Inky Nights was the last chapter posted here. I am posting the rest of the blog chapters here after which I will continue with the new updates.
Chapter - Kachoris and Jalebis
After being confined for so many days – years – in the house, legs shackled by proprieties, shoulders burdened with responsibilities, throats choked with unsaid words, her lungs stifled with expectations; this air, the blinding sunshine; under her feet, the green running down the vast open lands; the cool breeze caressing her cheeks, ruffling her hair, all of it felt invigorating and refreshing. She was finally breathing fresh air.
A band of parrots shrieking cut across the still air, they flew overhead making her look up, her hands framing her eyes against the sun. Tara was leaning against a pine tree, waiting for her husband to get her some kulhad chai and chips. The wedding was a week away and they had started early with the intention of enjoying nature and spending some time alone together away from their family.
Wind blew rustling her silk sari, and she drew her legs to her chest, her bangles jingling in the process. The more Tara spent, moving around, observing people and place, the more she became aware of the ugly monotony of her life. She saw travelers with their backpacks and wondered how it felt to travel all around without any care in the world. Would she be ever this free to express herself, to go after her dreams? But before that what was her dream?
‘Aapki garm garm kulhad ki chai,’ Dev came, putting a break to her wandering thoughts.
She smiled as she moved her bare hands to hold the cup when he warned, ‘It’s hot,’ and she picked up the end of her pallu, putting it around the earthen pot, and accepted the hot steaming tea. It smelled of cardamom and ginger, very appealing to the senses. Dev sat next to her, leaning against the tree, his arms brushing hers; stretching out his legs and enjoying the scenery in front of him and occasionally he turned to look at Tara and drink in her beauty. Decked in a dark blue sari, blue like the veil of night, the silver moon in its border, she looked elegant and when she removed her gaze from pensive meditation of the surroundings, and met his eyes, he wondered if he would ever know what went beyond those eyes. Tara was anything but transparent. There was a maturity and intelligence in her eyes, had always been; it was what made her beauty elusive.
‘What are you thinking?’ He asked.
‘About life and other things.’ She said blowing over the tea before sipping it. He slurped his own too.
‘What about life?’
‘Just that we keep going after things, pursuing endlessly things that we perhaps have no need for. Perhaps this is just enough.’
‘What this?’
‘This. Having able to sit in the lap of nature, sip tea, and discuss theories with your loved ones.’
‘Maybe. But this kind of pleasure must have its expiry date as well, don’t you think? Maybe this utopian world is what you think you love and need but a month and this would start being tiresome as well.’
‘Hmm. Maybe. But I don’t think I can ever get tired of this quietness, this distraction free, disturbance free world. There’s nothing suffocating my existence here. I can be like a free flowing river, if I want.’
‘There’s no such thing as a free flowing river. A river, she meets obstacles everywhere. But her persistence is such, it weathers all stones in her path.’
‘I feel released. Perhaps this is how a seed feels when it has finally found its way out of darkness, when it has sprouted.’ She said looking straight. There was a group of young boys and girls. Perhaps, a college trip.
‘My household has it been too burdening, Tara?’ Dev asked.
‘Our. Our household. Yes. Sometimes.’
He did not say anything to that so she asked, ‘Are you angry?’
‘No. I’d rather you express than keep it all inside.’
Then because Tara had nothing to speak and the college group reminded her of her younger sister, she suggested calling Geet.
When Geet received Tara’s call, she was standing outside a clinic, her husband collecting medicine from the attached pharmacy store. It was a video call invite which she disconnected and quickly typing a message of being unavailable, she sent it to her sister.
It was noon time and Maan had come during the lunch hour to take her to the doctor. The fever hadn’t subsided the next day as well and she was feeling extremely weak. The doctor had checked her eyes, asked her to show her tongue so she had stuck her colorless tongue out, as he scribbled something on the prescription pad. Since it was a good opportunity, she complained of body aches, especially leg ache when she went to bed at night.
‘Hmm.,’ the doctor said.
‘Have you been skipping meals? Sleeping well?’
‘Get a blood test.’
The blood test was fixed for the next morning. Right now, she stood against the wall, dispassionately looking at things around her. There was a line of ants on the wall next to where she stood, soldiers busy in their pursuit. A halwai shop was across the street, a crowd of people around it eating, some waiting as the worker fried puris in a black huge iron kadahi. The sight of food made her feel queasy and she removed her gaze away from it. It was lunchtime so the roads were busy too. At the sides of the roads were compost heaps, the cows and dogs scouring them for some food. There was an apartment across the road too. In one of the balconies, she could see an orange faded flag, the image of Lord Hanuman printed in the middle of it and Jai Shree Ram written over the cloth; it was fluttering with the wind. The same wind caressed her skin too and she felt goose pimples break out. The wind was warm and it was a hot day and yet she felt cold and shivered.
When he was done buying medicines, he instructed her about the timing and doses. Then dropping her off at home, he left for office. The next day she went to give blood. The test reports came in the evening. He didn’t go collect it for he thought he would do it the next day but they mailed him the report anyways.
Haemoglobin low. It showed. He wasn’t Bio literate so googled about it. It was low indeed. Beetroot, leafy vegetables, pomegranate, he googled all the sources of haemoglobin. The doctor next day said, it seems calcium is low too. That’s why your leg aches. Eat plenty. Drink milk. Are you non veg? Do you eat curd?
Maan kept complaining about her negligence towards health all through the ride to home. Geet was guilty for causing him to spend so much on doctor fees, tests and medicines. His scolding only caused her tears to flow freely. But before he could see her tears, she had wiped them away. She decided she would pay him the money for the medical bill, later.
At home he made Khichdi, and made her eat it with lots of curd. There were a lot of medicines to consume too. At night, she felt tired, but when he smoothed her hair softly, crooning into her ears words of comfort and strength, she felt a lot better. The paying him money for tests and medicines felt like a criminal thing to do when she felt his concern.
‘I am sorry,’ she still said. ‘For falling ill.’
‘Hmm. Now eat properly and get well soon. I am missing our arguments.’ She smiled into his chest and said something, his chest reverberating with her voice and making him all hot and ticklish.
When he said, ‘What?’ he got no response for she was already asleep.
Geet woke up looking pale and disheveled, and found herself in the arms of her hu…no in her own arms she found a pillow, the cover of it light purple, with small orchids sewn diligently along its lining. The pillow was crumpled under her hands, its crispness now marred with frowns and wrinkles.
The sleep slowly evaporating from her eyes, she exhaled a sigh of relief.
In her dream, she had comfortably snuggled into the arms of her husband. It had felt extremely comforting, the rise and falls of her body smoothly merging into his; her softness fixing against his hard muscles. She reckoned it was this pillow she was sleeping against and which had conformed to the contours of her body.
Disappointed, the reason for which she couldn’t place, she felt but more than that she felt relieved at not having to face the same kind of embarrassment she had felt last time when she had woken up in his arms. The ignominy of always scooting closer to him in sleep! Hah! Would only boost that cocky man’s ego, Geet thought and pushed the hair away from her face and stretching her arms over her head took a long, loud yawn.
Of course, that’s the very moment, her exceedingly handsome and impeccably dressed, not-a-hair-out-of-place husband chose to stroll inside the room. Dressed in sand color trousers and crisp white shirt. She quickly shut her wide gaping mouth close and put her hands down in her lap. He hadn’t worn a belt and his feet were bare. There! She had found a fault in his impeccable appearance.
‘You’re awake,’ he stated mindlessly while adjusting the mesh strap of his watch. Turned to the mirror he wasn’t looking at her as he closed the strap of his watch. Then giving himself a once all over in the mirror, he turned to her.
‘Good that you woke up on your own. I wasn’t able to decide whether to disturb you or not.’ ‘Fever gone down?’ Then, without a warning he bent close to her and brought his palm to touch her forehead. ‘Hmm. The temperature is down. How’s your headache?’
There was a dust of biscuits lining his lips. Sharply outlined lips. Some had fallen over his chin too. Unconsciously, she counted the flakes. One dot. His lips were the shape of a bow. Two dots. Three.
‘Hmm?’ He made a sound and she removed her eyes from his lips. ‘Headache?’ He repeated.
‘Mmhmm,’ she made some incoherent noise from her throat.
‘What?’ He cocked his brows. She gave his shoulders a slight shove; at the same time scooted away from him, thus gaining some distance. Confusion replaced concern in his eyes.
‘What??’ When he still remained uncomprehending, she said, her mouth covered with her palms, ‘Move, if you don’t want your nostrils to be offended.’
‘Seems you’re feeling good!’ And he chuckled while she removed herself from the bed, making her way to the bathroom. She still felt weak on her legs and her head felt heavy but she wasn’t burning at least. Water dripping from her face when she stepped back into the room, he wasn’t there. Finding a dry towel, she was wiping the water off her face, looking at her reflection. How shabby, she thought.
She had not taken a bath for the past two days, had only changed clothes and now she felt extremely dirty. Her hair was oily and untidy, the grease sticking to her fingers as she slid a lock of hair down between her two fingers. She shuddered at the thought of the kind of impression she made on him. What a disadvantage it is to fall ill; to be unbathed, have a foul smelling mouth as your husband peers down at you looking immaculately clean and with concern floating in his eyes.
If her elder sister would have been present here and been privy to her thoughts, she sure would have reminded her of a statement she had made long ago while they had been bickering over Geet’s bad habit of skipping baths.
‘Haan nahi nahati main jaun, mujhe koi fark nahi padta koi kya soche! Shadi ke baad bhi yahi karungi. I am not changing for anyone. Bhai, mujhe koi fark nahi padta. Nahi mujhe kisi par impression nahi banana. Husband ho toh ghar par raho. Aap hi Dev Jiju ke bare sochiye. Main toh kabhi kisi ke bare kabhi bh nahi sochungi.’
She had just freed her hair from its leather tie when he stepped back into the room, a tray of breakfast in his arms. Keeping it in on the bed, he said, ‘I woke up late today so couldn’t cook much. Here, eat this and have your medicine.’
There was coffee and loaves of bread and boiled eggs. Her appetite didn’t show much enthusiasm. She had been on Khichdi, roasted potatoes or soup for the last two days. No wonder the breakfast looked bland. But the fact that he had cooked despite being in a hurry, she didn’t wish to disrespect his efforts. ‘Thank you,’ she said and turned back to the mirror. She combed the front of her hair but apprehending the tough and painful task and too lazy to untangle the knots that lay ahead and underneath, she pulled her matted hair into a low bun, fixing it with a clip. She still hadn’t mastered the art of making smooth hair buns. Her sister, though, was a pro.
She was pulling the hair strands from the comb, when he said, ‘I have to go. Have your breakfast and medicine in front of me, so that I can be at peace.’ Making a tiny fur ball of the broken hair, she kept it under a bottle- his bottle – of deodorant.
‘I think I will take a bath first.’
‘First eat no. Phir karte rehna jo mann.’ He said putting the laptop back in his bag.
‘I feel too dirty. And I will pray and then eat.’
‘Puja path karte rehna once you get well. First eat. Where’s my purse?’ He left the room while she pulled up the mattress to find his purse there. Picking it up as well as his belt and laptop bag and balancing all of it with the coffee mug in her hand, she left the room to find him in the drawing room. Pulling his socks over his feet, he looked up as she kept all of his belongings next to him. Then taking a seat next to him, she sipped her coffee.
‘Aapne nasta khaya?’ She asked.
