Unclothed

by Probir Sengupta

  ‘Ummm... Well, Onni... Pauline was actually born Paulo. And Christina was the boy her parents lovingly named Christian... They are men who would rather be women. It’s a mistake of nature that they are battling with.’ The two exceedingly hot ladies, who were in reality men who had gotten sex-change operations done, smiled at each other. They had of course learnt to live with the pain. And the eye shadow, mascara, luscious lip colour, the blush, the long nails, everything helped to numb it. The lounge music played on somewhere far away.

  ‘So, tell me Christina and tell me, Pauline...’ the young man looked up and started the conversation again. ‘When are we going out on a hot date? Tomorrow?’

  ‘Oh, we’re leaving tonight! We have to be at the airport in a couple of hours,’ Pauline lamented and looked at her watch. ‘Very sad, really. Why don’t you come to Turkey for a holiday? We can have good fun there... As¸kımız ömür boyu sürecek... Our love will last forever!’ Christina added.

  ‘What? You two have just another hour here?’ Onni looked shocked. ‘Well... Let’s make these 60 minutes last forever then?’ he winked.

  Deepali looked on at Onni as he laughed and hugged the two. ‘I’m genuinely touched, Onniruddh,’ Deepali’s stare silently said to him.

  Thirteen

  M

  iss Hema could never do anything silently.

  ‘Onniruddh!’ she yelled. She screamed so loudly, anyone would think that she was petrified, that her life was in danger and that she was screaming for Onni to save her. In reality, it was just ‘Open Day’ at school and she wanted the monitor to put the class register in front of her.

  ‘Yes, Miss,’ Onni said as he put the class register on her table. Now, whether the parents came in and jumped with joy or they lamented and cried their eyes out depending on their ward’s performance in the exams, Miss Hema would put a small red tick against the name. If the student’s parents did not appear, he would be made to stand outside the Principal’s room all through the next week

  ‘That is just bad!’ the 8th Standard boys discussed throughout that week. Most of them did not want their parents to attend. Som e were embarrassed of their scores, some were embarrassed of their parents, some were embarrassed of their teachers. But rules were rules. They had to be followed.

  As the bell rang and lunch break was done, the students streamed back into their classes. They all looked like animals lined up to be taken to the slaughter house. Miss Hema entered the class looking powdered and pressed, ready to don the butcher’s apron.

  Suddenly out of nowhere, Prashant’s parents entered the classroom. They were the first to arrive.

  Greeting Miss Hema from a distance, they both went and settled next to their son. He just sat there smiling at them and then at his classmates. The whole classroom was looking at the three. This went on for some time, till his father muttered and asked him for his papers. Very slowly Prashant brought out his answer sheets with the marks written in red by the teachers. ‘He’ll be the one to go to the butcher first... Poor boy!’ the boys sitting behind giggled.

  Prashant’s father looked through the sheets while his mother looked at everything but them. It was almost as if the gentleman was reading all his son’s answers and redoing all the sums mentally, while the lady was enjoying the sights and sounds in the classroom.

  Just when they were about to go to Miss Hema, Manish’s mother made a gala entry. The only thing missing was the music. VIII-B had suddenly turned into a ramp. And Manish’s mother sashayed in.

  Clad in a chiffon sari, she went straight for Miss Hema. Manish’s papers really did not matter much to her. As she chatted with the class teacher (maybe about her sari), what followed was totally chaotic. It was Manish’s elder sister.

  She too came into the class, a carbon copy of her mother. The only difference was that her sari slipped off her shoulder many times. Manish, of course, wanted to disappear from there, or become a part of the wooden school furniture. With hormones that were just beginning to overflow, all the schoolboys gawked at the two ladies.

  One after another, the parents came in. They were of various sizes, shapes and colours. Thankfully, they also left in sometime to meet the other teachers, thus making space for a new set of parents to fit in. ‘Why are most parents so out of shape?’ Arun asked Onni.

