Just the Way You Are (6 page)

‘Yes, of course. Though our college has hordes of such girls,' I sneered.

He laughed. ‘Really? When I first came here, I thought I'd set myself up with any of the college girls and get some bang-bang, but now I honestly feel that I must propose to my Dilliwaali friend or she might too get out of my hands. The system is changing too fast there, yaar.'

‘Is it so? I mean, how?'

‘Ah! The point is, in Delhi you will find every girl attractive and if someone is not then she will do it artificially.'

‘Artificially? What do mean?'

‘She will spend half her day in the parlour and spend all her father's money on perming her hair, getting a new hairstyle, and indulge in numerous other things like facial and massages and what not. Everything that can and will make her look no less than a Paris fashion-week model. Get my point? Heavy eyeliner, mascara, Zara, Jimmy Choo, Chanel, and Gucci … the list never ends. We too should run away from this college and open up a Zara franchise, I tell you!'

He continued, ‘So what happens is, you find almost everyone committed. Even the most phatichar guys will have the best of chicks. Even if someone breaks up, within in a week he will get another chick and ultimately get committed.'

‘What the heck, man! Really? I mean, what about emotions and feelings?'

‘Emotions? Dude, which world are you in? One week of commitment and then jump into bed. The more you use your brain, the more girls will slip out of your hands. Remember, all of them like dumb guys. So, keep your emotions and feelings in the gutter.'

I grimaced.

‘And what is the point of feelings and all? One gone and the next is in. Just one criterion. She needs to be hotter than the previous one. Haven't you heard the saying?'

‘Which saying? I have heard so many of Oscar Wilde's and Jane Austen's sayings on love and romance.'

‘Oh no, not Oscar Wilde. Why do you try to act so intellectual all the time? These people had nothing to do in their life and couldn't have a single good affair and hence kept on cribbing their entire life. Don't follow their footsteps or you too will be in the same gutter. Mark my words!'

‘Okay, okay.' I knew there was no point discussing all this with him any further. ‘What was the saying, by the way?'

‘Time and new girlfriends mend the pain. And who the hell has time in this fast-paced world? Even food is fast food. Everything is readymade now. So are girlfriends. Get committed and sleep with her …'

‘Okay, okay. I got your point.'

‘Great. See, this is greatness. Don't get involved in matters of the heart and in these stupid things like trust, understanding, and all that funda. It never works and they will friend-zone you. Would you like that?'

‘Certainly not!'

‘Then don't stalk anyone on Facebook. It doesn't work,' he sneered.

‘Ah, I am not stalking anyone.'

‘Don't worry. I was just kidding. Will share other secrets later.'

‘Secrets?'

‘Yes. There is an art to impress girls.'

‘Okay. Great.' And he left the room. His words encouraged me and that was the first time I decided that I would go nowhere else but Delhi.

I walked ahead. Wherever my head turned I saw beauties and slender bodies whizzing past me like scent. As if the air had turned pink and lavender. The road was lit up in electric radiance. In front of me I could see a sea of girls tugging at my desperate heart like a wild wave. My eyes grew wider and at that moment it was even possible that they would pop out and I wouldn't be surprised. Reality suddenly made me hopeful. I could see shapely, waxed legs rising up to bodies in full bloom. Some were in shorts, some in miniskirts, some even in hot pants. One could look at them for centuries and wonder if God was the perfect recycler! Something so beautiful coming straight out of a man's rib? Impossible. As I floated through the sea of lithe, petite bodies in wonder and awe, one of them brushed past me. It was difficult to say whether she was trying to display the straps of her bra sticking out of her top or if she wanted the viewer to focus on the loose top that by some rare luck managed to cover it up. Similar girls brushed behind, and their faces almost became one as my eyes darted from one to the other. I could only see legs and breasts! I realized that Utsav wasn't wrong with his bang-bang story. It was indeed true.

The painted faces, the lined eyes, the scent of rosewater wafting through the air reminded me of Utsav's words. How the world starts and ends in the beauty parlour for them! The first thing they do in the morning is to break a flaming mirror that tells them that they aren't beautiful and rush to a parlour like mad dogs hunting for bones. I was finding it harder to believe. As I moved ahead the flock of girls seemed to grow in size, as if the world had suddenly burst into Eden right after the apocalypse. At that moment I honestly sought someone who could pinch me hard and tell me it wasn't a dream after all. I told my heart, ‘Control kar saale!'

