She decided not to bother with the light. Walking briskly towards the bus stop she saw the women from the writing class in a huddle. Kulwinder did a silent roll call. There was Arvinder Kaur – so tall that she had to stoop like a giraffe to listen to the others. Her daughter Preetam was perpetually adjusting the lacy white dupatta on her head. So precious and vain compared to her mother. On the edge of the group, Manjeet Kaur spoke in furtive nods and smiles. Sheena Kaur was nowhere to be seen but she had probably sped home in her little red car. Tarampal Kaur had registered as well but she wasn’t part of the group. Her absence was a relief.
The women noticed Kulwinder approaching and they acknowledged her with quick smiles. Maybe they could explain why the light was still on. Perhaps Nikki was in there entertaining a lover? It wasn’t unheard of for youngsters in the neighbourhood to use these vacant rooms for their filthy interactions. In that case the lights would be off though wouldn’t they – but then again, who knew what this new generation found pleasurable?
‘Sat sri akal,’ she said, putting her hands together for all of them. They returned the gesture. ‘Sat sri akal,’ they murmured. In the glow of the streetlamp, they looked sheepish, as if caught stealing.
‘How are you, ladies?’
‘Very good, thanks,’ said Preetam Kaur.
‘Enjoying your writing classes?’
‘Yes.’ They were a rehearsed chorus. Kulwinder eyed them suspiciously.
‘Learning a lot?’ she asked.
A sly look passed between the women, just a flash, before Arvinder said, ‘Oh yes. We did a lot of learning today.’
The women beamed. Kulwinder considered asking them more. Perhaps they needed a reminder that their learning was the result of her clever initiative. I do everything for you, she used to tell Maya, sometimes with pride and at other times, with frustration. The women looked desperate to get back to their conversation. Kulwinder was reminded of Maya and her friends huddled together, their hushed conversation often punctuated with giggles. ‘What was so funny?’ Kulwinder would ask later, knowing the question was enough to make Maya dissolve into giggles again, and then Kulwinder couldn’t help laughing along. The memory was accompanied by a stabbing pain in her gut. What she would give to see her daughter’s smile again. She bade the women farewell and continued her journey. She had never been close to these women and she knew they had signed up for her classes for lack of anything else to do. She had loss in common with them, but losing a child was different. Nobody knew the ache of rage, guilt and profound sadness that Kulwinder carried with her every day.
This main road had some shadowy patches where walls of hedges and parked cars could easily hide a crouching assailant. She reached for her phone, wanting to ask Sarab to come and pick her up but standing still seemed just as risky. She set her sights on the junction of Queen Mary Road and marched onward, aware that her heart had started pounding. After the caller had hung up last night, she had sat up in bed, alert to every creak and shift in the house. She had drifted to sleep eventually but this morning, exhausted and alone, she found herself inexplicably furious, this time at Maya for putting her through all of this.
Laughter broke like fireworks into the air. Kulwinder whipped around. It was the women again. Manjeet waved but she pretended not to see. Kulwinder craned her neck as if she was checking something on the building. From this distance, the glow in the window reminded her of flames. She turned her back on the building and walked so briskly she nearly broke into a run.
Chapter Five
Around the corner from the car park, Nikki had discovered a spot where she could hide and have a cigarette before class. Here the temple was completely cut off from her view. She shook a cigarette from its pack and lit it. Her shift at O’Reilly’s last night had felt longer than usual and she found herself looking forward to tonight’s lesson.
Nikki finished her cigarette and entered the community centre building, running straight into Kulwinder Kaur on the stairwell.
‘Oh hello,’ she said.
Kulwinder’s nose crinkled. ‘You’ve been smoking. I can smell it on you.’
‘I was standing near some smokers, and …’
‘Maybe these excuses work on your mother, but I know better.’
‘I don’t think my smoking should be your concern,’ Nikki said, straightening her shoulders.
