28
‘You are in 2105, Mr Mishra’
I had booked a room at Ramada for five thousand a night.
‘Any help with your luggage, sir?’ the lady at the reception asked me.
‘I only have this,’ I said, pointing to my rucksack.
The receptionist smiled at me. She walked with me to the centre of the lobby and to the guest relations desk.
‘This is Aarti,’ the receptionist said, ‘and she will guide you to your room.’
Aarti looked up from her computer. Her jaw dropped.
‘Hello,’ I said as nonchalantly as possible.
‘Oh, hi … I mean, good evening,’ she said, flustered.
‘Aarti, this is Mr Gopal Mishra, director of GangaTech. He is in 2105. Please escort him to his room.’
‘Sure, sure,’ Aarti said, still in shock.
She stood up. We walked towards the elevator. A housekeeping staff member entered the elevator with us. We couldn’t talk. She only spoke in the second floor corridor.
‘Gopal, what are you doing here?’ she whispered. She continued to walk two steps ahead of me.
I had my story ready. I couldn’t tell Aarti I had booked a room just for us.
‘We had a senior guest faculty coming from London.’
‘So?’
‘He cancelled last minute. We had already paid for the room. So I thought, why not enjoy the hospitality of Ramada?’
‘What? You should have told me. I could have got you a refund.’
‘Forget it. I have never stayed in a five-star hotel before. I’ll try it out.’
We reached 2105. She opened the room with the magnetic key card. She looked beautiful in her uniform, a formal sari, with her hair – every strand of it – locked in a bun.
I dumped my rucksack on the bed.
‘You need help with the features of the room?’ she said.
‘No,’ I grinned. ‘Someone already showed me.’
‘You are crazy, Gopal,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I better go.’
I sat on the single-seater sofa in the room. ‘Stay,’ I said.
‘I can’t. I am on duty.’
‘After six? It’s five-thirty already,’ I said.
‘I can’t be in a guest’s room!’
‘You know this guest,’ I said. ‘Two minutes?’
She went to the door and closed it as much as possible without locking it. She sat on a chair by the desk and stared at me.
‘What?’ I said.
‘You didn’t plan this?’ she said.
‘What plan? The faculty cancelled,’ I said.
‘What’s the name of the faculty?’ she said.
‘Mr Allen,’ I said.
‘Oh, really? Which college?’
‘He’s from …’ I said and hesitated.
‘See. Stop fibbing,’ she said.
‘How will I know the college? The dean would know. All I know is, we had a room, and I took it.’
She shook her head.
‘Let’s hang out here after you finish,’ I said.
‘How?’ she said. ‘It’s not allowed.’
‘You only do things you are allowed to?’ I said.
‘No,’ she said, ‘but …’
‘You don’t have the guts,’ I said.
‘That’s not the case,’ she said and stood up. ‘And you know it.’
‘Nobody will find out,’ I said. ‘Finish work and come. We will eat here. Leave in an hour or so.’
‘If room service sees me?’ she said.
‘You hide in the toilet when they come,’ I said.
‘That’s weird,’ she said.
‘Okay, I will order before you arrive. Sandwiches?’
She bit her lower lip and mused over my suggestion for a few seconds. ‘Fine,’ she sighed. ‘But you have to check no staff is around when I come or leave.’
‘Sure, I will stand in the corridor. Will give you the green signal on the phone.’
She walked to me and whacked me lightly on the side of my head. ‘The things you make me do!’ she said and left the room.
I ordered a club sandwich, chocolate cake and a bottle of wine. I also took a shower, using more shampoo and hot water than I normally do in a week.
She called me at 6:30 p.m. ‘Check the corridor.’
I came out of the room. ‘It’s fine,’ I said into the phone, turning my head left and right to scan the corridor.
Two minutes later, we were both in the room with the door firmly locked. She had already changed into a white button down shirt and jeans downstairs after her shift.
