Life after The Sleaze

‘Hallebloodylujah! I have to skip lunch for a week and attend the service for four straight fucking Sundays. Can you fucking believe the fucking cheek?’ Sandeep did not even give Wench enough chance to close the door and turn on the music.

‘Gosh.’

‘Why me lord? I am not even Christian for Chrissake.’

The chapel at The College had nothing and everything to do with Christianity. The Warden or ‘Chancellor Sir’ as he was called, the show runner of everything the college had to offer, prided on the secularity of it all. Even a theosophist had attended their very popular service once or so he claimed.
He was a Pentecostalist as he called himself.
Chancellor Sir did not believe rock music or yoga to be satanic. He wanted his students to grow into healthy, wealthy and wise citizens. He did not make it compulsory for every hostel resident to attend the service until they crossed their respective lines. Sandeep knew he did not like him. He had left in the middle of the year to live with some middle aged man. He had come back again.
He had been late more than once. Chancellor Sir did not know what other things he might be into but he could smell a rat when it was not afraid.

‘Anyway. Let not the one with the sick dick spoil our wonderful evening. Tell me about your hunky hunk. He seemed a bit slow.’

‘He’s Iranian.’

‘That’s no excuse for illiteracy.’

‘Fuck off Sandeep. He is not illiterate. He is already a graduate and now he is studying sociology and human rights in English at the South Bombay Snob Graduate School ’ Wench spoke in a single breath.

Words
They cut like a knife
Cut into my life
The cool pink sheep of Sandeep’s Real Player™ was following every single beat and breath of Madonna.

‘Fine. It’s OK to fall in love with such a stud muffin and it’s definitely OK to utter your first ever Fuck Off. Now don’t bite your lower lip in that actress-y manner. It annoys me.’ Sandeep always kept a microscopic period between the O and K of his Oks.

Wench Boy rolled his eyes.

‘And and and and…I got good news for both of us.’ Sandeep nearly screamed, which was a spontaneous reaction on finding his voice muffled by the tight tee as it got stuck about his neck as he tried to peel it off.

Wench helped him.

‘I am gonna star in a little gay movie.’

‘Wow. Like wow.’

‘I know. And and and…If you are a little bit talented I may have a job for you.’

‘Oh my God. Ok that’s like a lot for a day. Tell me about the movie first.’

The Sleaze V

Wench Boy had not lost the track of time.
Just three minutes to quarter to twelve.
The cabs outside would be ready. Like all the good Bombay cabs. You can depend on one to save your life or dignity.

On Saturdays they were allowed to be out till midnight.
You think a fairy tale moment would have suited Wench’s candy floss taste buds but he felt nothing but sadness. Darius’ arms were so comfortable. He had not known the comfort a man’s arms till now.

‘I have to leave.’ He barely reached his ear as he stood on his toes to whisper in the very tall Darius’ ears.

‘What you say?’

‘I have to leave.’ He had to shout.

‘Why?’

‘I am sorry.’ Darius let him wriggle out of his arms and look about for Sandeep who suddenly appeared as if on cue.

‘Hi! I am Sandeep’

‘HI.’

‘Let’s go.’ Wench was beginning to feel panic bubble under his feet. He turned around to find the door almost in his face.

‘It was nice meeting you. Bye.’ Sandeep said courteously. He did not know what Wench’s problem was.

‘Wait!’ Darius called out to Wench as he rushed to cross the Causeway.

‘Bye. It was nice meeting you.’ Sandeep repeated himself as he watched Darius ignore him and rush to Wench who was already in a cab.

‘You did not give me number. Don’t go so soon. Will I see you again?’ He hung on to the window and peered inside. Wench could smell beer on his breath that mixed with his own subtle fragrance.

How come I didn't smell him when we kissed?

Wench noticed how cute his accent was.
He smiled.

‘I don’t have a cell. I can give you my hostel number.’
‘You can call on my cell. We are roomies.’ Sandeep said coolly as he got in the taxi.
Darius ignored him again.

‘Why are you leaving so soon?’

‘Hostel fuckfew.’ Sandeep said before Wench could open his mouth.
Laughing he added, ‘I mean curfew.’

‘What is hostel curfew?’

Wench suddenly realized his alienness but there was no time for explanations. They had just ten minutes left.

‘Call on 9832167666’, Sandeep said. ‘We gotta go.’
Darius took out his phone and stored the number as Sandeep repeated it slowly.

They were exactly 3 minutes late. God knew the driver had driven his best to reach marine drive.
They were shown the door to the warden.

‘Wench Boy, this is your first time.’ I’ll let you go. Be careful.’ The warden turned to the year older resident and tried not to thunder.

‘You stay!’

The Sleaze IV

The DJ had reached his Bollywood remixes middle age. But it was only 11:30.
Wench Boy had no idea what the time was as he gazed a full gaze on this god awesomely gorgeous creature. Well, at least Wench Boy thought he was god awesomely gorgeous. He could not make out in the dark that Randeep did not have a terribly gifted plastic surgeon. However, he did not look his full 40 something years in the disco dark.
And if you were really sensitive his bloodshot blue lensed eyes spoke scores of his mid life crisis.

