When the night ended, Veda thanked Vikki.
‘Don’t thank me. I had fun too. We should do this more often. Get this husband of yours to step out like today, and I will take care of the fun bit,’ said Vikki.
A few days later, Veda decided to visit Kanika. It had been a while since they had met, and Veda wanted to catch up with her. She thought she would go over to Kanika’s house for a cup of tea and have a chat with her to find out how she was coping.
Kanika was happy to see her.
‘Come in, come in,’ Kanika said, smiling.
‘Where’s Shanta aunty? I don’t see her around?’ Veda asked.
‘Oh, mum has gone to the local store. After that, she is meeting your MIL for their usual gupshup,’ Kanika replied.
She said that she was sewing something, and asked if Veda would mind waiting while she finished it. Veda did not mind at all.
‘I didn’t know you sew,’ she said.
‘Oh, I like making little wall hangings, purses, quilted bed covers and such. Now that Sankalp isn’t taking up our time, I have to keep myself occupied,’ she said, and shrugged. ‘Come and sit with me in the bedroom while I finish it,’ Kanika said. Veda followed her into her room.
She gasped softly in surprise at the beauty of the bedroom. It was done up in soft pastel shades. The wooden bed was painted white and had a cushioned, upholstered, pale emerald-green headboard. The bed had a comforter with a white lace edge. Scented candles stood in a wooden tray at one corner. There was a window seat covered with the same pale emerald-green material, and large cream-and-white cushions placed on it neatly. The floral design on the curtains matched the pattern on the fluffy, soft rug on the floor, which her feet sank into. The look was dreamy, gentle and comforting.
At one end of the room was the sewing machine, which could be folded away and put inside a cupboard.
‘Kanika, this bedroom is so beautiful!’ Veda said admiringly.
‘Oh, thanks! You should have seen how much clutter there was before I redecorated. Clutter is negative energy. We hold on to it, and it is bad because it does not allow new things to come into our lives. Only if we let go of the old, can we make place for the new,’ said Kanika.
Her words were like an epiphany for Veda. Kanika was so right. She would try to do just that. She had to let go of Suraj. Veda had not forgotten his letter—each time she was alone, she thought about it. She still felt hurt, and then she felt foolish for feeling that way. Being here with Kanika was a good distraction.
Just as Kanika finished her sewing and put away the machine, her phone rang. ‘One minute,’ Kanika said, as she went to the hall to answer it.
When she came back, she looked grim.
‘Aparna wants to see us in the office tomorrow. Apparently, the inquiry commission has submitted their report and folks from the head office have arrived. They told me to convey this to you. They have already informed Ron. We have to be there at 10.30 tomorrow morning to hear the “verdict”,’ she said, and made a face.
Veda shrugged. ‘Que sera sera,’ she replied.
Veda returned home, and her mother-in-law left for her usual evening stroll with her friends. Veda was alone with her thoughts once again.
She did not want to think about Suraj. She had to deal with this and get a grip on her mind, which seemed to have a will of its own. She looked around for something to do, and inspired by Kanika’s decorating skills, Veda struck upon an idea. She would revamp her entire bedroom. She would get rid of the clutter, re-organise everything, re-arrange the furniture, and make it a delight to enter. That would keep her busy and distracted. It was a great idea, she decided. She would surprise Bhuwan when he got back from work.
She studied the room carefully and took stock of the furniture. There was a bed, two bedside cabinets, a chest of drawers, a mirror and a mismatched rug. The chest of drawers was stuffed to the brim with old newspapers and files. The bedside drawers too were full of unwanted clutter—old tapes, medicines that were long past their expiry date, a tool kit, a torch, hundreds of old bills, brochures, paper napkins, a nail cutter, some electrical wires, and many other odd bits and ends.
She began by clearing out the junk. By the end of an hour, she had completely cleaned out one of the bedside cabinets. She felt a sense of accomplishment. It took her mind off everything, and she felt better, getting rid of stuff. It made her feel lighter. Enthused, she began going through the other drawer, when the bell rang. It was Niranjan, the cook, who promptly made her a cup of tea.
