The Ultimate Roadrash

I was coming back from my ancestral home. There had been a slight drizzle. The pleasant smell of fresh rain was in the air. The muddy road I was walking through would meet the main tar road after a turn. When I passed the turn I saw that. A girl, may be eight or nine years old (studying in third standard, I learnt later), was talking to a person on a bike. He was wearing a helmet. Actually, he was talking to the girl. She was only looking at him. He took something from his pant pocket and began to give it to her. Then suddenly I noticed it: what he was giving was his penis! Black as sin. A sudden and loud growl escaped from me, accompanied by a long forgotten Malayalam expletive. On seeing me, he quickly wrapped up the thing and started his bike and fled. All this happened so quickly that I could not notice the registration number of the bike. I know only that it is a Hero Honda bike. The girl looked at me in bewilderment. I was also shocked. I asked her whether she knew the person. She shook her head as if saying no. I was disappointed. I could only order her to go home quickly.

Because he was wearing a helmet, I am not able to recognize him correctly. Since mine is a small village, there are not many people with Hero Hondas. But it is a link road and people of the neighbouring localities also use this road. The person on the bike had a similar build (and a similar shirt and a same kind of bike) as a particular person in our village. But I am not sure. He is married and well-respected. He does not wear helmet also. I am keeping quite about this because I don’t want to open a can of worms. Village gossip spreads faster and takes new forms quicker than any deadly virus. But still I cannot digest the fact that something like this happened in our village, that too in broad day light and on an open road.