  The only thing that remained constant in the classroom was the pained expressions of the students. ‘Miss Hema doesn’t look like the type who would have so many people visiting her normally...’ Onni thought to himself.

  As if set on a timer, he jumped up as Mrs. Ray entered the classroom.

  He wanted the entire process to take as little time as possible. Running to his mother with his papers, he almost forced the bundle into her hands, as if begging her to see it all, standing in the aisle, even before she sat down.

  ‘Onni... Your marks in English, Science, History and Geography are good. What happened in Maths?’ Mrs. Ray asked.

  Onni answered very softly. ‘But I got 90 out of 100, Maa.’ To which the immediate answer was ‘You should have got 100... That is what your Baba will say.’ And she gave a big smile to her dear son.

  ‘Auntie, he likes to read books that are not in the syllabus. And he likes to draw things that he is not told to draw. That is why he gets 10 marks less in Maths...’ Arun laughed from the next desk.

  ‘We know that, don’t we, Onni?’ Maa smiled and asked him, patting his back.

  ‘Maa... This is Arun Rao,’ Onni introduced his buddy. ‘Arun is my best friend.’ The boys looked at each other and beamed.

  ‘Hi, Arun! We’ve heard so much about you from Onni...’ Maa said. Arun grinned and quickly held his hand out. As the two shook hands, Mrs. Ray smiled back.

  ‘You must come home, son. Where do you...’ just then Miss Hema’s voice boomed in. ‘Hello, Mrs. Ray!’

  ‘Excuse me, son...’ Onni’s mother smiled at Arun, and the Rays walked towards Miss Hema. She was all praises about Onniruddh. Many other boys and their parents waited around for their turn. ‘He just needs to pay a little more attention to Mathematics... Why don’t you meet Shastri Sir? He teaches Maths... You know, numbers are important.’

  As they finished, Mrs. Ray and Onni went back to Arun. ‘Your parents have not come? Should I drop you home?’ she asked the boy. ‘My Daddy will be coming, Auntie,’ he answered.

  ‘Then we’ll go and meet the other teachers now,’ she said as she left with Onni. The two boys said bye to each other.

  ‘Mrs. Ray, just a minute!’ Miss Hema called out. She was surrounded by many mothers and their sons. As Mrs. Ray and Onni went up to the class teacher, she looked very concerned.

  ‘You know, these boys... I was checking their notebooks the other day. And guess what I saw! They have started drawing things like this!’ she said softly as she put her pen to a sheet of paper.

  It was a W, an X and a Y, arranged one after the other vertically. It was drawn such that it looked like the naked figure of a lady.

  ‘What do I do about this, madam?’ Miss Hema looked at Mrs. Ray.

  Shocked, Mrs. Ray looked at Onni with a very faint smile. ‘You do THIS in class, Onni?’

  ‘Not me, Maa...’ he stammered, totally embarrassed as he looked at his mother. And turning to his class teacher, he continued defending himself vehemently, ‘I didn’t, teacher... I never did this!’

  Onni wished he could just evaporate, as all the parents around got artlessly noisy.

  Twenty-seven

  He knew that this all-ladies party was about to get a lot noisier.

  Onni stepped in. Deep down, he was actually enjoying making an entry wearing nothing but a smile. He was testosterone-soaked. Part Cro-Magnon. Part Alpha-Male.

  He was supremely thankful to Deepali for letting him in, though her house was full of guests. The man had his hands strategically placed
to hide whatever he could.

  Pin drop silence greeted him and then it changed to a boisterous roar.

  ‘I’m sorry, ladies,’ he smiled.

  A raucous ‘Don’t be!’ filled the air.

  He had been with many women and men who were unknown to him. But nothing had taught Onni how to gatecrash naked into an all-girls’ nocturnal shindig. ‘I’ll explain this as soon as...’ he stammered as some cameras clicked.

  ‘This party is going to be the talk of the town, Deepali!’ one woman screamed.

