“Chinni” Episode-03

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  The whirr of Nasreen’s machine as it stitched the seams of the synthetic pentagons and hexagons always made Chinni very emotional. It was almost like the cries of a mother giving birth to her baby. Another beautiful football was coming to life.

Over the years, Chinni’s Sunday visits to the factory had become much fewer and farther between. When she had been a toddler, she used to love watching Nasreen’s mother Zohra and other women stitch the leather panels on treadle machines. Though it used to take much longer, their handiwork had as much precision as the motorized machines delivered today.

It was probably all those Sundays in the company of those cheerful, hardworking women meticulous about their work, that had triggered Chinni’s love for the sport. One day, out of extreme curiosity, she had asked them as to why, other than just making the footballs, they didn’t as well play the sport. Their collective response was scandalized, dismissive laughter. But what Zohra had then told her, even though in indulgent humour, had stayed with her. “When you grow up, you must play on behalf of all of us.”

In almost exactly fifteen minutes, Nasreen stitched the last seam together, and handed it to Chinni.   But today, she didn’t have the usual, proud grin on her pretty face.

And Chinni knew why. Rumour had it that Devgarhia Sports Company would soon eliminate the stitching process altogether. The proposed acquisition of more thermal bonding machinery was being seen as a step towards that. The all-women stitching unit would be closed down, rendering them jobless out of the blue.

Chinni never got involved in business matters. But today, she had to do something for these women, most of whom belonged to families of loyal employees from her late Dadaji’s time.

But she didn’t want to disturb Papa or Balraj Chacha, what with Sauri Bhaiya’s wedding just round the corner. In any case, there was still a lot of time before a final decision was to be taken.

And so Chinni decided to focus all her thoughts and energies on the Jaipur wedding. Well, Naman Rathor, to be precise.

***

Jaipur was pleasant, neither too hot nor too cold. The green of the huge neem trees lining the main roads were soothing to Chinni’s eyes.

As soon as the groom’s family was comfortably settled in the many rooms of a palatial bungalow arranged by the bride’s folks, Chinni was delighted to see Naman there. Balraj Chacha was assigning him the task of buying saafaas, the traditional turban cloth, to be worn by all the men at the wedding.

“I’ll go with him,” Chinni announced at once.

“That will be nice,” Naman played along, innocently. “I can show her the shops, and she can choose.”

“Okay, but don’t take too long,” is all that Chacha had to say.

“Thanks for those pics,” Chinni tried to be as polite and sweet as possible as they were getting into his car. He smiled in response, and she suspected a blush. Or was she daydreaming?

Naman drove well, and on the way to Johri Bazaar, he pointed out some places of tourist interest. But she was hardly paying attention.

After reaching there, as they walked towards the ‘katra’ with shops selling only saafaas, she decided to test the waters. “So when are we going to become relatives?”

He froze, and looked at her all confused. “Relatives?”

“Well, I’m the groom’s cousin, and your girlfriend is the bride’s cousin, so…”

“Girlfriend?” said Naman, almost stammering. Before guffawing, “You thought Lavanya was really my…?”

Ahem? She wasn’t? But the way she had blushed upon his mention at the engagement party, Chinni could have sworn that they were a couple.

Leaving her guessing and her heart dangling in mid air, he had already moved on and started checking out some saafaas. She was too distracted to really participate in the selection, so he got a few elegant tie-and-dye turban cloths packed.

“One sec,” said Naman, stopping on the way back to the car, and bought an exquisite enamel pendant with a black string. “Hope you like it.”

She froze. He had bought it for her. She wanted to hug him tight right there.

“No, I can’t take it.” What? She hated herself.

“Why not?” said he, pursing his lips, pleading.

“On one condition,” she said, at once grabbing the second chance. “You’ll have to have lassi with me.”

After lassi, they locked the saafaas inside the car, and walked across the road to Hawa Mahal. Then, peeping out of one of the several latticed windows, he informed, “This was where women of the royal families would get a glimpse of the outer world. They weren’t allowed to be seen in public, you see.”

“Allowed? By whom?” Chinni demanded to know. She was aware of the regressive history, but she just wanted to harass this guy.

“By their men, of course,” Naman replied, shrugging matter of factly.

“What do you mean ‘of course’? If you were born in those days, you too wouldn’t have allowed Lavanya to…?”

“Hey! Lavanya and I are just childhood buddies,” he almost cried, as if pleading innocence. Her persistence had succeeded in getting it out of him at last. “Calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend is an old joke between us. We’re not actually…”

“Fine,” she mumbled with a smirk, turned and walked away in extreme delight.

***

Soon, it was her last day in Jaipur. The late-evening wedding rituals had gone well. The newly-weds had been whisked off to Delhi for their flight to Switzerland, their honeymoon destination.

All through their stay, Chinni had been tempted to make accidental body contact with Naman. But the good girl that she was, she didn’t want to spoil the decorum of such an auspicious family gathering. Instead, she satisfied her urges by making him run around a lot. Though he was equally from both the groom and the bride’s sides, given that he knew both families equally, Chinni enjoyed transforming him into a complete ‘ladkiwaala’ running errands for the groom’s sole female cousin. She even felt that her fake bossy attitude made it more fun for him to obey her.

But time had run out. Tomorrow she would be back in Royalpur, and Naman would get on with his life. And who knew, Lavanya, whom she had branded as the non-scoring goalkeeper type, might actually pursue him and score a goal.

“Oh no! I forgot my mobile in my room,” Chinni exclaimed, even as she stepped out of the bungalow. Naman who was supervising the Devgarhias’ luggage being loaded into the cars, nodded dutifully. “I’ll get it.”

“Look in the bathroom,” she called out as he ran inwards.

“Okay!” he hollered as the lift door closed.

She touched her waist pouch hidden under her dupatta, and was glad that he hadn’t noticed the bulge that her mobile made.

***

When Naman started searching the soap cabinet for the third time, he felt a thump on his hip. It was Chinni, with that patronizing smile that he had seen all of the past couple of days.

“There, look,” she said, pointing to the tissue holder, where she had just now sneaked the mobile into.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, perplexed. “I swear it wasn’t…”

He stopped mid-sentence, at once suspicious. When he looked at her, she was rolling her eyes, her suppressed grin bulging at her cheeks.

“I’ll have to teach you how to look for things,” she said as they stepped out of the bathroom.

He blushed a little, but before he could leave the room, she reached the door knob, and pushed it shut. “Aren’t you thirsty?”

Before he could figure what she meant, she picked out a small bottle of mineral water from a carton at the door-side wall enclosure. He watched with bated breath as she took a long, full-mouthed gulp. And then, she lingered, running her tongue over the bottle tip.

Now, as she recapped the bottle, she gazed at him. First his eyes, and then lower, and lower.

The gaze rested there for a few seconds, and then her look at once darted up, at his eyes.

He was nervous, but couldn’t help smiling.

But she was serious.

She reached out and grabbed his hips. “Take off my clothes,” she ordered.

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