Somewhere down the line when you look at the past, you realize that it played a big part in shaping your psyche, your outlook. There are things which taught you, things which made you misanthrope; things which made you hate certain things, love certain things, hate love, love love etc. Circumstances carry so much worth in our life, to the extent that they shape our life. But what we forget is small things that made us happy. The minute details of life that made us what we are. Life is like a bitter chocolate, perhaps, a dark chocolate. Yup, with a concentration of 70% cocoa that goes into it. If you start relishing even the bitter parts of life, then life is nothing but ecstasy.
Mundane is what life becomes. Whatever we do that interests us, mellows down after a while. The passion diminishes. Every relationship goes through this, sooner or later. Fanaa never realized that it’s been two long years she’s been dating Rishabh. Perhaps she wasn’t dating him, she was in love. Madly. Craziest things she had done for him, still there was scope for more. Rishabh was the perfect guy. He took care of her religiously.

Yet, after two years, when there wasn’t a sign of things going mundane, she realized it’s getting mundane.

It was third year in college when Fanaa met Kabir through Rishabh. Kabir was Rishabh’s school time friend, and had migrated this year to the same college where Fanaa and Rishabh had their names engraved on walls. Where their chemistry was the most talked about in the physics lab. Where no one had the slightest chance of charming either of them.

Because Kabir was new to college, Rishabh and Fanaa hanged around with him, spent a considerable time with him. Their chemistry evolved in no time, and things spiced up soon. While Rishabh trusted Kabir like a real brother, Fanaa liked Kabir’s wits and attitude. Though initially these three hanged out at college hours, soon they started meeting after college as well, which was though the time Rishabh and Fanaa spent together, away from everyone.

But all good things have to come to an end, isn’t it? So Rishabh started going to his dad’s office, and hence, his absence at college increased. Though he made a point to meet Fanaa in the evenings, still, his presence at college was missed by her. Maybe she was so used to him, his company, that now the college looked alien to her. And that is when Kabir entered her life.

Kabir was more than meets the eyes, full of life and ready with wits all the time. The stories he had to tell had many a women blushing. His past relationships, encounters, stupidity and crazy attitude. He was not an emotional guy at all. A focused guy with a sharp mind. Which is what drew women closer to him. He was street smart, and used to get his work done any way. Not a single thing he left to fate.

Fanaa started enjoying his company because of his attitude. He made sure she didn’t miss Rishabh.

Another hot, sultry day. Fanaa and Kabir spent a considerable time at the library, speaking about random things. They were both talkative, and had many topics up their sleeves to make the conversation going. And then she realized that she’s got late. Kabir offered her lift to her house, which she readily accepted, because she had started trusting him.

Though it wasn’t something to remember, that drive was critical in shaping up Fanaa and Kabir’s relationship. Because after then, it became a routine. And then, long drives followed. Talks never seemed to cease. It only increased. So much so that they started speaking on phone late nights! And till mornings! They never knew what they were getting into.

She even started comparing the two. Though she loved Rishabh, her inclination was bent towards Kabir. She even had thoughts of Kabir as her guy. She was struggling with her thoughts, as she didn’t want this thing to happen. She respected Rishabh, loved him like anything. But Kabir was an addiction for her now. She can’t let go of him, his frivolous nature. She was getting greedy, as she wanted to have the cake, and eat it too. She justified each of her thoughts with something or the other. And was happy the way things were progressing. She was happy with the fact that Kabir was just a friend. But she treated him more than a friend. She even started sharing her personal life with him, her opinions, her views, everything.

“Why do men think of just one thing, why can’t they think beyond?” asked fanaa one day.

“Well, you women behave as if it’s something you don’t like. Why hide the fact?” came Kabir’s reply.

“Well, we do enjoy it, but don’t just make it public, or say, so obvious.”

“I know. Women can be so uncertain, just like their moods, their menstrual cycle, their bad hair days, their weight, their their, umm…”

“As if men are so damn focused? Why don’t I see men asking for directions then?”

“Oh c’mon Fanaa, it’s not that men show themselves as despo, they just try to flirt, that’s it.”

“You know there’s a very thin line between flirtation and vulgarity? A glance is okay, but what about a gawk? An aged guy once was scratching his crotch area in a café, sitting next to me, staring at me, smirking. Was that flirting? Guys do such horrendous things. And they also think that they are Genghis Khan on bed.”

“Aren’t they?”

“It’s a woman who makes them feel like a certain Genghis Khan, and not them.”

“But that would only happen naa when a woman enjoys ‘it’?”

“No. Women most of the time fake it. If we can have multiple orgasms, doesn’t mean we enjoy ‘it’ more than you guys, or have it always. You guys just leave after you’re done. How about spending a while just loitering around with her after you are through with ‘it’? Is it a thing too much to ask for, just to make a woman feel happy and not feel like a slut?”

“You are right Fanaa. I’d stay with you for a while after we’re done.”

“What? What did you say? With me?”

“Well, if you so insist…”

“Here, that’s where the problem lies. Talk to him about certain things, and he’ll take it as opportunity.”

