‘I toh go to India just to pig out on food. When in L.A., he doesn’t let me eat only. I am not boring you, na? Just tell me if I am boring you …’
She was excited to have a nice young man sitting next to her. She had always wanted to have a handsome man seated next to her during a flight. Hari was her dream come true. Hari was pissed at Tia and was trying not to encourage the talkative aunty next to him. Thankfully after few drinks himself he gave up trying to be mean towards Tia. It helped that the airhostess serving his section of the plane was a bombshell.
‘What do you call a pregnant flight attendant?’
‘Is this a joke?’ the aunty asked excitedly.
Hari smiled and repeated, ‘What do you call a pregnant flight attendant?’
‘What? What?’ The aunty tried to shift in her seat to turn towards him. She couldn’t.
‘A pilot error!’ Hari whispered to her.
But there was no laughter; there was no response. Zero. The aunty had an expression like cardboard. But after a few minutes a light bulb went off in her head.
‘Oh, oh … you naughty boy!’ she blushed.
The cute airhostess had heard him though.
‘That’s an old one but a good one,’ the airhostess whispered to him, taking the crude joke in her stride. Maybe they are trained to do so for every passenger, but this one, this airhostess, seemed to genuinely only care about Hari’s needs. She was smiling and she was so charming, bringing him mini liquor bottles and food.
Now here’s a woman who is not judgmental of me and just wants to take care of me.
She was so uncomplicated. Plus, she got his joke. Hari knew his long flight was going to be OK now.
Meanwhile — Nagpur, India
Simi was standing in line to withdraw money from her SBI account. Since it was an inter-bank transfer Tia’s deposit was already there. She had deposited exactly ten thousand rupees and not a penny more. Simi had hoped for a little surprise with the amount, somehow imagining that Tia might have deposited a little more, but she was not disappointed. She had asked for ten thousand and she had gotten it. She called Namit after stepping out of the bank.
‘Namit, sorry ya, I am a day late but I have the money. Where do you want to meet?’
‘Hi, just come to my home. I can’t leave the house. I am waiting for the plumber,’ Namit asked nicely.
Seven minutes later Simi entered Namit’s modest two bedroom flat. He lived in a newer society than Simi, but she preferred her own older one as this one had buildings very close to each other. People from other flats could look into Namit’s apartment.
Ten more minutes later, Tia had handed the money over to him and was relieved that at least this promise she was able to keep. She didn’t like owing money to anyone. When she was ready to leave, Namit hugged her. But it was not a thank you hug, and his hands were all over her. Since there was no one else in the house Simi didn’t resist, but Namit wanted more.
‘Isn’t the plumber coming?’ Simi asked.
‘Oh, we still have ten minutes,’ Namit mumbled excitedly as he led her into the master bedroom. They were already on the king-size bed when Simi asked, ‘Is this where your parents sleep?’
‘Yeah …’ Namit was unbuttoning his shirt.
‘Eweee!’ is all Simi could say as she bolted from the bedroom.
‘What do you mean, eweee?’ Namit asked while chasing after her and trying to undress her.
‘Where’s your bed?’ Simi asked.
‘Arrey yaar, I sleep in the living room. It’s either this bed or my brother and sister’s bed in the other room.’ He was irritated.
‘You want to go to their bed?’ he asked, pretending to be pissed at such immature questions.
Simi sensed the anger in his voice, plus she knew Namit had a stepbrother and a stepsister who were maybe four and six years old. It would have been unforgivable to have sex on their bed, she thought.
‘No, na? Here’s fine, yaar.’ Namit announced for both of them.
He hugged her again, but there was no sensitivity in it. It was more like a WWE wrestler tackling an opponent.
‘Namit, please. I am not … I don’t want to …’ Simi meekly said.
Simi actually did want to, in spite of not wanting to do it with Namit. Actually, she was not certain whether she wanted to or not … or why. All she could think was,
I am going to have sex on Uncle-Aunty’s bed. Oh God, the plumber’s going to come in and catch us.
