Club You to Death

by Anuja Chauhan

  He blinks, recognition lighting up the dull eyes. ‘Bambi Todi. You’re cuuuute. I like you.’

  He reaches for her in a dim sort of way. Kashi hastily pushes her aside.

  ‘So how’s it going, bro?’ he asks in his nicest man-to-man voice.

  But this is too much mental stimulation. Aggarwal droops, then passes out on the deckchair again.

  ‘What t’fuck!’ Bambi mutters. ‘You scared him, Kashi.’

  Kashi looks indignant. ‘I scared him! You’re the one who slapped him so hard!’

  She leans down over the crumpled body.

  ‘OMG, Aryaman!’ she coos. ‘Remember when you used to play the drums? I ogled you right through the Western Music showcase when you did that Imagine Dragons song! Didn’t you used to play the drums?’

  No response.

  Kashi and Bambi look at each other, quite at a loss.

  Bambi tries again. ‘I do Zumba classes with your mum!’

  Aryaman stirs.

  ‘I hate my mum,’ he mumbles. ‘Bitch hates me too.’

  ‘Hello, language!’ Kashi rebukes him, genuinely shocked, but Aryaman has already fallen asleep again. ‘Uh… should we fling him in the pool to wake him up?’

  ‘He’ll probably drown. This is all your fault. I wanted to zoom in on him the moment we got here – but you were all like, no hurry, we’ll make him come to us!’

  ‘Yeah. ‘Cos Bhavani had told me to be subtle!’ Kashi replies, stung. ‘I didn’t want people to think we’d come to the party with a one-point agenda of pumping the guy!’

  ‘Throwing him into the pool will be subtle?’

  ‘You have a better idea?’

  She sits down with a thump. ‘Oh, forget it. We’ll just track him down when he’s sober and get him to talk.’

  He sits down beside her. ‘You want a drink?’

  She gives her head a quick shake. ‘I talk too much when I’m drunk.’

  ‘Really?’ He quirks a brow. ‘And what’s all this deep dark stuff you’re afraid you’ll spill?’

  ‘Oh … just … stuff.’ Her eyes grow wistful. ‘Like, I should never have believed Mammu-Paapu know best … I should never have broken up with you.’

  Kashi doesn’t reply. There really isn’t anything to say.

  She stares out at the party moodily. Some drunken people are moving slowly to very fast music. There’s a food fight going on near the bar. Some impassive bearers are cleaning up several broken beer bottles. Birthday girl Sia Kapoor is staring down at her phone, tears streaming down her face.

  ‘This is all so fucked up!’

  ‘That’s what Kuhu says too.’

  ‘Oh please! Can we not talk about your perfect girlfriend?’

  ‘That’s a bit unfair,’ he pushes back gently.

  Bambi blinks and shakes her head, like a boxer who’s just taken one on the chin. ‘You’re right – tell me all about her, then! How you guys met, why she didn’t want to Goa with you, how soon this long-distance thread is gonna snap!’

  ‘You seem pretty sure it’s gonna snap.’

  She nods. ‘Uh huh.’

  Anger descends in a sudden red mist on Kashi.

  ‘Long distance isn’t just about physical distance, you know,’ he bites back. ‘People can be doing the long-distance thing even if they’re sitting right next to each other – like you and I are.’

  ‘So you … and Kuhu … you’re like tight in the head?’

  ‘Yes,’ he says steadily.

  ‘And you and I are … not?’

  He sighs. ‘No.’

  She bursts out laughing. ‘That’s nuts! We’re practically the same person! We have all the same memories and all the same ideologies.’

  ‘We’re toxic as fuck, Bambi.’

  ‘Would you ever consider getting back together with me?’

  It’s a typical Bambi Todi attack, coming right out of blue and hitting him bang in the solar plexus. Completely winded, heart thudding against his ribs, he rakes hair off his forehead with slightly shaky hands and says, ‘Whuh … what?’

  She was staring up at him, but now she drops her gaze at once. ‘Forget it,’ she says with a grimace and a quick shake of the head. ‘It was a dumb, dog-in-the-manger thing to say!’

  ‘No no, it’s okay,’ he reassures her just as quickly. ‘You can say anything to me, you know that.’

  ‘No!’ she says vehemently. ‘I really like this friend space we’re in right now, we mustn’t mess with it – I must’ve inhaled that damn joint accidentally.’

