When Hari Met His Saali (4 page)

His Galaxy Note II pinged right at that moment. Hari had subscribed to all kinds of trivia lists and he would receive it on his phone all day long.

Hari’s Trivia # 01: The world’s first mobile phone call was made in 1973 by Motorola employee Martin Cooper from the streets of New York City.

The name Martin Cooper had a ring to it like most other accomplished men’s names had. Like Larry Flynt! They sounded important, they had weight to them, he thought. Unlike his own name, Hariprasad, which he hated. Hariprasad! People always asked him what it meant. That’s such an American thing. Americans think that all Indian names have to mean something spiritually or philosophically profound. He had had fun with that, sometimes making up a crazy story about the origins of the name.

Since his Malibu high school days he had forced people to call him either Hari (pronounced
hurry.
Ironically, Hari was anything but in a hurry, to do
anything.) or Harry. Nevertheless it still bothered him that his American passport carried his official name, Hariprasad. Who named their son with something so dated these days? His paternal grandmother,
Badi Mama
— a big fan of Indian classical flutist Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia — did.

Hari was a Punjabi — not that he bothered himself with such tags, he considered himself an American; he
was
an American. He spoke English with an American accent and spoke Hindi, or any other language for that matter, with the same accent. But he knew that Punjabis didn’t name their sons Hariprasad. So he hated
Badi Mama.
He didn’t hate-hate her, he just hated the fact that she named him Hariprasad. He would’ve been happier if she had invented a word for him. William Shakespeare invented the words “assassination
”
and “bump”. Why couldn’t
Badi Mama
have been a bit more inventive? Most high achievers in the history of mankind had
adjusted
their names to sound powerful.

Hari’s Trivia # 36: Mohammad Ali’s real name was Cassius Marcellus Clay. Woody Allen’s real name is Allen Konigsberg. Bruce Lee’s real name was Lee Yuen Kam. Batman’s real name was/is Bruce Wayne.

Try having a successful career with a name like Konigsberg or Clay … good luck with that. Hari had often contemplated changing his name legally. But let’s just say he didn’t have the balls to do it.

Interesting
, he thought after reading that bit of trivia.

Hari switched to the shopping list on his mobile (yep, he had made a shopping list for an adult sex shop) and went straight to the men’s section to test a latex multipurpose ring. It vibrated and danced on the table when he pushed play.

‘Hi, I’m Tish, do you need any help?’ someone asked. As Hari turned around he saw a young blonde woman who looked like she had just walked out of a
Playboy
centerfold. She smiled at him. This was not his first time at the store so he didn’t actually need assistance, but still, he flirted with her, casually mentioning:

‘Need something for an all-nighter tonight, both for myself and my lady.’

Tish saw the ring in his hand and started listing its features. The ring was embedded with silicone balls in some kind of liquid. When switched on, the silicone balls vibrate, providing continuous stimulation. That allows more blood to flow to the genitals and the erection lasts longer.

Hari was listening to her thinking,
Oh Tish, what a beautiful, informative and useful description.
He loved the fact that she didn’t seem uncomfortable at all.

This is why I love America! Where else can a man buy a vibrating multipurpose ring from a centerfold blonde so openly?

Hari was a well-travelled man. Apart from India, he had travelled to most destinations on various Top Ten lists. So he was aware of being an American in America. He could be a man here and flirt with Tish. He indulged her.

‘But does it really work?’ He wanted her to sell it to him a little longer.

‘Of course it does,’ Tish smiled. ‘We — me and my boo — use it every night. It’s one of the best enhancements for a man’s sex life if you’re not eighteen any more!’

Aah, a smart blonde. Me likes, me likes!

‘In that case, I’ll take it.’

After Hari picked up some other playful stuff, Tish rang up his purchases at the counter. She pointed him to the women’s section.

‘Maybe you’d like some edible panties for the lucky lady? You’ll have to do all the work; she’ll just have to wear them. We just got a shipment of new arrivals in Tiramisu and Honeydew flavors.’

Hari picked up a pack of six in assorted flavors — Vibrant Vodka, Bubblegum, Caramel Coffee, Tiramisu, Honey Dew and Blackcurrant — for tonight. He smiled as the possibilities crossed his mind.

It’s like a buffet!

While charging his American Express card, Tish read his name. The expression on his face changed because he knew … what … was … comi …

‘
Harryprashaad.
That’s an Indian name, what does it mean?’ Tish asked him casually while she waited for the transaction to go through. Hari made up an elaborate story about how his ancestors were descendants from a village where the
Kama Sutra
was written and his name was a derivation of the word used to describe virility. Tish maintained her smiling demeanor even though she knew that Hari was bullshitting her. And he knew that she knew, but he also knew that she was not going to question him as the sale was almost complete and as a sales girl, her forced flirting with him was going to end. She need not believe him and therefore he was free to fictionalize the origin of his name.

He took a good look at her from top to bottom. He quietly
inhaled
her.

Hari’s Trivia # 09: Other than the genitals and the breasts, the inner nose is the only other human body part that routinely swells during arousal — this is because it is made from the same type of erectile tissue as the penis.

Hari was the kind of a guy that was going to build up the anticipation of tonight all day long and then use it to his advantage. He took mental
snapshots of this hot beauty, her milky thighs and her pert buttocks, barely covered by her short skirt, her cleavage and her tight blouse.

He wanted to make tonight memorable for Tia. After all, it was the sixth anniversary of their going steady with each other. Although he couldn’t care less for such sentiments, he was aware that tonight was important to Tia. He knew she liked celebrating such non-events and no matter how much he verbally flirted with other women, he really loved Tia. He wanted her night to be really special. But how to make a moment special was lost on Hari. In fact, he was clueless and was even clueless that he was clueless. Instead, he thought he knew it all. Such things just didn’t occur to him. Tia planned everything and he was just the executor. He was the meat-and-potatoes guy to Tia’s exotic cannot-do-without-garnishing girl. They were made for each other — he genuinely believed that.

