Unclothed

by Probir Sengupta

  ‘I don’t think Percy takes a bath. I take a bath every day.’

  ‘Good habit!’ Mr. Kamath commented. Suddenly Onni remembered that he was supposed to go to Didima’s house. He looked around and saw that the two of them were right next to the building where Pootoo-Mashi’s house was, where Mr. Kamath stayed now. He had come the wrong way with Mr. Kamath and was a couple of streets away from where he was supposed to be.

  ‘Why did you stop? Come up.’

  ‘No, I have to go to Didima’s house, Mr. Kamath.’

  ‘Go a little later. They won’t mind you coming here. And you know what waits for you up there in the trunk.’

  The two went up the dark staircase.

  As Mr. Kamath opened the door, they entered. ‘Carrying your heavy bag, I need a wash now... I will be quick,’ Mr. Kamath said putting Onni’s bag down. Onni just looked around the small room. In one corner, lay Pootoo-Mashi’s huge trunk with a lock on it.

  Suddenly, Mr. Kamath came back in with just a towel wrapped around his waist. ‘Come! You can also take a nice bath here. You will feel clean,’ he said holding the eight-year-old boy’s hand.

  ‘But I already took a bath in the morning.’

  ‘See, you have come back from school. So many hours in the old classroom, games in the dusty playground, the bus ride till here... You have picked up so many germs. And you do not want to smell bad like that friend of yours, do you? Ummm... What was his name? Percy, you said, right?’

  Onni felt bad for Percy. ‘I made fun of my friend. I said he does not bathe. That is why I have to take a bath two times now,’ he thought.

  ‘I will take a bath tomorrow at home,’ he tried to bargain as he twisted his arm.

  ‘You want to have the foreign chocolates, no? And draw with imported pencils?’

  Onni suddenly remembered the nice things that lay waiting for him inside Pootoo-Mashi’s trunk. ‘Just taking a bath to get those is nothing!’ he thought.

  Mr. Kamath whispered to him. ‘Good boy... You will feel relaxed soon,’ he said and reached for the buttons on the boy’s shorts.

  The hands did not feel right. Every day they gave him chocolates. But today they were groping and working on the buttons for too long. Onni did not know what to do. He reminded Onni of what Ms. Tadiwala had done to him in front of the whole class. That scar was still there, deep inside of him, in his mind. And Mr. Kamath had touched that scar again.

  ‘Am I a dirty boy? Is that why dirty things happen to me?’

  Onni tried to wrench his hand away. In the scuffle that followed, Mr. Kamath’s towel slipped. Onni could not care. But that was what came to his rescue.

  As the man fumbled and tried to hold on to that last bit that hid his ugly intentions, the boy ran from there. He picked up his school bag and reached for the door. The latch moved smoothly and the door creaked open. The darkness of the staircase that lay ahead was nothing compared to the darkness that lay behind inside the room.

  Onni scampered as fast as his legs and his bag would let him.

  Never had he wanted to take a bath more badly. Never had he felt as unclean as he felt at that moment.

  Twenty-two

  U

  sed a nd unclean, the heap of plates stared at Onni.

  He stood there, waiting for the slab of ice cream to be cut and put on his plate. In front of him were the neatly arranged stacks of more plates – clean, shiny and waiting to be used. Meanwhile, he thought of what had happened earlier during the day.

  ‘Reshmi is getting married today. It’s a total surprise, isn’t it? And she’s invited the whole agency for cocktails... Wow!’ one lady in the office said to another.

  ‘She’s tying the knot with the same guy she was seeing?’

  ‘Yeah, Atish it is!’

  Onni had the hots for Reshmi. He used to work with her and knew that things between the very amiable, bushy eyebrowed art director and her boyfriend were going through a rough patch. Onni wanted to make his move to get Atish out and be the one to be seen with Reshmi. He had worked very closely with her on new business projects. They had spent many late nights in the office together, trying to crack new ways of saying the same old things. Advertising had become dull and boring - they had both confessed to each other.

