Glitter and Gloss

by Vibha Batra

  ‘Correct. Didi thinks you’re a regular Mom who has no life.’

  Mom sits up straight, tugging the sheet away from me. ‘But why? Why would you do something like that, Mishy?’

  ‘Mom, you don’t know her—’

  ‘But I know you. I didn’t raise you to be dishonest.’

  No, just dysfunctional.

  She stares at me, a worried expression in her eyes. ‘You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, you know.’

  I know, Mum. Except maybe, Ronit.

  ‘It’s just that Didi’s world is so different, Mom, everyone’s so different, so perfect that I feel, I feel I don’t fit in,’ I say out loud, twisting the sheet in my hands.

  Mom leans forward. ‘Why do you want to fit in, Mishy? You’re lovely the way you are.’

  Yeah, right.

  ‘We may not be rolling in money, but we’re fine.’

  Fine? Clearly, we define the word very differently.

  ‘Mom, I just want to keep a low profile, you know, just blend in…’

  ‘Don’t blend in so much that you forget who you are, Mishy,’ Mom says melodramatically, ruffling my hair.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I say earnestly. ‘But just for one night, could we please pretend everything’s normal? Could we forget about Dad and Ronit? Please? Do this for me, please?’

  ‘And what happens at the engagement?’ Mom wants to know.

  ‘Dad will be around, so no one will suspect a thing. As for Ronit, we’ll pass him off as a friend of the family … which isn’t exactly a lie, he’s pret-ty close to you.’

  ‘Oooh, yeah,’ Mom sighs, stretching out languidly. ‘He’s such an animal, that one. You won’t believe what we tried out back in Argentina…’

  I place my hands over my ears as she shares the gory details. ‘Mom! Please!’

  Turns out Ronit isn’t just into stocks and shares, he’s also into kinky stuff. But honestly, his prowess in the sack is the last thing I want to hear about. Ever.

  I prep Mom a bit more and then we call it a night.

  We reach Taj Land’s End at the dot of eight. I stumble out of the auto, Mom follows suit.

  ‘Have fun, ladies!’ Ronit blows us a kiss before the auto takes off.

  We’re about to climb the stairs when a Beamer cruises to the portico.

  ‘Misha!’ Didi calls out from behind me.

  Saved by a whisker!

  Didi steps out of the car looking like a female version of the Men in Black. She’s wearing a black and red Ritu Kumar salwar suit and black strappy Louboutins. Black Prada frames are perched on the bridge of her nose and a black Louis Vuitton Sobe clutch in Epi leather graces her hand.

  In sheer contrast, Mom looks like a White Walker. She’s dressed in a pair of white pants and a white shirt with a blingy Peter Pan collar. Kitten heels and sling bag complete the look.

  I make the introductions, fidgeting with my sky blue chikan anarkali.

  ‘Who was that young man?’ Didi asks us as we climb the stairs.

  God, I want to kill Mom. It was her idea that Ronit drop us at the hotel because “it’s on the way to town”.

  ‘My brother,’ I say quickly.

  Mom breaks into a cough.

  ‘Oh!’ Didi pauses mid-step. ‘Why didn’t you bring him along?’

  ‘He’s terribly shy,’ I tell Didi. ‘But you’ll meet him at the engagement for sure.’

  I just hope she didn’t get a good look at Ronit. Bugger was leaning halfway out of the window like some poodle.

  I fret all the way to Masala Bay, the fine dining restaurant that serves excellent Indian fare.

  ‘So, what shall we order?’ Didi begins.

  Mom mistakes the formality for a question.

  ‘I’ll have Lamb Chops, no, wait, Murgh Khatta Pyaaz sounds good, or, maybe, Tawa Keema Kaleji.’ She looks up to find Didi gaping at her.

  I kick her under the table.

  ‘Mom!’ I say, faux tittering. ‘You also, na! She keeps forgetting she’s off non-veg,’ I tell Didi. ‘Mom, remember our family sacrifice for our family deity?’

  Mom blinks. ‘Yes, Beti,’ she says, catching on mercifully. ‘Oh god, I badly need a drink,’ she mutters.

  Oh god, we’ve been through this.

  ‘Of course, Mom,’ I say sweetly. ‘She’ll have a nimbu paani,’ I tell the steward.

  ‘We’ll have the usual,’ Didi adds. The subservient waiter scurries away to the kitchen.

  An awkward silence follows.

