Corporate Carnival (15 page)

‘Yes?’

‘Help me, damn you! Andy says you and Kitch know this US girl – they are family friends, he says. You bought your farm from her father.’

‘Oh! That girl! Krishnaswamy’s daughter!’

We stood in silence for a while. I could feel her eyes piercing through me, trying to get inside my brain – perhaps seeing
inside
me, like Andy, and not just looking at me.

‘You may be the better choice,’ I said at last.

Her features relaxed. She smiled.

‘And if you are
this
serious, Rach, then yes, I’ll do whatever I can.’

She fell on me in a heap and hugged me hard, crying like a baby. She was very strong, this girl, I thought, even as I struggled for breath; as strong as a… well, for want of a better word, a horse. A real one.

13

A New Day, A New Experience

K
itch and I had a day together in Dubai. I was leaving for Tanzania and he had just returned from a visit to Muscat. So we decided to spend some time catching up and babysitting Olga at his house while Galiya and Mina went shopping. Mina needed a few things for the house and she took along our new cook-cum-man-about-the-house, Juma, whom she had ‘imported’ from Kenya last month. Juma had worked at Mina’s house in Kenya for several years. I had got a nasty jolt when he showed up at the Dubai airport wearing red trousers and a t-shirt that read ‘Doggy Style’s da Way to Do it’ but had recovered substantially since. The chap was a terrific cook and kept our place looking so spic and span that you could have eaten off any part of the house, no plates needed. He spoke only Swahili, though, and unfortunately my Swahili had never progressed beyond ‘Jambo’.

‘Anything interesting in Muscat?’ I asked Kitch, settling comfortably on the sofa. Galiya had fixed us a pitcher of a lime-and-mint drink, while Kitch had dug out half a dozen thattais
.
Kitch ensures a perennial supply of some snack or the other from Chennai.

‘Just a four-hand tandem massage at the spa,’ he replied.

‘Four-hand tandem massage!’ I exclaimed. ‘You mean two people massage you simultaneously?’

‘Obviously! It can’t be one person with four hands!’

‘That sounds interesting. How was it?’

‘Like being pummelled by two sumo wrestlers.’

‘Good lord! Er… men?’

‘Women. But they were like sumo wrestlers.’

‘You mean, big?’

‘Very.’

The soprano voice of young Olga wafted into the room. ‘Poppa! Potty’s not coming!’

‘And these women… what were they wearing?’ I asked.

‘Not what you’re thinking. They wore regular white uniforms. My body is still aching and my chest and arms are pink and painful. When you go to Tanzania, are you meeting that Myers client of yours whose wife hits on you?’

‘Potty’s
not
coming, poppa!’

‘Did you say “potty, potty, come come”?’ Kitch shouted back. ‘How will it come if you don’t tell it to come?’ He looked at me, eyebrows raised.

‘Er… no, Kitch. I think I’ll skip that family. Don’t want to reopen that case. But never mind all that! Listen, have you spoken to your parents about Andy and Rachel?’

‘I did. They wouldn’t even listen to me, Jai. They just want to speed things up with that US girl.’

‘Hell! Listen, Kitch, I’ve met her just once. But I was rather put off by her ways. She’s only been in the US two years and she couldn’t think of a single good thing to say about India. She takes malaria tablets whenever she goes to India and complains about mosquitos, humidity, water, powercuts, all with this American accent… and, well, I don’t see Andy with her, somehow.’

‘Potty’s still not coming, poppa!’ Olga screamed. ‘I said “potty, potty, come come” but it’s not coming!’

Kitch ran his fingers through his hair, grimaced and glared at me. ‘You have no younger brother and no two-year-old. You don’t know how lucky you are. Listen, Jai. Can you talk to them? We’ll go to Chennai together next week. They might listen to you. I didn’t have a problem with Galiya, but this one is going to be difficult. In return, I promise I will persuade Galiya to put that L-O-V-E photograph back in the bedroom.’

I hadn’t had time to get my visa for Tanzania, so I had to get it done at the airport. Much to my dismay, I realized I wasn’t carrying any dollars, only pounds and euros. They insisted on dollars as visa fee. There was no forex house at the airport, but there was one just outside. They let me go out to exchange some money and come back in to make the payment. Immigration officials always fill me with dread. In fact, all uniformed people do. Cops, customs people, immigration guys, even air hostesses to an extent. They seem to have this uncanny ability of looking deep into you and unravelling your innermost secrets. Like Andy.

I stayed at a new hotel in Tanzania. My usual one was not on the bank’s approved list. I met three prospects that day and one of them clicked.