Pulling the knot of his shoes tight, he answered, ‘Haan sabse pehle nasta hi kiya. I was really hungry. Now go run and get your breakfast here. Drinking coffee in an empty stomach will only cause gastric problems. Go, Geet. Don’t make that face. You’re making me late.’
She pouted and left to get breakfast. Once she was finally eating the bread and eggs, he looked at her in satisfaction.
‘Bhabhi had called,’ He said then. ‘She was asking after you. Your mother had called too, last night. But you were sleeping. She didn’t talk to me much. Something tells me, she doesn’t like me much.’
Geet’s hand paused midway and she said, ‘Why would you think so?’ Then tearing off the bread with her teeth, she continued, ‘Maybe, she doesn’t know you much and hasn’t met you many times that’s why she doesn’t talk properly.’
‘Maybe. Your father is different though. We get along better.’
‘Oh. My father has a very opinion of you.’
‘Is it so?’
She nodded as she swallowed a large piece of boiled egg and then grimaced. ‘Kuch swad hi nahi lag raha!’ She complained with her mouth full. ‘Everything is tasting bland. It’s like I have lost my taste.’
‘Hmm. It happens after fever.’
‘I want something spicy. Mummy used to give us lime pickles along with roti or paratha to improve taste. Mazaa aata tha. Baoji se keh kar we used to get samosas and kachodis. Ah…those were the days. There was this Pandit Bhandar’s samosa. Kya sahi samose bikte the vahan. Such awesome samosas the man used to sell.’
He was himself reminiscing his early days with his family and would have very much liked to continue the conversation but a glance at the clock on the wall and he stood up from the sofa.
‘We will continue this talk later, okay? Have your medicine, fast.’ And once he had seen that she was well fed and medicated, he was leaving for work. When she caught his arms and finally dusted off the falkes of biscuit that still clung to his skin. He looked at her and then away as her thumb gently moved along the lining of his lips, his chin. Then, when her finger was in danger of lingering, she moved away, saying, ‘Done’
She saw him wet his lips as he nodded, took a step ahead, towards her, then back, and finally turn and leave.
Geet, as was her routine, stepped into the balcony to see him take out his vehicle and leave. There she saw her clothes washed and all lined all the railing for drying. She hadn’t washed her clothes, she had only left them in a heap in the corner of the bathroom. She touched them, they were slightly wet meaning he had washed them last night. So the constant water noise against the bucket and the rinsing of clothes in the midnight, it was his doing. There was a pill her doctor had prescribed her. It was a Vitamin supplement or something, she hadn’t checked, but after having it she slept like a log. Even if she was awake, it took time to be able to separate her eyelids to reveal the world beyond. Last night it seems she was under the effect of the medicine.
To think that he had washed her clothes, she felt her cheeks go warm. For her it was a task most intimate. Embarrassed, she looked at the man downstairs, who was buckling his helmet. Her heart grew warm too. To think that she often called him names, cocky, arrogant. He looked so dependable and strong. He had always been dependable right from the starting of her marriage. It was just that it got hidden beneath his rough words.
She sure was a spoiled child as he always teased her. No, a woman. Spoiled or not. She wanted him to see her as a woman.
The helmet in place, he looked up. Early in the morning he only looked immaculately dressed. Handsome as always. But now in her eyes, he was sparkling. Like a fresh ray of sunshine. The sun which was as ancient as the world, even older than the world but everyday it rose, it was a new sun. Just like it was a new day. For her, the man standing downstairs was like the sun too. Everyday he was a new man. A new side to him, everyday she saw.
As he looked at her, she raised her hand and moved it in the air. It was an attempt at a wave but she a fire was building up in her heart, the flames of it tickling her insides; it was making her nervous. She didn’t realize but things had changed between them; a slight shift it was – a few caring words here, a touch of arm there, a soft smile, an eye lock- but very capable.
She moved her hands, he cocked his brows. His brows weren’t visible from this far but she had come to recognize the expression. She shrugged her shoulders but her hands were still in the air. Then, her phone began to ring. She ran inside. It was him.
‘Maan?’ She said. Her heart in a frenzy, her breath hot.
‘What happened?’ He asked, unknown of the tectonic shift in her heart.
‘What?’ She asked, not catching his thoughts.
‘You needed something? You wanted to say something?’
‘No.’
‘Then what was that action with the hand? I thought you asked me to wait.’
Geet had once again stepped into the balcony and was looking down at him as they conversed on the phone.
‘Nahi, I was just…’
‘Just?’ She saw he was now looking at her too.
‘Waving you goodbye,’ You clueless man! She finished, feeling stupid now.
‘Oh,’ he said and she cut the call.
She saw him give her a stare and then he shook his head as if not believing her stupidity, maybe his own stupidity. Once he got on his bike, he looked at her, waved his hand in the air, then flicking the glass of the helmet down, he zoomed off.
The rest of the day she spent cleaning herself and the ignored house. She called her sister and they had a long session of discussing various places that Tara visited along with her husband and all the good food and people they came across. Next Geet called her mother but there was no response, so she called her father.
It was a hot afternoon and outside in the courtyard, laid out comfortably on a cot and a bolster pillow under his neck, Mohinder was trying to take a nap. Trying because the children playing outside were crying horrendously, their voices giving Mohinder a headache. He had asked Rajji to make him a cup of tea some good hour ago but that lazy girl had not shown her face since then. The girl along with her friends, like a butterfly, fluttered from this street to that street. God forbid you tell her to do some chore and she’ll develop a gout or an ache. Kaamchor. His Tara, now she was a good girl. Always at his call. Baoji chai bana doon. Baoji have this. Have that. Do you want to eat pakoras? Even Geet, who knew nothing of cooking, she at least made sure that he got his tea on time. She would always take care of him and keep nagging him about small things. Kela khakar pani kyun pee liye,Baoji? Now you will get a cough. Don’t step out without a sweater.
He sighed. Now, here he was, with nobody to look after him. His wife had found a new vocation. Huh! As if she will become a teacher now. Timepass! That’s all it was. These villagers, what did she think, they will pay her for tuitions. Aaj nahi, kale de denge. Kal nahi parso. In return for your guidance, here are some fresh mangoes from our fields. That’s all she was going to get. Well who cares! Let her do whatever she wants. As it is these days every time they talked they got into an argument. Obviously, where there is no money, there is no respect. What was he now after all? A retired man with nothing in his name. All he did was lay here and swat at the flies.
‘Oye, Titu…Tituuu,’ he called for his nephew. In this whole household, the boy was the only one who listened to him.
‘Chachaji?’ The boy came running to him, the plastic slippers making chat chat noises as he ran.
‘Betaji, get me a glass of water.’ Saying this, Mohinder sat up and flipped open the page of Sadabahar – the entertainment section of the daily newspaper. Titu, meanwhile, upstroked the hand pump filling the tumbler with fresh, cold water.
‘Chachaji,’ Titu handed a glass of water to Mohinder.
‘Thank you, betaji,’ Mohinder swallowed all the water in one gulp, ‘Thank you so much. One more job, son. Get me my spectacles. It must be in one of my Kurta pockets.’
When Titu returned, he also returned with Mohinder’s phone.
‘Chachaji, Geet Di was calling. Missed call ho gaya.’
‘Call her, then. Make it a video call.’ And Mohinder put the spectacles on his nose, eagerly waiting for his daughter to appear on the screen. When Geet appeared, he was really happy to see and talk with her.
‘Pranaam Baoji’
‘Jug jug jiyo. Stay blessed my child.’
‘How’s your fever?’ In this way the conversation started and they covered various realms and themes. As an hour and a half flew without any of the conversants realisation, and the topics began to run out, and began to go in rounds, and getting stuck at what more, what’s new aur batao…aur batao, Mohinder said in a flow, ‘Get well soon, child. I will be visiting you.’ Geet’s joys knew no bounds. ‘Really?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ Mohinder replied. ‘I have been thinking of visiting Delhi for a while now.’
‘When Baoji? When?’
‘Haven’t fixed the date as of yet. I have some work here. Once that’s done, I will pay you a visit.’
‘Baoji, come soon, okay? I cannot wait. I’m so happy.’
‘Sure, my child.’
When the call ended, Mohinder felt better and lighter. Talking to his daughter sure improved his mood. He turned the pages of the newspaper. There was an interview of a Bollywood hero, he read a few lines of it but his mind was not into it. He fiddled with the keys of his phone, trying to open the internet browser and search but he wasn’t much tech savvy. Titu and Rajji would teach him things only for him to forget them. He called for his nephew once again.
‘How do you search for railway bookings?’ Visiting Delhi had only been a wandering thought in his head but now it had become a firm decision.
Titu showed him how to but unwilling to learn, he asked Titu to look if there is reservation open for the Delhi train. None? Okay, what about next month?
When Titu heard of his uncle’s Delhi plans, a seed of desire planted itself in his heart too.
‘Chachaji, will you take me along?’ He asked grinning, his eyes pleading.
‘We’ll see. We’ll see,’ Mohinder said and resumed reading the interview.
A happy Geet whistled her way into the rooms. She dusted the sofa, flipped the paratha, made coffee all while lost in thoughts of her parents visiting her home. She looked around the house and thought. Oh there is so much to do. Where will they sleep? Standing in the kitchen, she thought, we don’t even have enough utensils.
When her husband called from office, she was still brimming with excitement.
‘Hello? How are you feeling better? Did you eat?’
‘Yes. Yes and Yes,’ she chirped.
‘I have a very important thing to tell you. Come home soon,’ she told him.
Come home soon, he did not. The traffic was to blame of course. That and the long queue for Kachoris at Vishal Corner.
When she opened the door, she was a bit cranky. She had missed him and wanted to talk to him. Mostly see him. But before she could complain, he shoved in her hand the paper bag containing the food items. After which he went to remove his shoes and change.
‘What is this?’ The bag felt warm and oily in her hands. She peeked into the thonga, and squealed.
Following him into their bedroom, standing at the threshold of the room, she said, ‘Have I told you that you are absolutely amazing?’
He, who was in the process of removing his shirt, looked at her as she drew a hot, steaming jalebi out of the brown bag and bit into the sugary delight. And then she sighed in pure bliss. The whole long turn that he had to take to procure these jalebis seemed fulfilled now that he saw her enjoy them.
‘Not exactly the same words. But I remember you saying something on those lines, the other night. But I would love to listen to the various variations of it, if you please.’ He threw the shirt on the bed.
‘Hah!I will try my best to inflate your ego, milord.’ He noticed her eyes always laughed with her.
A line of sugary syrup traced its way from her lips to her chin and his eyes followed it before she wiped the sweetness off with the back of her hand.
Compelled to look away, ‘Plate me nikal kar khao. Give the food their deserved respect.’
‘Jo hukm! You will also eat no? Or is this all for me?’
‘Obviously, I am eating. Don’t eye my share.’
That evening, Geet found those Jalebis sweeter than ever before, the kachoris and aloo curry, tastier than ever. The reason might have something to do with the man who had got them, but she didn’t want to ponder much on it. What with beating hearts, and tingling stomachs.
The Sofa Saga
Your father is coming alone or will your mother accompany him too?’ Maan asked, while scrolling down the screen of his phone.He was leaning against the headrest of the bed, one leg folded under him and the other stretched across.
After having Kachoris and Jalebis for snacks, they were sitting in their bedroom. He had fiddled with the remote for some time, changing channels but there was nothing interesting airing on television so had switched it off. Now, they sat together simply conversing about simple things.
