by Anil Chawla
Kalpu then redeployed a couple of staff members, who clearly looked idle, into serving roles. Posters were put up across the mess informing students that along with self-service, staff would now serve second helpings, so there was no need to pile up their plates unnecessarily. Staff now wore waiter-style aprons and moved across the dining hall both at lunch and dinner for about 90 minutes. She was smart enough to do briefings for the mess staff in chaste Gujarati, which made them feel like she was one of them.
The first two or three days were chaotic, but students were quick to realize the benefits of reduced food wastage. While many of the students were from rich families and Ivy League backgrounds, there were many who had borrowed money to come to WIMA. One thing common to all of them was the desire to do something which made them look socially useful, and not wasting food was surely such an act. For the majority, every such thing had a CV top-up value.
And then it took off in a big way. Students started to derive a kind of mental satisfaction from preventing food wastage when a large part of the Indian population lived on barely a meal a day. The initiative was a super-hit and very soon Kalpu became the darling of her batch as well as her seniors. Suddenly, a lot of boys were seeking her attention. She was felicitated by the institute in a specially organized ceremony. Even the mess staff was delighted, having realized their potential.
This unrivalled accomplishment earned Kalpu the respect of students and teachers alike. She had emerged as the best among her peers, a future queen.
Come October, the campus thrummed with garba buzz. Ahmedabad came alive with garba music, dance and masti during the days of Navratri. Boys and girls, men and women, old and young, all participated with enthusiasm and fervour. It was seen year after year, batch after batch, that even without many local students at the campus, WIMA students participated in garba and dandiya in large numbers. And there was a management tinge to the whole affair. It was planned several weeks in advance. Students made an effort to learn the nuances of the festival. They bought or rented dandiya sticks and practised for hours in the dorm. Partners were chosen and some even took lessons from experts. Many boys chose colourful local attire for the occasion. The girls went all out and got glittering chaniya-cholis tailored.
Together, they went garba-hopping, particularly in the nearby Vastrapur, Satellite Road, Drive-In, and Ambavadi areas. Some also participated in the garba competitions that were fast emerging in the city. It was not unusual for WIMA boys and girls to win some of these competitions. While many first-year students learned garba from seniors, some went out to learn from local experts. Several clever entrepreneurs had even set up garba classes.
Kalpu became still more popular when students realized that she was Gujarati and had participated in garba her whole life. She coached a few girls and boys herself and some of them excelled in the events in which they participated. Along with dancing tips, she freely dispensed suitable warnings about the undesirable outcomes of getting too intimate in the excitement of the festivities.
MBA seemed to suit her persona. She discovered an immense interest in marketing and decided to specialize in the field. She also opted for electives which focused on advertising and branding. WIMA had a first-class marketing department and was ranked pretty high amongst its peers.
In the February 1992 campus placements, she was offered the role of brand manager in the marketing department of a pharmaceutical MNC, ElVeeDee. The package was attractive and included accommodation near their head office in Mumbai’s Dadar area.
Thus started Kalpu’s transformation from reluctant techie to powerful Sales and Marketing Superwoman.
The Voyeur
The black BMW came to a screeching halt, almost flinging Pantu’s laptop off its perch on his belly. He himself got a nasty jerk and reacted with a desi expletive, ‘S***a, what are you doing, Ram?’ Ram, his driver, had braked suddenly to avoid a side-on collision with a tempo that had taken a sharp turn with no prior indication. Ram muttered something barely audible sprinkled with a couple of ‘sorrys’, which calmed his boss down. He changed gears and accelerated. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at Pantu’s office in Nehru Place. Taking his laptop and briefcase, Pantu swiftly climbed the stairs of Deepak Building. He headed towards his cabin, responding absent-mindedly to the greetings of his employees. His secretary Sonia approached him, trying to say something, but Pantu was pre-occupied and heard nothing. As he entered the room, he was surprised to see a woman sitting on one of the chairs.
