Maybe, I texted back, wiping snot inelegantly as I punched the buttons. But frankly I don't care any more.
He took such a long time so answer that I thought I'd made him mad at me again. I'd started to tap out a panicky Are you still there? when the reply finally came. You're at the Hilton right? See you by the pool in 15 minutes.
Ten minutes later, I sneaked past Rinku Chachi's gently snoring form and headed for the fancy landscaped pool in my baggy pajamas. There was a pretty green grotto with a burbling artificial waterfall next to it. A statue of a simpering mermaid sat on the rocks, looking down sadly into the water. I stood beside her, feeling a little stupid.
Footsteps sounded behind me and I tensed but for some incomprehensible reason I pretended I didn't know he was there. I waited for him to say hi so I could turn around casually and greet him in return. But he didn't say hi. He just slid his arms around my waist and pulled me to him. I didn't say anything either. Just leaned back into him. He held me even tighter, sinking his rough chin into my shoulder, nuzzling my ear. Then he slowly turned me around. 'Hello, you very rude person,' he said huskily.
'Hi,' I said. 'What did you want to talk to me about?'
He said, quite rudely really, 'Who said I wanted to talk to you?' He lifted me up and lowered me onto the grass in one smooth move. Then he tugged at my baggy pajama top and calmly started kissing my exposed shoulder.
I gasped, grabbed two thick handfuls of his hair and yanked up his face, so I could look into his playful Boost-brown eyes. 'Hello, that is an extremely sexist thing to say.'
'I know,' he said, pushing my hair away from my forehead with one roughly gentle hand, and looking down at me. 'But you'll just have to lump it, won't you?'
I opened my mouth in protest but he placed a finger on my lips and looked down at me, the smile quite gone from his face. His eyes glistened in the darkness. I could feel his hands trembling, just a little. And then, very deliberately, he lowered his head to kiss me.
Wham. It was like all of me rose up and surged to my lips, as if my life source was where his mouth was, as if my soul was on my lips and he was kissing it.
It took me some time to realize that in spite of his cocky opening speech, and in spite of the total seclusion of the poolside, he didn't seem to be in any hurry. One large warm hand had slid under my shirt and settled tantalizingly right over my madly thumping heart but made no attempt at exploring the rest of me. Instead, I realized, feeling pretty insulted, it seemed to be patting me, the way you would pat a baby to sleep.
'Why,' I finally asked in a low outraged voice, 'are you trying to put me to sleep?'
His hand stilled. He hauled himself up on one elbow and said, not quite looking at me, 'Look, it's all a little more complicated than it looks, and in spite of all your big talk you're such a little girl...'
'If you would care to move your hand to either side, just a little, you would be provided with substantial proof that I am quite a big girl after all,' I said, feeling mortified.
He laughed softly and shook his head, sliding his hand way up, so that his dark brown fingers appeared through the neckline of my shirt and then way down so I could feel them disturbingly warm against my navel.
He said, his voice just a little unsteady, 'Hey, you've got goosebumps, are you cold?'
But I'd just about had it with the polite conversation.
As his hand slid smoothly up again, I shifted it a little and after that there was no more talk at all. For a long time. Then he said, 'You know...' and stopped.
'What?' I asked.
He said, 'Don't laugh, okay?'
'Okay,' I said obligingly.
'Sometimes I think that maybe I'm wrong and everybody else is right...'
'Matlab?'
He shrugged. 'Matlab, maybe you're really some kind of a...I don't know...Goddess?'
'Bullshit!' I exclaimed, quite pleased with this new and exciting possibility.
He laughed, looking a little embarrassed. 'Really,' he said lightly. 'In fact if I narrow my eyes a little, like this,' he squinted a little and tilted his head to one side, 'I can almost see your halo and your trident and your eight extra arms.'
'Do I look celestially divine?' I asked, throwing my shoulders back and shaking my head so my hair swirled around in a Goddess-like way.
'No, baba,' he laughed and kissed my chin. 'You look...' he paused, 'strong. You make me feel...' he hesitated, then shrugged again and said, 'well, I guess the word is humble.' He added ruefully, 'Close your mouth, Zoya.'
I closed it obediently, still slightly dazed, as he raised one dark hand to my cheek. 'So, what did you want to talk to me about?' he asked quietly.
'Who said,' I said cockily, 'that I wanted to talk to you?'
And I lowered my head and kissed his laughing mouth.
A little while later, he said, 'There's a five-day gap between the semi and the final...'
'Really?' I said, stroking his crisp, dark hair absent-mindedly. 'Good for you.'
'So, can you have dinner with me after the match tomorrow?'
'Okay,' I said dreamily. 'Where?'
'In my suite,' he said.
I rolled off his chest, sat up straight and asked, 'Why? I mean, why in your suite?'
He sat up, pushing his hair back from his forehead, his teeth flashing white as he grinned down at me in the dark. 'So we can watch Cartoon Network together.'
'Yeah right,' I said, pushing him away lightly. 'And I bet you'll even let me hold the remote.'
He looked at me, completely taken aback, and then started laughing - guffawing actually.
