Benoir smiled wanly. ‘All right, since you are so keen, let’s go.’
They looked up ads for dog sitters in a magazine and placed Wanda in the care of one at the rate of fifty francs per day. The whole of this month, business boomed for dog and cat sitters.
Nila held the carte bleue. Benoir’s yellowed teeth smiled wide when a pair of tickets for Paris, Rome, Florence and Venice dropped into his hands.
‘Italy, Italy bleu, bleu. Oh Nila, you really love me so much! I am really lucky to have your love.’
A spate of French kisses took their toll on Nila.
From the airport they went into a suite of the five star hotel Galleo in old Rome. They ate at Cuisino Italiano, toured the Colosseum, saw the markers of Roman civilization or uncivilization, threw coins into the Fontana de Trevi. Benoir stood on the Spanish Stairs and wondered if he had stood just there when he was a child. In the church of Vatican Benoir bowed his head and crossed himself. He dragged Nila away from the Sistine Chapel to show her more wondrous ruins all over Rome. They came back to the hotel and Benoir sat enjoying his Chateau Margot as he looked at Nila, just out of the shower, and said, ‘You look like a virginal beauty from heaven.’
Nila said, ‘I am a non-virginal, non-beauty of this earth.’
Benoir pulled her on to his lap and said, ‘Oh gorgeous damsel, won’t you taste this heavenly liquid? If you only knew what you are missing.’
Nila drank in the intoxicating blue eyes and said, ‘I don’t care if I lose Chateau Margot, as long as I don’t lose you.’
Benoir kissed her lips, her chin, breasts and nipples. He held Chateau Margot in one hand and Nila in the other and looked deliriously happy.
Nila was terribly excited when they went to Florence. She could gaze upon ‘David’ to her heart’s content, David of her dreams.
They finished the Uffizi and then Nila went round Michelangelo’s ‘David’. She spent hours looking at him. Benoir rushed her, ‘Why are you taking so long? Let’s go.’
‘Have you noticed something—David is not flawless. Look at his right hand; it’s too large.’ Nila didn’t take her eyes off David as she spoke.
Benoir said, ‘That happens. My penis is also comparatively too large. You’ve said yourself that you really like that in me.’
Nila laughed as she said, ‘So I did.’
After they left the museum, Benoir said, ‘You just wasted the whole day here.’
He took the driver’s seat of the rented car, heaved a long sigh and asked, ‘So, where would madame wish to go now?’
‘Wherever you wish.’
‘My wish hardly ever matters. Tell me where you want to go.’
‘Your wish hardly matters? Didn’t you want to visit the museum?’
‘I don’t really like all these museums. I went because you like it.’
‘So let’s go wherever you’d like to go.’
‘No, there isn’t any time.’
‘If we had the time, where would you have gone?’
‘What’s the point of talking about it? Tell me Nila, why don’t you drive?’
‘I don’t know how to drive.’
‘But you said you have a car in Calcutta.’
‘We do, and the driver drives it.’
‘You are very rich, aren’t you?’
‘It’s a poor country. Whoever has a car, hires a driver. It doesn’t cost much.’
‘You said there are maids in your house. You must be terribly rich.’
‘It’s the same—maids don’t cost much either. Almost everything is very cheap there.’
‘Humans too, possibly. Do you have slavery there?’
‘No.’
‘So, you’ve hired me as your driver. Tell me where you want to go and I’ll take you there. There’s the map and we can look up any address there.’
Nila didn’t speak.
Benoir drove around aimlessly and said, ‘Nila, you want to buy love with money.’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps I think of you as a gigolo.’
‘Don’t be vulgar.’
‘I spend money because I love you. Are you afraid thinking you’ll have to give something in return? Don’t be. You don’t have to give anything.’
Benoir’s jaws hardened. ‘You are very selfish. You have come on a holiday to Italy and you’ve brought me along to drive you around. You don’t love me Nila, you are using me. It’s just I who love you, insanely.’
