Mohanaswamy

by Vasudhendra

  Mohanaswamy didn’t get a bus as conveniently as he had expected. He decided to wait for ten more minutes at the bus stop and if no buses came, he would take a taxi. He sat down on a bench and looked around. There was a scooter garage beside the bus stop and Mohanaswamy simply could not take his eyes off from the sight that greeted him there.

  A brawny young man in a t-shirt was repairing a scooter, squatting on the floor with his back towards the bus stop. His massive biceps stuck out of the short sleeves. He had a tightly-tied amulet around his right upper arm and as he was winding up some scooter parts with a spanner, a bracelet on his wrist rolled over his popping veins, glinting in the sun. As he went about his work, his short t-shirt rode up and his jeans lowered, revealing his ample behind. His butt crack was visible and seeing that the man was not wearing underwear, Mohanaswamy went weak in the knees.

  Earlier, Mohanaswamy would fear that if he looked at other men with lust, Karthik would be upset. But now he knew Karthik well – whenever he came across beautiful women, he stared at them without blinking. Sometimes after coming back from work, hovering around Mohanaswamy while he cooked a meal in the kitchen, Karthik raved about some woman he had met that day. Mohanaswamy objected to this in mock anger as he knew that it was his longing for women that made Karthik even more desirable.

  The young man, busy repairing the scooter, suddenly turned around and caught Mohanaswamy staring at him. He pulled his pants up even as Mohanaswamy turned his face away. His heart began panting wildly as he realized he was caught.

  ‘Laay … gandoo…’ the man said out loud. Mohanaswamy kept a straight face and pretended the words were not directed at him. Some people waiting for the bus turned in the direction of the voice. However, the man did not leave it at that. ‘Laay … gandoo … You … a chakka, a hijra in suit and shoes … You son of a…’ he screamed. People began looking at Mohanaswamy.

  Backed into a corner, Mohanaswamy turned to the young man and stuttered, ‘What … What have I done? Why are you shouting?’

  The man stepped towards Mohanaswamy with the spanner in his hand, spewing rage and venom. ‘You asshole … eyeing my ass, huh? Come here … I will screw you with some engine oil … Laay … Suvvar … Come here, swine … I will ram my cock up your ass and down your throat … You motherfucker … My cock is so big … You want to see it? Come I will show you…’ The man brazenly slid his left forearm into the spanner hole and suggestively moved the tool back and forth over it with swift strokes, yelling mockingly.

  Overcome with shame, Mohanaswamy reeled at the blatant insult. Everyone began scrutinizing him as they slowly understood what was going on. A few exchanged jeering glances. By then a bus came by. Mohanaswamy ran and got on the bus without even bothering to check where it was heading to. Luckily, the bus was almost empty and he quickly occupied a seat. Overwhelmed with humiliation, he rested his head against the glass window and sobbed.

  The bus started immediately. The man’s harsh words rang incessantly in Mohanaswamy’s ears: ‘Laay … suvvar … Come here, swine … I will ram my cock up your ass … You motherfucker…’ His obscene posture and gestures, the jeering glances of the bystanders, their denigrating laughter – the entire scene filled his vision and began haunting him.

  ‘Ticket, ticket…’ came the conductor’s voice, but when he saw Mohanaswamy weeping, he guessed something was wrong and retreated hastily, deciding to come back later.

  As Mohanaswamy sat in the airport lounge, awaiting boarding announcement, Karthik called him up.

  Since both incoming and outgoing calls were charged, he disconnected the call and went to an STD booth at the lounge and called Karthik from there. There was one more reason why Mohanaswamy preferred to make calls from the STD booth. He worried about the prospect of people overhearing him on mobile. But Karthik had no such reservations. He had whispered ‘I love you’ to Mohanaswamy even over his office phone many times. But Mohanaswamy knew he would not dare do a thing like that in any public space even in his wildest dreams.

  When Karthik heard a meek ‘hello’, he sensed all was not well. ‘What happened, Mohana? Is anything wrong?’ he asked with concern. His soothing words deepened Mohanaswamy’s sadness, but he held his tears back. When Karthik did not hear anything from him, he stayed silent as well. He could guess what must have gone wrong, for this was not for the first time something like this had happened.

