Losing My Virginity and Other Dumb Ideas

by Madhuri Banerjee

  ‘I’m sorry, Mom,’ I said, not giving a hug or anything but just a smile to say I understood what she was doing. ‘I’ll go to Pooja’s wedding.’ She knew what I meant. And she gave me another spoon of the rich kheer she had made.

  My parents and I went out for dinner on my birthday. Bangalore Club was a lovely, quiet place they went to regularly. My father was well known there and my mother was highly respected. They loved the place. I thought the food was awful and had always complained about it to them. But this time, I just let them do whatever made them happy. They ordered way too many starters and had way too many drinks and, by the time the night was half way through, we were already stuffed.

  ‘So Kavu, here’s a toast to you being thirty-one!’ my dad raised his third glass of whiskey, slurring a little but beaming quite merrily.

  ‘God, I feel old,’ Mom cribbed. ‘You turning old is making me feel old!’

  I raised my glass and said, ‘Thank you. Thank you all around.’ And then I started on my ‘Oscar’ speech, ‘I’d like to thank Almighty God for what I have achieved in these last few years, my parents for always supporting me …’ And as I said the words, I realized that they had. They had always supported me. And I had always shunned them, thinking their way of life was boring, or too old fashioned or oppressive.

  I might have been a much more contented person had I sat back and enjoyed their way of life. I continued, ‘I truly want to thank you for letting me spread my wings and fly. I want you to know that I appreciate all that you’ve done for me.’ And I kissed both of them on the cheek and I could see both of them getting misty eyed. But I had meant it. And I enjoyed my dinner and we had many more laughs after that. It felt good to be with them. It felt good to take that huge chip off my shoulder and begin to realize just how much I loved my parents.

  I finally felt what Aditi had felt for her parents. A sense of deep respect and love.

  Thirty-nine

  While I was trying to somehow manage a living, Aditi was trying to organize a wedding. And she was going mad doing it. Her parents were driving her crazy and her relatives’ list was becoming larger than the population of Shanghai. By the time I went to her place after my Bangalore visit, the wedding was only two weeks away and she was fuming at me.

  ‘Where have you been? I’ve been going insane doing all this by myself. You’re supposed to be my best friend who’s supposed to be helping me!’ I felt guilty. It was true. I should have been around her for such an important occasion. But since I needed to get away from the past, I’d landed up alienating Aditi as well and distanced her during my Aaron venture and my birthday.

  ‘Don’t worry. Everything will be all right. We can fix this.’ I said with great authority, as if I had been a wedding planner all my life. ‘Now,’ I said, opening up a diary that was lying on her bedroom dressing table. ‘Tell me what to do.’

  She threw her hands in the air and said, ‘I don’t know what you should do, idiot,’ she screamed, all flabbergasted. ‘The cards haven’t been sent out, the menu hasn’t been fixed, the flowers haven’t been chosen, the groom’s clothes haven’t been picked out, the songs for the sangeet haven’t been selected, the DJ for the night hasn’t been chosen …’ Aditi rambled on and I listened patiently.

  Then I got up and said, ‘Okay then, I see that you’ve got most bases covered. I’ll see you in two weeks, huh?’ I pretended to leave and Aditi threw a pillow at me.

  ‘Bitch! Get back here or I’ll get you married to my dog!’ she laughed.

  ‘Aww. That’s no way to call your fiancé,’ I teased. She threw another cushion at me and we were back to being our old selves.

  In the next few days, I dispatched all the cards and had thrown away a few that Aditi secretly didn’t want to invite. If the people came, her parents would be glad and if they didn’t, she would blame it on me and be secretly happy. We also picked out a DJ for the sangeet, since I knew one who was a family friend and would play for a very nominal fee. I bought a few magazines for Aditi while I took her to the parlour for a facial one day and we picked out the flowers and the groom’s clothes. I realized in the middle of all this how, in just one year, our roles had reversed. Here I was, taking her to the parlour and making decisions about her life. Soon enough, most of the things that had plagued her about the wedding were sorted out. By the time the grand day arrived, everything was in place.

