Monday, November 28, 2011

A Story About Two Sore Losers

Another one of those school stories.

I seem to be reminiscing a lot these days though I am not that old

Anyhow, I was a backbencher and so was this other guy

We didn’t use to talk that much,

Neither of us were much the talking type

We had our share of problems each

And both of us sucked in studies and would barely pass the exams – that too by cheating

in various ways.


we were one of the earliest ones to start smoking,

And after classes we used to light up one cigarette each

as we walked


the bus stop.

Again, without much talk.

During one of those walks we saw this charming lady,

presumably in her early twenties, walking side by side with

what seemed to be her boyfriend.

As we stood and observed,

they entered the fenced compound of a house

And we saw her unlocking the door.

He winked at me, and I said “fuck”

as we resumed our walk.

Both of us had a grin on our faces for a few seconds.

It began to rain that evening and I masturbated in my room thinking of her and of myself in place of

that asshole whom we saw with her. And as the semen came out, my world seemed to throb with

glory hitherto unknown and bugles of a strange victory seemed to roar out of the sky and resonate throughout the world.

It’s not that I hadn’t pleased myself before that and frankly,

I have done it at least a few thousand times since then if not more, but I have never been able to recreate

that particular moment.

It was totally unique.

The next day in class as I recounted

the experience

to him, he told me,

to my sheer astonishment,

that even he got

the very same feelings.

Both of us were, to use a word which was a recent addition to our respective vocabularies then, “mindfucked”.

We had never seen

that girl

since then,

even though on numerous occasions,

we had stopped

right outside the fencing of that house

on some lame pretext or other.

Then, on the last day of our annual exams, we had a huge fight.

I don’t remember how it began.

All I remember is that he called me a “lousy prick” before he gave me my black eye, and I called him a “piece of shit” before I gave him his.

I was in no mood to hear from him during the vacations,

and I am pretty sure that the feelings were mutual.

Then, on the last day

of our vacations,

I was returning from my aunt’s place and the good lady had given me some money.

So I decided to have alcohol for the first time in my life and so

I entered a bar.

I must admit that I was very nervous at first

and I thought I would get nabbed for underage drinking

and would get thrown out,

and that the police and my parents would get to know of this.

But with a few shots of stiff whiskey, I warmed up.

By the time I came out,

it was evening.

After walking for quite some time

I felt like having a cigarette.

I had one on me,

but as I searched my pockets for the matchbox,

I realized that I had left it in the bar.

There were no shops nearby and,

being tipsy, the idea of walking up to the main road again

made me feel like throwing up.

And then I saw him standing before me.

He offered me his lit cigarette to light mine up.

He seemed drunk

as well, though, evidently,

he had had his fill somewhere else.

He gave me two pieces of information, and I still remember those.

The first one was that his father, who, by the way, was also an alcoholic, had lost his job because of drunkenness and hence he will have to drop out of school

And the second one was that his father had taken up a driving job at that girl’s place and he had gone there with his father.

Apparently, the guy who we thought was fucking her was her brother.

We didn’t talk much, and he walked away. I have never seen him again.

As I was walking home, I was still drunk, it began to rain.

I remembered the rainy evening when I got that crazy feeling while thinking of her and masturbating. Even I had a sister.

But I didn’t give a flying fuck.

And the thought that I will have to sit beside a new backbencher from the next class did cross my mind during the walk.

Honestly speaking, I didn’t give much of a flying fuck about that either.

1 comment:

Soumi said...

Fucking real! Made me so nostalgic! I gotta go through this whole shit(otherwise known as your blog)! Good shit it is,never mind my language when I'm 'excited beyond reasoning'. :P
Reading you is better than talking to you. It really is. I've a few guilty confessions of my own though I don't remember the truth fully. They'd be more of fantasy pieces. But I LOVE fantasy! Neither truth,nor lie. Perfect hiding place for lameasses like me!