Revolution Twenty20 Read online

  28

  ‘You are in 2105, Mr Mishra’

  I had booked a room at Ramada for five thousand a night.

  ‘Any help with your luggage, sir?’ the lady at the reception asked me.

  ‘I only have this,’ I said, pointing to my rucksack.

  The receptionist smiled at me. She walked with me to the centre of the lobby and to the guest relations desk.

  ‘This is Aarti,’ the receptionist said, ‘and she will guide you to your room.’

  Aarti looked up from her computer. Her jaw dropped.

  ‘Hello,’ I said as nonchalantly as possible.

  ‘Oh, hi … I mean, good evening,’ she said, flustered.

  ‘Aarti, this is Mr Gopal Mishra, director of GangaTech. He is in 2105. Please escort him to his room.’

  ‘Sure, sure,’ Aarti said, still in shock.

  She stood up. We walked towards the elevator. A housekeeping staff member entered the elevator with us. We couldn’t talk. She only spoke in the second floor corridor.

  ‘Gopal, what are you doing here?’ she whispered. She continued to walk two steps ahead of me.

  I had my story ready. I couldn’t tell Aarti I had booked a room just for us.

  ‘We had a senior guest faculty coming from London.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘He cancelled last minute. We had already paid for the room. So I thought, why not enjoy the hospitality of Ramada?’

  ‘What? You should have told me. I could have got you a refund.’

  ‘Forget it. I have never stayed in a five-star hotel before. I’ll try it out.’

  We reached 2105. She opened the room with the magnetic key card. She looked beautiful in her uniform, a formal sari, with her hair – every strand of it – locked in a bun.

  I dumped my rucksack on the bed.

  ‘You need help with the features of the room?’ she said.

  ‘No,’ I grinned. ‘Someone already showed me.’

  ‘You are crazy, Gopal,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I better go.’

  I sat on the single-seater sofa in the room. ‘Stay,’ I said.

  ‘I can’t. I am on duty.’

  ‘After six? It’s five-thirty already,’ I said.

  ‘I can’t be in a guest’s room!’

  ‘You know this guest,’ I said. ‘Two minutes?’

  She went to the door and closed it as much as possible without locking it. She sat on a chair by the desk and stared at me.

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘You didn’t plan this?’ she said.

  ‘What plan? The faculty cancelled,’ I said.

  ‘What’s the name of the faculty?’ she said.

  ‘Mr Allen,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, really? Which college?’

  ‘He’s from …’ I said and hesitated.

  ‘See. Stop fibbing,’ she said.

  ‘How will I know the college? The dean would know. All I know is, we had a room, and I took it.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Let’s hang out here after you finish,’ I said.

  ‘How?’ she said. ‘It’s not allowed.’

  ‘You only do things you are allowed to?’ I said.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘but …’

  ‘You don’t have the guts,’ I said.

  ‘That’s not the case,’ she said and stood up. ‘And you know it.’

  ‘Nobody will find out,’ I said. ‘Finish work and come. We will eat here. Leave in an hour or so.’

  ‘If room service sees me?’ she said.

  ‘You hide in the toilet when they come,’ I said.

  ‘That’s weird,’ she said.

  ‘Okay, I will order before you arrive. Sandwiches?’

  She bit her lower lip and mused over my suggestion for a few seconds. ‘Fine,’ she sighed. ‘But you have to check no staff is around when I come or leave.’

  ‘Sure, I will stand in the corridor. Will give you the green signal on the phone.’

  She walked to me and whacked me lightly on the side of my head. ‘The things you make me do!’ she said and left the room.

  I ordered a club sandwich, chocolate cake and a bottle of wine. I also took a shower, using more shampoo and hot water than I normally do in a week.

  She called me at 6:30 p.m. ‘Check the corridor.’

  I came out of the room. ‘It’s fine,’ I said into the phone, turning my head left and right to scan the corridor.

  Two minutes later, we were both in the room with the door firmly locked. She had already changed into a white button down shirt and jeans downstairs after her shift.

  ‘You are stupid, you know that, right?’ she said, plonking herself on the bed and holding a hand dramatically to her chest. ‘My heart is beating so fast!’

  ‘Relax,’ I said.

  She laughed. ‘You are lucky they haven’t installed corridor CCTVs yet. Can’t pull this stunt after that.’

  ‘So, right timing,’ I said. ‘Hungry?’

  I opened the silver cover on the sandwich plate.

  ‘Starving,’ she admitted.

  I added some french fries and salad to the sandwich. ‘Come, let’s eat.’

  ‘I am too exhausted to move. I stood in heels for eight hours. Can I eat on the bed?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. I passed her the plate. I poured a glass of red wine.

  ‘You ordered a full bottle of wine?’ she said.

  I shrugged.

  ‘When did you start drinking wine?’ she said.

  ‘Shukla-ji made me try everything,’ I said.

  ‘You like wine?’

  ‘I usually have whisky. But I thought you might like wine.’

  ‘I do. But I shouldn’t drink. This is my place of work.’

  ‘One glass …’ I insisted.

  She gave a brief nod and took the glass.

  ‘Raghav doesn’t drink much. He is such a bore sometimes,’ she said and took a sip. ‘Nice. What is it?’

  ‘Jacob’s Creek from Australia,’ I said, emphasising the country of origin. It had cost me two thousand bucks, but I didn’t mention the price.

  ‘It’s good. It will hit me soon.’

  ‘Relax, my driver will drop you home,’ I said.

  She held her sandwich tight with both hands and ate like a famine victim.

  ‘Slow down,’ I said.

  She said with food in her mouth, ‘I haven’t had anything since breakfast.’

  ‘Even in school you used to stuff your face,’ I teased.

  ‘Provided you left any food for me!’

  ‘Hey, I stole your tiffin once, and that too half of it. I am still serving my sentence,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, really?’ she said. ‘The teacher punished you for only one period.’

  ‘But I am still stuck with you,’ I said, looking totally depressed.

  She picked up a french fry from her plate and threw it at me. She missed. It fell on the sofa.

  ‘Oops, pick it up, please. I can’t dirty my own hotel,’ she said.

  29

  She kicked off her shoes and sat crosslegged on the bed. I went to pour her more wine.

  ‘I’ll get high,’ she said but extended her glass. She sipped and checked the time. The bedside clock said 8:30 p.m.

  ‘How long can you stay?’ I said.

  ‘Until nine,’ she said. ‘Half an hour more.’

  ‘Ten?’ I said.

  She shook her head. ‘Mom will ask a hundred questions. Unless … I tell her I have to do a double shift,’ she said.

  ‘Tell her that,’ I said immediately.

  ‘I have to stay for eight more hours then. Till 2 a.m.’

  ‘Perfect,’ I said.

  ‘Are you crazy?’ she said. ‘I can’t be in your room till two!’

  ‘Why not?’ I said. ‘When do we ever get to catch up like this?’

  ‘If my boyfriend finds out …’ she said and went quiet. She leaned back against the headboard.

  ‘Finds out what?’ I said.

&n