Aman
Elephant.
‘Are you sure? What if they mind?’ Avani had asked me, again and again, her eyebrows creased. I was clearly doing a bad job of convincing her that my parents were okay with us sleeping in the same room while we were here.
‘Baby, like I said, I’m thirty-one years old, an adult. It’s okay ,’ I’d said, perhaps for the thousandth time. After some more nervous pacing around the room, she’d finally unpacked her suitcase and begun to settle in.
I poured a glass of wine for Avani and made a cup of green tea for myself, and settled into the cane couch on the balcony, staring at the night sky while my mind wandered to new places.
This was the first time we would be spending the night in one room … There had been many nights when I’d secretly wished it could be so, and I suspect she had wanted to too, but we’d never expressed it out loud to each other, so it had never happened.
Except that one night when I’d found Avani snoring on my couch after four glasses of wine as I returned with one more, and unwilling to wake her up or leave her sleeping there alone, I had slept on the floor on a mattress.
My chain of thought was broken by a sound from the bathroom. I stood up and walked over to the door, which was slightly ajar, and knocked twice. ‘You okay, Avani?’ I asked.
‘Is this it?’ she replied in a raspy voice.
‘I’m coming in!’ I announced as I slowly pushed the door open and saw Avani leaning against the bathroom cabinet with a bottle of my aftershave held to her nose.
I couldn’t help laughing.
‘This!’ She sniffed at the bottle again. ‘Oh my god.’
‘What about it?’ I asked.
‘It’s my favourite scent in the whole world.’ She took a deep breath, her eyes closed.
I walked over to her and placed my hands on the cabinet on either side of her.
‘Is it?’
‘Yes.’ She looked up at me. ‘It’s how I know you’re close. I’m like a sniffer dog.’
‘You’re my sniffer dog.’
‘Aww, you say the most romantic things, .’ She made a funny face to underline her sarcasm.
‘I can do the most romantic things too,’ I said, leaning forward to kiss her neck.
‘I’m not in the mood for another Ryan Gosling movie, haan. I’m tired.’ She laughed, ducked under my arm and stepped out of the bathroom.
‘Hey, that was just one time!’ I sighed. Long story, that, don’t ask.
I changed into my sleep boxers and returned to the bedroom to find Avani pulling the duvet back from the bed and fluffing her pillow. She flung off her slippers and tucked herself under the covers. I slid in under the duvet from my side and lay down.
‘Won’t you get cold?’ she asked, her eyes wide.
No matter how freezing the weather was, I always slept in my boxers.
She’d turned to her side, facing me, her hands tucked under her face. Her hair fell over one side of her face and in the dim light of the room her eyes looked shinier than I’d ever seen them.
I tucked the duvet around me and mirrored her posture. Reaching out, I pushed a few strands of her hair away from her neck.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I said.
‘Okay.’
‘So?’ I said after a few moments of silence.
‘So?’
‘It’s our first night together.’
‘Is that why I suddenly have this mad headache?’ she asked, looking serious. ‘I thought it was just an excuse women made to get out of sex.’
I burst out laughing and pulled her closer to me. She tucked her face under my chin and took in a long breath. ‘I love how you smell,’ she whispered, her face buried in my chest.
‘I love how you feel,’ I replied, running my hands down her back and resting them on her waist.
She raised her head to trace a queue of kisses from my neck to my jaw. My hand on her waist stiffened as our lips met and then our tongues.
The wine and the green tea lay forgotten.
Avani
Taking matters into my own hands.
There are times when you pray to God.
Like when your exam results are due, or when you’re hoping the pimple on your face disappears before a party, or when you want your favourite player to score the winning runs in a cricket match.
And then there are times when you just want to hug God for giving you exactly what you want.
Like when you get that dream job or, in my case, when you’re lying next to a half-dressed .
The anticipation of the moment hung so low that I could feel the weight of it pressing against my chest as I fumbled to find the right words.
‘So what happens now?’ seemed too demure and innocent coming from me, given the dirty day dreams I’d had about this very moment.
Also, a really stupid question, because … umm … I knew what happens now.
‘Let’s fuck?’ seemed too aggressive and shallow. So I led with, ‘My feet are freezing.’
Without a word, he moved closer to me and gently tucked my cold feet between his, and I took the opportunity to scooch in closer, into the already non-existent space between us.
