‘I need a change of menu.’
‘Add some chocolate sauce... I’ll taste different,’ he smiled.
‘Ufff...’ Noor sighed and let go of the sheet. She emerged, naked like a hand emerges from a sleeve. ‘How come I’ve never seen her like this? In this light? In this way?’ Onni mused. He was falling in love with Noor again.
She left the room, but Onni still stayed in bed.
He looked around. The window next to him had a wind chime hanging from the rod above. It was a simple one, cut out from bamboo. As the morning breeze made its way in, the chime moved to a dull, comforting beat. On the two sides, hung the curtains. White, with thick red stripes over it. The broad lines crossed each other and formed white squares. The red was a bright red. And the white was a crisp, washed and starched white. It let the sun in just a little... Enough to light up the small bedroom. As he reached up to move the curtain, he heard a voice wafting in from outside.
It was a man talking. Strangely, he strained to hear what the voice was saying. It was not like Onni to behave that way. But something told him it was a voice he had heard before. It was a voice he had heard many times before.
‘That’s Arun!’ Onni exclaimed in his head. He jumped up and held the curtains apart. He leaned out, as much as the grills allowed him to.
‘Don’t forget what you’re wearing,’ he quickly remembered. Onni drew back a little and used one of the red and white curtains to cover himself. But he was very inquisitive to see where the voice was coming from.
He looked at the road below. It was empty. Could the voice be from one of the windows on the opposite side, Onni thought as his eyes searched. Just then he saw something. It really was Arun... His long lost friend Arun! He was on the adjacent balcony.
Even after all these years, there was nothing that could make Onni not recognise his once close friend. Not even the copious amounts of fat that Arun had collected around his face and the generous girth that had replaced his once flat belly.
Onni wanted to scream out loud, wave out, and was just about to, when he spotted somebody next to Arun. It was the man from a long forgotten yesterday too. But today things were different between them. The man he had replaced in Noor’s world. It was Hitendra.
If Arun was completely out of shape, Hitendra wore the mantle of another kind of man – the unkempt, unshaven, long-haired male who had been spurned in love and cheated in friendship.
‘That conniving bastard... He came in posing as an old buddy of mine and got into bed with my girlfriend... He’ll rot in hell!’ Onni heard Hitendra curse ruefully, as Arun listened. He took it for granted that it was about him that these words were being spoken. Deep inside he knew it was true. As he stood overhearing the conversation, Onni could feel Noor, Hitendra’s ex-flame and now his current, behind him, tidying up the room after it had been used throughout the previous night.
The dull hum of the television informed them that the meteorological department was expecting good weather with some wet patches here and there.
Onni was more interested in hearing Arun’s reaction to what Hitendra had just muttered.
‘Does Noor know that her man offers his services to many rich women and men in return for fat sums of money?’ Arun asked.
As Hitendra looked on stunned, Arun continued. ‘I was into the same thing, working or a lady called Swati till I was replaced by The Onniruddh Ray!’
Onni couldn’t believe what he had just discovered. Feeling broken, he sat down on the bed. Noor smiled at him as she came back into the room. He lay down. She bent down and picked up the sheet that was half on the floor and half still over Onni.
She pulled the sheet. The cloth slowly made its way down. It brushed softly against Onni’s torso.
The feeling slowly became real. ‘The cloth is really being pulled from over me...’ Onni’s thoughts swam through his head.
But Noor faded away. What Arun and Hitendra were discussing too slowly became unperceivable. He suddenly opened his eyes. ‘What a dream!’
Onni woke up. It was morning. He was in a bed that was not his own. And the sheet was, in reality, being softly pulled from over him by somebody.
‘Deepjoy… Sorry, I have to leave for work early. Remember?’ the lady said with an apologetic smile.
She was a client of his, Onni recollected.
Highlights of the earlier day passed through his head, like he was watching a football match on fast-forward.
