Amaal looked at him — a white kurta on jeans, the hem of the jeans folded over twice to fit.
“Good morning!” He called out.
“Good morning,” she smiled.
“Chai?”
“After gym.” She waved, making another mental note to start with a session on dressing and apparel for their candidates.
Amaal walked down the verandah and to the lone garage that served as the gym. She pushed open the metal door and froze. The music was death metal, amped up to full, machines making loud banging noises. Grunting noises punctuated the music. She looked around, counting heads. Only three men. And then her eyes fell on the fourth. Samar. He was on a treadmill, running as if ghosts were chasing him.
She nodded at the three men on different machines as she passed them, smiling. They were all KDP members.
Amaal climbed up on the only treadmill beside Samar’s and set her stuff inside the phone holder. His head did not turn to her, nor did he acknowledge her in words. Sweat suffused his face, his hair drenched. The thin cotton of his T-shirt too stuck to his chest, his loose shorts about to get stuck.
“Hi,” she called out, hitting start on her own machine. No response. His eyes were straight ahead on the glass window, looking out at the deserted road. Amaal twisted her mouth and started walking. She amped her speed to a brisk walk and went with the flow. The music made her leave her own earphones off. Time passed. She could see it pass on the screen of her machine. The sun rose fully and spread in front of her. The mango tree in front of her lit bright, raw green mangoes hanging low from its branches. Her mouth watered. She didn't remember from where, but she had a memory of eating raw mango slices with salt and chilli. She would ask Mom about it.
“Come at 5.30 tomorrow onwards.”
She startled from her sweet thought and turned furrowed brows to Samar. He was not looking at her.
“Are you talking to me?”
“Yes.”
“We say hi, good morning, how are you, first.”
“You look like you are ok. What’s the point in asking?”
“Seriously?”
“Come earlier at 5.30 or after 7 if you want to use the gym.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“Is there some rule for founders at 6.15 and the rest of us before or after?”
“No.”
“Then?”
He hit the button on his machine to slow down. Amaal saw him not even pant too hard as he went from running to jogging to walking in a heartbeat. His treadmill came to a halt, and he stepped off, pulling his napkin from the handle and walking away. Amaal hit STOP on her own machine and jumped off.
“Hey! Wait.” She followed him. “Why should I come before or after your workout? Do I spread germs or what?” Amaal yelled over the music. He went to the dock station and disconnected his mobile from the speakers. The gym went silent. Amaal stopped in front of him. But his head was still bent over his phone screen. She looked around. Everybody else had left.
“Samar?”
He glanced up from his phone and wiped his brow. He looked at her then, his eyes halting long enough to acknowledge her presence.
“Our members are respectful boys but they are still boys. They have not worked with women, forget gymming with them…”
“So what? I must change my timing so that they don’t…”
“Listen.” He cut her off. Amaal gritted her teeth but glared at him.
“If we lived in an ideal world, you would not need to move your timings. I am sorry, we do not live in an ideal world. If you are comfortable with them staring at you, then come in, by all means…”
