had poured enormous amounts of capital for research and
development. On recommendation from Dr. Kennington
they picked me up as soon as I finished and agreed to
sponsor for a Green Card on their own as well.
Seema’s family started pressing us all to move to Seattle
and live with them. This was not an idea that I relished even
one bit. It was bad enough living a couple of thousand miles
apart. Living in the same house would have me totally
trampled under their one toe.
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CHAPTER 6
I put the car on Cruise Control and freed my toes to some
relaxation. We were going at a comfortable speed and I did
not want to take any undue chances. Archana was nicely
ensconced in her seat beside me. I thought we had warmed
up to each other enough to venture some down to earth
conversation.
“If you don’t mind could I ask you something?” I said.
“Sure, go ahead”.
“How come a person like you is travelling alone like this? I
am sure there are plenty of people from your own line of
work, media and paparazzi that would be hovering all over
you on every step”.
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RAJ DORÉ
“I am shunning all media coverage. I am here for some very
personal medical reasons. I had to consult some specialists
in Phoenix, Arizona. My visit is known only to my very
close relative, my aunt in New Jersey. My shooting
schedules are being taken care of by my doubles. So
nobody there is even aware that I am here.”
“I sure hope you came out with flying colors on your
Medical Test”, I said without being too intrusive.
“Yes. Thank God. But I still need to make a few more
visits. So far everything seems to be going good.”
I did not want to pry anymore. All in good time, if and
when she feels like it.
There was mild drizzle and I started the windshield wiper.
To break the silence I tried turning on the radio but did not
succeed in getting any sensible music. We were now
entering North Carolina. We stopped by at a wayside gas
station to fill gas, wash up and refresh ourselves with a can
of Coke.
By about lunchtime we were at Asheville. The rain had
stopped. There was a restaurant on top of the hill with a
breathtaking view of the mountains and valleys. There were
some clouds and the sun was playing hide and seek. I told
her that we have some 90 minutes for respite and lunch.
We were seated at a table with just 2 seats, overlooking the
valley on the terrace. The table was very elegantly set.
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TANDOORI TEXAN TALES
Starched tablecloth and napkins, shiny silver alongside well
laid out dishes. There were wineglasses and a little vase
with red rose in the middle. As I was perusing the menu,
she excused herself to go powdering her nose.
She came back looking radiant. She had absolutely no make
up. She had tied her hair up with a scarf and wearing the
jeans and top that we had bought the previous day. I did not
wish to take my eyes off her but had to, as I could see her
feeling embarrassed at my staring her. She just flashed
another of those scintillating smiles and started reading the
menu.
I did not want to order any alcohol since I was driving but
asked her if she would want some wine or anything else.
She also did not want to have any drinks. We kept eating
with very little conversation. As we were coming close to
ordering dessert, I slowly broached the subject of our
further plans.
“We should be reaching Raleigh by about 5, in another 3 or
4 hours. I guess you would want to check into a good hotel.
I could take care of that. Then you could be contacting your
folks and make further arrangements. What do you think?” I
told her.
She took a few moments and slowly replied, “What kind of
place do you have?”
“Mine is a 2 bedroom apartment in a complex which is
quite neat and nice. We have a nice swimming pool, indoor
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RAJ DORÉ
and outdoor. Then there is a game room. It is near a canal
where I like going for a walk or jog some times.”
“Would it be too much bother if I stayed with you?”
“No. Not at all. But you know my pad is not exactly a 5-star
hotel that you must be used to.”
She pealed out laughing. Shaking her head, she said,
“Whatever gave you the idea that, that is what I want?”
Well that having been settled, I continued our conversation.
“Do you feel ignored that nobody here recognizes you and
fawns on you with all the adulation and admiration like in
India? You must miss all that attention and being treated
like some kind of royalty.”
“Are you kidding? I love this anonymity. I really like that I
am being treated like a normal human being and not like
some rare artifact or statue in a museum glass case”, she
said to my surprise.
Once she said that, my defenses also started breaking down.
I felt somewhat relieved that I did not have to be too much
on guard while talking to or treating her.
