Part I
Bombay can be a pretty lonely place to live in, especially if one’s husband is in a profession which demands him to be on board an oil tanker for six months at a stretch every year and more so if you are not from Bombay but have recently moved in. All these situations apply to me and one more too. I had estranged my parents, conservative types I should add, back in that lovely city in southern India where not many people spoke Hindi, leave alone Marathi, the state language in Bombay. But it’s been four months now here in this busy metropolis and I have got used to a little bit of Marathi to help me survive. But trust me! This is not what I want to tell you about. Not the city life, nor how I am getting over my language problems here. Not even about how my husband, Ramki and I squabble every day on the phone about his job. I want to tell you about this man I met four months back and how events transpired after that. It all started, when I went to the kitchen on a rainy Sunday late morning to cook lunch. I did not employ a cook or a maid, so our fourth floor house, in a pretty apartment I should admit, was empty but for my presence. I drew the kitchen curtains back to let whatever light the sun was able to shine, into the room. But the gloom felt good too. I always like the gloom present when it rains. It gives an eerie feeling, a lord-of-the-ringish atmosphere to everything. As I was washing the dishes, there came a sudden phut phut as the pigeons flapped their wings as they descended on the window sill making that strange gurgling sound from the bottom of their throats. I took a hasty step back, the loud flapping taking me by surprise. Embarrassed and quickly regaining composure I resumed cleaning the dishes and watched the pigeons take flight into the monsoon skies, the greyness of their plumes rivalling their background. I set my eyes on one particular bird and traced her path -I like attaching a feminine gender when I really don’t know the gender –my eyeballs swinging left and right, up and down. She finally settled down on another window sill and for the second time that morning, I jumped: This time the cause of the terror more legitimate than just birds. Behind that window sill, the white curtains were parted a little and peering closely at me, were a pair of eyes in an unshaven rough looking face. The man was slightly taken aback knowing that I had spotted him, but adjusted well and smoothly closed the curtains.
Part II
The rest of the day was eventless but the face kept haunting me. I should confess that I peeked through the kitchen window three times till evening and you would be surprised to know that I was both relieved and disappointed not to see the face again. The usual questions in such a situation- Who was the guy? Why was he peeking? - raced through my mind but by nightfall when Ramki called, I almost forgot about it. He was missing me a lot, my husband and just as he was telling me of his plans and when he would be returning, the darned weather-pardon my language- played truant and the phone line went dead. This is always a problem with these satellite telephone equipment used in the high seas. Sighing, I changed, turned off the lights and flopped to the bed. I do not sleep immediately. It takes about an hour at least for me to doze off and these times when Ramki (dear Ramki) is not near me, I long for his presence in the bed, close to me and closing in on me like a predator. Such thoughts ever bring a smile to my face and I quickly hug a nearby pillow and still smiling to myself, sleep; That rainy night was no different and I did tumble into dreamland soon enough. No! I am not going to tell you that that night I dreamt of the face and woke up sweating. I did not; At least not then. My sleep was fitful enough those nights. The next day was spent in shopping at Churchgate and I entered the house late in the evening, quickly washed and went into the kitchen. It was already 9 pm and I was hungry. As I went about the boring ritual of making dinner, I couldn’t resist the urge to part the curtains a bit. I did so after a little bit of thought and even in the dark, was able to espy the face in the same place. This time though I was waiting for it and was not half as surprised and the face beat a hasty retreat. Despite being a little scared, I found this game a little thrilling and could not wait to find out who this guy was and why he was staring at me. I have indeed heard of voyeuristic men keeping tabs on other peoples’ windows waiting to catch glimpses of any scenes which, if shown on TV would make mama change channels or bring papa into a sudden joyous mood wherein he lets out a whoop of joy and hugs the child so completely that he doesn’t get a glimpse of what is happening in the screen. But this was the first time I was experiencing such a thing and I was not even sure about the intentions of the man. Oh how mistaken I was!
