Burns

The silence of the night was defying what he was doing it for -- a nights of sounds, a night of sights. The sms tone confirmed what the director had said. About the amount. It was an unbelievable amount for half a day's work. Kapil Das grew up on lusting only one thing in life. His ambition was limited to being able to buy his own crackers. He was all of sixteen now, tall, and built not of gym, but of physical labour. He was good in his studies too. One day on his way back from tuition, he overheard at a rundown paan-shop about how Tina & Co. was looking for new faces to launch their new range of men's undergarments. This festive season they had targeted the teens. He thought of giving it a shot and landed up on their Facebook page for more details. Having procured the required information, he contacted them and visited on the given day of shoot.

It was an autumn-y day, sun shining bright, sky clear than ever and  the city smelling of activity. The shoot site was a resort just out of city-limits and converted into a canopy of cameras and banners and corporate talks. As he awaited his chance at the audition, which only included an unbuttoning of his shirt, he heard that the pay was good. He was one of the four selected and by the next two hours doused in make up and new, neat underwear he was supposed to mime a walk posture and say the words, "For Growing Needs."

After the shoot was over, the assistant directors kept their contacts, and made them sign a contract and told him of the thirty five thousand, he just earned. "Do you want a quick five more? Call me on this number after six today." He handed him a piece of paper with a legible phone number. For the sake of the other five thousand, Kapil has his first tryst with sex.

As he was promised the total amount by the next day, and made physical contact with, he closed his eyes. He was nervous. And sweaty. The AD was hurrying. This was nothing like it was deemed to be. His chest was hairy and he had a paunch. But from the sound of his breathing, the AD was excited by his physique. He shut his eyes and thought of what he would do with his sudden rich and slipped back to a kaleidoscope of images from his childhood. 

BLUE OCTOPUS, YELLOW MANGO, RED HOT GIRLS, HELLO YELLOW -- these were the meaningless names on cracker boxes that he rushed to clean from the roadside on Diwali nights. Of meals that one would lack, and education that one was deprived of, one other thing poverty did was impose a severe scarcity of private space. By the time he was eleven-twelve, the capacious bodies of the women on these boxes completed his diwali. He longed to open a box and find the girl come out from there and kiss him through pink curtains sliding between them. He hoped his first intercourse would be a dreamy one with not one but all the women from all the boxes, one from each type of cracker. 

The AD was done. He was so engrossed in his own fantasies that he did not realize how well he was on him. "You were bloody good and deserve more. Tomorrow you will get a transfer of thirty five and seven more, for pleasing me." Kapil thanked him as he dressed back, and texted him his bank account number. All through the day he was tormented thinking what if it was all a lie.

The sms tone confirmed the amount promised. Almost immediately, Kapil was pulled into a trap of greed. But that could wait. Diwali was three weeks away. He could buy his own crackers, but could he...he typed out 'Blue Octopus female face details' on the search engine of his local internet cafe. Images popped up, one after the other. After a whole lot of searching, he found only one detail, of one Suravinathan Padmaswamy, a mobile number of somewhere in Sivakasi.

Collecting his details, he left the cafe and walked fast into a park. I am going to have hot, steamy sex. Sex with Suravi. He dialed the number to get a direct response. As expected, it was thick in a South-Indian accent. 

'Hello!' she said.

'Suravinathan?' he asked tentatively.

'Es. Woo is this?' came the reply.

'Don't you know me, Suravi? I am Kapil. Last year I kissed you on the rangmashal box-top.'

'Waat are you taalking about?' impatiently.

Kapil intercepted it and quickly said, 'Oh ho Suravi, I wanted you since you featured in Blue Octopus cracker boxes, three years back. Last year you looked sexy in that flimsy filmy top on rangmashaals.' Kapil heaved a sigh of relief having spoken all he wished too. 'Suravi?'

'I don't understand. You aar sayin I am on crackers boxes? My face? My body?'

'Yes Suravi. Now cut the shame and tell me when can we meet. I have enough money to make you mad.' Kapil was in his groove.

He heard the call being cancelled.

In her little house in Sivakasi, Suravinathan ran out to her father and discussed the call. 'Appa...'

By the following diwali, Kapil earned a extensively. He was still unsure of whether he was actually doing anything. Whenever the AD made his advance, he shut his eyes and thought of Steamy Sex with Suravi in Sivakasi. It almost felt like a porn-movie title. Repeated calls to her were not reverted and he was left with a burning heart even without a burning pocket. The diwali that he could actually buy crackers, and he did, Suravinathan didn't feature on any of the box-tops.

Down south, Suravi's family was having a rich Deepavali with the amount they won in the case against the local firecrackers company. Her father has sued them for using stock images off the internet. At the factory, this was a tiny incident to be forgotten given the profits they made once a year. It was better to shut up a single family with a decent amount than raise the nation's attention. 

It was a happy diwali in many ways. Except that Kapil's still could not resist to send a "Happy Diwali" text to Suravi. He waited for about fifteen minutes for a reply, and finally went out with his brother to celebrate for the first time, crackers bought with hard earned money, hardly.