08-02-2023, 12:23 PM
A few minutes later, Mansi was sitting on a plush car seat, again feeling a mix of awe and wonderment. It was a big Mercedes limousine. Expensive leather interior, A/C on at full blast, with a smart looking driver in a crisp uniform. She was getting a first hand exposure to the lifestyle of the rich and famous.
"Thank you again, Duttsahab." she said as he got in from the other side.
"Please stop thanking me all the time, Mansi." he smiled. "So where exactly do you stay? Tell him the address."
Mansi told the driver her address in Borivali east and the driver nodded. She sat back and was tempted to thank Dutt again, but he was on the phone.
"Yes Pradeep...no no...can't do it for 12 million. Had to be fifteen. Yes, we can do something about the warranty..."
He seemed busy with his business. So she sat back. The car started moving. She looked out of the window and marveled at how different the streets of Mumbai looked from the inside of a plush limousine.
She stared at the buildings and cars whizzing past as she wondered, is this how people with money live? How would it feel? Do they get bored of it? She started thinking about a parallel universe where she hadn't been born to middle class conservative parents in a small town but to someone like Dutt. He seemed like such a nice and knowledgeable man. Very kind and gentle. Surely he didn't yell at his kids, force fit them into his ideas.
She noticed that Dutt had finished his phone calls.
"Can I offer you some water or a soft drink, Mansi?" he asked. "Your lips look a little dry."
"Oh no, there is no need to stop." Mansi said, without realizing that this meant he had been looking at her lips.
"We don't have to stop." Dutt smiled. "Push that blue button by your side."
Mansi was intrigued and pushed it. Immediately, a small refrigerated box slid out of the panel next to her. It had water, cola, and a couple of juices.
"Wow!!" she said, her eyes wide. A mini fridge in a car? She reached out and took a bottle of water.
"Press it again." he said, and then the fridge disappeared into the wall as if it was never there.
Taking a sip of water, Mansi licked her dry lips. Dutt watched her do that and felt a stirring in his loins. But he restrained himself.
"Duttsahab...what do your kids do?" she asked.
"My kids...oh they are a great bunch. The eldest, my first daughter, is a Vice President in my business. She is the one who runs most of our operations these days. And once I retire soon, she will take over completely. To be honest, she is going to take our business to great heights. She is married to a lawyer and they have two sons."
Mansi was a little surprised that despite having a son, it was a daughter that he was grooming as his successor.
"The second is my son. About your age. He is a sculptor. Not hit the big leagues yet, but I see a lot of promise. And my youngest is doing a masters course at Stanford University in the US. She is going to be a great writer." he proudly said.
Mansi smiled and nodded. If she had been born to him, maybe she could have become an artist too.
That's when Dutt's phone rang again.
"Excuse me. Duty calls again." he said and answered.
As the old man talked business on the phone, Mansi turned back to look outside the window. They were now on the western express highway. She thought about her own daughter, and how intelligent she was. What was in her future? Even with all his flaws and idiosyncrasies, the good thing about Amar was that he was not an old-fashioned guy when it came to that part. It was his idea to put her in an expensive high quality college. She was sure that with him together, they would be able to help her live up to her full potential. But that needed so much money these days.
"See that blue building over there with the glass facade?"
Mansi was so lost in her thoughts that she did not realize when Dutt finished his phone call and slid over right next to her. His face was right in front of hers and his finger was pointing out the window. His hips were touching hers.
"Hmmm?" she absent-mindedly said, looking where he pointed.
"I own two floors in that building, and that is like my Mumbai branch office."
"I see." she said.
"So you see, we are neighbors of sorts. You live in Borivali East. I have my offices in Borivali East." he said, still right next to her, a little too close.
"I guess so." she said, and squirmed a little, uncomfortably.
Dutt noticed her reaction and was a little disappointed. He had hoped for some sort of a signal that she was also attracted to him. But it wasn't there, He immediately slid back and she looked more relaxed.
Soon the driver turned off from the highway and went into the roads of the suburb. There was a short period of silence as Mansi sipped a bit more of the water. She didn't think that Duttsahab meant anything untoward by sliding that close to her. Maybe that was the norm among high society people. And he was such a nice charming man. When his face was right next to her, she had found herself thinking that it was a very handsome face. And that in his younger days, before he got a paunch, he must have been quite a good looking guy. He reminded her a bit of Rishi Kapoor.
"We are almost there, ma'am." the driver said from the front.
"Oh, yes, thanks." Mansi said as she recognized the familiar narrow roads of her neighborhood. Part of her felt a little sad that the ride was ending. It meant that her small adventure with high class society was ending.
"Mansi..." Dutt said holding his phone. "Why don't you give me your number? Like I told you, my son is a sculptor. Through him, I hear of a lot of exhibitions and events related to art in Mumbai. Next time there is one, I can call you. And then you can visit it with your husband and daughter."
The mention of her family was very purposeful. He had gauged her well enough to know that if he just asked her for her number saying the two of them should meet, she might refuse. But putting that request in the context of her main passions - art and her family - would make it easier.
"Oh sure...it is..."
Mansi gave him her cellphone number. He then gave her a missed call and saved his.