They spent the next two days in Florence in an uncomfortable silence and then they went to Venice. There she didn’t hire a car, there was no need for one. There was water all around. Nila was relieved to note that at least Benoir would no longer feel the humiliation of being a driver. What now? Let’s take a gondola. They went by gondolas and saw the Venetian palaces, ruined buildings, prisons, everything. There were no Venetians in Venice—they had all gone to Padova or to villages nearby. The escalating prices in Venice made life difficult for them. The Americans and rich people from Japan had bought most of the houses in Venice. These houses stayed locked all round the year except for a few months when they wanted to float around in gondolas.
Nila halted on the Bridge of Sighs. ‘Do you know, Wordsworth has written poetry about this Bridge of Sighs. The prisoners sighed upon this bridge as they were led away from the palace and into the prison; they looked at the blue lagoon for the last time.’
Nila exclaimed again among a hundred pigeons as she stood on the square behind the palace and the pigeons flew away.
‘Why are you shooing them away? Let them eat.’
‘I’m shooing them away because I am jealous.’
‘You envy the pigeons too?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I can’t fly like them.’
Benoir walked away to a café, alone. Nila stood there amidst flocks of pigeons flying back down, alone.
That night, lying in the hotel room, Nila explained a unique Bengali word called ‘abhimaan’ which couldn’t really be translated into any other language. Did it have a counterpart in French?
Benoir didn’t get a chance to reply—his mobile rang. It was Pascale.
He finished his phone call, came back to Nila who was almost asleep, and drank his fill of a different brand of liquor, a different body, different colour, different gestures, different waves.
Benoir covered her body with his, played the games of hide and seek and tag, and suddenly heaved himself forcefully, deep into Nila’s mysterious difference.
‘Do you feel me? Can you sense me?’
Benoir brought his mouth close to Nila’s and said, ‘Tell me you love me, tell me, tell me you love me a lot, insanely. Say je t’aime à la folie, say à la folie. Say I am everything to you. Tell me you can’t live without me, you won’t ever love anyone else. Tell me, Nila, tell me.’
Nila pulled away. Benoir’s mouth smelt of dead rats. His mouth often smelt like that; only, Nila had never found it odious before. Or, perhaps, Nila thought, she may even have liked the smell once.
This is the End
Nila went to see a doctor because she missed her period that month. The doctor checked her and said she was pregnant. He even did a DNA test and informed her that Benoir Dupont was the father of her child.
Benoir went wild with exhilaration. He hugged Nila close and covered her with kisses in full view of the hundreds of people in the hospital corridor. He kissed her all the way back and said, ‘My life is complete; my dreams have come true.’ At home he picked her up and rocked back and forth. He held her close and spoke with great emotion, ‘Je t’aime, je t’aime, je t’aime. Je t’aime à la folie. There isn’t a man on this earth happier than me, more fortunate than I am.’
Nila’s empty eyes were fixed on the window.
Benoir turned her sad face towards him and said, ‘What are you thinking? Names for our son? You want him to have a Bengali name, right?’
Nila said, ‘I’m thinking I need to find a job. The money I had is al
l over.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of that,’ Benoir said as he kissed the smooth brown skin on her stomach.
‘I can’t afford this house any more. I’ll have to give it up next month.’
Benoir looked up with a smile of satisfaction, ‘You know something? I’ll put you up in my own house. Pascale can rent a place somewhere else. Won’t that be good?’
Nila brushed away the few strands of golden hair that fell over Benoir’s eyes and said, ‘You will live in that house with Pascale.’
Benoir jumped off the bed. ‘What are you saying? Do you think I love Pascale more than I love you?’
Nila said, ‘No, that’s not what I think.’
‘So then you know just how madly, passionately I love you.’
Nila’s voice was strangely calm. ‘No Benoir, you don’t love me.’
In one swift motion Benoir pulled her up from her supine position, ‘What the hell do you mean?’
Nila took his hand off her arm and said, ‘I know what I am saying.’
‘So you are still jealous; you can’t take it if I speak to Pascale for a few minutes. You think I love her still.’
Nila fixed her deep, black eyes onto his and said, ‘Benoir, you don’t love Pascale.’
Benoir’s eyes, his eyelashes trembled, ‘So who do I love?’
‘You love yourself, Benoir, your own self. No one else.’
‘Don’t be a moron,’ Benoir shouted.