Noor and he woke up They kissed Noor left Onni got ready He went to work Paul and he had a meeting He decided to get a new job Two fish in his office fish tank died That was a sign He made a few calls Lunch was the gulp-it-down-as-fast-as-you-can type Swati called She fixed him up with a new client Onni finished some senseless work He lined up an interview He checked on Noor It was time to turn into Deepjoy again The meeting with the client was great She gave Deepjoy a wonderful time too There was a lot of intellectual exchange before the usual roll-in-the-hay She had to leave early for work the next day she mentioned They dozed off
Deepjoy pulled his jeans on. Zipping up, he was glad to become Onni again and stepped out.
Twelve
M s. Fiona stepped out and slowly pulled the handle
to shut the door of the classroom behind her.
She had strictly instructed her batch of fifteen tuition students to solve some Science questions. Now she was free to look into other work.
Onni was not a part of this class. In another classroom in the same building, he was trapped learning Hindi conjugations.
‘I demand all of the conjugations possible, for the verbs written on the board... Past, Present, Future... Every form that these verbs can take to express themselves,’ said Shukla sir, in a very feminine tone, made even more girly by the graceful movements of his fingers and hands.
Every eye present in this tuition watched
Shukla Sir and his gesticulations closely. His womanly demeanour had always been the reason for animated arguments... Should he be addressed as Sir or Teacher?
‘Sir, may I go to the toilet, please?’ Onni raised his hand.
‘Oh, you dirty boy, what exactly do you intend to do there?’
Onni sat there without an answer. He looked down at his desk.
He was reminded of the time when he was much younger, smaller and meeker. When he wanted to go to the toilet, all he did was control himself. Actually, that was what all the boys and girls in the class did. As the teacher kept reciting rhymes with the entire class, Onni’s control over his bladder would grow weaker. But asking the teacher was completely out of question.
‘Imagine bringing the entire poem to a halt just to ask if I can go to the toilet. That is so bad. Everyone will look at me. And maybe teacher will scold me,’ Onni used to tell himself.
‘Soon the bell will ring and I will run to the toilet.’
But the bell never rang.
As the class kept reciting the poems robotically, Onni kept controlling himself. He remembered that he had even tried various ways of making the wait easier. Like shaking his legs very fast or sometimes clenching his teeth and then his fists. On some days, Onni even tried doing all three together. But, whatever he did, the result was always the same.
The result would be a large dark, wet patch in his school shorts and a very deadpan look on his face.
Onni was thankful that those days were over. Now he was older and better at excusing himself to visit the toilet.
But today, the I-want-to-rush-to-the-toilet-and-pee-so-hard-that-the-urinal-will-crack feeling got really strong.
Shukla Sir’s ‘Go!’ rang out loud across the class, the corridor and the building.
In one-tenth of a second, Onni found himself in the boys’ toilet, standing with his zippe
r down, his eyes half-closed, taking a long, comforting leak.
‘Should I go back to the class?’ he thought after he finished. ‘Let’s take the long way around,’ he decided.
As he came out of the toilet, Onni saw that as usual the entire hallway was lit, with after school tuitions going on. He decided to go to his class via the upper floor. Quietly, he sneaked up the stairs. During daytime, it would be crowded with students and teachers. Right now, it was deserted and dimly lit. Onni just continued walking. He had done this many times before.
At the end of the long, dark corridor was the school gym. He could see that the tube lights were switched on. Onni heard the faint, rhythmic, metallic clinks of the weights.
‘Ramesh Sir must be working out,’ he deduced.
What he was not quite sure about was the other noise he heard. If he was not mistaken, it was the tick-tock-tick of high heels.
Ramesh Sir was in charge of Physical Training. Every Wednesday and Saturday, he was the one who made the students run, exercise, march and do all kinds of bodily activities that would make them fit and strong. And of course, sweaty. He was younger than all the other teachers in the school; the only one who had muscles and the temerity to wear a t-shirt and jeans. Secretly, Onni wanted to be like Ramesh Sir when he grew up.
