Taklu and Shroom

by Ranjit Lal

  ‘Hey, just check out those hot chicks, Zara! Look at their figures and those tiny bikinis! And what tans!’ Of course, in her flouncy white skirt and cropped top, Zara was quite a knockout too.

  ‘So you go for bimbos, huh. It figures. Are you going to drool and whistle and roll over now? Stop staring like that or I’ll set Rani on them!’

  ‘Oh, crap, they’ve got their boyfriends with them.’

  Two muscular hunks had joined the girls.

  Zara grinned and pinched Gaurav’s arm. ‘Hey, Rani, just look at those six-pack abs! And those biceps and hairy chests! Ooh, I think I’m getting dizzy! What hunks! Catch me if I faint, Gaurav!’

  ‘Hell, man, their trunks are three sizes too small. They’re obscene!’ he said, horrified. ‘Zara, stop staring. Their brains are probably in their asses, tiny as they are.’ He ushered her into the lobby, dragging Rani behind him. They stood in silence as they waited for the lift.

  Inside the lift, they barely waited for the doors to close before they turned as one to each other. But it is difficult to get cosy in a small lift with a frisky Alsatian nosing herself indignantly between the two of you and whacking your shins with her tail.

  ‘Hey, Rani, relax! We’re not killing each other.’

  ‘Are your parents home?’ Zara asked breathlessly, tidying her curls and straightening her top, her eyes bright.

  Gaurav grinned. ‘My mom is, and don’t worry about your hair. It’s always like that.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Tousled, like a squirrel’s nest.’

  Before Zara could react, the door opened and Rani charged into the house, past Gaurav’s mother.

  ‘Hi, mom! We’ll be in my room.’

  ‘Okay. Hello, Zara. Would you two like anything to eat or drink?’

  Gaurav shook his head. ‘Maybe later.’

  ‘Okay, dear.’ She caught his eye and raised an eyebrow. ‘Remember…’

  ‘Mom, please! Sheesh! Zara, come on.’

  ‘Remember? Remember what?’ Zara asked once they were inside his room.

  Gaurav made a face. ‘When I bring a girl home, the door to my room must be open at all times.’

  ‘I see. So you bring a lot of hot babes here, I presume.’

  ‘Sure I do. But they’re not as tousled as you!’

  ‘Wait till I tell popsy. He’ll ask you to return Rani – you’re a bad influence on her!’

  ‘But seriously, parents have no respect for privacy,’ Gaurav told her. ‘I mean, I guess it’s not too bad; she never enters without knocking and the door’s open only because she thinks I wouldn’t try anything… But still… I mean, what about you? I bet your dad won’t allow boys in your room.’

  ‘Not unless he is sitting there with a shotgun in his lap!’

  ‘I guess you have hordes of hunky boyfriends – like those gorillas downstairs.’

  ‘Probably as many as the hot babes who chase you around this room.’

  ‘Come in here,’ he said, leading her into a small enclosed verandah, occupied almost entirely by surplus furniture and a cane divan in one corner.

  Three minutes later, Rani came barging in and jumped up on the divan, barking and licking their faces furiously.

  ‘Rani, get off! Yuck, she’s just eaten!’

  ‘God, get her a mouthwash!’

  After that it became a sort of ritual with them. Gaurav pointed out hot babes to Zara and she, hunks. What followed were a few minutes of frenzied bliss in any little nook or corner they could find, before Rani got wind of what was happening…

  Except that now Zara was in Bombay and he was here in this city where men who looked like senior government officials peed facing the main road.

  Gaurav took the phone from Mariamma again.

  ‘Mom, when does papa’s flight take off?’

  ‘Sometime later this evening. I have got to go now. I’ve got all these bigwig executives waiting to interview me.’

  ‘Best of luck.’

  ‘They’ll need it,’ his mother remarked sardonically as she put down the phone. Kanika Roy was a hotshot financial whiz who could foretell who was going to go bust and who was going to become a billionaire in the next six months with incredible accuracy. She’d quit her job in Bombay when his father took this lucrative Delhi-based assignment with a new airline, and applied for a position here.

