Sorting Out Sid

by Lal, Yashodra

  Sid tried to hint gently that there were at least two other televisions in the house, one in the guest room where they were to sleep and the other large and very beautiful-resolution-waala TV in the drawing room. But they refused to budge. Though, of course, he could sort of see why.

  Initially, they had been puzzled that Mandira was barely around. Last night she had made it a point to arrive so late, they barely had time to say a few words to one another. Even those few words had been very uncomfortable; her sullenness had been easy for them to pick up although they weren’t ever going to ask directly what was wrong. Sid felt some safety in the knowledge that their operating policy in life, just like his, was to pretend that whatever was making them uncomfortable didn’t exist. But he could tell they were mystified and hurt, and appeared to find solace and safety in his bedroom – the one place Mandira never seemed to visit.

  Sid pre-empted their question about Mandira sleeping in a separate room by explaining that she worked from home a lot these days – sometimes late into the night and she could concentrate better in a separate room. His mother nodded her understanding while his father pretended not to hear or care. Sid felt a twinge about lying, but reassured himself that the right moment for telling them about the divorce would definitely come soon. He was watching out for it. The news channels didn’t seem to interest his father any more and he switched off the television. Now they were all staring at a blank TV, sitting on the edge of the bed. Okayyy … Now what? Sid had to admit, this seemed like an opportunity to talk. He cleared his throat.

  ‘Ma … Papa …’

  ‘Haan beta?’ His mother immediately turned towards him, love and affection on her face. His father stiffened his back and stared straight ahead at the blank screen of the TV, so Sid knew he was all ears too.

  ‘Ma … Papa …’

  Sid swallowed once. It was time.

  ‘Shall we have dinner now?’

  His father’s shoulders slackened with relief but his mother just looked confused. ‘Sid, we already ate at seven, and you said you had also eaten before coming home.’

  Oh. That was right. Sid had come home while they were having dinner and he had claimed to have eaten in order to avoid sitting with them. He had walked into his room, hopeful of some time to himself, but within about seven minutes they had also come in and sat down. Now, he was so hungry that his stomach was growling. Well, obviously, he couldn’t tell them life-altering news on an empty stomach, right?

  ‘Well, I think I’ll order a pizza,’ he announced. ‘Would anyone like some?’

  His father grunted, ‘Nonsense food you keep having. Will kill you one day.’

  Sid narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to snap that he was in the pink of health and that it was his father who had ruined his system with all the drinking and smoking and that’s why he was a heart patient. However, his mother spoke first in her gentle way, ‘Should I make something for you? Your favourite halwa?’

  ‘No, Ma,’ he snapped, his irritation with his father as usual being transmuted into the safer outlet of expression – irritation with his mother. When someone wanted pizza, they didn’t want the damned halwa. It wasn’t his favourite anyway – he didn’t even like it much any more. It was just that he had kept forgetting to let her know that over the last many years. ‘I don’t feel like … I mean, you always want to tire yourself out. You’re on holiday now, na? Enjoy yourself, relax, take care of your health.’

  ‘Haan … haan. You are very concerned about her health when she’s in front of you. When did he last visit us in Lucknow?’ His father took the opportunity to make another jibe at him, reverting to the third person while referring to him, which Sid hated. It was as if he weren’t there. Which was of course, exactly, what he wished right now. He fidgeted uncomfortably. What time was it? Oh crap. Only 9 p.m. At least another hour before his parents went to bed.

  ‘Let him be,’ his mother chided gently, putting her hand on Sid’s arm. ‘We know how hard he works and everything he has to deal with. We can’t expect him to drop everything and come running to us all the time.’

  His father just grunted and started fumbling with the remote again, obviously unable to stand conversation with his family for too long. But Sid was aware of the unexpressed concern in his mother’s words. ‘Everything he has to deal with.’ She could obviously sense that something was wrong between Mandira and him and this was her way of asking. She kept her hand on his arm, exuding understanding and warmth. He knew what she was saying – you can tell me anything, son, I’m your mother.

