‘If you are talking about messing around with married women and that too mothers, no I haven’t,’ I answer truthfully.
‘What’s it with “motherhood”? Mothers are women too you know. Women do like to feel attractive. And, trust me, after becoming a mother, you need validation all the more. But heck, why am I explaining all this to you? I don’t know. Maybe it is because you are acting all ideal and great.’
I am honestly not acting ‘ideal or great’ as she has put it. Any other guy in place of Vikram and I would have grabbed the chance, probably. But I cannot do it to Vikram. I do not tell her that though.
‘Look, I find you very attractive, okay? But this thing you have in mind, I can’t do it.’
‘I didn’t have anything in mind. God, how can you presume anything like that? I was only having some fun. And I never expected you to take it all seriously. Please,’ she says and forces a laugh.
I do not know what to say.
‘Anyway, I guess you’re tired. Rest and we’ll have a good time in the evening,’ she says as she leaves the room and closes the door.
I go to the door and bolt it, just to be sure that she won’t come back in. I feel strangely restless. It is evident that Dipika wanted more and she did offer it to me on a platter—a no-strings-attached relationship if it can be called that. I do not know what it is. But I don’t think she expected me to be open about it and refuse. And by pretending that I am making a big deal out of nothing, she has, I suppose, found a way out of an embarrassing situation.
I am now increasingly uncomfortable at the thought of going out with them in the evening. But there is no way to wriggle out of it. Also, I would have thought that with Vikram around, Dipika might be careful. But her suddenly playing footsie has convinced me that she is capable of anything. I decide that I will move out of their place as soon as I can. It will be difficult to explain it to Vikram and I wrack my brains for a valid reason.
Then I hit upon the perfect idea. Anjali. She will have to come to my rescue.
I cannot tell her what just happened between Dipika and me. But what I can do is shift our date.
I call her up. She sounds overjoyed to hear my voice.
‘Heyyyyy, Aman! When did you arrive?’ she greets me like a long-lost friend and I can feel the warmth in that greeting even over the phone.
‘This morning. How have you been?’
‘Terrific. How does it feel to be back in India?’
‘Oh, it’s good. Home is home.’
‘Not missing UK?’
‘Well, a little bit. And hey—I was just thinking about our date on Monday. Do think we can change it?’
‘Oh. But why?’ she asks and I can sense her disappointment. Then I realise that she probably presumes I am shifting it to a later date. So I hasten to clarify.
‘What I meant is, can we change it to tonight instead of Monday?’
‘Oh, okay. But I have already agreed to go out with my friends.’
‘Oh—that’s okay then.’
‘No no, wait. It is just a shopping trip. We were planning to go in a group. It is with some colleagues from work. In fact, I was just dragged into it. Give me ten minutes and I will call you back,’ she says.
She calls back in three.
‘Yeah, Aman. Super. It is all taken care of. But why a sudden change of plans? I thought you were staying with Vikram and Dipika for the weekend?’ she asks.
‘Well—I just remembered that I have something on Monday. And so I thought meeting you tonight would be better,’ I quickly improvise and lie.
‘Hmmm. I think that’s sweet of you, Aman. But we could have gone out on another day too,’ she says.
‘Well, let’s just say I couldn’t wait to congratulate you on getting your own column,’ I reply and as soon as I say it I realise it didn’t sound the way I intended it to. ‘I mean—I had put it off long enough,’ I quickly add.
She laughs.
‘So where do we meet? What time?’ I ask.
‘Plan B? It’s a nice new place which has just opened. They play some great music and have a nice dance floor too.’
‘Okay—will look it up. I’ll see you there at say seven pm?’
‘Yes. Great. Looking forward to it,’ she says.
I look around the room and discover a copy of Love in the Time of Cholera. I spend about fifteen minutes trying to read it, but I am unable to concentrate. Dipika has managed to rattle me by her behaviour.