  ‘Her hair falls beautifully over her face...’ Onni had thought to himself as he sat working one night while she dozed helplessly over her keyboard. A long night of drinking and talking and drinking and talking and drinking again at her place had helped him make up his mind. He had decided that Reshmi was just the one for him.

  Just then, without any warning she had been away from office for a week. Onni had tried to call her. But the phone just kept ringing for a long time.

  ‘Now there’s no point... I’m just too late,’ Onni grieved. The bomb had just hit him.

  Wherever he turned in the office, he could hear ‘Reshmi’ being mentioned. He decided to step out for lunch. ‘A walk by the seaside will be good...’ he thought.

  It was sunny. But the stiff breeze made it bearable. The seafront was right opposite his office. And it was lined by a cavalcade of residential high-rises. ‘This is the best part about working here... When walking by the sea, no one will be able to tell whether you work here or stay here.’

  The afternoon waves were crashing in on the tetrads. Sprawled on one of the seafront benches, Onni tried a lot to sway his attention away, but the waves were gurgling R, E, S, H, M, I here too, every time they broke on four-legged concrete puzzle pieces that were put against the wall of the bay. ‘So many dreams have come crashing here,’ the lovelorn poet in Onni lamented. ‘...And now, I too shall join their ranks.’

  ‘Love won’t get you very far,’ said a voice from the other end of the bench.

  Onni looked up. The voice belonged to an elderly gentleman, somewhere in his sixties.

  ‘What will?’ the young man asked smiling slightly at the anonymous comment.

  ‘Money. Money will take you far,’ was the reply.

  By the way he sat, this gentleman appeared easy-going. One leg was crossed over the other. Casual moccasins, crisp washed denims, simple black linen shirt, clean and manicured nails, expensive watch. Onni did not miss anything.

  He followed the elderly man’s gaze. ‘He is not looking at me like a man looks at any other man. Is he somebody I know? Why does it feel like that? His glance is lingering a little too long,’ Onni could tell from experience.

  The man’s eyes hesitated at points on Onni’s anatomy that gave away what was on his mind. Onni decided to take the lead.

  ‘And how far is the money?’ he asked the man looking straight into his eyes. He could feel his to-be customer’s pulse hasten as he casually rested one of his hands on his own inner thigh.

  Female or male, his many encounters with Swati and her clients had taught Onni to come to the point without any trepidation. Plus, he had to get back to work though he had not yet decided if he would go for Reshmi’s cocktail party in the evening.

  ‘Not very far from here. Let’s discuss it over a coffee?’

  ‘So I was right,’ Onni thought. ‘I don’t have too much time... Have to get back to work,’ he said testing the waters.

  ‘Everything about you says you earn well. I can make things better.’

  ‘Quick then! Where we go is your decision... What we do is mine.’

  Onni always remembered to make his rules clear. Yes, he was straight. But that didn’t stop him from supplying happiness to all - women, couples or men. ‘When you’re an entertainment device, can you choose who buys the ticket to your joystick?’ he always told himself and smiled.

  ‘Done... And the damages are?’ the man asked. He seemed eager to finalise the deal.

  As they walked to the nearest taxi, they introduced each other. ‘I’m Deepjoy,’ Onn
i said. The elderly gent smiled. ‘Nice name... You can call me KK.’

  ‘So what do you do, KK?’

  ‘I’m a businessman, into importing machinery.’

  ‘Hmmm... So do you just sign documents in your office or prefer to get your hands greasy too sometimes?’ Onni was getting corny.

  ‘Depends... If the equipment is high-quality and expensive.’

  They got off close and entered a small hotel. The formalities were finished with KK just nodding at the man who was at the desk. ‘He must be a regular here,’ Onni figured. His watch reminded him that he had to get back to work soon.

  The door to a room on the first floor was opened by an attendant. KK and Onni stepped inside. ‘It’s small, but looks and smells clean; just perfect for an afternoon quickie,’ Onni thought as he looked around, not missing the bathroom.

  KK tipped the attendant and shut the door.

  When he turned, Onni was standing with his shirt already unbuttoned. KK smiled and like someone submissive he went down on his knees in front of the man he knew as Deepjoy.

