The amazing adventures continue with No Kaam Sene

Part I : The amazing adventures of Eve Rao and Ever Reddy
Before Eve knew it, her honeymoon was over. Both were quick comers. And didn’t know what to do after the romp.
Married life was a radical change for Eve. It wasn’t just the change from East Coast to West Coast. Not just the Bay of Bengal-Arabian Sea problem. She had been married into a Reddy family transplanted from Cudappah (which is famous for land-grabbing, murders, extortions, so on and so forth) to Mangalore. A family that read only Deccan Herald. And that made Eve Reddy feel icky. She yearned for The New Indian Express, which is published from 14 centres and has a formidable presence in south India.
Days after Eve and Ever returned from their honeymoon in Karwar (beautiful place, an hour from Goa), she could still smell the feni-and-fanta on Ever. And she hated it. Just like the 501 pataka beedi that he was so fond of. She tried to point it out to Ever Reddy but he was never ready to listen.
Sitting in a corner after Ever Reddy had done his thing, Eve caught sight of The New Indian Express. Ever had brought fried fish head for her, and wrapped it in her favourite newspaper, not realizing Eve’s life was to change forever.
Eve started withdrawing into a shell from that day on. The sex was still A-class but the nagging had begun. She used to scold Ever for sitting around paan shops, playing cards and smoking his 501 pataka beedi. Ever was an unskilled labourer and his services could be availed by anyone on payment of Rs 100. Sometimes, he would get a bottle of the local brew as well.
Eve wanted him to get a pucca job and not hang around all day with rowdy elements (that’s the favourite phrase in south India) of the No Kaam Sene. But Ever would have none of it. He liked his saffron-clad buddies. And the going was good, he often told her.
“Look, Oriyas are coming here in their droves. They are taking over all our fishing jobs. They want to work hard. Let them. All we need to do is slap them around for our hafta. We are the nakaam sene (it was the No Kaam Sene, but Ever was never good at pronounciation).”
The No Kaam Sene had been observing for a while that young men and women were coming from “naarth India” to study at Manipal University and were going to pubs and bars.
No Kaam Sene had to contend with “apna haath jagannath” (loosely translated: self service) when these young men and women were free to change partners and were enjoying themselves. There was also another dimension to the hole (okay, whole) problem: No Kaam Sene had been inspired by the BJP and wanted to use Hindutva to get a seat in Parliament or the local legislature. That inter-caste marriages had wrecked the social fabric of Mangalore was an added advantage. They found just the right ingredient to start a fire.
One fine day, members of the No Kaam Sene decided to attack a church (out you beef-eating, pork-chomping, Bible-reading, peace-loving guys, they said) in a very peaceful neighbourhood in Mangalore. That had a domino effect. Soon, churches were being attacked in Bangalore and the No Kaam Sene had finally found a cause.
When Eve got to know of Ever’s role in the attack, she questioned him once. She had had Christian friends in school and knew it was wrong. The second time she pointed it out to him was when Ever went limp in bed.
“See this is because you attacked all those innocent people. God is punishing you.”
Hearing Eve make fun of her masculinity, Ever beat her black and blue. And he quite liked it. No resistance, he thought. Those Oriyas sometimes hit back, he said to himself.
And then it became a regular affair. He was practicing for bigger things in life, Ever told Eve.
Once when he demanded that Eve spread her legs for her, she refused.
“Never, Reddy,” she thought, and after being beaten black and blue, went to sleep. Next morning, before Ever could wake up, she was gone. Forever.
“Who needs a man anyway.” she said, thinking about the article she had read in The New Indian Express, which is published from 14 centres and has a formidable presence in south India. She had read that sperm cells could be produced from a woman’s bone marrow and -- technically -- there was no need for a man for getting pregnant.
In fact, it was this development that had got the No Kaam Sene worried. And that is why they had decided to attack churches (the West – and Christian doctors -- had made the discovery).
Ever was a little distraught after Eve left. Now he became Ever Reddy to attack women.
One fine evening, he and other members of No Kaam Sene assembled outside a pub which had became the rage within about 20 days of its launch. It was called something, but I forget.
Ever’s practice came in handy. He entered the pub, murmured a prayer with his friends and then went on the rampage. He slapped a couple of girls around. Unluckily for him, at least two of them turned out to be daughters of VIPs, one of them the ward of a friend of Women and Child Development Minister Renuka Chowdhury’s. Soon, national media was condemning the attack on women in Mangalore. Ever was picked up for questioning and sent to judicial custody. No Kaam Sene suddenly had a lot of work to do – torch buses, damage trucks, attack pubs.
Ever had suddenly become a national hero (or villain, depends on which way you look at it).

Tomorrow: The rise and rise of Ever and No Kaam Sene