Tall Tales Thursday: Short fiction- Strangler Lingerie

The first time Raja's mother admonished him for looking at 'those ungodly things' was when he was almost thirteen.
He was with his mother at a big, plush boutique. While Mrs. Kataria bantered with the saleswoman about the various salwar-kameez she put on the counter with alacrity, Raja was bored. Sulking, he moved around, looking at the mannequins and clothes on display, occasionally glancing at his phone and texting.
Somehow, without consciously realizing, he wandered off into the lingerie section. The saleswomen stared at him, goggle-eyed, or looked at each other and giggled. What was a lanky, pimply teenage boy doing looking at lingerie? Raja, at first, was blissfully unaware, texting away to friends.
When he did pocket his phone and look up, he frowned. This seemed new, unchartered territory. Skimpy, oddly cut garments of all shapes and sizes, in different colors and designs. Some were designed to look like the skin of a leopard!
Intrigued, Raja strolled in between the aisles, inspecting the goods on display, fleetingly running his hands over them occasionally, enjoying the soft silk or the plush velvet, when he thought no one was looking. At the end of an aisle, he reached a mannequin. The mannequin was built voluptuous, just like those actresses he kept seeing in the movies. It was dressed in a leopard-print brassiere and underpants and posed in a way that Raja found alluring.
He turned around to face the aisle and saw that the same two-piece was displayed on a hanger nearby, with a transparent golden slip covering it.
He walked over, and hesitantly reached out with his to touch it.

"Raja!"

He turned around and saw his mother standing there, hands on hips, her eyes two burning, yellow hot coals.
"Mother..."

"Haramkhor! What do you think you're doing, you idiot? Touching those ungodly things!"
"But I was just..."

"Don't you know these things are evil and against our culture?" she shouted, and slapped him hard. Hearing her, two saleswomen ran to where they stood.
It is normal for a boy of Raja's age to be curious about women's underwear and lingerie; but his mother was unlikely to understand that. Even more unlikely was that she would talk to her son about what he was feeling and why; and what lingerie was. And how it was okay for him to be curious about girls and their undies, but still have a healthy relation with them.

Raja stared back at his mother, tears in his eyes, reeling more from anger than embarrassment. Now they were surrounded by a group of saleswomen and other customers, who'd dropped in for some free entertainment.

"These things are evil, you moron! They will strangle you in your sleep!"

"What?"

"Yes...these things are the work of demons! They will come and strangle you in your sleep! Never touch them, or as much as look at them. Do you understand?"

"Er..."

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"Yes, Ma."


Fast Forward: Ten years later 


"Make yourself at home, Rajan!" his girlfriend shouted from the bathroom.

"Okay!"

Rajan looked about the room in the large, plush three-bedroom apartment. Nina was his first girlfriend; and the first woman he had ever meaningully connected to. Ever since he had moved away from home, to come as an undergraduate to DU to study English Literature and Linguistics, this was the first time he came really close to a woman.

Rajan believed it was because he was away from his overbearing, obnoxious mother and his distant, taciturn father that he was finally breathing free. Ever since he'd come to Delhi, clinched a scholarship and also found a part-time job to support his studies and living expenses, he had vowed never to go to that hell-hole he'd been forced to call 'home' for years. He wasn't 'Raja' anymore.

And yet, he'd found it difficult to talk to Nina when he'd first fallen for her. Both of them were classmates in the Masters in English Lit batch; both were, again, scholarship students. Nina was a young, blue-jean-and-T-shirt-and-funky-accessory wearing, outspoken, intelligent, well-read young woman from Chandigarh.

It was she who had approached and befriended him. He'd glance at her during classes or when she was with friends- not stare, just glance.

"In a city where men stare me down like I'm sex on a stick, while mentally undressing me and probably having the wildest sexual fantasies, your admiring glances are a welcome surprise," she'd told him. He'd opened up to her. After days of cajoling and seducing, she got him to kiss and make out with her.

And then she brought him to the apartment she rented with two girlfriends, both of whom weren't at home.

"Hey!" she whispered in his ear, grabbing him by the waist, from behind.

"Hey!" he replied, holding her hands with his. And felt the soft, tantalizing touch of silk on his skin.

"Are you wearing lingerie?" he asked.

"Yes, Raj." Only she called him Raj.

He turned around to look at her. She looked ravishing in a grey brassiere and underpants that both highlighted her curves and left little to the imagination, clearly visible under a transparent black slip. She had applied kohl to her eyes to make them look smoky, and it somehow made her face all the more aluring.