I watched his eyes flicker down to my lips as I took a slow breath.
The corners of his mouth twitched up, just a bit, like he could read every thought going through my mind.
My hand drifted up to his chest.
I smirked, feeling bold despite the loud pounding of my heart.
‘So … is this the part where I say something clever and mysterious?’ I murmured, my fingers tracing his collarbone before resting on his sharp jawline. ‘Because I’m fresh out of mysterious.’
chuckled, a low, delicious sound that rumbled under the palm of my hand. ‘Oh, I think you’ve already ruined mysterious,’ he replied, his hand skimming down my side and stopping at the curve of my waist. ‘But I’m all for bold honesty.’
‘Well, then,’ I said, pretending to muse as I leaned closer, our noses almost brushing. ‘Bold honesty would be saying I’m thinking less about this conversation and more about … other things.’
‘Other things?’ His eyes gleamed with mischief blending with an intense, unmistakeable heat.
‘Other things …’ I echoed with mock seriousness, which crumbled as he inched closer, his lips hovering over mine, close enough to drive me insane, ‘… that we can do with our hands and mouths and tongues …’
Before I could finish, his hand firmly grabbed the back of my neck to pull me closer and his mouth was on mine, his lips warm and tasting faintly of mint and trouble.
His kiss was slow and deliberate at first, like he was savouring every second, like he would ensure he took all the time in the world to explore every inch of me.
And for a moment it felt like the two of us were locked in this perfect moment.
But then something shifted.
The gentleness melted away, replaced by an intensity that was raw and unapologetic.
His grip tightened and his lips pressed harder against mine, turning the kiss into something fierce and consuming, like he was done holding back.
The air between us thickened and, suddenly, every breath, every touch felt charged with an undeniable urgency that left me dizzy and wanting more.
When he finally pulled back, his fingers still tangled in my hair, he looked at me with a knowing grin.
‘Still cold?’
I let a moment pass before I replied, ‘Freezing,’ and pushed his shoulders down, pinning him to the bed as I climbed on top of him.
I was done taking measured steps.
I was done thinking and rethinking.
I was done being the girl who knew what she was doing.
I was done being wise and reasonable.
I wanted this.
I wanted him. And now that he was right here, vulnerable, almost naked and mine for the taking, nothing was going to stop me. So, what’s that saying again? I threw caution to the winds and took matters into my own hands.
Make what you want of that last line.
Who am I to tell you what to think and what not to?
All I can say is that he hums when he …
Wink wink nudge nudge.
I smiled to myself as every second of the last hour—was that really an hour, or was it two, or did it last three days?—played out in my mind in vivid detail.
My stomach did a swoop every time a certain visual or sound echoed in my mind, causing my breath to catch and my heart to skip a beat, every few seconds.
‘You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?’ whispered into my hair and pulled the blanket tighter around us. We were on the couch on the balcony, cuddled up, processing our first time together.
‘I’m sorry, can you not talk?’ I shushed him. ‘I’m very busy replaying what that mouth can do when it’s not interrupting my very graphic visions.’
dropped his jaw in fake horror, then suddenly stood up and gathered me up in his arms, blanket and all.
He flung me over his shoulder and smacked my ass playfully as I mock-screamed and play-fought his grip.
Inside the room, he threw me down on the bed on my back, then crawled over me till his face was directly over mine.
Aaaaaaand fade to black!
30 SEPTEMBER 2023
Avani
My new wallpaper.
I’m not particularly grumpy or unpleasant in the mornings, but let’s say I’m also not like Barbie on crack.
So the fact that I woke up this morning with a smile on my face even before my eyes had fully opened is journal-worthy.
The sheer curtains drawn across the balcony door danced in the slight draft entering the room, causing the golden rays of the sun to form waves and patterns on the wooden floor.
I slid my hand over ’s on my waist and let the familiarity of his skin fill my heart.
Wow, so one night with the man and I’d woken up as a Rumi knock-off? But as much as I loved every bit of snuggling with him in bed, there’s only so much a girl can be dreamy about when she desperately needed to pee.
I could feel ’s steady breaths on my neck, so I knew he was fast asleep.
I carefully plucked his hand from my waist and slid off the bed.
