Last Man She'd Love

by Summerita Rhayne

  They started off at noon, after putting in several hours at the office, attending to last minute things. Neither of them took more leave than absolutely necessary and Lyna couldn’t remember both of them being away for as long as a fortnight before. Especially for Lyna, it required some juggling and several assurances to the staff that she’d be a phone call or message away before she could extricate herself. Guy waited calmly enough outside in the car, forced to idle the engine because she had run back inside, remembering that she needed to pick up from Sanjay the due diligence on airing an official channel on internet media. She didn’t want Guy’s family to be kept waiting, and came out of the office at a trot, apologizing breathlessly to which he responded with a dismissive wave.

  ‘We’ll go via Panvel...it will be faster,’ he announced, putting his sedan into gear.

  She was too preoccupied to make any remark. Her brain whirled as she mentally checked off her list.

  ‘Have some lemonade.’ He handed her a flask. ‘I had Mani make it.’

  He never took sodas or the packaged juices, so it didn’t surprise her. The coolness was amazingly refreshing. Her hectic morning had made her feel heated up but now, leaning back in the AC, she began to feel recharged.

  ‘This reminds me of college. We had to walk around the campus a lot and the lemonade stand was our habitual resting place.’

  ‘You studied in Bengaluru, didn’t you?’

  She nodded, supplying the name of her institute.

  ‘You are so close to your mother, why didn’t you study near your home?’ Guy asked, taking the turning to the State Highway.

  She looked at him wondering what had prompted the question. Without sounding evasive, she couldn’t get around it. And he knew so much of her history by now, she might as well come clean. But...

  ‘Unless you want to spend the morning harping on my twisted family, it would be wise to stay away from the subject.’

  ‘I don’t mind.’ His bland remark made prevarication hard.

  ‘At the time, I just felt I needed a break. Spread my wings, so to speak...and also...’ She paused. ‘See if men were out there who were not my father.’

  What had made her say that? She’d left the field wide open for him to ask...

  ‘But you didn’t succeed.’ Her eyes widened. He grinned in response. ‘Well, obviously. Or you wouldn’t be here now...engaged to me.’ The term seemed to afford him unholy amusement.

  He drove with languid ease. ‘So, what was Bangalore Univ like? I heard a girl from Mass Comm there was crowned Miss India or something.’

  ‘And that is useful to you, how?’

  ‘Maybe if you knew her, you could get me acquainted with her.’

  She gave his profile a disapproving glance. He smiled with a naughty glint in his eye and she gasped as comprehension hit.

  ‘Was that mainly to get a rise out of me?’

  He chuckled.

  ‘I know you have no dearth of women you can pick up yourself. I think you graduated in the art of picking up women, not...what was your subject?’

  ‘History,’ he said. ‘I never planned to get into production, you know.’

  ‘So, I heard. You did your post-graduation in journalism, didn’t you?’

  He nodded. ‘I went to Training Center at Netherlands. Thought about reporting on current affairs for a while. Mainly because Dadu insisted I should get a law degree and I’d have done anything but that. I joined as a trainee at –’ He named a prominent channel. ‘I got acquainted with Rajat there.’

  ‘And you got interested in the creative side...wasn’t that when you and Rajat got the award for the best telefilm?’

  ‘It was mainly Rajat...I helped to conceptualize the story and only worked on the direction a bit.’

  She didn’t believe that. She did like it that, as usual, he loaded the credit onto the other person.

  ‘Then you two founded Gayatri Productions?’

  ‘No. It was Golden Eye Creations then.’ He chuckled, the rich full-bodied sound making her smile automatically. ‘I wonder why we opted for that name. It worked out well. Then we took a hit. We were working mostly on sitcoms and suddenly our stars got bigger than their shoes. There were contract holes and they used them to get out.’ He shrugged. ‘Rajat opted to dissolve the company and went to USA.’ He glanced at her. ‘Your boss came along and took over most of the staff and amenities. I came here.’ He gestured outside to vaguely indicate the estate. Dadu wanted me to start looking after the management and I did that for a while.’

