Koi Good News?

by Zarreen Khan

  That’s five people I know who’re expecting! Shubhra, Rustam’s wife, just-back-from-honeymoon cousin Mohini, Lakshmi’s daughter, and now the dog.

  And all I get are questions.

  Koi good news?

  So pissed off!

  Ramit

  Mummy called. Said I have to call the bheed over and show them the new house. This is the least I can do for refusing to have the havan Dadi had insisted on. I couldn’t hear her go on about that one again, so in irritation, immediately texted on the cousins’ WhatsApp group, inviting them for dinner on Friday. Realized I hadn’t bothered checking with the wife.

  Mona’s vocabulary blossoms in a ‘Deol’ situation.

  Mona

  What the hell was he thinking, inviting the entire clan over without checking with me!

  Ramit

  I think we’ll have to settle for IVF. Mona is so angry, there is no way she’ll let me come close anytime soon.

  Mona

  The Deols of Delhi are descending upon us for dinner tonight. I’ve spent every waking hour of the last two days cleaning the house and all of today getting the food ready.

  There are six cousins in Delhi currently. Three of them have children. One of them, Mohini, is expecting. One, Chiku, is newly married and will probably be expecting before we know it. Suttu is in college and hopefully isn’t expecting. Plus there’s Nayantara, Daisy chachi’s daughter-in-law, and her two brats.

  And I have no full-time help! Which means I will be perpetually in the kitchen, microwaving food.

  Laila Sachdev gets caterers, waiters, decorators and bartenders for her party. And look at me: all-in-one!

  Mummy is very happy. She’s called me ten times since yesterday to enquire about the preparations, and has even told me which china to use. Hasn’t spoken about baby-making even once. Must be really, really excited.

  Mom has called to show her sympathy and tsk-tsk at the large family I’ve married into. She still finds it hard to keep a track of who’s-who in the Deol family.

  Ramit has set up the bar in the corner and looks even more miserable than I do – if that’s possible. He has a presentation on Monday, which he’s brooding over. He shouldn’t have let Mummy talk him into this dinner.

  I’m also a little worried, because the Deols are a very loud lot. If the Sachdevs see them, we’re never getting invited to their parties ever again. Not like I want to go. As long as they send over the leftovers. And tell me what wine it was I had almost a bottle of.

  Tina Tej Mushran, Laila’s friend, called to invite me for some party again. Spoke for over forty-five minutes about things I couldn’t follow at all – some celeb party she went to and some caterers who were excellent and that she’s hiring for her own party and all that jazz. She also purred about how lovely it was to have Laila move back to Delhi after all these years and how they’d known each other since college, though they didn’t go to the same college and only met through their ex-boyfriends. She then enquired about Ramit and my relationship, stuff that I didn’t have time to shed light on. Hung up after telling her that though we had other commitments, we’ll try to make it to her party.

  Anyway, now the bheed is coming over and I’ve drawn the curtains so that the Sachdevs don’t get to see the tamasha that is definitely going to happen. Also don’t want the nosy Deols to chance upon the Sachdev’s living-room love-making.

  Oh God. We should call the Sachdev’s over soon to return the favour. And now I’ll have to invite Tina Tej Mushran too. Argh! But no way would I combine them with the Deols.

  Ramit

  Mona shot me a look of horror before running upstairs to change the moment the bell rang.

  Can’t believe I’ve let my mother bully me into this.

  Mona

  So the dinner.

  It was as loud and messy as I had feared. There were screaming children; one photo frame was broken; one of the nephews has just started school and was made to recite Twinkle Twinkle on loop by his unreasonably proud parents.There was a diaper in my kitchen bin even though there’s a bin in the loo. And Mohini was being dramatic and refusing to eat anything since she’s pregnant – I had to make her soup. Then she threw it all up in the guest bathroom.

  The adults were having a ‘rocking’ time. Someone had decided to take the party to the garden. Somesh tayi’s daughter-in-law kept running her hand over my paunch and asking about ‘good news’. I disappointed her rather bluntly and ignored her the rest of the time.