  ‘Finish everything soon. We leave for Reshmi’s party at 8pm, sharp!’ said Iona, the receptionist at the office as Onni entered back.

  Onni gave her a quick smile as he got to his desk. ‘I don’t know if I want to go,’ he thought in his mind. Just then a bunch of girls and boys accosted him in the corridor. ‘Contribution for the gift?’ they demanded.

  ‘Which gift?’ he wanted to ask instinctively. But he suddenly remembered that he knew the answer and did not want to hear it. Onni was just not up to it, but he still reached for his wallet.

  Sitting down at his table, he typed, backspaced, typed again and backspaced yet again. His mind was not all there. He stopped and sat with his hands on his thighs.

  He felt the thick envelope in his right pocket. It held a wad of banknotes. KK had given it to him.

  ‘Vodka...’ Onni told the waiter at Reshmi’s party. ‘Vodka with orange juice.’

  Everyone was waiting for the bride and her man, everyone except Onni. He looked around. There were very few people in attendance.

  ‘Many could not make it at such short notice,’ he heard somebody say. ‘Or they were just put off by Reshmi’s decision to tie the knot with Atish. Like me,’ Onni added in his mind.

  Whatever the reason, it was bad. There was hardly any crowd to disappear into. Or hardly any crowd to cover his exit. He decided to just hang around, nursing one drink all evening.

  ‘Hello, Onni!’ he heard suddenly. Onni turned and it was his boss from work, his Creative Director - Paul.

  ‘Hey Paul... Good to see you in a different setting!’

  Every day, it was Reshmi who waited for Paul outside his office. But today, it was Paul’s turn to do the waiting.

  Paul was with a lady with the shortest hair Onni had ever seen on a woman. She could give some serious competition to G. I. Jane. But that was just when it came to her hair. Here was a woman of about five feet, with gorgeous eyes, shapely and wearing a very fiery smile. Suddenly somebody waved out at Paul. ‘Would you guys just excuse me? I’ll be back...’ he said.

  ‘I’m Noor. And I’m drunk,’ the lady said holding her hand out for Onni.

  ‘Onniruddh... You can call me Onni, if you remember me tomorrow.’

  Noor was high; Onni could tell by the way she was swaying. She was dressed in a short smart dress, with her svelte legs propped up on heels to make her look taller. Together, they walked to where they could sit and talk.

  ‘Resh is making us wait so long!’ Noor laughed looking stranded.

  ‘Hmmm... She must be busy with her makeup.’

  ‘She must be busy with Atish,’ she giggled and gave Onni a naughty wink. The thought made Onni a little uncomfortable.

  Suddenly Noor put her right hand on Onni’s left knee. ‘Why don’t we get busy too?’

  ‘Noor, you’re drunk.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying Onni... I’m drunk and I want you to make use of the situation.’

  Onni’s day had been crazy and it was surely getting more so. In truth, he did not mind. The situation was perfectly mad and deep down he was enjoying all of it. ‘Should we get out of here then?’ he asked Noor, using this opportunity to find a very safe way out of Reshmi’s party without having to actually meet Reshmi.

  ‘Right. Now,’ Noor came very close to Onni and slurred into his ear.

  Walking with the tipsy lady through the scanty guests was easy. Onni did not have to give any reasons to anybody. Everybody looked at Noor and understood that she had a drink too many and had to be escorted home. Onni got appreciative glances for being the knight in shining armour – the one who had let go of this fantastic evening to help this damsel in distress and deliver her to safety. ‘Little does anybody know that I’m the one being helped by this lady here...’ Onni thought to himself as he excused himself and smiling slightly made the way for Noor and himself.

  ‘Take my car... The driver knows the way to Noor’s. I picked her up earlier this evening,’ Paul said. Onni was thankful.

  On the way, Noor just slept on Onni’s shoulder, her face close to his, her short hair brushing against his jaw sometimes. ‘She smells outstanding,’ the young man thought to himself as he took in lungfuls of the sleeping lady’s perfume.

