I nodded back gratefully. 'Right, Dad.'
***
10
The next day, Mon, Neelo and I drove down to the Taj to take Zahid through the HotCrust Fastest Deliveries concept. Monita grinned knowingly at me as I got into the car. 'Nice lipgloss,' she said slyly. 'I hear Khoda's staying in the same hotel as Zahid.'
Zahid was already in the lobby, studiously ignoring a gaggle of about ten giggly Miss India contestants, when we breezed in through the revolving doors. 'Look at them,' Mon said as they sashayed past us, trailing shiny re-bonded hair and flowery perfume. 'Armaan would've died and gone to heaven!'
Zahid smiled up through his tousled curls and bounced to his feet when he spotted our little party. 'Aadaab,' he said to Monita, who looked instantly charmed. 'I'm Zahid.'
'Oh we know that!' she gushed, while I, frantic to show I wasn't in love with him, limited myself to a cursory 'hi'.
But he was fully enthu. 'Hey, Zoya!' he went, all booming and beaming. He came forward like he was going to give me a hug and then for some reason, didn't. 'How are you? Maine suna you're coming with us to Australia?'
'Nothing's certain yet,' I said, wondering if he had any idea about the idiotic contract I'd been asked to sign. Who knows, maybe he was the one who'd put in the 'facial cheek' caveat. Trying to look all professional, I asked him in a business-like way: 'It'll take a little while. Shall we go to the coffee shop?'
He nodded and stood up again, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, his hands in his pockets. The girls behind us gave out little hysterical screams. I heard one of them shriek, 'He did aadaab! He's too yum, ya!'
Zahid looked at us, an expression of comic alarm on his face and asked, 'Can we go up to my room instead? Coffee shop mein kaafi crowd hai!'
Monita laughed and nodded. 'Lead the way,' she said, and he walked us to the elevators.
Going up, Neelo explained to Zahid that Mon was his boss and responsible for most of the Zing! stuff he saw on TV.
An awkward little silence followed.
I cleared my throat and said, 'Um, this is quite a unique concept she's thought up, it's been tailor-made for you.'
'Great,' he said, as we exited the lift. 'Only, I hope it won't take up too much time. We have only got three weeks off and I want to go home for a while.'
'Where do you live, Zahid?' Mon asked, looking at him all maternally.
He smiled and tossed his curls back a little. 'In Sangrur district ji,' he said easily. 'Family home wahin hai.'
Then Neelo and Monita explained the HotCrust Fastest Deliveries concept to him as I looked about the suite. It was pretty plush. Would the IBCC put me up in a room half as nice as this if I promised to 'maintain my spinster status' and went to Australia with the team, I wondered.
'Zoya?' Mon was saying.
I snapped back to the here and now and looked at her guiltily.
'Zahid was asking how many houses we'd be visiting every day and what the security arrangements would be like.'
'Oh!' I nodded and pulled out my notes.
'I like the concept,' Zahid said finally. 'It will be very fun. Also, reality shows are very nice. But the dates you'll have to discuss with Lokendar.'
'No problem,' Neelo said easily. 'We'll get it done.' Then he grinned and asked, 'So when does the judging start?'
Zahid went a little pink. 'Now. I have to go down to the poolside. I do not do these things usually,' he explained, 'but Harry sir has phasaaoed me. He was supposed to do it but cancelled last minute.'
Neelo looked at him enviously. 'Swimsuit round!' he breathed, his voice all thick with saliva bubbles. 'What's the judging procedure, exactly?'
Zahid grinned weakly and stole a look at Mon and me, obviously embarrassed at having this conversation in front of us. 'I think ki you just look at them as they walk past you and give them marks out of ten,' he ventured finally.
'Uh huh? Neelo said, opening and shutting one hand with a distracted air. 'But then how can you check for firmness? and -' he made little caressing movements in the air - 'smoothness? Surely those are vital criteria?'
Zahid looked completely stumped at this. 'You think so?' he said doubtfully.
