Our conversation lasted for hours into the sunset and we were wonderfully buzzed with beer and each other. He was amazingly cool without trying to be so. He had impeccable manners and made me look like I had grown up in a village, even though I had travelled the world. He was undoubtedly the most interesting man I had ever met. We chatted about art, films, books and the French Riviera. But what was most astonishing was that he made me see life through his eyes. Even though I might have known the subjects better, he gave me a new perspective to them. I knew this man had many more tricks up his sleeve and I wanted to wait and watch!
I was having such a good time that I didn’t realize I needed to get back to my job or I would be fired. So I thought I should go check on the Princess and wash away my beer buzz and sandy hair.
We decided to meet later for dinner. I don’t know what it was, but somewhere in my heart I felt I had known him forever already. It was a strange feeling, one I had never had before. Oh my god, was this my first infatuation? Did I just have a ‘love at first sight’ day? I needed to call Aditi and tell her that just a week after giving up on men, I had found one. But then again, I knew this was something I didn’t want to share immediately. I felt that by talking about it, I might jinx it. And I did not want to jinx the only connection I’d ever felt with a man in thirty years!
I went back to the hotel feeling like a teenager. Maybe this is what people meant all along. A feeling that makes you want to wait for a man. The feeling called Love.
Nine
We not only had dinner that night, we ended up having a snack somewhere at two and breakfast at dawn by the beach. It was truly magical. The evening went something like this.
8.30—LOBBY HOTEL
Greek God looked wonderful in a pair of dark blue jeans and a black shirt. He was casually smart. I went over and air kissed him on the cheek as if I’d known him forever. He smelt of Acqua di Gio, a light smelling but expensive cologne. Thank god I had showered well and washed the smell of beer and sand off my hair. I could see him checking me out in my blue chiffon top, black skirt and high heels that I’d kept only for special occasions. Just when I thought he was going to compliment my look, he turned around and said, ‘Would you be comfortable in that on a bike?’ Then I saw the Yamaha behind him.
‘I would be uncomfortable in a skirt if we were going on that. I’ll just go and change,’ I said and he nodded, ‘I’ll wait here.’
So I came down wearing my jeans and an emerald blue, sleeveless top with a white shrug, losing the heels for silver flip-flops. He saw me and smiled.
‘Ready,’ I said.
And this time he made no bones about checking me out while saying, ‘Perfect!’
Greek God seemed to know all the by-lanes of Goa really well. So I asked him the obvious question, ‘How do you know Goa so well?’
He clarified, ‘I used to live here. I was born and brought up here.’
I nodded my helmet head. He insisted I wear a half helmet even if I was pillion.
Cruising along the streets of Goa for about an hour, he had shown me all the tourist spots that I had not seen. Goa looked glamorous by moonlight. It reverted to the quaint town it used to be with small bars, music and merriment spilling on to the streets. The world seemed to stop while people stepped out of their mundane lives and enjoyed themselves. The energy in this city was infectious. Unlike Bombay or Delhi, or any other city in India, the people of Goa were warm and friendly and partied every day of the year. So whenever you were there you would feel like partying as well.
We slowly took a turn about an hour into the drive and he pointed to a small red and white bungalow with porch lights and a lovely manicured green lawn in front. He had stopped and we were looking in from across the street into the house. He took off his helmet and said, ‘That’s my house.’
‘You’re serious?’ I asked incredulously. He nodded and smiled. I felt all tingly.
Here was a stranger who was sharing a little bit of his private life with me, as if he wanted me to be a part of it. And then he said, ‘We can leave the helmets now. We’re going for dinner to a place close by.’
10.15
We were sitting at an Italian bistro, a five-minute drive from his house and looking at our menus when one of the waiters came over with a bottle of wine and poured it in the glasses. I looked confused and was going to say, we didn’t order yet, but Arjun smiled at me and said, ‘I’ve already ordered for the night. I didn’t want to waste a minute with you.’