And then thanking him once again for the ride, the chopsticks lesson, and the gift card, she stepped out of the car.
As the fancy limo drove away, she realized that she was now back in the tepid confines of her regular middle class life.
------
"Thank you again, Duttsahab." she said as he got in from the other side.
"Please stop thanking me all the time, Mansi." he smiled. "So where exactly do you stay? Tell him the address."
Mansi told the driver her address in Borivali east and the driver nodded. She sat back and was tempted to thank Dutt again, but he was on the phone.
"Yes Pradeep...no no...can't do it for 12 million. Had to be fifteen. Yes, we can do something about the warranty..."
He seemed busy with his business. So she sat back. The car started moving. She looked out of the window and marveled at how different the streets of Mumbai looked from the inside of a plush limousine.
She stared at the buildings and cars whizzing past as she wondered, is this how people with money live? How would it feel? Do they get bored of it? She started thinking about a parallel universe where she hadn't been born to middle class conservative parents in a small town but to someone like Dutt. He seemed like such a nice and knowledgeable man. Very kind and gentle. Surely he didn't yell at his kids, force fit them into his ideas.
She noticed that Dutt had finished his phone calls.
"Can I offer you some water or a soft drink, Mansi?" he asked. "Your lips look a little dry."
"Oh no, there is no need to stop." Mansi said, without realizing that this meant he had been looking at her lips.
"We don't have to stop." Dutt smiled. "Push that blue button by your side."
Mansi was intrigued and pushed it. Immediately, a small refrigerated box slid out of the panel next to her. It had water, cola, and a couple of juices.
"Wow!!" she said, her eyes wide. A mini fridge in a car? She reached out and took a bottle of water.
"Press it again." he said, and then the fridge disappeared into the wall as if it was never there.
Taking a sip of water, Mansi licked her dry lips. Dutt watched her do that and felt a stirring in his loins. But he restrained himself.
"Duttsahab...what do your kids do?" she asked.
"My kids...oh they are a great bunch. The eldest, my first daughter, is a Vice President in my business. She is the one who runs most of our operations these days. And once I retire soon, she will take over completely. To be honest, she is going to take our business to great heights. She is married to a lawyer and they have two sons."
Mansi was a little surprised that despite having a son, it was a daughter that he was grooming as his successor.
"The second is my son. About your age. He is a sculptor. Not hit the big leagues yet, but I see a lot of promise. And my youngest is doing a masters course at Stanford University in the US. She is going to be a great writer." he proudly said.
Mansi smiled and nodded. If she had been born to him, maybe she could have become an artist too.
That's when Dutt's phone rang again.
"Excuse me. Duty calls again." he said and answered.
As the old man talked business on the phone, Mansi turned back to look outside the window. They were now on the western express highway. She thought about her own daughter, and how intelligent she was. What was in her future? Even with all his flaws and idiosyncrasies, the good thing about Amar was that he was not an old-fashioned guy when it came to that part. It was his idea to put her in an expensive high quality college. She was sure that with him together, they would be able to help her live up to her full potential. But that needed so much money these days.
"See that blue building over there with the glass facade?"
Mansi was so lost in her thoughts that she did not realize when Dutt finished his phone call and slid over right next to her. His face was right in front of hers and his finger was pointing out the window. His hips were touching hers.
"Hmmm?" she absent-mindedly said, looking where he pointed.
"I own two floors in that building, and that is like my Mumbai branch office."
"I see." she said.
"So you see, we are neighbors of sorts. You live in Borivali East. I have my offices in Borivali East." he said, still right next to her, a little too close.
"I guess so." she said, and squirmed a little, uncomfortably.
Dutt noticed her reaction and was a little disappointed. He had hoped for some sort of a signal that she was also attracted to him. But it wasn't there, He immediately slid back and she looked more relaxed.
Soon the driver turned off from the highway and went into the roads of the suburb. There was a short period of silence as Mansi sipped a bit more of the water. She didn't think that Duttsahab meant anything untoward by sliding that close to her. Maybe that was the norm among high society people. And he was such a nice charming man. When his face was right next to her, she had found herself thinking that it was a very handsome face. And that in his younger days, before he got a paunch, he must have been quite a good looking guy. He reminded her a bit of Rishi Kapoor.
"We are almost there, ma'am." the driver said from the front.
"Oh, yes, thanks." Mansi said as she recognized the familiar narrow roads of her neighborhood. Part of her felt a little sad that the ride was ending. It meant that her small adventure with high class society was ending.
"Mansi..." Dutt said holding his phone. "Why don't you give me your number? Like I told you, my son is a sculptor. Through him, I hear of a lot of exhibitions and events related to art in Mumbai. Next time there is one, I can call you. And then you can visit it with your husband and daughter."
The mention of her family was very purposeful. He had gauged her well enough to know that if he just asked her for her number saying the two of them should meet, she might refuse. But putting that request in the context of her main passions - art and her family - would make it easier.
"Oh sure...it is..."
Mansi gave him her cellphone number. He then gave her a missed call and saved his.
And then thanking him once again for the ride, the chopsticks lesson, and the gift card, she stepped out of the car.
As the fancy limo drove away, she realized that she was now back in the tepid confines of her regular middle class life.
------
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