The Benefit Season (14 page)

‘
Yeah. We could fly down
to Delhi right now and get married in front of our parents. What
say?’

‘
You mean it?’ she turns
around, her face flooded with relief and happiness.

‘
That’s why I brought you
here. To show you how empty this house is without you, darling. The
idea was to beg you to fill up my life and home ASAP.’

She hugs me; all of a
tremor, and kisses my unshaven face.

‘
Dad will want the whole
family to attend. He will want proper ceremony- you know that. Will
you ask him? And get the folks to fix up the date?’

‘
I was waiting for you to
say that. I’ll speak to him right now’.

‘
No wait, not while I’m
here. Take me back home and then call him properly, and let me
know, okay?’

‘
As you wish,
baby’.

She is once again a bundle
of joy, and the merry stars have returned to the twinkling business
in her eyes. She flits about the knickknacks in the house telling
me what all we need to buy and what all needs to be thrown away.
She’s back to her easy, confident ways and the pall of gloom that
covered my life lifts and it’s sunny and chirpy again. I call for
the cab and drop her home and ring up Khosla senior as soon as I’m
back in my room with the L’s.

ϖ

The rascal has probably
heard bad tidings are his way so he doesn’t answer my calls.
Finally after several tries he picks up the phone but doesn’t
answer. I can hear his harsh, smoker’s breathing at the other end
but he won’t speak up. At long last I am able to evince a faint
murmur from him; a low hiss escapes his clenched teeth that sounds
like an “hmm”.

Taking that as a cue for a
friendly exchange of ideas, I break the ice with an enlightening,’
hello sir. Can you hear me sir. It’s Arjun sir’.

‘
Hmm’, he says gruffly,
waiting for the inevitable. Given a choice he would keep his
precious daughter a virgin maiden all his life; rather than kill
his fatlings in the feasts celebrating her marriage unto
me.

‘
Sir, Aarti and I have
decided to marry. I think it is the best for everyone. She thought
it was a good idea to bung the news to you first and seek your
blessings and all. Speak now or hold your peace forever… You
know?’

‘
Hmm’, he goes again, as
if his mouth is covered with a muffler. I’d heard somewhere that he
was fond of me and that I was mistaken in my opinion that he
detested me utterly. But now I’m convinced that if he ever abhorred
a walking abomination, it was I.

‘
Well that’s it I guess.
Sorry if I’ve hurt you and all. Hmm…you have nothing much to say?
I’ll take that as a yes then. Yeah? Fine?’ I pause a bit.
Nothing.

‘
Aarti wanted you to fix
up the dates, if it’s no trouble. But please hurry up, I’m moving
into a new apartment of my own and I need her to tidy up a bit and
do the ironing. A female touch, you know; can’t handle the maids.
Never spoken to one. I’ll be letting my mom know, so don’t bother.
How is the weather? I’ll go now…’ I wait for him to hurl an abuse
but he appears to be choking on his anger. ‘Well goodbye then’. I
switch off and sigh with relief. That was a close call. The man
nearly shot me through the phone.

I’ve seen dads sobbing
uncontrollably when sending off their little girls whom they’ve
reared and fattened, in marriage. His emotion is understandable. I
feel him, yeah. It’ll stay like a bad dream for him all his life
probably, but do we have a choice? I guess not, he’ll have to
figure out a way of living with it. He could have done far better
by his daughter, I know; I am not exactly the kind of son in law
one prays to god for, but it’ll have to do for the moment. Life is
cruel, nature is harsh, and man is but weak, like putty in the
hands of destiny.

Reading his silence as
tacit approval to put the banners out, I call out to my mom for
some leaning in. She will tell me I’ll be the best husband any
lucky bride can find, and all will be well again. Khosla’s stony
stillness and ominous growling has shaken the old confidence a bit
and it calls for a little propping up with the tried and tested
formula of unconditional motherly love.

‘
Hello son,’ she sings,
her voice lilting above the high trees and the birds at
lark.

