Radha Banerjee had fallen asleep at her own retirement party. Mitali Dey, the school principal and her much younger colleague, was embarrassed for Radha but grateful for herself. Radha had hired Mitali twenty six years ago in Frank Anthony Public School at Beniapukur. Then Mitali bypassed her seniors and became the principal when she was not yet fifty years. It did mean a bit of sycophancy and showing some cleavage to the aging ex-Principal, Mr. Green who was the last Anglo Indian bastion of the school. But that was worth it. She had another ten years to go before touching the retirement age. She is still an active, alert, fifty years.

Active enough, for example, that were the impossible to occur—that when Mitali would retire, that she would allow a party to be held in her honour—she would most definitely not fall asleep, not during the requisite slide show, not during the cutting of the Chocolate truffle cake, not during the presentation of the certificate and frame that they’d spend less than a lemon tea on.

Mitali was on the verge, however, of going forward to nudge Radha awake. But it turned out that Sudipto Dey, the biology teacher, would get that honour. He was sitting next to Radha. And so when Radha really lost it—let herself slump onto Sudipto’s shoulder—Mitali hung back and watched as a series of questions materialized and dimmed in her head, just like the slides Radha was now missing:

Why hadn’t Radha ever married?

Why didn’t I ever marry?

Did Radha ever have a thing for Sudipto?

Wait, is Radha—

She was. Dead. Because it turned out that even with a master’s degree in biology and twenty years’ experience of teaching the subject, Mr. Sudipto Dey could no more rescue Radha Banerjee from a massive stroke, that they had to cancel the remaining function and rush her to the hospital. The doctor on duty at the Emergency, wrote the death certificate.

Life is so uncertain. She had to live the moment.

But Mitali didn’t want to startle anyone at the shiny, antiseptic new fitness centre at Park Circus when she cautiously stepped into it the next week. She’d watched the gym, passing it every day on her way to work. True, she had daily scoffed at the notion that anyone, most of all she, would go there. For one thing, her housing complex  had a gym. Free. She’d never been inside the place but heard about it during the periodic meetings of the residents’ association. Some of them used it and continuously cribbed about the lack of facilities.

Yet here  she now was, about to make her own expenditure and join this completely superfluous gym. But that was the only way, she’d read in a magazine at the doctor’s office (another post-Radha errand): If you pay for a gym, you’ll go to the gym. Besides, the first month was free.

But gyms had changed. It wasn’t just barbells and those odd machines that seemed to place a dozen pulleys and gears between you and the weight—they had all that business at some of the fancy schools now. This new gym was like a dance club. Not just the music—and she’d have to see to that straightaway, get the volume turned down and the selection changed—but the lights, the mirrors, the colours. Television and LED screens everywhere,  a cooler by the exit, a bizarre-aquarium-worthy spectrum of bottled and canned drinks.

Maybe she would look into her housing complex’s gym after all. It was certainly convenient.

“No cheating!” came a voice from behind her, and she turned around, flustered that she’d made so little headway on the questionnaire. The receptionist had asked her to fill it out while she went and fetched a “personal trainer” for an introductory tour.

“Ms. Mitali,” the boy addressed her, although he wasn’t a boy, of course, not now. He was a responsible adult, had a job—personal trainer—and a name: Rotnoraj Dutta. Rotno had passed out of Class XII, a decade back. Mitali had an excellent memory, never forgot a name.

“ Rotno ! How’s college? Are you on break?”

“Graduated.” He smiled. “About seven years back, I’d say.”

Was she still capable of blushing? That is, did she colour, Mitali wondered? She knew what blushing felt like, of course. She just was no longer sure what she looked like when she did. But Rotno made no sign of noticing; he just kept smiling. Ten years out of school—out of college—and looking well, she thought. She’d never have pegged him for this life—he seemed to be the promised “trainer”—but she’d learned that one could never tell. Rotno had begged her for extra funds for the musical night on Saraswati Puja when she was overseeing the cultural committee. At least she thought that’s how she remembered him.

“I saw you looking around here, Ma’am,” Rotno said, “and I thought, that’s just like me, that time I was taking a test outside your office. And you saw me looking around and thought I was cheating.”

“Were you?” Oh, Rotno, she thought. You may think you have the drop on me, but you don’t, none of you ever did or do. She smiled, but stopped when she saw Rotno involuntarily flinch.

“No,” he said. “I mean, I wish I had. I got a bad grade if I remember.”

“Well,” Mitali replied, having learned long ago how to apply ice after the sting, “I certainly don’t.”

