If asked, she
would not be able to put a finger on the exact moment when she became the
prematurely old woman that was staring at her from the mirror. Looking at her dull
sunken eyes, her mind flashed back to a photo buried somewhere among the pile
of books, diaries and photo albums that lay slowly gathering dust in a small
shelf in the corner of the bedroom. The photo was taken almost 10 years ago,
where she sat with her friends outside her school in uniform, all looking
happily into the camera. She remembered having very beautiful eyes back then –
without dark circles or fine lines, two dark brown orbs cheerily gazing at the
world defined by thick black kohl. She still wore the kohl exactly the same way
– or so she remembered – though they did not look anything like the young
spunky thing she was.
She looked at
the shelf again, judging whether she wanted to look through her things for that
photo – and put them back again. She shrugged without being aware. Oh never mind.
She looked
back into the mirror, adjusting her khadi kurta and tucking her limp hair
behind her ear. Absentminded, she glanced out of the window. Even though it was
just 2 pm on an October day in Delhi, the sky was grey, with a nip in the air. Winter’s early this year, she thought.
She switched off the lights in all the rooms, and locked the door before
leaving – giving a vacuous smile to her next door neighbor in the 4-floor
apartment building, Gina aunty.
“Hardly
mid-October and it is already getting cold. Better get the razais and sweaters out, huh Riya?” the affable old lady, attending
to her balcony garden, chirped. Riya snapped to attention. “Huh? Uh … yeah,
aunty. I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Homi’s at
work? Don’t you have office today?”
“Yeah, he just
left an hour ago. He will be back at around midnight. As usual. My off day has
been shifted to Tuesdays now, going out to meet a friend.”
“You young
people! At a time when you should be enjoying a new married life, you are both
so busy working. And at different hours and days as well! When will you get
time to make kids?” she chided, accidently sprinkling too much water on her
budding dahlias.
“Oh don’t
worry, Gina aunty. Enough time for kids. And I’ll tell Homi you asked,” Riya
smiled, half-amused, half-embarrassed, “Okay, I have to rush now. See you
later, aunty!”
Rushing down
the stairs, she didn’t quite catch what the bespectacled grandmother of 5 continued
to mutter. Kids! she laughed to
herself as she beckoned an auto in front of the lane.
****
“Kahaan jana
hai, maidam?”
“Green park
market, bhaiyya.”
“80 rupees
lagega.”
“Roj aya jaya
karti hoon yaha CR Park se. 60 rupaye se ek paisa zyada nahi.”
“Chalo 70 de
dena maidam. CNG ka daam bahut barh gaya hai. Aap parhe likkhe logon ko to
pata hain.”
“65 le lena.
Ab chalo.”
The daily
bargaining with auto drivers followed the same script, with minor changes as
per destination and fee. Similar to so many other daily conversations, she
philosophized – dazed eyes staring out at the disappearing traffic as the auto whirred
by. The wind got chilly as the auto picked up speed on the surprisingly empty
Ring Road. Should have worn a stole, she
regretted.
She had
married her long-time boyfriend less than a year ago. While he worked night
shifts at an MNC in Gurgaon, she had a regular day job at a KPO in Noida.
“We’re never
going to meet each other after we are married,” she had gushed, lying next to
him at his bachelor pad with his arm supporting her head – a year or so before
their marriage. “Don’t worry; I will wake you up ‘lovingly’ when I get home
from work at night. And you can wake me ‘gently’ up for a few minutes before
you go to work in the mornings,” Homi had grinned mischievously, looking down
at her make a face.
Passing South
Ex, she smiled sardonically to herself. That’s
what we thought! Hardly 9 months into the post married life, and what she
had prophesized was already happening. Getting back from work, he would be too
tired except to exchange some perfunctory words before going to bed. And
mornings would be too rushed an affair for her to do much except kiss his sleepy
tousled head before dashing out of the house. All our conversations are on phone, it’s still like when we were in a
long distance relationship for a few years, she realized suddenly with a
pang.
****
The auto
jolted to a stop. “Yeh lo aa gaya maidam.”