  ‘So how was your yatra?’ Didi asks Mom.

  Crap! I was so busy training Mom about Dad and Ronit, I completely forgot about the holiday.

  ‘Some yatra,’ Mom says with a laugh. ‘I feel totally washed out—’

  ‘That’s the beauty of teerth yatras,’ I butt in. ‘Mom’s washed off all her sins…’

  I’ve a sudden vision of Mom and Ronit on a nude beach. My face flames.

  ‘… And now she’s all set for some more,’ Mom finishes.

  I will her to add ‘Justte Joking’ a la Chunkey Pandey in Housefull.

  ‘Which teerth sthans did you cover again?’ Didi persists.

  Let me see. Rio de Janeiro, Havana, Buenos Aires.

  ‘Rishikesh, Haridwar, Brindavan,’ I list all the usual suspects.

  ‘Did you see the Aarti at Har ki Paudi? I never miss it,’ Didi says, bringing her hands together in a namaste.

  ‘Me neither,’ Mom says with a straight face.

  ‘In fact, in one temple, the priest asked her to perform the puja—’ I say loftily.

  Didi cocks an ear. ‘Really? Which temple was that again? I thought they’re pretty strict…’

  Shit! I really should know when to shut up.

  Fortunately, the waiter comes over with our food then. For the next half an hour, the conversation is restricted to monosyllables.

  ‘So,’ Didi says when the finger bowls arrive. ‘What does your pandit say about the engagement?’

  Careful not to shoot her mouth, Mom looks at me. ‘Does our pandit say anything?’ She hits the side of her head. ‘Old age, I tell you. Memory gone, bladder control gone, knees gone…’

  Didi nods in understanding.

  ‘… but as long as sex drive is the same, who cares, har har!’

  Mom titters at her own joke. Didi stares at her. Me, I just want to stuff my face in the wash bowl along with my fingers.

  ‘Didi’s Guruji says there’s a good date one month from now.’

  ‘Fine with me,’ Mom says.

  ‘What about Mr Chaturvedi, will that be okay with him?’ Didi asks.

  ‘Of course! As if he’s one laatsahab!’

  I deliver a swift kick on Mom’s shins.

  ‘Aah, I mean, it’s his own consultancy firm,’ Mom amends. ‘he can take off when he wants. Besides, Lucknow-Mumbai is not a very long flight.’

  Facepalm!

  Didi frowns. ‘Lucknow?’

  ‘What she means to say is,’ I butt in. ‘Dad will be in Lucknow next month. We have, um, family there.’

  The waiter comes to our rescue again with a platter of dessert.

  ‘Glad it’s all decided then,’ Mom chirps, tucking into the Shahi Tukda.

  I beam. Didi looks poker faced as usual.

  Mom heaves a sigh. ‘If only we could find a nice girl for that nice boy now.’

  ‘Who?’ Didi asks, cleaving the milk and saffron soaked bread.

  ‘Misha’s roommate, Sammy, such a nice fellow.’

  I nearly choke at the Shahi Fuck-Up.

  Didi looks startled. ‘But isn’t he—’

  ‘Gay? Of course, he is!’ I say quickly. ‘Mom, please, don’t be so old fashioned. It’s time you accepted facts.’

  Mom’s eyes widen behind her glasses. ‘I, oh, of course, okay, sorry.’

  Mom pounces on me the second we get home.

  ‘I don’t believe this!’ she flares up.

  I can’t believe the way she acted too. I’d coached her so well and she forgot EV
ERYTHING.

  ‘What’s gotten into you, Misha!’

  Ronit steps between us, sensing the tension. ‘Ladies, ladies, we’re all tired here. Why don’t we talk tomorrow?’

  ‘Stay out of it, Ronit,’ I growl.

  ‘Is that how you talk to your—’ Mom trails off.

  ‘To my what—stepfather?’ I say in a challenging tone. ‘Please!’

  ‘Hey!’ Ronit says, sounding hurt. ‘What did I do?’

  You mean, except sleep with a woman old enough to be your mother.

  ‘I was going to say “Guest”, Misha,’ Mom retorts.

  She slumps into the couch. ‘She actually said,’ Mom says, turning to look at Ronit, ‘you were her brother! I mean, can you believe it!’

  Ronit looks suitably pained.

  ‘At least, I’m trying to make my relationship work!’ I cry out.

