Monday, 21 April 2014

Medium Size And The Lady

For the first time, a guest post is being featured on my blog, and the wonderful thing is, it's from my good friend Anunoy Samanta. I've known Anunoy for around a year now and it has always been fun to read his stories. Apart from being unique and creative, he always manages to incite laughter from his readers. Read on for a good chuckle. 

The door bell rang at a critical moment and the chore remained unfinished. Truly said, nothing happens before its time. He wrapped up the towel again with thousand “whomsoever it may concern” curses and flashed water in the empty pan. An ill fated cockroach peeped out from under the folded toilet seat and took a gust of insecticide spray; after all, there had to be someone to take the first blow of fully dismayed Bholanath before the late morning visitor.

Out of habit, which his ex-wife misinterpreted as obsessive compulsive disorder, he washed his hands thrice with three different soaps (antiseptic, moisturiser and fragrant respectively). Meanwhile the bell chimed again. Whatever irritation the late cockroach had dampened by sacrificing its life got re-added to Bholanath’s mood and he ran like a rodent to open the door. In the fraction of second he had rehearsed what exactly to preach to his stranger about calling-bell etiquette.

Five years ago, after watching a Hollywood movie where a good guy gets killed by a bullet through his keyhole, Bholanath had discarded the idea of keeping a keyhole in his apartment door. He preferred to open the door with a jolt because, if the person outside the door is a shady character, he would surely get baffled by the host’s boldness and probably would not dare to fire a bullet into Bhola’s head (at least!).

With a jerk the door was opened. There was an early middle aged petite lady in a navy blue georgette sari, with a company logo over her left bosom and a file supported on her right arm.

It didn’t matter whether it was a woman or man, for Bholanath there was no gender biasness. Holding the door half open, he hawked his voice one final time and started, “Look madam, there’s a way to visit somebody’s house…”

The stranger cut him in the middle with her telephonic but sweet tone “A very good morning sir, I’m Trisha Tewari from Easy Survey India and we’re here to offer you one of our exquisite products…”

Bholanath didn't like to be overruled in a conversation, especially so while talking with a woman. Slightly raising his voice with a cocktail of sarcasm, “When you come to offer something to someone you actually don’t get a license to dust off peace out of his home. Calling bell etiquette is something to be learnt in childhood and nobody can climb high without being a patient calling bell presser. Right now you may feel I’m the worst person you’ve met along your career but I tell you, there’re very few people left in this world to put the truth before you as it is!”

The survey lady could read the non-stop lecturing ability of the bald man in white towel. She took half a minute and recomposed herself with a professional smile, “Sincere apology sir. You’re an excellent teacher indeed. If you'd kindly grant me your precious five minutes I may proceed with my brief questionnaire.”

For the first time Bholanath noted the extra whiteness of Trisha’s teeth. She must have spent her whole month’s salary on a dentist, he thought. He always had the notion that whatever a working woman earns, she uses it irrationally on herself, leaving the entire family expenditure on her husband’s already overburdened shoulders. “Make it fast”, he reminded.

“Sir, do you believe in the saying ‘Bada Hai To Behtar Hai (bigger the better)?” Trisha shot her first question with the open pen.

“Well, not always… I won’t prefer a jeep over my car as there’s no space for that in our apartment parking” he justified.

Next question was asked, “What is your idea of ultimate pleasure? Sir, your options are- a brimming Swiss bank account, 365 nights with Monika Belucci, an early retired life in some European countryside or become a cabinet minister of India?"

Although Bholanath had no idea of the person in the second option, he wouldn’t have gone for it even if it was Sridevi. He couldn’t suppress the callous smile, “Off course I’d anytime go with your last option”

“What a philanthropic thought sir! Would you be kind enough to choose one among four of my food options- Pizza Hutt, a five star buffet, some highway Punjabi dhaba or home food?” Trisha continued looking at her sheet with a glint in her eyes.