‘
Mom! I’ve got great news
for you!’ I announce, trying to make it sound like I’m going for a
walk in the park. Excitement is bad for her nerves.

‘
I know, I know. I’m so
happy for you! This is the first good thing you’ve done in your
entire life! Aarti is the best girl for you; I always knew. She’ll
take good care of my baby. Mr. Khosla is here- he just told me! And
we are thrilled! We were so worried; kids these days are quick to
make mistakes and grow apart. But you two have answered our
prayers! Here speak to him!’ She leaves the receiver before I can
protest that I just had a word with the same very rude
man.

‘
Hello
son!’ says my tormentor; father to my bride and grandfather to my
child to be; with an unusual optimism, and obviously fake
enthusiasm.
Where did the “son”
come from?

‘
My sister just rang up
from Mumbai and gave me the great news! Immediately I rushed over
here. I’m so happy I’ve had three drinks already at your mom’s
place; thank god she knows her scotch, god bless her
soul!’

But I just spoke to you,
didn’t I? And you were so rude as usual, hemming and hawing at the
father of your future grandchildren, the progenitor of the imminent
Khosla and Pasricha lines.

‘
Sir, I called up just now
at your place’.

‘
So sorry, the house is
locked. Just Attila is at home’. For those that don’t know their
neighbors well, Attila is the fierce Pit Bull Terrier Khosla rears
at home to keep his demure daughter out of reach of unwanted
suitors.

So, had I been speaking
all this while to a mangy dog? Was I seeking the blessings for a
marriage to be writ in heavens from a lowly canine? Was a cur
fixing my marriage dates?

I repeat all that I’d said
to the Pit Bull Terrier. Khosla listens patiently and promises to
revert with the earliest possible dates. I ask him if everything
can be arranged over the coming weekend, since I need to bring in
the groceries and the firewood. He laughs and tells me the earliest
date he can swing with the pundit after matching the stars and
planets will be a tentative 10 weeks from now, and hangs up to
refill his drink before I can convey my disappointment.

In the background I’d
heard many voices, so I know that the entire neighborhood and
friend and family circle has landed up and the drunken festivities
are likely to continue over the next few weeks in true Punjabi
style and it will be impossible to make them hear the voice of my
reason and necessity, and thus I resign myself as putty to the
eccentricities of the heavens.

ϖ

Chapter 7

The Runnings

The betrothal is four weeks from now and the
marriage proper another four weeks thence. Till then I must manage
with tiffins, and Aarti’s cooking on the weekends. She refuses to
come live-in with me, and is all of a sudden shy of touching me
beyond a speck on the old jowls or a squeeze of the hand. Thus
cruelly abandoned at the mercy of the elements by a fateful
promotion, I seek solace in the cold nutrients filched from cartons
of milk and yoghurt crammed in the fridge. The empty apartment
haunts me, and the comforts of a Morocco Baroque king-size bed, and
a kiln-dried hardwood-frame with top-grain Italian leather sofa
hardly fail to remind me of the absence of the lively patter and
warmth of a soul mate. A chill wind blows over my ex roommates who
have been chastised with a snub by my fair lady for their
indiscretion at The Zodiac Grill, and who must cross my swanky
glass cabin daily on their way to their small partitioned corners
in the vast hall where the hoi polloi eke out a living.

My swanky glass cabin with a view of the
shoreline is filled with flowers this morning. I wonder who my
benefactor is and what the occasion is. As I gloss over the red
Carnations and yellow daisy spray Chrysanthemums there is a knock
and Monal sticks her pretty head inside the doorway.

‘
Hi’, she says and walks
over to the edge of my desk and half sits on it, letting me gloat
at a polished, muscular leg, over which the skirt has pushed up to
the thighs.

‘
Good morning’, I mumble,
feeling like a lost kid in her presence again.

‘
Congrats’, she says,
thrusting a shiny hand at me.

I take the hand and keep it, giving her a
lost look again. I’m not very good with my expressions around her;
I am gawky, I mumble and generally am not in good control of my
involuntarily acting body parts. For example: I have an
embarrassing bulge in my pants and I am still pumping her soft hand
and staring at the shiny thigh. Monal, who keeps a sharp lookout
for detail, never misses a thing. She slides down from the desk and
hugs me, pushing her hips into mine, very briefly but surely: just
checking and teasing.

