Eating movies

1
Dr. Rita was jumping with joy. She got the job at Corn & Sugar Bakery. Due to healthy lifestyle of people at Mhow, rarely Dr. Dr. Rita has patient in her dental clinic. She was in financial soup. Her bakery’s bill was roaring high. She was a lover of waffles, pancakes and muffins. She herself was the most frequent visitor to Dr. Dante for getting her cavities filled and root canal treatments. Now she thought she will have money to burn. Although a penny saved is a penny earned but then bakery products won’t break the bank however she also knew that unlike others she was a penny-foolish and pound-wise. Now She can also afford French fries and burgers every day as Corn & Sugar people give concession to their employees. The life thus was joyous, delicious and plump for her.
She also decided to gift a huge strawberry cake to Umber; apple of her life. She felt then how much she adores Umber. He is like salsa sauce for the tortillas of her dreams. All of a sudden she decided to sell her cell phone and buy the cake for him with the money. Strawberry cakes are pure delight. Not only strawberry cakes but any and everything made with strawberries like strawberry shake, strawberry ice cream and just simple plain strawberries with cream on them.
And she hates cell phones; they are constant pain in the ears, mouth and palms. Also who calls her? None. Although she knew that she will be needing cell phones to make their dates’ plans and deciding meeting joints with Umber but then letters are more romantic. Economical too.
She felt vibrations in her bag. She felt scared. That might be Motto; an ugly, fat and gluttonous mouse that is nagging her for days and today she has some salted cashew nuts in her bag. She made her mind up to kill that Motto if he would’ve eaten her nuts.
It was a phone call. Mr. Jevan Gupta was calling her. Enough of toothache he had. He wanted to have a denture.
‘Okay, Mr. Gupta come to my office tomorrow at nine am.’
‘Look Ms. Dr. Rita I’m a poor man and can’t pay more than two hundred rupees.’
Although it was a smallest amount anyone can pay for a denture but then Mr. Gupta was now his coworker at the bakery and also the biggest strawberry cake costs two hundred rupees precisely for Corn & Sugar bakery employees. She nodded on the amount.
2
Laughing on others’ disease is an inhumane thing to do but Guptas were laughing stock for the Mhow. Oldest of Guptas was Mrs. Omni Gupta; she was thirty-seven years old and a patient of Down syndrome. She was having two sons and a daughter. All of them were mockingly suffering from Progeria; a disease of accelerated aging. The eldest Mr. Rishabh Gupta was just nineteen years old but due to his wrinkled chicks, haggard nose and tiny jaw; he used to look like a seventy-six years old man. He was on the verge of dying. His sister Dolly Gupta was two years younger to him. Old and exhausted; she was also seemed to look waiting for death. Youngest brother Jevan Gupta have seen just sixteen springs on the earth but there was a very weak chance for him to see more of the rains, summers and springs of this earth. He used to look oldest among three ill-fated, rare, poor and funny siblings.
But then they were having a good job at Corn & Sugar bakery, their lovely {baby} mama and a cute little bungalow named Philosopher’s cave.
‘Now this is too much! I’ve lost my front tooth today.’
Jevan was horror-struck and gloomy.
‘That might be your milk tooth baby.’ Dolly said.
‘They don’t ache Doll.’
Suddenly he started sobbing. He was feeling helpless and hopeless.
‘Now everyone will make joke of me. I don’t want to go outside. I don’t want to work and see people.’
‘Don’t you like that bubbly girl who comes in evening to buy potato chips and lollipops.’
‘So what? What will I do meeting her? I make her feel scared. She hates me.’
‘She will like you some day.’
Jevan lifted his almost blind eyes; soaked his tears and saw Dolly.
3
His favorite song is ‘the blower’s daughter’ of Damien Rice. After the death of Gypsy, he became a loner and a poet. We can’t understand his melancholy because we’re human beings and he is a dog.
His name is Hypnos. He is an ashen color old English sheep dog. Gypsy was Mr. Joy Pastrywalah’s fawn Doberman Bitch. She died in a car accident. Some people say that Mr. Mr. Joy Pastrywalah himself killed her with his old depleted Fiat car because she used to eat breads and cream rolls from the bakery. She was becoming fat, shoplifter and lazy. What he didn’t know was that she was in love.
Hypnos sometimes thinks {if dogs really think!} about her. Gypsy’s fawn color in his memory sometimes makes him feel like it’s evening all the time. The air now lacks light. It also lacks warmth; warmth of Gypsy’s heavy breathing. Her little eyes see him in his dreams. He sleeps not more than six minutes at a time and dreams for thirty seconds. Thus he sees her for thirty seconds every two-hour. That is what he is left with.
Umber is writing a novel on Hypnos and Gypsy’s love. He feels it difficult to write because how can a human being think in a way dogs think. He even doesn’t know whether they think or not but then they certainly love. And when you’re young and fuck a girl every other day or night and want to fuck her every three hours; love is certainly the only significant reason to write.
Hypnos has stopped eating. He drinks few drops of milk a day. That too he has stopped for last day. He tries to sleep more and more now. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. He is becoming obscure and eccentric. He barks on none. He doesn’t sniff anything now; not Queekwee, coriander, queen of puddings or Guptas’ old age.
