When Hari Met His Saali (6 page)

Tch.

‘Namit, you get it fixed and I’ll pay for it, OK? she told him when he dropped her off. ‘I’ll give you the money!’

It was just a polite offer. Namit didn’t question it.

‘OK,’ he said quickly before he put the car into gear and he was gone.

Minutes later

Simi was nearing home.

Does it happen this way to all the girls? Two fucking minutes! Or two minutes fucking to be precise! Is this as good as it is going to get?

She wanted to get home and take a bath and wash off yet another disappointing episode from her life. But when she got there, the
cylinderwala
was standing outside waiting for her.

‘
Kya
, madam? I am waiting here for thirty minutes. Why don’t you give money to Aunty? Every time same story!’ he angrily told her.

Simi let him in and the cylinders were exchanged. She tipped him ten rupees and he was mad enough not to argue. He was just leaving when her mother started to explain her standing in the matter.

‘
Bhaiyya
, don’t feel bad, huh; I don’t feel safe when I am alone and a strange man visits, so I asked you to wait outside. I asked you if you wanted water as well, but you didn’t. Please don’t feel bad, huh, I am not saying you are a bad man!’ she said in one breath.

This man had been delivering cylinders to their home for the last fifteen years and he was upset.

‘Kakiji, mein peechle pandhra saal se aapko
cylinder
dene aa raha hoon aur aap abhi tak …’
he started to say before giving up and walking away.

‘Mom, you can’t treat someone like that these days!’ Simi scolded.

Her mother raised the volume on the television and ignored Simi.

‘I have made tea. Reheat and have it, you must be tired!’

‘Tired? Why? I am not tired!’ The response sounded defensive.

Can she sense I had sex? Can she see something? Something on my dress? Oh God! But I didn’t have sex. Whatever it was, it was not sex. Oh God, please don’t let sex be like that. Why is she saying I look tired?

As Simi rushed to the bathroom her mother called out offering her money.

‘Here, you gave it to the
cylinderwala, na
? Take it!’

‘Mom, I told you I don’t need money!’

Simi closed the door and switched on the geyser, dragging out the small plastic stool her mother used for bathing and sat down. She didn’t realize it but tears started rolling down her cheeks.

Simi felt lost. There was nothing wrong with her life, but she was caught in a rut. At the tender age of twenty-three, Simi was tired. She had no idea what she was doing with her life — she didn’t know what more she should do, or could do or how. She was not certain of her emotions; she couldn’t pinpoint what bothered her.

Something must be bothering me right, because almost every other day I sit here and cry.

She hated herself for trying too hard to change things.

I mean, why else would you do something like have sex with a guy like Namit? I wish I had someone to guide me.

She missed Tia — or at least she missed having a sibling around to share things with. Simi was still not sure if she was bearing a grudge against Tia for leaving her alone in Nagpur with her mother, or if she was just sad that it was not
her
who was abroad having a rocking life. She loved her mother dearly, but Tia’s single-minded plan and subsequent departure from India — and from their lives — had left Simi with no choice but to stay with their widow mother. That too in Nagpur. That also meant going to college in Nagpur, going to university in Nagpur, probably staying forever in Nagpur. So far her life had been Nagpur and their one BHK flat. And Nagpur was such a huge place that you could circle around the town in ten minutes flat. You could do it twice if you were not walking.

Tia’s departure had a tremendous effect on Simi; something that she didn’t realize until much later — long after Tia had already gone physically and emotionally, gone far away from them. She felt Tia left because she knew Simi would take care of their mother. She wondered if Tia spent any time thinking what was going on in her little sister’s life? Simi tried not to encourage such thoughts; they made her feel guilty.

How selfish of me! There she is living all by herself, at least I have mother with me.

One shouldn’t think like that, not when it comes to your own mother and sister. But when Tia left, Simi was only seventeen and she felt alone and fearful. She suddenly became too caring for her mother, who in turn became too possessive of her. After all, her mother had lost one daughter to a foreign country — as she called it — and the two of them were all they had.