‘Obviously, she’ll come. Why won’t she? Baoji had said they both will be visiting us soon,’ Geet replied but then her thoughts faltered.
Had her father said that Maa would be coming too? Her father always traveled alone. Her mother had very few chances to go out. How long had it been since her mother had visited her own parents’ house, Geet wondered. Even when it came to visiting Tara Di’s in laws or other family functions, her father had gone alone and Geet and her mother had stayed back owing to Geet’s studies.
Before her eyes ran the reel of all the moments when her mother had sacrificed her own pleasures for her. The length of the film was too long and left an uneasy and restless feeling in her chest. What had she given in return?
‘Earlier they were bound by responsibilities and me, but now they are free so obviously they will travel together,’ The words were more for her benefit than his.
‘Hmm,’ he replied, a stranger to the mild disturbance brewing in her heart.
‘And if she isn’t planning to then I will convince her to. It’s been so long since I saw her. I miss her. She has never been to Delhi. It’s her only chance.’ There was a resolute determination in her voice that made him look up from his phone.
He nodded and then noted, ‘We will have to make arrangements accordingly.’
‘Yes, that’s what I wanted to discuss about. Furniture, beddings, utensils and crockeries…,’ Geet listed out on her fingers.
‘Make a list. When is he coming, by the way?’
‘Didn’t mention the exact date. Just said that he’s planning to visit soon. I will call Maa tomorrow and ask her.’
‘Do that and then this Saturday we will go and will mark off the few mandatory things off the list first.’ Buying everything all at once would be too much of a strain on their budget, he thought but didn’t voice out. ‘Talking about Saturday reminds me Sammy will be visiting us this Saturday,’ he informed.
‘Who Sammy?’
‘Sammy as in Sameera. She’s a colleague. She couldn’t come to our reception and everytime she planned to come meet you, some or other thing would keep coming up. Finally, she’s coming this Saturday.’
‘Okay. Does it require some special preparation? You know my cooking skills are…’
‘Non- existent. Don’t worry I have already filled her in about your culinary adroitness,’ he cut her off mid sentence and completed for her and laughed when she pouted.
‘Limited, I was going to say.’ She set her lips in a thin line.
‘Right! Your skills are limited to cooking stories about your husband.’
‘Have you not noticed how round my chapatis are these days?’
‘Yes, I have. And I’ve also noticed how brownish they are. Don’t cook for Sameera, okay. She’s an excellent cook so she’s totally going to judge you if you do.’
‘Racist! All chapatis should be equal in the eyes of the consumer.’ He was ashamed of her. Okay, maybe she was overreacting. He was ashamed of her cooking.
‘That’s a personal attack! Ad hominem!’
‘I thought this whole argument started off owing to a personal attack. Too late to cry foul now.’ She stated.
‘Fine, White or brown they are all the same to the consumer here. But it becomes difficult to ignore the undercooked ends of it. Not to forget they never puff up.’
Incensed, she burned in humiliation because she knew how terrible a cook she was and how she was a liability, with him putting up with her no good self. She had forgotten all about her insecurities but one statement and they all hit her smack in the face. She caught hold of a pillow and was bringing it on his head but his hand shot out in the air and impeded the attack. Pulling the pillow from her hand, he said, ‘I did not tend to your sick self so that you can be violent with me.’
‘I did not ask to be taken care of.’
‘Tsk, tsk. How very ungrateful of you!’
It was, she knew.
Her insides, still churning in shame and jealousy over the other faceless woman who was an excellent cook, Geet was quarrelsome and pulled the pillow with all her force. Shocked at first but soon joining in the game, he pulled back. They got into a struggle.
She was angry and rebellious, but he was stronger and focused.
‘If my cooking is so bad, why don’t you cook then?’
Eyes glinting, he pulled the pillow out of her hold and threw it over his shoulder.
‘Apparently, half of the time I am the one who does the cooking.’
The pillow landed on the floor with a soft thud. Her small fists came to hit his shoulder, his chest.
‘What stories have I been cooking about you, huh?’
His fingers curled around both her wrists as he stopped her from hitting himself. Her eyes were fiery and the loose strands of hair flying about her face.
He watched her carefully, but with gentle eyes. Then leaning in close, he said, his voice an octave lower, ‘So you’ve forgotten huh? Hmm. Let me brush up your memory then. I suit him perfectly fine, aunty. I sort of complete him. Remember, I told you how lucky I was to find you.’ He mimicked her and she turned red both in anger and embarrassment.
‘I don’t remember saying any such thing,’ she murmured and fidgeted under his control. Since he wouldn’t free her hands, she kicked his shin with her feet.
‘This is what I get in return for the snacks I got you? You cannot feed me good food so instead are going for kicks and fists?’
It was like a bucket of cold water splashed on her. The fight leaving her, she sagged; becoming acutely aware of her undignified pose.
‘You know, I had heard of various gifts from wives in return of the husband’s attentiveness. Kisses, cuddles and…,’ She looked away, ‘ but this is new.’
‘Hmm, Geet?’ He whispered and she looked up again, becoming aware of the proximity between them. Of his wet hair and the soapy smell. Of the hold around her wrists. Of the queasiness in the pit of her stomach.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,’ she replied and moved her wrists asking him to loosen his hold but his grip remained steadfast, her struggle only leading him to pull her closer to him.
‘Let me go,’ she said.
‘I don’t want to.’ His eyes with their dark hidden mysteries, compelled her to stare back at him. She noticed the slope of his nose, a shaving nick on his cheek and felt an urge to pass her cool fingers over it. Her eyes inadvertently went to his lips and she wet her lips because they had dried. She watched his gaze move to her lips too, her eyes getting fixated at the moving of his Adam’s apple.
They would have continued at it for long maybe, if not for the phone that rang. His phone. As if pulled out from a misty enchantment, he blinked away the haze, she too, as he answered the call. It was from office she surmised as he cleared his throat before getting into a discussion about a project. Getting down the bed, he walked out of the room and she set about picking out her notebooks and returning to safer things like studying. She had been away from studies for the past few days.
When he returned, she saw him from the corner of her eyes while pretending to write the mechanism of Claisen condensation reaction. He picked up his laptop, halted and looked at her, she didn’t look up because of the strange feelings his presence was stirring. She couldn’t look up and let her transparent face reveal her
After an hour of half hearted attempt at studying, she closed her books and got up to seek him. He was in the study room, typing away something on his laptop. Standing at the threshold of the room, she asked, ‘Are you hungry?’
He looked up and nodded, ‘Yes. Very. Done with your studies?’
‘Hmm.’ She didn’t tell him about her lack of concentration.
‘I’m going to cook,’ she said and looked at him. He looked back, grinning at her response. She smiled back too.
‘What are you going to make?’
‘Definitely not chapatis,’ she answered. And they both broke into laughter.
‘I think rice will be a safer option.’ She said between her laughs.
‘Depends,’ he said, ‘Let’s hope you don’t overcook it. The other day it was all mushy.’
‘Maaan! You’re unrepentant!’ Stomping her foot, she left for the kitchen and he, already missing her, closing his laptop, followed her.
After having dinner, while watching a show of his choice- an English show about some Colombian drug kingpins. She had struggled at first to get interested but was now as invested in the show as him. They had made a bargain of sorts. One show of her choice, the next of his. Before this show, the other night they had watched a Rom-com about an Asian girl, her love letters and a hot guy. Maan had grimaced at her suggestion citing the amount of cheesiness overload in it. But she had persisted and he had agreed, but not before commenting, ‘I know your motivation, though.’
‘What motivation?’
‘The main guy, obviously!’
‘What?!’ She made some queer noise from her throat. ‘Which guy? It looks like a nice story…Whatever you take me to be…,’ but her protest died when he, his hands crossed over his chest, stared at her for over two minutes.
‘Oh, well, dammit! Yes, he’s hot! So what?’
‘Uh-uh. Language, huh?’ Well, she had picked up a few unsuitable words from the lexicon of these shows that they watched. Her language still PG rated as compared to his.
‘Hot? Like seriously?’ He continued. ‘Have you seen him grinning? Looks like a chimp showing his teeth.’
‘Maan, that’s rude. You cannot talk like that about someone. And he’s cute.’
‘Oh. I erred. Sorry bro!’ He apologised to someone in the air. ‘Look there sits your cute guy with sagged shoulders, depressed over my rude comments.’ He said with a nonplussed face.
Geet said, ‘Kuch bhi!’ her face wearing an incredulous expression.
Even while watching he had continuously commented on the loopholes, the stupidity and not to forget the guy.
‘His acting is worse than his smile.’
‘I think he’s okay.’
‘We need to get you an appointment with an ophthalmologist. You find him hot?’ Then picking up his phone, he looked up something. ‘Or maybe an otolaryngologist.’
She raised her brows.
‘ My fellow Bio pass-out, that’s the specialist dealing with taste disorders. I’m sorry to break this out to you. But, Geet, you’ve got bad tastes.’
‘Maan, you’re being unreasonably annoying, now.’
‘What a boring movie. Let’s skip this fast. What a waste of time!’
Fed up with his constant commentary, she had got up from her seat, and said, ‘Fine. Let’s stop watching. No, seriously. Let’s stop.’ And she was leaving, when his hand had shot out and he had pulled her back to sit next to him. Falling next to his shoulder, she had made a huge show of being annoyed and he had to placate her.
‘Watch, watch, I will not say anything.’ When she started again, and got immersed in the story, unconsciously grinning at the scene, he looked at her and remarked, ‘Goodness. Look at the dedication.’ And the banter had started all over again.
Now, as she ate and observed him watch the scene unfolding on the TV screen – struggle between two gangs, bullets firing and the scene washed in red color lights – with such concentration, she felt an urge to make fun of him. But there was something boyish about his engrossment; she watched his eyes move, widen, his face revealing and mirroring the emotions of the situation on the screen while he continued putting food into his mouth. She knew once the show over, she would have to listen to his take on the episode. He was like a child, when it came to these things. Bubbling with theories, noting the nuances of anything that catches their fancy and then ranting about them to an interested ear.
‘You’re distracting me,’ he said, pulling her out of her reverie.
‘How?’ She scooped the last remains of food and filled her mouth with it.
‘I can feel your stare.’
Later he went back to reading a book, while she returned to her studies. She managed to complete a chapter in some two hours. At least, something productive came out of the day. She looked at the time, it was midnight. But he hadn’t come to sleep.
Once again, she went out to find him and peeked into the room. His head resting on the back of the chair, his eyes closed, a book resting on his chest, he was resting.
Walking in, she pulled the architecture module out from under his hands, but he woke up in the process. His eyes sleep mussed, he blinked ather.
‘Sleep in the room,’ she told him.
‘No. I am okay, here. I need to finish this book,’ he straightened again and opened the book, with every intention to read it.
‘But…’
‘Geet, you go. I really need to read this and then I’ve to map out a few designs.’
He was serious and she let him be, herself going to sleep. It was four in the morning when she woke up to use the bathroom and realised he hadn’t come to bed. She found him snuggled in the sofa too small for him.
‘Maan,’ she woke him up. ‘Why are you sleeping here?’
He babbled something about falling off asleep during reading, and was going back to sleep but she asked him to take the bed instead.
‘No, you sleep there. I’m okay.’
‘I’m not going back to sleep, now. I think I will revise my lessons.’
‘You aren’t?’ And quickly enough, she saw him march to their bedroom and take conquest of the bed.
