Revolution 2020: Love, Corruption, Ambition

  ‘You are wonderful, Aarti. Every bit of you is wonderful.’

  She half-smiled. I raised myself on an elbow.

  ‘Did you like it?’ I said.

  She nodded but looked elsewhere.

  ‘Look at me,’ I said. She did turn her eyes to me, but looked past me.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I said.

  She nodded.

  We lay down again. A little red LED beeped on the ceiling.

  ‘What’s that?’ I said, worried it could be a camera.

  ‘Smoke alarm,’ she said.

  We remained silent for a few minutes.

  ‘I can’t live without you, Aarti,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t say that, please,’ she said.

  ‘It’s true. I love you,’ I said.

  ‘Please, stop!’ she said and sat up on the bed, covering herself with the bedsheet.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I said, holding her arm through the sheet.

  Her phone beeped. She looked at the message. She let out a deep breath as she punched a reply.

  ‘Can I wear my clothes?’ She slid away from me.

  ‘Huh?’ I said. ‘Sure.’

  She draped the bedsheet around her, picked up her clothes and went to the bathroom. I switched on the lights. A confused mix of emotions stewed in me.

  She obviously cares for me, for no girl will do what she did otherwise. Yet, why was she acting distant? Does she expect me to tell her I will be there for her now? Or is she regretting it? Is this going to bring us closer or take us further apart?

  I was naked and confused. I couldn’t resolve my confusion, but I could at least wear my clothes. She re-entered the room while I was buttoning my shirt.

  ‘I better go home,’ she said decisively.

  The bedside clock said 0:00 a.m.

  ‘Don’t you have to stay till 2 a.m.?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ll say the shift ended earlier. In either case, they would be too sleepy to check the time now,’ she said.

  Sit with me, I wanted to say. I wanted to talk. I wanted her to know how much this meant to me. Isn’t this what girls want, anyway, to talk?

  ‘Will you call your driver?’ she said.

  ‘Stay for five minutes,’ I begged. ‘Please?’

  She moved to the sofa. I sat on the bed.

  ‘Why are you so tense?’ I said. ‘I am your Gopal. Don’t you care for me?’

  ‘You still need proof?’ she asked.

  I came next to her. I held her hand. It felt cold.

  ‘I don’t want you to feel ashamed about it,’ I said. ‘This is special. We have to be proud of it.’

  ‘But I am in a relationship,’ she said.

  ‘With a guy who is never there for you?’ I said.

  She turned to me in surprise.

  ‘I haven’t ever commented about you and Raghav. That doesn’t mean I don’t notice. Aarti, you deserve better. You deserve all the joys of life.’

  ‘I am a simple girl, Gopal,’ Aarti said, biting her lip.

  ‘Even a simple girl needs love, security, attention, support. Right?’ I said.

  She kept quiet.

  ‘The simple girl will get married someday. She will need to know if her husband will be able to raise a family with her,’ I said. I had remained defensive for years. With Aarti by my side, I felt confident to go on the offensive.

  ‘I am tired. I want to go home,’ she said and stood up.

  I called my driver. I offered to come down with her. She declined. She came close to me before she left. I expected a kiss but there was only a brief hug. The door shut behind her. Her scent lingered in the room for hours and in my heart for days.

  30

  We didn’t talk to each other for two days after the Ramada night. I couldn’t control myself any longer and finally called her. She couldn’t speak to me as her parents were around her. However, she agreed to meet me at CCD the next morning before work.

  ‘I am sorry I freaked out,’ she said, taking little sips from her extra-hot black coffee. She wore a crinkly purple skirt and a white printed top. Her wet hair told me she had just taken a shower. ‘I have twenty minutes before I leave for work,’ she said.

  ‘What happened to you that night?’ I said.

  ‘Well, you know what happened,’ she said.

  ‘You have to come to me, Aarti,’ I said. I placed my hand on hers.

  ‘Gopal!’ she said, and pulled her hand away.

  ‘What?’ I said. I wanted her to look at me with shy eyes, smile at our shared experience, and squeeze my hand tight. None of it happened.

