When Hari Met His Saali (5 page)

Eyes? Eyes? Eyes squinted? I know this body language.

Hari was aware of this particular pose: it basically meant that he had done something wrong, but she was not going to tell him what, but, instead, she was going to stand there looking at him waiting for him to figure it out.

Oh oh! What did I do now?

He looked at his hands — they were dry and his fly was zipped up.

What am I doing wrong here?

‘Thanks for being a gentleman, Hari. I’ll uncork and pour the wine for myself.’ Tia set out some snacks (Cheese Smackers) as she took out a wine bottle.

Oh that! I was supposed to serve her a glass as well!

Hari hugged her and took the wine from her hand.

‘Sorry, mademoiselle, allow me.’ He could be charming if he wanted but he rarely was. He didn’t get all these formalities. If the actions and places were switched, he would’ve just poured himself a drink. No big deal. But he had learned over the years that the easy way was to just do as Tia wanted. So he poured her some red wine.

She quickly told him her choice of movies. Hari turned up his nose.

‘Those sound like a three-hour-long endurance test. Can’t we watch a Hollywood flick?’ he tried again.

Tia clicked the remote to bring up the menu on her TV screen.

‘You wanna watch
P.S. I Love You
?’ Tia asked without looking at him … because she knew that he would … convulse.

Hari almost jumped from the couch as if a spider had got under his T-shirt. He was shivering and had sweat beads on his forehead. He was convulsing.

‘No! No! No! Please not
P.S. I Love You
, anything but
P.S. I Love You.
’

Hari’s eyes were rolled inside his head. He looked like he was having an anxiety attack. It looked like he would probably need medical assistance if
P.S. I Love You
was mentioned one more time. He was hanging by a thread here.

‘Please, Tia?’

For those who have not seen it,
P.S. I Love You
is a 2007 American drama film based on a 2004 novel of the same name by Cecelia Ahern. In the film, Holly and Gerry are a married couple, who are deeply in love, but fight occasionally over superficial issues. Gerry suddenly dies of a brain tumor and Holly slowly realizes how much he means to her as well as how insignificant their arguments were.

Tia rolled her eyes. ‘OK, OK, relax. Don’t be so dramatic. It’s a nice emotional film,
yaar.
It’s a human story. You just don’t have good taste in films. It has Gerald Butler in it, I thought you liked Gerard Butler!’ She was not going to let go so easily.

‘I would watch Gerald Butler running around naked with a sword, like in the film
300
three hundred times before I’ll watch that … that!’ Hari still
couldn’t say
P.S. I Love You
even though he was breathing normally again. For those who have not seen it,
300
is a 2007 American fantasy action adventure film based on the 1998 comic series of the same name by Frank Miller and Lynn Varley.

He wanted to watch something fun like
The Hangover
, she wanted to watch a nice romcom with Jennifer Aniston, cuddle up to him, and enjoy her wine. She had already dimmed the lights in the house.

Finally they reached a compromise — which in Tia’s world meant … they were watching
The Break-Up
with Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn. She thought the film was sensitive, heartbreaking and so lifelike. He thought it was depressing, boring and unneccesary.
No one wanted to watch this shit.
There were no make-out scenes either. Halfway through the film, when Tia was crying because of the traumatic onscreen break-up, she noticed that Hari was not watching the movie but was instead focused on his mobile. She paused the movie and saw that Hari was watching porn bloopers on his mobile.

Tia cringed, thinking that she didn’t know what was more cringe worthy; that porn movies had bloopers — the often funny outtakes which for whatever reason are edited out and do not make the final cut — or the fact that Hari had them saved on his mobile.

You see what I have to put up with?
She pleaded as she looked up to the Gods. But she didn’t pounce upon him. Not yet.

What Hari didn’t realize was that sometimes Tia liked to give him an inch. She wanted him to feel important in the relationship. Sometimes. But she was getting irritated now. And as if that was not enough, Hari proceeded with this gem:

‘Hey Tia, do you know why women watch porn till the end?’

Tia didn’t respond. She was seething inside.

‘Because they want to see if the man ends up marrying the woman in the end!’ Hari laughed a snorty-hearty laugh.

Hari’s Trivia # 18: Contrary to popular opinion, the word “fuck” is not an acronym for the phrase “Fornication Under Command of the King.”

While Hari was looking at his 4.5-inch phone screen like a dog with a full bladder that had finally seen a fire hydrant, Tia was amused by him and his behavior. He was giggling and chuckling. Then she noticed something …

Is that snot? Hanging from Hari’s nose?!

Hari’s
tongue was hanging out as well, like a dog.

Gosh man, you are with a lady. Behave!

Hari’s this particular behavior was not unusual. In fact, that is how he behaved, almost, all the time.

