Faceless The Only Way Out

FACELESS

The Only Way Out

By Tapan Ghosh

Published by Tapan Ghosh at Smashwords

Copyright: 2012 Tapan Ghosh

Chapter 1 BOMB SQUAD

The tension lay so heavy in the air, you could cut it with a knife.

In the early hours of the morning, the Bomb Squad dispatcher received a call to summon the group at Nepean Sea Road in Mumbai.

The aftermath of the Mumbai terror attacks, more recently the 26/11 attacks had left everyone in a panic.

This situation was no different. The bone shattering sound resonating from one of the empty steel bins echoed danger – or worse still – death. Was it an explosive?

Normally, clearing the crowded streets would have been difficult. But these days the arrival of the squad always had a way of scattering people like ants. Not a whisper was heard as the men from the Bomb Squad edged towards the garbage bin. Their titanium alloy suits made the situation appear even more daunting.

In that densely populated upmarket residential area, there was not a soul on the balconies except for a few brave ones who peeped through the curtains to see what was going on. Curiosity had got the better of fear.

The Bomb Squad men kept a safe distance from the clattering bin using a long pole. With a forceful jab, they tipped the bin over. A rod-like object sprung out, kicking up dust around where it lay on the ground. Whirring with vibration, it flipped and tossed about in a dance for everyone to see.

The Chief of the Bomb Squad was thoroughly perplexed – what on earth was this thing, this gadget?

He inched towards the vibrating item. By now, people peeping from behind the curtains had come onto their balconies in full view to watch the tamasha below.

That was when his deputy, Khushroo Screwala, known amongst his friends as Khush, sidestepped the Chief and grabbed hold of the vibrating rod.

‘Hey, look!’ he said, switching it off and raising it for everyone to see. Living in Sobo, he was more familiar with his object and quickly realized it to be a dildo. The rattling sound of the dildo had been amplified due to resonance from the hollow bin.

What followed then was a huge applause. It was almost as though the people thought he had managed to diffuse a bomb. He was a hero!

In a conservative society like India, not too many knew what this gadget was. The Chief himself was quite ignorant. In fact, he felt like an ass in front of his smart deputy who wore his uniform with no protective gear. The ever-present news reporters and the camera flashers who were in their element post 26/11, made Khush instantly famous. This was, of course, a most embarrassing situation for the entire Police force as they had involved the services of the Bomb Squad for a dildo! Humiliated by the incident, the D.I.G. of Police was determined to find out who it belonged to. He ordered the team to systematically check all the flats in the vicinity. This was a Herculean task for the young cops in the force and after over an hour they huddled back with no luck. Most of the people they encountered were totally ignorant while others, justifiably, were offended.

Khush on the other hand was very excited to find this owner. He had his own agenda. He was urging to satisfy a horny babe. He was always ready to service the needy. As it turned out, he didn’t have to break sweat over it. The woman responsible for this tamasha was came frantically looking for him.

Now is a good time to know a little more about ‘aapro Khush.’ He was a stud all right. He looked like a rock star; a cross between Amitabh Bachchan and Robert De Niro. A six-foot something married to a five-foot nothing. Oh yes, we have to accept the fact that Khush was indeed a married man with a daughter, a son and was in his mid-forties. His marriage to a Punjabi girl called Sangita Aurora had been totally unplanned.

It all began decades ago in Jai Hind College where both Sangita and Khush were doing their Bachelor of Sciences. Sangita was crazy about Khush and one day her father caught them in a compromising position in the back seat of his car. To cut a long story short, Khush did the honourable thing and got married to her. He knew how difficult it could be for a girl who was caught in the act, so to speak, in those days.

It was a big Indian wedding and they pulled out all the stops when it came to making it a bash. They both graduated the following year. Khush’s life seemed to have been carved out for him. Sangita’s father was a rich and powerful industrialist. Khush and Sangita moved in with her folks. Khush joined the family business and quickly learned the ropes. Never mind that he had to hear the word gharjamai - a derogatory term for a husband living in his wife’s father’s home - being whispered all around him. Khush pushed on relentlessly, advancing the business into a huge conglomerate. For Khush, it was the propeller that saw him being able to become his own person and consolidate his own wealth – a swanky apartment in Cuffe Parade, a sinfully huge bank balance and of course, a family that had now grown to include two children.

‘What now?’ had been the words going through his mind after he had reached this dizzying pinnacle of power and success. Then the disaster of 26/11 struck. The uncertainty of life and the frivolity, in which he lived, had shaken him up. Immediately, he signed up as a volunteer to protect and strengthen his beloved city from any terrorist attacks. After training, he had been promoted to part-time deputy to the chief of Mumbai’s Bomb Squad and that was how Khush was present on the day of the vibrating dildo.

In one of the apartments overlooking the tamasha lived fifty-year-old Swapna. In spite of barely looking thirty-five, she was a desperate and unfulfilled woman. Her life hadn’t been easy with an alcoholic husband ten years older than her who spent most of his days in a stupor. She had needs and the internet was the perfect place to buy the things she wanted discreetly. When she spotted it amongst a page full of products, Swapna had wasted no time in ordering what looked like the perfect dildo, the one with a vibrator. She had been very careful; giving a friend’s address in Hyderabad. After she had picked up her precious possession, she kept it securely locked. Now, seeing it in the hands of the Bomb Squad’s deputy chief, she was in a state of shock. She found her very own passion-inducing secret lover become a laughing stock so unbearable to watch. To make matters worse, the trail of questions led straight to her daughter, Natasha.