  ‘Mohana, did anyone insult you?’ he asked softly.

  ‘Yes…’ whimpered Mohanaswamy, wiping his nose with his handkerchief.

  Karthik sighed. ‘Why do you do such things in the public, Mohana? Don’t you know that straight men don’t like it? They get angry.’

  ‘Tell me, what do I do? Sometimes I cannot just control myself!’ Mohanaswamy said helplessly.

  A silence descended on them. They could hear each other breathing. After a while Karthik broke the silence. ‘Ignore it … Just don’t bother … You must learn to get over such things. If you keep brooding over it, you alone will suffer. Nothing will happen to them. Do you understand?’

  Mohanaswamy nodded his head.

  ‘Do you understand?’ he asked again.

  ‘Yes…’ Mohanaswamy groaned.

  ‘Now forget all that has happened and go board your plane. Cheer up … the sky has not fallen on your head! Smile!’

  Mohanaswamy smiled with a lot of difficulty.

  ‘Did you smile?’ inquired Karthik.

  ‘Yes, I smiled. How can I give you any proof of that over the phone? Can you see me?’ Mohanaswamy said with rekindled enthusiasm.

  ‘Don’t worry, technology will soon come up with exciting solutions to this problem as well. Today I read a tech article in office … they say that soon a day will come when cellphones will have a TV-like screen where we will be able to see each other even as we talk.’

  ‘Bullshit! That’s impossible! How can a mobile phone hold a TV screen? Then phones will become so huge, we will have to carry them on our heads!’ Mohanaswamy dismissed the possibility.

  ‘But you never know … they are coming out with such fascinating things these days that tomorrow even if they say you can have sex over phone, I will believe it!’ Karthik said with a laugh.

  Mohanaswamy also laughed and said, ‘Then I think we’ll have to use virtual condoms.’

  ‘Oh, yes, you’re right. Or else e-virus will attack.’

  Both of them felt light-hearted. Mohanaswamy heard the boarding announcement. He hung up the phone and proceeded towards the gate.

  ‘I hoped that things would fall in line once the private airlines became operational. But it’s been five years since then and the fate of the private carriers is no different! Except for these new, young stewardesses they have hired, everything else remains the same stale, old stuff!’ Mohanaswamy heard a passenger say bitterly. The plane was quite empty. Mohanaswamy sat down on an aisle seat of the right row. He avoided the window seat since he found it scary to look down through the glass. His eyes wandered towards a man in a light brown shirt, sitting on the other end. He must be in his fifties, Mohanaswamy thought, he looks worried. Mohanaswamy, who always liked to be friendly with co-passengers, said hello to the man and tried to draw his attention. But the man, absorbed in his thoughts, did not turn to him. Not wanting to disturb him again, Mohanaswamy fastened his seat belt and sat reading a Kannada book. Meanwhile, the pilot apologized for the delay and then went about flight safety procedures.

  Though Mohanaswamy was quite a frequent flier, he listened to the instructions with utmost attention each time he travelled and followed them religiously. So much so that even if he had already fastened his seat belt, upon hearing the instructions he would loosen it a bit and secure it again.

  Mohanaswamy noticed that the man in the light brown shirt had not secured the belt. He still seemed quite preoccupied. Right then a young air hostess strode past Mohanaswamy’s seat. He thought of bringing the matter to her notice and said hello to her, inadvertently touching her waist. The wom
an was beside herself with rage. ‘How dare you touch me?’ she lashed out. ‘You are not supposed to do this. If you want something, you should just call me.’

  Those who heard her shouting, stared at Mohanaswamy, who was nonplussed by this unexpected backlash. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t do it with any wrong intention. It was just that … I … I mean the man sitting over there was not wearing his seat belt, so I thought of…’ he tried to explain.

  But the woman was in no mood to listen. ‘All bloody men are the same. They just need some pretence to paw women!’ she said with a scowl and walked off in a huff.

  ‘Enjoy, my son … nothing will happen,’ a middle-aged Sardarji sitting behind him said with a wink.