I passed through the crowd as my eyes speared through each girl, X-raying each from top to bottom. The number of girls seemed to increase unnaturally, almost as if they were viral. I couldn't have enough. By that time I had checked out and X-rayed so many of them that I hadn't seen in the last five years of my life. The word ‘sexy' was definitely an understatement. Or maybe it was only invented for them. It is here that the etymological origin of that word lay. The universe had contorted, merged, and shrunk to Connaught Place that day. The rhythm of the earth could be felt in their grace, the way they moved and carried themselves. How could everyone be so elegant and graceful? Maybe the way we had extra classes for Sanskrit, these girls too had classes to
sex
themselves up enough when they grew up!

I stopped near a showroom and glanced in. It was full with customers and whoever came out of the store had at least one bag. The reason, of course, was the salesgirl. I found her inordinately beautiful. I thought of going inside but I must buy at least one thing. I must avoid looking stupid in front of her and make a khichdi out of myself, the way I always do. I called up Utsav.

‘Hey! How's Delhi, man? Enjoying yourself?' asked Utsav.

‘It's beautiful. And I am standing amidst the sexiest girls of India.'

He started laughing. ‘What did I tell you? All are smoking hot, aren't they?'

‘You were right about break-ups and commitments. Who would stick to one girl and why? More so when every other chick is a bomb!'

‘Yes. And you will get them automatically. Only thing is, you need to spend some money. The rest will happen in its own pace or probably faster than you even imagined.'

‘Yes. I can believe that now.'

‘No doubt your tips and secrets give 100 per cent guarantee.' And we both cracked up.

After wrecking my head over getting one single good girl I did end up meeting an English major chick from Hindu. She came round the corner of Turtle Café and I sat with her for hours. By that time I had forgotten the salesgirl I had seen some weeks back. Every girl was worth falling for so it hardly made a difference. Our chats seemed to be never ending, not only in person but also over the phone. I was happy to offer her solutions on how to cope with her broken family and how she should be calm though her parents fought almost every day. At first I thought things were going just the way I wanted. She called me every day and I went running to help her. But when the judgment day came and I professed my love to her, she ended up saying that she had always considered me as a good friend and couldn't think of me on those lines. I was not only upset but frustrated. I had made so much of emotional investment already. I felt broken and called up Gaurav. He seemed to understand the low tone of my voice.

‘So, friend-zoned again?' he asked. I could hear his sneering tone but I was used to it.

‘Yes,' I said sadly.

‘Dude, I seriously think you're jinxed. Some nutcase in school must have fallen for you and must have cast something on you and you still carry that curse! I mean, honestly, how come you fail every time and nothing works out?'

‘Why does this happen with me every time? This time I didn't make any mistake. In fact, I called her and talked about her every problem.'

‘Wait. You talked about her problems and don't you say that you tried to preach to her?' he asked inquisitively.

‘Yes. What's wrong with that? I tried to support her.'

‘Well done, my boy. I understand now why you get friend-zoned every time. Do one thing. Open a girl's problem-solution centre. And start charging a fee for this because you are anyway not going to get girls. You will get some cash to spend on yourself or at least for your phone recharge.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘What is the point of calling her whenever she wanted to talk to you and why the hell did you solve her every problem and listen to her?'

‘I don't know but what's wrong with that?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Then?'

‘See, a girl needs a guy who can solve her problems, listen to her all the time, and can talk to someone who listens to her without expecting anything. That's what you were doing for her. If she was getting all this from you, then, I mean, why would she make you her boyfriend? Girls never make such guys their boyfriends.'

‘But what's wrong with me? I am good looking, I care for her, and in fact love her.'

‘See, girls are impressed by guys who remain mysterious to them, who don't go to them so easily. Once you are available to them all the time, they will take you for granted and will dump you in the friend zone.'

‘But isn't that the ironic? I mean, it's a good thing, right? Always available for her whenever she wants to talk to you and needs support from you. I mean, how come I would lose importance?'

‘Because you are stupid! Logic doesn't work here, my friend. Okay? Let me give you an example. You have immense respect for Shah Rukh Khan. Right?'

‘Yes. He is a superstar.'

‘Right. And suppose you talk to him on a daily basis, would you care for him and respect him in the same way as you do now?'

It was a tricky question and I remained silent.

‘You won't. It's human nature, you see. You never give importance to stuff that you have in hand easily or that which is always with you. You don't have to strive for it or be desperate about it. It's the same with you and girls. When they know that they can have you any time they want, and for any goddamn problem they are in, you'd end up being the saviour why would they want you or, for that matter, crave you? They would, in fact crave someone who isn't easily available to them, who flirts with them but doesn't make it explicitly clear to them that he's gonna be with them no matter what and in all odd hours. Girls never want someone who would be a problem-solver and who would keep on preaching to them on each and every topic. Got my point?'

‘But this is unfair. A relationship doesn't work on candlelight dinners but on trust, understanding, and mutual affection.'