Strange, she thought. But soon enough, it no longer remained a mystery that he was avoiding sharing a bed with her. It was easy to guess the pattern of how he slept on the sofa and would come to bed once she left it.
She found herself, quite in a quagmire. Should she call him out on it? But what would she ask? Did I do something the other night that has caused you to avoid our bed? Our bed, Geet? Go ahead and add conjugal to it too. Why do you deprive me of your presence on our conjugal bed?
Since she didn’t want to cause any awkwardness for she was sure he preferred prudence, she too; she started starting her studies later than usual. After around eleven and took up the sofa instead of bed.
‘Aren’t you going to sleep?’ he asked the fourth night.
‘No,’ She answered.
‘I sleep during the day and prefer to study at night. Can concentrate better. You go to sleep.’
He declined the offer and pretended to read but tiredness taking over him, he finally resigned to their bedroom. After that day, there was an un-discussed understanding between them. He took the bed at night while she spent the night on the sofa. Although, the question as to why this sudden sofa saga was launched upon their relationship dynamics, remained at the back of Geet’s mind.
Capacitors
Thank you, and sorry for the delay,’ Geet told Meera, while returning the thermometer.
‘No issues. How are you feeling now?’ It was evening time and Meera had returned after running an errand in the market when her neighbour had suddenly opened the door and had handed her the medical instrument.
‘Fit as a fiddle,’ the girl-woman responded. ‘Returning from market?Todays’ your off no?’ She asked and Meera who had pressed the bell of her house earlier, now handed the grocery bags to the house help who had answered the door.
‘Yes, Fridays are off for me so all market chores I do today itself.’
‘Oh. Where’s your son? I can always hear him from inside. He’s so enthusiastic and…’
‘Loud!’ Meera filled in for Geet.
‘Full of life, I was going to say. Very cute child,’ Geet said and smiled.
‘He’s a devil incarnate. Keeps me on toes the entire time. Just the other day he emptied all his brother’s paint bottles. You should’ve seen him. Hiding in the bathroom, his palms and face all covered in paint.He was trying to get the paint off by himself. Then when I found him, he started crying for daddy.’
Geet laughed at the image that Meera had drawn of the boy. ‘How old is he?’
‘Five,’ Meera replied and Geet said, ‘Oh. So young. You’ve another son too, right?’
‘Yes. Mani. He’s thirteen. Class Nine.’ Meera in these few minutes had perceived that Geet was looking for some company, a chit-chat. One living indoors for so long in isolation, sure needed some people to converse.
‘Want to join me for some coffee?’
She saw the girl hesitate and then agree, ‘Okay. But I will prefer tea.’
‘Tea, it is then. Come on in,’ Meera invited her.
The flat’s interior decor was quite pleasing to the eyes. If Maan had been present, he would’ve told her that it had a technical name – shabby chic. Soft colours thrown in and a mix of vintage and new decor. But for the unversed Geet it was elegant and beautiful. The arrangement of furniture and showpieces were inspiring and Geet thought she was totally going to redecorate her own home too. How dull her own apartment now appeared when compared to this house.
‘You have a beautiful house,’ Geet said.
‘All credit goes to Vasu. He’s the magician here. Vasu, can you hear me? Look I am praising you.’ Meera called out to the man whom Geet saw filling the vegetable compartment of the refrigerator.
‘Thank you,’ The man probably in his late twenties replied. ‘I think Akka you should do that more often. See, I am preening.’
‘The mirror is there. Might as well use it,’ Meera said jocundly while pointing to the mirror hanging on the wall, just above the washbasin.
Someone cleared his throat, and Geet turned on the sofa to find a hanging divider of a carving pattern, in classic black colour was behind her and that it separated the living room from what seemed like a study hall.
‘I’m sorry,’ Meera apologized.
And then she said to Geet , ‘That’s Rama. My husband. He’s taking classes.’ Her voice was a whisper now.
Geet turned and, through the open spaces in the room divider, Geet could see a small bed placed against a wall on which sat a man, propped against pillows. There were five boys scattered around the bed, sitting on small chairs, books open in their laps, heads pored over those books. Among them she spotted Meera’s elder son, Mani too.
‘He’s a teacher? Which subject?’
‘Not a teacher as such. He’s just started coaching them in Physics. He is an engineer by profession.’ Then after a thought, she added, ‘Was.’
The colour of the face of the woman changed and Geet didn’t know if she should continue that thread of conversation. She didn’t want to come off as one curious and nosy neighbour. She herself had aversion for people who in just two meetings wanted to know all of your life history.
Time and space, such precious and rare things, these days.
This was the first time she was in her neighbour’s house and didn’t want to mar this first full fledged meeting of theirs that had the potential of blossoming into something as beautiful as genuine friendship. So she let silence do its work.
Once the significant moment had passed, it was Meera who spoke first, ‘Vasu, two cups of tea, please?’ She requested the man, ‘And, some lemon cake that is,’ Meera turned to face Geet ‘if my sons have not wiped all of it.’
‘My boys are glutton. Vasu is forever in the kitchen preparing wonderful dishes. But they don’t last even a day,’ She said.
‘Don’t blame my darlings,’ Vasu admonished, his face still stuck in the fridge. ‘Children need all the food for growth. And as for your lemon cake, there’s plenty left for all of us.’ Then retrieving a tray of delectable and incredibly good-looking cakes, he showed it to the mistress of the house.
Attracted to the cake, Geet’s eyes followed the man who was in a simple striped half sleeved shirt and loose pants, until he disappeared into the kitchen.
‘I can relate,’ Geet replied, turning to face Meera.
‘You do?’
‘I’m a big eater too.’ Geet’s eyes glittered with secrets.
‘Your size suggests otherwise.’
‘I consider that a boon,’ and Geet winked.
‘I like you girl. My boys will like you too. Anyone with a good appetite is their friend.’
‘Well, I am glad I have something to recommend. And I am hoping that besides the boys, I can win your friendship too.’
‘Um…that might require some hard work. I am not easily won. It took my husband five years to convince me of his love.’
‘Five years? That’s a very short span of time. I’m ready to devote a lifetime.’
‘Ah! How long since someone flirted with me.’
‘Can’t help it. I think I have a girl crush on you.’
Meera touched her heart, ‘I think my heart is already shifting.’
Vasu arrived with the much awaited cakes and tea. Geet, waited for a few seconds as a mannerful neighbour then picked up her plate of cake and dipped the fork into the soft, cream covered cake before bringing it to her mouth.
Sweet and citrusy, Geet loved the flavour. ‘They are very tasty, Vasu. Thank you.’ Then crossing a line, she asked, ‘Vasu, will you mind teaching me how to make it?’
The man who was sitting on the dining chair, scowled at her. ‘I don’t think everyone can make it.’ He then picked up the melon, he had sat to cut, and once again disappeared into the kitchen.
Embarrassed at her gaffe , she looked at the cup in her hand. Meera was laughing by her side. ‘Geet, my dear, our Vasu is very possessive of his recipes. He’s not the sharing kind and a teacher not at all he is. He’s a snob when it comes to cooking. As much as I am grateful to have him here, sometimes the man is pure pain in the ass.’
A little relieved at Meera’s words, she continued sipping the tea. They were talking about how Vasu was Meera’ s village lad who had come to help her; when the older woman’s phone rang.
‘I will have to take this, if you don’t mind.’
‘Yes, please go ahead.’ Geet assured after which Meera walked away into a room, leaving Geet alone to sip her tea. The silence and awkwardness filling her presence, her ears turned to the teacher and the students who sat behind her in the other part of the room. Earlier. Meera and Vasu had captivated all her attention but now, she could hear the whispers from the other side.
‘Capacitors,’ the teacher asked, ‘What are capacitors? Anybody?’
The boys remained silent. Geet, had always been one of those students who answered. Always. It came natural to her. Even before the question was out, she would raise her hand. One of the reasons why Ayush had nomenclatur-ed her Granger. So, it happened very inadvertently, that Geet should turn and answer.
‘Sir, C= QV’
It was only after she had answered that she noticed her racing heart and the warming of her cheeks.
There was a screen between them. But she could see all of them turn to her voice. The man, eyes, bore into hers.
Oh God! Why did she create such siyappas for herself?
She was ready to utter an apology and return to her tea when, the man asked, ‘C= QV or Q=CV?’
‘Q= CV…Q=CV…and C is equal to Q upon V.’ The boys were now saying, their voice now drowning the earlier silence.
Shit!
‘Sorry Sir, it’s the latter one. Q= CV. Charge equals capacitance multiplied by voltage.’ Fine, made a fool out of myself now let’s just leave silently, Geet thought but was stopped once again.
‘Yes. but that isn’t the answer to my question. Miss?’
‘Sir, Geet Khurana. I live next door.’ It was a bit strange to talk through screens.
‘Mrs. Khurana. You’ve given me a formula. I didn’t ask for that. I wanted the definition of capacitor. What is it?’
‘I’m sorry I interrupted.’ She tried to excuse but he wasn’t in the mood to let her go.
‘No, that’s okay. Now, if you will, the answer please?’
Geet chewed her lips before coming with an unconfident answer, ‘Capacitors store charge?’
‘You’re answering or asking me?’
‘They store charge, Sir.’
‘Yes, but that’s again not my answer. That’s a use you are talking about.’
I don’t know! I am sorry I disturbed your class! Geet wanted to shout but one had to follow certain civilities with neighbours.
‘Okay , fine, can you tell us of any practical use of capacitors?’
Geet remained mum.
‘Sir, I know, Tubelights, fans,’ some boy jumped to answer thus removing the teacher’s attention away from Geet.
‘Sir, loudspeakers too.’ Another boy provided.
‘Yes. Anywhere else it is used?’
Meera returned then saying , ‘So impolite of me to have left you here alone.’
‘No, it’s alright,’ Geet said. Her mind though was occupied with the students and their teacher. Shame burning in the pit of her stomach that she should be unable to answer simple questions like these when she had given almost four years to studying the same things.
What would Rama Sir think about her? That she didn’t know such simple answers.
‘The point of asking the question was to make you realize that jumping into solving books like Irodov and Krotov without knowing the basics will not help you. I have seen engineers pass outs unable to answer simple questions like these. Q= CV they know but don’t know what exactly a capacitor is. Capacitance, why is it important and its use in daily life…’
‘Meera Di, I should go now,’ Geet said.
‘Sit for some more time,’ Meera asked.
‘No, I…I have some work,’ Geet said, feeling sick and unable to sit any longer in the same room that reminded her of her failure.
‘Okay, please do come again.’
‘Sure,’ Geet said, thinking never, at least never in the presence of her neigbour’s husband.
———
Chapter - Binte Dil
She had secretly hoped that at a snap of his fingers a promising solution would materialize for her own fingers had turned rusty it seemed as no good came from them. However, in her company he had become as useless as her. Talk about a rotten apple affecting her husband.
The problem at hand was whether she should continue with her study program or not.
He was as vexed as her. Only difference was she had resigned herself to her fate and while he was still in the first stage of the Kubler Ross Model.
While he pored over her course module, the study material all fanned out around him on the bed, she sat in front of him with his laptop.
The stingy man wouldn’t give her the wi-fi password(because she had refused to make poha and instead made upma), the free wi-fi with its connectivity and strength was only for namesake and her own data pack she had exhausted quite early in the morning itself.