I felt that tingly sensation again. I put down my menu and gave it back to the waiter.
‘Why didn’t you take me to a Goan eating joint?’ I asked.
‘Well, we had so much calamari and sausages and fish as snacks in the afternoon that I felt a change would do you good,’ he said. He seemed very sure of himself. It was as if he had taken the reigns of the date and he would woo me in style. ‘So, tell me more about your job. Do you need a degree for it?’
I picked up my glass of wine and clinked it with his, ‘Cheers!’ I said and continued, ‘Yes. I learnt all these languages but my degree was from a university in the USA that specializes in how to translate languages.’
‘Oh, you’ve studied in the USA?’
‘Yes, for a short bit and then I did the rest online … because I went back to staying with my parents who were missing me too much.’
‘Only child?’ he asked, sipping his wine while the waiter came with a basket of hot, soft, garlic bread.
‘Yes,’ I said, stuffing my face with a garlic bread. He, however, took it from the basket with tongs and then ate it with a fork and knife. I thought for a man to have such table manners was quite extraordinary. I wondered, however, what he would have done if the bread was crisp. But I found out soon enough when a large, thin crusted, crisp, cheesy pizza with Goan sausages came in front of us. This too, he had with a fork and knife while I dug into it with my hands, folding the pizza and putting it in my eager mouth.
He continued with the questions, ‘So, do you meet a lot of interesting people?’
‘Yes, sometimes. I’ve met the Princess of Monaco, the German Chancellor and the Russian President. But most of the times I’m editing journals, books and other such boring stuff.’
‘No, no. It’s not boring!’ he said.
‘Actually, it’s a misconception that translation simply implies a word by word interpretation of the text. It involves moving the soul of a text into a different body. And not just anybody can do it. It requires a lot of patience and soft skills like being a people person or staying curious about current affairs and which delegates do what,’ I rambled on, trying to sound intelligent for this man.
He stayed interested through the evening and dinner, which was absolutely scrumptious with a spicy pesto-crab fussili that followed the pizza and a tiramisu to end the meal. I went on talking about my life and the places I had visited. I suppose the roles had reversed in a few hours. Instead of him wanting me to sit with him a little longer, I wanted to make the date go on.
I thought that he would drop me back since it was already midnight and we had finished an entire bottle of wine but Greek God just turned to me and said, ‘Come, we need to go to our next destination.’
12.45 A.M.
We were on a private yacht sailing down the Mapusa River. This was the best date ever! The yacht was a dream. It had rooms that would make the presidential suite in a hotel seem inadequate. And here we were, sitting on the deck with another bottle of wine and a personal butler while watching Goa bathed in moonlight. Greek God pointed out all the spots again as we passed through the Salim Ali Bird Sanctuary at Chorao Island, and the villages of Salvador Do Mundo and Brittona. The cruise also took us down the Mandovi River, past the bright night lamps of Panaji–Miramar on one side and the gorgeous Reis Magoa and Aguada Fort on the other. It was really magical.
Another bottle of wine followed and our conversation became sporadic as we just enjoyed each other’s company and the lovely night. I rested
my head on his shoulders, surprised at myself for becoming this comfortable with a stranger so quickly. So unlike me, who had always been stand-offish with my earlier dates.
It was around four in the morning when I decided to take a short nap and check out the bed in one of the luxurious rooms. I was fast asleep before we hit the docks and I slept right through till about seven in the morning when I woke with a start.
7.00 A.M.
I felt disoriented and didn’t know where I was for a few minutes and thought I should scream out for help. But then I saw Greek God sleeping in his clothes on a sofa close by and smiled. Then I gasped with fright. I was still on a ‘date’ and my morning breath and morning hair together was more frightening than hurricane Katrina. So I quietly got up and went to the toilet where I freshened up as best as I could. I decided the no makeup, wet-ponytail look would be much better than the grizzly, smeared-mascara one.
