by Abha Dawesar
“Here,” he said, giving me a folded sheet of paper. “It’s a photocopy of what I wrote for the principal. He told me to give it to you.”
“I need to talk to you on the phone later today,” I whispered. He nodded in acknowledgment, equally discreetly.
The rest of the day dragged. I was distracted and nervous. When I walked through the corridor I felt as if my badge had already been taken away. It made me feel as if I were not wearing my shirt and my nipples were visible.
On the bus ride home I read Chakra Dev’s note. In a staccato tone he owned up to the bomb as well as to having placed the offensive item on Sheela’s desk. He used the brand name Nirodh instead of the word “condom.” He apologized for having disrespected me on more than one occasion. The only point of interest in the letter was his confession that what he had placed on Sheela’s desk was a soiled prophylactic, one that he had personally used before. What had the principal thought? Had he even read the note or just filed it away, telling Chakra Dev to present me with a copy out of courtesy? Courtesy?
I slipped the letter in my bag. At home I tried to relax. I asked Rani to lie down with me and told her about India’s party.
“Deepak will be there with his wife,” I said.
“Will Vidur baba come?” she asked.
“Yes, he is coming with my friend Sheela. He likes Sheela,” I told Rani.
In the evening when my mother and Rani got dinner ready I tried to assess the school situation. Was I better off not telling Chakra Dev about the deal I had struck with the princi? He might decide to do something nasty again, just to spite me. I decided not to call him at home. I would bide my time and see if he returned the signed note to the princi.
I tried to convince myself that resigning my Head Prefectship was of little consequence. I told myself there were bigger things to think about, like my relationships with India and Rani. If I were going to leave the country, everything with Rani would end in less than a year, so I decided to make the most of it. The bliss and sweetness of our time together heightened as the expiry date appeared in my mind’s eye. We slept in a tight embrace, my chin on her shoulder and her hand holding my neck.
At school the next day Sheela materialized with light makeup on her eyes. She fluttered her eyes when I walked up to her. We set up a rendezvous for the break.
The first four periods flew by. I looked back at Chakra Dev a couple of times. He looked somber. I couldn’t be sure he had really changed, but he didn’t have the usual air of smugness.
In the break Chakra Dev came to my desk and said, “I got the note signed. I am taking it to the princi’s office.” He unfolded the letter as he spoke and showed me his mother’s signature. She had signed in Hindi, which meant that she didn’t know English. I was surprised but just nodded. I wondered if the princi was going to call his mother since she obviously would not have understood the letter.
After he left the class, Sheela and I went to the canteen and bought pineapple pastries. We went to the faraway rock to sit and eat them. I told her Vidur was coming to India’s party with his parents.
“Can I invite Chakra Dev, too?” I asked.
“After what he did to me yesterday, how can you even think of it?” she asked, looking hurt. I wished he’d put the idiotic rubber on someone else’s desk.
“He will have no choice but to behave himself with all the adults around,” I said.
“I don’t want to speak to him,” she said.
“You don’t have to. I’ll tell him you won’t speak to him,” I said.
“Why do you want him there? He’s dangerous,” Sheela said. I was tempted to tell her how dangerous but then decided against it.
“Sheela, even a demon like Ravana had his good points. Lord Rama himself said that Ravana would be remembered for his good deeds, not just his bad ones. And he himself conducted Ravana’s last rites,” I said, taking recourse once more in the many shades of gray in Indian mythology.
“I don’t like it when you talk about him,” she said.
“What should we talk about?”
“If you’re going to leave we should talk less and make better use of the time we have left,” she said flirtatiously.
“You’re right,” I said. I moved closer to her and held her hand.
“I never thought I would have a girlfriend,” Sheela said.
I had never thought of anyone as a girlfriend before. I thought of Rani and India as women and as lovers.
We spent the next twenty minutes of the break sharing our pastries and not saying very much. Life was adventurous and exciting. For once I felt I was living it instead of waiting for it to happen.
Mrs. Pillai’s class was after break. When it ended I went up to her and invited her to India’s party. I referred to India as a family friend.
“I’ll check with my husband. If we are free we’ll come,” she said.
In the afternoon India called and said, “I need you all day tomorrow. I want to rearrange the house. You and Deepak need to come in the morning to help me.”
“Will you buy olives and lemon rind for martinis?” I asked, remembering the definition of martini I had read in the dictionary.
“Yes, I will. What will you wear?” she asked.
“I am not sure,” I said.
“You look good in blue. I think you should wear a blue shirt. What should I wear?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“I was thinking of wearing the choli I wore in Kasauli.”
I remembered Deepak taking every opportunity to touch her spine as he herded her into and out of his car. Adit would probably want to touch her. And all the other men.
“Do you remember that rowdy boy Chakra Dev I told you about? He put a condom on my friend Sheela’s desk,” I said.
“What happened?” she asked.
“The princi was going to suspend him, but I begged for one last chance.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“I thought of inviting him to your party, but my friends don’t like him,” I said.
“Do you think he would come?” she said.
