OPINION

Fiction: The Nano Acid Test

January 18, 2008
Deepti Lamba

“Fuck….Fuck ….FUCK!!!” she switched off the cell phone and stared out of the passenger window of the Nano. She felt every bump and every pothole. This wasn’t how she had figured her date would be. The creep from ShaadiBharat.com smiled at her painfully. Things could not have gone more wrong. She was a high flying Vice President working for a Wall Street bank, and he was the owner of a fleet of Nanos. But he looked nothing like a Nano. He looked like a hairy Gorilla shortshifting the gears. A Gorilla in a Nano; no, she saw no reason to smile; her mother wanted her to marry the Gorilla. image006.jpg

She could imagine him pawing her nude body; gawd, she'd rather he wringed her
neck and squeezed the very breath out of her body. The headline would read Murdered by a Gorilla under the Hosur Elevated Highway.

“Trouble at work?” He asked

She sighed and looked at him. He was no Gorilla, more like a stuffed Elephant and she was his ugly passenger, the Olive in need of saving by Popeye. But Popeye had left her for his luscious secretary.

“My boyfriend jilted me for his secretary.” She replied abruptly.

“Wow” he shifted on the small seat. “So, was this before or after you looked up guys on ShaadiBharat.com?”

She grinned; the Elephant had an imp’s mind.

“My mom did the looking. I was blackmailed into meeting men.”

“A thirty five year old had mommy doing the leg work for her? Tut…tut.” He winked at her.

“And you are a forty year old man driving a Nano. What does that say about you?”

He guffawed.

“That I am a loser?” He avoided a cow that was sitting in the middle of the road and smoothly drove in and out of a line of rickety rackety colorful Indian trucks.

“These babies are my bread and butter.” He patted the steering wheel.

“I own fifteen of them. All prospective candidates have to sit in one of my babies at least once. Instead of three wheelers, people use these little angels of mercy and my wife must know I’m not doing it for money alone”

“Angels of mercy my ass! Literally my ass- it hurts! The seats are uncomfortable, there is no leg space, even a bullock cart seems to move faster than this and the engine sounds like a cat in heat!” She snorted

“Oh! You are such a whiny bitch! Were you like this with your recent ex as well?”

He smiled at her devilishly and in the passing shadows of road lights he looked more like a rogue lion than a goofy elephant.

She felt something unfurl in her mind. He was hot!

“Only when I am bought in touch with poverty for altruistic reasons”

His spluttered, coughed and cleared his throat.

“That was hitting below the belt ! Sugar daddy kept you well, did he now? Furs and Mercedes?”

“Gawd, you Indians don’t think beyond a Mercedes. And, no, he drove a Ferrari. Can you imagine a Ferrari in Manhattan? The man was a real moron.”

“Why were you with him? BTW, that glitzy mall is called Forum. We have lots of them mushrooming up.” He pointed to the mall and accelerated. The road was empty and the car strained at 70km/hr

“I was with him for his money.” He looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“Don’t believe me?”

He shrugged

“He was sexy, intelligent, charismatic, powerful and wasn’t intimidated by-“

“Your –I am a bitch persona?”

“And what about your – 'I am so horny' net persona?”

“Oh, that I put on to keep women away.”

She looked at him in disbelief.

“What? You think only you have a mother?” he smiled sheepishly “She wants me to get married as well and you did fall for it”

She laughed and relaxed against the seat or tried to.

“Tata should export these seats to Guantanamo Bay to torture inmates.” she said.

“You are a Democrat, I take it?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Hillary supporter?”

“Yes. Is this going somewhere? Next you will call me an anti-men feminist.”

“Only because you are on a rebound; nothing to do with Hillary.”

She gasped.

“Are you a virgin?” She asked switching tactics.

“That’s a personal question.”

She stared at his profile, his nose looked hawkish.

“You know I’m not one, its your turn to tell me.”

“At forty you expect me to be one?”

She shrugged “It isn’t strange among desi men. Some die virgins.”

“How do you know? You have lived all your life in the US.”

“My dad was a desi.”

“But he wasn’t a virgin, right?”

“Was your dad a virgin before he met your mom?”

“Now you don’t expect me to ask my aged father that?”

“I’ll ask him if we get married. How’s that? I could never ask my dad, he died when I was child. I’ll ask yours.”

“I won’t put it past you. But we’d have to be pretty familiar before we could even think about marriage.” He replied pulling into the driveway of the Taj.

She held up her room card and smiled

“There is only one way to find out.”

Deepti Lamba is a writer, an editor for Desicritics. She can be found at Things That Bang
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#1
Jawahara
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January 18, 2008
11:30 AM

*giggles* I liked it.

#2
Aaman
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January 18, 2008
12:59 PM

Reminds of the immortal Veeru and Basanti, strangely:)

#3
commonsense
January 18, 2008
01:13 PM

wickedly, devilishly funny!

#4
temporal
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January 18, 2008
02:45 PM

heheh

liked it too

#5
temporal
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January 18, 2008
02:49 PM

ps:

the only detail missing was daler mehndi's recut of his old hit nano nano nano... as the couple yelled loudly over its loud beat

#6
Deepti Lamba
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January 18, 2008
10:16 PM

thanks guys:)

#7
smallsquirrel
January 19, 2008
05:11 AM

BRAVA! Dee!

nice one. I liked it. good story arc... cleverly written, and not overdone.

#8
Deepti Lamba
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January 19, 2008
12:17 PM

thanks SS, fictional quickies sometimes relax the mind;)

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