As an afterthought, I picked up my phone from the nightstand and tiptoed to the bathroom.
My business done, I stood before the mirror, looking at the girl with crazy bed hair and flushed pink lips.
So this is what writers mean when they describe the ‘morning-after look’, without ever mentioning its inevitable companion … I have two words for you: Morning. Breath.
I quickly fished out my toothbrush from my toiletry pouch and tied my hair into a topknot.
A wash, moisturizer, lip balm and a mild spray of perfume later, when I somewhat resembled the Avani had seen last night, I sat on the edge of the marble bathtub and pulled up the Triple-decker chat window and quickly typed.
Me: Guys.
Maya: Do we still like him?
Rhea: You’re up early. Or … did you not sleep?
Me: He he.
Rhea: OMG! How was itttt???
Me: I’ll tell you everything when I’m back home but … guys … my brain is mush right now!
Rhea: Ohmygawwwwwwd! I can’t wait!
Maya: Are you happy, Ani?
Me: I am! More than. Okay, just had to tell you this. Gotta go now. Bye.
Rhea: Haffunnn!
I scrolled through my contact list and quickly pulled up Martin’s contact card. He was away that weekend with his current girl on a ‘bartending retreat’ in Goa, so I wasn’t sure if he was going to answer my video call so early in the morning. But before I could finish that thought …
‘The only reason you would call me this early in the morning after your first night in Mussoorie has to be that you shagged Hot-Rod-Raina! Just say yes and make my day, babe! I need at least one of us to have started the weekend with a bang.’ He stared into the screen expectantly.
I opened my mouth to tell him, but decided to just go with a light nod of my head and tight shutting of my eyelids.
‘FUCK YES!’ he exclaimed.
‘Shhh!’ I replied. ‘He’s sleeping in the bedroom.’
‘And you are on your phone in the bathroom when you could be staring at his god-like naked body right now? Bitch, the fuck is wrong with you?! Hang up and go juggle his moneybags, ugh!’
He hung up.
Right.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I saw still fast asleep. I wrapped the throw blanket from the couch around my shoulders and tiptoed to the fancy espresso machine placed next to a wicker basket full of coffee pods of all kinds—light, medium roast, dark, decaf—beside another basket with a million different teabags and pouches of brown sugar.
Coffee and mugs selected, I faced off with the espresso machine. I stared at it, trying to figure out how it worked, and then gave up, fishing my phone out of my pocket so I could google a solution.
‘It’s the button at the bottom right of the machine, baby.’
I screamed and turned to find smiling at me from the bed, complete with wild bed hair and sleepy eyes, dimples on full display … and those perfect lips.
‘! You scared me!’ I pressed my palm to my chest.
‘Good morning,’ he said in a sexy, sleepy voice. ‘Why are you out of bed already? Come back.’ He patted the duvet.
‘I was going to wake you up with coffee and then we were going to snuggle. Now you’ve ruined that plan by waking up before I could figure out how this stupid coffee machine works.’
He laughed, pushed off the covers and stepped out of bed. Walking over to me, he pulled me to his chest and rested his chin on the top of my head.
‘I like waking up to you fiddling with my coffee machine in the morning.’
‘And “coffee machine”
being code for …?’ I started.
He tucked me into the hug a little tighter, laughing. Then he reached over and pressed the button at the bottom right and the espresso machine kicked into action with a sharp whistle that turned into a rumble and then a long, loud hiss.
‘Wow. So if you hadn’t woken up by yourself, this little shit would’ve put a spanner in my plans anyway,’ I said.
‘Mm-hmm.’ He turned me around so I was now facing the coffee machine, and still standing behind me, proceeded to make us coffee. ‘Why don’t you go pretend to be asleep, and I’ll wake you up with surprise coffee?’ he whispered into my hair.
‘And then can we snuggle?’ I whispered back.
‘One hundred per cent!’
‘Yesss,’ I said and ducked out from under his arms and got into bed.
I sat there, under the covers that smelt deliciously of , watching him walk to me in his boxers with a tray of coffee mugs and biscuits, the sexiest man alive. I reached for my phone and opened the camera app.
My phone screen would now have a new wallpaper.