  He jumped up abruptly, freeing himself from her touch and stalked off, muttering, ‘Where did I leave my phone? I want a Thin Crust…’

  Thirty minutes later he sat alone at the dining table. The smell of the Dominos Pizza in front of him set his mouth watering. Heaven. At least now he could enjoy some time alone. He knew it was only for another few days that he would have to deal with his parents’ presence. It never ceased to amaze him how strained he felt around them. They were his parents, but for crying out loud, why couldn’t they just understand the concept of space?

  As if on cue, his mother materialized in the room and started hovering over his left shoulder.

  ‘Sit, Ma.’

  What was a guy to do?

  ‘I’m fine like this. Over here, I have nothing to do but sit all day, anyway.’

  Great, another subtle reminder of how neglectful a son he was, always failing in his duties – to take them around Delhi, to see the sights while they were here. Well, he had a job, right? Couldn’t they understand? It’s not like they let him decide when they should come so that he could plan his leave accordingly. At the back of his mind he knew he had no particularly pressing projects running. He could take leave from work and spend time with them if he wanted to. But that would mean spending time with them and, hell, he just wasn’t up for that.

  She was still hovering and it made him uncomfortable so he shifted around in his chair and looked up again at her. ‘Sit, no … Ma?’ This time the invitation was less brusque.

  She acquiesced and lowered herself slowly into the chair next to him. He was struck, as happened every time he met his parents of late, with how much older she looked than the last time. She was gazing at his face through her greyish green, slightly watery eyes with dark circles underneath them. The patience, kindness and sympathy were unmistakable.

  Okay, fine, he thought, fighting hard to control his irritation, watch me eat then.

  Sitting and watching him eat had always been her favourite pastime when Sid was a child. Might as well indulge her, thought Sid and nonchalantly bit into the pizza. It was hard to enjoy it while being watched so closely. He realized too late, he should have climbed onto Brownie during pizza time. His mother then wouldn’t have been able to sit so close and watch him eat. Well, he was now just going to have to ignore her. Not hard in the least, he had been doing it for years.

  Sid chewed resolutely and allowed his mind to drift. He didn’t know at what point his protectiveness about her had turned to resentment. His mother had hovered around him throughout his childhood, shielding him from all the disappointments that she could. She had even stood up for him against his father’s unreasonable demands for excellence. She never expected anything from Sid and had always given her all for him. But this had, in the end, made him feel even more guilty. He could never hope to pay her back. And now he was failing her in the biggest possible way – by failing in his marriage. The social stigma and the thoughts of what people back in Lucknow would say…

  And his father … Well, you must rise to great heights and make us proud. We are giving you the best education so you must make us proud. You must repay us by standing first and yep, you guessed it, make us proud. And yet, every time he ever achieved anything – topping in school, getting admission into the best of colleges – it would be just that nonchalant, indifferent, damned ‘Of course, it’s expected’. And then the next challenge would be set.

  Toget
her the two of them drove him nuts. No wonder why over the last few years he had almost cut off all meaningful contact with them, just doing the obligatory, yearly, short visit to Lucknow. Initially, Mandira used to accompany him, but the trips had always led to some acrimony or the other between them. So, over time, Sid stopped asking her to come along and Mandira never offered.

  Sid’s parents rarely ever came to Delhi. In fact, this was actually the first time in the last four, maybe, five years. He had made those obligatory noises on the phone often enough, ‘Ma, Papa … you guys are getting old … you need to think about moving in with us at some point … come next summer for a visit …’ and so on. They all knew he didn’t really mean it and the conversation always moved on to other, banal things until he hung up with a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t love or care for them, it was just that they were so … from another planet altogether … stuck in a time warp, unwilling to change. Well, he didn’t want to be reminded of the past anyway. Not that it had been bad really … just a bit lonely. But he didn’t want to be made to feel like a child any more and no one managed to make him feel that way more than his parents. Of course, he knew that he was the only child and had a responsibility towards them, but somehow, his heart wasn’t in it and the guilt this generated in him irritated him.

