Bollywood Nights

by Shobhaa De

  Aasha Rani feigned puzzlement. “Stud? Oh, that was a friend of my father’s.”

  Jay looked disbelievingly at the broad back clad in a natty business suit. “That man—Appa’s friend?”

  “Yes,” said Aasha Rani sweetly, “and an ex-employee.”

  “What was he teaching the old man—Chinese?”

  “In a sense,” Aasha Rani replied. “He specializes in certain healing techniques he picked up from a Chinese master.”

  “I’ll be damned,” said Jay, shaking his head.

  Sasha had been staring at her mother. “Mommy, you look different.”

  “Why? What’s so different about me?” Aasha Rani laughed.

  “I don’t know…no, yes, I know, you look Indian,” Sasha said.

  Aasha Rani stared at her in surprise. “Well, darling, that’s what I am.”

  “No, you are not. At least, I didn’t think you were till Alice told me. And Granny too. So then, what am I?”

  Aasha Rani looked at Jay. “Ask your father.”

  “He told me to ask you,” Sasha insisted.

  “Well, darling, let me see, your dad is from New Zealand and your mommy from India. I guess that makes you half-and-half.”

  Sasha suddenly stomped her foot and cried, “I don’t want to be a bloody Indian. I don’t want to be a blackie.”

  Aasha Rani was too shocked to respond. She hugged her close and whispered into her hair, “It’s OK, darling, it’s all right. You can be anything or anyone you want to be.”

  Sasha was sobbing. “Alice told me you’d say I was Indian. She told me. Well, I hate being Indian. I don’t like Indians. I don’t like India. And I never want to go back.”

  Aasha Rani continued to hold her while Jay tried to change the subject, saying, “Come on, big girl. Aren’t you going to show Mommy all the flowers we have gotten for her? And the ‘welcome home’ cake in the oven? All the horses are waiting. And the dogs. We’re going to have a big barbecue party tonight, aren’t we, doll?”

  But Sasha wouldn’t stop crying. “I don’t want a party. I don’t want anything. I hate my mommy. I hate her clothes and her tummy showing and and everything.”

  “I suppose it really is my fault. I should have told her from the start. I should have behaved like an Indian. Been myself. Now she is feeling let down,” Aasha Rani said worriedly to Jay when they reached home. “She thinks I lied to her all along. And in a sense, that’s true. I did lie to her. God! I’m feeling so guilty and awful. What am I going to do?”

  “Well,” said Jay patiently, “to begin with, you are going to take a long, hot shower with me. And dress up for the party. I’ve invited a few of our neighbors, Mum and Dad, Alice—Sasha’s nanny—that couple we’d met a few times in the Italian restaurant. Remember them?”

  Aasha Rani was exhausted. And ready to cry. “Jay, darling, couldn’t this have waited? I mean, it was a long flight and I am feeling pooped. A party? Tonight? Since when have you started hobnobbing with the neighbors?”

  “Oh, we’ve been to a couple of dances, you know, and Halloween parties, costume things. I thought it was important for Sasha not to be lonely. She needs friends. We are isolated enough out here as it is.”

  “That’s true. It was sweet of you to arrange all that for her. By the way, who is the ‘we’?” Aasha Rani asked. “Sasha and her nanny, Alice?”

  Jay tried to kiss her. “Don’t be silly, darling. How could I handle the child all on my own? Besides, Sasha insisted on her coming along.”

  “Handle Sasha on your own? You’ve done it before. And she was much younger then. What is there to ‘handle’ now? She doesn’t wear nappies; she’s perfectly potty trained.”

  “It’s not that. I think she needed a mother figure,” Jay explained.

  “Sure,” said Aasha Rani. “And you, I suppose, needed a wife figure. Or am I being bitchy?”

  “No, you’re not. You are just being jealous. I can understand. But wait till you meet her nanny. She’s such a sweet girl. She’s the one who got all the flowers and arranged to bake the cake, getting Sasha to help her with everything. Even the barbecue was her idea. I thought that was really great, especially since Mum and Dad agreed to come. And Sasha’s aunts, cousins. Family, after all, is family.”

  Aasha Rani was too tired to get into an argument. She nodded. “You are right. I’m being ridiculous! Poor Sasha, and poor you. Managing all by yourselves while Mommy was away.”

  Jay kissed her on the forehead and said cheerily, “That’s my girl. Come on; take off your clothes. I’m dying to get you naked and look for all those moles.”