  Kashi steps closer, his brown eyes intense. ‘No, Bam, it’s cool, tell me what you mea—’

  ‘Hey Dogra! Hey Todi!’

  They look around – the Doscos are back, ravaged and dishevelled and extremely pleased with themselves. Walli is wearing only a pair of bright blue briefs and Kalra’s black party shirt is badly torn. There are bits of grass on their backs and in their hair, and a suspicious swollen look to their mouths.

  ‘Have you two been banging each other in the bushes?’ Bambi asks.

  They just beam at her happily.

  ‘Best party ever!’ Walli declares. ‘Thanks for inviting us!’

  ‘The girls here are too nice,’ Kalra confides. Then he blinks, ‘Who’s the dead guy?’

  ‘He’s not dead.’ Kashi’s voice is exasperated. ‘Merely tripping.’

  Kalra peers down at Aryaman Aggarwal’s still figure then clicks his tongue sympathetically. ‘Looks like a BT, bro, a bad, bad trip. He should’ve stuck with us. We met these guys, just back from a trek in Dharamshala, who were smoking the purest shit ever! Sourced directly from the hills!’ He holds up his hands and gestures dramatically. ‘From farm – to palm! From farm – to palm! From farm – to palm! Get it?’

  ‘I got it the first time,’ Kashi says sourly.

  ‘We met their dealer too,’ Walli adds. ‘He was handing out free twenty-gram samples of weed … really chill guy. Looked like a Citibank banker, pinstriped shirt and glasses.’

  ‘Naice!’

  Kalra nods. ‘Best part was, he wasn’t judgemental! I hate sanskari dealers, bro, matlab, in Ludhiana I used to pick from this really fucking goody-goody dealer – every time we met he’d give me a whole load of brain-freezing gyaan about how I was ruining my health and destroying my parents’ happiness and blowing away my future and how I should stop at once. And then he’d hand me the weed and take my cash. It was like he felt morally obliged to issue a sort of statutory warning. Twisted, sadistic bastard.’

  ‘I feel you, bro.’ Bambi nods. ‘I hate hypocrites.’

  ‘Yeah, Todi!’ Walli swivels to face her, delighted. ‘You get me! Anyway, I could’ve had a much longer chat with this dealer, but he slunk off without eating. He’s keeping a low profile – the cops are chasing all the dealers nowadays, trying to figure out who supplied the Pinko Hathni to your Zumba trainer, Todi.’

  ‘That makes sense.’

  ‘He was sort of low-key bragging that he supplied it, TBH. But he could have just been taking the piss. Dealers take the piss a lot to scare kids into keeping their mouths shut. He said he knows that chick who’s in the news – the one having an affair with that old general.’

  ‘What … wait?’ Kashi looks up sharply. ‘Do you mean … Ganga?’

  Kalra scratches his head, his eyes hazy. ‘He didn’t mention the name – but apparently she runs a Daily Needs at your club. He seemed pretty kicked at how high-profile “bhabhi ji” had gotten. He used to be thick pals with her husband – who used to deal to all the TVVS kids back in the old days, but then some shit went down and he had to vanish. So this guy inherited his client list.’

  ‘TVVS kids used to pick from Ganga’s husband three years ago and then he vanished?’ Kashi asks. ‘Is that what you’re saying, Kalra?’

  ‘People sell off their client list all the time,’ Walli chips in knowledgeabl
y. ‘My dentist did the same thing when I was twelve – told my mom ki I’m off to Canada for a three-month course, my pal so-and-so will treat your son for the time being, and then he just never came back, and we realized he’d migrated to Canada and I’d been shunted off to so-and-so against my will! My top right incisor is still all crooked, look!’

  Nobody looks. Kalra has wandered off to find the loo and Kashi and Bambi are staring at each other in electrified silence, words trembling on their lips.

  ‘Shall I say?’ she asks breathlessly.

  He nods.

  ‘Okay okay!’ She takes a deep, calming breath. ‘So, if three years ago, Ganga’s hubby was the local TVVS dealer, and Arya was one of his clients, and then Ganga’s hubby vanished – then that creates a direct link between Arya and the body in the kitchen patch!’

  ‘Assuming that the body in the kitchen patch is Ganga’s husband,’ Kashi says. ‘That hasn’t been conclusively proven yet, has it?’

  She shakes her head. ‘No – but it seems logical … Oh my God, Kashi, this is huge!’