When I came out, Greek God had gone and I panicked a little. What if he realized I was a terrible date and had left me to fend for myself?
I walked out slowly to the deck and our personal butler told me to wait till he came out. Apparently he had gone to freshen up as well. It wasn’t like the movies where both parties woke up smelling like roses and looking like daisies. Real people needed to use the toilet early in the morning!
Greek God came out looking fresh as if he was prepared for this, with a new shirt and a day old stubble that made him even yummier than the night before.
He smiled and said, ‘Hey, you! Slept okay?’
‘Amazingly well for an unfamiliar place,’ I said running my hand through my hair. God, why didn’t I have nice hair, I thought. Then I remembered I had spent a fortune on my hair only a few months back and was pretty proud of it then. Why was I feeling so conscious now?
‘Ready for breakfast?’ he asked. I nodded in anticipation. ‘This way,’ he said.
Then he helped me get off the yacht and led me to the beach. I saw a mat laid out on the beach with a basket on the side as I got off.
‘What’s all this?’ I asked.
‘An authentic Portuguese breakfast,’ he replied.
And so I dug into the meal and kept praising his ingenuity for making a woman happy.
‘Oh, you have no idea how I can make a woman happy,’ he said, his eyes twinkling.
Just then I realized, damn, I’m not getting this for free. He wants ‘more’ from me than just scintillating conversation! Obviously my face had revealed my chain of thoughts and he quickly added, ‘Relax. I’m not that kind of guy.’
I had no idea what kind of guy he was! I had been talking about my work, my family, my life, Aditi and I barely knew anything about him.
‘Arjun,’ I started, ‘I know nothing abut you! I’ve been going on about myself for the last twelve hours! I must have sounded like a self-obsessed bimbette.’
He laughed. A deep, throaty laugh that I had become used to by now since he had been pulling my leg with his wicked sense of humour all night.
‘Well, if you spend the next two days with me, you’ll get to know everything you want,’ he said that as a challenge.
But then a thought came to my head—the Princess! I was here on work. I needed to get back.
‘Arjun,’ I said apologetically, ‘I can’t. I have work. And then I’m leaving tonight. I’m sorry. Oh God! I so want to though …’
‘It’s okay,’ he said, getting up. I followed. We really hadn’t finished, but I presumed he was ready for me to leave, so I got up and looked at him expectantly. But he took his card from his wallet and gave it to me. ‘My cell phone number is on that. You call me if you get free anytime. Otherwise, I’ll hope to see you in Mumbai, okay?’
‘Okay,’ I said sadly. This date was ending on a bad note because of me. He had given me his business card. As if what we had last night was a business meeting! I wanted to change his mind about me, us, last night. So I leaned over and kissed him. It was an impulsive gesture and he didn’t protest. In fact, he was quite shocked, but he reciprocated! And the kiss we shared after that was absolutely delicious. It smelt of cologne, Palmolive soap and coffee. It was sweet, not mushy or slimy or like any of the other kisses I had had with those vague men in my life. It felt like ‘the kiss’. The one I would remember for the rest of my life. All girls have had that. It’s the only one you remember every time you think of the kiss that changed your life.
‘I’m going to take my bike back home now. There’s a car that will take you back to the hotel,’ he looked the other way and continued, ‘which is not far from here.’ He said smiling down at me, still holding my waist.
I nodded dumbly.
‘Bye, babes,’ he said, and started walking towards his bike, which was parked on the other side of the road.
‘Arjun,’ I called after him stupidly, ‘thanks.’
And then he was gone. And I didn’t know if I would ever see my Great Love again.
Ten
When I went back to the hotel, I was feeling horrible that I had to leave Greek God. I knew he had given me his number but do people actually end up meeting in Mumbai? With everyone having such busy lives and lazy weekends, it seemed impossible to keep the friends you did have, not to mention, take the effort to add new ones.
And the kiss … I just could not get over that kiss. I was hooked. I wanted more. I didn’t know if it was a dream I had or if I really met the love of my life. I had to find out.
