Siraj - Manu Egg Rolls

At the age of around fourteen, Siraj lost his innocence when he had sex for food. He had gone hungry for three days when scavenging paper plates in dustbins did not yield enough to kill the cramps in his stomach. At twelve he had been groped but he had fled to the stall that sold rolls and he had managed. The old man fed him off and on at the stall and he started to learn. The first thing he learned was this – the more drunk a client was the more he argued; the more he argued, the more he fought. And the more he fought the more food he left in the strewn paper plates. The next thing he learned was – there were exceptions. For it was here he had his first major meal that was his very own; not a leftover, not a half-eaten roll chucked at him, not a stolen morsel from a plate. There was this man who drove in one day in a car that was dark blue bordering black; he looked pretty drunk and that was a good sign for the stall had seven scavenging dogs. The man ordered a double egg, double chicken roll for himself and as he waited, he looked around and his eyes fell on Siraj. Then he noticed the other six pairs of eyes staring hungrily at him. The stall owner flicked the roll up and tossed it in a basket. The smell of fried eggs and chicken wafted up in the air and the stall owner asked the man if he cared to feed the children. The man was rude at first, accusing the stall owner of tricking customers out of their money. It was only when he had finished eating both his rolls that he left extra money for the kids to be fed. Seven small rolls followed, which the kids wolfed down – as if this was their last meal. This is when Siraj knew that even rude people could be generous sometimes. For the next few months it was good; the man in the car came often and left enough for the children to get a small meal. One day the stall owner stopped coming and the bad times started again. Siraj would often sell papers late into the night to earn some money for a measly meal. Sometimes the man would drive in and leave them with some food but soon even he stopped coming, and finally, Siraj had to leave the safe corner of the street and venture out for food. It was late one night when hunger broke him. He had not sold a single paper and he knew he would be trashed as well as go hungry for the fourth consecutive day. And when the man in the car screamed at him for touching him, Siraj went mad with rage. He started shoving the newspapers free into any car that had a window rolled down. A bit later the man did come, the one who had screamed at him, and left some money for him on the pavement but before he could pick it up, the man who gave him papers to sell grabbed it and, kicking Siraj, sauntered away. Siraj sat there doubled up in pain and hunger when the car honked. He looked up and, through his tears, saw a man beckoning him. The car had a blue number plate though Siraj did not know what that meant. The man was fair-skinned – a firangi. In broken local language, the man asked if he would go with him. Siraj knew all about this; he had heard the other boys talk and had always wondered how they could degrade themselves to such a level. He nodded and the man asked him to get in. The man was kind; when Siraj asked if he could get something to eat, he asked how long he had not eaten. With an expression of concern, the man gave him some milk first and made sure that Siraj ate a small quantity to begin with. Thus, he got to eat his first meal in nearly four days and also had a proper bath for the first time in months. The firangi took obvious pleasure in bathing him – the perfumed shampoo and then the lather-rich liquid that he poured and rubbed on his small and compact body, washing away the grime and dirt. The man stepped back and admired the naked body in front of him, gleaming wet. He had been right to pick up this gem that had looked like a rag picker. Once settled in bed, the firangi first plowed him with alcohol, which made things that followed easier for him but only to a point; the touch made Siraj squirm but also aroused him. It was only when he started to thrash in pain as the assault become more and more aggressive, the firangi brought an ampoule to his nose and broke it. As the fumes entered his nostril, Siraj was lifted up, like he was in the clouds; his body eased up and every part started to tingle. What was unbearable a few minutes ago turned to pure bliss. He felt the firangi expand and his own body expanded to accommodate him. Within minutes he was moaning and whimpering at the same time, begging for more. When he woke up, the firangi asked him to get cleaned up and take a bath. As he slid off the bed, he noticed the specks of dried blood on the sheet and he knew why he felt so bruised and tender. When he came back to the room with a slight limp, he saw new clothes spread out on the bed – his size; the sheet had been changed. Once he was dressed and had a glass of milk and eggs, he was escorted to the door and, before he left, the firangi shoved some money into his hand. Siraj's eyes widened for he was holding an amount he had heard of but never seen. Not even with the egg-roll stall owner. When the firangi asked if he would like to come again, Siraj nodded his head furiously. The floodgate opened up and Siraj started to earn. The firangi fixed him up with others; they knew from where he could be picked up. He chose a street that was discreet and without street hawkers. He bought new clothes and kept himself clean. He was a beautiful boy and the men kept coming. He did not need the poppers anymore and learned tricks that both amazed and delighted his customers. And this is how he met Manu, nearly two years after he had lost his "‘virginity"’. Siraj had never really liked what he did and with Manu when he got a chance to leave the street, he did. For Manu paid him enough to cover for more than what twelve men paid and yet called for him only three or four times a month. His driver knew where to find him and would come to pick him up and drop him back. Often Manu would tell him stories of the world and he would listen with eyes wide open. On more than one occasion Manu did not touch him but just sat drinking and talking. He had magic in his voice – it would leave Siraj feeling clean and innocent once again. Perhaps, Manu was falling in love with him and he did not mind that at all. In a drunken state one day, Manu asked what he wanted to do when he grew up. Without taking a minute to think, Siraj told him of his desire to open an egg-roll stand. Manu laughed and asked if he knew how to make them and Siraj told him he did and how; how he used to help a man once and how that man had taught him the way to make fluffy eggs and spicy chicken morsels. ‘Always keep the pieces small – just short of a mince,’ he would tell his little apprentice – not even tall enough to reach the pan on the fire. Manu promised him the money and his freedom. Siraj did not need poppers to walk on clouds or thank Manu. As he strode towards Manu’s body, he could see the old decrepit stall shining once again. He could even see the name of the stall clearly, painted in blazing red. On the promised date, the driver did not turn up. Not the next day or next. Siraj went to the flat, a bit scared Manu might get upset, but the flat was locked. A week went by and there was no news from Manu. Siraj, by now heartbroken and broke, decided to go back to his old routine; by now he knew his looks made people stop and give a second look. By now he knew which look he had to focus upon and let his eyes and body do the talking. As he stood at the place he once ruled, he saw Manu's car approach. It stopped in front of him and the driver asked him to get in. As he drove aimlessly, he told Siraj about Manu's death, how he had a heart attack and died in the car on his way to the hospital. Then he gave Siraj the envelope. As he dropped Siraj off, he gave him a hug and a peck on his forehead and promised to be his first customer at the stall. The old egg-roll stall is now open again. Kids hang around and sometimes when customers leave a bit extra, the kids get to eat. The cops know and leave them alone; they even pay once in a while and leave extra cash. The stall has a fascia that reads in bright red letters - Manu Egg Rolls.