‘Great thought. Do one thing. Build a time machine and travel to a century earlier and try to use your funda there. Got it?'

‘I don't know. Something is seriously wrong with girls out here. They will chase some stupid guys who will talk all sorts of nonsense with them, that too without an iota of knowledge, and flirt with them with as many dumb jokes possible. Then, of course, their usual tactic: have the girls sit behind them on bikes and apply the brakes just at the right junction and moment so that they can have the delight of “pressings”!'

‘And this is exactly what a girl likes, dude! A guy makes her laugh, gives her gifts. They are so soft that they would rather get impressed with a teddy bear than with a Salman Rushdie book that you carry on a date.'

‘Yeah! True. To add to this, something is also seriously wrong with my destiny. Hey, you know how to read the Tarot, right? Would you read the Tarot for me and check my fate?'

‘Okay, I'll do that. You send me three questions and I will let you know. Before that, I will tell you once secret. The faster you bring a girl closer to yourself, probably to bed, the closer girls get to you.'

‘Wow! Wonderful. Here I am getting friend-zoned each time and you are suggesting that I go to bed with them. Are you drunk? I mean, I talk to you because I always consider you to talk sense but now you are completely out of your mind.'

‘Okay. Don't believe me. Why don't you try to hang out with a girl in Delhi? Long-term relationships don't work out much and talking on the phone doesn't leave much impact on her mind. Delhi has hot and sexy girls. Try your chance. And who knows, you might get a chance to take one to bed too.' He smirked. I felt like punching his face.

‘Wow. I mean, how? I just need to go to the road and when I find any beautiful girl and I should start talking to her, isn't it? And then the slaps following will surely lose their count.'

‘No. I mean, visit new places. Join some club. Or go to pubs. These are the best places to meet new girls. And yes, before going there, do one more thing. Get a facial and all and yes, change your hairstyle. Your current hairstyle is perfect for an interview or job but get a sexy look.'

‘Which style?'

‘How do I know? Visit a parlour and they will take care of your look. Don't sound boring and look boring.'

‘Yes, boss.' And we both started laughing.

ANIS UNISEX PARLOUR. SUCH
a contradictory name. Perhaps this is how people in Delhi imbibed metrosexuality into words and attitudes. It was the weekend and in my quest for a better parlour, I landed at Anis. On that line of the road I could see many other parlours as well but then I decided on Anis, speculating on its interesting name and noticing the number of people flocking inside.

I pushed open the glass door and the strong scent of musk pushed its way up my nostrils. A girl stood in the doorway against the portrait of a shirtless chap flaunting his extra-wavy hair and muscles. She was the receptionist and looked quite inviting. ‘How may I help you, sir?' She had a thick, accented voice. She smiled into a perfect crescent, showing a radiant set of teeth. I gulped. My feet were giving away.

As I began to speak, I felt my tongue rolling against my palate and ended up fumbling. After a moment of silence I took control and managed to speak, ‘I am here for a haircut and a facial.'

She smiled. Probably thinking that I looked like another desperate wannabe!

Then she said, ‘Okay, great! I would request you to wait here for a few minutes. All our hairdressers are serving other customers.'

‘Okay.' She showed me down a well-lit corridor. The walls were pasted with posters of men and women with similar extra-wavy hair and showing the right muscles and curves. I walked to the corner seat lounge. All other seats at the other end of the waiting lounge were occupied with girls. Almost all of them looked the same. Or perhaps it was my eyes. All of them were sexy with glistening legs. I cursed under my breath, ‘What the fuck! What more do they need. Why at have they come here at all?' It was absurd. All were decked to perfection and looked as if they had already had whatever nose job or pout job was to be done. Honestly, girls in Delhi have nothing else to do and are obsessed with beautifying themselves. At a certain point I did contemplate on falling in love with such a girl who would spend twenty hours of the day in the parlour itself but then maybe I didn't want that. I was just being desperate; as Gaurav said, I needed to get laid, that's all. The sofa in the lounge was so soft that I almost slipped into its depths and it made a squeaky sound. Some girls turned around and smiled. I smiled back meekly, thinking that I had lost my chance with any of them. I must be looking like a dumbass!

