Doggy Style

[This was in the late 90s, when I used to call people who were above 30 “old” and Saurav Ganguly was still the Captain of the Indian cricket team]

It was a mildly sunny Saturday in Bombay and I was sprawled shapelessly on my bed, fast asleep.

None of my friends call me on Saturdays before 12 in the afternoon. My enemies sometimes do, rubbing their hands in glee with the knowledge that they would have successfully interrupted my “Saturday Sleep-athon” (an event where I sleep pretty much through the whole of the first half).

So when I got a call at 9 in the morning from Sushmita, a kosher friend, I knew it must be something really important.

The call lasted for about 2 hysteria laden minutes where the only words that registered in my sleepy head was “need you here”, “doggy", "style”, “cant do it alone”, "show", "fuck", “driving me mad”, “please cum fast”.

Yes, I know what you are thinking…….....

............And that’s exactly what I thought.

So akin to a ballerina entering the stage, I leapt off my bed and spring-hopped to the bathroom to get ready and be on my way.

An hour later I was there sitting in her drawing room, my face robbed of all excitement, my head, instead of my heart, pounding loudly, and an external observer would probably describe my spirit as “a bit limp”.

I was sitting on her cushions with a deflated look as I turned to her for the third time in as many minutes and asked again:

“You want me to hold Batul Khoka?”

“Yes”, she said calmly

“So that you can put on a pink vest and black shorts?”

“Yes”, she concurred, nodding slightly

“And you called me here for that??”

“Yess” she hissed this time.


I don’t blame you if you are all confused. So was I at that moment. But now, with the clarity that past events bring, let me try and explain.

Batul, as anyone born and brought up in West Bengal in the 70s and 80s would know, was an extremely popular comic character that used to appear in the magazine Shuktara.



Batul “The Great” was our own home grown Bengali Superhero created by Sri Narayan Debnath. Batul’s exploits and adventures with his pals, Bachchu and Bicchhu was discussed animatedly everyday in school.

In the case of Sushmita, Batul Khoka was her dog! A giant dumb Labrador, who had an uncanny resemblance to the comic character, and hence was christened such.

Not only in the looks department, but also in behavior, the similarities were hard to miss.

One of the endearing qualities of Batul The Great in the comic books was that he used to keep forgetting his super strength and ended up destroying stuff, like the time he tired to mow the lawn and broke the lawn mower or the time he tried to ride a bull in the rodeo and the bull’s leg gave way… Ditto for this dog! Batul Khoka’s tail and genetic Labrador enthusiasm would leave a trail of broken vases, cups, and general destruction whenever he was set free.

And on that Saturday Batul Khoka was uber hyper because of two reasons.

The first, he was in heat. And anyone who has seen a Labrador, denied of sex and in heat for atleast a year, knows how cranky the mutt can be.

The second, the real cause of the early morning phone call, was that Sushmita in her infinite wisdom had decided to enroll him in her neighborhood dog show, dressed exactly like the comic book character – wearing a pink vest and black shorts.

Her idea was to have the dog walk on his hind legs on stage so that he resembles the "real" Batul, and wins the “Aw!” of the audience.

The problem was that the horny idiot was in no mood to wear anything and it was getting late for the show. Hence the emergency phone call to me. She had summoned in her troops (or Soldier to be more precise) to style her Doggy.

“Why me? Why on a Saturday??” I was getting increasingly agitated.

“Uffo baba. I am pretty sure there is no food in your house. I will feed you mangsho bhaath. Also Batul really likes your leg. Please stick it out na, and let him just hump it.. I will quickly slip the shorts and vest in. Plus you owe me! You had said that you will help when I bailed you out that last time.”


I will not get into the details of the “last bail out” (that’s another full story), but when I had used the phrase “arm and leg for you” in a moment of deep gratitude, I did not realize that things were going to pan out this way!

The prospect of letting Batul use my leg as his bitch weighed heavily on my mind. But then again there was the promise of mangsho-bhaath. And Sushmita could really cook up a delicious mutton curry. I was torn between being used an object of pleasure and being well fed. The stomach won. I yielded to her request.

In the next twenty odd minutes that followed, Su and I struggled to keep Batul in check as it humped my leg like a sex starved dog…..which he was….. while she slipped on the specially designed pink vest on him. Specially designed, because it had Velcro at the back that allowed it to be slipped on, rather than worn.

Like a victim of assault who lets the mind drift away to a happy space, I looked away and thought of all the things I had thought of when the day began. I should be the one humping something and Su should be wearing a pink vest right now, I mentally grumbled.

My reverie was broken by the Su trademark clapping and yelp of happiness. “Its done… oh he is looking so cute”

I looked down at the ridiculous sight. A lolling panting dog wearing a pink vest and air humping against my leg. Cute was not the word that came to mind.

“Forget the black shorts. He is black anyway. He doesn’t need the shorts!” I yelped. My leg was getting sore.

“Are you mad. I am not going to embarrass him by displaying his ‘pink pastel’ to the whole world as he walks on his hind legs” Su retorted.

“Embarrass him??!! Look at me! Look at the dog! What can be more embarrassing??!”

I should not have asked that question, as moments later Su whipped out a pocket camera and took a picture. Thankfully there was no Facebook those days, otherwise the prospect of seeing that pic as her Profile pic with me tagged would have surely led to a seizure there and then.

Those were the days when pics were still private property and not proof of “I had fun” that needed to be published and shared with all and sundry.

Eventually Su got the shorts on and Batul had to cease his incessant humping. His hips did not lie, they were tired from the 30 minutes of angry air humping.

Su did ask me to come down for the show, but I politely declined and demanded my reward. I decided to watch TV while eating rice and mutton to take my mind off what had just happened.

The day did end nicely though. The food was delicious, the TV was fun, and the afternoon was spent lazily lounging around….

Oh and Batul won. Su had indeed thought this through. See the majority of people in the building were Bengalis. They flood of nostalgia that Batul brought did not give the others a chance.

We looked at him in his pink vest and black shorts, breathing heavily as lay with his head between his paws, eyeing my leg.

“What do you think” Su asked.

“Haute dog!” I said.