His masters the cyberpunk brothers are unaware of his situation. They’re busy all the day and half of night in computers, digital games, pornography and homosexual activities. One of them is suffering from aids and doesn’t know about it. They are stereotyped. The other brother sometimes sings late night, Bjork’s ‘its in our hands’ and cries cynically. Ms. Anna wants to know why he cries?
4
Umber sends a SMS to Ms. Anna,
‘You’re spinning in my blood now. You’re the windmill of my life. The source of all my lights and water.’
Not satisfied with his SMS, he sends her a new one,
‘Where’re you?
And wherever you’re, why are you there instead of under my thighs.’
Ms. Anna was ignoring Umber’s messages. She was packing brown breads for an old man. He was looking like Ernest Hemingway and acting like a nervous housewife. She said to the buyer,
‘Twenty two rupees for four hundred grams.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t pay. Please give me some discount.’
‘We don’t give concession Mister’
‘But Queekwee doesn’t eat anything else expect these brown breads.’
‘But you’ve never been here before?’
‘Its because before my wife used to bake brown breads; unfortunately she died day before yesterday.’
‘Oh I’m sorry.’
‘Can’t you give me discount?’
‘I can’t but you can ask owner of the bakery. He is sitting there.’
Ms. Anna asked the buyer to go the right hand side of the bakery. Mr. Joy Pastrywalah was kneading dough there in his faded Capri and destroyed vest. He was talking to himself.
The buyer returned and said,
‘Your boss is very ill mannered. He not only declined to give me concession but also called me an idiot.’
‘I can’t give you discount but I’ll come over to your place and bake some brown breads for Queekwee. She is pretty cat.’
‘I can’t believe you; you’re a fairy and how do you know Queekwee.’
‘I’ve seen her with your wife. Take these two loaves. Where is your home?’
‘Its on fourth street near Philosopher’s cave.’
I’ll be there in evening seven pm sharp.’
‘But what about the money.’
‘Oh no, in couple of days you yourself will be an expert baker.’
‘Thank you. Thank you very much.’ He started mewling like an infant.
‘Now hurry up. Queekwee is hungry and wait for me. Do you have wheat flour in your store.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll buy everything.’
‘Bye and don’t cry. Take care.’
5
It was two past fifteen at night and Laila was eating potato curry with steamed rice. She was weary and whimpering. She drank a glass of rum and scribbled flowers on a wet and tattered paper napkin. She dyed her lips with cherry color lip-gloss and wore a leather skirt with a pale blue scarf and mauve ribbons. Black stockings and cheap stiletto completed her disgraceful appearance. At last she perfumed herself with the strongest cologne brought from a cheap massage parlor.
She was still weeping.
She saw the stars and a moon from her balcony. She climbed on the quaint and rusted iron railings and jumped. For first few spilt seconds she felt scared but afterwards she was flying. First her head dashed against rocks of the road. Her breast got torn with iron wires lying there. She died within eighteen minutes. Her skirt slashed and her chubby, scratched thighs were exposed. She was having hundreds of stretch marks on them. There was all garbage around her. Some of her blood was been soaking up by some used sanitary napkins thrown up there.
But she was looking relieved and content.
She was fat and grotesque. Her father raped her. Her lover made her a whore. And at last when she was in her mid forties and struggling for her bread; she fell for an androgynous guy. He was a gay but she hadn’t fallen for him for sex. She just loved him. He was considerate. He was suffering from Aids and she couldn’t see him dying. She therefore died. Now she doesn’t need to find customers for her shabby and loose cunt. She now doesn’t need breads and clothes and a roof.
Police reported that she has committed suicide during one to three am. A suicide note was found out which reads that she is committing suicide because now she is unemployed and she is a lesbian and she has tortured herself too much by being a whore and getting fucked by alcoholics and delinquents. She can’t take men now.
What police didn’t know was that she was raped after her death and someone has written a suicide note for her.
6
He lifted her checkered gingham skirt and snuffled her. She smelled of Cummins’ seeds, moisturizer and herself. It was humid there. He waited for Cherry color nipples, a lecherous tongue and tang between her thighs for two long days. Two days is the longest distance he can bear from her. They cow-kissed. He tickled, fucked her like a rattlesnake.
She sighed, ‘screw me politely.’
He tittered because he was ticklish. She was delicate and she howled. He felt her like a pink cabbage. Or a pickled onion. He tasted her everywhere. She was vinegary, salty, tartaric, bitter, sugary everywhere and bland at her sole. They slept for long. The noon was long, gray. He ate a green apple and left.
She thought about him all the evening and missed him terribly at night. She had her supper alone on a couch. She ate two tangerines and drank a cup of cold milk. Life was sad, beautiful and quiet for her.
She bathed for long before retiring to the bed and touched her huge rotting grapes like nipples. There was some twinge.
He slept all evening on his mommy’s bed and ate corns in supper. He dreamt of her during night and woke up suddenly when he saw her died of an accident when she was going to the bakery on her bicycle. He instantly wrote her a letter asking her not to go to bakery on bicycle and kept it under his pillow. He also thought of buying her a pink doll with scarlet hair, which he saw in Toyshop yesterday while returning from the library. Mommy sewed a white skirt with pale blue lace all night. She is a bit deaf and now she is really going to be blind. His mother was too eccentric to be called normal. He was happy in his home without any window. It was having a door painted in cobalt blue.
continued.