Made in china, p.3
Made In China, page 3
Raghu nodded resignedly, but truthfully, he had no appetite for feedback … or judgement for that matter. Not just then.
‘Two issues as I see it; absence of motivation and the bliss of indifference. That’s what has happened. And now it’s a way of life for you.’ Dev said, shaking his head at the incredulity of Raghu’s glum existence. As if Raghu had especially picked out this destiny for himself from a bunch on offer.
‘Oh come on, you know that’s far from the truth … and let’s not …why are we even discussing this?’ Raghu protested feebly.
Rukmini unknowingly offered some reprieve when she walked in and announced that dinner was ready.
‘Thought of anything?’ Dev asked Raghu after dinner was over. Clearly, the conversation was nowhere close to ending. It was giving Raghu acid reflux. Or perhaps it was the slightly stale coconut chutney he’d got with the idlis; he couldn’t tell.
‘I do have a few ideas,’ Raghu said.
‘Like what?’
‘A new business …’
‘You’ve tried some three dozen of them in the past!’ Dev said. The man had the memory of an elephant. ‘You know ideas mean nothing unless you do something with them. And most of yours aren’t usable. Don’t you want to be stable? Find something that’s lasting?’ Dev probed.
Raghu despised Dev’s opinion of him. It tormented him. And it was not like Raghu hadn’t taken risks. Sure, he had made mistakes, but he had never admitted defeat, never given up. He knew his moment would come. One win is all it would take for his life to change, for people’s perceptions of him to change. And he knew it would be worth the wait.
‘Listen, Raghu, here’s the deal,’ Dev continued in a firm voice. ‘You’re going to put the shop on rent. I’ve found someone who’s very interested. One lakh a month. That’s what you get as monthly rent.’
That caught Raghu off-guard. The idea made him incredibly uncomfortable, and his mind immediately began a parade of thoughts to remind him why. Rent out his father’s shop? He massaged his forehead just so he could close his eyes for a moment to think. Mehta Enterprise – a little shop with a big name and bigger sentiments. That shop was his only connecting link to his father now. And he wasn’t going to let anyone tell him what was to be done with it.
‘Please, Dev, I can never—’
‘Shouldn’t mix emotions with practicality.’ Dev said, slipping his phone into the pocket of his trousers. ‘I’m off to China next week to attend the annual trade show. And you’re coming with me. I’ll set you up with something good; a new line of business. Trust me on this one. I’m not going to let you and your family live with this joke of a life. Enough of living this inadequate life of … of this godforsaken mediocrity.’
Raghu slumped into the chair. Those words manifested as a tightness in his chest. He felt fear crawl into his heart, but he loved his family too much to let them slip into darkness. He refused to be a man on the verge of epic failure. He refused to live with his lousy luck. Life had humbled him numerous times, but he refused to let fate call the shots this time. Not this time. Now is the time and opportunity, Raghu thought to himself. And the aftertaste of determination was enough to push him through.
But he was not going to go to China.
Instead of answering Dev, he rose from his chair and walked up to the refrigerator. Two trays of ice lay in the freezer. He picked one up, emptied it into his handkerchief and ran it across his forehead, drawing in a sharp breath. It brought him instant relief.
Through the dining room window his gaze landed on Aman, jumping to chase a balloon on the street. He followed Aman’s movement with his eyes. Vivid images of the era gone by danced all around him. It reminded him of when he was a little boy, in love with balloons. His father would buy him the entire stock from a street hawker and sit on the porch of his shop while Raghu pranced around. It made his eyes misty. He missed his father today, more than he had in a long time.
‘I need some time to think—’ he finally said to Dev, who was staring at him, waiting for a reply.
‘My office will be booking the tickets tomorrow. For you and me. You have until then … to say yes.’ Dev winked, patted Raghu on the back a couple of times, smirked and left. At the door, he even apologized for his harsh words before heading out. There was love, care, concern driving those words, he explained.
