‘Aunty, aap pehli baar foreign jaa rahe hai?’ Simi finally asked her if she was going abroad for the first time.
‘Akele nahi jaa rahi. I am taking my husband to America as a surprise. Next month is our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary,’ Mrs. Shah explained to make it clear she was not going alone.
‘Congratulations. You can decide on a nice tourist destination from here,’ Simi said showing Aunty some brochures.
Mrs. Shah looked confused and so she selected the one on the top — Disneyland.
‘How is this one?’ she asked, masking her ignorance. This was nothing new for Simi. Seventy percent of the customers who walked into her agency were just curious, hopeful travelers who were just there to browse. Most didn’t come back after taking the brochures home.
‘Aunty, that’s the Disneyland package. It’s mostly for families with young kids. For you, I would suggest a nice place like Colorado or maybe Hawaii?’ Simi said kindly offering her professional advice.
Mrs. Shah took a minute. ‘Where would you go?’
Simi smiled.
‘Aunty, I would go to apna Mahabaleshwar or McLeod Ganj in Himachal Pradesh, and stay there for ten days and concentrate on my honeymoon rather than spending so much money flying to America. The United States is not that great. It’s a thirty-hour flight, and you need a visa. You have an American visa, right?’
‘Yes, our passports came last week, iss liye to aayi hoon tickets book karne.’
‘Not passport, Aunty. Visa, visa!’ Simi stressed.
‘I know you travel agents ask for unnecessary documents just so that you can charge me more money,’ Mrs. Shah shot back at Simi. Apparently, one of aunty’s friends used to go abroad every year and ‘all she took was her passport!’
Simi could have made a sale then, she needed one as she was so far behind her monthly quota. Instead she decided to explain the visa requirements to her customer. One hour later, Mrs. Shah stopped arguing and finally understood that she did need a visa. Nonetheless, she left the office angrily. Thankfully, soon after Shabnam showed up full of apologies. It was four p.m.
‘Amy, don’t ask,’ she announced. Simi was not planning to; she was not someone who poked her nose into anyone else’s business. She shut her computer down and left the office.
Ten minutes later
Simi had parked her Kinetic Honda, the two-wheeler of choice of millions of young girls in India, and had entered her flat in the middle class neighborhood of Dharampeth. Their building was sandwiched between the railway colony on one side and the LIC colony on the other. Her mother was surprised to see her home early.
‘What’s wrong? Are you feeling OK?’ She muted the television.
Simi rushed into the bedroom.
‘Haan, Mummy. I have some work to do.’
‘Hai? If you have some work to do, how come you are home?’ Her mother always asked probing questions starting with “Hai”. For her, “hai” was like the joker in a card game. She could use it anywhere to express a range of emotions from surprise to shock to amazement to disbelief. Anything actually.
But Simi wasn’t really listening. She had grabbed a change of clothes and had gone into the bathroom. She stood in front of an oval shaving mirror stuck to the wall. She quickly gave herself a dry bath and put on a fresh bra and clean panties. She pressed the nozzle on her Nike Sensual Touch deodorant, but it was empty.
One hundred and fifty rupees a piece and this only lasts a week!
‘Beta, the cylinderwala is going to come in the evening. You are going to be home by then?’ her mother called from just outside the bathroom door.
Gosh, give me some space, Mom!
Simi came out of the bathroom to find her mother standing two inches from her face.
‘I just don’t know how much extra money to give him. He is never happy with the tip,’ she said about the cylinderwala who delivered the LPG cylinders they used for cooking.
‘Mom, I should be back in an hour or so. I’ll take care of it. Aap apna serial dekho, Saraswatichandra.’ Simi hurried past her mother.
‘Kal raat wala repeat aa raha hai,’ her mom complained.
‘I have to rush now!’ Simi gathered her bag and the keys to the Kinetic.
‘You need some money?’ her mother asked, digging into her purse.
‘Why … why would I need money?’ Simi suddenly sounded defensive.
