Koi Good News?

by Zarreen Khan

  ‘I’m chumming!’ she growled.

  She is perpetually chumming!

  I didn’t realize I said that out loud. Damn! After that, she bit my head off!

  I thought you’re supposed to PMS before the period rather than during it.

  Anyway, I decided to be all manly and tell her not to get so worked up about the whole thing. I told her she shouldn’t get stressed because she doesn’t even like children to begin with.

  She chewed up the whatever was left of me after that. I swear I saw fangs.

  I finally decided to give her a tight hug instead of saying any more stupid things.

  Mona

  Ramit snuggled up next to me. He put away his laptop. He put away his phone.

  Wow! The one time my husband shows me affection, I’m chumming.

  Ramit

  So I’m in office today – unshaven. People think someone has died. The real reason is that we have run out of shaving cream.

  Mona’s bought a year’s supply of sanitary napkins! There was an avalanche when I opened the utility cupboard that Mona has so proudly allotted to our toiletries, looking for some shaving cream.

  She obviously has no hope in hell about getting pregnant. She kept saying I should be proud of her for saving me some money by buying these things on one of these online grocery websites. She really needs a new hobby.

  Mona

  I’ve made up my mind. It’s not about getting pregnant. It’s about doing something in life!

  Of course I have my business idea to chalk out, but first, I need to lose weight like that stupid Laila-Majnu woman next door. You can’t even sit with your curtains open now without seeing her flit in and out of her house looking like a super model.

  So I got off my expanding butt and went for a walk to the park. Met a Mrs Kapoor. When people introduce themselves as Mrs So-and-so, I’m compelled to respond with a Mrs too. So I told her I’m Mrs Deol. And then the customary question – am I related to Sunny Deol?

  Mummy says that if Ramit hadn’t married me, they would have gotten him hitched to their neighbour Babita, aka, Bobby. Can you imagine that?

  ***

  Why didn’t I ask Mrs Kapoor if she was related to Raj Kapoor, Rishi Kapoor, Ranbir Kapoor? Why do these smart alec comebacks only come to me in the middle of the night?

  ***

  Also, which thirty-year-old calls herself ‘Mrs So-and-so’? Mrs Kapoor is possibly just as old as me, with a six-year-old who was quite bratty at the park. The child was unimaginatively called Asha. Mrs Kapoor’s first name must be even more unimaginative.

  When I have kids, I’ll make sure I spend hours researching their names and find a name no one else has!

  Like Nadia. I’ve always loved the name Nadia. Like the gymnast?

  ***

  Who am I kidding! How will I ever produce a child if all this man has accomplished by 2.00 a.m. is an even more densely populated ‘SENT’ folder?

  Week 2

  Your fertile window is approaching

  Ramit

  Why did we even bother with windows in our living room? Mona has made an unspoken rule of pulling close the curtains in the living room all day.

  She reasons that it’s even more embarrassing now that we now know their names and exactly how they look.

  Mona

  We’re really turning into social hermits. A lot of our friends now have babies and we don’t want to be around any wailing children on our evenings off. Especially because that stupid question almost always comes up.

  ‘Arrey, Mona. You’ve been married four years, no! What plans?’

  And then comes the dilemma of what to tell your friends should you tell them the truth – that you’re trying but unable to conceive? Will they give you some good advice or will they look at you sympathetically, the way your family does? Or should you just play it cool, so that when you do conceive you can use the ‘it was an accident’ line.

  So we’re avoiding just about everyone now.

  Except our supermodel neighbours. They’ve invited us over for dinner. And not just us, they said they’re having a few friends over too.

  I’ve spent most of Friday peering out of my window. God! I’m turning into one of those nosey aunties.

  I’ve seen their help scuttling around. A lot of trips are being made to the market and I see crates of soft drinks and alcohol being wheeled out. Dammit! I can’t drink. I’m trying to have a baby! But if I don’t drink, Laila Sachdev will think I’m all behenji. I text Ramit, asking him what we should do about the situation. There is, of course, no response.