Refreshed and recharged, Veda attacked the other drawer and got it in order as well.
‘This is therapeutic,’ Veda thought, as she headed to the chest of drawers. She discovered that there was a tonne of stuff there as well. It was bursting with old curtains, tablecloths and all kinds of knick-knacks, like an old statue, a clock that was not working, and many other things that were no longer being used. Veda decided to make a big pile of it and ask her mother-in-law if she could get rid of them.
It was when she was clearing out the last drawer that she came across a slightly heavy bundle which felt like a stack of books, tied up neatly in a cloth bag. The bundle was hidden in the middle of a pile of old newspapers that were pushed right to the back.
Curious, Veda opened up the bag.
She froze in utter shock when she saw what it contained.
Chapter 37
April 1997
Kailash Mandir Colony, Pune
Stacked up neatly, one beneath the other, were several copies of Bombay Dost, a magazine for gay people. Veda had read an article about it once, when she was in college. The article talked about this taboo magazine, which was started in 1990, and how it was a lifeline for many homosexuals, and how hard it was to procure a copy, as distribution was tricky. It had to be bought discreetly, and only a couple of vendors dared stock it. It could not be displayed openly, either. The buyer had to ask for it. The vendor would disappear inside and come out with the magazine in a brown paper bag.
Veda could not believe that she was looking at copies of this magazine. Then, the implication of finding it, hidden away, sank in slowly.
Oh my God. Is this what I think it is? This cannot be, she thought, as her heart started beating faster. Her brain had figured out what this meant. She was thrown into a tizzy.
Her mind raced and she found herself drowning in a sea of emotions. One part of her did not want it to be true. She was in denial. And yet, here was proof, staring at her in the face. Was she jumping to conclusions? Could there be an innocent explanation as to why these magazines were here? Was she over-reacting? Perhaps they were here merely because he wanted to read them. Surely, that did not mean he was gay. Or, was he?
It slowly dawned on Veda that she had no idea at all about the man she had been married to for so many months. They had lived under the same roof, eaten together, slept together and lived together physically, but there had never been any real connection between them. What did she feel for him? Affection? Surely, she felt affection? She was fond of him. He was nice to her. Over the past few days, they had been spending a little time together, talking. She was beginning to grow fond of him. But other than that, there was nothing.
There had never been anything.
The realisation hit her with the force of a ten-tonne truck ramming into her. How could she not have known all these months?
Her pulse raced. A thin film of sweat appeared on her forehead. She was suddenly aware of every movement of the seconds hand of the clock in their bedroom. Time was mocking her—or so she felt.
Calm down, she told herself. Maybe Bhuwan would walk in and he would tell her that he was holding on to it for a friend? The explanation sounded farfetched in her own head. Maybe there was another explanation.
Then she spotted an envelope in the pile. She opened it, her fingers trembling. She bit her lower lip as she took out its contents. There was a card with an ornately embossed border, and a photograph. She stared at the photograph. She recogn
ised the people in it instantly. It was a picture of a younger-looking Bhuwan with Vikki, probably clicked in their college days. They were wearing the ridiculous acid wash jeans and printed T-shirts that had been a rage back then. It was an innocuous photograph, and Bhuwan had his right arm around Vikki’s shoulders. In his left hand he held a cola bottle. Both were grinning straight into the camera. Had she come across this photograph without the pile of magazines, she would not have thought twice about it. Then she looked at the card. She felt she was falling from the top of a cliff when she read the words written with a blue ballpoint pen:
Happy birthday, my darling. Hope you enjoy your present. Can’t wait to see your reaction when you open it.
All my love,
V
There was no doubt in her mind now. All those improbable explanations she had conjured up in utter desperation sounded ridiculous and her theories crumbled to dust. Bhuwan and Vikki were in love with each other. There were no two ways about it.
Her mind raced back to the time when she had gone out with them to Sinhagad Fort and when they had gone dancing. The way they smiled at each other, their inside jokes, how happy they were around each other—it all made sense now. Whenever Bhuwan talked about Vikki, he was happy. It was only in retrospect that she realised it. There was an unmistakable twinkle in his eyes. She had never been able to elicit that kind of smile and joy from him, when she was with him.