‘Perfume maar ke jaa rahi hai. I don’t want to ask too many questions, I am not a nosy mother, but if you are meeting friend log, you want some money?’ her mother asked, trying to sound casual as she picked up her purse.
‘Mom, I’ll see you soon!’ Simi wanted to avoid getting into a discussion.
Seven minutes later
Simi arrived at the lake — Telangkhadi Talav. It was possibly the only romantic spot in the entire city of Nagpur. Currently, however, the water had receded so much that it resembled a nullah what with all the trash floating in it. Simi parked her Kinetic at a deserted, predetermined spot, and gave someone a missed call. As she waited, her breathing was fast and shallow.
Keep yourself calm Simi, you wanted this!
Soon a Maruti Alto — possibly the smallest car on Indian roads — pulled up nearby and she got in.
Namit Chohan had been her friend since college days. They were not best friends, but he had been trying to date her for the last two years. While Simi thought he was a safe bet as she had gone with him twice to the movies and once to dinner. Simi thought that they were going steady. But Namit would tell his friends ‘I’m going to bang her.’
Namit drove up a hill, took a left turn onto a dirt road and finally parked the car behind some bushes.
‘Are you ready, Simi?’ he asked. No asking her how her day was, no talk about the weather, no general chitchat. Namit got straight to the point. She couldn’t blame him, he knew why they were meeting, and he knew the plan.
Simi was going to lose her virginity today. It was her idea.
At twenty-three, Simi was probably the only one amongst her peers who was still a virgin. It was not a big deal to her, but peer pressure was mounting and she wanted to get it over with. She just wasn’t sure if Namit was the right guy though. But, at this stage, anyone would have been OK. The objective was not with whom, the objective was losing it.
She sat nervously as Namit took out a pack of condoms from his hip pocket.
A five-pack!
‘What, you haven’t seen a condom before?’ Namit said as he saw her expression, sounding like he was her teacher.
His condescending attitude was not needed. He was right; she had not seen a condom before, and she took the packet from him. It looked suspect, with a brand name that didn’t read Kamasutra or Durex — both established brands — but instead it was called HOT MEN and had a shoddy picture of a horse on his hind legs. Namit took the pack back and excitedly ripped it open with his teeth.
That cannot be healthy.
‘Simi, are you ready to do some boom-boom, boom shaka boom boom?’
‘Do what?’ Simi couldn’t understand what Namit was saying. She could feel her thighs shut tight. She was tense and didn’t know what to do, so she started rolling all the windows up.
‘Why are you closing the windows?’
‘What if someone comes?’
‘Simi, they’re not even tinted. No one’s coming this side.’
They shifted to the back seat. The Maruti Alto was not made for backseat sex. But no one had told them that. It was like trying to do it in a small refrigerator.
Namit was unzipping his jeans; Simi was aroused. He started unhooking her top and tried his best to mask his over-excitement by reciting a poem.
‘You asked me what I want from you.
And so I will answer you
With the greatest of pain,
That I want it all.
Your eyes and your heart beating for me
Your desires turning to me to be filled.
Your lips quivering in request for me
Your thirst wanting to be thrilled.
The taste of your lips and your tongue
wetting my mouth, your back arched.
As you show me the light within you
And these are just the beginnings.’
Not that it made any sense, but Simi didn’t hear a single word Namit had said. She was terrified. Now he was sliding down her jeans. Her breathing became heavier, but she remained alert.
‘Namit, please be gentle, OK?’
‘I want to make you scream,’ he said with all sincerity. ‘Scream with pleasure, of course! I want you to loosen up and trust me.’ He took her hand and put it on his thigh.
Maybe this was going to be better than I thought.
‘But before that, I am going to make sure that you feel emotionally and sensually pleasured so that it will be easy for you to scream.’ Namit was nuzzling his face on Simi’s neck.
‘Uh, huh, ho … she had closed her eyes.
He spread and raised her legs. The space was so damn small; she couldn’t avoid resting them on the window.
