After three months, the shop was still struggling with us being the main/only customers. I learned some Tamil. However, courtesy of Saranya aunty, the money I had was fast dwindling. I decided to discuss the hotel with Gowthami in the evening. “Paati (Granny), the business is not improving; we have to do something or commit suicide.” Paati started crying, “Pera (Grandson), think of something; I don’t want to die; I want to live,” She cried inconsolably while hugging me. Call it the effect of her oiled hair and her sweaty body or my deviant fetishes, and it awakened the devil in me. That got me thinking. I started working on my idea. After one week, I told her in broken Tamil about the problems, opportunities, and solutions.
Me: “Paati, there are many offices and only two hotels nearby. Your food is tastier than theirs. You don’t compromise on hygiene. So, demand is there, yet everyone goes to Kamasamy and Murugan’s hotel. I talked to some people nearby, and I can pinpoint three significant reasons—lack of variety. We have only idly-sambar and meals. The second is less seating space. Third and most important is the lack of good publicity and much negative publicity.
“What negative publicity,” a visibly angry and distressed Gowthami asked.
Me: “The other hotel owners point out your worn-out clothes and untidy dressing. That makes the customers feel that the food is also unhygienic.”
Gowthami looked defeated. “Pera, you know I can’t afford to….” Her voice breaks off. Accepting her defeat, she slumps over and starts sobbing.
I comforted her. “I have the solution. I bribed the health official to give me the quality certificate in two days. I know Photoshop. I can create ads for social media. I have already ordered to refurbish the shop next week. We will have a grand reopening in May, two months from now. But your dressing is the problem, Paati….” I broke off.
I knew I had to act the next part perfectly to set my plan in motion to morally corrupt this extremely orthodox and devout grandmother.
Gowthami: “What’s the problem, Pera? I can wear some new sarees; it’s not a problem.”
Me: “It is. People will come once to our hotel. But if we are to retain our customers, we have to motivate them to come back. Something more than tasty food. Something every man desires.”
“What is it,” Gowthami asked curiously
Me: “The beauty of your mature body, Paati. I am not ashamed to tell you that I ogled at your body the first day I saw you. I have smelled your sweat-stained blouse countless times and even watched you bath in your pavadai (Skirt) along the riverbank. You need to do more than just wear sarees Paati, you need to entice men by your choice of modern sarees”. Gowthami looked at me in disbelief. Her stare then turned at the now visible swelling in my pants. The pride of my superior Rajput ancestry made me blurt out the truth . Her look of disbelief turned into one of rage. She stood up and walked toward me. Whack….” A sound slap across my cheek…
Gowthami: “How could you? I thought of you as my grandson. If my Purushan (Husband) was alive, he would have…… ”