‘I want service,’ Kishan Patel told me. Kishan was about fifty, with a paunch that protruded so much I couldn’t see the top of his trousers. With a twinge of remorse, I promised myself I would start exercising regularly. I had been a little remiss the last few weeks. Kishan looked at me through half closed eyes. ‘I don’t like to call my bank and be put on hold or be made to talk to a machine. You know, for thirty years I had this account with the same bank. Last month, I wanted to transfer some money and they told me that before remitting it they needed to know the source of funds. Thirty years and
now
they want to know the source of the money?!’

Kishan insisted on taking me out for a drink that evening. ‘The Chinese are everywhere in Africa,’ he whispered with a nod at an adjoining table that seated a few Chinese diners. ‘Africans like the Chinese. Westerners also give them money, but those guys want bills. They ask for transparency. Chinese don’t want transparency. They don’t want bills. Just oil and minerals. It suits both sides.’

He took me to a sort of Indian club, where three or four girls danced to Bollywood hits. From time to time, someone would come around with a plate of garlands. If you liked any of the dancers, you could select her and let the guy know. He would go over and garland her, indicating the benefactor. She would bestow a charming smile upon the guest and dance for the next few seconds facing him, a sort of exclusive privilege. They billed you separately for the garlands. I noticed that some of the dancers got garlanded repeatedly by loyal fans. I chose a glum-looking girl who seemed to be ignored by the audience and brought a smile to her face. I felt rather pleased with myself. This was my good turn for the day.

My thoughts strayed to Andy. I wondered what he would have done in the same situation. Perhaps he would have tried to find out more about the girls. Were they happy? Did they earn enough? Was I, Jai Patel, doing anything for society? Or was I leaving it to the Andys of the world? Wasn’t I doing just what Rachel had said she had done most of her life? Eating and drinking and partying? Was I shallow? Uncomfortable thoughts, but I couldn’t keep them away. That bugger Andy was beginning to haunt me.

Interspersed with these thoughts, I was also dealing with Kishan Patel’s genius theory of stock picking. ‘My strategy is very simple,’ he told me. ‘When the price is low, buy. When the price is high, sell. Simple.’ He looked in my direction as if waiting for appreciation. Then he continued, ‘I don’t have time for all this, otherwise I could have made big money. I would have bought Barclays during the crisis when it had gone down to 60p. Today it is three pounds. I would have made 500 per cent,’ he said smugly. ‘Or I would have bought gold at 300 dollars ten years ago. Today, it is 1,300 dollars.’

‘What would you buy today?’ I asked him, a little testily. I get irritated when people boast about what they would have done but never get around to doing.

‘Today it is not possible,’ he told me decisively. ‘The market is too volatile.’

When I went back to the hotel, I noticed three women sitting together in the lobby – a large, middle-aged, fashionably dressed woman, accompanied by two younger women. As I stepped inside the lift, one of the younger ones quickly nipped in. As the door shut, she smiled coyly and said, ‘So, are you alone?’

‘Yes,’ I answered without thinking. Then I pressed the button for the third floor and looked enquiringly at her. She shrugged her shapely shoulders. ‘Wherever you are going,’ she replied. A mild chill went through me. One is so unused to these things. As I walked to my room, the young lady followed me. ‘I give you company,’ she said.

‘No, it’s all right,’ I replied, walking in and trying to close the door without being too rude.

She stuck a dainty foot in the door. ‘Okay, no company. Massage only?’ she asked.

‘No, thank you,’ I mumbled. I wished I wasn’t feeling so nervous. Why should I? I mean, she was the one who should be nervous. And yet, there she was, cool as you please, while I was sweating through every pore.

She pouted. ‘You don’t like me?’

I refrained from giving a direct reply. ‘I… er… have to go out now to meet someone,’ I told her. Idiot! I told myself. Why do you have to do this? Tell her politely and firmly that you are not interested. Why this diffidence? Just ask her to go.

But these things are always easier in theory. When you are confronted with the unexpected, it’s damn hard to say the right thing.

Anyway, it seemed to work. She left. I heaved a sigh of relief, watched some TV and then decided to go down for dinner. The first thing I saw when I got out of the lift was the girl. I had to turn right to go to the restaurant, but I turned left. Somehow, I felt obligated. I had told her that I had to go out. So I did. I left the hotel building. I could sense her eyes following me and then heard footsteps. I hurried off. She broke into a run and came up to me and placed a light arm on my left shoulder. I was just shaking her off when a strong arm placed itself on my right shoulder. I whirled around and saw to my horror that it was the arm of the law. The girl said something in rapid-fire Swahili and left. The cop shook his head sadly. ‘I have to arrest you, sir,’ he said.