‘Don’t think too much. You think too much, Simi.’ Namit should have kept quiet, but he had to talk.
Namit took Simi’s shoulders in his hands and laid her down on the bed. She didn’t like this insistence.
‘It’ll be great, like the first time.’
Namit was now trying to hold her down.
Simi had had enough.
While he was unbuckling his jeans, she shoved him aside. The featherweight … weight that Namit carried made him fall on the floor with a thud.
‘Namit Chohan. If you ever force yourself upon me again, I will kick you in the nuts! I may not know much about sex, but I do know that that will hurt you so much you might not be able to have sex ever again.’
‘What?’
Seeing Simi’s body language and hearing the intent in her voice, Namit knew she meant business and he instinctively palmed his groin for protection.
‘You are an asshole, Namit. You knew very well that I did not break that window. No sex happened in the car. Still, I am a lady and I have paid for the broken window. Just stay away from me now.’
As she started leaving, Namit followed her.
‘We are still friends right? Simi?’
Simi was already out of the door. She felt cheated and disgusted when she stepped out of Namit’s flat. She looked at her watch. Only seventeen minutes had passed since she had arrived. She felt as if she paid him ten thousand for another round.
Why do I feel so dirty?
Simi wanted to go home, take a bath and hug her mother. She couldn’t understand why. She felt good about herself. She had told Namit off and that felt empowering. Of course, by doing that, she had given up any hope of losing her virginity.
Tch, I was so close.
But she was glad that at least the monetary obligation was taken care of. She texted Tia to let her know she had received the money.
Tuesday morning — 35,000 feet up in the air
When Hari had woken up his flight was refuelling at Frankfurt Airport, and the sweet airhostess had taken him to the smoking lounge. She smoked, Hari didn’t tell her he didn’t smoke. He braved a few drags of the cigarette she had offered him and learnt that she was engaged to a racecar driver from Italy.
Damn, I am outta this race. But then realized, What was I gonna do if she was not engaged anyway?
The answer was, of course, nothing. He wouldn’t be able to even if he had a chance. Fantasies and all were fine, but Hari knew that he truly loved Tia and was never knowingly going to hurt her.
Back on the plane, Hari was gulping a few more drinks to send himself back to sleep. The aunty next to him was still yapping about … something.
Same time — Los Angeles
Tia was anxious.
Don’t share too much information about us with Mom and Simi, Hari.
She was pacing up and down in her apartment.
Oh God, I didn’t prepare Hari for this trip. What is he going to think of Mom and Simi? So far he only had me to judge but now …
Her mobile buzzed. It was a message from Simi:
Got money. Thanks, Luv, Simi.
Tia waited before replying. She figured that Hari must have landed in Hyderabad by now, and he would soon tell her if he was going to Nagpur.
Tuesday morning — South India
Mr. Suresh Reddy, the owner of the start-up company Game On India, met Hari at Hyderabad airport. Hari was impressed with this guy from the moment they met. During the long drive from the new and impressive airport, Reddy came acro
ss as a young, suave, well-travelled — as well as well-read — man who was way too confident for his age.
At their small but happening office, Hari met his young team and they were an enthusiastic and hardworking bunch. After a few demos Hari had quickly decided he wanted to collaborate with this talented group of people. He felt that with a presence in Asia as well as North America they might be able to crack some region-specific apps and games. Chitthi had already locked the terms of arrangement, so by the evening they had signed an initial Memorandum Of Understanding and by the end of the night they were partners.
When he returned to his five-star room at the Taj Krishna, Hari realized that if he didn’t consciously think about it he could’ve been fooled into thinking he was still in America. The cars, the hotel, the hospitality — and not to mention the people — were so, how to say … up-to-date.
Hari wanted to go to sleep but Reddy insisted that he wanted to show him a good time. His brother Ramesh joined them. It turned out that the Reddy family owned a chain of nightclubs. Their father and uncles oversaw that operation, while the younger generations had moved into the tech and software industry. This was the family plan.
Hari was treated like a prince of the night.
This is a different kind of rich. Rich Indians are like kings.
