Page 127 of 12 Years
‘Come on, bro. So harsh. Okay, fine. It’s SaaS. Only, it’s not “software as a service”. It’s “sex as a service”. With some friendship and love thrown in, maybe,’ Mudit said and grinned.
I remained silent and looked at Mudit, shaking my head.
‘Don’t be so judgemental. For centuries, women and men have had this arrangement. They meet each other’s needs,’ Mudit said.
‘But I pay her?’
‘Which real-life girlfriend comes for free?’ Mudit said.
‘Come on, Mudit. We both know what this is. And I don’t want it.’
‘Whatdoyou want then? You can’t date because you won’t let anyone get close. You won’t do this because of some morality or principles. Are you going to be alone and celibate all your life?
‘Maybe.’
‘You’re kidding me,’ Mudit said, his voice tinged with irritation. ‘Pooja was five years ago, bro.’
‘Payal, not Pooja.’
‘See, I even get confused about her name sometimes. But man, you’re still hung up on her.’
‘I honestly want to move on and date someone. It’s just not happening.’
‘Then try my approach. Sugar it.’
‘Sugar is bad for you,’ I said, lifting my burger with both hands and taking a bite.
Dubai is part of the Arabian Desert, one of the driest places in the world. A desert, by definition, is an area where it barely rains. And yet, on that fateful day, it didn’t just rain in Dubai, it poured. It was almost as if the rain gods had decided to compensate for all the years of drought in a single day.
Because of the downpour, it took me thirty minutes just to find a cab to the airport. Then, somewhere along Sheikh Zayed Road, the rain turned torrential. Water beat against the windshield as traffic on the usually superfast highway came to a standstill.
‘I’ll miss my flight,’ I said.
‘Inshallah, you’ll make it,’ the cab driver said.
It took the cab three hours to finally reach the airport. I ran to the check-in counter, dragging my large suitcase behind me.
‘Relax, sir,’ the airline personnel manning the check-in counter said. ‘The flight is delayed.’
‘Oh. By how long?’ I said.
‘We don’t know that yet, sir. There’s a huge backlog of flights waiting for take-off. But we’re looking at a couple of hours, at the very least.’
‘What?’
‘We’ll keep you updated,’ she said, attaching baggage tags to my suitcase. ‘For now, you can proceed to the business-class lounge. Please wait for further announcements.’
The Emirates Business Class Lounge at Terminal 3 in Dubai is the size of a football field. It stretches across the entire terminal, a level above the boarding gates, with more than a dozen seating areas and multiple dining options.
Under normal circumstances, the lounge is a quiet, peaceful haven for travellers. But these were not normal circumstances. The whole place was in chaos. Passengers scurried around, trying to get flight updates from overwhelmed airlines staff, who, in turn, were busy working the phones. The flight-status display board showed most flights as either terribly delayed or cancelled. My own flight was delayed by five hours.
Thankfully, though, I found a sofa in a quiet corner of the lounge to relax and maybe take a nap in. But just as I was about to shut my eyes, I saw her.
Wow, I must be exhausted.I’m hallucinating.
She was sitting across from me, furiously typing on a laptop. I shut my eyes for a second.
Wait, did I actually see her?
