Published in Surya magazine, December 1978
While in Bombay on holiday, I had gone one afternoon with some friends to a film, when I ran into her in the foyer of the cinema hall. Physically, she had changed so much. She looked more mature and lovelier. The vitality and dare-devilry which she had always exuded, still seemed to ooze from her and I felt great meeting her after such a long time. She threw her arms around my neck with a flourish and kissed me for a deliciously long time to the accompaniment of background sniggers and exclamations. I am sure that if the authorities could have guaranteed such pre-show spectacles regularly, their gate-receipts would have increased a hundredfold.
“What are you doing in Bombay? Are you on holiday? For how long? Where are you staying? You’ve got to spend a few days at our place. How’s your love life?” The questions were fired off one after the other, and even if she expected answers, she didn’t give me a chance to reply. Friends and film were forgotten as we rushed out of the hall. She was a person who loved life intensely, and lived every moment of it. So much seemed to happen to her each day, and not having seen each other for over four years, we naturally had much to talk about.
We got into her car and drove aimlessly around the city, talking and laughing, remembering all the good times we had had together. That evening after collecting my luggage from the place that I was staying at, I moved in with her.
“Where are your parents?” I inquired.
“Oh mum and dad are divorced,” she replied slowly and I detected a note of pain in her voice. “I don’t know where she is. Dad is in Delhi on some business and should be back by the end of this week.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, rather surprised. Her parents had always struck me as being a particularly close couple.
“Me too. But don’t let that bother you,” and knowing her, the subject was closed. To her, regrets about the past were not only self-defeating but also a colossal waste of time. One had to live in the present, and if possible, try and manipulate the future.
I immediately regretted having moved in. Whenever, she had proved too much for me, I had sought refuge in her father’s company by provoking him into an argument on any subject. At first she had resented this, not liking the idea of having to share me with anybody. Later, as she came to realise that this was a tactical move on my part, she would throw a tantrum and swear that she’d never speak to me again; which usually meant for the next five minutes. But that would be sufficient time for me to disappear.
That night we lay in bed filling in each other on everything that had happened over the last four years. She told me of her innumerable affairs and I laughed at some of the incidents she related, for I could well imagine men being captivated by her beauty and joie de vivre, unable to hold on to her but foolish enough not to realise it. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help wondering as to the price she had paid, if she were really as unscathed as she appeared to be. Looking at her, I couldn’t help but feel guilty thinking of that incident a couple of years back and wondered to what extent I had been responsible for her emotional and sexual fickleness.
My mind went back to the time five years ago in Calcutta. I had wanted to make love to her but lacking the necessary expertise to seduce her, had instead given her the usual, “but then you don’t love me,” line and then had very shrewdly snapped, “the trouble with you is that you don’t know a thing about life or how to live it.”
The remark seemed to touch a raw nerve, even in a nineteen-year old girl, who had so much to learn about life. She capitulated. After that, the change in her was more profound than simply becoming my lover. Her sudden zest for living, or rather dangerous living, earned us the reputation of being a precocious and undisciplined pair. Though I was known as the ‘wild one’, her recklessness soon eclipsed mine. With her father’s transfer to Bombay, we eventually lost contact, and in a way I sobered down.
We were still talking when she suddenly suggested going for a swim to Juhu beach.
“At this hour of the night? Are you crazy?” I asked and turning over, pretended to sleep.
“Oh, come on,” she pleaded, “it will be great fun, swimming at night and after that we could go for a long stroll on the beach.”
“Ssh, don’t disturb me,” I mumbled, “I’m sleeping.”
“If you’re sleeping, how are you talking?” she demanded, turning aggressive.
“I talk in my sleep.”
She wasn’t the type to take no for an answer. She pulled the sheet off me and got up. “The trouble with you is that you don’t know a thing about life or how to live it. And I don’t see much hope for you because you’re getting old.”
“Who did you say is getting old?” I asked turning around.
“You’re not only getting old,” she snapped, “but deaf as well.”
We didn’t even bother to change out of our night clothes. After some fast and reckless driving, we reached Juhu. We found a deserted stretch of beach and while she parked the car, I walked towards the water with the bag containing our things. I unwrapped the towels but could not find my trunks. I waited for her to catch up with me.
“Where are my trunks,” I asked suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten them?”
“No,” she smiled, “I just thought it would be fun swimming in the nude,” and then to preclude any argument, pulled off her nightie, threw it onto the sand and ran stark naked into the water. I had no alternative but to strip and follow her.
We swam for a long time and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. We finally came out of the water and with the brine still dripping off us went for a stroll without even bothering to dry ourselves. We walked for a long time with our arms around each other. My thoughts were far away when I noticed that she was weeping silently. I thought I understood why but thought it best to just keep quiet. Instead, I held her more tightly.
