‘Yeah, right,’ she said, rolling her eyes.
‘Fine, the sex is great, but the thing is, it’s not just about that. He’s a great guy—’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘And we have this really incredible connection—’
‘I’ll bet.’
‘Keep that up and you won’t hear another word from me.’
‘I just don’t get why you have to justify it. He’s hot, right?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘But what? It’s okay to have a sex drive, darling. And I’m really really happy for you. Proud, in fact. Way to go!’
She gleefully passed her a double thumbs-up from across the table. Anupama gave up on any further explanations, as she knew it would be a futile exercise while she was in this kamikaze mode. She would have to wait for her batteries to die down a bit before resuming the topic again. In the meantime—
‘You can’t tell Neena about this,’ said Anupama. ‘I love her, but you know how she can be.’
‘Obviously. The last thing you need is a moral lecture right now. Besides, we can’t expect everyone to share our levels of maturity, right? So how big is he?’
‘How big is who?’ asked a voice from behind.
They both swivelled to see Neena. An awkward pause followed in which three sets of blank smiles were exchanged amongst the trio.
‘Heyy, nice kurta,’ gushed Renu.
‘Yeahh, what is it? Fabindia?’ gushed Anupama.
‘Cottonworld. How big is who? And why are you changing the topic?’
Renu glanced surreptitiously at Anupama. Ad libitum was not her forte.
‘Someone,’ said Anupama, realizing that ad libitum wasn’t exactly a character strength of hers either.
‘You two are hiding something from me,’ said Neena accusatorily, seating herself without taking her narrowed eyes off them.
Renu scoffed derisively and turned her attention to the menu, while Anupama laughed lightly and nervously flicked her hair. Neena’s jaw dropped open.
‘Wait a second. You’re feeling guilty,’ she observed. ‘And Renu’s obviously hiding something.’
Great, déjà vu, thought Anupama with foreboding.
‘Either Anu’s found someone, or—’
‘I’m pregnant,’ cut in Renu.
This time, Anupama’s jaw dropped open too, as Renu struggled to keep a straight face. Impromptu was really not her strong suit.
‘You’re joking, right?’ cried Neena.
‘Nope. It’s true,’ she said, passing Anupama a double wink with her left eye.
Anupama looked at Neena and nodded with pursed lips.
‘But how?’ exclaimed Neena, stupefied.
‘What do you mean how?’
‘I mean wha—who’s the father?’
‘Oh, you don’t know him,’ said Renu nonchalantly.
Neena passed Anupama a horrified glance. Anupama shrugged, doing her utmost to look sympathetic.
‘And that’s all? That’s all you have to say about this?’
‘Well, what can one do? Shit happens. You guys want to try the chocolate mousse?’
‘Renu, this is huge! You – have – a – baby – in – your – womb! This is an actual human life we are dealing with.’
‘And I think it’s craving chocolate. So, you want to share or not?’
Neena shook her head in disbelief, eyes bulging, mouth opening and closing like a halibut in the throes of death. Finally, she turned to Anupama. ‘Aren’t you going to say something?’
‘I can share the mousse,’ said Anupama.
‘To hell with the mousse!’ yelled Neena. ‘Renu, this is a huge commitment. Your life is going to change. And what about the father? You’re not … I mean, you’re not planning to raise it on your own, are you?’
‘And what if I am?’ shot back Renu. ‘Is that such a bad thing?’
Anupama felt a bit taken aback by the annoyance on Renu’s face, while Neena sighed gustily.
‘D’you remember that money plant we gifted to you?’ asked Neena darkly.
‘Oh, for God’s sake—’
‘All you had to do was water it twice a week and you couldn’t even do that! How will you take care of a child?’
‘Because the child won’t get hidden behind my curtains. Besides, you did it. How hard could it be?’
Neena’s eyes narrowed even farther. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Why don’t we try the brownie sizzler this time?’ Anupama butted in hurriedly.
‘I’m just saying, you know, try stepping off your pedestal every now and then. Just because you were happy settling down as the Sati Savitri of the household doesn’t mean that you get to judge us every time we fail to adhere to your established norms of feminine morality.’
‘Excuse me,’ snarled Neena. ‘Just because I don’t offer my body to every—’
‘Oh, enough with this bullshit, I’m seeing Charlie!’ snapped Anupama.
A deathly silence fell across the table. Anupama felt the pendulum of attention swing its way back towards her like a wrecking ball.
‘What?!’ exclaimed Neena, looking horrified for what seemed like the zillionth time in five minutes.
‘My neighbour, Charlie … the one I told you about. I’m seeing him. We are dating, actually. Not publicly, but in a way. Technically.’
‘What?’
How much clearer could she have been? With a stoic face, Anupama waited as the gravity of her confession sank into her latest confidante.
‘But he’s what, twenty-one?’
‘Twenty-four,’ said Anupama defensively. ‘And he will be twenty-five this September, so…’
Slowly, Neena leaned back in her chair. She leaned forward, picked up her glass of water, took a sip and put it down carefully before leaning back again. All this while, her eyes restlessly darted around, taking in every inch of the café, other than the spot where they were seated.