It was outrageous though. She had merely watched a few videos, none of them stretching over five minutes. How to not feel depressed, self-study at home, B.Sc Chemistry career scope, to become a confident woman, successful people who had been dropouts, how to become an intelligent and attractive woman, people who studied via distance mode and went on to become successful, then one funny cat video led to another and when she started feeling guilty of partaking of pleasure at such crucial times, she decided to watch In rashiyon ki badlegi kismat is mahine…too bad that the moment her own zodiac’s turn came, her phone pinged with the data exhaustion text.
So here she was clicking on this and that folder while eating beetroot crunching them noisily between her teeth. He was irritated by the sound but she only showed him her red tainted teeth and continued with her time pass. The first time she had opened one of his files by mistake she had apologized profusely. He’d said he didn’t mind. It was all the encouragement she needed.
‘Your college photos!!’ She exclaimed and with all the glee of a child began to click through the pictures. Her squeal pulled him out of his perusal of her books and his gaze moved to the pictures she’d started clicking on.
He needed to take a leak so he excused himself. When he returned, she had already watched a lot of albums, but started all over again while asking names of everybody. There were batch photographs, some from different college events and some from picnics, treks and tours.
‘Who’s this? And this?’
‘Kirti, I think. This one is Uppal. This girl, I can’t recall. It’s been long.’
‘Haww. You can’t even recall your batchmate’s name.’
‘It’s been long.’
‘Not so long.’
‘Wow. Which place is this? So beautiful.’
‘Wayanad.’
‘You’ve had an exciting life. I had a lot of plans you know to go and see places once I was in college. There was once when our school was taking us to Mumbai for a tour. I had somehow convinced my parents to let me go but then I think that was the year Mumbai blasts happened. Everyone was so shaken, we didn’t go anywhere that year. After that another occasion came in 12th standard but you know how it is with study pressure and projects, this time I myself didn’t go. Bad fate. Anyways, this picture?’
‘This one I think was shot somewhere in Roorkee itself.’
‘I’m so jealous. Your college seems so grand.’ There was a wistfulness in her tone.
‘Nothing grand. Just like any other institution. Yes, it acquires a personal attachment because you’ve spent a considerable part of your youth there.’
‘Hmm.’ And then she again started asking about the people in his pictures. He soon realised that it was the girls’ names she was interested in for she hardly asked any of the boys names. Sneaky woman!
‘You will not find her here.’
‘Who?’ She asked innocently.
‘The one who you are trying to find.’
‘Who am I trying to find about?’
‘Jasleen. Obviously.’ She opened her mouth to speak something but nothing came out of it for she decided not to lie.
‘Yes. I was.’ She admitted. ‘I mean we both know she’s your past. There’s no point behaving as if she doesn’t exist. And I swear I will be very mature about it so I think it’s okay to discuss her. In fact it will be only healthy for our relationship if we don’t act as if the past doesn’t exist.’
‘You won’t find her here because she wasn’t from my batch. Whatever photos I had of her , I deleted them long ago.’
‘She was your junior then?’
He waited before replying.
‘She was a year senior. We were both in the literature club. That’s how we met.’
‘Oh. senior. Literature club.’ The expression that took hold over Geet made Maan uncomfortable.
‘You’re judging me now.’
She shook her head. ‘No, I am not.’
‘But your face speaks otherwise.’ It was still a little tricky to discuss a woman from the past to the woman who was your present. He knew there was no right way to discuss it.
‘Oh so kitabein bahut si padhi hai aapnein and chehra bhi padh pa rahe. Good good. I am merely listening and processing.’
He didn’t find humour in it because an awkwardness had come over him. It was a cloud that always followed one when one revealed a part of his secret. Geet understood his reservations.
‘Relax Maan. I am not judging. In fact I am glad that you trusted me enough to reveal at least this much. Last time, we hadn’t been able to do this without any kind of bitterness creeping in. You’ve kept it inside too long. And I wish to share some of that burden if you consider me worthy. That’s it. You are an amazing person, Maan. One of the best. And I want you to be free without any bitterness, and be loved for what you are. Both past and present. ’
He had stared at her for sometime after she had finished speaking. Burning under her gaze, she had picked up one the beetroot slices and thrust into his mouth, she had returned back to the pictures, saying, ‘All these pictures make me want to go on tours as well. You look so good in this picture.’
She had succeeded in engaging his attention and escaping from his burning gaze but the warmth in his heart was to burn for long.
While at night he had struggled with sleep remembering her words, words that lacked superficiality, words that were playing in a loop in his head, words that flattered, words that healed. Geet punished herself by imagining a woman, this time a little older, for it was a senior he had fallen for. It seemed he was into older women. Literature club. Books playing cupid. Falling in love while discussing novel plots. So pretentious! Mature, Geet, she said to herself. Be mature. She was his past. You are his present.
Am I ? Only time would tell.
———————-
Monthly groceries were strewn around, with her checking off the list with the grocery items. They had done some shopping with her buying new cans and jars for the kitchen. They had also bought a dinnerware set and a crockery set and were now busy arranging things.
‘You’re shifting to green tea?’ She asked while assessing the cover and then price of the small box of tea.
‘Hmm?’ His response was distracted because he was busy filling a container with sugar. Once his task was finished, he replied properly, ‘Not me. Sameera prefers green tea.’
Her eyebrows knitting together, she stared at him for a few seconds and then sighed dramatically.
‘What?’ He asked.
‘Nothing,’ and she went about taking out the groceries from the bag and surveying them but not without the occasional sighing.
‘Geeeeet…What is it?’ Maan was exasperated.
‘It’s just that you seem to know her preferences but have no idea what I like.’
Maan was surprised at the revelation to say the least. Obviously, he knew everything about her, didn’t he? Her likes and dislikes. Everything.
‘You know that she likes green tea. But you’ve no idea that I prefer tea too. Plain old tea.’
‘Tea? But you’ve been drinking coffee all these months. I thought you were a coffee person too. Just like me.’
‘Well, ‘ she said, folding away the jute bag after she had emptied it, ‘You were wrong. You never asked me and then after a while it just felt convenient to go along with it. So…’
‘Oh Geet! You make everything so complicated. There’s a general store right outside our compound. You could have simply bought one for yourself. I wouldn’t take offence at that, would I? Or am I such a dastardly miser in your thoughts that I would have lashed out at you over this insignificant thing?’
Geet shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to inconvenience you .’ She had now shifted her focus to the tote bag which had vegetables in it.
‘But dear little Red Riding, I am here so that you can discommode me.’ And he winked at her before picking up the container and moving to the kitchen.
Geet also stood up to empty the veggies into the vegetable compartment of the refrigerator.
‘OH yeah! Right!’ He spoke from the kitchen, ‘How could I forget? Heavens shall fall before my wife decides to inconvenience me. And we’re back at it again. I’ve grown tired of this argument, now.’ He came back to the middle room. ‘Come up with something new, okay?’ and then picking two more tins, sauntered back to the kitchen. She followed him into the kitchen but ignored his words as she put away the things in the various cabinets.
‘By the way, you could’ve chosen to not tell me today as well. Why then you felt the need to enlighten me?’ He was just standing next to her and she felt a strange shyness come about her at the question. Why indeed?! But she decided to be honest and chose to give her an insight into her mind.
‘Because you knew her preferences and I thought then you should know mine too.’
‘Uh-oh. I see.’ There was something about his tone that bothered her so she turned to meet his eyes. ‘What do you see exactly?’
His hands were crossed at his chest as he leant against the granite countertop. He stared at her for sometime before answering her.
‘Just this and that. Some jealousy here and some possessiveness there.’
The blush tainted her cheeks and she felt indignant at such an idiotic suggestion.
‘Sorry?’
‘It’s okay. Happens. Nothing to feel sorry about.’
‘What happens?’ She asked exasperatedly this time.
‘Everybody feels jealous from time to time.’
‘That is some good day-dreaming you’re capable of!’
‘Whatever gives you peace of mind’ he called out after her as she stomped out of the kitchen.
‘Jealous? As if! Unbearable narcissist!’ She muttered and then berated herself for giving him a chance to laugh at her.
However, it so happened that Sameera’s visit did give him enough content to laugh over and tease his wife about.
Sameera was beautiful, warm and easy to please. Unlike Pinky she had no preconceived notions about Maan’s wife and so accepted and greeted Geet wholeheartedly. However, this time it was Geet who found the visitor’s open ways a little disarming. It was just that for Geet, Sameera was a little too beautiful, her ways refined and so graceful, her laugh free and flowing.
‘You’re so pretty! And cute!’ Sameera said when she first met Geet.
‘You’re just the kind of girl I had hoped this angry young Ma(a)n to marry.’
Geet had smiled as she had welcomed her in the house. After the initial introduction, Maan had gone quiet to allow them to know each other on their own. Only when the conversation faltered at some place, did he enter. But the camaraderie between Maan and Sameera wasn’t lost on her. It was evident in the way she slapped his arm while remonstrating him for some past injustice or in the way she drew close to him when reminding him of an inside joke.
‘Geet, do you and Maan, exchange letters?’ And had winked at Maan.
Geet hadn’t understood the question. She had totally forgotten about the times when she had written things to him on a piece of paper.
‘You know what my first opinion of him was?’ She said while partaking of the ready-made snacks that Geet had served her.
Geet had raised her eyebrows.
‘I took him to be a prickly, arrogant ass.’
Geet had smiled while replying. ‘Yes, he has that unapproachable air about him.’
‘Totally,’ Sameera had agreed. ‘You know for a full month, he didn’t talk to me. Like he wouldn’t even look my way unless it was terribly necessary.’
‘I had no reason to talk to you. Besides, you were unapproachable yourself,’ Maan said.
‘I was never unapproachable. And Geet, the way he used to find faults in my work, many times I had wanted to beat him to pulp so badly. He has this superiority complex when it comes to work.’
‘Must be aggravating,’ Geet had commented.
‘Oh, It was. In fact, it still is.’ Sameera had nodded her head.
‘I, myself, have been a recipient of that haughty indifference.’
‘Wow, Maan. Wow.’
While Maan had heard the allegations against him silently without any protest, Geet read it in his eyes. Let’s discuss this tonight. It had only made her giggle.
‘But,’ Sameera had added, ‘He grows on you.’
‘That he does. I think me sitting as his wife here is a testament to that.’
Sameera had asked about her education and job and though Geet’s heart had skipped a beat, the true answer had not much affected Sameera’s behaviour.
‘Oh. You’re doing your Bachelor’s. That’s great. But college must be hectic, no?’
Geet had just nodded. She didn’t see a point to elaborate.
‘Boy, am I glad that college is over,’ Had been Sameera’s response and the topic had come to an end.
‘I’ve been here before. One IPL season, we as in me and there was another guy and his girlfriend from the office, we had crashed in here every weekend, watching matches and munching popcorn and pizza. Such fun days. I remember it was a weekend and I had drank so much, I had even spent a night here. That was when my mother was away. Now, she doesn’t let me have night outs.’
They had been touring the apartment and then had come to stand in the balcony, looking at the other similar flats. Geet had simply listened, drinking in all the new information. This was something about her husband she had never known. The man before their marriage.
‘Why are you silent? Did I say something wrong?’
‘No, it’s not like that. You were sharing recollections from the past and I didn’t want to interrupt.’
The truth was that Geet didn’t know how to respond. The place from where she came, all these revelations were too new for her. She couldn’t ever imagine herself going to a guy’s place and spending evenings or drinking together.
