by Jeff Tikari
– a slight embarrassed flush rose to her cheeks. Gosh! He’s brash and forward, but so good-looking; wonder who he is?
Hashim stepped out of the room to the darkened verandah and espied her through the glazed window. She was smart. Her fitting dress emphasized her body; she flitted around the table smiling at acquaintances that helped themselves to tid-bits and floated back to the sitting room to her circle of friends.
She felt an excitement in her chest – the party was becoming interesting – that man was irresistible. She looked around: now where has he gone, he won’t stay put, will he?
Hashim stepped back into the living room and stood behind her with his back to her.
“Array, Yar, where have you been?” said a male voice behind her. “Just mingling,” said a second male voice. “I smell ‘Mystique.’”
Hashim recognized the perfume she was wearing. He felt, rather than saw her turn around. He looked over his shoulder into those electric eyes. She was looking at him curiously:
“Are you stalking me?”
“No, err…well yes. May I…?”
She liked men who were open; she smiled, “I’m flattered.”
“Hashim at your service, Madam!” he made a little bow; ‘Mystique’ enveloped him. Her tinkling laugh told him he had made a favorable impression.
“May I get you another drink, m’am?”
“Love another one, it’s sherry. And hurry back – I’m parched!”
He’s suave and courteous too! I love his classical good looks and his old world charm. Is it the sherry or am I being swept off my feet?
She waited tentatively; Hashim appeared, bowed and offered her the sherry. They stood and chatted; he made her laugh a lot – he was well informed, quick, and full of fun.
I am thirty-four, she thought, and this is the first man I am enjoying the company of. Should I be brash enough to make the first move? Dammit, who cares!
“Hashim, shall we quietly get away and catch a coffee at the Hyatt?”
“What a splendid idea! Of course, we shall. But I don’t have wheels.”
“No problem: I have chauffeured wheels. Let’s escape quietly.”
They made an unobtrusive exit… covertly watched by her circle of friends.
They ordered iced coffee and thinly sliced asparagus sandwiches at the coffee shop and danced cheek-to-cheek till 4 a.m.
It was in the way of things that they booked a room – two rooms actually - though one was never used.
Languorous mornings followed prolonged mid-day cocktails that followed light lunches of cold cuts and mayonnaised salads. A luxuriating tub bath got them ready for a night of fun.
He had never got along so well with a woman. He looked at her with tenderness – he could spend his life with her. She noticed his compassionate looks and felt he was gearing up to make some kind of a proposal….
Next morning when she stretched her arms to cuddle him he was gone! She looked in the toilet and tiptoed, keys in hand, to the other room – nope! No signs of him. She had breakfast in bed and yet he didn’t appear.
She checked at the reception: “He has checked out, Madam.”
“…What!!!”
“He paid for the rooms and food and checked out early this morning. He left this note.”
“Hi Sita: sorry, love, had to leave in a hurry. Will catch you soon. Rooms, food, etc. all taken care of!
Love you,
Hashim.”
“Where has he gone? Has he left an address?”
“No, Madam. But the check-in register says: Bunder road, Karachi.”
Protocol
Prelude
Pratish and Sulaiman were close friends right through Elphiston Grammar and remained close mates at Ganga College. People called them the ‘Inseparables’.
Whilst still scholars at the academy, they made a brotherly pledge that their first born, if a boy would be named Harish and if a girl would be called Parveen.
Harish
Tall and handsome, gifted with easy charm and comfortable wealth, he was a desirable catch. Well liked and popular with both sexes, but not a very good looser at sports
Jyoti was his latest flame and ran about him like a puppy would its master. He treated her perfunctorily, almost bordering on shabbily. When Upinder, his closest friend, remarked on how offhandedly he treated such a sweet and trusting girl, Harish turned on him telling him firmly to mind his own business. Girls were no problem for him. If they didn’t like the way he treated them they could “fade.
What the hell, yaar? Thought Upinder, he is the campus hero and thrives on adulation. One day he will get married! I shudder to think how he will treat his wife. He is my friend, but I admit he’s a bully; and like all bullies, he will marry a girl who is submissive and spineless. Well, best of bloody luck to him; hope he manages to find happiness in the bargain.