Nature abhors a vacuum, as Aristotle rightly said. The void that was created in Neena’s mental stress furnace by the relief of Renu’s pregnancy dismissal was now rapidly replaced by the astonishment of this new – and even more scandalous – revelation.
‘And … how long has this been going on?’ asked Neena in a measured tone, drawing arabesques on the glass table top with her index finger.
‘A while. I mean, it just became official recently but, you know, it’s complicated.’
‘I see, I see. And … have you … you know?’
‘Done it?’ interjected Renu helpfully.
‘Not that it’s any of my business, but—’
‘Yes,’ replied Anupama.
Neena took another, longer sip of water, her eyes riveted on the fascinating table top. ‘Is he serious about this?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you?’
‘Of course.’
A deep, ponderous exhale followed, before Neena finally raised her eyes to look at Anupama. ‘Fine, then. I’m happy for you.’
Anupama’s eyebrows flew up the same distance that Renu’s jaw dropped down. ‘Seriously?’
‘Of course. I mean, obviously, it’s not the most … expected … of situations, but as long as you are both adults and happy and fulfilled, who am I to object?’
‘So, I get the cosmic shit-storm and she gets a supportive shrug?’ cried Renu.
‘She is in love. You’re an unwed mother-to-be.’
‘And you are a pompous ass.’
‘What are you getting so worked up about? You’re not even pregnant.’
‘It – doesn’t – matter!’ shrieked Renu.
It was then that Anupama realized that for the first time in years, Renu had suggested celebrating at a coffee shop instead of a pub. Now that the thought was in her head, she couldn’t help but notice how flushed Renu looked, and as it turned out, it probably wasn’t just out of stress.
‘Renu, you’re not really … ?’ asked Anupama, as Neena’s eyes widened.
‘Wha
t! Mad or what? Why don’t you two just open up a pregnancy guessing centre or something?’ said Renu, with a tinkling chortle.
Anupama and Neena exchanged a meaningful look. A PJ followed by a fake laugh. They glanced at Renu to see that she was no longer smiling. An uncomfortable silence followed.
‘I’m fucked, right?’
‘No, no, you’re not. We’re here for you,’ said Anupama, grasping her hand supportively. They both turned to Neena, whose face was expressionless. A moment or so passed before her features relaxed, and she nodded with a sigh.
‘Just tell us what we can do.’
‘Well, for starters, you could order me a fucking chocolate mousse!’
Twenty minutes later, Anupama found herself seated in Renu’s car, both of them gorging on their second helpings of chocolate mousse that they had picked up for the road. They could see Neena through the glass doors of the chemist shop outside, where she was selecting pre-natal vitamins and other medication over the counter while engaged in an animated discussion with the chemist. The rain had turned into a slow, steady drizzle of vapour-like drops.
‘She’s a good friend,’ sighed Renu. ‘A bit of a prude, sometimes. But we need someone like her.’
‘I know.’
Renu twisted around to face Anu. ‘By the way, you didn’t have to lie to her, you know.’
‘About what?’
‘You know, the whole “being serious about Charlie” thing. What you’re doing isn’t wrong, and eventually she will have to accept that too.’
‘But I am serious about him.’
Renu chuckled. ‘Anu, please. You can’t be that naïve.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Look, no offence, you are a catch. But guys like Charlie – they aren’t really options for settling down. At least not at this age. You know that, right?’
‘You haven’t even met him,’ said Anupama tersely.
‘Anu, he’s twenty-four. That’s all I need to know. You know how guys were when we were twenty-four. And that was one generation ago. Can you imagine how they would be now?’
‘But he’s not—’
‘Like the others? That’s what they all say, honey.’
Anupama bit her lip, resisting the urge to snap at her, attributing Renu’s acerbity on prenatal hormonal fluctuations.
‘I’m just saying – have fun, enjoy it, see how it goes,’ Renu went on. ‘Just take it slow. You don’t want to repeat the same mistake, do you?’
Anupama glowered at Renu. She had touched a nerve, the one nerve that was off-limits to her – to anyone, for that matter. She could already see the remorse on Renu’s face, but it was too late. The pure, unbridled rage, which she hadn’t felt in quite some time, flooded back into her system with a vengeance. She crumpled her mousse and flung it out the window.
‘Anu—’
Swinging her door open, she stepped out of the car and marched away, conscious only of the blood thundering in her ears. She could faintly hear Renu and Neena’s voices calling her back. But she had to get away from them. She had to go.
19
Sometimes, it’s in the most crowded of places that we find the solitude we need.
She had tried most places – parks, beaches, spas, saunas, yoga houses and even the occasional ashram or two. Nothing worked; mainly because it wasn’t the silence she was seeking. She already had more than enough of that in her life and felt haunted by it. No, it was the noise and the hustle and bustle that she craved. An anonymity in the chaos, urgency and energy of a crowd.
Who would have known that sitting on a bench in a packed inter-state platform in the CST railway station during rush hour, would give her the fleeting sense of peace for which she so desperately yearned?
