28-01-2022, 10:23 PM
"Don't mention it." Dutt smiled and shook his head.
"Some champagne, Mansi?" Reena asked reached for the bottle.
"No thank you. I don't drink." she shook her head.
"You don't drink alcohol. This is champagne." Reena laughed. "I mean sure, it is also alcohol But it is very mild."
"But still..." Mansi protested.
"But still nothing. Just have a little. besides, they usually serve champagne at such exhibitions too. If you refuse it there, it will look rude."
"Oh, is it?"
"Yes. Just have a little bit. I insist." Reena poured half a measure into a stylish looking flute and held it towards Mansi.
The young middle class housewife, again feeling a little intimidate and out of place, took it. She didn't want to be rude to Reena aunty, who had been so nice to her. And she had heard that champagne is indeed a mild alcohol, mainly used to sip at celebratory or fancy occasions. She took a sip of the cold fizzy drink and grimaced a little.
"How do you like it?" Reena asked.
"It's...different. Tastes a bit like...sprite." Mansi said. It was a bit more carbinated than she expected. And the taste was a little bitter. She didn't enjoy it much, but did not want to seem like a bumpkin.
Reena and Dutt started laughing at the comparison. Until then, Dut had been checking email on his phone, listening to everything.
"Sprite. That's a good way to describe it." Dutt said.
"Have a few more sips and you will get used to it." Reena said.
As the car zoomed south on the western express highway towards Bandra, Mansi took a few more sips of the foreign drink. Having brought up in a conservative small town household, she had never even thought about tasting alcohol. It had been hammered into her that it was a vile drink that makes people act really crazy. She had seen many drunks on the streets of Meerut and knew it had to be true. And drinking for a woman was almost unthinkable.
But she was in the company of high society people now. So to fit in, what's the harm in having a few sips, she thought. Mansi knew so little about the effects of alcohol, that she expected that she would suddenly started feeling unbalanced and confused like a drunkard. So she was surprised that even after a few sips, there was no major effect on her, except just a pleasant sensation in her mind.
"Some more?" Duttsahab politely asked.
"Thank you." Mansi held out the flute.
By the time they reached the sea-facing gallery on Carter Road, Mansi had kept pace with her two companions, finishing three flutes of champagne. As the driver dropped them off and she got out of the car, Mansi felt a mild but funny sensation in her head. She wasn't imbalance, nor was she slurring. But there was something different. She did not know the term, but the first time drinker was what you might call "buzzed".
-----
Mansi walked into the posh gallery feeling just mildly light-headed, even though her two companions were perfectly sober. Obviously, this being the first taste of alcohol in her life, she had a much lower tolerance. But Reena had been careful not to give her too much.
"May I accompany you inside, dear lady?" Dutt held out his elbow in a ceremonious way.
Mansi smiled and put her arm through his. As the two of them walked into the big fancy art gallery followed by Reena, a few photographers milling around ran over and started snapping a few pictures. Mansi was surprised by all the attention. She assumed it was because Dutt was a big shot industrialist. But in reality, the photographers had been drawn to her. Dressed in another of her very few fancy saris, and with her hair combed straight and let loose, she looked quite attractive. Although none of the photographers obviously recognized her, they all thought a picture of a pretty lady with a stylish but paunchy old man would make a great page 3 photo.
"So glad you could make it, Mr. Dutt." a distinguished looking older gentleman who was the owner of the gallery said.
"Happy to be here." Dutt smiled. "These are my friends, Mrs. Mansi and Mrs. Reena."
Mansi was just staring at the picture closest to her. It was a big 12 ft x 9 ft abstract painting hung on a spotless white wall. And the price tag said Rs 26,00,000. She almost fainted that she was so close to a picture that cost more than her husband would earn in two decades. But once she looked past the price, she found herself strangely enamored by the painting. It was a lot of strange blobs and strokes and uneven shapes. But she could see why it commanded such a high price. There was something magnetically fascinating about it.
"Mansi!" Reena nudged her with an elbow. Everyone was waiting for her to greet the owner back.
"Oh hello, how do you do?" she politely said.
"Mansi here is an aspiring artist herself." Dutt said, and she blushed.
"That is fantastic. We are always looking to discover new talent." the owner smiled and fished out a card. "Feel free to send me a sample any time."
