Yesterday’s kebabs from Shivajinagar weren’t great. And they didn’t turn out well for my stomach too.

I came on my cycle. I looked into my meager  savings in my wallet and I had a 20 rupees note. It was slightly faded after the nice detour into a IFB washing machine last week.

“Fuck! I can’t take an auto”, I said to myself.

My stomach had started to gurgle. I could not stand straight. I had to do bit of jogging, a bit of stretching, a bit of . I jumping. Anythhing that would not let it go. I wanted to maintain the purity  my crystal white underwear. Each time I used to spill mayonnaise  all over my crotch, while eating my subways,I made sure to scrub again and again, until I was sure there was only one white there.

Every awful second, it happened to erupt out of the mountains that was formed by two bums tightly pressed and  a tiny peep-hole in the centre, I had to suck it up with my inner power like how I do when I have a runny nose.Managing to keep this catastrophe to stay in my ass, I climbed on my cycle and started pedalling. I leaned forward to avoid any form of disaster luck may bring by. I was just 100 meters away from my home and a man just decided to stop for a smoke. There was no place to park(not that there is anywhere), so he just stopped on the side of the road. The red truck carrying coco-cola bottles could not go forward. There was a range of honking that arose from each vehicle on the road and everything came to a halt.

Peep-peep-peeee-po-onn-po-oon-pep-pep peeeeee

It was out. Maybe a trickle. But the purity of my underwear was lost. A tiny yellow blotch on it, shall always be in my head.

Feeling uneasy about the small space of wetness that is being brushed along the non-wet part, I decided to push my way along. I got my legs off the pedals and decided to take the narrow footpath that was shared by a few homeless people, some stray dogs and cow dung splashed in artistic fashion. On the way I laid my eyes on the brown fuzzy liquid in glass bottles that were seemingly seductive for a theft.

All the extra-stress on my brain seemed to leave a second trace of my embarrassment on my white underwear.

Now I feel like standing  in front of St Peter  with his huge key to heaven’s doors, swindling them in his fingers. I banged on the door. I could hear a faint voice of my mother telling me she was coming out in a minute. I don’t know why, maybe because I was bored, I was holding my crotch to control. I even tried pinching myself and played  scenes from different movies I love in my mind , until I was losing against the force.

I heard the latch open and my mother looks very tired. Like she would look, if  she honestly went for her yoga classes instead of secretly stuffing herself with those ‘Darjeeling Momos’. Anyways, I just wish she ate something better. This was the new Hitler’s gas chamber. I could smell a lot of onions and garlic here. Holding my breath in, I pulled down my blue jeans along with  my white underwear. The yellow spot that seeped out of my perfect buthole looked like a slightly orangish sun staring at me.

I decided to let it out.

“Rubble, Rubble, shit trouble

Kebabs, Bones and Dal.”

…..And a few mint leaves….

I didn’t know what happened next. I heard large noises and a few inferior ones.


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