Chand the Great

 

Chand is in his early fifties now. He is unmarried and works as a truck driver. He is a simple, unassuming guy. You hardly notice any airs around him. But he has a specialty. Presently, the current generation has lots of social-media ventilated issues to talk about. But if we go two decades back, Chand was a solid topic to be discussed about, especially among the endowment-size crazy youngsters. Without any competition, Chand was, and most probably still is, the best-hung guy in the village. Literally, every male would lose confidence in himself at a mere look at Chand walking dourly.

Chand was childlike in this regard. He never wet his shorts while taking bath, sitting innocently on the tube-well’s water tank wall and giving himself a nice scrubbing bath while dozens of eyes stared in awe. And the legend spread. He was almost a poor man but people far higher in social standing gave him respect due to his USP. People joked that the reason he is still unmarried is because no father would put his daughter in trouble.

There was a story of mythical proportions that even nautch girls on the GB road in Delhi refused him service. One tormented woman, who had taken the risk and accepted money, bit him and escaped while it wasn’t yet over for him, saying, ‘Who wants to be hospitalized for his bloody 100 rupees!’ She slapped him very hard and threw his 100-rupee note on his face. After that he was spurned by one and all in the area.

There was a famous gupt rog vishesagya, the sexologist, in the town. Dr. Lubhash Chugh’s name was scribbled on all walls in the region ranging from temples to schools to private houses. Wherever there was space, he got it painted with his offer of turning docile sheepish males into rampaging horses. That was the only form of advertizing we saw while growing up because he didn’t leave an inch of wall space for any other product or service. Apart from this, secondarily though, he claimed to treat venereal diseases also.

He had grown sagely old after decades of groping his fingers among people’s groins, gleefully looking for the weak spots. The people joked that he had taken nayan sukh, solace for his eyes, of ogling at one million guptangs, secret organs. But the old man was at the shock of his life in his eighties. He still loved the art of checking guptangs. As fate would have it, Chand got a painful boil on his special thing. It forced him to visit the venerable doctor. The old doctor gasped, gasped for life in fact, as he stared at the thing. His mathematics of male anatomy gone haywire, he gasped for words. ‘O my God!’ is all he could manage to mutter as he struggled with words. He was lost in thoughts as if his life’s philosophy had crashed. Then he suddenly flared up, ‘Take him away….go and make it sit down…how dare you insult a doctor by coming with an awakened thing!’ the proportions obviously made him think that it was wide awake. ‘It’s perfectly asleep sir!’ Chand said meekly. Then the old sexologist had a careful second look and slumped into his chair as if he had been finally defeated. ‘Did anyone ever allow you to even touch herself?’ the doctor asked at long last. He had forgotten about the patient’s boil. ‘That’s why I’m almost virgin,’ Chand answered stoically. I think the old doctor would have been more than happy to retire after hitting this milestone in his career.