Looking at her beautiful pictures, with Samba snoring loudly under my bed, I revisited our happy memories and drifted off to sleep.
I am not alone in this journey. You are my constant companion, though you might not know it, a part of your heart is always beating in my body.
Adira
A lockdown was going on. Mummy was coordinating with her vendors and clients over the phone. After my parents’ separation, Mummy used her contacts to start a party-planning business. It was nothing big, compared to the companies they show in the movies, but Mummy loved being independent. She was sitting in the living area, talking animatedly and sometimes borderline yelling at her staff. I couldn’t help but smile. I directed my wheelchair towards her. Though I could walk on my own, in the mornings, I liked to take it a little slow. I was still not very confident about walking alone or without support. My physiotherapist came in thrice a week and I loved spending time with her. She was almost my age and she and I had become friends. We chatted about almost everything under the sun for the entire two hours that she made me exercise. She was due to come over the day the lockdown was announced, but sent me a text the previous night, cancelling her appointment. I didn’t expect her during the lockdown; physiotherapy was not an essential service but her presence in my life was, so I was a little disappointed to know that she would not meet me for at least three weeks. Her name is Samantha, I called her ‘Sam’, the way she prefers it. I was inspired by how independent she was, just like my mother. Looking at these two women, I too wanted to do something someday, something to be proud of, but I was yet to determine what that ‘something’ was. Sam had begged me to continue with my exercises and I hoped Mummy would not mind taking me to the terrace as I hated working out indoors. I liked it when the rays of the sun hit my skin and made me feel alive. I liked the breeze in my hair and the sounds of life buzzing around me. We had a number of stray dogs in the neighbourhood and they made a lot of noise during odd hours; every passing car, scooter, or person was given due attention. While the heat, noise and chaos were bothersome for many, they made me feel alive. These things made my life bright and I needed this brightness to colour my life.
As I approached the sofa in the living room, my mother’s focus shifted from her own call with her ‘lazy’ worker to me. They were both wearing masks and my mother signalled towards the centre table, where there was a packet of blue and white disposable masks. I quickly obeyed and though I could not see her mouth, from her eyes I could tell that she was giving me one of her signature smiles. I smiled back and waited for her to say her goodbyes to the person in front of her and then to the people on the call.
‘These lazy workers, I tell you,’ Mummy said, releasing a breath as soon as the call ended. She took a dollop of hand sanitizer and rubbed her palms together. Though I had not even said hello to the visitor, she extended her hand for me to do the same. I placed my palm underneath the pump and was rewarded with sanitizer.
‘You work too hard at times’, I wanted to tell my mother and then it hit me: it was the wrong way to look at things. My mother is the way she is because she has to be; she had no other choice. Her life had not been fair and she had learnt things the hard way. She was there for me when I needed her and could help me because of the way she was. I would not want her to change. I loved her exactly the way she was!
‘Sam is not coming over; she wants me to continue with my exercises. Will you help me, Ma?’
‘Of course I will help! I have done these calls early because I know that we will have more on our plate today. I was not expecting this man, but some people have no regard for instructions even when they come down from the ministry or the government.’ She was referring to the man who’d left our house a few moments ago and I wondered if he was one of the few people who had disregarded the lockdown. ‘The maid won’t come either and neither will the cook.’ With a full-time working mother, we were so used to all the house help that their presence was taken for granted. Taking care of ourselves and the house was going to be an experience!
‘It is so quiet in here with no one around,’ I told her as she wheeled my chair into the study.
‘Where do you want to do your exercises?’ Mummy asked me as she placed her journals and notebooks neatly on the racks. My mother has always been the one who would shoulder responsibilities and not even once think that it was all getting too much. She always had a lot on her plate and hardly ever took a break. With the new pandemic-induced changes, I was beginning to get worried for her. I wanted her to take a break.
‘I was hoping we could go to the terrace. It is a warm day and I could do with some sunshine.’
I was expecting some resistance as she was always neck-deep in work but, to my surprise, Mummy agreed instantly and helped me out of the wheelchair. I could now climb the stairs too, but the limp didn’t exactly make it easy. So, Mummy held my right hand while I held on to the railing with my left. One step after another, and together we reached our destination slowly and steadily.
‘The limp will go soon,’ Mummy said, as if she could read my mind. I was wondering if it would ever go. Doctors said it would be there for life but the same doctors also said I would never wake up. Sometimes doctors can be wrong, too, sometimes they miscalculate, and sometimes, God is very kind.
There was an outdoor bed, two chairs and a table on our terrace. The furniture was fairly new as I liked spending time there and Mummy wanted me to sit and not overwork myself as I practised walking and took my physiotherapy sessions. Also, there was an old gazebo to shield us when the sun got very harsh. I found it on OLX some weeks ago at a decent price. As the days became warmer, the gazebo was much needed.
That was a pleasant morning. It was a little past nine and birds still chirped around. Mummy is an early riser and I have fallen into the same habit. Before we began my exercises, we stood still and looked around; it was serene and beautiful.
