Bathinda to Bangkok Page 6

  ‘I’ll take it,’ I cut him.

  ‘Hear me out, Mahender. I’m not done…’

  ‘But I am,’ I jumped down from thee bed and slipped my feets inside thee fluffy hotel slippers. ‘I don’t want to spend one minute extra in this room…I want thee other room right now –’

  I wanted to show that I was more eager to shift out.

  ‘Not room, suite. The honeymoon suite,’ he finished thee sentence, meow type look coming on his face.

  Haw!

  I was shockum-shocked.

  ‘I’m not exactly dying to get into a honeymoon suite either,’ Tarzan said, seeing my expression.

  Control, Mahi, control. He didn’t say, ‘I don’t want get into honeymoon suite with you, Mahi’. He just said he didn’t want to enter honeymoon suite. I knew he was anti-marriage from thee beginning. I knew all that, but still, I felt so hurted. I’d walked out of our flat in Delhi, but suddenly, I felt like thee rejected one.

  I ignored thee chest pains on my right side. ‘I don’t mind getting into honeymoon suite,’ I said sweetly. ‘but not with you.’

  That’s it, his smile became phurrrrr.

  Good, I thought with satisfaction. Let him also feel thee pinch.

  For thee next few seconds, there was maha tension in the room.

  ‘So I’ll tell Agung we won’t be taking it?’ He finally broke thee silence. ‘He was going to give this room to a solo guest and bump us up to the suite.’

  Agung. So that was Chusli’s real name. So tough to remember. Thai people like complicating life, I went grumble-grumble. Why couldn’t they be like Punjabis? Our names were so simple. Sweety, Pinky, Whitey. Just think of your favourite colour – and phatttt – you can remember thee name.

  ‘Tell Agung we can’t,’ I said firmly. ‘What will people say?’

  How only it would look? Two of us alone in thee honeymoon suite. Like newly-married couple. Like two bodies, one soul. Like…

  My heart became like Golden Band. Oho, thee most popular wedding band in Ludhiana. My inside voice started screaming at thee top of my lungs.

  ‘God, you’re unbelievable!’ Tarzan said, shaking his head. ‘You’re prepared to spend the rest of the week with me, in this poky room, on this bed. But you won’t share the honeymoon suite! Why? Because of “what will people think”? Who are these fucking people? And why do you give a shit about them? You could share a large, airy room with a sitting area and a couch…a couch I’d be willing to sleep on, gentleman that I am, leaving the kingsize bed to you…’

  Sitting area? Couch? On top of that, king’s bed?

  I gave him Why-didn’t-you–tell-before look.

  He gave me I-was-trying-to look.

  ‘Look at us talking without talking,’ Tarzan mentioned, his lips twisting to one side. ‘Only couples do that, you know?’

  ‘We’re not couple. We’re India and Pakistan, Karan Johar and Ram Gopal Varma, we’re…’

  ‘And here I thought we were ice-cream and chocolate,’ he said in low voice. Wicked look came on his face and he maaroed eye at me. I gasped.

  Kutta! Kameena!

  When we were not India and Pakistan, when we were one country, we’d done ice-cream and chocolate stunt together.

  Before I could have flashback about that night, Tarzan threw rude question at me.

  ‘We don’t got all day, Mahendar. Yes or no? In or out?’

  Hai, I was in – what was that word – didi-ma? dilli-ma? I was stuckum-stuck. I didn’t know what to do. I’d to make choice. Think about people and stay stuck in pigeon’s hole? Or show middle finger to people and go for king’s bed? Think, Mahi, think.

  I made up my mind. ‘How soon can we get thee honeymoon suite?’

  Tarzan gave slow smile. ‘I’ll ask Agung to get on it right away.’

  He left thee room and I sat down on the bed with loud dhammm.

  Why you’re tense, Mahi? my inside voice asked. You’ve jumped into different bed with same boy. Inside voice was right, but still. I also had some standard. I couldn’t jump in and out of different beds with same boy.

  Then I thought, by thee time wedding party came from Bathinda and Ludhiana, thee resort would be empty. We’d shift into separate rooms and no one would know thee truth.

  It was just thee matter of seven days. It couldn’t be that bad.

  It was worst.

  It was total syapa! No, it was Syapa with capital S. No, no, it was SYAPA with all capitals letters.

