‘Stop... And remember to give the fish their lunch instead,’ she called from far.
Onni smiled. As a reference image took painfully long to download, he casually picked up a magazine that lay on his desk. None of the articles made any sense as he did not know how to read the language. The printing was bad and so was the paper. But he kept flipping and seeing the pictures. ‘Just like how I would see the pictures in the magazines when Didima used to feed me years ago,’ he reminisced.
‘What the fucking hell!’ he came screeching to a halt on a page.
He could not believe his eyes.
The logo told him that it was a print ad for a small-time brand - Dixon Underwear.
Standing in the middle of the page, wearing just a pair of ugly briefs, was Arun.
Onni remembered the face well. He had been his best friend in school and college. They had dated the same women. They had pumped iron together. They had bought pet fish together. They had shared so many secrets about so many girls... ‘Is this what he disappeared for? Is this what he is putting his impressive physique into?’
As his eyes searched all over the page for any contact information, Onni’s mind raced. ‘If I can call this ad agency, maybe I can get his number.’
But there was no key number on the corner of the advertisement.
He kept staring at the page to be sure. ‘Is it indeed Arun Rao? My friend Arun?’ He kept thinking over and over again ‘But what nonsense is all this?’
Onni argued further, ‘Wait. How am I better?’
Just then his phone rang. It was Swati. The answer to Onni’s question was blinking on his mobile. ‘What better am I? Actually, worse,’ was his answer. He stared in silence at Swati trying to reach Deepjoy for an assignment to go and sexually gratify some stranger, and then at Arun modelling for a brand of cheap underwear for the country to see.
‘We are all selling ourselves to the highest bidders,’ he sighed to himself.
‘You have been staring at him for some time now!’ Koel’s voice rang out.
Onni turned to look at her. ‘I like him,’ Onni confessed, breaking into laughter. ‘Can you find him for me?’
It would be an easy job for Koel as she sourced models for the agency and its clients. Carefully, Onni tore the page out from the magazine and handed it to her.
‘Please, beautiful?’ he added. She smiled.
He remembered how Arun and he wanted to make a lot of money. One day, standing in a church, they both had promised that they were ready to do anything to make their dreams come true.
Onni did not know if they were stupid then or stupid now. He took in a deep breath. He only knew one thing. He had to bid Deepjoy adieu forever.
‘It will be difficult. But I’ll have to do it. So many offers to turn down. So much money to say no to. So many hearts to break. But what the fuck! Swati will have to find fresh talent,’ he smiled faintly. ‘I think it is time.’
He opened his inbox. Client mail, client mail, bank statements, client mail, forwards, client mail, more client mail, Noor, more forwards.
‘Wait! Noor? Why didn’t she just call?’ he wondered.
Onni opened the mail. Noor had typed in just one word — Where?
He smiled, took a deep breath, and mailed her his answer — There!
At an almost manic pace, Onni kept finishing work. He wanted to step out of office on time. He had decided he was going to take that pivotal step between him and Noor at last.
‘All work in place… 6 o’clock… Guess I can be out now…’ Onni hit the ‘Shut down’ button on the screen of his laptop. ‘Half-day, hmmm?’ some cronies yelled out as he put his pen and papers into the drawer. He smiled without looking back.
‘Onni!’ Koel’s voice rang out from the other end of the agency.
The man finally stopped and looked in her direction unable to avoid her.
She held up the page that he had torn out for her; the one with the advertisement for Dixon Underwear; the one with Arun on it. ‘I found his modelling agency for you, Onni... They are sending us his portfolio right now. What time should I commit? When do you want to meet him for a…’
‘Tomorrow morning!’ Onni yelled with joy before she finished.
Thoughts of finally meeting Arun the next day kept crossing his mind as he left work.
Entering Noor’s favourite restaurant with the strut of a consummate man, Onni waited for the lady at her much-loved corner.
Sixteen
Onni and his strut were both favourites at the swimming pool. It was evident from the stares that he attracted.
But one of these held a tad more than a generous measure of plaudits.
That one gaze was Mrs. Dixit’s.
‘She’s coming for you, again,’ Arun muttered to Onni.
‘How do you know?’
‘I just made a mental geometric calculation,’ Arun explained. ‘If a secant and a tangent are drawn from a point outside the circle, then the product of the lengths of the secant and its external segment equals the square of the length of the tangent segment that is coming towards you - the point in question,’ he elaborated suppressing a laugh.
‘You never tire, my friend,’ Onni commended his effort without moving a muscle as he lay supine on the poolside lounger.
From behind her oversized dark sunglasses and the carefully cultivated image of decency, Mrs. Dixit’s eyes feasted on Onni. Her gaze lingered longer than the smell of medical spirit.
Now, how did the two sixteen year-olds know that she was gaping?
It was the intuition that they had inculcated and sharpened after many episodes that involved Mrs. Dixit and Onni. In spite of the presence of the hegemonic masculinity of the lifeguard at the pool, this forty something lady found strange ways of indulging in conversations with Onni that were often manoeuvring into carnal precincts.
‘Hi, Onni.’
‘Hello, ma’am.’
