Chapter 46

Arif had a moment of heart-stopping panic as the engines of the Airbus began to power up in preparation for take-off. Then he regained control of himself, breathing deeply. He realised he hadn't stopped to think for even a minute about what he was doing. Flying to San Francisco to infiltrate a religious sex cult and try to get my wife back from the clutches of a tantric madman, he thought. It sounded like the plot of a bad bestseller. Or maybe a very good one. Same difference.

He looked at the passengers sitting beside him. The seat right next to him was empty, but the one beyond that had an elderly Indian woman. She was knitting something small and woollen, probably a baby sweater. He wondered if she would start talking to him about the importance of popping Ayurvedic health capsules. She looked that type.

He had scanned the First Class section anxiously when he boarded. He didn't know how he would react if he saw Sarla and Myanmar. Then he remembered that Lena had told him they were on a different flight. That was good. That gave him a few hours to figure out how he would behave when he did see her. And how she would react when she saw him. After all, Sarla was the reason he was embarking on this crazy 'mission', wasn't she?

He wasn't so sure. Maybe she was just an excuse. Maybe he needed to do this to get out of his skin, to have an adventure, to try to figure out what to do with the rest of his life. Who was it who said that suicide and sex are the only two moments when human beings achieve complete self-awareness? Probably Arif Merchant, Esquire.

The pilot's voice announced that they were about to take off, asked everyone to fasten their seatbelts, etc, and Arif felt the powerful engines revving up.

A woman slipped into the seat beside him. He glanced at her casually then did a double-take. It was Lena.

"You didn't think I was going to let you go off to big bad 'Frisco all by yourself, did you?"

He grinned. "Come on. Why don't you just admit that once wasn't enough? You had to come back for second helpings."

She shrugged, taking out a cigarette even though the No-Smoking signs were flashing urgently. The old lady knitting beside her looked at Lena disgustedly as she lit up. Lena blew a small cloud of smoke in her direction. The old lady swatted it away furiously, then pressed the buzzer for the stewardess.

"Actually I'm not really into second servings. Either I fast or I feast." She squeezed his thigh. "I came back for the whole seven-course meal."

Suddenly, Arif didn't care about the reason he was going to San Francisco. He was just glad he was going.