  ‘I hope you’ll like a labia,’ Chusli said politely, inserting card into honeymoom suite.

  Tarzan’s eyes became wide in shock. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Chusli pointed to thee board outside room, looking like calm monk.

  ‘Arabian Nights,’ Tarzan read thee theme aloud. ‘Oh, you meant Arabia.’

  ‘A labia, yes,’ Chusli nodded. Tarzan burst out coughing again.

  ‘Now if theme suspense is broken, can we go inside?’ I said in bored tone.

  Chusli held thee door open. I went in and my tongue came out.

  The sitting area was SESKI! Means, hundred times more than sexy! Small settee, colourful cushions, thick carpet, scented candles, lamp shade. I looked at thee ceiling and saw stars. I looked at thee wall and saw camels – means, camels wallpaper. There was hookah next to thee settee.

  ‘I toh love it,’ I made declaration.

  And like always, put both feets in my mouth.

  Because when we followed Chusli inside, ‘haw’ look came on my face. Thee bedroom was some tharki old sheikh’s dirty fantasy come true. Red and pink decor. Round bed, heavy silk curtains hanging from it. Chusli pressed button. And it started rotating. Not my head, the bed.

  Next to thee bed was small trolley with jugs and glasses on it. And bunch of black grapes. Hot scene came into my mind. Me in black harem pant and cut-off sleeve flowing pink top, balancing jug on my right shoulder, feeding Tarzan black grapes….

  I looked up and saw him looking at me, wicked smile on his face. Hai, did he know I was dirty day dreaming? Thank god he couldn’t see inside my head. I turned red like London bus and turned face away.

  ‘And that’s the walk-in bathloom,’ Chusli said proudly. Like he’d made thee bathroom with his own hands.

  We walked into thee bathroom straight. Because – hayo rabba – here no door! Only glass walls! It started rotating. Not thee bathroom, my head.

  This time toh, I had to look at Tarzan. He’d big wolf’s smile on his face, like he’d maaroed some big arrow.

  Thee minute Chusli left, I turned to him.

  ‘I want to change…’

  ‘Go right ahead…I’ll close my eyes,’ he replied.

  ‘Not my clothes. Thee room.’

  ‘Why?’

  Kutta!

  He knew why. He just wanted to play cat-mouse game with me.

  ‘I-I just don’t like it.’

  He dropped down on thee bed. ‘Can’t imagine why,’ he said innocently, joining his hands under his head in relaxed pose. ‘It’s a perfectly nice room.’

  ‘For Alibaba or Aladdin…’ I said, ice in my voice.

  Tarzan burst out laughing.

  ‘And look at that toilet!’ I cried out, pointing one hand at it. ‘Hotel would have become bankrupt or what if they had put one bloody door?’

  ‘Oh come on, Mahendar, don’t be a prude.’

  I crossed my arms over my boobies. ‘Hello, if you think I’m going to go to thee bathroom in front of you…’

  ‘Nothing I haven’t seen before,’ he said in pussycat type tone.

  What cheeks!

  I picked up thee pillow and threw it violently at him. He bent down so it went and hit thee Arabian jug. The jug started rocking left and right like it was drunk.

  Tarzan held up his hands. ‘Okay, okay, I completely agree that some things should be left to the imagination –’

  ‘What for you? You’re boy,’ I almost spit thee words out.

  ‘Hey, it may come as a complete surpri
se to you, but I don’t want anyone to watch me do my business either.’

  ‘Your business?’ I repeated like dumb parrot, confused. ‘What business are you going to do inside thee bathroom?’

  ‘What guys do inside the washroom…’

  He left thee sentence incomplete and gave me meaning-wallah look.

  I desperately wanted to act cool-shool like him and throw his dialogue ‘Nothing I haven’t seen before’ back on his face.

  But I was Mahi, not Lavith. I marched out of thee room then and there. Marched straight to Reception counter.

  Chusli gave me big smile. ‘Miss Ahulwalia, how may I help you?’

  Bas, I burst out. ‘Only you can help me, Chu…I mean, Mr. Reception…I want to change thee room.

  His smile vanished like it was daag (not dog, stain) and I was Surf Excel. ‘Can…not.’

  ‘Can can,’ I insisted.

  ‘Solly, all looms book.’

  ‘I’ll pay you.’

  ‘No can.’