Hari quickly put the shopping bag in the trunk of his red VW Jetta — a strictly middle-class car — and drove quickly to Tia’s place in Santa Monica.

That night

Tia had three Bollywood films ready:
Ajab Prem Ki Gajab Kahani, Kal Ho Na Ho
and the new release
Yeh Jawani Hai Deewani.
That Tia was a movie buff was an understatement. She was a movie fanatic. She liked all genres but she
loved
romcoms.

She was a romantic herself — or at least she considered herself to be a romantic — but mostly her ideas of romance came from movies and books. This was not uncommon, where else would you get your ideas of romance from? And the ideas were not bad in themselves, but one can get carried away with them. No one had told Tia that.

Tonight, she had lit scented candles, put satin sheets on her bed and had their drinks ready. Tia liked wine; Hari liked vodka. She had an hour before Hari would show up, so she stepped into her bathtub and added a few drops of musky bath oil to the warm water. She inhaled the fragrance and gradually her mind drifted to her first meeting with Hari.

Tia had met Hari six years ago when she was rooming with Jenny at UCLA and both were single and unattached. It was Jenny who had introduced them, but in fact Hari had been asked by his father to look for her. Simi, Tia’s younger sister, had casually mentioned to her mother’s sister’s husband — her
Mausaji
— about Tia being alone in Los Angeles. Simi and Tia’s
Mausaji
worked for Indian Oil and his boss’s wife, Mrs. Iyer, had suffered a heart attack and had gone to America for treatment.
Mausaji
had mentioned to Mr.
Iyer about his niece studying in Los Angeles all by herself and had casually asked,
‘Dekho na vaha koyi pehchan ka hai kya apna?’
(meaning, did he have any acquaintances in Los Angeles?). He didn’t really think Mr. Iyer would go home and actually ask his wife! Well, from there the degree of separation between Tia and Hari could best be illustrated by a flow chart:

‘You are both Indians, what else do you want? Work it out!’ Jenny had told Tia and Hari between throwing up. All three were skunk-drunk. Up until that point Tia had only had one man, a
Gora
(an American) and that was only because she wanted to make love to a white guy at least once in her life. It was not a bucket list thing to do, but she just wanted to get it out of the way. As it had turned out the intimate session with the white dude was not earth-shattering or anything. It was strictly A-OK. So when she met Hari, Tia was ready and available, which was exactly how she introduced herself to him in a drunken stupor:

‘Hi I’m Tia. I am single and ready to mingle!’

As the night had progressed, Tia developed at least a crush on Hari. They had bonded overnight as if it was meant to be. They had talked all night.
What a genuine guy
, she had thought. Normally, whenever a guy and a girl were together in a dorm and alcohol was involved, the guy was supposed to get into the girl’s pants. Or at least try to. But this guy didn’t. Which was sweet, Tia thought at the time. She had shared her dreams with him. That she wanted a very bookish American dream, the one that had a two-storied house with a white picket fence (because, since the day she had landed in America, she had heard and read about “white picket fences” non-stop). Hari had asked her if she knew the importance of a white picket fence. Tia had nodded her head confidently. To this day, she had no clue why a two-storied house without a white picket fence was not enough. It was enough that everyone wanted it and so did she. The white picket fence had made it to her Most Desired list pretty fast.

The middle portion of that night was still hazy but when they had woken up in the morning, they were in the bathtub. Cramped next to each other they were spooning, but strangely fully clothed. They were not sure if something had happened, but it was not discussed. Ever.

When Hari left, Tia did a mental check: He was not a fresh-off-the-boat Indian, which was good. He was an ABCD (American Born Confused Desi), which was manageable. He was two years older than her, a perfectly marriageable age. And he was sweet. That was an added attraction. He was tall with lush hair and if you looked closely, after a few drinks, he could almost be called handsome. That was enough.

It helped that she knew he came from a rich family of doctors — always a bonus for Indians. He lived in an upscale Malibu township, was uncomplicated and drove a Mazda Miata to college, which was kinda cute. This boy fitted most requirements on her “Long-term Guy” list. This qualified him as a catch in Tia’s head. She would watch him on the campus and before he could officially realize it, she had made sure that Tia and Hari were going steady. Soon thereafter, she had resolved to get married to him. But that did not mean that she would not question if she had resolved for the right man.

Tia seesawed a lot. She also liked to relive selective moments from her past, as she was doing now, while putting her apartment in order, waiting for Hari.

An hour later

Of course, as expected, Hari was running late. When he eventually got to her apartment, he rushed to the bathroom. ‘Hari, make sure you put the seat down!’ she had screamed.

‘Really? We want to behave as a married couple now?’ Hari joked when he came out of the bathroom.

She noticed he had not even wiped his hands, thankfully he had washed them, but not wiped them dry on the fresh hand towel she had set in the bathroom just minutes earlier. She wanted to let go of it but with her it was not that easy.

‘Hari, you’re dripping water everywhere. Wipe your hands.’

Hari quickly wiped his hands, on his jeans and flopped on the couch.

‘OK, I am ready for my punishment. What are we watching?’ he asked as he poured himself a vodka.

Hari’s Trivia # 108: The word “vodka” derives from the Russian word “voda” meaning water. Vodka is made using rye, corn, or potatoes.

He didn’t hear her respond. When he turned around, Tia was staring at him. It took him a minute to absorb her body language. She was standing there, with her cute little hips cocked to one side, her legs slightly apart, her arms folded into her chest, her lips just so open and her eyes squinted, looking towards him.