Bombay, the Dream City
Adult
content
He set
foot on Indian soil which gave him a new pleasure. The waiting bus took him to
the arrival terminal of the Airport at Bombay. The immigration Officer looked
at him and then at the photo of his passport.
“Are you
wearing a wig?” the perplexed officer questioned Menon.
Menon
laughed and said “No please”. He pulled his hair and demonstrated that he had
natural hair. He collected his luggage and rushed to the Customs counter.
Officers wearing white uniforms and staring with hawk eyes were behind the
counters. When it was his turn, the officer asked him to open the suitcase. His
eyes fell on the Rado watch Menon was wearing.
His
pupils dilated and he told him “you will have to pay Customs duty for that
watch. It is Rado”.
“Well,
you may please note about the watch in the passport. I shall carry it back on
my return” Menon said.
With a
disappointed look, the officer wrote on a page of his passport the details of
the watch. The watch was presented to him by Ibrahim Fardan after the first three
months of his service in the company. It was a valuable treasure for Menon.
He pushed
his luggage trolley and came out. It was an ocean of people outside. The calm
atmosphere of Dubai
was just contradictory to the sight in front of him. The Ambassador and Fiat
taxi cars looked like small bugs.
A
gentleman carrying a placard written “Mr. Menon” was standing among other
visitors. Menon waved at him. The gentleman shook hands with him and said “Sir,
welcome to Bombay .
I am Ashok Tandon”. He led him to a waiting Ambassador car.
Ashok
Tandon was wearing pants and a transparent white embroidered kurta. He was about forty-five years
old, with silver coloured hair and fluffy cheeks. The pouches below his eyes
were moving up and down as he talked. It was 3-15 A.M on Friday morning and his
breath was full of evaporated liquor.
“Sir, how
are you?” he enquired to Menon.
“I shall take you to my apartment at the moment
and during the day I shall take you to your hotel suite.”
He opened
a cigarette case with letters State Express 555 on the lid and lighted one. The
smoke irritated Menon and he pulled down the glass shutter. Cold Bombay breeze freshened
him up. As the car moved forward for some time, on to his left he saw the
majestic Victoria Terminus in its eternal grandeur, an architectural marvel of
the British Raj. The car rolled on well laid and neat roads and reached Flora
Fountain and turned to the left. After a few hundred metres, it stopped at a
residential block called Victory Apartments. Ashok’s apartment was on the
eighth floor.
John
Bergosa arrived at Ashok’s apartment at about 11-00 A.M. Ashok introduced Menon
to Bergosa. The three of them travelled to Chembur, to a work site belonging to
Rattan Singh and Company, the erstwhile employer of Menon. Engineer Jayaram
greeted them and said
“Everything
is set for the testing of the workers” as he led them to a covered yard where
about three hundred workers seeking employment in the gulf, had lined up.
Menon
announced to the workers to form four groups of carpenters, masons, steel
fixers and helpers. By 4-30 P.M. the day’s selection of workers was stopped and
the remaining workers were asked to come the next day, Saturday. Bergosa had
arranged to shift Menon’s luggage to Hotel Majesty. He drove to the Marine
Drive with Menon and Ashok and Menon checked in at Hotel Majesty.
The Hotel
Suite was very cozy with a bedroom and a sitting room. Menon took a shower and
went to sleep. The telephone rang at 7-00 P.M. “Sir your requested alarm,
please” the operator’s voice was melodious.
“Thanks”
and he hung up.
Ashok
arrived at Hotel Majesty at 8-30 P.M. They had a preliminary round of drinks
from the bottle which Ashok had brought. They got out. The weather was very
pleasant and the cool breeze caressed Menon as they walked along the Marine Drive.
There were people sitting and enjoying the weather on the dwarf walls as the
waves dashed against the masonry breakers with a foamy icing. The moonlight
added to the charm of the night and couples sitting with hands on shoulders,
some snatching kisses, were enjoying the romantic atmosphere. Menon looked up
and around and was mesmerized by the beauty of the night in Bombay, the royal
metropolis, the city that always seduced its visitors.
When they
entered the “Ashwan Night Club”, the belly dancer had just started to perform. A
table was already reserved for them and the waiters saluted Ashok acknowledging
his frequent visit to the club. The dancer had very little clothing on her. A
thin cloth covered her loins and a narrow net tried to cover her breasts. Her
movements were sensual and erotic as she gyrated around the tables with
constant shaking of her feminine assets to the beat of the music.
The
waiter brought a small bucket with a champagne bottle inserted in it surrounded
by ice blocks. When Menon started to sip the sweet and sour royal drink, the already
infiltrated whiskey in his blood imparted more intoxication in the company of
the stream of champagne. His eyes reduced in size and he concentrated on the
dancing damsel. When the dancer arrived at his table, she smiled at him voluptuously
and sat on his lap pressing his loins with constant up and down movements of
her buttocks. She caressed Menon’s cheeks with her breasts and she said “Hi
handsome, want my phone number?”
Menon sat
motionless. His blood rushed to one particular point with the touch of the
woman and the champagne gave him good company.
The belly
dancer enhanced the masculinity of every male in the clubhouse with her
scintillating and alluring dance movements. Menon felt that he was in the
seventh heaven. The dance stopped and the orchestra resumed. The male singer
sang in the accompaniment of piano, saxophone, trumpet, bass guitar, Mexican
guitar, and violin with the percussionist giving his best.
A lady,
presumably Lebanese, came to Menon and asked him “May I have the pleasure of
dancing with you, please?”
Menon was
bewildered and said “I have never danced in my life”.
“That is
O.K. I will teach you the steps” she said with a mischievous smile.
She led him to the middle. She held him close
to her in the dancing pose with clasped hands and started her steps. Menon
nervously followed her and soon was able to cope up with the beats and the
dancing. They danced to the music of “Last Waltz”. She pressed her body to his.
Her perfume is mesmerizing and her breath has the scent of peppermint.
Menon realized how sensual the moments were.
Everyone
watched them dance which imparted a romantic mood to the occupants around.
There was non-stop applause when their dance stopped. Menon led her to her seat
and said “thanks, you were great”
“You were
amazing. You said you don’t know how to dance. You were dancing well and you
made me wet. Now I need to go to the washroom. Want to come with me?” She said and
winked.
Menon said”No,
help yourself” and smiled.
“I did
not know that you were a great dancer” Ashok complimented Menon.
“Well, I
just followed her steps, that was all!” Menon smiled.
The
intoxication from the liquor and the sensuality of the lady made Menon unaware of
the time.
Nice ���� night.
ReplyDeleteThanks...Sudheesh
DeleteAmazing writing...each chapter has a different mood!!
ReplyDeleteThanks..Meera...
DeleteVery good and interesting progress from Dubai to Mumbai.
ReplyDeleteThanks ..Lavanya...
DeleteEnkoy reading and I wish to see your dance once ��
ReplyDeleteHehe..thanks Ravi. It was not me.
ReplyDeleteI thought the same
ReplyDelete