Meenu

I

I was interviewing from Pittsburg with a forgettable company, and at night I was on a train to Baltimore. The weather was dark, wet, foggy, and cold. And I was dark, wet, foggy and cold, and miserable. The interview had been a bust and flights out of Pittsburg were cancelled so my choice was to spend the night in the armpit of America or try to get a flight from another city. It wasn’t much of decision; I jumped the first train going somewhere that I recognized. If you’re ever in Pittsburg, leave.

On the train I was seating near the window, and opposite me about four feet away was an Indian girl. She had long flowing silky hair, a little disheveled from the winter static and dryness. She had an oval face, honest dark eyes, and full plum-colored lips. She was heavily dressed. A white turtle neck, loose black pants, sensible winter shoes, a large camel overcoat, red muffler. She had her hands in the pockets of the coat and she seemed like she was trying to make herself small and tense to fight the cold.

“Cold, isn’t it,” I said.

She shot me a very brief look and went back to staring out the window. Her blank expression didn’t change.

We rode in silence for about 30 minutes. I didn’t have a book with me and I couldn’t sleep. So I tried again.

“It’s pretty isn’t it? Black, naked trees against the white of the snow and the gray sky?”

Nothing.

“What’s your name?” I persisted.

“Meenakshi.”

“That’s a nice name. What do you do?”

“Recruiter.”

“Where are you going?”

“Baltimore.”

“You live there?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“Friends.”

I gave up. I stared out the window thinking about changing seats. I figured I’ll walk the train and maybe I’ll find someone to talk to.

After about fifteen minutes, she got up with suddenness that startled me. She slipped out of camel coat and came over to sit right next to me. Her knees were touching mine. She looked at me with a blank expression for a while. I had no idea what was going on.

“I just took this course. It’s like EST. Do you know what that is….Well never mind it doesn’t matter,” she continued when I shook my head no. She had an endearing Indian accent.

“I’m supposed to do an exercise. I’m supposed to tell a perfect stranger some very intimate things about myself. Is it okay if I tell you?”

How could I refuse?

“I’ve had three lovers in my life.”

She seemed to expect an answer so I said, “Interesting.”

She smiled at my awkwardness and continued, “I’m 38. The first guy was a boyfriend in college when I was 22. I had boyfriends before that of course, but they were just boys to go see movies with. This guy was different. He was an engineer and he was ambitious. I guess he was the first real man after the boys I had known. He was also my brother-in-law. Older brother’s wife’s brother.”

“It just happened one day. We started touching each other a lot. You know he would reach for something put his hand on my shoulder, and we are sitting down and our fingertips would be touching. Talking about movie stars and talking about how restrictive our society is. When we were alone I was comfortable drinking and smoking with him. I used to smoke in those days. Very scandalous. Anyone else would have judged me but he didn’t and I guess that was one of things I liked about him.

“It’s a complicated story but he was actually engaged to my best friend. He wanted to marry me but I couldn’t see how that was possible because of family connections.

“Then we started holding hands. And then one day we were alone and I accidentally bumped into him. And we laughed about that and continued holding on to each other. Then he kissed me.

“The next day we made excuses and we met at a hotel. It was very mechanical. I undressed down to my underwear and so did he and we didn’t look at each other or say anything. We each got completely undressed under the blanket. Then he climbed on top of me. He had trouble putting it in.”

She giggled and brought her palm to cover her mouth.

“He got it in and it hurt me very much. I was surprised at how hard it was, it felt like a stick. I expected something different, something softer. And I was very sensitive down there and I remember thinking, is this what this is about? I’ve been waiting for years to have sex and this is what it is? I was very disappointed. I expected a lot more. Then I felt something hot inside me and he rolled off me. We laid their quietly not talking or touching.

“Then we got dressed in the same way. We did this four or five times, and I never saw him naked.

“I remember the next day and night I felt very guilty. I was agitated, did I do something horribly wrong? Was I betraying my best friend.

“But as time went along and we continued to meet, I thought less and less about it. I had it separated in head. I didn’t think about it except when I was with him. Even when I was with my best friend, I didn’t feel any guilt anymore. It all seemed just natural.

“I don’t even remember exactly how it ended. He was weak. In the end didn’t have the courage to fight for what he wanted. I was angry at men for a long time afterwards.”

She paused. Again I felt I was expected to say something so I said, “Did you love him?”

“I don’t know. I think I loved the next guy. He was famous. Girls were always after him. We were childhood friends, and we were just friends. He helped me around Delhi. He didn’t have to do that and I felt very special that this famous guy was helping me.

“We went to movies and started taking outings together. Started holding hands. We got a hotel room outside the city and we fooled around but didn’t have sex. I would have let him, but he didn’t and that made me feel very good. Like a desirable, respectable woman. That’s when I fell in love with him I think. I felt so good to be around him. He was famous and he was very attentive to me and he made me feel like a sophisticated woman.

