by Smith, Skye
He was waving a piece of cardboard at her with one word scribbled in felt marker on it. MAYA. "Are you Maya?" he was yelling, but he was now completely blocked by a Sikh family. "I am looking for a blonde American called Maya." The Sikh man standing beside him yelled out, "I will take one of those too," and then laughed.
Marique had come to a full stop just before the end of the corridor. The exit was completely blocked by hustlers. Maya called for her to wait and then backtracked to talk with the man with the sign. "Who are you?" The Sikh beside him said, "I am the man of your dreams."
"I am Ajay," the man with the sign yelled out. "I studied with Erik at U.B.C. He asked me to meet you and make sure you catch the train to Goa."
"Marique," Maya yelled after her friend who was now surrounded by hustlers, and backing slowly away from them.
"Is she your friend?" Ajay asked. When she nodded, he told her to stay where she was and then he raced along the half height wall towards Marique. When he reached her he started pushing the hustlers away from her, and yelling at them that she was his sister.
None of the hustlers believed him of course, especially since he was very Indian and the woman was very blonde, real blonde. Maya trundled forward so fast that her suitcase rocked back and forth on its wheels, and she threw herself into Ajay's arms and said, "Brother, brother, I have missed you so much." The hustlers started backing away. If this was her brother then he had every right to kick them in the ass, and the armed security guards would help him to do it.
"Marique," she yelled above the din of the crowd, "this in Ajay. He studied at U.B.C. He has been sent by my friends to make sure we are okay."
Marique shook his hand in the European way and allowed herself to be led through the crowd of hustlers. They were stared at, but not hassled.
"What about the bank? We need rupees," said Maya. Marique stopped and looked around at the crowd of hustlers they had just left, but Ajay told them to keep walking. His words were in sing-song, "These airport banks have cheater rates. You will not need rupees tonight. I will take you to a real bank tomorrow."
He led them outside to an old Mercedes and held the rear door open for them. As soon as they were in, he closed the door to keep them from the eyes of all the men hanging about. After putting the suitcases in the boot, he climbed in the driver's door and then just sat there. "You will excuse me while I relax before I drive. I find the close company of those louts quite disturbing."
"You said it, brother," said Maya. "What a zoo! Surely the tourists must complain."
"Most people are met by tour guides, family, friends, or business associates. There, where I was standing. That is why there is such a crush around those who are not met." He waggled his head as Indians did to confirm ideas. It could be quite confusing to Americans who shook their head for 'no' and nodded for 'yes'. Indians did almost the same moves with the opposite meaning. Ajay had lived in Canada for five years, and he now explained this to them.
After three or four deep breaths, and put the keys in the ignition.
"Excuse me," said Marique, still feeling apprehensive, "where are you taking us?"
"To my parents' home where you can stay while we find you transport to Goa. It would not be proper for you to stay at my apartment."
"What is your apartment like?" asked Maya.
"All the mod cons," he said proudly in a sing-song with a smile. "There are two bedrooms and hot water in the shower all the day long."
"Is it closer to the train station than your parent's place?"
"Of course. It is very central. My parents live in the suburbs."
Marique and Maya looked at each other. "If it is all right with you, may we stay at your place?" Maya asked.
"Why, of course. It is very improper and my neighbors will gossip a great deal, but that is not all bad for a single man like me. The other men will be very impressed. You are both very beautiful and very not Indian. Oh, this is so naughty. I cannot wait." He started the car. It was a diesel, a noisy smelly old diesel, not one of the whisper quiet clean Euro diesels.
"Hold on," Maya said. "There is to be nothing naughty about our stay with you. We thank you for rescuing us from the airport madness, but like, that doesn't give you any privileges."
"Privileges? Oh, that is very good! Privileges. No, of course not. Though my neighbors will not believe me when I tell them. Oh, this is so delightfully naughty." He turned the car off again, and pulled out a cell phone. "I must tell my parents not to expect us."
Maya pulled out her Blackberry and sent a text message that was just slightly longer than "arrived safely in Mumbai," to a dozen people, and an "Ajay met us in Mumbai, thank you" to Erik.
The drive to central Mumbai followed the seacoast and was a kaleidoscope of colors. Everything was in bright and cheerful colors. The commercial signs, the women’s saris, even the orangey pink dust that decorated the holy cows that blocked the traffic at a few of the intersections. Once Ajay turned off the main boulevard and into the smaller streets, the traffic patterns were so random that Maya could not even imagine driving in it. The women signaled each other to stay quiet so as not to distract Ajay.
* * * * *
* * * * *
MAYA'S AURA - the Ashram by Skye Smith
Chapter 9 - Mumbai (Bombay), India
Nearly everything you do is of no importance, but it is important that you do it. - Mahatma Gandhi.
Ajay's apartment building had guarded parking. The guard looked about eighty years old and carried a big stick that looked too heavy for him to swing. He looked so unlike a threat, and they were giggling about it, when Ajay said "He is not a guard, he is a watcher. It is not his duty to stop thieves, just to report them and identify them. All he needs is a good memory for faces. The stick is only used to tap the pavement to send messages to the other watchers in the other buildings."