Even though she had come down from the pedestal of a
movie star, she still was a stunningly beautiful girl.
I find such beautiful girls intimidating by their very looks. It
is almost like somebody is threatening me with a dagger
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TANDOORI TEXAN TALES
and I need to take shelter within myself. I get confused,
how to react.
My very first reaction is one of self-rejection. There is no
way this divine looking creature will give a chance to a no-
good nobody like me. So why bother? Just keep a decent
distance avoiding pain, agony and humiliation.
If by any chance she does cross her path with mine and is
nice, I go into my next stage.
Since she is used to being pampered and given a lot of
attention by every man around her, I tell myself, only way
to make an impression on her is to stand out and not behave
like other men. Just be cool. Do not push yourself too hard
on her.
Then somewhere in one corner of my psyche I have this
image of my being a Rhett Butler trying to confront this
Scarlett O’Hara. More you ignore her, the more she feels
challenged. She would wish to have one more scalp under
her belt and go for that unconquered territory, which is I.
Once you have fallen for her, like the others, she will go
seeking greener pastures.
So I keep expecting her to come chasing me.
This attitude is of course totally asinine. Not every beautiful
girl is a nitwit Scarlett. And I am no Rhett either. I have lost
many a nice girl this way. Oh God! I could kick myself in
the behind for losing so many such great chances.
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RAJ DORÉ
Take for exampl
e Anita Singh.
She was a Sikhni. She had killer looks. She was a stunner
by any standards. She was one year junior to me but in the
Liberal Arts. While I kept avoiding her, she did come by to
me once, flashing her great smile spilling a string of pearls
from her lips.
She was selling tickets for a charity show. How could I not
have obliged such a divine creature? I bought the ticket.
After some uncomfortable silence, not knowing how to
carry on a conversation further, I asked her, while a Sikh
obviously looks a Sikh, how does one make out if a woman
is a Sikhni?
She once again gave one of those laughs that would make
Church Bells toll in any man’s heart.
“Good question”, she said. After a pause, with great
panache she continued, “It is easy. If she is devastatingly
beautiful, she ought to be Sikhni”.
On hearing that my jaw fell. I was looking askance and
agape. Before I could find my tongue somewhere in the
depths of my throat, I saw her stuffing my rupee notes deep
into her blouse and gone like a cool breeze in springtime. I
couldn’t have agreed with her more, at least this time.
There were zillions of other men kissing the earth she trod
upon. There would be no way I had any chance whatsoever.
No point in even making an attempt. I gave her very little
encouragement. I used to watch her play tennis with
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TANDOORI TEXAN TALES
Vineeta Khanna every evening, as I used to go for tennis
practice. Every so often the ball would go to the other court
and we would flash friendly smiles. But so far there was
still no encouragement or follow up from my side.
I went and gave my name for college mixed doubles
tournament. Partners were picked by drawing lots. As luck
would have it, I got picked as Anita Singh’s mixed doubles
partner. We cruised through earlier rounds. We would just
stick to the business of playing. At most we would shake
hands at the end of the match before parting. That shaking
of hands was also just a formal brushing of our finger tips.
However in the Finals, we had to confront the top seed
Vineeta Khanna partnering Ranvir Baxi. No bookie would
have given us a dog’s chance. They were both University
Team players.
Ranvir was the kind of a guy who would want to touch a
girl at slightest possible pretext. All through the match I
could see him putting his arms around Vineeta, as if he was
trying out some new game plan or strategy. For no reason at
all he would go and clap his palm against hers.
Did I have the decency to even give an encouraging pat on
my partners back when she faulted or shake her hands when
she scored an ace? No sir! If that was not asinine what
would be?
It was the deciding set. We were all holding our service
games. The score was 4 serving 5. Vineeta was serving
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RAJ DORÉ
from the Deuce court to Anita at 30-30. As luck would have
it she double faulted.