I reached the hotel at around 8.30 in the morning and quickly took a shower and wore my business suit so I could be ready for work by 9, as the Princess had asked. But I waited and waited for her to call me, all the while sipping on cappuccino and day dreaming about Greek God. It soon started raining. The monsoon was here. I wanted to jump in joy and run to Greek God. But I had to run to the Princess’s room instead. She finally buzzed me at 10 and I went to her suite on the top floor of the hotel. I waved to the bodyguards on the way and tried to get away from a few photographers who were shooting anything going in and out of her room, looking for a story.
‘Good morning, Your Highness,’ I said upon entering, not sounding like my usual cheerful self. But she didn’t seem to notice.
‘Darling! You know what has happened?’ she said effusively.
I shook my head but she didn’t wait for a response as she stood in front of the mirror holding her hair, ‘I’ve got sunburn.’ She did look a little red but I had just assumed that that was her natural colour. Her make-up artist, sitting on a chair nearby, spoke to me, ‘It’s true. I’m trying to find a foundation to cover it up, but I’m afraid all I can do is cover her with this fake tan gel for now. It will hardly last till she showers again, which I presume would be by this afternoon and then what will we do?’ The make-up artist was speaking in a state of panic.
This was the problem? Lack of fake tan gel. I was going to laugh. Real people had more serious issues. But obviously in the land of the royalty, these were classified as problems.
I tried to keep a straight face and said, ‘Do not panic, Your Highness.’ But Her Highness was already rambling about how she would look to the press and she wasn’t so worried about the Indian photojournalists but the international paparazzi that would splash her photos all around in People magazine and call her family poor since she could not afford sun block or fake tan gel. I offered to get her some, but obviously the only one that she used was available only in Europe.
‘So the local grocer won’t have it?’ I muttered cheekily under my breath.
I ordered her some breakfast through room service, but she insisted on only having black coffee once all the food came in.
‘There is only one solution,’ the Princess said. The hairdresser and I looked at her as if the ‘Oracle’ would now speak.
‘I need to use that last bit of gel and leave Goa immediately to go to Mumbai, where, hopefully, Roberta, my secretary, will be able to find it or have it flown in by tonight for the dinner party I have to attend.’
The two atte
ndants nodded their heads in solemn agreement and the translator spoke, ‘I think that might be the best, given the circumstances.’
‘I think it’s a shame though that you didn’t get to see the whole of Goa. Such a pretty land,’ I said.
And then she said something that made me want to get up and kiss her which would have meant the bodyguard would have slammed me down and made me into mince meat. ‘Why don’t I relieve you of your duties once you see us off at the airport? You can call the embassy for another interpreter to meet us at the airport and take over when we land in Mumbai. You can finish seeing the land of Goa and come back, on your own money, of course. I won’t be paying for this.’
I didn’t care if she never paid me for anything but she had just given me my life back, so I gave a little yelp that sounded like her dog Fee Fee. Miss Foo Foo’s dog was named Fee Fee! I had to tell Arjun.
‘Yes, Your Highness,’ I ended up saying. ‘Whatever you say.’ And I bowed and exited the room. I was already running back to my room dialling his number in my head.
Eleven
I dropped the Princess off through a mad rush of paparazzi, a slew of cars and a host of bodyguards. Then after bowing to the Princess one last time, I kissed the ground of the airport and made my way back to the shack where it had all begun.
Greek God was sitting there looking amazing in his stubble and a dark green t-shirt over a light blue pair of jeans, sipping a cup of coffee, which he gulped down as soon as he saw me. Suddenly I felt shy as I approached him. What if I had been thinking about this the wrong way? What if he was here to tell me he was busy?
But soon my fears were quelled as he got up and pulled me closer to him and gave me a long, hard kiss—one that reminded me of the first time and I was tingling all over once again. It had not been a dream after all.
Losing My Virginity and Other Dumb Ideas Page 6