  ‘What happened to make you come back to production?’

  ‘I must have had some subconscious desire to revive the company. Reports were coming in that it was badly floundering. Then…well suffice to say I was ready to do something about it.’

  ‘So, you refounded it and renamed it.’ She said reminiscently, ‘When I joined, there was just one creator director and a writer. Then Kala started. How it took off! You brought in a world of changes.’

  ‘You and the staff helped a lot.’ He grinned. ‘So, you see I didn’t exactly chase skirts all the time at St. Stephans!’

  ‘Maybe not all the time but surely for eighty percent of it,’ she scoffed.

  The journey passed in relating anecdotes from their respective college lives. She discovered he had used to excel in sports, especially basketball.

  Soon they were approaching Neral. He pointed out the Neral - Matheran road to her, the eight kilometer stretch that ascended to the top of the hill where the town was located.

  ‘While you are in the area, you must visit Matheran. It’s Asia’s only automobile free hill station...lots of forests and it’s practically on the top of the hills, so has some gorgeous views. Matheran actually means the ‘forest on forehead’.

  ‘You must have visited it lots of time.’

  ‘Hmm mostly on bike...sometimes trekking.’ He drove onto the Neral-Badlapur road. After about fifteen minutes, he swung off onto a by road. Almost immediately, the scenery changed. On both sides, trees and bushes spread out. Amaltas and peepal interspersed with swaying palms. Gentle hills made the road curving and undulating at places.

  Soon, the land smoothened and patches of green rice fields appeared. Women bent over, working in the fields, saris folded up and tucked between their legs. ‘Our estates begin here,’ he tossed casually. Lyna detected a distinct note of pride.

  The road ascended and the fields dropped behind the cover of green which grew in density on both sides of the road. Now trees and shrubs sped past.

  He nodded to a cluster of buildings that broke through the verdant green. ‘Most of our tenants live here. There’s the school and see that last larger building – beyond that are the sports arenas. Grandpa had them constructed. I used to play basketball there when I was home during holidays.’

  ‘So, you were quite the athletic hero, even at home, hmm?’ The information added to the image she had of him. The typical sports idol, no doubt with girls hanging on his left and right. He didn’t give any sign of being the spoilt rich brat, but who knew maybe that was because he was too polished to show off. She had to admit to some qualities he possessed. Certainly, he underplayed his achievements. Besides the satire and flirting remarks, even those seeming to make him popular with the rest of the staff, especially female half, he wasn’t so bad. He was quick to praise anyone who did well. One wall, at their general office area – called as the thinking pot by an enterprising manager – was devoted to pictures of the achievements and awards of the staff members and Guy visited it regularly. There was always an office party if anyone got any kind of recognition of their work. At the last award function where he collected trophies for two of their serials, one for the best story and the other for the best show at prime time, he had emphatically praised his dedicated staff in both the acceptance speeches.

  No, she couldn’t fault him in manners. But wasn’t that a part of being the playboy, she reminded herself. They were supposed to be charming, weren’t they?r />
  That night at her mother’s, he had come close to charming her.

  She had to own he made no pretense. He had been honest to her.

  Why not look closer to home?

  Maybe he was just kidding. She was taking him too seriously.

  ‘You seem to be thinking hard. What’s keeping you so quiet?’ Guy glanced over at her. ‘Now this should take your mind off it, whatever it is.’

  He grinned as he swung the car round a curve and the area flattened out.

  She gasped. Pink jacaranda trees flanked the sides of road in symmetrical rows. They were in full bloom, not a leaf in sight. Even in air-conditioned car, she felt the perceptible drop in temperature, though it might be an illusion. Outside, the wind was swaying the branches and a few flowers fell over the hood.

  ‘Oh my God! Look at that. How perfect they are!’

  Guy gave into her enthusiasm and drew up under a tree in full bloom. Soon a shower of flowers fell on the car. He reached out and picked up one. She sat rapt. The blossom looked fresh and ethereal. He reached out and touched it against her cheek. His gaze met hers. He stroked the petals slowly down her cheek and murmured, ‘Now which is softer, I wonder.’ She held her breath. The moment became sensually charged within seconds. She had an impulse to let his knuckles brush past her cheek, turn it against his palm, feel the firm, warm texture of it...let him take her in the circle of his arms. Renew the memory of that kiss. Had it been as electrifying as she remembered or had her mind played tricks on her?