And then Rotnoraj Dutta blushed.

Mitali went ahead and signed up for a full year. Membership plus six months of personal training services. How could she not? In addition to the free month, they happened to be having a 50-percent-off special that very day. It wouldn’t have made sense to not join, and what was the purpose of going to this fancy gym if she didn’t try some of the fancier things? If young Rotno could show her how to, say, climb onto, or into, that standing eggbeater thing or whatever it was and stay balanced, that would be lovely.

Rotno had told her that she didn’t really need to finish that initial questionnaire, but she’d told him straight out that her goal at the gym was improving her health. And then he’d asked how old she was—quite impertinent of him, she’d thought, but he’d waited for an answer, not looking the least ashamed, and she’d finally figured out that he had some professional reason to need to know this, that it would affect how he shaped her fitness regimen.

Fifty, she’d finally told him, finding it fun, even necessary to joke. And when he said, Wow. She said, Fifty-one now, and when he said, quite earnestly, You look fabulous for fifty, she hadn’t really been able to say anything at all in reply. She couldn’t really remember if he’d been a handsome boy—he was handsome enough now—because she never really noticed that, not about any of them. There were so many years of so many students, and other than names, the most information she could ever really store about each was “good” or “bad.” Rotno had been good.

She knew people had wondered as much of her: all those years, unmarried. But she wasn’t gay. She was hard to please, is what she was. It made her an excellent principal and a lousy date. There had been two or three men over the years who had interested her in a specific sort of way, and there had been Abir, a merchant navy guy who was thick with her for a couple of years, but in general, the problem with men her age is that they wanted more of a pet than a partner. Someone to tend to, a bit of warmth next to them on the couch while they watched TV.

Rotno made her buy new sneakers. A ridiculous expense. The soles on the ones she had were hardly worn, even after however many years it had been. But Rotno seemed serious, and so she followed his advice, bought the sneakers. And the stretchy clothes. And even, on occasion, the energy drinks. There was one in particular he recommended, and she acquiesced. At Rs. 125,, she wasn’t going to spring for one every day, but it was nice to see it glowing there in the cooler each day as she left. A treat, ready when she wanted one.

Rotno  was kind, thoughtful, assertive when appropriate during the training sessions. Always complimentary, and not falsely so. Just last week, he’d mentioned that she was acquiring good tone, and even though it had taken her a bit too long to figure out what he’d meant—surely he wasn’t talking about her humming? her tan? her hair?—she’d accepted his kind words gladly. If she were thirty years younger, she’d be trying to figure out a way to get him to ask her on a date.

Good thing she wasn’t, because he figured it out all on his own. She wasn’t even quite sure if it was a date, in fact. But here she was, seated in the front seat of Kala Mandir and watching Naseeruddin Shah perform in Einstein. Rotno had got bunch of his friends, two girls and one boy of his age.  Luckily, none of them were her former students. And if they wondered at her tagging along, they thoughtfully breathed not a whit about it, not even allowing their faces to silently betray what must have been their utter mystification. After the play they went for dinner to Mocambo. All of them had different cocktails. Mitali took a ‘Long Island Ice Tea’, while Rotno had a couple of ‘ Jeam Beam’.

Rotno had had an unpleasantly busy life since leaving high school. He’d gotten a girl friend in college and she had got pregnant. Her father threatened him to put the police on his trail and get him arrested on charges of rape. The girl took sides with her family, got an abortion and cut off all ties. Rotno, to escape the social trauma, joined the army and left the army after short service to start the gym.  Had found exercise was his salvation. Had found all his old friends had gone away from his dying home city.

And then, had found his former chemistry teacher and now principal walking into his gym one day. Imagine that, he suggested, and she’d tried to. She’d tried to imagine how it all ran together, how it could possibly be true that, after twenty seven years in education. She found herself sitting in a month, not even two kilometres from her house in a restaurant she’d never tried (never would have tried), at a table for two with a man she’d never, ever, have asked out on a date. It was a date.

It wasn’t the evenings out with his friends at the Park Street restaurants, when she finally was able to detect some indecent curiosity, or confusion, behind their otherwise blank faces and smiles. It wasn’t Mitali’s friends, either, not the ones in city—indeed, she’d not quite mustered the courage to introduce him around—nor her real friends.

