BHASMA

Jan 3, 2020 · 8 min read

The crowd at Chitnis Park, Nagpur eagerly awaited the arrival of the two final

champions. The open sky and the evening breeze relieved the crowd from the 30 degrees heat of January. Over the past 3 days, more than 700 wrestlers had tussled on the dirt floor as an attempt to increase their chances of winning the ‘Maharastra Kesari’ title. Yet the biggest of them all was yet to be witnessed. There was a slight whiff of oil and buttermilk from the red dirt floor. The crowds roared as the two finalists entered the dirt floor. The two of them stood on either side of the referee and shook hands. They could be differentiated only based on the color of their costume: red and blue. The one

in blue bent down to rub the mud on his hands and rubbed the same against his forehead. The referee blew the whistle and the two wrestlers were quick to grab each other’s shoulders. The two of them continued to grunt until the one in red lost control and slipped. Seizing the opportunity, the one in blue grappled the red one’s throat showing off his toned biceps. A trickle of sweat went down his forehead. The blue opponent took a lead of 5 points. The red one almost choked tried reversing the positions, but all in vain. In the next 5 minutes, the opponent in blue kept the momentum going by dodging his opponent's every move. He then took the fight to its much-awaited peak by pushing his opponent out of the square ring. The referee lifted the blue opponent’s hand. The opponent in blue was Bhasma and he was titled the Maharastra Kesari. The crowds screaming “Bhasma! Bhasma!” was soon replaced by empty grounds and the sunset as the victory of the title dawned upon Bhasma.

After a 3 days break, Bhasma was back at the akhada(the ring) sharp at 3 AM to resume his routine. He entered the akhada stretching his hands letting the chilly breeze hit his bare torso. He started his routine by performing 2000 press-ups and 2000 squats. The rising sun’s rays silhouetted the wrestlers standing within the boundaries of the faded red walls. Bhasma stepped out to finish the 7km run followed by lifting sandstones. At the 8 o clock session as the wrestlers prepared to wrestle each other,Bhasma was distracted by the creaking sound of the gate. A sleek lady walked in through the gate.

She stopped by to talk to the eldest man in the akhada- Bhasma’s master, Shiva. After a brief conversation, the master summoned Bhasma. Bhasma had not stopped looking in that direction, and at once he answered to his master’s call.

“This is Mohini. She works with Vishnu my close friend in Mumbai. She has come all the way to take pictures of wrestlers and the akhada.” Shiva addressed Bhasma.

“And this Mohini, (pauses) is Bhasma. The Kesari(Lion) you and your camera want to capture over the next 7 days.”

Bhasma turned his gaze towards his master, looked back at Mohini and smiled

sheepishly. Master signaled him to return to the akhada, and he did so. That day, anybody who saw him fights would have laughed over the fact that he had just won the Maharastra Kesari title. His hands kept slipping and his grip was not firm at all. His eyes were constantly following the lady in white and his focus was nowhere within the limits of the akhada. At the 4 o clock massage, all he could think of was Mohini. He kept thinking about her bright eyes and thought what it would be like to get lost in them. He could visualize her long black hair falling along her slender neck, the bare navel that

remained exposed, her well-rounded body…

“Mohini madam is here. She will be walking around the akhada, to take pictures. She is here to do her job. Let her do her job and you do yours. Okay!”

Bhasma opened his eyes and sat up with his back erect. He got off the massage table and pressed his shoulders and stretched his legs. Mohini was busy taking pictures of the juniors battling it out. Bhasma was the last to get into the ring. The veins from his muscles popped as he tried to take on his opponent. Bhasma was one lens away from Mohini. As she shifted her position her fingers brushed against his back and he felt a spark run through his spine. This loosened his grip and as a result, his opponent flipped him over. The scuffle disturbed the photographer at work and she collided with Bhasma. Bhasma held on to her camera just before it could hit the red mud. She stood

up and dusted the red mud off of her clothes.

“Sorry, I did not realize you were this close. Are you hurt?” Bhasma asked and handed the camera.

“No, No, it is my fault I should have kept my distance. Bhasma means ashes right? I should have taken a hint,” she smirked as she rotated her shoulders.