‘See there? I think there’s... errr... a sex toy at the bottom of the pool!’
‘What?’
‘A... you know... vibrator!’
‘Ma’am, that’s just a kid’s toy torpedo.’
‘Oh, not a vibrator? But, can you get it for me?’
‘Do you know, Onni? There is this rare medical condition called Spermafortis which makes the semen unusually potent and hardy. It is like that of dolphins, manatees, seals and whales and has properties that make their sperm incredibly resilient to their aquatic environment. They can just ejaculate in the water and the presence of the sperm in the water can make all of the females around pregnant! Exciting, no?’
‘How deep is this pool, Onni?’
‘It goes from 3 feet to 12 feet.’
‘Okay, so the water surface is not level?’
‘Do you know? They are planning to make this pool water salty like the ocean water.’
‘Yeah, I heard so, Ma’am.’
‘That will be nice, Onni. It will be like swimming in the open sea.’
‘Hmmm...’
‘But will there be jelly-fish and sharks then?’
‘Onni, the other day I read somewhere that during the mating seasons it is very hazardous to get in the pool with the dolphins. The males throw the trainers up against the pool walls and try to mate with them!’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes. Dolphins have massive muscles and that makes them extremely strong. But they don’t look that aggressive, don’t you think?’
‘Your fitted tra-ooh-zers, Onni, are very nice. It’s impressive how you fill up the right places. I can see the boy becoming a man.’
Mrs. Dixit always left Onni speechless. And Arun enjoyed seeing his best friend getting stumped every single time. Like her suggestive queries, her swimwear too made it impossible for her to be overl
ooked. Even amidst the multitude of younger women of all shapes and sizes, this lady made eyes turn and imaginations run amok.
‘She has the hots for you, Onni. You’re lucky.’
‘But he isn’t making the final move, too bad!’
‘Does her age scare you?’
‘You can make it happen. Don’t be shy!’
‘Wish it was me... I’d have given in by now.’
Every man had advice to offer.
Suddenly, one day she wasn’t there by the
pool.
Onni didn’t miss her, but he did notice Mrs. Dixit’s absence.
Days turned to weeks. But she never returned. Gone were the strange questions. The suggestive advances were missing. The stares were not tantalizing any more.
Very stealthily, Onni tried to find out about her from the staff at the swimming pool. ‘Sorry, but we don’t know, Onni Sir. You can ask Mr. Dixit. He plays tennis here, very early every weekend.’
Arun had to play tennis at the club to strike up a conversation with Mr. Dixit. ‘The things you make me do!’ Arun feigned anger in the changing room before a match. But Onni remained stoic about making his best-buddy befriend the fifty year-old man.
But the plan didn’t work. There was no way Arun could get the story out from Mr. Dixit. The tennis matches continued, but with other players.
Many moons later, news came by in the middle of a lazy day by the pool.
Mrs. Dixit had eloped with her driver. He was twenty-one.
Thirty
Onni’s phone started ringing in the middle of a meeting. He wanted to disappear. Quickly he pulled it out from the pocket of his jeans. NOOR - the alphabets on his phone told him who it was.
‘Noor, I’m in a meeting. Can I call you back?’ he whispered.
The voice from the other end was hardly recognisable. ‘Daddy’s no more, Onni... My Daddy’s no more!’ Noor was disconsolate.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry! I’ll be right there... I’ll just get there, love. Should I come to your place?’ Onni stammered.
Noor and Onni had started out as an on-again-off-again couple, sometimes together and sometimes apart. It was only last winter that she had finally decided that she did not mind becoming Mrs. Noor Ray, from being Ms. Noor Dayal. Staying over more often at her rented apartment, doing the chores with Noor, Onni was clearly becoming Mr. Noor himself. Most days either started at her place or ended with him crashing there. ‘Won’t you take me to meet your parents?’ Onni had asked a few times. Aren’t you interested in meeting me instead?’ Noor would answer.
‘I’ll send you the address,’ she mumbled and hung up. In a couple of minutes Onni received the address on his mobile. He quickly packed up and left to be by her side.
‘I’m coming. Please take care of yourself and your mom. I love you,’ he SMSed her. ‘Come fast,’ she replied.
He felt bad that he had not yet met her father. Now, it was too late.
Making his way through the endless traffic, Onni remembered the time when his Didima had breathed her last a year ago.
Though she was gone, ‘Didima’s house’ was still ‘Didima’s house’ for him.
The table he had eaten at for so long had died. The bookshelf where his schoolbooks used to be sometimes had died. Even the tiles on which he used to draw on as a child had died when Didima passed away.
When someone very close leaves, they take everything with them. They leave a nothingness behind that we never come to terms with. We just find other things to keep us busy and away from missing them. Didima’s going away was still very raw in Onni’s heart.
Turning into the lane, he found the address soon. It was a plush area. There was an ambulance parked outside the building with some hospital ward boys waiting. This must be it, he thought as he rushed in.
As he took the elevator up, he felt bad that that he was going to meet Noor’s mother for the very first time on an occasion like this.
On the ninth floor, he stepped out following Noor’s instructions. The door to the apartment was ajar. There were many who were going in or stepping out. All were wearing white and matching expressions of gloom.