  Aditi stood in her bridal finery in the hotel room allotted to us and said, ‘I really thought you would get married before me, Kavu.’ She was looking so happy. She had chosen someone finally and that person had chosen to be with her. It was a big step in her life.

  I looked at her and smiled, ‘I didn’t.’

  She gave me one of those looks like she knew what I had gone through. ‘Aditi,’ I explained, ‘in my heart, I never wanted to get married. And you did.’ Aditi gave me a strange look as if I had gone mad. And I knew I was not saying this to please her on her wedding day. I had thought about it a long time and I really believed this now. ‘You went out with as many people as you could to see who you would be compatible with for life. I went out with one who was already married. I brought that upon myself. I get it now. So you know what? I’m happy you’re getting married before me. It’s okay.’ I whispered softly.

  She came over to hug me. We had a moment.

  But before her mascara could run, I continued my thought, ‘Ya’cos now, I’ll be the one who’ll be with all those men and you’ll have to wake up to the same old, balding, fat man for life!’

  ‘Shut up!’ she laughed. And then said seriously, ‘Thank you. For everything. For being my best friend. For being …’

  ‘I know.’ I interrupted, ‘And thank you too, babe,’ I said. ‘Because you showed me reason. And I was running away from it for so long. I know you looked out for me. And I love you for it.’

  She held me tight, ‘I love you too.’

  Just then, her cousins flooded the room and took her towards the mandap. So I let them and I stayed back in the hotel room to take a breather before I put on my smiley face in front of Aditi’s relatives.

  When Aditi and her cousins had left, I looked out of the window and saw the lights of Mumbai. It was beautiful. I loved this city. And I felt that even though I had loved and lost here, I had strength now to be something that I had been afraid of being earlier. I completed me. I didn’t feel the need to be the person walking towards that mandap. I knew that if it had to happen, it would be a nice thing that I would cherish. But I had stopped believing in a forever. And it wasn’t a cynical feeling. It was a practical, liberating, independent feeling. I realized that if I was never to get married, that would be okay too. Oh, I wasn’t giving up on love. Or giving up on having a man in my life. It was just the opposite. I was opening up to love. I was opening up to having many special people in my life. At different stages. At different times. And I knew that each person I had, would be loved, even if I lost him later. That would not stop me from trying to love again, and I would not remain bitter at him or at the concept of ‘love’.

  And with that thought, I went to give my best friend away to wedded bliss.

  Forty

  It was about eleven at night. I was sitting at home checking my social networking sites to see what other people were up to. My voyeuristic pleasure seeking side emerged at night. Just then, I got a call from a woman who sounded American.

  ‘Hi, I’m Susan from the Metropolitan Museum of Art,’ she chirped.

  ‘In New York?’ I asked, disbelievingly.

  ‘Yes. Have you got my mail?’

  I quickly opened my email account and started reading the mail and before I could stifle a shriek, she continued, ‘Kaveri, we have some very exciting news. We went through your application and we would like to give you a paid internship at the Metropolitan if you are ready to relocate to New York?’

  ‘Of course!’ I said too eagerly, ‘Yes! Thank you. This is a huge. I mean … thank you.’ She told me to go through my mail and
call her if I had any queries and wanted me to start by next month. I told her I would be ready to do so. I would be studying and working at the museum around my favorite subject of all time, art. I was really psyched. I immediately thought of calling Arjun and telling him. We could still be friends and friends shared happy news! After all, he had been the one who had encouraged me to submit my application and the essay on Picasso. Before I could shun the thought, I dialled his number.

  It rang. And rang. I hung up.

  My excitement was truly lost. He didn’t care anymore. Maybe I was stupid for wanting to connect again. And he had truly moved on. Maybe exes could not be friends and I had made a terrible mistake. I didn’t want my bubble to burst so easily, so I went for a walk by myself. I thought about calling my mother. But then, even though she would be happy for me, she would be a little melancholic that I would waste another six months doing something that was not organizing my wedding or finding a man to ‘settle down’ with. So I didn’t want to hear her lecture or her wounded voice.