  ‘Yes can,’ I said desperately.

  After few more minutes of can can and can…not, I accepted defeat. If I’d fought my tongue with Chusli for one more minute, I’d have gone mad.

  ‘What happened,’ Lavith asked innocently when I went back. ‘Your magic didn’t work?’

  ‘Chusli not budging.’

  ‘Chusli?’ Tarzan smile was like Bhakra Nangal Dam, stretching from here to there.

  I must have looked like suicide case, because he said with full sympathy, ‘Look, it won’t be so bad. Send me a text each time you go to the loo, just to be on the safe side. Okay?’

  ‘But,’ I hesitated, ‘what if you have to…?’

  He gave me encouraging look. ‘I have to?’

  ‘To do susu badly,’ I said at last.

  His corners – means, his mouth corners started moving. ‘I won’t,’ he ate swear, serious expression on his face. ‘Even if I need to do susu badly, I won’t barge in. Bad though it is for my health, for my bladder, I’ll hold it in. Gentleman’s promise. Happy?’

  Such big sacrifice. Hai, he toh was touching me so much. I gave tight smile like old person who had done too much Botox.

  I breathed out, relived. But situation was still tensed. It was like Wagah border. Even when there’s no war, small shootings take place every day. But no one minds. Everyone thinks it’s normal.

  I went out to the sitting area, and was about to drag my strolley to thee room.

  ‘Allow me,’ Lavith said and picked it up like it was feather.

  Small blush came on my face. He used to pick me up also. Like I was feather. At thee memory, small tear came to my eyes. I swallowed it quickly, but Tarzan had seen my expression.

  He again misunderstood. But thank god, he did. Because if he knew the real reason, I toh wouldn’t be able to face him.

  ‘Look, I know how you feel about us planning the wedding together…’

  Planning? Wedding? Together? Bas, that was enough to change my mood. He was comparing himself to me? To Mahi, who had six-years experience and lifetime knowledge of planning events? Saala! Zero% experience, 100% overconfidence.

  ‘You and plan wedding!’ I went snort-snort like pig.

  His lips became thinner than Anushka’s lips before she put plumpy injection. ‘If you’re going to be like this…’

  ‘No, no, sorry, please tell what you’re thinking…’

  ‘Okay,’ he started. ‘I was thinking why don’t we split duties?’

  Arre, it was wedding. Not some pizza or sweet-dish.

  ‘I can’t leave anything to chance,’ I said slowly. Or to him. But that I didn’t say loudly.

  ‘But you’re not. You’re leaving it to me.’

  ‘Same difference,’ I said, lifting one shoulder.

  His eyes became narrow. ‘That’s the problem with you. Once you take a stand, you simply won’t give an inch.’

  ‘I can’t give inch, centimetre, kilometre. Oho, I can’t! You don’t understand…I can’t! Dingy’s my best friend – no, she’s like my sister. It’s my duty and responsibility and job to give her dream wedding. And I swear to God, even if I die, I will.’

  ‘If you die, how will you be of any use to her?’

  I continued like he hadn’t said anything. ‘…I want everything – everything – to be first class, tip-top, A-One. If anything goes wrong…’ I left sentence incomplete to shiver, ‘never in thousand years will I be able to forgive myself…’

  Soft look came into his eyes. And I came to sudden halt.

  ‘What?’ I asked him.

  ‘It’s sweet, the way you care for Dingy. But I wish you’d trust me. I won’t let you down, you know. Ever.’

  Breeze blew in from thee open window, making me go brrrr. He was still talking about thee wedding or?

  I made thee mistake of looking into his brown eyes. And immediately, gooses (not birds, dots) came on my arms, legs and other areas. He reached for my hand.

  ZOINGGG!

  I felt as if he’d plugged it into electric socket. From zero battery, I suddenly became 100% charged. My heart started beating like out-of-control wild animal. My legs started going diggy-diggy. My mind started screaming Bhaag Milkha Bhaag. All this from touching his hand. Imagine what would have happened if he’d touched other, more important, body parts.

  I pulled my hand away like he was microwave at three hundred degree temperature. That skull and bones sign on dangerous things should be put on Tarzan also, I thought, my heart racing like metro rail.

  I had to put space between us. I walked to thee intercom to make call.

  ‘Loom selvice,’ came thee voice.

  I put phone away from my mouth. ‘I’m ordering loom, oho, room service. You want?’