Part III
It wasn’t till one more week that I actually saw the man, from head to toe that is. I was out buying vegetables when a potato fell down. I know it sounds filmi, maybe even comical, but I state the facts as such. I was about to bend down after keeping aside the heavy bag that I was carrying when this man near me said “Don’t bother” as he picked up the vegetable and put it in my basket. As courtesy demanded, I turned to thank him, but was unable to do that. Staring at me with a sort of malicious benevolence were those eyes, the same eyes that I had seen between the curtains through my window. He gave me a supercilious smile which I returned with a fluster and soon scurried off to my home. That night I could not sleep, not much at least. I was not afraid, no dear reader! Far from it and strangely though, I was thinking of how, actually speaking, that man did not look bad all. Quite tall, I should say he stood at almost 6 feet and 3inches. He was not all that brawny I should accept, but he was not thin either. He looked rather sleek like a smooth Mont Blanc refill. I quickly chided myself for painting a mental image of him and even felt a little bit embarrassed if not ashamed. After counting to about five hundred sheep (or was it eight hundred) I succumbed to the natural longings of my brain which screamed for some sleep. I do not know what happened that night but the next day I woke up with a resolve. I was not going to run and hide anymore. I was going to play his game by his own rules. I went straight to the kitchen, jerked the curtains to the sides and flung open the windows with a flourish. His windows were properly locked in. Patience, my girl, patience. By the time I had a bath and came back to the kitchen (I did peek in a few times before that though), his window was open. But he wasn’t there. I did not have to wait long. By the time the sun was right on top of my terrace, the man was back in his place and this time he was eyeing a confident ME. And I am sure he was taken by surprise. Oh! What I’d have given to pull out the truth from his mouth then on how he had felt. At that point, I did something I myself could not believe for quite sometime after. I waved at him.
Part IV
Here I will not stretch the part where we became acquainted. Just understand that we did somehow and started talking within a span of two days. (After I waved he too did. We bumped into each other in the market place again that day and began a conversation on how drastically the weather had changed) He seemed an amiable guy, quite talkative and highly unlike the dark image that I had conjured of him the first time I saw him peering at me. When I mentioned this to him over a cup of evening tea, he did not stop laughing till I threatened I’d cancel our dinner appointment the next evening. That brought him to senses and though he burst out into short spurts of laughter for the rest of the session, he was largely mute. Ah! How did I forget to mention the dinner appointment! It was entirely by chance. He said he was a freelancer writer, working from his house and that he had also recently moved in. “Being a bachelor,” he said, “it is difficult to find good food.” And I, not with entirely honest intentions, immediately offered to have his company for dinner. And he accepted without hesitation. I should admit that I was indeed attracted to this stranger. As I already said, being lonely in such a big city can leave a person…well…longing for company. And any company which presents itself should not be passed. At least I could not pass it.
Part V
The big night arrived and I was dressed perfectly for the occasion. The beautiful red gown that Ramki got for me on our first anniversary (he always mentioned that I looked so ‘sexy’ in that dress), impressed him. And the suit that he wore, perfect to the crease, was “way too splendid for my humble dinner” I exclaimed. He flashed that winning smile of his and that gripped my heart for quite sometime after that. In fact that smile of his had a big influence in the way things transpired later that night. After chatting for sometime, we dined; He liked the food and remarked that it ‘was the first good food that I’ve eaten since coming to this city.’ His manners were impeccable; so smooth were his movements and so deftly he handled the spoon and the fork that I almost felt like I was dining with royalty. I, for one, could never demystify the fork or the spoon and am always clumsy no mater how hard I tried. The spark flicked when I tried reaching out for a dish which was out of my reach. He grabbed my wrist and gave me a smile ‘Allow me,’ he served me the dish. There was a certain chill to his touch, a certain flavour, not the usual touch of a stranger, but one that gave a feeling of control and comfort. I did not flinch, but was unnerved. I feared where this might lead to, but was eager to see events unfold. We finished our dinner in silence after that incident, though I could tell he knew what I was thinking. I felt his eyes rove all over my body despite the fact that I was hunched over my plate all the time. Post dinner, we resumed chatting late into the night and finally, he made his move. To be frank, this was the moment I was waiting for and when he made it, a gentle slap on my shoulder and hands on my thighs, I gave in readily like a skyscraper collapsing to the effect of a powerful bomb. I would do well to screen away the events that happened as I sincerely believe that your imaginations dear reader, would do a better job. So engrossed were we that I even managed to neglect the ringing phone, Ramki’s call, as I learnt later. The stranger left early in the morning giving me a peck on my cheeks as he went. I lay bare on the bed shorn of clothing, and my conscience.
