Bathinda to Bangkok Page 5

  TING TONG!TING TONG!

  My brain that had gone phusss, came back to life. I pushed him away and ran to thee toilet, locked thee door and leaned against thee basin, hand on chest. It was running faster than deers escaping cheetah.

  I heard him go to thee door. I strained my ears, but couldn’t hear anything. I was already inside bathroom, so why not take shower, I thought. I pulled thee belt of my bathrobe and was about to slide it down from my shoulders.

  ‘You know I can see you from here, right?’ Tarzan called out in lazy voice.

  I jumped up like bread from toaster. Bathroom had window! It was open! It was too much!

  He went chuckle-chuckle before calling out, ‘I’m going to the Reception. Will see what can be done about our, um, situation.’

  DHADAAAAAAMMM!

  Thee door closed behind him.

  I waited for few seconds to make sure he was actually gone. Then I came out of thee bathroom and collapsed on thee bed. I gave lakh-lakh thanks to God for thee doorbell. Or God only knew what I’d have done – oho, why to lie, I knew what I’d have done.

  Hai, where only I got stuck. I thought, slapping my forehead.

  Everything was going A-okay. Uncelji Auntyji had said ‘No Never’. Thee wedding was going to be in Bathinda. Everyone (except Dingy) was happy. I was planning thee wedding in style.

  But now I was standing in bath gown in Hawa-Hawai island with Tarzan ready to drink my blood.

  It was all Andeep’s fault. No, it was Dingy’s fault. No, it was thee government’s fault.

  I went inside flashback.

  6

  The one where the government pours water over the heroine’s plans

  Driving back from Bathinda, I was water-water with shame. I’d failed in thee most important exam. Exam of life. I’d promised to gift Dingy Bangkok bang-bang, but could only give her bore Bathinda first night.

  After Dumpy, Simran and Raj dropped me home, I was in no mood to talk to anyone. I locked myself inside my room and didn’t step out for dinner also. I was feeling sickum-sick.

  It was after eleven in thee night when my cell rang. It was Dingy calling. Before I could scream, ‘Run Dingy run, run away and get married in Bangkok’, she screamed. ‘Thank you thank you thank you, Mahi! I told you, na….I told you, you could do it…I knew first itself that you could make Andeep’s parents change their minds…all this is left hand’s play for you…you’ve done bigger miracles…this is nothing…’

  Hai, my bestie had gone mad with pain.

  ‘Dingy, did you talk to Dumpy –?’

  ‘Forget Dumpy! I spoke to Andeep. He said you did it. You made thee impossible possible…’

  That laudu! He didn’t have thee guts to tell her truth, so he was telling lies.

  ‘Dingy, open your ears and listen to me…you don’t know what happened…’

  ‘I know everything, Mahi… But what I don’t know is how you made them prepone thee wedding also…to November end…’

  Hain?

  The wedding had been preponed? To November end?

  ‘I didn’t even ask you to prepone it. But like my true best friend, you did it on your own. You knew I couldn’t wait till Feb…You knew I couldn’t live without Andeep for three long months…now I’ve to be away from him for only two weeks…’

  My head started rotating. It was possible or what? Could Sutlej river flow backwards? Could Vikram Bhatt make hit movie? Could BJP and Congress join together into one party?

  ‘They want to meet you again…discuss Bangkok in detail…Dumpy’s free tomorrow… go and settle everything once and all, okay…please please please?’

  I was too tired to do you-you-me-me (oho, argument) with her. I said okay, hanged up and fell asleep.

  I woke up and patted thee side table for my cell. Ready to delete thee fifty-one Good Morning WhatsApps Bhooto sent every morning. I stared at thee screen in confusion. Something was wrong. Either my cell was dead or Bhooto was. Leave fifty-one, there was not one WhatsApp from her.

  There was only one WhatsApp. From my old client Binu Gujral (she pronounced it ‘Guzral’). She owed me – meaning, she owed Ludhiana to London – thirty grands for planning her granddaughter’s birthday party. Said she wanted to make thee payment now means now. I was thinking how thee sun rose from the South when –

  ‘HAI!’ Came Bhooto’s cry.

  This time I didn’t rush out of thee room. I stretched, yawned, put feet inside slippers with art movie speed. And then I walked out of thee room in slow motion.

