Fiction: Burn After Viewing (NSFW)

February 27, 2009
Deepti Lamba


The fan made an irritating clucking noise and rotated above the Kalyan Sabha's chief ominously. The fan had been threatening decapitation since the socialist era but the head of the Sabha, Prakash, liked to live dangerously. Everything around him was perched precariously - the journals, the photos of his wife and kids but what were stacked neatly were pictures of semi nude and nude blondes in his mahogany desk drawer. He had cataloged them by year and by the time he masturbated to them in his office. He, after all, liked to live dangerously.

Dangerously enough to masturbate in his office but not stupid enough to have a whore give him a blow job while he fondled her teen boobs and stared hard at Pamela Anderson in her Baywatch bikini. He had an image to maintain. He was the white kurta guy and those in white kurtas never squirted on prostitutes and definitely not on their all male office staff in their not-so-Oval offices. He snickered at his own joke and fingered the key that was safely tucked in his kurta pocket.

Santosh Shrivastav was due any minute but he wanted to see his dolls one last time. He smacked his lips and felt a slight rise in his shriveled penis. Wait for Santosh or take a peek? It was post lunch time and the chaprasi was asleep and the other workers were snoozing in cool rooms in the arms of their paid by the hour beloveds. And he was bored.

He opened the drawer with one hand and held his tool with the other. Just one look. His index finger began to leaf through the stacked pictures. He knew them by heart - blond with small nipples, blond with big nipples, blond with three breasts, blond on blond, horse on blond and ah! his favorite Asian man on blond woman.

He pulled the picture out and smiled. The boy in his pajama smiled as well. He caressed his dong but the knock on the door snatched him back from the exquisite blond in a motel room to his shabby Sabha office.

"Choot!" he muttered, shoved the picture in the drawer, removed his inappropriately placed hand, tied the nala and turned the key on the drawer.

"Come!" he barked at the door. Stupid Shrivastav came at exactly three in the afternoon. Who comes on time? Only morons, he muttered to himself and grabbed one of the journals.

Shrivastav let himself in tentatively. For a man of his sizable girth, he walked lightly with a delicate elephantine gait. Rumor was he was somewhat gay. Unmarried and a bit of a loner. To put it bluntly, macho men made him nervous and he never showed interest in women.

Prakash didn't like him but he seemed to be the most cultured in his coterie of crass well-meaning bumbling workers. He was the only one who had his finger on the pulse of the urban middle class youth. Pansy Shrivastav was right for the job.

Shrivastav fidgeted on the hard wooden chair and his trouser-covered bums itched due to the holes in the woven strings of the chair's seat. Prakash sir seemed to be busy writing. Shrivastav clutched his file close to his chest. He reminded himself for the tenth time not to fold the file. It held important photographs.

Prakash finally emerged from his supposed work and eyed Shrivastav with a lofty eye.

"Yes, Shrivastavji, what do you have for me?" he asked

"Sir! The women have gone wild." He cleared his throat and nearly rolled the file. He took his white perfumed handkerchief out of his pocket and patted his sweaty forehead. They have started a Kali Sena drive against our Kalyan Sabha and here is a picture they have put up to symbolize their fight."


"What is this?" Prakash gasped. "Is that a woman? Is she showing her buttocks?" His tone went up a couple of octaves and Shrivastav felt like a mouse in a lion's den

"Sir---" he tried to speak up but was interrupted by Prakash

"And where is Kali? This thing looks familiar. Where have I seen it before?"

"Sir, I don't know but it gets even worse. They took out another picture making fun of our demand that women stop wearing trousers."

A grim Prakash reached over and stared at the picture.


"Female Ninjas? Is this how they are planning to fight our soldiers on the road? See!" Prakash thrust a stubby index finger against the picture and pinned it against his mahogany table "See! they call themselves the sluttiest Ninjas! We were right! These women need to be taught a lesson."

Shrivastav cleared his throat " Sir, this one is worrisome."

Prakash crossed his arms against his chest and rocked his chair. Sweat dotted Shrivastav's forehead again. It was getting hot in his boss's office.

"The next one they sent to our office." He held the picture close to his chest and his upper lip quivered.

"Show me" Prakash muttered.

Shrivastav's adam apple bobbed.

"Show me!" Prakash barked and Shrivastav handed him the picture.


Prakash stood up abruptly and his chair fell. The sound of metal thumping against the floor made Shrivastav jump and he delicately eased back in his chair while his chief began to stalk the office. Shrivastav's head sank into his chest. It was getting from bad to worse and it wasn't even his fault.

Prakash thundered. "They are telling us they will ambush us with assault rifles. Get in touch with the Home minister and tell him that these renegade women are threatening bodily harm and have AK-47s. Call them now!!"

Shrivastav seemed to fold over his chair. Prakash turned and looked at his quaking worker "What?! Didn't you hear me?"

"Sir! There is more!"

Prakash walked over to Shrivastav. "How many more?!"

Shrivastav whispered. "Only one sir." He kept his head down and handed over the last picture

Silence prevailed as Prakash stared at the picture. Shrivastav croaked "There was a letter with it. It said - we know about Pamela and others."



Shrivastav jumped up and ran for the door. He wanted out. As he opened the door he heard his boss speak to him for the last time for the day.

"No one is to know, Shrivastav. I will have your balls if this gets out!"

He paused, handing back the first three pictures and saying, "Burn these ones."

Shivastav nodded and left the room with a quiet click.

Prakash straightened his chair and sat down. For once, Pam didn't do anything for him.

Deepti Lamba is a writer, an editor for Desicritics. She can be found at Things That Bang
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February 27, 2009
04:11 PM


you are on a roll:)

good attention to details:

Shrivastav fidgeted on the hard wooden chair and his trouser-covered bums itched due to the holes in the woven strings of the chair's seat.

just the right degree of anticipatory tension and a good portrayal of the scumbag

Deepti Lamba
February 27, 2009
11:26 PM

Glad you liked it t;)

Aditi N
February 27, 2009
11:55 PM

Nice! A good piece of fiction that exposes hypocrisy. What more could one ask for? :)

February 28, 2009
03:34 AM

That Darth Vader babe is too funny. "No, Luke, I'm your mother"

February 28, 2009
03:47 AM


February 28, 2009
09:01 AM

loved it. good jab there, dee. keep 'em coming.

February 28, 2009
11:08 AM

Apparently its easy to be macho across a wire.

Deepti Lamba
February 28, 2009
11:10 AM

Thanks Adi and SS, inspiration came from Darth Vader;)

February 28, 2009
02:27 PM


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