‘Who is… ?’ Even before he could complete his sentence, Sonia informed him that ‘Ma’am’ had said she’d been his college friend, and hence had been allowed to wait in his office. As she spoke, Pantu moved towards his chair and glanced at his guest sideways. His heart started pounding the moment he recognized her. It was Saloni, his old flame from LEC. He dumped his bag on the table, yelled in excitement, and greeted her. Saloni was on her feet by this time and the two old friends hugged one another. Sonia retreated silently, suppressing a giggle: the scene looked like a well-dressed professional lady trying to hug a big ball.
As Saloni sat down, Pantu looked at her carefully. Seeing her now, after all these years, he felt that time had taken its toll. She looked older than her 31 years, with the beginnings of fine lines on her face and dark circles under her eyes. He had last seen her years ago at a seminar. In fact, they’d had very little contact after college—just an occasional email or two. Now, Pantu quickly dismissed all thoughts of work, and the two started to reminisce about campus days and the fun times they had shared.
After some time, Saloni paused, drew a deep breath and said, ‘Pantu, I came here to seek some help from you. And it’s a bit personal.’ Pantu was all ears and encouraged Saloni to go ahead. The grimness on her face was in sharp contrast to her persona at LEC, and it made Pantu sad.
***
Saloni was the most beautiful girl on campus during Pantu’s years at LEC. Even subsequent batches who’d seen her in person or pictures said her attractive looks had remained unmatched for many years. Senior boys went all out to please her, and juniors made a beeline for her attention. Saloni was quite a flirt in those days and knew how and when to turn on the charm to get her way. A smile here, a ‘hi’ and a ‘bye’ there, a wave of her hand, a showy flick of her hair, a subtle wink were routine. She was an average student, but that hardly mattered when the brightest of her batch mates tried to woo her to join their study groups for assignments. She was confident that she wouldn’t have to do a thing, with others so willing to do her part. Toppers vied with each other to clarify her doubts in various subjects. Some guys even did assignments twice—first for her and then for themselves. Sometimes they were so busy thinking about her in their second go that they ended up making mistakes in their own assignments, and Saloni got the higher grade! Not just students, even some of the younger male teachers were unusually soft on her—be it her punctuality, attendance, assignment submission, or performance in quizzes and exams. This was a source of much exasperation for the other girls.
One thing she was good at was badminton. When she appeared on court in her specially selected short skirts, boys from all batches showed up to cheer for her and her shapely legs. A collective gasp could be heard from the stands with every one of her drop shots and smashes. She knew her effect on boys and wasn’t beyond taking advantage of it. An intentional show of cleavage was often enough to make her mixed doubles opponent miss the line.
Saloni was from Punjab, and this seemed to give Pantu an advantage over her many other fans. Detractors, of course, tried their best to spoil the party in the early stages. Some of them even came up with the absurd claim that being fellow Punjabis, the two were brother and sister.
Sammy had a dig at him after a badminton match. ‘Look,’ he told Pantu, ‘Saloni has just lost the match. Like a good brother, you should console her and get her an ice cream’.
Pantu promptly retorted, ‘How can a beauty like her be my sister? Look at her figure, and look at me�
��can a beauty queen and a roly-poly be siblings?’ While there was laughter all around, Saloni had looked at Pantu with interest. She was drawn to his ability to laugh at himself confidently. Encouraged by her look and gesture, he went on to declare that they were most definitely not brother and sister. Saloni grinned and nodded, and Sammy and many others looked crestfallen.
Then Saloni sighed dramatically. ‘That match was tough! I desperately want something cold to drink—a Limca or Gold Spot or Thums Up, or anything—but I have no energy to walk all the way to the shop!’ Pantu was waiting for a chance to impress her and promptly offered to get her cold drinks. She smiled winningly at him and Pantu was bowled over yet again. She told him she was headed to her room to freshen up and he could just bring the drinks there. He nodded and rushed to the shop, bought all the three drinks she had named, and went to the girls’ hostel. There was a guard posted there but he got serious about his duties only after seven in the evening. With a spring in his step, Pantu headed straight towards Saloni’s room and knocked.