‘This is going to be a tantric experience; it will elevate your eighth chakra and will give you a nirvana-like spiritual experience!’
‘Spiritual experience?’ Simi said, because she felt she should say something.
‘Yep, an earth-shattering, powerful union of two bodies where they cease to exist individually and merge to become one,’ Namit said, sensually kissing her lips.
He must have had dal for lunch! — is all she could think.
Simi’s eyes were shut tight. She wasn’t sure what was going on. Did sex just happen? She couldn’t tell. Wasn’t she supposed to feel nice? She felt nice. Or did she? She couldn’t tell.
Two minutes had gone by. She opened her eyes. Namit was grinning at her.
‘So?’ he asked expectantly. He was sure acting like it was over. Was that it? Simi was contemplating her response, when Namit suddenly freaked out. ‘Oh shit, oh shit!’
‘What? WHAT?’ Simi was speculating about whether the condom had split.
Oh Lord!
‘You broke the glass!’ he screamed.
‘What?’ she asked loudly.
‘In the heat of passion you must’ve kicked your legs hard — look the window is broken!’
‘Namit, I … I …’
Namit was outside the car by now freaking out. Simi quickly got dressed.
‘Shit, shit! My dad’s going to kill me!’ Namit started wiping the glass out from the back seat.
Simi was not sure if the glass was broken “in the heat of passion” as Namit suggested, because she had felt no heat and certainly no passion. But she felt guilty.
‘I am sorry, Namit.’
‘Papa is going to be back tomorrow from Mumbai. He cannot see this, we have to fix it!’
Namit was already back in the driver’s seat. Simi got in. The drive back to her Kinetic was awkward. He was mad and scared; she was not even able to process what happened. Was she still a virgin or did she just lose it? She didn’t feel any pain; she was feeling the same as before. She couldn’t tell. What she was feeling for sure was guilt and shame. She was feeling dirty and was regretting even contemplating losing her virginity. She should have waited until her wedding night to do it, like other nice girls in India.
But, really, these days, who is still a virgin when they get married? Even in India?
Nobody she knew was a virgin. And her friends claimed they were not. How could she be the only naïve one and such a loser for not even doing it once? Simi told herself, at least for now, that she could lie about losing it, even though the more she rubbed her thighs together to see if she could tell, the more convinced she was that she was still as virginal as virgins come. But still, she felt like a slut when she realized that she could have made Namit work a little harder to get into her pants.
Tch.
‘Namit, you get it fixed and I’ll pay for it, OK? she told him when he dropped her off. ‘I’ll give you the money!’
It was just a polite offer. Namit didn’t question it.
‘OK,’ he said quickly before he put the car into gear and he was gone.
Minutes later
Simi was nearing home.
Does it happen this way to all the girls? Two fucking minutes! Or two minutes fucking to be precise! Is this as good as it is going to get?
She wanted to get home and take a bath and wash off yet another disappointing episode from her life. But when she got there, the cylinderwala was standing outside waiting for her.
‘Kya, madam? I am waiting here for thirty minutes. Why don’t you give money to Aunty? Every time same story!’ he angrily told her.
Simi let him in and the cylinders were exchanged. She tipped him ten rupees and he was mad enough not to argue. He was just leaving when her mother started to explain her standing in the matter.
‘Bhaiyya, don’t feel bad, huh; I don’t feel safe when I am alone and a strange man visits, so I asked you to wait outside. I asked you if you wanted water as well, but you didn’t. Please don’t feel bad, huh, I am not saying you are a bad man!’ she said in one breath.
This man had been delivering cylinders to their home for the last fifteen years and he was upset.
‘Kakiji, mein peechle pandhra saal se aapko cylinder dene aa raha hoon aur aap abhi tak …’ he started to say before giving up and walking away.
‘Mom, you can’t treat someone like that these days!’ Simi scolded.
Her mother raised the volume on the television and ignored Simi.
‘I have made tea. Reheat and have it, you must be tired!’
‘Tired? Why? I am not tired!’ The response sounded defensive.