There was heat in Kulwinder’s stare. ‘The behaviour of an instructor is my concern. The women look to you for guidance. I don’t know how they’re supposed to respect any instructions that come from the mouth of a smoker.’
‘I’m doing everything that’s expected of me in the classroom,’ Nikki said. She made a mental note to cut short the storytelling session in favour of a grammar lesson in case Kulwinder did a spot check.
‘Let’s hope so,’ Kulwinder said. Nikki wedged past her uncomfortably on the stairs and found that all the women had arrived promptly. Tarampal had chosen a seat a noticeable distance from the others. ‘Nikki!’ Sheena called. ‘I’ve written a story. It’s a combined effort from all of us.’
‘Wonderful,’ Nikki said.
‘Can you read it aloud to the class?’ Preetam asked.
‘I think Nikki should read it,’ Sheena said.
‘In a minute,’ Nikki said. ‘I’ll just set some work for Bibi Tarampal here.’
‘Don’t bother with me,’ Tarampal sniffed. ‘I’ll just be working on my A-B-C book.’
‘For what?’ Arvinder asked. ‘Don’t be such a spoilsport.’
‘I’ll learn to write soon and you’ll still be illiterate,’ Tarampal shot back.
Nikki pulled up a chair next to Tarampal and searched for the page on linking vowels and consonants. There were pictures representing each simple three-letter word. CAT. DOG. POT. ‘I don’t know all of these letters,’ Tarampal complained. ‘You haven’t taught them all to me.’
‘Do the ones you know,’ Nikki said gently. ‘We’ll work on the others together.’
Nikki was aware that the women were watching her very closely as she began to read their story. Her Punjabi was rustier than she expected and Sheena’s rushed handwriting was unlike the careful print in the books she had learned from. ‘I’m not sure if I can read this, Sheena,’ Nikki said, squinting at the page.
Sheena shot up from her seat. ‘I’ll do it then.’ She took the papers from Nikki. The other women sat up in their seats, their faces wide with anticipation. Watching them, Nikki had the dreadful sense that somebody was out to play a joke on her.
Sheena began to read. ‘This is the story about a man and a woman taking a drive in a car. The man was tall and handsome and the woman was his wife. They didn’t have any children and had lots of free time.’ Sheena paused for effect and glanced at Nikki before continuing.
‘One day they were driving along a lonely road and they were running out of petrol. It was dark outside and they were scared. It was also cold, so the man stopped the car and hugged the woman so she would stop shivering. She was actually pretending to shiver. She wanted to feel the man’s body. Although she had felt his body many times before, she wanted to be with him in this dark car.
‘He began to feel quite like a hero because he was protecting his wife. He moved his hands down her back to her bottom and gave it a squeeze. She leaned closer to him and gave him a kiss. With her hands, she also moved down—’
‘Okay that’s enough,’ Nikki said. She took the story from Sheena and told her to have a seat. All of the women in the class were giggling except Tarampal, whose face was buried in her book. Nikki scanned the page. A sentence caught her eye: His throbbing organ was the colour and size of an aubergine, and as she gripped it with her hands and guided it towards her mouth, he became so excited that his knees began to shake. Nikki gasped and dropped the pages on the desk.
The women were laughing loudly now, and their voices had begun to echo down the corridor. They reached the doorway of Kulwinder Kaur, who turned to listen but the sounds just as quickly settled
down.
‘What’s the matter?’ Sheena asked.
‘This is not the type of story I had in mind,’ Nikki said.
‘You can’t be too surprised. You read stories like this yourself,’ Manjeet said. ‘You bought us an entire book of them.’
‘I bought the book as a joke for my sister!’ That said, Red Velvet had graduated from the charity shop bag to Nikki’s bedside table, from where she had no intentions of removing it.
‘I don’t get the joke. Were you supposed to buy her a different book?’ Preetam wondered.
‘She’s a bit reserved,’ Nikki said. ‘I thought the stories would remind her that she needed to lighten up, that’s all.’ Were the widows smirking? They appeared to be challenging her. She cleared her throat. ‘I think we’re done with stories for now.’
