ONE NIGHT (19 page)

and smirked.

Radhika took the bottle from my desk. ‘Sorry to interrupt your

discussion guys, but I hope you weren’t talking about me when you said

people whose life is a party. My life is not a party, my friend. It really isn’t—‘

‘—It wasn’t you, Radhika. Shyam most clearly meant me.’ Priyanka

interrupted Radhika.

‘Oh forget it,’ I said and stood up. I moved from the desk just to get

away from these nagging people. As I felt, I could hear Vroom’s words: ‘If I

could just once have the opportunity to fuck this Bakshi’s happiness, I’d

consider myself the luckiest person on earth.’

#20

I walked away from the WASG desk. My mind was still messed up. I felt

like cutting Bakshi into little bits and feeding those bits to every street dog in

Delhi. I approached the conference room. The door was shut. I knocked and

waited for a few seconds. Everything seemed quiet inside.

‘Esha? I said and turned the knob to open the door.

Esha was sitting one of the conference room chairs. Her right leg was

bent and resting on another chair. She was examining the wound on her shin.

She held a blood-tipped box cutter in her hand. I noticed a used band-

aid on the table. There was fresh blood coming out of the wound on her shin.

‘Are you okay?’ I said, moving close to her.

Esha turned to look at me with a black expression.

‘Oh hi Shyam,’ she said in a calm tone.

‘What are you doing here? Everyone’s looking for you.’

‘Why? Why would anyone look for me?’

‘No particular reason. What are you doing here anyway? And your

wound is bleeding, do you want some lotion or a bandage/’ I said and looked

away. The sight of blood nauseates me. I don’t know how doctors show up to

work everyday.

‘No Shyam, I like it like this. With lotion, it may stop hurting,’ Esha said.

‘What?’ I said. ‘Isn’t that the idea? You want the pain to end, right?’

‘No, Esha smiled sadly. She pointed to the wound with the box cutter.

‘This pain takes my mind away from the real pain. Do you know what real pain

is, Shyam?’

I really had no idea what this girl was saying. But I knew if she didn’t

cover the wound soon, I’d throw up my recently consumed chocolate cake.

‘Listen, I’ll get the first-aid kit from the supplies room.’

‘You didn’t answer my question. What is the real pain, Shyam/’

‘I don’t know…what is it?’ I said, shifting anxiously as I saw fresh drops

of blood trickle down her smooth leg.

‘Real pain is mental pain,’ Esha said.

‘Right,’ I said, trying to sound intelligent. I sat down on a chair next to

her.

‘Ever felt mental pain, Shyam?’

‘I don’t know if I have. I’m a shallow guy, you see. I don’t feel a lot of

things,’ I said.

‘Everyone feels pain, because everyone has a dark side to their life.’

‘Dark side?’

‘Yes, dark side—something you don’t like about yourself, something that

makes you angry or something that you fear, all this makes up our dark side.

Do you have a dark side, Shyam/’

‘Oh let’s not go there. I have so many—like half a dozen dark sides. I am

like dark-sided hexagon,’ I said.

‘Ever felt guilt, Shyam? Real hard, painful guilt?’ she said as her voice

became weak.

‘What happened, Esha/’ I said, as I finally found a position that allowed

me to look at her face but avoid a view of her wound.

‘Can you promise not to judge me if I tell you something?’

‘Of course,’ I said, as it took me a second to figure out what ‘slept’

meant. It didn’t mean ‘zzzs.’

‘Yes, my agent said this man was connected. I just had to sleep with him

once to get a break in a major fashion show. Nobody forced me. I choose to do

it. But ever since, I feel this awful guilt. Every single moment. I thought it

would pass, but it hasn’t. and that pain is so bad, this wound in my leg feels

like a tickle,’ she said and took the box cutter to her shin. She started

scrapping skin around the wound.

‘Stop it Esha, what are you doing/’ I said and snatched the box cutter

from her. ‘Are you insane? You’ll get tetanus or gangrene or whatever other

horrible-things they show on TV in those vaccination ads.’

‘This is tame. I’ll tell you what is dangerous. Your own fucked up brain,

the delusional voice in you that says you have it in you to become a model.

You know what this man said afterwards/’

‘Which man?’ I said as I shoved the box cutter to the other side of the

table.

‘The guy I slept with—a forty-year-old designer. He told my agent later I

was too short to be a ramp model,’ Esha said, her voice rising as anger

mingled with sadness. ‘Like the bastard didn’t know that when he slept with

me.’ She began crying. I don’t know what is worse—a shouting girl or a crying

one. I’m awful at handling either. I placed my hands on Esha’s shoulders,

ready for a hug in case she needed it.

‘And that son of a bitch sends some cash as compensation afterwards,’

she said, now sobbing. ‘And my agent tells me, this is part of life. Sure it is

part of life—part of Esha the failed model’s fucked-up life. Give me my box

cutter back, Shyam,’ she said, spreading a palm.

‘No, I won’t. Listen, now I am not really sure what to do in this

situation, but just take it easy,’ I said. It was true; nobody would ever demand

to have sex with me. Therefore, feeling-guilty-after-demanded-sex was

completely unfamiliar territory.

‘I hate myself, Shyam. I just hate myself. And I hate my face, and the

stupid mirror that shows me this face. I hate myself for believing people who

told me I could be a model. Can I get my face altered?’

I did not know of any plastic surgeons who specialized in turning pretty

girls ugly, so I kept quiet. She stopped crying after ninety seconds, around the

time any girl would stop crying if you ignored her. She took a tissue from her

bag and wiped her eyes,

‘Shall we go? They must be waiting,’ I said. She held my hand to stand

up.

‘Thanks for listening to me,’ Esha said. Only women think there is a

reason to thank people if they listen to them.