‘You are stupid, you know that, right?’ she said, plonking herself on the bed and holding a hand dramatically to her chest. ‘My heart is beating so fast!’
‘Relax,’ I said.
She laughed. ‘You are lucky they haven’t installed corridor CCTVs yet. Can’t pull this stunt after that.’
‘So, right timing,’ I said. ‘Hungry?’
I opened the silver cover on the sandwich plate.
‘Starving,’ she admitted.
I added some french fries and salad to the sandwich. ‘Come, let’s eat.’
‘I am too exhausted to move. I stood in heels for eight hours. Can I eat on the bed?’
‘Sure,’ I said. I passed her the plate. I poured a glass of red wine.
‘You ordered a full bottle of wine?’ she said.
I shrugged.
‘When did you start drinking wine?’ she said.
‘Shukla-ji made me try everything,’ I said.
‘You like wine?’
‘I usually have whisky. But I thought you might like wine.’
‘I do. But I shouldn’t drink. This is my place of work.’
‘One glass …’ I insisted.
She gave a brief nod and took the glass.
‘Raghav doesn’t drink much. He is such a bore sometimes,’ she said and took a sip. ‘Nice. What is it?’
‘Jacob’s Creek from Australia,’ I said, emphasising the country of origin. It had cost me two thousand bucks, but I didn’t mention the price.
‘It’s good. It will hit me soon.’
‘Relax, my driver will drop you home,’ I said.
She held her sandwich tight with both hands and ate like a famine victim.
‘Slow down,’ I said.
She said with food in her mouth, ‘I haven’t had anything since breakfast.’
‘Even in school you used to stuff your face,’ I teased.
‘Provided you left any food for me!’
‘Hey, I stole your tiffin once, and that too half of it. I am still serving my sentence,’ I said.
‘Oh, really?’ she said. ‘The teacher punished you for only one period.’
‘But I am still stuck with you,’ I said, looking totally depressed.
She picked up a french fry from her plate and threw it at me. She missed. It fell on the sofa.
‘Oops, pick it up, please. I can’t dirty my own hotel,’ she said.
29
She kicked off her shoes and sat crosslegged on the bed. I went to pour her more wine.
‘I’ll get high,’ she said but extended her glass. She sipped and checked the time. The bedside clock said 8:30 p.m.
‘How long can you stay?’ I said.
‘Until nine,’ she said. ‘Half an hour more.’
‘Ten?’ I said.
She shook her head. ‘Mom will ask a hundred questions. Unless … I tell her I have to do a double shift,’ she said.
‘Tell her that,’ I said immediately.
‘I have to stay for eight more hours then. Till 2 a.m.’
‘Perfect,’ I said.
‘Are you crazy?’ she said. ‘I can’t be in your room till two!’
‘Why not?’ I said. ‘When do we ever get to catch up like this?’
‘If my boyfriend finds out …’ she said and went quiet. She leaned back against the headboard.
‘Finds out what?’ I said.
&n
bsp; We had finished half the bottle. I poured myself some more wine.
‘That I am in another man’s room for so many hours, he will kill me,’ she finished.
‘He will?’
She grinned. ‘Not literally. But he would get, like, really mad. Break something.’ She picked up a pillow and threw it at me, playing the part of a possessive boyfriend.
‘He will kill you if he finds out it is me,’ I told her.
‘He’s not finding out,’ Aarti said.
I got off the sofa and came next to the bed.
‘You are doing that double shift,’ I said, pointing to her phone.
‘You sure?’ she said. ‘I will eat your head till two in the morning!’
‘That’s what you’ve done all your life,’ I said.
She hit me with the other pillow. I caught it and kept it aside. She placed a finger on her lips, signalling me to be quiet. She called home.
‘Mom?’ she said. ‘Yes, I am still at work. Double shift, what to do?’
Her mother spoke for a few seconds. Aarti continued: ‘Stupid Bela was to do this shift. She has made some excuse for not coming. Ever since her engagement, she bunks so much.’
Her mother spoke again. Aarti looked irritated.
