by Vani Mahesh
What was that? Dad was investing in stamps?
Probably her cluelessness showed on her face making the man continue, ‘To a yearly RD probably.’
Okay … at least not stamps. Still, it sounded too complex to her.
‘Can you stop that deduction? Just this once?’
‘It is not an auto-deduction, ma’am. If you don’t present the cheque, it won’t get debited.’ Now impatience had begun to show on the man’s face.
Cheque, he said? Suddenly Anu remembered signing one for her father the last time she was in Vijaynagar. Oh boy, he will present the cheque soon. I am doomed. She had assumed it was all going to be between her and the bank.
Despite the man ushering in the next person in line, Anu asked. ‘Look, I have already presented the cheque. Can you stop it?’
‘Give me the cheque number, please.’ The man was now visibly irritated. Did she see him roll his eyes at the pretty teller next to him?
‘Hmm … I don’t know. I don’t have it.’ Even as she said it, Anu suddenly had a brilliant thought. ‘I will withdraw all the money in my account. Now.’
The man knitted his brows. ‘Your cheque will bounce. You can be in trouble.’
Anu narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What kind of trouble? Like pushed-into-jail kind?’
‘Maybe not. Do as you wish.’ He was in a hurry to get rid of her now.
As Anu walked back home with a lakh-and-a-half in hand, she had never felt so fraudulent in her life.
That Friday was another dinner with Sanju and friends. Anu’s mother was quite miffed that she was giving them a miss even that weekend. Anu had to lie to her that it was a business meeting for Sanju and she had to be there.
After getting off the phone with her mother, Anu decided that no matter what it took, she was not going to be in any trouble at that dinner. She was going be like those rare people who only nodded and stared and and never filled silences with talk. Because no social calamity can befall someone quiet. Or, so she thought.
Anu chose a corner chair where she had Sanju to her left and a palm tree to her right. She was all set to be trouble-free but she also decided not to be conservative with her drinks and food. They were paying big money anyway. So they might as well have a good time over-consuming. That was the idea behind dinner outings, right?
Anu began with two White Wine Sangrias back to back with a plate of loaded nachos, Potato Jackets, and a few other artery-clogging starters. Sanju had leaned away from her to be a part of a discussion on ERP, SAP and other similarly abbreviated technologies. Nobody cared much about her, which suited her fine. She took out her phone and started watching Gilmore Girls on mute with just the subtitles. Someone ordered a pitcher of Sangria and kept it before her. Nice of him or her or whoever.
‘Anu … Anu,’ she heard someone call her name and shake her shoulder. Oh boy, where was she? Why was she so sleepy?
Lifting her head which weighed a hundred kilograms, Anu stared into Sanju’s horrified face. ‘Wake up, Anu. Clean your face.’
It took her a moment to realize she was still at dinner. Utterly groggy, Anu held a selfie camera to inspect her face. Oh boy! She looked like she was straight out a ghost movie—her face had a mixture of green and white paste with embedded crumbs of nachos. She had fallen asleep on the plate of nachos! She stole a glance at the concerned faces around her as she tried to wipe the guacamole and sour cream off her cheeks.
Sanju didn’t speak to her either in the car or at home. Was it her mistake that she had had a bit too much Sangria and fallen asleep? Didn’t it speak volumes about the conversation around her?
As she twisted and turned in the bed, sleep eluding her, Anu began to think. What kind of life was it? A change had to be for the better, wasn’t it? They had a good life and now they were bent on ruining it.
Pete and Pooja began to laugh (Pete modestly, but Pooja uncontrollably) when Anu narrated to them what had transpired the previous night. Eyes watering with mirth, Pooja asked if Anu had a photo of her guacamole face. To her chagrin, Anu had in fact clicked one when she had used the selfie camera to fix her face. As Pooja continued to laugh, Pete patted Anu’s hand. ‘You fell asleep, big deal! Cheer up now.’
‘Wish Sanju felt so. He hasn’t said a word to me till now.’ Anu felt terrible. Sanju had never gone silent before. Even when she had broken up with him, he would send a message now and then.
‘He will come around.’ Pete finished his coffee. ‘By the way, my wife and daughter will be in Mysore day after tomorrow. I am joining them with the boys. So, I want to take the two of you out for lunch tomorrow.’