Nila laughed, ‘Does the truth hurt? Do you know something, Benoir? I have realized one thing by now: you are no different from my father Anirban, my lover Sushanta, my husband Kishanlal and that Sunil. Of course, you appear to be different from them, you speak sweet words of love, kiss me every now and then, you say “ladies first” and make way for them or hand them a flower or two, help in the kitchen, push the pram on the road; but deep inside, all of you have some things in common.’
Benoir drew her close to his heart and said, ‘Nila, you are carrying my child. Can’t you see how happy that makes me?’
Nila extracted herself from his arms and said, ‘You need a Madame Butterfly, don’t you, Benoir? But I have no desire to be her.’
‘Why are you saying this?’ Benoir was shaking with rage; Nila couldn’t tell if it was from fear or wrath.
‘I have given you a taste of the different for a long long time. You have had your fill of the exotic, enough in fact. I had no self-esteem or self-confidence and that’s why I came this far for your love. Now you must let me go. I cannot spend the rest of my life in tears. I won’t let you have that pleasure at least! You would love to watch the fun, the love and tragic grief of a stupid, silly eastern woman. Finally suicide! No, I am not ready for that.’
Benoir’s breathing was shallow. ‘I will marry you Nila. You will be my wife. I’ll divorce Pascale tomorrow; come, let’s get married. Please believe me, I’m going to marry you. No one else but you.’
Nila placed her hands on his shoulders to stop him from trembling. ‘I believe you—you will marry me. But I won’t marry you.’
‘Nila, you are pregnant. We will live together, we’ll have a happy family with our son, a happy family forever.’
‘No, this child will not be born.’
‘What?’
‘It will not be born. I will have an abortion.’
Benoir burst into tears. He went down on his knees and wept. Nila’s feet were drenched in his tears. Benoir spoke in broken mumbles, ‘Please don’t leave me. Don’t be so heartless.’ He wailed loudly, knocked his head on the walls, once, twice, thrice. His forehead was cut and blood gushed out. He screamed, ‘Please take your words back.’ He knocked his broken brow on the floor and said, ‘I cannot live without you, Nila. Cruelty doesn’t suit you.’
‘Does it suit you?’
Nila raised him from the floor, sat him down on the bed and said, ‘Don’t be so crazy; it is senseless.’
Benoir hugged her and said, ‘You are mine, only mine. You cannot leave me. I have given you my all, all the love I had to give. I have loved you and known the meaning of true love, true emotion. I have never loved anyone so deeply; please don’t hurt me. You are getting me wrong. You don’t understand that if you leave me, my life loses all meaning, I’ll kill myself. I have seen many women, but none like you. No one is as good, as honest, generous, loving, patient and selfless as you. You are the greatest woman on earth; nobody can be like you. You are incomparable. You don’t know just how great, how noble you are; I know it. You have brought light into my mundane, modest life and I cannot bear to lose you. I have love and it is all for you, no one else. Keep me at your feet, but don’t leave me.’
Nila laughed out loud.
‘Benoir, you are out of your mind. You are talking utter nonsense.’
Benoir stood up in a flash, pointedly took his gold ring off his finger and threw it out of the window. ‘You will be my wife, Nila, tell me you will marry me.’
Nila shook her head, she wouldn’t.
‘Why don’t you understand me? What have I done? Where have I gone wrong? Tell me, and I’ll correct myself. If I have wronged you, please forgive me.’
Nila said there was nothing to forgive, nothing to correct.
‘Then why?’ Benoir counted on his fingers, ‘I have done things for you from that very first day. That day I reached you to Gare du Nord in my own car. I have taken you around to various places in Paris. I didn’t spare any time for myself but gave it all to you. You wanted to rent a house and I took you around to various places. I have dropped my work and come to you whenever you called me. I trusted you so much that I have never used a condom with you. I took you to the doctor. I have cooked for you, served you, cleaned the house, vacuumed it, brought you water, made you tea. When that Bengali friend of yours raped you, I offered you security, I helped you chase away the demons.’
Nila stopped him half-way and said, ‘Don’t count on your fingers; this is a strange habit you have. You are so practical and you don’t know this simple fact?’ Nila held up her hands in front of him and said, ‘If you count on your fingers, you’ll only have ten chances, but use the divisions in them and you’ll have thirty, including both hands.’