Neelo nodded. 'Absolutely! You'd better feel them up thoroughly, dude,' he said. 'I mean, it's your responsibility. This is a Miss India pageant after all - it's a matter of national honour. Tell you what, I've shot supermodels many times. If you like I can stay back and...'
'Neelo!' Mon groaned. 'Shut it! Zahid, nice meeting you, catch you at the event launch, ya?'
Rinku Chachi and I watched the Miss India Final that night on her TV. She'd made hamburgers for dinner - spicy aalu tikki really - and cold coffee in big glasses. We chatted during the commercial breaks, which were extremely long and full of Fair and Lovely ads and played at being judges when the girls came back on the screen. She was very excited about the fact that I knew not one but twopeople in the contest. Nikhil Khoda, of course, and Ritu Raina, who was going to come in at the end of the show to crown the new Miss India Universe.
Rinku Chachi thought Nivi was a real loser for caving in to his mom and dumping Ritu - it had been in all the papers recently. 'Arrey, he has no guts only, Zoya! He's a mouse, a fat, darpok chooha! I hope she snares Rahul Gandhi now and shows him!'
That's Rinku Chachi's philosophy. If a guy breaks up with you, find someone higher in the pecking order and go out with him instead. She suggests Rahul Gandhi as a get-over-your-ex remedy for every girl who ever gets dumped - from Princess Diana to all the former Mrs Khans.
'Shhh, Chachi,' I said. 'Look, they're asking the questions now.'
The five final contestants were all lined up and pulling judges' names out of a hat. The first babe drew a card with Shah Rukh Khan's name on it and almost died of happiness.
He dimpled at her charmingly and went, 'Good evening, Urvashi,' or whatever her name was, and then came out with this really convoluted question: 'If you could marry a film star like me, or a business mogul like Andre here, or a cricketer like Nikhil, which one of us would you marry and why?'
I waited for her to say that she would marry the man she happened to love, regardless of his profession, of course. Duh!
But she didn't! She simpered and said that while she appreciated his acting and Andre's contribution to the nation's economy, she would marry Nikhil because she was a patriotic girl and he was a soldier who fought for the country.
And she got a standing ovation!
They cut to Nikhil and he smiled at her and everything!
It was so cheesy!
And Rinku Chachi clapped too. 'Bhai, ten out of ten!' she declared. 'Kitna good answer diya na, Zoya?'
I looked at her, completely disgusted. I wanted to tell her, remember your ugly nephew, Zoravar? He was a soldier who fought for his country. Nikhil Khoda was just some overpaid, over-hyped pretender. But she wasn't even looking at me. She was looking at the TV where the next babe had drawn a card with the name of the spurious soldier, Captain Coldheart himself. Well, I knew what was on his mind when he pinned his Boost-brown eyes on her. 'Do you believe in luck?'
Poor girl, it was an out-of-syllabus question and she got really rattled. She started off by saying that we make our own luck, then changed her mind and said luck was another name for blessings from God, and wound up by looking very confused and wretched and said that she wasn't sure.
There was a strained silence and then Khoda leaned in and said into the mike, 'My sentiments exactly.'
That got a laugh. The other judges and the large-toothed compere all applauded madly.
Nikhil said, 'Well done, Deepika,' quite kindly, and then they cut to an ad break.
Rinku Chachi went to the kitchen to fry some more tikkis for Gajju while I sipped my cold coffee thoughtfully and wondered if Khoda knew about my dad's blow-up with the IBCC yet. I didn't think he did because I had bumped into him in the hotel lobby after our meeting with Zahid. He'd been wrestling grimly for his kitbag with an overenthu bellboy who wante
d to carry it for him. He'd spotted me, said a surprised hi and suddenly let go of the bag. The bellboy had almost fallen over backwards.
Maybe he thinks I'm following him around, I thought gloomily. First Famous Studio, now the Taj lobby. And before that the elevator in the Sonargaon! Oh God, that's it! He probably thinks I'm a total stalker! Maybe I should call him and tell him I'm not. I fished out my cellphone and looked at it dementedly.