Over the years her mother and Tia had grown apart, but Simi didn’t have the privilege of completely hating Tia for that. She was the only thread left between them. Her mother would often enquire about Tia, as she knew they talked sometimes and exchanged emails. It would look selfish on Simi’s part if she showed anger towards either of them. She didn’t have that luxury; her mother had taken that away from her. In their family of three, it was always about either Tia or her mother, and the irony was that they weren’t even talking to each other. But what that meant was that she had to talk to both of them. Simi didn’t feel equipped to handle this situation.

What do I do? When does my life start?

‘
So rahi hai kya andar
?’ her mother called again, as if she was hiding somewhere inside the bathroom. It always seemed to Simi that her mother would stand just outside the bathroom door listening to her. Of course, she was just being paranoid.

Simi took her bath quickly. She came out and went to the kitchen to start making dinner, but a minute later her mother came in.

‘What are you doing here? I’ll cook some
khichidi
and
kadhi
…’ She started prepping the food.

‘
Arrey
, Mom, I was also doing the same,
na
!’ Simi insisted, but her mother almost brutally shoved her aside.

‘You work all day and then come home and cook. It’s not right. What will people say?’

Simi loved her mother, she was so cute and naïve. She hugged her from behind.

‘What people, Mom? Who are all these people who keep saying these things about us? Where are they, I want to meet them!’

Her mother removed herself from the hug and scolded her: ‘Go and watch your shows. I’ll call you once the food is ready!’

‘You’ll have
papad, na
?’ her mother asked as Simi switched on the television. Simi hated
papad
but she knew her mother loved them and this was her way of saying that they were going to have them with the
khichidi.

After dinner, her mother went to sleep in the bedroom. Simi laid her mattress on the floor in front of the TV. She loved sleeping in front of the
TV. She watched TV shows till she couldn’t keep her eyes open and then she slept. This way, she didn’t have to entertain her thoughts.

Simi only watched American shows. Her favorite was
The Practice
— a gripping drama about lawyers at an American law firm, along with some other shows on the Fox Crime channel.

While she was watching Lindsay Dole, the feisty lawyer from the show, Simi remembered Tia. Lindsay Dole reminded Simi of Tia. Just like her character Tia was focused, a go-getter, an independent woman. Simi imagined Tia having a posh office and house just like Lindsay. Maybe Tia’s man even looked like Lindsay Dole’s boyfriend on the show, Bobby Donnell. Simi knew that Tia was dating some guy in L.A.

Maybe he looks like Bobby Donnell, or who’s the actor … umm … Dylan McDermott!

Simi got goosebumps thinking about the blue-eyed Bobby Donnell. She had a massive crush on him, but he was clearly out of her league.

Wouldn’t it be fun if Tia married a hunk like Bobby Donnell?

As she was relishing that thought, another came to her mind.

But what about you, Simi?

Simi suddenly felt like she had no control over her own thoughts.

What about me? Oh, don’t worry about me. I am never leaving Mom alone. If I ever get married, the guy will have to agree to live with us.

Simi couldn’t deny that she would have liked to make lots of money like Tia. Be independent, like Tia. Be an adult, like Tia. After all, Tia was the only high achiever she knew. She wanted to ask Tia so many questions, like how is it to live away from home? In America? Did she ever miss them, Mom and her? But whenever they spoke over the phone or on Skype, they would talk generally — although even that was an improvement over earlier times when there was no communication between them at all.

Now, she was at least cordial with her sister when they spoke, mostly by Skype. They didn’t have the huggy, sappy, touchy-feely kind of relationship some sisters have, but they had closeness because they had been apart from each other for so long. Weird, but maybe it was because of the physical distance between them that in the last couple of years they had become more like two adult friends. What no one would have guessed was that Tia missed her sibling or that Simi wanted and needed a sister in her life.

By midnight, Simi was just about to go to sleep when Namit called. Her phone rang loudly. Shit, she had forgotten to put it on silent.

‘Who is it,
beta
? Who is calling you so late?’ her mother asked from the bedroom, as if on cue.

If there was an earthquake her mother would sleep through it, but she had a hawk-eye and the ear of an owl when it came to Simi.

‘It’s Sharmila, Mom,’ Simi lied as she whispered ‘Hi’ into the phone.

