“Take your clothes off”

Please understand that I am an average Indian male. Yes, all three of them — average, Indian and male. Now double the average. Add Shyness. I am hoping you are getting the drift. These words, “take your clothes off” doesn’t always ignite passion. Some times it is far away from comfort zone. And then sometimes it is spine chilling, extremely disturbing and makes you feel like you had the powers to vanish with a snap of fingers.

This is how I got my first body massage. Did I disappoint you there? I am sorry. It might be all fun, reading for you there. But it has not been very easy for me. So, I would appreciate a little bit of consideration and brotherhood and love — just do not ask me to take my clothes off. I was travelling to Malaysia a few years ago, with a group of around ten friends. Please note that a group of ten friends is always a nasty group — no exceptions. There is no such thing as a nice gang of ten friends. Neha, a very dear friend had been a pro at getting massages — you know it had been one of her to-do things when she was travelling. Hell, even when she was not travelling, she would randomly pop into a Spa for an occasional body massage. And I understand and respect that — totally cool.
But that evening, in Kuala Lumpur, my life was about to change. It must have been between 8:30 and 9:00 PM in the night, we were taking a stroll in a local market. Booze had been stocked, I remember. Dinner could go take a walk in the park — no one gave a fuck. And slowly the friendly banter and jokes were turning into a plan — let’s go to a spa. It took me all of 0.3 seconds to decline and say, you guys go ahead and that I was happy to help myself with a hukka and a sandwich. Look here is the thing, I had always seen these shady looking spas in Delhi’s NCR and of course they are commonplace in Malaysia — only shadier. An average Indian male, has no business in these places. We stay away and let the world do their thing. My blissful oblivion had served me well all along — but tonite by a group of ten friends — I am sorry — by a nasty group of ten bastard friends, this attitude was about to me overridden. After ten minutes of useless arguments, I was half-abducted and taken to the ‘Golden Shower Spa’. What ever fuck that meant. My full body massage was paid for and it was Neha’s best day ever. She was happy as if her life’s mission was about to see the light of day. The other guys looked comfortable too, no qualms at all. Karan and Varun were leisurely waiting for their turn, Keith was flipping through a Malay magazine obviously only looking at the pictures and Ashima was doing what always did best — Instagramming. So I thought, okay — what the hell. It is just a body massage, we will see.

And then, my turn came. The butcher appeared and asked the lamb to step up. Gulp! I picked my bum and dragged my feet towards that half a room in a dimly lit corridor. I went inside and for a few seconds tried to make sense of the bed there — what was a hole doing there. It is not in the middle of the bed, so cannot be for my bit sized bum, feet, no. Face? Why face? And then I noticed that Buddha had already noticed my thoughts — I know because he was smiling. Embarrassed, I began looking elsewhere, a few fake flowers which I will never see again, oils, a few more buddha paintings, towels and fear. I think they left me alone for a while so I could live with my head up a for a bit longer.
Enter Masseuse. There was this lady there — I am sorry but there is no easy way to describe her. She was not pretty looking. She did not smile. She had no intentions of making it a little bit less stressful for me. May be in her early forties, with a face that uncannily resembled that of Sylvester Stallone, she said, “Take your clothes off and lie down”, and left.
The world had stopped. Everyone was looking at me — I already felt naked. I was stunned and scared and nervous and numb. Is this what I went to a good school for? I have been a good person — why is it happening to me? Should I just walk out? denounce worldly pleasures forever? I took a step towards the exit but the male ego curtailed all other steps. Friends will laugh, trip would be ruined, people will call me a coward, no redemption. I could see the door, but there was no way out. Time travels faster when you are in shock. Five minutes already, this Sylvester Stallone-ish woman returned and repeated the dreaded words “Take your clothes off and lie down”. She was very straight forward last time, and little less polite now. I was wasting her time. She left again, this time not allowing enough room to be shocked again. I quietly took my shirt off. And then my pants. Hung them on the wall next to my self esteem.
The lady returned and immediately set to work. She asked me to lie down, face downwards. Of course the face had to be down — the protocol of shame wasn’t misplaced. That hole in the bed covered my face — Thank God. She began at my feet. I could feel foreign hands running through on my skin. I wanted to ask her to be gentler but I didn’t. I wanted all of this to be over and soon. She would have spent ten — fifteen minutes on my feet and legs and then changes places. Oh the places she touched me at! I clinched my fist — and it remained that way.
I endured an hour long torture. The only place she didn’t explore was my winky — some saving grace. The massage didn’t relax me. My back was hurting. I felt violated. But, I was the happiest man walking out! I was almost bubbling with relief that it was over.

And then I met my nasty group of ten bastard friends waiting outside. No one had taken a massage.