Short Fiction : The Woman at the Book Fair

Short Fiction

WOMAN AT THE BOOK FAIR

Story by Vikram Karve

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MUMBAI

Circa – January 2003

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I reached my home opposite the Oval – after work – as usual – at 5 PM in the evening.

I was opening the door to my house – when my neighbour opened his door – and – he said he wanted to speak to me.

“Sure…” I said – and – I invited him to come in.

I closed the door – I asked him to sit on the sofa – and – I sat opposite him.

“Anything urgent…?” I asked him.

“Who was that woman with you last evening…?” my neighbour asked me.

“Woman…?” I said – confused.

“I saw both of you entering the building at 7 PM and I saw her leaving alone at around 9 PM…” he said.

“Oh – her…? I met her at the book fair…?” I said to him.

“Book Fair…?” he asked me – with a clueless look.

“Don’t you know…? The “Strand Book Fair” – it’s held every year in January near Churchgate…” I said to him.

“I was asking you about the woman who with you in your house last evening…” he said – with a questioning look.

“I told you – I met her at the Book Fair…” I said to him.

“And – you brought her home – you spent two hours with her all alone – just the two of you…” he said – in a suspicious tone of voice.

“What are you trying to imply…?” I asked him – a bit miffed.

“You wife is away – and you are having a “good time” with other women…” he said – his voice full of sarcasm.

“Well – if browsing books together is your interpretation of a “good time” – we certainly were having a “good time” together…” I said to him.

“Browsing Books…? Who are you trying to fool…? You and that “dubious” female – you spend two hours shacked up together in your house – and you are making up all sorts of stories to cover up your hanky-panky…? Do you think I am a dimwit…?” he said – in a jeering tone of voice.

“What nonsense are you talking…? Dubious Female…? She is a respectable person – a decent lady…” I said to him.

My neighbour smiled – a derisive smile – and spoke in a sarcastic tone.

“Respectable…? Decent…? Are you sure…?” he asked me.

“Of course – she is a book lover – she has been coming to the book fair for the last 3 days – we were browsing similar books – literature, fiction, short stories – so – we got talking – I told her about my book collection – she wanted to see it – so – I invited her home to see my books…” I said – truthfully.

“Are you telling me that she was looking at your books for over 2 hours last evening…?” he asked me.

“Yes – we browsed books together – she showed interest in short fiction – so – I told her about my favourite short stories – we discussed literature – that’s all…” I said – trying to convince him.

“You pick up a woman at the book fair – you bring her home – you spend two hours with her in private – do you even know who the woman is…?” my neighbour asked me.

“She is a counsellor…” I said to him.

“Counsellor…!!!” my neighbour exclaimed – with a laugh.

“Yes – she told me she is a personal counsellor and therapist – in fact – she told me she had an appointment at 9 PM nearby…” I said to him.

“Appointment…? At 9 PM at night…?” he said – looking incredulous.

“Yes – she told me she does private therapy at home for some special patients…” I said – telling him what the woman had told me.

“Private Therapy…? At Home…? Special Patients…?” he said breaking into a laugh, “instead of making up tall stories – why don’t you admit the truth – that you picked up this woman – brought her home – and you fucked her…”

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Till now – I had been tolerating his nonsense because he was my neighbour – and – my wife and his wife were close friends – but now – he was getting on my nerves – so – I decided to end the conversation.

“I think you should go now…” I said to him, “I have to go for my evening walk on Marine Drive…”

“And – I am sure you are going to visit the Book Fair – on your way back…” he said sarcastically.

“Yes – I may browse books…” I said to him.

“And you will pick up that female and bring her over here for a special therapy session in your bedroom…” he said with a sneer – and then – he said to me with a wicked smile, “but – hats off to you – I never imagined you could pick up females at a Book Fair…!!!”

“Please go…” I said angrily.

“I will go – but – before I go - let me tell you – this book-lover woman friend of yours – she not a counsellor or therapist – and she is certainly not a “respectable” lady – she is a “dirty” woman…” he said – with disdain.

“Dirty Woman…?” I said – with a questioning look.

 “She is a woman of “ill repute” – do you understand…?” he said – in a firm voice.

“She is a woman of “ill repute” …? What do you mean by that…?” I asked him

“Don’t act dumb – she is a woman of “easy virtue” – but – since you will feign ignorance – I will put it more bluntly – that woman is a “call girl” – an “escort” – a bloody “whore” – do you understand…?” he said – contemptuously.

“That’s not possible…” I said, “I found her to be a decent woman – quite well-read, erudite and refined…”

“That I will concede…” he said, “she is a refined and polished “hooker” – a high class “prostitute” – I wonder how you could afford her…”

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I couldn’t believe what my neighbour was saying – also – I was feeling uncomfortable with the conversation – so – I decided to get rid of my neighbour.

“Please go now – I don’t want to discuss all this…” I said to my neighbour.

“I hope you are not bringing her home for a “therapy” session this evening…” he said – sarcastically.

“Of course, I am going to bring her home…” I said to my neighbour, “we are going to meet at the book fair at 6 PM – and then – I will bring her home – I have already decided the short fiction anthology I want to tell her about – and she has to return the book she borrowed yesterday and take this one…” I said to him.

“She won’t be coming…” my neighbour said.