  A nerdy lady with thick spectacles came up to the young man with a tray that held two stout glasses of whiskey. ‘Here, both are for you...’ she said with a straight face and then broke into a spate of giggles. Onni was genuinely amused. He did want to let go of his privates and fulfil her desire. ‘Since my hands are busy elsewhere, why don’t you help me drink?’ he smiled. A deluge of claps filled the air.

  ‘We have to handle this a little maturely, girls!’ Deepali emerged and announced.

  ‘Of course, we’d love to handle him!’ a lady screamed.

  ‘What time is it, dude?’ she added as she pointed down at his wrist watch, the only other thing that Onni was wearing, apart from his helpless grin. The whole room spiralled into a cacophony of laughter all over again.

  Deepali looked at Onni with a suppressed smile, and covered him waist down with a blue towel. ‘You look dapper with just this wrapped around you.’ D had told him many times earlier. Immensely thankful, Onni held it in place.

  A very disappointed ‘Ohhh...’ resounded through the room. The man smiled to himself, looking at the floor. At last, finding his hands free, he raised them and bellowed ‘Can I have the whiskey? Please... NOW?’

  ‘So what’s your excuse for dropping in here like this, Onni?’ Deepali interrogated.

  ‘You know, D... Bizarre things just happen,’ he started. Every one of Deepali’s friends watched him as he glugged his drink and quickly gathered his thoughts before speaking.

  ‘I was working late... Very late. You know, the usual last minute chaos at the agency. And on the way home, I remembered there was nothing for dinner. So, I picked up a pizza. Thank God, they were open! A pepperoni loaded one. I’m telling you, ladies, try it... It’s good,’ he said and took a swig from his glass.

  Everyone waited for him to continue. ‘Then?’ somebody asked.

  ‘Hmmm... And reaching home, I changed,’ he continued. ‘I changed into, well, nothing. It’s nice you know... Come on, you all have done it sometime.’ He looked around and found some already giggling.

  ‘After devouring my pizza, I wanted to get rid of the box. And what better place than outside? So, there I was, opening the door, totally naked, with an empty pizza box in my other hand. I peeped out. There was nobody at that hour... I had my watch on still. It was some time around 1:30 AM, I guess.’ Onni shrugged and narrated expressively. ‘I didn’t expect any of the neighbours to step out of their doors at that hour. So, I came out the way I was.’

  ‘I went out to dispose the box. Walking up to the bin, which was a little away, I quickly stashed the pizza box in. And turned to get back into my flat. But hey! There was a strong breeze. Slam! My door shut me out.’ he clapped his hands. ‘The keys were still in the pocket of my jeans. My jeans were on the floor of my bedroom. My bedroom was inside my house. My house had just gotten locked. So I was outside, wearing just my wrist watch. And then...’ his voice trailed off as he shrugged.

  Everyone was just looking at Onni. ‘How did you get here then?’ the nerdy-looking lady broke the silence.

  ‘I ran. I used the darkness as cover and ran here. D was the only one I thought of.’ The crowd turned and stared at Deepali, who rolled her eyes. ‘The pizza box must be still outside my flat... Come, I can show you all.’ Onni tried to gather some more sympathy from his already hypnotised audience.

  ‘Come, let’s go. You take off that towel. And let’s see you recreate what just happened from there to here,’ Deepali said sharply.

  Onni looked at her and smiled. The lady shot back a smirk that said ‘Fucker, I know what you just told us was all cock.’ Onni knew that Deepali’s sarcasm was justified, and her idea of actually re-enacting everything was her way of getting even.

  Deepali knew that she would have the actual story once Onni and she were alone. But for that, the party would have to end.

  As the party went on, she looked at her workmate trying to be comfortable at her hens’ bash wearing nothing but a towel. Finally, she gave in.

  ‘Hey Onni, here is a t-shirt and a pair of

  jeans. They are a friend’s, and have been lying in

  my cupboard for some time now. Try them on. See if they fit you,’ she said as she handed him the clothes.