  I thought of calling Aditi. But she was still on her honeymoon on an island where the connection was weak. But even then, I thought that our ‘connection’ might be weak from now on. She was married and needed to be a part of a new home. I couldn’t be calling her in the middle of the night with exciting news or taking her out for coffee to Coffee De at seven in the morning.

  Coffee De! That was it.

  I headed straight towards it and sat down on my favorite red sofa with purple cushions and ordered myself a hazelnut café latte and a big chocolate brownie with whipped cream and nuts. I needed to celebrate myself.

  Thankfully, at this time of the night on a weekday, there were no teenagers. I remembered that day, long time back. My God, it had been more than a year since when I decided to lose my virginity. I had changed so much. I could look back now and say, dude, what was I thinking? But I knew that if I hadn’t made that decision that morning, I would never have opened up to the men that would follow in the last one year. There had been some incredible men. And I had formed some great friendships. Like the one who was walking in right now.

  ‘Hi, Aniruddh,’ I said. Aniruddh was the anchor in the reality show I had participated in.

  For a second, he didn’t recognize me. Till I said, ‘From the reality show where I won the trekking contest? Remember?’

  ‘Aah yes,’ he said, standing near my couch hesitant.

  ‘Wanna sit?’ I asked.

  ‘Are the tables reversed? Is this your casting couch?’ he mocked.

  I laughed, ‘It could be!’ What a serious change from what I was a year ago. I would never have thought of inviting a guy to sit with me. But the new me felt it was the right thing to do. He sat down.

  ‘Hey, who won that show?’ I asked.

  ‘You didn’t see it?’

  I shook my head, ‘I couldn’t watch after I was eliminated.’

  ‘Pooja. The web designer. From Hyderabad.’

  ‘Oh ya. She was sweet.’

  ‘Ya and Karan’s mom, who came down for the second last episode, picked her from the final three.’ Aniruddh laughed.

  ‘What?’ I asked, disbelievingly. ‘The mother-in-law angle? He couldn’t even pick his own bride?’

  We both burst into giggles and I muttered, ‘Thank God I was not there. I would have walked out on him and his mom.’

  ‘But you made quite an impression on him and the girls,’ he smirked.

  My brownie came and he looked at me as if he had never seen a woman eating one all by herself. ‘What? You’ve never seen a woman eating a brownie?’ I asked.

  ‘No, it’s just that most women want to share a brownie or end up having a bite and saying they’re full. Or they barf it out the next morning.’

  ‘Ewww,’ I said, with my mouth full of whipped cream. I handed him the spoon.

  And he took a bite as well.

  ‘Are we sharing?’ he asked.

  ‘No. I’m being gracious in offering you a bite since you were too kanjoos to order one for yourself!’ I guffawed, and hit him lightly on the arm. Jesus! I was flirting. This was also a new thing in my life.

  We laughed as we shared the brownie and we shared some more stories about the show and the girls in it. I told him the insider tale. I left out the part about the hot air balloon. It was fun to share nonsensical information about events in your life without having them analysed or judged.

  ‘You read Mills and Boon?’ he laughed again, feeling a little bit drunk after our fourth Irish coffee an hour and a half later.

  ‘Oh, yes. I was a big closet fan. Amidst getting a graduate degree and being a topper, I would secretly read about men whisking the woman away into a faraway land!’ I replied, a little tipsy myself. ‘All the perfect romantic love seemed like a lot of work though. And very unrealistic!’

  ‘Is “topper” a euphemism for the nefarious activities convent girls indulge in?’ he winked, taking the conversation to another level.

  ‘Shut up!’ I laughed, feeling comfortable around him.

  Suddenly I had another idea!

  In my slightly drunken state, I leaned over to Aniruddh and whispered, ‘Meet me in the bathroom in two minutes.’

  He looked stunned. Elated. And then nodded in agreement.