She thought back to that one time that they had had sex. It was when he was drunk. No wonder he wasn’t interested in sleeping with her. She, in her naivety, had thought that it was simply because he was too immersed in his work and too busy. She thought about all the times when he had come home late, only after she went to sleep.
He had never been attracted to her in the first place. Why did he even get married to her? Why did he deceive her? How long had he known?
She felt like a complete idiot. What a fool she was not to have realised this. Was there anyone more stupid than her? All these months of marriage and she had not even known. It occurred to her that it was partially her fault too, for not realising that there was something very wrong with their marriage. This wasn’t how marriages were supposed to be. Or perhaps she had been too busy waiting for letters from Suraj to even notice that something was amiss here. She felt she was the biggest moron in the world, the prize-idiot.
She wondered if Bhuwan and Vikki laughed at her behind her back. What did they think about her? What should she do now?
Her mind was in a whirlwind. She placed the bundle of magazines and all the other stuff that she had pulled out back into the chest of drawers, crawled to the bed and lay down. She did not know what to do.
The cook called out from the kitchen saying that he had finished his work and he was leaving.
‘Okay, bhaiya,’ she called out, surprised at how normal her voice sounded.
Veda felt as if she was drowning. A few days ago, it was Suraj’s letter. And now it was discovering this huge truth about her husband. She did not know what to do. She lay on the bed, replaying in her head all the events of her life that had occurred ever since she had met Bhuwan.
Then it became apparent to her why he had been so nice to her. He pitied her, and he felt guilty. That was it! No wonder he had found a way for her to work at Sankalp. No wonder he had stood up for her when his mother was nasty to her. It all arose from guilt.
Suddenly, all those out-of-town trips, the long meetings, the slightly evasive answers whenever she asked about his travel—it fell into place. She felt as if she been living in a dark room all this while, and someone had turned on the lights.
She thought about what she should do. Should she call him up at work? What purpose would that serve? She decided she would wait for him to get home. She would stay up late and would not sleep till he arrived.
The minutes ticked by slowly. Her mother-in-law came back from her meeting with her friends. Veda was dying inside, but she made herself sound cheerful and tried to act normal.
‘Yes, Maaji. Hmm . . . Maaji. That’s nice, Maaji,’ she went on brightly, barely listening to what her mother-in-law was talking about. She was relieved when dinner was over and she could flee to the safety of her bedroom. She placed the envelope and the card that she had found in the packet beneath her pillow on the bed. She lay back and stared at the rotating fan, waiting for Bhuwan to return from work. She did not know for how many hours she lay there. She saw the moon rising and gazed at the stars from her bedroom window.
Eventually, she heard Bhuwan turn the lock in the door and walk in. She heard the splash of water as he washed his hands and face in the dining room wash basin. She heard him draw out a chair at the dining table and heard him sit down. She heard him hum a tune as he helped himself to the food that was waiting for him on the table.
At last, he entered the bedroom.
Veda was sitting up straight. The reading light was on.
‘Oh! You are up so late today? What a surprise,’ he smiled, as he walked towards the chest of drawers to place his office bag there.
Veda felt a tightness in her chest and a knot in her stomach.
Blissfully unaware of what had happened, Bhuwan changed into his nightclothes.
‘How come you are not asleep today?’ he asked, as he got into his side of the bed.
‘Long day, Bhuwan?’ Veda asked.
Something in her tone made him freeze.
‘Umm, yes. The usual,’ he replied, as he pulled the sheet over himself and turned to the other side, his back towards her.
She stared at his back. He felt her gaze and turned around to look.
‘What?’ he asked, a little perturbed now. There was something strange in Veda’s behaviour today.
‘Bhuwan—I know,’ she said softly, in a low, aggrieved voice.
‘What? What do you know?’ Bhuwan’s tone was cautious.
‘About you and Vikki. The truth.’ Her expression was deadpan, betraying none of the turmoil that was whirling within her.
‘What do you mean, Veda?’ he suddenly sat up bolt upright.
‘This,’ she said, as she handed him the envelope from under her pillow.
