Charlie Next Door

by Debashish Irengbam

  Anupama let out a deep sigh. She had draped a sheet over her naked body, even though he had assured her that it wasn’t necessary, the room was semi-dark anyway. Anupama had forbidden him from turning on the lights, and they had only had the light filtering through from the street lamps. But now that the high was gone, she could feel the familiar twinges of self-consciousness returning. It didn’t help that the man lying next to her was a prototype of a male anatomy lecture. She didn’t want him to regret anything. The moment was so perfect, so blissful … and that was how she wanted him to remember it. She wished he would say something, but his eyes looked upward at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head, face serene as his chest moved up and down rhythmically.

  ‘Say something,’ she said, finally.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Anything … how are you feeling?’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Good?’

  ‘Yeah, like, really, really good. Awesome, actually.’

  ‘Okay …’ she said, trying to hide her disappointment.

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m good too.’

  ‘Great.’

  With that, the conversation concluded. Was it mandatory for men to lose their passion and depth along with their sperm? Not that she had had experience enough to make a comparison, but she did have high hopes of him. Was it wrong to expect the ones who made you feel special, to be special in their own way? Perhaps, it was. Perhaps, this was just the way things were.

  ‘Should I turn on the lights?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘Wait.’

  As she felt around blindly for her nightgown in the darkness, she bumped into some of the packing boxes lying on the floor and wondered why he hadn’t bothered to unpack them yet. Finally, she found her wet garment and slipped it on, just as the lights came on. She was adjusting the straps over her shoulders, when two strong arms gripped her tightly in an embrace from behind. A second later, she felt Charlie’s nose and stubble rub against the back of her neck, raising gooseflesh all over her body.

  ‘I was right,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘You are different.’

  And that was all, all that she needed. Brimming with relief and joy, Anupama turned around and kissed him deeply. ‘So are you.’

  17

  It is darkest before dawn. And vice versa. Although the latter is a truth that not many care to acknowledge.

  Having basked in the life-giving rays of dawn, it was now time to face the darkness of an enduring dusk.

  Although she had no regrets about last night, for that was a threshold she had crossed permanently, neither was she under the delusion that her actions would have no consequences, especially now that there was a prime witness to her fall from grace. She half expected a crowd of accusatory spectators to be gathered outside her window right now, pointing and whispering. Judging. Witnessing. Chronicling.

  In a few hours from now, she would be infamous.

  She had thought about having a talk with her children about it in the morning; but then decided against it because they were getting ready to go to school and college. There was no need to send them off with such a heavy burden on their minds. They would get to know about it by lunch time anyway, if Mrs Mehtani had anything to say about it.

  So, all she could do now was wait for the guillotine to fall with her hands folded on her lap and a dignified smile on her face. If she had to go, she would go with her head held high and the blissful memory of a double orgasm with a Greek god who loved her, which wasn’t such a bad way to go anyway. She only hoped that the slut-shaming rituals would end by 3.00 p.m., because she and Renu had a client meeting scheduled for the evening.

  The problem was that while her mind was fearlessly rational about the whole situation, her heart was a whole other story. The roles had reversed. Earlier, it was her heart that was egging her on and her mind, holding her back. But now that the point of no return had been breached, her head was now in a rather progressive and liberal mood (possibly as a damage-control measure), while her heart was incessantly pumping adrenalin into her system, gearing her up for a battle of a magnitude she was yet to estimate.

  The doorbell rang.

  Anupama braced herself, trying hard to ignore the chill in her veins. The moment of reckoning. The hour of judgment. Time to face the music.

  She smoothened out her kurta, straightened her shoulders and walked to the door; her subconscious already dealing with the inquisition in the offing.

  Yes, it’s true … Yes, it’s him … How? The way any two consenting adults do it … Don’t worry about my kids. I can take care of them myself … Why him? Why not … I don’t think that’s any of your business, to be honest with you … No, I will not move out. I am not a criminal … Yes, of course it was consensual … What does Rajeev have to do with this…

  She unlatched the bolt, twisted the knob, and swung open the door to see – Gopal, the building superintendent, standing outside with a sombre look on his face. He appeared to be alone and unarmed, so she opened the door wider.

  ‘Yes?’

  Gopal wordlessly handed her a folder containing a single document. Anupama glanced down curiously.

  ATHARVA HARI C.H.S MANAGING COMMITTEE

  This is to report the sad and tragic loss of our loyal and dedicated society watchman, Mr Banwari Lal, who passed away last night in his security cabin after more than fifteen years of service. According to the coroner, the death was painless and due to natural causes attributed to old age. Since Mr Lal has no kith or kin to speak of, the society has decided to organize a collection drive for his funeral and last rites. You are requested to donate as much as you wish towards these expenses. The shortfall will be extracted from the society’s corpus fund.

  Thank you for your cooperation.

