2 States The Story Of My Marriage (16 page)

bag, so one couldn’t make out the shape.

‘What’s in it?’ the liftman asked me as the bottles touched the ground noisily

when I placed the packet on the floor.

‘Lemon squash,’ I said.

‘You should have coconut water instead,’ the liftman said.

I nodded and reached my apartment. Ramanujan saw me place the bottles in

the fridge. “what’s that?’ He wore a lungi and nothing on top apart from a white

thread around his shoulders.

‘Beer,’ I said.

‘Dude, you can’t get alcohol in this building,’ he said.

‘My girlfriend is visiting me. She likes it,’ I said.

‘You have a girlfriend?’ Ramanujan repeated like I had ten wives. None of my

flatmates had a girlfriend. They were all qualified, well-paid Tamil Citibankers who
planned to be auctioned off soon by their parents.

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‘Yes, from college,’ I said.

My other roommates came to the living room. None of them wore shirts. I shut

the fridge to avoid further conversation on the beverages.

‘She is visiting Chennai? Sendil said.

‘Will she stay here? She can’t stay here,’ Appalingam said.

‘She lives in Chennai,’ I said.

The boys looked at each other as to who would ask the bell-the-cat question.

‘Tamilian?’ Ramanujan asked.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘Tamil Brahmin.’ I added the last two words to let them absorb the
shock at once.

‘Wow!’ all of them said in unison.

‘She drinks beer?’ Ramanujan said.

‘Yes,’ I said and upturned the chicken into a bowl.

‘And chicken? What kind of Brahmin is this?’ Sendil said. ‘And dude, don’t get

non-veg in this house.’

‘It’s my house, too,’ I said.

‘But rules are rules,’ he said.

People in this city loved rules, or rather loved to follow rules. Except if you are
a cop or a liquor shop attendant or an auto driver.

‘Let it be, Sendil,’ Ramanujan said.

‘Thanks,’ I said and placed the chicken in the fridge. ‘And guys, please wear

shirts when she is here.’

Ananya came to my place at two o’clock. I greeted her politely in the living

room. My flatmates exchanged shy glances with each other as she greeted them.

Sendil spoke to her in Tamil. Tamilians love to irritate non-Tamil speakers by

speaking only in Tamil in front of them. This is the only silent rebellion in their

otherwise repressed, docile personality. When she finally entered my bedroom, I

grabbed her from behind.

‘Can w eat first? I haven’t had chicken for a month.’

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‘I haven’t had sex for four months,’ I said, but she went out and opened the

fridge.

‘You have beer too. Superb!’ she praised and she pulled out a bottle. She

offered it to my flatmates; they declined. We moved the food and beer to my

bedroom. I didn’t want my friends outside to witness sin as we finished a full

chicken and two beers.

‘And now for dessert,’ I said and came close to her.

‘If I burp, don’t stop loving me,’ she said as her lips came close to mine.

I burped. She slapped me. We kissed and kissed and kissed some more. Our

lovemaking was more intense, not only because we did it after a long time, but

also because we were doing it in this stuck-up city for the first time.

‘Mr Citibanker, there is no train to catch. Slower, gentler next-time,’ Ananya

said as we lay back. I sighed as I entered a semi-trance state. Ramanujan played

Tamil music outside the room.

‘What, say something? Men just want sex,’ she said and kicked my leg.

‘Yeah, that’s why I’ve agreed to teach your brother at five in the morning. You
want to see my chemistry notes?’ I sat up, wore my clothes and pulled out

tutorials from the drawer. ‘I read these for four hours last night,’ I said.

‘So sweet,’ she said and came forward to kiss my cheek. ‘Don’t worry. My

parents will soon see how wonderful you are. And then they will love you like I

do.’

‘They’ll sleep with me?’ I lay down next to her.

She elbowed me in my stomach.

‘That hurt,’ I said.

‘Good.’ She looked into my eyes. Her gaze turned soft. ‘I know the tuitions are
hard. My parents are weird people. You’ll not give up, right?’

‘I won’t give up.’ I stroked her hair.

‘This is so amazing, this intimacy. Isn’t it even better than the sex?’

‘I’m not so sure,’ I said and reached a hand to increase the fan speed.

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‘We never talk. At home, my mom and dad, they hardly talk. We’ll talk about

the news, the food, the weather. But we never talk about our feelings. I only do

that with you,’ she said.

I kept quiet. She sat up to wear her clothes. She picked up the pillows from the
floor and placed them back on the bed. I pulled her arm and made her sit down

with me again.

‘How come you don’t ask me to run away with you?’ she asked.

‘You want me to? What if I did ask you to elope?’

‘I wouldn’t know what to do. I don’t want to hurt them. I already have by

choosing a Punjabi mate, but I think we can win them over, I want them to smile

on our wedding day. That’s how I imagined my marriage since I was a child. What

about you?’

I thought for a minute. ‘I don’t want to elope,’ I said.

‘Why?’

‘It’s too easy. And that doesn’t serve the greater purpose.’

Ananya stepped off the bed and brought back the leftovers. She took the

crumbs of chicken and ate them as we talked. ‘Greater purpose?’

‘Yes, these stupid biases and discrimination are the reason our country is so

screwed up. It’s Tamil first, Indian later. Punjabi first, Indian later. It has to end.’

Ananya looked at me. ‘Go on,’ she coaxed mischievously.

I continued, ‘National anthem, national currency, national teams – we won’t

marry our children outside our state. How can this intolerance be good for our

country?’

Ananya smiled. ‘Is it the chicken, is it the beer or is it the sex? What has

charged you up so much? Flatter me and say it is the sex. C’mon say it,’ she said.

‘I’m serious Ananya. This bullshit must end.’