  He chewed his pizza, quickly stuffing his mouth again after every bite finished to avoid talking to his mother. Sid told himself he didn’t really have it that bad at all. He recalled his conversation with Neha at dinner three nights ago, and what she had told him about her childhood.

  Neha had been only eight when she lost her father in an army chopper crash – it sounded horrible. She was, like Sid, an only child and so it had just been her mom and her. Together they pulled themselves through some rough times. Neha had narrated this in a matter-of-fact tone, towards the end of their evening, after Kippy had finally finished eating all the expensive food and fallen into a contented, deep sleep in Neha’s arms. Sid watched in silence as Neha placed Kippy gently on the sofa next to her. She gazed tenderly at her daughter for a moment before saying, ‘Maybe neither Kippy nor I were ever meant to know our fathers.’ Her voice was light but he could sense something underlying it that he had never associated with Neha ever before – bitterness. But it was gone in an instant and she smiled again and said, ‘What about you? Your parents?’

  Sid had been focussing on the fascinating little bump on her nose and so he wasn’t prepared for the question. He responded unthinkingly, ‘Huh? Good, GOOD. They are both alive and well … been married about forty years now. We’re all fine … more wine?’

  Well, if they were all fine, how come he still couldn’t bring himself to tell them that he was getting divorced? The little voice that he had suppressed for so long was apparently trying to make a comeback, the impertinent little pest. Still, it had a point, he supposed.

  He swallowed a mouthful and said, ‘Ma, I thought I should tell you something.’

  She didn’t say anything. She just waited.

  ‘I was saying…’ Do it Sid, he told himself. She was so silent that he thought she had stopped breathing. ‘…on Saturday, Papa and you must go to India Gate.’

  She looked disappointed for only a second before giving him a weak smile and replying, ‘If you think it’s a good idea, we’ll go, beta.’

  He nodded enthusiastically and said, ‘Of course, of course! In all your visits to Delhi so far you haven’t seen the very capital of the city! No, no, you must go…’

  He shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth to keep himself from babbling further and concentrated on chewing it as slowly as possible. He would wait for a more opportune moment. You didn’t break life-altering news to your mother over pizza, for heaven’s sake. Besides, there were would be other opportunities to tell them – there were still another five full days to go before they returned to Lucknow.

  And that seemed like a really long time.

  6

  The Lemongrass Lounge

  ‘What’s the matter with you? Why don’t you ever answer your phone?’

  Sid instinctively looked around to see if anyone else could hear the voice plaintively chiming from the other end of the line. He was still getting used to the fact that his new cabin had no one in it but him. He puffed up his chest a bit and decided that no VP should get bullied like this, so he snapped back at Aditi, ‘I’m answering it right now, na? How else do you think you’re speaking to me?’

  ‘Don’t be so silly, Sid’.

  He cringed. God, sometimes Aditi acted like they were married.

  ‘You know I’ve been trying to reach you since last week. Your promotion came through? And you told Neha before me? I can’t believe I had to hear it from her!’

  Sid let out a long sigh. ‘Achcha, don’t start that again, please. I called you the instant it happened, you didn’t have the time … I know you called back, but I couldn’t take your call – I got busy … my parents have been in town and I’ve had to spend time with them.’ Well, that was part of the truth anyway.

  Spending time avoiding them was also spending time. It took imagination and effort.

  ‘Okay then, take me to lunch to make up. Tomorrow?’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Hmm. Saturday. The day his parents were going to India Gate at his urging. His mother had gently expressed the hope that since he wouldn’t be working on Saturday, he could take them. Sid had been unable to think of a response and had murmured in reluctant agreement.

  It took him only a second to decide.

  ‘Sure, I’m free tomorrow … let’s go!’ Great. Now he had an ‘important lunch appointment’, so no India Gate.