Their equation had evolved over time, life tossing them on different sides of the economic spectrum. The closeness they once shared now seemed lacking. The dreams they’d dreamed together eventually gave way to individual ones. Something of what used to be between them had died slowly over the years. They’d once shared so much – silences and shrieks, laughter, anger, tears. Crushes and heartbreaks. The women of their dreams who kept them up at nights. The actresses they desired. The 4 a.m. tea and snacks from roadside vendors during Navratri. Silly jokes, dumb charades and cricket. Books, clothes, money, happiness. Fights and bruises. Once upon a time, the bruises didn’t last, only the friendship.
Now, Dev was no longer the friend Raghu would feel comfortable waking up in the middle of the night to offload his worries. They didn’t have much in common, except their delightful past.
Now, Dev was to be his glorious saviour, the granter of wealth and prosperity and resurrected dreams.
Raghu felt special.
CHAPTER 3
Ruki, I’m telling you now. I’m not going to China. Period. You are free to go if you like. I won’t stop you, promise.’ He lit a cigarette and took a puff. They were both standing in the balcony. Dinner was long over and the boys had gone to bed.
‘Why do you always overreact?’ she snatched the cigarette and took a puff herself. He followed the ring she blew until it had merged into air. He’d never managed to do that himself.
‘I should be asking you that. Besides, I was going to figure—’
‘Raghu! Listen to me,’ she grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face her, her fierce gaze boring into him. ‘You tried importing fake designer handbags for men. Remember? Men don’t use handbags in Surat. This is not Sicily,’ she said. ‘You tried avocado scooper when no one was even selling avocados in India. You tried being a Japanese garden consultant. Remember how you showed calendars of cherry blossoms fields from Japan to the Surat Municipal Corporation and promised them you could recreate it here? Then there were those absurd shampoos with yogurt and beer and oats and god knows what else. And the futile chutney preservation unit. No one wants to preserve chutneys, Raghu.’ Her voice was strained, high-pitched. Her breath came rapidly and she went on. One bad decision after another. Did I ever say anything?’
‘Oh please, let’s not go there. You’ve said plenty.’ Raghu turned away, hoping he could just take a magic eraser and wipe out bits of his past. He hated that she judged him for trying. But it wasn’t entirely his fault; his father had him convinced as a young boy that he could be anything he wanted to be. Anything, Raghu. You just have to put your mind to it and work hard. Keep trying new things, experiment, learn. Self-education is the key to success. Life had other plans; mainly, for Raghu to be a loser. That took a special kind of skillset and luck too, he thought dejectedly. Rukmini pulled him again, held his hand and clenched it to her chest, her eyes moist, a tinge of appeal in them.
‘Raghu, you’ve always tried the oddest things. I know you want to be a trailblazer, not a follower. I know that you are always on the lookout for the next big idea. But please trust me. Just this once.’ She was moving closer, infusing authority into her appeals, something that, in Raghu’s opinion, only convent-educated women could pull off.
‘Our dreams, Raghu. Remember?’ she continued. ‘Renovating this house, going to Singapore, Thailand and Malaysia on a cruise with the extended family, putting our kids through private schools, you buying me a designer sari for my birthday, feeding all the kids at the orphanage on your father’s birthday, having dinner at the Taj, just you and me. So many dreams.’
Right. Dreams. Those fucking dreams. Dreams that had no connection with his reality. Dreams that invariably had a different PIN code. They teased and taunted. They coaxed and kicked. Shapeshifters. Traitors. That’s why they were called dreams. They’d never come true. Not for him. Not this way. Not in China.
‘Raghu?’ she nudged again, looking into the distance.
Under the vast, seemingly empty evening sky, Raghu and Rukmini fell silent, leaning against the black metal railing. The diffused light from the lone lamp in the balcony lent a soft golden hue to her skin. Suddenly, he forgot all about the argument they were in the middle of. It was as if the slight evening breeze had transported them to a place far away from the daily chaos and induced temporary amnesia. Her eyes engrossed him as she held his gaze. She didn’t look a day over twenty-three. Not a line on her face; you couldn’t find one with grandma glasses even if you tried, he thought with a slight smirk. To him, on some wistful nights, she was such an embodiment of youth that sometimes he hated himself for burdening her life with all the trappings of a middle-class existence. She looked almost like a child herself, not a mother of two. But he also knew that there was nothing and no one she loved more than the kids. Her youthfulness came from the fact that there was something lithe about her – something spirited and nimble. Uninhibited. Money troubles could batter her spirit now and then, but that was transient.
