Below is my first attempt at writing a short story. Please to be giving your frank and honest feedback. The frankest one will win an Ipod, :))
Round and round they went with the beats. The inner circle moved clockwise, the outer one in the opposite direction. It was a whir of every colour between red and yellow.
Each had their favourite partners. And when that one came, there would be an added twinkle in the eye and a coquettish smile. The victim would then rush through rest of the players to get back to her.
It was the ninth day of navratri. Lovers and would be lovers where playing the celestial dance of garba, in the footsteps of Lord Krishna and his gopis.
She felt thirsty. Moving out of the two circles, narrowly avoiding dandiya sticks, she waved her hands to grab his attention. She reminded herself to punch him for giving “that” smile to the girl in the purple, backless choli.
He joined her and with his usual way with words, won her heart all over again. They ran out of the pandal, and into the parking lot. There was something unseen, unsaid, which both could sense. The only apprehensions were about what extent the other would go.
The festival does it to you. It’s as if all the cement factories in the world had start spewing pheromones instead of the usual smoke.
Everything was a blur after that. The ghagra stuck in the door. The kisses soon after. The knots of the choli, which gave him some hard time. The fumblings and the shy hands.
She stopped him. No it is not safe, she said. But he was well prepared. Out came a small white packet. She relented.
And exactly after 3mins and 40sec I swam into this world. With millions of other competitors. But I did’nt see any of them, as I was at the front. But what was this white hurdle. The old man hadn’t said anything about it in the dressing room. But I saw this small hole, light coming out. I slithered out.
The target was soon in sight.
I became me.