“Tell me frankly, have you enjoyed ‘it’ with Rishabh?”

“Well, aren’t you getting personal Kabir?”

“Oops, I’m sorry Fanaa. I just thought we were friends.”

“Yaa, but…okay, Rishabh and I have not done ‘it’ till now. Ours is a beautiful relationship.”

“Ooohk. Well, then how come you gave me so much gyaan?”

“I hear it from my friends.”

“Chuck it Fanaa. All bullshit. You have to experience ‘it’ to talk about it.”

“Okay. I won’t argue then. Chal good night now.”

After that call, an argument as it seemed, Fanaa couldn’t sleep that night. She kept thinking of Rishabh. Why have she not let him go beyond the limits? Maybe he respected her a lot, had a certain image of hers that she is really a nice girl. It wasn’t that she wasn’t. But…

Kabir called on her mobile early in the morning, at 5am. As she picked up the phone and he said, “You know what Fanaa, I just had a dream.” Fanaa was still in a deep slumber, so she just said, “Hmmm.”

“I dreamt of we making love!”

“What?” now Fanaa’s slumber vanished.

“Yeah. I just dreamt. And as we reached an orgy, with you reaching multiples. Then I came back to my senses, so called you to tell you.”

“Crazy you are.”

“Arre, it was just a dream, and I can’t dream it deliberately naa.”

“What’s on your mind though reflects in your dreams as well.”

“Really? Umm, I didn’t have a detailed imagery in my mind though.”

“So what was on your mind, Kabir?”

“You really want to know?”

“Ya, I do.”

“When I slept last night, I had an urge to kiss you, taste the juices of your lips. I wanted to hold you by your waist, and kiss around your ear lobes, your neck, the collar bone. I somehow wanted to run my tongue around your navel. Wanted to cup your boobs, hug you tight, caress your lovely back, run my fingers down south, and…”

The phone was disconnected.

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  Part Two


It was August, and on the 7th, dawn revealed a dark, cumulus overcast. Fanaa called Kabir and asked him if he could pick her up for college. It’s been a week since she had spoken to him. He obliged, and came in his car.

They were silent. The song by Beatles whirled in the interiors of the car, and when his favorite number came, Kabir pitched up the volume.

And when I touch you I feel happy inside
It"s such a feeling that my love
I can"t hide, I can"t hide, I can"t hide

Yeh, you"ve got that something
I think you"ll understand
When I"ll feel that something
I wanna hold your hand
I wanna hold your hand


She wasn’t looking at him. But outside. The air was pregnant with moisture. People were hurriedly walking down the road, trying to escape from the violent wind. Women’s saris streaming in the wind. Hawkers holding on to their turbans. Other vendors putting a sheet of cover over their shop. Ants looking busier, in the quest to reach their destination.

And then there was another set of multitude that enjoyed the billowing fresh breeze. Cyclists riding in the middle of the road, crisscrossing. Bikers slowing down and enjoying the thrusting wind. Pedestrians opening their arms wide open, as if trying to stop the approaching breeze. For them, this was nature’s reward for going through the torturous summer.

The blacks of the sky made the perfect contrast to the whites of the horizon. The ash grey clouds were making their presence felt with the thunderous noises. As if they would burst out in a drunken rage. Everyone was waiting for that very moment. To be rewarded, to be drenched.

And then, the clouds busted. Water foaming like champagne spilled all over as if the Rain God had himself uncorked the bottle. The rain marked its arrival in a gala way, hissing on the streets, falling in a sequence with a buzzing noise, making a perfect sonata. The strong gust of rain accompanied with the violent wind clashed with everything on their way - roof-tops, canopies, etc. Streets were gurgling with murky water with newly-formed streams tip-toeing their way onto the shallowest place. Every avenue was carpeted by bright yellow and red flowers. Some of them side-lined in a heap around the pavements. The sight was surreal, ambience ethereal.

As he parked the car and they both came out, the blowing spume welcomed them by cleansing their faces. The uncertain rain had lashed down the college as well. They hurriedly walked past the admin. block and reached the old block, where classes were no longer held. Isolated, this place acted as prime importance to the students who wanted to chill out. Lovers who wanted some space. Big groups who wanted an ‘adda’, or c-cart as they fondly called it.

Fanaa followed Kabir who took up the stairs and went to one of the classes on the first floor. He entered a class and gasped, “What a view, wow, see the green cover man, this is monsoon at its best.”

Fanaa looked out of the window, and a smile curled at the edge of her lips. She took her hands out of the windows and enjoyed the drops. And then, she cupped her hands, and sprinkled the reserved water on his face. He followed suit. They were enjoying a lot. Her giggles filled this stained, dingy room with a refreshing air. Water coming out from the creaks on the walls looked like small streams, smiling at the squeaks of their laughter.

After some time, they both sat on a bench, close. Fanaa was still looking outside, at the cascading water, and Kabir was looking at her. Her cascading wet hair. “Your hair look beautiful when wet”, he said, while running his fingers through the wisps of her hair and flicking a wet, stray strand off her face that had been tickling her. While his finger brushed through her cheek as he adjusted her hair, it titillated her more. She smiled and said, “Thanks.”