  I was stuck in the kitchen all evening and my legs were killing me. They still are. Newly-married Chiku had offered to help out in the kitchen but all she did was gossip about the Daisy chachi fiasco. Then she bitched about Mohini having a honeymoon baby. Actually, she sounded a bit wistful. I don’t think she got too much action on her own honeymoon. She also watched me closely for my reaction but I purposely refused to meet her eyes. I think all she did was wipe one serving plate before I heaped the paneer tikka on it. So much for helping out.

  Ramit popped in every now and then to ask how he could help. He looked like he was having a nervous breakdown himself. He also looked guilty about having such a large family. He bloody well should.

  I told him to get the napkins out with the cheeseballs.

  He wanted to know where we keep the napkins.

  Then he wanted to know whether he should take out the white or printed ones.

  Then he wanted to know which tray he should take the cheeseballs out on.

  Then he wanted to know how to take the cheeseballs out of the kadhai.

  Then he didn’t know where the serving spoons were kept.

  I just told him to return to the bar and take care of everyone’s drinks. I also requested him to get Chiku out of my hair, which at least he did successfully.

  There was a brief moment in the kitchen when Ramit sweetly walked in and hugged me. I wanted to melt in his arms. And then he kissed me.

  ‘Hai! So sweet!’ we heard Suttu say. We retracted.

  God! The Deols!

  They’re just everywhere!

  Ramit

  I hadn’t realized how exhausted Mona was till she slept through the weekend. Wonder if she even ate at that dinner.

  Laila called to find out if we were going to Tina’s party. I had no idea we’d been invited but told her Mona wasn’t feeling well.

  All this gave me time to work on my presentation though. Of course, at that, Mona’s head finally emerged from the covers to call me a workaholic.

  Week 5

  If you haven’t had your period yet, take a test

  Mona

  Woke up at 9.00 a.m. Ramit was dressed and ready to go to office. I shouted some instructions to Lakshmi about what to make for breakfast and went back to sleep. Don’t think Ramit missed me at the breakfast table. He had his damned phone for company.

  Ramit

  Just realized while driving that our maid’s name is Lakshmi. That makes her Lakshmibai. Jhansi ki Rani! Reached office and texted Mona my joke.

  No response. Guess she’s still sour about bheed night.

  Mona

  Finally pulled myself out of bed at noon before Lakshmi left.

  Ate breakfast, showered, switched on the television and fell asleep again.

  Planning to sue the Deols for my condition.

  Ramit

  Checked my phone twice during the meeting. Still no response.

  Meri family divorce karake chhodegi.

  Mona

  Sat up in bed at 3.00 p.m. finally with my heart in my mouth. Something was wrong. I don’t typically remember my date but I was pretty sure I was late.

  Debated whether I should get myself a pregnancy test. Or whether I should wait another day.

  Lay in bed till 4.00 p.m. Decided to get on with it and walk to a chemist. Decided not to tell Ramit. He’d get over-excited, and it might be a false alarm.

  Then spent half an hour deciding which chemist to go to.

  The one within our condo knows every
one. I’d be the gossip of the colony.

  There was one down the road but it is always overcrowded with these men hanging around the nearby wine and beer shop.

  There was one at the mall but the mall’s too far, and I was still tired from the bheed dinner.

  Then remembered the one in S-block market. It was typically empty at this hour, and no one there would know me.

  Finally settled on that and left.

  I wonder if men feel the same way when they buy condoms.

  Ramit

  Still no reply from Mona.

  Told Surjit the joke. He laughed so hard coke spurted from his nostrils. That’s the kind of recognition I deserve. Still, it was pretty disgusting.

  Mona

  Drove to the S-Block market chemist and waited in the car. It was surprisingly busy. The next-door grocery store had a huge crowd too. Seriously. Who are these people? Don’t they go to work? Sleep? Watch TV in the afternoon? Anything?

  I pretended to read something on my phone as I walked to the shop, looking at inconsequential WhatsApp forwards and responding to an odd one here and there to avoid catching anyone’s eye. I’m sure I looked horribly guilty.

  There were two other people milling around the chemist’s counter, discussing cricket. Then the guy behind the counter raised his eyebrows at me in question.