‘How do you know each other?’ Randeep stessed on ‘you’.

‘We are roomies.’ Sandeep quipped. ‘Could you excuse us.’ At this he turned to face Wench almost blocking his view. ‘I have to show Wench something.’

Randeep turned to go back to his place under the discoball.

‘What the hell?’ Wench Boy was predictably cross.

Sandeep took him by his skinny arm and dragged him to the lounge area where a few persons in white and few regulars sat rather comfortably. The area lacked any bit of the energy the dance floor radiated. Wench could feel the sudden bout of lethargy hit his bones. As if someone had surprised him by spraying Barbiturates on his face. He had pictured the lounge as a decaying eighteenth century orgy room. Sandeep had lied to him about the red curtains and stained velvet couches. Lethargy mixed with a sense of betrayal. Evidently no one was doing anything. Save for some hardy bargainers, others did not even talk. Sandeep still held his arm and it began to smart.

‘Leggo! You’re hurting me.’

‘You know who that was?’ Sandeep practically hissed.

Wench Boy realized he had met someone bad news and as if Sandeep had read his mind he said, ‘He is not just bad news he is dangerous.’

‘Oh.’

‘Stay away from trouble. I need to pee and collect some numbers and maybe a blowjob.’

‘Anyone else I need to know about.’

‘Nopes.’

Clutching his glass, Wench nervously looked around again. The whirring of the fan annoyed him. He decided to go back to the dance floor.
Someone tapped on his shoulders.

‘Hi.’ The tall and wispy eyelashed man smiled the sweetest smile Wench had not known.

‘Hi’

‘I’m Darius.’ He said curving his thin lips so they appeared even more delicate.

Wench knew he did not have much time to waste. He barely had 15 minutes before making his Cinderella getaway.

‘I’m Wench Boy. Wanna dance?’

Darius never wasted time.

By the time Randeep came out of the loo after a blowjob and no phone numbers, Wench Boy had already had his first real kiss. Real because he never considered the sole kiss his filthy neighbour had given him at the age of six. Wench did not remember exactly how it had happened.
He did not remember that he had made him open his mouth wide, pushed his toungue in and after withdrawing it had spit into his mouth followed by an attempt to suck on his tounge. Wench had conveniently erased it all from his memory. He could only recall the self censored vesion where the young man had simply bit his toungue.

He figured it did not even qualify as a kiss. It was just a spontaneous act of violance.

Darius' thin lips felt more healing than Avon’s Strawberry Lip Balm. And more than healing him they actually made him see fire works. Or maybe it was the disco lights.

No it had to be fire works.

How could the lights have penetrated his shut eyelids? For a brief moment Wench could stop thinking. He did not even think about thinking.

The music was unashamedly upbeat but Darius and him danced as if to a husky rock ballad.

The Sleaze III

He was watching over his ward like a perfect invisible fairy god mother.
But things might get out of hand.
He walked over to where Randeep chatted up Wench as he giggled slurping his Rum and Coke.

Just like a moronic insipid wench, Sandeep thought.

He did not hate Wench.

God no.

Neither was he jealous of him. That would be unthinkable.
After all, all Wench had was potential and even if he became a bigger star than Sandeep, he would always remain pale in comparison.

Always.

‘Hey you.’
Wench could not figure for whom the greeting was meant as he seemed to look at both of them.

‘Sandeep! Meet Randeep.’

‘We know each other.’ Randeep flashed his shiny white teeth.

Wench thanked God for divine distraction. Now he could look below Randeep’s neck.

‘How are you Mr. Chaabra?’ Randeep offered his hand.

Wench was shocked but Sandeep seemed unfazed.

Maybe he didn’t hear. Oh please God. Please.

Everybody knew Sandeep hated to be called by his last name. He had beaten up his father for giving him a name he was ashamed of. He had sworn to God he would change it as soon as he started earning his own money.

He just stood there.
Then he smiled a wicked smile.

‘How are you Mr. Rajput?’ They shook hands.

I should have called him the cradle snatcher, he thought.

No wait.

Cradle Cannibal would be more like it.

Randeep Rajput was the city’s notorious sadist.

But he was what they call in the chatrooms, ‘Discreet’.

Ridiculously discreet.

He would find a victim only a few times in a year. Most of them unsuspecting out of towners.
Sadly he was made conspicuous not by his religious attendance at The Sleaze and the parties but by the fact that he never hooked up with anyone.

‘And with a great bod like that. Something’s got to be wrong.’, somebody once said.

The Sleaze II

The Sleaze was on the top floor of the four story building.

Sandeep and Wench arrived breathless to unsettle Old Maid a little who sat behind his counter since 1970-something. He was the first to give Bombay a pub outside five star hotels. He christened it The Flip. It only had a bar and a small dance floor. Later he added a mezzanine floor, rest rooms and what he called the ‘extension room’ where there was no air conditioning save for a tall standing fan besides faux leather couches and a coffee table. He started calling the place a club and by mid eighties it had become The Sleaze. Most people had even forgotten the velvet rope they had waited before.
"The assholes." He would think.
He had gotten it from New York.
Lucky for him there was plenty of space in the hallway and he was on top of the world when he had come back.
It had been fantastic.