Ajay insisted on carrying both of their suitcases across the rough and broken pavement to the front door of the building. Inside, the hallway was not air-conditioned. "I am on the fifth floor," he said, pushing the button to call the elevator.
"I hate elevators," Maya said and started walking up the stairs. After three floors she stopped in front of the elevator and pushed the button. It was too hot and humid in the staircase. When the elevator door opened she stepped in and joined her friends with no comment.
The apartment was actually quite spacious. The kitchen was crude by Frisco standards, but not by backwoods Mendocino standards. The bathroom was mostly of large tiles and it smelled a bit. The living room had a balcony facing north, and Ajay was quick to point out that here in Bombay it was the southern balconies that were undesirable due to the heat. Each of the two bedrooms had a queen-sized bed which took up most of the room.
"I hope you do not need so much wardrobe space. You see, this one is full." He opened it and the frills of women’s clothes fell out along with the smell of moth balls. "Uh, they are my girlfriend's. She is out of town." As he left them in the room he said, "Please be thinking about what you would like for supper."
Both women looked at each other and licked their lips. They pushed their gear into the room and then followed Ajay to the kitchen. The refrigerator was almost bare. So were the cupboards. "I mostly eat out," he apologized. Single men. Some things were no different no matter what side of the planet you were on.
The last thing the women wanted was to go back out into the heat, noise, and fumes of the street. Maya picked up a box of cereal. It was the Indian equivalent of Raisin Bran. Good enough. Ajay provided the bowls and the milk and the two women chowed down on the international soul food of those who travel a lot.
"While you are in the shower, shall I go to the market?"
"Yes please. Eggs and bread for toast and more milk and some more Raisin Bran. That is sweet of you," Marique said. It would be good to be able to run around half-naked and get clean without this man hovering. "And anything else that you think would be good for us." She looked at Maya, who was putting on the ket
tle for tea. Tea, it was too hot for tea.
"Beer," Marique added. "Nice cold beer and lots of it. We will pay you back after we go to the bank."
"The bank," he said. "There is one around the corner." He looked at his watch. "You should go now."
"I will come with you and get some rupees," Maya said. She turned to Marique, "I will come right back after the bank, so listen for my knock." She and Ajay went together out the door and down the stairs. "How much will I need, you know, for train fare and daily expenses?"
"About fifty dollars for the two of you on the train, if you go second air con. Try not to spend much here in Mumbai. It is so expensive. In small towns, perhaps ten dollars each a day. In Goa, more because it is a resort area."
Out on the street, the heat belted back at them off the afternoon pavement. The bank was literally just around the corner, and he waited while she got her money, and then escorted her back to his building. He then waved and walked the other way to go to the nearest market. Once he had walked away it took less than twenty seconds before men started to create a ring around her. They weren't hustling. They were just staring.
All the dark eyes staring at her gave her the creeps but she stood her ground waiting to see what would happen. Nothing happened. Not a single man passed her by. Every few seconds there was another just standing staring at her. First a single row in a ring, then a double row. No one left the ring. They were watching her. She was what was happening.
Totally creeped out, she ducked into the building to escape the eyes. She hid in the hallway and then crept back to the door and opened it to see if they had gone. They had. So ended her first adventure of being alone in India. Oh well, at least they weren't hustlers like at the airport. They were just staring as if she were a movie star. Wait, she was a movie star.
Upstairs she spoke about it while she shared the shower with Marique. "Get used to it," was her response. "The staring is worse in the countryside. Out there, for sure you are a movie star. You are the biggest thing to have happened to them all year, and they will not leave or stop staring until you leave."
Once dry, and feeling refreshed, they put on their lounging robes. Both robes were of imitation silk, very light, but not quite diaphanous. Maya's was cream with a bamboo design, while Marique's was a light pink with a poppy design. Marique went to the balcony door and opened it, and then closed it again immediately. The smog from the city was black and sumptuous, and the noise was a cacophony of car horns and voices calling out and loudspeakers cracking with pop music and advertising.
"So this apartment must be like, air conditioned," said Maya, "otherwise it wouldn't feel and smell so fresh. I wonder where the controls are?"
"Don't touch anything," Marique warned. "Did you see the spaghetti of wires on the power poles as we drove here? None of the household connections looked like they were done by electricians. Turn something on and you may burn the place down."
When Ajay got home, Marique was using Maya's Blackberry to send an email to her father. "I have a laptop if you want to do emails." He offered.
"It's getting stuffier and stuffier in here," Maya said to him. "Do you have air-con?"
"Ah yes, but we are having rotating brown outs right now, so we are not supposed to use air con. I closed the building's system off yesterday and I won't be turning it on again until tomorrow."
"You turned it off?" Maya queried.
"Yes, this is one of my parents' buildings. I manage it for them."
Marique was suddenly interested. "How many buildings do your parents own?"
"You mean offices and apartments, or do you mean houses and farms as well?"
"Big buildings," replied Marique.
"Six. I manage three and my brother manages three. My father is retired so he just manages the farms now." He was grinning ear to ear. "I have bought a lot of food. I am hoping that you are hungry."
"Did you find bread for toast?" asked Maya.
