He looked at his watch. ‘Hey, it’s getting late.’
‘Oh. Is it?’ Neha looked a little taken aback. ‘I was hoping you would stay for a glass of wine?’
‘Okay!’ As soon as he said it, Sid felt his ears turn red. He should have waited longer than that split second to at least pretend he was considering her offer, and not just blurt out his consent. How overeager could one get?
Neha smiled happily, not seeming to notice anything amiss. ‘Great! Red or white?’
Sid hesitated for a moment, and then decided to abandon all pretence. With a quick glance at his favourite of her paintings for inspiration, he cleared his throat and asked, ‘Er, actually … Neha, you got any beer?’
‘… he said it stands for chief toilet officer … And he thought that was funny!’
Neha broke into helpless giggles and Sid joined her, not even censoring himself for giggling, which was nowhere close to his social man-laugh.
Sid was comfortably seated on the floor besides the sofa where Neha was perched. For the last two hours he had regaled her with stories about characters in his office – from his boss, Akash, to enthu-management trainee, Ravi, to slightly guarded descriptions of Madame Meenakshi. Neha enjoyed all his stories. Sid loved an attentive listener, particularly one who consistently rewarded him with that amazing, open laugh. He didn’t even mind that Neha seemed not to have noticed his new French beard, even though he had deliberately fingered it several times before finally giving up trying to draw her attention to it. It was amazing how easily the conversation was flowing. Neha was so easy to talk to.
Sid moved on to tell her stories from his days at college including how he had met, then fallen in love with and proposed to Mandira. These were stories he hadn’t thought about in a while, much less shared with another person. And about an hour into the conversation he was struck by the feeling that he was talking more than he should be. He hadn’t asked Neha anything so far.
‘So,’ Sid said, interrupting himself in the middle of a college gang warfare story and putting on a concerned and interested expression, ‘Neha, tell me more about you.’
Neha, who had been listening so intently to his story, was surprised by this. ‘Arrey! But what happened to the water balloon fight?’
Sid said carelessly, ‘Oh that. Nothing. We were all suspended, then we begged and pleaded and were eventually reinstated. That’s all.’ He put on his concerned and interested expression again and repeated, ‘So, really, tell me more about you.’
Neha looked a little bewildered, but her smile was back in a second. ‘Okay … Well, you already know about my Coorg-Bangalore background, and by the way, my parents were rather progressive because mixed marriages were really frowned upon in their day! Lucky for me they went ahead anyway.’ She looked thoughtful and continued, ‘I’ve also told you about my own marriage deal – “love” marriage … a big mistake! … We married quickly … divorced quickly. I couldn’t take anyone telling me what to do. But then, I got Kippy out of it! What else? I work in advertising, love to travel and paint and most of all … meeting new and different kinds of people. Hey, you know all this stuff already … you tell the more interesting stories anyway.’
‘Okay! You want to hear how toilet cleaner research is conducted, again? Okay … So the trick is finding … uhh … waste matter of the same consistency each time so that…’
She made a face and squealed, ‘Stop, stop.’
‘No, no, it’s really very interesting.’
Neha gripped his arm tightly and started laughing, presumably at the memory of one of his office stories. He gave up trying to gross her out and laughed along. Giddy with the laughter and the wine, Neha slid off the sofa onto the floor next to him. And they were suddenly sitting close together, her head against his arm.
Neha stopped laughing a few seconds before Sid, and straightened up. When Sid turned to look at her, her face was very close to his. Beautiful, he decided. The more he knew her, the more beautiful she became to him.
Everything in the house seemed to go still. Her expression suggested she was waiting.
‘Chalo … Good, GOOD.’ Sid sprang up from the floor in one Jack-in-the-Box motion and in an instant was already about five feet away from her and backing towards the door. ‘I mean, thanks for a fun evening, but I’ve got to go now. Getting late and all that…’
Neha looked bemused. ‘But, Sid…’
‘My God, look at the time.’ Sid focused his attention on his watch. ‘It’s …eleven! In one hour it’ll be twelve.’ Great calculation, Einstein, he kicked himself mentally. ‘I should get home before midnight,’ he announced despairingly, unable to stop blabbering. ‘I’m like Cinderella, you know, I turn into a Pumpkin if I don’t get home on time … so … see you around?’