She counted
out 65 rupees, and was putting the latch back on her bag, when she noticed
Padma waving wildly from the other side of the road. Grinning, Riya waved back
as she made to cross the road.
“You look SO
grown up!” the dimpled girl with poker straight hair screamed as Riya
approached her.
“Is that
polite for old? And you look terrific as ever, obviously. How’s Arnab?” Padma
shrugged her shoulders as if to say, “Okay.”
Despite both
living in different cities at different times, and both having completely
different personalities – they continued to be good friends as they grew from
adolescents into women. They entered the quiet little pub ‘Charlie’s’ – Padma’s
favorite in Delhi. Adjusting their eyes to the dim interiors, they made their
way to a table at the back.
Riya took in
the ambience. Wooden ceiling and floors with high back chairs on tall round
tables – replete with a Johnny Cash number playing softly to complete the
cowboy look. She rolled her eyes at Padma, who protested, “What? The food’s
really good. You wait till you try the pork ribs.” Riya cheered up at that.
Pork and pubs
have been quite off Riya’s list ever since her marriage. Homi wasn’t a fan of
either, and living together meant she weaned off those habits over time. “Do
they have steaks? I haven’t had one in so long!” she said as she looked through
the menu.
“I am
pregnant,” Padma said without preamble as they both settled into their chairs.
Riya dropped her menu card in shock. After a passing waiter had picked it up
and left after taking their orders, she looked at Padma, “Have you told Arnab
yet? So, you guys getting married?”
Padma looked
at her big concerned eyes for a while, and said, “It isn’t Arnab’s.”
“WHAT?” Riya
shouted. A group of men sitting a few tables away turned around to look. She
again said in a quieter voice, “What? Who is it? Have you been cheating on
Arnab?”
Padma’s eyes
filled with tears. “I didn’t mean to cheat… It’s just that we have been going
through a rough phase. You know he doesn’t want to marry now, and has been
keeping busy with his family business. Over a month ago, we had a big fight
over it. You know my folks are pestering me to get married, especially after
you did last December. I left for Chennai for an education conference. Later
that night, all of us delegates went out for a party. There was this charming
man from our Bangalore circle. We got talking, had a few too many drinks. I was
already angry with Arnab. And …”
Both women sat
in silence for a while, as the speakers changed songs to “Achy breaky heart”.
“Did you tell this to that sonofa… that charming delegate?”
Padma’s lips
quivered. “I can’t. After the … night, the following morning he told me that he
was married with a kid and that this was a mistake – but we should take it in
the right spirit and part as happy strangers. He said it was a wonderful night
… and …,” she choked up.
Riya’s eyes flashed
fire, as she reached out for her friend’s hands to comfort her. “That fucking
asshole. Besides, even if we were to overlook that you slept with a complete
stranger, why on earth didn’t you use protection?” she asked as kindly as she
could, without conking Padma on her head for her silliness.
Padma waited
while the waiter arrived with their food – a BBQ pork rib and mohito for Padma
and a pork steak and beer for Riya.
“I … we...
were too drunk to realize, I think. We didn’t even remember this the next
morning. I missed my period this time and took a home pregnancy test a few days
back…” she said, picking at her rib.
“What are you
going to tell Arnab? Wait, you won’t tell him, will you? Just see a doctor and
get rid of it.” Riya’s eyes searched Padma’s for agreement, with her forkful of
steak hung in midair. She was suddenly afraid of the way Padma was looking at
her.
****
“I told Arnab
about the pregnancy. I told him it was his kid. He doesn’t know it wasn’t his.
When we had sex last month, I wasn’t ovulating. But I was ovulating while in
Chennai. So I know this kid is that other guy’s.”
“Wha… what did
Arnab say?”
Padma’s face
finally lit up in a shy smile. “He says we should get married now.”
For the second
time, Riya’s shout of exclamation attracted the attention of the people in the
pub. Rubbing her eyes with her index finger and thumb – a habit she has picked
up lately – she contemplated the scenario. It was a win-win for all parties… “but at the cost of a lifelong lie?”
she accused Padma.
