The Other Way of All Flesh

Take 1

You are sitting next to her. Her fragrance reaches you, and you can tell there is some exotic scent on. You are explaining to her some dumb Newtonian equation the solution to which you think she knows already. She is all smiles and excited. You can notice each vibration in her voluptuous body, and perhaps she can in yours too.

But that is not the point, because you are looking at her face, at her steep nose, flushed cheeks and beautiful mouth (and you notice her lower lip in particular). You keep avoiding her eyes, and eventually you look down to her lovely bosoms, and you suddenly look away, or into the book, or at the end of the pencil that you are chewing. You don’t want her to catch you looking there.

God knows where she has been looking at!

You spend the next few minutes talking about the laws of motion, and now you look up at her. She looks back at you, drinking every word you say. You love it. You love her too. You love her rosy cheeks and lovely bosoms and you love her lips too, but you can’t tell her because she is supposed to be in love with one of your friends, or so they say, or so she should be.

You shrug off and tell her all about definite integration, though you think it is pointless. She suddenly coughs. You look up and and catch a glimpse of her nipples through her blouse and you look up and find her looking at you. You struggle with yourself to decide if you saw a hint of invitation in her eyes. You believe you did, but you are afraid of being rejected and you think you are too young for that.

She coughs again. You find yourself wondering if you could know what is going inside her mind. You stand up to leave and hope that there will be a better tomorrow.

But the tomorrow you have been waiting for all these evenings doesn’t come. She doesn’t ask you to come again the next day.

And you spend your nights undressing her in your dreams.

Take 2

You two talk for a long time. She loves telling you all about her life, though she never mentions Jay.

The windows are open and the lights have been switched off. The few rays that manage to come in get lost behind her hair and you have difficulty in figuring out the details of her face. You are lost. Everybody around has forgotten you and you are lost.

There are a million thoughts in you mind and you can’t concentrate because you are listening to her. May be she doesn’t want you to think of anything. May be she doesn’t want you to think of anything else.

You kiss her cheeks. She doesn’t stop talking about her boring friends. You kiss her neck where you feel her skin to be the warmest, and she doesn’t stop talking about her teachers. You touch her lips. She still doesn’t stop talking about the stupid girl next door. Then you kiss her eyes, and everything stops abruptly. You feel the warmth of her body spreading through your own body and reaching your guts. She is tender and soft.

In that forgotten room surrounded by silence and light and darkness and a few human beings in the next room who never knew what it is to be young and kiss a girl, you believe you have been kissing her for ages and yet when overcome by the silence you remove your lips, you know it must have been for a few seconds, so touched you are by her unexpected silence. She resumes talking about that stupid bitch in her class at once.

You take a stroll on the roof together. It rains.

You feel there is something that needs to be said, or done, and you don’t know what it is. Perhaps it is something she wants you to do. You feel worried.

In the meantime, she wonders what are you going to do to her that night.

She wants you to see her new dress, a pink one. She is happy being there with you. You take her hand in your hands and look at her unusually long fingers.

Long after she ceased loving, and long after you ceased knowing what it is to be young and kiss a girl, you know the both of you’ll share an intimacy the reason for which she will not remember.

You feel sad and you look at her. She is so beautiful. You imagine what it would be like to hold her soft and tender little breasts in your hands.

You keep undressing her in your dreams but you are frustrated because you don’t know what to do next. You want to know if sex means holding her breasts in you hands, but you are too shy to ask.

Then, one day, you discover all by yourself that you can do a lot more than just fiddling with her breasts, and you feel you have grown up.

Take 3

She is in her pink dress and she is sitting next to her mother who is sitting next to you. But you do have some space behind her mother (who is leaning forward so that she could talk to your parents who are sitting at the front) where you can talk to each other. You are headed for a marriage party. You are glad to be back after such a long time in spite of the frivolous pretext.

You look at the back of her ugly fat mother and wonder how somebody so beautiful could be born to someone so unbecoming. You look at the revolting flabs hanging at the back of her mother and you can’t help feeling disgusted. But then, you look at her eyes and then feel her warm breath on your cheek and you loose track of everything else.

You draw yourself still closer to her and in the meantime check if you can see your parents. You can’t, and there is no way her fat mother can turn back without the two of you back in your seats first.

You look back at her. She has large brown eyes and she is giggling and saying something that you don’t hear. She loves your attentive silence and you love her torrent of words which you don’t listen to. You reach her and take out the hairbands so that her curly hair falls on her face. And then, you kiss her on the lips.

You pull back the moment after because you are afraid of being caught. Your heart is beating very fast. You can’t think straight for the next few minutes. But something tells you that you mustn’t think and before you could calm down, you are kissing her again.

You think it is wonderful.

You are feeling her lower lip in your mouth and you want to feel as much of it as you can. You feel intoxicated by the smell of orange on her lips. You are trying very hard and she suddenly pulls away.

There is a small ‘pop’ but it is drowned by the roaring engine amongst the noises around you. You are so much lost inside your mind that you take a few moments before you could register that noise as conversation. She is saying something to your parents about her academic plans. They turn to look at you and ask some empty question that you don’t understand. You just nod your head. They are used to it.

You look at her lips and notice the dark flushed red they have become. You become aware of your own lips which she had been kissing a few moments back and you feel frustrated.

She turns back at you. You lean towards her but you don’t say anything to her. You are looking away at the moon through the window and she also doesn’t say anything for the next half of an hour.

You are not thinking of anything. You try to avoid all thoughts but by the time you turn your gaze from the window back to her again, You have already been through all those moments you lived a short while back.

Before you become conscious of anything else, you find yourself kissing her again and this time you are careful to be soft, taking turns at her upper and lower lips. They are so soft and you have never felt anything like this before. You can feel her tongue around your own lips. The harder she squeezes, the better you like it. You try to feel the inside of her mouth with your own tongues.

And it never ends.



Soumendra is someone else.
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5 Responses to The Other Way of All Flesh

  1. Soumendra says:

    When I was fourteen, I read a translation of a chapter from Ernest Hemingway’s A Moveavle Feast in which he described his early days of struggle as a writer. It left me feeling dazed for days, so impressive was the impact of his writing even when translated to an incompatible language.I had never read anything so forceful.

    I never read the book an english, and I never read anything else from that book. The mannerism of this story is what I remember from that novel. This is how (but not what) I have imagined the original english might have been like.

  2. Sucharit Sarkar says:

    Have you ever kissed a girl behind the revolting flabs hanging at the back of her ugly fat mother?

    I never knew what it is to be young and kiss a girl, so I really can’t say, but from the description of things, it seems quite impossible.

  3. Somnath says:

    Pagla! Pagla! Jiyo!

  4. Soumendra says:

    Well, I almost did.

    I don’t know what stopped me from actually doing it, I guess not wanting to get involved with someone you don’t feel much for.

    But honestly, this is just a work of fiction as far as I am concerned. Everyone likes talking to me, and they tell me so much! This story is the second one in a trilogy of love stories I have picked from people I know.

    And don’t worry, I also never knew what it is to be young and kiss a girl. I guess I’ll be kissing damsels left right and all over the place someday, but whether I’ll be young or not remains to be seen.

  5. Just too cool….I will never know what it is “to be young and kiss”…since I already kissed a girl when I am not young….but this description is so very arousing and exotic…I love it…Thats what we really care as far as I feel…enjoyed every word of it…..

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