  I think we’ve also been lied to. It’s not just a few friends who’ve been invited – going by the arrangements, it’s clearly a large party! What if I wasn’t Laila Sachdev’s neighbour? I would have never known the scale of this party and ended up going in my jeans.

  Lakshmi, my cook, decided to join in on my snooping. I was rather indignant at being caught in the act, so I turned back to my book while she continued to look on.

  ‘Very rich!’ she sighed, and then proceeded to tell me that they do generally throw such lavish parties. Lots of guests. Lots of celebrations. In fact, last time they had called Lakshmi too. At this point I looked at Lakshmi suspiciously. So she hastily clarified – she hadn’t been invited as a guest but only to help with the chapatis.

  I feigned disinterest but she went on. She said they have plenty of staff. Leela, Laila’s first lady. Leela’s husband, their household manager. Two chauffeurs. One cleaning lady. I was rather alarmed at the number of staff they had employed for just the two of them but then I saw that Lakshmi was only making a point of how much work she was doing single-handedly for us and how ingratiated we should feel. Which is rubbish. Her cooking is significantly below average.

  I’m glad to be escaping her cooking today. Laila has obviously hired caterers.

  Cooking stations were being set up at the back and a team of caterers and uniformed waiters were lining up.

  Once Lakshmi left and the evening streetlights came on, I returned to my vigil and watched as Laila’s BMW pulled into the driveway.

  Her staff is really, really good. Very fancy. Her uniformed chauffeur rushed out to open the door and she strode into the house, talking on her phone. She was dressed in a grey trouser suit and I dropped the idea of fitting into my own trouser suit for tonight’s party. It’s very wannabe for a non-working woman to turn up in office clothes for a dinner. I needed to find a dress!

  Five minutes later Laila was in the garden, inspecting the fairylights draping her fence and the little angeethis placed close to each cluster of chairs. Someone rushed towards her, holding a tray of snacks. She tasted them all and gave some instructions to the chef. She even checked the linen on all the tables. Then, she pointed to the corner of the garden, to where they brought out a large table and started setting up the bar.

  I’m totally nervous about this dinner now. I better find a dress I can still fit into.

  Ramit

  Wow! What an evening it turned out to be!

  Got home to find Mona in a tiny black dress. It was a good change from seeing her in her regular tracks and tees, and she was wearing lipstick and perfume and these nice little earrings, and her hair was pinned up. I debated whether we should have our own little private party and forget the neighbours but she seemed to be on a mission to not let Laila think we were uncool, so we decided to go after all. I had to shower and shave and change into something decent.

  It was actually quite nice – great ambience, good music, smooth alcohol – and I met a lot of potential clients, including the head of sales of my previous organisation. He was interested to know what I was doing, and later, more people joined in the conversation, so now I have a couple of meetings lined up for next week.

  I was a little worried that me talking shop would bore Mona, but she seemed to have found company too. And she really was enjoying her wine.

  Mona

  Woohoo! We seemed to be at some sort of
Page Three party! The people were so good-looking, I felt like I was in a magazine for the rich and famous. I think I spotted a TV celebrity.

  Milind-Shashi was sashaying around with his baritone laughter and Laila Sachdev was playing gracious hostess in a tiny, off-shoulder pink dress that looked like it could malfunction any minute. She even came and chatted with me for a while, and then put an arm around my waist and led me to a group of two-dimensional ladies.

  I completely pigged out on the starters. Fried mozzarella, chicken quiche, prawn tempura and what not! Two wines down, I even started contributing to the conversation.

  ‘You’ve moved in recently?’ one of the women, someone called Tina Tej Mushran, asked me. ‘It seems to be a lovely neighbourhood! I was a little doubtful why Laila would pick something so far from the main hustle-bustle, and also, these builders are new, aren’t they? But when we came over last time, we were absolutely floored. Plus, it’s Laila, you know? She can make anything beautiful. I guess that’s why she’s in the beauty business. And her parties are always so grand. I mean, today, she said it’s a small dinner for close friends. But look at the scale! I wonder who the caterers are? These snacks are delicious! Anyway, honey, tell me about you! What do you do?’