Neha smiled, pushed herself up off the floor and walked barefoot towards where Sid stood, by the door. He knew she was approaching to let him out, but he panicked and hastened his exit, backing rapidly out of the door.
‘Goodnight then. God speed!’
And with the knowledge that he couldn’t possibly have come up with a more random parting shot, Sid turned his back on Neha and fled the scene.
9
The Painting
Neha stood in her balcony, enjoying the view as she sipped her cup of coffee.
She considered herself lucky – it wasn’t easy to get apartments on rent in Sherwood; they were in much demand. Plus, her balcony looked out onto the area outside of the complex and the view was quite majestic. Gurgaon didn’t look like a concrete jungle from up here – in fact, it had a toy-town feel up from the thirteenth floor. Neha grinned, recalling her landlady’s curious face as she interviewed her. Chopra aunty wouldn’t have rented to a single mother had it not been for the fact that her apartment was on the thirteenth floor, which had driven away many superstitious prospects. It was only once that Aunty warmed up to Neha, that she had confessed, ‘They told us at the time of allotment it would be floor-12B.’ Neha’s smile was sympathetic, but she had been amused. The floor number being 13 did not bother her in the least.
Neha took another sip, savouring the taste and warmth of the coffee. It was unusual for her to have this kind of peace and quiet at this hour of the morning. Kippy was an early riser and completely consumed all her attention in the mornings. But this week, Neha’s mother was visiting from Bangalore and had announced last night that she wanted to spend time bonding with her granddaughter. So, she had taken Kippy out for the entire day, starting with an early morning trip to the nearby Sunderban bird sanctuary. Neha now found herself with a whole Saturday of solitude stretching out before her.
It was a delicious feeling, although she never complained about how little time she usually got to herself. Neha knew she could always ask Aditi to watch Kippy, but she wanted to reserve such favours only for real emergencies. She wasn’t big on asking favours, not even of closest friends. Neha had always had a fiercely independent streak – from having completely managed herself right from a very young age.
Neha thought of her mom with a mix of fondness and exasperation. Although they had always been close, there were few people who managed to get under Neha’s skin as quickly as her mother. Mom had arrived only last night and had already pointed out about seven flaws in Neha’s lifestyle, mostly related to safety.
‘The thirteenth floor … what if Kippy gets out onto the balcony by herself? And you haven’t even got the windows barred all the way to the top … yes, she could climb up and squeeze through that space…’
But by now Neha had learned to just grin and bear her mother’s unceasing criticism. She reminded herself how supportive her mother had been about the divorce. Mom hadn’t been too thrilled with Kapil when Neha first introduced him although she had been evasive about her reasons. She had only said he wasn’t the type she had imagined for Neha. Sure enough, Kapil and Neha turned out to be wrong for each other. Within a mere three years they were separated and filing for divorce. No more whirlwind rom
ances, Neha thought ruefully. Lesson learnt!
Neha was glad that her mom seemed to be doing just fine even though she was now alone in Bangalore. But then, her mom had been pretty independent herself once she got over the shock of the sudden death of her husband. In fact, she didn’t even bat an eyelid when Neha expressed her desire to move to Delhi. If Mom had hoped that after the divorce Neha and Kippy would move in with her, she kept it to herself. She just said, ‘Whatever you feel is best for Kippy and you.’ So that had been that.
And now, good old Mom was out entertaining young Kippy and giving Neha a much-needed day-off. Neha stood up and indulged in a long, slow stretch, smiling in anticipation. She had a pretty good idea of how she would spend the day.
The idea had been put in her head by Sid. He was amusing, but rather strange, and Neha always found herself drawn to strange people. It was interesting trying to figure them out. She always felt the process of unravelling someone bit by bit helped her in some ways to understand herself better. Although, somehow, the attraction with Sid was different.
