THE RIDE

            The auto-rickshaw slithered to a halt. The driver, in keeping with the way he showed up raised his head slowly and gave us a smile, Rajni style. The guy must think he was in a cockpit I thought, wary of the cheekiness he had just displayed, appearing before us the way he did, un-hailed. I gave him a deliberate glare. Intense. He seemed to melt. I was not sure though, as to what caused the meltdown. Was it my glare or was it his covetousness.

            We decided to find out. ‘To the multiplex’, I said. We got in. The guy seemed surprised but not disappointed. I could say he took us to be game. He was dripping excitement not the least aware that we were no less excited than he was.

            Many a couple in autoricksahws do find the rear view mirror a nuisance. This one was no exception, but we cared less. Pretending to adjust it to be able to get a better view of the rear the driver kept fidgeting with the mirror even as his contraption meandered through thick and thin in the Chennai traffic. Without surprise it was the near inner rear he was more interested in than the far outer rear in the road. The manner in which he stole many a long glances at us girls through that mirror was confirmation of this. During one such sighting I gave him a mock smile. He blushed but soon recovered. Within the seconds that it took him to maneuver his three-wheeler into a safe lane his eyes were back on the mirror, this time piercing us like a laser.

            In a flash, Sofie giraffed her neck across into his line of sight and before he knew what was coming gave him an eyeful of a wink. Trembling with latent ecstasy he braked the contraption little realizing he was in the center of a busy thoroughfare. Dead mute to the resultant cacophony of horns and curses, he turned to face us with the innocence of a schoolboy, grinning from east to west. It was then that I acted. After all I had taken the cue from Sofie.

            The punch landed nice and square all over his jaw. Buckling from the sudden assault the guy scrambled as he tried to regain posture. He stared at us in disbelief before turning to resume the controls. 

            We could see he was now in two minds. We were prize game and yet the jab in the jaw puzzled him. He had never had girls from the boxing ring before. At least not after the rare occasion many years ago when a transvestite had jammed his head into the rear view mirror. Could he give them one more try?

            Sensing his dilemma and not wanting to let the jab douse his enthusiasm for us without taking it to its logical end I cooed a red-herring apology packed with half words and half gestures and managed to make him happy. I was straightening my arm when you presented your lovely face, I explained. Please let this rude hand shake hands with you in remorse.

            The guy blushed muttering what I took to be an invitation for dinner. We chorused a YES causing him to hit a ditch not very uncommon in Chennai roads.

            On the way to “dinner” he took leave of the suave neighborhood we had been driving in during the past thiry minutes of the ride and entered into what was without doubt one where good girls would always be welcomed to be had.

            The simmering thrill inside us was now beginning to build up into frenzy with ecstatic anticipation. The two of us were hot for him and tonight seemed destined to allow us to do it.

            When he stopped by a ramshackle tea-and-idli shop we almost went rapturous, for he came out with a friend in tow. We were two and they were two, each for one. No sharing here. The friend too was someone we had wanted for months. Boy what a night!

            Without warning the friend shoved himself into our cabin but with a huge grin. Giving us a complete look over he said, “Aren’t you girls new to this area?” Sofie and I nodded and kept nodding lest he get too physical before time.

            Inside a minute we were getting off at a hotel. Everything seemed pre-arranged there. That made things easier we thought. The room number, 304 third floor.

            Soon we were inside the room. All four of us were impatient to begin that grand groping session we had wanted all these days.

            After the preliminary formalities in the toilet we were ready for them. We found them in their birthday dresses on the beds. Sofie went for the driver’s friend. The driver himself was mine.

            The thrashing we gave them brought the whole hotel staff into the room within minutes of the beginning of the assault. Some had their mobile phone cameras, and yet some had video cams. The manager too was there, giving a running commentary of what to him was clearly a fight straight for the Guinness Book of Records.

Two young girls taking on two notorious thugs of the auto-rikshaw gang of rapists. The police had lost all hopes of nabbing them. But, today here they were, in his very hotel, getting the hell out of them beaten to near death.

            It must have taken the police a good thirty minutes, by which time the two guys were gasping for breath. Their eyes wide open in surprise and jaws dropping from the hits.

            Sofie did it first. She removed her make up, wig and her shirt off. Revealing a hairy chest to the disappointment of all, she gave me the okay to follow suit.

            “We have been reading in the newspapers about rapes by the auto-rikshaw gang. Therefore we decided to resort to this ploy to trap them before treating them to a nice thrashing. We certainly want our police to adapt such innovative methods. This will help nab car and auto rapists easily and always keep them guessing as to what their targets might turn out to be”. We got pats on our backs, yes.

            Not without a new name to live with, though. The Girls.

            Khwaja massoud