"Sample...thank you." Mansi just dumbly stared at the card and said. She had done some drawings on chart paper many years ago. It had been considered nice by the untrained population of her small social circle in Meerut. And here was the owner of a super fancy gallery giving her his card.
The owner smiled knowingly and then snapped his fingers. A waitress appeared carrying a tray of champagne. Mansi looked at her. And yet again, wondered how the wait staff in the high society world is always so impeccably dressed. Dutt and Reena picked up a glass each. Mansi was now starting to feel the mild but real effects of the champagne she had in the car. She didn't want to over indulge. But she remembered what Reena aunty said in the car about not being rude, so she picked up a glass. She told herself she would just hold it, not really have any.
But fifteen minutes later, she felt an empty glass being taken from her hand and replaced with a full one. Dutt had been talking about all the gorgeous paintings in that brightly lit gallery accompanying the two ladies through the exhibition. As was his forte, he was talking nineteen to the dozen sounding very knowledgeable about everything, but any real expert of art would have realized that his expertise didn't go very deep and was actually very cliched and stilted. But to Mansi, who had never been formally educated in the ways of art and just had an amateur passion in it, everything sounded very profound.
The next hour or so passed with Mansi walking through the exhibition with her companions, being lectured on art. Throughout that hour, Dutt had occasionally touched Mansi on her shoulder or brushed her arm, while guiding her from one place to another. She noticed it and maybe because of the alcohol in her system, felt a small thrill at the unfamiliar touch. But did her best to put it all out of her mind. He is just a nice old man, she told herself. Stop being silly. Little did she know that all the subtle touches and brushes were very carefully planned and calibrated by Dutt.
About halfway through the exhibition just as they walked up to a new painting, Dutt stopped, and looked across the hall.
"Oh...would you ladies mind it terribly if I left you alone for a little while?" he said. "I see an old business associate that I need to discuss a new deal with."
"Sure." Reena said. Until now she had been a silent spectator much like Mansi.
"Sure." Mansi said.
"It won't take more than 15-20 minutes. You ladies keep looking and I will join you soon." Dutt said, and gently stroked both their arms before walking away.
Reena and Mansi watched him walk away and then looked at the painting.
"So what do you think this is?" Mansi said, trying to remember everything Dutt had said about shape and form and strokes and subtext.
Reena stared carefully at the painting.
"A big question mark on a fried egg?" Reena said. Both of them started giggling. "Sorry Mansi, but I am not really artistically inclined like you or Dutsahab. To me, most of these paintings look lie something a kindergarten child would make."
"I...like them." Mansi said. And Reena realized that she was getting more and more under Dutt's spell, although she probably didn't realize it herself. So this was the right time.
"Mansi...remember we spoke about a job for you?"
"Oh yes. In fact...I was going to bring it up myself." Mansi said. And then, more than a little buzzed by the champagne, started talking with a slight slur. "Amar has a great job as a professor and his salary is not bad. But it falls short, you know. Some extra money always helps. For helicopters and ice cream. So why not a job? He thinks I won't...or I can't...but he is also right. I never got any great education. Very basic. Like B.A. basic. And it was like...you know...it didn't matter if I could draw a perfect circle with just a brush...but more about whether I can roll a perfect roti. You know what I mean?"
Reena had trouble following that rambling sentence in entirety, especially the part about helicopters and ice cream but she got the general gist. She nodded sympathetically.
"Yeah...so...with Pinky...I don't care about her rotis. I mean...I do care about the rotis she eats. I mean...I don't care about the rotis she makes. In fact she shouldn't even make rotis. She should go to best colleges. And become like...Barkha Dutt or even Edmund Hillary. Why can't she be like Edmund Hillary?"
"You mean climb Everest??" Reena asked, a little confused.
"Noooo...become the first woman president of America." Mansi said.
"Oh of course." Reena realized what she meant but didn't say anything. gently, she took the half empty glass of champagne from Mansi's hand. She did not want the first time drinker to get so drunk that she would just fall asleep.
"So yes...I want to get a job. To save money for Pinky's college. We started a bank account for her college fees but I haven't been able to add anything much to it. If I start working and start adding money to it, she can go anywhere. Go to IIT...IIM...maybe even Stambford."