‘Gagan’s here. He’s meeting us for breakfast in thirty,’ said without looking up from his phone. We’d finished our coffee, spent another hour playing tonsil tennis and other spicy games that grown-ups play and were now lying back in bed, scrolling through our phones. Like a real couple.
‘Will everyone be there?’ I asked, swinging my legs off the bed.
‘Oh yes, the Rainas love their breakfast-table catch-up sessions,’ he said, looking at me. Then, reaching out to stroke my cheek, he added, ‘They’re looking forward to having you there.’
I raised my eyebrows and stretched my mouth wide to indicate what I was feeling: Shit!
‘Baby, it’ll just be the family. But … you can stay in if you feel like joining us later. I can always—’
‘No,’ I cut him off. ‘I want to be there, with you.’
‘Okay.’ He propped himself up on his elbow and kissed the tip of my nose. ‘Now, we need to take a shower.’
‘We?’ I asked.
‘No?’
‘Yes.’ I chuckled.
Without missing a beat, sprang out of bed, scooped me up and carried me to the bathroom, his eyes not leaving mine for even a second. He set me down on the bathroom vanity and kicked the door shut behind us.
And we went on to lather each other’s bodies till they were nice and foamy, and then engaged in deep passionate lovemaking … Just kidding.
I was still sore from last night—all the nicknames that Martin had given were actually quite accurate—and quite tense about the breakfast coming up, and we had to keep an eye on the time.
So, yes, we kissed, and there was a lot of touching, but just a shower it was.
Not that it didn’t have its moments—particularly the one of complete vulnerability when I sang in my shower voice and laughed in my face.
But I blamed it on the expensive marble.
Not the right acoustics for my middle-class bathroom voice.
A little while later, I was rummaging through my suitcase looking for the breakfast-appropriate outfit Maya had so carefully curated for me, when stepped out of the bathroom looking like a dream in a pair of light blue baggy jeans and a grey knit sweater, and sat on the couch to wear his white sneakers.
Watching me scramble around, he walked over.
‘Nobody cares what you wear, baby,’ he said, kissing the side of my head.
‘As if!’ I huffed and puffed into my black leggings and powder-blue oversized sweater and rushed to the bathroom, where I quickly filled in my brows, put on some blush and lip gloss, and tied my hair into a low ponytail.
I rushed out again and pulled on the tan boots Maya had packed in and sat down on the bed to take a breath while a serene-looking leaned against the coffee table with his arms folded across his chest and a smile on his face.
‘I’m not late, okay? You just get dressed in minus-three seconds. That’s not on me.’ I pointed a finger at him.
‘I didn’t say a word.’ He raised his hands in the air. ‘Shall we?’
‘Where’s your bottle of aftershave? Can I have it for a moment?’
‘Why?’ he asked, walking to the bathroom to fetch it.
‘Because …’ I said, as he handed me the bottle and I undid the cap of my love potion and dabbed two dots behind my ears and on both my wrists, ‘I need to smell exquisite!’
‘Creep!’ He laughed. ‘Let’s go!
So here we were, on the back porch of ’s lavish home.
The air was chilly and the sky bluer than I had ever seen in Mumbai or Pune.
The lush lawns were interrupted only by a near-Olympic-sized swimming pool a little ahead.
A long table made from the most exquisite piece of natural wood had been set for breakfast.
’s parents were there already and broke into wide smiles as they spotted us walking towards them hand in hand.
‘Good morning, my loves!’ ’s mom sounded as gleeful as ever. ‘Slept well?’
‘Good morning, Ma,’ replied, pecking her on the cheek. ‘Morning, Papa!’
‘Good morning. I slept very well, thank you,’ I said.
‘Good morning, beta. Come. Sit.’ ’s dad rose and came around to pull back the chair opposite his.
‘Thank you, Uncle.’ I took my seat and sat on my left.
‘This looks great,’ I said, glancing around the table to see at least a hundred items laid out. All of it looked delicious.
I hadn’t realized I was so hungry until the smell of steaming hot waffles reached my nose. must’ve noticed my eyes light up, because he picked up the plate of waffles and served us both and went on to offer the fruit platter to his parents. Meanwhile, his mother had poured me a glass of what looked like apple juice and placed it on the table in front of me.
‘It’s from our apple garden. Fresh as it could be. Taste?’ she said, smiling wide.