“What do you mean “she won’t be coming” …?” I asked him.

“I meant “she won’t be coming to meet you today” …” my neighbour said – unequivocally.

“Well – let me tell you that I am sure she is going to come to meet me – she promised me that she would return my book today – when I told her that I normally don’t lend my books because people forget to return them – she said she would 100% meet me at the book fair at 6PM – and then she would come home to browse my books – return my book – and maybe – borrow a new one …” I said to my neighbour.

“You seem to be so sure of her…? Do you even know her name…?” he asked me.

“Nisha…” I said, “she told me her name is Nisha…”

My neighbour gave me a sardonic smile.

“Nisha…? This is the first time I am hearing this. As far as I know – her name is Rita – but even that may be a fake name – I wonder how many names she has – one for each client – perhaps…” he said to me.

I looked at him – a bit befuddled – wondering what to say.

But – before I could speak – he started talking.

“I warned her not to come here again – or to meet you again…” he said.

“What…? You told her not to meet me…? Why…?” I asked him – feeling miffed.

“For your sake…” he said.

“For my sake – what do you mean…?” I asked him – curious.

“You are a married man – with a nice wife and grown-up children. Is it proper of you to indulge in hanky-panky with such wanton women…? Why do you want to ruin everything due to your peccadillos with such sleazy women…?” he said.

“Hanky-Panky…? Peccadillos…?” I said – peeved.

“Don’t worry – I won’t tell anyone about your fucking her in your house yesterday evening – after all – you are my neighbour – our wives are close friends – I am your well-wisher – so – I will overlook your one indiscretion yesterday – but – I don’t want you getting entangled with that filthy whore…” he said, “that’s why I called her last night and told her not to meet you…”

I looked at him – wondering how my neighbour had that woman’s number – so – I questioned him about it.

“You called her…? You have her number…? How do you know her…? You called her a filthy whore – you say she is a woman of ill-repute – a sleazy woman – how do you so much about her…?” I asked him.

“Don’t delve too much…” he said.

“Ah – so you are jealous – and possessive – tell me – are you having an affair with her…?” I asked him.

“Don’t talk nonsense…” he said angrily, “I have nothing to do with her – our company hires her once in a while – to service some of our top clients and business associates – and officials who we have to please…”

“And – how are you involved in all this…?” I asked him.

“Well – in our business – we have to do all sorts of things…” he said – nonchalantly.

“So – that’s the job you do – pimping…!!! It is disgusting…!!!” I said to him, “under your high-sounding title – all you are is a bloody pimp…”

“Be careful what you say…” he said – in a threatening tone.

“I thought you were a respectable man – but you are worse than a prostitute – you are a slimy pimp – that’s what you are…” I said to him in a most disparaging tone of voice.

“How dare you compare me with than dirty woman…?” he said – giving me an accusing look.

I looked at him – and – I gave him a piece of my mind.

I said in a stern voice to my neighbour:

“You keep calling her a “dirty” woman…?

Well – even if – as you say – she is a “dirty woman” – her thoughts are certainly much “cleaner” than yours.

You put on an act of being a “clean man” – but you have a “dirty mind” – you masquerade as a moral puritan – but your mind is full of lecherous thoughts.

We were browsing books together – but you were fantasizing that we were fucking each other – weren’t you…?

You are a disgusting man with a perverted mind – don’t you talk to me ever again…”

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After admonishing him – I gripped his hand – I literally forced him out of my house – and – I closed the door.

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That evening – I waited for Nisha at the Book Fair.

But – she didn’t come.

I couldn’t call her as I didn’t have her number.

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Of course – after my tiff with my nasty neighbour in the evening – there was no question of asking him for her number.

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I wish I had asked Nisha for her number the previous evening – but – she had left in a hurry – and – she hadn’t given me her number – nor – had she asked for mine.

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I waited for Nisha till the closing time of the Book Fair – hoping against hope that Nisha would come.

But – she didn’t come

So – at night – I came home – disappointed.

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It was the end of a short and sweet friendship – all because of my nasty neighbour.

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Next evening – a courier arrived – a packet.

I opened the packet.

It was the book she had borrowed – and inserted inside – there was a note written in cursive feminine handwriting.

I read the note:

“You must have come to know about me from your neighbour.

It is true – but – with you – I wanted a nice clean relationship – a friendship based on books – but – sadly – that was not to be.

And yes – I told you my name is “Nisha”.

Yes – Nisha is my real name – you are one of the few persons who knows my real name.

Thank you for lending me your book.

I felt good when you lent me the book – though you said that you normally don’t lend your books.

I really wish we could become “bookish friends” – but it is not destined.

It was so nice talking to you.

Wish you All the Best in your life.

Good Bye Forever.

Your Bookish Friend, Nisha…”

 

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EPILOGUE

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A few months later – I saw Nisha in the lobby of a posh hotel – where my wife and I had gone for dinner.

I looked yearningly at Nisha – wondering if I should say “Hello” to her.

Nisha glanced at me – no trace of recognition – and – she looked away.

My wife seemed to have noticed everything.

She pressed my hand and smiled at me.

“Is that the same woman you had told me about – the woman you met at the Book Fair…?” my wife asked me – as we walked towards the restaurant.

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VIKRAM KARVE

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Disclaimer:

This story is a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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