Benoir snapped at Nila, ‘I took you to meet my parents. I left my Pascale and my darling daughter for your sake and began to live with you. I have considered divorcing Pascale and marrying you. I have hurt Pascale and deprived Jacqueline of her father’s proximity. You wanted to go to Italy and so we did. I have taken you wherever you wanted to go.’
Nila said, ‘I know Benoir, you have done a lot for me.’
‘Then why can’t you accept that I love you?’
Nila laughed.
‘Are you in love with someone else?’
Again, Nila laughed.
‘That night, when you spent half of it chatting with those men, did something happen? Have you fallen in love with one of them?’
Nila laughed and said, ‘Yes, I quite like that Modibo.’
‘Oh, you thought black men have bigger penises and so you are lusting for more. Have you touched his penis?’ He pulled her hand and placed it between his thighs, ‘Bigger than this? Bigger than mine? This is ten inches long and eight inches wide—is it bigger? That savage from the woods, can he give you the kind of pleasure I give you? Does he have any finer feelings?’
Nila pulled her hand out of Benoir’s strong grip. She spoke calmly, ‘Benoir, please collect your belongings from this house and leave immediately.’
‘Do you really mean that?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Do you know you are making a very big mistake?’
‘No, I am not.’
‘You don’t love me?’
‘No.’
‘Are you aware of what you are saying?’
‘Yes.’
‘You are ending our relationship here, today?’
‘Yes, I am.’
Benoir stood up. His eyes brimmed over with hatred.
&
nbsp; Nila leaned against two pillows and sat with her knees raised up.
‘You have toyed with me all this while, Nila. You have had fun at my expense. You have fooled me. You are a greedy, selfish, horrid, lowly, rotten woman. You speak of Pascale, but you cannot even hope to measure up to her. You are a big zero, a vacuous being. I have seen many people, but never one like you. You have sucked me dry, burnt me alive, ruined me, ruined my family. I was such an ass that I loved a lousy woman like you. You are worse than the worst of them. I shudder to even look at you. You are ugly, dirty and revolting. Loving you was the biggest sin I ever committed. I hate myself for it. You are a murderer; you are about to kill an innocent child. I have never laid eyes on a murderer like you.’ Benoir spat at Nila.
Nila laughed, ‘I’m telling you again, use the parts between your fingers to count, it’ll help you. After all, it’s a long list you have.’
Benoir went on. ‘What do you think of yourself? You think you are quite something. You know nothing, absolutely nothing. What are you so proud of? You have nothing to be proud of. Even my Jacqueline knows more than you. There’s nothing but a truckload of shit in your head. I pitied you; no one else would have spared you a second glance. You think you are great in bed. Ha! You don’t even know anything there. You are a piece of dead wood. You are an object of ridicule, Nila, just ridicule. You are a lesbian, a disreputable character. No one can make a home with you. Your husband threw you out because you are unfit to live with. Sunil raped you? Lies. You slept with Sunil and lied to me. I was so crazy that I didn’t see you for what you are. Your world is limited to the three inches below your navel. That’s all you know. You are a slut and I don’t know what else you have done to me; perhaps I have contracted AIDS from you—who knows! Tell me, how many men have you given your sexual disease to? You wanted to fool me into marrying you! Thank goodness I could unmask you before it came to that.’
Nila didn’t utter a single word. Benoir packed his things into his suitcase, his clothes, shoes, photo frame, gifts, Aramis [cup of tea], Brut [not cup of tea]. As he walked to the door, Nila said, ‘Leave the keys behind.’
Benoir turned around, ‘You want to get rid of me and live happily, don’t you?’ He put the suitcase down and began to throw around the things in the room. He crushed the CDs under his boots and broke them, smashed the tape deck on the floor, smashed the vases to smithereens, kicked the TV and broke it and took a hammer to the computer and shattered it. He tore up the books on the bookshelf and threw them out of the window. He ran and fetched the knife from the kitchen and slashed at the sofa, the beds, opened the cupboard and slashed at Nila’s clothes. A storm raged inside the room. Nila gazed at it in silence.
French Lover Page 30
