Bathinda to Bangkok Read online

  She started singing that irritating antakshari song, but stopped in thee middle. ‘You first, Mahi. Sing song starting with M.’

  ‘I don’t sing.’

  ‘What? You don’t sing also?’

  My teeth went grind-grind. First, she made me sound like hundred-year-old buddhi. Then she made me sound like hundred-percent bore. Bore buddhi Mahi leaned forward to touch button and close thee sun roof, cutting Simran’s body and head into two pieces. Unluckily, Dumpy caught my hand. He moved his lips ‘Please please please’ and made ‘Be nice to my GF’ face.

  I took long loud deep breaths. Control, Mahi, control.

  But I couldn’t control. Because Headless Body called out, ‘What are those sounds, Mahi? Are you okay?’

  I was thee oppo-site of okay. I’d headache, body ache, back pain, leg pain…Hai, it suddenly strike to me. I toh had become my stepmother! So many health problems, all at thee same time.

  ‘Please stop stop stop,’ Raj said suddenly.

  ‘What happened to you now?’ Dumpy asked.

  ‘Please, personal reason,’ Raj said with too much pain in his voice.

  ‘He has to go to toilet again,’ Headless Body answered.

  I was thinking that Raj was adult man with baby’s bladder, when Headless Body explained, ‘Last night party, too much beer.’

  ‘Next time wear adult diaper,’ I told him sternly.

  And immediately thought of thee person who used to say that. Lavith. I didn’t want to think of him, but I was helpless from habit. Everything reminded me of him.

  ‘Let’s see what’s coming on radio,’ Dumpy said.

  ‘How can you “see” what’s coming? It’s radio, not TV,’ Headless Body went chuckle-chuckle.

  Love love love love love hua…

  Hai, whole world was doing conspiracies against me.

  It was my pet name for Him. Not ladoo, barfi, rabdi, kulfi. Short, sweet, to thee point. Lav.

  I gave one slap to radio button and changed thee channel.

  Love me love me love me Mama says you love me…

  I hit thee stupid radio button again.

  Don’t know whose face I saw in thee morning, I grumbled inside.

  As if she could hear me, person whose face I saw in thee morning WhatsApped.

  BEEP!

  Bhooto: Reached? Arre, we were going in car not jumbo jet.

  Mahi: No.

  Bhooto: Then when will you reach? I was not Bejan Daruwala. I couldn’t predict thee future.

  Mahi: When we reach, I’ll tell.

  Bhooto: Don’t forget to call. Last time you forgot.

  Mahi: Last time?

  Bhooto: College trip, you promised to call, but forgot.

  Uff! College was 6 years back.

  I closed my eyes, but my head started eating circles.

  ‘Stop thee car,’ I said weakly.

  ‘Now what happened?’ Dumpy asked. ‘Did anyone call her Didi in their mind? Ha ha ha.’

  I made loud vomiting sound and quickly covered my mouth with my hand.

  Dumpy looked scared means scared. ‘OKAY, OKAY, OKAY, I’M STOPPING…PLEASE DON’T….NO ULTI….NOT IN MY CAR…PLEASE!’

  The second he braked, I kicked thee door open and went running to thee roadside bushes. And decorated them.

  Dumpy and Raj came running behind me.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Simran’s Bodyless Head asked from thee sun roof.

  I was okay. Roadside bushes were not.

  ‘I know why,’ Dumpy accused me. ‘You didn’t have break-fast. Correct? You should always eat before road trip, travel on full stomach –’

  ‘Bloody don’t start your lecture now…cough cough…’

  I took mineral water bottle from Raj and poured it on my face like model in Bisleri ad.

  ‘We’ll get breakfast in Andeep’s house?’ Bodyless Head asked when we walked back to thee car.

  ‘Breakfast? We’ll get full-on attitude,’ I grumbled.

  Just because they were thee boy side, they thought they could show tevar (oho, act smart). I was going to give them solid…

  As if she could hear my thoughts, Dingy WhatsApped.

  BEEP!

  Dingy: Mahi, please don’t create scene there.

  Mahi: You want to get married?

  Dingy: Yes.

  Mahi: To Andeep?

  Dingy: Yes.

  Mahi: In Bangkok?

  Dingy: Yes.

  Mahi: Then let me do what I want.

  Dingy: Okay. But don’t create scene there.