No one answered. Then another first-year girl came over and informed him that Saloni had gone for a bath. Pantu’s brain immediately went into overdrive, picturing Saloni having a shower—in great detail. For several minutes, he just stood there like a statue, with his eyes very round and glazed and his jaw practically on the floor. His mind, in fact, wasn’t in the corridor at all; it was busy peeping into the shower. The girl had seen these symptoms before, and decided to interrupt Pantu’s wild fantasies. ‘There she is,’ she said and left, rolling her eyes at the look on his face.
Pantu felt momentarily disappointed as his voyeuristic daydreams were cut short, but when he raised his head and looked up, his heart skipped a beat. The real Saloni was walking towards her room, damp hair spread over her shoulders, a towel on one arm. Pantu’s gaped first at her somewhat translucent top and then at her very short shorts. Saloni waved at him, pushed her door open and went inside. Cautious, and perhaps a bit scared, Pantu stayed where he was. She emerged again a few moments later, this time without the towel and her hair superficially combed. ‘Why are you waiting outside? Come on in.’
Pantu stepped into her room and had a quick look around. It was neat and elegant, with everything in place. She had casually dumped her used clothes in a corner bucket, which was the only unkempt thing in the room. Pantu quickly averted his eyes from this as he did not want her to think that he was looking at the bra in it. Saloni prompted him to sit down. He saw a chair with a pile of neatly ironed clothes on it, and hesitated. Saloni casually sat on her bed and tapped the spot next to her, inviting him to sit there. With trembling legs, he walked towards the bed and sat next to her. He was no longer cool but cold, and sweating profusely. Suddenly, she touched his hand and asked, ‘Are you all right, Pantu?’
What he wanted to say was, ‘Who’d feel all right, looking at you!’ What came out of his mouth was an incoherent mumble. He quickly held out all the bottles of cold drinks he had brought with him. ‘Which one do you want to drink first?’
She laughed and took the Limca from his hands and asked him to open it. Pantu did so in a jiffy, using his kada expertly. As she took a few swallows from the bottle, he goggled at her. His eyes moved from her lips to her throat and inevitably downwards. Pantu’s eyes were fixed on her bosom when she offered him the bottle. He accepted it and took an intoxicating sip. They took turns to finish the Limca. She said ‘thanks’ with a smile and wiped her lips.
He still couldn’t believe that he was sitting on the bed of the most beautiful girl on campus, but the digression had made him feel better. Slowly, his confidence and poise returned and he started talking to Saloni normally. Soon, he had her in splits with his tales and filmi lines. She laughed at his jokes until she was red in the face. She stretched her arms up to relax and Pantu asked if she was tired and needed a rest. She nodded in the affirmative. She got up and quite casually, gave him a parting hug. ‘Visit me sometimes. It was good to meet you today.’
Pantu said bye and left, still feeling the touch of her body. He felt drunk, as if he needed to hold onto something till the dizziness passed.
***
Pantu realized that he was gripping the armrests of his chair.
‘Are you shocked and disappointed to see me again?’ her voice brought him back to the present.
Pantu dispelled her doubts with a broad grin, reassuring her that he was extremely happy to see her; it was just that he had travelled down memory lane to his first visit to her hostel and the hug that she have given him. Saloni’s sadness turned into a huge but apparently forced smile.
Her voice trembled when she said, ‘You haven’t changed over the years. The same frankness, the same bindaas honesty in expressing your true thoughts and feelings, the same truthfulness in relationships.’ Her eyes were moist and she looked like she was about to cry.
Wanting to cheer her up, Pantu went into filmi mode and intoned melodramatically, ‘Mard ki ek zabaan hoti hai. Wo mard hi kya, jo apni baat aur ishtyle badal de (A true man never goes back on his words nor changes his style).’
But Saloni burst into tears and covered her face with her hands. Pantu put an arm around her shoulders and patted her. Saloni leaned towards him, her head resting on the side of his big belly, and sobbed.
After a while, Pantu said, trying to make her smile, ‘Oh! Stop now. My shoulder and neck are aching from stooping, and your sobbing is tickling my little tummy.’
She laughed. Pantu gently wiped her eyes with a tissue. His heart beat fast, like old times.
She regained her composure after a while and asked if she could use the washroom. Pantu pointed to the door. She went inside and emerged a few minutes later, smiling. She wore no make-up, but she looked stunning again. Pantu realized that a few streaks of grey in her hair made her look graceful and dignified.