It was Rotno’s birthday. She went for the party. His friends had come. She heard whispers. “ Look she is his new mom.” Another sympathised over a beer, “ Rotno’s parents died quite a few years back in an accident. He is an orphan. Poor dude.” Whilst another boy prophesised over a drag smelling of ganja , “ He is a gold digger.” It got late. They were all looking at her strangely. Rotno danced with her to the Maria song of Ricky Martin. Rotno clasped her tightly and set his tongue into her mouth. He kissed her again and again, flooding her memories. That night she slept over. Next day was a Sunday. After a decade she experienced an orgasm. Then they there naked in each other’s arms. Rotno’s exercised hips were sturdy and strong. She squeezed them tight with her thighs. We’re on the couch, because the chair has arms.

“We’ll roll,” he had said.

“Sounds fun,” she said. “Let’s try.” He sat bare in the chair. Tried to keep it still by holding onto the wall.

She shook her head. “My legs won’t fit.”

He dropped his arms over the sides. “Like this. Come on Mitali, am your trainer.”

“Then I won’t be able to move,” she cautiously said.

“Well, we can’t have that.” He went to the couch. He sat, legs together, and she slid on.

The couch was against a window. Over his shoulder, through the open window, is a rooftop. A wrought iron bench, potted plants. There were no flowers.

“ Oh Ma,” he said. “ Jai Maa Tara.” He didn’t even believe in God. Otherwise he wouldn’t have made his girlfriend pregnant.

He turned on his back to admire her breasts. She slapped him playfully on the side of his naked buttock, to force him to return to her previous posture. Her heavy breasts were round and swollen , drooping a bit with age, their nipples dark.

He turned around and tightly embraced her , two bodies entwined.  Two naked bodies with her bulging belly resting on his flat stomach. Not a picture perfect on copulation. She had to become fitter and more lean, she reminded herself.

Honey, need a favour. “ Rotno asked with his eight inches being stroked by her.

She knew it had to come. Sooner or later. She encouraged him to continue.

“ We have to buy a multi bench gym with benches. It costs around Rs. 2.5 Lakhs. It’s the most in-thing and none of the gyms have it over here, save some of the star hotels. I have Rs. 1 Lac with me. If you loan me the balance, I can buy. Of course I will return it. It will give me the competitive edge.”

“ When do you want the cheque ?” she simply asked for clarity.

“ Anytime at your convenience, Mitali. Will return it in six months. No one gives loan to a start-up in India.”

“ I will drop it to your gym tomorrow post school.”

“ Great. Thanks a lot. I will whatsapp you the name of our gym- I mean the name in which the account is done. “

 “Of course.”

The next payment request came in another three months. It was still a paltry amount of Rs. 1 Lakh. Mitali had not much use of money but it made her plan. Perhaps she should talk with Rotno for having a stake in the gym. A formal one with 30% or 40% equity. Or else, all that is required is  to cancel her gym membership, hug Rotno tight, kiss him extra close, one final time. She did suggest to him the notion over a drink on one evening. She could not proceed much as he had got her an assortment  of lingerie from Victoria’s Secret that night as a present. Her fifty second birthday was tomorrow and she was revelling in a g-string with Rotno’s touch all over her.

Mitali pushed Rotno indulge in some luxuries. He was the only morning in her staid life. A new wardrobe. A new sneaker. Rotno asked her for another Rs. 1 Lac before Puja. This time she knowingly refused. It would be fun to note his reaction. Predictably he became cold. Excuses for not having further dates cropped up. Though he was always there at the gym and guided her well.

One more request for loan before Diwali. Mitali refused again. They have not touched each other for almost a month now. “ Bitch,’ he hissed, “ I have recorded some of our scenes. Do you know how difficult  is it for me to have orgasm by looking at you ? Now I will release the clips on social media. You will be finished, Mitali.”

Mitali feigned a smile. The street dog was barking. She had this foreboding. She  was sure lot of her neighbours, colleagues and known people have seen him with her. And they would love to see the clips. ‘ Principal affair with her ex-student- Explicit videos,’ is a sure shot viral. The Police would do a lip service investigation. The society exults in schadenfreude.

She caught his hand after gym the next day, a Tuesday, and put on her charming smile and put in a cheque of Rs. 1 Lac in his hip pocket. Rotno squealed with joy. “ Why don’t we have dinner ? Like old times ?” he asked. “ I thought you were only after my money, Rotno ?” she replied.

“ Don’t be a nerd. Do you think I ever recorded our encounters ? Where will it place me ? All my women customers will go off if they come to know of any dirty videos.” Rotno defended his earlier threat.

“ I have always trusted you. But why do you keep on needing money ?” Mitali prodded.

The price sensitivity, how few of his top clients were stolen by a nearby gym, the relentless pressure of running expenses, refusal of banks to offer loans to star-ups were explained in detail to Mitali.