  Uff! No trust only. When Veeru sent Jai with his proposal to Mausiji, did he spoon feed? No, ji, not. Veeru was mouthshut.com. Jai did what he wanted. And everyone was happy. Producer, audience, Veeru-Basanti. All because friend trusted friend.

  I toh was so bugged, I switched off myself and cell both for rest of thee journey. Got up only when we got to Andeep’s house.

  Dulhe Raja came running out of house, looking like tension case.

  ‘Please excuse,’ Raj asked urgently. ‘But can I use your toilet?’

  ‘NO!’ Dumpy, Simran and I shouted at thee same time.

  ‘You got Dingy’s WhatsApp, Mahi?’

  Then only I realised. Dingy was only mouthpiece, Andeep was thee criminal mastermind.

  I lifted one hand like politician and marched inside. Ludhiana Brigade followed me like Vodafone dog.

  After their engagement, I was coming to thee zoo only now. This time also I got same thought – if Maneka Gandhi saw Andeep’s house what would happen? Each wall had head of some dead animal. Each floor has skin of some dead animal.

  Thee big sofa had bodies of two alive animals. They were stuffing face. Instead of getting up and saying ‘come come’, they just waved us inside. Like they were cinema-hall ticket-checkers.

  Male animal caught Dumpy’s hands before they reached his feet. Like he was going to touch thee feet. Arre, who bends down-down-down and touches feet nowadays? Thee trend is to stop half-way and touch something else (knees, baba, knees).

  Female animal wiped hand on our heads when we bent down to do PP (not pee, Pairi Paina – oho, touching feet).

  ‘Sorry, knees troubling too much,’ Auntyji gave excuse for not getting up.

  Uncleji didn’t even bother to do that.

  Raj, who was twisting his body like Shammi Kapoor in one of his hit songs, couldn’t control.

  ‘Uncleji-Auntyji if he cannot use your toilet, he’ll use your carpet,’ Simran said in warning wala voice.

  Uncleji-Auntyji’s backsides flew up few inches from thee sofa.

  ‘Sit, sit, Uncleji-Auntyji,’ Dumpy said. ‘We’ll take him to toilet,’ Dumpy offered.

  ‘Bladder problem,’ I explained, after thee Three Idiots had left. I sat on thee sofa next to thee stuffed tiger. Oho, to show I was no less.

  ‘Uncleji-Auntyji, I’ll not beat around your bushes…’

  Uncleji, who was sitting with shutter open, quickly closed his knees.

  ‘…I’ll come straight to thee point. It’s Dingy dream to have destination wedding…Bangkok’s best of both thee worlds, cheap and close by…don’t worry, you don’t have to lift one finger also…I’ll take care of everything. Except finance, ha ha ha.’

  One small boy flew into thee room. In Andeep’s house everything was too extreme. Last time, there was senior citizen (older than Simran had made me sound) serving. This time, child labour.

  ‘Limca, where you’d died? How many times I called you,’ Auntyji scolded him.

  I looked at Limca and licked my lips. He was carrying tray with three glasses of lassi on it.

  I badly needed drink. My throat was all scratch- scratch from vomitting-shomitting.

  Limca kept thee tray on centre table. Uncleji leaned forward, picked up first glass and drank it fully. Then he picked up second glass and finished that. Then it was Auntyji’s turn. She reached for the third glass and finished it in ten seconds flat.

  I turned to look at thee Man of thee Moment, who was
sitting quiet like some sant (not perfume, saint).

  ‘Andeep?’ I gave him the same look Betaal gave Vikram. Speak or I’ll make keema out of you.

  In reply, Andeep turned his back to me, reached for glass of water lying on side table and gulpoed it down. He drank so fast that he started choking.

  Auntyji jumped up from sofa like bread slice from toaster and started doing dham! dham! dham! on his backside.

  ‘Andeep?’ I tried again after cough and Auntiji both calmed down.

  In reply, he coughed. First silently. Then softly. Then chokingly. Bloody two-face. Outside his house, he roamed like Singh is King, inside his house like Manmohan Singh. I wanted to give him BPL (not electronics, Bum Pe Laat). Oho, Kick on thee backside.

  ‘It’s thee question of our only son’s marriage, you know,’ Uncleji said, puffing up like poori in oil.

  I know, Uncle, I wanted to reply. That I was cent-percent correct in calling Andeep khotte da puttar. Son of ass (not bum, donkey).

