Killing the Red God

A serialization of my novel, "Killing the Red God". | Copyright: Hari Kumar | website: | If this is your first visit, please start from the bottom (start of Chapter 1)

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Location: Singapore, Singapore

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Chapter 2 -- Part 5

Author's Note:
For reading the first chapter, you may download it in Acrobat PDF format from here (Click here!)

Now for the latest instalment....

We start to wolf down the food as if we just broke a long fast. I look at her as she fights with a chicken leg. She is now wearing a white tee shirt and a pair of shorts. Her hair is still moist and unkempt. Something reminds me of Nisha. I am uneasy. I feel sick.
I push away the food. “I am sorry, I can’t eat,” I say.
She looks at me blankly for a long ten seconds. Her face is expressionless.
I feel naked at her stare. Uncomfortable. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.
She ignores my question and shifts her interest to her chicken leg, “Tell me, Dil,” she says between munches, still looking at the piece of chicken, “Is your wife beautiful?”
I nod, guilt growing in me, “She is pretty… Very sexy.”
She nods with me, “My husband’s handsome too… In a cold practical way…Hmm, this is good,” she says referring to the chicken. “Is she cold and practical too?”
I am puzzled at this conversation, “She is a practical person…but I am not sure whether she is cold or not…maybe sometimes…” She is not cold — I think — she is frigid!
“Can I ask a personal question?” she does not wait for my answer, “How often do you make love nowadays?”
“Why do you want to know all this?”
“You don’t have to answer it, if you don’t want to. Just a casual question… After all, we just made love. And that too, twice. So I feel a certain intimacy with you… Just forget I asked.”
“No. It’s okay. Once a month, I guess,” My eyes roll upwards as I try to remember.
“I don’t think you got my question. My question is: How often do you make love not sex? I can have sex with a dildo, but I don’t make love to it, if you know what I mean.”
“Once a month,” I repeat, nodding my head for emphasis.

(To be continued...)


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