, , , ,

This is my second guest post for Shaila (you can read the first here), and I don’t think I have written anything in between on my blog page. Shaila better be aware or I might get into the habit of writing only on her page, primarily because I get more readers. Anyway, here goes.

“What’s with this glass of milk, Gyan?” The Master exclaimed with such vehemence that he almost spilled his whiskey and hot water. “This is the tenth movie in seven days where I am seeing either the heroine or the hero’s mother insist he drink that poison.”

The Master had taken a sudden liking to Bollywood movies and for the last one week we were on a binge. The scene he was referring to was a wedding night ritual where the gold bedecked bride offered the groom a glass of milk.

“Sir the milk is supposed to give him energy for the forthcoming exertion in bed,” I replied.

“Oh! A traditional method to imbibe energy. I like that. It must be a daily ritual going by the fact that I have seen it in so many movies.”

“Umm, yes sir. After a hard day’s work he is naturally exhausted and needs the energy.”

“I can imagine. Poor chap has to cavort with the girl around trees, bash twenty guys single handedly and then work too. I say! Shall we stop drinking whiskey and start drinking milk?”

My blood froze at that thought. It shook me to the foundations so much so that I dropped my glass of arrack. Thank God it was made of steel and nearly empty. Before I had gathered my senses enough to give a coherent reply the Master interjected.

“Tell me Gyan, I have never seen the girl drink milk. Why is it the boy always?”

I could see my master was in a cross examining mood.

“Master, Indian men work hard and get tired.”


He gave me a look that was exactly like the look the hero’s mother had given the heroine when they were introduced for the first time.

“Women work in their homes. Are you implying house work is not tiring? And some women work outside too.”

“You see sir, in our country women are used to a life of deprivation since birth. They are trained to get their energy directly from the atmosphere and from their sense of duty.”

“That’s crap and you know it,” he said and then frowning added, “Oh by the way why should only a man need energy in bed?”

I knew where this conversation was heading so I tried to avoid it and said,

“That is a delicate question, Sir. How can I answer it?”

“You don’t have to.  I know the reason,” he said smugly. “These bollywood hacks think it is only the man who ‘performs’ in bed and the woman just has to lay still, do her duty and thank her stars that this is happening to her at all.”

I was aghast. Whiskey had never made him see things so clearly before. Surely he must be dating a feminist on the sly.

Fortunately he seemed to be bored with the movie and asked me to change channels. I switched off the DVD and put on a XYZ Sports where they were showing Kabaddi. An exciting contest was in progress and the Master got engrossed. I relaxed a bit because the topic of milk seemed to have receded into the background. His whiskey and my arrack were safe. Or were they?

My mind was already wandering in Arrackland when I thought I heard him mention milk again. Petrified at the thought that he was asking me to give up my arrack, drink milk and join a Gym to develop the physique of a Kabaddi exponent, I was instantly alert.

“You said something, Master?” I asked with some trepidation.

“Hmm, the arrack seems to have gotten to you. I was telling you that when I make a movie I will include this ‘milk’ metaphor but with a difference.”

I breathed out in relief discretely, and asked him,

“And what would that be, Sir?”

“The heroine will bring the milk but the hero says I won’t drink a drop unless you drink half of it first.” The Master was looking at me expectantly.

“What an idea, Sirjee!” I exclaimed.

Is any Bollywood hack listening?

Vivek1Vivek does not need introduction to the regular readers here. For the newbies, he is the Penguin from Antarctica and blogs, ummm… let’s change that to ‘will resume blogging soon’, at Ramblings. But in case he is ready to accept it I have on offer for him an opening at Shail’s Nest, that of a guest-blogger-for-life. Howzzat? **thereby pooh-poohs Vivek’s subtle ‘threats’ of getting into the habit of writing only here** Readers, do check out his tribute to Jaspal Bhatti, ‘God and Elections‘ and also a screenplay that he wrote for a competition, ‘True Love