The Zoya Factor

by Anuja Chauhan

  We had a beer at the poolside coffee shop. Lokey chatted about this and that and inquired after my family in such a familiar way that I started to wonder if he had a file on me or something. He asked about Gajendraji and Zoravarji. I was almost surprised he'd missed out Eppaji and Meekuji.

  Basically he had an offer for me. That was why he was skulking around here. 'It's all very hush hush,' he said, pulling his chair closer to the table and looking at me with round-round eyes. 'You used to be an agency girl, you will understand.'

  Hello, used to be? I was still an agency girl unless Sanks had found some other sucker who'd work for less to do my job.

  Lokey sweated profusely, looking here and there, like a man in a bad spy movie who's always clutching a briefcase and ends up getting stabbed in the parking lot before one-fourth of the film is over. 'I have an offer for you,' he whispered hoarsely, wiping his sweaty brow with a large white handkerchief, 'to endorse a product.'

  Wow, was he serious? 'Wow, are you serious?' I asked him.

  He nodded solemnly. 'It is a very big brand. It will be coming on TV for thee very first time.'

  Bit of a contradiction there, I thought. If it was such a big product, why wasn't it on TV yet? 'What's this product, Lokey?' I asked him.

  He gave this long, impressive pause, shelled a particularly recalcitrant pista, popped it into his red mouth and said, 'Sher bidi.'

  'Sher bidi?' I repeated, hugely let down. 'A bidi?'

  Lokey beamed. 'Not just any bidi, Joyaji, Number One bidi in Indian subcontinent and Middle East!'

  'But tobacco products can't be advertised on TV!' I said, scandalized. 'And anyway, I won't endorse smoking.'

  'You won't have to, Joyaji!' Lokey said earnestly. 'Because Tauji is diversifying specially into agarbattis for being able to do TV commercials.'

  'Proxy ads, you mean, Lokey,' I said. 'Apple juice instead of whisky, playing cards instead of beers, and music CDs instead of white rum.'

  'But this is genuine product, Joyaji!' he assured me. 'Otherwise would I ask you to endorse? I also have my integrity.'

  I let that pass for now. 'What's it called?' I asked him instead, genuinely intrigued about how a bidi king could diversify into joss sticks and not lose face.

  Lokey beamed. 'Ekchully, Mr Jogpal Lohia has suggested very good name. He is a friend of Tauji, you know. The idea to cast you is also his. You must thank him, Joyaji.'

  'What's the name, Lokey?' I asked patiently.

  'Sheraan-wali,' he said. 'Good name, no?'

  It was genius, the name. Genius in a twisted, sick, totally commercial kind of way, but genius all the same - the kind of thing Sanks would have thought of. Because Sheraanwali Agarbatti literally means the tiger's agarbatti, but more importantly it means the agarbatti of the goddess who bestrides a tiger, who of course is Durga Mata, the main goddess of the Hindu pantheon.

  'Yes, good name,' I told him slowly as he nodded, looking at me intently, like a fat cat outside a rat hole.

  'Tauji is very excited about thee Joya Factor. He thinks you and Sheraan-wali Agarbatti are a match made in heaven. He wants to sell six million packs of agarbatti this year. This is slump time to launch thee agarbattis because all thee festivals are over but the ad will do double-shift and advertise thee bidi also.'

  I didn't say anything, mainly because I didn't know what to say. An agarbatti ad. It was seriously SEC D minus. Like doing an ad for Navratan Tel or something. But hello, Govinda, Amitabh Bachchan and Shah Rukh Khan have all done that...why not me?

  'They want to shoot an ad with you now, asap, which they will run only if India wins the World Cup. It will be thee first thing you see after Khoda lifts the Cup and we cut to thee ad break.'

  'D'you have the script?' I asked Lokey.

  'Ufff! What script-vript?' he shoot his head. 'Joyaji, start thinking like a celebrity, why you are asking for the script? Ask for the money first.'