  Mom looks stunned. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Wait, are you trying to say, I didn’t try hard enough with your Dad?’

  ‘Well, he isn’t here now,’ I point out.

  ‘Is that what you think?’ Mom asks, an incredulous expression on her face. ‘Wow, I’d no idea. You’ve been blaming me for everything that’s happened? All this time?’

  Yes and yes.

  I take a deep breath. ‘I don’t want to go there, Mom. All I want to say is, I’m not going to make the same mistakes. I’m going to do all it takes to have a successful marriage—’

  ‘Even if it means lying about your parents’ marital status?’ Mom interjects.

  ‘Yes!’ I say tonelessly.

  ‘Even if it means projecting yourself as a Sati Savitri?’

  ‘YES!’

  ‘Even if it means giving up non-veg and rum?’

  ‘YES, MOM!’

  ‘Even if it means passing off your roommate as gay?’ Mom rattles on.

  ‘WHAT?!’

  I stop breathing. I turn around slowly to find an openmouthed Sammy standing behind us, his gym bag on his shoulder.

  Shit!

  I didn’t hear him step out of his room.

  I rush up to him, a contrite expression on my face. ‘I-I’m so sorry, Sammy, but I can explain…’

  Sammy just shakes his head and walks out of the flat, slamming the door shut behind him.

  16

  I feel miserable. Because Mom left earlier this morning without speaking to me. Because I said some terrible stuff to her last night. And because Sammy isn’t talking to me.

  What a day to have a holiday. My better half, Akshay, is away in Delhi. My other half, Didi, hasn’t called or WhatsApp-ed me. I try calling Poulomi, but either she’s busy or she’s joined the We Hate Misha Club as well.

  I’ve nothing to do, so I mope around all day in my jammies. I try watching the latest season of BBT on my laptop, but give up after the first episode. If Dr Sheldon Cooper can’t cure you, boy, you’re in over your head.

  Sammy comes home late, acts as if I’ve got my invisibility cloak on and disappears into his room. I give him a couple of minutes and then knock on his door.

  Silence.

  ‘I’m not going away until you come out,’ I threaten. ‘I mean it.’

  Silence.

  ‘Sammy? Please! I’m really, really, sorry…’

  The door swings open and Sammy is standing there, wooden faced.

  ‘Are you really?’

  ‘I am, Sammy. I never meant to hurt you—’

  ‘You never do,’ he lashes out. ‘And yet, that’s exactly what happens. Remember when you…’

  He launches into a litany of complaints that’s as long as it’s justified.

  ‘And after that self-destructive Rahul phase,’ Sammy rambles on. ‘I thought you’d get a grip, clean up your act, smarten up. But it’s like you don’t want to. I think you like getting hurt, you like wallowing in self-pity—’

  ‘Of course not, Sammy!’ I cry out.

  ‘Why else would you do this to yourself? Every single time. Don’t you want to be with someone who loves you for who you are, Misha?’

  ‘Akshay loves me for who I am!’ I say indignantly.

  ‘Is that why you feel the need to be someone you’re not?’

  ‘You don’t understand, Sammy! Akshay’s got nothing to do with that! It’s only because Didi, oh, never mind!’ I say in exasperation. ‘And in any case, why are we talking about me and Akki? We should be talking about me and Sammy, I mean, me and you.’

  ‘What’s the point, there’s never going to be a me and you, is there?’ Sammy says sadly.

  I’m confused. ‘What do you mean?’ My eyes widen at Sammy’s expression.

  He has feelings for me! No! No! Nooooooo! It’s like Nitin, my younger bro saying he has feelings for me.

  ‘Yeah, Misha, I like you. Always have,’ Sammy says quietly.

  Oh god.

  ‘I-I’d no idea,’ I say, wringing my hands. ‘You never said anything—’

  ‘Would it have made a difference if I had?’

  ‘No,’ I confess. ‘I’m so sorry, Sammy, but I just, I-I really don’t see you that way.’

  ‘I know,’ Sammy smiles sadly. ‘And that’s okay—’

  ‘Ohmygod!’ I smack a hand loudly on my forehead.

  ‘What?’ Sammy looks concerned.

  ‘Imagine if Didi finds out about this? Oh god, she’s going to have a coronary! Oh god, what if she thinks I’m having a scene with you and Akki? Sammy—’ I break off, unable to find the words, but I know I must. I’ve got to do it. I steel myself for what I need to say. ‘—I think, I think you should move out!’