"Stanford."
"Yes, Stanford." Mansi said. And then stared at the painting. "I think I also see the fried eggs."
"Come with me, Mansi. Let's sit for a while."
Reena led the young housewife to a leather bench by the side. She had hoped the champagne would relax Mansi, but it had maybe been a little too much. She signaled a waitress over and picked up a glass of orange juice and handed it to Mansi who started drinking it.
Mansi was too inexperienced with drinking to realize that she was slightly drunk. She did realize that something was off. But she trusted Reena so implicitly that she still thought champagne is too mild to really be alcohol. They sat quietly for a couple of minutes as Mansi sipped the juice. Then a waiter came by with some finger food and Reena gave some to Mansi and had some herself.
"Mansi, I do have a job for you." she said.
"You do?" the orange juice and the food mad Mansi feel a little more normal.
"I do. In fact today is something like a job interview plus audition."
"Huh?"
"Do you like Duttsahab?"
"He is very nice." Mansi said and then found the question weird. "Wait, what do you mean?"
"Nothing like that, don't be silly." Reena giggled and slapped the young housewife on her shoulder. "I mean do you think he is a nice respectable person?"
"Of course." Mansi said.
"Well, the job is with him."
"With him?" Mansi was confused.
"Yes. He comes to Bombay often. Mostly it is social events and visits like these. Sometimes a business lunch. He is a widower. Alone with kids all grown up. And you have seen what a social butterfly he is. He likes company. So you will be like his...local guide plus personal assistant of sorts."
"What?" she was still confused.
"It is perfect, Mansi. Think about it. You have family commitments and household chores, so it's not like you can do a 9 to 5 job. Duttsahab's social responsibilities will mainly be in the daytime when your husband and daughter are away. And no more than a few days a month."
"I am still not sure what the job exactly is." Mansi said.
"Whatever we did today. Just like that. Accompany him at such events and keep him company. A big reason he likes company is also to avoid random bankers and industrial sales reps and account managers and other business folks from bothering him for orders or jobs or other favors. If he is in the company of a graceful young woman, no one bothers him. So you just spend a few hours in the afternoon with him, maybe 3-4 times a month. And you will be paid well."
"How well?" Mansi said, remembering that it was all about the money.
"I didn't ask the exact amount." Reena shrugged. "But you have seen how he is. Nice and generous. Trust me, it will be good. You trust me, don't you?"
"Of course I trust you." Mansi said.
"I know this seems very unusual. But believe me, it is a very common job. Not just in Bombay but also Bangalore, Delhi, even in foreign countries. Just giving innocent company to business people. I myself have facilitated many such arrangements." Reena gently rubbed Mansi
Mansi was silent and thinking about it. She liked Dutt's company a lot. And she had recently enjoyed her brief glimpses of the high society. If she got a chance to do this a few times a month and also got paid for it, what was the harm? Even if she got a couple of thousand rupees for it, it would be worth it.
"What do you think?" Reena asked softly.
"Just 3-4 times a month?"
"Yes, just that."
"Will you be with us too?" Mansi asked.
"No, sweetie, I have my own job. You understand."
"Can I do like...a trial thing?"
"Of course. Next time he needs company, I will arrange it with you. And you can go out for a few hours. And then make the decision."
"Okay." Mansi shrugged.
"Great!" Reena was delighted. Stage 1 was complete.
------
Mansi was surprised when Reena aunty hugged her on that bench. She hugged back, thankful that this woman who was barely an acquaintance many years ago was being so nice and going out of the way to help her.
"I will go tell Duttsahab the good news. He will be very happy. He is very fond of you." Reena said and got up. "Oh, I almost forgot. He said that if you said yes, I should give you this for today."
She held out a sealed envelope. Mansi stared at it for a few seconds before taking it.
"For today?"
"Yes, he was dreading going to this exhibition alone. So many hangers-on trying to mooch something off him. That's why he walked in with you on his arm. This way, he can stay busy and fend off those vultures. And only talk to the ones he wants, like he is doing now. Plus he remembered you like art, so two birds with one stone." Reena said. "It's sealed, so I don't know how much is in it. But knowing him, it will be good."
