THE CASH COW.
He was travelling from Delhi to Madras
He deposited his things in his seat
and went ahead to the pantry car.
He saw her, on entering. She was seated in a corner.
She was busy reading some paper-book,
sipping tea.
She must have seen him entering. She behaved as if she had not.
He also ordered a tray of snacks and
tea.
Then he turned and stared at her.
She turned conscious. It means contact
was done. She crossed her legs. She
tugged her skirt down and continued reading. His presence was marked. The
diners braced them against the lurching of the superfast on a curve. Then it seemed
to shake itself straight again, it picked up the speed. Beneath, the iron wheels clacked on the
tracks returning to normalcy. It was the movement of the train that made him
behave so. It is observed that when one is on a moving vehicle, say a car, a
bus or a train or an aeroplane, they are sexually stimulated.
His stare made her uncomfortable as
she found herself seated across him which enabled him to have an easy look at
her legs. She had to keep pulling her
skirt to her knees and pressed the legs to keep them together.
“But this was morning,” she reassured
herself.
Men didn’t make pass in the morning.
But he looked again. She could see it from her cross-eyes. She kept on reading. A flush of sensation passed through her body.
She was a model. She had many offers on the screen.
She had her freedom in modeling. She had kept herself above usual things. But
with him it was different. He was a
perfect crook and a story-teller. He had
a knack of describing things in an artful manner. It kept her engrossed for hours hearing him. She liked it. She was never tired of
him. He was her Public Relations Man.
She closed her eyes and gave herself
to the memory of good old days. She was lost in the past. It was about ten years back.
She was just seventeen and in the
first year of the college. He was the college-General
Secretary. He was in his last year. It
had begun with the annual function celebrations.
She was cast as Portia in the “Trial
Scene of the Merchant of Venice,” to be staged and performed with renaissance
costumes and all that. She possessed that air of superiority and
self-confidence rarely seen in a teenage. She appeared like an honourable lady
commanding and demanding respect wherever she happened to go. She was the
daughter of an international art-dealer.
She had accompanied her father last June to Europe
during the vacation. She was not an ordinary Tina Meena, Reena. She was a
celebrity’s offspring.
In the first instance she had refused
to play any part in the social activity. He insisted that she would volunteer
herself for the try-outs and rehearsals.
Principal Kotwal and the Head, Mr. Buch persuaded her and assured her of
all the facility and arrangement of timing would be made as per her
convenience. It was just for fun. It would be fun. It would be good to get out of the house in the
evenings under the pretext of preparation for staging the one piece scene from
the Merchant of Venice and rehearsals.
But she had remained adamant. The
matter seemed to have ended there.
One evening he intercepted her. He
said that the girl who was selected in her place was poor in dialogue-delivery
and asked her to shelve all her misgiving about social activity and for the
sake of the reputation of the college she should return and agree to perform
the Portia role as the lawyer in the Trial scene against Shylock, the adamant
Jew merchant. She would be a perfect
match against Shylock.
On her part, it seemed she was not in
a position to endure the monotony of the house caged all evening in attending
family affairs and all that. She said she would consider.
She recalled now, how there was
suspense all around, about the success of an English drama being staged in
renaissance costumes, make-up and in an atmosphere of the Shakespearean stage.
What had attracted her was the creativity of the entire episode
and the veteran persons selected for the roles of Shylock,
Antonio and the Duke of the Court of Venice, Bassanio, Nerissa, etc.
Antonio, the merchant of Venice
In the initial days she thought of him
as unattractive and average boy with normal standard of intelligence and
bearing, although his speech was quiet and charming.
On the stage he had an air of a
leader. He made every one of them toil
and shed tears for slight mistake. He
made each of them seat before him in the folding chair and read their
respective part again and again, while he paced up and down the stage lost in
thought.
When her part had come, she began to
read. He had not cast her even a single
glance.
Suddenly in the midst of it, he had
halted, and glared at her and snapped.
He:
Hey, “You ?” “I can’t hear you.” “What is the matter with you?” “You quit if
you want to !”……….. He was red in his
face glaring at her.
She swallowed the anger. She got red.