"Acha, but you will hate the bread. It is not like the sprouted multigrain that Eric and Karl eat in Vancouver. It is more like the bread that mothers are feeding to their children on peanut butter advertisings."
"Never mind the bread, did you bring beer?" asked Marique.
"Six liters of Kingfisher," he replied pushing a heavy carton with his feet. "and still sort of cold. I bought it last."
Within a minute they were all three toasting the day and gulping the cold salty liquid. Within an hour they had finished half the beer, and watched the sun set, and had attacked a rotisserie chicken that Ajay had brought.
A sea breeze had started up, so now the balcony was usable. The hot polluted air was blowing inland, and the city noises had calmed since the sun had set. Marique opened the fourth liter bottle and filled their glasses. They were all sitting on a rattan couch on the balcony with Ajay gleefully sitting in the middle.
"'ere's to Ajay, our knight in shining armor," Marique said holding her glass high. She was feeling quite high. "This is so much finer than staying at the YWCA and drinking soda pop."
"Tomorrow we must go shopping," said Maya. "I want one of those like, burqa things if we are going to travel in the countryside. Something light and cool but big enough to hide that I am a blonde."
"But only strict and old-fashioned Muslim women wear them," argued Ajay. "It may cause you other problems."
Maya told him what had happened in front of his building, here in the big city. Marique then told him some stories from the last time she was in India. "And this time I don't have my boyfriend to protect me," she finished.
"Alright, my cleaning lady comes tomorrow. I will excuse her from cleaning so she can take you shopping." His voice trailed off. Both of the women were resting their heads on his shoulder with their eyes closed. He stretched his arms out and put one around each to stop them from slumping. "Thank you Erik," he whispered up to the sky.
With them both snoozing he was free to stare at their bodies. Their silken robes hid little. He sighed. They were both so pretty. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
* * * * *
With teeth brushed, but still feeling the beer, Marique climbed unsteadily into bed beside Maya. "Do you think one of us should go and give 'im a treat?" she slurred. "He has been so nice, he deserves a reward."
"Are you kidding? Like, he seems nice, but like, we just met him. Why risk blowing the situation?" Maya whispered sleepily. "Now go to sleep." She liked Marique, liked her a lot, but she had this bad habit of teasing men. She liked teasing men way too much.
"It wasn't the situation I was thinking of blowing," Marique giggled naughtily. "He is nice. Nice and rich. And a nice rich man that you can crash with in Mumbai is worth, what is the word. Cultar, cultivate, cultivating, yes. It is a big advantage when you travel in India."
Maya leaned up on one elbow and looked at her friend's smirking face. "Look, he is so pleased that we are, like, actually staying with him, that I don't think crashing here will ever be a problem." She couldn't tell if she was serious or not. "Besides, I think he is a virgin."
Marique now pushed herself up on one elbow and looked at her friend eye to eye. "You told me he used to 'ang with Erik and Karl. No way he is a virgin."
"I mean for girls. Did you look at him after he changed into that sarongy thingy of his. He shaves his legs. Like what guy who ever seduced you ever shaved his legs?"
"You think?" Marique said rolling back onto her pillow. She kicked the single sheet off them. It was way too hot for a sheet, and besides, the room didn't seem to have any mosquitoes.
"I told him that I had come to India to research my aura, like Erik did years ago. He knew about Erik's aura. He went all gushy. That means he has shared a bed with Erik, because Erik's aura is not nearly as strong as mine." There was no answer except for a gentle snore.
* * * * *
* * * * *
"Oh, I am sorry! I did not know that you slept without a sheet," were the words that woke both women up in the morning. Ajay was standing beside the bed
carrying an overly full tray of tea and toast. "I will just leave the tray on the table." He turned and put it down and wondered if he should flee back to his room. All he was wearing was a dhoti, an Indian man's version of a sarong. Perhaps he should be wearing more.
Both women were having troubles opening their eyes. Not because of the brightness of the morning, for the glow of morning had just begun, but because of too much beer and the heat of the night. Neither woke up enough to pull the sheet over them.
Ajay snuck a glance at their nakedness again. Marique was so much a woman, that in comparison Maya looked like her kid sister. He walked to the window and pulled it open to allow the clean fresh morning breeze to blow across them. That woke them up. "Life is wonderful," he said to himself trying not to stare at his guests now that they were awake. He shouldn't even be in their room. His mother had brought him up better than that. Very slowly he made for the door and then walked around the apartment opening all of the windows.
Within the hour they would have to close them again, because of the noise and the pollution of the morning rush hour. He heard Maya calling to him that they were decent and he could join them for tea and toast, so he went back into their room.
"Ajay," said Maya softly, while secretly winking at Marique. "I think you are lying to us about having a girlfriend. I think the women’s clothing in this room are yours." She could tell immediately that she was right, because he could not meet her gaze. Marique added to his embarrassment by laughing aloud.
He stood to leave the room but Maya was expecting that, so she stood first and pushed him back onto the bed. "Oh no you don't, not until you, like, show off your favorite outfits."
"Oh, do not make my shame worse." He tried to stand but Maya held him down. "I have never worn them for other people. That long mirror is my only audience."