The latter
shifted uneasily in her seat, and maintaining composure, replied, “I know you
would get judgmental, Riya. But I really needed to tell you. Everyone is not
lucky as you and Homi da, you know. Dating since college, love marriage and
living happily ever after. I don’t want to get rid of the baby, especially if
it is the one thing that makes Arnab change his mind about getting married. Our
parents don’t have to know.” The last sentence had a pleading note to it, as if
Riya’s acceptance will settle the entire matter.
In a way, it
did. Both the women have shared all their secrets since childhood – their
crushes, kisses, boyfriends, sex – and both regarded each other’s decision as
the last word in any issue.
Riya did not
say anything. She knew that Padma has always been temperamental, but she had
mellowed down a lot in her growing years, and would contemplate such a risky
decision now only as a sort of last resort. She still did not want the burden
of making such an unwise decision for her friend, but Padma’s misty,
mascara-smudged eyes wore a look of extreme unhappiness. “I really think it’s a
bad idea, and I don’t think I have to list down the repercussions that you will
face IF the truth ever comes out. Please take some more time to think about it,
Paddy. If you still think it’s wise after a couple of days, I will happily
bestow my blessings on the three of you,” she told her softly.
Padma looked
down at her plate in deep contemplation, and nodded. “Yes, I’ll do that, Reese.
I am just so sure that things will all fall into place once we get married and
have this kid.”
****
Coming out of
‘Charlie’s’, Padma took the metro back home. The sky had got darker, and it
looked like it will rain anytime now. Sitting on a half empty carriage, she
hoped she reached home before the rain. It wasn’t a long ride, and she looked
around at the other passengers. A young couple, hardly out of school, was
sitting a few seats away from her, talking animatedly. She smiled to herself,
and Padma’s words came back to her. Everyone
is not lucky as you and Homi da.
Her smile
faltered as she recalled the last few months of their engagement – how she had
nearly called off the wedding, but decided against it after considering the
pain it would cause to everyone involved. And not once, but quite a few times.
She wondered if she had done the right thing. Ironically, no one else except
Homi – not even Padma – was aware of her indecisiveness. All her friends and
relatives were so convinced that hers was such a happy relationship that she
would have been embarrassed to tell anyone that it was becoming just the
reverse.
And it sneaked up so stealthily that either of
us hardly noticed. Arguments that were ended without any
closures just for the sake of peace, the over-familiarity of old couples which
transforms passion into the mundane, the taking for grantedness, the missed movie dinners – these
and more somehow crept into their lives and choked the love out of it. Absence
of apologies, inadequate apologies, the ennui and the jadedness –all these just
tightened the stranglehold.
****
“Nehru Place
metro station”, the P.A. announced.
Riya jerked
into reality. As she came out of the metro station, the rain was already
lashing fiercely at stranded passersby. Cursing under her breath, she was
soaked to her bones by the time she reached her apartment.
The lock was
gone from the door. Did Homi get back
home early today?
Entering, she
was greeted by the stereo playing “Wonderful Tonight” in the living room.
“Homi?” she called out.
“Hey jaaneman!” Homi called out from the
kitchen. Puzzled, she put her bag on the bed and went to him. He had her back
to her and was cleaning the chicken at the sink. “I got off early today, so I
did some shopping and came home. I am cooking dinner tonight. You relax – I rented
the DVD of ‘The Scent of a Woman’. And there’s some beer in the fridge…” he
paused as he turned around to see her dripping on the kitchen floor. “You will
catch a cold! Go dry yourself. We’ll then watch the movie.”
She looked at
him, standing in his pajamas and vest, his eyes hoping for some happy reaction
for this unexpected surprise – and smiled. “You missed out that piece of
chicken. It still isn’t clean,” she reprimanded before going to take a hot
shower.
Coming out of
the bathroom in her bathrobe, she went to the mirror. She smiled as she heard
Homi bustling around in the kitchen, crooning to “Every Breath You Take” now playing
on the stereo, and picked up the kohl to her eyes.
