Rajarshi Guha Roy
Presenting a series – authored jointly by Rajarshi and Chandradeep – on relationships, not only human, but also between inanimate objects. The series bears the name ‘Relationships – the unchartered terrains’. This is the part 1 of chapter 1. It will be named ‘Chapter 1 : The undefined trajectory of physical loyalty- Part 1’.
She had put on her black sequinned bra and while resting her back on the headboard, she lit a cigarette. I still lay on my back breathing deeply from the exhaustion, occassionally sharing her smoke. Though she has covered herself in a white satin sheet, underneath it I know there’s an unsaid invitation for further exploration, I can see the other half of her matching lingerie lying on the carpetted floor.
The Indian Embassy at Oslo :
Beep! A message popped up on my BlackBerry. For non-starters, Indian bureaucrats can be savvy with gizmos if they so choose to be. “Hi Samir. How about some red wine this evening?” Preetilata was sounding unusual. Or, men always seem to think the unusual whenever any woman wants to drink with them? A greener pasture on the anvil? I have come across a number of vivacious women in my not-so-short bureaucratic career. But a few could match the aggression of Preetilata.
“I can definitely do with some wine this evening. Thank you.” Being a ‘Babu’ and a bureaucrat teaches you how to make a statement. Also, you learn to be flexible in your reactions. “So I’ll pick you up at 9?” Pick me up? Hmm, the ‘modern’ woman, I thought.”Don’t bother yourself Preeti, you know I have the car at my disposal. You carry on with your shopping. I’ll be there at 9.”
I vandalized my French perfume before getting out. I didn’t use it when I had to meet the Foreign Minister of this country to resolve some immigration issues a week ago. “Men will be men” – I thought. The BMW stood in front of the Bungalow’s gate.The chauffeur greeted me.I got inside the car and the smooth German engine roared to life.
“I am in the bar.”- my phone beeped. I had to land up in the city’s central district, at Hotel Radisson Blu Plaza. When I saw the 37-floor behemoth, I was rather impressed by Preetilata’s choice rather than the colossal structure which stood in front of my car. We whisked past the security cordon. The chauffeur pulled up gently in front of the portico. I went inside. ‘Solsiden’ was a lounge-bar, isolated from the Cattle. I have been using this word very often in my close circle ever since the junior minister of the department used it back in India, only to find himself ousted from the ministry. I had already spotted Preetilata once I stepped in. Gorgeous she is, truly, a remnant of Roman Renaissance.
The second bottle of Chianti started conquering our senses. Far from files, facts and figures, I liked this sojourn. “Nice place, right?” Preetilata asked me again. “You are, as well!” Does Italian wine make you as cheesy as this? At a corner of the bar, people were making Charleston moves to a rather very monotonous music. I told Preetilata about the boring music.”Let’s pep it up.” I did not reply. I had already held her hand and eventually we came closer. Music didn’t matter to me anymore.
The orchestra took a break. The meat and the wine already made us full. I looked at my watch.2:05am. “Are we going to leave now? I am feeling dizzy, may be I should take rest here only.” “Are you sure?”, I asked. “Yes.””The modern Indian woman has again come to the fore”, I smiled. We walked up towards the huge lobby of the plazza. I booked Suite No.2602 for Preetilata.
We boarded the capsule. Barring the small corner at the bar where we danced, every single thing in this hotel was big and wide. It took some time before we reached the 26th floor of the Radisson Blu. Preetilata started singing a Rabindrasangeet. Wine, meat, Rabindrasangeet and Preetilata – It had already become too dangerous a mix to cope up with. I opened the door of Suite, handed the card-key to Preetilata and after checking if everything was perfect, I turned around. She had unleashed her long hair. Wish I had McCartney’s ‘Long haired lady’ to play right now.
“Are you leaving?”, the belle seemed too tempting to resist. Preetilata seemed to be a woman of stark contradictions. She had told me how she helps an NGO working against sex trafficking and that too, personally, taking out time from her busy schedule whenever she is in India. And now, this question baffled me. But I concealed my bewilderment with elan. “Should I?” – the smartest Samiran Chatterjee now manifested himself.
………I switched off the bedside lamps. It was a toasty Norwegian night which loomed over our weathered senses.
Preetilata was fast asleep while the fine satin caressed her naked skin. I had just lit up a Dunhill. I looked at her. ‘Beautiful’ is a sheer understatement for a few on this earth. The left brain of mine was on a roll when her phone beeped.