Mansi sat there with the envelope in her hand as Reena walked off to the other end of the gallery where Dutt was talking seriously to another old man about some business deal. The young housewife was still feeling a little buzzed. Her head was hurting a little. She quickly put the envelope in her purse and sat there, looking at the paintings around her. She saw Reena and Dutt talking a little. And then she put a hand into the purse. She didn't want to openly check out what was in it. But she was curious. So carefully, using her index finger, she opened the seal of the envelope. Then quickly she looked inside. She saw pink notes. With her fingers, she separated them to count. There were five. So five thousand rupees! For just a few hours of attending an art exhibition?
Mansi felt a combination of jubilation and doubt. On the one hand, she was very happy about getting this extra cash. She could just add it to the bank account meant for Pinky's college. On the other hand, it felt weird that she was getting so much money for something so minor. And it was the same amount as that gift card. Was that also meant to be a payment? And for such generous payment, what would she be expected to do? Would he expect her to...
No no, don't be silly, Mansi scolded herself. He is such a gentleman. And an old man. Almost like a father. And plus this was set up by Reena aunty who was so nice. Mansi scolded herself for even thinking any unsavory thoughts. In the meantime, Reena was walking back towards her so she quickly closed the envelope and took her hands out of the purse.
"Okay, I talked to him. He is thrilled. And he is perfectly happy with meeting you next time as a trial run. If after that you don't want to continue this arrangement, that is up to you." she said.
"Thank you so much." Mansi said gratefully.
"One more thing. You found the idea of this arrangement a little...weird and transactional when you first heard it, right?"
"Yes."
"Well, so does Duttsahab, although he looks forward to it. So...in your interactions, please don't make a reference to the fact that you are like his employee. Just be like a friend. When he calls you next time to meet him, think of it like meeting a friend, like you are meeting me. Or else it feels a little sleazy. Does that make sense?"
"Oh okay, I guess that makes sense.
"Great. Okay, I should get going." Reena said picking up her purse.
"You're leaving?"
"Yes. I have so many things lined up back at the hotel. Plus you should get used to spend time with him alone. That is your job from now on."
"True." Mansi nodded.
She looked up and saw Dutt walking back towards them.
"Duttsahab, thank you for this great experience." Reena aunty said gently hugging him and kissing him on a cheek. "But work calls so I have to get going."
"I understand." Dutt smiled.
"Will you drop Mansi off please?"
"Of course." he eagerly nodded. "Shall we continue with the rest of the exhibition, Mansi?"
"Sure."
Reena left after hugging Mansi goodbye and whispering congrats. And then she walked with Dutt towards the next section. A waitress stopped by with a glass of champagne. But Mansi was still feeling a little light headed so she politely declined. Dutt thought about insisting that she have more, but remembered Reena's advice about taking it slow. And the two of them walked from painting to painting with Dutt talking nineteen to the dozen.
Mansi had seen so many high price tags that by now, she stopped even thinking about them. She had truly immersed herself into the exhibition and was really enjoying the whole experience. Most of the drawings were very abstract. And then suddenly they came across one that looked like something out of a comic book. Mansi was surprised and stared at it. It did not seem like art. And yet the price on it said Rs 75,000.
"Oh what a lovely reproduction of a classic." Dutt said. "Do you recognize the original that this is based on, Mansi?
"I don't think so." Mansi said nervously. Until now, he had just been speaking and she had been listening. Now suddenly he was asking her questions. She felt very conscious about her ignorance.
"It's a reproduction of Drowning Girl by Roy Lichtenstein. Describe to me what you see please."
"A girl drowning, crying, and saying" she moved closer to read the comic book style speech bubble, "I don't care. I'd rather sink than call Brad for help."
"And what is the painting trying to convey?"
"Despair...frustration..." Mansi guessed.
"Surrender?"
"Yes, surrender."
"And do you see the thinly veiled erotic references?"
"Really?" she stared at the image. She couldn't see any erotic references. She felt a little strange to even hear the word erotic in the context of a comic book
"Look carefully."
"I...have no idea." Mansi shrugged.
"All that white stuff...we assume it is water she is drowning in. But doesn't it look a little like...semen?" Dutt quietly said.
Mansi blushed profusely. She came from an unorthodox family. And never discussed words like semen even with her husband. She saw what Dutt meant though.
