Koi Good News?

by Zarreen Khan

  I told the doctor about the pregnancy test and how I hadn’t done it first thing in the morning as the instructions said I should. She kept nodding without looking up at me.

  ‘Okay then. I’m just going to put down a blood test for you.’ She noted something in her notepad, in very doctor-like handwriting. ‘You get this done today and repeat it after two days.’

  ‘Right … right…’ I mumbled.

  ‘Umm …’ I heard Ramit finally open his mouth. ‘So, is she pregnant?’

  Dr Mehak smiled at him. ‘The right term is, are we pregnant. Well, the pregnancy test says so, you say. But it’s best to confirm through a blood test. Especially since you’re only a week late, isn’t it? But you aren’t completely sure of your date?’

  I felt extremely stupid.

  ‘This blood test will tell us, then.’ She smiled.

  So, basically, another three days before we’ll really know.

  Ramit

  Never Google medical stuff.

  We got the first report in and didn’t know what the ranges meant and I Googled it. It means Mona is either pregnant or terminally ill.

  She’s looking rather pale, staring into her phone’s blue screen now. I think she’s been Googling too.

  Week 6

  By now, the first symptom of pregnancy – nausea or breast tenderness – makes its appearance. You may also feel tired and urinate more frequently

  Mona

  I’m pregnant. Without a single symptom. No filmy chakkar, no filmy fainting, no puking, no sign of nausea whatsoever. But Dr Mehak has just told us that I’m pregnant. That we are pregnant.

  I have been peeing a lot, though. I suppose that’s a symptom. I didn’t bother asking Dr Mehak.

  Anyway, should I be calling anything a symptom? Pregnancy isn’t a disease, after all.

  Ramit kept saying ‘I can’t believe it’ all the way home, and I kept oscillating between feeling totally excited and totally nervous. He even offered to take the day off, but changed his mind before I could jump at it.

  Anyway, it looks like this is it. In another nine months, we’ll have a baby.

  I called my mother when I got home. And didn’t get the reaction I was expecting. She first went really silent and then spoke in hushed tones.

  ‘Don’t tell anyone till you complete three months, okay?’

  ‘Why?’ I whispered back.

  ‘Anything can happen!’ Mom said ominously.

  Trust my mother to get all negative about the one good news she’s been waiting for.

  ‘But I have to tell Ramit’s mother!’

  Mom hesitated. ‘Okay, you can tell her,’ she said finally. ‘But don’t go blabbering it all out to everyone else. These Deols …’ She tutted. ‘Now, listen to me. You don’t do anything to stress yourself. No physical exercise. No lifting heavy stuff. You haven’t lifted anything heavy, have you?’

  Oh God! I realized I’ve spent all of last month shifting and carrying cartons of stuff here and there. If only that Shania had lifted a finger…

  ‘No alcohol,’ she instructed.

  I wanted to tell her if it hadn’t been for all that wine at Laila Sachdev’s party, there would’ve been no baby at all.

  ‘Always sit with your feet up. Take complete bed rest.’

  ‘But … why?’

  ‘Because you have to be extra careful in the first three months.’

  ‘Mom, the doctor said I should live like any normal person.’

  ‘Don’t listen to the doctor. Listen to your mother. I’ve had two children. And your pregnancy is precious. Now don’t go up and down the stairs all the time. Get a full-time maid. Should I send Rani to you?’

  ‘No. I already have a maid.’

  ‘She’s part-time.’

  ‘Relax!’

  ‘Are you feeling sick?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why aren’t you feeling sick?’

  ‘I don’t know!’

  ‘You’re supposed to feel sick. Have lime.’

  ‘But I’m not sick!’

  ‘And no heels.’

  My mother is ridiculous. I hung up on her and called Ramit’s Mummy.

  She was no better. Insisted that we be discreet, and keep it a secret.

  ‘Have adrak.’ she said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To help with the sickness.’

  ‘But I’m not feeling sick.’

  ‘You will.’

  This is the response I get for giving them the news they’ve been waiting for these last four years? Have adrak? Don’t wear heels? Don’t tell anyone?