Nobody in her life had spoken to her in such a rude tone. She read
louder. He continued to stare at her. He made her read like that for ten
times. He was not happy. He raised his hands in disgust and
helplessness. The day was over. All dispersed
and were off for home.
She was annoyed and she did not sleep
for the night. She asked her brother to
be with her. They caged themselves in
her room. The brother made her stand before
the mirror.
She virtually crammed her lines of
dialogue by heart. The brother helped
her wherever she faltered or missed the lines.
They performed for few hours straight non-stop. Again in the morning after breakfast they
redid the same thing again. Now she felt
the lines of dialogue come to her lips automatically. Again in the afternoon,
they repeated the same. She gained some confidence. Next day she reported herself at the time of
the rehearsal.
He ordered that rehearsals will take
place six days a week, non-stop. The
rehearsals were in progress in the auditorium hall. After one such session, he asked her to go
with him for intensive personal coaching.
His manner was impersonal; although he never stopped staring at her with
those burning eyes of dislike for her. Script
in hand they had gone to his room. She
found him friendly, than she had ever seen him. He was telling her of his life
all the ups and down and his success and all his failures. He told everything. She on her part had opened up herself. She told him everything about her life from
the child hood days to the days of being a maiden virgin. She was still a virgin and had not tasted the
fruits of love in conjugal unity of man’s body with her. She long back
anticipated it.
When he suggested drinks, she
accepted. She never drank. She was nervous and afraid. She was at an unknown place at his mercy.
One glass turned into two. Two became four and like that. Rehearsal had been forgotten. She was sitting beside
him. She was not afraid. He was more
friendly than he had ever been. He was telling her, about his life right from childhood
days to the time he came to this college.
On her part, she was engrossed in telling him her part of life in detail
as much as she could but there was no hilarious experience and suspense in her
straight and smooth life. She tried to bring colour to her narration by
emphasising certain details about the neighbourly boy who was mad after her and
all that.
She was unprepared for him. She felt
him much older and mature and dominating. It happened so gradually and normally
that she accepted him as one of the facts of life, one of the accredited member
of her life to whom she could tell anything and everything.
After a few visits to his room, on one
occasion she was surprised to find him leave his chair and come to her and
comfort her and hug her in token of appreciation of her work.
How it happened, she could not really,
say. She now openly poured out her hurts
and objections her limitations about the role and all that.
Sometimes he held her in his arms till
she sobered down and resumed her dialogues. He would gently massage the back of
her neck until she relaxed. In time,
the physical interludes, with him became more important to her than the moral
support he extended to her in enduring her short-comings.
She began to dress now for those moments,
when he would touch her. Button front
sweaters were replaced by black or red turtlenecks.
In the meantime she would hear the
familiar honk of the car horn from downstairs.
It was time to leave. Her driver
had come to take her home. It became a practice
to bid good-bye.
One evening she appeared in pleated
skirts with starch-white top tied with a lace which meant the message was
clear. Wordlessly he pulled her towards
him.
Both turn by turn narrated even
smaller events in their life in detail.
She did not remember when he had taken her hand and she even today cannot
remember whether she had kissed him or he had kissed her first. She only felt that both had remained in each
other’s embrace for all the time and that she held his hand tightly when both
of them walked into the inner room.
Wordlessly he pulled her to him. As
she opened her blouse, his hand went deeper.
His fingers rose on thighs with a rhythm and movement like a feather touch. When the fingers finally found the vagina, it
was wet eager and waiting. Ignoring the
coach, he guided her to lie down on the room carpet. Falling to her knees, she shed all her wears
and was ready waiting for him for the final act. When he entered her, her joy was total. She was satisfied at last, physically and
emotionally.
The voice she heard about the honking
of the car horn. She paid no heed. He can wait.
That is his job to wait on her..
She took her own time in the bath-room and washed herself and dressed
with regular make up and all that. She
left without any further talk.
Next day she attended the rehearsal as
usual. She performed normally and with
self-confidence. He behaved as natural and normal as he had always been. He
found some improvement in her performance.
He wanted to depict the role of Portia as a tough and mature type of a
lawyer and there should be so much of force and authority and weight in her
words that the rough and tough Shylock should be subdued and silent and at her
words. She had to control that rascal
character of Shylock.