  Time hung in balance, then he handed her the flower and revved the engine.

  Was she relieved or disappointed? She ought to read herself a lecture. But all she knew was a live electricity charged her senses.

  The road began to rise. They passed some more curves around the hills. Now as the road wound round with the amethyst shadow of the mountain range at a distance, she gave an exclamation. ‘This is so beautiful.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ His mouth softened. She could detect that tinge of pride again.

  They came up the slope as the top of the hill flattened out. A vision of tall minarets, one on each side of heavy iron gates rose up in front of them. Beyond the arch of the gates, you could see a rugged mountain beyond exactly in the center, so that it looked like a sentinel arising from the ground.

  A turbaned guard hurried forward and saluted smartly in obvious pleasure. The gates swung open.

  The driveway was the longest she had ever seen, even in the exaggerated setting of the serials. As far as the eye could see, there was green, such a rich, lustrous green that it hurt the gaze. Then the gardens began. Manicured, filled with banks of flowers. Walks leading from one to the other, crisscrossing. Trees, pink cassias, spiky and leafy varieties of palms, more of the fairy pink jacarandas. She could only look on, thunderstruck. ‘It looks like a resort or something. Haven’t you thought of filming here?’ She laughed at the poor joke, trying to assimilate it all.

  ‘You never mentioned...’

  But the sedan had swung into another more modern gateway and now slowed as it moved under the ceilinged entrance.

  The guard had obviously phoned ahead because a cluster of people stood at the entrance. Two tall females, a man, with two children and behind them, a retinue of well-dressed staff and helpers.

  They got down. A slim woman in a poncho top and loose palazzos that were fashionable at the moment, with jingling bracelets and a cheerful look, swept forward and hugged Guy. The hug lasted a moment. Then she turned towards her. ‘Hi Lyna!’ Her look was smiling but observant.

  ‘Wait, Savika, let them come inside first.’ The tone echoed with an imperious ring. Clad in a chiffon sari, wearing gold at neck and wrists, the middle-aged woman stood rather straight. Greying hair and bags under her eyes couldn’t take away the impression of force that hung around her. Lyna look into her eyes and received a small shock. They were cold. She instinctively glanced at Guy. But there was no time to judge his expression because, at a gesture from the woman, a helper brought forward the plate with turned up margins in which were placed marigold flowers, vermillion, the small lit lamp and an essence stick. The oval lamp which held a cotton wick in it and the plate were made of pure silver. Both the women stepped forward and the older one brought the worship plate and moved it, describing a circle in front of Guy once. The kids hankered to join in and began to strew petals from the flowers on the salver over Guy and Lyna.

  ‘Gautum, Sheena, stop.’ Savika hurried to brush off the excessive petals from Lyna. She shook them out of her hair, grinning at the kids who smiled impishly, introducing themselves, the boy thin and sharp nosed, the girl with bangs, braids and a pouting mouth. They demanded to be taken up by Guy, one after the other.

  He looked so at home here...so much a part of this...how different was he at the office... She observed the way he responded to Savika’s tight hug. How, with easy familiarity, he obliged the kids, exclaiming they had grown heavy, making them giggle as he swung them up high. How, as the party moved onto the porch, he paused, touching one of the beautiful fluted white pillars, supporting the gold arches, then once inside the large ornate set of double doors, his hand trailed over the large bronze ornament depicting a warrior on rearing horse. He must like to touch the familiar things.

  Her attention captured by her royal surroundings, she gave in to the impulse to gawk and drank in her opulent surroundings. She ought to pinch herself, because surely, she had been transported into another era. The basalt flooring overlaid by thick hand woven carpet depicting rich hues of peacocks and ornamental flowers, the heavy crimson draperies with gold tassels, the magnificent chandelier that hung over the square sitting area.