  Yeah, right, stupid me. 'So show me the money, Lokey,' I said, just to humour him. It all seemed so totally unreal.

  He grinned happily, held up four stubby beringed fingers in my face and waggled them obscenely, shaking with silent, triumphant laughter.

  'Four?' I said slightly insulted. 'Four lakhs?'

  Lokey shook his head gleefully. 'Forty,' he chortled. 'That's what I have negotiated. Forty lakhs either way.'

  'Matlab?' I asked, my head spinning at the thought of so much riches.

  'Matlab, forty lakhs whether they run the ad or no. Whether India win or no. But they'll only sign the contract if India gets to thee semis.'

  Well, that was reasonable enough. Why shell out money to a lucky charm till it's proven itself? Tauji ka logic was sound.

  'But they'll be booking space on Sony, won't they?' I pointed out. 'Won't they lose a lot of money if we lose and they don't have an ad to run?'

  'That is risk they are taking, Joyaji,' Lokey replied. 'Tauji's pockets are very deep. They will make out thee payment thee day you shoot,' he added. 'There's a five-day gap between thee semi and thee final. They will fly you to India for shoot and back.'

  'Okay,' I said cautiously, my head in a total whirl. 'I need to think about it, okay? Let me call you and tell you soon.'

  'Of course, of course,' said Lokendar magnanimously, reaching for his beer mug like a man whose job was done. 'Definitely. Take your time. What's there.'

  Lokey had certainly given me something to think about. I went up to my room, mulling over what he'd said. Of course it was all notional at the moment. I'd only get the money if we made it till the semis, which were still a good ten matches away. Still, it was all very exciting. And to think I had been moping around last night feeling unwanted.

  In this gung-ho spirit I strutted up to my room, fluffing my hair out and looking at myself in every mirror I passed. I was looking really good. All that blood rushing to my head during the bungee jump must've been like a facial or something, 'cos I was positively glowing, mate.

  Rinku Chachi was all over me the moment I entered the room. 'Zoya, tabse number mila rahi hoon, that fat man has been waiting downstairs for you for hours!'

  I looked at her blankly for a moment. Come to think of it, the first thing Lokey had said to me was, 'Why you are not picking up your phone?' And Zahid had called on the hotel landline too. Hey, maybe there was something wrong with my phone...and Khoda, after trying my number a million times had gone out with that sultry south Indian babe instead and made mad passionate love to her all night just to get over the trauma of my not returning his calls and was, at this very moment, having to make an honest woman out of her!

  I dug my phone out of my red rucksack frantically and looked at it.

  Rinku Chachi heaved this really long-suffering sigh and took it from me. She pressed some keys and then looked up disgustedly. 'Zoya, it's working. It was on silent, that's all.'

  I grabbed the phone and checked all the missed calls. There was one from Hairy, one from my dad, two from Lokey and Zoravar and tonnes from Rinku Chachi. But none from N. Khoda. So much for that theory.

  But somehow the whole thing gave me some momentum. Or maybe I was just tired of waiting for him to call. Whatever it was, I put down my bag, scrolled down to Nikhil's number, pressed call and, phone in hand, walked right into the loo and shut the door in Rinku Chachi's confused face.

  It rang. Once. Twice. Thrice.

  Before it could ring the fourth time - I was going to disconnect on the fifth ring, I'd promised myself - he picked it up.

  'Hello?'

  'Hi!' I said, all bubbly.

  'Zoya?' he said suavely. 'What's up?'

  But I wasn't falling for that. I knew he had my number saved, it must have flashed when I rang, who did he think he was kidding with that surprised Zoya?

  I shrugged, looked in the loo mirror. I was still looking really good. My hair was positively angel-like under the lights. I said airily, 'Lots actually. Sightseeing. Negotiating contracts. How are you?'

  'I'm well,' he said, sounding
more amused than anything else. 'Very well, actually. Aren't you going to congratulate me?'

