THE MAGICAL PALACE (31 page)

‘Where is Shubho Dada?’ I asked, trying to sound casual.

‘Oh, he is out with his girlfriend. I think they went to Anjali Shopping Centre in Maredpelly. Why do you always ask about Shubho Dada?’ Ranjan said somewhat resentfully. ‘It is not as if you are friends with him. He is always with his friends or his girlfriend and never spends any time with me any more.’

I felt my face flush and turned away, my disappointment crushing. I had hoped that I could at least talk to Shubho— he would, for once, not be with his friends and ignore me. I wanted so badly for him to hold me again …

Ranjan walked over to the mirror on the wall and
examined his face. It was covered with acne, but the shadow on his upper lip was thicker than before. ‘Damn pimples,’ he muttered. ‘But see, I am starting to grow a moustache,’ he boasted. ‘I have been shaving with my father’s razor, but he does not know it. Girls like boys with hair on their bodies. What about you? Let me look at your face.’ He swaggered over to me and examined my face closely. ‘Some beard, but not as much as mine. Not bad, Rahul, but I am ahead of you on this one.’ He laughed, suddenly cheerful.

‘Is he coming back to have lunch with us?’ I continued, unable to help myself. I tried to speak as nonchalantly as I could while I straightened the books on the table.

‘Who?’

‘Shubho Dada,’ I said. I knew I was pushing my luck.

‘I don’t know. He is probably with Anamika right now.’ Ranjan was preoccupied with his face again. Then his voice suddenly rose with excitement. ‘You know, I wish I had a girlfriend like her. She is so sexy! Hey, you know that girl who lives across the street? I think she likes me. I cannot wait until my parents let me start dating. So, do you have your eyes on any girl?’

I was at a loss for words again. He was talking about things that I did not ever think about. ‘No,’ I said.

‘Oh, come on! What’s the matter with you? Are you a homo or something? Everybody in our class wants to do it, you know. Especially with Miss D’Souza.’ Ranjan winked at me conspiratorially.

‘Do what?’

‘You know …’ He lowered his voice and said, ‘Fuck. Have sex.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, willing to risk looking ignorant, even though I had a good idea of what he meant.

‘Well, you do know how babies are made, don’t you? When a man and woman get married, he puts his thing in her thing,’ Ranjan said in a whisper.

‘Really?’ I said, recoiling at the idea, though not for the first time.. ‘How do you know?’

Ranjan laughed scornfully. ‘You are so ignorant! No one ever talks about it because it is a dirty thing that our parents do. Our parents don’t like discussing these matters with their children because we are supposed to be too young to know about them. If you say the word “fuck” in front of them, they will be furious!’ he said. ‘Well? Don’t you want to do it with Miss D’Souza?’

‘That is disgusting, to think of doing it with Miss D’Souza!’ I said before I could stop myself.

Suddenly, I was an outsider in Ranjan’s world. He looked at me strangely, his eyes narrowed. ‘You better not be a homo like Amit, or you too will get into trouble at school and get expelled. And I don’t want to be best friends with a homo either. Then everyone will think I am one as well.’

Ranjan’s mother arrived right then, without any warning, and opened the door. She surveyed the room, looking for mistakes, her expression disapproving. ‘Are you boys going to talk or study? Your room looks neat enough, Ranjan, though you could do better. Look at how well your brother keeps his things. You need to be more like him. You will not go very far in life if you cannot even keep a room clean. I am sure Rahul knows how to keep a room neat and tidy. And look what a good student he is!’ With a look of grudging approval at me, she left the room.

‘I am sick of being compared to others,’ Ranjan muttered, his brow furrowed in anger.

‘Let’s study,’ I said, changing the subject.

We started studying. Then the maid brought the nimbu pani and curry puffs. The puffs were crisp and flaky on the outside and filled with a variety of curries. After finishing our snack, we started solving algebra problems at the back of the chapters in our textbook.

‘I have finished!’ Ranjan’s voice interrupted me as I sat working on one of the problems.

‘Good,’ I said. ‘Hold on, let me finish mine too.’

‘I finished first and I got it right. You better improve your speed if you want to get top marks in the next test.’

‘Let me finish solving the problem. Then we can continue with something else. Remember, we have history and geography to do as well,’ I said in a placating tone, anxious to avoid another accusation of cheating, like the Monopoly incident at Mint House.