I took a sip, relishing the scent and taste of fresh apples long forgotten, thanks to my habit of OD-ing on store-bought juices out of tetra packs.
‘It’s amazing!’ I said, gesturing ‘perfect’ with my fingers.
I turned my attention to the tall plate of waffles before me as the others engaged in regular family chatter. Servers walked around us every few minutes, offering omelettes and parathas, breads and more waffles, jams and cheeses and cold cuts. I think I ate like a starved cavewoman.
I was almost done with my second glass of apple juice and my waffles and jam when a deep voice interrupted the chatter at the table.
‘I see everyone is here already.’
‘Gagan!’ ’s mother threw both her hands in the air, her face radiating joy. and I turned to see his elder brother walking towards us.
He wore a navy blue sweater and dark jeans, and had the same slightly cold look in his eyes and the defiant upward tilt of his chin that I remembered from ’s party a few months back.
He gave his parents polite hugs and walked around the table to greet . ‘You look good, man,’ he said, as stood up and the two exchanged some sort of a complicated handshake that ended in them entwining their right arms and half-hugging each other.
‘I wish I could say the same. London really has worn you down,’ replied, mischief in his voice. That earned him a playful punch in his gut and then Gagan turned to face me.
‘And … the famous Avani who has our man wrapped around her little finger … Good to see you again.’ He gave me a tight smile.
I smiled back politely and extended my hand. ‘Hi. Good to meet you again,’ I said evenly.
‘Too soon to be sure of that, Avani. We don’t really know each other yet.’ He winked as he shook my hand quickly and went on to take the empty seat next to his mother.
Suddenly I felt the air shift in a way I couldn’t quite understand. I told myself that Gagan was much older and maybe his sense of humour just wasn’t as easy and free-flowing as ’s. I had reasoned, after we’d first met at ’s place, that he was perhaps awkward during first encounters—many people were—and that this time in Mussoorie would be different. But here I was, my guard back up just as I had begun to get comfortable.
‘So … Avani … where do you work?’ he asked as he cut into an omelette with surgeon-like precision.
‘I’m just—’ I began.
‘Let’s not scrutinize the guest already, Gagan,’ ’s dad cut me off. ‘It’s her first time in our home.’ He smiled, though his voice was graver than I remembered it from just minutes ago.
I returned his smile and went back to my plate of waffles, but not before noticing ’s parents signalling to each other with their eyes. Clearly, subtlety was not the family’s strongest suit.
‘Avani … Come, you have to see my tulip garden,’ ’s mom piped up.
‘I’d love to, Aunty.’ I understood what she was doing and was thankful for it.
‘Come on, then. Let the boys talk shop.’ She came around and extended her hand towards me. I felt ’s hand lightly squeeze my thigh under the table, encouraging me to go with his mother. I stood up and took his mother’s hand.
‘Don’t mind Gagan, beta. He takes a bit of time adjusting to people, especially if they are new to the family,’ she said in a low voice as she led me away.
‘That’s fine, Aunty. Everyone says that about me too.’ She turned to meet my eyes and flashed me a smile.
As I walked beside her, her arm linked into mine, the tiny knot in my chest slowly loosened.
She had something to tell me about every bush and tree we walked past on our way.
She knew each one intimately—names, ages, varieties, how they changed with the seasons, odd facts—and I let myself settle into the warmth of her company.
The last time I had walked through a garden was when I was seven, holding my mother’s hand.
A trip had been arranged from school to the Sanjay Gandhi National Park and my parents had followed the school bus on their Scooty to make sure I would be okay.
It had always taken me time to make friends and they were worried that I would be sitting alone somewhere while the other kids ran around and enjoyed themselves.
They were right, of course.
So when my mum arrived and saw me standing by myself next to a bench, she snuck me off on our own little walk around the play area.
She told me all kinds of stories, none of which I remembered now, but what I did recall was walking barefoot on the grass, my hand in hers and her voice reassuring me softly with stories.
I remembered feeling safe.
And not alone. The memory felt so real that it scared me, and I shook my head to clear it.
‘Here we are,’ Aunty said, her eyes shining in anticipation, as we reached a narrow, cobbled path that I assumed led to the tulip garden.
‘Give me a second, Aunty,’ I replied, as I let go of her hand to undo my boots so I could take them off when I walked on the grass barefoot.