Sunday, December 26, 2010

Mrs. Lili! Mrs. Lili! Mr. Lili! - Part I

Bohemian! Yes that's exactly how he described her to his friends the first time he saw her. Goes without saying that he was wrong, just as he almost always was with almost everything else, with an absolutely infallible consistency. She was an artist, which made it highly probable for his assumption to be correct, yet she was not a Bohemian. It was a 'Fancy Day for my Mom' competition at her daughter's school and she was dressed as a Central European gypsy.

He was the daughter's classmate and after that day always remembered Mrs. Lili as his first crush. His own mother was dressed as Cleopatra, and despite his persistent inquiries amongst his peers, he found none who had a crush on her. This left him highly disappointed with the state of things, and he felt shortchanged in life for having a mom no had had a crush on despite the Cleopatra attire. This, however, rapidly changed as soon as Mrs. Lili entered the humble school party hall dressed in her gypsy attire. He wasn't the only one found ogling at her, in fact he found her through the frozen glance of their Mathematics professor, Mr. Patel. The few men (and many boys) suddenly felt that visiting this party would certainly form the high point of this school term, while all women took affront to the stocking-less left leg on display. While the women internally debated the right length of left leg that could be displayed at a school party, men found their imaginations running wild gaping at the ample cleavage and other overflowing assets on display.

Mrs. Lili brought about a whole new revolution in their little town, the wave of change not noticed by anyone that particular evening, or even for weeks thereafter. The impact of her first public appearance was such that soon most men lost their sleep and became increasingly agitated with their dull, boring and meaningless lives. The next few weeks saw an alarming drop in males engaging in conjugally blissful activities with their partners. This, in turn, had the most unfavourable impact with a whole lot of dissatisfied and frustrated women, in desperate need of men who would show any interest in them.

Everything was absurdly odd. All the men wanted Mrs. Lili, and no one else. All the women wanted men, any men, but still found none interested in them anymore. What Mrs. Lili wanted remained unknown, but the odds against any possibility of her entertaining all the males who could participate in possibly mutually satisfying acts with her, remained dismally high. Of course no one realised this, they were all holed up in their own worlds, waiting for some reprieve.

No help came, and things got only worse in the coming few weeks.

So what do you think happens next? Do share your thoughts!

Thursday, December 23, 2010

We walk together, one last time...

I woke up with the smell of fresh coffee beans getting brewed that winter morning. She was already up and getting coffee ready for us. Quite unusual considering that it was a Sunday and making coffee was a task designated to me, I was good at it.

It was just the beginning of series of events that were highly unusual to my life. The night started as usual, but by the time we made love and fell asleep into each others arms, it had already started snowing outside. I had never lived in this town in the winters, and had never seen a snowfall here before. We both smiled, and snuggled into each other one last time, to commemorate our last night together.

There was coffee for me and orange juice for her, just the way it had always been. We knew how difficult this day would be, and had been preparing for it for a while already. She wasn't ready still, I could see her hands shaking as she passed on the cup to me; maybe it was the snow outside, I wasn't convinced still. We decided to take it slow and make it into a long and lazy day and she snuggled up right next to me under the white and blue gilaaaf.

We knew no one would disturb us today, no one knew where we were. We had our numerous hide-outs but this place was new, known to everyone, yet completely unknown to all. She had been insisting for years to visit this old house with me, somehow things had never worked out for us, till yesterday that is. The major portion of the day yesterday was spent getting things in order and for the house to start functioning again. I knew there wont be any more visits to this house, the memories would be too painful, yet we had to do something to not think about the coming day. Kitchen couldn't get functional and we had to survive on the bread that she always carried with her, apart from the orange juice.

Snow had made it impossible to venture out, even the shops were closed and paths blocked. I knew it would be tough to drive the car in this weather, and so dropped all plans of venturing out. Turning together in the bed, we looked out outside from the window behind the bed. Everything was beautiful, serene, yet cold and almost eerily dead. We kissed lightly and decided to sleep again, the morning was not going to get over any time soon for us.