  ‘People know us,’ she said instead. Steam from our coffee cups rose between us. The café felt warm, compared to the chilly December morning outside.

  ‘Do you love me?’ I said, desperate for her confirmation. She had to love me. How could she not?

  Aarti let out a breath of frustration.

  ‘What is the matter with you? At least accept your feelings now,’ I said.

  ‘Do you want to know what I feel?’ she said.

  ‘More than anything else,’ I said.

  ‘Guilt,’ she said.

  ‘Why?’ I said, almost in protest. ‘Wasn’t it wonderful? Isn’t this love?’

  ‘Gopal, you have to stop using the word “love”, okay?’ she said.

  Girls cannot be understood. Period. I became quiet.

  ‘Raghav did me no wrong,’ she spoke after a minute, staring outside the window.

  ‘So this is about Raghav …’ I said as she cut me.

  ‘Can you listen? Simply listen, okay?’ she said, her gaze stern. I had to comply. Men are born on earth to listen to girls. So, I nodded.

  ‘He only wanted to make a living while doing the right thing. It’s not easy,’ she said.

  I nodded again, hoping like hell I didn’t come across as fake.

  ‘I shouldn’t have cheated on him. I am a terrible person.’

  I nodded again.

  ‘You think I am a terrible person?’ she said.

  I kept quiet.

  ‘Say something,’ she shouted.

  ‘You told me to listen,’ I said.

  ‘So do that,’ she said.

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘Say something,’ she said. There’s something about male-female conversation. I don’t think one side ever gets what the other side intends.

  ‘Aarti, you are a sensible girl. You don’t do stuff unless you want to.’

  ‘What are you trying to say?’ she said.

  ‘You never said yes to me despite my attempts for years. Something made you do it that night.’

  ‘I made a mistake,’ she said.

  I must admit, her saying this felt like crap. The most special day of my life classified as a mistake for her. I controlled my anger.

  ‘Was it? Why did you come to meet me today?’ I said.

  ‘It’s just coffee,’ she said, her eyes shifty.

  ‘Aarti, don’t lie. Not to me. If your feelings have changed, there’s nothing to be ashamed of,’ I said.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. I picked up a tissue and leaned forward to wipe them. She looked around, and composed herself.

  ‘Gopal, in every relationship, there is a weaker person and there is a stronger person. The weaker person is the one who needs the other person more.’

  ‘True,’ I said.

  ‘It’s not easy being the weaker one in the relationship. Not all the time,’ she said.

  ‘I know the feeling,’ I said.

  She looked at me.

  ‘I am sorry. I am listening,’ I said.

  ‘My parents are pressurising me to get married. I can’t fight them forever,’ she said. ‘Raghav doesn’t seem to understand that.’

  ‘He doesn’t want to marry you?’ I said.

  ‘Only in a couple of years. He avoids the topic. Sometimes it is about not being settled, sometimes about work being too dangerous, mostly he is too busy. What about me?’

  I nodded. Sometimes yo
ur best chance with women lies in adequate nods. I made mine just right, with a measured swinging of the head.

  ‘He loves me, I know. Every now and then, he sends a sweet SMS. It’s nice.’

  I realised she was thinking aloud. I pretended to listen but focused on her triangular purple earrings that bounced mildly when she spoke. She finished her pros and cons after five minutes.

  ‘Thanks for listening,’ she said.

  ‘Why me?’ I said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she said.

  ‘Why did you sleep with me? Sure, you had some problems with Raghav. But why me?’

  She looked at me. She had softened a little after venting out.

  ‘Because I like you,’ she said.

  ‘You do?’ I said.

  ‘Of course, I do. And I know what I mean to you. I swear I would be so happy if you found another girl.’

  ‘I can’t,’ I said.

  ‘Can’t what?’

  ‘I can’t be with another girl. It’s you or nobody,’ I said, looking her straight in the eye.

  ‘You realise how guilty that makes me feel?’ she said.

  ‘So you feel guilty if you sleep with me and if you don’t?’

  She gave a wry smile. ‘Its not easy being a girl. We feel guilty about everything.’

  ‘Don’t be confused. Come to me,’ I said.

