Friday 30 October 2015

Courtesans of Karim`s Street by Debotri Dhar




It`s the story of Megan, Dr Megan Adams, an young green-eyed mint fresh academic who had recently accepted a teaching position at Newark, a city tainted with drug, murder and high crime rate. She is a proclaimed feminist, honest and headstrong, but had had made a couple of wrong choices in the past. She fell in love with a debonair professor who is a habitual philanderer. Megan`s sincere compassion for her students had been misinterpreted by her college authorities for which she might have to face disciplinary actions. She is in deep confusion about her relationship with Kevin, her best friend. These are all usual complications of living in a modern society, but as the story unravels we find she has a past - a closely guarded secret, brought to light by an anonymous cuss letter. She undertakes a journey to India in search of the truth and meets Naina, another green eyed woman and realises that she is her step sister, both having been fathered by the same man, Sikander, who was a descendent of the courtesans of Karim`s street.

I am not going to elaborate further on the story as there are many sub plots that should be left for the readers to find out.

Written by Debotri Dhar, an serious academic and feminist who holds degrees from Oxford and Rutgers, the book is a reader’s delight from the first page, especially the readers who are fond of reading elegant prose, unusual metaphors, stunning simile and have an eye for sensory details. The first half, when the conflicts are being built up, is griping. The characters of Stanley, Kevin and Shakuntala are nicely etched, particularly Stanley; he is such a likeable man, big-hearted and witty. But Deborah, Megan`s mother, who has been portrayed as a bored and misunderstood housewife isn't believable; more so when we read how a dignified wife of a career diplomat had sex with a wanton tourist guide. Nowhere the author explained why Stanley was cold to her, more so when we know Deborah had a wretched past, much abused in her childhood but had a loving and caring husband.

Naina, the legitimate daughter of Sikander, is a feisty woman – almost the alter ego of Megan. Her journey is equally fascinating; particularly the bonhomie she shared with Megan unaware of the reality is touching. I liked the moment when two green eyed women break into an impromptu gig of kathak while an onlooker encourages them to carry on. But her music fellowship, that too in the US is hard to believe and comes as forced, imposed upon.

The resolution part has been done in exposition mainly in the form of excerpts from Deborah`s diary which was the weak link of the whole story. It made the reader lose concentration, despite powerful prose. As a reader, one is likely to wonder who wrote the cryptic letter to Megan that kick-started the whole journey, but the author forgets to inform us about it.

However, this is one book, written with utmost care and embellished with a wonderful cover. I strongly recommend the book for them who savour good writing in English, but not the average readers who are in a hurry to devour a story in a period of few hours. I`d rather say that the book has to be sipped slowly like a glass of chilled Chardonnay, and not  gulped down like a shot of tequila.


Sunday 18 October 2015

The Bruised Balsam

This is the story I wrote following Chetan Bhagat`s preface for Write India story competition of TOI in September 2015. The first paragraph is Chetan`s.



She sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, covered with her blue silk scarf. ..(Chetan Bhagat`s preface)

The horde of pedestrian on the sidewalk marching in hurry, the mad rush of the week-end traffic racing towards the city centre, were all visible like the long shots of a silent movie. Inside the cafe, under the muted illumination, the air smelled of coffee; the aroma of the roasted beans lingering, masking the smell of raw blood.

What do I do now? She thought. There are only two options. She can jump to her death into the dark waters of the river that is ten minutes walk from here or surrender. In the former case, her story ends in two minutes because she doesn`t know how to swim. Police will register a case of suicide and simply close the case. But if she surrenders, she will be charged for murder in cold blood and hanged, the circumstances that led to the so called man-slaughter being conveniently ignored by the judge.

She knows how judiciary works in this country; how justice can be bought, manipulated by the rich and well connected. Even if she escapes the gallows, a rare possibility of course, she knows she would have to spend rest of her life in the darkness of the dungeon to prove yet again that justice is still blind in this country.