  I cleared my throat confidently.

  ‘One Vicks Vaporub, one Saradon, one Crocin and … one pregnancy test.’

  ‘What?’

  Stupid, deaf chemist!

  ‘Pregnancy test,’ I hissed.

  ‘Pregnancy test?’ he repeated loudly.

  I nodded and felt my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I could see a few heads turn to look at me. I quickly put my hand on the counter, drumming my fingers impatiently so that my large wedding ring with all its sixteen diamonds were on display, and cursed myself a little bit for not wearing something else that would certify me as married. Do I even own a mangalsutra?

  ‘Pregnancy test!’ the guy hollered to his assistant, much to my horror. The moron! He didn’t call out for Saradon and Vicks and Crocin but this one he wants his champu to fetch!

  My face was burning by the time the packet arrived at the counter and he discreetly shoved it into a brown paper envelope, just like they do with sanitary napkins. Too late for discretion.

  I didn’t even bother checking the price or brand or the date of expiry and just shoved the whole thing into my bag. I quickly dished out the exact amount and banged it on the counter top and walked out, avoiding all the curious eyes on me, my knees shaking a little.

  When I got home, the real terror set in.

  Ramit

  Like not even a smiley. She’s read it. Double blue ticks.

  It was a good joke.

  Mona

  What the hell! All that trouble at the chemist and I’ve only bought ONE test. ONE. What if this one goes wrong? How stupid are you, Mona Deol?

  ***

  I’m not sure why I’m avoiding it, but here I am watching a re-run of MasterChef Australia to while away time. Like I’ll magically get my period or get pregnant as the seconds tick by.

  ***

  Okay. This is it.

  Don’t get all excited, Mona. You may have just forgotten your dates.

  ***

  I know it’s just six lines of instructions but I wanted to be sure. I couldn’t waste this test. I spent ten minutes reading it. Ok, fifteen. Or twenty. My hands were trembling.

  So, I guess I need to find a container to pee in. One can’t pee on a stick, directly! You’re to pee and put two drops of the pee on the … ugh! So gross!

  ***

  Oh bloody hell! I spent twenty minutes reading the damned instructions and still missed reading how the first pee of the morning is the best to measure HCG, which is the presence of pregnancy hormones.

  But now it’s already done, and it was disgusting! So awkward, and I didn’t really know how to … position myself. Oh God! I just want to wash my hands and never go through this again.

  What is my life coming to?

  Ramit

  Radio silence from Mona. She can’t be holding a grudge against me about the party, can she?

  Mona

  Finally mustered up the courage to look at the test. Those were definitely two lines. Two. Lines.

  Oh God …

  Ramit

  7.00 p.m. Nothing from Mona.

  This is trouble.

  Mona

  I don’t even remember what I’d mumbled to Lakshmi about dinner. I hope it’s not bhindi. It’s probably bhindi. I think she does it purposely, making strange smelly bhindi to piss me off. I’ll have to do something about it. I don’t remember hating bhindi so much in our previous house.

  Why am I thinking about bhindi?

  Ramit

  Left office early. Mona was sitting on the bed holding a piece of paper.

  She shoved it at me. It didn’t look like a suicide note, so that was a relief. It was more like an instruction sheet for … oh!

  I couldn’t believe it. Then she handed me the stick.

  ‘I read it right, right?’ she asked softly.

  I looked at the instructions and studied the stick.

  ‘Ramit?’

  ‘Mona …’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘I think so … yes.’

  We both sat there wordlessly for a while. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to feel.

  ‘We should meet the doctor tomorrow,’ Mona broke the silence.

  I agreed. Asked if we should tell Mummy, and then immediately regretted it. Thankfully, she didn’t register that bit.

  Mona

  The fact that Ramit was holding a stick which had my urine on was a little nauseating. Or maybe the nausea is all in my head now that I realize I’m … PREGNANT!

  OH MY GOD!

  Ramit

  We debated about which gynaec to go to. I, against my good sense yet again, suggested we ask Roshini, my cousin’s wife, but Mona snapped my head off, saying what if it’s a false alarm and Roshini gets all blurty and calls back to find out how it went.