  Bhooto was sitting on thee dining table, head down. Like ghosts in horror movies, she suddenly sat up. Gave me one look and burst out crying.

  What new chutiyapa now, I thought in irritation. Then suddenly, I was scared.

  Was it Niku? Did he have accident? I started imagining all bad-bad things. Niku lying dead on thee road. Flies flying on his face. Dog doing susu on him.

  ‘Mummyji! Where’s Niku? Is he okay?’

  ‘Niku’s fine. He’s still sleeping.’

  I looked at thee clock. Strange, Niku was not late sleeper or late store-goer. ‘He’s not gone to thee store?’

  ‘Arre, what will he do at thee store. No one’s going to come today.’

  ‘Why? Is it Bharat Bandh today?’ I asked jokily.

  Bhooto picked up remote and switched on TV.

  “…Bold move that takes the nation by surprise… PM demonetizes five hundred and thousand rupee notes…” Thee TV anchor was yelling.

  Then only it striked to me. So this was what Raj was talking about. This was thee appointment thee PM had with the whole nation.

  Note-ban. Note-bandi. Demonization? The words kept eating circles my head.

  Ya, it was shocking. But what for us? We were normal level people who acted like high level people. Earning hundred, spending thousand. This was rich people’s problem. People who had suitcases of black money…people like… Binu Gujral! Oho, so that’s why Madam was finally giving me my money…

  Suddenly, I slapped my forehead. Then I understood! That was Andeep’s Daddyji Mummyji’s game! So that’s why they wanted finger-click wedding.

  They wanted to get rid of all their old black money!

  Saale!

  I was angry with God and government and thee whole world. But then I thought, leave. Why to burn my blood? At least, my bestie’s dream would come true.

  ‘Hai, what will I do now?’ Mummyji was slapping her chest and crying like anything. She hadn’t cried like this even when Papaji had died.

  ‘Mummyji, we don’t have to do anything.’

  ‘But all our savings…turned to dust.’

  ‘Good, no, we don’t have too many savings.’

  Guilty look came on her face.

  My eyes became big. ‘You have savings?’

  ‘Little bit,’ Bhooto said, trying to get up from the dining table.

  I stared at her so badly, she sat back on thee chair.

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Oh, I haven’t counted.’ She replied, but from her expression, I knew that she was lying.

  ‘How much, Mummyji?’

  ‘Six lakhs.’

  My life went out. ‘Six lakhs?’ I repeated, not at all sure I’d heard right answer. ‘You have six lakh rupees? At home? In your room? In that Godrej almirah?’

  ‘And some under my mattress. And some inside my locker. And some in my safe…’

  I toh couldn’t bear to hear more. Last week, she’d been crying saying she had no savings. And now she was crying saying she didn’t know what to do with her savings. I felt like one chu@#$%. She was faster than bullet train. She’d kept so much cash and not one ‘chu’ had come out of her mouth.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Mummyji?’ Niku’s voice came from behind.

  She turned around and her face became white.

  ‘Niku!’ She gasped.

  ‘When I was looking for loan? You knew I was asking people for money. But not once did you open your mouth and say…’

/>   Hai, poor Niku had faced such tough times. If I had any money, I’d have given him happily. But my bank balance was so low, so low, it was lower than Bhooto. How could she stab her own son in thee backside? I toh couldn’t believe.

  Tears started running down her cheeks. ‘I was keeping it as security for my old age…’

  ‘Because I was going to throw you out? Put you in old-age home?’

  ‘No, no…please, Niku…listen to me…’

  But Niku was in no mood to listen. He walked out of the house, slamming the main door behind him.

  Bhooto crumpled like old Delhi building on thee dining-table.

  She wanted sympathy from me, but I didn’t feel like giving it. What she’d done was wrong. Plus, there was no time. Dumpy was picking me up for long drive to Bathinda in one (if he was on time) or two (if he was late like last time) hours.

  Thee whole environment had changed.

  Uncleji Auntyji were standing outside thee house with full tabbar (oho, family). Andeep, his sister Gurdeep, her husband Amanjeet, their two childrens, Limca, senior citizen and two other staff members. Only things missing were dhol-walas and phool-malas (oho, drum-beaters and flower garlands).

  ‘Come, puttar ji, come,’ Uncleji said.

  We touched knees (not our own, Uncleji’s and Auntyji’s), before following them inside.