The women groaned when Nikki presented the alphabet chart. ‘Today we’ll review consonants.’
‘Oh, not that bloody thing,’ Arvinder said. ‘A for apple, B for boy? Don’t treat me like a child, Nikki.’
‘Actually “A” is a vowel. Remember? What are some other vowels?’
Arvinder scowled and said nothing. The other widows stared back blankly as well.
‘Come on, ladies. These are important.’
‘Last time you said we could do storytelling during these lessons,’ Preetam protested.
‘Right. I probably shouldn’t have said that. The fact is, I was hired to teach you all to write. I need to honour that promise.’ She glanced once more at the pages on the desk. If Kulwinder knew about this story, she’d accuse her of deliberately setting the women on the wrong path.
‘Why don’t you like Sheena’s story?’ Preetam asked. ‘I thought modern girls prided themselves on being open-minded.’
‘She doesn’t like it because she’s just like everybody else,’ Arvinder said. ‘All those people who say, “Take no notice of those widows. Without their husbands, they’re irrelevant.”’
‘That’s not what I think of you,’ Nikki protested, although Arvinder’s observation was not far off the mark. She had certainly expected these widows to be more impressionable than they turned out to be.
‘We’d be invisible in India,’ Arvinder said. ‘I suppose it makes no difference that we’re in England. You must think it’s wrong of us to discuss these things because we shouldn’t be thinking of them.’
‘I’m not saying your story was wrong. It was just unexpected.’
‘Why?’ Sheena challenged. ‘Because our husbands are gone? Let me tell you, Nikki, we have plenty of experience with desire.’
‘We talk about it all the time too,’ Manjeet said. ‘People see us and assume that we’re just filling our empty evenings with gossip but how much of that can one do? It’s far more fun to discuss the things we miss.’
‘Or what we were never given in the first place,’ Arvinder said dryly.
Laughter rippled through the classroom. This time the noise pierced Kulwinder’s concentration just as she was about to solve a row in her sudoku puzzle.
‘Keep your voices down,’ Nikki pleaded.
‘Come on, Nikki,’ Preetam urged. ‘This will be fun. I’ve got a story brewing in my mind. A more satisfying series finale to my favourite television drama.’
‘Do Kapil and Anya finally get together?’ Manjeet asked.
‘Oh, and how,’ Preetam said.
‘There are stories about men and women that I tell myself when I’m lying awake at night,’ Manjeet said. ‘It’s better than counting sheep or taking Rescue Remedy. It helps me to relax.’
‘I’m sure it does,’ Sheena said, raising an eyebrow. The women burst out laughing again.
‘Even Tarampal has some stories, I’m sure,’ said Arvinder.
‘You leave me out of this,’ Tarampal warned.
Suddenly, the door of the classroom swung open. Kulwinder Kaur stood with her arms crossed over her chest. ‘What is going on here?’ she demanded. ‘I can hear the commotion all the way from my office.’
The women were silent with shock for a moment and then Preetam Kaur said, ‘Sorry. We were laughing because I couldn’t pronounce a word.’
‘Yes,’ Arvinder said. ‘Nikki said this word in English which means “aubergine” but we couldn’t say it.’ The women tittered again. Nikki nodded and smiled at Kulwinder as if to say, ‘What can you do?’ She placed her palm flat on the story on her desk.
It was fortunate that Tarampal was sitting so close to the door. Her workbook was wide open and looked very legitimate. Nikki just hoped she wouldn’t say anything. She still looked gravely unhappy with the women.
‘I need to talk to you outside for a moment,’ Kulwinder said to Nikki.
‘Sure,’ Nikki said. ‘Sheena, can you please write the alphabet on the board? I’ll test you all when I come back.’ She shot Sheena a stern look and followed Kulwinder outside.
Kulwinder fixed Nikki with a stare. ‘I hired you to teach these women, not stand around telling jokes,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what they’re doing but it doesn’t look like learning.’
