"Remember, Ashish! Clay's meteor shower party is tonight. Don't get too drunk at your PhD happy hour."
My wife Sarika reminded me for the tenth time in two days. It was starting to get a little annoying.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I am not a goldfish." I said, putting my shoes on before heading to my university office.
Why exactly a spin class instructor was an authority on meteor showers and astronomy, I had no idea. But that's how all these Clay "cultists" as I jokingly liked to call them, tended to behave. Like not only was he an expert on cycling and other physical activity (he was an ex track athlete and a certified trainer in various disciplines), but also on astronomy, philosophy, politics, economics, the environment, love, morality...it seriously felt like a cult.
Part of it was Clay's personality. He was a big tall broad shouldered black man who reminded me of Idris Elba in both his looks and his charm. Almost like he was consciously trying to model himself after Idris. Even though he had grown up in Detroit, he spoke with a slight British accent from "all my years in ole blighty".
Joining his spin class had been a point of friction between us from the start. The thing is, I was on a grad student stipend in a midwestern state university. Sarika, who had joined me recently after our arranged marriage in India, could not work. She tried to get involved with other Indian spouses in the area, but their wavelengths never quite matched. The other wives talked about Indian soap operas and babysitting and school districts. We had postponed our family plans until I finished my doctorate and got a job. So there really was little in common.
Sarika was also different from the typical Indian grad student's wife in the US, in that she had been a very active social butterfly in India from what I heard. She was involved in classical dancing, singing, Rotary events, sports, and a bunch of other stuff. In a few weeks after our marriage, i realized that my wife was a very high energy individual and staying cooped up at home was starting to drive her crazy. She was a 25 year old woman, forced to be a housewife, with nothing to fill her days other than watching TV and reading books. Which really was not her nature.
So when she first showed me this video she came across on Instagram of a very energetic looking spin class, I was happy. At least she had finally found something about the US to get excited about. Otherwise everyday she had been whining about how she missed her life in India.
"That looks great." I said after the video ended.
"I want to join if you're okay with it."
"$50 per class."
"Whoa! Honey, you can use my university's gym for free. It's part of the grad student benefits."
Her face went glum. This was another thing she was having trouble getting used to. Budgeting our expenses. She came from a family that, while not filthy rich, was certainly well off enough that she had never been denied any wish. I could have afforded that lifestyle if I had stayed on in my job in India. And I would after my PhD. But for now, we had to make do with running the house in less than $2000 after taxes.
"It just looks so fun. The first class is free with a Yelp check-in. Could I do just that?"
Sighing, I nodded. I felt bad to deny her such simple pleasures.
The next couple of weeks, I was busy with some exam preparation, so I spent almost every waking hour in the office or library studying with other students. I only saw Sarika before and after bed. I did notice a regular addition of workout clothes in the laundry basket. So one morning, I asked her,
"Have you been going to the university gym? I saw all the clothes."
Her light Kashmiri skin immediately turned pink in embarrassment. Uh-oh, I knew that look.
"Ashu, don't be mad. I took that free spin class. And I really loved it and the people there. And when I mentioned I was a grad student's wife, they gave me a 50% discount. So...I went for 4 classes after that. Are you mad?"
I was a little annoyed, but also feeling a little guilty.
"$100 in 2 weeks...$200 a month...it's okay, Saru. We will manage. Just fewer uber-eats orders."
"Yes, yes, promise." she smiled happily.
After that, I kept getting more and more updates about the awesome Clay and all the awesome people there. I had only started by joking about it being a cult, but with each passing week, Clay seemed to be playing a bigger and bigger role in our lives.
It started with Clay motivational posters all over the house. Then an audio file of him chanting some buddhist hymns that we had to fall asleep to. A bunch of brochures. And additional socializing events. It seemed like the spin class had pretty much become her social life. And her social media was full of videos and pics from spin class. Which initially, I had been happy with. Finally I did not come home to an antsy wife whining about missing India, but rather filling me in about all the fun (and cheap) stuff she had been doing with Clay and her new friends.
So the first time I was invited to a Clay party a few months prior, I was curious and also nervous. I am not an extrovert by nature. If anything, the opposite. I am usually the shyest guy in the room. A big reason I gave up my tech job and went for a PhD was I liked the seclusion it gave me, just working on my own research. So meeting a party full of strangers, that too foreigners, was a little anxiety inducing for me. So I had a few too many at the PhD happy hour before the party.
When we reached Clay's place, it was a very sedate homely dinner party. I made a beeline for the coffee, but it was obvious to everyone that I had shown up a bit drunk. Some judgmental looks were exchanged. Which made me feel even more nervous. These were all people in tip top physical shape. I am no fatty, but my build is average. I could not carry off cycling shorts the way this 50 year old man genially talking to me was.
"I even find Clay's help useful in policy making on the city council." he said.
Almost every interaction had been similar to Sarika's gushing about Clay at home. This dude, apparently a city council member, relied on the man for political counsel! Was there anything the magic man could not do?
He had cooked an elaborate 7 course meal by himself and was serving it one at a time with some charming story. Dumplings from his travels in China, pasta from his backpacking in Italy, and so on. After the third course, he cornered me. I felt the imposing presence of the man. I am 5 ft 10, so not exactly short, but he towered over me. And his intense brown eyes pierced into mine as he said,
"I don't think we've met. You're Sar's husband, right?"
Sar? I wondered. They were on first syllable basis?
"Yes, I am Ashish." I shook hands with him. His palm almost engulfed mine.
"She is a real bundle of energy, huh?" he smiled.
"Very much so."
And for the next five minutes, we chatted and I realized why people were so taken with him. He seemed to know almost everything. Our conversation ranged from my research to politics to technology to soccer and every time, Clay made me feel like my opinion was very important to him.
He went back to the kitchen and I turned to face Andrea, a gorgeous woman of Colombian descent who was notionally Clay's Admin Assistant, but seemed more like his right hand woman. Almost like Ma Anand Sheela to his Osho. She was also charming and was wearing just the perfect neckline for me to get a constant peak at her ample cleavage. Sarika was busy in the kitchen helping clay. I was enjoying a few moments of boyish pleasure as this gorgeous woman spoke to me.
By the dessert course, I was feeling sleepy with the combination of all the drinks and the rich food, and I didn't realize when I passed out on a couch while having a dessert liquer.
When I came to, I was surprised to find myself in an Uber next to my wife.