Bholanath hated dining out as he thought it more fitting to American economy. There had been countless arguments with Smriti, his ex, regarding this. Every time she had to call out her friends or cousins, she really wanted to have outside food. The disappointed husband stabilised the family economy by making dalia-meal for his dinner on those nights! “What can be healthier and more satisfying than home meal?” Bhola shrugged without an inch of doubt.

Unlike other men, Bholanath’s gaze never stepped down the prominent contour of her chin, yet there was a mark of sudden discomfort evident over her face. Her extra efforts not to look back at Bholanath and sudden condensed drops of perspiration over her forehead couldn’t escape Bhola’s attention.

“Are you thirsty?” he showed slight concern.

“Sir, which flavour do you like most- chocolate, vanilla, strawberry or banana?” she wiped off her sweat with a hanky and asked it in hurry.

“No, I’m not fond of any ice cream” he fumbled and resumed, “Listen if you’re not feeling well you may come in and have some water.”

“Sir, it’s our last question, do you like it over the top or you prefer staying low?” Trisha tossed it in a single breath.

“I always like being at top as I can’t take others’ shits over my head. But how come it’s the last question, I can see you’re merely halfway down your survey sheet? I’m sure it’s the early morning heat that has done the trick. I insist, please come in and revive yourself”, Bholanath started feeling bad for being rude earlier. He knew that something was wrong but didn’t know what it was.

“Sir, thank you so much for your hospitality and cooperation. I appreciate your honest answers. Here’s a small gift for you. Do use it and oblige us with your valuable feedback” Trisha handed over postcard size parcel wrapped in thin brown paper and gave a swift turnaround down the stairs before he could conclude the event with a formal ‘thank you’.

“Unprofessional lady” Bholanath chuckled while closing his apartment door. Oops, something restricted him from closing the door. He saw a white towel lying in between the frame and the door. A direct current ran down Bhola’s past middle aged spine… he discovered himself standing naked at his flat entrance!

It took good fifteen minutes for Bholanath to get a control over his nerves. Meanwhile he has taken a shower and three-four glasses of water. How could he even not perceive for a second throughout the survey session that he was without a thread! A surreal weakness overpowered him and he called to his office to inform of his bad health. He still couldn’t digest that some unknown Trisha Tewari had vividly witnessed his private parts! Suddenly the brown parcel drew his notice.

He was baffled to find a packet of imported multi-flavour dotted condom inside it. “Oh my God, I met a whore in the morning!” he grumbled, throwing the box onto the magazine rack. As the condom box rolled over the rack, the other side came to the view. “Size- Medium” was written in bold italics.

Bholanath took out a sample from the box and stretched it fully as if measuring it precisely with his veteran eyes. He sniffed it twice and then threw into the dustbin. He ran into the bedroom and stood before the dressing table mirror, slowly unfolding his towel. As the towel parted with his hip, he closed his eyes and stood still indefinitely till a daytime mosquito targeted his exposed bum. With a deep sigh Bholanath left the scene and logged into internet. He composed a mail addressing to Easy Survey India. At least it required ten times editing before the mail could be sent. The email read something like this:

Dear Sir,

This is to thank you for considering my opinion in your ongoing survey and off course for the pleasant gift from your side. Although it matters least, yet I was wondering whether you’re supplying same sized condom packets to every participant. I’ll eagerly wait for your reply.

Sincerely yours,

Mr Bholanath Poddar.


  1. Thank you so much Pankti ji....I am not thanking you for publishing it but for speaking so good about me in the first para....i am buttered. :-P
    just a slip of key i suppose, please check the 5th or 6th para "Holding the door half open, the he hawked his voice one final time"- that 'the' needs to be deleted right? :)

    1. Thank you Sirji...rectified the error :)

      Don't know how I introduced it :/

  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

  3. Nice story. Don't you think the title should have been "A lady and the recalcitrant towel" instead?

    1. NSV, I messed up the title. See the corrected title :)

  4. Ha Ha. Cool one. Total out of the blue ending.

    1. Glad that you enjoyed Karthik sir :)

  5. Entertaining and nicely written story which held my attention to the end. Thanks for sharing.

  6. Class take. Indeed hilarious read through and through.