Weight Loss

He could feel her wet upper lip between his own lips. He fondled her breasts and she kept saying something the vaguely resembled a 'no'. He woke up to find a late evening light rushing into the room through the window. "So sensuous, that dream of mine, I haven't had such dreams for a quite a while now", he thought. The damp air was making him sneeze and a walk looked like the kind of thing he would do on an evening like this one. He had to order his dinner from the lady next door, and before that make sure he had some waste newspaper to collect the morsels of food. The dustbin would become dirty if he threw the morsels as they were, the wet things would stick to the bottom and grow mold over them, it made sense to wrap them in a piece of paper before they went to the dustbin. He looked into one of the closets for newspaper and found a piece, it was a weight loss advertisement. Pictures of ladies before and after the program, some kanti ben who weighed 78kg before and draped herself in a saree weighed 55kg later and wore a kurta. She looked so pathetic in both the pictures, he put the piece away with some irritation. On the road he walked down looking at people, on their bikes, in their cars, people coming back from work. It was a Saturday evening, and the road looked like it had rained not very long ago. He was hoping it would not rain for he did not have an umbrella, it began to drizzle. This was O.K as long as it did not pour. He was walking back when he saw a girl returning from somewhere, she looked like she was from some college she wore a top that seemed to flow down her body, the curves were very visible. He went back home and masturbated.

A character

This is about a young man. He comes from a respectable middle class family, lives in a suburb of Mumbai, has finished his schooling and college from a local institute and is now on a job. Quite well paid; like most other software professionals in the city, and single. His family has it's own income and does not depend upon him for money. He has all that he earns for himself. With a roof over his head and a city around him, he has little to worry about. Weekends are spent at the local bar with his colony friends, who like him work and earn, they all grew up together. Once in a while he fucks a woman, a meeting with whom he arranges through a shady acquaintance of his. These women are not professional prostitutes. They are women from the city who want to sleep with men outside their acquaintance for various personal reasons.

The Policeman

Cold winter evenings, when snow fell straight and gas lamps on the street illuminated the glum sickly faces of Petersburg pedestrians, was no time to be on duty, his over coat damp with the incessant flakes of snow and his face a sickly green. Things did not get better with the slight chill he had, shifts in the evenings did not leave him with the time to dine at home, the station canteen was where he had food before leaving for his patrol. The food wasn't always very good and the ham that day was particularly inedible.

The street he was patrolling now had a huge crowd on it's icy tongue and over the bobbing heads one could see a carriage, it was apparently the property of a rich man, the horses were hidden behind the excited crowd. Rushing towards the chaos he bumped into Raskolnikov, his colleague.

"The carriage trampled a man, he seems drunk"

"How bad is he hurt?"

"Hard to say, but It could be fatal, there is blood on his lips, his ribs look broken"

"We can send for the doctor after we take him home, the crowd does not look good."

"The carriage belongs to Lobachevsky, and the wind is not quite with his sail these days."

Another man, a pedestrian, was helping Raskolnikov carry the wounded, that left him with the task of minding the mad crowd. A crowd on a wet evening on an empty stomach and a chill can be overwhelming, he thought. His boots kept slipping on the hardened snow and the crowd looked hysteric. They were now near the building, a multi storied building owned by a landlord, with rooms rented out, it looked gloomy in the twilight almost black and completely wooden, the staircase spiraled up to the third floor, and it was necessary that he keep the crowd from ascending, as the gangway leading on each floor was narrow and would cause a stampede. He climbed a step and faced the crowd, they all looked like a black mass of howling jackals in their long winter coats, their heads bobbing about in hats, some laughing some screaming, the baton in his hand was the only thing keeping them away, but he was alone and the night was dark, crimes by a crowd were not easy to trace and a waste of time.