  ‘I think it’s probably much more likely that Ganga’s husband just fucked off to Dubai or something,’ says Kalra. ‘Or to Canada – like my dentist.’

  ‘Shut up, Kalra. You’re right, Bambi. It’s huge! We have to notify Bhavani.’

  13

  The Khuranas Receive Visitors

  It is three in the morning by the time the Uber drops Bambi off at Aurangzeb Road. The guys are all in the backseat – Kalra and Walli had manoeuvred to make sure Bambi sat in the front seat when the Uber arrived at Sia Kapoor’s farmhouse, a move that had certainly not endeared them to Kashi. Now he yanks open the back door, very tight-lipped, and gets into the front passenger seat, slamming the door shut so hard that the driver protests.

  ‘Sir gaadi hai, truck nahi!’

  Kashi sends Bhavani a long, detailed WhatsApp message, updating him on Ganga’s husband’s second job as a drug dealer, then drops the phone into the cupholder beside him, sits back with a sigh and closes his eyes.

  A little while later, a voice coos into his ear.

  ‘When Kuhu smiles at me, I feel like the sun has come out from behind a dark cloud, but when Bambi smiles at me, I feel like I am the sun itself.’

  Kalra and Walli have got hold of his phone.

  ‘What the fuck, Walli!’ Kashi swears, and lunges for it.

  Walli chucks the phone to Kalra, who waves off the furious Kashi while sucking in his breath and shaking his head solemnly.

  ‘Too much pressure, bro. Being somebody’s sun is too much pressure. You’ll burn yourself up just keeping ’em warm.’

  Kashi looks at him in angry disbelief. ‘Behenchod, now you’re a science expert? You put the moon between the sun and the earth in the diagram of the lunar eclipse! We chutiyas copied from you and failed the class seven finals as well! Gimme my phone back!’

  He is so white-faced and enraged that, after shrugging and exchanging silent looks, the pair tamely surrender the phone.

  ‘Dirty dog, Dogra.’

  ‘Cheating on Bannerjee.’

  Kashi requests them very cordially to shut the fuck up, and they are so baked that they actually comply.

  The Uber heads towards Nizamuddin in silence. Kashi glowers at the empty night roads and replays the events of the evening in his mind. Or, to be specific, one precise moment.

  Would you ever consider getting back together with me?

  Why, he thinks moodily, did their paths have to cross at all, all those years ago? His mother could’ve signed him up for horse-riding instead of swimming; he could’ve gone through life happily and healthily, riding horses, playing tennis, eating shakkarkandi and reading books – until the moment Kuhu Bannerjee pulled up in her little car and offered him a ride because Kalra thought he had broken his cock. How simple and untainted and uncomplicated everything would have been then.

  But no, he had to bump into Bambi when he was six years old, blow air into her wretched armband, and be condemned to live forever with a hole in his heart where their relationship had been.

  No more ‘friendship’ with Bambi Todi, he tells himself firmly. You’ve literally been flirting with fire. You have to get back to work soon anyway, and that can be the perfect excuse to drop casually out of her life. In fact, why wait till you get back to work – move to Noida right away, and spend the rest of your leave hanging with Ma and Dadi and Nattu. Begin the Bambi-detox ASAP.

  Feeling a lot more sorted, he settles back into the seat and closes his eyes.

  Would you ever consider getting back together with me?

  Brig. Dogra is swinging dreamily on the white garden swing in his Noida kothi when Kashi’s Uber rolls up at the gate the next afternoon. He looks up, and slowly stows his phone away.

  ‘To what do we owe this honour?’ he demands as Kashi approaches the gate. ‘You? Here? How come?’

  ‘Hi, Dad,’ Kashi says lightly, as he lugs his rucksack down the driveway. ‘Where’s everybody?’

  The brigadier looks at the bulging rucksack, his expression half-grumpy, half-hopeful. ‘Moving back with bag and baggage, are you?’

  Kashi grins. ‘That’s the idea. We can rig up a net on the lawn and practice some shots, I thought.’

  A matching grin lightens the brigadier’s face. ‘Mala-D!’ he shouts. ‘Suna? Your ladla has ditched the fleshpots of Nizamuddin and come to stay with us!’

  ‘For three days, Ma,’ Kashi says as his mother rushes excitedly out of the house to greet him. ‘I have to get back to work on Thursday.’

  ‘Put your bag in your room,’ she says. ‘I’ll need to put in fresh sheets and towels, and there may be a smell – we’ve been storing unripe mangoes under your bed! I’m making rajma chawal. Is that okay?’