#21

To my disgust, Priyanka’s wedding was still the topic of discussion when

Esha and I returned to the bay.

Esha sat down quietly.

‘Now where were you?’ Priyanka asked Esha.

‘Here only. Wanted to make a private call,’ Esha said.

‘I’m taking mother-in-law tips from Radhika,’ Priyanka said. I’m so not

looking forward to that part. She seems nice now, but who knows how she will

turn out.’

‘C’mon, you are getting so much more in return. Ganesh is such a nice

guy,’ Radhika said.

‘Anyway I’d take three mothers-in-law for a Lexus. Bring it on man’

Vroom said.

Radhika and Priyanka started laughing.

‘I’ll miss you Vroom,’ Priyanka said, still laughing, ‘I really will.’

‘Who else will you miss?’ Vroom said and all of us fell silent.

Priyanka shifted on her seat: Vroom had caught her on the spot. She did

not want to say my name, I knew it.

‘Oh I’ll miss all of you,’ she said, diplomacy queen that she can be when

she wants to. She thinks she can outsmart the world with her boring replies.

‘Whatever, Vroom said.

‘Anyway, don’t wish for three mothers-in-law, Vroom. It can be like

asking for three Bakshis. Well, at least it can be for women, Radhika said.

‘So your mother-in-law is evil?’ Vroom said.

‘I never said she is bad. But she did say those things to Anuj. What will

he think?’

‘Nothing. He won’t think anything. He knows how lucky he is to have

you,’ Priyanka said firmly.

‘It is hard sometimes. She isn’t my mom, after all.’

‘Oh, don’t go there. I can get along with anyone else’s mom better than

my own. My mom’s neurosis has made me mother-in-law proof,’ Priyanka

said, and everyone on the desk laughed. I did not, as there is nothing funny

about Priyanka’s mom to me. Emotional manipulators like her should be put in

jail and made to watch sappy TV serials all day.

‘Anuj should be okay, right? Tell me guys: he won’t hate me?’ Radhika

said.

‘No,’ Priyanka got up and went to Radhika. ‘He loves you and he will be

fine.’

‘You want to check if he is okay?’ Vroom said. ‘I have an idea.’

‘What?’ Radhika said.

I looked at Vroom. What the hell did he have to say about Anuj and

Radhika?

‘Let’s play radio jockey,’ Vroom said. ‘it’s really fun.’

‘What is radio jockey?’ Radhika was baffled.

‘Well. I call Anuj and pretend I cam calling from a radio show. Then I tell

him he has won a prize, a large bouquet of roses and a box of Swiss

chocolates that he can send to anyone he loves, anywhere in India, with a

loving message. So then, we all get to hear what romantic lines he says to

you.’

‘C’mon, it will never work,’ Priyanka said. ‘You can’t sound like an RJ.’

‘Trust me. I am a call center agent. I can make a convincing RJ.’ Vroom

said.

I was curious to see how Vroom would do his RJ act.

‘Okay,’ Vroom said as he got ready, ‘It’s show time, folks. Take line five

everyone. And no noise: breathe away from the mouthpiece, okay?’

Radhika gave him the number as we took line five. Vroom dialed Anuj’s

mobile phone.

We glued the earpiece to our ears. The telephone rang five times.

‘He’s sleeping,’ Priyanka whispered.

‘Shhh,’ Vroom went, as we heard someone pick up.

‘Hello?’ Anuj said in a sleepy voice.

‘Hello there, my friend, is this 98101-46301?’ Vroom said in an insanely

cheerful, radio jockey voice.

‘Yes, who is it?’ Anuj said.

‘It is your lucky call for tonight. This is RJ Max calling from Radio City

98.5 FM, and you my friend have just won a prize.’

‘Radio City? Are you trying to sell me something?’ Anuj said. I guess

being a salesperson himself, he was skeptical.

‘No my friend, I am not selling anything—no credit cards, no insurance

policies and no phone plans. I am just going to offer you a small prize from

our sponsor Interflora and you can request a song if you want to. Man, people

doubt me so much these days,’ Vroom said.

‘Sorry, I was just not sure,’ Anuj said.

‘Max is the name. What’s yours?’ Vroom said.

‘Anuj,’

‘Nice talking to you Anuj. Where are you right now?’

‘Kolkata.’

‘Oh, the land of sweets, excellent. Anyway, Anuj, you get to send a

dozen red roses with your message to anyone in India. This service is brought

to you by Interflora, one of the world’s largest flower delivery companies.’

Vroom was like a pro, I must admit.

‘And I don’t have to pay anything? Thanks Interflora,’ Anuj said with

suitable gratitude.

All of us had out mouths shut right and the headset mouthpiece covered

with our hands.

‘No my friend, no payment at all. So are you ready with your special

person’s name and address?’

‘Yes sure. I’d like to send it to my girlfriend Payal.’

I think the earth shook beneath us. I looked at Vroom’s face, his jaw

had dropped wide open. He waved a hand in confusion.

‘Payal?’ Vroom said, his voice dropping to more normal levels, less

exuberant than that of a hyperactive RJ.

‘Yes, she is my girlfriend. She lives in Delhi. She is modern type of girl,

so please make the bouquet trendy…’ Anuj said.

Radhika could not stay silent any longer.

‘Payal? What did you just say, Anuj? Your girlfriend Payal?’ Radhika said.

‘Who is that?...Radhika…?’

‘Yes, Radhika. Your fucking wife Radhika.’

‘What is going on here? Who is this Max guy, hey Max?’ Anuj said.

I think the Max guy just died. Vroom put his hand on his head,

wondering what to say next.

‘You talk to me, you asshole,’ Radhika said, probably cursing for the