Familiar Strangers

by Samah

  ‘Chirag! Hi!’ she said.

  ‘Hi, Priya,’ he said.

  ‘It’s so good to see you. I have so much to tell you about our trip. Come, come . . . But listen, Param is not at home.’

  ‘I know,’ he said and walked in.

  ‘Did you get done early today?’ Priya asked, going into the kitchen.

  ‘I left early,’ Chirag said, following her. ‘To meet you.’

  ‘How sweet,’ she said, pouring cold water into a glass. ‘You want to go out?’ she asked, handing it to him.

  ‘No. Let’s stay here . . .’ he said and took a small sip for her sake. ‘Priya . . .’

  ‘Yeah?’ she said, her head and her attention in the confines of the refrigerator. She took out a bowl of wobbly jelly. Raspberry flavour. She kept it on the countertop and went for the bowl of custard.

  ‘Listen no,’ he tried to get her attention.

  ‘Say no,’ she said, still not looking at him.

  ‘Priya, listen to me,’ Chirag said catching hold of her hands as she straightened and shut the refrigerator door.

  ‘What happened?’

  He went quiet.

  ‘Anything serious?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay, tell me.’

  Chirag swallowed. His throat felt lumpy, words getting stuck in it on their way out.

  ‘Will you speak, Chirag? You’re worrying me now.’

  ‘Yes . . . wait.’

  Priya’s hands were still in his. He inhaled sharply. Then, finally, he said, ‘Priya . . . I don’t think you should be with Jai.’

  She let out a forceful breath, as if blowing out candles on a cake. This wasn’t the first time he had suggested this.

  ‘Chirag . . . I . . . let’s not discuss this now please. I’m in a good mood for a change and we’re meeting after so . . .’

  ‘Wait, wait, wait,’ Chirag said. ‘Let me finish.’

  A momentary frown creased Priya’s forehead.

  ‘I don’t think you should be with Jai, because I think you should be with me.’

  The confession was unexpected. Her reaction was so delayed that Chirag had to shake her out of her stupor. ‘Say something,’ he said.

  She stepped forward and kissed him.

  18

  Aryan’s test was two days away. Priya’s test was two more days after that. In haste, and to prove a point to Chirag, she had told Sakshi that they would come to Karjat, but as she put a fresh pile of trousers in Chirag’s cupboard, she wondered if she had made a mistake.

  Did she really want to go? But why would she not want to go? It would be childish to cancel the plan just because someone Chirag used to date was coming. We’re all grown-ups. This is silly. She couldn’t back out. Priya would not let her insecurity be exposed. But despite her high self-respect and deep moral values, her marriage was important to her. She didn’t want to invite trouble by willingly walking into something that was a threat. An affair was out of the question. Sakshi had confirmed that Kanika had last visited Mumbai two years ago. But just because Chirag wasn’t sleeping with her didn’t mean there was nothing to worry about; the text message had made this clear.

  As she closed the cupboard, Priya wished that somehow Chirag would himself decide against going.

  * * *

  They were sitting in the living room—Param and Chirag. They were watching Top Gun on TV. Param’s mother was watching them watch Top Gun on TV. What was so special about the movie that they saw it with love-at-first-sight eyes time and again? she wondered.

  Priya came out of her bedroom with two outfits on metal hangers. She was about to say something but Param told her to wait. A not-now hand gesture. Why, even Param’s mother could not take her eyes off the screen. Goose was about to die. Maverick and he ejected but Goose hit the jettisoned canopy of the aircraft. Their parachutes opened. They fell into the water. Maverick reached Goose and held his body.

  ‘Okay, okay, just tell me which one?’ Priya said, holding up a full-length pink gown in one hand and a knee-length yellow sundress in the other. Her graduation ceremony was in two days, and she wanted help deciding what to wear. She directed the question to her mother, who was sitting on the single sofa, at a right angle to Param and Chirag.

  Her mother pointed at the left one—the pink one. Priya looked towards her brother and his friend. They were still in mourning. Param looked at her and shrugged. ‘Whichever,’ he said, but she wasn’t really asking him. Chirag gestured with his eyes to the right one. Priya wore the yellow dress to her graduation.