“ I have given you almost Rs. 5 Lacs in a year. Why don’t you make me a shareholder in your gym ? May be a Director. My thought process anyway will always be clearer than yours. Also our relationship would get a formal status.”

“ Great idea, Mitali. How about discussing it over dinner on this Saturday ?”

“ Sure, why not ? By the way the date on the cheque is of next Monday. I have a Fixed Deposit maturing on that day. Can I host the dinner at my place ? I will make a new dish of your favourite mushrooms. ”

“ And don’t forget Jean Beam, my other love.”

 

“ This time lets make it Jack Daniels.”

 

The next three afternoons were hectic for Mitali. Her knowledge of Bio-Chemistry in practical situations were tested. She had not forgotten to call her lawyer in between to draw up an agreement on a e-stamp paper.

 

Rotno came to her straight from gym. He was sweaty. She wanted him to click a close up of them on his mobile. He obliged and Mitali kissed him. He should take a shower and change into the new shorts she had bought for him. She would come in a moment to lather him. As soon she heard the pitter-patter sound from the washroom, she unlocked his mobile. It was easy. The pattern was the logo of his gym and she had memorised it by looking over his shoulder. A quick tour to gallery and there was the video of the birthday party. Maybe he had set it to record the party. She had not noticed all the gadgets in his drawing room. Their kissing, a shot of her bare bust, even the mole on the side of her vagina. She kept the phone back after deleting the video and went to put soap on the hunk.

 

“ Made a new cocktail with Jack Daniels. Taste it,” she said after he had changed to his new Nike shorts. She was wet from the shower and removed her clothing to don a bathrobe.

 

“ Honey, its heavenly,” he said after sipping.

 

“ A Japanese cocktail, Hachi. Bourbon, which today is Jack Daniels, earthy mushroom infusion, sweet rice wine, pepper and lemon,” she proudly stated. She did not add that the mushrooms were of a variety known as ‘Amanita Verna’, known as the ‘Fool’s Mushroom’ and had amatoxin, a poison. She had ‘ Amatoxin and its effects on physiologic target’ as her dissertation in Masters. Lateritic region on West Bengal, which covers Birbhum and West Midnapore has this variety. Only the santhals who live in the sal forest area of Birbhum and privy to this wild poisonous variety. Mitali had to pay a packet to source this.

 

“ Have never tasted anything like this before. Can I have a refill ?” The refill was a bit stronger but Rotno loved it. Mitali put forth the contract before the hallucinatory effects would start. Rotno tried to read it, but couldn’t concentrate. ‘ What is it ?’ he asked. ‘ Nothing much. A listing of the loans I have given you with a repayment clause of two years. My accountant wanted this signed by you. There is a law on angel tax and I can get some benefit from Income Tax on angel investment,” she wanted to make it complex. He signed on all the pages where it was crossed. Mitali had signed beforehand.

 

She took a glass of a drink of the same colour. It had bourbon and wine laced with lemon. And then she heated the dish of sautéed mushrooms with garlic. She not prepared any main food. The dal and rice of yesterday was there. Now she had to do the difficult act.

 

She had put on his plate only those many mushrooms which should have 30 grams of Amanita phalloides. The cocktail had 10 grams. Slowly once the level reaches 50 grams after three drinks, the tissues would get injured of his liver and kidneys. Mitali hoped Rotno would stop after the second drink. He did not and asked her to get another plate of sautéed mushrooms. She dropped the decanter containing the cocktail and it spilled all over. Rotno was angry at the mess. It was then he rushed to the washroom to puke.

 

She was standing with a wet towel and compressed his face. He mentioned a queasiness and probably its better to meet tomorrow. She ensured he carried his gym clothes in a paper bag and he stumbled to go out and catch a yellow taxi by the corner. That was the last she had seen him.

 

The police found him on Monday as the gym was closed on Sundays. Another flaw in the business which Mitali had to correct. One of Rotno’s staff got curious and went to his house. The stench was overwhelming. The autopsy did not reveal much as the toxicity dissolved after causing the damage. Enough time had passed. Police did come to see her with the last cheque. She told them of the money she had loaned to help an ex-student to be a successful entrepreneur. She would take control of the gym and clear all the pending dues personally  in loving memory of her student.

 

The receptionist was of much help to Mitali after getting a 10% stake. After a wait of a year, she stepped into the gym. It was quite a cheap leveraged buy-out.

 

Rapturous young love, outdoor excursions, fathering and mothering a family—that sort of thing would be left to other, longer—and altogether ordinary—lifetimes.

.