  ‘Thanks for these, D... Let me get into them right away,’ he sighed as he went into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

  Onni unclasped his wrist watch and undid the blue towel that was around him. Turning the shower knob to its full force, he shut his eyes and tilted his head up. A cold fine spray rushed out and enveloped him. As the water washed over him, his thoughts floated away.

  ‘This feels so good.’

  ‘This is what I’ve been waiting for.’

  ‘Wish I could get some sleep after this.’

  ‘Sounds impossible!’

  ‘That run was just crazy.’

  ‘What if it was in the daylight?’

  ‘D is just too nice to let me in...’

  ‘...whenever I drop in...

  ‘...however I drop in.’

  ‘God knows what the watchman downstairs was thinking.’

  ‘So many women outside! Hmmm... Some are good, though.’

  ‘Why doesn’t D get a guy?’

  ‘Just women and more women...’

  ‘Well, it’s her life.’

  ‘What about mine?’

  ‘All the women... And the men. The women are good.’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘The men just suck.’

  ‘Literally.’

  ‘Have to speak to Swati...’

  ‘This can’t go on forever.’

  ‘Will tell her to just keep it to women.’

  ‘Yes...’

  ‘That will be good.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘On second thought, I’ll actually shut shop.’

  ‘Forever.’

  ‘Will have to do that...’

  ‘...soon.’

  ‘What if Noor finds out about everything?’

  ‘I would have to commit hara-kiri!’

  ‘The evening was going so well.’

  ‘Noor was so hot...’

  ‘And things were just about getting started...’

  ‘Her father shouldn’t have dropped in.’

  ‘She must have been really jolted.’

  ‘What if he found me there... A naked man, in her bedroom?’

  ‘He would have freaked!’

  ‘Good I jumped out before he saw me...’

  ‘But did she have to throw me out without my clothes?’

  ‘Didn’t she wonder where I’d go without my clothes, at 2:40 AM?’

  ‘I wish I had picked up my jeans while jumping out.’

  ‘I wish I had taken my mobile phone too. And yeah, I wish I had seen Noor’s dad once.’

  ‘But I’ll meet him soon.’

  ‘Well... Well, all’s fine now.’

  ‘I’m in D’s bathroom, taking a shower...’

  ‘I’ve stood here so many times before.’

  ‘But never at this time of the morning...’

  ‘Oh, good! It’s Sunday.’

  ‘Have I been standing here for too long?’

  ‘Wil
l there be women waiting, when I step out?’

  ‘Thanks to D, I’m getting back into some clothes...’

  When he emerged from the bathroom, the look on Onni’s face said that he was thankful to be clothed again.

  He checked himself out in the mirror. He was ready to face the ladies outside again.

  He stopped a little longer and saw himself in the full-length mirror again. He smiled. The t-shirt and the jeans that Deepali had just given him fitted him like they were his.

  They actually were. Onni felt relieved wearing them.

  Fourteen

  Onni was relieved to see the list of questions that Besharam Sharma had put on the blackboard.

  The whole school had changed Sharma Sir’s name to Besharam Sharma. He taught the eighth standard students Hindi. He was very good at the subject. Grammar, gender, sentence construction; he was perfect. He was good with the students too. All the questions that he put into the final exam question paper, he would put up in class a week earlier. That way, everyone was happy - the students, the teacher and the Principal.

  Then why was he called Besharam Sharma? There were some other reasons.

  As all the boys copied the questions into their notebooks, Besharam Sharma moved around.

  Onni also quickly jotted down everything. His fountain pen was flying across his Hindi classwork notebook. But as Besharam Sharma approached his desk doing his repeated geometric rounds of the class, the young boy got ready.

  He breathed in a lungful of air and then held his breath. Slowly, turning his head he looked at Arun, sitting on the bench across his. Their eyes met. They exchanged silent smiles. ‘Arun is holding his breath too…’ Onni thought to himself.

  Seconds passed like minutes. Just as Besharam Sharma moved a little further away, the two boys started breathing hungrily again.

  Besharam Sharma wore the same safari suit to school every day. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. Obviously, in order to mask the odour, he doused himself in a very strong perfume.