Apr 22, 2006

Thus spaketh my pen.

A fortnight back, one of my room mates came up with a writing assignment for me. Not that my prowess with the written word is known across the seven gutters of Banglore, but simply because she had no time to write it herself ( And I am not going to mention the fact that I have zillions of seconds at my disposal). Some one she knew had come over and narrated an incident that had happened to him/her (In my excitement at getting my first writing offer, I totally missed verifying this vital information.). He/She had wanted my roomie to write a story on that for him/her. And he/she was sitting on my roomie’s head to get it done. And he/she happened to be someone she couldn’t dismiss off with the choicest of expletives. So the buck was passed on to a more than willing victim..
I did it with all gusto and enthusiasm and mailed it to her the very next day. And waited with bated breath for his/her feedback. And waited . And waited. I asked my room mate for any updates on my client’s (!!!) reaction as many times as basic roomies decorum permitted. She gave me her approval of the same, but to me the end customer’s satisfaction is salvation.

As Providence may have it, I never got to experience my Nirvana. But still the desire to be pelted with rotten eggs and tomatoes is too strong for extraordinary immortals (if you are wondering who on earth could this be, its none other than Yours Humbly..) to desist. So I present to you, Ladies and Gentlemen, “With mouth Wide open….” the first story I was commissioned to write. Do be gracious and leave your comments/stinkers/roses and anything else in my blog.

“With mouth Wide open….”

“Hurry, its getting late!”, she hollered across the sea of neat cubicles. “We will miss the last cab home, if you are gonna amble any longer”…
He sighed. Muttering under his breath something unintelligible about all women being nags, he tried to hasten his steps.
Pretty soon, they were seated in a milk-white Indica, cruising through the traffic-free night streets of India’s IT capital.
She lowered the window glass to let in the cool evening breeze. He kept stealing glances at her as the wind ruffled up her long locks.. “Man, doesn’t she look pretty when she puts her face out like a puppy?”… He smiled to himself at this simile.. He had never been good with words..

“Get out !!, Out , I Say!!”… He was jolted back to reality with the cacophony that was raging outside… She was protesting wildly, at someone who was rapping at her window… He hadn’t realized she had drawn up the glass.. The cab had stopped and the driver was standing outside, his face reflecting all signs of impending calamity. A cop was tapping his cane at the window, ordering them to get out of the cab. He hushed her.. “Listen, lets do as he says.. get down”. She calmed down a little, seeing him take charge..

“Where are you guys headed?”, asked the cop.. His eyes were unfriendly, and his slurry speech disguised something sinister.. He could see the fear evident in her eyes.. He himself was slightly unnerved by the sudden interruption, notwithstanding the ungodly hour and the desolate setting.
The driver explained that he was from their company and was dropping them home after the night’s shift.
“Whom are you kidding, you bumble headed moron?” . “Don’t you dare to imagine that I am a half baked dim-wit!!” bellowed the beast in Khaki.
“ No, sir, but sir..” , the driver was groping for the right words to say..
“Open your mouth”, ordered the cop.
“Do as he says”, she screamed, by now a bundle of nerves. He couldn’t help stifling a chuckle, seeing her use his logic.
The driver did as he was ordered to. “Filling yourself with cheap arrack, and driving through the city at late hours , eh? , Wait till I lock you up, and break your bones..”., the cop held up the sobriety meter near the driver’s open mouth.
Silence. Nothing happened.

“Blasted meter, doesn’t work when we want it to”, he shook it with all his might, “Hmmm, open again”.. The driver opened his mouth wide, exposing 32 nicotine stained teeth with all grace. She squirmed at the unearthly sight by the light of the street lamp.
“God-forsaken meter, what s wrong with it tonight?” The cop hit the breath analyzer hard on his fist and held it up near his own mouth.
“BEEP, BEEP, BEEP”, the meter started to beep through the silent night, casting an eerie red light as it glowed.. The cop was flabbergasted. He shook it hard and held it up again,
“BEEP, BEEP, BEEP”.. He burst out laughing.. She shushed him with a fierce hiss..

“What is goin on here?” , An official looking plainclothes man approached the party of four. “Nothing , sir”, “Just the usual checks” , mumbled the flustered cop…

“No, Sir, we were stopped rudely by this constable…..”. The driver somehow found his tongue and narrated the whole outrageous incident at breakneck speed.
The man in mufti heard him out.
“ Hold that meter up to your mouth” , he ordered the constable,. “BEEP,BEEP,BEEP”… The senior cop turned to them, “Sorry, Sir, I apologise for the mistake” “You can leave now , Ma’m”..”Sorry for the trouble”.

“Write down the registration number of the vehicle and you can leave”, he told the driver.

She was too distraught to speak another word, He too kept to himself for the rest of the journey.

The next morning, at work..
She comes up to his cubicle, “Hey, did you read the paper this morning?”.. “No, I didn’t, was in a bit of a hurry.., why anything sensational?” … “Constable suspended for getting drunk on duty and bullying public”.. ..

Both of them chorus a giggle mixed with relief and mirth.. “Life ain’t unjust, after all”,…


Nero said...

straaaaange things happen.. :D

(were you paid for this?)

The Soliloquist said...

Yeah.. They do.. I too can be asked to write, albeit on default and not on merit... :-)

(Psst.. Dont tell anyone.. i wasnt paid.. not in monetary terms anyways)

R.Subramanian said...

the story narration was good..btw is that a real incident?

but the flow, the boy and girl have nothing to do with the story except being as spectators...

and ur forewords...... well... solilo i think u are getting into a repetitive mode here

The Soliloquist said...

@rsu: yes , that was a real incident stated by someone to someone.
The boy and girl were spectators/narrators.If its a real incident, i cant make teh boy a sudden hero and end it with a "and they lived happily ever after".. A story can be told by any one of the characters, not necessarily the protogonists.

My foreward. and not forewards. In singular, i dont know how things can get repetitive. .
This is my first story in this blog. And the foreward goes to say why and how i got to write it.
If my writing seems to run through a rut, thanks for pointing it out. Will take care to diversify next time.

R.Subramanian said...

actually i wanted to eloborated on what i meant by getting repetitive :) but stopped doing that for lack of proper words to describe :)

These are the sentences i found as repetitive ( not in terms of words used, but in terms of the style)

>> And I am not going to mention the fact that I have zillions of seconds at my disposal

>> So the buck was passed on to a more than willing victim

>>And waited with bated breath for his/her feedback

>>if you are wondering who on earth could this be, its none other than Yours Humbly..

I think I have seen the same kind of expression in previous posts too..kinda sounding artificial...

This one was good though

>>I asked my room mate for any updates on my client’s (!!!) reaction as many times as basic roomies decorum permitted

Anonymous said...

Oh No! Me no like this story...after the lizzie one...this one is a frightful anti-climax! It's a nice enough story but not something you'd expect from the soliloquist!!

The Soliloquist said...

Hey anon:Didnt i mention time and again, it aint my kinda story?? Well, that "kinda" got missed in the typos :-)..
I jus lapped up to the oppurtunity, gal..
A delayed disclaimer :purely commercial, nothing personal or creative in there..

Binson John Varghese said...

Ah ha! you will soon have another client! and that's me..(I safely assume that you still got zillions of seconds at your disposal)

And I promise you,
You won't get paid for this :-)

The Soliloquist said...

@binson : money isnt everything !! :-)