The rest of the morning was like that. Ranjan was determined to beat me at every exercise. It was a competitive study session and I felt like I was in an examination hall, writing my final exams. By the time we heard the lunch bell tinkle in the dining room downstairs, I was pretty tired.

We walked downstairs to the dining room. In accordance with Dr Bose’s British-style upbringing of her children, every meal was very proper, with tablecloth, napkins, forks and knives. We always used our hands to eat at home and used forks and knives only at restaurants and on formal occasions. I could not imagine what it would be like to have to use them for every meal—the joy of eating was in using my hands. It was as if my taste buds were on my fingertips, they sampled the texture and temperature of the food before it reached my mouth. But that was what Ranjan’s family was like—modern, formal and cold. Except for Shubho. He
was warm and comforting and so exciting to touch. I hoped he would be there for lunch.

When we reached the dining room, there were four place settings, but only the three of us. I was horribly disappointed that Shubho was not there.

‘I guess Shubho is not going to be sitting with us at lunch,’ Dr Bose said, her lips set in a tight line. ‘We cannot wait for him all day. And I have things to do this afternoon. I am sure you boys are hungry too, after all that studying.’

Lunch was different from the meals we had at Mint House. There was a Russian salad, cold cuts, baked vegetables and stew, followed by a freshly baked sponge cake with ice cream to finish it all off. The cold cuts looked revolting and I did not have any. The memory of my visit to the butcher shop was still fresh in my mind. The three of us sat in the dining room at the dining table for ten while the maid served us. My chair felt hard and I sat stiffly in it. Conversation was stilted, punctuated by the clink of knives and forks against porcelain plates. Shubho’s place sat empty, a gaping void—I wished he would magically appear and fill it.

‘I need to go to the market to buy some tatting thread for a lace tablecloth I am making,’ Dr Bose said as we were polishing off the last of the cake and ice cream from our matching dessert plates. ‘Ranjan, I need you to come with me. On the way back, we can stop at the tailor’s shop, where you must have another set of school trousers stitched for you. I don’t know what you do in your school uniform— the maid showed me huge rips in the knees. Rahul, would you like to come with us? We should be gone for less than an hour. Or you can stay here and take a nap or study.’

‘I would …’ I started to say, wishing that Shubho were here, when I heard loud footsteps coming up the front stairs.
The front door opened and shut with a bang. The sound of running feet preceded a dishevelled and breathless Shubho as he materialized in the doorway to the dining room.

‘Hello, everyone. Mum, I am sorry I am late. Anamika wanted to buy some bangles on Abid Road and it took her forever. Rahul, how are you?’ he asked casually, walking behind my chair and messing up my hair. I felt my face flush with pleasure. ‘So what are you doing here with Ranjan? Are you here to have fun or study for the tests?’

‘Rahul and Ranjan are studying for the next round of tests,’ Dr Bose answered for me. ‘But first they are going with me to shop. Shubho, go wash your hands and have your lunch.’

Shubho went to the washroom, humming a tune under his breath. He came back as we were getting ready to leave the table and said, ‘Are you all going to leave me here to eat alone? Rahul, at least you can stay behind and give me some company, right? I will tell you about my plans for your next position in the football team. Mum, why don’t you go with Ranjan and leave Rahul behind? You know I hate eating alone.’

Dr Bose, for all her dryness, was not immune to her son’s charms. ‘All right, Rahul, you can stay here and give Shubho company if you like. You will probably have a better time here than with us in this heat.’

And that is how simple it all was. One moment, I was going out in the afternoon heat, running around town with Ranjan and Dr Bose; the next, I was to be alone with Shubho.

Ranjan and his mother left soon. As we heard the revving of the Ambassador fade away and the noise of the churning gravel quiet down, I knew that I was going to get exactly what I had been hoping for.

I washed my hands and sat down at the table across from Shubho. He looked at me and smiled that indulgent smile that confirmed our little secret. It was as safe with him as it was with me. I felt a warm pressure on my bare calf. It was Shubho. He had slipped off his sandals and was slowly rubbing my calf with his bare foot.

‘I am fine. You don’t need to wait here.’ Shubho dismissed the maid waiting in the corner. She left the room smiling, glad to be free to enjoy her own lunch.