‘I’m so out of place in these jeans. At least my shirt is white,’ he thought.
Just then Noor came out of a room. He could not recognise her. The endless crying had made her face swell. Gone was the well-dressed stylish lady he was courting. The pain and the mourning had taken their toll.
Onni waited for her. She flew into him with fresh tears streaming down her eyes. She did not say a single word. Her grief and agony were speaking through the wetness in her eyes.
He tried to speak. Though he was paid to express through writing, nothing came to him. Seeing Noor in that broken state made him feel protective. He hugged her tight. He wanted to envelop her from the world, the hurt, the pain, everything.
Noor dug her small frame into his arms. As fresh tears flowed, he could feel her shaking in grief.
‘Come,’ she stammered.
Holding Onni tight, slowly she led him to the bedroom. As Onni walked with her, he kept looking at her. Finally inside, they stopped and he hesitantly looked up, and around the room.
On the floor, on a mattress, Noor’s father’s body lay covered in white. There were flowers laid on him and incense sticks gave out streams of fragrant smoke. Onni slowly raised his eyes to see him.
The man’s face looked swollen, touched by the icy grip of death. The skin had puffed up, pale and lifeless.
‘I’ve seen him somewhere,’ felt Onni.
Taking a few steps with Noor, he went closer and bent down to touch his feet. As he shot a glance at the face, he knew he had seen this man from very close. His memories flew back, searching.
As if the sombre touch of the floor crept
up, Onni went cold. He knew Noor’s father. It
was KK.
‘I was scared, scared that you won’t like me, scared that you will never come close. But now, I can take anything. So I shall tell you everything,’ Onni stood there frozen, silently listening to Noor.
‘My parents were a happy couple, Onni. Yes, they were. They had me as their daughter. And the celebrations doubled. But this happiness lasted for a very short while. For reasons known only to my mom, she decided to walk out with me one day. She got a divorce from Daddy and made sure he never met me. She even gave me her name... So I became Noor Dayal from Noor Kamath.’
She stood very close to Onni. As she spoke bravely, one faint thought occurred to her. She wondered why Onni was not holding her.
‘That night when you were at my place, it was him who had dropped in without warning. But I didn’t want him to meet you like that. So I had to lock you in the balcony with no clothes on.’
Onni figured out that it was KK after all who was responsible for him having to run naked to Deepali’s house in the middle of the night.
Now that Noor’s father had passed away, no one except Onniruddh knew the relationship they both had shared, as Mr. Kamath and Onni or as KK and Deepjoy. ‘How do I tell Noor? It will shatter her and our bond forever,’ Onni was sure. That man had taken away so much.
Onni felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Noor’s, he could tell. He turned to face the person he had fallen in love with over so many years. He was looking at Noor, the one who held his heart most delicately and most passionately. Onni was used to many throwing their love at him. But Noor was the only one whom he had loved.
‘Mom is here in the other room, Onni. I think you should meet her,’ she said.
Onni looked down and nodded his head in agreement.
He breathed in, and prepared himself to face the lady whom he had wanted to meet so many times before.
Only he did not feel like meeting her right then. ‘It’s not the right time,’ he thought. Noor held
his hand. ‘She’s okay,’ she whispered.
She pushed the door open. Inside, on the bed was a bag that had been carelessly thrown. A lady stood at the window, looking out. Her back was turned to Onni. Noor went up, slowly hugged her and spoke to her.
‘The man I wanted Daddy and you, both to meet, Mom.’
Noor’s mother turned towards Onni.
She had a soft smile on her face. It drained away immediately.
Like water swirling and then disappearing down a hole. Like the last coach of a train being swallowed by the darkness of a tunnel. Like the last drop of colour being soaked up by a thirsty brush. The smile vanished without a trace.
Onni’s ‘Hello...’ also remained inside him. He only blankly stared at Noor’s mother. She was somebody he had met many times before.
There, before him, stood Swati.
He had nothing to say.
Tears welled up in Swati’s eyes. They were big heavy drops. No one could tell who they were for. Were they for her dead ex-husband? Were they for her daughter? Were they for her? Were they for the young man who stood in front of her? She did not know, nor did Noor and neither did Onni.
The young lady put her arms around her mother. And the two ladies wept.
On a side table, there was a frame that held an old picture of the father, mother and daughter, in happier times.
Onni looked at it.
He longed for the same.
He remembered his Maa and Baba. As his life had spiralled out of control, he had no time for them. He wanted to go back to the mosaic-tiled terrace and run around. He wanted his toy binoculars and his toy train back. He wanted to walk home lugging his school bag, passing by that broken moss-covered wall. Onni wanted to read the cowboy stories once more, the stories in which everything was perfect in the end. He wanted to tiptoe down the empty school corridors. He wanted to distribute besan-ke-laddoo to his school friends, so what if no one would have them? He wanted to run away from Mathematics and have Baba explain and make it all easy for him. He wanted to make friends with Arun all over again. He missed escaping from the crabs by climbing up on the table. He wanted to have lunch from the box that Maa packed and brought.
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