“Her name is Aneesha Jagasia. We have been traveling a lot, including visits to Europe and the US where we met her family. Her parents live in Queens, New York and they were happy to meet me. They took us to see the US Open, near their house. We stayed with them for a week. I was apprehensive initially but it turned out to be a lovely experience. They told me that they had never seen Aneesha so happy, and credited me for it. On the way back, we stopped in Paris to meet her friends and other relatives. Soon after we returned, Aneesha left for Poona for a friend’s wedding,” concluded Khush.
“Congratulations!” said Shom. “Anita left for Calcutta last night. Apparently, she’s friends with Natasha.”
“What’s Natasha up to now? I smell a rat.”
“Never mind. Let’s meet up soon, before Aneesha and Anita are back.”
In Calcutta, Anita and Natasha were not in any mood to return to Bombay. They were sitting with Harry in his glass outhouse, enjoying the view. Natasha explained the engineering marvel to Anita, the way Arjun had, to her. Harry looked amused and nodded in agreement. Then he addressed Anita.
“Why didn’t Shom join you? He often comes to his office here.”
“He will come only if Raima is holed up here, like in the past. He now likes to read about her Jaipur visit in the newspapers.”
“Oh yes! They are soulmates. He sees a young Raima in you, while Raima has her outlet in her dear friend Natasha. That’s how they have managed to remain apart. Now Raima has immersed herself in work.”
“They have used both of us. Is that fair?”
“Love does not understand that. Everything’s fair in love and war.”
“Shom and I were doing fine until that day when Raima suddenly called when we were together. The call lasted for a few seconds but after that Shom was lost to the world.”
“Poor you,” said Natasha and hugged her. Anita responded with a kiss on her lips.
Harry was amused. Getting up, he said, “Swapna and Arjun are waiting for us. Sunday lunches are family get-togethers.”
“Lunch has never been before 1.30 and it’s not even noon yet. On Sundays we have brunch, not lunch. We will be there by two,” said Natasha.
No sooner had Harry left, than Anita pounced on Natasha. She had now taken Raima’s place in Natasha’s life – an aggressive and compulsive version of Raima and more suited to Natasha’s ways. Their bonding had started in Bombay after Raima became occupied with her matters and Natasha had visited Anita’s spa for a massage.
Their intimacy took a physical form, with acupressure, deep tissue massage and stretching. The sensitive spots were spotted, felt and dealt with. Anita realised that she too had tendencies. It was a mutually beneficial situation as Natasha had the money and Anita could use some of it. Anita discovered that she enjoyed being a bisexual with a demanding person such as Natasha. As a bisexual she felt more confident and less vulnerable.
Natasha looked at Anita as a younger and a more aggressive Raima. The incident led to repeat visits and encounters. Shom did not have a clue, but fewer meetings with Anita came as a relief. In the confused state he was in, handling a compulsive mate was avoidable.
Arjun receded from Natasha’s mind the moment Harry arrived in Calcutta. And after her commercial became a hit, she was emboldened to ask Anita to come over to Calcutta on an all-expenses-paid trip.
Totally secluded in the outhouse, the two bisexuals screamed with pleasure as their double-headed dildos rammed the other. It felt as if the outhouse had been especially designed for them.
Later, Harry, Swapna and Arjun were sitting at the dining table for lunch when Natasha and Anita entered the room.
“Come, girls, we have been eagerly awaiting the arrival of the lovebirds,” remarked Arjun.
Swapna and Harry smiled as they were happy and relieved about this union. They hoped it would last for the sake of everyone, particularly Raima, Shom and now, Arjun.
“Harry has been telling us about what he witnessed when he was ten; the love between two soulmates here, in Calcutta,” said Swapna.
“I’m all ears,” said Anita.
Harry began his narration. “This is a long story and you must have the patience to hear it. My peer, Dilip dada, fell in love with an Anglo-Indian teacher. Very unlike of him, but love isn’t in anyone’s control.”
“Dad has seen a lot in his 72 years of life and he has a lot to tell us,” commented Arjun.
“I had gone to watch a football match at Park Circus maidaan,” recalled Harry.
Football matches at the Park Circus maidaan are a common sight. The ground has six pitches, most of them occupied during summer evenings by local teams comprising of college-going players. Passers-by tend to linger a while, cheering for one team or the other. Those keen to follow a full game, would squat on the grass around the periphery of the pitch, inching into the playing area as the game progresses. Their evident excitement and a close proximity to the action make them almost a part of the game. It’s like watching a play as well as being a part of it.
However, unlike in a theatre, you have to be alert at all times, lest a ball hits you!