‘I don’t make it a habit of going out and drinking with men. Don’t judge me, okay. It’s just that Maan and Sujith, I have known them for long. And I have come to trust them. And this is coming from a woman who’s spent her half of life fighting men’s attention. So much that it has made me wary of men.’
‘I am not judging. I do not have the authority to do so. Maybe I am not used to such a culture because this city is very different from my former one and it’s taking time to process.’
‘ I’m sorry if I gave you the impression.’ She added reflexively. Apologies were always at the tip of her tongue.
‘That’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. Okay, tell me how it feels to be married?’
‘It can be a little overwhelming at times but if you have your partner’s support and understanding, it gets better.’
‘And, Maan, is he that kind of a life partner?’ Sameera had asked, a little louder this time, for Maan was sitting in the drawing room scrolling his phone.
‘I’ve struck gold,’ had been Geet’s response, but it had been said softly and away from his earshot.
‘And is he unbearable at home also? Thinking he’s right always? Because at office, he’s my friend and all, but he always thinks his ideas, his designs, his knowledge is greater than the rest of us low mortal beings.’
‘Not so much for he has resigned himself to the fact that obviously I know better than him.’
‘Oh Geet, I like you so much. You are a true match for him.’
‘I like you too, Sameera. You’re so nice and… beautiful.’
‘But you’re prettier.’
‘And let us open a mutual admiration society with the two of you it’s only members. Then you can sing each other’s’ praises all day long’ Maan said.
‘Yeah, right,’ Geet had replied. ‘The vision of it would be to aspire to be the greatest critiques of Maan S.Khurana.’
And Sameera had added, ‘ and the mission would be to call him not less than a hundred names.’
Sameera and Geet had parted on good terms. Numbers had been exchanged, promises to meet again, to go out shopping together had been made. Sameera had an easy air about her that endeared her to people and yet Geet had not been able to let her guard down. Not fully at least.
Geet had prepared for the occasion. She had dressed to her best efforts and as seen from anyone else’s eyes especially her husband’s, she looked very pretty in a long black, embroidered georgette suit. Her hair, because it was too long and too thick to be left free, she had braided it into a french plait. And yet she had felt dour and plain when standing next to her visitor.
The spectacles of Geet had a thick lens through which every good feature of Sameera’s was magnified n times and her own shortcomings were multiplied. While to any other person, Sameera would have looked beautiful in the same manner one finds beautiful any other person. But Geet saw her as someone who had stepped out of an ad commercial. Tall, and slim, face with high cheekbones and hair with a lot of layers and bangs. Small fancy earrings dangled from her ears and her face looked like it was without make-up. Even in a simple white blouse and denim blue jeans, Sameera shone. There was no competition going on and yet when Sameera left Geet had stood before a mirror and looked at herself.
She didn’t like what she saw. She had for too long ignored her face. Not cared about them enough. She saw the numerous pores, the blackheads on her nose that now were so apparent to her critical eyes, the shadow of hair above her lips. Her hair had not been cut in any fancy style.
How in the past had she scorned at women who primped. But now somehow it had become important to her to look good. She wanted Maan to see her as a beautiful woman. Working with such pretty people wouldn’t he want the same kind of woman as a wife.
Did he feel let down in the choice of his grandmother? He must have been disappointed but then compromised later on.
Then she realised that action was better than any sort of rumination. So she immediately applied herself to the task of scrubbing the black heads off her nose. But those were some stubborn heads, her nose had turned red and swollen but some of them still refused to buzz. Then in the kitchen she went and made a face mask of curd and gram flour and applied it all over her face. After that, she had to wait.
Tired with the thoughts running wild in her head, she sat on the bed and checked the time. It had been an hour since both Maan and Sameera had left but he hadn’t yet returned. While leaving, To Maan, Sameera had said, ‘Can you drop me home? I had come with my Mom and she has some work at the tailor’s so she won’t be able to come to pick me up.’
‘Sure. Give me a second.’ And then Maan had changed into a casual half sleeved shirt and jeans. The top three buttons of the shirt were left open. And those open buttons had irked Geet so much.
‘He should’ve returned home by now. What is taking him so long?’ She thought and then decided to call her sister for idle waiting was not her forte.
Tara was back home and after a long morning, she was stretched on her bed, taking a nap when the call came. She wasn’t in the mind of receiving the call but since it was her sister, she picked it up.
‘Hi Di. Were you sleeping?’
‘Just napping. Good that you called me. I had planned on calling you in the evening. I was missing you too.’
‘Are you sick? You sound unwell, Di.’
‘No. I am fine. Just a little tired. The marriage events took its toll on me I guess. I shouldn’t have gone to attend the marriage, Geet.’
‘But you’d sounded happy at the wedding. Di, did something happen?’
Tara remained silent but the silence of maintaining the secret was too much. And in her sister, she found a friend, a confidante.
The visit at the wedding house had started well but had ended up hurting Tara’s vulnerable emotions.
The moment she had entered the wedding house, the festivities had enthralled her. The air was pungent with celebrations, the smell of rituals and flowers, and food had filled her nose. She saw men and women busy with work, all chatting and laughing at the same time. She was welcomed by all. After the initial awkward and probing questions, which she had learned to ignore and take in her stride, she had gelled well with people. Her husband Dev had immediately joined a group of cousins and she saw him only when he needed clothes or other things from her. It was good that he was out of her way for she could then enjoy all the ceremonies and inside jokes of women more at ease now.
‘Yaar, Nayantara, don’t take me wrong but this is the only time I envy you. You can enjoy yourself fully for you have no kids. Look at me, the moment I start enjoying myself these kids will come with potty and susu issues.’
Tara had taken it good humoredly and danced at the next song. The dance for which she became popular too. She was a good dancer she knew but others didn’t.
‘Nayantara, you’ve got the moves. Dance one more time, please. I am going to make a video.’ She accepted all of the praises gracefully.
‘Bhabhi aap toh chaa gaye.’
She was celebrated for her beauty too for hardly there was a woman who carried herself with such grace and elegance and so many times Dev had been congratulated for her beauty. Dev’s pride only grew as he gazed at his wife dancing.
Among all this, there was a small child, a toddler who had attached himself to Tara’s side. She had only taken him into his arms for he was crying and she had strolled outside calming him. After that, the child would not leave her. Anyone else carrying him and he would start wailing. Since Shanno, the mother of the child, was pregnant with another baby, she found it convenient to leave her child under Tara’s care. Between them they managed the child.
‘Nayantara, what magic spell have you cast to have bewitched my son.’
‘It’s the other way round, Shanno. He’s bewitched me.’
‘So bhabhiji, since my son won’t leave you, you are coming with us. Bas that’s fixed.’
It was a very new experience for Tara to be with a child for so many hours and her motherly affections all overflowed, she really fell in love with him. Even Dev came to love the small boy, his chubby cheeks and rosy lips.
All was going well and it was the reception night. Shanno, heavy and tired, had taken a single bed and gone to sleep. Tara was on the other bed with the baby. The pillows had been laid protectively around the baby so she had no idea when the baby fell off the bed and hurt himself. She had been so tired that it was the horrendous cries that had woken her up. Shanno was already up and was appeasing the baby, rocking in her lap.
Tara, shaking, she came to Shanno, and whispered apologies. She had tears in her eyes and was rooted in her spot by baby’s cries for every cry felt like it would tear her heart apart. People assembled in the room, some kid was sent to bring ice. She could see a bump on the child’s head.
She felt some blood come back to her only when the child was calmed. Now laying in his mother’s lap he sucked her breasts, while occasionally taking a break to sniff.
‘I am sorry Shanno.’ When the danger was passed, it was only Shanno could bring herself to talk and listen to Tara.
‘Arrey what sorry. The child is wicked and always keeps moving. It happens to anyone. Don’t cry.’
‘I am not.’
‘Pagal. Go and see your face in the mirror.’
Shanno was forgiving but impressionable and when an elder lady found her and saw it her responsibility to guide Shanno, Shanno was waylaid.
‘She has no children of her own. How can you then dump your child on her? If she was so responsible, God wouldn’t have gifted her with a child. Now, dare you let your child go to her. That childless woman, what would she know about babysitting.’
Tara had been sitting quite close when the two were talking. She had hoped for Shanno to speak up for her, but Shanno had let her down. And after that Shanno had been withdrawn.
But children are pure hearted and forgiving for the child had more than twice looked at her and smiled. Laughed heartily.
‘Geet, I wanted to hug that child one last time. To apologize to him for being careless, for not being able to protect him. But I kept my distance for who knew they would call me witch this time.’ Tara’s voice was trembling with hurt.
‘Di, who was this old hag? Tell me right now.’
Tara replied and then she said, ‘Imagine Geet, In a moment from being beautiful, charming, a great dancer, I was reduced to being a childless woman. As if that is the only defining thing about me.’
‘Don’t hurt yourself Di thinking about them. They don’t deserve your thoughts.’
‘I don’t want to think Geet. Trust me I don’t want to think about not being able to have a child also but wherever I go it seems to follow me. It has taken away my peace of mind. When I talk to Dev, he just fails to understand what I am going through. He is not a woman and he will never understand.’
‘I wish I could take away some of your pain, Di. Did you tell Jiju about what happened there?’
‘No point. He would have been angry and then hurt. Then if it had somehow reached Mummyji’s ears, another showdown. I can’t bear to have arguments over this. As it is, it is a sore point between us.’
‘Hmm,’ Geet said and then Tara was called by Dadimaa and she had to go.
‘Take care, Di. Hang in there and Trust God, He will put all things right.’
Geet remained subdued after the phone call. Her sister was so nice, she deserved all the happiness then why would God put her through all these tests. If she was ever going to meet that woman, she would teach her a lesson for hurting her sister.
Maan came then and he saw her depressed state and also her shiny red nose.
‘Miss Red nose reindeer, what has gotten into you?’
‘Nothing.’ She said self consciously touching her nose.
‘Where were you and what took you so long?’
‘Sameera and I had lunch outside. I wanted to watch a movie too but she was getting late.’
Miffed and unable to hide her true feelings, she said, ‘Then why did you come back at all? Could have stayed at her place only. What? She didn’t invite?’
‘How I wished!’
‘You are teasing me!’
‘Isn’t that fun? You rise to every bait. I was late because I met a friend and then I saw a new bookstore and decided to explore the place.’
‘Uff. You and your books!’
‘Btw, why is your nose so red?’
‘Nothing. First you tell me why do you have to keep your three buttons open. I mean you are insulting the buttons by leaving them open. They are there to serve some purpose. It doesn’t become a man to go around showing so much skin.’
‘Now, I will wear what I want to and will keep my buttons open if I want to, who are you to say anything about it?’
‘I am your wife. The keeper of thy body.’
‘Seriously Geet?’ And then they had both laughed out loud at the idiocy of the whole conversation.
‘I take that back. It sounds so cheap even to my own ears.’
‘But accept that you were jealous.’
‘Jealous? Now what bird is that?’
‘Now, now Geet. I have always left my buttons open when I go out with you. You had no problem earlier. But since I was with Sameera…’
‘Puhleez.’
‘Geet, now if you are one of those women who can’t bear a woman within 10 m radii, I am sorry I have to tell you…’ He was throwing back her own lines to her.
Later on, she told him about the wedding incident with Tara. Maan was equally furious and hurt. They together cursed everyone who hurt their Tara and then both agreed on the fact that DevTara deserved all the happiness in the world. Maan was of the opinion that Tara should share this incident with Dev for he was her husband and deserved to know. Geet thought she would talk to her sister about it.
