Karma Sutra- Adventure Of A Street Bum by Rajendra Menen

Author:Rajendra Menen [Menen, Rajendra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers India
Published: 2012-01-18T00:00:00+00:00

He then tells me that he is in love. ‘Come, meet her,’ he says. ‘Her name is Preeti. She is a streetwalker. She says that she wants to be my wife and give me children and cook for me. Tell me if you like her. No, no, she said that she would stop going with other men after marriage. What will happen if I fall ill? I am alone in this city. I need someone to look after me, no?’

He strides off. I join him. We walk to a row of autorickshaws on the street. In one of them, parked under a tree, is Preeti. ‘Look who I got,’ he tells her proudly, flashing his big smile. Zanzy thinks I am a foreigner and wants to introduce me to everybody as his friend. It pushes him up the social ladder. Preeti is thin and short and is dressed in a yellow floral salwar kameez. She is heavily made up and wears red platform shoes. ‘Hello,’ I say. ‘Zanzy talks a lot about you.’ She smiles and they hold hands. They talk a bit and she tells him that it is a busy time for her and they will meet later. She says a sweet goodbye to both of us and the rickshaw pushes off. She will drive around and pick up men. Sometimes, the love-making is in the vehicle. That’s easy. The cops can’t harass a rickshaw on the move. If the customer wants more space and doesn’t mind the bribes he has to pay for the comfort, they go to the one-hour rooms nearby.

We walk back for more beer. ‘Do you like her?’ asks Zanzi. ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ Yes, I tell him, but you don’t have to rush into marriage. Hold on a while. You are still very young. He thinks and says, ‘Yes, I agree. Everybody has fucked her. Won’t it be strange marrying a girl everyone has fucked? How will I be sure that she won’t fuck others behind my back? And then if she gets pregnant from some other man, I will have to give the child my name. Yes, you are right. I must not marry her.’ This is not what I had in mind, but there seems no point in explaining anything to Zanzy. He has already moved on. He also keeps talking and manufacturing his own conclusions.

Over the next few months, Zanzy takes me to all the holes in the suburbs around Juhu. We walk through slum colonies that can get claustrophobic even for rodents. But the hovels are thriving with human life. Like birds that have made nests, every type of material, from asbestos and wood to mud, cement and thatching, is used to build homes. Somehow, everyone finds a way to live. The human being is truly indestructible and ingenuous. The flesh trade is also flourishing everywhere: the poorer the quarter, the more virulent its form.

Zanzy tells me about his clients. ‘One is a terrorist. He has bullet wounds all over his body.

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