At the Club
Amit was awake that night for a long time. Things had happened at phenomenal speed that day.First of all, his MD’s image as a stern taskmaster had changed forever. She now seemed like a normal, fashion-loving, bubbly young girl—someone who was a genuine pleasure to be around. Obviously, he was still acutely aware of the contract, but it appeared now that spending six months as a phony husband might not turn out to be such a hard assignment.
What he had liked best was her musical
voice and the way she spoke—soft, unhurried, as if every word had been chosen
just for him.
Amit woke rather late the next day. He got
ready quickly, wearing the polo with alternate green and pale green bands
across and jeans, exactly as Nita wanted, and rushed to the spot
where she would pick him up.
He checked his phone: 10:52 am. Eight
minutes early. The sun was already sharp, bouncing off the tar road. He could
feel a thin line of sweat on his back, but it wasn’t just the heat.
Today was the day his future would be
decided.
A white VW Polo turned the corner right on
time. The window rolled down, and there she was—Nitu. Sunglasses on, hair tied
in a pony tail, a faint smile playing on her lips.
“Get in, Amitji,” she said. “We have an old
family friend Vakilkaka to convince.”
Amit adjusted himself to the cool interior
of the car and looked left. There she was—Nitu—another stunning hit.
She was wearing hip-hugging jeans and a
white T-shirt that had a lower neckline than usual. A thin gold chain rested
against her skin, and diamond studs glittered in her ears. As she moved,
steering the car, a small strip of flesh would show between her jeans and tee
at the back. Her favourite iWatch was on her left wrist.
Today, however, she no longer appeared a
contestant. For the moment, she looked as if she had withdrawn from battle—or
whatever it was. She asked him question after question: how did he sleep, what
breakfast he had, did he like the polo, and so on, never really expecting
answers from him. She just wanted to chatter and listen to his monosyllabic
replies.
The car soon entered the huge gate of the
club, and she parked with great ease. She looked really beautiful as they
walked through reception and proceeded to a large veranda-like space that
opened to a wide stretch of green lawn—a very rare sight in Mumbai. She
gestured him toward a sofa, and both settled down easily.
Amit felt a bit nervous today. He had never
been to this kind of club before, but with effort he managed to settle down.
“Vakilkaka will be coming soon,” she said,
almost tweeting the words, or at least that’s how it felt to him. “He’s a
trusted family friend since Aajoba’s time.”
“You want to drink something?” she asked.
“Not really,” he said.
Both of them suddenly turned silent,
perhaps realizing the life-shattering decision they would soon take.
Nita introduced Amit to him. He, however,
did not show any reaction.
Nita asked Vakilkaka whether he would like
to have coffee. To which he replied, “Let us finish the business first.” He
then asked, “Where do we sit?”
Nita realized he was not happy discussing
such legal matters in an open veranda and suggested, “There are a couple of
meeting rooms at the other end of the hall. We can go and sit there.”
Vakilkaka liked the idea and they walked
over. Being Sunday, all the rooms were vacant, so they occupied one and locked
the door from inside.
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After they were seated around a desk,
Vakilkaka said that he had prepared all the documents. “Should I read them to
both of you, or what?”
Amit suggested that he would quickly go
through them first, and then Vakilkaka could read and explain before they
signed. Nita nodded to this arrangement, and Amit started reading the
documents.
The next ten minutes turned out to be very
tough for Nita—just like a client’s meeting. Only difference being, in those
meetings company business would be at stake. Here, her future depended on it.
Finally, Amit finished reading and said,
“They look OK to me, with clarification required about one point. But I’ll ask
for it later. Let Vakilkaka read and explain the documents.”
Vakilkaka said, “Legally speaking, there
are two separate agreements. According to the first one, you two agree to have
a legal marriage and six months later Nita pays you four crore rupees for that.
This contract cannot have divorce as a precondition. Then there are two
affidavits from the two of you, which are undated and declare your willingness
for a mutually agreed divorce, and that Nita would not need any alimony after
that. The third document is again undated and is for granting a mutually
agreed divorce to each other.”
Both Nita and Amit had no objection to any
of the documents.
Amit then said, “One important matter needs
explanation. The contract asks for certain behavior from me and it’s OK, but
what about what happens inside the bedroom? Nita and I have agreed that we
shall not have any physical relations as a word of honor. But what happens if
there is a mishap? For example, sometimes, when I am tired, I go to sleep with both arms
stretched. In such, or some other cases, there could be infringement of the
unwritten agreement between us. What happens to the contract in such cases?”
Nita got the point but instead of frowning,
she started giggling with a naughty look on her face.
Vakilkaka said, “Amit, your point is valid,
but the law stops at the door of the bedroom. What happens inside is the
concern of you two. Unless there is a police complaint of torture or violence,
the law does not get involved.”