‘And how are we making it end?’

‘Imagine our kids.’

‘I have, several times. I want them to have my face. Only your eyes,’ she said.

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‘Not that, think about this – they won’t be Tamil or Punjabi. They will be Indian.

They will be above all this nonsense. If all young people marry outside their

community, it is good for the country. That is the greater purpose.’

‘Oh, so the reason you sleep with me is for the sake of your country,’ she said.

‘Well, in some ways, yes.’ I smiled sheepishly.

She took a pillow and launched an attack on my head. And then, for the sake

of my country, we made love again.

‘Open up, Krish,’ Ramanujan’s worried voice and loud bangs on the door woke

me from my nap.

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19

Ananya was sleeping next to me and my head hurt from the beer. Ramanujan

continued to slam the door.

‘What?’ I opened the door.

‘I’ve been knocking for five minutes,’ Ramanujan said. ‘Come out, the landlord

is here.’

‘Landlord?’

‘Yes, be nice to him. It’s the last chummery in Nungambakkam. I don’t want to

be kicked out.’

‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘Come out first.’

I shut the door and wore the rest of my clothes.

‘Ananya,’ I said.

‘Baby, I’m sleepy,’ she said, trying to pull me back into bed.

‘My landlord is here,’ I said. She didn’t respond even though I shook her

maniacally.

‘Your appa is outside,’ I said.

She sprang up on the bed. ‘What?’

‘Come out. My landlord is here,’ I said.

I went to the living room. My flatmates sat on the dining table. Mr Punnu, our

sixty-year old landlord, gravely occupied the largest chair. His face had a

permanently tragic expression.

I sat next to him. No one spoke.

‘Hi guys,’ Ananya came out after five minutes. ‘You want tea? I’ll make some.’

She started to walk towards the kitchen.

‘Ananya, I will see you later,’ I said.

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Ananya looked at me, shocked. She tuned into the mood on the dining table.

‘I’ll leave now.’ She picked up her bag.

Mr Punnu stood up after Ananya left the house. He sniffed hard. He peeped

into my room. ‘Chicken?’ he frowned.

I didn’t respond. Beer bottles lay on the bedside table.

‘Ladies?’ he said.

‘She works in HLL,’ I said, having no clue why I had to mention her corporate

status.

‘Chicken, beer, lady friends – what is going on here?’ he said.

Fun, I wanted to say but didn’t. Those three things are what men live for

anyway.

Everyone kept quiet. I wondered who had sneaked. My flatmates were no

friend material, but somehow I didn’t expect them to be suck schmucks. Maybe

the watchman did it.

‘I didn’t expect this from you boys,’ Punnu said in a heavy Tamil accent.

‘It’s my fault. I brought the chicken and beer for my girlfriend,’ I said.

‘Girlfriend?’ Punnu said as if I spoke in pure Sanskrit.

‘She is my batch-mate. A nice girl,’ I said.

Mr Punnu didn’t seem impressed.

‘She’s Tamil Brahmin,’ I said.

‘And you?’

‘Punjabi,’ I said and my head hung low a little by default.

‘How is she a nice girl if she is roaming around with you?’ Mr Punnu asked.

He had a valid point. I decided to change the topic. ‘Mr Punnu, this is not a

boarding school. We are all professionals and what we do in our own home…’

Mr Punnu banged his fist on the table. ‘This is my home,’ he pointed out.

‘Yes, but you have leased it to us. Technically, we have a right to not let you
into the property.’

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Mr Punnu looked aghast. Ramanujan had to save the situation. ‘He doesn’t

know, Mr Punnu. He is new here. We should have told him it is a veg building and

no alcohol.’

‘Not even a drop,’ Mr Punnu said. “I have not touched it all my life.’

Mr Punnu looked like he had touched neither wine nor a woman all his life, but

badly needed to.

‘Apologise,’ Ramanujan told me.

I glanced around. Tamils gathered around me like the LTTE. I had no choice.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

‘No ladies from now on.’ Mr Punnu wagged a finger.

‘And beer and chicken?’ I said.

“That wasn’t allowed from before anyway,’ Sendil said. Everyone around me

nodded as they felt the warm fuzzy feeling of having set rules on how to live their

life.

I wondered where I’d take Ananya the next time.

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20

‘I am good at chemistry. I need help in physics,’ Manjunath, nerd-embryo and

Ananya’s younger brother, spoke with eh energy of a rooster. His eyebrows went

up and down as he spoke, in sync with the three rows of ash on his forehead.

I had come for my first class. Ananya had left for Madurai the night before for a
weeklong sales trip. My head hurt from waking up early. Ananya’s mother had

sent coffee to Manju’s room. It didn’t help.

Neither did the fact that I had only read up chemistry.

“let’s revise it anyways,’ I said and opened my sheets.

‘Hydrocarbons?’ he said as he saw my notes. ‘I’ve done this thee times.’

I offered him a problem and he solved it in two minutes. I tried a harder one,

and he did it in the same time. A tape played in the next room. It sounded like a

chorus of women marching towards the army.

‘M.S. Subbulaxmi,’ Manju said, noticing my worried expression. ‘Devotional

music.’

I nodded as I flipped through the chemistry books to find a problem

challenging enough for the little Einstein.

‘Every Tamilian house plays it in the morning.’

I wondered if Ananya would play it in our house after we got married. My

mother would have serious trauma with that sound. The chants became stronger

with every passing minute.

‘What is IIT like?’ he asked.

I told him about my former college, filtering out all the spicy bits that occurred
in my life.

‘I want to do aeronautics,’ Manju said. At his age, I didn’t even know that word.

He took out his physics textbook after an hour. He gave me a problem and I