Anu rolled her eyes. ‘You are a brave man taking me out to eat after my recent history with dinners.’
Pooja sipped her coke and winked. ‘Let us order a large plate of loaded nachos.’
Pete smiled. ‘Give Anu a break, Pooja.’ He got up to leave. ‘We will take a cab. So Anu can have some Sangria.’
Anu banged her head on the table. ‘What have I gotten myself into!’
That evening when Sanju continued to be silent and cold, Anu stood before him blocking his TV. ‘Sanju, don’t act like I masterminded my insult.’
‘Your insult?’ Sanju moved to the side and continued to watch TV. Anu moved with him, blocking the TV again.
‘Of course, my insult. I was the nacho-head if you remember.’ Anu glared at Sanju.
Sanju tossed the remote on the sofa and got up. ‘Anu, why are you so bent on making this miserable for me? I know it is always your way or no way but I thought just this once you might give in.’
‘If you don’t see how much I am trying, then you must be newly blind.’ Anu looked away before he saw her eyes welling up.
‘Then, maybe, you should stop trying.’
They rarely fought before and now all they did was bicker.
Anu paid off Rathnamma the next morning but waited before paying the school fees. She was yet to get the TC from Indigo. In the meanwhile, her heart thudded each time the phone beeped, fearing it could be the message from the bank that her cheque had bounced. Each time the phone rang she jumped in horror thinking it was her father who had called to ask about the money.
But all those disasters spared her that day, leaving her free to enjoy Pete’s lunch. He had chosen a good restaurant in the upscale UB City mall. When they burped happily after a spicy, cheesy Mexican meal downed with a few shots of Tequila, Pete handed Anu a package. ‘Here is a small present for you.’
‘Oh, but why?’ Anu was genuinely surprised. When she opened it, it turned out to be a Kindle. ‘Oh, Pete. No … I can’t take this. This is too expensive.’
‘I insist. You can now read all the romances without first wrapping them in a newspaper.’ Pete gave her a thumbs up and handed Pooja a package. It was a sweatshirt.
Anu looked at him quizzically. ‘Pete, are you going to Mysore or running away someplace? Why are you making this a goodbye lunch?’
Pete shook his head. ‘Not running yet. I will be back in a week but I am going to get busy with work and travel after that. Also, I am here only for another month-and-a-half before heading back to Florida. Pooja might be leaving too by then. So I thought this was a good time for presents.’
Anu’s heart sank. What kind of cruel game was the universe playing with her? Shipping away everyone dear to her to different countries? But she smiled at Pete. They only had fun times and she was not going to ruin it by getting all emotional.
She fiddled with the Kindle. ‘Pete! You have loaded it with books!’
Pete smiled. ‘Mostly what you like and some, what I want you to like.’
30
From the next morning onwards there was no Pete at the class. His work had become painfully intense, in his words.
‘I had forgotten that he is here on work,’ said Pooja spreading her mat.
‘Same here! Thought he too was on a holiday like me!’ said Anu and looked around.
‘But you are not on holiday here. You live here.’
Pooja corrected Anu.
‘Pooja, darling, no need for truths, got it?’ Anu’s reprimand elicited a giggle from the teen. Anu was going to miss that too.
Sitting down on the mat, Anu glanced at her new family. A few had already gathered and more would join in within minutes. The elderly were very punctual. Well, most of them. Those who brought food were sometimes late, but nobody minded that.
‘This yoga you make us do is is so weird it is kind of cool,’ Pooja said looking at the people around her. ‘What an odd bunch!’ Most men were in sweaters and dress pants, and women in track pants and kurtas.
Anu couldn’t help gushing. ‘I can’t believe we are twelve of us here now!’
One of the gentlemen, Mr Ranganath, a retired bank manager, replied. ‘That is because all other classes kill you. I went to one but had to crawl back home on all fours. This is nice and low-intensity.’
‘Almost like the laughing club exercises.’ Another Gujarathi woman, who routinely got high-calorie sweets or dhokla smothered with ghee, chimed in. ‘Good exercises. I have got Rasmalais for all of you today.’
‘Did you hear it? We are like a laughing club!’ Anu whispered to Pooja.
