Chapter 15

 

Lunch

 

The man whose image made millions of Indian hearts go aflutter was waiting for me at the head of the steps.  He had not changed much from our previous meeting in Zurich more than 6 weeks before.

 

“Hello” I greeted him in a feminine voice.

 

“Hello Radha.  How are you?” he responded.

 

“I am fine.  And you?” I replied.

 

“I am fine too.” He said. “Come on in.” Ever the gentleman, he held out his hand.

 

“Thank you.” I said and holding his hand, walked in.

 

Very softly, he said, “You look gorgeous, Radha.”

 

“Thank you.” I blushed.

 

Even as we were walking into a large seating area, Mrs B joined us and greeted us.

 

After formally introducing Mrs B to me, I was urged to sit next to her.  As an ice breaker, she said to me, “You know if ‘Mit had not told me about you, I would never believe that you are really a man!  You look so utterly feminine!”

 

“I know.  I have been told this so many times in the past.  But this time it is a big challenge!  Because I had to fly as a woman!”  I told her.

 

“Oh why did you need to do that?”  She asked.

 

“Well, you know I could not afford to put your jewelry in the checked in baggage for fear of it getting lost. I had to wear it on the flight so that the security X-rays did not beep suspiciously.”  I explained.

 

“Yes, but the danger of being robbed was always present isn’t it?” she asked.

 

“Yes.  For one, I was lucky not to be robbed.  For two, no one knew that I could give any robber, a good run for his money as I could either run after him or even beat him up!” I laughed both my hosts joined me laughing.

 

“Oh, By the way, the children, Abhi and Shwet are joining us for the lunch but both don’t know your little secret!”  B said.

 

“It is better that way, I suppose.  The lesser the number of people who know about my secret, the better for all concerned.”  I said.

 

Suddenly, Mrs B said, “ How dumb of me!  Here I am sitting and chattering with you and I have not even offered you a glass of water!  Ram deen!” she shouted.

 

A man servant in a pajama appeared immediately.  “Yes Madam.”

 

“Hadn’t I told you that I was expecting guests?  Bring some water quickly and ..” turning to me Mrs B asked, “what would you like to have for starters?  Some Fresh lime juice on this hot afternoon, perhaps?” she suggested.

 

“That would be nice.”  I responded.

 

The servant left and almost within no time brought 3 glasses of water, and 2 glasses of Fresh Lime Juice.  “Why two glasses?  Aren’t both of you giving me company?” I asked looking from one to the other.

 

“Actually, ‘Mit does not drink anything except water, 1 hour or less before a meal.  Doctor’s advice for his Myasthenia Gravis.” Mrs B said by way of explanation.

 

“Yes”, pipped in Mr B.  “I have tried countless doctors and none has been able to cure it.  Someone suggested an Ayurvedic Doctor down in Kerala in some place whose name starts with a K and which I cannot pronounce!  His medicine seems to give me some relief but then there are some restrictions on the diet.  Well, I guess, if he can give me relief, then the restrictions are worth subjecting oneself to!” he sighed.

 

“Yes”, I agreed.

 

A minute of silence followed.  We had reached a sort of a dead end.

 

Then Mrs B asked, “But tell me this Radha – How did you end up being so good at impersonating a woman?  After all, as a woman myself, I know how difficult it is to prepare myself before I present myself to the outside world.”

 

“Yes.”  I agreed.  “I started acting in female roles when I was in school and if I may so myself, was a great success in my very first attempt when I played Shakuntala.”  I said.

 

“During College days I was instrumental in playing a prank which required me to dress up.  I was so convincing, that I stayed in the girls’ hostel for one night!” I continued.

 

“Wow!” said Mrs B. “And looking at you now, I can believe that!” she added.

 

“Wait a minute.  Come inside with me.”  She said and holding my hand, led me into one of the passages which led from the main living room.

 

“Hey!  What about me?”  asked Mr B in mock dismay.

 

“No. This is none of your business!  This is between us, ladies.” Said Mrs B adding further to my curiosity.  Had she forgotten that I was really a man dressed up as a woman?  I wondered.

 

Entering into what seemed to be the master bedroom, Mrs B quickly shut the door.  Then she held my hand and made me sit on the bed.

 

“Now.  I want you to tell me how you prepared yourself for this.  Tell me everything!”  She said.

 

“Well, of course the first requirement is removing all my hair except on the head.” I started.

 

“Yes.  Then?”

 

“My wife Vidhya is very co-operative that way.  She helped me choose and purchase my clothes.”  I continued.

 

“Her taste is good!” responded Mrs B.  “Look at this gorgeous green – it matches your complexion so nicely!”

 

“I should tell Vidhya that – she will be very pleased!” I said, smiling.  “Well, to continue.  We have a tailor in Mangalore who besides our immediate family and you, knows my little secret.  But you know, we are so well connected in Mangalore, he does not dare open his mouth.  Moreover, what does he care, so long as he gets paid for whatever he stitches!” I laughed.

 

Mrs B agreed.  She offered to show me some of her good sarees and I agreed.  One of her sarees was a yellow chiffon, a little transparent and not in keeping with the image that Mrs B had shown the world.  It turned out that it was one of the very first sarees that her husband had purchased for her.  That saree also happened to be the one in which Mr B got quite turned on!