  ‘Well, I’m currently on a break. I was with a travel company.’ No point telling her that was two years ago. ‘Now I’m just, you know, settling in.’

  ‘And your husband, Ramit? Just the two of you, then?’

  ‘Yes, just the two of us. What about you?’

  ‘Tej and I have been married eight years now. Three little ones.’

  She had that perfect figure after three children. Hell, I was wearing my tummy tucker.

  ‘In fact, Sameer, my youngest, turns two months old this weekend!’

  I almost choked on my wine. Perfect figure after two months!

  ‘How long have you and your husband been married?’ she asked me.

  ‘Four years …’

  ‘Oh. Not planning kids any time soon?’

  I hate making small talk.

  Oh well, at least the wine was good!

  Ramit returned after a while and I was clinging to him for the rest of the evening to show that we’re indeed ‘happy’, even if we have no child to show for it. Ramit was a little confused at my public show of affection but played along in any case, holding my hand tightly.

  Ramit

  Mona was swaying. Had to hold her hand all evening. She couldn’t stand straight.

  But drunk Mona is a lot of fun … for others. She cracked jokes and made lots of conversation with strangers and was overall quite a hit at the party.

  The goodbye hugs were never-ending. You’d never believe she was meeting these people for the first time.

  Mona

  The wine was yum yum yum yum!

  Ramit looked yum yum yum yum!

  Ramit

  Woke up with a hysterical call from the mother-in-law. Apparently my sister-in-law has scurried off to Pune to some other ashram now. Since Mona is still hungover, I was given the task of talking Shania out of it.

  Called her and don’t know how but got conned into transferring her 25K.

  Week 3

  Your baby has been conceived

  Mona

  Mom called. No talk about Shania’s sudden flight to Pune and her newfound obsession with spirituality. I got an alert that my credit card had been swiped at a sari house in Pune. Changed my passcode immediately. Don’t know when I’d shared it with her in the first place.

  Anyway, Mom was on a different tangent. Her friend’s daughter, who went to school with me, is now expecting her second child. Mom also subtly mentioned that Ramit and I should take a holiday and that we needed to de-stress. And then she not so subtly spoke about my cousin Aarti having an IVF and said, ‘There’s no shame in it anymore’. Which is a lie because last year when my friend got it done, Mom made a big deal about it!

  But seriously, clearly nothing is working out. We might as well face it. We have conception issues. I only wonder if it’s me or Ramit. If it’s Ramit, a Deol, it would be quite the shocker.

  So I did the unspeakable. I Googled ‘How to have a baby’.

  There are apparently positions one needs to adopt. Positions! Including how to have a girl and how to have a boy. What is the world coming to?

  It said you should place a cushion under your bum to better your chances at conceiving. I exited the website immediately.

  The website also says you need to do it every two to three days. Considering how Ramit stays glued to his phone, we can only have phone sex at that frequency!

  Anyway, I deleted all my browsing history.

  Ramit

  What is with Mona? She gets jumpy every time I touch her phone.

  Wonder whose messages she’s hiding. She did have a ball of a time at the party and I’ve seen her looking out of our window at Shashi Sachdev’s house often enough.

  Maybe I should spend less time at the office.

  Mona

  So much for that. Now that I feel comfortable leaving the curtains of the living room open, Ramit has started closing them.

  Anyway, I have started going for a walk around the park regularly. Well, at least I went again this week. The same park where ‘Mrs Kapoor’ comes with little Asha. And guess who I saw today, jogging around in the tiniest of shorts! Laila Sachdev. Shorts! In December!

  She immediately walked over to say hello. I could almost hear Mrs Kapoor’s radar beeping.

  Laila mainly made small talk about the weather. She could’ve fooled me about being affected by it, given the length of her shorts! I politely asked her how come she was running around the park at 4.00 p.m. Apparently, some year-end leaves pending so she’s taken a week off. And they’re off to Hong Kong for New Year’s Eve.