"I'm...I'm sorry...I can't do this," he said. The horribly vivid vision of his mother slapping and berating him in the boutique all those years ago came back to him. So did the memory of how he had woken up, for days after that incident, in the middle of the night, covered in sweat. He woke up from nightmares where hundreds of brassieres and women's underpants snuck up to him in bed, and strangled him.

"What...why not?"

"I just...can't. I'm sorry, Nina."

"Oh, I think I know the reason. You don't think I'm desirable enough, perhaps? That's why yyou won't as much as look at me?" she asked, hurt.

"Oh no no. It's not that, not at all."

"Then what is it? Please explain before you leave!"

"You look...amazing. I like you. But I'm...I'm afraid of those things..." he replied, staring at the ground, his hands pointing to her bra.

"My breasts?"

"No. I meant your underwear."

"What? You're afraid of my underwear? Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"But why? They don't bite!"

Rajan looked at Nina, and tears came into his eyes. Tears of exasperation. He thought he was free from that vile woman who was his mother...but distance couldn't cure the curse she had given him- undie- phobia. He couldn't as much look at women's underwear, should he be so unfortunate so as to encounter them, without getting the urge to pour kerosene over them and set fire.

"Okay, that's it. Tell me why you're afriad of my undies. What's wrong with them?"

Rajan told her about the boutique incident, and the nightmares. It was a test of strength of Nina's character and her feelings for Rajan that she didn't burst out laughing.

Instead, she got dressed, ordered pizza, and they spent the night eating and talking.

A few weeks later

Nina took Rajan to a prominent psychiatrist, who he visited once a week for his 'problem'.

They did get together on Nina's insistence, but she simply built up the tension by dressing in a flimsy robe.

Slowly, because of the shrink's therapy and Nina's support, Rajan started overcoming his phobia. The doctor advised him to face his fear with information- by researching the objects that terrified him, he could convince himself that they couldn't  harm him.

So he did exactly that, with help from his girlfriend. It involved visiting the lingerie section of boutiques, all by himself; the first two of these visits had him almost freaking out with a panic attack. But he didn't give up.

Nina hoped he will grow free of his fear, one day.


Note: This story came to me while I was reading an article, on the prominent feminist blog, The Ladies Finger, about how, in public, display of women's underwear is considered a taboo. As a feminist and observer of human behavior, this mentality both amuses and irritates me. Why do we women have to hide our undies from view like they're some disgusting little secret? Or worse, some weapon of mass cultural destruction?
This story is merely intended as a sardonic take on sexist attitudes regarding us women and our clothes and sartorial behavior. It's not meant to tantalize or tittilate you.
You can find the link to the original article here: Why do Bras in Public Terrorize Some People?

D for Devil Comes to Greenfield

Greenfield, Missouri 

Church of St. Agnes

Father Morton O'Neill unlocked the door to his office, his glance flitting to the door of the office adjacent to his. The gap beneath the door of Father Goretti's office showed that the lights were still on in there.

He's been here all night? But why? 

Morton left his own door open and walked to his superior's cabin. He would ask the other priest if he would like a large mug of hot coffee.

"Father Goretti? This is Morton. May I come in, please?" asked Morton, while knocking on the door.

There was no answer.

"Father Goretti? You in there?"

Morton noticed that the door was slightly ajar. And again, there came no reply.

A cold shiver passed down Morton's back- and he had an overwhelming feeling something was terribly amiss. He remembered the chilling spectre of Dorothy Swanson's body in the churchyard.

His heart rate suddenly shooting up, he slowly pushed open the door, and entered.

"No! No! Father....Nooooooooo!"

Amelio Goretti's corpse hung from the ceiling, bloody and oscillating slightly, blocking the sunlight from the large window behind his desk.

His blood was dripping onto the desk and had trickled to the floor. His throat and wrists had been slit and his eyes were open.

Morton ran to his office and called the Sheriff's office.

Sheriff Hadley and his team found Morton slumped against the door of Goretti's cabin, dazed.
They were accompanied by Senator Tuttle, who was a former priest as well, and a local celebrity politico now.

"Our Father in Heaven, protect us from evil. The Devil Has Come to Greenfield!" he exclaimed when he saw the corpse.


This post is written for the A to Z Challenge

C for Churchyard Massacre

In a small town in Missouri 

The first rays of sunshine kissed the treetops as the morning dawned on the town. The sun also shone on the spires of the Church of St. Agnes, located in the midst of the town square, where the faithful flocked for prayers every day, and for Sunday school.