  ‘She must be good in bed,’ he could not help thinking as her hands resting against his upper arm held on tight. ‘Is she enjoying resting against me as I’m enjoying resting against her?’ he wondered in silence. The reply, though silent, was apparent by the way she remained asleep.

  The car stopped and the driver pointed out to the gate of the building. ‘Noor, we’re there...’

  ‘Hmm?’ she mumbled.

  ‘You’re home... Bedtime!’ Onni whispered.

  Noor stirred and opened her eyes. ‘Oh, come up,’ she said groggily. He stepped out of the car and thanked the driver.

  As the elevator door slid open on the first floor, Noor handed Onni her keys, after searching for them in her bag for some torturous minutes.

  Onni unlocked the door for Noor as she stood half-asleep. He entered her flat after her and left the door slightly open. ‘Just a sec...’ Noor said stumbling into her room which was dark. Onni waited.

  He looked around her home. The modern, contemporary look was nice. The minimalism, the straight lines, the dark finish, everything reflected Noor, her short hair, the clean lines of her attire, her perfume.

  A big hardbound book with a page-mark lay on the table. That it was about the geishas, Onni could see. A faint thought crossed his mind. ‘Japanese ladies who entertained rich customers with their skills... Like me? Indian man who entertains rich customers with his skills,’ he thought.

  The darkness outside the French window reminded him of the time. Noor had not emerged for a while now.

  There was no noise from inside. He softly tapped on the bedroom door that was partly open. There was no reply. Reluctantly, Onni peeped in. In the darkness, he saw Noor amongst the huge pillows on her bed, benumbed by sleep. Onni smiled.

  Turning and going up to the main door, he stepped outside. And silently shut the door behind him.

  Nine

  O nni stared silently at the floor. What he saw would

  be sad to anybody, and he was only nine.

  ‘Before we break for the vacations, we’ll have a Christmas party!’ was what Geeta teacher announced to the class.

  ‘Presents!’ some screamed. ‘Coloured clothes!’ others added.

  ‘Hmmm... No one has to wear uniforms that day. Yes, you all will get presents from Santa Claus. But you have to put together a nice party. With lots of snacks for everybody,’ the teacher said.

  What she actually meant was that she would have to be fed well. And that was a gargantuan task given her size.
There were times when the kids in the class used to think that if they didn’t do their homework, they would be swallowed by Geeta teacher. After all, her size was the result of all the children she had gulped down over the years.

  ‘How does she sit in her car? The tyres must be bursting!’ Pavan used to think.

  ‘And maybe her car doesn’t need a horn... She just has to scream. Her voice would be enough to clear the way ahead!’ Onni mused as she bellowed the six times table till they went deaf.

  ‘Teacher, can I bring wafers?’ Heena asked with her hand waving in the air.

  ‘May I get cold drinks, teacher? Orange?’ Mayur asked.

  ‘Chocolates?’ screamed a third.

  ‘Everybody will get a chance to bring something... Sit down quietly,’ she chided.

  Onni was really excited too. Christmas vacation would mean staying at home and playing with Ankit, Arpit and Star, with no homework to finish.

  ‘So Heena, you will bring potato chips?’

  ‘Yes, teacher!’

  ‘Bring enough for the whole class,’ the teacher said hungrily. Something told Onni that she was already salivating.

  ‘Should we have butter and chutney sandwiches?’ she continued. No one really rose to that one.

  ‘Onni! Will you get batata vadas? Hot hot batata vadas will be fun.’

  ‘Yes, teacher,’ he replied. He had seen a shop near his house where they sold batata vadas. People stood in lines to eat those.

  The party was planned. The children knew that Lata teacher would be Santa Claus. She would wear the ill-fitting red costume, complete with the white hair and a long flowing beard, dancing around like she did every year.

  ‘What if Lata teacher wore that costume every day to school?’ Onni had wondered once as he worked on the Community Living homework she had given that day.

  ‘The tip of the long white beard would tickle her tummy...’ he smiled to himself.

  The children in the class always looked at her fat jiggling belly instead of her face when she was teaching them.