  ‘Hmm,’ I began, taking my position next to thee tiger. ‘So, Uncleji Auntyji, I hear you want thee wedding in Bangkok?’

  ‘Bangkok and only Bangkok,’ Uncleji said. Auntyji moved her head up and down so hard, I thought she’d get spondylitis.

  ‘But it’s thee question of your only son’s wedding,’ I said with fake concern.

  ‘We’ve full confidence that only you will do great job.’

  ‘But I don’t have much experience.’

  ‘How will young people get experience, haan? How? If we don’t give them chance?’

  ‘Daljit! Daljitey!’ Auntyji called out.

  Senior-Citizen came in carrying tray with two tall lassi glasses. But this time, I was fast. I made my fingers wiggly-wiggly, called him towards me and picked up both thee glasses.

  ‘That was for –’ Uncleji began.

  I raised one eyebrow like Kathak dancer.

  ‘You, it’s for you,’ Uncleji gulped. ‘Have, have.’

  I had. First thee first glass, then thee second glass. Taking loud sips.

  ‘Can we say we’re having destination wedding?’ Auntyji started when I finished thee lassi. ‘We’re not less than anyone…’

  They were not. They were the biggest laudus I’d seen.

  ‘We’re also modern-shodern, we can also move with thee times…’

  ‘But how will we fly thousand-and-one guests for thee baraat?’ I continued in voice cooler than thee lassi.

  ‘It’s not possible,’ Uncleji told Auntyji firmly. ‘We’ll take only family – we two, Gurdeep-Amanjeet and theirs two. It’s our son’s wedding, not Kumbh Mela. Plus, Dingy’s also bringing only family –’

  ‘And me and Bhoo–means, my Mummyji and Niku,’ I informed him, in case he was thinking of cutting our cards also.

  ‘Of course, of course,’ he agreed, ‘you’re family.’

  ‘And one of my close friends,’ Andeep put in quickly. ‘He’s also like family.’

  ‘So guest matter’s finished,’ Uncleji said, raising his hands.

  But I hadn’t finished bajaoing their band. ‘But you’ve eaten at so many weddings…’

  ‘Mostly thee food was bad. Better not to call such people.’

  ‘But what will you tell your friends?’ I taunted Uncleji.

  ‘Andeep says your brain runs faster than computer. You only suggest something, Mahi Beta.’

  ‘Hmm,’ I stroked thee tiger, thinking loud: ‘Why don’t we say that Andeep and Dingy…’ I struggled to think of thee word for boy-girl running away to get married…what it was…enveloped? anteloped? Then I thought what difference, as if they were all Shakespeare’s relatives sitting in front of me. ‘Enveloped?’

  ‘Enveloped?’ Uncleji asked, scratching his beard.

  ‘She means “eloped”, Papaji. It means running away to get married,’ came Andeep’s voice.

  I was so surprised (oho, not because he finally spoke up, because he knew that much English) I swallowed too much lassi and started coughing.

  Uncleji’s bum lifted and for one second, I got tension that he was going to rub my backside.

  I put one hand up like referee. ‘I, I’m,’ I coughed, ‘fine now.’

  Uncleji’s bum went down. So did my tension level.

  ‘Yes, yes, elope. It means running away to get married.’ I continued like knowledgeable person. ‘But because you’re big-hearted, you decided to forgive and went to Bangkok to give blessings.’

  Uncleji Auntyji looked at each other.

  ‘Worried about your social position?’ I asked sweetly.

  ‘Who cares about people...their job is to talk…but we’ve to think about our financial position, no?’ Auntyji made face. ‘Oho, what’s there to think, just say okay.’

  ‘Okay,’ Uncleji said slowly. ‘Andeep, go bring money.’

  ‘Did I hear you correctly, Uncleji? You’re going to pay for thee wedding?’

  ‘Yes, Beta.’

  ‘But you are boy’s side,’ I sunaoed them their own dialogue. ‘How can you pay for thee wedding?’

  ‘What boy side, girl side,’ Uncleji said waving my ‘protest’ away. ‘We are all one side, one family. We’ll give fifty percent of wedding expenses. Andeep, get suitcase.’

  Like trained dog, Andeep leaped from sofa and went running to get it.

  ‘I was telling your Aunty last night only that this Mahi, very talented,’ Uncleji started putting soap all over me. ‘Too good she is.’