Raghu continued staring at her and found the girl he’d first met at his cousin’s wedding, long before he’d married her. That girl wasn’t made to stare at bills. Or peel onions. Or separate whites from colours or help find his passport, he thought as he romanticized her existence. She was made to just be. Glide like a rare white peacock through meadows. She was made to play on swings hanging from the banyan tree in the backyard of her ancestral home, chasing her thoughts or butterflies, the sun pecking her on the cheekbones.
He told her none of this. Not today, not ever. Instead, he looked at her and thought about how he’d just have to live with the burden of the responsibilities he’d saddled her with. If that’s not a crime then what is, he wondered.
Was there a way out? Perhaps he could turn back the rusty wheels of time. He picked an eyelash off her cheek and made that wish even as he gave her another reason to worry about.
‘I’m not going to China, Ruki. I can’t. Try and understand.’
‘Go to hell then,’ she spat, turning around and going back into the house.
Raghu lay down on the floor in the balcony, the coolness from the granite tiles offering some respite. He stared at the night sky, the debris of their dreams floating in his eyes. He’d passed a lifetime in hope. And now, even getting through one night seemed impossible.
The following evening, Raghu went to Dev’s house after dinner. No one except the staff was around. This, after confirming a time with Dev. A servant let him him in, but after that, Raghu was mostly ignored. No one offered him anything, not even water. But Raghu was used to this; being ignored, being treated like his life was irrelevant, meaningless. Somewhere deep down, he’d started to believe it as well. He sat there without protesting.
‘Smoke?’ Dev said when he finally walked in.
‘No.’
Dev stared at him for a moment. He could see through Raghu’s emotions. He’d always had that power. ‘Clearly, you’re scared. Tell me why.’
Raghu’s throat was dry, and he swallowed uncomfortably. His posture turned rigid. He felt as if he were naked on a stage with a halogen spotlight on him, and the entire world was in the audience, studying him with heightened watchfulness as he explained why he deserved to be covered up. He tried to shake the feeling and looked at his friend. ‘Dev, I’m getting desperate. There are no backup options, nothing in the pipeline. If I don’t start something new in the coming weeks, my family and I will have to sleep outside your palatial gate like stray dogs,’ Raghu said, and then buried his head in his hands. There, he had swallowed his pride, he thought, and loathed himself for letting it get to this point.
‘Stop stressing and whining. It’s not good for your libido.’ Dev winked, blowing smoke rings that were nowhere as good as Rukmini’s.
‘Dev, I swear, I am this close to diving in your pool and giving up on life,’ Raghu said, demonstrating the distance with his thumb and finger, narrowing the space between them for effect.
‘What nonsense! And please, if you want to die, die with some dignity, man. Swimming pool? Sheesh.’
‘Listen Dev, I need your help. I know I’m in bad shape right now, but China isn’t for me.’
‘Look,’ Dev said, putting up his feet on the couch, ‘I understand your fears. These Chinese businessmen are bloodsuckers of the first order; they beat Gujju businessmen at their own game,’ he said, then cracked up so hard, Raghu could feel the laughter bouncing off the walls. ‘They see a new importer, they swallow him alive. But,’ Dev paused, then filled his palm with a spoonful of spiced nuts mixed with chopped onions, coriander, red chili powder and lemon juice from a silver bowl. He shouted for the servant, demanding some roasted papad, and then focused his attention back on Raghu. ‘Hu chu ne. I am here for you. Don’t you worry about a thing,’ he finished with the archetypal masculine exhibition of triumph – beating his own chest a couple of times. The action popped open the first button of his maroon raw silk shirt.
‘Let’s go get a paan,’ he said suddenly, and Raghu obediently followed him out to his flashy car.
On their rather long drive to the other side of the city, to a paanwallah Dev swore by, they resumed the conversation about China.
‘So, what do you think? Ready to give it a shot? I’m going there to attend a trade show. These shows are huge. Huge. Almost a lakh people attend from all over the world. It’s a three to four-day affair. Come, see what it is like. You’ll meet hundreds of suppliers with fascinating products. If you like something, we’ll get the ball rolling.’