Then I see the Instant Messenger indicator of my phone light up. I can never resist checking immediately. It is Mark.
‘You okay, mate? How was your journey? And how is India?’ he asks.
‘Yeah. Fine. But feels like an oven after UK,’ I type back.
‘Planning to visit,’ he replies.
‘Great! I will show you around. There is so much to see and do in India. Are you coming with Eva?’
‘No. She can’t make it. Will be coming alone. Will send you the tentative dates. Can you help me plan a good itinerary?’ he asks.
‘Of course, leave it to me,’ I reply.
I can’t help thinking about how methodical and organised the Brits are when it comes to planning holidays. Most of the Brits I know make a plan at least six months in advance and they pencil it in their diaries. They also don’t work at all on weekends, unlike Indians. Most of them use weekends to ‘do something’. They either have a game that they play or they go somewhere or get together with friends. I had found it very hard to get used to when I had initially moved to the UK. Mark had mentioned that he would like to visit India once I returned, but I hadn’t expected him to actually follow through.
There is a knock on my door and I almost jump out of my skin, startled. I hope to God it isn’t Dipika, as I open the door. It is Vikram.
‘Rested well? Want a cup of tea?’ he asks.
‘Couldn’t really sleep. Yes, would love some,’ I reply.
Dipika doesn’t seem to be around.The maid serves us tea and Vikram speaks about the new division which the company is starting. He tells me how excellent an opportunity it will be for me. I am glad to have him as my mentor. His vision is clear and his goals are focused. He is also quick in decision-making and it is no wonder that he has risen so rapidly in the organisation.
I absorb everything he says and I am quite happy that I will soon get an opportunity to work with him, just like the early years, when I had first joined the organisation as a management trainee. I ask him about the others involved, the time-frame and other relevant details and Vikram is happy to answer me. I learn that I will be reporting to Rao (whom I have worked with earlier) and not directly to Vikram.
I listen in rapt attention and that is when Dipika makes an entry again. She is now wearing a skirt that ends just above her knees and her red heels make a clickety-clackety noise as her legs slowly come into view. The sight of her descending the stairs makes my heart beat faster even as I try hard to concentrate on what Vikram is saying.
She walks towards us, wearing some sort of a lacy top that seems to hug her curves and shows some cleavage. She is stunning. She is irresistible. She looks hot. I guess she knows it too.
She hugs Vikram and then looks at me.
‘You never mentioned about the date with Anjali. So aren’t you going to join us for dinner? I thought you were staying here,’ she says.
‘Oh, that is news. A sudden date?’ asks Vikram.
God—that was quick. Anjali had immediately relayed the information to Dipika. I had not anticipated that.
I squirm uncomfortably in my chair and I do not know what to say.
Dipika and Vikram are both very surprised by my sudden change of plans. I wriggle out of it by lying.
‘So sorry. I seem to have muddled up the dates,’ I finally say and that is the best I can come up with.
Vikram o
f course believes me. There is no reason not to. I am certain Dipika knows the real reason. But I am confident that there is no way she can tell Vikram about it.
I then say that since I will be out late and it is a working day the next day, it is best if I shift into the company guesthouse straight away.
‘You can still come back here after your date and come with me to office on Monday,’ Vikram offers.
But I say that I do not want to disturb them late at night and I will be at ease if I stay in the guesthouse.
‘Yes, yes. After all, when you are out on a date with a pretty girl, anything can happen, right?’ Vikram guffaws and winks at me. I look away, unable to meet his eyes.
Vikram offers to drop me at the company guesthouse, but I refuse, saying that I will take an autorickshaw as I didn’t want him to drive all the way to Indiranagar from Sarjapur Road.
At the guesthouse, I bump into an old batchmate from my engineering college days whom I have completely lost touch with. It takes me a few moments to recognise him.
‘Yaar, you have forgotten me,’ he says.
I blink for a couple of seconds.
Then the penny drops.