  Gaurav picked up the gleaming model of the white and red Boeing 747 from his desk and gazed at it. It had just three engines, and one wing ended in a blackened stump. It was a miniature replica of what his father’s 747 had looked like when he had safely landed it at Bombay’s Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport about a year ago – an act that had made Captain B.K. Roy a national hero. The flight had been carrying a VIP delegation of nuclear scientists and members of the defence ministry – including the minister himself. Half an hour away from Bombay, its outer starboard engine had inexplicably caught fire, taking the wing tip with it. The blazing engine sheared off and fell into the dark sea beneath and, at the helm, Captain Roy fought for control.

  What had it been like, Gaurav often wondered, trying to fly and land this giant aircraft whose wing was on fire? Papa must have been shit scared. Later, his father had showed him a photofeature in an ancient copy of Life magazine about a similar case involving a Pan Am Boeing 707, decades ago. The pilot of that plane too had landed safely. ‘If he could do it, I thought, why can’t I? This is a far superior aircraft than the 707…’ his father had explained.

  Of course, at the time of the crisis, the airline had not informed his mother that her husband’s flight was in trouble – she got to know of it through some of Captain Roy’s colleagues, and rushed off to the airport at once. Gaurav went up to the terrace of their building in Bandra and scanned the night sky with his father’s binoculars. And when he caught sight of the stricken jet, its wing glowing brightly, fly over from the sea and begin its landing approach at Santacruz, for the first time in his life, he was terrified. He watched it, white in the face and feeling a little dizzy as the plane came down lower and lower. Then his mother called to say it had landed safely.

  ‘Baba, I am leaving, please take care of baby,’ Mariamma said. ‘I’ve changed her nappy, she has eaten and she’s sleeping now.’ Then she bustled off, her face wrinkled with worry.

  ‘Well, Rani, what should we do?’ Gaurav whispered to the dog as they quietly slipped into Mihika’s darkened nursery a little later. The baby was sound asleep in her cot – a status he knew might change at any moment. Certainly her arrival in the family, many years after his own, had been a surprise to everyone, especially his mother. Mihika, with her disarming dimples and angelic smile, was a firebrand baby: even at six months she knew what she wanted and how to get it. She’d recently been successful in rolling herself over and moving with remarkable speed in this ‘loat-poat’ manner, which could be dangerous if she was on a bed that was not properly bolstered. Twice, Rani had seen the danger and barked a warning. Now the Alsatian padded up to the cot and peered at the sleeping baby. Then she looked up and wagged her tail.

  In the crib, Mihika suddenly kicked off her bedclothes and opened her big black eyes and let out a wail. Then she smiled and gurgled as Rani poked her nose through the bars and licked her face, whining gently. The baby grabbed at the dog’s face.

  ‘Yo, Mihi, how you doin’, babe?’ Gaurav gazed down at his little sister, his arms across his chest, and grimaced. ‘You stay put there and be a good girl, yeah?’ He grinned as Mihi fixed her eyes on him and gurgled. Rani was at the door, looking back at him expectantly and whining, her tail whipping back and forth. Mihika stretched out her arms at him and let out another wail. Gaurav leaned over and picked her up, jigging her up and down. ‘Come on, let’s get out of this room.’

  He sat her down in her stroller as Rani bounded back and forth in a frenzy of excitement. He glanced at his watch. It was almost six, the time he usually took the dog out. ‘Hey, why not?’ he exclaimed out loud. Surely it couldn’t be th
at difficult. Rani was well-behaved on the leash, more so with Mihika to guard, and anyway he could easily push the stroller with one hand. Also, he was sick of being stuck indoors. But then it struck him: nineteen-year-old guys did not – repeat, did not – under any circumstances take their baby sisters for a walk in the park in a pram; not unless they wanted to be the laughing stock of the whole universe. They’d die of embarrassment. Well, screw them and the universe. Anyway he didn’t know anyone in this hick town and couldn’t give a shit about their opinions.

  Besides, Gaurav had always thought of himself as a sort of iconoclast – those cussed convention-breaking trailblazing types. That was why he’d refused to start smoking and boozing when his friends did. And there was another advantage to remaining stone-cold sober amidst a group of rambling idiots: he could laugh at their idiocy, and sometimes they let out interesting girlfriend secrets. Besides, he liked to be in complete control of himself at all times.