  I was unsure at first. And then I thought, ‘Why not?’ I didn’t care anymore to take it to another level! I didn’t need to prove anything to anyone.

  I went into the bathroom and unlocked the door. Stood by the side of the wall. Two minutes later he entered. We stared at each other. Lust driven by danger. Promptly, he pounced on me, kissing me passionately. Wanting. Desiring. He unfastened the top two buttons of my shirt while I kissed him madly. He went down and sucked my nipples, cupping my breasts over my clothes. I scratched his back and he hoisted me up around his waist. Deep breathing. I liked dangerous sex. Oh God, how I loved it. I let my hands run across his tight ass. My thighs rested on his strong muscular legs. He lifted my skirt and stroked me tenderly at first, then built up the momentum. I felt my wetness building up. I moaned and he covered my mouth with his hands.

  Our warm skin, throbbing with hot blood. Faint smell of Old Spice. And sweat. He gasped as I ripped his shirt. Strong ripped body and hard, tight abs. He smiled. Not bothered. Fervent kissing. Necking. Sucking. Bodies burning with a hurried craze. Clothes half off. I stroked him softly. A gentle hesitancy creeping in. He nibbled on my ear and urged me on. I ran my fingers across his body, his hair, his hardness.

  He sat down on the edge of the seat. I moved myself on top of him. Deliberate. Intoxicating. He held me tight against him. He was big, bigger than the others. Powerful. It felt like the first time. But better. Erotic. Assertive. Exceptional. He grunted as I entered him. Slowly at first and then faster. Harder. He cried out. He moved me. Short strokes. And then slow, longer ones. Silently. I felt invigorated. Sinuous. Warm juices mingling with each other. Raptures of delight. I began to feel a huge wave bubbling, bursting inside me. I sighed deeply. Breathless. Someone could hear us. He exhaled. And let go.

  We finished and smiled. I quickly got off. Straightened my hair. Adjusted clothes. He left before me.

  We had a smoke. Amused. Contented. ‘That was refreshing!’ he said, ‘I’ve never done it in a public place before.’

  I winked. Picked up my purse. Gave him a long kiss goodnight. And we both left. In separate directions.

  Aniruddh was my first ‘quickie’. And it felt good to see him go. I knew that we would be friends if we wanted to be, and more if we needed to be. But apart from that it felt good to be part of something that didn’t need an explanation. I hadn’t shared my life, my hopes and dreams or even the fact that I would be leaving for the US in a few weeks. I didn’t need to. I didn’t love him and he didn’t love me. But we made love that I would remember forever.

  Forty-one

  Aaron had given me enough money for me to sit and do nothing for a whole month before I left for the States. That gave me just enough time af
ter Aditi’s wedding to decide if I wanted to start a new project or go back to being a translator. A part of me wanted to make some more money before I left, while another part wanted to enjoy my last few days in Mumbai.

  My experience with reality TV had actually given me a boost in the entertainment industry. People had started calling me to do more shows but they were all in the same reality TV format or another one adapted from a Western formula. I wasn’t interested. I had gone for a few casting auditions for ad films and had done a small campaign that gave me a little money. But I realized that wasn’t really me. I wasn’t interested in pursuing the limelight. I wanted to go for something far more interesting. I wanted to develop me.

  Suddenly, one night while I was sitting and reading up on The Met, I remembered the dialogue I had with Arjun that night in Goa when he told me he was married. It was about tattoos. He had said it takes conviction more than courage to get one and that it wasn’t about the pain. It was about if you believed in a permanent art symbol that described who you were. And till now, I didn’t know who I was. I was a confused thirty-year-old virgin who went from believing in love to giving it up.

  But now, I knew that I believed in myself. So I got up from the bed, wore my jeans and decided to walk down to the parlour and get myself a tattoo. It was as easy as that. I could hardly believe what I was doing. It was ten at night and my mind was telling me to wait till morning or figure out what I needed. But my heart, and I’ve always listened to my heart, said I needed to take a step that was bold and that defined me. And it had to be now, otherwise I would chicken out later.