The masseuse

Pratap has been ever so fond of massages… we even had 'Massage Patil' dropping by every week in Mumbai. (his real name was Yashwant Patil but who cared what he was otherwise called). So coming to Jakarta was total bliss - where reflexology and massage is a cultural experience and a regular ritual.

Few days after we settled down our friend IBCN (Indian Born Confused Nepali - for the uninitiated) ventured into the massage room where he was asked to remove his clothes and lie down. In came a middle aged Ma'am, serious looking and all buttoned up till her chin, who then asked Pratap to remove his brief. “No”, he said trying to sound assertive. “Take out” she said “put oil”. No cried out Pratap gripping his briefs with one hand – just incase she rips it off and catches him unawares. “It’s okay”.

The massage progressed with techniques that poor old 'Massage Patil' could never ever have dreamt of. The masseuse used her elbows, knuckles, knees and feet using a mild aromatic oil - almost a numbing and dulling experience. Pratap lay on his stomach till he heard her gently say –“Penis”. “No!”, he said suddenly remembering to grip his jocks. “No!” he heard the woman persist “Penis!”. It was time for Pratap to turn over and get hold of the situation almost breaking out into a sweat. He turned around only to find her waving her arms insisting “penis - penis” trying desperately to communicate that she had finished the massage!