December 21, 2011

The haunted road

Wrote this short prose today while participating in a writing exercise in Facebook...

One cold winter night Lakdas took up the challenge: to bike his way from Konark to Puri via the Gop beach route. I know, I know. No one takes that road: except but the crack, the drunk, and the ignorant. Lakdas was drunk. So were we; but no one else dared take the road.

Legend has it that some five decades - no centuries - back the hot queen of Puri (its a legend. We don't know if she really was hot) had her private beach somewhere on the Gop marine drive. This is where she used to have her rave parties, her topless dance festivals, and many jizz sessions. Why - you ask? Why not? She was the queen. She would whore away her time as she desireth. Who are you to say?

And so the queen was having a good time while the king (her husband) was out on the borders fighting a futile war against the mighty Afghan Sher Shah Suri. Suri drove him from the battlefield and, unable to show his face to his subjects, came back to the capital in disguise. And lo! What does he find? There Sher Shah Suri was grinding his army and here his subjects were grinding his bitch. Enraged with this decadence he unsheathed his blade and chopped off every man and woman in the Queen's entourage. The queen was burnt alive in her own private beach.

Years, decades, heck centuries passed. But the Queen still haunts this road.She appears in the night and vanishes by daybreak. That fateful night Lakdas, drunk to the neck, took up the challenge and made his way for Gop beach.

Lakdas, his Royal Enfield Thunderbird (350CC, VPX model), and another fool of a guy riding pillion, pierce through the darkness as they prepare for an encounter with the enchantress. For some one hour there was nothing. The road was deserted, trees were dull, and Thunderbird strolled along in leisure.

Just as the road starts to seem predictable Lakdas sees a beautiful lady, a voluptous cougar, stand on the other side of the road. Her eyes show her naked yearn for young men. Her sari end has fallen off on the ground as she stands in invitation. Lakdas stops his vehicle and gapes at her amazing body (she sure is hot). Lakdas realises that he is under her control - that she has him hypnotised. In no time she would feast on him. He knows this, he understands this; but cannot do anything about it. His body seems to have forsaken his control.

I find it funny when Lakdas panics. Of course I have had too much alcohol, so I cannot be serious about my friend's plight. I feel guilty. I feel guilty that my mouth waters for the Queen's booty bulging out of a gold embroidered brassiere while my friend cries for help.

Wait! How can I see the queen? I had not taken this route. Only Lakdas had... Lakdas and the other fellow riding pillion.

Shit. I am the pillion rider. Am screwed.

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