  Another reason Gaurav was so keen to go for a walk now was the two chicks he had been checking out – covertly, of course – at the gardens lately. They appeared to be sisters – maybe even twins – probably five or six years older than him. But both were… coltish – yes, that was the word – and leggy, had lovely long straight hair and perky breasts and pert bums, as he’d told Rani and gleefully messaged Zara. Not to mention, slightly slanting almond-shaped brown eyes that gave them an exotic Oriental look. They were regulars; they walked side by side every evening at six, chatting either with each other or on their phones. Two evenings ago, one of them had glanced at him and Rani, smiled – what a warm and lovely smile it was – and remarked, ‘You have a beautiful dog.’

  She thinks Rani’s beautiful! he had messaged Zara. Wonder what she thinks of me!

  Those bimbos you’re lusting after? Probably that you are some lamboo chhokra dimwit employed to walk her! came the reply.

  Now as soon as Gaurav said, ‘Come on, Rani, let’s go,’ the Alsatian barked with joy and charged to the door. ‘Wait a sec. Hey, Mihi, where’s your travelling kit, babe?’ He looked around, and spotted it. Mariamma had obviously kept it ready. He opened it and found diapers, wipes, powder, milk, water, a rattle, a bottle, juice, a small thermos with mashed fruit, a change, pacifier… ‘Wow, you sure don’t travel light, kiddo!’ he said, stuffing the bag in the carrier beneath the stroller.

  In the hall, Rani picked up the evening paper that had been slipped under the door and brought it over to Gaurav. ‘Thanks, Rani!’ He glanced at the headlines: more terrorist bombings – this time in Meerut – and a red alert in Delhi. The bombers had allayed suspicion by placing the bomb in a wicker basket with a big doll inside it and had left it at a school’s gates, just as the kids had come rushing out after the bell. Gaurav shrugged and tossed the paper on the dining table. ‘Those bastards are getting smarter, aren’t they? Come on, guys, let’s move.’

  Captain B.K. Roy had been given a house in Jor Bagh, one of Delhi’s most ‘posh clonies’ (as everyone here kept saying). The best part was that it was right opposite Lodi Gardens. Every evening, Gaurav took Rani for a run here, and Mariamma brought Mihi for her outing; he met up with them afterwards and they came home together. They couldn’t leave together, because then the Alsatian would simply refuse to part from the baby.

  Gaurav glanced up and down Lodi Road. Traffic whizzed down this road at great speed and even at the pedestrian crossing, where there were traffic lights, you had to watch out. This evening there were grim-looking cops with automatic rifles stationed at intervals – ah, the papers said a red alert had been declared. Either that, or some VIP fart was going to pass by. He shrugged. ‘Those pompous assholes should move around with flashing red lights on the tops of their heads and fixed to their butts,’ he told Mihi as they waited at the lights. He crossed over, keeping Rani on a short leash and pushing Mihi’s stroller with the other hand. Once inside the gardens, he slipped the leash off the dog, and she walked obediently at his side. It was mid-April and a recent thunderstorm had cooled things down, though he made sure Mihika’s face was shielded from the direct sun. The baby gurgled happily, and then suddenly turned thoughtful.

  The only bits of Delhi that Gaurav really liked were its historical monuments and huge parks. It was really amazing; the forts and tombs and monuments that had stood here for centuries, guarding secrets of state and the souls of kings, queens and emperors. Here, at Lodi Gardens, just gazing at the tombs made him feel calm – it was as though, no matter what happened, they’d always be here. He loved the row of bottle palms standing to attention like a guard of honour around Mohammad Shah’s tomb. Sometimes he walked past them, eyeing them stiffly as if inspecting them and wondering how the auntyjis and unclejis walking here would react if he suddenly snapped to attention and saluted them.

  They had just emerged from the long straight path leading from the gate and stepped onto the path that ran around the gardens, when a bunch of teenagers in loose T-shirts and long shorts sauntered towards them, laughing and joking and clapping each other on the back. Gaurav stared at them enviously. He’d had his own gang back in Bombay: Umesh, Hari, Bigbang, Lulla and Navin. They hung around and messed about and checked out chicks just like these guys were doing – he missed them. Most of all, he missed Zara. Here in Delhi he still knew next to no one; college wouldn’t start for a couple of months. The boys were now looking at him with curiosity and pointing at the stroller and sniggering.

  ‘Bechara ma ban gaya!’ one of them remarked loudly as he passed, and guffawed. ‘Don’t know who the father is!’ said another, and they fell over each other, laughing.

  The hair on Rani’s neck bristled and she drew back her upper lip, baring her gleaming teeth. Their grins vanished and the boys scurried off. A cop with a rifle, standing on the path just ahead, eyed the dog nervously. There seemed to be cops stationed all along the eastern perimeter of the gardens.