Pratish Pandey sat Harish across his large mahogany desk. “Well, son,” he said, putting his elbows on the desk, “you have finished college now, and have learnt a lot, I am happy to say, about the steel business. I would like to see you now settle down in life and take a more mature attitude. Your prime outlet appears to be ‘hitting on chicks’ as you youngsters put it….”
“Hey, hang on Dad! What am I supposed to do after work? Shouldn’t I be doing young things and having fun?” Harish put on an innocent act.
“I didn’t say you shouldn’t. You didn’t let me finish. I would like you to get married.”
Harish’s eyes did their best to vacate their sockets, “Come on, Dad, you can’t be serious. I don’t want to get married as yet!”
“Watch my lips, lad. I said I would like you to get married. You are an adult now. Whether you marry or not is your decision. But I would like to see you married.”
“I suppose, Dad, you have someone in mind?”
“Of course I have; and you have met her too. Remember Uncle Sulaiman’s daughter, Parveen?”
“Oh, my God! Not her.” Harish involuntarily shirked back.
“And why may I ask not? She is well-educated, good looking and loves sports. She also happens to be my very good friend’s daughter. Should you both marry, our business would be bound with family ties.” Pratish remembered his college days and a slight smile touched his lips.
“She’s a pain: she is self-centered and thinks no end of herself!” blurted Harish trying to avoid his father’s eye.
“Then she must be a lot like you; and you can’t handle that. You’d like women to be subservient, huh?”
“Well, that’s certainly not true, Dad. If women can’t resist throwing themselves at me, what can I do?” he shrugged.
“I have a strange feeling Parveen won’t be throwing herself at you,” smiled his father, “wanna bet?” he raised his eyebrows. “Anyway, she and her father are coming over at the weekend and you both can then see how you get along. You are now young adults and should be able to make a mature assessment.”
“I am due to meet with my school mate, Upinder over the weekend, Dad.”
“Okay, so call him over; let’s have a party!”
Parveen looked up from the magazine in her hand, “But, Abba jan, what about Minakshi? She is staying with us and may not want to go.”
“Ask her, beti;” said her father, Sulaiman. “Perhaps she would like to meet Harish.
The two girls, Minakshi and Parveen had shared a room at a finishing school in far away Switzerland. Minakshi was good looking, tall, and loved sports, but was more modest than Parveen. Whilst Parveen was a go-getter and a front-runner, Minakshi’s temperament was mild and demure. She played for the enjoyment of the game rather than the winning of it.
“O.K. Abbajan, a few days mingling with Harish won’t kill me I suppose.”
A week later Pratish and Sulaiman sat at the far end of the spacious living room where French windows opened out to a manicured lawn. They discussed business and reminisced. The two girls sat together looking bored. They were informed by the house bearer that Harish and his
friend, Upinder, had been alerted to the arrival of Sheik Sulaiman’s party a while ago.
“That is typical,” said Parveen to her friend, “he wants to make us feel small. He is so crappy!”
The girls made a plan to avenge this insult. Soon the duo came strolling down the grand stairway: washed, shaved, and cologned. Harish greeted ‘Uncle Sulaiman’ and introduced Upinder all around. The two groups measured up each other: the boys were handsome and dressed in the latest casual trendies; the girls were quietly elegant and fashionably turned out. After some polite talk and courteous enquiries Parveen interrupted and announced that she and her friend were going down the road to a friend’s house and would be back in time for lunch: “Just give me a call on my cell phone when lunch is ready,” said Parveen as they trooped out arm in arm.
Harish was struck dumb. He had been clearly out-maneuvered and left looking foolish. The parents looked at each other and smiled knowingly. “Touché!” said Sulaiman quietly to his friend.
Once out of sight and hearing the girls burst into hoots of laughter “Did you see the look on that ass’s face?” asked Parveen, “I thought he would have a seizure there and then.”
“That was mean, Parveen. You should have let them enjoy their moment of glory a bit longer. Poor Upinder got caned for no fault of his.”
“Hey! Hey! All this gushing sympathy for someone you first saw only five minutes ago. What stirs, sweetheart?”
“Don’t get an attitude, hon. everybody isn’t the same. And he sure looks sorta … you know…?”
Later, after lunch, Harish asked if the Girls