And then it rang.
I almost dropped it in surprise but recovered and hit the answer button.
'Hello?'
'Zoya?' A toe-curlingly deep, warm voice. 'It's Nikhil.'
'Nikhil,' I said like a witless person. 'Uh...Nikhil, who?'
'Nikhil Khoda. You know, from Dhaka?' he said dryly.
My eyes swivelled to the TV instantly. 'But you're on TV!' I said stupidly.
He tched impatiently. 'The show got over an hour ago. It's not really live, you know.'
'Oh,' I said idiotically. 'Who won?'
'Urvashi, I think...Listen, I know it's very short notice but is it okay with your dad if I take the two of you out for dinner tonight?'
Huh? Nikhil Khoda wants to take Rinku Chachi and me out for dinner? Then I realized he meant Dad and me. He must've been briefed on the IBCC meeting. Before I could stop myself, I blurted, 'My dad's out of town. But I'm available!'
He sounded a bit like he was laughing as he said, 'Okay. Message me the address. Pick you up in half an hour.'
I told a confused Rinku Chachi that I was going out for dinner. 'Oh, and by the way,' I said as I kissed her goodbye to go downstairs and dress, 'bet you a thousand bucks Urvashi wins.'
The moment I was downstairs I got cold feet. Damn, I'd been overeager, hadn't I? I'd yelped and squealed and actually said I was available. I wondered if I should call Nikhil back and say that I was actually at a rocking party and had somehow managed to forget that while talking to him. But then I decided he might see through the ploy. I would just have to be extra cool when we met, I figured.
Still, at least getting ready was a no-brainer. After seeing all those hot Miss India contestants on TV, I decided the smartest thing to do was to not try at all. So I showered quickly and yanked on a faded-to-threadbare pair of jeans along with a rather bravely pink little kurti. I rubbed on some carefully careless kaajal, pulled on my chunky red sneakers, fluffed out my hair and sat around breathlessly, wondering if I'd dreamt the phone call.
Clearly not, for in a while my phone rang again.
'I'm here,' Nikhil said. 'Are you going to open the gate?'
'No, no, I'm coming out,' I said, hurriedly and made a dash for the door, leaving Eppa flummoxed, watching Kyunki in the drawing room, with Meeku snoozing by her side.
I slipped out of the gate, and peered about. Then Nikhil stuck his head out of the driver's window of a long white Taj car and waved to me.
I dove in through the other door. 'Hi,' I went breathlessly.
He pushed his dark hair off his forehead. 'New Rohtak Road? You live on New Rohtak Road? I've never heard of New Rohtak Road in my life!' He looked perfectly edible. And perfectly exasperated.
'Well, it's Karol Bagh technically,' I admitted, as I fastened my seat belt and flicked my hair back. 'But that sounds uncool, so I say New Rohtak Road.'
'But that's deliberate misdirection!' he exclaimed, throwing up his hands and sitting back in the driver's seat. 'Zoya, you're nuts, you know that, na?'
About you, I thought idiotically, fiddling unnecessarily with the seat belt clasp. I was finding it hard to look at him, because, hello, he was just sitting back and looking at me.
Like he was really happy to see me.
Like he thought I was nice....
More than nice. Maybe even...pretty?
I managed to look up at him and say, 'No, I'm not.'
He looked at me like he wanted to argue the point, but all he said was, 'Hey, is that your dog barking?'
'Yes,' I said brightly, 'that's Meeku. He's a mix between a Lhasa Apso, a Bhutanese Peke, and an Indian Hound.'
'You mean he's a mongrel,' Khoda said, grinning.
'No, he's not,' I said indignantly. 'He's a mix between a Lhasa Apso, a Bhutanese Peke, and an Indian Hound.'
'He's a mongrel, Zoya,' Khoda repeated, grinning even wider, that warm look in his eyes again.
'Mix,' I said idiotically.
