Chapter 14
Meeting the Big B
The gentle but incessant ringing of a telephone penetrated my sleep so very gently. It was an unfamiliar ring – not the sound of my office telephone which was loud and jarring – no, this was different, soothing almost! Somehow, I reached out to where the sound was coming and groggily said, “Hello!”
“Good morning Sir!” a male voice said at the other end. “This is the wake up call which was set for 7:30 am.”
“Thank you.” I said and disconnected.
It was just an instant later that I realized that I had spoken to the receptionist all the time in a male voice! A little bit of quick thinking made the innocent Radha Baliga a customer of a gigolo who had apparently answered the phone!
I sat up in the bed and wiped my eyes. My face felt surprisingly smooth. I realized that the layers of make up on my face had had a smoothening effect on it.
Getting up slowly, I made my way to the bathroom. I found that my smalls had dried up completely. After quickly going through the typical morning rituals of brushing my teeth and the 3 Sh’s (Shit, Shave and Shower), I stepped out of the bathroom with just a bath towel around my middle. It was getting close to 15 minutes past 8 o’clock. I quickly opened my suitcase and laid out my clothes for the day.
I was going to have lunch with the Big B and I had brought along a specially chosen Kanjeevaram Saree for the purpose. The saree was Brown colored with an elaborate border on it. It did not however have any zari on it. The body was full of small embroidered motifs – all same but symmetrically arranged – what the shop salesman had called as “Butti”. The Pallu was the part which I had liked the most – it was the most elaborate pallu, I had ever come across and I thought that it looked very good inspite of not having any zari on it.
Since the saree and the blouse were dark colored, I selected the black bra which I had washed the previous night as also the red panties. Using my loin cloth to tuck myself in, I slipped into the panties. I hooked the bra and inserted the breast forms into each of the cups.
Now I sat to do my face. Within almost no time, I was done and ready for the wig.
The phone rang and I looked at the bedside clock – it was quarter to nine.
“Hello” I said in my feminine voice.
“Good morning, madam. I was calling to ask about the breakfast. What would you like to have today, madam?” A female voice asked me.
“What do you have on the menu?” I countered.
“We can give you eggs in whatever way you like, South Indian breakfast which has Idli, Dosa, Uttapam or Upma. Also North Indian, which has Aloo Tikki and Bread Pakoras.” She responded. “What would you like to have, madam?”
“Get me a plate of Idlis and a Masala Dosa. Also do you have filter coffee?” I asked.
“Filter Coffee? Yes, Madam. Shall I add a Carafé of Filter Coffee?” she asked.
“Yes, please. How long will it be, before I get the breakfast served?” I asked.
“Fifteen minutes.” She said.
“Make it twenty-five minutes please.” I told her.
“Very good, madam.” She said. “So you would like to have breakfast at 9:10 then.” She added as a measure of confirmation.
“Ye-es.” I said, as I mentally calculated. “Thank you and good-bye.”
“Good bye.” She said and I put the receiver down.
Resuming, I quickly attached my wig and brushed the hair in place.
Now I wore the blouse and then the black Saree petticoat. I unwrapped the saree which already had the fall attached and beading done. It looked gorgeous!
Carefully, I wore the saree and pleated the pallu. I pinned the saree on to my blouse at the back. The pleats were just perfect. The border of the Kanjeevaram saree was exactly aligned with the shoulder stitch of my blouse and the upper border was precisely centered on my right breast.
I looked at myself in the mirror for a while scrutinizing everything and when I was satisfied, I walked towards the telephone. As if on cue, the phone rang. It was the room service lady.
“Good morning madam. Your breakfast is ready. Would you like me to bring it to the room now, please?” A polite woman’s voice asked.
“Yes, please”. I replied in my feminine voice.
“Very good, madam. I should be there in less than a minute. Good Bye.” So saying she hung up.
True to her word, in less than a minute, my breakfast was brought in on a trolley pushed in by a uniformed room service attendant. It was the same lady who had talked to me on the telephone less than a minute before.
“Good Morning Ma’am. Shall I keep it next to that easy chair?” She asked.
“Yes please.’ I said.
And like any woman, she said, “That is a beautiful saree madam.”
“Thank you.” I told her.
She lingered a little, hesitated and then turned to me and said, “Madam, may I ask you a question?”
“Yes..” I replied interrogatively.
“Where did you buy this saree?” she asked.
“Oh! I bought it in Mangalore.” I told her.
“Really, Madam. It is a very beautiful saree.” She repeated.
“Thank you very much.” I said to her.
As she closed the door behind her, I started on my breakfast.
The idlis were hot and steamingly delicious. So was the Masala Dosa. And the coffee at the end was just like home made coffee.
