THE SORRY SLUT : PART (I) : PANCHALI

THESORRYSLUT1

It was one of those usual April summers which would forbid women, conscious of their precious skin, which masked their ‘men-thirsty ‘ demeanor , to go out. Panchali was lying on her bed, tired of her vainglory; her nails were perfectly manicured, Nabayan even had taken her to the spa the other day. Of course, she had nothing to do. She was too tired to see her own reflection in the mirror; even her wardrobe was beautified with the new dresses, which had wasted half of Nabayan’s monthly salary. She was content for the rest of the month. She preferred to put Nabayan ’s money to good use on the first week of every month, in case he indulges himself in something less worthy. Panchali was of course , not married to Nabayan; she would call him , her “ boyfriend” and he was one of the many men, rather her “ boyfriends “ who had come in her life, and have been dumped like napkins. Panchali was different from the girls of her age. She was intuitive and at an early age, she had realized that academics was not her cup of tea. So, she discarded academics and focused on ‘men’, an alluring species of homo sapiens , who, according to her, were mesmerized by her beauty, except the judges of beauty pageants, who would not even select her for the first round. 
A heap of undergarments, padded and colored were waiting helplessly on the couch, longing to feel the soft skin of her breasts and inhale the fragrance of her rose perfume. Their variegated colors were significant of the men who were come and gone; no… Not ‘gone’ …. Rather, were ‘disposed off ‘ at certain locus of her life. Panchali opened her shirt. No, not because of the scorching heat, but to look at her true self in the mirror, this time, trying to feel the presence of someone, whose thoughts have been lingering around her mind since morning, and memories were taking shape on the tabula raza. The lucky one was Chhandak. Chhandak was her ex, or rather, ex^2, if her infidel relationship with Rajak, at the time when she was with Nabayan, could be really considered as a ‘ relationship’. This Chhandak was Nabayan’s junior in his college and senior in terms of possessing the delicate diva. She looked at the hook of her plaything, with her eyes, shinning in a lupine glare, a glare, which, according to her, Chhandak lacked.
“ You don’t look at me in the way other men do “, she would complain when Chhandak would press his hands on her collar bones.
“Dear, I am not like those useless men who would ogle at you “, Chandak would try to make her understand, planting a kiss on her checks.
“Shut up, stupid “,Panchali would reply. “ They ogle at me because they desire me.”
“ Then why would I need to stare at you like that ? “ Chhandak would get startled.
“ That means you don’t desire me ? “
“Why do I need to desire you when you are already mine? “
“So you don’t want to play with me or make love to me? “
“ But how is this related to staring ? “
“ You are silly!1 You are fool!! “
Panchali still remembered those conversations she would indulge in , with Chhandak. Something inside her piqued her, echoing the fact that there was something lacking. Of course, there was something lacking between them. A relationship based merely on lust cannot be crowned by the term “ true love “. Men, according to Panchali, were interesting but unfortunately, as her indigent luck would have it, men, with flaws, came in her life and like dew drops, she had been able to shove them off, stanching her precious rancid blood from getting diluted.
Chhandak never complained of her body which she loved more than anything. It bothered her for she too could feel the cause of her insecurity in her visceral senses. It baffled her to think, why would he not complain. “ He doesn’t not love me “, she would feel. “ For he is not helping me get treated for this “. Chhandak of course did love her, but he was cautious enough to keep the thin line of distinction between ‘ loving her ‘ and ‘ loving her body ‘, a thin line, which distinguishes a piece of erotica and pornography. Chhandak’s frequencies were not registered and in fact the failure to decode them was followed by the stamp of “ rejected “ , in the same way, used and defective garments are dumped by the attendants of branded stores like Pantaloons or Shopper’s Stop.
Panchali grabbed her cell phone. She went through her phonebook. Her eyes seemed to search for something but they blinked in a disappointed air. She received a text from Nabayan.
“ Baby, I have a surprise for you “, it said.
Panchali ignored. She knew Nabayan well; she was pretty aware of his past too. But her brain had something special, which made her artless. She was sure, that her ignored texts would be reciprocated by more texts in a span of an hour. It happened in just the way she anticipated.
“Baby, are you asleep? “,Nabayan sent another message. This time too, she ignored. After half an hour, Nabayan called .
“ Hey, why didn’t you reply, love? “, he asked.
“Was sleeping”, Panchali replied sweetly.
“I have a surprise for you, baby “ , he said in enthusiasm.
“ Great”, she replied, this time, slightly increasing the pitch of her tone.
“Won’t you ask what? “, Nabayan was disappointed.
“Silly you”, Panchali grinned. “ If I ask you, then how come it will be a surprise? “
“ I studied mechanical engineering , baby “,Nabayan replied affectionately. “ I am learning the art of living from you “ .
“ Hmm”, Panchali replied. She heard her mother calling her. “ Ma calling “, she added . “ You work. Will talk to you soon “. She hung up and went to the kitchen.
“ Your brother said he is coming home with a few friends “ , her mother said. “ Go and clean the drawing room “ . Panchali nodded her head. She remembered how she would boast of her brother , Nayak and her ; boyfriend’, Nabayan . “ Both are mechanical engineers, and that too from Jadavpur University.”, she would brag about the two N’s of her life, to her friends. “ And I love them so much. ” Her eyes would sparkle like the glitters of a masquerade.
She obeyed her mother and got dressed in a knee length skirt and a sleeveless shirt. She left her hair loose and as she fell in a distress, panicking about the perfect ear ring that suited her, the door bell rang. It would be an incorrigible mistake for her if she would go out of her room, without that perfect attire ; so she focused on her onus. She heard voices of some men and peeped from the half closed door of her room. A very known face entered with her brother; her heart skipped a bit ; she felt like revealing herself, immediately, but she took a few steps back. She started to think of ways to accost him, in the perfect way, something, he would not even imagine, something that would make him feel her sweet fragrance, something which would instigate the ‘desire’ she craved for, something to reciprocate her ignorance.

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18 thoughts on “THE SORRY SLUT : PART (I) : PANCHALI

  1. The approach is very realistic..easy words..hits hard..a breakway from your other works…the title is brilliantly ironic….what about the sequel ?

  2. Thank you so much 🙂 It is an honor to hear such wonderful compliments 🙂 Yes, the sequel, or rather, the sequels will be coming soon in 2-3 days time .. Stay tuned 🙂

  3. Wow, I must say I was hooked, till the end, and am hanging around for part II…
    Beautifully expressed, wonderfully crafted. You really have great talent, bud.

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