That evening was no different. The Anglo-Indian Park Union team was playing in red jerseys and the Desh Bandhoos in blue. All attention seemed to be riveted upon them. Other teams, playing without proper uniforms, couldn’t be as much of a crowd puller. Most of the spectators being the native linguals of Bengal and were Desh Bandhoo supporters. This cheered the team to no end. And midst all the furore, the most beguiling sight that evening was the presence of a sizeable number of enthusiastic Anglo-Indian women among the spectators.
Desh Bandhoos were being ably led by Dilip dada (elder brother), as he was called. 18-year old Dilip was a big brother indeed. A hooligan and a bully, everyone feared him. As the whistle blew, he took control of the ball. Playing centre-forward with nimble footwork, he dribbled well. Moving skilfully through his opponents, he was in possession of the ball for almost a minute before passing it to his left-in, who managed to take control after some hic-ups. The left-in was a fast runner, he took charge and moved towards the D. The opponents offered good resistance as they seemed to be a better team. Dilip was desperately waiting for a pass, but it was almost a lost cause by the time he got one. It took a huge effort from him to dive to a header to score that goal. The crowd roared exuberantly into cries of “dada, dada.”
An Anglo-Indian woman gave Dilip a beaming smile. “What a beauty!”, thought Dilip, as their eyes met. A youthful girl whispered something in her ears. He recalled the girl standing near their goal post with her friends, while the Desh Bandhoo players were changing for the match. Being a make-shift football pitch, there were no changing rooms on the ground. The players hadn’t taken kindly to this intrusion and Dilip, who was being scrutinised by the girls, had done something drastic. As if by accident, in a hasty state of mind, he had pulled down his football shorts revelations of which had them scandalised. They had shot off immediately, much to the amusement of Dilip’s team mates, who had a hearty laugh, “dada, ki chomotkaar. (dada, hat’s off to you)”
The tables turned upon Desh Bandhoo as the game progressed. Park Union were now able to seep their defence and score without much effort. The Anglo-Indian girls were turning out to be a huge distraction in their engaging appearances, cheer leading every time Park Union scored a goal. The leg-show and brawny exclamations of the spectators were too bewildering to let Dilip and his mates concentrate on their game. It appeared to be a losing cause.
What happened next was not in the spirit of the game. A major dispute broke out as the referee wrongly called an offside. Supporters from either side invaded the pitch and beat up the referee before attacking the players. The game had degenerated into a brawl between the two teams and their supporters. Given the sheer number of backers, Desh Bandhoos held the upper hand. The situation was indeed grave for the Anglo-Indian women as far as their safety was concerned. Sensing the danger, Dilip headed in the direction of Cindy, the Anglo-Indian woman who had smiled at him, placed her on his broad shoulders and ran for safety towards a building across the road. The wail of police sirens drowned out her screams.
Dilip rushed to a balcony on the first floor of the building. He put Cindy down, but held on to her hand in a firm grip, only to be stung by a slap across his left cheek. Shocked and surprised, he was about to retaliate when she screamed, “You want to rape me, you scoundrel? Why have you brought me here?” Dilip was too startled to say anything, he tried to calm her down but she wriggled out of his grip. Mesmerised by her looks, he started to move towards her. “Stay away from me!” she screamed and he halted. She is a strong woman, he thought. “I am sorry!” he said. Composing herself, she looked down at the scene below and exclaimed, “Oh my God!”
By now the police had assumed control and were busy rounding up the rioters and the girls. Dilip saw her concern and wanted to calm her down, but a part of him ached to take her in his arms. “Don’t you dare touch me!” she exploded like a lioness, “I am old enough to be your mother”. He was aghast in disbelief. He noticed her looking at the girls who were handcuffed and being led to the police van. She looked at Dilip sternly and again looked at the scene below in utter helplessness. “I am their teacher and look what I have done!” she exclaimed and broke down. Dilip was shaken up and desperately sought to make amends and struggled to think of a way to help her out of this chaos. “It’s not wise for me to go down now, they will arrest me too. What can I possibly do?” she asked. “I will do, whatever you, you…” stammered Dilip, his desire to be in her arms intensifying every passing moment. Dilip saw a look of disgust in her eyes, as she told him, “You have such a filthy mind, you deliberately undressed in front of my students!”
“I am sorry but it was not intentional, rather just a reflex action in the heat of the moment. I will do whatever you say now,” said Dilip. “Let’s go the police station to bail them out”, she commanded. Dilip sprang into action. He ran down, followed by her.
He hailed a rickshaw. The last vestiges of the colonial rule in India, rickshaws were the most common mode of transport in Calcutta. Cindy’s and Dada’s minds were racing as the rickshaw sped to the police station.
To be continued…