Famous last words, as they say. And that was how both of us, Vidya and me, found ourselves on a flight to Calcutta on Saturday.
* * *
The short 2 hour flight was uneventful. Vidya and I just had a carry on each, and as per Mr. Sarun’s secretary’s instructions, I was to have all my stuff in my carryon, and Vidya was to have all of her stuff in hers. Our flight had been first class, and my wife had drunk more than a few glasses of wine, no doubt to calm her nerves. She mostly slept through the second hour of the flight, and we landed in Calcutta around a couple of hours before sunset.
We were picked up at the VIP lounge of Calcutta airport by Imtiaz, a male servant who worked in the household of Mr. Sarun. He grabbed both of our carry-ons and led us to a shiny new Mercedes in the parking garage. We were soon on our way, chauffeured by Imtiaz.
I made small talk with Imtiaz. My wife Vidya was silent, probably wondering about the week ahead. I found out who made up the household of Mr. Sarun in Calcutta. There was Imtiaz the driver, and Fateh, another man servant who tended to the gardens and the pool. Imtiaz’s wife Rukmani and Fateh’s wife Narges worked as full time housemaids as well. There were a couple of other female servants in the house who only worked part time, and whose names Imtiaz rushed through. Clearly, Mr. Sarun loved to surround himself with women.
We finally reached Mr. Sarun’s house, which could only be described as a palace. Imtiaz showed us to our room, which was a large, luxuriously furnished bedroom with a four poster bed in the middle of the room. I wondered how much time Vidya would be spending on this bed, or would Mr. Sarun be ravishing her elsewhere. Then I felt ashamed for thinking such thoughts.
“Sahib,” Imtiaz addressed the both of us. “After you freshen up, please join saabji for dinner downstairs.”
“Yes, of course.” I told him. “How do I get there? Will we call you?”
“I am afraid I have to go and wash and polish the car.” Imtiaz answered. “If you just go down the stairs, just outside your room, then walk the corridor, and left, and then the third door leads to the living room.”
“OK.” I told him, hoping I remembered the instructions right. A house so big you needed directions to find the living room!
After we freshened up, my wife Vidya dressed in a red, sexy sari. If she was having some apprehension about this whole affair, you couldn’t tell by the way she was dressed. The sari was a thin chiffon one, wrapped perfectly around her firm, fit figure, and the noodle strap blouse holding her beautiful breasts in check, and her navel gorgeously exposed.
“Darling!” I told her. “You look stunning!”
Without a word, Vidya hugged me and locked her lips onto mine. I stood there as she kissed me for a long time. Then Vidya gave me a peck on my cheeks and told me, “Remember dear, whatever happens this week, I will always love you.”
“Yes, dear. I know that. I will always love you too.”
Vidya rubbed off the lipstick smudge on my cheeks and kissed me again.