I had a set of three exercises and I was supposed to repeat it three times. However, after two sets, I gave up and so did my mother. Her face turned red and her huffs and puffs were unmissable. ‘Thank you, Ma, that is enough for the day,’ I told her, putting her out of her misery.
‘We can manage one more set, I think. I am not that old yet.’ She squinted as the sun was blinding her and she needed water.
‘It is more than I can manage, Ma. You are not old but I am still broken,’ I told her, pouting.
She tapped me on my shoulder, ‘Nah! You are fine and you will be better soon.’
Mummy headed downstairs to get us some water and I shouted after her, ‘Get my earplugs, please.’
Mummy had to get back to work and I did not wish to go anywhere but to the sunbed to enjoy some more sun. ‘I shall come back in one hour to check on you. Try and walk a little,’ Mummy instructed before leaving a green water bottle and my earplugs beside me and turning on her heel to go back to her work.
I connected my EarPods and went to my phone’s music; old Hindi songs were what I was after. My playlist has always been simple—Rafi, Kishore Kumar, Lata Mangeshkar . . .
After ten minutes of sunning, I started walking and then swaying a little to the music—this was my little paradise. After around three minutes, but what felt like half an hour or more to my legs, I sat down on the yellow sunbed panting like I had run a marathon. I closed my eyes and tried to calm my breathing when I heard something over my head and my eyes snapped open. It was a drone buzzing over. Honestly, it scared the crap out of me.
I squealed and moved back on the sunbed, not taking my eyes off it for very long and, at the same time, frantically looking around to see where it had come from. Much to my surprise, the machine dropped to the ground after a while. I didn’t know how these things operated and wondered if it was a stray; like a bird or something that had lost its way and now was out of battery or something. I kept staring at it with my head tilted to one side, something that I noticed a few seconds later and aligned my head properly.
I had never seen
a drone up close till then, so naturally, I was a bit inquisitive. I picked it up; it was not feather-light but was not very heavy either. There was a note attached to the base, which just read:
‘You dance very well.’
Under normal circumstances, the note would have scared me. There was someone out there watching me as I danced, thinking that I was dancing without an audience. That was creepy. But this person had reached out to tell me that they were there, watching, and it made it a tad less creepy. Also, after everything that I had gone through, most people that I had met were my family and friends and they knew what had happened; they pitied me. I always felt that they were comparing my present life with my past and that thought was not a comforting one. I constantly felt the need for a new friend, someone who didn’t know me before and saw me as I was with no comparisons. Though this was not the ideal way to meet a new friend, I knew that it was not bad either.
I looked around squinting my eyes to try and spot the person behind the machine and there he was. Yes, ‘he’. I had not expected my admirer to be a girl and so I was not taken aback when he waved at me. He was standing on a terrace three houses away from the one right across ours. The sun shone brightly right above him. It was not very easy to see what he looked like but I did manage to see that he had a very welcoming smile and looked to be in his late twenties. He was wearing rimmed spectacles and a formal shirt as if he was working on the terrace. Maybe he was working from home like everyone else was that day.
I turned to see if I had something to scribble with, but who keeps a pen on their terrace? Exactly! No one and we didn’t have one either. So I just bowed theatrically and accepted his compliment. I couldn’t help but control my smile and he laughed heartily. That was exactly the moment when his drone buzzed and I let it fly back to him. He attached another note and sent it to me; it had his number and name. His name was Siddharth Sharma and he wanted to be friends with me. I did too, for my best friend was now a mommy and my mommy was now my best friend. I needed some new people in my life. I quickly picked up my phone from my table and dialed his number. It was funny really, to be talking to someone over the phone when otherwise, you could just open the door and walk up to them, if there wasn’t a lockdown.
‘Thanks for the compliment,’ I said as soon as he picked up and heard his hearty laugh.
‘So, for how long have you been stalking me?’ I asked, looking at him and seeing him squirm. He was not very good at hiding his emotions and he reminded me of Ronnie.
‘I . . . I actually . . . saw you yesterday with your mother,’ he said.
‘How do you know that it was my mother?’ I placed my index finger on my chin. He ran his fingers through his hair.
‘My mother told me. She knows your mum, okay? I was not being a creep or maybe I was. Sorry. But I like the way you dance and wanted to know you . . .’
‘Are you Sharma Aunty’s son?’ I interrupted him by figuring out the puzzle. He was for sure Mrs Sharma’s son who worked in Delhi, the one that Aunty keeps complaining about, the one who hardly comes over to be with his parents because he has so much work to do. The son who took them from rags to riches within a few years with his hard work and the one that she is very proud of. Sharma Aunty is my mother’s friend and kitty partner. While a lot of food is exchanged between the two households and I love when Sharma Aunty sends over her famous kadhi rice, I had never bothered to look at her son’s pictures in her house. It was neither appropriate nor necessary. I assumed that he would be someone older and definitely more pensive-looking. But looking at Sid, I could say that he’d chosen his DNA well. He was tall, much taller than my five-foot-five frame, broad as if he worked out often, and had a stubble which could have been the result of too much work-from-home but suited his face well. I was still amazed that Sharma Aunty had not told Mummy about her son’s much-awaited arrival. Mostly, both Aunty and her husband visited Siddharth in Delhi as he was immersed in his work even during weekends.
