White Knights
- Part 3 -

By N. Bobo Meitei *

Jet-legged and soaked in sweat and exhaust fume fatigue creeps into him then sleepiness takes over it. In the middle of his dream something starts banging on the wall. The bang becomes louder forcing him to wake up with annoyance. The exasperation in his mind is conquered by hunger. He goes down to grab some "yummy" Thai food.

What appeared as a soaked up spacious place upon his arrival now wears the festive look, revealingly appealing every passers by to come and discover what's underneath it.

What is revealed dissuades the hunger that clung on him almost a while ago, and with curiosity he begins pacing down the streets where the footpaths are taken over by hawkers selling pirated DVDs, CDs, flimsy shirts, 2 Dollar-Rolex watches and many others. Craning his neck while his hairy white hands carving his ways among the clothes hanging down from the temporary poles he continues walking in the street until he stumbles over the "Guinness and Heineken" signs at one place.

In front of one Irish a young lady, her voluptuous body wrapped in silky Heineken logo printed dress, smiles soon he walks up to the bar. "Happy hour,sir." She says this through her smiles which look so genuine that it leaves him wondering for a while whether she was born with that authenticity.

In between the enchanted expression and eagerness to know more about her he breaks his stiffness to try to smile as a fair deal between them. Warm smiles all over his face, like a just released man, he happily walks in to the bar for a chill beer.

Inside the crowd reminds him of his friends back home, but the difference is its multilingual atmosphere. The loud talking Americans, the grumbling German group with teen girls, there are also aging British bunch jabbering in their northern tone, he grabs a beer and enquires if he can be a part of the conversation.

They are rather delighted to have him thinking he will be able to provide them fresh news from the country of far far away. Before the nostalgic conversation kicks off they cling their mugs. He provides them the much sought fresh news about development in Princess Diana's case, Tony Blair's decision to stand down, etc.

With thoughtful expression on their faces they lend their ears, some interrupting every now and then with trivial questions. The longer they drink and talk the more it turns jingoistic, almost taking themselves to the point where they are made ready to start their brave walk to lift legs high while the fingers under noses to celebrate their cheerful victory over the Nazis.

Dismayed at the drunken jingoistic display of British pride some of the German grandfathers who have been grumbling with their teen girlfriends wake up to say something, but the realization that they are in a mysterious land makes them sit down to think of a place where they can be more comfortable.

Having had a good laugh they hastily resolve to call it a night and say "let's bugger off from this place" to each other. The scene outside has been transformed into another sober melee but the same supposedly happy girl is seen standing all by herself, at that sight, feeling sorry for her, he walks up and struggles to have a conversation.

The flabbergasted girl, who appears rather coquettish now to him, in a friendly tone, asks "where are you going?" "No where, may be back to my hotel" he replies.

"Do you live alone? Can you buy me a drink? Where do you come from?" she demands more. He indulges further "Yes, I live alone. Sure I can buy you a drink. By the way I am from England and I am James."

They both sit down drinking more till 2 o'clock when the shutter is almost pulled down. He takes out money to pay while his drunken eyes preying on her. Her understanding of the gravity is so intense that by the time they get to the empty street she starts touching his belly.

He grabs her small hand comprehending the uncertainty that he is going home alone. Laughing sometimes giggling they both walk at the same pace towards to the hotel, then he stops in front of a 7/11 shop to buy some contraceptives, but the shelves look like just emptied out.

He wonders why contraceptives can't be easily found in shops in this "bloody country." An angry approach to the counter is welcomed by a nervous young gay boy. In a sarcastic tone he demands why there aren't any condoms. "Sir, yesterday was Valentine's day" explains the gay boy, virtually defending his country.

"Wow! Wow! Thanks" saying he leaves the store to catch up with the lady who has been waiting outside for him. At his sight she carves her mouth into a round hole with her tongue sticking out through the hole, that shady expression is succeeded by " why you left me alone for long?"

His desire to play safe is now overcome by an uncontrollable desire to tame the beast within. He grabs her soft arm, which also grabs a handful of her long straight hair which rustles between her arms and breast. Gallantly and carelessly they continue the pace until they stop if front of the hotel room.

To tame the beast they both have to spend hours after hours performing perennial audible bilingual screams. By sunrise the impregnable curtail is pulled down, behind that impenetrable confinement they both restore their lost strength. By mid day there is a knock on the door, which comes as an annoying one.

It is the waiter asking he can serve him brunch. He nods his head, turns around to find the blanket wrapped lady picking her nose calling him "Hello darling!" The former disgusts him, but the latter softens the disgusting feeling.

To cleanse the lady or to Anglicize her he explains how picking nose could be an unacceptable conduct in the Greatest Britain. After the cultural lesson shyness occupies her mind, however, to have a man who can explain to her what is acceptable and unacceptable in one materialistically advanced nation is interpreted as a caring expression.

To be continued ....