  Sammy purses his lips. For a moment, I’m worried that he’ll reject the idea out of hand. You know, just because he disapproves of everything I’ve been doing the last few months.

  ‘Don’t worry, Misha, I will,’ he says after a couple of tensed moments. ‘I don’t want to come in the way of your happiness. I’ll start looking for a new place right away.’

  I nearly collapse with relief.

  I’m busy wrapping up work the next evening when my phone buzzes. I peer at the screen. Poulomi calling. About time too.

  ‘Helloooo,’ I smile into the phone.

  ‘WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!’

  I blink in confusion, holding the phone away from my ear. ‘Poul?’

  ‘Don’t “Poul” me!’ she yells.

  What? What did I do now? I wrack my brains but I can’t come up with a single reason. I’ve haven’t stood her up or anything. I mean, we haven’t made plans in weeks. ‘What’s the matter, Poul, what happened?’

  ‘You asked Sammy to move out?’

  Oh, so she knows.

  ‘Yeah, Poul, but I was going to tell you—’

  ‘Are you out of your mind, Misha? Why would you do that?’

  I can’t believe Poulomi’s called me just to fight over this.

  ‘Don’t tell me it’s because of your stupid Didi?’

  ‘No, Poul, it’s not that…’

  ‘Then what is it? Why would you do that to him? Didn’t you say he was the best roommate you ever had?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Didn’t you say you were lucky to have him?’

  ‘I did—’

  ‘Didn’t you say you’d never find a roomie as kind, as helpful, as sweet, as decent as Sammy?’ Poulomi rages on.

  ‘I know, Poul, but things are different now…’

  ‘Different,’ Poulomi sneers. ‘Because you have found the love of your life? So that gives you the right to treat people however you want?’

  Gasp! That’s so not true. I’d never ever do that. Not to a close friend.

  ‘Sammy has feelings for me,’ I tell Poul.

  ‘So?’ she asks belligerently. ‘It’s not as if you want him to move out because he has feelings for you! You only want him to move out because Didi won’t like it!’

  Does it make a difference why?

  ‘How can you treat him like that,
Misha? Like he’s conveniently disposable? HOW?’

  The way she’s going on, it really gets my goat.

  ‘If you’re so sympathetic towards Sammy, why don’t you go around with him?’ I snap.

  ‘People don’t go around because they feel sympathetic towards a person, Mish,’ Poulomi says jeeringly. ‘Unlike you!’

  Oh god, that’s so unfair.

  ‘Could you be more judge-y?’

  ‘Oh, I thought you like being judged, Misha. No wonder, you spend so much time with Didi and Co. No wonder, you’ve no time for regular folk like me and Sammy.’

  I don’t know why she’s mixing her own issues with this.

  ‘Don’t come crying to us when—’

  ‘When what, Poul?’

  When Akshay and I go pfft? I can’t believe it. Is that what my friends think? That this is one of those timepass thingies that will fizzle out eventually? I’m so pissed off that for the first time ever, I hang up on Poulomi.

  Where have you reached? Should be home in thirty. Can’t wait to see you, Mishkin.

  I smile reading Akshay’s text. He’s back in town and I’m on my way to Mangal Mandir. Alas, not for a romantic tryst. For a family din din. Didi called first thing in the morning and asked me to come over after work.

  I take the ring off and slip it into my handbag just as the car enters the house. Alok Nath Baba is waiting at the door. He motions in the direction of the formal living room.

  ‘Hi, Didi,’ I say brightly, stepping into the room.

  She gestures at the sofa. I sit down obediently. Instead of sitting next to me, she ambles over to the high backed right across the room and slips into it. The Gulf of Carpet separates us.

  ‘Misha, we need to talk,’ she says without preamble.

  ‘Sure, fire away, er, I mean, tell me,’ I say.

  ‘I think it’s best if we wait for Akshay.’

  ‘I’ll live for a hundred years, huh?’ Akshay says, sweeping into the room.

  He trots up to Didi and takes the dust from her feet.

  ‘Jeete raho,’ Didi says, her face not betraying a flicker of emotion.

  I don’t know how she does it. So poker faced, so restrained. I mean, I’m grinning ear to ear and I want to fling myself at the guy. I get to my feet, my face aglow.

  ‘Misha!’ he says warmly, giving me a quick hug. We exchange a smile and sit down on the sofa, side by side.