A Night with Mallu Porn

Posted by snowleopard on August 13, 2013 · 9 Comments 

Who am I? I am you. Maybe I am most of you. Maybe I am none of you. For the universe I am a microscopic blimp on the face of time, but that is for the philosophers to philosophize and I am certainly not one. For you I am the mind’s curiosity. I am the rebel child in everyone who will want to do that which he has been warned against. But most of all, I am a survivor. I survived one night with mallu porn. And I am still running…..

It was 2007 I guess, or maybe 2008. It could have been September or January. I am not sure; my memory is clouded and it happened ages ago.  I was younger and more prone to periods of debauchery.  It was during one such evening of drunken revelry when someone suggested porn. That is what happens when you fill a room with sexually frustrated males studying Mechanical Engineering and provide them copious amounts of booze. Rum, to be precise, mixed with fresh sugarcane juice.

It was our first time watching an Indian Porn, mallu porn to be specific. We had heard a lot about this genre. Though, Naughty America was still the most popular brand across classrooms, people talked about mallu porn in a hushed tone. Not Sunny Leone, but pure mallu porn shot near (or we hoped) the backwaters of Kerala. The mere mention of this genre would make the bravest retreat. But we had to watch it that day. And why prefer foreign stuff when something indigenous was available. Have we forgotten Lal Bal Pal’s Swadeshi movement. Didn’t Manoj Kumar sing “Hai preet jahan ki reet sada” while dining on a gyroscope masquerading as a table. And since India is the second most populous country in the world, we must be doing something right in this department after all. Anyway, we had watched 2 Girls and 1 Cup while eating chocolate gelato, so this couldn’t be worse.

There were rumours that a senior had what we were looking for. I accompanied a friend to his room. It was in the darker corners of the hostel where hardly anyone ventured. The flickering light bulb provided a dim light. Only the bravest dared to go there, and alcohol makes lions out of mice. They warned us…the hushed voices hidden in the shadows. They kept saying that the video was cursed. But we paid no heed. It took us half an hour to reach our destination. Stumbling and falling through the arduous 30 metre journey. The senior scanned us from head to toe and told us we were not ready. He said we were not strong enough and shut the door rather unceremoniously. I vomited on his door. Maybe it was our constant howling. Maybe it was the stench of alcohol drenched in bile juices. But 15 minutes later, he opened the door again and gave us a pen drive hurriedly. It was a white SanDisk and had the words “Never Open” written on it. We were shoo-ed off and asked never to return again….or to tell about the pen drive to another living soul.

We came back triumphant. But little did we know what horror awaited us. The movie was a bit grainy and started slowly. Backwaters and pristine surroundings accompanied by light background music. The camera zoomed in on a solitary cottage. We were expecting a Dosa delivery guy to knock on the door, and maybe the lady of the house would ask him for some extra chutney. Perhaps there was going to be a lungi clad mustachioed male who would make sexual innuendos about coconuts and coconut milk. Or maybe a strong gust of wind would blow his lungi, a la Marylin Monroe, as the smitten heroine would watch from behind a banana tree while playing with her freshly oiled hair. Yes, we had read too many stories from the sleazy magazines available at the corner shops near Old Delhi railway station.

And then it began. We sat there transfixed with horror, as our senses were bombarded by unearthly visuals and sounds.  No man should ever be witness to what we saw. With the women in the movie being as large as 4 men, this was meant more for spiders than humans. A huge blob of fat wearing a sari was getting turned on by a hairy skeleton. The skeleton began drooling over the fat lady as the latter squirmed on a rickety bed that should have fallen apart in shame. Or possibly it was a beached whale and the skeleton was trying to keep it wet. Weren’t such videos banned by the Geneva Act?

The visuals that followed burnt my soul as I sat there cursing God for giving me a pair of healthy eyes. I wanted to rip them out. Even though I had about 50% alcohol in my blood stream at that moment, it could not subdue the sense of revulsion I felt. I just wanted to die and make it all go away. If only porn had been there during the 15^th century, Vasco da Gama would have left India, never to return again. I was trying hard not to throw up. The acidic juices of the stomach shot out from my nose instead, burning the nasal cavity.  I tried to scream but could not. Friend 1 was lying on the floor, curled up in a fetal position, sobbing silently. Friend 2 was screaming hysterically. I looked in the direction he was pointing at. It was Friend 3 – he had, in a moment of madness brought upon by that video, sliced his dick off using a paper-cutter. The floor was a puddle of vomit and blood. I ran outside to throw up….to jump before a speeding truck. Friend 2 ran after me with a hammer and a rusty nail. If it would not kill him, he said, then at least the lobotomy would help him forget. And then we both fainted.

I still wake up at night screaming. I visit Friend 1 sometimes at the mental asylum. He does not recognize anyone and just sits huddled in a corner muttering to himself. Friend 2 was so disgusted that he left everything, went to the mountains and became a celibate. I never meet Friend 3, it would be too painful for both of us.

I survived but not unscathed. Maybe mallu porn can be used as a deterrent for those wishing to seek the comfort of 72 virgins in the afterlife. The very act of fornication might disgust them so much that they would forget everything they had been taught and begin rethinking their life choices. Like in A Clockwork Orange, rapists should be forced to watch it on a loop until they die. It could be used as a form of third degree torture.  It should be used as a means of birth control. What is the possibility that this is what Andy Riley’s bunnies saw and then decided that they just didn’t want to live anymore?

…….. I am running. From the demons that haunt me constantly. From the images of thick pubic hair and hairy women. From hairy butt cracks and that moaning sound that would make ND Tiwary impotent. I regret that we did not burn the Flash drive. We should have. But it is still there somewhere….waiting…waiting for its next victim.

Filed under Dark, Stories · Tagged with Andy Riley, Clockwork Orange, India, Indian Porn, Lal Bal Pal, Mallu, Mallu Porn, Manoj Kumar, Naughty America, Porn, SanDisk, Sunny Leone