I glared at him, wondering how it was that I had this uncanny ability to reduce the most romantic of situations into a complete farce.
There was a long pause where he kept grinning down at me and I kept uprooting blades of grass, fully determined not to look him in the eye. Finally he said he had to go, which frankly was almost a bit of a relief.
As we got to our feet I asked him, 'But what about tomorrow morning?'
'Haan, tomorrow morning. I'll see you at breakfast.'
***
So I went for breakfast the next day. The whole gang woke up to see me off. Mon's entire family, Sanks, Ritu, Chachi, Vishaal, everybody. They watched me as I pottered around, brushing my teeth, putting kaajal in my eyes. I expected them to whip out a bowl of curd and sugar and start feeding it to me for luck.
'Will you guys stop looking at me?' I snapped finally. Sanks beetled his brows. 'I've paid good money for this trip, Zoya,' he said in his nice, mild voice. 'I haven't done it to see India lose, you hear?'
I turned around and glared at him, 'Sanks, I don't play for the country, okay? If you have any last-minute speeches to make, please call up your precious Men in Blue and make it to them.'
'But you are the good luck charm!' Ritu said earnestly. 'It's all happening because of you, you know that.'
'What about Zahid?' I asked her. 'Isn't he contributing anything?'
It was a dumb thing to say because of course she opened her eyes very wide and said, 'But he isn't playing today, Zoya!'
I stomped my foot in frustration and rushed out of the room, too stressed to take it any more. As I headed out, I heard Chachi say understandingly, 'She's very nervous. So much responsibility, you know.'
God, if they were beginning to wear me down with their faith in me, the pressure on Nikhil must be enormous.
The team was gathered around the table when I reached. I took my usual place between Hairy and Shivnath and reached for the fruit platter.
'Hi,' they said in unison, very subdued.
'Hi,' I said and grinned across the table at Zahid, who was eating with the team, even though he wasn't playing.
'Hey, Rambo,' I said lightly and he gave me a weak grin. 'Hi, Zoya,' he said.
I asked him, in a low voice, as I reached for the fruit platter, 'They're letting you play the final na, Zahid?'
He nodded and whispered in return, 'Only if they manage to win today
without me.'
I giggled and he said, 'Don't laugh, Zoya. Skipper is still angry at me.'
I nodded solemnly and sneaked a quick look to the top of the table where Khoda was listening quietly to a very animated Thind.
Hairy said, 'You know, we always thought they discuss strategy and all up there at the top of the table...'
'Don't they?' I asked him.
He shook his head. 'No, actually I think he's telling him what happened in yesterday's episode of Celebrity Big Brother.'
I giggled again. A little too loudly. The top of the table all turned to look at me. Zahid got so scared he got up, muttered something about getting some hot toast and scurried off.
'What's so funny?' Khoda asked quizzically, spearing a pineapple chunk from the usual mountain of fruit on his plate.
'Nothing,' I said, hurriedly. Shivnath and Hairy shook their heads too.
Nikhil said nothing further, just glared at all of us suspiciously till we bowed our heads. Then he pulled out his phone and frowned. Laakhi kept talking to him, and he kept nodding curtly. My phone beeped in a bit. I fished it out and looked down at it.
You look like you should be in bed, Zoya.
It was Nikhil! I looked across at him, startled, but he didn't meet my eyes. He kept listening to Laakhi, very seriously. Of course I couldn't message him back, because then Hairy and Shivnath would figure out what was going on. So I just put my phone on silent and tried to look casual. And then there was another message.
In bed, in your baggy grey pajama bottoms, and nothing else.
I went bright pink and pressed the delete button as quickly as I could.
But then another message came. My bed.
Red as the watermelon slice on my plate, I hastily covered my phone with a napkin, but not before it said reprovingly, You're blushing! A 'big' girl like you.
I glared at Nikhil across the table but he just flashed me an unrepentant grin. Picking up my phone, I made a big production of switching it off.
There was one last message which I saw in the car driving back to the hotel:
Sorry, but I couldn't resist. It's suite 302, at the Conrad. Right after the match. You'll be there, won't you? Don't want to sound dramatic, but if you're not, it may actually kill me. All my love, N.
***
19
The SCG was absolutely packed.
There were wave upon wave of England supporters dressed in red and dark blue with red triple crosses fluttering everywhere, on tee shirts, banners and hats. The light-blue Indian contingent seemed to have swelled too. Maybe it was because - as Mr Krishnawardane had said yesterday - all the coloured races were cheering for India. We'd got lucky with the semis and drawn England, which was easily the least-favoured team of the four teams that had qualified. The other semi, to be held at the MCG three days later, could have easily been the final with Australia playing South Africa.
Our large contingent consisted of Mon and family, Sanks (hideous in Bermudas and binoculars), Ritu, Vishaal, Chachi (in her 'RINKU 10' tee shirt) and me. We'd bought these huge saffron, pre-tied, saafa-style turbans and perched them on our heads, got our first round of beer and Zing! and made ourselves comfy in the front row of the members' enclosure.