Payel doesn’t like either of the two. She believes her case has enough merit to be considered as legitimate outburst of a woman against tyranny and humiliation. It`s not her fight alone; she represents thousands of women like her who had been denied of their place in the society that had always painted women as object of desire. How can the society accept a monster of a man who plays with the emotions of a simple girl for years and dumps her when time comes marry? It`s a fight she is determined to take on chin up; but to become eligible to fight, she must protect herself and find people to support her. Her mind raced against time for suddenly she became aware of the fact that more than two hours had passed since she had fled the hotel room. It`s hard to believe that no hotel staff had walked inside and discovered the corpse in the midst of puddles of blood that might have congealed into brown jelly by now.

She knew there were enough clues around, and it wouldn’t take long time for the cops to find her out. Every minute is precious; you must decide fast, she told herself. But where will she go? Is there any safe haven for a girl with the city police in hot pursuit of her? She doesn’t know. The world suddenly felt like a savannah with predators lurking behind every dense shrub. As if a fishing net was closing in and soon a pair of invisible hands was going to smother her.

She suddenly noticed the waiter was standing in front of her to clear the table, but wasn’t able to do so because she was still holding the empty mug.

“Oh, I`m so sorry,” she said and withdrew to let the mug be cleared away. She gave him a silly smile and leaned back on her chair. The waiter wiped the table dry with a mop and as he did so, his hand made a couple of sweeping arcs dangerously close to the heaped up scarf. The acute awareness of the blood-stained knife, still wrapped in her scarf lying next to her handbag sent chills down her spine.

Must get rid of this, she thought. This is the only direct evidence that could lead to her arrest and prosecution. Clutching the heap with the knife inside, she struggled to stuff it into her handbag casting alert gaze around if anybody was watching her. The bag swelled up grotesquely in the middle like a precociously pregnant girl. She ignored the prying eyes, paid at the counter and stepped out.

The sidewalk wasn’t crowded. A few evening ramblers milled around while a couple of office-returned waited at the dimly lit bus stop. She waited and got into the first bus that pulled in.

Was killing him the last option I had? Was it possible to persuade him one more time? Payel closed her eyes to reflect. Her mind raced seeking the answer to the redundant question though she knew this wasn’t the time to chew the cud. Having seated in a corner while the bus sped along the crowded road shaking the weary passengers returning home at the end of the day, she couldn’t stop recalling the events.

Mahesh had checked into hotel Carlton on the midday. He had booked it earlier and texted her the address. As she was filling up the visitor’s register stating that it was a business meeting she caught a glimpse of the executive`s leering face that was hovering on her breast.


Payel knew this was not going to be any different from their previous rendezvous, all of them ending in wild orgies, Mahesh trying out all different postures as if she were a slut who had been paid for taking part in those weird debauchery. She didn’t mind them in the beginning, considering them one rare passionate indulgence but when the relationship didn`t grow beyond fornication even after two years, Payel had enough reasons to believe that she had been duped.

“I don`t like doing those silly things all the time! Can`t we sit down and talk about something?” she objected.

“Are you crazy? You want me to spend ten thousand bucks for looking into those eyes of yours? ” Mahesh snorted while peeling off her kamiz. At times Mahesh acted mean as if it were only for sex that they ever wanted to meet up. He waited for the door to be closed behind them to start groping her like a dog in heat licking the back of its bitch. Even now Payel felt his greedy hands hovering around her neck and trying to unhook her brassiere.

“Wait a bit Mahesh. I have something to discuss.” She said.

“The whole night is there to discuss.” He said and took a long swig from his glass of whisky. Lighting a cigarette he took a few hurried puffs and stubbed the butt into the astray as if unless he was primed with those intoxicants he wouldn’t be able to savour the act. The next moment Payel knew, she was stripped of the last shred of cloth on her body and she closed her eyes for yet another episode as Mahesh began devouring her in his drunken crudeness.

After a while, even though she wasn’t mentally ready, Payel felt she was getting aroused and her own body was letting her down, accommodating the hirsute male despite all the gall she had against him. The room smelled of burnt cigarette and whisky despite the split AC throwing fresh chilled air towards them, and later as their naked bodies lay entwined on the bed Payel watched Mahesh`s flushed contented face resting on her chest as if the bliss of orgasm was still lingering in him.

The man was great in bed, Payel had no doubt about it, but even after two years of courtship she wasn’t still certain about her place. At times Mahesh seemed to be a sincere and caring man whom she could trust with eyes closed, but at others he remained unfathomable and rude. Payel knew he had been fighting an acrimonious legal battle with his wife since years and therefore when she was confused she always awarded him the benefit of doubt. But two years was a long time to take a final decision; and for Payel, a woman of twenty five, she was half way down her marriageable age already.