The janitor walked into the empty churchyard, looking around him, moving in the direction of the outhouse where his tools were kept.

That was when his attention fell on the figure mounted on the sharpened, interconnected spiked metal grill on top of the compound wall that bordered the church perimeter. The wall was several feet away...it was impossible to make out who was on those spikes or why. On top of that, he was near-sighted, so the figure was nothing more than a blurred shape in the distance.

"Hello? Who goes there? What're you doing there?" the janitor yelled.

There was no response.

"You need to get down from there right now, whoever you are."

No response.

Shaking his head, Enrico the janitor changed course and walked towards the compound.

Only when he came near did he see what the figure was.

"Dios mio! El diablo!" Enrico screamed, and then screamed again, and then called for Father Goretti.

Hearing his screams, Father Goretti, who was lighting incense at the altar in the sanctum sanctorum, came running out into the churchyard.

"Enrico! What happened?" he yelled, coming to stand next to the terrified janitor.

"Oh my God! Deliver us from evil!!" he whispered, horrified, crossing himself when he saw what was mounted on the grill.

                                                                              *****


He sat in his living room, drinking a can of beer, eating hotdogs and watching the 11 o'clock news.

A female presenter, dressed in a black skirt-suit, was speaking into the camera.

"Good morning this is Angela Perkins with Missouri 24x7. The small but closely-knit community of Greenfield is shocked and scared at the murder of a local woman, Dorothy Swanson. Dorothy, a mother of two and community service volunteer at the Church of St. Agnes, was found impaled in the churchyard of the very church she worked for. Her body was found skewered like a kebab on the spiked metal grill atop the compound wall. The police are at a loss to explain her death- Dorothy was a dear sweet woman, loved by her husband Dale, who is a top local salesman for farming equipment, and her kids Patience and Cuthbert. She was even instrumental in getting more people to join the church and believe in God's glory."

He snorted loudly. Yeah, that lady sure was a recruitment agent for the church. Sanctimonious bitch! Had told him to believe in God and reform his life. In that grating, sweet voice.

'You have lost your way, young man. You need the Lord to show you the way. Let him be your shepherd!'

But she had squealed like a stuck pig when he was hauling her up and going to impale her. Or as the reporter had said, skewered her like a kebab.

But she was only the first of many. Those sheep of the Lord had to be taught a lesson.

It was his mission.


This post is written for the 2016 A to Z blogging challenge

Review: Twists of Fate by Priyanka Naik

Blurb: As kids, we thought grown-ups had so much fun. How we wished we could grow up fast. If only we knew what we were wishing for.

Three pieces of a soul, they'd call themselves soul sisters and this is their journey, a journey through the lives of three best friends who accidentally reunite after a decade long disconnection. A round of startling revelations later, the three realize that life is indeed unpredictable. However, in this world of uncertainty, there is just one thing they can still be sure of their friendship! 

With secrets confessed, pain shared, tears shed and troubles discussed, they help find answers to each other's problems, just like old times. 

Each has a lesson to learn from the other, a story to tell, a reason to say 'I'm sorry' and a reason to say 'Thank you'. Has destiny brought them together to complete the picture? 

Will they succeed in finding the missing pieces? 
Can every twist of fate be interpreted in just one way? 

Join Sharvari Joshi, Parizaad Sethna and Nandini Mazumdar in a nostalgic journey from girlhood to womanhood. 'Twists of Fate' promises to be a roller coaster ride of emotions that will captivate the reader's heart and leave him pondering on life, fate and all its conspiracies. 

First of all, let me praise the author for not choosing the done-to-death mushy romance genre- one that makes me roll my eyes. Let me also congratulate the author for a fantastic debut. Writing a slice-of-life novel instead of the usual Durjoy-Ravinder-Nikita-Sudeep style is a bold choice; and getting the book right the first time signals talent and genuine effort. 

TOF is a slice-of-life novel about three girlfriends who grow up together in the megalopolis of Mumbai. Okay, I confess that I have a thing for novels centered around women characters. So that's the first thumbs up for TOF. 

I like the characters- rebellious, middle-class Sharvari who has ambitions beyond what most of her peers can even imagine. She's one of those liberalized, emancipated women who don't think marriage is the only meaning to their lives; who are strong, independent career women with an identity of their own. She's my kind of gal. Needless to say, I loved her father's supportive, liberal outlook and hated, vehemently, her mother's bigotr and neo-patriarchal outlook, and the way she discriminates between Neil and Sharvari and cares more about what society thinks than about how her daughter feels. Neil's character is okay- what a wuss. 