  Typical mentality. Just like Bhooto wanted to do full vasooli at hotels, these types of people wanted to do full paisa vasool at son’s wedding. Arre, it was marriage not money-back offer. Third-rate people. First-class kameenas!

  4

  In which the Bangkok Battalion goes down fighting

  Control Mahi control, I told myself. I took deep yoga breaths before opening mouth. ‘Uncleji-Auntyji, I’m not only your B2B’s BFF–’

  ‘What?’ Auntyji sat up straight in sofa like I was narrating Ramayan in Tamil.

  ‘Bahu 2 Be’s Best Friend Forever,’ Andeep explained, at last breaking his vow of silence.

  Oh, toh now your tongue’s back in your mouth? I wanted to ask.

  Somehow I stopped myself and started searching my handbag for my visiting card. I pulled it out like it was my sword and put it under their noses. ‘I’m also top ka party-planner.’

  ‘Ludhina to London,’ Auntiji said, reading thee card aloud. ‘Panty planners.’

  ‘That’s printing mistake,’ I said, quickly snatching it from her fingers. I stuffed thee sword back into my LV, blowing out frustoo breath. Some people had no value for talent.

  ‘All that’s okay,’ Uncleji spoke up. ‘But do you have any experience in planning big-big weddings?’

  Oh Uncleji, I wanted to reply, what experience you needed to have your laudu son?

  ‘Uncleji, I shouldn’t say from my own mouth. But you can ask anyone. I’m thee most experienced girl in whole of Ludhiana!’

  It was truth. LTL had been rocking-shocking in thee last six years.

  For thee next few minutes, I gave full status update of my business. From birthday party to condolence meet, from wedding reception to golden jubilee celebration, from bachelor night to break-up bash, from kitty get-together to kirtan gathering, from school reunion to sundowner, I recited all thee events we’d handled in one breath like Udipi waiter.

  I paused to catch breath and looked at thee people I was serving.

  But they didn’t look impressed one bit with thee items on my menu.

  Suddenly, Auntyji lifted her head and let out loud howl like wolf. ‘OYEEEEEEE! LIMCAAAA! LIMCA!’

  All heads swung to thee right as if they were expecting Limca bottle to come flying out of thee kitchen.

  ‘He’s gone deaf I think so,’ Auntyji said, jumping to her feet with energy of sixteen-year-old. ‘Told him to get halwa…’

  She jogged off towards the kitchen, forgetting that her knees were supposed to be troubling her.

  I took yoga breath, ran my fingers through my bra-length hairss, before turning to Uncelji. ‘Uncleji, you should be happy it’s Bangkok and not some bore sa place,’ I said jokily even though I was mood out. ‘Imagine all thee fun-shun you’ll have….’

  Funny look came into Uncleji’s eyes.

  Hai, he toh was imagining that type fun. Perverted old man! If he wasn’t Dingy’s father-in-law, I’d have made him straight.

  Luckily, Auntyji came back in time, interrupting his wet daydreams. She was followed by Limca. This time, he was carrying silver tray with three halwa bowls on it.

  I licked my lips. I badly needed food. My stomach was all grumble-grumble.

  ‘What are you staring at my face?’ Auntyji scolded him. ‘Put them down.’

  Limca put thee bowls on centre table.

  Auntyji picked up thee first bowl and passed it to Uncleji. Uncleji’s hand disappeared into thee bowl and cleaned it in one minute flat. He burped in satisfaction, wiping his hand on his beard.

  Auntyji was not far behind. She pounced on thee second bowl, then thee third. By thee time she was done, bowls looked like thee utensils in Vim Bar ads. Chakachak clean, ting!

  Good, I thought, poor Limca’s work was saved. He didn’t have to wash them. I was imagining calling thee labour department and getting Uncleji and Auntyji arrested, but Auntyji punctured my thought balloon.

  ‘But what about expenses?’ she asked, placing thee empty bowls back on thee centre table.

  ‘What for you? As if you have to pay from your own pocket…’

  That’s it. Andeep started looking like bride who found out groom had erection problems on wedding night.

  If we were in Hindi movie, tension type music would have started. Dhan te nan. If we were in Hindi serial, I’d have turned face three times. Dhanan dhanan dhanan.

  Andeep’s eyes and lips and hands were silently crying PLEASE.

  I counted till ten – in English and Hindi and Punjabi – and somehow forced myself to change my expression. Gave my most special smile. Spoke in my sweetest voice. ‘What I mean to say, Dingy’s parents will spare no expense to make wedding super-duper hit, ji. Trust me, thee whole world is having destination wedding. You just come and have fun. Bangkok style.’ I was so despo, I winked. Just to convince at least one party.