They kept quite for a moment. Kabir was about to put his hand behind her back, as she questioned, “So what was your dream, Kabir?”

Her fists were clenched, sinews of her jaw tightened. He held her hand, looked into her eyes, and asked, “Would you really want to hear it?” She answered with a pout and a shrug, followed by a smile.

He came closer and whispered in her ears, “I dreamt of making love. We were closer than this. Your body tightly held with mine. And it all started with a peck.”

“With a peck?” she looked puzzled.

He kissed her on her cheeks. And then on her neck. And then again came back near to her left ear and said, “A peck isn’t a peck if there’s no fire.” His warm breath titillated her. She wanted to tilt her head to her left where his face was, and experience that breath on her face.

“And…?” she looked interested. Her heart heaving.

Troubles last as long as one tear wept, and joy, is eternal, like soul. And here, the trouble was joy! He lifted her face by her chin, tilted it to his side and looked deep into her ricocheting eyes. “These doe-like eyes. Just as I dreamt, these roving, black eyes. You know, you looked as beautiful when you came so close. I couldn’t get out of that image, of your face so close to mine, your eyes speaking the truth, craving.”

A heap of complex thoughts populated her yet impassive face. This intimacy wasn’t what she was used to. He circled his hands around her neck and brought her close. She drew herself close to him, to make herself more comfortable, more intimate. He kissed under her ears, and then her collar-bone. Her breathing grew heavier. He knew how she’s feeling, and then kissed on the edge of her shoulders, by sliding her top a little. She liked it, as her heavy breathing was testimony to that.

Then he held her face with both of his hands, and gasped, “Beautiful.” She was still looking at his eyes. He brought his lips closer to hers, but she leant back. He came closer again, leaning forward, and she titled her face to the right. He still kissed her, on her cheeks. His kisses were wet, yet tedious. It seemed he had a lot of patience. He kissed her cheeks, and slowly started kissing on the left, till he kissed the far edge of her upper lip. It was cold. He loved it. He stuck to that area, as he was enjoying it. Then she gave the green signal by kissing him back. He now sucked her tiny lower lip. The cold, juicy lip was too much for him to handle. The insipid wet lips just made their way. He got aggressive and kissed her more. The inner part of her lips, the juicier bits. She did the same, and fondly sucked his thick lower lip.

She opened her eyes, only to see him staring at her eyes. Eyes were speaking a thousand words today. And then, they both tilted their faces and kissed, and he involuntary wagged his tongue, to give the hint. She resisted for some time, but gave in. Now they both were enjoying the French kiss. They were kissing violently, wagging their tongues inside out, here and there, leaving no room for breath. The exchange of juices seemed far more intimate than anything right now.

Indians traditionally regard monsoons as a period of torrid sexuality. And why shouldn’t they? The rain had made the weather a lot more intimate, air a lot more titillating, backdrop a lot more surreal and ambience a lot more romantic.

While hugging her tight, he was caressing her back. After the kisses got a lot more passionate, he slid his hands under her top and started caressing her creamy back. That was arousing for her, and she did the same. She could feel his sturdy back as they cleaved. She was titillated, and just felt as if she’s walking on dew that lay on the wet grass on a misty winter morning.

And then he caressed her with his fingers. They withdrew. He touched her face, caressed her lips with the tip of his fingers. She wanted to bite them. He caressed her neck, then ran his fingers through the contours of her breast. She wanted him to grab them. He drew a straight line from her throat to the navel, and then, stopped at her denims. With such ease, before she could even react, he opened the button and freed the zip. She held his hand. He said, “Stop me only if you are not enjoying it.” She closed her eyes, leaned back, and let him do all he fancied while she shivered, and had obscured desires.

He snapped her pink laced panties. She was now breathing heavily, yet again. He pulled down the panties a little, and played with her hair. Encircled them, twined, twirled, curled, and scratched. Slowly, steadily, after making her comfortable, he went down further. He could feel the wetness. His zealous fingers wandered inside the furrow in the center, rubbing everything which came in the way. His touch was friendly and tender. Just as she trusted his instincts, one finger freed itself and ventured to a spot where she could not resist herself. She felt a slight burning, and enjoying that burning, and opened her thighs. His finger went inside that secret garden, and a moaned escaped from her mouth while she quivered. She came back to her senses, withdrew his hands and closed her thighs. “No more of this”, she said, decidedly.

After they vacated the building, the rain had stopped. The bright flowers that bloomed, now looked so fresh, the flamboyant butterflies looked so colorful, the leaves still holding drops of water looked so verdant, the vibgyor skies looked so dreamy, the chirpy birds looked so happy. The air was suddenly fluid and sparkling. An opaque strip of shower over the horizon briefly glittered with a rainbow luminescence after being touched by those sunbeams. Water murmuring on the streets played a symphony very well known.

The tempo of rain may have decreased, but theirs had just starting steeping!
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Part