 

Mrs B offered the saree for me to try on.  “Are you sure?” I asked.  She said, “Look if you were a real woman, I would have offered you the saree anyway.  But then you are the image of a real woman so if you feel like trying it, go ahead – I am fine with it” she said.

 

“Ok.  But you know, the blouse does not match but it contrasts nicely.” I said. “Yes and that is precisely why I offered it to you to try!” said Mrs B.

 

“Would you like me to step out, my dear?” Mrs B asked me.

 

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind either way” I said.

 

“Ok then. Don’t mind but I would like to watch.” she said.

 

Unpinning my pallu from the back of my blouse, I peeled off the saree and pulled it out from where I had tucked it in into my petticoat.  Luckily the loin cloth was doing a good job of restraining me, otherwise I would have been in real trouble!

 

After determining which was the right side, I quickly proceeded to wear the saree.  Deftly measuring out the pleats on both the shoulder and the front, I was done within a couple of minutes.

 

“Wow!” said Mrs B admiringly.  “You are an expert at wearing a saree!  And look at you – your pleats are better than the ones I get.  Wait a minute!”  she said and hurried out.

 

In less than a minute, Mrs B came back with Mr B who looked at me with surprise.  “Wow!” he said rather unoriginally.  “Radha looks so good in it!”

 

“You know ‘Mit? I was thinking of gifting this saree to Radha as a special gift!  I know you had given me the saree as a special occasion saree and I have many pleasant memories associated with it.  But, Radha has been a truer friend to us than perhaps even those who have claimed their friendship for over twenty five years.  So as a special gift, I want to give her this saree.  Is it ok, darling?”  Mrs B asked.

 

“I think it is an excellent idea.” agreed Mr B.

 

“So Radha!  The saree is yours.  I know that you can buy much better sarees than this but this saree has a special meaning for both of us and we are gifting it to you as a token of our love for you.  Hope you like it and will accept it.”  Mrs B said.

 

“I love it and in my wardrobe, it will have a special place.  Now, can I change back, please?”  I asked.

 

“Sure” said both Mrs and Mr B and left the room.

 

The saree really felt very nice.  I have always had a soft corner for chiffons and this one was made one of the finest chiffon material I had ever come across.  Quickly removing my saree, I once again wore my Kanjeevaram.  I had just finished pinning my pallu on my blouse when I heard a knock on the door.

 

“One minute” I called and opened the door.

 

“Leave the saree as it is, Radha.   The servants will fold it and give it to you.  Come let us have lunch.  The children have arrived too.”  Said Mrs B to me.

 

Both Mrs B and I went to the Dining Room. Although there was nothing filmy about the house, it however spoke of a lot of class. Every item of decoration was not only chosen with care but had the stamp of sophistication.  The Grandfather clock in the Main Room was a genuine antique.  While the Cobalt Blue Bowl was an original Queen Silvia Commemorative Vase handmade in Skansen, Stockholm.  Each little touch, personal, each nuance emitting a subtle, subliminal signal.

 

I was broken out of my reverie by the voice of Mrs B.  “This way, Radha.” Mrs B’s voice finally reached me.

 

In front of me was a perfectly decorated Dining Table with five places.   As the head of the family, Mr B was sitting at the head of the table.  I found myself standing near the chair to his left.  Opposite me was Mrs B’s seat.

 

Just as I was about to sit in the chair, Mrs B said, ”Radha, I want to introduce you to our children.”  So saying she gestured to a teenaged young man, who had stood shyly on one side.  He smiled at me, “Hello, I am Abhishek” he said and bent to touch my feet. Instinctively, I said, “May you live long!”  A young girl now stepped forward and said, “Namaste, Auntie-ji, I am Shweta.”  She too bent down and touched my feet.  To her too, I said, “May you live long!”

 

I was very touched.  Such well behaved children. Quite unlike what I had read about kids in the filmi families in so many film magazines!

 

I sat down and as a matter of conversation, asked them, “Do you go to school?”

 

“Yes” they answered politely and added “Bombay Scottish Orphanage.”  I had heard of that school as one of the better schools in Bombay.

 

We continued the idle conversation during the meal.  The food was superb.  Being Kayasth, my hosts were vegetarians.  We had some Fritters of Onion, Paneer and Potatoes as Appetizers.  This was followed by a semi-transparent green pea soup.  The first course was Rotis with a Sabzi of Cauliflower.  This was followed by Rice and in deference to my South Indian Origins, Sambhar and Rasam with fried Papads – South Indian style.  Finally a dessert of the richest Gajar Ka Halwa – turned out that Gajar Ka Halwa is Mr B’s particular favorite.

 

I joked that the proverbial “Gajar Ka Halwa that you love and which I cooked with my very own hands” dialog in so many Hindi movies was at the very least half true – the part of “cooked with my very own hands” being the fictional part!

 

After such a sumptuous lunch, I was finding it rather difficult to keep my eyes open.  So I opted to have tea.

 

It was nearly half past two.  Having spent a pleasant time at the B residence, I decide to initiate my departure.  With the usual, “you must come home when you are in Mangalore” kind of invitation, I took leave.  A packet containing the gift of yellow chiffon saree was handed to me.  My taxi had been summoned inside the compound by then.  I boarded the taxi and waved the first family of Indian Filmdom farewell as the taxi moved out of the compound