As the tick-tock-tick became louder, Onni too kept walking towards the gym. Against the far away lights, he suddenly saw Ms. Fiona climbing up the stairs and turning towards the school gym.
‘Oh, so those were her shoes. But what is she doing in the gym? The staffroom is downstairs,’ he wondered.
Onni slowly kept walking towards the gym. As he neared, he almost tiptoed.
The lights inside the gym made everything very visible. Onni got on his knees and peeped through the large windows. His heart was racing.
‘Am I going to see something similar to what I saw the day I was walking home? Like that woman and that man lying down naked with each other on the grass? Ms. Fiona with Ramesh Sir? She is a nice teacher who teaches Science so well. And Ramesh Sir is also so much younger than her. But what if they are doing something like that?’
Thinking of it all, Onni’s head started feeling light. His face was stuck close to the glass of the window. His eyes darted around the place, searching.
The dumbbells were all lined up on the racks, according to size. The weight plates too were stacked up on the rods. One of the bars with huge weights was being used by Ramesh Sir. He was working on his upper arms. As he looked on into the mirror completely obsessed with his muscles, Ms. Fiona stood at a distance behind him and talked. Her expressions spoke of pain.
What she was saying was not audible to Onni. But Onni could see them. As her words poured
out, so did her tears. She seemed to be in utter distress.
‘What did Ramesh Sir say or do that made Ms. Fiona cry like this?’ Onni wondered. ‘Very bad!’
Finally there was some reaction from Ramesh Sir. He just let the bar and weights drop from his hands. As they crashed into the thich rubber mat on the floor, the impact was contained. Onni could see that the impact of Ms. Fiona’s tears on the young P. T. Sir was also very lukewarm. He shrugged, picked up his towel and wiped himself. With the towel around his shoulders, he just shook his hands and spoke to her in a very casual manner.
The lady was shaking as she cried. Ramesh Sir did not look very interested. Nor did he comfort her. ‘What are they saying to each other, I want to know,’ Onni kept telling himself. But there was no way he could get closer.
All of a sudden, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Onni jumped out of his skin. The last thing he needed was getting caught here by a teacher. Especially Shukla Sir.
He kept kneeling, and slowly turned. It was not a teacher, but a boy wearing a uniform just like Onni. He appeared to be the same age and was about as tall. He had an inquisitive smile on his face. ‘What is happening?’ he whispered.
‘I don’t know... Ms. Fiona is crying in front of Ramesh Sir,’ Onni replied.
‘Oh, I have seen them together many times. I am from Ms. Fiona’s class... VII-B,’ the boy continued in a hush.
‘Hi... My name is Onniruddh Ray... Onni, in
VII-A.’
‘Hello, Onni...’ the boy held his hand out and smiled. ‘I am Arun Rao.’
Twenty-six
‘I am De epali,’ the lady with the gorgeous mehendi patterns on her hands said as she smiled at Onni.
He was being introduced to a blizzard of new faces and new names on his first day at the office. ‘They all have to remember just one new name and face. I have the task of memorising a hundred and four!’ Onni thought as he looked around the new advertising agency he had just moved to.
This office was quite far from his old workplace. He was thankful. But he did have some regrets. Yes, the work was livelier. Alas, the sea-face was gone.
‘Will this area be good for Deepjoy?’ Onni wondered looking out of the darkened glass on one side of the office. ‘Well, Swati is always there to help.’
As he threw out lots of old printouts, boxes of unused visiting cards, some ballpoint pens with dried ink and other things lying in what was now his cupboard, he heard a voice talking to him.
‘So? How do you find it here?’
He turned around. Out of the faces and names, one that he remembered was Deepali. It was her. He gave her a flattering glance and with a big smile, replied. ‘I’m sure it shall be just great, Deepali!’
Her eyes told him that she appreciated his remembering her name. Onni had made many new friends during the day. He knew that she was going to be more than that.