  ‘Good girl,’ said Gaurav. ‘You showed them!’ Rani licked his hand. Then Mihika screwed up her face and let out a wail.

  ‘Hey, what’s the matter now? We’ve seen off the hostiles!’ As he bent over her, he screwed up his nose. ‘Oh, shit! Mihi you’ve gone and done a doodle, haven’t you?’

  If there was one thing Mihika hated, it was a soiled nappy, and Gaurav knew there would be no peace until she had been changed. He looked around frantically. Heck man, bringing his baby sister to the park was a dumb idea. What the hell had he been thinking? Maybe it would be best just to go home as quickly as possible. But Mihika would have none of that. She was icky and she wanted to be changed – right now.

  The baby began to cry.

  ‘Hey, keep it down, kiddo,’ Gaurav said fiercely as heads turned in their direction. His eyes fell on an empty bench under a tree near the entrance to gate number 3, and he made for it.

  ‘Abbe kahan ja raha hai? You can’t sit here!’

  Gaurav stared uncomprehendingly at the cop looming in front of him, his rifle barrel glinting over his shoulder, lathi swinging in his hand. ‘I need to get to that bench,’ he stuttered. ‘The baby…’

  ‘Chal! I just told you this way is closed…’ Suddenly the cop looked serious and made towards the pram, pointing with his lathi. ‘What’s inside this?’

  Rani growled.

  ‘Watch your dog!’ He raised his lathi. The Alsatian snarled and lunged. Gaurav hauled her back desperately.

  ‘Easy, Rani! Down!’

  The cop backed away. Mihika wailed uncontrollably.

  ‘Mihi, you really are a damn nuisance, you know.’ Gaurav clutched Rani’s collar and dragged her away. ‘Come on, girl, he’s just an asshole throwing his weight around.’

  Mihika let out another scream. Gaurav looked around and then quickly made up his mind. Up ahead, burly and solid, stood the Bada Gumadh. He could change her in there, away from prying eyes. ‘Okay, Mihi, just hang on.’

  He wheeled her over the grass around to the northern side of the monument and hoisted the stroller up the shallow steps that le
d to what had once been a mosque, with lovely calligraphed arches and a little courtyard.

  The tomb was cool and dim, and mercifully empty. Even better: there was a broad waist-high stone plinth running around the inner perimeter, which would serve perfectly as a changing table.

  Gaurav took the baby’s pillow from the stroller and placed it on the plinth. Then he picked her up and held her at bay. ‘Phew! Just what do you eat, babe?’ He gently lay her down on the plinth, her head on the pillow, as Rani looked on. He rummaged inside her travelling kit, holding her with one hand to make sure she didn’t roll over. ‘Hang on a sec… yup, there’s a rubber sheet here.’ He laid it beside her and lifted her on to it. Screwing up his face, he tied his handkerchief around his mouth and nose like a mask. Then he undid the soiled diaper and folded it up. ‘Rani, get your nose out of there – yuck, that’s disgusting!’ He tossed the diaper in a plastic bag and reached for the wipes. ‘Really, Mariamma should use gloves.’ Keeping his face turned away, he wiped the baby’s bottom as best he could, careful not to get any of the muck on his fingers as she gurgled and smiled at him. ‘You owe me big time, babe, remember that,’ he said to her.

  Mihika was now clean and smelling her usual fresh baby smell. Gaurav lowered his mask and impulsively bent down and blew a massive raspberry on her round tummy. She chuckled and grabbed his hair. A shadow fell across the doorway and a growl rose in Rani’s throat. Gaurav looked up, startled.

  ‘Hi, umm, is your dog friendly?’

  The two ‘coltish’ sisters were standing just inside the west-facing entrance, smiling hesitantly. One of them, wearing a sleeveless red top that showed off her bare brown shoulders, had a camera in her hand. ‘I hope you don’t mind; I took your picture,’ she said. ‘It was just too good to miss – the light, your expression… Would you like to see it?’

  Gaurav blushed furiously. He’d been caught blowing a raspberry on a baby’s tummy after having cleaned her up and… he’d never live it down.

  ‘Umm… no… yes… err… hello, sorry about the dog; she’s just protective of the baby,’ he stammered, holding Rani by the collar. ‘Easy, girl, they’re, err, friends.’