  Sasha didn’t want Aasha Rani to wear a sari for the party. “It looks awful, Mommy,” she kept saying. Aasha Rani decided to please her and wore jeans instead. Jay looked happy about the decision as well. “A sari, well, it’s a bit too exotic for the locals, you know, all the tum-tum showing. And your sexy belly button! It’s such an informal crowd. Let’s keep the sari for our special evening. You haven’t forgotten the wedding anniversary, have you?”

  Aasha Rani hadn’t forgotten. But she found no reason to be enthusiastic about it either.

  Alice, the nanny, showed up at six in the evening, all fresh and sweet in a summer dress. She was wholesome-looking—like newly baked bread. Clean, well scrubbed, with flushed cheeks and eyes the color of bluebells. Sasha clung to her skirt excitedly. “Where were you today? Why didn’t you come in the morning? I didn’t eat breakfast when I didn’t see you,” she chirped.

  Jay looked embarrassed and left the room to do some last-minute shopping for the party. Aasha Rani looked the young girl coolly in the eye. “You were sleeping with my husband, weren’t you?” she asked. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask him. And I’m not going to hit you or anything. But I want you out of this house and out of our lives this minute. I’ll mail you your wages. But get out now!”

  Sasha began weeping, even though it was obvious she didn’t get the true import of the conversation. But the hostility in Aasha Rani’s voice had been apparent, and the fact that she’d asked Alice to leave. She was enraged and shaking with hostility. “Mommy, you can’t do that. You can’t ask Nanny to go. I’ll tell Daddy. I’ll tell Grandma. I’ll tell everybody. If you don’t like her, you go. Go back to India. Go and wear saris there and act in all those silly films. I don’t want you. I don’t need you. I only want my nanny. I want to cuddle with her in the night and go to Daddy’s room in the morning to wake her up. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

  Aasha Rani tried to hold Sasha’s hand. But she pulled herself away violently. “Don’t touch me. I’m not your daughter. I don’t want to be your daughter.” Aasha Rani knew it was no use trying to reach out to her. Sasha needed time. Lots of time. Aasha Rani only hoped that she’d get it from her.

  When Jay got back an hour later, he was shocked to find Sasha sulking in her room. Aasha Rani was sitting calmly tinkering with the piano in the living room. “What happened?” he demanded. “Where’s Alice?” “I sacked her,” Aasha Rani said, still playing the piano.

  Jay strode over and grabbed her arm. “What? What do you mean, you sacked her? Who are you to do that? What about Sasha?”

  “You mean, what about you? Sasha will be fine eventually. She’s a little upset now, which is understandable. But you? How will you manage?”

  Jay sank into a deep armchair and said calmly, “Look, darling, we need to talk. Tonight is the wrong night. Still…I won’t bother to deny that she and I were having an affair—well, it’s a little more than that. I won’t even try to pass it off as a fling, a passing fancy. I love the girl. She loves me. And she loves Sasha. Things just worked out that way. I hadn’t planned it. I love you too, but differently. We’ve grown apart. We’ve been drifting off for quite a while now. I guess it was Sasha who was the common factor. Now that she’s older and has a mind of her own, we should allow her to choose the sort of life she wants for herself.

  “Baby, I know you. I get the feeling you want to go bac
k to India. More specifically, to Madras. Your exile is over. You don’t need to hide thousands of miles away any longer. You are ready to face India and your people. Perhaps on your own terms this time. It’s going to be difficult. More for you than for me. I’ll be there no matter what. I will provide all that is required to resettle you, get you back onto the fast track. But it’s over between us as husband and wife. I think you are realistic enough to acknowledge that much. Let’s not make it any harder on ourselves than is necessary. We’ve both been bruised—in different ways and by different people. I’m ready to start all over again. I know you can do it too.”

  Aasha Rani stared at the framed photograph of herself on the piano. She wanted to smash it. Wreck everything. Set the house on fire. Destroy Jay. Kill the nanny. And finally maybe take her own life. But there was Sasha. Poor, innocent Sasha. Trapped in this messy web of adult lies and deceit. No. There was no real choice. Aasha Rani had to accept what Jay was telling her. But first, there was the barbecue to enjoy. And Jay’s family and friends. Aasha Rani would dazzle and disarm them all tonight. She would show them she was not just a “bloody native,” some tribal woman from the back of the beyond.