By the time I finished my breakfast, it was about 10:15. I was expected at Mr B’s home between 11:45 and noon. And since I was staying in Juhu, it was a very short ride from the hotel to the home – barely 15 minutes or so.
So I picked up the Femina I had purchased at Bangalore Airport and leafed through that. One of the advertisements caught my eye. It featured a lady in a salwaar khameez, which I thought was gorgeous. I felt like buying one for myself.
Quite surprised at myself, I wondered what was happening to me. Dressed as a woman, I was starting to think like one too – look at a nice outfit and feel like having one made for oneself!
I looked up the address and found out it was on Linking Road. I made a mental note to go there after the lunch.
All of sudden, I remembered that Mr B was expecting my "sister" to fetch the jewellery but here was me, en femme! So I decided that I would phone him up and inform him. I was worried how he would be able to accept a man in women's clothing calling on him socially. Anyway it was too late to change anything.
The phone was answered by a man servant. Soon I was talking to Mr B. I explained (in my male voice) that my sister could not make it but I had personally come to deliver his goods. He was very pleased and said that he looked forward to meeting me again. I hesistated over what to say next and he sensed it immediately.
"Is there a problem?" he asked.
I said, "Not exactly." But went on to explain what the situation was.
For a moment he was silent. Then he said, "If you are comfortable about how you are dressed, then I have no problem. But then how do I interact with you? As a man or as a woman?"
"As a woman of course." I replied. "Besides, I think you will do it naturally. Just forget that I am really a man. Ok?"
"Ok. If that is what you prefer. But one thing." he said. "I will have to tell the reality to my wife. If that is ok with you. And by the way, what will be your name?"
"Radha Baliga." I replied and added, "My wife knows all about it. You are the only one outside of the family who now knows about this. And frankly, I think you will enjoy me and so will your wife."
"Ok" he said and we ended the call after exchanging some more pleasantries.
I still had nearly 10 minutes before it was time to leave for Mr B’s home for lunch, so I picked up the newspaper which came in with the breakfast. It was the Indian Express. Being a fast reader, I finished the paper within no time. Having still some more time to kill, I started reading the advertisements. One particular advertisement caught my eye. It was on the fist page next to the paper’s masthead.
‘“She” Boutique’ the ad said. It was a lingerie boutique. It sold bras, panties, corsets and, intriguingly as an afterthought, “Mother and Baby”. The stupidity of the copywriter really amused me. Without reading what the rest of the copy was, he or she simply added “Mother and Baby” which when read together sounded as if mother and baby were also part of the merchandize sold by “She”!
I was now ready for the final stages of preparation for the lunch at Mr B’s home. I wore some of Vidya’s jewelry – bangles, ring, necklace and a clip earring. Mr B’s jewelry which he had given me in Zurich went into another bag which in turn went inside my handbag. Vidya had thoughtfully packed a pair of delicate little silver anklets. I fastened them round each of my ankles and the sound they made as I walked was just pure melody.
I had asked for a taxi to pick me up at 11:30 and it was now about 11:20. I went to the bathroom mirror and gave myself a thorough once-over. While sitting to read the Femina and the newspaper, I found that I had slightly changed the position on the waist where my petticoat had been tied. I fixed that immediately and checked my appearance once again. It was just perfect!
I went to the bed and picked up my handbag – everything was there, money, keys, the bag containing the jewelry – everything.
I picked it up and the phone rang. It was the reception informing me about the taxi. I told them that I would be down in just a minute or so. I also told them to tell Housekeeping to clean up my room.
Ensuring that all my things were in my suitcase and that the suitcase was locked, I picked up my handbag and walked to the door. Walking like a woman was becoming almost second nature to me in this entire trip!
In less than a minute, I was in the reception. The receptionist wished me and pointed in the direction of where the taxi was waiting.
I got into the taxi as the driver held the door open. “Ashirwad Bungalow” I said to the driver.
“Where specifically?” the driver asked.
“Take me to the bungalow itself.” I told him.
Within no time it seemed, we were outside the gates of India’s most famous bungalow. I told the driver that I would be gone for about one and a half to two hours and that he should go and have his lunch if necessary. If he was going out, he should tell the security guard both, before going off and when he returned.
“Very good, madam.” he said.
I stepped out of the taxi and walked to the gate. I had to be careful to be perfectly feminine in my movements. The security guard had already been instructed and when I approached, saluted me smartly and opened a small gate next to the large vehicular gate to let me in. Gesturing me along the path to the bungalow, he shut the gate and clanged the bolt in place.
I had reached the point of no return. I realized that I would be under the scrutiny of all of Mr B’s family members. As these thoughts ran through my mind, I found myself on the steps of the bungalow and right in front of me was the great man himself.