Why had he run away like that the other night? Neha never got that reaction from men. Sid hadn’t called after that night, but it didn’t really bother her. She had a strong feeling that he would be back whenever he was ready.
She left the balcony and went into the most unused room of her apartment, the guest room that she had designated her studio when she moved in. And then she started to get out her paints. They had been carefully packed and bundled into a box in the cupboard and had been gathering dust for several months. She felt a thrill as she cast her eyes over her long-lost friends abandoned for so long – all her art material, brushes of various shapes and sizes, a couple of carefully packed canvases, boxes of acrylic, oil and watercolours and even a large pot of purple wall paint that she had taken a fancy to; she had bought it off the painters while moving into this apartment.
Neha lay all her material out, feeling unusually happy. What would it be? She never quite knew in the beginning. Light streamed in from the large windows. She sat and stared for a long time, almost in a trance, at the empty canvas, waiting for the idea, the image, the composition to form in her mind. Eventually, she saw it, just a faint impression, at first, and then it became vivid. Strange. It was different from the kind of piece she usually did. It was perhaps sparked off by something she had noticed while staring out at the view this morning. It was within her speciality. Still life, yet different, and she felt a strong urge to try it out.
She got up and walked from room to room thoughtfully, examining various objects and pieces of furniture. She finally found what she was looking for and stared at it with growing delight. The curvature of this chair from the drawing room was perfect. She dragged it over into the studio, humming to herself lightly. She would use this for inspiration and imagine the rest.
For the next few hours Neha was in a flow. With an air of focused concentration and long brushstrokes that were confident even though it had been over a year since she had last done this, she proceeded to paint until the bright sunlight of the morning faded into a warm afternoon glow.
It was only when she finished that she noticed she was sweating. It was hot and she hadn’t bothered, or even remembered, to switch on the AC. The painting wasn’t done yet, and wouldn’t be for days. In fact, she thought of all her paintings as work-in-progress and in the earlier days often painted over them, adding layers and textures over time, changing the colours. They evolved. But this one’s first version was looking pretty good to her, and this didn’t happen all that often. Neha stepped back and examined it for a while. She briefly wondered about the change in her style. Was it the time gap between this and the last painting? It didn’t matter. As she told herself often, things changed with time. This was how it was now.
The painting was of a large, wide arch in silver and grey. The background to the arch was far more colourful than the arch itself – shades of pink, blue and deep purple blending into one another. She would enjoy working on this over the next few weeks.
Neha smiled and in her mind thanked Sid. She then started to tidy up the studio. Mom would be back with Kippy in just an hour. Best to mentally prepare and, perhaps, even try and cover up any other glaring safety-related flaws.
‘They didn’t even bother to check at the gate on the way out! Taking your car and your child out, and not one security person even asked who I was!’ Neha’s mom clicked her tongue, walking in and past her to the drawing room.
‘Hello, Mom.’ Neha smiled pleasantly. She was glad to see little Kippy who jumped into her arms and buried her face into her neck as if she hadn’t seen her mother in a week. Kippy then repeated after Neha, in her baby voice, ‘Hello, Mom,’ and they both giggled.
‘This city is too hot,’ Neha’s mom complained, sinking into the sofa. ‘Seriously, Neha, you should pull them up at the gate…’
‘Mom…’ Neha walked over with Kippy in her arms and sat next to her mother. ‘They’re not that careless, they probably thought you were me.’
It was true that her mother didn’t look like a grandma – she was barely fifty-three, having had Neha at an early age. To top it all, Mom was dressed in a light, loose, sleeveless top and capris. Neha had her small, sturdy build although she sometimes wished she had inherited her straight hair instead. Mom had recently cut her hair to shoulder length. It was just a little longer than Neha’s and the style made her look even younger. Only a closer look revealed the lines under her eyes and around her mouth.
Neha grinned at her and said, ‘So why don’t you start looking your age, Mom?’ She put one arm around her mother and squeezed lovingly.