‘
So your wedding plans
have been finalized, is it?’

‘
Oh yes, that: certainly.
Thanks’.
Who told her?

‘
It’s my business to know
what’s happening to my star worker’, she says. ‘So how did she like
the house?’

Which house? Oh, that. But
how does she know, again?
‘Swell, she
loved it’.

‘
I guessed she would have,
because you guys spent the complete weekend there’.

Ahem! Does she know everything else too?
What we did? This minding the star worker thing is getting
weird.

‘
I spoke to Khosla ji; he
seemed beyond himself in ecstasy; or hangover,
whatever’.

I nearly drop the imported red poppy
Caithness glass paperweight that I am tossing between one hand and
the other. ‘Khosla ji?’ a muted murmur parts from the lips.

‘
Yeah, I had our Delhi
office deliver bouquets to your mom’s and Aarti’s dad’s places this
morning. Your mom- she’s a pet’.

‘
That’s, that’s…’ words
fail me.

‘
Wonderful? I know dear.
Spare me the thanks, and the tears; we take special care of our
boys.’

She’s now reaching into my deep, personal
spaces. It feels a little nice to be remembered but then this is
really unnecessary information for her. Why should she even care?
It’s still a close family affair. Who’s been keeping track of my
affairs? Is it the L’s? With their big, cavernous mouths they would
have extracted considerable mileage and joy out of spilling the
beans on me. It’s simple; I hadn’t reached home on the weekend and
I had last been seen with the icy Aarti freezing people over with
the cold glint in her eye; people that didn’t offer to split bills
with decent friends. It doesn’t take reading tealeaves to figure
that one out.

‘
You shouldn’t
have…’

‘
It’s no trouble really.
Dismiss the thought. So when you’ve calmed down come over to the
office and tell us how much money you’ve made us the last quarter,
and how much more you will in the next’, she says; ‘Director’s
meeting- they want a feedback from everyone’. She steals a look at
my bulge and goes out clucking to herself.

I wish I didn’t make things so obvious; just
imagine if others had been around us. She must think I’m some kind
of an easily aroused, oversexed pervert; which I am not- or am I? I
need to pour some ice down my pants to calm down.

Having wet pants is not going to help. I try
to sit back and meditate about the rocks and the seas and the cool
breeze blowing through the swaying pines. The cool breeze changes
to hot air and the rest give in to the compelling image of a
swaying Monal with her skirt rolled up to her waist with nothing
underneath. Her shirt is open and her shimmering breasts catch the
slanting light and like a moth I get hopelessly drawn to the blaze.
A buzz on my phone pulls me out of the fire and says I am getting
late. I am not getting any calmer here with my mind play, so the
only way out seems to be the good old hand action in The Men’s.

A couple of minutes later, a calm and
composed Arjun, his hands smelling of fragrant disinfectant, is
ready to regale his bosses with the numbers in the conference hall.
Monal casts a fleeting glance at his pants to check if he is
presentable, smiles to herself and at his turn beckons him to paint
a glowing picture of the bonuses that he has so far richly
deserved, and the many more that he is going to earn; enriching the
company’s and the partner’s coffers in the process. The others come
and go but their figures are but a faint shadow in comparison.

The meeting done I head for the door. Sweet
voice of Monal bids me stop; I tuck in my frame in the doorway as
the others file past, looking at me with suspicion.

‘
Shut the door and come
in’, the sweet voice purrs.

I stand against the door staring at a point
several feet away from her uncrossed legs, my arms crossed behind
me. Her swiveling on the chair with childlike glee, restless
parting and closing of the olive legs, and chewing of the yellow
pencil with swollen red lips peeled off large white teeth fail to
evoke any worthwhile emotion in me beyond a faint flutter of the
solid heart and an uncontrollable urge to bury the head deep
between those luscious thighs.