After that he often saw Geet scrubbing her face, or applying a face mask. She had also started applying makeup even if that was light. He wasn’t complaining though. A little makeup never hurt anyone. Though he enjoyed asking her out of blue, ‘Have you applied something to your eyes?’
She would blush and become self conscious mentioning an eyeliner or something.
———————
It was soon realised that they had been distracted the other day by his photos for the matter at hand still remained unsolved.
‘You know what,’ Geet said, ‘Let’s’ forget I enrolled myself in anything. Already it’s October. I will get freshly admitted next year. It was my fault to not listen to you earlier.’
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea.’
‘But you were earlier against the idea of a distance program.’
‘Yeah but that was in the past. Now I don’t think so. I went through your course materials. They are really good and self sufficient. If you study hard, it shouldn’t be a problem.’
‘I know Maan. I went through the books myself. However, my problem is with the grading system and the teachers and their attitude. I don’t want to fail.’
‘And you will not. Don’t believe any of Leena-Meena’s opinions. Have confidence in yourself. Just give it a shot yourself. Didn’t you research a lot about this institution so stick with your decision now.’
‘We’ll see,’ and sighed and then back to her work. But the night before her next class, she once again showed her reservations in attending the class. She behaved like one wilful child and Maan had to coax and convince her.
‘I will not go.’
‘Geet, but at least think about the fees you’ve already deposited.’
‘It was your money. Yes, I can’t waste it. But you know what, you’ve splurged a lot of my money too on useless books. Consider us even now.’
‘You know it’s not about money.’
‘No. I don’t know.’
‘Geet but this isn’t reasonable…you gotta listen to me first.’
‘Please on the pretext of reasoning I know what people do. They put forward their own point of view, which might not be as favourable as, I would like to enlighten you, as they think it to be.’
‘Reasonable ideas aren’t supposed to seem favourable, at least not in the very first hearing. In the long run they do turn out to be beneficial. Well, most of the time. Now, Geet last time also, you did not pay heed to my advice.’
‘You’re such a pig head. It would’ve been better if you had listened to me first and gone for Biswambhar’s offer. I had told you’ll…’ Then he realised his folly and shut his mouth.
She glared at him and said, ‘I KNEW IT! I just knew it. It would come to this. You’re not above the I-told-you-so average man.’
‘Well, if I be truthful I do strive to be above average men whether it be in idiocy or intelligence but your good sense is so often in the habit of taking occasional strolls that I cannot help but be an average man.’
‘That is a very presumptive statement. But I will ignore it for now for I haven’t any energy to fight right now.’
‘Accept you’ve no comeback. Even you yourself are aware that not attending classes is not our solution to our problem.’
The next day she woke up and then got ready, prepared breakfast and then told him, he who was taking his own sweet time devouring the breakfast.
‘I have a class at ten. Did you forget?’
On returning home after dropping her, he played some loud music and cleaned his place, watched some news while preparing lunch. The loud music was necessary because absence even for a few hours felt too defined. He would have thought himself to be a goner if he had sat long to explore his feelings but these days he didn’t think much. It was only fair that the house should go silent in her absence for she talked a lot. That’s how he reasoned.
The day seemed to be too long and only an hour had passed since her class when he wanted to text her but then didn’t. Her attention span was not much, seeing his text she would start arguing him once again. And he laughed thinking about that.
It was then the bell went off. On opening the door, he found Ayush and just like that his mood curdled. He had liked the guy. Yeah, at some point in life. Must be a recollection from last life. Now, the guy was just plain eye sore.
‘Hi’ Ayush’s voice was clipped as well. ‘Geet?’
‘She’s not at home.’
‘Oh.’ Ayush was at a loss of words.
‘Where did she go? She’ll be back when?’
‘No idea.’
‘Then, I will be back sometime later.’ And Ayush ran away from the icy awkwardness the whole exchange was. He called Geet but she wouldn’t receive. He felt disappointed. Disappointed and angry because she wouldn’t reply to his call. Because he didn’t get to meet her. He was looking forward to it the whole gruelling week. Because Maan was rude. Because Maan was her husband. Because she was married and her husband had a greater claim over there. Scrolling down his contacts, he came across no name he really wished to meet or who would be a companion and friend in true sense. He had tried so many people. Boys. Girls. No one made him feel like she did.
There was an S, over which his hand hovered and he thought of calling the number but let go of the idea. Everybody was alone in life. In a very cynical way, he drove while making up pitiful lyrics in his head. Nobody for me. Nobody for me. I am lonely and sad but nobody for me. He ate and drank alone and then went back to hostel to gloat to his friends what a amazing Sunday he had.
Maan sulked for sometime. He wished he could just delete this person from her life. Then he struggled with the dilemma of whether to let her wife in on the knowledge or not.
When he went to pick her up, he asked, ‘How was the class?’
‘Good. Professors are okay.’
Maan smiled. Okay was as far as her pride would allow. He gave her a smirk and she let him gloat. She was never of the mind of giving up the classes. It was just that she liked arguing with him. It added spice to her dull days. She also liked to bask in the warmth of his care. Care about her, about her present. He took her to a juice stall where she drank pomegranate juice because it would increase her haemoglobin, as if beetroots weren’t enough and then they came back home. She changed, they ate and then she went through her notes and prepared her chapters. Maan, on the other hand, his conscience would not let him sit peacefully.
Should he tell her that bosom friend had come or should he not? It would be wrong to keep information from her. Why come between her friend and her friend? But he was no friend! That guy clearly wanted more. Did she too? But she liked me, it was evident from her behaviour. But then she liked Ayush too. She was the kind of girl to like the whole world! And did she like me for being me or because I was her husband. It was maddening to be alone with these thoughts so he went to fetch her company.
‘I love Ammy Virk! Diljit Dosanjh is so overrated.’was the exclamation that greeted him.
‘Mainstream people know about Diljit but they should check out Ammy too. Kya banda hai! Maan, have you watched this? I just saw the trailer. I’m sold. Let’s watch this. Hall mein, please?’
How ignorant was she of his situation.
‘Last time I saw you were studying. Phir ye Ammy Virk kahan se aa gaya.’
She gave a guilty smile to him. ‘Bas aise hi. I was taking a break. Now I will go back to study.’
‘Haan bilkul sari padhai tumhe mere aane par hi yaad aati hai. Nice excuse you’ve got there.’
‘Arre nahi nahi,’ she said and took hold of his arm and made him sit next to herself. Then putting away her books, she looked into his eyes, ‘Let’s talk.’ He felt embarrassed under her watchful gaze. Was she really innocent or she was playing some game. His ears turned red.
‘What talk?’ He was very aware of her arms next to his. Of her faint shampoo smell. Of her cheeks that he wished to touch. But his strength only ran as far as playing with her dupatta. She had become open and comfortable around him and it made his heart grin.
‘Anything. Tell me about your childhood. About anything you want to tell me.’
This was his chance but he instead said, ‘You tell me about your childhood. Your past? Like did you like or love someone?’
She laughed at that. ‘Love? I never got a chance. College was supposed to be my one chance.’
‘In school? Didn’t you like anybody? There must have been crushes at least.’
‘Hmm. Maybe I must have had but never realised. I know I haven’t achieved anything but mostly I was a studious child. My past life is uneventful and boring.’
‘And Ayush?’
‘Ayush. What about him?’
‘You liked him? Had a crush on him?’ He needed to know. The ball was in her court. She could choose to tell him or not.
‘Honestly Maan. I don’t know. All I know is he was special. Special because we both understood each other in a way none could. I knew his problems – I can’t tell you his problem for it’s not my story-, his insecurities and yet chose to be a friend and confidante. He knew mine. The school and the students were very different from my status, people knew and would pick out faults with me, I would be invited to places I couldn’t afford, I had to let go of all those invitations, those overtures of friendship or mockery, I am not sure what it was. I was in reality a pariah and he was the only one who treated me equally, accepted me, in fact barged into my space, forgoing rich friends, content with stealing my cheap jalebis. That kind of person comes in your life only once. Then he left and his absence was deafening. Plus two was painful also because I was unable to deal with pressure and he wasn’t there to make me laugh and boost my morale. I missed him as a friend…’
‘He was more than a friend,’ he commented.
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know. I was sixteen, seventeen. I missed him for I was back to being the pariah. I missed venting out. Enjoying life with him. I was angry he went without saying anything. But I had my career before me. Obviously I missed him but I got over it because there was too much going in my life.Then, I saw him here.’
‘And you regretted the marriage.’
‘NO! Why would I ? Sometimes I might have resented being married because I wanted a college, job and then only marriage and not the reverse pattern for myself. But I have never regretted marrying. I don’t know why you keep making Ayush as a third person in our marriage. He is but only a friend. He is a part of my childhood and I will always be fond of him. There are some things that inevitably become a part of you.’ How could she regret her marriage when he was her husband? She had a crush on him. ON HIM! Did he forget?
‘And crush if you are asking, I had one. And you know,’ she was about to remind him of her confession but he got up saying, ‘ Enough of crush story. I have some work.’
He didn’t want to listen to one word more. Enough of this torment! And once again he was but a second choice!
Should she have not spoken about Ayush in such a truthful and honest manner. But she believed in being truthful. She had no romantic feelings for Ayush, hadn’t she made herself clear?
The rest of the day, she hovered around him trying to talk to him while he enjoying her attention and at the same time acting all busy and nonchalant.
‘Kya hua? Naraaz ho gaye?’
‘Why would I be angry? It was past. Whatever feelings you had for him in the past, it doesn’t concern me. It’s not going to change the truth. We are married. Can’t be helped. I am your husband now. And I have no plans of giving you away as much as you or that guy may wish. So you are stuck with me. Whether you like it or not. No point regretting.’
‘Giving you away? Koi samaan hoon kya main? Why are you talking like this?’ She was visibly perturbed and he censured. But he didn’t care. It was cruel but when feelings come into play when was one fair.
‘We can think about a divorce once we complete at least a year. And yes as long as we are together, try to be faithful both emotionally and…’
‘Enough! I am the stupid one here. I thought I should be honest but no. Instead I should have lied about how I felt. And who are you to talk about faithfulness? Emotional fidelity, you are talking about? I am not the one carrying my lover’s diary.’
She wiped away her tears impatiently and left the room. He felt both sorry and not sorry as well. Coursing his hands through his hair, he tried understanding the fire that burnt in his heart. What was this overwhelming need to occupy all of her being? The need to know all her inside out and the need to be the only one man in her life. Did these feelings come naturally to a husband? All husbands? Was it just because she was his wife? Had there been another woman at her place and would he feel the same? Or was it something else? What was this need he felt for her to feel strongly and greatly for him while he remain insulated from all of them? He had no answers. None at all.
For the entire day he did not go to her. Only when it was dark and night outside, he couldn’t keep away any longer. Now that they didn’t share a bed anymore the distance seemed more. But he wouldn’t, couldn’t share a bed with her. Not anymore.
She was laying on the sofa staring at the ceiling.
‘Geet,’ he said.
She remained silent.
‘Geet,’ he said again and because he didn’t want to say sorry and had nothing else to say, he said, ‘That guy friend of yours had come today morning. That special part of your childhood.’