Contd....
"Some champagne, Mansi?" Reena asked reached for the bottle.
"No thank you. I don't drink." she shook her head.
"You don't drink alcohol. This is champagne." Reena laughed. "I mean sure, it is also alcohol But it is very mild."
"But still..." Mansi protested.
"But still nothing. Just have a little. besides, they usually serve champagne at such exhibitions too. If you refuse it there, it will look rude."
"Oh, is it?"
"Yes. Just have a little bit. I insist." Reena poured half a measure into a stylish looking flute and held it towards Mansi.
The young middle class housewife, again feeling a little intimidate and out of place, took it. She didn't want to be rude to Reena aunty, who had been so nice to her. And she had heard that champagne is indeed a mild alcohol, mainly used to sip at celebratory or fancy occasions. She took a sip of the cold fizzy drink and grimaced a little.
"How do you like it?" Reena asked.
"It's...different. Tastes a bit like...sprite." Mansi said. It was a bit more carbinated than she expected. And the taste was a little bitter. She didn't enjoy it much, but did not want to seem like a bumpkin.
Reena and Dutt started laughing at the comparison. Until then, Dut had been checking email on his phone, listening to everything.
"Sprite. That's a good way to describe it." Dutt said.
"Have a few more sips and you will get used to it." Reena said.
As the car zoomed south on the western express highway towards Bandra, Mansi took a few more sips of the foreign drink. Having brought up in a conservative small town household, she had never even thought about tasting alcohol. It had been hammered into her that it was a vile drink that makes people act really crazy. She had seen many drunks on the streets of Meerut and knew it had to be true. And drinking for a woman was almost unthinkable.
But she was in the company of high society people now. So to fit in, what's the harm in having a few sips, she thought. Mansi knew so little about the effects of alcohol, that she expected that she would suddenly started feeling unbalanced and confused like a drunkard. So she was surprised that even after a few sips, there was no major effect on her, except just a pleasant sensation in her mind.
"Some more?" Duttsahab politely asked.
"Thank you." Mansi held out the flute.
By the time they reached the sea-facing gallery on Carter Road, Mansi had kept pace with her two companions, finishing three flutes of champagne. As the driver dropped them off and she got out of the car, Mansi felt a mild but funny sensation in her head. She wasn't imbalance, nor was she slurring. But there was something different. She did not know the term, but the first time drinker was what you might call "buzzed".
-----
Mansi walked into the posh gallery feeling just mildly light-headed, even though her two companions were perfectly sober. Obviously, this being the first taste of alcohol in her life, she had a much lower tolerance. But Reena had been careful not to give her too much.
"May I accompany you inside, dear lady?" Dutt held out his elbow in a ceremonious way.
Mansi smiled and put her arm through his. As the two of them walked into the big fancy art gallery followed by Reena, a few photographers milling around ran over and started snapping a few pictures. Mansi was surprised by all the attention. She assumed it was because Dutt was a big shot industrialist. But in reality, the photographers had been drawn to her. Dressed in another of her very few fancy saris, and with her hair combed straight and let loose, she looked quite attractive. Although none of the photographers obviously recognized her, they all thought a picture of a pretty lady with a stylish but paunchy old man would make a great page 3 photo.
"So glad you could make it, Mr. Dutt." a distinguished looking older gentleman who was the owner of the gallery said.
"Happy to be here." Dutt smiled. "These are my friends, Mrs. Mansi and Mrs. Reena."
Mansi was just staring at the picture closest to her. It was a big 12 ft x 9 ft abstract painting hung on a spotless white wall. And the price tag said Rs 26,00,000. She almost fainted that she was so close to a picture that cost more than her husband would earn in two decades. But once she looked past the price, she found herself strangely enamored by the painting. It was a lot of strange blobs and strokes and uneven shapes. But she could see why it commanded such a high price. There was something magnetically fascinating about it.
"Mansi!" Reena nudged her with an elbow. Everyone was waiting for her to greet the owner back.
"Oh hello, how do you do?" she politely said.
"Mansi here is an aspiring artist herself." Dutt said, and she blushed.
"That is fantastic. We are always looking to discover new talent." the owner smiled and fished out a card. "Feel free to send me a sample any time."