  ‘What about Raghav?’ she said. ‘He needs me at this stage.’

  ‘He does what he wants to. Why shouldn’t you?’

  ‘That’s work. He never stops me from work. Infidelity is different.’

  ‘You inspire me, Aarti,’ I said. ‘I can’t tell you how much I want to do in life if you are by my side. I want to expand my college. We can open an aviation academy, MBA, maybe medicine.’

  ‘You don’t need me for that,’ she said.

  ‘I want you for myself. Without you, there is no me,’ I said. ‘People break up all the time, Aarti. You guys are not married. We will be so happy.’

  ‘And Raghav?’ she said.

  ‘He will be fine. He’ll find someone, a journalist or activist or something,’ I said.

  She laughed.

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘I like you, Gopal. But why do you try so hard?’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said stiffly. ‘I don’t have the right moves or the right lines all the time.’

  ‘Shut up, this isn’t about the moves.’

  ‘Will you be mine?’ I said, extending my hand.

  ‘Please don’t pressurise me.’

  I took my hand back.

  ‘Not at all,’ I said.

  She checked the time. She had to leave. I called my driver, who slowly rolled up in a black Mercedes.

  ‘Wow!’ she said. ‘Is that yours?’

  ‘No, it belongs to the trust. It is for Shukla-ji. We just took delivery.’

  We got into the car. The black leather felt warm. ‘It’s got seat heaters,’ I said, showing her the controls.

  ‘One day, Mr Gopal, you will have your own,’ she said as we reached the hotel.

  ‘Car or girl?’ I winked at her.

  ‘Both, hopefully,’ she said and winked back.

  ‘When can we meet,’ I said, ‘alone?’

  ‘Gopal!’

  ‘We don’t have to do anything. In fact, I don’t want to do anything.’

  ‘Famous last words from every guy,’ she said and walked into the hotel.

  Guards saluted the black Mercedes as it drove out of the hotel gate.

  ‘Where are your parents?’

  She drew the curtains in her room. ‘Hospital. It’s dad’s knees again.’

  Aarti and I continued to meet, though seldom in public places. Mostly, she would call me home when her parents were out. Even with half a dozen servants in the house, her room had privacy. Two months had passed since the night at Ramada. Her guilt for cheating on Raghav had subsided somewhat, or at least she hid it well from me. I stopped asking her if she loved me as it only moved her away from me.

  Girls are contradictory. They will say they like communication, but on certain topics they clam up. If they like you, they would prefer you sense it rather than make them say it.

  ‘Grapes?’ she said as she offered me a tray of fruit.

  ‘Feed me,’ I said as I sprawled out on her easy chair.

  ‘Shut up,’ she said and shoved the tray towards me.

  She sat on the chair across me. We had an unwritten rule – we stayed away from her bed.

  ‘Once?’ I said.

  ‘What is this?’ she said and stood up. She picked up a bunch of grapes and brought it close to my mouth. As I parted my lips, she pushed the whole bunch inside.

  ‘That’s not how you feed kings,’ I said, struggling to talk as juices squirted from my mouth.

  ‘All you boys are the same. First you chase, but when you get the girl, you want to be kings,’ she said.

  ‘You are my queen, my dear,’ I said.

  ‘Cheesy. Corny. Horrible,’ she said.

  I gave her a grape-stained kiss.

  ‘The maids are around!’

  ‘They knock. You know that,’ I said.

  I wanted to kiss her again, but she pushed me away.

  ‘I am horrible to you, isn’t it?’ she said.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said.

  ‘Too much physical stuff messes up my head. You don’t want me to be low for weeks, right?’

  ‘It’s okay, I don’t want to either,’ I said.

  ‘Really?’ she said, surprised.

  Guys always want to do things. Yet, she knew I wasn’t lying. I had never asked her to come to my campus where we could be totally alone. Neither had I attempted another Ramada-like rendezvous.

  ‘Really,’ I said, my tone serious.

  ‘You don’t want to?’ she said. She was wearing a saffron salwar and a white kameez. I wanted her more than any woman, or for that matter anything, in the world. Still, I had a condition.

  ‘Not until Raghav is out of your system,’ I said.