'Mongrel,' he said, very softly, leaning in and looking me right in the eye.
My cheeks felt hot. I was not sure why. It wasn't like what he was saying was terribly intimate or anything. But the effect it was having on me was as if he had leaned in and softly said, Take off your shirt.
I somehow managed to keep my voice steady, 'Well, yes, actually, but that sounds so...'
'Uncool,' he said, drawing away much to my relief. 'I get it.'
He turned his head to look out of the car window then, so I looked out too. I examined the gate of my own house with great concentration, as if I didn't see the stupid, rusty, decrepit thing fifty times a day. It was a pretty unremarkable gate, with an embarrassing number of nameplates nailed onto its brick gateposts.
COL. VIJAYENDRA SOLANKI (RETD)
WING CO. MOHINDRA SOLANKI (RETD)
DR GAJENDRA SOLANKI (PHD, EDUCATIONIST)
MRS ANITA SOLANKI (TAROT READINGS, DESIGNER SUITS, MONDAY CLOSED)
YOGENDRA SOLANKI (FINANCIAL CONSULTANT)
I was thinking gloomily that he probably lived in a house with a beautiful wrought iron gate with no nameplate at all when he said, making me jump a little, 'What smells so nice?'
'Huh?...Oh that,' I pointed at the creeper growing in a thick flowering arch above the gateposts. 'Madhumalati,' I said. 'Honeysuckle. My mum planted it.'
'Madhumalati,' he said carefully. 'It's lovely. Wild, but sweet.'
I nodded, wondering if he could smell the putrefying dead-cat odour underlying the madhumalati that was wafting up from the drain under the gaps in the pavement slabs. That was the reason my mum had planted the creeper in the first place. But he didn't mention it. Instead he said, 'So, where d'you want to eat dinner?'
'Actually, I've already eaten,' I confessed.
'Oh great!' he answered, rather surprisingly. 'Listen, I haven't been able to hit the treadmill today, d'you think we could take a walk someplace?'
'But what if people recognize you?' I exclaimed, genuinely concerned. 'They may beat you up!'
His face darkened immediately and I almost bit my tongue off. 'Sorry,' I said quickly. 'Stupid thing to say.'
He nodded. 'Yeah.' His tone went very dry. 'Contrary to what you may think, people don't hate me just because we lost a couple of matches.'
Keep telling yourself that, I thought, but what I said, rather fervently, was: 'I know, I know. You're a great player; you're the hope of India, you're -'
'- ready to walk,' he interrupted impatiently. 'Can we hit the road or something?'
So I ducked in through the gate and got him a hooded sweatshirt of Zoravar's from off the washing line. He wore it instead of his fancy jacket and with the hood pulled way down low he did look pretty much like everybody else, only taller.
Then he parked the hotel car in Gajju's spot (with me hoping to get back from this walk before Gajju returned or there'd be a huge family crisis which could escalate into Gajju going on a daal-ladle-hurling spree) and set off for a long walk down the main Ajmal Khan Road.
This road - made famous through a million radio ads for saris, jewellery, suiting-shirting and pressure cooker shops that all sign off with a sing-song Ajmal Khan Road, Karol Bagh, Nai Dilli - starts off, all whisperingly, as a wide boulevard lined with old neem trees. Then, after you cross rows of parked cycle-rickshaws with their drivers slumbering all curled up below the trees, oblivious to, or maybe knocked unconscious by, the susu smell of a hundred stray dogs that hangs over that particular stretch, the action begins to heat up. You spot peanut sellers and machine-ka-cold-water carts. And once you cross the first red light, Ajmal Khan Road turns int
o a bright, spangled gypsy's ribbon, unrolling blithely before you in a gay street carnival, with vendors selling every conceivable food and toys on carts lit with cheerily hissing hurricane lamps. Fairy lights twinkle above, a reminder that the Nauratra and Dussehra holidays are just round the corner and rocking Hindi film music blares from speakers strung up on street lamps.
The Zoya Factor Page 15