When I had had enough of staring at the girls, I lay there sinking deeper into the seat and ruminating like a hungry cow. I had nothing to do at this hour and the line was never-ending. The customers were not ready to move out of their seats. After every facial another pedicure was lined up and then some steam therapy. Spa, yes, that's what they call it. It was taking an eternity. I tried to pick up a magazine and flip through its pages. It didn't interest me in the least. Just then a guy came out from inside one of the chambers. He had a chiselled face with muscles cutting into his electric-red T-shirt. His face glittered like ice and for a second I thought that men could be beautiful too. Suddenly I became self-conscious and tilted my head to steal a glance at my own face in the mirror on the side. It was the same boring face, with a lopsided arc for a mouth. I looked dark, with the soot of all of Delhi pasted on my skin. And on top of that, the blackheads on and around my nose made me look pitiable in my own eyes. Seriously, I needed a big makeover. Big with a capital ‘B'. Gaurav was right. Why would girls like me, of all people, when there are such studs flocking around the city wearing ripped T-shirts and zooming off on bikes. I had bad inferiority complex and was sulking.

I was called after about ten minutes more. I went inside. It was a huge chamber with life-sized mirrors on the walls. The guy who had called me in gestured for me to sit on a large chair. I could almost sink into it and never come out. He started with tying a band on my forehead and pulled it tight. I thought I would crack my neck. But then I saw almost everyone—men and women alike—had similar bandanas tied around their heads. It was so that the cream from the facial would not seep into the hair. He took a thick dab of L'Oreal facial cream in his palms and applied it gently on my face. In the mirror in front of me I could see girls being given similar massages. I had the urge to get up from my seat and join the masseur as his assistant. At least that way I could strike up a conversation with one of the girls. But after a moment I felt like a desperate fool. As if someone had inflated a balloon to its full size and then left its mouth open to a miserable puncture. After some time he stopped the rotating movements of his hands on my face and I could instead feel a vibrating corrugated plate on my cheeks making a strange buzzing sound. It felt as if little insects were nibbling at my skin. I now understood the secret of beauty for men and women alike. It was far more important to
look
beautiful than to
be
beautiful.

After the facial was done, another guy, this time with a silky black apron tied around his waist, came and held my head in the the crook of his arm. He held my chin and cradled it in a different direction to see how ‘hairy' I was, at least that is what I assumed then. And then gave a click of the tongue as if struck with the knowledge of the secret formula with which he could change me into Adonis overnight. He brought an iPad and asked me to flip through the different hairstyles on offer. But I couldn't decide on what I wanted. All of them looked alien to me. As if any of those hairdos would suit any Tom, Dick, and Harry but when it came to me it would certainly suck. He then took charge with a sardonic smile and started running his fingers along his scissors. I murmured ‘Bhagwan' under my breath, apprehensive in case the hairstyle went wrong. It took him over forty minutes to ultimately showcase his talent and flaunt it with utter indifference. After all, it was a trick he performed daily. ‘There you go,' he said. ‘I almost always know how to make a star out of a cucumber.' ‘What?' I asked, thinking I had misheard. ‘Never mind,' he muttered, and glided like a ghost in black into another direction, merging with the crowd of anxious customers. ‘Never mind,' I repeated to myself and looked into the mirror. A boy came in with a big brush and cleaned all the hair from the piece of silky cloth that still covered my front. He brushed my neck and blasted hot air from a hairdryer onto my face to rid me of the remaining small hairs stuck to me. Only then could I see my face in the mirror. I looked different, there was no doubt about it. I looked perfect. The sides were trimmed with precision and my sideburns gleamed like sharp blades. My face looked longish. I no longer looked like a ‘bhaiya-ji'. I thanked God while I headed to the reception to pay up.

I proudly came out of the inner chamber, looking at the girls and passing conceited smiles to them. They seemed to notice me too. My heart did a jig inside and I felt my balloon inflating confidently once again. It couldn't be punctured anymore. But then there is always one or the other shock awaiting me after a period of relief and comfort. This time it was at the reception table as the receptionist handed me the bill.

‘What? 3000 bucks? What for?'

‘Sir, you can check our price list. It was for the haircut, facial, bleaching, and massage. We can offer you a 10 per cent discount. Corporate discount. Are you working or a college student?'

‘What do you think I'd be?' I gave her a mocking interrogatory look.

‘When you came here earlier, you looked like a working professional but now, you look like a college student.' I sensed some insult against me.

‘What do you mean? I am working. And this is my office card.' I showed her the card. She seemed satisfied then. Rs 3000 was the only way out at that moment. I felt like digging the notes out and throwing them at her face. That would teach her and her staff some manners. I pulled out my wallet from my pocket and checked the notes in it. It contained only had Rs 200 and some change. She craned her neck doubtfully to look into my wallet. I turned around and flipped out my debit card. I handed it to her and waited at the counter. For a second I wanted to spit in her face. I felt extremely unnerved and disturbed. She, however, swiped my card mechanically and pulled out the receipt. I signed it and stormed out. It was only the beginning, I realized. There was a pit of guilt inside my stomach. I had literally splurged and emptied my pockets! What had I got myself into?