  'Huh? Oh yes! Congrats, great match,' I said, automatically. Then, telling myself I was a girl who'd gone bungee jumping today, I took my courage in my hands and said casually, 'I thought we were meeting up yesterday, why didn't you call me?'

  I thought I had him pinned then, but imagine my surprise when he turned around and said, 'Why didn't you call me, Zoya?'

  Damn, I didn't know how to answer that. I gaped at myself in the mirror and finally came out with a lame, 'Uh, I forgot?'

  'Please,' he said, 'you know, I really don't think I'm that forgettable.'

  'No, you're not,' I said, dropping all pretence, 'and as you're so famous and unforgettable, don't you think you should've called me, because if I called you I'd have felt like some overeager pile on?' I couldn't believe I had said that. It had to be the most pathetic, needy speech of all time!

  But all Khoda said disbelievingly was, 'Pile on? Zoya, all you sent me was an sms saying "okay". It didn't sound like you were very keen to meet me. And you barely spoke at breakfast. What was I to think? I figured if you wanted to meet me, you could call. God knows a million people called me last night!'

  'Oh, I'm sure you had a great time last night!' I replied, stung to the quick. 'There's a picture of you in the morning paper, with Miss Sultry Mouth!'

  'South,' he corrected, 'Sultry South. It's the name of the restaurant, not the owner's daughter. I always go there for dinner in this city, I co-own it. And if we're trading damning press clips then there's a photo of you in the afternoon paper with a shirtless Zahid. Beat that.'

  That gave me pause. 'There is?' I asked.

  'Stop sounding so excited,' he said sardonically. 'Sound a little bored with the whole thing or I'll think you're...what's that word you use so often? Yeah, uncool.'

  That made me laugh. I couldn't help it. 'Please can we meet today?' I heard myself asking, too eagerly.

  'Pick you up in fifteen minutes,' he said instantly and hung up.

  It was seven-thirty in the evening, so I figured we'd be going out for dinner. Rinku Chachi was packing and stuff. We had to fly to Sydney for the next match tomorrow. So she looked rather bemused when I bounded out of the loo and announced that I was going out for dinner with Nikhil Khoda.

  She cleared her throat self-consciously and said, 'Vijay Bhaisaab has sent me here as your shaapper-own, Zoya. Tell me the truth. Where are you going in the night with this Khoda?'

  'Uff, we're only going to a restaurant, Chachi,' I said, rooting in the suitcase for my nicest clothes. 'Fully public place. We're only friends. Don't you worry.'

  But she looked worried as I slipped into a long slinky black halter dress and brushed out my hair vigorously. She pursed her lips as I plumped out mine, narrowed her eyes as I widened mine with kaajal.

  'Tell him to come upstairs,' she said in a steely voice when Nikhil rang saying he was in the lobby.

  'Chachi!' I whispered, cupping the phone with one hand, 'Please, nahi, it'll look so uncool!'

  She shook her head, a formidable little figure in her pastel pink salwar kameez. 'No, Zoya, my mind is made up.'

  So I sighed and said, 'Uh, Nikhil-sir? Can you come upstairs? My aunt wants to meet you.'

  He agreed, not sounding too surprised.

  I glared at Rinku Chachi. 'If he turns around and leaves now it will be all your fault,' I hissed.

  The doorbell rang and I opened it.

  Khoda was leaning against the door-jamb, looking dishy in a white tee shirt under a dark blazer. He did a bit of a double take when he saw me - because I was looking good, I hoped, not because I was, you know, an over-the-top fashion disaster.

  'Come in,' I said, rolling my eyes. 'My Chachi awaits.'

  He gave my hand an admonitory squeeze as he moved past me into the room. 'Behave,' he whispered.

  I followed him into the room and was totally gobsmacked when he approached the resolute pink figure on the sofa.

  'Rinku Chachi? I'm Nikhil. Zoya's told me so much about you.'

