Cable சங்கர்

30. Me "Look, I am a thief. I'm greedy to earn money quickly and settle down. Why would I lie to you, who knows everything about me? Yes, I was in his room last night. I'm not denying that. He was undressed when he came. I don't know where he misplaced it. Because Vairam blurted it out, everything fell on my head. I didn't take it. Please believe me." Sharmi's voice sounded firm and truthful to me. I'm not usually someone who believes so easily. But I believe whatever Sharmi says. "Should we just see what happens? If we get caught, it won't just be us. Everyone will get caught. We'll use that to threaten them. Maybe this will even boost our business a little. Or it might completely ruin it. We have people on our side who can help," I said, emboldened by the fact that the Commissioner's wife is in our circle. "No, that won't work. If the case gets big and becomes a media sensation, no one will come to help. We can't tr...

17-Sharmi The pain of my father’s loss was strangely intertwined with a sense of release from the crushing weight of our problems. It felt wrong to admit it, even to myself, but I couldn’t deny the truth. When I returned home from the party, my father’s body lay in the central hall. My mother was spent crying, her voice hoarse and broken. A large crowd had gathered outside the house. The old man who had come for his daughter’s wedding was among them. I overheard snippets of conversation: “It was hard enough when he was alive; now that he’s gone, how will we ever get our money back? We’ll all be ruined.” The sight of my father—his face a deep, unnatural red, his tongue slightly protruding—triggered a fresh wave of grief. I couldn’t bear to watch them take his body away. For the first time in my memory, I fainted. The police investigations and other legal formalities continued for a while. Then, the people who had invested money with my father began to appear at our doorstep. Realizing t...

16- Myself I laughed at Senthil when he said, “I’m in love.” A blush crept up his neck. “You mean the English kind of love, right? The kind we do every day?” “No… I mean real love,” he insisted, surprising me. I had always believed love was merely a euphemism for lust. “Who is she? Some extraordinary beauty?” I asked. “You know her. Supraja. From the software company. Remember?” Her face flashed into my memory. I recalled Supraja’s insistence on having two men and her almost desperate edge. The pimp had warned us, “This one’s high-strung. Be careful.” We knew that each woman who came to us was a volatile cocktail of emotions, so we went to the upscale resort on the outskirts of Chennai without much concern. It was a place frequented by the city’s elite, each room a private haven designed for maximum discretion. From the moment we arrived, everything unfolded with an almost preordained precision. Supraja resembled a modern-day Madhavi. The way she greeted us with a hesitant “Come in” an...

15. Sharmi After that night, my mother avoided my gaze. But the atmosphere at home shifted, buzzing with a nervous energy. There was a sense that they would somehow get my father out. After two rejected bail applications, my mother’s “adjustments,” as she called them, became more desperate. “If we want to get out of these problems, we have to adjust,” she stated flatly during dinner, her voice devoid of its usual warmth. When I looked up, I saw tears glistening in her eyes. She forced a smile. “Daddy will be back soon,” she said with a brittle confidence. People outside rarely understand the immense psychological and financial strain placed on the families of those imprisoned. To the police, lawyers, court clerks—to everyone involved in the legal machinery—these families are nothing more than cash cows, milked for every rupee. I witnessed this firsthand. Each time my mother went to court, she pawned another piece of jewelry. But this time, she left empty-handed. I understood the true c...

14- Myself The sight of the naked man who had accompanied Anjana was jarring. Such an encounter was new, especially with a third party present. It was disconcerting. He, however, didn't even glance at me; his gaze was fixed on Anjana with undisguised desire. He walked over and embraced her, placing a hand possessively on her groin. "Too hot," he grinned crudely. Anjana seemed to respond to his touch, pulling his face down for a deep kiss. Then, to my surprise, he beckoned me to join them. When I hesitated, she broke the kiss and said, "Come on, let’s have a threesome. Darling Gujjoo hasn’t been in the mood for ages.” I realised he was a voyeur, getting his kicks from watching. What followed needs no further description. Threesomes, as I had learned, often involved the women seeking additional stimulation. It allowed for prolonged intimacy and, for them, a more intense climax. While it might have been a euphoric experience for them, I would begin to feel pain in my gr...

13. Sharmi In a way, former Chief Minister Jayalalithaa was also a reason for my life turning upside down. But before that, I must talk about Arjun. No matter how much I tried to push him away, he would somehow find his way to wherever I was. Whenever I felt a prickling sensation on my back, Arjun would be there. In a way, I felt sorry for him. He always seemed to be wandering around with a guilty look, his eyes filled with defeat whenever he looked at me. During Reshma's sister's wedding, I noticed him watching me from a distance, and I called him over. He came hesitantly. I took him to a room upstairs in the wedding hall, closed the door, and held his hands. They were cold. He quickly pulled them away. "What do you want? You just want to touch me, is that it? Go ahead… touch me… touch me properly," I said, pulling his hands back and running them over my face, chest, and hips. He forcefully pulled his hands away and started crying. His crying felt strange to me. I ju...

10. I After that first experience, Senthil and I became close. We spent all our money on movies and drinks, and the question of how to get more became a constant torment. The initial experience had been beyond anything we had imagined, so we both harbored a secret longing for another opportunity. No call came for a week. Each time I considered calling, I remembered his promise to contact us. Having caught on to my newfound wealth, my sister began treating me with newfound respect. Due to my late-night drinking, I woke up late most mornings. Yet, invariably, her call would come as I was rising, informing me she’d made breakfast and asking me to eat before going out. This was all new to me. I’d smile inwardly every time she called. Twice that week, she asked for and received five hundred rupees. I appreciated how, when she asked, she would sit beside me quietly for a moment, holding my hand or stroking my hair while she spoke. It reminded me of my deceased mother’s touch, and I would giv...