“The sex was straightforward. He got on, did it his thing and got off. We did stay in bed but he wasn’t very affectionate. But it was beautiful. It was an exciting romance.

“It ended in a bad way. I hate Indian men sometimes. He judged me and insulted me. He dared to ask me if the rumors were true. Didn’t matter what rumors; he should have just trusted me. And this guy had known so many girls. I know he saw two or three girls at the same time. But even so he had this double standard. Why are you Indian men like that? They always say, blend of east west. But they’re not. They’re so backwards sometimes.”

She paused and after a while I said, “You’re right about Indian men. I guess it’s the culture. I know it’s hypocritical—“

She cut me off, “The last guy I saw for three years. Not long ago. I got very close to him. I’m not sure if I loved him or the idea of him. You know, someone sexy to be in my life. The sex with him was definitely good. The first time we …”

She turned crimson at this point with a very blank expression.

She swallowed and composed herself and smiled.

“I am sorry, I’m not used to talking this way. It’s part of what I have to do. The first time we got physical, we were at his place. We had a wonderful day. It was just good to be with him. We walked along the beach, we did some window shopping. Sharing the smallest thing was very exciting with him. We read the paper together. He cooked for me. I felt very domestic; I felt very safe. I guess I felt like a wife. Very content. He wasn’t even particularly romantic. I guess it’s just the way I felt about him. I got tingly just when he held my hand. We were together all the time. When he wasn’t with me I would imagine that he was and I would conversations with him in my head. That night at home we started kissing and he took my top off. It felt very different from the other guys. He was experienced. He removed my top and then my bra and started kissing my breasts. He kissed the soft underneath part of them. He licked there and it sent a shiver up my spine. I don’t think I’d ever been that, well, ready. You know what I mean?. He sucked on my nipples and gently bit them. I was a little embarrassed but too excited to care. He took my skirt off and he slipped his hand in my panties and inserted his fingers in me. He knew exactly how to do it. I just closed my eyes enjoyed it.

“He would tell me what to do. He told me to undress him and he told me to kiss his chest and nipples. And he told me how to touch…well, touch his thing, you know. He couldn’t say the words, he would just point down there or he would move my hand down there. It was the very first time I had seen a man completely naked.

“Men are funny looking naked.” She giggled again.

“The first few times we just did the missionary position. Then one day he had me get on my hands and knees while he took me from behind. I liked it, but not as much as the missionary position. I like feeling the weight of a man on top of me, feeling his skin touching mine everywhere. Then he had me sit on top of him. We even tried standing up but that didn’t work.

“And one day he bought me a black silk nightie. That night he went down on me. That was the first time anyone had kissed me down there. I loved it but I think I was very nervous the first time and I didn’t climax. The second time it was so wonderful. This is what life is about I thought. I don’t normally talk or make noises during sex but that time it took my breath away. It got very sensitive after and I had to crawl away and I bunched my legs together so he couldn’t touch me there.”

I noticed she was getting relaxed now. She was sitting back and her eyes were animated and she was beginning to gesture with her hands while talked.

“Then he wanted me to do oral sex to him,” she continued, making a face as if she had just tasted something awful. “I didn’t really want to do it. At that time I thought of it as really dirty. The first time I did only a little bit. I just put it in my mouth but I didn’t move very much.

I got better and better at it. He would tell me what to do and what felt good. And then one day he said he wanted to finish in my mouth. I must have looked horrified because he said what’s the matter. I can’t do that I told him. Try it you’ll like it. Do it yourself I told him. I didn’t do it that time. But the next time he didn’t give me any warning and he finished in my mouth. I let it all drip out and ran to the bathroom to spit and washed my mouth out.

But then I got used to it. He really liked finishing in mouth and I felt very powerful doing it, like I could control the pleasure he was getting.

One Saturday we stayed in bed during the day and we made love like five or six times. I was sore the next day.

A couple of times when my parents were visiting we had to do it in the car. It wasn’t comfortable but it was exciting because it was outside. The same kind of feeling I got when I was smoking or drinking or making love in India. The feeling that you’re doing something wrong and exciting!”

She sighed and looked at me. She was very comfortable now and she held eye contact.

“So, what happened?” I asked.

“Another girl. I saw the signs. He started being evasive. He was nervous when he told me where he had been. I knew even when I talked to him on the phone. I didn’t want to believe it but I guess there were just too many signs.

“I confronted him. He denied it. He denied it several times before he finally admitted it.

“I didn’t talk to him for weeks. We used talk everyday on the phone and I didn’t for weeks and I felt very empty. Unwanted. Vulnerable, I suppose.

“Now we talk as friends.”

I pursed my lips and nodded my head, trying to look intelligent.

“Well,” she said, “what do you think? Is there anything you want to know?”

“Yes,” I said, “your phone number.”

II – KC and Meenu

To be continued

Tabla, guitar, thumb ring, studs, long eye lashes anklet, 4 necklaces,