"Sample...thank you." Mansi just dumbly stared at the card and said. She had done some drawings on chart paper many years ago. It had been considered nice by the untrained population of her small social circle in Meerut. And here was the owner of a super fancy gallery giving her his card.
The owner smiled knowingly and then snapped his fingers. A waitress appeared carrying a tray of champagne. Mansi looked at her. And yet again, wondered how the wait staff in the high society world is always so impeccably dressed. Dutt and Reena picked up a glass each. Mansi was now starting to feel the mild but real effects of the champagne she had in the car. She didn't want to over indulge. But she remembered what Reena aunty said in the car about not being rude, so she picked up a glass. She told herself she would just hold it, not really have any.
But fifteen minutes later, she felt an empty glass being taken from her hand and replaced with a full one. Dutt had been talking about all the gorgeous paintings in that brightly lit gallery accompanying the two ladies through the exhibition. As was his forte, he was talking nineteen to the dozen sounding very knowledgeable about everything, but any real expert of art would have realized that his expertise didn't go very deep and was actually very cliched and stilted. But to Mansi, who had never been formally educated in the ways of art and just had an amateur passion in it, everything sounded very profound.
The next hour or so passed with Mansi walking through the exhibition with her companions, being lectured on art. Throughout that hour, Dutt had occasionally touched Mansi on her shoulder or brushed her arm, while guiding her from one place to another. She noticed it and maybe because of the alcohol in her system, felt a small thrill at the unfamiliar touch. But did her best to put it all out of her mind. He is just a nice old man, she told herself. Stop being silly. Little did she know that all the subtle touches and brushes were very carefully planned and calibrated by Dutt.
About halfway through the exhibition just as they walked up to a new painting, Dutt stopped, and looked across the hall.
"Oh...would you ladies mind it terribly if I left you alone for a little while?" he said. "I see an old business associate that I need to discuss a new deal with."
"Sure." Reena said. Until now she had been a silent spectator much like Mansi.
"Sure." Mansi said.
"It won't take more than 15-20 minutes. You ladies keep looking and I will join you soon." Dutt said, and gently stroked both their arms before walking away.
Reena and Mansi watched him walk away and then looked at the painting.
"So what do you think this is?" Mansi said, trying to remember everything Dutt had said about shape and form and strokes and subtext.
Reena stared carefully at the painting.
"A big question mark on a fried egg?" Reena said. Both of them started giggling. "Sorry Mansi, but I am not really artistically inclined like you or Dutsahab. To me, most of these paintings look lie something a kindergarten child would make."
"I...like them." Mansi said. And Reena realized that she was getting more and more under Dutt's spell, although she probably didn't realize it herself. So this was the right time.
"Mansi...remember we spoke about a job for you?"
"Oh yes. In fact...I was going to bring it up myself." Mansi said. And then, more than a little buzzed by the champagne, started talking with a slight slur. "Amar has a great job as a professor and his salary is not bad. But it falls short, you know. Some extra money always helps. For helicopters and ice cream. So why not a job? He thinks I won't...or I can't...but he is also right. I never got any great education. Very basic. Like B.A. basic. And it was like...you know...it didn't matter if I could draw a perfect circle with just a brush...but more about whether I can roll a perfect roti. You know what I mean?"
Reena had trouble following that rambling sentence in entirety, especially the part about helicopters and ice cream but she got the general gist. She nodded sympathetically.
"Yeah...so...with Pinky...I don't care about her rotis. I mean...I do care about the rotis she eats. I mean...I don't care about the rotis she makes. In fact she shouldn't even make rotis. She should go to best colleges. And become like...Barkha Dutt or even Edmund Hillary. Why can't she be like Edmund Hillary?"
"You mean climb Everest??" Reena asked, a little confused.
"Noooo...become the first woman president of America." Mansi said.
"Oh of course." Reena realized what she meant but didn't say anything. gently, she took the half empty glass of champagne from Mansi's hand. She did not want the first time drinker to get so drunk that she would just fall asleep.
"So yes...I want to get a job. To save money for Pinky's college. We started a bank account for her college fees but I haven't been able to add anything much to it. If I start working and start adding money to it, she can go anywhere. Go to IIT...IIM...maybe even Stambford."