Through the window, Nikki could see the women staring at the board and Sheena dutifully writing the letters. Tarampal was hunched over her desk, working her pencil hard into the paper. She looked up to check the roundness of her D against Sheena’s on the board. ‘Nobody said learning couldn’t be fun,’ Nikki said.
‘This job requires a degree of respect and professionalism. Your respect is clearly questionable because you’ll smoke on temple grounds. I have high doubts about your professional standards.’
‘I’m handling the job just fine,’ Nikki said. ‘I’m doing exactly what you asked of me.’
‘If you were, then I wouldn’t have to remind you to keep the noise down. You realize, don’t you, that any small misstep means that these classes could be shut down? As it is, we have very few participants.’
‘Look, Kulwinder, I get that you want these classes to go well but I didn’t realize I’d be under constant surveillance. The women are learning. You need to back off and let me do my job.’
A storm cloud seemed to take over Kulwinder’s expression. Her lips became menacingly thin. ‘I think you’re forgetting something very important,’ she said, her voice suddenly low and steady. ‘I am your boss. I hired you. You should thank me for taking you on even though your only skills were pouring drinks. You should thank me for coming here to remind you to remain focused. You should thank me for letting you off with a warning. I didn’t come here for a discussion. I came here to remind you of your responsibilities, something you are clearly lacking. Understand?’
Nikki swallowed, hard. ‘I understand.’ Kulwinder looked at her expectantly. ‘And thank you,’ Nikki whispered. Tears of humiliation burned in her eyes.
She waited for a few moments before re-entering the classroom. The women’s eyes were wide in anticipation. Even Tarampal was looking up from her book.
‘We have to get back to work,’ Nikki said, blinking furiously.
Thankfully, there were no arguments. Arvinder, Tarampal, Preetam and Manjeet accepted an exercise on consonants. Sheena practised writing a persuasive speech. While the women worked, Nikki couldn’t help replaying the humiliating confrontation in her mind. She told herself that Kulwinder probably chastised everybody but her harsh words had hit a raw nerve. Your only skills were pouring drinks. Lacking responsibility. Here Nikki had been trying to steer the women back towards literacy to avoid getting into trouble but did Kulwinder recognize her efforts? It didn’t matter if Nikki did the right thing. It was still wrong.
The time passed quickly while Nikki was lost in her thoughts. Even her fights with Mum didn’t leave her feeling so helpless. If Kulwinder was like this as a boss, imagine what she had been like as a parent to her rebellious daughter. Nikki glanced at the clock.
‘Is everybody finished?’ she asked.
The women nodded. Nikki took up the consonants worksheets. Arvinder’s wobbly handwriting made her H’s look like
M’s but she had persisted until Z, slashed across the lines like a lightning bolt. Preetam’s handwriting was more precise but she only reached J before time was up. Manjeet had ignored the consonants entirely, choosing instead to write A E I O U at the top of the page as if revising what she had learned before.
What was there to do besides feeding more worksheets to the women, more rote practices? This reproduced string of alphabets looked as uninspired as any other monotonous task that filled these widows’ days. If they continued on this path, the women would stop showing up. Nikki could already sense their restlessness. As she scanned the worksheets, a debate clamoured in her mind. She’d been hired to teach English, yes, but hadn’t she only signed up because she thought she’d be empowering women? If the widows wanted to share erotic stories, who was she to censor them?
‘You’ve all worked very hard today,’ Nikki said. ‘These practices are good.’ She handed the worksheets back to the women. Then she smiled. ‘But I think your stories would be better.’
The women looked at each other and grinned. Only Tarampal scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I promise to continue to teach you how to read and write,’ Nikki said to her. ‘But the rest of you are welcome to bring in your stories. We must make sure to be very quiet from now on though.’
‘See you on Tuesday,’ Sheena said on her way out the door.
‘See you all then,’ Nikki said. ‘Oh, and if you see Bibi Kulwinder, remember to say thank you.’ And fuck you, she thought.
Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows Page 7
