2 States: The Story of My Marriage by Chetan Bhagat

  18

  The beautiful sunrise at Marina Beach compensated for the 5 a.m. wakeup call. Hundreds of people took a morning walk along the seashore, which ran down miles.

  ‘Do you know this is the biggest city beach in Asia?’ Ananya asked as she met me at the police headquarters building.

  ‘You’ve told me,’ I said.

  ‘Why are you in formals?’

  ‘I go straight to work. Trainees are expected to be there at seven-thirty,’ I said, removing my shoes and folding my pants up to walk along the beach.

  ‘To do what?’

  ‘To suck up to the boss, who if you do a good job will promote you to the next level of sucking up. Welcome to corporate life,’ I said.

  ‘I am not facing it yet. I have to sell a thousand bottles of ketchup every week. I am so behind my targets.’

  ‘You’d better ketch-up fast,’ I said.

  ‘Funny,’ she said and punched me. Ananya saw a man with a bicycle. He carried a basket full of idlis. ‘Breakfast?’ she offered.

  ‘Don’t they have toast?’

  ‘Don’t grumble,’ she said. We took four idlis and sat on a bench facing the water. She spoke about her mother. ‘Guruji didn’t accept mom. He felt she isn’t dedicated enough.’

  ‘But isn’t she really good?’ I asked, not that I could tell from the shrill cries I heard last night.

  ‘She isn’t good enough by Chennai standards. Dad used to be posted in towns outside Tamil Nadu. Mom became a star in the Tamilian community there. Here, she is just OK. Chennai’s Carnatic music scene is at a different level.’

  I nodded as if I understood.

  ‘My parents came to Chennai with great enthusiasm. But now dad lost his promotion. Pesky relatives visit us all the time. Amidst all this, their daughter wants to impose a non-Brahmin, non-Tamil, Punjabi boy on them. Of course, they will freak out. We have to be patient. I love them, too, Krish,’ she said and paused for breath.

  A gentle breeze blew on our faces. She laid her head on my left shoulder. I stroked her hair. The sun emerged out of the Bay of Bengal, a soft red at first, turning into a warmer orange. I put my arm around Ananya. In my tie and formal pants, I looked like a salesman with no place to take his girlfriend to make out.

  ‘There is only one way you can get regular access to my home,’ Ananya said after staring at the horizon for a minute.

  ‘What?’

  ‘IIT tuitions for my brother. They’d accept anything for that,’ she said.

  I let go of her and sat up straight. ‘Are you crazy? I prepared for the IIT exam eight years ago. I can’t teach him.’

  ‘I’m sure you can revise some notes and help him. My parents have to get comfortable with you. Only then can I ask them to seriously consider you.’

  I dipped my idli into coconut chutney and ate it. I missed my mother’s hot paranthas at breakfast.

  ‘Do you love me?’ She wiped a bit of chutney from my lips.

  I kissed her. I was kissing her after two months. I didn’t release her for a minute. I’d revise IIT chemistry for this chemistry any day.

  ‘Ai!’ a hoarse voice screamed behind us.

  I turned around. A pot-bellied Tamilian cop, looking more villain than police, walked fast towards us. ‘What is this?’ he said and slammed his stick on the bench. Both of us sprang up. Ananya hid behind me.

  ‘Oh fuck,’ she said. ‘Get rid of him.’

  The cop screamed at me in Tamil. Helpless, I asked Ananya to translate.

  ‘He wants to take us to the police station. He is saying we have some nerve doing all this outside police headquarters.’

  ‘Why do they have police headquarters opposite a beach?’ I asked.

  ‘Shut up and pay him off,’ she whispered.

  I look out my wallet and took out twenty bucks.

  ‘Illa Illa. . . .’ the cop continued to shout and grabbed my arm.

  I took out a fifty. He looked at me and Ananya. ‘Warning,’ the cop said as he took the note.

  Ananya laughed after the cop left us.

  ‘It’s so not funny,’ I said as I wore my shoes again and straightened my pants. ‘Can we meet at my chummery, please?’

  ‘In a while. I travel out of Chennai everyday and come back late,’ she said.

  ‘Weekend?’

  ‘I’ll try,’ she said. ‘You will feed me chicken? I’m dying to have non-veg. And get beer, too.’

  ‘OK,’ I promised. My building had vegetarian-only rules, but surely they wouldn’t notice if I brought something readymade from outside.

  We sat in our respective autos. She spoke to me from her side window. ‘And I’ll speak to my parents about the tuitions. Twice a week at five?’

  ‘Five in the morning?’ Why is everyone so eager to wake up in this town!

  ‘That’s when everyone goes for tuitions,’ she said and sped off. I had to wait for two miserable weeks in Chennai until Ananya finally decided to visit me in my chummery for lunch one Saturday. One weekend Ananya’s mother fell ill and Ananya had to cook for the family, courtesy a guilt trip from her mother. The food did not come out right, as Ananya’s culinary experience is limited to making Maggi in my room and making papads with a clothes iron (yes, it works). This led to another guilt trip from Shobha aunty to Ananya’s mother who blamed her for not bringing up her daughter right. That guilt trip percolated down to Ananya, who had to take Shobha aunty jewellery and sari shopping the next weekend.

  Meanwhile, I had visited Brilliant Tutorials and bought the IIT exam guides. I couldn’t believe how tough the course materials were. The only reason I managed to study them in the past was because that distracted me from my parents’ fights. I revised chemistry to prepare for my first class.

  I also went to my Sardar-ji neighbour to find out the best way to procure chicken and beer.

  ‘Who is coming? Punjabi friends?’ he asked.

  ‘Work people,’ I said, to stop him from inviting himself.

  ‘Be careful when you take it up in the lift,’ he said.

  As he had told me, I went to the Delhi dhabha in Nungambakkam, less than a kilometre from my house. I triple-packed the tandoori chicken so no smell came out. I went to the government-approved liquor shop, where they had trouble establishing my age. ‘Are you over twenty-five?’

  ‘No, but will be soon,’ I said.

  ‘Then we can’t give you,’ the shopkeeper said.

  ‘Even if I pay ten bucks extra a bottle?’

  It is amazing how money relaxes rules around the country. The shopkeeper packed the three bottles in brown paper, and I further placed them in a plastic 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 shoulder.

  ‘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, wellpaid Tamil Citibankers who planned to be auctioned off soon by their parents.

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

  ‘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, and 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.

  ‘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 my 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 – still, 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. The 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.

  ‘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.

  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.

  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 such 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.<
br />
  ‘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.’

  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.

  20

  ‘I am good at chemistry. I need help in physics,’ Manjunath, nerd-embryo and Ananya’s younger brother, spoke with the 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 anyway,’ I said and opened my sheets.

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