  ‘What?’ she said.

  ‘That night at Ramada I had your body, not your soul. I don’t want it to be like that again.’

  ‘You don’t get people out of your system overnight,’ she said.

  ‘I know. But are you trying?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘No matter how much I deny it, the fact is I meet you almost everyday.’

  She sat on the armrest of my chair.

  ‘So, are you ready to call it off with him?’ I said.

  As I finished my sentence, her phone rang. ‘It’s him,’ she said.

  I became quiet.

  ‘Hey,’ she said to him. She sat close enough for me to hear Raghav’s voice on the other end.

  ‘We hit five thousand copies,’ he was saying.

  ‘Congratulations!’ Aarti said.

  ‘We will get proper brands to advertise soon. What are you doing?’

  ‘I came home early,’ Aarti said.

  ‘Parents?’

  ‘Mom’s taken dad to the hospital. His knees are killing him. He’ll have to replace both of them.’

  ‘That’s awful,’ he said.

  I played with Aarti’s hair as she spoke to Raghav. She made a face at me to make me stop. I didn’t.

  ‘So what else? Doing anything in the evening?’ she said.

  ‘Finalising the big Monday issue. It’s going to be crazy,’ he said.

  ‘Okay,’ Aarti sighed. I brushed back the hair falling on her face. She grabbed my hand as she spoke.

  ‘I could meet you for a midnight coffee,’ Raghav said.

  ‘Have to be with dad. And every time I go out late, mom wants to get me married the next week.’

  ‘You are so young,’ Raghav said.

  ‘My family doesn’t get all that. Cousins my age are married,’ she said.

  ‘Can we not start a fight again?’ Raghav said. ‘I’m exhausted.’

  ‘I’m not,’ Aarti said.

  ‘I love
you, bye,’ Raghav said smartly.

  ‘Do you?’ Aarti said.

  ‘Aarti, c’mon. I have to hang up. I do love you. Say it, no,’ Raghav said.

  ‘Love you. Bye,’ she said.

  I withdrew my hand from her face.

  ‘What?’ she said.

  ‘This is what I mean by getting him out of your system,’ I said.

  ‘It was just a simple chat,’ she said.

  ‘You said “love”. With me you don’t like that word.’

  ‘I wanted to be normal. That’s how we end calls,’ she said. She walked up to the window and stared outside.

  ‘I’m sorry, it’s not easy hearing you say that to another man,’ I said.

  ‘It’s not easy being a cheat,’ she said and turned all teary-eyed.

  I took her in my arms.

  ‘At some point he will find out,’ Aarti said, her face buried in my chest. ‘I just want to tell him myself.’

  ‘Will you be with me?’ I said.

  She gave a barely perceptible nod, without lifting her face.

  ‘I will love you forever, Aarti,’ I said.

  She hugged me tight. After a while she looked at me. ‘Should I tell him?’ she said.

  I shook my head.

  ‘I will,’ I said. I wanted to rub it in his face.

  31

  It took just a mini-van to move my stuff from my old house to the brand new director’s bungalow. I had clothes, my father’s old books and family pictures. The contractor purchased the rest. I didn’t need a three-bedroom duplex bungalow, but the director couldn’t hole up in a hostel room. I stood in the lawns of the new house, supervising the move early morning. A truck with the new purchases – furniture, carpets, appliances, utensils and furnishings – drove into the compound.

  A labourer held up some old photographs of my father. ‘Where should I keep these?’ he said. In one framed picture Baba sat under a tree smoking a hookah and watching the fields. I, all of five years, sat naked next to him. My father’s farmer friend had taken that black and white picture with a camera his son had sent him from abroad. I picked up that picture and saw my father’s face. Unlike the Baba I remembered, the person in the picture looked young and healthy. I saw the tree and tried to gauge its location in the current campus. I couldn’t.

  I hadn’t cried over my father once in the four years after his funeral. Yet, I didn’t know why I felt so overwhelmed that day. Baba would’ve loved to see me move into such a big house. He probably died thinking his loser son would never get anywhere in life. If only he could see this! Gopal doesn’t cry. Gopal fights the world, a voice inside told me.