“He might. Sheela says he’s dangerous. What if he breaks your things?”
“Nonsense. We don’t need to worry about some school kid with Deepak here. He’s a black belt in karate,” India said.
“And Vidur’s father, Adit, is a colonel in the army,” I said.
“There you go, it’ll be fine.”
“I’m afraid Vidur and Sheela will boycott me if he comes. What should I do?”
“That’s for you to decide. If you’re ready to risk their friendship and really want this guy to come, then call him. But don’t worry about the badmash, worry about going against your friends’ wishes.”
“I’m going to change him. Everyone will agree I did the right thing when it works,” I said.
I had already risked my badge, my parents’ pride, and my teachers’ faith. I would put my friendships on the line as well. I would perish or flourish with Chakra Dev or not at all. If I didn’t want to commit sati , I would have to win.
xxv
The Beast
The next morning I called Sheela as soon as I woke up. I was determined to keep my other relationships intact even if I was playing dangerously with Chakra Dev. I wanted Sheela to feel that her opinion was important even though I had already decided to invite him to the party.
“I asked India. She said the grown-ups can handle Chakra Dev,” I said.
“Anamika, don’t tell me I didn’t warn you,” Sheela said, sighing.
“Will you still come?” I asked.
“Yes. But I’m going to stick to Vidur all night,” she said. My stomach tightened. I wondered if she had said it to make me jealous.
“How did your parents agree to let you come to the party?” I asked.
“Adit Uncle came over to pick up Vidur yesterday, and he convinced my mother,” she said.
“What happened with Vidur?” I asked.
; “Nothing. We played Scrabble,” she said.
I hung up on Sheela and called Vidur. India’s warning about my friends had seemed ominous.
“It’s out of the question,” he said.
“Vidur, we have nothing to fear. Your father will be there. My father will be there,” I said.
“Anamika, don’t you see you are sanctioning his behavior if you reward him with an invitation to a party?” he said. I felt for a second it was Adit speaking.
“He knows I am sanctioning nothing. He was almost suspended by the princi,” I said.
“What will he think, then, when you invite him?” Vidur asked.
“He already thinks I have a crush on him,” I said.
“Yuck! Anyway, for Sheela’s sake you shouldn’t,” he said.
“I asked her permission. She says she’s going to stick to you the whole evening,” I said, knowing he would relish the idea.
“If he misbehaves I’m going to beat him to pulp,” Vidur said, his voice full of violence.
“You should thank me for this. I’m being a true catalyst, bringing Sheela closer to you.”
“But you’re doing it for Chakra Dev, not for me,” he said.
“Even I don’t know why I’m doing it,” I said. All I knew was that I was playing with fire. And deep within it felt right.
Having spoken to them both I decided to hold off calling Chakra Dev till later in the day. A last-minute invitation was best. He’d have little time to find a way to make trouble.
Rani and I got ready and went to India’s house to help. Deepak was already there. He was wearing a T-shirt, his muscles bulging as he moved India’s sofa and shifted her dining table. India gave him instructions and touched his arm more often than necessary.
“Where is Jeet?” I asked.
“I sent him off to his father’s. He’s too much to handle when there are a lot of people around.”
“Did you speak to our headmistress?”
“Yes. She said they’ll make a decision on Monday. She said it looked hopeful.”
Deepak was sweating profusely moving the side tables. I gave him a hand, talking all the while about everything I had learned from the brochures and asking him questions before he could fully answer the ones I had already posed. India said we had to go to the market.
“I’m ready, Aunty,” Deepak said, fishing his car keys out of his pocket. Rani was going to stay back and clean.
“Where to, Aunty?” Deepak asked, turning on the ignition once we were in the car.
“The local market first, then Diplomatic Enclave,” she said.
Deepak drove us to the local shopping center, where we went to the general store. India loaded Deepak’s car with snacks and fruit juices and then took us to a shop where she bought booze. I didn’t want to go inside a liquor store, so I went to a stationery shop. One corner was piled with children’s books. I found one that had pictures and simple words like cat, mat, and bat. I bought it for Rani since I had some pocket money with me. Then I went and stood by the car in the heat, waiting for them to return with crates of alcohol.
We drove in silence for a little while. I loved Lutyens’ Delhi, the wide roads of Shantipath where all the embassies had their offices. Large, well-trimmed gardens lined every side. Since my parents didn’t have a car we didn’t come here often.
We soon pulled up in front of a large bakery called Bread Box. It was a corner shop with huge windows that displayed an enormous selection of pastries and breads. The people behind the counter all wore long white paper hats. On one side there was a sitting area with tables.
“I should feed you both for your efforts,” India said.
I chose a cheese sandwich with tomatoes.
“Choose a pastry, too, and then why don’t you get a table for us,” India suggested.
I pointed to the Black Forest and went and sat at a round table for three. There were people, mostly foreigners, at other tables having coffee or soup. At the next table a small unattended child was in a pram. He had blue eyes and fine blond hair. I played with him, making faces. He stared as if he could not see me, but when I brought my glasses down to my nose, raised my eyebrows, and shook my finger like a retired headmistress, he broke into a large smile.
