night?” Her eyes sparkled. Her lips shimmering with a naughty smile.

Latpat looked at her, smiled and said ‘Don’t worry darling, night is still young. Let’s make love. Let’s start in the taxi that we are taking home’.

# (Law Abiding Tax Paying And Typically   Disillusioned  Endangered Subliminal Indian).

PS: The picture was shot by me, on Mumbai road and digitally altered.

Spouse Grouse Friday, 11 September, 2009

Posted by ~uh~™ in General Advice Humour.
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
9 comments

I was reading this hilarious anecdote at doctoratlarge’s blog and I remembered something related, which I thought would be worth sharing .

On the context of description of features or parametres ( shape, size, contours) of a lady , a man can royally mess up, especially when confronted by wife. I know one man who unfailingly gets into an awkward situation, in all such cases.

A sample conversation this man was having with his wife,  the other day –

Man: You know that lady from 4th floor? She was in the lift today….

Wife: Who the bulky one or the one with pathetic dress sense ?

Man: Well, I think the one with pathetic dress sense is also quite bulky. But, I think I am talking about the one who is bu…….err…I mean…..a little top-heavy.

Wife: Top heavy ? How do you know her weight, that also partially for top?

Man: No No…..I meant visually, like a composition (they were classmates in Art School)..…err…like Ajanta -Illora type silhouette, you know.

Wife: Ajanta -Illora- the Lady with the mirror or Yakshi Ambika ? (you see having an Artistic wife has its own challenge)

Man: okie, lets just say like Ayesha Takia !

Wife: What’s special about Ayesha Takia ?

Man: She has certainly grown big, since her Complan advert days.

Wife: So? So did Shahid Kapoor, the complan boy !

Man: yeah, but not that big and definitely not that way.

Wife: Aachha? So what would you describe the 8th floor one, that skinny verbose extrovert ?

Man: Well, she is more like athletic built with an undertone of Sharone Stone, but added with noticeable occidental curves.

Wife: Oh, so you seem to notice all women in the building, with an expert and observant eye for meticulous details !

Man: Arre….i was just trying to describe the lady to you.

Wife: You all men are same. All you know is to ogle at women at the lightest chance.

Man: huh? Who are the other men ?

And the topic gets diverted into some other discussion.

Another day, another conversation-

Man: You know I was talking about this girl, my ex-colleague’s friend’s sister, who stays on 7th floor?

Wife: You did?

Man: I remember telling you. I gave her a lift upto Dadar, today morning.

Wife: which girl is she?

Man: Youngish, peroxide blonde, wears skirt and all.

Wife: That’s why you gave her lift?

Man: eh? No no, I gave her lift because she was looking for an Auto outside our compound gate. I mentioned the skirt part thinking it will be easier for you to identify her.

Wife: So you offered her a lift?

Man: Yes

Wife: Is this the same girl who is very short?

Man: she did not appear shorter than any average Indian female

Wife: Does her facial expression is mostly like this? (makes an indescribable face)

Man: whoa….I have not noticed her face that well.

Wife: You have given her lift and not notice her face at all? What were you looking at all the time then?

Man: I was looking at her bags while in the lift and then on the road while on the car.

Wife: Bags? Is this supposed to be one of your sick metaphors?

Man: what metaphor, I am talking about large bulging and sagging bags

Wife: you mean like bags bags ?

Man: yeah, she was carrying two large bags and was clearly having difficulty in carrying them.

Wife: Why was she carrying two bags to office?

Man: How do I know? That’s none of our concern anyway. The point here is whether you could place her now?

Wife: Nah…how come you only end up meeting this young girls ?

Man: Arre, she is quite conspicuous, flamboyant dressing style, tattoos, large earrings, skirt….

Wife: You have mentioned that skirt part before.

Man: oh, did I?

Wife: Yes and looks like you are besieged by the skirt

Man: besieged? I was just trying to describe her for you…

Wife: and all you have to describe is the skirt ?

Man: Arre nana….

Wife: and  tattoo ? where was it ?

Man: there were more than one actually. Upper arm, rear shoulders, in between the neck and the  middle of…..

Wife: my god ! What was she wearing ?

Man: An off-white sleeveless short top with pasta string or whatever they call it

Wife: Spaghetti top?

Me; yeah, same

Wife: You are so shameless.

Man: what did I do now ?

Wife: Don’t skirt the issue now.

Man: which issue?

Wife: You all men are same. All you know is to ogle at women whenever you get a chance.

Man: huh?

And the topic gets diverted again into some other discussion.

So what is the key learning here ? Would love to hear the viewpoint 0f both species :)

Related AEIOU ¿ ® reads- When Men Think Hard to Decide and  two more posts which mentions Ayesha Takia.

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