Chapter 5: Morning Revelations

5

Meera curled up, shivering a little from the cold.

The wind on the hills is no joke at night. She huddled closer, her teeth chattering so softly it sounded like the rustling of leaves.

Uncle Nilesh waved, and Ritu shuffled over in her sleeping bag.

She walked oddly, taking tiny, bouncing steps, as if she desperately needed to pee.

When she reached Uncle Nilesh, she pulled the sleeping bag over all three of them.

The three of them disappeared beneath the covers, a lump of warmth in the cold night. The only sign of life was a gentle movement, a soft murmur.

I guessed there must be a mat underneath, otherwise it’d be too uncomfortable.

In the hills, only the smart ones sleep with a mat beneath them; otherwise, the rocks will give you backache for days.

With a woman on each arm, I didn’t feel shocked anymore.

It was almost funny how quickly the strange becomes normal. I felt older, as if the secrets of adulthood had been poured into my ears all at once.

Just like when I first started as a guide—the first trip was full of anxiety and surprise, but after a few more, nothing seemed unusual.

That’s just how things are between men and women.

In the city, maybe it’s different, but out here, everyone has their own arrangements. I remembered the sly winks the village uncles used to give when they talked about ‘business trips’ to Pune.

I crawled back until the slope hid me completely, then sat up.

My legs prickled with pins and needles, but my mind was strangely calm.

There was no point in staying here any longer.

Whatever I thought I would find, I had found too much already.

If I hurried back now, I’d reach home by midnight, and still have to get up early to cook for the guests.

Whatever Uncle Nilesh did, whatever those women wanted, it was none of my business—nor could it be.

That’s the way of the world here. If you stick your nose in other people’s affairs, you’ll lose your own head.

“As long as people are alive, that’s enough,” I thought.

My mother always said, “Jab tak saans hai, tab tak aas hai.”

Back home, I barely slept a wink all night.

I tossed and turned on my thin mattress. The power went out for a while, and I listened to the geckos clicking in the dark.

The shock to my mind made me question, again and again, why people live at all.

At dawn, I heard voices in the verandah.

A cup rattled on the tray, someone yawned, and I heard the low hum of early morning conversation—too serious for this hour.

“Didi Anya, you’re up so early.”

“Have you decided?”

“I… I’ve decided. Let me meet Uncle Nilesh today.”

“What you want is important, but there’s no rush. You should think it over.”

“I’ve thought it through, Didi Anya. Let me go.”

Their words floated in through the half-open window. The air was still heavy with the smell of last night’s rain.

Lying by the window, I saw the three guests in the verandah.

Didi Anya and Asha were talking. Yuvika was stretching—her silhouette was stunning from behind.

Her arms arched gracefully over her head, then she bent forward, touching her toes as if greeting the sun. For a moment, I felt like an outsider in my own home.

“This homestay looks simple, but the rooms are quite nice. Uncle Nilesh’s places are always special.”

Yuvika’s voice was crisp, the kind that could cut through a crowd at the railway station.

“The guide’s cooking isn’t bad either—all local ingredients.”

“Yuvika, come have some chai.”

The three women sat down, chatting in low voices.

Steam rose from their cups, the smell of strong ginger tea filling the air. I could hear the soft clinking of glass bangles, the rustle of silk petticoats.

After what I saw last night, I was sure Didi Anya was like a madam from an old kotha.

Ma used to tell stories of such women—beautiful, sharp-tongued, always in control, always one step ahead.

She was in charge of finding women for Uncle Nilesh, sending them one by one for his pleasure.

They weren’t like the women from cheap parlours—those were beneath Uncle Nilesh’s taste.

These must have been high-class women I’d never even heard of.

They wore perfume I couldn’t name, spoke of places I’d never seen, their laughter echoing with secrets.

Uncle Nilesh’s tastes were truly peculiar.

I waited a while inside, then pretended I’d just woken up and went out.

I stretched and yawned, rubbing my eyes the way I’d seen lazy heroes do in old films. “Arrey, sab log uth gaye? Should I make chai or straight to breakfast?”

“Oh, you’re all up early. Didn’t sleep well? I’ll make you breakfast.”

Didi Anya said, “We slept great. The air here is fresh, the temperature just right—I rarely sleep so soundly.”

She smiled politely, but her eyes never left my face. I felt like a schoolboy being sized up by the principal.

Yuvika added, “I’ve travelled a lot, but nowhere abroad matches the scenery and food here.”

Her accent had that strange mix of Delhi and Mumbai—worldly, but still attached to home.

I smiled shyly and folded my hands. “Thank you, madams. If you like it, stay as long as you want. Uncle Nilesh has been a great benefactor to me—you’re all welcome here.”

Asha tore off a piece of paratha, dipped it in achar, and winked at me. "Beta, this is better than any five-star hotel," she declared, making the others laugh.

The others laughed.

“Have some chai, relax. Whatever you’re planning today, we can talk over breakfast.”

Didi Anya said, “Eat up. Today, take those two over together.”

I nodded, though my stomach tightened at her words.