Still, the night ended well for Tia when they had made love on her bed. Hari was good in the sack. He was vigorous and manhandled her to the exact degree she liked. They were like a well-oiled machine.

Tia by now knew that if she aroused Hari well enough and gave him the first three minutes of free hand, she owned him and could make him do whatever she wanted him to do. Today she had insisted that she be underneath and had asked him to take her from behind — her favorite position. Nonetheless, the ebb and flow, the rhythm of hard and gentle, the dirty talk, but not the real dirty-dirty talk, the emotional sex lovemaking quotient between them was just apt. They had a great sex lovemaking life. Tia had trained Hari well and let him think that he had it in him all this time.

As Hari lay there flaccid, naked and snoring already, Tia looked at him. He was her man, Hari, the love of her life! She felt blessed! God, she loved being an adult. An adult woman! How she had waited to be an adult as long as she could remember. Since Hari was just her second and the only real man she had ever had, she wanted nothing to be left wanting between them. She wanted to try it — lovemaking wise and otherwise — if she had read about it, saw it or if someone had mentioned it. Tia felt her life would be incomplete without experiencing everything. She almost always found a way to do so, so far.

While still looking at Hari, Tia thanked God. One has to be a chosen one to have had their plans come to them. And her plans had come true, all of them. Some of them, ahead of the schedule she had made for herself. She was outperforming her own timetable. She knew she was blessed, and now she only had to do her part and that was to keep it all together. She sighed and reassured herself that as long as she didn’t mess up big time, nothing was going to come in between her and her man.

Still, you could have cuddled a bit afterwards, Hari!

Just as she closed her eyes, her mobile buzzed. It was a message from her sister Simi in India. This was the first contact they had had in eight months and it worried Tia to no end. Not that it had been eight months, but that Simi was connecting with her at all.

What can she possibly want?

She kept staring at her mobile screen.

Didi
, let’s Skype soon. Urgent. What time? Urgent. Luv, Simi.

Tia didn’t sleep that night.

That day — Nagpur, Maharashtra, India

The first thing anyone should know about Simi Galhotra was that God exercised his sense of humor through her life. If it were a book, the chapter about Simi, unlike Tia’s, would be a paragraph long. And it would be an easy-breezy read.

Such was her story so far.

Simi worked as a travel agent in a small travel agency in Nagpur — a tier-II (read non-metro) Indian city usually referred to as a “smaller, lazier, poorer” Mumbai. Sure, it was cosmopolitan; but it was a small town with no political or historical significance. Oh, it was known for its oranges and practically every train travelling to and fro from anyplace to anyplace in India went through Nagpur train station. Its people were proud of these details.

Everyone who lived in Nagpur had been there forever. They spoke the same way, acted the same, hung out at the same places and sounded the same. They even dreamt the same dreams, had the same ambitions, the same inhibitions, and tried hard to not be different. Punjabis, Sindhis, Marwaris, “Hindi Siders” — as the people from U.P. were called — Marathis and even Christians, they all ultimately were consumed by the city and became
Nagpuri.
This was still not a compliment.

Like most mornings, Simi was the first one to arrive at her office. It was a small office. Apart from her boss, Mr. Khanna, there was just one other employee — Shabnam. And since Mr. Khanna and Shabnam were having an affair, Shabnam could afford to be late. Simi wanted to leave early today so she called Shabnam on her mobile. Shabnam didn’t take her call. Again.

Simi was bored, there was nothing to do this morning.

Shabnam must be humping Mr. Khanna again in some five-star hotel.

Simi’s thought was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Shah, a middle-aged Gujarati aunty. It was obvious to Simi that the aunty was feeling intimidated in the travel agency, but no sooner had she sat down, Mrs. Shah started firing questions.

‘How much to go to America and back to Nagpur?’

Simi smiled. She knew that it must be Aunty’s first trip abroad.

‘Depends on where in America you want to go! What city?’

‘Some nice city!’ Mrs. Shah said as if it was the only option.

‘Aunty,
aap pehli baar
foreign
jaa rahe hai
?’ Simi finally asked her if she was going abroad for the first time.

‘
Akele nahi jaa rahi.
I am taking my husband to America as a surprise. Next month is our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary,’ Mrs. Shah explained to make it clear she was not going alone.

‘Congratulations. You can decide on a nice tourist destination from here,’ Simi said showing Aunty some brochures.

Mrs. Shah looked confused and so she selected the one on the top — Disneyland.

‘How is this one?’ she asked, masking her ignorance. This was nothing new for Simi. Seventy percent of the customers who walked into her agency were just curious, hopeful travelers who were just there to browse. Most didn’t come back after taking the brochures home.