  I called Shania. Disconnected. Dialled again. Disconnected.

  Something seemed to be wrong. The caller tune had changed to some Om Shaanti Shaanti bhajan.

  Anyway, had to pee, so stopped trying.

  Ramit

  ‘Ramit, you have to be careful!’

  That’s what my mother called to tell me – no congratulations, or rather, no thank you, for giving them the one thing they’ve been waiting for all these years.

  She’s even refused to tell Papa, lest he tell Bade Papa.

  Bade Papa, Somesh tayiji’s husband, is the patriarch of the family. We rarely keep secrets from him.

  But Mummy has insisted on making this some FBI agenda.

  Mona

  Shania called back. She claims she knew I was going to tell her I’m pregnant because she’s into meditation and shit now and she can feel the energies talking to her.

  Trust my sister to go cuckoo at the one time I need her to tell my mom to back off.

  Ramit

  Apparently Mona has switched off her phone. The mothers have hounded me with calls and messages since.

  Mummy: No more Colas for Mona. She should stay off aerated drinks.

  Mom: Chinese food is a big no-no. It has Ajinomoto. Bad for baby’s brain development.

  Mummy: Get her ginger toffees. It’s a must.

  Mom: Give her a glass of milk thrice a day. It’s a must.

  Mummy: No foot massage. It has some pressure points that could induce early labour.

  Mom: Put up a picture of a cute baby in the room.

  Mummy: Put up your bachpan ka photo in the room.

  Mom: Is she throwing up?

  Mummy: Is she throwing up?

  Turned the phone off. Mailed clients to call me on my landline.

  Mona

  For some reason, Ramit thought I’d gone off to buy him an anniversary present today, and was planning a surprise or something. I had almost forgotten tomorrow’s our anniversary in the first place! I’ve spent the day peeing and sleeping.

  And how dare he want an anniversary present? I’m giving him a baby!

  Ramit

  Mummy called at seven in the morning on our anniversary.

  ‘I know you have tickets for Dhai-Dhishoom booked for tonight. You can’t go for it.’

  No happy anniversary. Five years of marriage and a grandchild on its way, but I don’t even get a happy anniversary. Just an order that I can’t go for a movie. As if I’m in school and need her permission.

  ‘Why not?’ I asked defiantly, sounding braver than I felt.

  ‘Too much violence. I want Mona to think only happy thoughts,’ she said sternly. ‘And anyway, don’t ask me why not! I’m your mother.’

  ‘But she likes watching movies and this one has that actor she loves, and she’s really looking forward to it …’

  ‘Ramit!’

  No one messes with Mummy.

  I told Mona we couldn’t go.

  Turns out, no one messes with a pregnant Mona either.

  Off to the movies we went.

  Mona

  We ran into Tina Tej Mushran at the theatre. She looked like she was going clubbing instead of the movies. She had on a glittery tank top and a denim jacket. I instinctively put my hand on my stomach, lest she notice I’m pregnant and tell people. Even Ramit’s ears turned pink with the stress. Or maybe at the sight of her cleavage. Ramit sh
ould’ve been born in the fourteenth century.

  We made small talk and she invited me to drinks next week at her place. Said something about calling some caterers and the way she talked, it seemed like the caterers came first and the guests, second. She said that Laila Sachdev would be coming too. I made some weak excuse. I can’t be drinking. But now they’ll think I’m too uncool to hang out with them and I’ll be stuck with the likes of Mrs Kapoor, who haw-haws the likes of Laila Sachdev (which even I do but I’m more subtle about it).

  Now I’m sulking. And eating some caramel popcorn in the hall which, by the way, tastes like lead.

  Caught Ramit looking at me strangely. Think he finds it a little unappealing to watch me gobble through a tub of gross popcorn.

  But now that I’m … sorry … now that we are pregnant, he can find me as unappealing as he wants!

  Ramit

  Mummy called during the movie and I had to disconnect. If she overheard the background score she would have killed me for bringing Mona to the movie, after all. Then she called on Mona’s phone.