  ‘We’re not that modern-shodern,’ Auntyji said. ‘Plus, we’re calling more than thousand people…’

  Arre, it was wedding or politician’s rally?

  ‘…how can we take so many guests to Bangkok…’

  ‘You really want to call so many guests, Uncleji? They will only come for free food. You can cut off thee extra names from your guest list –’

  ‘No extra-vextra,’ he interrupted me. ‘We’ve gone and eaten in everyone’s wedding, now it’s their turn. We have to repay.’

  Repay with another person’s money. Why not!

  I was ready to hit them with Number Two (not shit, option). ‘You can keep thee reception in Bathinda and repay.’

  ‘No, no. We’re calling limited crowd for reception. No need to feed them again-again.’

  I looked at Andeep. Andeep looked at thee Three Idiots who had returned.

  All three were doing hee hee as if they had won big fort in some bloody battle.

  Dumpy looked at my face and his smile went phurrr.

  I’d tried my best to change Uncleji Auntyji‘s mind. But they were like retired politicians in government bungalows. Stuckum-stuck.

  Bas, I put my hands up. We all put our bums up.

  ‘You’re not going to stay for lunch?’ Auntyji asked with faku sadness.

  No, because you both will finish that also, I replied inside-inside.

  We took blessings from Uncleji’s Auntyji’s halwa hands and did bye-shyes.

  ‘Where are we going for lunch?’ Simran asked thee minute we got into car.

  I threw her ‘GO DIE’ look. Her BF’s sister’s dream was broken and she wanted to build stomach lining.

  ‘Let’s go to Facebook Da Dhabba,’ Dumpy suggested, winning same look from me.

  My blood was boiling. He was least bothered about his own flesh and blood. He’d lost his heart and his senses.

  ‘Yummy,’ Simran licked her lips. ‘Mummy, I’m so hungry.’

  Bas, Dumpy started driving as if he was in Formula One race, doing competition with that famous driver, what’s his name…Shoemaker, Showmaker, something.

  ‘DUMPY!’ I shouted as he almost
hit one bullock on thee road.

  ‘Bechari Simran is hungry,’ he answered.

  ‘Bitch-ari Simran,’ I repeated in acid voice. Only she could insult me or what?

  Forget Shoemaker, Dumpy took us to thee Dhabba faster than jumbo jet. Simran gave thee order faster than our backsides touched the charpoy.

  ‘Let’s get back home soon,’ Raj said, stuffing choley into his mouth fast.

  ‘You’ve appointment with Prime Minster?’ I asked in Dabur honey voice.

  ‘Whole country has appointment with Prime Minster,’ he chomp-chomped. ‘Don’t you know he’s coming on TV tonight to talk to thee nation?’

  He’s coming on TV, not to your house for tea, I wanted to bark. But my mouth was full. Plus, I was full mood out.

  ‘Must be something important…’ Raj continued, tearing his butter naan with both hands like it was paper. ‘Actually, Mahi, I wanted to talk to you about something important…’ he stopped and gave me shy type look.

  TOINGGGGG!

  My eyebrows went up and mixed with my hairs. I knew it! I knew he’d got thee hots for me. Oho, it was thee way he’d been looking at me. With painful, constipated, helpless expression. As if he was trying very hard to get something out, but failing to do so. But thee long drive to Bathinda had acted like laxative and his feelings were ready to come out.

  ‘Please Raj,’ I said, staring at my plate. ‘I don’t want to hear it.’

  ‘Please, Mahi, you won’t regret…’

  I was regretting. Talking to him. Sitting in car with him. I hadn’t given him grass, but I should have kept distance from him. God only knew what romantic pulao he was cooking in his head, with me as thee main ingredient.

  ‘Please, Mahi,’ he begged. ‘I know you need someone badly.’

  I used to think like that, too. That I needed someone in life. That I needed love. That I needed Lavith. But I’d learned Life’s Number One lesson thee hard way. In this world, we’re all alone. We come alone, live alone, and bloody die alone.

  ‘I don’t need anyone,’ I said, pushing away my plate. My hunger died seeing thee hungry expression on Raj’s face. I blushed from top to toes. Hai, some people had no control over their emotions.

  ‘Just give me one chance,’ he please-pleased. ‘Promise I won’t disappoint.’