Bathinda to Bangkok Read online

  There was floral arch leading into thee Riverside Verandah. Thee furniture had been removed and thee floor had been covered with mattresses and white sheets. There were twinkle lights on thee ceiling, jasmine curtains on thee sides and lamps hanging on thee corners. Waiters were carrying big silver trays and serving snacks. Everyone was singing, dancing, drinking, eating, enjoying.

  I’d brought Bathinda to Bangkok, ji.

  ‘Did you get thee dholki?’ I asked Niku.

  Arre, our Punjoo Sangeets aren’t complete without beating our drum.

  ‘You’d let me live if I forgot?’ he smiled. ‘I’ll go to my room and –’

  ‘Give me both keys, room and bag,’ I said, blocking his way. ‘I’ll go and get.’

  Not only because he’d landed only two hours before and needed rest, but also because I wanted to have my folic acid, multivitamins and Digene tablets.

  ‘Don’t miss thee chicken satay,’ I reminded him.

  I stopped for few minutes in my room, before going to Niku’s room. I picked up thee instrument and was going to leave, when sound came from the loo.

  I wasn’t alone! Thee room wasn’t empty! Someone was in thee loo!

  If everyone was at thee Riverside Verandah, who was inside? My heart beating like drum, I lifted thee dholki over my head, ready to throw it at thee robber/murderer/rapist’s head. In slow motion, I saw thee loo door handle turn. And out came – hayo rabba – Tarzan. For one second, he looked at me like I was robber/murderer/rapist.

  ‘Interesting weapon of choice, Mahendar,’ he said at last, looking up at thee dholki.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked.

  ‘Niku wanted this.’ He brought up his hands to show the bottle of Savlon.

  Immediately, I became worried. ‘What happened to Niku?’ I asked, bringing my hands down.

  ‘Calm down, he’s fine. Pammi Aunty tripped.’

  Bhooto had hurt herself?

  Uff!

  Without imaginary health problems, she created so much scene, with real one, God only knew what she’d do.

  ‘I’ll go and check,’ I spinned around to walk out of thee room.

  In few long steps, he reached me and grabbed my hand.

  ‘Not so fast.’

  ‘Leave my hand,’ I twisted it right and left, struggling to free it.

  He didn’t leave me. I also didn’t leave him. I dropped thee dholki on his foot.

  ‘OWWWW!’ He cried out, hopping on one foot. ‘What did you do that for?’

  I couldn’t say For-all-thee-dirty-things-you-did-last-night- kutte, so I gave him fake PMS (oho, how many times to tell – Please Mistake Sorry) look.

  I turned to open thee door but his big hand fell on it.

  ‘Why did you walk out of the night club, Mahi?’ he asked.

  ‘I wasn’t feeling well.’ I turned to give solid look.

  ‘I see. What happened?’ The way he looked into my eyes! As if he could see inside my chest and know the truth.

  ‘I–I don’t know.’

  He could see inside my chest because next second he said, ‘Perhaps the thought of someone else giving me a lap dance made you feel sick?’

  He grabbed my hand again and moved his thumb softly on my wrist. Bas, my entire body started going buzz-buzz-buzz like cell phone on vibrator mode.

  ‘Have you seen your face in thee mirror?’ I lied in brave voice. ‘Why should I care about who you do chak dhoom dhoom with?’

  ‘Chak what?’ he asked, leaning towards me, covering me with his deo, his perfume.

  I hadn’t touched alcohol in months, but I started feeling badly dehydrated.

  ‘Chak dhoom dhoom.’ I licked my lips and his burning eyes fell on them. ‘It means –’

  ‘I know what it means.’ he said softly as his hand slowly moved up my arm. ‘But I wasn’t…’

  My heart started doing acrobatics as if it was in bloody Russian Circus.

  ‘Wasn’t what?’ I asked, but not with too much hope.

  ‘…doing chak dhoom dhoom with the stripper,’ he continued. ‘Wasn’t interested…’

  Hai, I toh felt so relieved my legs felt weak. I wanted to fall on thee ground, fold my hands and scream, ‘Thank you, Rabba!’ But I controlled.

  ‘But you, baby,’ his voice went low, making me all tingle tingle, ‘you can give me a lap dance anytime you want –’

  ‘No, never,’ I ate swear.

  But my eyes, my hands, my heart said, ‘Yes, always’.

