Chapter 4
Look who walked in.
JIMMY
“Bhai, what's the matter? There’s no power in your legs today.” Sahil helps me place the bar on the squat rack. I am accustomed to how he addresses me, but the affection still causes a pang in my chest. He is more than any blood brother I’ve ever had. They are all venom-spewing snakes.
“I should take a few days off. My body may need some recovery.” The sweat beads trickle down my white tank top.
Despite lifting well under my personal best, my muscles are sore. The mind-muscle connection is missing. I am busy shuffling images of the cute man in the black and yellow tracksuit I met in the park.
“Are you okay?” Sahil taps my shoulder. “You zone out every few minutes.”
“Yeah, I am fine. A bit tired from running every day this week.”
I hope to catch the man again, but I have not had any luck so far.
In my usual routine, I do cardio only two days a week, with a five-kilometre run from my home to the park on a trail off the Almora-Bageshwar Road.
The state highway has excellent views, quiet trails, and a sufficient incline to push my endurance.
I rarely cross anyone in the early morning runs, so the voice in the colonial-era secluded garden shocked me.
Curious, I walked up, following the direction from which the words came.
At first, I only saw the man in the tracksuit — broad shoulders, head full of black hair, and gosh, what an ass.
The man had me drooling. He stood alone, staring in front, hands in his pockets.
So who was he speaking to? My confusion turned to amusement when he addressed the statue and, later, his pet squirrel.
The words ‘gay’ and ‘bisexual’ pinged on my radar.
What were the chances of finding a new queer man in a small city in Uttarakhand?
“I am adding ten-kilo plates.” Sahil checks with me before stepping up for his set.
“Uh, oh. Yeah sure.” The monosyllabic confusion earns a set of bunched eyebrows from him. “Go ahead. I will spot.” I allay his concern.
“No, bro. Clear your head first. Do you mind telling me which fantasy land you are in today?” He leans on the squat stand and stares at me.
“I met someone.” Best to come out to my closest friend. He and I have worked together for the last three years. We spend eight hours in the gym, and more during the weekly offs at movies or outdoor activities. The journey of growing from teens to adulthood sealed our friendship.
“Ah, ha. Do tell. Who has caught your fancy?”
“I don't know.”
“What do you mean? Did you meet a ghost?”
“He might as well be. I met a man at the park four days ago. No name. No address. He ran away when I said hello.”
“So, go back to the park at the same time.”
“Duh.” I leave out the part where I have been stalking the park for three days unsaid.
“Was he sexy?” Sahil winks, the sly amusement written all over his face.
“Yaar. He was so cute.” I place my palm on my chest and recall the man’s chubby cheeks, bewildered, panicking eyes behind askew spectacles, a perfect coif of hair and his delicious, thick body. R. Madhavan from Tanu Weds Manu had appeared before me. “The best part is the man is either gay or bi.”
“What? How can you say that when you don't even know his name?” Sahil runs his fingers on his sweat-laden forehead to tuck in a strand of hair.
“He said so himself.”
“Stop talking in circles. You said you did not get a chance to speak to him.”
“Umm, yeah. You won't believe this part. He was chatting to the Wilson statue about his sexuality. Or is the British officer’s name Wilfred? Whatever?” I don’t verbalise the memory of him cooing to the squirrel, but grin at it in my mind.
Sahil's eyebrows rise. “He can't be a local. You deleted the gay dating app. So, how do you plan to find him?”
I roll my eyes. What should I say? Gay men aren't falling off the trees in my small hill state, and with the legal status of LGBT rights in India, one must be careful.
Indian men are often married and looking for adventure.
They are not my scene. I have no intention of wrecking anyone's home.
Gay foreigners are harder to find. But if you chance upon one, avoid making my mistake, even though things ended well.
I found two great friends– Kenny and Brian, a few years ago.
We have sworn to one another not to share our tale with anyone.
Despite all these roadblocks, I had enough fun in my tourist city.
“Why would I chase him? I am more mature than the teenager you met.” I turn away from Sahil to adjust the weights on the rack.
The fiasco with Daljit flashes before me.
After the heartbreak, I deleted the gay dating app on my phone, leading to over a year’s dry spell.
And hence, why the man in the garden has planted himself in my brain.
Grand declarations of sexuality to stone busts are not a common occurrence even in the forward cultures of the West. So yes, my options are limited, and this man is a godsend if he is single and ready to tingle.
‘He can't be a local’ Sahil’s assertion switches the tube light in my head.
Instead of killing myself running daily, I should check out nearby tourist lodges. I surprise Sahil with a hug and push him towards the squat rack. “Finish your set.”
He rolls his eyes and starts his exercise. After ten reps, he returns the bar, and I take my place.
“Sir Ji, a man is at the reception, asking about our training packages.” Our cleaning boy, Vikas, interrupts our routine.
“Were you expecting someone?” I turn to Sahil, but he shrugs. 3-5 PM is our afternoon break.
Accompanied by Vikas, I move to the front desk but stop in my tracks at the sight of the bespectacled man in a light blue button-down shirt admiring the photo stories of our clients.