  She also told me she typically jogs in the morning, before leaving for work, but since she’s on holiday now, she thought she’d go for a round in the evening.

  Then said her friend Tina, who I had apparently ‘hit it off with’ the evening of the party, had taken my number and wanted to invite me for her Christmas party. I could feel Mrs Kapoor’s watchful eyes on me. Anyway, I’m not sure I want to be associated with Laila Sachdev and her friends, who’re too posh for my liking. I made some excuse about probably having plans or something and exited the conversation. She waved me goodbye and ran off. I continued with my ‘brisk walk’ around the park. It lasted fifteen minutes.

  Mrs Kapoor caught up with me and breathlessly enquired about who the woman I had been talking to was. Clearly she isn’t as clued into the colony as she pretends to be.

  Ramit

  Got hold of Mona’s phone. No incriminating messages. But she’s deleted her browsing history. That must mean something.

  That Shashi Sachdev, she keeps comparing him to Milind Soman. And that’s definitely not an insult, is it?

  She’s been so distracted lately.

  Have taken two days off work. Can’t have my wife having an affair.

  Mona

  Ramit and I are going away for the weekend! Yay! Take that, Laila I’m-so-cool-I’m-off-to-Hong-Kong Sachdev! We’re as cool as you!

  Okay, so we’re not jet-setting to Hong Kong or wherever, but we’re still going to Neemrana for the weekend and we will be staying in the suite! Not in the 3000-rupee room like we did last time.

  I’m just too excited and hope I don’t start chumming. That’ll be a real bummer. I’ve forgotten the date again but it’s probably supposed to be around now. Or next week. Or next to next. Dammit! I need to get myself a table calendar. A bedside table calendar. Or I should just ask Mummy or Mom – they are probably keeping track of my dates anyway.

  Ramit

  It’s turning out to be a pretty good holiday. Mona and I got a chance to discuss this baby thing, and she confessed that she’d been jumpy because she’d Googled how to have a baby, and then deleted her browser history because she was embarrassed or something.

  I didn’t tell he
r I’d been snooping on her phone. Men don’t snoop. Or at least, own up to snooping. Anyway, now I don’t have to take holidays to get my wife away from good-looking neighbours. Looks like she’s still interested in having a baby with me only.

  Then we discussed IVF. Later, I spent a good hour reading up on it while she slept. It sounds pretty scary. And more importantly, it sounds very expensive. We’ve just bought a house. We can’t afford IVF.

  I think that basically does it.

  We can’t afford to have a baby.

  ***

  But if that’s what will make her happy, I’ll ask Surjit about withdrawing my capital from the business for a while. That should help.

  ***

  I really love Mona, you know. She’s such a wonderful human being. She’s so caring and pretty and…

  Mona

  Woke up to find Ramit cooing to my face. Buried my head in the pillow and slept again. We spent the whole day talking, and then he decided to turn to his phone. And now he finds time to coo?

  What a waste of a holiday!

  Week 4

  Be patient while you wait

  Mona

  Lakshmi, the cook, came looking rather thrilled today. I asked her why. She said because of the pregnancy. I almost fainted.

  She must be at least fifty! And didn’t she have a twenty-five-year-old married daughter?

  Then she clarified it’s her daughter who’s pregnant. This is her fourth child. They’re trying for a boy this time.

  And after that, as I sat in my living room, this flash of an idea came zipping into my head.

  Ramit

  Mona’s lost it. Got a text from her. She suggests we adopt Lakshmi’s grandchild if it’s a girl and if she doesn’t want it.

  This baby business is driving her berserk.

  Mona

  I didn’t get a K to that message from Ramit. I didn’t get a response at all, really. But then I got a call from my friend Shubhra. She’s expecting.

  Then Shania called to tell me her friend Rustam’s wife is expecting.

  I needed a break. So I went out for a walk and looked for the colony dog to give a biscuit to. I hadn’t realized till today that it was a she. And she looks ready to pop too.