  ‘So why don’t I buy it, Mahi? Just like I don’t buy that little silly story you cooked up about Raj…?’

  His hand went like python snake around my waist and he pulled me to his chest.

  I took deep breath, of air, of Tarzan, his deo, his perfume. ‘Then why didn’t you come out of night club with thee others?’ I asked, my voice thick like Heinz tomato ketchup.

  ‘Someone had to settle the tab,’ he replied, his voice smooth like Dabur honey.

  My heart started singing and dancing like anything. Tarzan didn’t have action scene at thee night club! Oye balle- balle!

  His hand went to thee back of my head, pulling it back. ‘No dhoom dhoom business with anyone before or after that either,’ he answered thee questions I didn’t ask, staring down into my eyes. ‘Got back to the hotel with the others.’

  Another doubt was waiting in line, ji, in my heart and he cleared that also.

  ‘As for the Simran episode, she and Dumpy had a major showdown…I’m surprised you didn’t hear them…Andeep was with Dumpy, I thought I’d comfort Simran… terrible idea in hindsight, I’ll give you that –’

  Thee sight of Simran making kissy face at him came back to my mind. ‘You like to comfort young girls?’ I asked in acid voice.

  ‘Only if the young girl’s you.’ He bent down and joined lips with me.

  Bas, I leaped up on tippy-toes, threw my arms around his neck and pounced on his lips. Thee way I attacked thee rest of him! Snatching his jacket away, pulling his buttons, almost tearing his shirt. Hai, I toh had become thee horndog. All I could think of was sex with Tarzan, all night long, on all thee furnitures. I knew it was because of thee hormones, but I’d lost all control.

  He lost control also, and soon, we were on thee bed doing thee kaand (oho, understand by yourself, should I explain each and every word?)

  I remembered something suddenly and reached for thee night lamp. Tried to switch it off, but his hand caught mine.

  ‘I’ve put on weight –’ I cried like small puppy under tractor wheels, covering my tummy with my hands.

  ‘You’re perfect,’ He pushed my hands away. ‘I missed you, baby. Remember the last time we did this,’ he whispered, kissing my stomach, ‘we didn’t have our friend here.’ He put one hand in his backside – means, jeans backside pocket, and took out thee condom which we’d received as return home gift from Bangkok restaurant.

  My heart became twisted. I could never in my life forget thee last time. We’d made up one week after thee maid-bastard fight and were both mad for humpy-pumpy, jumpy-tumpy, bangy-bangy. That night there was no condom at home and anyways it was too late (not in thee night, in thee live action). We’d said bye-bye to protection. And I’d said hello to pregnancy.

  Oho, I didn’t want to keep it secret from Tarzan. I toh wanted to tell him thee day I found out. But life’s like Indian monsoon, highly unpredictable. Maa@# we think something in life and something else happens. Making our whole life upside down.

  My mind flashbacked to thee day I’d taken thee pregnancy test, that susu one.

  ‘I want to tell you something,’ I told Tarzan. He’d come back from work and we were chill-maaroing on thee sofa.

  ‘I want to tell you something, too,’ he said, putting his hand inside my popcorn bowl. ‘You go first.’

  ‘No, you go.’ I thought I’d finish thee popcorns in my mouth till then.

  ‘Okay,’ he began, placing his legs on thee centre table, ‘remember Pranav and Tina – my friends from
uni?’

  ‘Ya, ya,’ I moved my head up and down.

  I think I did SRK-type overacting, because he started shaking his head. ‘You don’t have a clue, do you?’

  Hai, he toh knew me so well.

  I gave him ‘I’m-sorry’ look.

  He gave me ‘It’s-okay’ look, stuffing popcorns into his mouth.

  ‘Tell what happened to Pavan and Bina?’

  ‘Pranav and Tina.’

  ‘Ya, ya.’ I was getting highly impatient to share my news.

  ‘Yeah, I heard from them after ages…so, get this, these guys were happily unmarried…in a relationship for seven years, living in for five…it was all smooth sailing, when – bam – she discovers she’s preggers…’

  I sat up straight. Was it sign from above? We sharing thee same news at thee same time?

  I was so excited, I almost didn’t hear what Tarzan was saying. ‘…Jeez, they had no idea what hit them…they were in shock for days…’

  ‘Then?’ I asked in rough voice.