‘No!’ I croaked. ‘I didn’t do a thing. That girl followed me from the hotel.’

‘Ah!’ said the cop. ‘That may be. But that is for the judge to say. On Monday perhaps. Now it is Friday evening so you have to spend the weekend with us.’

‘No, officer!’ I cried out. ‘There must be something we can do! Please guide me!’

‘Maybe we can settle something,’ he said in a less official tone. ‘Come this way.’

I took out my purse. ‘How much?’

‘Twenty thousand shillings. But I am just doing this to help you. You look like a good man.’

‘Thank you.’ I stretched out twenty thousand.

He stepped back and stared intently at my wallet.

‘Better you give me those dollars,’ he said. ‘I think the shilling will weaken.’

While Kitch was away, Mina and I called Galiya and Olga over to spend a night with us. We called some more friends and decided to host a quiz at our house. My clients Harsh and Joi came too and we were expecting Andy, Bharat Saxena and his wife and two other couples.

Little Olga was getting to be quite a delight. She had brought some picture books and without any prompting, came up to me, plonked herself in my lap and said, ‘Uncle Jai, read this book Olga.’

I was awfully pleased. My interaction with kids hitherto had been limited and I found it rather gratifying that she seemed so naturally comfortable with me.

The book she had chosen for me to read was titled
My Little Potty Book
. I had to read loudly to her how the little girl in the book had a pink potty and how one day, she was playing in the garden after drinking a lot of juice, but she was so clever that she managed to sit on the potty just in time. I was tickled to bits but had to keep a serious face because Olga was so absorbed in the story. Every time I read a page, she would look up at me with large eyes and explain it to me in her limited vocabulary, pointing at the pictures and gesticulating liberally. It was a unique experience.

‘Did Kitch tell you his parents are trying to get Vidya and Andy together?’ Galiya asked me. ‘I believe you don’t like her very much.’

‘I’ve met her once, yes, and I didn’t particularly care for her. I can’t see Andy with her.’

‘We looked her up on Facebook,’ she said. ‘Kitch thought she was quite hot.’

‘Kitch would find anyone hot. Even a penguin.’

‘What do you mean by that!’

‘Actually, penguins
are
hot!’ Harsh grinned, walking up to us and nudging me. ‘They are certainly warm-blooded. They have to be to weather the cold.’

But Galiya was not to be distracted. ‘Mr Patel, what exactly was that last remark supposed to mean?’ she queried, her eyes narrowing and starting to smoulder. Girls were beginning to make a habit of destroying me with their eyes.

‘Not what you think!’ I said hurriedly. ‘What I mean is that he is such a gentleman that he doesn’t speak ill of any woman. Anyway, he scored bull’s eye with you. You were the hottest girl at Myers. When guys saw you approaching, their hearts stopped.’

‘Hmm…’ she said, considering the statement. ‘Okay, I guess I can forgive you then.’

‘Jai says he’s going to try and get Rachel and Andy together,’ said Mina.

‘Well, he’ll have to do it on his own. I doubt if Kitch is going to do much talking. He doesn’t seem very confident of Rachel being a good prospect for marriage. Nor does he think his parents will listen to him.’

I shrugged. ‘I guess I’ll just give it a shot. I feel like it might work. And Rach seems very sure of it. Anyway, I promised her I’d try.’

Andy walked in just then. After the preliminaries, I took him aside. I decided I was going to try out some psychology on the kid. Deep stuff. If he was just playing around with Rachel, I would put a stop to it rightaway. ‘Look, Andy,’ I told him. ‘I’m sorry to be talking to you like a grandfather and I know it’s none of my…’

‘Anna, it
is
your business. You’re just like Kitch to me. If you have any advice to give me, please do.’

‘Well, Andy, you probably know that Rachel has spoken to me about you. Frankly, I’m not sure about this whole thing. I mean, surely you don’t think this relationship will last a lifetime? You two are poles apart. Maybe it’s time to move on, you know. Besides, just between you and me, aren’t you too young to get married? You’ve got years of fun ahead of you.’

‘I am ready to get married to Rachel, anna. But I’m just as happy to wait for her. The problem is, this has to be tackled now, because the way things are moving, Vidya is definitely in the picture. I don’t want it to come to the point where I have to rebel. My parents have had enough of that from me. Rachel’s the one for me, anna. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. But I don’t want to hurt or disappoint amma and appa. So when you go to Chennai, please bat for me. You won’t regret it, anna, I promise. I won’t let you down.’