‘We should start laughing at the end. That would be cool!’ Pooja suggested.
‘You are a very brave teenager now.’
‘Yup. Once I decided not to try fitting in with the crowd here, I feel liberated. Maybe this is how Buddha felt.’ Pooja declared solemnly.
‘Start a sermon after the class, then.’ Anu laughed at Pooja. ‘This can be your Sarnath.’
Anu started the class. Despite her many protests, it had become her class and she a teacher. As they started slowly rotating arms by way of warm-up, Anu noticed an elegant woman walk up to the gazebo.
‘Can I please speak with Miss Anu here?’
Anu recognized her by the saree. She was an employee of the Karma Yoga studio. What did she want? Collaborate with me? Ask me to give a talk?
Anu walked down the gazebo smiling proudly. But the moment she saw a murderous expression on that pretty woman, her smile vanished. That woman was pretty in an evil way, like Cruella de Vil in 101 Dalmations.
The woman’s nostrils (she had a very pointed nose like Cleopatra) flared. ‘Miss Anu, I am Rajani. I own the Karma franchise here.’
‘Okay …’ Anu trailed and noticed the woman. She felt very underdressed before that woman who had a diamond shining off her nose and two more from her ears. Her saree, though the same uniform as the others, was of superior silk. She oozed money and attitude.
‘Do you know how much I have to pay this complex to run Karma here?’ Wow! Anu smelled blood and heard battle cries. The woman was there for war.
‘I don’t know. Should I?’ Anu asked suspiciously.
‘You should. I have paid twenty lakhs as a franchise fee. And every month—’ The woman stopped. ‘You need not know. But what you are doing here is illegal.’
‘What?’ Anu was now honestly horrified. ‘What is illegal? Yoga? Then Ramdev is illegal too.’
‘Look, abandon this class. Or, I will escalate the issue and have you evicted from your house. You cannot run a cheap class and take my clients.’
Anu felt a rage rise through her. ‘It is not a class. I am not a teacher. We are a group of people—’
‘Oh, cut the crap.’ The woman now looked ready to punch Anu with her toned arms.
Anu backed up a little. She was not the brave sort. Even in school, Sameer fought all her battles. The woman wagged her manicured finger at Anu. ‘Stop this right now. Ask these people to go home or join Karma.’
Anu, to her shame, actually got scared. Angry people scared the daylight out of her. When she was still handling the blood rush to her head, she heard a voice.
‘Madam, you are very rude. You cannot speak to Madam Anu in this manner. She hasn’t done anything wrong.’ Mr Ranganath! He looked sterner than Miss Karma.
Now, the warrior queen looked taken aback. Way to go, Mr Ranganath! He continued. ‘As Madam Anu pointed out, we are all gathered here for a friendly chitchat and some exercises. By the way, none of us is your clientele. Our households run with the fees you charge.’
Now Menaka aunty, a retired teacher, spoke. ‘If you object to us being here, we will report you to the management. I am a long-time resident.’
The woman nodded her head evilly at Anu and walked away, while Anu’s mates stood around her protectively. Anu had never felt so hated and loved at the same time.
Pete did come for the tennis session that afternoon. Once Anu and Pooja briefed him about the eventful morning, Pete shook his head. ‘I don’t come one day and I miss all the drama?’
‘That is what happens if you put work before exercise.’ Anu reprimanded him. ‘Don’t you have twenty minutes to invest in your wellbeing?’ She tut-tutted. She was joking but she missed Pete.
‘I missed all the sweets too. What was today’s special?’ Pete asked.
‘What happens in the class remains in the class, mister,’ said Anu packing her shoes. Then her eyes fell on a little boy standing around Pete’s twins and Vicky. There was a woman, probably the boy’s mother, holding on to what looked like invites. The next minute the little boy was walking away with his mother, the twins had invitations in their hands, and Vicky ran to her crying.
‘Mumma, that boy did not give me the card. He gave it only to Jason and Justin. I want one too.’ He wailed.
Justin handed Pete the invite and said, ‘They have a bouncy castle and a cotton candy machine. It is that boy’s birthday party tomorrow.’
‘Mumma, I want to go to that party too. But the boy did not give me a card.’