He had wanted to transform her
overnight in a match for the brutal tactful tactics of that Jew merchant. She had complied with all his suggestions and
adapted herself to the role of a mature seasoned lawyer named Portia. Again a
few days later, she attended one more rehearsal at his room. She was amazed herself, she could perform
normally. On his part, he was a normal
self pure businesslike and annoyed and worried about the outcome of the show.
Again, one more day, he signalled her
to wait for him. He got busy in winding
up the affairs of the hall and they left like an elderly couple going for a
walk.
This time they did not drink and hardly
spoke and this time it was not a suspenseful event. It was a routine event. Returning from the rehearsals, her flash gave
off a new and unknown receptiveness that could be sensed and seen how so ever
she tried to act normal and natural in the midst of her members of her house.
Finally the rehearsals ended. The show was scheduled to be held on the Christmas
Eve. A large number of audience had gathered out of curiosity about the outcome
of the programme. Big dignitary like the
Governor and the Mayor were the Chief Guest.
Many filmdom celebrity were scheduled to attend.
The curtain opened with the Duke of
the Court of Venice and all parties anticipating the Trial of Merchant of
Venice. Antonio was handcuffed and
stood with a policeman in a sort of wooden cage. The Duke called the court to order. The Duke
was sorry for Antonio that an upright man like Antonio was brought in the Court
to answer a stony adversary and inhuman wretch of a man like Shylock. The Duke asks Shylock to shed cruelty and
show mercy.
Portia enters the court and takes over
the proceedings. Antonio accepts that he
had made the bond. Portia pleads Shylock
to bestow mercy on the man. The Jew
counter-questions as to why he should show mercy? In the court-room, pandemonium broke loose
when Portia rose to her full height and confronted him:
“Portia:
“ The quality of mercy is not strain’d
It droppeth as the gentle rain from
heaven,
Upon the place beneath: it is twice
blest;
It blesseth him that gives, and him
that takes:
‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it
becomes,
The throned monarch, better than his
crown;
His sceptre shows the force of
temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherin doth sit the dread and fear of
kings;
But mercy is above this scepter’d sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest
God’s
When mercy seasons justice.
Therefore Jew, justice be thy plea,
consider this,
That in the course of justice, none of
us,
Should see salvation; we do pray for
mercy.”
Portia pleads his case with such
eloquence and logic that Shylock, not only lost his case, but also had his
property confiscated. The agreement stipulated “to get a pound of flesh of
Antonio if he failed.”
Portia thundered:-
“Not a drop of blood should fall,
otherwise he will be jailed and his property will be confiscated.” “He has to
take a pound of flesh and nothing else.”
Shylock feels himself helpless and
pleads that he be given back three thousand ducats. Portia refuses. Now he will get justice.
There was an all round band of
admirers and well-wishers.
The show went on successfully and
ended with great applause from all present.
The role of Shylock, Portia and Antonio surpassed every one’s
expectation and proved very appealing. The applause was thunderous.
Shylock is seen whetting his knife
upon his shoe, ready to take a flesh of pound, Portia’s retort, “ Not on thy
sole, but on thy soul !”
was the highlight of the act, at which
time the Duke had to be stern and pound his gravel to control the outburst of
the court spectators.
The show had ended. Now there were no
rehearsals and all that meeting. Now there was no scope of regular outing and
all that. Their affair became very irregular depending upon a chance if they
could find. What had started, begun
casually, turned out to be a serious affair.
Not since the first time she had felt any pang of guilt. It was all too satisfying and full.
Today, she recalled her liaison with
him and was lost in the sweet old memories. She lay on her back. Her eyes were closed. Her arms were limp. She had her one arm over her forehead. Her breath came in short gasps. Her heart hammered. She felt drained and spent. He kissed her till she had wanted that she
would scream. Involuntarily her eyes had got closed. So that she could not
see. So that by not seeing, to avoid
being an active participant in guilt, and shame. She waited it to be done. She waited and waited and it was not done and suddenly she found
herself taking the initiative and she was an active participant in the game of
love without her realizing so as she had never experienced and wanting it never
done and never ending.
(continued…)
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