  Mrs Alka Govindikar

  Chairperson

  Anupama stood frozen, the paper clutched in her hands, reading and re-reading the circular, until she realized that Gopal was patiently standing by for her response. She asked him to wait and went back in. In place of the reservoir of retorts and replies that had been occupying her mind just a few seconds ago, now only questions remained. She wondered what time he had died last night. Was he even alive when she saw him? Had her boldest act of defiance been witnessed by a corpse? Was that the reason for his motionless gaze, his lifeless eyes watching their rebellious passion? Or had her sexuality been too much for his frail shell to handle? She felt her stomach contract at the thought of her sensuous rendezvous being the last sight the poor man beheld before shuffling off his mortal coil.

  A shudder passed through her as she retrieved a five-hundred-rupee note from her purse and gave it to Gopal. He informed her that the funeral would be held at 5.00 p.m. at the local crematorium, in case she wanted to attend. Anupama thanked him and locked the door.

  It took a while for the apprehension and nausea that had been bottled up since morning to subside. When they did, the vacuum in her mind made her feel giddy. It dawned on her that, despite the rather morbid and tragic nature of this unexpected development, the bottom line was, her secret was still intact. As far as the world was concerned, she was still the same. Nothing had changed. A load lifted off her chest, and for the first time that day, she breathed freely. Was this a sign? A second chance, so to speak?

  Now that matters didn’t seem quite so direly irrevocable, she wondered whether she had been foolhardy last night. It wasn’t wrong, of course, but was it wise? Eventually she would have to tell her friends and family no doubt, but why do it in a way befitting of an erotica thriller, especially when she, as a person, was anything but erotic or thrilling? Charlie and she would have to take it slow now, she decided, slow and discreet. And for that, there needed to be rules. Lots of rules.

  That night, Charlie hopped up on the terrace to find a long list of procedural rules and regulations waiting for him.

  ‘So … three seconds is the maximum amount of time I can make eye contact with you?’ he asked, going through the
list.

  ‘In public, yes,’ said Anupama.

  ‘Why three seconds specifically?’

  ‘Because two would seem too fidgety and four would be too attentive.’

  ‘Is it okay if I use a stopwatch for the purpose?’

  ‘Charlie.’

  ‘I’m just saying … d’you really think people have nothing better to do but keep us under micro-surveillance?’

  ‘I’ve spent the better half of my life here. You have spent one-and-a-half months, in which you have managed to almost get kicked out twice.’

  ‘Touché.’

  He returned to the list, studying each point very carefully. Try as she might, Anupama couldn’t help but feel distracted by the sight of his lips moving as he quietly mumbled the words under his breath. For someone who smoked so frequently, he had a nice, well-shaped pair of—

  ‘So, every time we go out, I have to pick you up from Mith Chowki?’ he asked, interrupting her reverie, his beautiful eyes flashing up at her.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Isn’t that a bit far? I mean, you will literally be spending forty-fifty bucks for an unnecessary auto ride when I could just pick you up from the first intersection outside.’

  ‘Charlie, I’m not taking any chances.’

  ‘And what if we are going the other side towards Mira Road?’

  ‘We will not go towards Mira Road.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because Rajeev’s parents and relatives stay in Bhayandar.’

  ‘That’s almost twenty kilometres away.’

  ‘Charlie, I’m not taking any chances.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it just be easier if you wore a burqa and I wore a mask just like any other normal couple?’

  ‘I’m glad you’re finding this amusing.’

  ‘It’s just that … after last night, I thought things would be different.’

  ‘Things are different. I have accepted us. I just need some time to make others accept it too.’

  ‘And how will that happen unless we tell them?’

  ‘That’s what I need time for. To figure it out.’

  Charlie shook his head in dismay. ‘I just don’t get what the big deal is. It’s not like we are doing anything illegal. This is the twenty-first century, you know. You can have a younger partner without getting stoned to death for it. In fact, I don’t think anyone even gives a shit anymore.’

  ‘How many couples do you personally know like us?’

  Charlie opened his mouth to reply, before pausing to think. The seconds ticked by.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Anupama. ‘So please spare me the liberal speech and just focus on the plan of action, which I have carefully thought through. Trust me, this is the right way.’

  ‘Fine,’ he said, folding up the list and putting it in his pocket. ‘So what is the timeline we are looking at?’

  ‘I’m thinking let’s wait until the Monsoon Goddess pageant gets over, at least. The worst thing to do would be to test those ladies’ open-mindedness while they are suffering the pangs of hunger and carb-withdrawal.’

  ‘So, another month of secrecy, then. I could do that. What about your family?’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Do we tell them along with the neighbours or before? If we do it now, I could even start coming over to your place and—’

  ‘Are you mad?’

  ‘What? It’s bound to happen sooner or later, right? In fact, the sooner it happens, the more time they will get to absorb the fact that I’m … you know … sort of … their future…’

  DON’T, Anupama wanted to scream, but it was too late.

  ‘…daddy.’

  Her insides lurched horribly at the word. The thought of Charlie being Misha’s – she couldn’t even say the word – made her feel queasy and nauseous. How come she hadn’t considered this obvious scenario before?