At 30-40, she was going to be serving me at Ad court. That
was a game-set-and-match point and most crucial for both
sides. I saw Ranvir putting his arms around Vineeta in a
conference in the middle of their court. I could pretty well
guess what their strategy was going to be. Vineeta would
serve from the leftmost corner of her court and serve to my
backhand in a very wide angle. I would have no other
alternative but to return it straight back to her, if I am able
to return at all. Just at that moment Ranvir would move to
the center of the net and smash my return right down the
middle of our court.
It was a pretty decent first serve from Vineeta. It had plenty
of spin, what in Cricket would be called Off-break. It
pitched on my line and went way away on the backhand
side in a very wide angle. It also had plenty of power. I saw
Ranvir moving to the center in a flash. I stepped my left
foot back a little bit, turned my right shoulder and set the
ball going straight down the side line between Ranvir and
the post. It had topspin; it landed just on the corner of their
base line and went over the side screen. Vineeta ran for her
life to salvage the point, but of no avail. With that, all the
people in the stands rose in a big applause. The tournament
was over.
I could see the ecstasy on the face of Anita Singh. I was the
hero of the moment. If I had run up to her and held her
close to me in a bear hug planting kisses all over her face,
she would not have objected one bit. In fact, that is exactly
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TANDOORI TEXAN TALES
what she wanted me to do very ardently with quivering lips,
Did I do that? Oh No. We Rhett Butlers do not do such
things! “Frankly My Deah! What a priceless ass I had
been!”
After giving away of trophies, there was a little party. We
were playing ‘Antakshari’. Anita started with the Sher:
“Mera Janaza jab nikla,
Yeh nikla, Woh nikla,
Phir Sara Jahan nikla,
Lekin, Woh nahin nikla,
Jiske liye mera dam nikla”
This translates into English something like:
“When my bier was lifted and funeral started,
Just one mourner came out,
Then some more came out,
Slowly the whole neighborhood came out,
And the whole world came out.
Alas! If only that one person would have come out,
For whom my last sigh had come out!”
Was she trying to tell me something? I was just standing
there grinning like a fool with cold feet.
That was it. After that Anita Singh flew out of my radar
screen forever. Last I heard, she was somewhere on the
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RAJ DORÉ
West Coast married to a Stanford Professor and was rearing
his children.
If you do not roll the dice, your probability of failure is
hundred percent. You live through your life with a rotten
feeling of not having had the guts even to have tried. That
could be worse than having tried and been spurned.
I was driving, while musing all these past thoughts, as miles
and miles of highway were rolling away. Archana had
reclined her seat and was snoozing.
Around 5:30 in the evening I finally pulled into the covered
parking space outside my apartment. It was called “Players
Club” apartment complex at Tournament Drive. There were
some 10 buildings each with 6 apartments. Mine was at the
ground floor. I had leased mine furnished since there was
no point in buying or transporting furniture from Dallas, for
this temporary stay.
My apartment had 2 bedrooms, each with attached
bathroom, a living room and a kitchen. There was a bar
island, separating kitchen from the dining area of the living
&nb
sp; room. It was fully equipped with TV, microwave oven and
kitchen range. I had got a telephone connection installed as
well.
I opened the door and let her in first. I asked her to feel
totally at home and showed her into the 2nd bedroom. I
asked her to dig into the dresser and pick up whatever
clothes she liked. Seema always had a set of her clothes,
shoes etc for her visits.
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I suggested ordering pizza for delivery. We could eat and
retire early, as we both had had grueling couple of days. I
asked her if she had any preference for topping on the pizza.
She said, she would eat whatever I would like to have.
There was no message from Seema in response to mine
informing of our plane mishap. She was either not there in
Dallas or did not care.
After ordering pizza, I grabbed a couple of beers from the
fridge and turned on hot water in my bathtub. Removing my
shoes, I lay flat on my bed, staring at the ceiling with my
brain going blank. I closed my eyes and tried to renew my
nerves. I heard some foot steps in the kitchen and then in
the other room. After a while I also heard water running
into the tub at her bathroom. I doffed off all clothes and slid
into the bathtub squeezing the top from a beer bottle. As I
started gulping the first draft of beer, it felt really good.
As I was drying my hair, I heard the pizza man knocking on
the door. I changed, came back and sat at the middle of the