It was the noise of the kids playing with ice which woke me a little before noon, apart from the intense pressure in my bladder. As I stood half asleep and trying to aim, she came from behind and held it for me, something I was expecting already. We spent the next hour sitting in the British era loo, I gave her company by drinking the hot coffee (of course, cold now), while she gulped down two glasses of orange juice to help her bowel movement. No help came, and finally we decided to let things be as they were.

She walked ahead, while I followed her into the kitchen. Breakfast on Sundays too was my preserve, today she took it over from me. She warmed up the already boiled eggs while I made another round of coffee, we were both were certified coffee addicts. In fact it was coffee which bought us together years ago, but that is another long story, there may be another time for that later.

She sat down at the old wooden dining table while I lit up the fire, and drew the huge curtains. As I sat down on the creaky chair, the dust from the curtains too settled down, making a thin sheath on everything in the room, including us and the food. I sipped my coffee while she walked around, this all was new for her. I had described most of the objects in the room already to her, and now she wanted to touch these, feel these, there won't be another day like this after this. She kept asking questions, never looking for any answers. She knew most answers and for the rest I had none; I didn't respond either, simply content looking at her naked body walking across the room.The eggs remained untouched, and were soon cold again. This was our second attempt at eating them already since yesterday,

There wasn't a word we exchanged since the time we got up, yet there was no discomfort. We knew all that was there to know, the rest was all immaterial. The day was passing slowly, but for us every minute spent today was a lifetime spent together. Everything was romantic, the only thing missing were the fights; despite her monologues with herself, everything was completely silent around. We let it all lapse in the background, while we whiled away our last few hours together, looking into each other, looking around at all the things we shared, though seen together only now. There was no music, unusual again for us, but silence was the music today.

The moment came fast, almost like a bolt of lightning, yet she was silent and strangely poised. There was no electricity today as well, and we had to manage ourselves with only one candle. I could see only a part of her in the mirror as I stood behind her with the candle, while she put her clothes on. She took her time, and the candle was finished by the time we sat again together to eat the eggs. I lit the match sticks one after the other, till all of them were finished. Every time there was a flicker, I found her looking intently into my eyes.

We walked together outside. The chill in the air was frightening and I had the most tremendous urge to just turn and go back inside. But walked ahead, there was no turning back now anymore. There were no goodbyes, no holding of hands, no tears, no uncomfortable moments, no comforting hugs. This was the end, as she walked away into the darkness, never looking back.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

When there is little to post, one ends up losing it!

Here are a set of images from office again. Tej has been working hard, and this is his way of releasing the frustration. Do have a look at the video, many of us appear to be enjoying this mad mad display of potential molestation and un-office-like behaviour!

Warning: PG Rating, it is recommended that kids and those with a weak heart do not go any further, unless accompanied by an adult/ well-wisher, and certainly never in presence of the esteemed Mr. Tej himself!

Ah...the kiss!

The fetish seen here is the surgical glove used while working on foam in the workshop.

p.s. Photo credits Vishakha and me!

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

A full night of kinky ecstasy...

She got up with and came towards him, curling up her upper lip and suggestively playing with the rope in her hands. This was new, she had never done this before and his pulse ran high with anticipation. There were sweat beads on his head, which she casually wiped off with the soft cotton rope, which in turn gave him numerous goose bumps...

This wasn't the first time they were trying something new together, it was only a week back when she had insisted on trying food on bed, a suggestion he jumped at. However, the evening ended with lots of food and wine on bed but nothing else followed. They were too drunk by the time they finished and slept off in the different corners of the bed; it was only in the morning that they realised that there was food all over the bed and on them. They decided to call it a failed experiment, and vowed never to repeat it!

Not that today was risk-free, there was a high probability that he might just end up dead after this new round of experimentation. He had never seen her with a rope before, and wasn't quite sure if the complicated knot she was trying to tie around his neck would work out exactly as she thought it would. There was something child-like about her, her innocence and of course, her laughter. For a second he forgot that it wasn't Sheila, but someone else with her.

