Today,  I read Prashant’s blog epandit : http://prashanktsinha.blogspot.com/ and had memories of Thaddu hitting me allover. Its 1am. everybody @ home is asleep, the dogs in the neighbourhood are raising intermittent barks and I am swept with amazing days  I had with Thaddu. The harder I try to dispel his memories, the stronger is the tune that blares in my head -“THADDU CANT BHAG SAALA”.  

Thaddu was a guy of above average height , he was clean shaven ,  had receeding hair hairline. His eyes had a mischief behind those thin rimmed steel glasses. Thaddu was the abstraction of his surname Thadani. This Sindhi guy from some town in Madhya Pradesh  always had a smile on his face and was quickly a hit amongst all for his earthy cracks.

 Early in the college years , frugality used to pour cold water on our urges to buy ‘ Debonair’ (An Indian avatar of Playboy), the stringent penalty on bringing TV and VCR in hostel put a price not worth the fun.The digital entertainment was not ubiquitous and internet was avaialble in cities like Delhi@ Rs90 for half an hour. Repressed and pent up there was an acute need for something which could fuel our imaginations/arousals. The specialty of Thaddu was not in retelling jokes from books. He was a fountainhead of erotic imagination. His oeuvre was in creating stories out of live characters. The characters which were present around us. The English teacher, the Malaysian student on campus, the shy girl in Civil Engineering all. One such… narrative in a hostel room after nerve wrecking exam..and 3 days of gap between.

“I am coming back from a post lunch class, the eyes are heavy , the road to hostel on this mid summer afternoon appears long and lonely. I curse myself to peg my steps. The lips are dried up as I wag my tongue to enliven them. In this desert where do I see the hope of filling my thirst. There in a distance I see Shakshi mam( Name changed) walking leisurely towards her quarter. I see her posterior rise up and fall in smooth harmonic motion as  if an oscillator has been let loose on a slow pulse.. I follow her into her home garden and whip up my smile. She smiles back and asks me gently why ? how I am here. I say- ” I am thirsty”. She has come inside.  I slowly step in as the creaky spring door wriggles on the circular arc on floor to force a closure. . The room is dark, the heavy curtains let only a minimal flux of light define the boundaries of furnishings on the sofa. The carpet below is heavy.. the silence make me hear my beat which is thumping by now. She is now back in the hall, with a tray and a silver glass filled with water laced with fragrance of rose. She bends down and the end of her Pallu slithers. She it seems is in some thoughts .As I slowly sip the sweetest water I have drunk in my life , i am aroused at the lustre of her skin.From the neck.. moving down below I see the heaven.. i never thought … I will…

Then he stopped, there was pandemonium in the room.. nobody could stand this interrupt.. Bhen***** ruk mat.. Bhosri..kyon le rahaa hai… aage Bol..  and curses to goad him into doing something. He put a price, thodi thandee beer le kay aa.. and then he would move ahead.

Thaddu was in demand in various Hostel rooms for his uncanny imagination and twists. As his reputation spread, there were bookings for him .Guys would come up with their crushes, obsessions , hotlists and Thaddu would deflower them all with is profound visual imagery. This used to be a bigger paisa vasool than hanging from overstuffed buses and going all the way to the city to seek gratification.. He was a bigger hero than mast ram or letters to pent house. The characters in his shows were all real, the sorroundings were the ones we lived in and the depiction of love always had spontaneity with a little bit of linguistic crudity which spiced up our imaginations. Enamored by his skills we thought of launching a clandestine yellow publication. Like many of my great business ideas this too suffered infant mortality. Only my best friend Viru had a buy in for its business case.

Even if I F*** aside the loss of elusive millions I could not make out from this hugely original prospect ( Like Hefner did) , whenever I meet my  College friends and we get drunk, the only scream that comes of my heart is- ” Aaj Thaddu Kahaan hai”

2 thoughts on “Thaddu, the king of erotica

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