The Boy Who Want to Dance with Whores!

“Yes, he really wants to dance with whores.”

“No, idiot. . . I don’t want to dance with whores! I want to dance with a single one! Whore. It’s a singular form!”

“Ooh, not whores, just a single one?”

“Yes, only one, now continue your writing!”

“Okay, sorry.”

That’s it, you yourself heard him, and he wants to dance with a whore! Singular form, just one!

One day, he says, he saw a whore accidentally, and was in love with her.

They are four friends, who make articles for a local magazine. That month they wanted to make an article on Hijras (A strange choice for a group of college students!). It was idea of Mani Ratnam, the one who chooses the prompt of the article every time. And with him all the other three team members were sailing.

“Where can we find them?” Vicky asked one guy who was walking across the street. It was not so easy to find their community in the town; they do not live with different people here.

Looking strangely at them, “I don’t know.” He replied and walked off.

“Are we asking him to take us with him? What is there to show us the route?” Mani scowled.

“Wait yaar (love or friend) I’ll call the auto-uncle.” Vicky said, slipping his phone out of his pocket and started dialling that auto-uncle’s number (the one who named the area of Hijras).

Before he could dial, “Wait, look there.” Jaggu stopped and pointed towards someone walking across the road.

She was a Hijra, wearing green saree, having tattoos all over her body.

Mounting off the bike, Mani and Vicky walked towards her, while Jaggu and Mouli did not dare.

Hesitatingly, “Sister” Mani called out.

Vicky too felt a bit fear inside. Not fear of getting beaten or something, but fear of facing the un-experienced! We all have that, and it takes a bit to get along.

“Yes,” she turned back towards them.

“Sister, we are making an article on Hijras.” He said politely. “I want to talk with your head or leader or, or someone like that.” He ended stammering.

Vicky’s legs were stretched, his body slightly turning back, arms parallel to ground and he was getting ready to run!

“Jaya ji!” she said, “Go straight and take that turn.” She said, her face delight.

“Thank you.” They were much delighted.

They went all the way, and the road split into two, and they didn’t know which is that that turn. On Jaggu’s advice, they took right turn. The area was completely different. It’s the true slum of India.

In some distance, they saw huts, and one Hijra standing on mid-road. Vicky sipped in fear courage, but Mani’s face was glowing like a thousand watt bulb. “God, save us!”

They went near her, and slowed their bikes down.

“I. . .” Before Mani can say something, she approached them in an instance.

“Two are free, she is three hundred and. . .” She pointed towards a girl.

“No, no, we are not here for that.” Mani said, panicked. “We are here to meet Jaya ji.”

As the discussion went on between the Hijra and Mani, Vicky saw towards the girl towards whom the Hijra pointed.

She sat on a half broken, plastic stool which is placed on one side of the road. She had a beedi in her mouth, smoking out. Widening her legs, leaning her body on to her knees, her eyes were cold as ice. “They were no feelings in them, except hatred towards the entire world. May be she wants to burn us all?” Vicky says till date.

She was not at least nineteen in Vicky’s expectation. She wore worn out dresses, her hair uncombed, and her face was rusty. She was smoking all the time. She saw towards Vicky into his eyes, angry. . . . Always!

They turned their bikes back, and they were on the way towards that Jaya ji.

Vicky didn’t spoke all the way.

“300 is a pretty good deal!” Mani said laughing, but Vicky remained silent. Then, Mani saw Vicky through his rear mirror, Vicky’s eyes were red and he remained serious.

Breaking the bike’s speed, “What happened?” Mani asked in horror.

“That girl. . .” He said, his voice stumbling.


They all hovered around him. “What had happened Vicky?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know.” He screamed. “Must she be like that till her death?”

Silence remained.

“I want to live with her. I want to hold her tight.”

“Vicky, you are a bit moved, that’s it. Everything will be alright.”

Lowering his head, he remained silent for a while. “No,” he said. “No Mani, one day, I will return to her, I will hold her, I will be with her, I will be that one guy who makes her world beautiful, who turns her world around, who makes her feel, this world is not as hard as her hell. I will be with her till her end.” He said, confidence emitting in his voice.

“Why?” they frowned. “She is a, she is. . .” they slowed down, “A Whore,” they whispered.

“Yes, maybe that is why. . . I love her. . . I want to dance with her in the moon light.”


“Yes, I want to dance with a Whore, do you care, or do you dare stopping me?”

I don’t know properly who this ‘V’ guy is, but I want to know him completely, why he was moved by her and loved her so deep!


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Fireside Chat.”


14 thoughts on “The Boy Who Want to Dance with Whores!

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