When Hari Met His Saali (19 page)

In the last few days she had straightened up her apartment, made the spare bedroom spick and span for Simi, put freshly cut flowers out for her, had her car detailed inside out, had gone to the salon for a pedicure and manicure, and had made two exhaustive lists detailing the good times she wanted to show Simi. She had taken care of everything she could think of.

She was sure Simi would be impressed and report back to her mother, thus vindicating her decision to come to America. She wanted to prove a point to her mother.

Tia seesawed often.

As she sat alone in the car, she wondered if it was going to be enough. When you fight with someone over something, his or her expectations of what that something is, increases tenfold. She was aware of that. And a always-on-every-woman’s-mind thought came into her mind.

Is Simi going to think I have put on weight?

In the eyes of Simi, Tia had achieved so much in her life that she had nervous butterflies in her tummy just thinking of meeting her after all this time. Simi wanted to impress Tia so badly, but really felt she had nothing to show off about. She felt like she had wasted so much of her life. When Tia was twenty-three — the same age as Simi was — she had already started to work at a top architecture firm in a big city like Los Angeles. She felt inferior.

Oh my God! I forgot to Google Los Angeles.

The thought suddenly popped in her head. Simi had planned to research a bit about Los Angeles so that she didn’t come across a total
ninkampoot
— her late father’s favorite and totally made-up word to describe an incompetent, ignorant and imbecilic person — but with all the running around, she had forgotten to.

Tch.

What would Tia think? Simi was hoping that she wouldn’t say something stupid in front of Tia’s friends, or worse in front of Tia’s in-laws, or Hari …

… Agrhhh! There is only about a two hundred percent possibility that I will mumble something embarrassing at the wrongest moment.

Simi was shaking her head in her seat.

See, wrongest is not even a word, you ninkampoot.

She made a decision to be mostly quiet when around people in Los Angeles, and barely take part in conversations, just barely. Sharmila had babbled a lot about America and American ways, but she couldn’t recollect all of it now. She did however remember Sharmila’s excitement when she had encouraged Simi to sleep with a white guy, at least once.

‘Once you go white, you always go right,’ she begged.

It sounded like something she had made up — which she had — but within Simi’s limited worldview it didn’t sound right. Well, it didn’t matter actually, because she didn’t understand what it meant. She had however been wondering how it would be to get “hot-n-heavy” (Namit’s terminology) with someone who looked like Bobby Donnell. She felt a tingling in her body.
Thankfully Mrs. Shah was snoring away next to her, so she figured she was safe to let her body tingle a bit more. All the freedom of sex available in America, all the things she had read about, about the free-spirited Americans and their sexual relationships, was it all true? Would she get the chance to experience an American man? Do American men really rock a woman’s world when it comes to sex? She had seen Bobby Donnell kiss Lindsey on
The Practice.
Do they really suckle on woman’s lips like that? It looked … so delicious.

Watching couples kiss on
The Practice
was the extent of Simi’s porn experience. But soon the tingling gave way to much more basic insecurities. What was she going to eat? She still didn’t know the difference between beef and pork (both unavailable in Nagpur) or salami and bacon (she had heard they were delicious on TV cooking shows), or shrimps and prawns.

Or
.
. . oh my God, how do they eat their eggs?

Poached, sunny side up, over easy, scrambled? She was supposed to research all of it, but it just escaped her mind. She decided she would take some lessons from Tia, on the eggs at least. Simi loved eggs. But so far she had only had them hard-boiled or as an omelette. She was secretly glad that her mother had insisted on putting two packs of two-minute Maggi noodles into her check-in bags, in spite of her protests. (It is a far reaching but a very dearly held secret that Indian mothers pack Maggi noodles into their sons and daughters bags when they go abroad for the very first time. Yes, even to this day.) Having the noodles gave her some confidence. If nothing else worked, she told herself that there was always bread and butter, although she felt nervous that she wouldn’t get salted Amul butter — her favorite — in America.

As soon as she thought of Amul butter, she scolded herself.

You were supposed to give up butter last year, you cow.

Simi pinched herself, but the fabric on her dress was clinging so tightly to her body, she couldn’t separate it from her flab.

Tia is going to have a fit seeing me so flabby.

All those thoughts about food were making her hungry. But before she could call the stewardess the pilot announced that the flight was about to land at LAX. She pulled her hand down from the magical button overhead and braced herself. Suddenly she was overcome with emotion. She was not scared, but strangely her eyes became moist. She wondered if it was because she was landing in a foreign country for the first time, or whether it was because she was going to meet Tia again after all these years, or whether it
was because she was concerned about her mother whom she had left alone. She was already missing her.

