‘Cri De Cur’ of a Desperate Spirit

The other day I was standing before the entrance of a big hotel at Kovalam, which has got enough stars in its credit to be called a constellation. Twilight was slowly disappearing and my friend found her way into a bus amid that hubbub and I was left alone to contemplate nonchalantly over those universal concerns like isolation, existence and future ( What! My language smells like Hillaire Bellock? – Oh! my friends I won’t deny). But soon the grandiose entrance of that star hotel ushered in me the thoughts of my ‘recent’ ambition that has started overwhelming me ever since I decided to take it as my new ambition. But before I blurt out that noun let me take a digression to vindicate myself in picking such an ambition in my life[at least for these few months, for you know my desires, my moods, my tastes, my ambitions all these things get revised quite frequently. Now don’t expect me to trot out Emerson and his Self- Reliance].
One month is not a big bridge to cross. Particularly these days, for the time with its great pace seem to be fuelled by NO2. Hardly do we notice the ticking of clocks gather together to form days and weeks and months. And coming December we ( I mean those who ‘dared’ to take the great risk of becoming Masters of Arts) are supposed to encounter a great vexation in our life. I mean the National Eligibility Test- commonly known as NET. Being III semester students we do have the eligibility to appear for this “Eligibility Test”. People are nowadays so much obsessed with this exam that their hearts switched the rhythmic beat from lub- dub to NET- NET. But the fact remains that despite these incessant heart beats very few has really started a serious preparation. I don’t think its necessary for me to mention that I am not ‘a’ one among this “very few”, and nowadays I am so busy with my laziness that I don’t even get time to prepare a preparation. But, to be honest, my friend Joby and I had planned to plan our studies for this great exam right at the dawn of our first semester- a time when we didn’t know each other properly. He thought I would be systematic as I thought he would be. I even baptized our studies as “NET practice” ( I always have this habit of assigning proper nouns to all those things that I encounter albeit I know that to define is to limit). But then that story has no further chapter, it all ended with that baptizing. I am quite sure my friends, that each of you would certainly have a story similar to this to tell, because you know there is this thing called collective unconscious common to a race or group or community and this “beginning syndrome” is something commonly shared by all the members of the student community irrespective of age, course or intelligence (am I digressing too much friends? Sorry I’ll come back to my ambition).
So now this great exam has ceased overwhelming me much and my heart switched back to its usual rhythm. But then the question remains that what else will I do? To answer that let me list out the very very nuances of my existence.
NAME: Pramod L. S. (It has got no significance in this particular context for nobody will give you a job just for your name).
AGE: 22 (that will let you watch the adult movies publicly and put your signature on the marriage register).
SEX: MALE (since that has got something to do with my ambition lets put it in reserve)
QUALIFICATION: I’ve got many figures in my certificates that would certainly allow me to bubble certain columns in job applications. But that won’t work further for the simple reason that newspaper is something that I see only in our canteen as bits in the hands of our ‘canteen chettan’ (Hot bajjis, samosa!!! Oopz- saliva- Pavlov- Patti Pavlov)
Extracurricular: Egad! So many. I was a Jack of all trades and master of none.
THEN WHAT ELSE WOULD I DO?
And the answer for the question is my newly constructed ambition. Remember that particular detail that I left untouched in my CV? Yes that three letter word SEX (Again let me remind you that this is not a mucky attempt to be a controversial writer or a “compulsive confessioner” stuff, rather it is the “cri de cur of a desperate spirit who finds himself resourceless). I know you may be wondering what a basic instinct has got to do with one’s ambition. It’s high time you deconstruct your very notions of ambition. By ambition you always mean a mental aspiration or a passion. Sex is something very physical or biological (I hope you won’t say clinical). Let me come to the point. Friends I am talking about that age old profession of PROSTITUTION. Yup! I mean that- that’s my newly constructed ambition- to be a prostitute and since I belong to the male category I need to use the other terms- rent boy or Gigolo. I can see those immature old eyes receiving a ‘cultural shock’ (Sorry guys, I can’t help that) Why, you can’t credit this as a profession? What’s wrong with this profession- you pay money you get the service as simple and as ‘straight’ as a hotel business (ref. back to my poem “Solitary Sufferer”) Then why hang around all these morality stuff with this pure profession and tan it with contempt.
So hence, friends, I do dare to aspire for this wondrous profession, no matter how you take it and please don’t get wonderstruck or ‘cultural shock’, if chanced to meet me in that above mentioned Star Hotel in that above mentioned profession. And yes, as friends (for girls only) you can always hope for a tremendous discount.