When Nikhil and the English captain strolled out for the toss a little while later they were greeted with deafening applause. The goras in the crowd leapt to their feet as the two captains shook hands and started singing their national anthem. So of course the moment Nikhil won the toss, we Indians got to our feet and retaliated with, 'Nikhil Khoda dat gaya, Angrezon ka phhat gaya!'
Nikhil decided he'd put the Brits in to bat first and the commentators started their usual job of taking apart that decision, pondering its wisdom, or lack of it:
'Especially when India will be missing Zahid Pathan today, who must be regretting his impulsive action bitterly, don't you think?' Jay was saying.
'Absolutely, Jay,' Beeru said with great gusto. 'Tell me, are you in the mood to wager a fiver on anybody today, then?'
'Is that a pound, an Aussie dollar or a rupee we're talking about here?' Jay said.
'Vul, it's a rupee if you win and a quid if I win,' said Beeru wittily.
A little pause and then Jay said slowly, 'My money's on England, mate.'
'Misplaced patriotism, Jay!' crowed Beeru. 'I'll trouble you for that fiver before the day is out, see if I don't!'
They prattled on, giving us a full brief on the pitch, the weather, the temperature, everything. Then, finally, the Indians fanned out into fielding positions, two dark-blue figures walked onto the crease, the Fly Emirates dudes handed out the ball, and the match began.
The cheering rose to a crescendo and the first delivery of the semi-final of the ICC World Cup 2011 ended tamely with a wide.
Oh great. Nice start, boys, I thought and then a voice behind me said, 'Oye, Zoya, move up, I want to sit with you.'
I looked around and saw Zahid, grinning widely, in a bright orange 'Chak De India' tee shirt. 'Sure, okay,' I said doubtfully and shifted up as Armaan beamed up at Zahid. He had totally become his favourite cricketer ever since he drew Pakistani blood on TV the other day. 'Should you be sitting with us, Zahid?' I asked warily.
He nodded happily. 'Why not?' he asked. 'I'll go and sit with the team when our batting starts. Right now only Hardin-sir, manager and Dieter are there, and they're still very angry with me. I don't want to sit with them.'
Zahid dropped down beside me, his long legs dangling, and peered through the railing at Harry, fielding five feet away from us. 'Harry-sir,' he called out cheekily. 'Theek se khelna! Play properly, okay?'
Harry ignored him, looking grimly ahead. I wondered if he was hassled till I saw that behind his back his left hand was waggling its middle finger in Zahid's face! And then I noticed with a sinking heart that our faces were on the TV screen. 'Oh no,' I murmured, as I heard Jay's voice say: '... And there they are, the two most controversial figures in cricket today. Making a bit of a picnic of it. What d'you say, eh, Beeru?'
'Yes, vul, Young Pathan certainly looks very festive in that turban, Jay!'
I stared out at the field blankly, like I hadn't noticed the camera was on me, thinking oh great, my dad will freak.
Uneasy about being broadcast into every home in KB, I jumped to my feet, and announced that I needed a drink. Armaan said he wanted one too so the two of us trotted off. Looking over my shoulder, I saw that Zahid had slid up two places and was now sitting right next to Ritu, looking very cosy indeed. Wanted to sit with me indeed, who did he think he was kidding?
When the two of us returned, with more beer and Zing!, we found our seat had been taken by an ash-blonde bombshell in a long coat and dark glasses. Vishaal was busy trying to chat her up. 'So, what side are you supporting today?' he was asking her, which was either super-dumb or very witty of him as she had two bright, red-white and-blue Union Jacks painted on both her cheeks.
She laughed and said, 'England. Obviously!'
Vishaal laughed too and introduced me. 'Zoya, this is Gabrielle. Gabrielle, Zoya.'
I shook hands with Gabrielle politely.
'So who's your favourite player, Gabby?' asked Vishaal. Gabby wrinkled her brow. 'Him,' she said reverentially, pointing to one of the Brit openers, playing without a helmet, so that we could all see his bizarre skunk-like hairdo.
'Oh, him,' Vishaal nodded unenthusiastically, adding very casually, 'Are you here with friends?'
She shook her head, tucking a stray wisp of blonde hair behind her ear. 'No, no, I'm all alone,' she said.
'Not any more,' Vishaal said gallantly and she blushed a delicate rose pink, looking shyly at him from under her lashes.
Great, I thought miserably, sab ki setting ho rahi hai. Vishaal and Gabby, Zahid and Ritu, Mon and her hubby. Even Sanks was cosying up with Rinku Chachi. And Armaan was busy teaching little Aman a song. They were hopping up and down the steps nearby and little lisping snatches of hand-grenades-and-people-with-AIDS wafted up to me in
the gentle breeze.
I watched the English side pile up their total at an un-alarming pace and reread Nikhil's last sms. The words - All my love, N - sent such a surge of happiness through me that I felt almost dizzy. He was a mere speck in the distance, a blue blur fielding at short square leg, way down in the middle of the field but they kept showing him on the TV screen every now and then. He was looking all grim and focused, scowling in the sunlight, his eyes scanning the field constantly.
All eyes on thee cupboard, I thought dreamily. But tonight I'll have your full attention, Nikhil Khoda.
The Zoya Factor Page 34