Shubho ate slowly, chewing deliberately and relishing the meal. I watched him, fascinated by the way his muscles at the temple and jaw rippled under his smooth brown skin. We did not say much to each other. He seemed absent-minded—as if he was trying to make his mind up about something. Suddenly, he pushed his plate away and said, ‘Want to go upstairs?’

I nodded, full of anticipation. My body felt charged and my mouth tasted salty. I felt aroused and excited. Shubho stood up quickly. He ran up the stairs and I followed, both of us anxious to be alone, knowing that Ranjan and Dr Bose would be back soon.

Shubho led me to his room, which was at the other end of the house. It was full of light and airy, just like Ranjan’s. The walls were pale yellow and a large window opened to the front of the house. I could see the chowkidar standing at the gate of the gravel-covered driveway. The roughly hewn stones that bordered the window were covered with ivy and a few strands curled and swayed in the light afternoon breeze. Posters of Sunil Gavaskar and Pele holding the World Cup hung from the walls and the actresses Mumtaz and Zeenat Aman smiled seductively in low-cut, sequinned gowns. Pens and papers lay neatly arranged on the desk, in
sharp contrast to Ranjan’s messy desk. School books were stacked on one end. I read the titles—
Advanced Physics
,
Intermediate Biology
,
Calculus
and some others that I could not recognize.

As I took this all in, I felt Shubho’s arms come up around me. I turned to face him and buried my face in his chest. I nuzzled him, parting the opening between the buttons in his shirt with my nose to breathe in the smell of his skin. The fine hair on his smooth chest was soft, like down. I had wanted to do this for so long—I could not believe it was finally happening! The fragrance of Lifebuoy soap mingled with his distinctive male smell, making me dizzy with delight. His hands squeezed my shoulders, my neck and then my back, softly massaging, feeling my body. It was the most arousing thing I had ever experienced. I wanted him to kiss me, so I turned my face up to his. Standing on tiptoes, I just managed to reach his chin and jawline and pressed my lips to his skin. It felt taut and warm, soft and prickly, all at the same time, a strange combination that inflamed my senses.

Shubho laughed and then, looking out of the window furtively, led me to his bed. We lay next to each other, my arms around his chest, his arms around mine, his face buried in my hair, his breathing ragged. His lips were burning hot and his breath was uneven. We faced each other and my lips touched his. His body pressed close to mine and I could feel his heart thumping loudly against my own. He suddenly held his fingers to his lips, asking me to be quiet. He slowly raised his head and looked out of the window to see if anyone was coming. The coast was clear—he dropped back down to the bed and held me tight again. I felt safe, warm and excited as never before. For that moment, even
though I knew we were doing something that had to be hidden from everyone, I wanted it more than anything in the world. I buried my face in his shirt and nibbled on his button, wanting it to come undone.

‘Oh, you rascal!’ Shubho laughed as he proceeded to unbutton his shirt. It was open now, displaying his soft skin. A light dusting of hair made its way down from his chest, disappearing into his jeans. I followed the trail with my fingers and felt his body harden with urgency. I felt like I was on the brink of an adventure, even as terror gripped me hard.

Shubho rolled me on my back and lay on top of me, taking care not to crush me. He slowly relaxed his weight onto my body. His lips touched mine and I felt the flicker of his tongue in my mouth. I opened my lips to taste him better, my tongue pushing back against his with a will of its own. I was dimly aware of his body gently rubbing against mine as he kissed me. I opened my eyes and looked at his face, damp with perspiration, his eyes closed. He slowly unbuttoned my shirt and trailed his fingers down my body. Suddenly, our bodies were rubbing against each other, skin to skin, and it was the most incredible sensation I had ever felt. Then he moaned and shuddered and a small cry escaped him. I felt an almost unbearable tightness building up in my groin and I ground and thrust my hips helplessly against his.

Spasms ran through Shubho’s body and he convulsed, his breath harsh and loud against my ear. Then he pulled away. The spell was broken, and I felt like I had been pulled back from the brink of ecstasy.

‘Shubho Dada, what is happening to you?’ I asked in alarm when I saw a stain on the front of his pants. I wondered if he had urinated in his pants, but that did not make sense. Is that why he looked so shamefaced? He started pulling
his shirt out of his waistband—it was rumpled from our embraces. He looked down and, brushing the front of his pants, covered the stain with the ends of the shirt.