  Those first few months of seeing each other were full of secret glances. At a movie theatre if Param sat between them, they would smile with mutual disappointment. Under loud dinner tables their feet would have quiet, ticklish conversations of their own. In the rear-view mirrors of moving cars, their eyes would invent private languages. It would take a while for them to bring their relationship above the dinner table, to the front seat of the car. Param would be the first to find out. Then her parents. Then his. Chirag and Priya would attend Karan’s wedding. Two years later, Karan and Sakshi would attend Chirag’s wedding.

  * * *

  On Wednesday, Chirag reached home a little before 7 p.m. Priya was talking to her mother on the phone. Since it was almost 5.30 p.m. in Dubai, her mother had to go for her evening walk. So they hung up.

  Chirag and Priya acknowledged each other.

  ‘Mummy?’ he asked her, sitting on the bed.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, getting off it.

  ‘How is she?’ he asked, undoing his tie.

  ‘Good,’ she said, undoing her hair in front of the mirror, the hair clip in between her lips.

  ‘And Daddyji?’

  Priya coiled her hair into a tighter bun and took the clip out of her mouth to fasten it. ‘He’s also good,’ she said.

  ‘Are Param and Divya coming next month?’ Chirag asked, bending to remove his shoes.

  ‘Their plan is not confirmed yet,’ Priya said, slipping into home slippers.

  He went to the bathroom. She went to the kitchen.

  * * *

  ‘What time do you want to leave on Friday?’ she asked after dinner.

  Chirag pretended like he couldn’t understand what Priya was talking about, and they both realized it was a shoddy attempt at acting. But she played along to avoid another argument.

  ‘Sakshi and Karan’s anniversary, remember? What time do you want to leave on Friday?’

  ‘Oh yeah . . .’ he said. ‘I don’t know, you tell me.’

  He didn’t see Priya’s shoulders drop.

  ‘Have you spoken to Mom for Aryan?’ she asked.

  Mummy was her mother. Mom was his.

  ‘I’ll talk to her tomorrow. We’ll be back on Monday, right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So nobody’s kids are coming? Not even Karan’s?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said and pulled the blanket over him. They didn’t decide on a time to leave. The question was anyway just a means to confirm if they were still going.

  19

  Chirag could hear Priya and Aryan revising for his test which was scheduled for the next day. They were at the dining table. He was flipping through TV channels in his room.

  ‘Can you lower the volume, Chirag?’ Priya said from the living room.

  ‘Yes, yes. Sorry,’ he shouted back. He settled on an English movie channel and put the TV on mute. The film had subtitles. Two small bags were kept on Priya’s side of the bed. She had taken them out to pack for their trip. He looked at them. He felt guilty. Maybe I should talk to her about it.

  ‘You don’t have put it on mute. Just keep it low,’ she said from the living room. Aryan seemed very unhappy. Maths did cruel things to him.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Chirag said. Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen was on. He dared not let Aryan know. But what will I say? How will I say it? He picked up his phone and went to the inbox. He opened Karan’s message. He read it fo
r the hundredth time. He knew Priya had been through his phone.

  * * *

  Priya stopped at a clothes store on her way home from work. It was around 6.30 p.m. on Thursday. She had rung up her neighbour, Mrs Thappar, in the afternoon to speak to Aryan. He usually played in her house till Priya returned from work. Recently, he had started letting himself in using the hidden key, but she preferred he didn’t stay home alone.

  The fact that Aryan’s test had gone better than expected was only a small consolation. She was in a bad mood. She wasn’t looking forward to the weekend, she was dreading it. As she rummaged through the racks of tops and dresses in the shop, she thought of giving Sakshi a quick call. But she didn’t know what she would say.

  In one corner she found what she was looking for. A few days ago a red outfit displayed on the mannequin outside the store had caught her eye. There were many pieces of the same dress. Priya checked the size labels. The first label said ‘M’. The second one ‘L’. She quickly added the ‘L’ to her shopping bag and turned to leave. But then she stopped. She went back and looked at the ‘M’ label again, as if expecting it to have changed. She looked around and then added it to the bag.