‘Oooh yes. Omi Shukla! How have you been? Oh my God. You have changed quite a bit.’
‘Yes, say it directly. I have put on weight and lost my hair,’ he says.
He indeed has and he looks about ten years older than me now. Had I seen him on the street, I wouldn’t have recognised him. We had both joined as management trainees, after our engineering stint. During our engineering college days, we had organised many events together. We weren’t very close, but Shukla was one of the guys I had got along very well with. Later when we joined the company, we had been given our postings in different cities and we had drifted apart. We chatted about work. Shukla too was moving to Bangalore after a stint in Jaipur.
‘Glad to be back to civilisation, man. The last stint was truly lousy. You got to work Saturdays too,’ he says as he shakes my hand and makes himself comfortable on the sofa.
‘But you must have got a chance to learn so much, right?’ I ask plonking down, as the guesthouse attendant takes my luggage to the room.
‘Kyaa learning-verning. Goli maar learning ko, I just want to chill a bit, man. There is absolutely no night life in Jaipur.’
I laugh at that statement and he wants to know what I have been upto all these years and then he asks about Shruti. I wince. Shruti and I were a well-known item those days. We were the envy of all our batchmates and we were considered to be a ‘solid-sure-shot-will-get-married’ couple. In fact, we had roped in Shukla once, as a proxy attendance for me, at a seminar, when I had spent the whole day with Shruti.
‘We broke up,’ I say simply, not offering any details. I know that he is dying to know. But I certainly do not want to talk about Shruti.
He looks at me questioningly as though expecting me to tell him the whole story.
I just tell him that things changed and I have moved on. I also say that I have a date for the evening, just to throw him off-track. He grabs the bait and perks up. But now he quizzes me about Anjali and I deliberately give him only the briefest of details, just mentioning that she writes for a magazine and I have met her only once. I myself am not sure what this ‘thing’ with Anjali is and I don’t want Shukla to presume she is my girlfriend.
When Shukla figures out that it is a first date, he asks if I have transport and how we would be going. Then he surprises me by saying that I can borrow his bike for the evening if I like.
‘Oh, that is very kind of you,’ I say, floored by his gesture.
‘Arey, no problem, bro. It isn’t mine,’ he laughs.
He goes on to explain that a friend of his had left the bike in Bangalore, and was on a project in the US. The project had got extended. So he had wanted someone to use the bike, as it had been lying neglected for very long now. When Shukla had said he was moving to Bangalore, his friend had been glad to have him use it.
I get an even bigger surprise when Shukla shows me the bike. It is a Ducati Monster.
‘Holy cow! He lets you have this?!’ I ask in disbelief.
Shukla nods as though it’s nothing.
‘Does he know you are lending it to me?’ I ask.
‘You want to use it, take it. How many questions you ask! It must be your journalist girlfriend’s influence,’ comments Shukla.
I let his comment stay. I am too besotted with the bike. Besides, even if I correct him and tell him that Anjali isn’t my girlfriend Shukla will not believe it.
It is a long time since I rode a bike. After I moved to the UK, I haven’t driven a vehicle at all. In Norwich, my office was just a five-minute walk from my home. I did not see any need to get a car, as during the weekends, I was always with Mark and the others and they had their cars. After I had moved, I had decided to buy a car ‘at some point’, but the ‘some point’ never came and before I realised it, my stint in the UK was up. I feel excited at the prospect of having a bike all to myself after so long.
I take a small test ride down the road, just to get familiar with the controls. She roars to life under me. I am riding a bike after years and I feel a rush of adrenaline as I accelerate and the machine leaps to life. ‘Woo hoo!’ I want to scream. The bike is indeed smooth and the controls are awesome. The ride is a ballet of grace and for a brief moment I feel invincible, victorious and strangely peaceful.
‘I owe you one for letting me borrow this beauty,’ I tell Shukla as I park it and glance at my watch.