It began to get cold and we turned back towards the spot where we had left our clothes but could not find them. Even though the beach was deserted, I had a feeling that our clothes had been pilfered. We walked towards the car and found that in spite of not being locked, it was thankfully intact. As we drove off, I felt awkward sitting naked in the car.
I didn’t know my way around Bombay, but was sure that in one of her infinite pranks, she was taking me on a nocturnal tour of the city. But I was not bothered, my immediate concern was getting past the durwan on duty at the building where she lived. We came to a halt.
“Anything the matter?” I asked anxiously.
“Seems like something is wrong with the engine,” she replied.
I was now very anxious. I didn’t relish the idea of being found naked in the car by some good Samaritan. And with her looks, there would be many.
“Is there enough petrol?” I inquired, trying to sound confident, even though my idea of cars was limited to the knowledge that doors were for getting in and out, and that back seats had more uses than just carrying passengers.
“Why don’t you get out and push?” she suggested. “It might help.”
I groaned and looked around, not at all assured by the near empty street. I crept out, got behind the car and began pushing. I felt absolutely sheepish and to make matters worse, my feet hurt terribly as they grazed against the macadam.
She stuck her head outside the window. “Faster,” she yelled and I pushed harder.
After about thirty yards, I began to get tired. As I straightened out to take a rest, the car veered towards the centre of the road. I looked into the car to see her rocking with laughter. I walked around to her window.
“What’s so funny?”
“You,” she answered and I saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. “Get in, there’s nothing wrong with the car.”
“What?” I croaked.
“Oh, my darling idiot! There’s nothing wrong with the car. I just wanted to see you push the car. After all, I’ve never seen a naked man push a car.” I stood there gaping at her.
“Don’t be shameless, get in,” she laughed.
“You mean there’s nothing wrong?” I stammered incredulously.
“No,” she giggled. “I just wanted to see how you looked pushing the car.” I was furious and it took all my self-control from saying something really nasty. It was probably a mistake for she continued to tease me. “How obscene! You’re quite an exhibitionist, you know.”
“Shut up,” I roared.
“Why should I? Do you realise that you’re the first person in the history of mankind to have pushed a car down Marine Drive, stark naked, at this hour of the morning?” she laughed. “And even if future historians don’t debate the significance of this act, I’m sure you’ll at least make the Guinness Book of Records. Who knows, you might even rate a mention in the next time capsule.”
I was still fuming when we reached her place. “Stay in the car,” I ordered, “I’ll get you some clothes.”
I was getting out of the car, when she put her hand on my shoulder. “Darling,” she whispered and I paused, seeing that she wanted to apologise, “when we get upstairs, do remind me to ask for your autograph.”
I brushed her hand aside and walked silently towards the building. The durwan was, thankfully asleep and I rushed silently past him. Rather than wait for the lift, I raced up the stairs. I was opening the door to her second floor flat when I heard her voice downstairs. I walked down stealthily and peeped through the first floor landing.
She had walked into the building and was waiting for the lift, deliberately make as much noise as possible to awaken the old durwan.
He opened his eyes, rubbed them sleepily, looked at her and then shut them again. What he had seen must have suddenly registered for he opened his eyes and sat bolt upright. She turned around, smiled at him and stepped into the lift. He stood up uncertain of what he had seen and I charged up the stairs. As the lift doors opened, I dragged her out and into her flat.
“Are you crazy? When are you going to grow up?” I whispered angrily.
“Don’t you yell at me,” she snapped. “Now that you’re a celebrity don’t think you can throw your weight around.”
She wasn’t taking me seriously and I realised that there was no point in arguing with her. We got into bed and she could see that I was still angry. She tried to make up, but I ignored her and pulled the sheet over my head.
“So you insist on fighting?” she asked. “Well, I don’t want to spoil your holiday. I’m going.” Then she paused, “Don’t forget you’ve got an interview at 10.00 am with the international press.
I peeped from under the sheet and saw her pull on a pair of jeans. She left he flat and I didn’t quite mind as this time, she was clothed. I expected her to be back after a short while.
I waited for her until noon that day and when she didn’t arrive, I left a note saying that I would be at my friend’s place. I went to his house and apologised for moving out so abruptly. I spent the afternoon there and returned in the evening. There was still no sign of her. I sat up late waiting, unable to understand this childish and stubborn behaviour. Next morning, after breakfast, I decided to check with her friends. I felt especially guilty as I was staying in her house. Moreover, her father was due soon and I wanted to save myself any unnecessary explanations.
Later, that evening I still had no word from her. Knowing her, I was reluctant to go to the police but finally made up my mind to do so. I need not have bothered as they came to the flat that night and finding me there, took me in for questioning. They had found her on Juhu beach. She had been raped several times and then brutally murdered.
© Percy Aaron
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