‘Yes, I am. So you know my mother?’ he asked, as if I was the one who had been looking at him from afar for the last two days.
‘We do. In fact, she is my mother’s friend and I do not think that either of our mothers would like you snooping around like this.’ I knew I was taking it too far so I giggled. He combed his hair with his fingers again. Maybe this was his giveaway, his way to hide his discomfort.
‘My mother would like that I am finally talking to someone she knows. She wants me to go out and meet people,’ he said bashfully.
‘Good for you. I got to go. See you later then!’ I said and waved at him.
He didn’t wave back, just smiled and nodded once. I headed back downstairs to leave him with his drone and to tell Mummy what happened. I did feel his eyes following me. He was definitely a nice guy going by what his mother had told us but I was not looking for anything more than friendship and, in my heart, I was very clear about it. I didn’t want him to get any ideas and I didn’t want to lose control of my heart either. As I bolted the door of the terrace, I heard his drone fly back to him. I paused at the last step and saved his number with his name.
Mummy was still busy on the phone when I went into her home office and I sat down quietly on the two-seater couch in front of the window. She worked way too hard for her age, and I so wanted to help her but she never let me and that hurt me the most. I had started making plans of getting back to some work as soon as my doctor cleared me. It would have happened sooner had the Covid disaster not struck the world but I knew better than to complain. It was a miracle of sorts that I was alive and breathing and that was enough for my mother. I planned to take up some work from her so that she could find some time for herself and I, too, would get a sense of purpose.
It was around noon that Mummy got free from her work and I told her all about my interaction with Siddharth that morning. She was as shocked as I was that Sharma Aunty had kept her son’s homecoming a secret. After lunch, Mummy called Aunty to confront her and later the phone call became a gossip session for the two ladies. I picked up a self-help book from Mummy’s reading nook and busied myself for the remainder of the afternoon.
Mummy called me for dinner, and I neatly folded and placed a tissue lying on the table as a bookmark. It is an old habit. No matter how many fancy bookmarks I get, I always end up using the weirdest things to mark the last page I have read. Sometimes, it can be as bad as the wire of my phone’s charger.
While our dinner was quiet and relaxed, I was itching to go back to my room and finish reading the book. I was at a very delicate moment in the book and needed to get lost in a place that promised security. The book I was reading gave me just that.
At the table, Mummy told me how she thinks that Sid and I should be talking more and once the lockdown was over maybe even go out for a movie or something. I knew what she was hinting at. I was no fool and the hostility between Ronnie and Mummy was not a mystery. They liked each other as much as Coyote liked the Roadrunner but Mummy was the Coyote, and always trying to hurt the poor Roadrunner. I didn’t want an argument around Ronnie or Sid—men were the least of my problems at that moment and I was happy to concentrate on myself. So I just nodded and that satisfied my mother. She picked up her plate and moved on from the subject.
‘Eat well, the doctor said you will need as much strength as you can get,’ Mummy scolded me in her usual caring tone and I smiled at her. She thought of me and cared for me as if I was still a child who could not take care of herself. That was true only partially. I could now take care of myself; I just didn’t think that I needed to while Mummy was around. I stuffed myself with rajma chawal and kissed Mummy goodnight. She planned to surf Netflix and Prime Video most of the night for a movie to watch, eventually watching nothing or a rerun of her favourite series and then complaining the next day about the lack of content nowadays.
As much as I wanted to step into the warmth of my book, the flickering light on my phone kept me from it. It was a video call. I picked up my phone and sighed. It was R
onnie. I knew he was calling to check if I was okay. It was his customary call, every evening. Post his parents’ move to the UK, he had been taking care of his Nani and I was impressed with the way he was managing everything. I knew that his Nani had been diagnosed with cancer and that he was the one taking her to the chemo sessions, but he didn’t even tell me. He didn’t want me to get upset over Nani’s health I guess, but Tamanna told me, unaware of Ronnie’s intentions. I looked forward to his customary calls and texts—they meant that everything with him and his family was fine. Even though I was not sure of how I felt, I knew that I cared for him deeply and I also cared for Tamanna and Piyush who’d became parents recently. They had named their daughter Adira and I adore her. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Adira, she was the cutest little thing in the world and I couldn’t wait to hold her. Closing the door of my room, I answered the video call. Ronnie’s face filled my phone’ screen.
‘Hey,’ Ronnie said as soon as the call connected. I could see that he was perched on his sofa. It is funny the way I still remembered the minute details of his home. I had believed that it was my future home too. We were so happy, so much in love then. I massaged my aching legs and smiled back at him. His eyes twinkled every time we got on a video call and honestly, it is this twinkle that takes me back in time.
‘How is the lockdown treating you?’ I asked, trying to sound chirpy as I pressed my heels. They hurt like hell at the end of the day.
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