  Priya undressed herself in the fitting room, eager to see how the dress would look on her, but then decided to try on the other garments first. There was a blue shirt, a white shirt, a black bra and a pair of ripped denims. The white shirt looked good on her, the blue one didn’t. The black bra made her feel sexy, the ripped denims poor.

  She tried on the ‘M’ size first, desperately hoping that having only soup for lunch would help her get into it. Although she managed to put it on, the upper half of the zip at the back remained stubborn. Even if she starved herself till the trip, the chances of the zip going up all the way were slim. She opened her hair to get a better idea of the dress. She went on her toes to imagine how it would look with heels. She sucked her stomach in. Then she pulled it off.

  Priya was delighted when she put the ‘L’ on. The fit was good on her, the zip obedient. The dress was slightly formal, but its deep red colour was appropriate for a glamorous affair. The sleeves were long, ending halfway down her forearm; the hem of the piece reached her knees; and it had a mildly provocative, square neckline that sat well on her bust. The larger size even made Priya’s stomach look flatter.

  She bought the bra. She bought the dress.

  * * *

  At the dinner table, she had the curry and avoided the rice. Chirag didn’t notice. Aryan was in a hurry and asked for permission to use her phone, despite a few spoonfuls of his dinner remaining on his plate. Although she had a zero tolerance policy for wastage, Priya knew when not to exercise control. She nodded her assent, and he darted to her room.

  ‘Aryan,’ Priya said, as soon as he left the table.

  ‘Whaaat?’ he said, dragging his feet back to the living room, his Sunday-night face making an appearance on a Thursday night.

  Priya motioned towards his plate with just her eyes. He tut-tutted. In slow motion he took his plate to the kitchen where he dutifully deposited the waste in the dustbin, then placed it in the sink.

  ‘My good boy,’ Priya said, as Aryan stood on his tiptoes to reach the tap. He let a little water run on his plate, turned the tap off, and then dashed towards their room. Both Priya and Chirag smiled.

  ‘Only fifteen minutes. You can play on Dadi’s phone after school tomorrow,’ Priya said but he was not listening to instructions any more.

  Once Priya and Chirag were done eating, she rose from her chair to clear the table. She put the leftovers on one plate and then started stacking them in a pile. Chirag watched her as she made a mountain of the used dishes—her method had always been the same. She put the remaining curry and rice in smaller containers, giving away a big clue about his lunch the next day. She then put the dishes in the kitchen in two rounds.

  It was unlike Chirag to sit at the table once he was done with dinner. Priya got the feeling that he was lingering around because he wanted to say something. She let hot water run on the dishes in the sink. Deepali would wash them in the morning. Then she wiped her hands on a kitchen cloth and redid the knot of her hair.

  ‘I’m making green tea. Do you want some?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I’m okay,’ he said.

  She found an unopened packet of green tea that she had bought a few months ago. It had been on an offer. She flipped it to confirm that it hadn’t expired.

  Priya was filtering the tea when Chirag rose from the table. Turning towards her he said, ‘Priya . . . listen.’

  ‘Hmmm?’ she said, throwing the used tea leaves in the dustbin.

  ‘Listen . . . if you don’t want to go tomorrow we can cancel. I mean . . . I’m okay with not going.’

  Now he had all her attention. She looked back at him. Why is he saying this now?

  He looked down at the table, then dusted something away. She knows about Kanika. She’s been through my phone.

  ‘Are you?’ she said, still looking at him, the empty strainer still in her hand.

  ‘Yes, that’s what I said,’ Chirag said, pushing his chair towards the table.

  ‘That’s good to know. But I’m okay going.’

  ‘Okay. Good,’ he said, and went to the room.

