Thursday, July 05, 2007

Jhoomey badariya [the clouds are dancing]

U performed a titillating rain dance for me last night. I had to get down on my knees and beg for it. But it was supremely worth it. Because he did it right outside the men’s loo in office. Which sounds so much better, so much more suggestive, when said like that, but the truth is that our ‘wing’ [if one room be wing enough] of the office happens to nearly share the door with the men’s loo, which is beginning to sound much bigger than the office itself, but it isn’t, it’s just a 3 ft by 3 ft cubicle, which is also probably why it’s such a landmark -- for the sounds and smells it cannot contain. The sounds and smells that it leaks into the kitchen that is less than three feet across from it. Predictably, U & I shoot up a heady cocktail of the most confusing smells each day. Warm coffee and urine. Sometimes it’s warm chick peas, pre and post lunch; or warm coffee, urine, chick peas and beans - pre and post lunch. The one uniformity, however, is that the smell is always warm, like an almost-tangible presence.

But this is about U’s rain dance which he performed in tune with the raunchy rendition of a titillating hindi rain song - one of those it’s that time of the year, oh darling; my body aches, and it pines and it shudders so for the rain… and yooooo; accompanied by some suitably loud and appropriately lascivious laughter from a leery eyed would’ve-cracked-whip-if-she-could-let-go-of-her-bladder dominatrix [famously given to referring to herself in third person when in denial - so clever is her manipulation of English Grammar].


When we were little, The Sibling and I would take great pleasure in dressing a littler U up in our longest skirts and mum’s dupatta and pasting our crayola make up on him with a vengeance [very eighties electric blue eye shadow and rude red lipstick]. Then we would make him dance to Geeta Dutt’s mud mud kena dekh, mud mud ke [don’t keep turning around and looking at me…]. which he did obligingly for his two scary, on-their-way-to-becoming-dominas older cousins.

Happy times.


Revisited. He was just as obliging yesterday. He writhed, and he swung and he wiggled his bottom, flailing his arms sensually with bust thrusts that kept time with his song. By the time he stamped his feet to his last bust thrust, I nearly peed in my pants, because just then a very frightened young intern emerged from the men’s loo, with an expression of discomfort mingled with terror... and determination.

“I shan’t let the boss’ son seduce me.”

Ever. Never. No.

13 comments:

B Ditty said...

what if the boss's son was Johnny Depp?

B Ditty said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Jhoomey badariya in barnsley (well ok, they're not dancing, but they're there, heavy and menacing said...

Oh, I wonder what constitutes a deleted post...has someone been naughty H?

"So clever is her manipulation of the English Grammar"....we're really not worthy H...

I just wondered if it would be possible for you to direct us to the song that your sweet cousin U titillatingly danced to. Y'know like how HB's posts on songs would lead us to the song itself if you clicked on the title. I know it sounds like a royal pain in the arse, but c'mon luvvie, indulge oos will yer? (said in a Barnsley accent)

If yo do that, I'll dance to it and maybe post it on youtube... No? Ok, just thought I'd try ...

Saif Ali said...

I wanna see the dance. and I would let him

H said...

Ben, if the boss' son was Johnny Depp then the intern was Orlando Bloom. Nah. I don't think so.

Barnslian Cloud, when I saw 'deleted comment', I too expected the same. unfortunately it was just a repeat of a comment. sigh. But dahling, I really would like to post the song, only thing is that It's U's bastardised version of many many hindi film & folk songs. But if I do come across a song that sounds close enough, I *swear* i'll post it here.

Saif, first, tell me, it couldn't be U or the Wife because they're both equally bad with remembering blogspot addresses. But Nice! welcome. And I'm just rushing over to add you to my side bar :-) [because I'm such the Indian hostess] But you're just being ironic, I KNOW, especially since you're one entire Cathay Pacific filght away, that it really wouldn't matter, would it? But they again... What did they call you when you were a wee bwoy?

Right.

yes.

The full monty boy.

Lizza said...

I'd say the intern deserved what he got for his probably contribution to your workplace's rather pungent-sounding olfactory atmosphere.

And the thought of you and the Sibling attiring U in drag when you were kids is priceless!

Prude said...

ha ha ha Damn cool!!!

U make the boss's son dance to ur tunes???

houseband00 said...

I am laughing my pants off (figuratively!)! =)

Did you make him do the running man? =)

H said...

Lizza. Well okay, I’ll admit that I stretched the truth a bit. Our office really isn’t all that smelly [at all], but YES, for the sake of this post, I agree with you. He SO deserved it. [Poor boy, I hope he doesn’t leave at the end of the month].
True, it’s more than priceless. Especially since it reflects on how well we trained him in those early formative years. Fond memories.

Prude, ;-) yes. I do. I’m so powerful and well placed in life. I rule.

HB, hahaha. I couldn’t make him do the running man even if I did a striptease on my knees. You see, U has his likes and dislikes. And I *completely* respect that.

NanNan said...

The visual is hilarious--- a little harsh on those olfactory nerves,,, office loos,, that is!!

H said...

hmm, if you hadn't clarified Nan, I'd still be wondering ;-)

govind said...

If I stop grinning my head off I might actually have something meaningful to say about this post... but it really was beautiful... sometimes, H, you get it so friggin... _right_...

H said...

Govind, yes, U's performances are that inspiring.