‘Why should I get engaged because Bela did? Yes … I will one day, mom … Okay, fine … Yes, the hotel car will drop me … Bye.’
She kept her phone on the bed, and looked exasperated.
‘You okay?’ I said.
‘I think at some point a switch flicks in the heads of Indian parents. From “study, study, study” they go “marry, marry, marry”.’
‘You don’t want to?’
‘I will,’ she said, and patted the bed. ‘Why are you standing like a show-piece?’
I sat on the bed, careful to sit a little away from her.
‘You are paying a lot for this room. Please be comfortable.’
‘Huh?’ I said.
‘It’s my job to make our guests comfortable,’ she said and smiled a guest-relations smile. Even with the specks of red wine on her teeth, her smile was downright beautiful.
I bent to take off my shoes and socks. ‘You don’t need to call Raghav?’
She shook her head. ‘He won’t even realise it. He is working on a big story,’ she said. She poured herself some more wine.
‘If he calls?’ I said.
She placed her hand on my mouth. ‘If he does, you go shh … and I will deal with it,’ she said.
Her touch was like a spark.
She removed her hand. ‘So Mr Director, how is work, life, everything?’
‘Everything is work. It isn’t easy to run a college,’ I said.
‘Only work?’ She imitated her mother, ‘What? You should get married. Why aren’t you married by now?’
We laughed and clinked our glasses together.
‘I will have to get engaged soon though,’ she said. ‘The pressure is building.’
‘How about Raghav?’ I said.
‘Obviously, he is not ready at the moment. He’ll do it if I push him,’ she said.
‘Are your parents okay with him?’ I said.
‘They love him. My father broke the family tradition of politics to join services. He admires Raghav’s passion.’
‘Even though he doesn’t make money?’
‘He will. One day he will,’ Aarti vowed. ‘And why are you talking like my relatives?’
She picked up the remote and switched on the television.
‘This is so boring,’ she said and flicked through the news channels. She stopped at Channel V, where an item girl danced to a remixed video.
‘She has totally done her lips,’ she said, ‘and a nose job, and possibly a boob job.’
‘What?’ I said, shocked at her choice of words.
‘Boob job. To fix your boobs, make them bigger,’ she said.
I looked as shocked as I felt.
‘You are my best friend,’ she said and playfully punched my arm. ‘I can totally be myself with you.’
She flipped channels again and suddenly we were watching When Harry Met Sally from somewhere in the middle.
‘Men and women can’t be friends,’ Billy Crystal said to Meg Ryan, a toothpick in his mouth.
‘Of course, they can be. Look at us,’ Aarti said impatiently and increased the volume. ‘I love this movie.’
‘You have seen it?’ I said.
‘Yeah, have you?’
I shook my head. I didn’t watch English movies.
‘Come, let’s watch. I’ll tell you what happened so far.’
I moved closer to her. I dimmed the room lights from the bedside panel while she summarised the plot for me. Harry and Sally went about their lives, meeting and fighting several times but never really connecting even though it seemed obvious that they should. We watched the movie in silence.
‘Wow, we finished the bottle,’ she observed after a while. She lifted a pillow, placed it in my lap and rested her head there for the rest of the film.
‘You comfortable?’ she asked, looking up at me from my lap, her eyes twinkling in the TV light.
I hesitated a little, then placed my hand lightly on her head and gently stroked her hair. She didn’t object. It felt wonderful to be with her. I couldn’t think of a happier moment than this in my life so far.
‘Aarti?’ I said.
‘Yeah?’ she said, her eyes still on the TV.
‘Is it okay for you to lie in my lap like this?’
She nodded, her eyes on the screen.
‘Why did you run away from the river that day?’ I said.
‘I don’t want to talk about it. Watch the movie, no,’ she said.
‘Will you run away again?’ I said, my voice heavy.
She sensed the tension in me. She muted the television and sat up.
‘You okay, Gopi?’ she said, the words slightly slurred. The TV light flickered over our faces.