Old Maid stopped bothering so much after a while. There was good money in the men and women in white who kept his bread warm with butter and occasional caviar.
And the place was still gay on weekends.

"Beware. The DJ sucks." Sandeep giggled as he whispered in Wench’s ear.

Old Maid did not stare at the out of breath school girls trying not get hysterical yet. He was too professional for that. It was rush hour at 11 and he was busily issuing little tokens for 600 a piece that got you entrance and two beers.
Wench Boy had already handed Sandeep his share for he thought it proper for one of them to pay. He could not help the education he got from Miss Manners’ Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior. Besides, everybody would think he was with the cute Sandeep.

The heavy door opened and Wench Boy entered.

Sandeep was glad Donna Summer was playing. "The DJ must be on Acid." He smiled at Wench.
"Maybe he just got lucky today." Wench replied.

The first thing Wench noticed was an androgyne in jeans, and a flowing knee length skirt jumping about like a live fish salad. The walls were covered with graffiti in neon colours. The white bustiers, saris and trousers and tanks dotted the place proportionately and aesthetically amidst unwashed bag packers, mostly pudgy middle aged men and the athletic bodied, curly haired guy in an open waist coat and cowboy hat who danced in the middle of the floor, under the disco ball. He had noticed Wench as soon as he walked in. Wench did not see him till Sandeep disappeared on purpose.

Wench got a drink and danced a little dance in a corner keeping his eyes on the nipple flasher and was careful enough to stay away from the ugly and old losers as Sandeep had advised.

He pointed at Wench and beckoned him with his index finger.

Yuck!

He beckoned again.

Double Yuck!

"Hi! I am Randeep." He had to swallow his pride and come all the way to the corner just to teach this little twinkie a lesson or two.
Wench thought he heard him say Sandeep.

"What’s your name?" He whispered a wet whisper in his ear on the pretext of loud music.
Wench did not shiver.

"I am Wench Boy."

"Where are you from?" Randeep flashed a thoughtful look.

"Navabganj."

"Where is that?"

"In Uttar Pradesh."

Sandeep bit his lower lip observing the twosome.
"What idiocy is he about to commit now?" He wondered.

THE SLEAZE, the club

(Continued from The Pilot…)

He came here via the innocently sleazy joint called The Sleaze.

Sandeep had promised him not much of a rose garden but Wench was going to find enough to keep him happy for days.
Weeks maybe.
"Not months", Sandeep thought. "He isn’t that hopeless.

Although he knew the precise point where Wench Boy would go wrong.

"Sandeep! What should I wear?" Wench lifted Sandeep’s skinny Spiderman tee shirt they had bought from Churchgate up his shoulders hoping his nipples would catch his eyes. It turned out to be too tight for Sandeep but fit Wench like a dream.

Wench Boy was learning the nuances of kitsch.

"Super heroes are cool but local super heroes like Shaktimaan are even better. The trashier the snobbier. It’s as simple as that. You may sport a Roy Lichtenstien on your chest but everyone has done that once. How many self proclaiming chic people in India would wear Hrithik Roshan or Sharukh Khan?"

He had made sense.

"Say something?" Sandeep was lost in his thoughts.
Their hostel room door was closed as usual. Most boys kept theirs open. Even when they changed clothes. In fact they were encouraged to do so. The warden liked the idea of lack of privacy. But they were asked to shut themselves after 9 and to only go out to pee pee or poo poo, shower optional.
Such a contradiction was beyond Sandeep’s understanding.

"So if he doesn’t want to us to have sex with each other why must we endure each other’s half naked bodies in broad daylight?" He would muse.
He later figured that the warden must belief that students get antsy only after dark when the lazy guard retires.

Queens need privacy the most and everyone should know that.

The boys giggled over the conspicuous shut door often among other behavioral peculiarities of Sandeep and Wench. Sandeep was still better off. He showed traces of machismo, now and then. Wench Boy could never.

"What should I wear?" He persisted as Sandeep stared about blankly.
He was proceeding to take off his jeans to try on Sandeep’s silk pajamas.
Lately he had become comfortable being naked around Sandeep.
Sandeep did not have to work hard on that.
Although Wench still had trouble stifling a hard on when Sandeep took off his clothes. So they took turns without Sandeep being aware of it. Never would you catch them both naked at the same time.

"Wear your Spiderman." He said in a matter of fact tone.

"But it reaches my navel and I don’t have low rise jeans. All I have is stuff from Paleo Age."

"Get a life!"

Night fell and Wench did a bad job with his mono brow.

They would go to Colaba. Have burgers and bacon at Mondegar and head to The Sleaze, the club that sat sandwiched between Leopold and a shoe shop.
11 should be OK. Only the hookers in shiny white would be early.

"One. Two Three. Go!" Sandeep started running up the stairs.

He never fails to shock me.

Wench Boy loved all the stupidity Sandeep Chaabra had to offer and he consumed it all with utmost fervor.

(to be continued…)