Altaf Tyrewala - Mumbai Noir

That day of the raid, Osama could have left the moment Shagufta walked in, but instead the fucker sat down in a booth.

I began to hear Shagufta typing furiously. At some point she emitted a little laugh inside her booth. I smiled to myself. I didn’t notice Haider bhai until he was already off his scooter.

I hissed at Osama who quickly got up and went out.

Haider bhai came and looked around. “All well?”

“Yes, bhai.”

Shaghufta greeted him.

“Nice to see you working hard, beta,” he said. “Your father must be proud. Give him my salaams.”

“I will, uncle.” She smiled.

“Very good girl,” he said to me. Then he looked around once more. “Surya, why are the monitors on if no one is using them? Electricity is free or what?”

“Sorry, bhai. Osama was using it.”

“Arrey, how many times have I said he should not sit around here?”

“He doesn’t listen, bhai.” I saw no need to remind Haider bhai about the raid and make excuses for Osama.

“That boy is very nonserious,” Haider bhai said on his way out.

I went to switch off Osama’s terminal and saw that his chat window was open. His ID was Ghulfam88, of all the sidey things he could come up with.

Ghulfam88: Can I say smthng? With yr permission?

Shaghufta_91: Okie.

Ghulfam88: I really love talking 2 u. I keep thnkng, when I see Shgfta I’ll tell her this. Thoughts of U are stuck in my mind like gum.

Shaghufta_91: I also wait for you to cm online.

Ghulfam88: Wd you like 2 meet in real?

Shaghufta_91: Dnt be silly. I dnt knw.

Ghulfam88: Ok. Sorry if I said too much. You wnt me 2 go?

Shaghufta_91: U go if u wnt Ghulfam88: You know I dnt want to stp tokking 2 u ever.

Shaghufta_91: U der?

Shaghufta_91: Hey, RU thr?

Shaghufta_91: Can’t say bye also or what?

I’d read enough loser chats in my time to know not to click on the button called Chat History . It wasn’t a very long history — about a month after she started coming here, soon after he started joking with me about how much I liked the Romantic Customer. The first chat was just after I’d told him the meaning of her name.

Ghulfam88: Is Shaghufta yr real name?

Shaghufta_91: Is Ghulfam yrs?

Ghulfam88: No.

Shaghufta_91: What does it mean then? Why did you choose it?

Ghulfam88: It means the bee who likes to suck on flowers.

Bunches of flowers, Shaghufta.

Ghulfam88: Wot are you wearing Shaghufta?

Shaghufta_91: Guess.

Ghulfam88: Wot if I guess right?

Shaghufta_91: I’ll give you something nice.

Ghulfam88: Ok. It’s smthng soft.

Shaghufta_91: Maybe.

Ghulfam88: Maybe black?

Ghulfam88: You der?

Shaghufta_91: GTG.

Ghulfam88: But am I rite? What r u giving me?

Shaghufta_91: Ok, tok to you soon.

I remembered her black and silver kurta with a dupatta that had ghungroos on it, that tinkled along with the chikachickchicka of her nails on the computer. I remembered all her clothes.

So Osama thought he was smart. He thought he could keep a secret from me, of all people. I tried to guess his password. Success on my first try. RC . What a surprise.

I opened a window and typed.

Ghulfam88: Hi, sorry I got DC.

Shaghufta_91: Oh hi!

I could hear her bangles clinking.

Ghulfam88: U missed me?

Shaghufta_91: Wht do you think?

Ghulfam88: U never answered me. u wnt to meet in real?

Shaghufta_91: Maybe.

Ghulfam88: What if I could be in the booth next to u and touch u just now?

Shaghufta_91: Cd be.

Ghulfam88: Ya? Excited?

I could hear her breathing. Maybe she could hear mine.

Shaghufta_91: U r bad.

Ghulfam88: U r making me go mad. U r putting bad thoughts in my head. Whole day I thnk of u, of kissing you, dnt be angry.

Shaghufta_91: Wat is happening to you 2day!

Ghulfam88: I have written a poem for you.

Shaghufta_91: Show.

Oh, I would show her. I opened my e-mail account and fetched that Badayuni fellow’s poem out of my Drafts folder and pasted it into the chat window. I was aroused and angry now.

Shaghufta_91: Is beautiful.

Naturally it was beautiful. It wasn’t written by a guy called Ghulfam88, was it?

Ghulfam88: Wat are you thinking? Y quiet?

Shaghufta_91: I am thinking if you would be next to me then the poem cud come true.

I stood up and looked over the partition at her. She glanced up, her eyes disoriented as if woken suddenly from a lifelike dream. She was flushed and quickly opened up some random window and pretended to be concentrating on it.

“Do you want me to come there, then? And make the poem come true?”

She went pale and looked confused. I walked into the booth and it was very crowded between the two of us.

“What are you doing?”

“Only what you want me to do — you said it on the chat.” I reached out and squeezed her breast. She was shocked, but didn’t stop me. For a minute I thought of doing more. But I wasn’t thinking clearly and I didn’t want to make a mistake.

I went out; she sat inside the booth for some time.

When she came out she said, hesitatingly, “Suryaji …”

I looked up.

“Why were you chatting with me like that when I was here? Why did you want to trick me like that?”

I shrugged. “Maybe you wanted to be tricked. People like that so they can pretend to be innocent.”

“What do you mean?”

I peered away at my terminal. She stood there vaguely for a minute.

“I don’t know how many other people you chat with, do I? Your dad tells Haider bhai you are coming here for your studies. Haider bhai doesn’t charge you. And me, I’m just a fool.

We are all fools.”

She turned red. “How can you say something like that?

Why are you behaving like this? I thought—”

“What did you think?”

She shook her head angrily and left as if she was never coming back.

I could see Osama outside chatting up some customer. He was wearing huge dark glasses and looking like an evil fly in a cartoon — they weren’t his goggles, of course. He must have borrowed them from Amul Butter, his chikna friend who manned another DVD stand. I wasn’t too angry with Osama. It was a matter of expectation. About Shaghufta I felt unsure. She had been carrying on with Ghulfam88, and now that I was Ghulfam88 I didn’t really know what that meant to her, or to me. I felt a bit fucked up.

Then there was no Shaghufta for three days.

I was just getting used to that when she walked in on the fourth day, in the afternoon as usual. She was wearing a strange color — blue and green at the same time — in a shiny material, with some transparent bits. It was sexy. She didn’t look directly at me. She went into the booth, leaving the door open. There was no one else in the cybercafé.

After some time she turned around, but I refused to meet her eyes. I stared steadily at the computer, where I was logged in on Osama’s account as G hulfam88. She soon logged on and sent me a message, as I knew she would.

Her : Are you still angry?

Me : That makes you happy, doesn’t it?

I could hear her breath. Why should I feel good if you’re angry?

“Isn’t that what girls want? They want men to be angry because of them,” I said out loud.