“Have you thought anything?” Payel said running her fingers through his hair.

“What am I supposed to think?” Mahesh asked turning on his back, facing the ceiling. His strong muscular forearm rested on her belly as he gently stroked her bare navel.

“Like when are we going to get married?” Payel said.

“Haven’t I said until I get the divorce from Sanjana nothing is possible?” His voice seemed chafed.

“How long it`s going take? I have been listening this for aeons!”

“Legal matters take time. And that fucking lawyer of her is making things complicated. But don`t worry, things will be settled soon.”

“Aren’t you telling me this since the last one year?” Payel said.

Mahesh sprang up from the bed and crouched like an animal on the prowl.

“Because that`s all I know. There is nothing I can do about it. How many times do I need to tell you that?” Mahesh screamed and glared at her. The diabolic glint in his eyes seemed too overwhelming. He squeezed her cheek hard. Payel cringed like a slender roadside balsam plant that bows to the wake of the crosswind when a huge gleaming SUV races down at top speed.

“Why do you freak out like this whenever I bring up the topic of marriage?” she said like a bruised balsam flower.

“Because you know the truth; yet you accuse me as if I am trying to run away,” Mahesh let her face go with a mild nudge.

“How would you know the girl`s plight when she has to answer hundreds people who are sitting on a high horse to judge her?” Payel said. “How long do I have to lie to my parents Mahesh?” She asked, tears welling up in her eyes.

“No need to act smart! Life isn’t a Bollywood film! Who told you to beat the drum in the bazaar? Didn’t I tell you not to talk about our relationship until we get married? Can`t you keep anything within yourself, you half-wit slut! ” Mahesh hissed.

“Mind you tongue Mahesh, you are crossing the limit.” Payel said.

“Who do you think you are? A sati?” Mahesh blurted. “Huh! A woman like you should feel fortunate just to be able sleep with me!” Mahesh said reclining on a heap of two pillows, crossing his legs and kept on spewing venom. “Have you ever counted the gifts I have given you? Those jewelleries and saris are worth of a few lacs?” Mahesh yelled.

“I didn’t ask for the gifts. You gave it on your own.” Payel said.

“What do you think I gave you all those for? Don`t act so naive that you don`t understand anything! I didn’t gift those to worship you! This is how I repaid you for all your services.”

“Don`t say that for God`s sake! I am not a slut. I didn’t do all these for money. I love you and all I did was to prove my sincerity.”

“Love! Bullshit! I know how the whores like you shed crocodile tears!” Mahesh grimaced as he took a long draught from his glass and wiped his lips.

It was at this point Payel resolved to avenge her humiliation and betrayal, and even the score for she had no doubt left in her mind that Mahesh would never marry her. The delay of getting the divorce was just a ploy to con her into this sordid relationship. You must pay for it, she muttered under her breath as she swallowed all the humiliations silently.

Mahesh cussed her in his drunken rage threatening her with worse consequences if she ever tried to confide in others till he fell asleep and began snoring. It didn’t take much time for Payel to decide how she was going to pay him back. The kitchen knife lying beside the fruit bowl seemed brand new, its edge sharp enough to cut deep through human flesh.

On an insane frenzy like someone possessed, Payel stabbed him in the left of his chest with all her might and Mahesh woke up from his drunken stupor with tearing pain to find blood spurting out of his chest in jet and splattering onto the face of a woman who held a knife dangerously inches above him and was screaming like a maniac. Mahesh tried to get up, but like a man-eating tiger that had tasted blood already, Payel slashed his throat in one sharp strike and silenced him for good. Mahesh dropped dead like a beheaded goat.



“Madam, where will you get down?” the voice of the conductor brought her back.

All the passengers had got off and the bus had reached its terminus. Payel got off to find herself in a dark alley beside an over bridge where dozens of buses were garaged for the night. A tiny dimly lit eatery was still open with a few men eating their dinner on the go. The red neon signs of the railway station could be seen at a distance against the dark sky. It shouldn`t take more than ten minutes. Payel stepped up her pace.

(beta read and edited by Prachi.)

Debashis Deb