The grey pants stretched across two perfect round globes are no less enticing.
Hai-o-rabba, I never imagined the nerdy dad bod types were my jam.
“What can I do for you, sir?” I use my gruff, professional voice to attract his attention.
The man pivots on his leg and stumbles, eyes wide in terror. I extend my hand to support him. The warmth of his skin comes across the cotton fabric of his shirt. “Hey, be careful.”
“S-sorry. I am so sorry,” he stutters.
I am sure my hold on his arm is the only thing preventing him from bolting. “I should be the one saying sorry. I forgot my manners and startled you.”
The man straightens, pulling his arm away. “I wanted to check the gym and your package.”
“Sure, be my guest. I will be happy to help you check my package,” I add a wink and watch with delight as the man shuffles on his feet and turns his head to avoid my gaze.
He swipes his tongue over his lips before biting the lower one.
Cute and sexy. But he is here for his health, not my perving, so I put on my professional mask.
“I am Jimmy Narwal, the manager and lead trainer of the Fit Times Gym.”
The man stares at my extended hand. “Oh, sorry. I am Aditya Hirani.”
“Are you on vacation here, or are you a resident of these parts?” I might as well use this opportunity to gather intel on him.
“I joined the Gram Education Trust two months back as a teacher and administrator for the district.”
My heart somersaults with the possibilities. “Are you staying in a hotel in Almora?”
“No, I have my own house. The Wilfred cottage off the Bageshwar road.”
“Ah, the one built by the British officer. The cottage is a beautiful property. Isn't there a park dedicated to him near your place? His statue still stands in the centre.” I bite my cheek as Aditya squirms.
“What time does the gym open?” He ignores my tease. His curt voice brings my attention back to why he is here.
“Yeah, right. The gym and training. Let me first call the personal trainer.” I guide him to my office and instruct Vikas, our gym helper, to send Sahil to the room.
“We open from 6 AM to 1 PM and 5 PM to 8 PM. Sunday is our weekly off.”
Sahil walks in as I finish responding to Aditya's question. “Sahil, meet Mr Aditya Hirani. He wishes to join our gym and wants a personal trainer.” I turn to our guest to confirm my understanding.
“Yeah, I want someone to guide me into a routine.”
“Sir, do you do any exercises at present?” Sahil brings out our client form and checklist.
“He runs in the morning.” I blurt out before Aditya can say a word.
Aditya shuffles on the seat and adjusts his glasses, gifting me a brief glare, before turning to Sahil.
“In Delhi, I used to run and train. After moving here, exercise was not a priority. I only started running a few weeks back.”
“Great. What do you expect out of this training? I mean, what is your goal? Do you want to lose weight or tone your muscles?” Sahil moves to the next item on the list.
“Mm, weight loss, yes. But mainly, I want to improve my endurance and stamina. Mountain life is tough.” Aditya lists his health targets.
Sahil and I explain our package deals and how we can support him. The guy is honest and straightforward, with no big-city or high-society attitude.
“Sahil, ready the body measurement machine while I show Aditya sir around.”
We have two floors, one for functional training and yoga on the first floor. The ground floor has all the heavy equipment.
Aditya curls into himself when Sahil leaves, looking everywhere but at me, so I assure him.
“I did say your secret is safe with me. I am a fellow traveller of the rainbow spectrum.”
Aditya's eyes widen as the realisation of my second statement sets in, and his features soften. A smile rises, shining light onto his rounded cheeks. Dear Goddess, the man is charming—radiant eyes behind those round spectacles.
I match his grin, but they have the opposite effect. He again puts on his stoic mask and clears his throat.
“Should we start with the tour?” He stands.
“Ah, yes. Let's go.” I guide him to the first floor and inform him about our group classes. For some reason, he only responds with curt nods.
“So, how did you start talking to statues?” I question in my most matter-of-fact tone.
He rolls his eyes. The debate in his mind is visible on his face. He shakes his head and adjusts his glasses, the sharp nose twitches.
“I am a history teacher. Monuments fascinate me. I did my thesis on statues and carvings of medieval Indian temples. I would stand in front and wonder what their stories were. What went through the life of their creators?”
Adorable. I want to kiss his grumpy pout. The thought pops in my mind at Aditya’s passion for his work. Hmm, I think I have found a new kink — a cute, nutty professor.
“Aditya, sir, let's take your measurements to discuss the program's specifics with you.” Sahil interrupts my thoughts from rolling down the perversion road.
I can’t jump the professor on our first official meeting. Plenty of opportunities will arise once he joins the gym. I leave them to the final discussion and walk to my office.
Later, Sahil joins me. “Mr Aditya is a great guy.”
“Mmhmm! Yeah, he is.” I take a deep sigh. Would the professor be interested in me?
“Jimmy bro, what's the matter? Where are you lost? With the cute Master ji or the statue stalker?”
Another sigh. So many ifs, buts, and ideas jostle my mind. How do I tell Sahil that they are the same person? Life in the mountains is about to become interesting.