‘
Yaar
, the bloody window cost ten thousand to fix,’ Namit told her getting straight to the point.

‘Ten thousand?’ Simi whispered again.

‘Usually they have the China-made glass but they are out of stock so they put in an original one,’ Namit explained.

She knew why he was explaining, the cheap bastard.

‘OK. Is it all right if I give you the money in a day or two?’ Simi asked.

‘Yeah, OK. I wouldn’t ask Simi, but, I … I …’ Namit couldn’t even think of an excuse.

Fattu!
Namit was no Bobby Donnell.

‘It is OK, I’ll pay you,’ Simi said even though she had no idea how she would find the money.

‘So, what are you wearing?’ Namit asked, venturing into dangerous territory after taking care of the window business.

‘Kya?’ Simi heard him all right; she had to look down to see what she was wearing — an old
salwar-kameez.

‘A nightie,’ she lied.

‘A nightie? What color is it?’ Namit sounded excited.

Simi looked around and decided on ‘black’.

She could
hear
Namit getting aroused. ‘What else?’ he panted.

‘What else what?’ Simi smiled as she asked.

‘What else are you wearing?’ Namit tried a deeper, sexier voice.

At this point Simi could easily have hooked him and taken him on an erotic journey, but that was too much effort and and would be deceitful. She neither had the patience nor the inclination.

‘Namit, I am off to sleep now.’

He sent her disgusting wet kisses over the phone and then hung up.

Where am I going to get ten thousand rupees?

The next day, Simi tried to ask Sharmila when she met her at Costa Coffee. Sharmila was Simi’s best friend. She belonged to an ultra-rich industrialist family and she always liked to meet at these kind of cafes. Simi hated them. A cup of coffee cost an exorbitant two hundred and fifty rupees. She reckoned her mom made better coffee and so she always ended up ordering what she couldn’t get at home, like a Peach-Apple Frappe, which defeated the purpose because it was three hundred and fifty rupees, but to her middle-class senses
it felt like a better deal. As they sat down, Sharmila started asking her about Namit.

‘So, how was it?’ she asked excitedly.

‘It was awesome,
yaar.
I never thought it would be such a … spiritual experience!’ Simi lied through her teeth.

‘Really? You are lucky,
yaar.
Mine was, I don’t even remember, I was so drunk!’ Sharmila stressed how intoxicated she was. Sharmila had a reputation amongst the boys. She would call herself a slut if she didn’t know better.

Simi changed the topic.

‘
Achcha, sun na. Yaar
, I need some money. I’ll pay you back?’

Without asking any questions, Sharmila dug into her purse and handed Simi about one thousand rupees.

‘That’s all I am allowed to carry in cash,’ she told Simi.

Helping someone with money makes people think they are being gallant, particularly in small towns like Nagpur.

‘I needed about ten thousand!’ Simi said disappointedly.

‘Ten thousand? Abortion
karana hai kya
?’ Sharmila thought it was funny that Simi might have wanted the money for an abortion. There was a rumor that Sharmila had had one last year when she was in Australia where her elder sister was a doctor. Simi had never brought it up with her. In Nagpur it didn’t matter how strong a friendship was, some things were not discussed beyond family. Simi knew that.

‘
Nahi, yaar.
Just some emergency.’ Simi wanted this meeting to end now. She hated asking people favors.

Sharmila showed Simi a credit card.

‘My mom is a freak, man. If I ask for anything more than one thousand rupees from her she thinks it is for an abortion. She seems to think I am going to need one,’ Sharmila said with a straight face. ‘This way she can keep track of my expenses,’ she continued. ‘Man, I can’t wait to get away from this small-town mentality you know.’

Simi returned Sharmila’s one thousand rupees. Simi always thought of her as a sweet but confused girl. Sharmila had everything going for her but she was determined to be a rebel, a slut. For a moment, Simi wondered if she could be a slut.

Oh, who are you kidding. You are not even a proper woman yet, Simi.

The next person Simi tried was Shabnam at work, who told her she wished she could help her, but it was a no. Simi wondered if she should ask for an advance from Mr. Khanna. Shabnam vehemently discouraged her.