  Coming out of her enchantment, she realized that Guy’s mother had turned away without looking at her. She tried to catch her eye several times but failed…maybe she had forgotten in the rush.

  ‘Come and meet Dadu.’ She thought Savika addressed this to her.

  ‘Can we go and play, mummy?’ Sheena and Gautum wriggled away. Up the imposing stairway, down a darkened but deliciously cool corridor and then they were being ushered into an unlit room with blinds drawn. She stopped at the threshold. The room was bare of all furniture except the canopied bed at the far end.

  It had an almost circular shape and the blinds must lead onto the balcony.

  ‘He believes in tradition,’ Savika told her. ‘In the olden times, everyone sat around on durries, you know. He says it affords the coolness of the floor and saves on AC.’

  The aged man, seated on a blue-yellow patterned durri with bolsters supporting him, nodded to them to come in. A manservant sat near him, pressing on his feet and legs. Thick, grey moustaches gave him a fierce look. Maybe that was why kids had slipped away. Even seated, it was obvious he had good stature, he looked bulky but it was tempered by his height. He wore a tight corset and a loose dhoti, the Indian way of wearing a loosely tied sheet by passing an end between the legs and securing it behind. Lyna had seen this sort of costume only in period films or dramas.

  ‘My son!’ He opened his arms to Guy. Before he could go near him, his mother stepped forward as though presenting Guy to him. ‘Here, come and meet your grandfather. He’s been missing you, you know. So much.’ Her voice became teary. ‘You mustn’t behave like that ever again. Breaking his heart and being so stiff with pride. No one’s ego is more important than family.’

  A pregnant silence fell and Lyna had the distinct feeling of being definitely de trop.

  Unable to leave, she listened, wondering why the effect of the words wasn’t as grudgingly motherly as it should be. Rather it sounded as though he had been an errant grandson.

  His mother continued in the same vein, but watching both of them somehow oblivious to the continuous chatter of female voice, Lyna knew from their faces, as both men hugged, that a deep affection existed between them.

  ‘Three years,’ said his grandfather. ‘You have changed your hairstyle and what happened to the beard?’

  Guy
stroked his smooth jaw and chuckled, ‘I fell afoul of fashion back then and kept it. Now they are in fashion, so I removed it. How have you been, old man?’

  His Dadu grinned. Apparently, it was an old form of address. ‘Monkey lad, better than you left me!’

  He extended a hand towards her. ‘Come here, my dear.’

  She made a respectful greeting and sat beside him, folding her legs beneath her. It was indeed uncomfortable. She was reminded of her mother’s religious meetings.

  The senior Pratap Singh gave her a long look. ‘Lads choose their brides by themselves these days. Not in my time. We looked at the girls covertly and never dared say no, when our parents had chosen whom we should marry. But I am glad to welcome you. We are traditional and ordinarily I wouldn’t allow you here before marriage. But this grandson of mine...well, nowadays traditions are obsolete, so I wouldn’t say anything further about it. If Sita were here… But there’s your future mother in law. Hina will make sure you are comfortable. I’ll talk to you later. Go and get settled in. Him, I will keep.’ His hand closed on Guy’s wrist.

  He spoke partly in the local dialect, and the latter half in perfect English.

  Hina came forward. ‘I hope you haven’t forgotten your laptop like the last time, Guy. What a to-do there was!’ she tittered. Nobody else seemed to find it funny.

  ‘I’ll be back, Dadu.’ Guy got up along with Lyna. ‘I’ll show Lyna to her room and then come back.’

  Descending the stairs, they heard the roar of a motorbike driven very hard and fast. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, rapid footsteps sounded and a well grown youth, his hair windblown, wearing a bright yellow t shirt and jeans with multiple tears in it, burst in on them.

  ‘Guy!’ He stopped short, the color going from his face. ‘No one told me you were coming today.’

  ‘You know now.’ Guy didn’t sound perturbed. They patted each other’s shoulders, though with the boy it seemed like he was aspiring to the friendly gesture.

  ‘You look different.’

  ‘But you’re the same. Still driving without gear, I see.’