Hari had marveled at the disposable income as well as number of people at the beck and call of the Reddy brothers. The management at the Taj Krishna was also friendly with them. Hari couldn’t imagine having that level of influence back home.
When he was dropped off at his room at around three a.m. Hari was drunk, he was but a well-fed drunk, and a happy drunk. He hadn’t had so much fun in the longest time. He would sleep like a baby for the next fourteen hours straight.
Hari’s Trivia # 32: Humans can survive longer without food than they can without sleep.
When he got up, there were several missed calls for Hari from the Reddy brothers as well as from Tia. He called Reddy first, who just wanted to check if he was OK.
‘If you are hungover, I can send a masseur who will get rid of all the stress in your body.’
It would be a lie to say that Hari did not consider it for a moment, especially because of the way Reddy had said it.
‘No, I think, I am OK now. But I want to see if there’s a late night flight to Nagpur, can someone check for me?’
Hari was surprised that all his official work was done within a day of his arrival and now he was considering going to Nagpur. But only if the flight time was convenient, he told himself.
One phone call later
Not only did Reddy book Hari’s ticket to Nagpur but he also booked a room in the only four-star hotel in the city. He had also booked a chauffeur-driven car, which would be at Hari’s disposal. Hari felt uncomfortable that Reddy was refusing to be reimbursed for all these expenses, but Reddy kept saying, ‘We are married now. We are partners.’
Hari then called Tia, who didn’t even ask how his meetings went but was excited to hear that Hari was indeed going to Nagpur.
‘Hari, milte hi Mom ke pair chhuna. Touch her feet as soon as you meet Mom!’
‘What? Why? I don’t see you touching my mother’s feet!’ Hari had said, even though he was well aware of the custom.
‘Uff, just do it na, for me. Also, don’t go into too much detail about us, OK?’ Tia rambled on.
‘What do you mean?’ Hari asked, now feeling slightly scared.
‘Also, give the invitation to Mom and then invite them verbally as well. You have to insist that they come to the wedding. At least a couple of times.’ Tia was focused, as if she was dictating a note to someone.
‘Why don’t you insist …’
Hari was feeling the burden of Tia’s behavioral expectations but didn’t want an argument so he trailed off.
Tia disregarded his comment as if he had not even mentioned it.
‘Listen, I am going to call Simi and tell her you’re coming, I mean going. Oh my God, oh my God … Just, just don’t do anything or say anything crazy about me, OK? My mom, oh my God, my mom still probably has this image of me when I was nineteen, I mean I haven’t seen her … she hasn’t seen me …’ Tia was hyperventilating when Hari cut her off.
‘Babes, just calm down. Everything will be OK. I can handle myself.’ Hari was actually dreading the visit, but it felt good to say it.
‘Just, just remember, enter late and exit early. I gotta go, will call later.’ And Tia hung up.
‘Hello Tia? Tia?’ Hari was now seriously stressed.
And so was Simi. Tia had just called her and told her that Hari was visiting them for dinner.
Your Bobby Donnell is visiting us? For dinner? Oh Lord!
She still had a few hours so she called her mom and informed her about Hari’s visit. Her mother freaked out even more.
‘Coming to dinner? I didn’t even … how could Tia send her fiancé to our house alone? Fiancé? Oh, Lord, why do you do such things to me?’ Simi’s mom was hyper ventilating. ‘Ghar me sabji kal ki padi hai. Dinner? Oh Lord!’
Her mom was checking the refrigerator as she was speaking to Simi, who was trying to calm her down.
‘Everything will be OK, Mom.’
Shit, I’ll have to take charge here. My Jija is coming from America. Oh Lord!
She drove quickly to Sitabuldi Market, probably the oldest and the most crowded market in Central India. This was no mall; this was a traditional old Indian market. There were no traffic rules here. Hawkers and street vendors owned the road, and that meant that Simi had to park her Kinetic elsewhere and then walk to KalaSundar, the sari shop where her mother had been buying saris all her life.
