Mysore Blues

I always wanted to look a bit more excited than my peers when it came to sightseeing, and this one was special, here I was in a place which was pretty much the cradle of south India's resistance to british domination and which witnessed Tipu's rockets taking the british by surprise.
So I was a south Indian among a group of Northies with a pretty much pride swollen heart relishing every moment I spend in this relic a dominion of age old intelligence and valor.

So we were a part of a six month program that would metamorphosise the lax,care free college brat in me into a bread winning professional, I guess that didn't work out with me quite well. Well that would be dealt with in another gibberish.

We snitched out some time during the tight schedule and worked out a plan for a city sojourn. Myself enjoying an advantage of being in the place earlier and holding a Know_All nameplate (be it the local dialect or the alley ways , I had this terrible capacity to make people believe that I was the missing link between them and the vox populi )

The number 13 rickety bus dropped us at the city center , and we alighted with a detailed plan to visit five key points and be back the same spot in four hours.

The punjabis and marathis left each of them treasuring My mobile number t o SOS into if they got in trouble with the routes. Little did they know that their supposed to be savior himself was carrying a bunch of mobile numbers of local guys and his dad back home in case he gets lost. I never told them..... The chics should find at least something appealing about me .

Of course quite unnaturally we all made it back to the city center at almost 6.
First timers were exulting and trying to extract useful information from what the tourist guide had told them in his broken angrezi.
We still had ten minutes of wait time for the bus , so couple of us decided to venture into an adjacent savepuri stall.
Smelling around the stall I felt this urgent call in my groins which reminded me that I had not had a leak the whole day. Looking around I couldn't find a place without at least three guys. People everywhere... looking at you suspiciously... this is one time when I badly wished i had been in a desert.
Turning around I asked the stall wala for an available restroom nearby. He directed me to the barren land on the other side of the bus stand (if i had to go for that, I could have very well done it in front of his shop ), I insisted for a public loo when with a grimace he directed me to one corner of the stand.

It was getting dark and my visual senses started to get de-powered, relying on my olfactory senses I ventured to smell out the restroom (Luckily in My country it is quite easy).
My nose led me down a dark alley with considerable hustle at the end of it, a dimly lit room of the size of an aidpost bustling with people, mostly old.

I wondered what they were doing in such a place other than ,you know.. doing their waterworks.
They were simply hanging about, watching every new comer with a welcome smile.
I talked to my conscience, "Maybe a bunch of nostalgic guys, had been peeing in here for years and now had been quite obsessed with the smell and place", (I have a friend who thinks it is nostalgic to watch jurassic park)

I placed myself in one corner and started to have that leak i had been longing for, when a visibly stout man, pot bellied , in a decent attire anchored just beside me whispered "BEAUTIFUL"...
I looked at him, a black skinned sweaty figure, he had a cut on his nose like most of the boxers have and he was smiling, I smiled back, maybe a greeting or a vague complement.. i thought, but for what? and beautiful??? what in the world should that mean?

I was almost half way through when he hissed again...beautiful.....What the? I looked up at him, but he was not looking at me, He was looking at my " ". Whoa.... this guy is gay, so are the other guys in here, the old man started to walk towards us spread eagled , a nepali whacker popped his head out the adjacent slab with blood shot eyes.

I was becoming an instant celebrity... a celebrity in a fixation, My body was above my mind now,I was into something that my brain had no control on(waterworks still going strong),
Should I push them off? If so am I risking their enragement.
Should I turn around and piss at them? what if it didn't work? Then iam in the most vulnerable position.
I guess the old man, the stalwart of the gay lot was morally responsible for preying first while the minuend gays waited. I summed up the courage to hit him, luckily my leak dried up as soon as he lay his hands on me. In a jiffy I pushed him hard on his right shoulder and took to my heels, I could hear the laughs rocking the room and the alleyway which my feet left behind.
Were they laughing at the incapability of the old man or was it at me or was the whole thing a farce, a prank of some terribly bored sexagenarians... I am still not sure.

But that night , my salvation came at the price of me boarding the bus in the nick of time with an open fly , among howling friends.