The Masseur and Me

"Remove your clothes". I was stunned! "Here?" I asked Thankappan Aashan. I was like a young aspiring actress who was caught in a casting couch. I looked around. Women in that house were freely walking around that dark but open attic. A beautiful lady in the Ravivarma painting, which was hanging on the wall, was looking at me coyly. Sorry lady, I came to this Kalari (a martial art learning center which also doubles up as an Ayurvedic center), for a massage for my back pain but I never thought Aashan (the chief trainer and masseur) will do it in front of everybody. ‘Fast’, he expressed his impatience. I closed my eyes and started removing the burdens of civilization one by one. I decided not to open my eyes, come what may. All the more I was worried about that lady in the Ravivarma picture.

The smell of Ayurvedic oil pierced through the respiratory tract. Aashan did something similar to what Lord Krishna did to that venomous demon Kaaliyan. I lie down haplessly under his feet. Again, I thought about the lady in the picture.

As soon as Aashan’s dance on my body was over, with great relief I grabbed my clothes but in vain. ‘Come out. Don’t wear clothes. Sit in the verandah. Let the oil dry’. I almost cried. The verandah was very close to the main road. No, it was almost on the road. Whoever passes by can see me sitting in my one piece, well oiled, through the big dusty window. The only consolation was that the Verandah was dark but that did not remain that way long. The lady of the house swiftly came over and switched the light on. I sat there, wide exposed to the world.

From the other end a girl appeared on the road. As she walked past the house she glanced me though the window. She could not hide the mocking smile. Cringed with shame I kept my arms crossed on my bare chest and closed my eyes tight. I felt the uselessness of two hands. This was just the beginning of the things to come. One after one, ladies started appearing on the road. All of them gave me a curious look. God, whatever happened to the modesty of Indian women. How could they look at me like that? More startling fact was I could not spot any men. Why only ladies on the road?

Without even a slightest concern of my predicament Aashan spoke about various types of Kalarippayattu (a form of martial arts in Kerala). He was trying to enlighten me about the difference between the Northern Kerala style and Southern Kerala style. I could not understand much and all I heard was the giggle of the ladies from the road. In between Aashan called his young daughter to get him some water. It was a shot from zero range.

Again, from nowhere the lady of the house appeared and switched on the TV. I casually looked at the screen. It was an interview with Parvathi Omanakkuttan, the Miss India, Universe. During the interview an interesting clip was flashed. The swim suit contest. Parvathi was confidently showing off in front of thousands of saliva gulping men. From the audience, a man with a French beard was smacking his lips like dog in front of a butcher shop. I thought, if she could do that in front of such a huge gathering what am I thinking? Armed with the new enlightenment, I removed my arms from the chest, sat straight, took a deep breath and told, ‘ladies on the road, here I am’. The road was empty.