  He shook his head and walked out of thee bedroom. I collapsed on thee bed.

  Hai, one day close to Tarzan was torture of thee first order. How only I was going to manage seven?

  8

  In which swords are cross and heated words are exchanged

  ‘Sir, Madame? Good molning. I’m Paul, your Wedding Advisol,’ thee man at thee reception greeted us. Immediately, I named him Muesli, because he looked like Chusli’s healthy version.

  ‘It’s not our wedding,’ I said without thinking.

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Tarzan said with straight face. But I could see that he was dying to laugh.

  It was not my fault. My mind was not working only. I got sleep disturbance thee night before. Oho, not because thee Arabian bed was uncomfortable, because I was uncomfortable. Tarzan was so close to me. Just outside thee bedroom door. Rolling on thee settee. Wearing tight-shite whitey-lightey chaddi. Or maybe not even that…

  ‘Lavith,’ Tarzan said, putting his hand out.

  Muesli took it so lovingly, for one second I was worried he’d kiss it.

  When he didn’t, I safely gave my hand to Muesli. ‘Myself, Mahi. Top Wedding Planner from Ludhiana.’

  ‘Nice to be part of your wedding, Madame, Sir.’

  ‘It’s not our wedding,’ Lavith said, his eyes doing bhangra.

  Saala!

  He was having good time at my expense. And he didn’t even have decency to cover up. He was wearing his holiday uniform. Flowery short shorts and deep V neck tee shirt. His naked chest was giving sneak peeks and calling me…

  I used my yoga powers to look at thee other man in uniform. ‘Mr. Mues –’

  ‘Paul, his name is Paul,’ Tarzan supplied.

  ‘Mr. Paul, can you suggest good venue for wedding?’

  ‘Lembla is the best venue for wedding.’

  Uff!

  ‘I mean inside Lembla Resort.’

  His light bulb was switched on. ‘Ah! If you’ll follow me?’

  ‘Surely we will,’ I said.

  And we did. All thee way to thee manicured- pedicured lawn side-by-side to thee sea.

  ‘You can have lawn wedding,’ Muesli said, spreading his arms widely.

  Sprinklers were on. They were watering thee gras
s and giving me thee susu feeling. But it was good idea.

  ‘We can put thee mandap here, sea facing,’ I said, excited.

  ‘Then the audience’s back would be to the sea. How about we place it there?’ Tarzan pointed opposite side. ‘Also sea facing, but for the guests. In any case, Andeep and Dingy will have eyes only for each other.’

  I peesoed my teeths. I knew what Tarzan was doing. He was cutting my suggestion knowingly. With lot of difficulty, I kept my temperature and voice down.

  ‘We can put bar here,’ I said, going up to thee coconut tree. ‘Bartender can pour vodka into thee coconuts right in front of their eyes –’

  ‘What about the guests who don’t have vodka?’

  Limited guests were coming. And I’d made list of who drank what.

  ‘Everyone drinks vodka,’ I said like one proudy.

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘I know,’ I said with my nose in thee air. ‘Too much heat in your body.’

  I regretted after speaking. I knew he got pimples after drinking vodka. It was better to avoid all personal topics. But like person wearing white clothes has to, has to go in puddle and become dirty, I did too.

  Tarzan raised an eyebrow. ‘Heat in my body?’

  Ya, when you drink vodk –’ I saw his cheap expression and changed thee topic immediately. ‘You can have whiskey. Your body won’t be hot then.’

  ‘No? Sure about that?’

  Hai, I thought, not even looking, his shoulders and chest and what not. He’d always be totta (not parrot, hot boy). I turned red like post-box.

  ‘Okay, but what about food?’ I changed topic like bad driver who suddenly changes lanes.

  ‘When would you like to taste us?’ Muesli asked politely.

  ‘Never, I hope,’ Tarzan replied, rolling his eyes towards thee sky.

  ‘We’re very eager for you to taste us,’ Muesli insisted.

  ‘Mr. Mue, I mean, Mr –’

  Tarzan gave me ‘You forgot his name again’ look.

  ‘Please call me Paul,’ Muesli told me politely.

  Arre, I was going to call him Paul. That was his name, no?

  ‘Can you give me your special menu? I’ll see what works.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ Tarzan corrected me. ‘We’ll see what works.’