‘Aunty, that’s the Disneyland package. It’s mostly for families with young kids. For you, I would suggest a nice place like Colorado or maybe Hawaii?’ Simi said kindly offering her professional advice.

Mrs. Shah took a minute. ‘Where would you go?’

Simi smiled.

‘Aunty, I would go to
apna
Mahabaleshwar or McLeod Ganj in Himachal Pradesh, and stay there for ten days and concentrate on my honeymoon rather than spending so much money flying to America. The United States is not that great. It’s a thirty-hour flight, and you need a visa. You have an American visa, right?’

‘Yes, our passports came last week,
iss liye to aayi hoon
tickets book
karne.
’

‘Not passport, Aunty. Visa, visa!’ Simi stressed.

‘I know you travel agents ask for unnecessary documents just so that you can charge me more money,’ Mrs. Shah shot back at Simi. Apparently, one of aunty’s friends used to go abroad every year and ‘all she took was her passport!’

Simi could have made a sale then, she needed one as she was so far behind her monthly quota. Instead she decided to explain the visa requirements to her customer. One hour later, Mrs. Shah stopped arguing and finally understood that she did need a visa. Nonetheless, she left the office angrily. Thankfully, soon after Shabnam showed up full of apologies. It was four p.m.

‘
Amy
, don’t ask,’ she announced. Simi was not planning to; she was not
someone who poked her nose into anyone else’s business. She shut her computer down and left the office.

Ten minutes later

Simi had parked her Kinetic Honda, the two-wheeler of choice of millions of young girls in India, and had entered her flat in the middle class neighborhood of Dharampeth. Their building was sandwiched between the railway colony on one side and the LIC colony on the other. Her mother was surprised to see her home early.

‘What’s wrong? Are you feeling OK?’ She muted the television.

Simi rushed into the bedroom.

‘
Haan
, Mummy. I have some work to do.’

‘
Hai
? If you have some work to do, how come you are home?’ Her mother always asked probing questions starting with “
Hai
”. For her,
“hai”
was like the joker in a card game. She could use it anywhere to express a range of emotions from surprise to shock to amazement to disbelief. Anything actually.

But Simi wasn’t really listening. She had grabbed a change of clothes and had gone into the bathroom. She stood in front of an oval shaving mirror stuck to the wall. She quickly gave herself a dry bath and put on a fresh bra and clean panties. She pressed the nozzle on her Nike Sensual Touch deodorant, but it was empty.

One hundred and fifty rupees a piece and this only lasts a week!

‘
Beta
, the
cylinderwala
is going to come in the evening. You are going to be home by then?’ her mother called from just outside the bathroom door.

Gosh, give me some space, Mom!

Simi came out of the bathroom to find her mother standing two inches from her face.

‘I just don’t know how much extra money to give him. He is never happy with the tip,’ she said about the
cylinderwala
who delivered the LPG cylinders they used for cooking.

‘Mom, I should be back in an hour or so. I’ll take care of it.
Aap apna
serial
dekho, Saraswatichandra.
’ Simi hurried past her mother.

‘Kal raat wala
repeat
aa raha hai
,
’
her mom complained.

‘I have to rush now!’ Simi gathered her bag and the keys to the Kinetic.

‘You need some money?’ her mother asked, digging into her purse.

‘Why … why would I need money?’ Simi suddenly sounded defensive.

‘Perfume
maar ke jaa rahi hai.
I don’t want to ask too many questions, I am not a nosy mother, but if you are meeting friend
log
, you want some money?’ her mother asked, trying to sound casual as she picked up her purse.

‘Mom, I’ll see you soon!’ Simi wanted to avoid getting into a discussion.

Seven minutes later

Simi arrived at the lake — Telangkhadi
Talav.
It was possibly the only romantic spot in the entire city of Nagpur. Currently, however, the water had receded so much that it resembled a
nullah
what with all the trash floating in it. Simi parked her Kinetic at a deserted, predetermined spot, and gave someone a missed call. As she waited, her breathing was fast and shallow.

Keep yourself calm Simi, you wanted this!

Soon a Maruti Alto — possibly the smallest car on Indian roads — pulled up nearby and she got in.

Namit Chohan had been her friend since college days. They were not best friends, but he had been trying to date her for the last two years. While Simi thought he was a safe bet as she had gone with him twice to the movies and once to dinner. Simi thought that they were going steady. But Namit would tell his friends ‘I’m going to bang her.’

Namit drove up a hill, took a left turn onto a dirt road and finally parked the car behind some bushes.

‘Are you ready, Simi?’ he asked. No asking her how her day was, no talk about the weather, no general chitchat. Namit got straight to the point. She couldn’t blame him, he knew why they were meeting, and he knew the plan.