  Aasha Rani went back to her room and chose a flashy sari—the sparkling pink one with sequins all over—and wondered whether the blouse would fit her fuller figure. She tried it on. A bit tight over the bust, but wearable. She applied her makeup carefully, making sure to match the bindi with the tiny turquoise motifs embroidered on her sari. She did her eyes differently—lining them with kaajal, accenting them in a way that was a far cry from the way the haughty models in those Revlon/Dior ads did. But there was something missing. Jewelry? She didn’t have much here. Flowers? Oh yes. She plucked a large rose from a vase and tucked it in her hair.

  Jay looked up when Aasha Rani walked down the stairs. It was early evening, and the light was beginning to fade. “My God, darling, you look dazzling!” he said, drawing in his breath. She looked at him evenly and said a soft thank-you. They both knew that what she really meant was farewell.

  Sasha came running up but stopped short at the sight of Aasha Rani. “Mommy!” she protested. “I told you not to wear that. I told you, I told you, I told you,” she wailed. Aasha Rani tried to calm her. She didn’t want to get provoked or provoke the little girl further. “Darling, I changed my mind…Besides, I couldn’t get into my old jeans; I’ve put on too much weight,” she said, trying to placate her distraught daughter. Sasha flounced off and began fussing with the plates.

  The guests began to trickle in. She recognized a few of them from her outings into town. They were polite but distant with her, though they were boisterous and friendly with Sasha and Jay. Aasha Rani watched her parents-in-law enter the living room briskly, accompanied by Jay’s unmarried sister. She noticed the shadow that crossed their faces and the way their expressions changed when they saw her. Jay’s mother smiled tightly and said, “Good to see you, Aasha Rani. Sasha sure missed you a whole lot.” It didn’t skip Aasha Rani’s notice that she hadn’t included her son. At least she was being honest. The father stood back and surveyed her. “Well, well, well, my dear. Aren’t we looking grand. Just like an Indian movie star, ha ha ha,” he guffawed. Aasha Rani joined in his laughter and took his hand. “Let’s fix you a drink,” she said.

  Years of golf and riding had ensured Jay’s father a slim physique. He was an extremely fit sixty, whose vivid tan was in sharp contrast to his skeletal wife’s ghostly pallor.

  Jay was being charming to everybody and was getting the barbecue going. Aasha Rani helped herself to another glass of Chardonnay. “Nice wine, huh?” she heard someone at her elbow say. It was her father-in-law. Jay turned up the music. It was an Australian rock band singing a cover of “Love to Love You, Baby.” Complete with the moans and groans.

  Jay’s father wiggled his bottom and shook his leg. “Dance?” he asked. “Later, perhaps,” she said. He took her by the arm and led her to the edge of the patio. “You’re a very beautiful woman,” he whispered into her ear appreciatively. Aasha Rani looked him in the eyes. “Thank you. That’s the first nice thing I’ve heard since my arrival here.”

  They sat down and watched as more people strolled in and exchanged raucous greetings. Some of them had begun gyrating on the floor. She felt her father-in-law’s hot breath on her neck. “You’re a sexy woman,” he said, his eyes gleaming. Reaching across the small folding table, he placed his hand over hers. “Jay is a lucky guy. We always thought he was a sissy, shy with the ladies, if you know what I mean. And look at you! I mean, I’m sure you need a really hot-blooded man in your bed.” His hand over hers tightened its grip as he squeezed it suggestively. She felt his knees rub against hers—the rough texture of his jeans cutting through the flimsy layers of her sari. He was staring at her partially exposed cleavage, and she watched as his thick tongue darted out and ran over his lips. Contemptuously Aasha Rani thought of the fashionable bag of bones her father-in-law went to bed with every night. Of Jay’s flat-chested sister. And her own spineless husband who was doing the Birdy dance on the small wooden floor with Sasha.

  She felt her father-in-law’s free hand feeling her thigh under the table. The trees began to whirl around her. She saw undisguised desire in his eyes as he leaned toward her. “What’s the matter, dear? Feeling giddy?”

  She nodded her head. “It’s the wine, oh God, the bloody wine. It’s everybody and everything. I hate it; I hate you.” Aasha Rani tried to get to her feet, but she lost her balance and spilled the contents of her glass on Jay’s father. Aasha Rani began to giggle. “There, that should cool you off, you horny son of a bitch.” And she chucked what remained in her glass right onto his bulging crotch.