Amit kept looking at Nita's beautiful face and the naughty giggle. Realizing that he has already received his answer
from Nita’s giggle and gestures. Vakilkaka has simply washed his hands off. It would be his job to keep the promises made.
They signed the papers—Nita signing first.
Vakilkaka said he would arrange a witness signature later. He also brought out
a few other papers, such as the notice to the marriage registrar, and they were
through.
Nita, remembering something, opened her
purse and took out a box. Inside were two similar-looking rings of plain
design, which must have cost very little.
They exchanged rings. Vakilkaka took
photographs, and then they came out of the cabin.
Nita asked Vakilkaka whether he would join them for lunch. He politely refused and said he would just have coffee and leave, as they were expecting some guests for lunch.
After that, they settled on a sofa with Vakilkaka relaxing in a single sitter. Amit sat in one corner of larges sofa that was nearer to Vakilkaka. To his surprise, he found that Nita, instead of settling on the sofa away from him, sat next to him. He casually spread his arm on top of the sofa back as he usually did many times. Nita moved even closer and rested her neck on his arm. Vakilkaka finished his coffee and left. After he was gone, Amit
couldn’t control his emotions. He just thanked Nita, and then asked, “Why did
you have that giggle?”
In reply, Nita giggled again—this time very clearly naughty. In a serious tone, Amit turned towards Nita and whispered, “Nitu, thank you very much for those simple rings. They give the correct signal about me and my financial status.”
Nita smiled with great understanding.
As Amit and Nita sat engrossed in their
small talk, Vakilkaka was driving home.
He kept wondering: Why has this girl
insisted on these papers?
She knows perfectly well that the contract
they have signed can be considered, at most, an MOU—a memorandum of
understanding. It had no chance of standing as a legal document. Clever girl.
She has kept the divorce papers through him with her, and has just given an IOU
to the boy.
He sighed. The law was clear. Marriage
cannot be bought. You cannot contract out of conjugal rights, or pre-decide a
divorce. If it ever went to court, a judge would throw it out in five minutes.
Still, the rings were real. The photographs
were real. And the look on Amit’s face when he thanked Nita for those simple
rings—that was real too.
Vakilkaka shook his head and smiled to
himself.
He sincerely wished in his heart for the
boy. May God keep him safe in this game.
As Nita and Amit were involved in small
talk, she suddenly asked him, “Amit, do you drink?”
Amit was taken aback. What sort of question is that?
Realizing his confusion, Nita was more
direct. “Amit, I was asking about hard drinks.”
He realized then what she meant. He replied
politely, “How can you think that a simple boy from Wai would be indulging in
such habits? To tell you the truth, neither have I ever touched alcohol, nor
would I ever. Even after I go away from you.”
Listening to him, Nita suddenly had tears
rolling down her cheeks.
“Thank God,” was all she said.
She looked away for a moment, composing
herself. The naughty giggle from before was gone. In its place was something
raw, almost vulnerable.
Amit didn’t know what to say. He had never
seen Nita—his MD, the boss, the strategist—cry. He reached out, almost touching
her hand, then pulled back.
“Nitu…” he started.
She shook her head, smiling through the
tears. “It’s nothing. Let’s order lunch. I’m hungry.”
But Amit understood. Something about his
answer mattered to her more than the four crores, more than the contract, more
than Vakilkaka’s papers.
And for the first time, he wondered what
battle she was really fighting.
They got up and went to the fine dining restaurant on
the first floor. While ordering, Nitu asked him, “ What do you want to drink?”
Amit was little shocked. Nita however realized that probably this was his first
experience with fine dining and clarified. Amit just didn’t know the answer.
But then he remembered two office girls once talking about iced tea. He smiled
and said “I would have iced tea. What about you?” Nita’s face lit up " Smart guy" she murmured. . She smiled warmly and ordered
iced tea.
While they were sipping the iced tea, Nita
casually asked Amit,”What type of food do you like?”
He said, “Simple food. But today is an
exception—a celebration of a kind. Let’s have some biryani today.”
Nitu agreed.
They ate slowly, Nitu chattering
continuously. Amit just listened. Only two things registered with him.
First, she was going to tell Aaji and
Aajoba about him today. Their meeting would happen sometime later in the week.
Second, she was booking a small service
apartment somewhere near her house. His old dwelling was too far too risky—some office
guy might just drop in there. She wanted to open the news only after they were
married.
While in the car, Nitu handed over a brown envelope to Amit. “There is some cash here Amit. I don’t like paying everywhere by myself, when
you are around. People become unnecessarily curious”
Amit had no words. All he said was, “I’ll touch the envelope only when you are with me.
(To be continued)
(All characters places except for geographical names events actions of people are fictional. Any similarity found is purely accidental. All images AI generated)
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