6.1 Club 33

Tuesday, 20^th of July, was a rainy day. Roads full of water puddles. Muaz dismounted from his bike seeing Bilqis Adam going home with her classmates.

“How was the paper?” asked Muaz. It was their Mid Term Exams and she carried an instrument box and a pad. She completed the paper and stepped out at nine in the morning.

“I believe I did alright. It was a bit difficult Maths Paper,” she quit her friends and joined Muaz.

“Difficult! Is that why you came out so early?” he mocked.

“It’s the multiple-choice paper.”

“The one you close your eyes and tick,” he said, “Look! They made me a tour guide now.”

“Is it a promotion?”

“Yes, with a salary increment.”

Rain came down banging on the school-goers on the roads. In the middle of Lily Magu, they found no gate or eave to take shelter. Bilqis stood soaked to skin in her flip-flops. That tiny uniform frock revealed every inch of skin from the back and front. She wore a pale, full figure bra and lace underwear that came visible through white georgette. Muaz turned the corner hoping to take Bilqis to his place which was the closest.

“Hey Muaz!” waved Hassan Zahir who stood in shelter under a gate portal and getting showered in his trousers. He noticed the girl with Muaz and just froze his eyes on her.

“I am coming in thirty minutes,” called Muaz and carried on in the rain and puddles of water.

Reaching home then few blocks away, he steered the girl to the backyard where the residing people stayed in jute sheds erected here and there under the trees. Not always a friendly crowd and mostly men occupied these quarters at that time. They paused under a banana leaf in their wet clothes.

“Hey! Come in!” called Shina from her door. She got them into shelter and offered a towel to dry up.

It was dark in the sky. Rumbles of thunder came down with lightning, strong wind and escalating rain. A scaffolding from a construction site opposite to his gate by the corner came tumbling down. It was formerly a café called Welcome. They were erecting a six-storey building on the site.

For a moment, they took the privacy of the shed to kiss and cuddle on Shina’s bed. He was mesmerised by the size of her tits who was then wrapped in a threadbare sarong. Shina sat in the room doing her tailoring and ignored the couple totally. Rain never ceased that day.

Next day, Hassan Zahir asked, “Who was that girl with you yesterday?”

“My girlfriend,” he proudly announced.

“Oh shit!” cried Hassan, “Really! She is a matured woman! Do you know her age? She’s twenty-six!”

“No. She’s a sixth-grader.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! SES is a private school and they don’t care about an age group as long as they collect fees. She is a badi…a prostitute!”

“I don’t believe you,” protested Muaz who never asked her about her age.

“How do you come know these matured women twice your age? Where is this other woman? Nisha?”

“She got drunk and knocked on the road,” Muaz carelessly spoke, “She gets drunk very fast.”

“How do you know?”

“I gave her booze. She tells me that she wants to go to a resort. She asked but I can’t. Maybe you can.”

“Of course, I can take her to LH. You tell her and introduce me.”

“I will.”

 

Independence Day 1976 – Muaz was surprisingly called off from the trip to LH; an exclusive Scandinavian resort of Club 33 in North Malé Atoll. The managers and the senior staff were supposed to leave on a transfer boat departing at two from the waterfront. He suspected that Nisha was going with Hassan Zahir. He wasn’t worried for he had a date with Bilqis Adam.

When Muaz turned to Marine Drive on his bike, he saw Hassan Zahir dragging his bicycle escorting Nisha to the transfer. He dropped a foot on the promenade and watched. Nisha wore a blue frock, sunglasses and bags.

All of a sudden, like a bombshell, a guy on a bike accelerated to cut in front of them.

“How dare you take my wife to your resort! She is my wife!” he dropped his bike and pushed Hassan who almost stumbled over his bicycle. “Go home! Nisha! You go home now!”

“I’m going to a resort,” rebuked Nisha, “I am with him,” and she grabbed Hassan’s elbow.

“Don’t touch him! Turn around and go home!”

“I am not going home!” said Nisha, “I’m not your wife!” Hassan flipped his arm to detach her grip from his elbow.

Nisha’s ex grabbed her by the throat, “You’re my wife! You do as I say! Nisha! You are not behaving properly!” She dropped her bags. She couldn’t breathe.

Meanwhile, office staffers on the boat debarked to watch. People crowded quickly in the waterfront. Nisha and Goat, her ex, grappled in the middle of the road. He pushed her back and forth, tackled her to the ground. He grabbed a leg and dragged his woman on the sandy road.

“Who the hell do you think you are going with?” he continued to scold at Hassan.

“I don’t even know her!” Hassan retorted totally caught in a shocking happenstance he wasn’t expecting.

“I recorded your conversation. You gave booze to her. You took her to a guesthouse. She was drunk.”

“It wasn’t me,” he protested waving his hands, “Madiri took her to a guesthouse and gave her booze.”

“You! You! And now you want to take her to your nudist resort!”

It was an embarrassing moment for Hassan.

Majid called, “Hassan! Climb aboard! It is time to leave!” Hassan did not know which way to move.

Goat pushed Nisha into a narrow lane. She was still resisting and they argued all the way home.

It was one of those typical ‘zuwab’ or brawls that took place on any ordinary day and usually couples ran to the road to exhibit these quarrels. Nobody bothered to stop them. Not even the cops would stop them.

Finally, the boat left to LH without her.

Around five, Majid called Muaz and said, “Bring her on the Fletcher. She called and Hassan didn’t want to talk. I have told her to come. You come with her and bring Jörgen with you. He’s coming too.”

“Where is she?” he asked.

“She’s in Henvèru boatyard.”

“What about Goat?”

“Forget him! If someone wants to come, she will come. She is a divorced woman. An independent woman. Goat has no right to stop her.”

Muaz called a captain and got the Fletcher ready. He and Jörgen climbed aboard from the promenade, took off out of the breakwater and entered the inlet from an eastern kandima or passage to touch the shore.

She was waiting there in the blue frock with only a handbag. Her knees scratched. There were those broken trawlers, wooden boats and sewer around. Smell here was horrible.

“I’m glad to see you!” she grabbed his hand and climbed the boat.

“Nish! Why do you want to come?” he asked.

“He left to a resort,” replied Nisha lighting a fag, “Who is Majid?” Goat was an electrician and often called to resort work.

“Malé Office Manager. And this is Jörgen, Station Representative.”

Six in the evening when they reached LH. Nisha was given accommodation among the female staffers on the trip.

Hassan said, “Three office girls are playing in the room. Room Number 34. Come with me, have a peek!”

The lights came on in the paths cut through the low vegetation. Beachfront bungalows built of rocks and fitted with lattice windows. If the curtains were drawn, you could easily peek into the room.

Like he said those girls were naked, six of them, getting ready for dinner and taking shower one by one in the fully tiled bathroom. Muaz stood right next to Hassan and peeping through the same window.

Abruptly, they heard voices of some guests in a room behind come out. Hassan dashed for cover towards the path behind the bungalows. Muaz jumped on his back and grabbed a hold around his neck like a honey-bagger. Hassan ran with the weight of Muaz on his back.

He got very angry once he ran into clear ground, “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know what to do!” cried Muaz.

“You have to run!”

“That did not occur to me.”