“That's not it. We have not had many visitors here in the past 15 years. Certainly not girls,” he said as he walked her out of the ring.

“Ha-ha. That’s okay. So you have been training under Shiva Sir since then?”

“Yes. He is the reason I first got into the akhada and he is the reason I do every single day,” he spoke with ease. “In fact, he should be titled the true Maharastra Kesari.”

“Well, he was once. Now it's your time.” She said smiling straight at his face.

He felt a sense of accomplishment that he did not feel even from the title he had won a few evenings earlier. If his opponent had not called him back into the ring, the night would have taken a different turn.

The following early morning there was an elegant silhouette that followed

the macho men around, in the akhada. Bhasma was still in complete awe of Mohini. He had never seen a girl who was so comfortable within the boundaries of the akhada. She did not shy away from the dust of the red mud but blended with it. She did not hesitate to approach the hefty men but became one amongst them. She did not shy away from all the ghee and milk but contested with the other wrestlers to finish it. She had made the akhada her own. She had made him her own. Or so he felt. Bhasma was hardly paying attention to his wrestling anymore. He was transfixed by Mohini and everything about her. With every flash from her camera, his heart captured a

new feature of hers. His master had kept a watch over Bhasma.

“I see you are not paying attention. Are you not the same Bhasma who challenged me that he would win the Hind Kesari title? You have been putting in a lot of effort and I have put double of that. Respect that and stay true to your sport.” Master warned.

“But master..”

“No. I do not want to hear a word. I want to see it in the ring. In few days I will have the weekly match, lets see how you fair in that. Go now!”

Mohini had got all her pictures. She was to shoot some final pictures of Maharastra Kesari under the moonlight. The akhada walls remained silent. As he struck different poses, she saw him through her lens as she had never before. She saw the earnest eyes on the other side of the lens that lies below his furrowing eyebrows. She saw the efforts that had gone into making those perfectly sculpted abs and well-toned muscles.

She saw the contentment that lies on the surface of that smile. She clicked her picture as she wanted to capture exactly what she was processing. She let her camera hang loosely on her shoulders and looked at her model.

“I think I got what I wanted”

“Why don’t you get into the ring, lets see what you have learned from us!” Bhasma spoke out in an attempt to prevent her from leaving.

“Oh! Why not?” She placed her camera pressing the click button, which clicked the emptiness of the akhada.

She acted like rolling up her sleeves “Whenever you are ready.”

The two held each other’s shoulders and let their heads press against one another. A few moments into one another’s eyes and their heads titled in opposite directions. The hot and heavy breath sizzled on their cheeks until their lips met. Bhasma pulled her closer by her waist and felt her breasts against his chest. He placed her on the dirt of the akhada pushing back a strand of hair behind her ear. Their hearts were pounding in sync. Her puffed breasts glistened under the moonlight, as he fondled them. He

caressed her navel all the way till her thigh till he could not take it any longer. He pulsated in and out of her, as she moaned louder. She held on to his long hair as he came hard. Their breaths softened as they kissed. Bhasma gazed at her intently as the night slipped away giving way to a new day. The next day morning Bhasma woke up alone. He could not find Mohini anywhere, and he was least bothered about anything else. He could hardly do 700 squats properly. He ran only 5km of the jog. His heartbeat ached in his ears and his mind kept racing over the thoughts of Mohini.

She was nowhere to be seen.

“Bhasma you are next. Get into the ring” His master commanded.

He followed the instruction merely like a robot. He walked into the ring and slipped even at the first grip of his opponent. He could still feel the warmth from last night on the red mud. He fell on his knees defeated. When the final attack was to take place, his master interrupted:

“Stop! what is happening? What has got into you? Just because you won one

competition you think you are the strongest? You think you can defeat anyone?” A disappointed master was speaking.

“Nothing has gotten into me. I am alright. In fact, I can even take on you right now and still win.” Bhasma retorted.

The akhada was filled with pin-drop silence. The master walked away. The same gate creaked as Bhasma walked away with his head dropping low. Those four walls never saw Bhasma again!

He would soon become a forgotten legend.

Photos from ‘Bhasma’ clicked for Piece of Paper Productions’ premiere show — Paper Rocket, clicked by yours truly.