Mr. LATE, Ms. EARLY AND PHYSICS OF LOVE Para 1-d/oct-2nd weekend
“I need a favor from you”.
Mr. Contemporary taps his knee without a change in his look for the embellishment of cupid inside him. Mr. Late comes back from the memories of last night hyper drama coughs and says-
“I am not going to be your associate for this kind of one liner love story with an upfront female like this who seems always curious and vigilant about any homo-sapiens around him, throwing smiles to come up gregarious and celebrating looks as a good pseudo Samaritan”.
He looks at his face, inquisitive and alarmed, to find traces of concern for his rough words. But his face is cosmetically the same busy in the flawless deliverance of conduit. Mr. Late coughs a little louder to pull his attention and to ensure if he has listened to his outburst.
The girl goes away toward the shrub and adjusts earphones. Her polo-shirt has started kissing her back, dumb and wet. Men adore women wearing wet clothes. This is chemistry bonded with sweat and body fluid. Men feel this wet warmth and often tell to their friends, in the crowded bus, in the playing ground, in the offices and everywhere. Men do not enjoy rain with women in the scene with umbrellas and raincoats. Clothes, wetness and female skin are poetry of love from the courtyard of goddess Venus….
Poetry of love which oozes out from the chemistry smeared with anatomical approval.
“Now I am going to die man”.
Mr. Contemporary rubs his palms against each other. Mr. Late glances at the girl and tosses him with sarcasm.
“Please go ahead and let me know when exactly you need me to strangulate you”.
Mr. Contemporary doubles in a cracking laugh. The girl is coming right towards him, smiles and takes a right turn to catch the newly made cemented path parallel to the older one.
“Is there anything wrong in appreciating beauty? Just look at this intoxicating female. She has poured so much of youth in me. I am feeling like a sprinter”. Mr. Contemporary goes poetic.
2:00 A.M……. completely waxen and distressed with the call of that unknown girl he postponed his anticipation and a possibility till Sunil Dhavan is caught in one to one. He put off the AC, opened the window and tried to sleep with reading light on.
“Ms. Early….. It’s too late, isn’t it?”
Mr. Late goes closer to her. She is stunning in black outfit. She shakes her head with ease of confidence. She braces him for few moments and makes him comfortable and settled on a high chair in the master room. She is wearing a mild perfume, fragrance of musk-melon. The recording engineer is searching for some plug-in for her voice. Big speakers are off and he is taking reference on the smaller one. Mr. Late looks at her with many thanks in his eyes. Ms. Early has been kind all the time he needed her expertise. She has been pouring so much of poetry in him. His heart throbs and rushes into palpitation whenever he gets his voice on the phone.
Who is she and from where? From the art gallery of Apollo or from the orchard of Venus! He feels pity for himself as he has been decorating this in his mind only since he met her first living with the fear of being a married man with a complete family and she is just twenty four, unmarried, untamed like a seducing breeze of the spring in the valleys.
“Are you sure they won’t mind coming so late”? He comes out of his thoughts.
“No… never! It’s very much usual in Mumbai. Parties pick color after midnight and she is my childhood friend as well.
“Hmm! Well….”
Mr. Late likes her composure. You can take me to any corner of the world, to the heaven, to the galaxies, into the blueness of the ocean. He says to himself and smiles back to accomplish the comfort she brought to him.
“Don’t feel bothered. I am there with you. I think she also has sung a couple of song for you in previous project.
“Yes, the rock number”. Mr. Late confirms. The recording engineer is done with the plug-in and puts on the groups of speakers. Her voice cuddles the interiors of the master room. She closes her eyes to check any error in notes and Mr. Late closes his eyes to check his heart beat—Ms. Early, wearing a nose ring which enhanced her hypnotic smile nobody could resist.
……………………………………………………………..To be continued.
Nirmal Augastaya