  So she called up some friend and got the number of one Dr Mehak Khan in Vasant Vihar. I think it’s better to meet one closer to Gurgaon but I will not argue with Mona. She looks scary.

  Hope she can’t tell I’m nervous. Very nervous.

  Mona

  Ramit is some sort of cool cat. I was wide awake all night but he slept right off! Maybe he thinks this is a false alarm.

  We reach the clinic – it has a massive line! – and it hits me that we know absolutely nothing about the doctor.

  I say as much to Ramit and he immediately Googles her.

  ‘Look. Decent stuff about her on the net. She’s pretty well known. There’s even an article where she’s been listed among the top ten gynaecologists in Delhi. And didn’t your friend Avantika go to her as well?’

  I don’t reply because Uma Bhasin has just walked in, wearing designer sunglasses and carrying a designer bag and wearing the brightest red lipstick ever. Just like Laila Sachdev. Red lipstick is clearly in.

  I immediately turn to study Ramit’s phone. I really don’t want Uma to notice me.

  Uma and I went to school together. I haven’t seen her in years. But I don’t want to meet anyone I know at a gynaec clinic!

  ‘Mona Mathur!’

  My heart sinks to my toes.

  ‘Uma?’ I hear myself squeak.

  ‘Hi!’ She gives me a hug and an air kiss. How very Delhi of her! ‘How’ve you been?’

  ‘I’m good!’

  ‘So, are you pregnant?’

  Oh God! Bloody direct as always. She eyes my belly – just like Somesh tayiji and her intrusive children! And ever since that positive test last night, I anyhow feel like I’ve put on about 100kgs just on my stomach!

  I adjust my top a little and give a little laugh.

  ‘No, no. Just a routine check. What about you?’

  ‘Oh, I alrea
dy have a three-year-old. No more! No more!’ She laughs.

  Right! What are we supposed to say next? Ramit is so engrossed in his phone that he hasn’t even noticed Uma, I think.

  ‘Is that your husband?’ she asks.

  ‘Yes. Ramit.’ He finally looks up. ‘Ramit, this is my friend Uma. Uma and I went to school together.’

  ‘Hi,’ Ramit smiles at us, his fingers still lingering on his phone.

  ‘Mona and I were so close in school. Such good friends,’ she informs Ramit. Liar! We were hardly friends!

  ‘Do you guys stay here in Vasant Vihar?’ she asks chirpily.

  ‘No, we stay in Gurgaon,’ I said.

  ‘Oh. We stay in VV. My husband’s into construction.’ People who move to Delhi really do become Delhi. Who asked her what her husband is into? ‘What are you doing now?’ she continues.

  ‘I work with a travel company,’ for some reason, I lie. ‘What about you?’

  ‘Oh I’m into bags. I export for Dior, Gucci …’

  She goes on and on about her work, but all I can think about is who she hung out with in school and who she could possibly be in touch with and who would eventually know about my visit to the gynaec and then discuss my conception issues …

  And just then, thankfully, we are called in.

  When we go inside, I am expecting a team of doctors in green overalls and face masks hovering around. Or at least a lady in a lab coat. And maybe a few charts of the uterus. Or at least an experienced, grey-haired doctor who looks like a grandmother and will regale us with tales of her grandchildren.

  Instead we come face to face with a sparkling woman in a white shirt and fitting jeans, wearing these cool blue glasses and – she’s so chic, and doesn’t look a day older than us. She might actually be younger! She shakes my hand as if this is a business meeting.

  ‘Hi. Mona? I’m Dr Mehak. Take a seat.’

  Ramit

  Oh. The doctor, she’s quite … good-looking.

  Can feel Mona eyeing me, and realize I’m staring. Shake my head. Must focus on the important stuff.

  Still, hadn’t expected this.

  Mona

  That was a pretty intense check-up. I got quizzed on a lot of things. Medical history, diet, lifestyle etc. Ramit did not speak a word. I could’ve simply gone alone. He wasn’t buried in his phone, thankfully. He just looked stiff. Sat with his back straight, like we were in the principal’s office. He looked a bit embarrassed for having knocked me up, I think.