The Manipuri Goddess

His dark eyes surveyed the scene before him. It was a regular bar, losers sprawled across tables carelessly hinting at girls, Taking large swigs from their beer mugs. This was a bad day for me. Load of work left to do and I wanted to get drunk. Dark night, violent winds, fast bike, I always loved my bikes, a good bike ride can do wonders for you. Of course you must know how to handle your baby. You must know how to combine the front disc brake and your rear brake so that you skid to that perfect stop. One mistake and you are lying with dirt on your face. Right fate for an ignoramus.
If you ask me what was there in my heart I would laugh at you. What heart do you expect me to carry, what did my feelings and opinions matter in times such as these. I don’t suppose a story beautiful if you dramatize it with you opinions, make it flowery with your emotions. I detest that figure of speech and I despise any art which ever went that way wavering from something which was untrue. This story is not about hurt emotions or exaggerated feelings. This is about a simple boy who wants his answers. His innocence which we must all emulate.

Ranbir was brought up in an affluent aristocracy in southern Bihar, well known as Jharkhand. His school life was spent in bikes. Babes were not to his taste. It was Jharkhand after all, you won’t get those fashionable types here. He was adored by his friends mainly for spending cash recklessly, be it a party , be it a mere hangout , be it a wedding. Ranbir lived every part , a lover, a goon, best friend to a lover. Everything coalesced into the human figure. He did his schooling from DPS. His teachers did not particularly love him but they always said he was a decent kid. He was a good kid, if you found a way to his heart you could find a way to his treasury.
He got a call from his friend in delhi. They were having a bachelor’s party down in south delhi. His friend was getting married and yes this was an occasion to celebrate. He got his ticket to the great capital.
He reached the great modi residence around noon. His friend Ajay told him that they had to go out by afternoon to bring in the real stuff. What real stuff meant to Ranbir was always alcohol and weed. Ranchi did not offer him more. Well, he was in for a surprise. Around 3 pm they gathered around the crowded Connaught place. In about half an hour they found within themselves five highly fashionable and electable young female friends. Ranbir knew who they were, still he kept his mouth shut. He was riding in a gypsy, on sides were two Manipuri chicks barely adult, smoking Marijuana to the hot delhi traffic. He got into a conversation.
“since when are you in this business?”-Ranbir.
“long story dude can we wait for the Chandni Bar?”-she said.
“ya sure few drinks always help”-Ranbir said out of experience.
As I said the Chandni bar was a crowded bar. Thankfully these people had a booked a large table and the waiters looked bought out as they served shredded chicken in less than five minutes. Even a gorgeous cook wouldn’t do any better. Ranbir managed to get a seat beside this angel from the hills of Manipur. Which hills, maybe he didn’t care a bit.
“so how did you get into this business”-Ranbir said over a peg of his Indian whiskey.
“I was in love five years ago, I joined the Indraprashtha College in DU. I used to have a boyfriend. He was cool, he was popular and he was caring. I fell in love with him. He used my body. You got any questions?”- she asked.
“did you complete graduation?”- this was Intelligent Ranbir.
“no I flunked because of that monster, not to mention he flew off with flying colors. He had a good sex life in college, that much I can say”-she said, barely audible.
“so u joined this trade because you couldn’t pay your bills?”-Ranbir was getting impatient.
“My mother called up to say that I had to send money home for Dad’s operation, I had no job, I joined a parlour”- she said.
“I cut people’s hair and tricked ugly people and they actually thought they looked better”-she added.
“and then”-Ranbir added.
“I weighed my options , a 5000 bucks were not enough for me, a parlour job was filthy then why not do something filthier. Did my boyfriend not rape me the dozen times he promised he loved me. What could I do about it. I shut my heart. I shut my heart to emotions. I decided to be a proistitute. My heart was broken at least I could serve my mother and father, is that not noble. Is that not holy. I just lay there for people like you to scavenge on my body and reap the fruits of desire. My dad is ok, and I wont meet him before he is dead. My mom would understand. Anything else you want to know?”- she was trembling.
“will you marry me?”- Ranbir.