  Mohanaswamy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. How she had reduced him to a teenage boy – eager to touch girls on some pretext! Should he thank her for this or should he reprimand her? He was quite amused. Meanwhile, the man in light brown shirt sitting in the other row put his seat belt on and gestured thankfully at Mohanaswamy with a thumbs-up. Mohanaswamy also flashed a smile at him. The entire episode had lightened his spirits. The flight proceeded towards the runway. Mohanaswamy settled in, deeply absorbed in his book.

  A while later, passengers were notified that they could unfasten their seat belts. Mohanaswamy rose from his seat and went to the lavatory. As he bent to wash his hands at the basin, he yelped involuntarily. ‘Hey…’ he screamed as, for a fraction of a second, he thought he saw Karthik’s reflection in the mirror. Then suddenly it dawned on him that it was not Karthik, but himself in Karthik’s clothes. Mohanaswamy smiled at his folly. He straightened his loose shirt and came out. Then another inadvertent incident took place.

  An air hostess was moving backwards, pulling the drinks trolley along. She accidentally bumped into him, her hips thudding against his waist. ‘Oh! I am sorry,’ she said coyly, turning around. It was the same woman who had shouted at him earlier.

  Now it was Mohanaswamy’s turn to show his anger. ‘How can you touch me like that? It really irritates…’ he yelled.

  Her face fell. ‘I am so sorry,’ she apologized again. Mohanaswamy found it funny, but he continued to put on an angry face. He then walked to his seat, his mind soaring lightly like a kite.

  Upon returning to his seat, Mohanaswamy saw that the man in the light brown shirt was sitting on the window seat beside his, and was flipping through his Kannada book. When he saw Mohanaswamy, he placed the book back on the seat and rose to leave. ‘No problem, you can sit here,’ Mohanaswamy said in Kannada and sat down.

  ‘I love books in Kannada. Earlier I used to read a lot. But now my bank job takes away all my time. It has been years since I read a book. It’s rare to see someone reading a Kannada book on a Delhi-bound plane. So I got curious and came here to see what book it is…’ the man explained.

  ‘I am Mohanaswamy.’

  ‘I am Ramesh … Ramesh Jamadagni. I work for the Canara Bank.’

  ‘I tried to speak to you sometime back. But you seemed lost. I did not want to disturb you,’ said Mohanaswamy.

  The man’s face turned pale. ‘Yes, I met somebody just before boarding the plane. My mind has been disturbed since then,’ he said in a dull voice.

  ‘Oh … sorry,’ said Mohanaswamy, not wanting to rake up his personal issue further.

  ‘Will you not ask me who it was?’ Ramesh implored.

  ‘Oh … Please tell me if you feel like…’ said Mohanaswamy, a little perplexed now.

  The man looked out of the window and began telling his story without turning to look at Mohanaswamy.

  ‘Her name is Smitha. She was my MCom classmate in Mysore. We were in love. For two years, not a single day went by without us seeing each other. Even though we studied in the same college, we used to write love letters to each other every day. I still have those letters with me. I have kept them in my bank locker to hide them from my wife. Twenty-five long years have passed since we broke apart. Today, I ran into her at the airport. I thought I would never encounter her again in my life.’

  ‘You said you were in love. Then why didn’t you marry each other?’

  ‘I did not have the courage, you see, I was a timid man then. We are Brahmins, you know … Madhwa community…’

  ‘Oh…?’

  ‘My parents are very orthodox. They rigidly follow all the customs and traditions of the community. And my Smitha is a Kodava – they eat pork. I knew my parents would not accept her. So I did not even tell them. She insisted that we elope and get married. But I could not muster the courage to run away from home. I did not have a job then. In any case, I realized that this relationship would not last. So, I distanced myself from her. I stopped writing to her, I stopped meeting her. Until then, there were no places we hadn’t gone together, no words that we hadn’t spoken and no movies that we hadn’t seen. Come rainy season, we would go to Shivanasamudra and sit watching the gushing waterfall for hours on end, holding hands. You can imagine how it must have felt when such an intense relationship ended so abruptly. She implored, she begged, she cried her heart out. But I did not relent. Tired, she finally married someone else and moved elsewhere. I too married another girl of my parents’ choice. Thus we killed ourselves, sort of.’