Her mother melted a little. Neha felt the stiffness in Mom’s shoulders recede. She was still a little plaintive though. ‘That Julie of yours hasn’t even bothered to bring me a glass of water. You have to train your help on the basics. And I still don’t think you should have given her a key to the apartment.’
Neha quickly cut in to inform Mom that Julie had not offered her water because Julie wasn’t in yet – it would be another half an hour before she arrived.
‘I’ll get you some water, Mom,’ Neha said and set Kippy down next to her grandmother, but the little girl started to squeal in protest. Apparently, she’d had her fill of Nani’s company for the day. ‘Shh, Kippy, quiet … just a minute,’ called Neha as she hurried into the kitchen. To her surprise Kippy quietened down. Neha then heard strains of music and realized her mother was showing Kippy something on the phone. What was that? She recognized the opening theme of Tom and Jerry. Neha rolled her eyes … Great … That’s what comes from gifting your mom an iPhone. Neha never let Kippy watch cartoons at home and she had a feeling that her mother had been using YouTube a lot to amuse Kippy through the day. Neha was about to call out in protest but then checked herself, shaking her head. Let Kippy have someone to spoil her sometimes.
Her mother’s voice floated into the kitchen. ‘I still don’t think you should trust someone else with the key to your apartment … this is Gurgaon, anything can happen…’
Neha said nothing as she took out a bottle of water from the fridge and poured a glass for her mother. Mom was just being paranoid about everything. It was trying, but she meant well, Neha supposed. Better not to react at all. Neha took a deep breath to fortify herself.
Her mother glanced up and finally smiled as she took the glass murmuring, ‘Thanks, Ninu.’ She still hadn’t given up Neha’s childhood nickname, but Neha was just glad to sense that she was finally relaxing. Neha grinned as she went back into the kitchen to prepare tea.
After a while, Neha brought out two steaming cups and sat down with her mother. They sipped in silence and Neha could tell from the faint smile on her mother’s face that the tea had turned out perfect.
Kippy’s Tom and Jerry episode finished and she started poking at her nani for another one. Mom immediately put her cup of tea down and fiddled with her phone to oblige. Neha deliberately took another relaxing sip of tea to keep fro
m protesting. Kippy started to giggle in delight, pointing out the cat-and-mouse antics she was seeing for the first time. Neha decided cartoons probably weren’t that bad an influence after all, given how Kippy was laughing and enjoying herself. Neha watched her mother and daughter fondly.
‘What’s that?’ her mother asked curiously, breaking into Neha’s reverie.
‘What, Mom?’ Neha craned her neck around to see what her mother was talking about.
Mom set her cup of tea on the side-table and went past Neha towards the studio. From where Mom had been sitting, the corner of Neha’s newest creation had been visible, propped up near the door. Neha’s mother stared at it for a long time without speaking. Neha got up and walked over to stand behind her mother while still sipping her tea. She found herself wondering what her mother thought of her painting. Her mother wasn’t an artist herself, but had a critical artistic eye.
Her mother finally said, ‘It’s nice.’
Okay … That actually meant, ‘It’s great.’ A smile played on Neha’s lips as she stood behind her mother.
Her mother continued, ‘It’s a rainbow, right? An unusual representation, but interesting.’
Neha’s smile faded a little. She opened her mouth to correct her mother, but then changed her mind. By the time her mother turned around, Neha’s expression was pleasant again, and she said in a warm, concerned tone, ‘Come, Ma, your tea is getting cold.’
By 9.30 p.m. Neha had managed to put Kippy to bed. Her mother was already asleep in the other bedroom. Most nights Neha felt tired and had to make an effort to be fully attentive to Kippy, but tonight had been great. The time to herself, and the painting had really helped energize her. And the evening with Mom had actually ended up fairly pleasant. Neha grinned at herself, stroking Kippy’s hair as she slept with her mouth half open. Things were peaceful. It was as if there was a certain rhythm to life.
Sorting Out Sid Page 16