She was successful in tying the knot around his neck, only to realise that it was his hands that she had originally intended to tie. Not the one give up, as all attempts to loosen the knot failed, she went around looking for scissors, failing which the search for the knife started. And there it was, the jet black and shining knife, clutched solidly in her left hand (her right had still had the leather hunter, to be used with better results later), looking vicious at me and ready to strike. Sheila was still hopeful of salvaging the night and refused to free her right hand, the hunter continued to dangle seductively. The knife went to work, and as expected, chipped off a piece of his neck along with the rope. There was a little blood but for them it just added to the kink. Almost on cue, the hunter came hard on him and more noises of ecstasy followed.

However, they failed to stop the flow of blood from the neck, a fact they initially found very funny. They laughed together, but by the time he choked laughing, there was blood all over the bed and smeared on their bodies. She laughed more, thinking about the food and red wine on them last week, while he stared at her with glazed eyes. They were blissfully happy for the hour, and he, dead thereafter.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

In Transit in Paris

Wrote this as a part of an online contest a while back, though might just share it here as well...

An early morning, after a night which went on for too long,
As we look at our cups of coffee,
Always looking down, eyes never meeting,
Despite the morning chill.
We wait together, fingers lost in motion,
We look around, but never at each other.

I ask if you are hungry,
You look at the plum blossoms and nod absently.
Our fingers brush briefly, and tingle our senses,
But we never acknowledge the touch, and continue in our voids.
The food gets cold, the Paris chill strong,
But we never eat, just wait, wait for the time to heal.

I hear voices around, but they mean nothing to me,
But I keep hearing, hearing the unknown.
My questions remain unanswered, my feelings lost,
I wait for you to talk, to help me understand,
But you remain silent, lost in your thoughts.

Its time to leave our transit point,
But our life remains still.
We leave the coffee table alone, leaving everything intact.
We move, but do not move,
Just two souls,
Lost in our own worlds.

p.s. the image is actually London Tube, but somehow conveys the emotions expressed...

Monday, December 13, 2010

cold. within, without

I feel the cold,
And I feel it alone,
The winter fog surrounds me, covers me almost,
Looking around into the sheet of whiteness, 
I try to escape, yet she stops me,
The blankness.

It wasn't this cold yesterday,
Or the day before.
But today, I feel the chill,
Like an overdue cold long night,
Unsurprisingly violent, yet so very still.

They say its the cold outside,
Something else, I hear within,
Unwilling to accept the truth,
Continue to struggle, I continue the fight,
Seeking the elusive warmth,
I find it all gone, just the cold inside.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010


Alone on a deserted road, she cried that night,
As no cars drove past, and not even a bird took flight,
Already run over, over and over again,
Chances were little, of survival in sight.

She was clinging on, pushing herself on to the dark, rough gravel,
In the hope that someone will come, show mercy,
Unlike the day before, someone will help.
But that looked unlikely,
She was far from all life she had known,
Things were never so rough, she never so alone.

Lying naked, and completely forlorn,
She heard the faint noise of a grumpy motor,
Her eyes lit up, her hopes soared,
But the motor was in a hurry, for home was far.

'Ah! Another dog on the road!', thought he,
And wistfully drove away...

Sunday, December 5, 2010

i dream on...

Some moments forgotten, some remembered yet again,
Some words unsaid, a few desires unfulfilled,
Longing for that moment, the one frozen forever.
Thus, dreams are made...

They are not real, or so they say,
But sometimes they are as real as life itself,
Often even more,
For we chose them to be the life we want.

Oh! I behold the dead remnants of my past,
While they struggle to sway away.
I dream to keep the memories alive,
While my present insists that I give them away.
They are my dreams, the beautiful beautiful dreams of my imaginations,
But maybe its time to say goodbye,
For the beautiful new life to come my way...

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Martinho da Vila

(image source
Martinho da Vila is a well-known Brazilian Samba artist. Came across his music purely by chance and thought of sharing one of his songs here. It belongs to the Saudade genre.  

Saudade is a Portuguese and Galician word difficult to translate adequately, which describes a deep emotional state of nostalgic longing for something or someone that one was fond of and which is lost. It often carries a fatalist tone and a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might really never return. (ref. Wikipedia)

Explore his music as well as his genre of music, both have some phenomenal compositions.

Friday, December 3, 2010


Unconscious Incompetence.
Conscious Incompetence.
Conscious Competence.
Unconscious Competence.

Just words? They have much deeper meaning, much more than just words and thoughts.
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