Can she sense I had sex? Can she see something? Something on my dress? Oh God! But I didn’t have sex. Whatever it was, it was not sex. Oh God, please don’t let sex be like that. Why is she saying I look tired?
As Simi rushed to the bathroom her mother called out offering her money.
‘Here, you gave it to the cylinderwala, na? Take it!’
‘Mom, I told you I don’t need money!’
Simi closed the door and switched on the geyser, dragging out the small plastic stool her mother used for bathing and sat down. She didn’t realize it but tears started rolling down her cheeks.
Simi felt lost. There was nothing wrong with her life, but she was caught in a rut. At the tender age of twenty-three, Simi was tired. She had no idea what she was doing with her life — she didn’t know what more she should do, or could do or how. She was not certain of her emotions; she couldn’t pinpoint what bothered her.
Something must be bothering me right, because almost every other day I sit here and cry.
She hated herself for trying too hard to change things.
I mean, why else would you do something like have sex with a guy like Namit? I wish I had someone to guide me.
She missed Tia — or at least she missed having a sibling around to share things with. Simi was still not sure if she was bearing a grudge against Tia for leaving her alone in Nagpur with her mother, or if she was just sad that it was not her who was abroad having a rocking life. She loved her mother dearly, but Tia’s single-minded plan and subsequent departure from India — and from their lives — had left Simi with no choice but to stay with their widow mother. That too in Nagpur. That also meant going to college in Nagpur, going to university in Nagpur, probably staying forever in Nagpur. So far her life had been Nagpur and their one BHK flat. And Nagpur was such a huge place that you could circle around the town in ten minutes flat. You could do it twice if you were not walking.
Tia’s departure had a tremendous effect on Simi; something that she didn’t realize until much later — long after Tia had already gone physically and emotionally, gone far away from them. She felt Tia left because she knew Simi would take care of their mother. She wondered if Tia spent any time thinking what was going on in her little sister’s life? Simi tried not to encourage such thoughts; they mad
e her feel guilty.
How selfish of me! There she is living all by herself, at least I have mother with me.
One shouldn’t think like that, not when it comes to your own mother and sister. But when Tia left, Simi was only seventeen and she felt alone and fearful. She suddenly became too caring for her mother, who in turn became too possessive of her. After all, her mother had lost one daughter to a foreign country — as she called it — and the two of them were all they had.
Over the years her mother and Tia had grown apart, but Simi didn’t have the privilege of completely hating Tia for that. She was the only thread left between them. Her mother would often enquire about Tia, as she knew they talked sometimes and exchanged emails. It would look selfish on Simi’s part if she showed anger towards either of them. She didn’t have that luxury; her mother had taken that away from her. In their family of three, it was always about either Tia or her mother, and the irony was that they weren’t even talking to each other. But what that meant was that she had to talk to both of them. Simi didn’t feel equipped to handle this situation.
What do I do? When does my life start?
‘So rahi hai kya andar?’ her mother called again, as if she was hiding somewhere inside the bathroom. It always seemed to Simi that her mother would stand just outside the bathroom door listening to her. Of course, she was just being paranoid.
Simi took her bath quickly. She came out and went to the kitchen to start making dinner, but a minute later her mother came in.
‘What are you doing here? I’ll cook some khichidi and kadhi …’ She started prepping the food.
‘Arrey, Mom, I was also doing the same, na!’ Simi insisted, but her mother almost brutally shoved her aside.
‘You work all day and then come home and cook. It’s not right. What will people say?’
Simi loved her mother, she was so cute and naïve. She hugged her from behind.
‘What people, Mom? Who are all these people who keep saying these things about us? Where are they, I want to meet them!’
Her mother removed herself from the hug and scolded her: ‘Go and watch your shows. I’ll call you once the food is ready!’
‘You’ll have papad, na?’ her mother asked as Simi switched on the television. Simi hated papad but she knew her mother loved them and this was her way of saying that they were going to have them with the khichidi.
When Hari Met His Saali Page 5