The Electric Chair

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Russian Salad

Russian Salad - Second Helping

Russian Salad - Thrid Helping (These Russians have large appetites)

Ok. Story till now. Once upon a time in Russia, lived two goons: Sergi Putin and Vladimir Kastev. Vladimir was fat and intelligent, Sergi was philosophical. Now it might seem a bit wierd to the reader that a criminal can be philosophical, but its not that abnormal either. Infact, if the reader were to imagine, say Shamsher Shera, bollywood villian character played by Amrish Puri with long hair and bead necklace, instead of Sergi, the incredulity levels will register a substantial drop. Its not infrequently that we are introduced to such characters to whom their work is their way of life. Afterall, who is better acquainted with the issue of life and death than someone who makes these decisions for others on a routine basis. It is no wonder that some of them become philosophical, and even when the situation is strictly business, such as a Mexican standoff, spout philosophical lines while others are trying to count the number of guns and the number of people. Sergi was something like that. But Sergi was in a much more advanced state of philosophical enlightnment, perhaps exceeded only by the philosophy embodied in the line 'Tera kya hoga Kaalia' He had dedicated an entire way of living to a hunch, and accordingly had indulged in an unbridled spree of acquiring space. Now his space was stolen, and Vladimir was the prime suspect. Vladimir was a techno-gunda. You know, the kinds they show in movies, where four or five experts gang up to form a deadly criminal organisation and one of them is a geek whos punching random keys on his laptop at mind-boggling speed? Vladimir would make that geek look like a gwbasic programmer. His skills exceeded the bounds of computing; they sprung from the pure sciences itself and he excelled at application of pure science in hitherto never explored areas. He was Albert Einstein of the new world.

And now it is time to introduce a couple of new characters in this narrative - the wives of Vladimir and Sergi. Vladimir's wife was called Serena. She had long hair and a short nose. She was originally from South Carolina, with dark coloured skin like ripe chickoos. Everyone who set eyes on her wanted her. She was very bored with her husband's scientific exploits, except for the 'bio-perfumer'. It was an injection which worked by affecting the endocrine system, which in turn changed the phermones emitted by the subject. The effect lasted fifteen days. There were separate injections for rose, lavender and such usual fragrances as also some unusual ones like coffee, freshly baked bread and lawn. Serena like coffee a lot and it went well with her coffee coloured skin too. One day she by mistake injected herself with an experimental sample, and had a narrow escape from six street dogs. The other inventions such as the remaninderizer bored her and she therefore, very predictably, started looking for sexual release outside marriage. Vladimir was very fat, as you might recall, and the missionary position felt like being flattened by a bulldozer (and if Vladimir fell asleep as he sometimes did immediately after the act, bull dozer) and the woman on top position felt like sitting on a camel with a rather pointed hump. We shouldnt therefore judge her harshly for her adultery. She harboured a secret desire for Sergi. She liked him for his diminutive manner and worldly wiseness. But he being her husband's arch rival she knew he was out of reach. So she did not do anything to get intimate with him. Yet.

Sergi's wife was Vivian (original name Vin-Chooi-May) and she hailed from the land of the rising sun. She had long, straight, silky hair and features that made her look like a very cute puppy. Her skin was fair, soft and smooth like shade number T-019 from the formica shade card of my next door furniture-wala. Everyone who set eyes on her worshipped her. She, coming from a male dominated country wanted to break off the shackles of the old world, and wanted progress. Her husband's retrograde stance in philosophy, and that too a-logical philosophy irked her. She loved her husband, but she was getting increasingly irritated with his non sensical behaviour. She started sleeping around a bit to vent off some of this irritation and to sort of get back at her husband. She wished he would be more like Vladimir, often fantacised about him and his amazing intelligence, but snapped herself out of it, as it was idle thinking. It would never happen.. or wouldnt it?

What neither of them knew in the beginning was that Serena and Vivian knew each other. Indeed, were classmates in college and close friends. Both of them had studied at Harvard. Vivian was there to study environment science and Serena studied poetry. They were together in the mandatory language class. After Harvard, they went their separate ways and lost contact for some years.

Vivian then went to Russia to do her thesis paper. There she met Sergi at a shopping mall. He was the discerning shopper to the core. What she liked was his sensuous nature. When Sergi was selecting fabric for his suit, he rubbed it gently against his cheek. Then he smelled it. She totally fell for a man who was so open with his feelings. Nowadays everyone selects suits as if they were purchasing computers, she thought. Here is a man in touch with himself. She caught herself meandering into idle though 'What if he is buying lingerie for his girlfriend? Will he apply the same technique', realised what she was thinking, blushed furiously and corrected herself. She pretended to be the salesperson (which of course she later revealed she was not) and they fell in love. In a few days, Sergi was in a situation he did not know how to get out of. Not that he did not like Vivian; physically she was just stunning. But she irked him. She was always very polite and docile, but somehow he was doing things she wanted, not the other way round. Take for example her anti litter campaign. Ok, so she was an environmental science student, and for her he could drop the icecream cup in the dust bin and not on the road. But what about empty cartridges falling out from his AK-47? She insisted that he and his gang pick them up as and when the machine gun ejects them. When he explained that this was not possible because in a street-fight the important thing is to kill the guy, and if they waited to pick up the cartridges, the guy would escape. She nodded her pretty head in understanding and came along with them on their next mission, picking up the empty shells along the way. When they came back to base camp in the evening she smiled sweetly and showed them 53 empty shells she had picked up. Well, thought Sergi, now at least we can laugh at the news reports in which they say 51 rounds were fired in a shootout in central Vladivostok today. Hey sucker, not 51, we fired 53 rounds, 53!' How DO they figure out how many rounds were fired? Do they count the empty shells? If so, maybe they wont air the news at all. Wouldnt it be really wired to announce, "In a shootout in central Vladivostok today, three people died and seven were injured, in which.. ummm... zero rounds were fired. We are frankly foxed how this happened, and our special reporter Habart Ruslan will be back as soon as he figures this out". So Vivian says "I so glad to help you out Sergi to keep the environment clean. Killing people important, but mother earth not to be suffering because of this. So next time also, you take me along with you, ok?" Sergi turned red for being in this situation, that too in front of Gustav, Mikhail and Qveton, all hardened criminals, who thought nothing of drinking a litre of vodka between two breaths. But what could he do?!??

But if Sergi was having a hard time, Vladimir was no better off. Vladimir met Serena in a park. She was sitting there for inspiration for her poetry and found it immediately in Vladimir and his goons, as they were negotiating a deal with a rival party. The deal went sour and there was a shoot out in which Vladimir kicked ass. Serena wrote a poetry about it:

I sat in the wilderness, the grass a tease,
And there I saw a gallant knight obese.
Taciturn in his ways he seemed at first,
But insatiable for power was his thirst.

And so on for about 3 more stanzas. She decided that she would marry Vladimir. Vladimir of course could not resist her charms. All was well the first few weeks. But then Vladimir discovered that she was a poet. Which was only slightly better than being a philosopher. She accompanied him and his gang on all their missions. At crucial moments she broke into spontaneous poetry. For example, when they had captured a rival gang member and were asking him for information on pain of death, she said:

There you are, villian, caught and captured
And my lover is asking you questions enraptured
He beats and punches you, and each time you sigh
Now reveal the information or else you will die!

To which the captured gang member actually told Vladimir "I was going to tell you everything, but now i wont!"

# posted by A Chrysanthemum by any other name... : 2:58 AM