His eyes followed the intricate mehendi patterns drawn on her hands. The deep orange started from her fingers and swirled up towards her elbows. The dexterous and closely entwined ‘kolka’ motifs were almost like net gloves that showed off her skin at its tantalising best. ‘Nice...’ Onni thought to himself. Deepali was not typically curvaceous. Onni made a mental note that she did not tick many boxes on the ‘copybook babe’ checklist. But something about her made the men take notice. Onni got up and offered her a seat, a gesture he reserved only for some. Deepali looked at her watch instead. ‘Oh... I’m meeting some friends in ten minutes... So sorry!’ she apologised.
‘Hey, I really don’t mind them joining us,’ Onni said. Noor was not in town. And Swati too hadn’t fixed any appointments for Deepjoy that evening.
Deepali smiled. ‘You don’t know me... And you want to meet my friends?’
‘That way we can all get to know each other...’ he shrugged.
‘There’s no real plan, actually. We’re just catching up.’
‘They’ll be glad there’s no plan when they meet me,’ Deepjoy gloated from inside Onni.
‘I’ll wrap up work... We’ll leave by 8ish,’ Deepali said to Onni as she left. ‘And I hope you like them!’ her voice trailed behind her.
Onni smiled to himself in the men’s washroom as he fixed his hair. ‘The way to a woman’s heart is through her friends,’ he thought. And the way to her bed? Onni dismissed the thought as soon as it occurred.
As Deepali and he entered the bar, it felt like stepping into a different world. Everyone was talking louder than they usually did. Everyone was getting drunk. Lounge music played in the background, as the waiters went around self-importantly, seating people, serving drinks, refilling glasses and plates.
The rough, green walls had a certain unfinished charm about them. The gurgling and bubbling noise from the hookahs mixed with the music notes and created a hallucinogenic effect. Flavoured smoke hung heavy around the place.
‘There they are!’ Deepali pointed out. Through the dim haze, Onni saw that she was pointing at a table that had a couple of ladies seated.
‘Hello, girls! Pauline... Meet Onni. Onni... Pauline. Christina... Onni. Onni... Christina,�
�� she went in one breath. As for Onni, he was left completely breathless. ‘Such ravishing womanly beauty!’ he thought to himself.
As if hearing him think, without a warning Pauline jumped up and asked Onni ‘Benimle dans eder misin? Dance? With me?’
As the two kissed the air next to Onni’s cheek, the young man caught the other men around steal glances at them. ‘Sorry ladies, we lascivious men are just being our usual selves...’ he thought.
The three ladies were their usual selves too. They cackled, screamed, pouted, whispered and went on and on and on with their stories. They also made sure that Onni was part of their evening. Christina’s hand sometimes rested on Onni’s arm. Pauline’s knees rubbed against Onni’s knees many times under the table. He gathered from their talks that they were from the Mediterranean region.
‘I must say you are a very handsome man... Benim olmanı istiyorum, ’ Christina smiled as she spoke. Seeing Onni’s blank stare, she blinked and explained ‘I wish you were mine!’
Before Onni could say anything, Pauline took out a digital camera and implored Deepali to click a picture of her and Onni. ‘I have to show off my hot Indian date, you see!’ she batted her eyelids at Onni. As the flash blinded them, the two ladies almost fought to see the picture. Deepali and Onni just looked on. ‘You have to click a picture of me too with this man, honey!’ Christina sighed. ‘The men we live with in Turkey are ooh... But not ooh-la-la like you are!’ The two gestured like they were fanning themselves with imaginary Japanese fans formed out of their long fingers.
‘Your boyfriends, you mean?’ Onni asked. ‘Hey, hot women like you can get any man...’ he chuckled.
The three women fell silent. Onni did not understand what he had said wrong. He was only throwing praises.
Finally, Pauline spoke... ‘It is not that easy, Onni... Especially, if we are hot women packaged in male bodies.’
Onni looked at Pauline and Christina, with questions in his eyes. The decibel levels around suddenly felt like they had dropped to zero. Deepali looked at her friends and they softly nodded. She then turned to Onni.
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