  AASHA RANI HAD ALWAYS RESISTED wearing ethnic ensembles abroad. She just found it so much simpler to merge with the masses than to be ogled like some leftover exhibit from the Festival of India. Not that adopting a Westernized appearance had helped. It had just confused her little daughter. Maybe someday Sasha would forgive her—maybe even understand and accept her, as she had Amma and Appa.

  She was waiting in the departure lounge with Jay and Sasha. Sasha was holding on to Jay’s hand and was watching her mother adjust the pleats of her brilliant blue-green Kanjeevaram sari. The flight to London was announced, and the passengers got ready for the security check. Aasha Rani went up to Sasha and hugged her tight. Her baby. How she would miss her. Sasha quietly handed her a folded, grubby piece of paper—and was gone. It was as she was walking to the plane that she unfolded the paper. On it was a clumsily drawn picture of a lady with a huge bindi, in a sari. Under it Sasha had printed, “My Mommy,” in shaky letters.

  Shonali

  AASHA RANI STARED OUT OF THE WINDOW AS HER CAB ROLLED through the still-deserted streets of London in the early hours of the morning. London had been a decision that she hadn’t fully thought through. All she had known at the time was that after her showdown with Jay, she couldn’t bear going back to Madras with the problems of Amma and Appa and an empty house in Bombay. She’d felt defeated and utterly alone, and all she’d wanted to do was run and hide. London was as good a place as any. And then Jay had come up with an unexpectedly generous offer. He had a tiny flat in London, and she was welcome to stay there for as long as she wanted. Plus he offered her an allowance. Unmindful of the damage to her ego, she’d not taken time to grab the lifeline he offered. Now that she was here she would have to make some hard decisions. The first was an obvious one: If she was planning to stay here for a while, she would have to find a job that would not only supplement Jay’s allowance but also keep her occupied. Perhaps a crash course in hairdressing or one in makeup and grooming. The world was full of opportunities and possibilities. The trick was to grab them at the right time.

  As it turned out, Aasha Rani didn’t have to slog or scrounge at all. Within the first month in London, on a gray, drippy day, as she drifted from one Harrods makeup counter to the next, trying on the latest in lipsticks and eyeshadows, a stunn
ingly attractive Indian woman—very chic and very well dressed—walked up to her. “You’re Aasha Rani, aren’t you?” she asked. “I would have recognized that incredible face anywhere.”

  Aasha Rani took in the sleek, smiling, superbly groomed creature standing in front of her and smiled uncertainly. The woman held out her hand. “Hi! I’m Shonali Leclerc; I’m from India too. Originally. Now I live and work in London, Paris, New York—you know.”

  Aasha Rani didn’t quite know how to react to this stunning stranger. Her outfit was so elegant and yet so trampy. She could have been a countess or a hooker. Cream-colored crepe de chine with ropes and ropes of faux pearls. The jewelry was somewhat exaggerated, but the overall effect breathtaking. Aasha Rani noticed her silk stockings and the tiny feet fitting neatly into beige shoes with four-inch heels. The bag looked expensive, as did the professionally done coiffeur. Shonali was as dusky as Aasha Rani, but her makeup was done to a high gloss, giving her a sheen that blended with her clothes. She was exotic but not obviously so. Her figure was ripe and full, with the smallest waist Aasha Rani had ever seen. The polished buckle of her belt drew attention to its perfect proportion and emphasized the shapely hips that flared under it. She moved gracefully, like a Thai dancer, and smiled with her eyes.

  Aasha Rani just kept staring stupidly. Finally she heard herself say, “Oh, I see. So nice meeting you.”

  “Are you alone? Busy?”

  “Not really,” Aasha Rani said.

  “Shall we have tea somewhere?” Shonali asked.

  She wished she’d bothered a little with her own appearance that morning. She was looking like an absolute hag, she knew. She’d woken up feeling depressed. Her face was puffy, thanks to the pills she’d popped, and the day was drippy and miserable. She didn’t know what she wanted to do with herself that day. Not that the morning was any different from the ones that had preceded it. Over two weeks in London and still looking for the key to the future. She’d applied to a few salons. All the courses cost a packet. But money was not really the problem. She just couldn’t seem to shake off her apathy. She’d even toyed with the idea of phoning Malini. Now, with Akshay out of the way, perhaps she’d be less hostile. She’d heard Malini had tentatively resumed her career and was giving small concerts in London. She was also going back to recording some of her old hits. Apparently she’d pulled out of the tragedy quite unscarred. Not that that surprised Aasha Rani, who’d always found Malini cold and unfeeling.