‘Run now if you want to,’ I said, my voice barely making it out of my throat. ‘Because if you stay for a while in my life and then go …’
I had spoken too much. The Australian wine had managed to open up an Indian heart.
‘Shut up,’ she said and placed her palm on my mouth again, ‘Drama queen. Sorry, drama king!’
But I meant it, I couldn’t bear to be away from her.
‘I am lonely too, Gopal,’ she said, ‘so lonely.’
‘Why?’
‘Raghav has no time. My parents can’t see why I want to work. They can’t understand why the DM’s daughter has to slog. All my girlfriends are getting married, planning kids and I am not. I am weird.’
‘You are different,’ I corrected her.
‘Why am I different? Why can’t I just be normal – satisfied to be at home, waiting for my husband?’
‘That’s not normal. That’s backward.’
‘Raghav stresses me out. I want to support him. But he can’t seem to get his act together. He rejected a tie-up with a newspaper for the sake of independence. How is he ever going to make money like this?’
‘I thought you said he will one day,’ I said.
‘I put on a brave face. But I can discuss my fears with you, no?’ she said.
‘Of course, you can,’ I said and caressed her cheek.
We turned to the TV screen. One night Sally was feeling low. Harry comes over to her house. He comforts her. They end up kissing. I don’t know if the scene motivated me or the wine or the fact that I felt I might not get another chance. I leaned over to kiss Aarti. She looked up at me in surprise. However, she did not protest. Just stared.
I kissed her again, this time more insistently. Nothing for two minutes and then she was kissing me back. We kissed again and again. I kissed her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, her ears and her lips again. I switched off the lights.
When I hugged her again, she said, ‘This is wrong.’
‘I know,’ I said, ‘but I can’t stop.’ My hand reached for her
shirt buttons.
‘No,’ she said and gripped that hand hard.
I slid my other hand under her shirt. Thank god, men have two hands; nobody could make out otherwise. My palm was, at last, on her breast.
‘Gopal, you realise what is happening?’ she said.
I shook my head.
‘We shouldn’t …’ she said.
I shut her up with another kiss. She wriggled a little, but I kept kissing her. She started to respond. Slow at first, then matching and finally outpacing me.
‘This isn’t right, Gopal,’ she panted, biting my lower lip.
I answered in kisses. The movie had ended. I heard shampoo commercials in the background as I tugged at her top to take it off.
‘Don’t, Gopal!’ she whispered but raised her arms to make my job easier.
I removed my shirt. This time when we embraced, her warmth and softness melted into me.
‘I care for you so much …’ I said.
‘Stop talking,’ she said, interrupting my garbled speech.
I gently pushed at her shoulders to make her lie back on the bed. I removed the rest of my clothes.
She looked away.
‘What?’ I said.
She shook her head, without making eye contact.
I slid next to her. She kissed me passionately, but whenever I paused to look into her eyes, she turned away.
I reached down to unbutton her jeans. She halted me one last time.
‘I have a boyfriend,’ she reminded me.
‘I have lived with that for years,’ I said.
‘I am not that kind of girl, Gopal,’ she said on a sob.
‘You are an amazing girl,’ I said, my finger dipping into her navel. I paused to kiss her there. ‘The most amazing girl in the world.’
I placed her hand on my body. I went back to undoing her jeans. Girls wear the most unremovable, tight jeans in the world. I found it impossible to take them off without her help.
‘Could you?’ I said, after a five-minute struggle.
My request brought forth a giggle. She wriggled to take them off. I waited and then drew her close to me.
‘Gopal,’ she said, and held me close. Passion repressed for years came forth unleashed. I bit her and kissed her all the time that I was becoming one with her.
I knew my life would no longer be the same again. What happened only magnified my love for her. They say men withdraw after sex. But I wanted to draw her close, cuddle and keep her with me forever. Spooning her tightly, I kissed her hair as she looked ahead with no particular expression.
Revolution Twenty20 Page 20