Raghu’s mind began to unbend slightly. Dev’s offer was starting to tempt him. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? All the information Dev had shared with him was on autoplay in Raghu’s mind. Customs and regulations, import duties, lost goods, corruption; the list of issues was endless. Was he ready for an undertaking in an area he had no experience to speak of? It made him feel uneasy. Fresh air! He needed fresh air to clear his mind. He pressed the power button to roll down the window and rubbed the back of his neck.
‘Why are you still thinking? Say yes! It’s the land of ventures and windfalls. We’ll have a blast,’ Dev urged.
‘I don’t know, I’m not ready,’ Raghu said.
‘What … you think you need to learn Kung Fu and Karate to make yourself ready?’ Dev said, and laughed at his own weak joke. ‘People think all Chinese are experts in Kung Fu,’ Dev added.
‘They probably are.’
‘Hell no. Barely fifteen people in China know it, I’m telling you,’ Dev said. ‘What you need to know are some local words. Remember this. Hun dan.’
‘Hun dan?’
‘That’s right. It means scumbag in Mandarin.’
Raghu scoffed.
‘So hun dan, you ready? It’s time to spread your butterfly wings.’
Raghu finally caved under the force of Dev’s conviction, and nodded weakly. He was rewarded with relentless pats on his back.
‘That’s the man I know. Now go, wipe the dust off your passport. It’s finally going to take you somewhere other than Kathmandu,’ Dev teased.
‘Really?’ Rukmini asked next morning, her mouth falling open. ‘How? I mean, what happened? I knew Dev bhai would convince you in the end, but what happened? You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’m so, so, so happy.’ She said, clearly ecstatic at the prospect of him walking in the golden, infallible footsteps of Dev. ‘It’s ultimately my rakhi to your rescue,’ she proclaimed, alluding to her tying Dev a rakhi every year ever since she’d married Raghu.
‘Don’t make it sound so dramatic, Ruki.’
‘Fact or not?’ she asked, bending over and allowing her tresses to touch the floor, then snapping her head back up to tie her hair into a top knot. The act fluctuated wildly between being scary and seductive.
‘Do you remember the year we got married, Dev was going to Diu in his imported blue Corolla?’ Raghu asked as he unbuttoned his shirt and hung it in his closet, then slipped into a soft cotton cobalt kurta. ‘You wanted a ride to your friend’s home but were too scared to be with him alone on that long journey in the car, although he was my best friend, may I add. So you tied him a rakhi. It was nowhere close to Raksha Bandhan, if I recall.’
‘You are so evil,’ she declared with displeasure and rubbed some aloe gel on her neck in gentle, upward strokes.
‘I’m just reminding you that the basis of your relationship was pretty selfish.’
She pulled a face and stormed out. ‘I might have been scared then but I love him like a brother now. And he respects me a lot too,’ she called out.
‘Don’t get so riled up, Ruki. It’s just the truth,’ Raghu shrugged, enjoying his victory every bit.
‘Sometimes I just want to kill you!’ she shouted from the kitchen. The background score was provided by a couple of utensils being thrown into the sink.
Leaving her to it, Raghu went back to evaluating the China proposal. Everyone else around him was telling him that it was a brilliant idea. Of course they were. They didn’t have to endure the distress of going to a country where they didn’t speak the language or know anyone. The only Chinese – or Mandarin as Dev had corrected him – Raghu knew was the mockery of the language they made in some Bollywood movies. He picked up his cup of tea and went up the stairs to his terrace. He pushed open the door and scared a peacock that had clearly been perched just outside. The bird flew up to the neighbour’s terrace a storey higher. The iridescent blue on its exquisite wings gave way to bright orange feathers that extended out on the sides. It was a magnificent sight. The enticing thought, that perhaps he had hidden wings, snuck into his mind. Perhaps he could fly like a bird. He wouldn’t be half as graceful, he was aware of that, but as long as he landed somewhere higher than he was, this whole thing could be worth the risk. And who knew, the Beijing sky could be generous, welcoming even, and maybe lend him a piece of itself.
