The Speaking Bra.

inspire 2

So, here’s a conversation I came up with, after taking some cue from KC Vlaine’s The Speaking Bra.

Employees night out. Smirnoff, Jack Daniels and Kingfisher. Two shots each. All by myself, I got out of Privy struggling to walk two steps in a row. The drunk walk led me towards Forum Courtyard where the hangover continued. Lights were out. Mannequins still lit. I was swinging by the escalator, when a voice called me out. I was beginning to get into the guilt stage from the hangover stage.

drunk

A voice called me out again. The mannequin is speaking?
“I have not drunk so much that mannequins will call me out!”, I thought aloud.

“It isnt the mannequin, it is what is on it.”
I looked at the mannequin again. I giggled. I laughed.
“The bra is speaking? Hahaha. I will love to stay here then.”

“It is funny, right? An inanimate object is speaking to you. And that too a bra.”
I kept laughing.

“Regardless of whether I speak or not, I am still found funny. I have been reduced to a humour”, the bra said.

Ignoring whatever it spoke, I continued, “If we are actually having this conversation, then please tell me why are you so difficult to take off?”.

“Of course. Difficult to take off. I am a hindrance to your power, to your mardaani. I delay your hormonal imbalance. My purpose is only to be unbuttoned, right?”, it said in a raised volume.

“What do you mean by that? Do I look like a rapist to you?”, I spoke with a stammer.

“Do not talk about rapists. Because I am difficult to take off, I have been tore off. I have been bitten. I have been lashed. I have been thrown away.”, the bra continued after a pause. “But you are no rapist. Of course you’re not. But you belong to a flock whose motto is ‘we won’t rape but we won’t respect either.’ A very few males do not belong to that flock. A very few. Young boys do not belong to that until they come to terms with the ‘utilities’ of the internet. You do not care about all this, do you? Because you are no rapist.”

“I have been a part of several feminine campaigns. I do respect women. It is very wrong on your part to say such a thing.”, the hangover had gone. I stood there, baffled.

“That’s impressing. Participating in feminine campaigns means a lot. Women actually need that. They need support in these campaigns. Because you men can never correct what brings about such campaigns. And what do you do after participating in such campaigns? You go home. Try pulling me off. Curse on how difficult I am to put off? Gentleman, the eye contact we are having right now is the sight you smile at, the most in a day. Any fraction of what is beneath me turns you on. You do not rape. You, collectively, cause rape. Ten of you will get turned on. One of you will lose his mind.”

I replied, “You’re saying anything because I am drunk and I cannot reply much. You…”, the bra cut me in between.

“It will all sound rubbish to you. Whenever a man wraps his arm around her, my button at the back feels her insecurity. Whenever she travels on road alone, my straps on her shoulder sense her burden. Whenever she is in a bus, in a cab, in an environment with all men. her heartbeats run beneath me. Whenever she decides to dress up well, she is reminded of her restrictions when she looks at me in the mirror. Talk about restrictions, what are you doing at 12:25 in a drunk state, 9 kms away from your home? You are not feeling scared? It will all sound rubbish to you. But I do mean a lot to all those 40-50 girls who left early because you men were getting drunk.”

“B.. but.. but..”, I sighed, “I am sorry. What can I do now?”

“You men demand a lot of respect. Reciprocate some. We could all have been white in colour and not be put on display but we are designed in many colours. She buys it. She dresses up for you. Not because she is needy of something, but because she trusts you and loves you. Reciprocate some respect.”

“Sir, you’re not allowed here. Please take the stairs and leave.”, the security guard called out.

“Do you talk to all people who come here?”, I asked the bra.

despair

“Sir, there is no one. Who are you talking to?”, the security guard stood near. I left for home.

The next day was a Sunday and she wanted to come shopping to Forum Courtyard. I willingly agreed. We came to the top floor and got into the same shop just when I saw the same bra being purchased.

“Thank you and sorry. Stay safe. Stay brave.”, I said, looking at the shopping bag the bra was in.

“Yes? Did you say something?, she asked.
“Yes! We’ll go for a drive and a movie tonight? And then a long walk maybe?”, I manipulated.
“Great! Don’t you have office tomorrow?”
“I do. It will be fine!”

She hugged me while I saw the shopping bag being carried out of the store.
I wasn’t drunk this time but I am sure the bra winked at me from inside the shopping bag. That night she felt so happy.

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About Chetan

A twenty year old infant who fears if crows may shit on him or if Bengali aunties' umbrellas may prick him in the eye. He is currently waiting for Mamata Banerjee to leave Kolkata.

Posted on March 18, 2015, in Specials and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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