36 B, He Wrote

People

36 B, He Wrote

Illustration: Namaah/ Arré

O

n a January morning earlier this year, 25-year-old Prakash called his friend in the United States to inform him of the passing of two close companions. “Rukhsana aur Altaf ab nahi rahe,” he said. It took his friend, who had just woken up from deep sleep, a few minutes to process the information. When he realised who the people in question were, he let out a few choice expletives at Prakash, and promptly went back to sleep. Rukhsana and Altaf were the names of Prakash’s left and right breasts. Now they are no more.

“They were a couple because they made love to each other at night,” Prakash explains to me with a grin. Skinny, small-framed, Prakash is still recovering from his gynaecomastia surgery when we meet. “They were a part of my life. They even looked nice on some days, because they balanced out my belly,” he says with a twinge of nostalgia. When Rukhsana and Altaf were around, Prakash hated their intrusive presence, but now that they’re gone, he seems to almost miss them.

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