Simi was going to lose her virginity today. It was her idea.

At twenty-three, Simi was probably the only one amongst her peers who was still a virgin. It was not a big deal to her, but peer pressure was mounting and she wanted to get it over with. She just wasn’t sure if Namit was the right guy though. But, at this stage, anyone would have been OK. The objective was not with whom, the objective was losing
it.

She sat nervously as Namit took out a pack of condoms from his hip pocket.

A five-pack!

‘What, you haven’t seen a condom before?’ Namit said as he saw her expression, sounding like he was her teacher.

His condescending attitude was not needed. He was right; she had not seen a condom before, and she took the packet from him. It looked suspect, with a brand name that didn’t read Kamasutra or Durex — both established brands — but instead it was called HOT MEN and had a shoddy picture of a horse on his hind legs. Namit took the pack back and excitedly ripped it open with his teeth.

That cannot be healthy.

‘Simi, are you ready to do some
boom-boom, boom shaka boom boom
?’

‘Do what?’ Simi couldn’t understand what Namit was saying. She could feel her thighs shut tight. She was tense and didn’t know what to do, so she started rolling all the windows up.

‘Why are you closing the windows?’

‘What if someone comes?’

‘Simi, they’re not even tinted. No one’s coming this side.’

They shifted to the back seat. The Maruti Alto was not made for backseat sex. But no one had told them that. It was like trying to do it in a small refrigerator.

Namit was unzipping his jeans; Simi was aroused. He started unhooking her top and tried his best to mask his over-excitement by reciting a poem.

Not that it made any sense, but Simi didn’t hear a single word Namit had said. She was terrified. Now he was sliding down
her
jeans. Her breathing became heavier, but she remained alert.

‘Namit, please be gentle, OK?’

‘I want to make you scream,’ he said with all sincerity. ‘Scream with pleasure, of course! I want you to loosen up and trust me.’ He took her hand and put it on his thigh.

Maybe this was going to be better than I thought.

‘But before that, I am going to make sure that you feel emotionally and sensually pleasured so that it will be easy for you to scream.’ Namit was nuzzling his face on Simi’s neck.

‘Uh, huh, ho … she had closed her eyes.

He spread and raised her legs. The space was so damn small; she couldn’t
avoid resting them on the window.

‘This is going to be a tantric experience; it will elevate your eighth
chakra
and will give you a nirvana-like spiritual experience!’

‘Spiritual experience?’ Simi said, because she felt she should say something.

‘Yep, an earth-shattering, powerful union of two bodies where they cease to exist individually and merge to become one,’ Namit said, sensually kissing her lips.

He must have had dal for lunch!
— is all she could think.

Simi’s eyes were shut tight. She wasn’t sure what was going on. Did sex just happen? She couldn’t tell. Wasn’t she supposed to feel nice? She felt nice. Or did she? She couldn’t tell.

Two minutes had gone by. She opened her eyes. Namit was grinning at her.

‘So?’ he asked expectantly. He was sure acting like it was over.
Was that it?
Simi was contemplating her response, when Namit suddenly freaked out. ‘Oh shit, oh shit!’

‘What? WHAT?’ Simi was speculating about whether the condom had split.

Oh Lord!

‘You broke the glass!’ he screamed.

‘What?’ she asked loudly.

‘In the heat of passion you must’ve kicked your legs hard — look the window is broken!’

‘Namit, I … I …’

Namit was outside the car by now freaking out. Simi quickly got dressed.

‘Shit, shit! My dad’s going to kill me!’ Namit started wiping the glass out from the back seat.

Simi was not sure if the glass was broken “in the heat of passion” as Namit suggested, because she had felt no heat and certainly no passion. But she felt guilty.

‘I am sorry, Namit.’

‘Papa is going to be back tomorrow from Mumbai. He cannot see this, we have to fix it!’

Namit was already back in the driver’s seat. Simi got in. The drive back to her Kinetic was awkward. He was mad and scared; she was not even able to process what happened. Was she still a virgin or did she just lose it? She didn’t feel any pain; she was feeling the same as before. She couldn’t tell. What she was feeling for sure was guilt and shame. She was feeling dirty and was
regretting even contemplating losing her virginity. She should have waited until her wedding night to do it, like other nice girls in India.

But, really, these days, who is still a virgin when they get married? Even in India?

Nobody she knew was a virgin. And her friends
claimed
they were not. How could she be the only naïve one and such a loser for not even doing it once? Simi told herself, at least for now, that she could lie about losing it, even though the more she rubbed her thighs together to see if she could tell, the more convinced she was that she was still as virginal as virgins come. But still, she felt like a slut when she realized that she could have made Namit work a little harder to get into her pants.