  Priya sat at the table. The warmth of the cup in her hand was comforting. Now she was in another fix. She had waited and wished all week for her husband to say this, and now that he had said it, relief had not washed over her as she had expected it to. It was obvious what she should have done . . . what she thought she had wanted to do all along. She should have cancelled the plan and stayed home. Cleaned her cupboards and read a book. But the prospect of not going disappointed her. Her curiosity about Kanika had built up so much that now she wanted the face-off. If there was anything between them she wanted to know about it, if there could be anything between them she wanted to know about it. And why should I not go for my friend’s party because of someone else? Because of her? If anyone shouldn’t be coming, it should be her. I can’t back out.

  Priya stopped thinking about it. Rising from her chair, she took a few deep breaths to shake off the uneasy feeling. She gave the empty teacup a cursory wash and placed it upside down near the kitchen window.

  ‘Come on, Aryan, it’s time for bed,’ she said walking into her room.

  ‘No,’ he said, hiding under the blanket. He was on their bed, sitting beside Chirag.

  Priya felt for him on top of the blanket. ‘Come on, betu, you have to go to school tomorrow, no.’

  ‘No,’ he said and clung, face down, to his father under the blanket.

  Chirag patted his arm, once then twice to pacify him. ‘Last day tomorrow. Then two days holiday.’

  ‘No, Papa, please,’ he said.

  Chirag looked at Priya.

  ‘Okay, ten minutes more, and then you’re off to bed,’ she said.

  When she came back after putting him to bed, Chirag was watching the news. She picked up the plastic bag which had her new dress. It was lying on the shelf under the TV. She went into the bathroom to try on the dress again, not sure why she was doing so at this hour. She needed a boost to her ego, something to make her feel good. The bathroom mirror was not full-length. She stood on her tiptoes and looked at herself.

  Yes. She had made her decision. She would go to Karjat. She would go to the anniversary bash for her own sake. She would go to prove to Chirag that she was not an insecure or suspicious wife. She would go to show Kanika that Chirag had taken the right decision by marrying her. She would go to celebrate an occasion with her friends. She would go out of her own choice. She would go.

  20

  Nine hours after the fashion show in her bathroom and the decision she had made in there, Priya roused from sleep. She felt fresh. Chirag was in the bath. He was working half-day. They had decided to leave Mumbai after lunch, though the exact time had not been fixed. They would have to go with the flow, depending on how the morning went in his office.

/>   She woke Aryan up and sent him for a bath. Five minutes later she checked on him again. He sometimes fell asleep in the bathroom, sitting on his yellow stool. Priya had packed his bag with clothes and other essentials for his weekend with his grandparents. Chirag’s parents lived nearby. Aryan would take the extra bag to school with him. His grandmother would pick him up after.

  While Deepali packed parathas in a box for their journey, Priya packed for the weekend. She had decided not to think about anything, just let the weekend happen. Packing Chirag’s bag took her all of six minutes, but when she got down to her own bag, she was confused. She wanted to look her best on this trip. Going through her cupboard, Priya removed a heap of clothes and put it on the bed. Then she shut the door of the bedroom and tried on everything. The white T-shirt made it to the bag, the red one didn’t. Blue jeans went one way, denim shorts went the other. She tried on her only swimming costume. She found it too old-fashioned. It didn’t look appropriate. Then she realized she hadn’t packed Chirag’s swimming trunks. She opened the first drawer in his cupboard and found them buried in a mess of socks and underwear. As she pulled them out, a multi-coloured underwear fell out, strikingly out of place between the whites, blues, browns and blacks. Unfolding it, she realized it was a pair of cartoon-themed briefs she had bought for Chirag during their honeymoon. They had gone to Bangkok. She vividly remembered Chirag’s horror on seeing the colourful underwear and his vehement refusal to wear it. It made her laugh . . . almost. He had worn it eventually, begrudgingly, and she had laughed even then. She couldn’t believe she had done something so brazen. She could not imagine asking Chirag to do something like that now. She could not even remember the last time they had had sex. She stood rooted to the spot, inspecting the underwear a little more than was necessary. Its colours had faded away just like their marriage. Yet, the fact that it still had a place in Chirag’s cupboard was a small reminder of what had been, of what could be. Although she was alone in the room, Priya felt embarrassed standing with it. She folded it and put it back inside.