  ‘Okay, good,’ Aditi said. After a brief pause, she added, ‘So … Neha and you … hang out now, huh?’

  It was obviously meant to be projected as a casual afterthought. It might have worked if he didn’t know her so well. ‘Not really,’ he said in a guarded manner, ‘we just went to dinner once.’

  ‘Anyway,’ she quickly changed the subject, ‘it’ll be nice to catch up tomorrow, I feel like we haven’t talked in ages.’

  ‘Sure … see you then.’

  ‘Wait, wait … where are you going to take me? I feel like doing Thai!’

  The Lemongrass Lounge was another one of Sid’s favourites. He sincerely hoped the delicious food they served would distract Aditi from asking too many questions.

  Obviously, he should have known better. She only gave one brief appreciative ‘Mmm’ after her first mouthful of Chicken in Red curry before asking, ‘So how’re your parents taking the … situation at home?’

  ‘Good. GOOD,’ he replied. ‘They’re doing well.’

  She kept looking at him penetratingly until he caved in. ‘Oh, all right. They find it rather awkward, I guess. They still believe that things can work out between Mandira and me if only we give it a shot. I don’t know…’ Sid didn’t want to let his frustration show, but the past six days had been very trying for him. He rubbed his forehead distractedly. ‘Anyway, they’re leaving tomorrow … so that’s good.’

  ‘They still think it can work out?’ Aditi paused with her chewing, eyebrows raised. ‘That’s pretty delusional of them, isn’t it – the divorce is just a couple of months away. Why did they decide to come and visit you guys now, anyway? It was bound to be awkward, no?’

  ‘Yeah … well.’ Sid knew this might not go down very well, but he felt duty bound to clarify the situation a little. ‘Actually, they don’t really … ummm … know, as such … about the divorce per se … yet.’

  Sid glanced up at Aditi. She was looking as if she might burst a nerve, or throw her glass of water, regular not bottled, on his head. Through gritted teeth Aditi managed a simple but poignant, ‘What?’

  ‘Hey, my father’s a heart patient, okay?’ Sid protested. When in doubt throw in the ‘heart patient’ card. After all, his parents used it all the time on him. Aditi didn’t seem one bit impressed by this, but he pressed on valiantly, ‘I need to break it t
o him slowly.’

  ‘Sid…’ Aditi started in a tone of exaggerated patience, but her next words came out in a hiss, ‘it’s been months since you’ve been talking about the divorce. Her entire family knows. How could you not have told your own parents?’

  ‘Hey, they’re old,’ Sid said weakly. ‘I have no idea how they’ll take it … I’ve been waiting for the right moment … but it’s really difficult, Aditi. Mandira is so mad at me … she doesn’t understand. I’ve told her that maybe if she’s so keen they know, she should talk to them about it herself and…’

  ‘You want her to tell them? You’re crazy, Sid.’

  ‘You’re right, you’re right,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘They shouldn’t have to hear it from her, of all people. What they really need is to hear it from a neutral third party.’ He played with his fork, pretending to be deep in thought and then brightened up as if an idea had just occurred to him. ‘Hey! You know…’

  ‘I’m not telling your parents about your divorce, you … you … stark, raving lunatic.’

  ‘Fine, fine.’ Sid settled back into his chair dejectedly, muttering, ‘Some best friend,’ under his breath. He added a bit louder, ‘Listen, if you’re not going to help, at least don’t yell at me? It’s tough enough at home, really. Can you imagine? They spend the whole day in my room. They are always in my room.’ Aditi was still looking at him as if he was nuts, but he continued, ‘Mandira feels completely trapped in the house with them around, too. They think she’s behaving strange, she thinks they’re loony for not figuring it out yet. It’s a bloody circus.’

  He looked so unhappy that Aditi’s stern face finally softened a bit and she reached out and patted his hand. ‘Sid, listen, you know you have to tell them, right? What are you waiting for?’

  ‘I don’t know … the perfect moment? A sign?’