  She was totally floored, of course. Who wouldn't be? By the time he'd finished telling her that she was my favourite aunt (hello, the only competition she had was Anita Chachi, the hag) and that he'd heard so much about her rajma pasta, she would have let him take me to dinner absolutely anywhere in the world.

  He got us a deadline of eleven o' clock. She'd have made it later but he said he had to be up early for net practice the next day. He even said we'd be back sooner than eleven! Then he earned her total approval by insisting I carry a warm wrap with me, if you please. So I had to put on this totally not-happening hot pink pashmina over my black halter dress.

  We didn't talk much on the way downstairs. I was worried we might run into Shanta Kalra or some of the other journos in the hotel, but we made it to the back of a big black hotel car without being spotted by anyone.

  The car took off smoothly, obviously the driver knew where to go. Then, once we'd got our seat belts fastened, Khoda smiled down at me.

  'I got you a present,' he said.

  I sat up, excited. 'Really?'

  He laughed, almost as if he couldn't believe it himself. 'Really!' he said, and pulled something out of the inside pocket of his blazer and handed it to me. 'Look!'

  It was a little dark in the car but once I'd got the wrapping off I could tell it was a very dainty gold charm bracelet.

  'A charm bracelet?' I asked, surprised.

  He nodded, smiling, his eyes warm. 'Yes.'

  I didn't quite know what to say. I just sat there looking at him, at a loss for words.

  'It made me think of you.' He shrugged casually.

  I thought of him going into some fancy jewellery store and looking at stuff, asking them questions, fingering the bracelets with his lean strong hands. Picking out something so carefully for me. Just for me!

  'Thank you,' I said, somewhat inadequately.

  'I got it from New Zealand.'

  I held it up to the passing light and looked at it carefully. 'I can tell,' I said. 'See, this one really cute sheep has New Zealand tattooed on its bum.'

  'It what?' He asked, startled.

  'NZ,' I said a little more loudly, holding up the sheep for him to see. But even as I did so, a new and thrilling possibility popped into my mind. 'Oh,' I said faintly, and then shut up.

  He was looking at me in total exasperation. 'Do you really think NZ stands for New Zealand, Zoya?' he said very casually, plucking the bracelet from my suddenly nerveless grasp and putting one arm around me so he could clasp it around my wrist.

  'Of course,' I said, my cheeks flaming, fully giving the duh ones. 'It must. New Zealand is famous for sheep, isn't it?'

  'What incredible general knowledge you have,' he said sarcastically.

  'Thanks,' I said, like an idiot.

  He leaned in to murmur into my hair, his voice all deep and growly, 'Does no other possibility present itself to your tiny mind?'

  I shook my head.

  He gave my ear a little nibble. 'Like, um, people's names for instance?'

  'People's names...' I repeated faintly. His breath against my ear was destroying my ability to string two coherent words together. 'Um...no.'

  He let me go, moving away to his half of the car seat. 'Okay, then it must be New Zealand, mustn't it?'

  Taken aback at this total volte-face, I opened my mouth to argue, and his gaze met mine, challenging me laughingly. He raised an eyebrow quizzically. 'Well?'

  I raised my chin. 'I guess so,' I said.

  Nikhil took me to this lovely Italian pub along the riverside market, all warm wood and checked tablecloths and candles stuck into empty bottles of wine. There was a trio of geriatric Italian men, playing string instruments and singing what sounded like romantic songs in cracked voices.

  An extremely large waitress got us a table with a view of the river and the winding market street. She took my wrap and his jacket, plonked a jug of iced water at our tabl
e and teetered away on her red high heels, leaving us quite alone.

  Suddenly feeling idiotically awkward, I poured the water into our glasses, admiring my new bracelet as it glinted in the soft candlelight.

  He watched me pour, then said, as he reached forward for his glass, 'Your Chachi's really nice.'

  I looked up at him, 'No, you're really nice,' I said sincerely. 'How sweetly you spoke to her, you remembered all that stuff I'd told you about her.'