  ‘It’s awesome.’ He gives her a quick hug. ‘I’m sorry I don’t come over more often, Ma.’

  ‘Stupid boy.’ She kisses him soundly, then pushes him away. ‘Go say hi to your Dadi. And that must be full of dirty clothes, na? Leave it in the laundry basket. And call Nattu – we can all have lunch together!’

  Kashi walks slowly up the stairs to the upstairs living room, which leads off to two bedrooms. His, which has a cross-stitch embroidery sign reading ‘Kashi’ over the door, and Natasha’s which has a matching sign that reads ‘Tashi’. He enters his room and it is exactly as he had left it last. There are the same Doon School football groups on the wall, the same bunch of inter-school and college medals, the graduation picture from NLS, and a baby photo of him sitting on his grandparents’ knees. Outside, from his balcony, is the familiar view of the gulmohar tree and the terrace of the Bharagavas’ house

  next door.

  He doesn’t need to shower, but he does. Wearing his Jaipur House soccer shorts and an old tee, he comes running downstairs lightly, feeling suddenly revitalized and centred. He realizes with a queer little shock that he has spent the last several days free-floating about in a sort of confounded daze.

  ‘Kashi!’ Old Mrs Dogra beams delightedly when he pops his head into her bedroom. ‘Come and sit here!’ She pats the bed.

  ‘Hi, Dadi!’ He bends down to give her a hug.

  She pats his back with gentle hands, then pulls away to gaze at him with affectionate rheumy eyes.

  ‘How are you, beta? How’s Boohoo?’

  ‘Kuhu,’ he corrects her gently.

  ‘Your mother said Boohoo,’ the old lady replies firmly.

  ‘What! Why?’

  ‘Because she cried so much when we all went to see Parasite,’ Nattu’s voice comes from the door. ‘During the climax. She tried to hide it, but of course we noticed. Didn’t you know?’

  ‘That she cried or that you guys call her Boohoo?’ he demands. ‘Why are you so mean to her, anyway?’

  ‘Shut up! You know I like her, Kashi!’ Nattu says as she hugs him. ‘And so does Dadi – don’t you, Dadi?’ />
  ‘Bengali girls are churails,’ says the old lady seriously as Nattu hugs her. ‘Hairy also.’

  ‘Having quite a lucid day today, I see,’ Kashi murmurs in an aside to his sister as she sits down beside him.

  Nattu giggles. ‘Oh yes, she’s in great form nowadays.’

  Presently they sit down at the big dining table before a lavish lunch.

  ‘OG group!’ Nattu says happily as she ladles steaming hot rajma into her plate. ‘Yay!’

  ‘OG means original, not olive green,’ Mala Dogra explains to her fauji husband, who is looking confused. ‘What should the OGs do? Let’s go for long walks, and swim and drink tea on the veranda – spend a lot of quality time together, basically!’

  ‘Time is time, not an ice cream,’ grunts the brigadier. ‘What is all this kwality and quantity?’

  ‘Really?’ His wife snorts. ‘Okay, kids, imagine your father is a piece of ganna.’

  ‘Okay,’ Kashi says obligingly.

  ‘Eww, Ma, why?’ objects Nattu.

  ‘Be quiet! Haan, so early in the morning, Balbir Dogra is this nice fresh chunk of sugar cane, tight and bursting with sweet juice! But, even before breakfast, his golf buddies get their teeth into him. Then, after breakfast, his stockbroker son-in-law phones him and has a gnaw! Then he goes to the gym where the trainer nikalos his juice. Then he comes back, showers, and sits with Amma ji who slips on her dentures and chews through whatever’s left, and finally, at the end of the day, all that staggers into our bedroom at night is a pile of spat-out husk!’

  She is almost teary-eyed by the end of this speech. Her voice is trembling. Kashi and Nattu exchange looks, valiantly trying to keep their faces straight.

  ‘Aaj se dad ka nickname Husky!’ Nattu says finally.

  ‘Ma, that metaphor is problematic for several reasons,’ Kashi chimes in. ‘Firstly, you’re objectifying your husband – he’s a person not a plant. Secondly, it all sounds wayyy too cannibalistic—’

  ‘Sexual too,’ Nattu puts in primly. ‘All this talk of juicing and chewing. Highly inappropriate thing to say in front of your children!’