I loved both Parizaad and her mother- both women struggling to make it through life with a smile on their faces, both so positive and warm and decent and accomodating. I loved how Mrs. Sethna always called Nandini and Sharvari over to her cafe and fed them coffee and dessert. 

Nandini is also great- her body image and self-esteem issues have been captured very well. Since it's my personal experience, I can relate. Needless to say I didn't like her parents either.

One of the best things about the writing is the way the author captures conflict. That also shows how she has built complexity into her characters, as opposed to the one-dimensional cardboard cut-outs in contemporary romance novels. 

The conflict between Sharvari and her mother and sibling, and later on her spouse, is captured well. As is the way the relation between Parizaad and her mother changes. Nandini's heartbreak, and how she copes with a bad marriage and builds a new life as an independent woman is depicted well. 

The plot is good, and the author has maintained the timelines- from adolescence to middle age, very well. The pace of the story is maintained well and the tone is sustained- the author doesn't lose the rhythm for a second. The suspense is well-maintained and you want to keep turning the pages. This is not something all writers can handle. 

The prose flows well and is of high quality, the language is good and the grammar is perfect to the T. In a scenario where most 'authors' don't care to work on their language and grammatical skills, the author scores brownie points for being meticulous. 

My only problem with the book is the exposition built in between paragraphs- the philosophical ruminations. They signal authorial intrusion into the story and are redundant and jarring- and they take away from the story as well. If you must make a philosophical point, you do it through the characters or the events. They must be in between the lines- as subtext. Subtext is subtle.

 You do not insert sudden bouts of deep exposition in between the story. It's overt and irritating- the reader feels they're being preached to. 

To sum up, TOF is an important novel. This is writing that endures, this is writing that has subbstance and relevance. These are the kind of books that should be on bestseller lists- and not the incipient tripe dished out by Chetan Baba and his ilk. 

I wish the author all the best for her next book.

If you want a break from the tripe being dished out as 'Indian literature' and want to read a well-written novel with succint characters, go buy the book here: Twists of Fate

Review: Pandora's Box by Tushar Sen

Blurb: Pandora's box is a collection of tales that have woven reality and fiction together to serve to the reader spine chilling narratives and jaw dropping climaxes. most of the stories are inspired by real life incidents and characters – like saddam hussein's cia connection, the secret army of the indian prime minister, hitler's biggest mass murderer, strangest rains where frogs fell from the sky, heroism of mold of, terrorist funding in columbia, nasa's controversial moon landings and so on. some stories are inspired by characters around you who touch your lives in so many ways yet go unnoticed. some climaxes will urge you to read the story again with a new perspective. if imagination is more powerful than knowledge then here is a book that invites you to join the author in the most powerful imaginative endeavors you may have ever undertaken till now . . . in a literary environment of course. 

Tushar Sen's debut book is proof that Indian publishers must not be afraid to accept and nurture debutante short story writers. Kudos to Leadstart for taking on this writer with great potential. 

For, as I have learnt from experience, short stories are a great way to begin practicing and honing the craft of writing- they lubricate and expedite the writing process and mentally prepares a budding writer to undertake the writing of a novel- a much bigger and arduous project. 

Tushar Sen's short stories have two major aspects going for them: 

1. Themes: The themes in these stories range from domestic terrorism in India to how militant groups in Colombia are funded by multi-nationals to CIA to soldiers fighting in Siachen to the conspiracy theory about NASA's Apollo mission to talking about Hitler's most dangerous minion- Amon Goethe. I appreciate the range of the writer's imagination and the research he has done for his stories. 

2. Endings: The writer stays true to his words and has ended every story with an unexpected, jaw-dropping climax. This is a craft in storytelling that not many writers have. Most can write an interesting story, but few  can end it with a climax that is completely unexpected and shocking. 

This will help if the writer decides to go for a novel next. 

However, as a reader I have some issues with the editing. 

1. While the language is okay and the prose is of good quality, the use of big words, suddenly and often, in the wrong context, prove to be a jarring experience. What can be said in plain words should not be complicated unnecessarily. While the grammar is okay, the use of complicated words crammed in between lines of simple prose distract from the reading. At places punctuation is missing.

2. There is need to improve the sentence structure too. Sometimes sentences are too long, sometimes two sentences have been joined together, making the prose clunky. The latter is a problem that pervades throughout the book. Sentences should melt into one another, rather than being crammed together by a comma where not necessary. Each sentence presents a single line of thought or information, so we should be careful while clubbing two sentences together. 