"Stanford."
"Yes, Stanford." Mansi said. And then stared at the painting. "I think I also see the fried eggs."
"Come with me, Mansi. Let's sit for a while."
Reena led the young housewife to a leather bench by the side. She had hoped the champagne would relax Mansi, but it had maybe been a little too much. She signaled a waitress over and picked up a glass of orange juice and handed it to Mansi who started drinking it.
Mansi was too inexperienced with drinking to realize that she was slightly drunk. She did realize that something was off. But she trusted Reena so implicitly that she still thought champagne is too mild to really be alcohol. They sat quietly for a couple of minutes as Mansi sipped the juice. Then a waiter came by with some finger food and Reena gave some to Mansi and had some herself.
"Mansi, I do have a job for you." she said.
"You do?" the orange juice and the food mad Mansi feel a little more normal.
"I do. In fact today is something like a job interview plus audition."
"Huh?"
"Do you like Duttsahab?"
"He is very nice." Mansi said and then found the question weird. "Wait, what do you mean?"
"Nothing like that, don't be silly." Reena giggled and slapped the young housewife on her shoulder. "I mean do you think he is a nice respectable person?"
"Of course." Mansi said.
"Well, the job is with him."
"With him?" Mansi was confused.
"Yes. He comes to Bombay often. Mostly it is social events and visits like these. Sometimes a business lunch. He is a widower. Alone with kids all grown up. And you have seen what a social butterfly he is. He likes company. So you will be like his...local guide plus personal assistant of sorts."
"What?" she was still confused.
"It is perfect, Mansi. Think about it. You have family commitments and household chores, so it's not like you can do a 9 to 5 job. Duttsahab's social responsibilities will mainly be in the daytime when your husband and daughter are away. And no more than a few days a month."
"I am still not sure what the job exactly is." Mansi said.
"Whatever we did today. Just like that. Accompany him at such events and keep him company. A big reason he likes company is also to avoid random bankers and industrial sales reps and account managers and other business folks from bothering him for orders or jobs or other favors. If he is in the company of a graceful young woman, no one bothers him. So you just spend a few hours in the afternoon with him, maybe 3-4 times a month. And you will be paid well."
"How well?" Mansi said, remembering that it was all about the money.
"I didn't ask the exact amount." Reena shrugged. "But you have seen how he is. Nice and generous. Trust me, it will be good. You trust me, don't you?"
"Of course I trust you." Mansi said.
"I know this seems very unusual. But believe me, it is a very common job. Not just in Bombay but also Bangalore, Delhi, even in foreign countries. Just giving innocent company to business people. I myself have facilitated many such arrangements." Reena gently rubbed Mansi
Mansi was silent and thinking about it. She liked Dutt's company a lot. And she had recently enjoyed her brief glimpses of the high society. If she got a chance to do this a few times a month and also got paid for it, what was the harm? Even if she got a couple of thousand rupees for it, it would be worth it.
"What do you think?" Reena asked softly.
"Just 3-4 times a month?"
"Yes, just that."
"Will you be with us too?" Mansi asked.
"No, sweetie, I have my own job. You understand."
"Can I do like...a trial thing?"
"Of course. Next time he needs company, I will arrange it with you. And you can go out for a few hours. And then make the decision."
"Okay." Mansi shrugged.
"Great!" Reena was delighted. Stage 1 was complete.
------
Mansi was surprised when Reena aunty hugged her on that bench. She hugged back, thankful that this woman who was barely an acquaintance many years ago was being so nice and going out of the way to help her.
"I will go tell Duttsahab the good news. He will be very happy. He is very fond of you." Reena said and got up. "Oh, I almost forgot. He said that if you said yes, I should give you this for today."
She held out a sealed envelope. Mansi stared at it for a few seconds before taking it.
"For today?"
"Yes, he was dreading going to this exhibition alone. So many hangers-on trying to mooch something off him. That's why he walked in with you on his arm. This way, he can stay busy and fend off those vultures. And only talk to the ones he wants, like he is doing now. Plus he remembered you like art, so two birds with one stone." Reena said. "It's sealed, so I don't know how much is in it. But knowing him, it will be good."
