toujours_nigel: BFT (kaminey)
[personal profile] toujours_nigel
For [livejournal.com profile] applegnat .

“Dada kibhabe gari park korechho, ami berote parchhi na, ekkhuni giye shorao, amar de…” And, yeah, there’s a good reason for the rule about not walking into bedrooms unless the door is wide open. Some few proporieties must be maintained in a house with three men in it—well, two-and-a-half men, as Shumon-da puts it, and now is really not the time to be thinking about Shumon-da. Not that he can not. At least he’s mostly dressed. Well, not intolerably undressed. The woman, though. Those are… really large breasts and… “I’ll take a bus.”

“Na, wait,” Shumon-da says, like he isn’t…well, that’s interesting. “Chabi dressing table’er upore ache.” He curves his shoulder down, does something with his hand—this is so much more traumatic than the time Dada walked in on him masturbating—which is why the rule, anyhow—and the woman moans. Those are really, really, really, nice breasts. Wow. “Make sure gari’ta tthik jaygaye parked hoy. I don’t want Dada ramming it later.”

“No, never mind, it’ll be fine,” he says, and escapes. Really really nice breasts.

And that is how Mikhail Madhusudan Dutta becomes the first boy in his class to see a naked woman up close.

***

Translations:
Dada kibhabe gari park korechho, ami berote parchhi na, ekkhuni giye shorao, amar de…: Dada, how have you parked the car, I can’t get out, go move it right now, I’m getting la[te]

Chabi dressing table’er upore ache: Keys are on [the] dressing table.

Make sure gari’ta tthik jaygaye parked hoy: Make sure the car’s parked in the right place.


*** *** ***


The man’s skinny, and under the harsh white lights of the morgue, his skin looks blue and ready to slough off.

“He was your friend?” she asks, feels gauche and young and helplessly stupid—what else can he have been, when Charlie’s ignoring his shoulder and kneeling to hold a putrefying corpse close, when they’re here instead of in a room with a proper bed so Charlie can rest.

His woman—Sophia, who looks as bloody posh as though she just walked out of My Fair Lady, and cannot have a life beyond kitty parties and elegant laughter, but who’s not batted an elegant eyelash at how Charlie looks, must be too dumb—throws her a look that says as much and Charlie laughs like he’s stopped knowing how to cry. “Yeah,” he says, pulls the sheet up, over the face, “he waf my friend. He waf my brother,” he says, like Guddu’s not half-a-foot away “I loved him,” he says and Sophia puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’m okay,” he insists, and laughs again. “Fucker had a death wifh.”

“We should go,” she says, and edges towards the door. Corpses freak her out, and he’s beginning to stink.

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