He took it. She watched his expression change from confusion to recognition to panic.
‘Errr . . . Uh . . . well . . .’ he stammered.
‘No need to hide, Bhuwan,’ she said.
Then the dam inside her burst open. She couldn’t contain the tears anymore.
She sobbed. Gut-wrenching, large sobs.
It was the sound of heartbreak.
Veda did not know if she was crying because of Suraj’s letter or because of what she had discovered. But she could not stop the tears. Her nose ran and she wiped it with the back of her hand.
Bhuwan clenched his fists and unclenched them. He looked helpless. Then he took Veda’s hands in his.
‘I am so, so . . . sorry, Veda . . . I truly am,’ he said, struggling to speak. His face was full of regret and pain. He was remorseful. He hated himself at that moment and wished he could disappear.
She stopped sobbing then.
‘No . . . don’t be sorry. I . . . I am such an idiot for not even realising it. How . . . how long have you known, Bhuwan?’ she asked gently, sniffling.
‘I am sorry Veda, I am sorry,’ he said, over and over.
And then he broke down.
Veda had never seen him cry and she didn’t know what to say.
He turned away, got out of the bed and stood near the window, staring out.
Veda sat in silence, waiting till he composed himself. She was filled with a wave of sympathy for Bhuwan, for herself, and for all the people in the world who desperately sought love. How fragile human beings were.
She said gently, ‘Come and sit here beside me, Bhuwan. I am not angry with you at all. I think there wasn’t any marriage between us. I did not even realise it, Bhuwan. It is not like I made an effort to get to know you, except for these last few days.’ Her voice was full of compassion. She knew wh
y she had made that effort too. It was because of Suraj’s letter. But she did not tell him that.
Bhuwan turned away from the window and came back to the bed. His eyes were red.
‘Nor did I, Veda. I too did not make an effort to know you. But what makes it worse is that I cheated you. I cheated on you. I felt guilty about it, Veda. Trust me, I did. But . . . but honestly, I cannot live without Vikki. And he feels the same way about me,’ Bhuwan confessed.
‘True love. I know how hard it is to find. And when you do find it, it is worth holding on to, at any cost,’ Veda said.
‘At any cost? Even at the cost of cheating someone?’ asked Bhuwan.
‘I haven’t been entirely honest with you either. Remember when you asked me if I had a boyfriend?’
‘Yes. You lied? Have you been cheating on me too? Ha!’ Bhuwan’s voice rose a little.
‘No, Bhuwan. I haven’t been cheating on you.’
‘Then?’
‘Well, I don’t know how to explain it to you. I kind of like him. I kept telling myself that it was as a friend that I liked him. But now I know I was always in love with him. I was in denial. He is with someone else now. And it is only now that it is clear to me. Do you remember the time you went to Delhi?’
‘Ummm . . . yes.’
‘I met him then. He came out here, and we went to Shaniwar Wada and spent the day together. I did try to tell you about it; I said I had met a friend. You didn’t even ask who it was.’
‘I remember that day, Veda. Do you know, I kind of suspected it? But I kept quiet because I wanted you to have a good time with your friend. You see, I was not in Delhi at all that whole time. I was with Vikki, in Matheran. We can only get stolen moments like those, Veda. I am so sorry for everything. I feel terrible.’
Veda was silent as she considered what Bhuwan had said. Neither of them had been honest with the other.
She asked him how it had all started, when had they known, what was it like to hide it from the world. She was curious. She wanted to know.
Bhuwan talked. He told her that it had started in college, when they had gone on a hiking trip organised by their college. He had always known that he had felt that way about Vikki. But he had not known whether Vikki was straight or gay. They had been camping in the foothills of the Himalayas, and Vikki had asked him if he wanted to go for a smoke. They had sneaked away from where the tents were pitched and had gone to the woods. Suddenly, they heard a sound. Bhuwan was terrified, as he was convinced it was a bear. He had clutched Vikki’s hand in fright. It was a false alarm. It hadn’t been a bear, but a fox, which had slunk away. When Bhuwan let go of his hand, Vikki had grabbed him and kissed him on the lips. Bhuwan had been blown away.
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