“The lemon for me,” I heard an American voice say. I turned in the direction of the voice and saw two tall men bending in front of the pastry counter, looking at the lowest shelf. They were standing very close to each other. I followed my gaze from their shoulders down to see if their bodies were touching. Their hands were interlocked. Not in the usual way that people may casually hold hands, but with each finger interlaced. My heart started to beat fast, as if I were watching a suspense movie. I thought of Rock Hudson. They were both wearing shorts and had strong, muscular legs. I could see one of them in profile; the hair around his temples was graying, and his eyes were blue. He was terribly handsome.
“Ga ga ga,” the baby in the pram gurgled at me.
India and Deepak came toward our table, carrying two trays. Deepak had my sandwich on his tray and placed the tray in the middle so that we could eat.
“I better check on him,” the handsome man told the other guy, pointing to the baby. The other man had straightened up; I could see that he was younger. He didn’t have any gray hair. The older man walked past our table, saw me look at the baby, and said, “Hi.”
I smiled at him. India saw the baby and smiled, too.
“Should I buy a few cakes or not?” India asked Deepak.
“Are the caterers making kheer?” he asked.
“Yes, and also khurbani. But it’s nice to have some cakes, don’t you think?” India asked, looking at me.
“I don’t know,” I said. I had never organized a party. My mother managed everything at the dull gatherings in our house. But India’s party would be different. All kinds of ad people and freelancers would be there.
“We’ll buy some cakes,” India said.
The other man came toward our table. He was carrying a tray with three pastries. He was also very good-looking.
“I got everything,” he said to the older man. His tray had a lemon tart, a slice of chocolate cake, and another huge pastry with cream oozing from every side.
“Hello,” the younger man said, looking at the baby and touching his cheek.
I wanted to look at the two men. I wanted to be invisible and watch them. The younger one was sitting so close to my chair I could feel his body heat, but I could see only the older one.
I turned around to face them and asked, “Are you from America?”
The younger man turned fully to face me and said, “Yes. Have you been there?”
“No. But I want to. I hear it’s free,” I said.
The older man laughed. The younger one touched my hand and smiled.
I turned back to face India and Deepak. Behind me I heard the soft sound of lips touching.
“I love you, Nathan,” I heard the guy near me whisper to the older man.
India brought her hand in front of her mouth so that only Deepak and I could read her lips.
“They are gay,” she mouthed.
The younger one got up and pushed his chair into Deepak’s in the process. He turned around to look at us. “I’m sorry,” he said as he walked in the direction of the men’s room.
“No worries,” Deepak said, smiling at him.
“How are those pastries?” India asked the older man.
“They’re great,” he said.
I took a bite of my Black Forest. Deepak had finished his food and was eyeing my cake.
“Can I have a bite?” he asked me.
“Only if you tell me why you called her a ‘corrupter of youth,’ ” I said, pointing to India.
India chuckled.
I had wondered since the dinner in Kasauli if India had been responsible only for Deepak’s first drink or for other things as well.
“When I had a crush on the school bimbo, Aunty told me to ask her out. When I wanted to go out
late with this girl, Aunty convinced my parents to agree. When I wanted to drink, she got me the booze. When I wanted a cigarette, she lit my first one. The list is endless,” he said.
“We should get home and finish up,” India said.
“So if you turned out okay in the end it’s no thanks to her,” I said jokingly.
“On the contrary. I see all these things as part of growing up.”
Deepak picked up both the trays and took them away. India went back to the pastry counter. I went over and bent down by the pram.
“It’s a boy, right?” I asked.
“Camille’s a boy, all right,” the older man said.
I wanted to invite them to India’s party and ask them a thousand questions about where and how they lived, who took care of the baby, and what they had studied in college. India had paid for the cakes, and Deepak was carrying everything in three large packages. I said bye and ran after Deepak to take one of the packages from him as we headed back to the car.
The sun on the drive back made my eyes spin. Hot-air mirages rose from everywhere, and the road glinted with blinding silver flashes. India pulled out a pair of dark glasses and put them on. By the time we got back to her house it was three. Deepak and I made a beeline for the couch and fell into it. Rani was dusting the living room. India said she would make tea for us.
Deepak and I started talking about America. Rani dusted India’s glass cabinets as words like Amherst, Wellesley, Tufts, and Stanford came tumbling out of Deepak’s mouth. India came out with a tray that had four cups of tea. I was surprised she had used the same cup for Rani as for us. Before Rani could sit down on the floor with her tea I asked her to sit on the sofa beside me. India didn’t show any surprise.
After tea, Rani and I helped India put flowers around the room, and Deepak set up a bar by one corner. Then Rani and I left to go home and freshen up.
I called Chakra Dev as soon as we reached home and invited him to the party.
“Obviously after what you did the other day you can’t expect Sheela to talk to you,” I said.
“She’ll be there?” he asked. I could hear the anticipation in his voice.
“Yes. And Vidur and Mrs. Pillai, too.”
I could hear his breath over the phone.