He came and sat at her foot, and then boldly, because she wouldn’t respond otherwise, he lifted her foot and kept it on his lap. When she made no movement to acknowledge him, he touched her foot, his fingers grazing her sole , it was a first, him touching her and she jolted back, pulling her legs to herself. But he had become bolder, and he wanted to touch her. Really. Had been wanting to do so for a long time now. So, he pulled her leg once more and she let him and he began making patterns on the sole of her feet. It made her ticklish, the butterflies swarmed in her stomach. His hand travelled up making her feel all kinds of things. She felt warm, confused and sat up, pulling her leg to herself. But his reverie was still not broken, for this time he pulled all of her to himself making her fall on him. He liked how each part of her touched him as he captured her in his arms. She felt it too and made a feeble attempt to remove herself from his capture.
‘Let me go. I am not talking to you. I don’t want your apologies.’
‘Okay. I will not apologize and there is no need to talk. Just stay here and listen.’ Just stay here in my arms.
Grudgingly, she settled and let herself rest her head on his heart. He sighed. She had in some of her dark dreams always wanted to be cradled like this by him.
After a few silent minutes passed by, she said, ‘What am I supposed to listen to? You are not saying anything.’
‘You can listen to my heart.’ and she was stumped to silence.
‘Sorry, it was a cheesy thing to say.’
‘Oh sorry I was not supposed to apologize. Ah….I guess I am nervous.’
And then he let her go, leaving her bereft of warmth. He stood up and not meeting her eyes, he said, ‘Back then, I went overboard. Just take it as one of my mood swings.’
‘Mood swings?’ she asked. ‘You were so mean. Sometimes you are so nice and sometimes you act as if you don’t give two hoots about me. We are married. Can’t be helped. I won’t give you away. Divorce you after a year maybe. As if you don’t care about me.’ And she was once again wiping away her tears.
‘Don’t cry. I do care, you know.’
‘But your words are so hurtful,’ she uttered while crying profusely now for the more she was asked to stop, the more her tears will flow.
So he stepped towards her, and then pulled her into a hug.
‘I can be very difficult to live with.’
‘Very,’ she said. And he kissed her hair.
‘I only like you now,’ she said innocently but it was lost in his arms. Hopefully his heart would tell him.
‘I cannot be above being a jealous man,’ he said softly and it was lost in the strand of her hair. Hopefully when she untangles her hair the next morning, she would find the confession hanging from some curl.
Just like that all was well in their world once again.
—————–
Meera and Geet soon became friends. Geet was too dense when it came to being aware of her own charms. Meera had liked her and there was no way she was going to let Geet avoid her.
‘Geet, you were supposed to woo me for a lifetime but what is this? You disappeared on me after giving me false hopes.’
‘Hi Di. I am sorry. I thought you must be busy.’
‘I am not. Why don’t you come inside,’ invited Meera.
‘Uhm some other time.’
‘Did my husband scare you that day? He says he might have.’
‘No. What did he say?’
‘He said he was rude to you and kept asking you questions just to prove a point to the students.’
Geet colored at the recollection.
‘No. It was my fault for jumping into the class.’
‘Let’s just agree that it was nobody’s fault. Now will you come in?’
Geet followed and then met Rama as well.
‘Good morning, Sir,’ she said.
‘Rama would be fine,’ he said with a smile.
She nodded but continued addressing him as Sir.
Meera was a very friendly woman. She was interesting as well for she had so many anecdotes and stories to share. Rama and Meera’s marriage was a love marriage and their story worthy of being published. Rama was a student of Meera’s father and they both were poles apart in personality and preferences however love had found both of them. They had both married with their elder’s blessings. He got a job first in Bangalore, then they moved to Hyderabad and then Gurgaon. But one terrible accident had left Rama paralysed. His legs wouldn’t move. He lost the job and then it was Meera who ran the house. She herself was an editor at a big publishing house. She had once wanted to be a writer but now she hardly got time to write with all the responsibilities of both work and home.
Geet also shared her own story with Meera and the friendship started on trust and goodwill for each other. In Meera, Geet saw what she wished to achieve herself – confidence, strength and ambition. While in Geet, Meera saw what she had forgotten – innocent youth, the ability to dream and innate goodness.
Just in a few days, they became great friends. Often, when the clamour of the world deafened Meera, she would find a haven in Geet’s apartment. They would sit and talk about everything and anything.
Geet lived alone and was a non judgmental ear which encouraged Meera to seek her out more often. She also introduced Geet to the true flavour and colour of Delhi, the real Delhi. The Sarojini nagar markets, the purani Dilli Dhabas and Parathewali Galis, the Khan Market. She also taught her how to bargain and how to not be afraid and at the same time be aware of the immoralities of Delhiites sometimes that came in the form of lecherous glances.
It was with Meera’s help that Geet found a nice hair salon. Then got a nice hair cut too. It was nothing much. Just trimming but she had got bangs and layers too. And Meera di thought she looked beautiful. Geet herself thought she looked beautiful. She also bought a pair of jeans and some beautiful kurtis and tops as well. Yeah, she splurged some of his money but he had spent hers too on buying shirts so it was okay.
It was the first time she was truly enjoying herself and the city and she was grateful to Meera for that.
—————————————-
‘Hi’ Ayush sent when he saw Geet online.
‘Hi,’ she sent back.
‘Up so late?’
‘Hmm. Was studying then got bored so came here. What about you?’
‘I am a night owl. Neend hi nhi aati’
‘Wow. Tell me how I can keep awake too? These days I fall asleep over my books. Don’t feel like studying at all. The same books bore me.’
‘You can dance. I always dance when I feel drowsy. Once I am not sleepy anymore, I go back to studying.’
‘Nice trick’
————————
She was solving Thermodynamics while trying not to fall over her books. The sums were really tough and she wasn’t able to chalk out the logic. Before that she had been revising Plant Kingdom, that was another chapter that always put her to sleep.
Then she remembered Ayush’s advice. Dance.
Maan had woken up thirsty and not finding a water bottle beside his table, he had come out of the room to find her not on the sofa and so he had come here, and she was -he didn’t know what that was – Dance? Belly dance?
The small lamp of his study room was on.
Her loose grey top was tied at midriff, there was that skin between her shirt and pyjamas showing, her hair – that sexy hair- was left open and she was dancing ? moving her belly?
Rooted at his place, he watched her dance and then prying open the door some more, he asked, ‘ Is that what you do every night?’
‘Aaao,’ she screamed at his unexpected arrival so lost she was in her dance.
‘Because if yes, then I have been missing so much.’
‘Maan!’
‘Yes, Who else?’
‘You scared me.’
‘Wasn’t my intention. However, carry on. I am enjoying it.’
‘I was just trying to wake myself up…’
‘I am not complaining. But is this a nightly ritual? Do you do this in day hours too?’
She immediately unknotted her shirt and he felt kinda disappointed at the disappearance of her fair skin. Then, she tied her hair into a knot.
‘You wanted something?’ She asked him.
‘Water. I will take it myself. If you are feeling sleepy, you can go to sleep. I will take the sofa.’ Anyway, he wasn’t getting any sleep after what he saw. Pure torture!
‘No. I have to complete this exercise.’
‘As you wish.’
He was leaving when Geet asked, ‘Maan, why did this sofa come between us?’ She had been wanting to ask since so long and finally found courage.
‘Hmm?’ Her penchant to ask difficult questions.
'We were doing fine on the bed then why?’
He walked towards her and standing closer to her, he said
‘You will understand someday. But I fervently hope you feel you understand soon.’
He was gone then and her hair had come cascading down her shoulders for he had taken away her elastic band with him.
This is a new chapter and mostly a filler - just an attempt to get back to writing.
New Chapter - The Visit
Geet watched the dawn finally blossom into a beautiful morning. Sipping her tea, she looked down her balcony at people - some alone, some with their spouses, and some with their pets - out and moving about. She liked this time of the day mostly because of the cool air, the mainas and the sparrows that visited her neighbourhood and how they circled the trees nearby. She also liked to catch her husband return from his run when he would look up right at her and give her a lopsided smile or catch her heart unawares with a sneaky wink. She felt he liked it too. The fact that she waited for him in the balcony. It was visible in the way his face would light up when he would see her. As if right on cue, she saw his jog into their lane. She waved at him when he was right down their balcony and he winked. The pressure cooker whistled inside and Geet turned around to check if the chickpeas had finally cooked.
Opening the door on her way, she got busy in the kitchen when Maan came and deposited the items she had asked to get him. Cottage cheese, milk and bread.
'Good morning, again!' She chirped.
'Morning!' Her cheerfulness was contagious.
'You've already bathed? Isn't it too early by your standards?' He remarked, pulling the towel off her wet hair.
'Maaaan,' she admonished. The heavy mass that her hair was lay dumped on her shoulder.
'Whaaat?' He shirked his shoulders while his hands had started rolling her towel.
'Too many things to do today so I got that one out of my way first thing in the morning.' She stated, turning away from him, busying herself with the lid of the cooker. He had in the recent days started to take such liberties with her. Touch a hair strand there, a finger or a cheek there. All of it gave her goosebumps. And butterflies. It would set off a mighty number of butterflies in her stomach.
While struggling with her feelings, she also struggled with the cooker's lid and when the lid finally gave in, she was caught off-guard with the steam escaping from it. She almost scalded her hand, a yelp leaving her throat.
He was at once by her side, taking the damned utensil away from her. 'Relax, take it slow. I know you're excited about your parents coming in today. But you know, they would be more happy seeing you than your steamed form.'
'Mujhe kya? You'd be answerable for not taking good care of me.' She retorted.
'Mujhe bhi kya? I would put you on a platter, saying, serving you the house's special tonight - the one that your daughter sacrificed herself for - Geemomos.'
'Maan! You've got such a dark sense of humour.'
'Be honest. You like that, don't you?' He put the rolled towel on her hand where the steam had hit her. It did have the desired cooling effect.
'Thank you,' she said, enjoying his attention but then her eyes went to his wrist watch. 'It's half past six, Maan. Go get ready. The train will be here by eight.' When he still did not move an inch away from her, she had to push him away. 'Maaan, jaiye na please. With the kind of traffic we have here, it will take more than an hour to reach the railway station.'
'Okay,' he put his hands up in the air. 'I am going. Girls and their excitement for the mayka!'
Geet watched him march dramatically towards their room, and smiled to herself. Yes, she was very excited. After all it was the first time her parents were visiting her. There was the proverbial spring in her steps. She wanted to do everything for them and wanted everything perfect. For the entire week she had pestered and annoyed Maan to move things here and there, and add more things to their house. He had catered to most of her whims and fancies; her enthusiasm and happiness had him affected too. It was like some festivity.
Geet busied herself in preparing a paneer dish she had watched a tutorial of on YouTube a few days ago. For Maan she had whipped up a bread omelet. When he returned, immaculately dressed in a Tee and trousers, she plated the breakfast. He insisted her to accompany him but she maintained that she was going to wait for her parents. Maan let her be. Her excitement was palpable. He could relate with her. He felt the same whenever anyone was visiting him from home.
'Fine, then I am leaving,' he said getting up after wearing his shoes.
'I have whatsapped you the seat details.'
'Yeah, got it.' He confirmed.
When she locked the door after him, she was so confused as to what more to do. The food was ready. The home was clean and looked presentable. Right? Or maybe the vase shouldn't be there? Before she went mad, her phone rang. It was her Tara di. Well, it was a good distraction while she waited for her parents to finally come home.
Thank you so much for updating
I'll read once more
and then comment
Oh I’m going to faint! Thanks a lot for coming back. Going to read all the previous chapters to brush up my memory and then catch up with the new one… thank you
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