The Balcony

Maya and Sen had adjacent hostel rooms on the second floor and shared a balcony. It was ‘their space’, they agreed on the first day, ‘no guests allowed, well, not for too long…’

Sen placed a rattan chair there, for himself, facing the setting sun and an empty plot. Maya had a mat in her half. She preferred to sit on the floor. She brought a potted plant too. Sen frowned but allowed it, ‘on one condition, it should not block my view’. They agreed on another condition, ‘no lights’. They could keep the light on in their room and let that filter into their space.

On their first Friday night, Maya stepped out onto the balcony after dinner. She was not surprised to find him there, sitting in the dark. He nodded at her. She got a strong whiff of liquor and tobacco. She did not expect him to drink liquor there. Without a word, she turned to move inside.

‘Isn’t this allowed?’ he asked.

She shrugged.

‘If you don’t like it, I won’t. I can do it in my room,’ he said.

She remained silent.

‘Which one bothers you – the liquor or the cigarette?’ he asked. When she did not reply, he continued, ‘Don’t sulk. Or blacklist me.’

‘I am not sulking,’ she said.

‘Ah, so you did blacklist me.’

‘I don’t like it.’

‘Why not…?’

‘Why should I like it?’

They glared at each other. He took a sip, placed the glass on the floor, turned his chair to face her.

‘Do you know why you don’t like it?’ he asked.

She did not respond.

‘You have never tasted it, have you?’

She shrugged.

‘Classic example of negative association…’

‘That’s your liquor speaking.’

He smiled, ‘Could be. Now, don’t get stuffy for being a classic example.’

She smiled back. She did not want him to have the pleasure of seeing her riled with such a feeble attempt.

He continued, ‘All your life, you must have seen only negative images with liquor. Your first image must have been some B-grade movie in which a villain takes a swig of liquor before trying to rape the heroine. And now, despite good education and years of fine thinking, you can’t let go of that image when you see or smell liquor.’

‘What crap…’ she exclaimed.

‘But true…’ he sounded pleased. ‘Let’s call truce. Don’t go in, yet. Let me prove to you that I am not a rapist.’ He laughed.

She was amused. She sat on the mat, leaned against the railing, her legs tucked to the side and beneath her skirt. She was wearing a sleeveless Chinese top that buttoned to the top.

‘Why can’t you get a chair?’ he said.

‘Are you uncomfortable with me sitting on the floor?’ she asked, smiling.

He turned away his face to stare at the empty expanse, lips pursed.

‘Some mental clash with the image of an obedient traditional woman sitting at your feet?’ she teased.

He faced her, ‘No, I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with me staring down your cleavage.’

‘What cleavage can you see with this top?’ she continued to tease.

As if he was challenged, he stared at her torso. She leaned back, and pushed out her chest. He looked at her face.

‘Do I fit the image of a vamp or that of a seductress? Despite good education and years of fine thinking, of course…’ she taunted.

‘Touché…’ he admitted.

They laughed together.

Another night, a year later, she found him there, more morose than usual, drinking and smoking. She could not be sure but he seemed to have cried. Some boy band was crooning from the stereo in his room.

‘What’s that?’ she asked, pointing her thumb within, referring to the music.

‘Take That, I think,’ he replied.

‘Is that the name of the group? Phew, quite awful…’ she said.

‘It’s not as bad as your classical music, how they bray, definitely constipated,’ he retorted.

‘Constipated they might be but not retarded,’ she gave back.

‘Oye, can you give me some space?’ he said.

‘I too need this space,’ she said.

‘Fine, I will move inside.’

‘Don’t be a baby.’

He took a large sip and a long drag. She sat on the floor.

‘What happened?’ she asked.

He did not reply for a while. Then, he said, ‘Just the usual girly problem.’

She smiled.

‘What are you smiling for?’ he scowled at her.

‘Did you mean girly problem or girl trouble?’ she asked.

He smiled.

‘So, she left, huh?’ she asked.

‘Hmm…’

‘Just curious, did you expect her to stick around?’ she asked.

‘She seemed different.’

‘Ah…’

‘Why is it always like that for me?’ he said.

‘Ah…’

‘Stop ah-ing me,’ he said.

‘Ah…’

‘So, why did you need this space?’ he asked.

‘Oh, nothing… just wanted to enjoy your misery,’ she sounded distracted.

‘You ok?’ he asked.

‘Yeah…’

She leaned forward a little, hands on her thigh, face turned, looking away from him. She was wearing a loose salwar top and jeans. He looked at her face, neck, the rise and fall of her breasts. He looked up to see her staring at him, with a small smile, without reproach, a little sad. They remained silent, still facing each other. She turned her face away again.

‘What’s the problem?’ he asked.

‘Nothing,’ she said.

‘Is he coming?’

She nodded.

‘Try not to be so tense,’ he said.

She chewed on her lips and nodded slightly.

‘He wants me to quit my research,’ she said.

‘Just a few months more, right?’

‘Hmm…’

‘It’s been a while,’ he said.

‘Have you been keeping track of these conjugal visits?’ she said hotly.

‘Hey, I didn’t mean to intrude.’

‘Sorry… God, I am a bundle of nerves…’

‘Don’t be so tense. Take it easy,’ he said.

‘Sen, you are a lousy psychologist?’

‘Thank you, Maya.’

They were silent for a long while.

‘Why are you so tense?’ he asked.

‘Nothing…’ she paused, ‘just girly problems.’

‘Ah…’

‘He says that I make sure I have it whenever he turns up.’

‘Tension plays a role, I have heard,’ he said.

‘You and your bloody tension…’ she glared at him.

‘Well, girls I know usually have it when they meet me,’ he said.

She continued glaring at him. Then, burst out laughing.

‘Yeah, right, laugh,’ Sen said. He poured another peg for himself, lit another cigarette. ‘My life…’

‘Hmm… my life, indeed…’

‘Do you want me to get him drunk?’ he asked. ‘I have heard that hubbies behave well when they are sloshed… contrary to popular beliefs…’

‘Oh, he will love that. Don’t you dare, I have enough on my plate.’

‘Jolly good, I don’t have enough money to share my rum.’

‘I thought rum was for horses,’ she said.

‘Yeah, horses and poor folk...’

‘By the way, where do you disappear off to when he comes?’ she asked.

‘I don’t disappear.’

‘I never see you here then,’ she said.

‘Do you keep track of my moments here?’ he asked.

‘Just noticed, that’s all,’ she said.

‘I don’t like husbands,’ he said.

‘Me neither…’

‘Tut tut, that won’t do, from nice traditional girls sitting at a man’s feet…’

‘One of these days, you will have to share your rum with me,’ she said.

‘No way...’

‘Scared I will rape you?’

‘Oh yeah, just can’t forget a movie I saw as a kid…’

‘So, that’s what got you hooked to cleavage, huh? That’s better than mother fixation…’

‘Maya…’ he growled with mock threat. She laughed. He joined her.