Thankfully, Mrs. Shah was equally excited/scared and they grabbed each other’s hands during the touchdown.

‘Putri cinta nathi, hum tamari sathe chun’
she said in Gujarati, meaning ‘don’t worry daughter, I am here with you’.

Simi closed her eyes and started to pray. Simi knew one hundred and eight different prayers, each meant for different occasions. She picked the one for safety and courage when arriving in a foreign land, and squeezed Mrs. Shah’s hands. From the sound of it, it seemed like she had broken Mrs. Shah’s wrists but Mrs. Shah was too much into maternal mode to mention it.

Late Night — Outside LAX

Tia was excited to see Simi, and while waiting for her she had managed to make payments to the florist, the
candlewallah
and the DJ from sitting in the parking lot. She had planned to do so many things with Simi. She told herself that Simi was an innocent girl and that she’d have to take care of her while she was in the U.S. Afterall, she had no exposure to different cultures, different ways, and especially to the way things happened in America.

When she finally spotted Simi rolling out her cart she caught her eye. They were still separated by some distance but tears were flowing freely down their cheeks. When Simi reached Tia she let go of her luggage cart and hugged her as if she was the long-lost sister she hadn’t seen for years, which in this case
was
the case.

Tia responded with equal fondness.

‘Simi,
moti
, you’ve put on weight, girl!’ Tia said, taking control of the still-rolling cart.

Tia’s American accent suddenly sounded more pronounced.

‘
Kanjus
, you didn’t bring any flowers, bouquet or a garland for me?’ Simi teased as she wiped away her tears.

‘Wohooo! We are going to be together for the next month, baby!’ Tia said as they got into her car.

‘Yeah, baby! How’s Hari?’ Simi asked as she fastened her seat belt, remembering Namit’s advice that ‘cars in the U.S. go at the speed of light. Always wear a seatbelt.’

‘He’s at his bachelor party,’ Tia said as she maneuvered the car.

‘Bachelor party? And you let him go?’ Simi was surprised.

‘You know what a bachelor party is Sim-Sim?’ Tia asked genuinely surprised that her little sister knew about this
very American
tradition.

‘Of course, Tia,’ Simi replied, looking at the cars on the highway going
zweep zweep.

‘Are you hungry?’ Tia asked.

‘I am OK,’ Simi replied. She’d eaten plenty on the plane.

‘Cool, because we are going to crash Hari’s bachelor party! You’ll be OK if you sleep a little late, right?’

Simi nodded excitedly. ‘Yeah, all I did on the plane was sleep.’

When they reached Chitthi’s house, Simi asked Tia for her phone.

‘I want to call Mom and let her know that I have reached safely.’

As Simi talked to her mother, Tia walked a little distance away. Simi, noticing that her call was making Tia uncomfortable, hurried the conversation and hung up.

‘Now, Simi, don’t get scandalized by what you are going to see inside, OK? And please don’t say anything
ulta-seedha
to anyone. In fact, for tonight, don’t speak to anyone,’ Tia said nonchalantly as she fixed Simi’s hair.

Simi thought that if Tia was instructing her so categorically then she must follow her instructions, so she nodded.

Over the next few weeks Simi would speak to her mother less and less, and make shorter and shorter calls, before she would run back to her under the most unexpected of circumstances. But nobody knew that yet, least of all Simi.

Later — Chitti’s house

There was a wild party going on at Chitthi’s house! It was a riot! Sexy white girls were stripping. One small group of men had literally turned this place upside down. They were drunk and dancing with the girls lecherously. Beer was flowing freely from a keg. A stripper dressed as policewoman had just torn off Chitthi’s shirt. Another stripper dressed as Wonder woman was popping open Hari’s shirt buttons … the music was loud, the tempo was upbeat … it was like a scene from
The Hangover
when the doorbell rang.

‘Your doorbell just rang!’ Hari called to Chitthi.

‘Dude, no one’s coming. It’s your hormones which are ringing bells!’ Chitthi was sozzled.

The doorbell rang again. And again. And again. Hari went to open the door.

His jaw dropped to the floor.

Standing in front of him were Tia and Simi.

Hari was a sight. His shirt and hair were disheveled and his pants, which were unbuttoned, were sliding down. He was holding his trousers up with one arm while in the other hand was the irrefutable evidence of alcohol indulgence — a beer bottle.

