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Prem and Prem Leela

Prem and Prem Leela

In childhood, the truth value of any news or any piece of information cannot be suspected. You will jump out of your chair if I tell you what all I learnt about..sex (what else??) during these informative exchanges. There was no other source, no TV, no internet. Every little bit of information was important and it was heard over and over again with more details added to it. This brings to my mind the long walks of Prem’s parents. They were very fond of long walks and you could see them emerging from nowhere. Some remote unused mud path, some lonely stretch, behind the bushes or the trees, you name it and you could find them there someday. The rumor was that someone (not the narrator of course) had seen them in the open!! Well, doing in the open. I mean they were fond of outdoor ‘actions’…so was said.
It was quite believable too. Come the evening, you could see them taking rounds, looking for a suitable place in our parlance. The details told during the exchange of information would be complete with the immaculate description of the poses and the angles such that you could be another Mustafa Firdaus Hussain, if you could draw them. Anyone suspecting the authenticity of the news would be branded as dumb, which is a serious soubriquet among the boys. One once a dumb will always be dumb.
Today, looking back I think it was all humbug. Even at the risk of being called dumb, I think it was just a figment of the imagination of the boys who devised such tales of details to give vent to their prurient thoughts. It’s not that people don’t like it outdoor but for trying such a stunt in cold climes of Shimla when you can expect boys to surface from nowhere you ought to be crazy, I mean crazy for it. But then there was no other way for us to know ‘how else’ it could be done, is done, has been seen being done and it’s a lot of fun to do in poses where you might have to call for help to untangle you.
We get many such impractical ideas from Hindi films too. We see the hero and heroine dancing and singing in rain. Then they find a deserted house in the middle of a jungle. It has a fireplace and dry logs of wood. The heroine must remove her clothes now, for the imagination of the viewers has been heightened by seeing them sticking to her person and there are still a few more stanzas of the song left in the lungs of the smitten crooner.
We got married in December of a forgotten year and my wife not only fears winter, but she also dreads it. She would wear a long kimono that to me seemed to have been fashioned out of a quilt and her cold would often aggravate to serious infections needing heavy doses of antibiotics. Once sometime in March next year or later we went out for a walk and the dark ominous clouds gathered, making my heart sing and her heart sink. She asked me to take an ‘auto’ for hurrying back home but I said, “You must enjoy some of the thrills of life that you have thus far missed because of unsubstantiated fears”. Before I was through with my sermon, it started raining. It wasn’t an ordinary rain, it was a hail storm. Big hailstones fell as we ran back home. We were drenched and she took ill. That was the beginning and the end of my desire to serenade.
In the Hindi movies, you often see even when the song is being picturized in snow, the hero is often seen wearing heavy woolens (even a fur coat), and the heroine, the poor girl wears a thin Saree and a sleeveless blouse. It gives the Indian men an impression that Indian women don’t feel cold because they are hot…Hahaha. Hot, they are but often temperamentally. Trying the kind of acrobats we believed Prem’s parents indulged in on the hills of Shimla was unthinkable even in the cozy interiors of our bedroom and even more unthinkable it was for me to express such a desire.
And all that I learnt about poses and actions also was nonsense. None of the boys who cooked the stories knew a jack from a jack-ass. When the chance came to me for putting it to test and I am certainly not talking of that day of a hailstorm or the day, somebody gave me a doodh ka gilas because nobody did that. But, well I can’t talk of that day to you today, and nor I am going to talk of it on some other day. Let’s say for the sake continuation of this thought that judgment day for me came some ten years after I had learnt about the art and the nuances, and what do you think, I was confident like a sexpert? No, Sir, I was shivering in my pants. I would have ended up telling my partner the stories that I had learnt in my childhood, but she happened to be a thorough professional. She was very focused and was not interested in anything but the job at hand. In my childhood, I was fond of listening to the stories and now I am fond of telling those. I think many people here know what GIGO is and those who don’t can Google for finding what it is. In my childhood I had a lot of ‘GI’ and after years of regurgitation “GO” part of GIGO comes out of me effortlessly and since playing with words is what I like to do, so here is this Gigo for you.

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Navneet Bakshi

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Ushasurya
Ushasurya
1 year ago

:)))

Prasad Ganti
Prasad Ganti
1 year ago

Navneet saheb, well expressed feelings of most of us as children,imagining the unknown !

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