Chapter 2 SWAPNA

Swapna was the perfect Indian bride, convent- educated with a degree in Arts from St. Xavier’s College, Mumbai. She was just what her in-laws were looking for. The father-in-law adored her. He taught her everything there was to know about his successful transport business, totally ignoring his heir, the son who was as lazy as he was incompetent. Rakesh had grudgingly agreed to hand over the reins of the business to his wife and go back to what he enjoyed doing most – hitting the bottle. Between father-in-law and daughter-in- law, they tried their best to make Rakesh break his habit but to no avail. For a while, Swapna performed her wifely duties, even though Rakesh would totter into their room, preening like a peacock, demanding to make love. There were times he would use brutal force to prove his manhood. Fortunately for her, he would be done in a few seconds, which was her only saving grace. In the early days, she would lie in bed wondering whether his brutish handling of her boobs would result in breast cancer. When Rakesh was drunk, he was at his worst. She just could not stand sleeping next to him as he lay there, passed out and stinking of puke.

With time, she became more detached and left him to his own devices. When her father-in-law passed away, she moved into his bedroom and her whole attention focused on her daughter Natasha and the business. It was only in the quiet afternoons, behind her locked bedroom door, that she dared to let her womanly desires surface.

Chapter 3 NATASHA

Natasha was five-feet-six-inches tall, fair complexioned, quite shy and reserved with thick framed glasses on a pretty face and a very proportionate body. She was studying Architecture at the Sir J. J. School of Art and Architecture. Natasha loved what she was learning, especially now that she was about to go into her final year. She was different from the other girls in her class. She was rather serious, not really the type to let her hair down and get crazy. At an age when girls fooled around, flirted and had fun, Natasha held back; secretly envying the ones who did. She often wondered whether it was because of the way things were at home. Yes, her mother was a tad bit protective.

Her friends used to tell her that it was unnatural to curb her natural desires but Natasha found it easier to go along with her mother and make her happy. After the hell her father, a man she hated with venom, put her mother through, it was the least she could do for her poor mother. In a country where you only have to scratch the surface to see the vein of deep-rooted conservatism flowing, so many adolescents comply with what their parents map out for them, leading to a large percentage of not-so-young virgins both among men and women. By the same token, marriages that are arranged with all the best intentions might not work out either – as in the case of Natasha’s parents. But divorce is taboo. Thus, life goes on with a very high degree of tolerance and distaste for change.

Natasha knew in her heart that she had to break free. She knew she had to get away to another country, maybe the U.S, where she could be free to be herself. Where she would not be bound by conventions. It abhorred her to think that if she continued to stay here, her life would end up like her mother’s. And neither did she want a repulsive insect like her father as a husband.

Natasha worked hard in college like every student of architecture had to. She was working on her latest submission, a beautiful model of a sports complex with several stadiums when she realised that this was an overly ambitious plan and she definitely needed help. Even her teachers told her she was over-reaching her capability but this was what Natasha wanted. She wanted to prove something to herself. Of late, she had become pretty friendly with a girl who had joined later than the others in her class, Raima Sengupta. So she asked Raima if she would mind helping her to complete her project.

‘No problem!’ said Raima with confident ease.

This comforted Natasha who now knew that she would complete the project on time. Raima just had that aura about her – that she could take control and make things happen. It was true she was older than the other girls in her class since she had joined after having worked a while and not immediately after her 11th Standard like the rest. It made her more confident and somehow, she attracted everyone to her like moths to a flame. There was something in her that was almost incandescent – whenever she was around the day seemed a little brighter.

One day, Natasha managed to get away early from college. She hurried home, eager to put in a little extra work on her big project. She still had a lot to do. She needed to take pictures of the half-finished model from various angles so she could match the virtual creation with the model Raima was helping her make. After Natasha’s grandfather passed away, her mother worked mornings and late in the evenings. So the afternoons were strictly her siesta time.

When got home, Natasha tiptoed past her mother’s room and suddenly froze. There was a weird sound coming from there, accompanied by moans. As she peeped through the keyhole, she was aghast at what she saw – her mother, pleasuring herself with a dildo, eyes shut and oblivious to the world. Natasha ran out of the house, unsure of where she was heading. She was in a state of shock. Before she knew it, she found herself on Marine Drive. Watching the waves crash against the tetrapods, her shock gradually evaporated, making her see things more dispassionate

Was there anything else her mother could do? After so many years of frustration could she really be blamed? Maybe this was a lot better than engaging in mindless affairs to get rid of the pain. She was human after all. If her mother had wanted, Natasha thought, she could have sought companionship from another man but she chose to satisfy her desires privately without bringing judgement or shame on her daughter’s life.

Her mother in fact was an admirable lady.

Chapter 4 NATASHA’S FRIEND

Natasha’s mind was in such turmoil, she just had to talk to someone. And the one person who came to mind was her friend Raima. She was the only person she could think of confiding in.

Raima was an attractive girl with a flawless wheatish complexion, although not too many of her classmates found her beautiful. Not that it really mattered since she found most of them childish. Natasha in her thick black glasses and Raima with her aloofness were almost misfits in their class; it was no wonder they got on so famously.

The British had left Indians with a colour complex which was mainly apparent in the middle class. It was also apparent from the sale of various brands of whitening creams for both