Pantu was staring at her when she said, ‘Now don’t you tell me that your heart skipped a beat. Your heart skips a beat whenever there is a pretty girl around!’ They both laughed. He pressed the bell to order tea. Saloni softly asked if she could get something to eat as she hadn’t had breakfast.
Pantu asked his secretary Sonia to get toast and scrambled eggs. Suddenly, he turned back to Saloni and asked, ‘Do you want some aloo parathas? With pickle, butter, and curd?’ Like the whole LEC campus, Saloni too had known Pantu’s love of parathas.
‘Saloni, jam ke thoonste hain (let’s stuff our faces)! I’ll enjoy that,’ Pantu said persuasively. Saloni asked if he too had missed his breakfast. Pantu shook his head.
‘Then?’ she asked, but quickly remembered Pantu’s typical response: his second breakfast would be accommodated on the ‘conductor’s seat’ in his stomach. Pantu changed the order, instructing Sonia to send the tea in first.
After a few minutes, she came in herself with a tray carrying a teapot, milk, sugar, some cookies, and two cups, saucers and teaspoons. It was a bit unusual for a secretary to be doing a bearer’s job, but Sonia had been working with Pantu for several years now and did not mind making the tea at all. Given the unusual developments since Saloni’s arrival at his office, Pantu thought it best to introduce them.
‘Sonia, this is Saloni, my collegemate from LEC. And Saloni, this is Sonia, my left and right hand in office.’
The two women greeted each other. Sonia made tea and left the room. As they sipped from their cups, Pantu pushed the plates of cookies towards Saloni. She picked one up and said, ‘You seem to have learnt some table manners.’
‘No choice. Being in the corporate world, these are must-knows,’ he responded.
After a few minutes, the peon came in with a huge tray containing their full Punjabi breakfast and placed it neatly on the table. He then brought in some fine cutlery and served them the hot parathas with pickle, curd and butter. Everything was delicious and they ate to their fill. Pantu’s mobile phone rang and he picked it up with an oily hand; his wife was on the other end. He asked sweetly, ‘How are you, honey?’ His wife sensed that P
antu was eating something and asked what and why. Pantu, with a large piece of paratha in his mouth, replied honestly, ‘Aloo ke parathe, makkhan, dahi, achaar.’ In his opinion, this answered both her questions.
‘But you had breakfast at home!’ she yelled. ‘Half-a-dozen slices of toast, a large omelette, and a huge glass of milk!’
‘Oho! Dear, my old LEC friend Saloni has come here after so many years and I ordered it for her. Me, I’m just having a little bite to keep her company.’ Saloni was smiling because a ‘little bite’ was actually three big fat parathas.
Suddenly, Pantu became serious in his conversation which made Saloni think hard. The one or two words which Pantu was saying in response to his wife’s statements indicated that she was referring to something from his past. Then Saloni heard him say, ‘Sure, honey. I’ll invite her home. Don’t worry.’ He listened for a little longer and said, ‘But you haven’t even met her. How can I?’ After a moment, he said, ‘Okay, I’ll give her the phone,’ and extended the phone to Saloni, saying that his wife Bubbly aka Balwinder Kaur wanted to talk to her.
Saloni was surprised and hesitant but took the phone and greeted Bubbly. They talked for a few minutes and the conversation appeared to be quite cordial. After hanging up, Saloni was quiet for some time as if she was trying to master her emotions. And then she said, ‘You’re very lucky, Pantu. You have such a supportive wife. She insisted that I visit your place and have dinner with you people. By the way, what all you have told her about us?’
Pantu said, ‘Everything.’
‘Everything!’ repeated a shocked Saloni. ‘Do you really mean everything?’
Pantu responded in the affirmative and there was total silence in the room—a silence louder than a bomb. After some time, Pantu philosophically said, ‘Listen, Saloni. In life and, more particularly, in relationships, it is best to be honest and straight. Before Bubbly and I married, I shared all the important things about my past with her, and she did the same. And we’ve been happily married for so many years.’