That afternoon, on our way back - from watching the firangs doing “Kar Seva” - to join the rest of the group at FS, S said we needed to get some condoms for that night. I said, “Yes of course, sorry, I hadn't been thinking.”. So back in B'pur, after dinner, as the others headed back I said I had to stay back in the market area to go do some errands.
Brian offered to accompany me, as I should have known he would, keen as he is on every opportunity to experience something more than the rest of the tour group. It was un-natural and awkward saying “No” to him. He said he wouldn't mind the walk, he liked looking around at all the shops. I said “No” again, he'd had a long day and we had an early start the next day. He looked sideways at S, and said that I was the one that had slept all the way back from FS ... then luckily, he let it drop.
In the market area, my first thought was to ask at a paanwalla, but they are always surrounded by hangers-on hanging around, and plus I didn't know the hindi for “condom”! I don't remember ever being so nervous even when asking for hash golis. However, on reaching the market area, the first place I came to was a paan shop (The paan shop outside the restaurant we'd eaten at was obviously too risky!) that didn't have any fatrus hanging around at that moment, so I decide to ask for a condom. The paanwalla said to go look in an “aushadhalaya” down the road past the photo-ki-dukaan. It took me a second to realize he meant dawai khana.
Sure enough, past the “Fotofast” was a pharmacy, its front lit by vertical tubelights on the sides and on the central column. I was hoping the condoms would be one of the items hanging on display near the front so I could suavely look for my “usual brand”, but no such luck. The elongated inch long blue or black packets hanging in strips on the sides turned out to be paan parag. I looked around at the things in the shop, under the display counter, waiting for the crowd to disperse into the cool night. One of the older assistants asked me, “Hanh sahab?”, but I said I hadn't decided yet and he just turned away to the next customer.
Finally there was a lull in the crowd and I approached the counter again and realized to my horror that it was young woman who now asked me what I wanted! I blurted out, “Condom!”.
She asked, “How many? One only?”
I felt insulted, but realized that she had sindhoor in her parting and thought maybe she knows something. I said “No” and having actually calculated this numerous times, I asked for a dozen, thinking that would be the end of the conversation.
Instead, she asked me which brand I wanted! In the fog of embarrassment, I said the first name that came to mind “Durex” - grateful to the powers of advertizing - feeling like a contestant who'd beaten the buzzer, and added “with spermicide” just before she could ask me about it. I fervently hoped she wouldn't ask “Colour?” or “Flavour?”. She did something worse then, yelling out very matter of factly to the 8-year old chhokra at the back of the store, “Lalu, ek dajun doorex, spermicide wale!”. I stood there, my ears burning hot I thought my glasses would melt and fall-off yaar. During the last minute or so the empty shopfront had suddenlt filled up with customers waiting around. Then of course the bloody chhokra handed the condom packet to the counter-clerk to bundle up, and yelled to the cashier across the store, “Unkil ke liye ek dajun doorex, ispermicidewale!”.
I paid and scooted off, feeling so frazzled that I thought I wouldn't get an erection for weeks. Of course the moment I associated the condoms I'd just battled to win with S, that problem solved itself. I broke into a jog to hurry back but it was very difficult running in that state.
I decided to stop at my room before going to S'. Partly it was to prolong the delicious sense of anticipation, excitement and assuredness (?) that coursed through me, knowing I would soon, as soon as I wanted, hold her again. The other reason was so I could familiarize myself and try on a condom by myself. Only when I had it on did I realize that I couldn't easily get it off – I couldn't roll it off w/o pulling hair, it was too tight to slide off (the lubrication was all on the outside) and it was too tough and elastic to rip. I didn't want anything sharp anywhere near me either. Anyway I just left my chuds off, pulled my pants on and ran down to S' room.
We didn't make it past the entryway to her room, and all she said was, “Naresh! You came prepared!”.
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