‘Yeah, just buy me a drink and ask your girlfriend if she knows some nice single girls,’ he says as he vanishes into his room.
I smile at Shukla’s comments. I don’t know whether his friend would be happy if he knew that he lent his bike to someone he barely knows. But then Shukla is like that. He is the kind who will let you have the shirt off his back and think nothing of it.
I shower leisurely and get ready for my date with Anjali, all the while willing Dipika to just get out of my head. My phone buzzes and I almost jump out of my skin when I see that it is a message from Dipika.
Hey—sorry about today. It must have been the wine. I don’t know what came over me. All cool, I hope? it reads.
Cool? She must be kidding. I am terrified. I don’t want to meet her again. I don’t want to get into any kind of relationship with her. I am running as fast as I can.
Let’s just forget it. My lips are sealed, I message back.
Take care, Aman, and have a nice evening, she texts back.
I do not reply to her. I know she wants to chat. It is funny how I am running away from her. I guess any red-blooded male would have jumped at a chance like this. I think of Mark and how he would have said I was a total fool to pass this up. Whatever Dipika’s reasons are for making a pass at me, I do not want to encourage her in any way. I have made my stand clear on this and decide that I will stick to it.
I find myself looking forward to meeting Anjali. She would be a welcome distraction from events, since I landed in India.
Chapter 13
Anjali
I can hardly believe this. Latika always talks about the law of attraction—that if you want something badly enough, the entire universe will conspire to give it to you. I tell her that it comes true only in Hindi movies or in Paulo Coelho books. I am a sceptic. But today, I have dropped my apprehensions. Maybe this thing works after all. All I wanted was a date with Aman so darn badly that I was even willing to go out on a Monday evening with him, despite Mondays mostly being bad days for me, as the deadline for my column is Tuesday. I usually work last minute and hand it over just before the deadline.
And now out of the blue, Aman has shifted our date to tonight instead of Monday. I have already picked out what I will wear (an off-white sleeveless Vero Moda dress that ends just below the knee, and have co-ordinated the jewellery, f
ootwear, everything). I think about my ‘thing’ with Aman. I have given enough hints to him that I would like to be a little more than friends, but either he is incredibly daft and cannot read the signs I am sending out or he is not interested in me that way. If he isn’t, why then is he responding to my messages, and why did he sound so eager to advance our date? I don’t know.
Now I am eager to see him and take this a little bit forward. Who knows, maybe Aman is one of those guys who needs a nudge?
Sriram calls me up and asks if I want to meet, as he isn’t doing anything.
‘Sorry, I have a date,’ I say and I cannot keep the joy or excitement out of my voice.
Of course, Sriram catches it immediately.
‘Who are you going out with? Tell!’ he demands.
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Because I am your friend and I have a right to look out for you. And I need to give the seal of approval to this guy you are going out with.’
‘Do you choose your friends on the basis of my approval or disapproval?! Then why should I tell you anything at all, Sriram Surve?’ I question him with mock anger.
‘Because if you don’t like the guy you are going out with, it is me you will call in fifteen minutes and I will be forced to bail you out. And honestly, now I have become so used to it, I kind of look forward to pretending to be your ex and barging in and terrifying the bewildered souls you date by picking up a fight with them. You should pay me for all this.’
‘Rubbish! You should pay me. After all, I am giving you free practice for real-life acting. Not like the studied stuff you do in your theatre plays. And hey, I can’t help it if the guys turn out to be boring or jerks. In any case, I can assure you this one is different,’ I say.
Sriram is part of an amateur theatre group and I think he secretly dreams of acting in TV serials, although he will never admit it.
‘Oh I see. And how have you concluded that?’ he asks.
‘On the basis of his intelligent replies to my mails, his demeanour and general attitude. Besides this isn’t like an unknown guy like the others were. I have met him once before.’
THE ONE YOU CANNOT HAVE Page 9