A Love By Any Name...

Recently, I googled "what lovers call each other".

Flashback:

In school, in the pre-Internet era, my gang discussed the same. To be ready for life 10-15 years ahead. We made a list. Even ranked all those synonyms of sugar, baby, dearest, etc.. 

We were thorough. We also talked about what would happen after. That part ended with a collective horror we called nightmare on M-street. What if the first night ended with "Theernno, Chetta?" ("Finished, bro?")? 

(Chetta is one of those ambiguous labels Malayalee ladies use. It could mean elder brother. It could mean husband.)

Back to the Future: 

The lover in my gang (1 out of 8) refused to divulge his mating call. He has 4 kids. The last as recent as 2 years back. Not one a mistake,  he says. My religion forbids protected sex, he adds wistfully.

The raconteur, on his first night, regaled his spouse with his best performance. She suffered a stitch in the side. Called him, "Po Da!" ("Get lost!"). Affectionately though. The consummation had to be postponed till her side mended. What did you call her, we asked. I never got to that part of any story, he said.

The silent one admitted the position mattered more in his case. After many a hit and miss, the silence between them was turning out to be the stuff of art movies (with a script from a prolonged writer's block). They placed the bed beside another window, for better visual sans audio. Till dawn, they lay lost longing. With first light, the cock crowed. They assumed the bird-on-top position. His wife, an amateur ornithologist, twisted and turned. "Look! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" she exclaimed. He lay there, silent still satiated, wondering if his wife had picked up that sweet call from Shakespeare's poem 'Spring'.

The MCP and the fascist did something right. They got four full meals every day.

The communist's wife, in orgasmic frenzy, cried, "Kuttaaaa." (A local version of "Baby.") His father knocked at their bedroom door and asked, "Yes, moley (daughter)?" He had forgotten to tell his wife that her father-in-law's pet name is Kuttan.

The liberal got divorced. He is a lost cause now. I kept it simple, called her darling, he says. We didn't tell him his darling rhymes with Worli, with 3 r's and 4 l's, a capital of each included.

Then, me. I am googling, didn't I say?

A love by any name may not remain as sweet.

(Did the nightmare on M-street happen? It must have, to all. The best horror leave us stunned and silent, don't they, with shivers running down the spine with every reminder: girl with long hair ('The Ring'), doll ('The Poltergeist'), young boy ('The Omen'), etc..)