  ‘You okay? Your face has gone pale,’ remarked Charlie, looking at her with concern.

  She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. ‘I think we’re going too fast.’

  ‘I’m not saying it has to happen tomorrow. But eventually—’

  ‘Stop. Just stop.’

  Charlie stopped. His face darkened. ‘I’m sorry. I just assumed – you do love me, right?’

  Anupama nodded silently.

  ‘Then – this is a serious thing, right? Like, with a future and all? I mean, I just want to be clear,’ he said tentatively.

  ‘I love you,’ said Anupama, more to herself than him. ‘I do. I know I do.’

  ‘Great,’ said Charlie, his face beaming again. ‘So we will cross that bridge when we get to it. Okay?’

  She nodded quietly again. He smiled warmly and wrapped her in an embrace, her ear and cheeks pressed against his chest, listening to the sound of his even heartbeat.

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay,’ he murmured.

  And Anupama nodded quietly, yet again.

  18

  ‘There’s something different about you,’ said Renu, squinting at her from across the coffee table. They had just concluded a successful meeting with yet another socialite from the posh ‘Townie’ community who wanted to convert her Bohemian chic penthouse into a rather sombre minimalist design as a tribute to the late Chico, her favourite Persian cat, recently deceased. Anupama remembered reading a piece about the feline’s extravagant wake in the City Highlights two days ago, attended by all the Who’s Who of Page 3 in the city. The most expensive funeral parlour in the city had been booked for an entire day; a projector screen had played slideshow images of the cat’s happiest moments, with Mozart’s ‘Requiem’ playing in the background, while mourners (read: fellow socialites and employees) paid their respects to the deceased as it lay peacefully in its teakwood-walnut casket, complete with satin inner padding and intricate brass-work lining running all along its polished edges. At the other end of the spectrum was the paltry 3,475-rupee community-sponsored ceremony awarded to her society watchman after his fifteen years of dedicated service, and Anupama found herself teetering on the brink of despairing for humanity’s humaneness.

  Not that she or Renu objected to the exorbitant paycheque. In fact, considering that the said millionaire had three more elderly cats (read: future interior renovations) queueing up at the pearly gates, Renu could finally plan out the further extension of her office in Oshiwara and corporealize her castle in the air. The final clincher had been Anupama’s masterstroke suggestion of having a monochrome painting of Bastet (the Egyptian cat goddess) in the living room. It had nothing to do with vaastu, but the bereaved millionairess had been delighted. Her only condition was that Chico’s face be superimposed on top of the goddess’s body, which Renu had no problem with.

  So here they were, celebrating their victory in a café with whopping mugs of cold coffee, comprised of slim milk, decaf coffee, artificial sweeteners, and low-fat ice cream (practically zero calories according to Renu). They had asked Neena to join them as well, who was on her way. Sipping her coffee, Anupama was wondering when and how to break the news to her friends about her secret romance, when Renu broke in on her thoughts with her observation.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Anupama.

  ‘I don’t know, but something has changed. I can feel it.’

  ‘Really? So, you’re an aura expert now? Maybe we should add that to our list of services’. Anupama laughed.

  ‘Whoa.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You just cracked a PJ and followed it up with a fake laugh. I haven’t seen you do that in a while. You’re feeling guilty about something.’

  ‘Please. Why don’t you just join the CBI or something,’ said Anupama, with a light laugh and a nervous flick of her hair.

  ‘You did it again! What is it?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  Renu’s eyes popped out, her lips parting in a wide grin. ‘Oh … my … God!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘Who?’ asked Anupama, turning
to look behind her.

  ‘The one you banged. You slept with someone!’

  ‘What?!’

  ‘Anupama Arora, don’t bullshit me. I know that look like I know the back of my hand. Spill the beans before Neena gets here, or you will have to go through a group confession.’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell!’

  ‘Fucking hell, you’re blushing! It’s someone we know. Someone controversial.’

  ‘Are you mad?’

  ‘Is it one of JD’s studs?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘One of our clients? No, they were all married, and I know you well enough to know that …’ She paused midway, a look of realization crossing her face. Anupama desperately tried to focus on her coffee as Renu brought her face inch by inch towards her, her mouth a perfectly symmetrical ‘O’.

  ‘Oh, bloody fuckin’ … Charlie?!’

  ‘Shhh,’ hissed Anupama, more out of instinct than necessity, since there was no one around who she knew anyway.

  In a dramatic gesture, Renu cupped her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide as saucers. Anupama tried to repudiate her allegation, but her jaws were glued shut, her whole face a burning furnace. They both sat like that for a few quiet seconds, each numbed by their own overpowering emotions, while the low-fat ice cream in their coffee dissolved sadly into low-fat goo.

  ‘You sly little minx,’ said Renu finally. ‘No wonder you didn’t need JD’s services!’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ snapped Anupama. ‘It’s a rather … recent development. And it’s not even about the sex—’