  ‘What else, they felt compelled to get married…had sworn they never would…I mean, they were practically the founders of the Anti-Marriage Squad and the Childfree by Choice Club…’ Tarzan gave bitter laugh.

  My mouth fell to thee floor as thee words finally went in my ears.

  He went on, ‘…said what choice did they have…felt it was the right thing to do under the circumstances…had to take the responsibility…now their life’s gone for a toss, everything’s gone to shit…trapped into it…all because of one small mistake…’

  I stopped listening after that. My dreams mixed with dirt. My hopes were crushum-crushed. It was sign from above. Tarzan didn’t want to get married or have children. I wanted to, but not at thee cost of my self respect. I didn’t want him to feel pressurised. I didn’t want him to feel trapped. I didn’t want his life to ‘go to shit wit’ because of me.

  15

  The one with the cat and the bag and all that jazz

  When I moved in with him, I’d thought we’d get married – not immediately, but in few months. I’d thought we’d have children – not immediately, but in a few years. I never thought he’d continue to have same anti attitude towards both thee things.

  I didn’t want him to marry me because he felt he’d no choice or because it was thee right thing to do or because he felt responsible. I wanted him to marry me because he felt love, nothing else but love.

  ‘That’s it, I guess. The long and short of it,’ he finished both thee popcorn and his story. ‘What’s your news?’

  Everything in my body was paining: my throat, my eyes, my heart. I don’t know how I opened my mouth, how I forced myself to speak. ‘Dingy called, she and Andeep are going to get engaged.’ I said thee first thing that came to my head.

  He kept thee popcorn bowl down between us. ‘That’s amazing! You must be so happy.’

  ‘I am.’ My voice was shaking. ‘So happy.’

  ‘Aww, look at you.’ He misunderstood my tears for happiness and pulled me into tight hug. ‘My baby.’

  I put my head on his shoulder and cried for my baby.

  My flashback ended then and there, but tears started running down my cheek.

  Tarzan stopped kissing my stomach and sat up up on thee bed, saying, ‘Hey, hey, hey.’

  He wiped my tear away, his hands gentler than Johnson Baby Soap.

  I adjusted my clothes, covered my stomach and sat up, too.

  He put his arms around me. ‘It’s going to be all right, Mahi, we’re going to be all right, baby,’ he whispered, resting his chin on my head.

  He was trying to calm me, but that made me cry even more. Because I knew inside my heart that we’d never be.

  ‘Dance, Mahi, dance,’ Dumpy said, holding both my hands up.

  Sangeet function was on full flow. Sweety Aunty (Dingy’s mother) was playing thee dholki, Auntyji (Andeep’s mother) was hitting it loudly with steel spoon, Pammiji (my stepmother, Bhooto) was singing ‘Rail gaddi’ song at thee top of her lungs. Luckily, her voice wasn’t as bad as her health.

  Uncleji (Andeep’s father) had already broken one whiskey glass. He was moving both hands like he was operating handpump with Glass Number Two on his head. Niku, Gurdeep, her husband and kids, Dingy, Andeep, had formed train and were running around thee Riverside Verandah like cracks.

  But thee last thing I wanted to do was join in. I’d walked out of Niku’s room, my heart pieces-pieces. Tarzan had tried to stop me, kept asking me what was wrong, kept trying to make me to talk to him, but I what could I say?

  I wanted to go to one corner and cry, but I remembered my promise to Dingy. Thee weekend was about her. My life, my tensions, my problems could wait.

  I made my heart hard and became compartment in thee train. Suddenly, I felt two warm hands around my waist. Tarzan!

  I toh didn’t dare to look behind or snatch them away. I turned round, I broke thee chain and went to thee bar. Tarzan compartment also left thee train and followed me.

  Thee bar had been set up next to thee coconut tree. Alcohol was flowing. And most of it was going inside thee family bartender – Dumpy’s – stomach. That was okay, he’d capacity of tanker. But he was forcing Simran and Raj to drink.

  Simran toh could hold her drink. But Raj could not. He – means, his bladder – had capacity of small baby. I was sure that Raj was one sip away from doing susu in public.

  Dumpy mixed vodka, whiskey, rum in one empty Absolut bottle and poured one shot down Raj’s throat. Then came Simran’s turn. Then Tarzan’s. Then he turned to me.

  I gave him my strict headmaster look. ‘I’m off drinks-shinks.’

