Chapter 18
Promises and dreams
ADITYA
Should... Should not... The tug of war continues during my walk to Rainbow Bakes in the main bazaar. We are all meeting at Brian and Kenny's bakery and cafe to watch Jimmy on the talk show.
The market is humming with activity and is as vibrant as ever, with the entire colour palette painted on the walls of the houses above.
Contrasting shades of yellows, greens, and reds on the wooden balconies and windows are an artist’s delight.
The aroma of garam masala and turmeric from the grocery stores dances to mix with the smells of tea and other goods.
The bustle of activity from shoppers and the calls of the hawkers peddling their wares do nothing, however, to divert my brooding mind.
Thanks to the exams at the school, the first half of the day swept past without a bother.
But once the bell rang through the corridors, my nerves began to jangle.
Today is the first step in a perilous journey.
If only I were brave enough to break my promise to Shalini and embrace my sexuality, as strong and proud as Jimmy?
Even at thirty-seven, I am neither of those, always taking the easy road and hiding behind a cloak of lies.
At twelve years of age, the realisation of something odd started.
But whom would I ask? Discussion about sex or intimacy was taboo — an act you did only after marriage.
Who would talk to me about gay relationships?
My attraction to a few boys in my circle fizzled out under the blanket of labelling them as friends, which proved a more comfortable option than solving the knots of sexual arousal.
The equations were complicated further when the bullying of non-conforming boys started in middle school.
Boys who were femme, fumbled at sports, or were interested in arts and theatre were prime targets.
Hence, sexual fantasies and gratification were confined to the models and actors on magazine covers or the He-Man cartoons behind locked doors. The outside world recognised me only as the shy, obedient prude boy.
Then, my father died, and the world collapsed on me. I did not dare burden Ma with the complexities of my sexual awakening, so I built a smokescreen. I lived in denial and took to praying. Considering such thoughts as sinful, I made every effort to conform to the straightness of the world.
The most harmful lies are the ones you tell yourself.
One lie leads to another, and one fine day, you find you are living inside a straw hut of lies.
The same dynamics were now repeating with Jimmy.
After spending every night of the past week in his arms, the guilt pangs have become conscience-wrenching cramps.
So, to lighten the heavy stone in my chest, I call Jatin on the way.
“Hey, Addy bhai. What's up?”
No words come out. We had spoken two days ago, and I had poured out my fears to Jatin. He gave me firm instructions on what I should do, but I chickened out and did nothing.
“Addy, you did not talk to Jimmy, did you?” Jatin catches on to my unspoken guilt.
“He is so happy. How can I douse the spark in his eyes?” My voice is scratchy with anxiety and emotions clawing inside.
Every sunrise, I would work up the courage to tell Jimmy the truth, but the happy tunes from his mouth when he returned from his morning run sealed my lips.
For once, Jimmy’s life had taken a favourable turn.
Jatin sighs. “Addy, the truth will come out one day. What will happen then?”
“I — Jatin, I love Jimmy and need time for him to find his way to the place where I am standing.”
“Addy, love can't be built on lies. And Jimmy hates liars.”
“I know,” I whisper into the phone. Oh God, I hope Jimmy loves me the same way, and our bond can withstand the tsunami when the reality is revealed.
No matter how often my heart prays these words, my rationalisation does not convince even my brain.
Jimmy is away for only two days, and my day sucks.
What will happen when the truth is revealed?
“Addy, the earlier you tell Jimmy, the easier this will be for both of you. And maybe, a bit less painful too.”
“Okay, I will come clean when he comes back.” My voice wavers.
“Hmm. Call me once you speak to him. If needed, I will drive to Almora. Addy, be brave. I am with you.”
“Thanks. Bye. See you.” I end the call and stop at the corner near the bakery, composing myself.
One thing which helps is ogling at Jimmy's pictures.
He has sent the latest ones from today's shoot.
My favourite is the one where Jimmy is bare-chested, holding a red necktie between his teeth, pink-striped shirt hooked on his finger behind his left shoulder.
The other hand pulls the loop of his dark blue trousers, which hang low on his waist, revealing the V-cut.
And those smouldering eyes are ready to send a heatwave into the world.
How will I keep this man in my life? Jimmy is sure to find a model or actor when he becomes famous.
Priya is already talking about ramp walks and a small role in a TV show.
She wants to milk this and channel the fame to the book launch.