  ‘What did she say when she met you today?’

  ‘Nothing. Her anger hasn’t died down even after twenty-five years. I wouldn’t have minded if she had slapped me across my face in front of everybody. But what hurt me more was that she just ignored me. “I don’t know who you are”, she said right to my face and walked off.’

  ‘Your physical appearance may have changed over so many years, right? She may not have recognized you.’

  ‘We were madly in love for all those years, Mr Mohan, so how is it possible that we couldn’t have recognized each other?’

  ‘I am sorry. I believe you are in a lot of pain.’

  ‘More than the pain, I am racked with immense guilt. I cannot wriggle out of this guilt all my life. I know I betrayed her, I misused her trust. In whom can I confide the agony of my feelings?’ he sighed.

  ‘That means, you two were in a physical relation as well?’

  The question left Ramesh stumped. ‘No, no, no … nothing of that sort. We both came from respectable families. We did not commit any such mistakes…’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry…’ Mohanaswamy said.

  Meantime, the stewardess came pushing the trolley of drinks. Ramesh picked up a can of beer. Mohanaswamy went for an orange juice.

  ‘You don’t drink?’ Ramesh asked.

  ‘No, I don’t. I’m not used to it…’ Mohanaswamy tilted his head coyly.

  ‘Oh, you’re such a gentleman!’ Ramesh said with a laugh. Sipping his beer, he lapsed into a deep thought. Mohanaswamy went back to his book.

  After a few minutes, Ramesh suddenly turned to Mohanaswamy and asked, ‘Mr Mohan, what about you? Are you in love? I mean … I suppose … you are not married yet?’

  Mohanaswamy’s throat felt parched, he had not quite expected this question. He looked at Ramesh’s face for a while and asserted, ‘Yes, I am in love.’

  ‘May I know the name of the lucky girl?’

  ‘Kaar…thi…kaa,’ he said, drawling out the syllables, so that it sounded like a girl’s name. He did not want to tell a complete lie.

  ‘Sweet name,’ Ramesh said.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Mohanaswamy and smiled. You don’t have a car, you have only thikaa, bum … but you are still called Karthika, Mohanaswamy would often tease Karthik.

  ‘For how long have you been together?’

  ‘Um … it’s been five years now.’

  ‘Where did you meet her first?’

  ‘We met in a train. Both our reservations were termed RA/C, which meant that we had to share a berth during the entire journey. This first acquaintance eventually turned into love.’

  The memory of that first meeting, a night’s train journey suddenly heated up Mohanaswamy’s body. How easily Karthik had accepted him on such a sho
rt acquaintance and made love to him that night!

  ‘Oh! So romantic! Have you informed your parents?’

  ‘Yeah … we introduced ourselves to each other’s parents in just three months.’

  Karthik had taken him to his town within three months of their friendship and introduced him to his father and mother. ‘Please … let’s not sleep together in one room, it unnecessarily gives way to suspicion,’ Mohanaswamy had pleaded, but Karthik would not listen. That night, Karthik copulated with him in the room, without making noise. Karthik’s parents had taken a liking to Mohanaswamy for his modesty and unassuming mannerisms.

  ‘That means they have accepted you?’

  ‘Certainly … his parents are very fond of me.’

  ‘How lucky! Then you must be seeing each other often.’

  ‘Uh huh … we roam around a lot on my bike. She loves riding pillion with me. During weekends, she insists we go out. We keep going to different places – like Mysore, Beluru-Halebidu, Ooty and so on – Karthika doesn’t like to stay back in Bengaluru during weekends.’

  ‘That means … you both stay in the same room in the hotel?’ Ramesh asked nervously.

  ‘Of course, yes. How can we, being lovers, stay in separate rooms?’ said Mohanaswamy with a laugh.

  Will Karthik ever agree to it? Never.

  ‘That means, physical relation between you two … sorry, don’t misunderstand me for asking this,’ Ramesh said hesitantly.

  Mohanaswamy laughed again. Now he had began to enjoy spinning these yarns. ‘Yeah … In fact, she is keener on it than me. If we don’t do it at least twice a week, she will not be happy.’