  ‘What off-shoff?’ he ignored my warning with wave of his hand, ‘Here, come, open your mouth. Take one sip and see, you’ll forget everything –’

  ‘I said no, Dumpy. No means no,’ I said in ‘kutte-don’t-take-panga’ tone.

  ‘What, yaar, Mahi,’ he protested, ‘what’s this new natak?’

  ‘I’m not doing drama, Dumpy.’

  ‘It’s Dingy’s wedding, Dingy’s,’ he repeated like I didn’t know. ‘How can you not be talli? It’s your duty.’

  Arre, where it was written that it was duty to be drunk at your BFF’s wedding?

  ‘Drink, drink, drink, drink, drink,’ Raj started chanting.

  ‘Shut up, Raj! You want to do susu in public, you do. I’ve better things to do.’

  Tarzan looked as if I’d cracked funny joke. But he didn’t force me. Or try to stop me when I walked away from thee bar.

  ‘What happened to her, yaar?’ I heard Dumpy ask aloud. ‘She used to beat all of us in drinking competitions.’

  I went and sat next to Bhooto. It was better to become deaf than give explanation to everyone.

  Dumpy and gang came to thee verandah few minutes later. Big shot bottle was still in his hand and he started serving it like holy water at temples to everyone, straight into their mouths.

  After finishing thee Auntyjis, he reached me.

  ‘Oye, Dingy,’ he yelled, ‘see what your best friend’s doing. Not drinking at your wedding.’

  Dingy and Andeep did ‘Drink, drink’ action with their hands without leaving thee train.

  I shook my head and got up. I was going to walk away, but Dumpy blocked my way.

  ‘That’s it, enough of acting,’ he said, catching one hand. ‘I’ll see how she doesn’t –’

  Raj came forward and caught my other hand.

  ‘Leave me, Dumpy!’ I shouted, turning my face this way and that.

  My stomach started churning in fear. I didn’t know what to do, how to stop them. What could I say? ‘Don’t do it, I’m pregnant?’

  Dumpy lifted thee bottle and was about to pour thee shot in my mouth, when Simran cried out, ‘Don’t do it, she’s pregnant!’

  It was like someone had pressed on thee pause button on thee remote control. Thee chatting, thee music, thee dancing, thee eating, thee train, everything stopped. Uncleji Auntyji quickly cove
red thee ears of Gurdeep’s children with their hands. As if by listening to my story, their grandchildren would become corrupted.

  For one minute, I toh went blank. Like one stupid, my first thought was, ‘Simran had looked inside my medicine pouch’.

  I stood like statue, not having thee guts to look at Tarzan.

  Before I could have second thought, everyone started talking at thee same time.

  ‘It’s not mine! She forced me to act like her boyfriend. I didn’t want to, but she said she’d give me assistant job if I cooperated. But I didn’t touch her, God promise.’ That was Raj. He’d been flying high, looking like Udta Punjab, he came down to earth like this.

  ‘Told you, na, Mr. America couldn’t be trusted. Now see what he’s done.’ That was Dumpy. He looked like he’d achieved major victory in life.

  ‘How could you, Lavith? Had I known, I’d have never ever taken your help.’ That was Niku. He looked like he wanted to press Tarzan’s neck with his hands.

  ‘First your father, now you. Thee men in your family have no self-control or what? Why can’t you keep your snake in your pant?’ That was Bhooto. She looked like she wanted to join Niku in murdering Tarzan.

  ‘Thanks, Mahi, thanks for making me Number-Two again.’ That was Dingy. She burst out crying and ran away from thee spot.

  ‘Trying to kiss Lavith wasn’t enough for you, Simran? You had to tell this also to everyone and ruin Dingy’s wedding? You’re happy now?’ That was me.

  Everyone gasped, Dumpy thee loudest. I didn’t want to hurt Dumpy, but thee words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

  I was trying badly to make my BFF’s dream come true, but Simran had made Dingy’s nightmare come true. Made someone else – okay, okay, me – thee centre of attraction at her wedding.

  I didn’t care who was listening, who was thinking what. I didn’t care about thee world or society. Where were they when Niku or Tarzan or I was going through bad time in life? They were happily gossiping and enjoying. Only my family, my best friends were there for us. They were thee only ones I cared about.

  I turned to follow Dingy. That’s when I saw Tarzan. Thee look on his face! He looked as if he’d received sazaa-e-maut (oho, hanging death punishment) from thee court of life.