I remember the time when I was thirteen, fingering the alien device, apparently called a 'mobile phone', which my dad had been gloating over since he came back from the city. I had been strictly prohibited to even "stray within 5 feet of it", which made me all the more excited to knick it to the maze field behind my mud house and show it to my best friend. I felt a presence behind me, and before I knew it, the phone was snatched away from my shocked fingers. From his rapidly retreating figure, I could see he was some village boy, perhaps someone from the neighbourhood. But I never got to know, because as hard as I ran, I was unable to catch up with him. Yet what reminds me of this incident now isn't my soar feet, or ragged breath, or my father's tingling slap- it is the fact that it just repeated again. If you keep aside the fact that this time I was chasing not my mobile phone, but a drop dead, dangerously hot guy [don't give me that look. I'm perfectly straight] and that this time it wasn't my father who slapped me, but Lassan [it's Lallan's nick, in case you're not aware. But I won't go on about its history in case he reads this, and gifts me another slap. Even as a man, I tell you it effing hurts.]
Talking of today, I could have been acting in some Bodyguard-ish film for all I knew. Except the Bodyguard never took off his vest, despite my silent recommendations to him every time we had crossed paths. I mean, I didn't waste my precious time, which I could have utilized in texting my new girlfriend, in making sure his vest surpassed all possible blotchy limits. I should be grateful he at least took off that all-too-covering blue shirt, where you could not see the sweat glistening off his sexy packs, his skin stretched across his muscular chest. No, OF COURSE I didn't sneak his shirt from that little hut where it was stacked between two clay pots.
I finger the tattoo engraved upon my wrist; sneering at the time when I had dared Ranu and Manu to have it done, and they had shuddered, declaring that they would endure ten kicks in that place rather than taking up the challenge. Pea-headed midgets. No wonder that Boy had taken them off first- and without much difficulty, I bet. He surely must have sensed the Dung-crammed vibes their brains give off [if they have brains above their two-size-shorter, all-too-pronouncing clothes, that is]
Beside me, Bunty muttered, "Tell ya, that son of a bitch is gonna eat us up. As if his ass ain't fat enough. Who made that Lousy Mustache the boss, huh? Baniyaan Boy did well to him." Baniyaan Boy. I liked that- not that I voiced it aloud. Poor Bunty, he had got the worst of Lassan's wrath. But he had it coming to him, I tell you; because well, after his first failed mission, Lassan rounded- more like, pounced- upon us, asking "Kitnay aadmi the?", and it wasn't the best time to reply with "Oey Boss, bagged a role for Sholay remake, did ya?" Gabbar, I mean, Lassan, wasn't too pleased with that. In fact, we should be partying hard right now, celebrating the few hours of peace before Lassan has rested and warmed up for another Gabbar session for us [which we were doing, with a gambled bottle of beer] Goddammit, he expected us to take a bullet for him. FOR HIM. It isn't as if we owe him from the previous janam or something. In fact, we owe Baniyaan Boy for avenging the time when Lassan had faked victim in front of the police, blaming me and Ranu for'[leave it, only God knows our plight that day. God, and our almost peed pants, that is]
Bunty twitched, as he tried to fidget on the charpai. Twitching reminded me of someone, and I almost chuckled. As if sensing my thoughts, Bunty cracked a dirty joke that involved Twitchy Big Boss, bed and constipation, which would be quite inappropriate to mention here. Tony, who had been seated in front of me on the bike during that oh-so-filmy chase, had guessed this was some "Main Tum aur Woh" scenario [don't get us wrong, we were giving the mission our UTMOST attention- my sore privates from jumping the Boy's bones some zillion times are an excellent proof. Could have invested that energy in to something more enjoyable, if you know what I mean] Too bad we'll never get to know whether it was a teri-nahin-toh-meri-nahin scene or a rok-sako-toh-rok-lo threat. What we do know is: the twitch would have been there either way.
This really had been my toughest mission so far- even tougher than the time we had to keep this little whinebug of a girl who used to have an urge to pee ever ten minutes, and could scream louder than a woman in labour. Then again, there probably aren't too many Arnav Singh Raizadas in this world [there is a reason we kidnappers succeed, you know] He always reminded me of a rule of kidnapping: If he's got the guts, you've got the guns; if he gives you shit, remind him that you can shoot the shit outta him. But apparently no one had bothered to make a rule for the time when the hostage was not afraid of guns. Either that or the Baniyaan Boy knew he didn't need a gun to counter us- his creepy I-know-something-you-don't smile, his you-guys-don't-have-a-chance-against-my-awesomeness look, his that's-all-you-got? body language was unnerving enough. God, I hated it. Yet I love him for the Baniyaan Boy Tips he has given me [unknowingly, duh] It's like this love-hate thing. OMFG, forget I just said the 'love' part. I'm totally straight.
There's another rule of kidnapping: Never get personal with the hostage. And I swear I wasn't breaking that rule; it's just that, if you would have been there with me, you couldn't help hoping the Heer Ranjha would have a happy ending. "Whaddaya think happened to the girl?" I asked a drunk Bunty as the last moments swam into my head- that girl's scream that finally snapped Arnav Singh Raizada [and though I'm no lovesick dumbass, that scream screamed of love, I tell you] You could tell from seven seas apart that she was his wife. Beautiful, she was. Very much indeed. But she seemed to have taken up some Baniyaan Boy Tips too, you could tell that by her Rani of Jhaansi poise. The Boy was lucky to have her. An uneasy feeling in my stomach said "Or unlucky to have lost her".
"Lucky girl", Bunty mumbled in response. That too was true, I realized. He seemed like your regular dream husband. This, and the fact that she must have got to see him without a Baniyaan. Knowing this, I'm sure she could rest in peace if her time had already come.
And for the record, I'm still straight.
Sorry, it's a bit long. Anyhow, those who managed to keep up till here, thank you! We'll miss you, Rocky 😳
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