‘This is just a beer … uh … a light beer,’ he blurted out.

Just earlier in the evening he had grandiosely told Tia that
he was off alcohol.

‘Hi, Hari,’ Simi said before Tia had a chance to speak.

‘Oh, hi Simi!’ Hari was happy to look at Simi rather than Tia. But to his surprise Tia took him by his collar, led him to the sofa and sat him down. Although, the music was still blaring, everyone had gone quiet. The party had just been abruptly suspended. Such was Tia’s power. She softly whispered something to the tall, leggy, blonde stripper.

‘Would you mind giving him the lap dance of his life?’

The blonde stripper, dressed like Bugs Bunny, looked around confused.

‘It’s OK, I am his bride-to-be!’ Tia said, sitting down next to Simi.

A moment later, the party burst back into the frenzy it was before. As Bugs Bunny gave Hari all her attention, Simi’s eyes were open wide like a deer caught in the headlights. Greater than the shock of the almost-nude girls gyrating so close to men’s bodies was Simi’s admiration for the rock-hard bodies of the strippers. She didn’t even notice that Tia had handed her a beer and she was sipping it. She was in a daze when Tia introduced her to Cindy, who was dressed like Bambi and was stripping for Chitthi.

Later, when Tia was driving them back, Simi was in the front with her and Hari was passed out in the back seat.

‘You mean Cindy is Chitthi’s wife? Really?’ Simi was shocked.

‘Yeah it’s normal in the U.S., one has to keep marriage spiced up, you know?’ Tia said casually.

‘But aren’t … don’t you feel insecure?’

‘Actually Cindy made sure the strippers didn’t go totally nude. They go topless at the most. Secondly, strippers are very safe. They are professionals. It’s illegal to engage in prostitution. That’s the law in America and it is very strict here, unlike in India,’ Tia declared proudly, but what she didn’t admit was how much she was seething inside having witnessed Bugs Bunny all over Hari.

Simi nodded.

If Tia says so then strippers must be safe.

‘God, they were all scared when you got there, Tia.
Nani yaad aa gayi thi sab ko!
’ Simi was excited her trip had started with so much fun.

In the back seat, Hari must not have been that drunk, because … he spoke.

‘You know, Tia darling, when she was rubbing her chest all over me, I was thinking about you … hic hic!’

‘It’d be better if you simply did not speak Hari, OK?’ Tia said lovingly as she winked at Simi.

‘OK,’ Hari whimpered falling back into a horizontal position on the back seat.

‘Tia, did you look at the bodies of those girls? How, I mean, how do they get a body like that? Do they even eat anything?’ Simi was still awestruck by the dancing girls.

‘It’s easy, Simi. It takes lots of gymming and that’s all. By the way, their breasts were fake … umm … you did notice that, right?’ Tia said with superior authority.

‘What? Ewee!’ Simi suddenly felt sick.

No, I can’t tell fake ones from real ones.

‘Don’t “ewee” Simi. Welcome to America!’

Tia stopped the car.

‘Hari, sober up. We are home!’

Hari bolted upright. He had no clue that she had brought him to her home. He was in no condition to go to his own house tonight.

Minutes later — In Tia’s bedroom

Tia, with Simi’s help, tucked Hari into her bed. And then she settled her sister into the other bedroom. Simi loved her room instantly. It was spacious with large French windows on one side overlooking the street and huge closets for all her things. The view from the fourth floor was awesome, plus the room had its own bathroom and a massive bed.

‘Wow,
Didi
, your home is awesome!’ Simi was really impressed.

‘Yeah well, I work hard for it.’ Tia said nonchalantly.

‘And congratulations,
Didi
, on your engagement and the
shaadi.
’ Simi hugged Tia.

‘You get some rest, Simi. You must be tired,’ Tia said as she handed her a large towel.

‘Tired? No, not at all. I am not sleepy at all!’ Simi said as if she was on caffeine.

‘Must be the jet lag. OK, you shower then we’ll talk,’ Tia said excitedly. Good thing it was Friday night and the weekend had already started.

Simi wanted to take a bath but she was excited to catch up with Tia so she took a quick shower instead. It was so luxurious. As Tia had shown her, the hot and the cold water were available on-demand just by turning the taps marked H (for hot) and C (for cold).

When she stepped out of her room wearing the bathrobe Tia had given her, she saw Tia helping Hari as he puked into the sink in their bathroom. When he was done, he was swearing off liquor again.