After the unnecessary but unavoidable pleasantries with the old uncle who owned KalaSundar, Simi selected an orange sari for her mom. She wanted to buy one for herself but decided against it, as she was short on cash. In this market they still only took cash. It made her sad that she was short of money. She was a working woman now yet she hardly bought anything nice for her mother. But there was no time to be sad. Simi took off before stopping at the small kirana store near her house to pick up a two-liter bottle of Pepsi and some sweets before rushing home.
When she reached home, Simi’s mom was pulling out a heavy iron trunk from under the bed. This rusty box contained all her mom’s most precious silverware and silk cushion covers. They only made an appearance if her mother deemed the occasion to be of the highest level of importance. Some of the stuff in it was ancient — handed down for generations — and yet it only saw daylight if the occasion qualified within her mother’s strict guidelines. Simi guessed that today’s occasion, with Tia’s fiancé coming to dinner, qualified.
‘Who am I saving all this stuff for?’ her mom would ask. ‘For you two only, na?’ Her mother would often talk to herself and Simi at the same time.
Simi noticed that Indurani Bai, the upstairs neighbor’s cook, was working furiously in the kitchen.
‘Why are you standing there? I requested Mrs. Deshpande from the third floor to lend me Indurani Bai. Emergency hai bataya. Oh Simi, you know Hariprasad is Dr. Malhotra’s son, his only son? They are ultra-rich in America. What is he going to think of our house?’ Her mother was all over the place and still screaming.
Simi looked at the cracked ceiling, the water seepage in the corner in the living room, the broken glass on the window.
Shit, Simi, you were supposed to fix all that! You are such a procrastinator and now, see?
Simi cursed herself, but the primary objective was to keep her mom calm.
‘He is marrying Tia Didi and not our house, Mom.’
Simi put the bottle of Pepsi in the fridge. When she returned to the living room, all the cushions had new covers on them. Her mother had changed them with hyper kinetic urgency.
‘Mom, they smell of fungus,’ Simi observed as she brought out her Nike deodorant and sprayed it on the covers.
‘Mom, this is for you,’ Simi said finally giving her mother the sari
; orange was her mother’s favorite color.
‘Why did you get this? So expensive? Save money for yourself! And that too orange color?’ her mother scolded her even as she draped it over herself. ‘I am old now, I don’t need expensive sari, but anyway, since you’ve bought it for me so lovingly, I will wear it.’
Early evening — Hotel Pride, Nagpur
Hari was getting ready in his room at the four-star hotel in Nagpur he was staying at. He was wearing the shirt Tia had packed and was ready to leave when a Whatsapp message came through on his phone from Tia.
‘Take some mithai or something sweet. Don’t go empty-handed.’
‘That’s just great! What does ‘empty-handed’ even mean? The hands are empty. Such an Indian thing,’ Hari said out loud.
I am marrying a control freak cuckoo woman.
Nevertheless he asked the front desk to arrange for a gift pack of chocolates. He was expected to be at the Galhotra house by seven p.m. and by ten-thirty p.m. he was going to be at the airport to catch a flight to Mumbai where, at two-thirty a.m., he would finally board a flight back to fucking Los Angeles.
This Nagpur trip was a mistake!
Hari was panicking now. He didn’t really want to meet Tia’s mother and sister, but it was too late to back out. Plus, the porter had already taken his bags outside. After checking out of the hotel, Hari climbed into a monstrosity of an SUV — the box shaped Mahindra Xylo. He did not appreciate being driven in such a big car all by himself. It was a waste, he thought.
Hari’s Trivia # 916: A liter of motor oil can pollute 925,000 liters of water and one acre of land one inch deep.
He had given Simi’s address to the driver who reached the small street where the Galhotra residence was without any trouble. Hari was worried that he would shit in his pants if he kept his eyes open and watched the crazy traffic and even crazier drivers. When the driver had turned the Xylo into the Galhotra’s small street, they found it blocked with a mandap.
‘Sir, I cannot go any further. Someone’s marriage function is going on,’ the driver casually mentioned as he started backing up the car.
When Hari Met His Saali Page 9