Still, I would say that Sen's work is important in its very substance and deserves to be read for the sheer art of good storytelling at work here. I hope the writer goes ahead with publishing more short stories and novels on more disparate and intriguing themes. 

If you love good short stories with jaw-dropping climaxes, go buy this book here: Pandora's Box

Review: My Dream Man by Aditi Bose

Blurb:  don't know if I can do a story like this once again or not. Ajopa Ganguly, a struggling writer, is reeling from the pains of her manuscript having been rejected by all publishers. She knows that making cupcakes and embroidering handkerchiefs is not her true calling. However, she is scared to write anymore and is losing focus. Aniket Verma, is the professor of economics who was also Ajopa's tuition teacher once. Despite their twelve years age gap, with time, they forge a special bond of friendship. Then a misunderstanding! Now Aniket is back and it feel just like old times. With a challenge of finishing a new manuscript in record time and a promise that he will help her to get it published if she does, he asks her to meet him at the publisher's office two days later. Does she write? Does she go to the publisher's office? At what moment does their friendship change? Do they fall in love? My Dream Man, a let-me-tell-my-friends and I-need-to-finish-this-now story, is an insightful examination of how forces beyond our control help us make decisions. As Ajopa says, it is all about 'deep choosing'






I think there is something to be said about the author's merit when you finish their book in one sitting.

Aditi Bose's second novel is like a breath of fresh air.

First of all, this is not like the mostly sub-standard, poorly written gooey romantic nonsense that is flooding the market these days.

Ajopa Ganguly is an excellent character. She's educated, liberated, independent and knows her self-worth. She's sassy, feisty and knows how to stand up for herself. She finds a goal and she goes ffor it.  She's not afraid to know and express her sexuality. She tries out different occupations even as she struggles with rejections from publishers for her manuscript.

I liked how, in Ajopa, Bose has etched a portrait of a modern, liberated, self-assured woman. She's not the horribly regressive sati-savitri types who bows down to a society still largely patriarchal except some liberated pockets. I like how she makes her own choices and sticks by them. I like how she's not dependent on a man for validation, and doesn't believe in living by what society expects of her. A woman who knows her mind.

I like how the author describes Ajopa's teenage pining for Aniket- an unconventional hero. And how that pining turns to true love later. Not all teenage relations are puppy-love driven, hormonal fleeting affairs.

That said, I also liked Aniket's character- such gallantry and sincerity, the way he protects Ajopa instead of taking advantage of her. I liked the scenes between Ajopa and Aniket- and some parts where she embarrasses herself in front of him made me laugh.

I also liked the character of Ajopa's father- liberal, supportive and understanding. If more women have fathers like him, society can actually see the true emancipation of the better half.

I liked the confident, original and eloquent  voice, the style and the crisp narration. The language is simple without being pedestrian and the prose flows quite well. The plot is crisp and well-done. The characters are complex and colorful.

There are no major issues with editing except a few typos here and there.

I have an issue with the cover though- it could have been better- more colorful. This one is a little off-color when compared to the lively, colorful story inside.

We need honest, original writers like Aditi Bose to fill the market with quality work.

I wish her all the best with her next book and hope that she will keep writing.

If you want a light, feel-good weekend read to go with your Sunday morning coffee, go buy this book here My Dream Man 

Review: Rukhsat The Departure- Sujit Banerjee

I think it is a major feat when a writer can compress an important message within a few pages of a short story. And Sujit has that ability- that rare talent to package a deep meaning within a short piece in an engaging manner. Short stories require a very careful development of plot and character. Incomplete character sketches or half-baked plots can prove off-putting.

But Banerjee's prose and skill has that rare quality of being able to say a lot in a few words. 26 stories based on the 26 alphabets of English. The writer covers everything- unrequited love, dementia in old age, unfulfilled longings, words left unsaid, feelings left unexpressed, depression caused by miscarriage, sexual abuse and incest, homosexuality, love and hate, how we humans being hurt each other, words and actions that rankle for years. The stories range from sad to dark to reflective, but each one packs a solid punch.

The editing could have been better, but to the writer's credit, the typos are minor and in no way takes away from the eloquence of the prose.

Fair warning, this is not for those who like mushy romance and 'light' frivolous stories with no redeeming values. These stories are deep and often dark, sometimes depressing. But the message is beautiful, and so is the close observation of human nature.

I think more writers should debut with short stories. It helps develop both writing skills and the craft of storytelling.

Go buy this book and read a piece of promising new writing.

This book is available here: Rukhsat The Departure