'Hot gay author of a romance novel' is only one of the many tracks the marketing team is starting to spin.
“Did any of you hear about a tiger in our part of the jungle?” Kiron's voice draws my attention to the group as I enter the coffee shop. “Someone is walking around town with claw marks and bruises on their neck,” they joke, eyebrows wiggling.
Oh shit. I try to hide the hickey on my neck. Brian, Sudhanshu, and Kenny give me smug smiles. “Better set a trap.” I play along. One thing I have learned in my newfound family is never to be shy.
“Oh, honey, I am afraid those tiger eyes burn bright only for one particular prey.” Kiron winks.
Sudhanshu elbows them. “Sush! The show is about to begin.”
He turns on the volume on the forty-three-inch TV hanging on the wall inside the cafe. A few patrons are seated near the window overlooking the street, busy amongst themselves.
“Hello, booklovers! Welcome to our weekly Books and Hooks talk show.” The thirty-something TV host, dressed in a yellow sundress, croons and runs her usual show pitch. All four of us are on the edge of our seats, waiting for the camera to focus on Jimmy.
“Today, we have a debut author with us. Meet Jimmy Narwal. He is here to talk to us about The Lies of My Nine Lives. And people-” the host coos, “-uff, is this room hot, or is he hot?” She fans herself with her hand.
My sneering drowns her next words; three heads focus their smirks on me when I look around. Shit, did I vocalise my jealousy at the host swooning over my Jimmy? Who wouldn't be drawn to the eye candy waving at us from the screen?
“Kiron, your ensemble makes Jimmy look stunning.” Brian passes the plate of brownies amongst us.
Kiron waves him off, but their eyes are wide with excitement.
The maroon Chinese collar linen-cotton kurta shirt, custom-made by Kiron in their shop, sits well on Jimmy's rounded shoulders, and the rolled-up sleeves stretch with even a slight movement of his hands.
Paired with light fawn chinos, Jimmy is stunning under the camera lights.
He runs his fingers across his coiffed hair, which falls into a wave across his forehead.
“Oh. Oh. Kiron, your logo.” Kenny nudges Kiron as the camera zooms for a close-up.
The cursive K in yellow thread work with a deodar tree motif is in the spotlight when Jimmy runs his hand over his chest. The movement is subtle and casual, but does the trick.
We had all come up with ways to ensure Kiron got publicity for their hard work in developing Jimmy's wardrobe.
I also provided Jimmy with some pointers on ways to bring up the Rainbow Bakery, if the opportunity presented itself.
This is the least I can do for the warmth with which this group has welcomed me into their fold.
“The motif looks so pretty.” Sudhanshu squeezes Kiron's shoulder in affection and pride at his partner's shot at glory. Watching Kiron's misty eyes and Jimmy's radiant smile on the TV wipes away my misgivings about this charade I have put together. These kind souls deserve happiness in their lives.
***
“Brilliant move, mate!” Brian claps Jimmy on his shoulder.
The six of us are lounging on the benches in the rose garden of the resort. Mr Bhatia, his wife, and Jimmy's colleagues have departed. Despite being well past eleven, the group wanted one last round of drinks before saying goodnight.
Brian and Kenny devised an elaborate plan for a surprise welcome and celebration of Jimmy's success.
Sahil convinced Mr Bhatia to use the garden area on one side of the resort.
The gang pooled in to arrange food and drinks, some made at home by Kiron and me, while others were sourced from the local store.
“Addy’s idea. He came up with the perfect line.
” Jimmy laces our fingers together and squeezes.
“If these were from the Rainbow Bakers in Almora, they would have melted in your mouth. The chocolate transports you to heaven when the bitter-sweet flavour hits your tongue,” He repeats the dialogue in his now semi-sophisticated English accent.
“Nah, I would credit Kenny for doing the research work on the show. He had picked out the branded off-the-shelf cookies the show dishes out to guests. And you are a quick thinker, Jimmy.” I ruffle his hair. “What a terrific response to a simple question on what a small town means to you.”
“Stop bickering, you two. Let us all agree on our combined effort. Cheers to our friendship and success.” Kenny raises his glass. A loud cheer echoes in the night amidst the clinking of glasses.
“Time to head home. I am driving.” Kiron demands the car keys from Sudhanshu. He tries to protest, but one glare from Kiron, and he cowers. Jimmy snorts at the scene.