  I showed my teeth to him. First time, he’d said something sensible.

  Andeep came back carrying old brown suitcase and placed it next to me. I bent down to pat it, feeling like smuggler.

  ‘We want their wedding in two weeks,’ Auntyji added.

  Kameene! They just wanted to get rid of their cash before thee demon…demonization…oho, note-ban deadline. What materialist, money-minded, monkeys Dingy was marrying.

  I opened my mouth, but Dumpy gave me look.

  ‘Uncleji Auntyji, you’ve come to thee right person. Let’s do balley-balley in Bangkok.’

  ‘I told you, no, this girl could do anything.’ After putting soap on me, Uncleji gave me shower. Oho, with praises.

  ‘So, it’s settled then?’ Dumpy asked.

  Uncleji Auntyji nodded.

  ‘Badhaiyaan!’

  Everyone started saying ‘Congrats congrats’ to everyone.

  ‘What’s for lunch?’ Uncleji asked Auntyji.

  ‘Biryani, butter chicken, naan…’

  My throat and stomach both made loud sounds.

  ‘And sweet-dish?’

  ‘Besan laddoos and rabdi…’

  I was thinking I’d leave their house two kg heavier, when Uncleji got up and folded his hands.

  ‘Okay, ji. See you in Bangkok.’

  Everyone started saying ‘Bye-bye’ to everyone.

  I toh couldn’t believe they were such kanjoos makhichoos (oho, miser fly-suckers).

  I gave Dingy congo (not country, congratulations) thee second we got into thee car.

  ‘So along with wedding, you can have your spinster party in Bangkok…you’ll be landing in Bangkok few days before thee wedding because you’re…’ I struggled to remember thee word.

  ‘Eloping,’ Dumpy provided it.

  ‘I can’t believe my dream’s going to come true,’ Dingy sighed after I’d finished telling her thee whole story. ‘I’ll wear my designer lehenga…

  ‘Anmol Chaddha’s not designer,’ I interrupted. ‘she’s copycat. Local tailor who copies thee work of all famous designers…’

  Dingy ignored and went on, ‘…And walk down thee beach –’

  Hain?
‘Beach?’ I asked in hello-are-you-all-right voice. ‘There’s no beach in Bangkok.’

  ‘WHAT?’ Dingy cried out, sounding like dog from whom I’d snatched bone.

  ‘No Beach Bangkok,’ I repeated clearly just in case she’d not heard thee first time.

  ‘B-b-but, but it’s my dream to have beach wedding in Bangkok…’ she cried. ‘How will I get married without beach?’

  First Bangkok. Then beach. Life was bitch.

  I banged my head against my cell phone three times.

  ‘Do something, Mahi-ve !’ Dingy begged.

  Arre, what could I do? From where I could give birth to beach in Bangkok?

  ‘You’ve my swear, Mahi! Swear to God you’ll see my dead face.’

  If she gave swear for every chintu thing, forget me, even God wouldn’t take her seriously. But then her CD (Crying Dying) started. And my heart became loose again.

  ‘Dingy, please, control. I’ll do something,’ I said in rough voice.

  And that’s how I was stuck in Hua Hin.

  Andeep’s Delhi contact had made discovery of thee piddu island close to Bangkok. It was very short notice. And all thee hotels were fully booked after two weeks. Except one. Hotel Lembla.

  7

  In which the former groomie becomes current roomie

  Tarzan came back to thee room, cutting my flashback. He looked like he’d scored centum in all subjects in thee Board Exams.

  ‘Well, this is a surprise,’ he spoke up. ‘When I was booking the resort, they told me –’

  ‘You booked thee resort?’ I gasped.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he replied.

  ‘But Andeep said…’ Then only it striked to me. ‘You’re Andeep’s Delhi contact!’

  He bowed down like magician after magic show.

  I almost burst like pressure-cooker with too much steam. Andeep knew everything means EVERYTHING, but still he did this! I wanted to kill that laudu, but I didn’t want to make Dingy widow before her marriage.

  Tarzan had no idea of thee volcano bubbling inside me. ‘As it happens, there’s a room available –’ he said excitedly.

  My face became small. I thought he’d made evil plan to force me to share room. So when I saw him looking all happy to shift to separate rooms, I was irritated like anything.