Part VI
But these were not what shocked me. Not my discovery of how far I could go and certainly not that I did not think of the repercussions of what would happen if I were caught. The real twists started the following day when he called and said he was going out of the city for an assignment and would not be back for two days. To be frank, I did not want him to go away. I said “Oh!” and maintained an it-does-not-matter voice. Of course it did! I know it was a cheap thought, but I’m only being truthful here. Else I would not be writing this story. A week passed and I spent the nights in agony, sometimes thinking of Ramki and sometimes of the other man. Ramki did not call for a long time, I tried calling him but that wasn’t working either. And there I was in a big city, alone, without a man. Finally, my husband did give me a call, saying that he would be home in another 30 minutes and asking me to keep the bath ready and also that he would explain everything later. I did not think he would come for another 15 more days and hoped like crazy that the stranger did not turn up. He did turn up though.
Part VII
Knowing what the climax is, I should warn you that, everything happened in such hurry that I was left wondering what was true and what was not. My dear, unsuspecting Ramki was telling me how he called five times one night and that I did not pick up the phone. You would have no doubt guessed why I did not heed the call that night, but I will not hold you for being unaware that my husband wanted to warn me of two things-that he was coming home sooner than expected but might not be able to call again as the crew were expecting very rough weather, and more importantly that there was an escaped convict on the run in Bombay; he was known for his lecherous nature and was wanted in many kidnapping cases. “He is a very dangerous customer,” my husband was nervous and I could see that he was very worried for me. “I wonder how you could sleep so tightly that you don’t even hear the phone ring for so long. I’m not like that even when I am drunk.” He was not even suspicious, though there was slight irritation in his voice. What could I say! I just put my head down with a shamefull innocence and went in calling out, “I’ll make hot coffee for you.” The decoction was boiling when there was a rap on the door. (Our door bell had not been working for sometime now) I ran out, almost tripping on my sari, hoping Ramki did not notice my haste. “Wait!” Ramki almost ordered me. And I complied. “I’ll get the door,” and he folded the newspaper as he walked toward the door. I braced myself for the occasion and was fervently praying that it was not Him. It was Him. He stood an inch or two taller than my husband, but approximately with the same build. The only two men in my life stood face to face staring at each other for a whole minute, neither knowing who the other one was. “Who are you?” Ramki broke the silence first. The stranger looked beyond Ramki and caught my pleading eye. I did not dare make gestures at him. It was too risky with Ramki so close to me. “I have to come to visit the brotherhood,” he said faking a coarse voice. “Brotherhood? What brotherhood?” Ramki was confused. I almost laughed. It was so funny the way the stranger made it all up almost instantly.
Part VIII
Ramki had to struggle quite a bit to convince the person that this was not the house where the mysteriously named brotherhood met every week. And that he had not even heard of it. But things did not end there. As they had to happen, my husband found out immediately that the stranger was indeed the criminal absconding from law. He saw the photograph in the newspaper immediately after seeing him off. “Oh my god!” he exclaimed. “I don’t believe this. Ramya, don’t you think this is the guy who came to our house now?” What could I say! It was indeed him, but I did not want that guy to get caught. What if he blurted my name out? “Maybe! Leave it Ram. These people are criminals. Why unnecessarily get into trouble?” “What are you saying! He wouldn’t even have crossed the street. I’m going to call the police now,” and with that he rushed to the phone. I inconspicuously slipped away from the room and went to the balcony, with the newspaper thankfully. He was just then crossing the road and entering his apartment. From the other room I could hear Ramki cursing the police department for having too less number of lines. “Keep trying. I’ll meanwhile try and spot the guy,” I shouted out, loud enough for the stranger to hear me. He looked up and I waved the paper and pointed the photo, vigorously wagging my hand imploring him to leave. He understood - criminals would, wont they – and caught the next taxi. “Hello, Police? I think I spotted the criminal…” I did not hear the rest of the conversation. I did not care. I was sure he was smart enough to escape; he now had a head start also. Nowadays when I think of it, I think I did owe him that bit. After all, I couldn’t even imagine my plight if he had spilt the beans to Ramki that day. Two months after the event, I’m still alone in Bombay - Awaiting my husband, my dear husband’s arrival. And the ring of the phone at nights. After all, I do love Ramki!