  Told Mona to speak to her on one of her loo visits.

  Why is she perpetually in the loo?

  Mona

  I hope this whole urinating thing is a part of pregnancy. Or I have serious bladder issues. I suppose I should ask Dr Mehak.

  God! Why does Ramit have to drink that Coke so loudly? He’s slurping away so loudly I can barely hear anything.

  And I want that Coke. So badly. Considering snatching it out of Ramit’s hands.

  In an attempt to distract myself, I keep sipping water every time he has a sip of his Coke. Just to numb my senses.

  Ramit

  No wonder Mona was running to the loo all the time. She was guzzling down a full bottle of water every five minutes.

  And now she wants me to drive really fast and get home because she wants to pee.

  Mona

  I can’t believe we didn’t pay attention to our bathroom before. Why don’t I have better tiles? Why haven’t I bothered getting better toiletries? Why are the towels so unpretty?

  Now that I seem to be spending a significant part of my life peeing, I’m beginning to see how it needs some serious revamping.

  Ramit

  Google says Mona’s kidneys are working overtime to keep the system clean and there’s a growing uterus putting pressure on her bladder. At least it’s not kidney failure.

  Google also says she should have lots of water.

  Went into the garage and brought out one of those old-school Mayur jugs we’d been given in Amritsar. But she wants to drink from our purple Tupperware bottle only.

  Mona can really be like her mother sometimes. Pseudo-snob.

  Mona

  A Mayur jug! Must’ve been his mother’s suggestion. Who uses that any more? Security guards?

  All I’m doing is drinking and peeing. Yesterday, I had eighteen glasses of water.

  Also used up two toilet paper rolls and one full handwash last week.

  And the puking hasn’t even started!

  Week 7

  You are in the throes of nausea

  Mona

  ‘I threw a what?’

  ‘Are you in the throes of nausea?’ Ramit’s Mummy asked. Seriously, having an English teacher–cum–ex-principal is not fun.

  ‘I don’t have any nausea.’

  ‘You’re not feeling sick?’

  That’s what nausea means, Mummy! I wanted to yell. But I just said, ‘no,’ politely.

  Then my mom called.

  ‘You’re still not feeling sick?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘How am I supposed to know?’

  She sounded very suspicious.

  Then Ramit asked.

  ‘You’re sure you’re not feeling sick?’

  ‘I’ll tell you what I’m sick of … it’s that question. I’m not sick! What should I do? Shove two fingers down my throat?’

  Ramit

  Mummy is very upset that Mona is not throwing up. She suggested that I speak to the doctor about it. I spent the morning calming her down.

  If that carton of caramel popcorn didn’t make her throw up last week, nothing will.

  Mona keeps snapping at me for asking her how she’s feeling.

  Mona

  ‘So you still haven’t started throwing up? That’s good. Just eight months of puking for you then.’

  ‘Shania! Why will I be puking for nine months?’

  ‘Arrey! They show na in Hindi movies.’

  Hindi movies have forever ruined the meaning of pregnancy. They show women puking the minute they conceive, and then massive bellies the very next day. And of course, the chakkar. You’re expected to suddenly hold your head and faint dramatically in your husband’s arms and call a doctor home who can check your pulse and declare you pregnant. I had to get a blood test. I feel cheated.

  ‘So, di, send me your photo, na. Are you showing?’

  I was showing even before I was pregnant, according to Somesh tayiji and her nosey daughter-in-law.

  ‘When are you coming back from the ashram? What are you doing there in the first place?’ I attempted to change the subject.

  ‘I met this guy …’

  It had to be a man! This boy-crazy sister of mine!

  Ramit

  ‘But why isn’t she feeling sick?’ Mummy hissed at me.

  I threw some research at her. Told her that 30% women get no nausea or morning sickness during their pregnancy.

  She became indignant. Went on about knowing more than me. Insisted I ask the doctor.

  Mona

  Is he bloody serious? I’m not going to the doctor to ask her why I’m not barfing!

