The Desert Rose - Chapter 6

Bombay, the Dream City

Adult content

He set foot on Indian soil which gave him a new pleasure. The waiting bus took him to the arrival terminal of the Airport at Bombay. The immigration Officer looked at him and then at the photo of his passport.

“Are you wearing a wig?” the perplexed officer questioned Menon.

Menon laughed and said “No please”. He pulled his hair and demonstrated that he had natural hair. He collected his luggage and rushed to the Customs counter. Officers wearing white uniforms and staring with hawk eyes were behind the counters. When it was his turn, the officer asked him to open the suitcase. His eyes fell on the Rado watch Menon was wearing.

His pupils dilated and he told him “you will have to pay Customs duty for that watch. It is Rado”.

“Well, you may please note about the watch in the passport. I shall carry it back on my return” Menon said.

With a disappointed look, the officer wrote on a page of his passport the details of the watch. The watch was presented to him by Ibrahim Fardan after the first three months of his service in the company. It was a valuable treasure for Menon.

He pushed his luggage trolley and came out. It was an ocean of people outside. The calm atmosphere of Dubai was just contradictory to the sight in front of him. The Ambassador and Fiat taxi cars looked like small bugs.

A gentleman carrying a placard written “Mr. Menon” was standing among other visitors. Menon waved at him. The gentleman shook hands with him and said “Sir, welcome to Bombay. I am Ashok Tandon”. He led him to a waiting Ambassador car.

Ashok Tandon was wearing pants and a transparent white embroidered kurta. He was about forty-five years old, with silver coloured hair and fluffy cheeks. The pouches below his eyes were moving up and down as he talked. It was 3-15 A.M on Friday morning and his breath was full of evaporated liquor.

“Sir, how are you?” he enquired to Menon.

 “I shall take you to my apartment at the moment and during the day I shall take you to your hotel suite.”

He opened a cigarette case with letters State Express 555 on the lid and lighted one. The smoke irritated Menon and he pulled down the glass shutter. Cold Bombay breeze freshened him up. As the car moved forward for some time, on to his left he saw the majestic Victoria Terminus in its eternal grandeur, an architectural marvel of the British Raj. The car rolled on well laid and neat roads and reached Flora Fountain and turned to the left. After a few hundred metres, it stopped at a residential block called Victory Apartments. Ashok’s apartment was on the eighth floor.

John Bergosa arrived at Ashok’s apartment at about 11-00 A.M. Ashok introduced Menon to Bergosa. The three of them travelled to Chembur, to a work site belonging to Rattan Singh and Company, the erstwhile employer of Menon. Engineer Jayaram greeted them and said

“Everything is set for the testing of the workers” as he led them to a covered yard where about three hundred workers seeking employment in the gulf, had lined up.

Menon announced to the workers to form four groups of carpenters, masons, steel fixers and helpers. By 4-30 P.M. the day’s selection of workers was stopped and the remaining workers were asked to come the next day, Saturday. Bergosa had arranged to shift Menon’s luggage to Hotel Majesty. He drove to the Marine Drive with Menon and Ashok and Menon checked in at Hotel Majesty.

The Hotel Suite was very cozy with a bedroom and a sitting room. Menon took a shower and went to sleep. The telephone rang at 7-00 P.M. “Sir your requested alarm, please” the operator’s voice was melodious.

“Thanks” and he hung up.

Ashok arrived at Hotel Majesty at 8-30 P.M. They had a preliminary round of drinks from the bottle which Ashok had brought. They got out. The weather was very pleasant and the cool breeze caressed Menon as they walked along the Marine Drive. There were people sitting and enjoying the weather on the dwarf walls as the waves dashed against the masonry breakers with a foamy icing. The moonlight added to the charm of the night and couples sitting with hands on shoulders, some snatching kisses, were enjoying the romantic atmosphere. Menon looked up and around and was mesmerized by the beauty of the night in Bombay, the royal metropolis, the city that always seduced its visitors.

When they entered the “Ashwan Night Club”, the belly dancer had just started to perform. A table was already reserved for them and the waiters saluted Ashok acknowledging his frequent visit to the club. The dancer had very little clothing on her. A thin cloth covered her loins and a narrow net tried to cover her breasts. Her movements were sensual and erotic as she gyrated around the tables with constant shaking of her feminine assets to the beat of the music.

The waiter brought a small bucket with a champagne bottle inserted in it surrounded by ice blocks. When Menon started to sip the sweet and sour royal drink, the already infiltrated whiskey in his blood imparted more intoxication in the company of the stream of champagne. His eyes reduced in size and he concentrated on the dancing damsel. When the dancer arrived at his table, she smiled at him voluptuously and sat on his lap pressing his loins with constant up and down movements of her buttocks. She caressed Menon’s cheeks with her breasts and she said “Hi handsome, want my phone number?”

Menon sat motionless. His blood rushed to one particular point with the touch of the woman and the champagne gave him good company.

The belly dancer enhanced the masculinity of every male in the clubhouse with her scintillating and alluring dance movements. Menon felt that he was in the seventh heaven. The dance stopped and the orchestra resumed. The male singer sang in the accompaniment of piano, saxophone, trumpet, bass guitar, Mexican guitar, and violin with the percussionist giving his best.

A lady, presumably Lebanese, came to Menon and asked him “May I have the pleasure of dancing with you, please?”

Menon was bewildered and said “I have never danced in my life”.

“That is O.K. I will teach you the steps” she said with a mischievous smile.

 She led him to the middle. She held him close to her in the dancing pose with clasped hands and started her steps. Menon nervously followed her and soon was able to cope up with the beats and the dancing. They danced to the music of “Last Waltz”. She pressed her body to his.

Her perfume is mesmerizing and her breath has the scent of peppermint. Menon realized how sensual the moments were.

Everyone watched them dance which imparted a romantic mood to the occupants around. There was non-stop applause when their dance stopped. Menon led her to her seat and said “thanks, you were great”

“You were amazing. You said you don’t know how to dance. You were dancing well and you made me wet. Now I need to go to the washroom. Want to come with me?” She said and winked.

Menon said”No, help yourself” and smiled.

“I did not know that you were a great dancer” Ashok complimented Menon.

“Well, I just followed her steps, that was all!” Menon smiled.

The intoxication from the liquor and the sensuality of the lady made Menon unaware of the time.