Anu consoled him. ‘I am sure he missed giving you the card, Vicky. He will give you later.’
Vicky shook his head. ‘No. His Mumma asked him not to give it to me.’ Anu could not believe her ears. Could someone be nasty to a child? Then she felt incredibly sad, angry and shocked. Now the meanness is directed at Vicky?
Pete picked up Vicky. ‘That is not a nice party because they made you sad. Tomorrow, nobody will go to that party. I will take the three of you to a place with bigger bouncy castles, larger cotton candy machines and also racing cars.’
Pooja whispered to Anu. ‘I have seen that woman hang around with your nemesis Meena.’
Anu felt a wave of dejection wash over her. What had she done to Meena that she harboured such hatred for her?
31
That Friday, Sanju made no dinner plans. Wonder why, thought Anu wryly. She and Sanju had begun to talk but there was still tension in the air. Simply put, they talked very abnormally in monosyllables. Anu decided to pack herself and Vicky off to her mother’s place for the weekend. She texted Sanju the same and got back a thumbs up for a reply. She hated emoji replies. How hard is it for people to type a few words?
The moment Anu entered her parents’ house, her mood started to liven up magically. Her mother and grandmother were in the kitchen. Father was as usual on his chair going over some papers but the moment he saw Vicky, the papers went flying. Anu said a quick hello to her father and moved towards the kitchen. She was very afraid of the money thing coming up. But she had convinced herself that the bankers did not write nasty letters on weekends.
Anu stood at the kitchen door still unseen by her mother and grandmother.
‘You are charring the parathas, can you lower the flame?’ That was Anu’s mother.
But her grandmother was not a fan of being instructed. ‘I am not charring them. You are rolling them too thinly.’
‘You get off and make the chutney. I will finish these. Anu hates charred parathas.’ That was her mother being thoroughly impatient and making no efforts to hide it.
‘Who likes charred parathas? You make no sense when you are angry.’ Her grandmother huffed and Anu decided it was the right time to enter the battlefield to propose a truce.
‘Anu!’ Her mother exclaimed. ‘You are early. The sun will set in the east today!’
‘Anu, you look so pretty. Is that a new haircut?’ That was her grandmother.
‘Mummy, why do you never greet me nicely like Ajji does?’ Anu sighed. Usually, she would be cross with her mother for such remarks (though they were truthful), but not that evening. She was just happy to be home.
‘I don’t garnish my words like your grandma but see, I made your favourite Aalu Parathas.’ Anu’s mother was like a child. She never filtered her thoughts.
Anu watched her grandmother plop large dollops of butter on the Parathas before serving them. Dollops big enough to make stomachs swell and arms jiggle and Anu ate every bit of it; then licked her fingers for good measure. As she washed it all down with a large cup of strong filter coffee, she wondered why she gave up on this life of luxury by getting married. Well, six years too late for that pondering!
She waddled slowly to the garden where her father was playing cricket with Vicky. Her mother was scurrying around stuffing Vicky with bites of Parathas whenever he took his microsecond-long breaks from running. Anu looked at the time. It was only six in the evening! What was she going to do for the rest of the night?
She missed Sameer, who had left for Dubai two days earlier. Shwetha was busy shopping for her wedding. And none of Anu’s other friends lived in that neighbourhood anymore. Only their parents did. Anu picked up the Kindle and went upstairs to her room. She pondered whether she should just roam the streets, buy something cheap and kill two hours. Or, change into nightwear, drink more coffee, and go over what Pete had on Kindle. She settled for the latter.
Around ten, Anu’s phone pinged. ‘Got any good dinner stories?’ Pete!
‘Dancing on the tables. Can’t type right now.’
‘You had promised to buy me an out-of-the-world Masala Dosa.’
‘Anu always pays her debts. Tomorrow morning at nine in Gandhi Bazar. By the way, it is Masale Dose. Valar Morghulis.’
‘I stand corrected. Valar Dohaeris.’
Too bad Pooja wasn’t there. Their Game of Thrones references left her fuming. ‘You both are like Mean Girls. Talking in code to exclude me.’ Anu smiled at the memory. Thank God, they still had a month of all that fun before Pete left. She was going to lap up every moment of it.