  Anyway, woke up feeling a little grubby. I think it’s the spices Lakshmi put in the bloody bhindi. Cannot stand bhindi. Why is there bhindi in the house in the first place? Because of our beloved Lakshmibai. It’s her weapon, Ramit claims. He really needs to get over this stupid joke.

  Told Ramit I wasn’t feeling good and didn’t bother going down for breakfast.

  But later when I went downstairs, found Ramit gleefully whispering on the phone with his Mum.

  ‘She was feeling a little sick.’ I saw him smile. ‘Yes. Yes. I know.’

  Blasted him for being happy about me feeling sick. Told him to get me lime and ginger and a bag I could puke into. Felt perfectly fine within half an hour. Everyone’s disappointed in me again.

  ***

  Caught Ramit whispering on the phone again with Mummy.

  ‘Yes. She’s started showing a little.’

  Stormed into the room and made him put down the phone.

  He murmured something about mood swings. I wanted to hurl my shoe at him.

  Ramit

  My wife is now officially crazy.

  Week 8

  Around this time, your blood circulation steadily increases

  Ramit

  So Mona’s obviously doing fine, other than wanting to bite my head off. I’m getting high blood pressure with all her screaming.

  So, decided to get out and play a round of tennis with Shashi Sachdev.

  They’re quite warm, the Sachdevs. When we didn’t go for Tina’s party, Laila sent Mona a bunch of flowers the next day. And they keep stopping by the garden to say hello.

  And obviously, I can see that Mona has a massive crush on Shashi.

  I should build some muscle.

  Mona

  Milind-Shashi came to the house today. Don’t know if my head swooned at the sight of him in his shorts or if it was my pregnancy acting up.

  I sat in the living room for a long time, imagining him playing tennis. And later, blocking out images of him unbuttoning Laila Sachdev’s shirt.

  Ramit

  Got such a fright when I got back. Lying on our living room carpet was Mona, an open book in her hand. I shook her several times and even felt her pulse. She thankfully stirred and told me to stop being crazy – she was just a little slee
py post lunch.

  Pressed her and she admitted to feeling woozy, and needing to lie down. She says it’s nothing, but I don’t care – I’m taking her to the doctor.

  Mona

  The doctor says that apparently, some pregnant women do feel faint.

  I finally feel like a Bollywood heroine and have something to report back to the paranoid mothers.

  Of course, as soon as they heard this, both promptly started freaking out.

  Mummy declared she would take the Monday morning Shatabdi.

  Mom decided to send Rani, our help in Dehradun, by the Monday evening Shatabdi. Good, because I prefer Rani to either of the mothers any day. But then Ramit told her that there was no need and that his mother was coming on Monday morning.

  My bechari type mum got competitive – if Ramit’s mother can come to serve her daughter-in-law, she can do the same for her flesh and blood. Now both mothers will be here on Monday.

  I wanted to faint at the thought of it. Told Ramit to sort it out.

  Ramit

  Convinced both parties to come one after the other, so that Mona would have someone with her at all times.

  A calendar of sorts has been drawn up. Mummy arrives next Monday for two weeks on the pretext of helping us set up the house – that’s what the Deols of Amritsar are being told.

  Mona’s Mom arrives for two weeks post that, followed by two weeks of Shania.

  By then the first trimester will be over.

  Then Rani can move in.

  Mona

  Got an earful from Mom – about how she’s my mother and Ramit’s ‘Mummy’ is my mother-in-law. How could I be so unfair as to have her over with me first instead of my own mother!

  Didn’t have the stamina to argue. Hung up.

  Ramit

  Got an earful from Mummy about how it’s unfair that our part of the family only gets two weeks and Mona’s family gets four.

  Didn’t have the patience to argue. Hung up.

  Mona

  Lakshmi barged into my bedroom without knocking just as I was taking my bra off. No regard for privacy whatsoever. Excitedly told me I had a guest.

  So here I am, bra back on, sitting across Tina Tej Mushran, pulling my T-shirt a bit lower on my tummy so that she doesn’t notice anything. She pulls out, much to my horror, her Virginia Slims-type cigarette holder and a cigarette.