Mansi sat there with the envelope in her hand as Reena walked off to the other end of the gallery where Dutt was talking seriously to another old man about some business deal. The young housewife was still feeling a little buzzed. Her head was hurting a little. She quickly put the envelope in her purse and sat there, looking at the paintings around her. She saw Reena and Dutt talking a little. And then she put a hand into the purse. She didn't want to openly check out what was in it. But she was curious. So carefully, using her index finger, she opened the seal of the envelope. Then quickly she looked inside. She saw pink notes. With her fingers, she separated them to count. There were five. So five thousand rupees! For just a few hours of attending an art exhibition?
Mansi felt a combination of jubilation and doubt. On the one hand, she was very happy about getting this extra cash. She could just add it to the bank account meant for Pinky's college. On the other hand, it felt weird that she was getting so much money for something so minor. And it was the same amount as that gift card. Was that also meant to be a payment? And for such generous payment, what would she be expected to do? Would he expect her to...
No no, don't be silly, Mansi scolded herself. He is such a gentleman. And an old man. Almost like a father. And plus this was set up by Reena aunty who was so nice. Mansi scolded herself for even thinking any unsavory thoughts. In the meantime, Reena was walking back towards her so she quickly closed the envelope and took her hands out of the purse.
"Okay, I talked to him. He is thrilled. And he is perfectly happy with meeting you next time as a trial run. If after that you don't want to continue this arrangement, that is up to you." she said.
"Thank you so much." Mansi said gratefully.
"One more thing. You found the idea of this arrangement a little...weird and transactional when you first heard it, right?"
"Yes."
"Well, so does Duttsahab, although he looks forward to it. So...in your interactions, please don't make a reference to the fact that you are like his employee. Just be like a friend. When he calls you next time to meet him, think of it like meeting a friend, like you are meeting me. Or else it feels a little sleazy. Does that make sense?"
"Oh okay, I guess that makes sense.
"Great. Okay, I should get going." Reena said picking up her purse.
"You're leaving?"
"Yes. I have so many things lined up back at the hotel. Plus you should get used to spend time with him alone. That is your job from now on."
"True." Mansi nodded.
She looked up and saw Dutt walking back towards them.
"Duttsahab, thank you for this great experience." Reena aunty said gently hugging him and kissing him on a cheek. "But work calls so I have to get going."
"I understand." Dutt smiled.
"Will you drop Mansi off please?"
"Of course." he eagerly nodded. "Shall we continue with the rest of the exhibition, Mansi?"
"Sure."
Reena left after hugging Mansi goodbye and whispering congrats. And then she walked with Dutt towards the next section. A waitress stopped by with a glass of champagne. But Mansi was still feeling a little light headed so she politely declined. Dutt thought about insisting that she have more, but remembered Reena's advice about taking it slow. And the two of them walked from painting to painting with Dutt talking nineteen to the dozen.
Mansi had seen so many high price tags that by now, she stopped even thinking about them. She had truly immersed herself into the exhibition and was really enjoying the whole experience. Most of the drawings were very abstract. And then suddenly they came across one that looked like something out of a comic book. Mansi was surprised and stared at it. It did not seem like art. And yet the price on it said Rs 75,000.
"Oh what a lovely reproduction of a classic." Dutt said. "Do you recognize the original that this is based on, Mansi?
"I don't think so." Mansi said nervously. Until now, he had just been speaking and she had been listening. Now suddenly he was asking her questions. She felt very conscious about her ignorance.
"It's a reproduction of Drowning Girl by Roy Lichtenstein. Describe to me what you see please."
"A girl drowning, crying, and saying" she moved closer to read the comic book style speech bubble, "I don't care. I'd rather sink than call Brad for help."
"And what is the painting trying to convey?"
"Despair...frustration..." Mansi guessed.
"Surrender?"
"Yes, surrender."
"And do you see the thinly veiled erotic references?"
"Really?" she stared at the image. She couldn't see any erotic references. She felt a little strange to even hear the word erotic in the context of a comic book
"Look carefully."
"I...have no idea." Mansi shrugged.
"All that white stuff...we assume it is water she is drowning in. But doesn't it look a little like...semen?" Dutt quietly said.
Mansi blushed profusely. She came from an unorthodox family. And never discussed words like semen even with her husband. She saw what Dutt meant though.
Contd....
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