Every time she felt like she was going to crumble and fall apart, Anupama would retire to this secret sanctuary, watch the trains come and go, while folks scrambled to get on and off them. She would observe lost, nervous, hopeful, blank, or worried expressions on people’s faces, the frantic pace, the sweat on their brows, the neatly folded handkerchiefs, the worn-out footwear. Each had their own stories, their own worries and their very own routines. Nobody gave her a second glance. She was just another nobody to them. She could die right now, and no one would even notice it for a while. The thought comforted her. Being anonymous was a privilege that she had never enjoyed.
For a couple of years now, she had been wondering what it would be like to live life as a perpetual stranger. Being a wanderer, never getting attached to anything or anyone, never letting anyone know who you were. As she watched those dusty, faded crimson trains entering and exiting the platform with mechanical regularity, she ruminated about how easy it would be to leave it all behind. Right then, she could choose to just cut and run and never come back. She wondered where she would go and whether it even mattered.
How easy it was, she reckoned, and yet how difficult. Impossible, even. It was a futile thought. She was too far gone now. There were people depending upon her. Relationships, responsibilities, reputations.
She knew it could never happen, but she liked to fantasize about it anyway. Forty-two years of her life had flown by and she had never travelled on her own. Not even once. She wondered why.
The last time she had asked her mother for permission to go on a college trip with her classmates, her life had changed drastically in a way she could never have foreseen. Her mother had extracted all the details about the male-to-female ratio (both students and teachers) amongst the group and contacted most of them personally to confirm their identities. She even obtained the landline number of the lodge where they would be putting up, the bus service they were to use, the contact numbers of the nearest police station in the area. At the end of the whole exercise, Anupama wondered what all that fuss was about because her mother refused to grant her permission to join the expedition anyway – something about it being ‘improper’ for her to travel in the company of men; and so far away from home; and at her age. When the issue of propriety threatened to turn into a heated debate, her mother had stonewalled with ‘it wasn’t safe’, and having convinced her husband of her fears, that was that and the matter was laid to rest.
By then, Anupama’s mother’s sleuthing skills had become the talk of her college, and for the next few months, Anupama found herself the butt of jokes. It was the early nineties back then, after all. Jawani Zindabad and Baaghi: A Rebel for Love had been released. Nirvana and Rage Against the Machine were ruling the charts. Rebellion against authority was as much in vogue as fringe cuts and high-waisted denims.
This humiliation and the subsequent squabbles that followed at home, made up the final straw for Anupama, who had always held her mother’s iron hand with a rising contempt and bitterness. She decided to rebel, and in the worst way that her mother could have imagined. She got herself a boyfriend. And not just the exchanging-notes-in-class sort, the full-on going-out-in-public kind.
Within a fortnight, she revolutionized her image from that of a timid mommy’s girl to a bold free spirit, much like her forward friend, Renu, who had changed two boyfriends in her first year in college. She was officially a ‘girlfriend’ now, and she loved the attention and awe it garnered around her social circles.
His name was Rajeev Arora. He was a third-year student, just like her, but from the Commerce wing. He was stable, self-assured and smelled nice. And for a girl who had never known the joys of being committed to someone, he was an invaluable ticket to a new world. Not that he was even remotely like the romantic heroes she saw in movies, but that was okay. Her mother had assured her long ago that that sort of stuff existed only in fiction. In real life, practicality was what mattered. And practical he was, no doubt about it. He knew exactly what he wanted his life to be and had assured her that there would be a space in it for her as well.
Her mother had had a hissy fit, as was expected. However, the more she raged, the braver Anupama had become. The harder she tried to convince her that it was a mis
take, the more hellbent Anupama became to make it work. She actually began to take pride in her nonchalance towards her mother’s indignation. She wasn’t a timorous little girl anymore, was she? She was going to do what she wanted to do. And what she wanted to do was to prove her mother wrong, more than anything else.
The problem arose when her friends began to give her mixed signals. While Neena wholeheartedly supported her choice, Renu didn’t quite hide the fact that she believed Anu could do much better. There was nothing wrong with him per se, she explained, but that was exactly what was wrong with him. He was too … right. Like the antiseptic and sterile food that was served in hospitals. Nutritious, of course, and good for you, but not something you want to stick to for the rest of your life.
Fine, then, Anupama had decided, she would rebel against her friends too, if that’s what it took. She liked hospital food, and their opinion didn’t matter. Rajeev treated her well, said he loved her, and more importantly, he wanted to be with her. Forever. After a lifetime of feeling inadequate, here was a person who not only accepted her the way she was, but even claimed to like her for it. If that didn’t make him a catch, she didn’t know what would.
Shortly after Neena’s wedding, Rajeev had popped the question. He had got a high-paying placement in a good financial firm, and under some particular government scheme, he could even buy an apartment of their own if they got married before the end of the year. A person whom Rajeev knew had assured him that he could make the necessary arrangements to get this flat, provided Anupama’s father agreed to cover the shortfall in Rajeev’s resources to finance this investment. That had been his proposal. It wasn’t exactly moonlight-and-roses, but they were on a strict timeline here, so she said yes. After all, they had known each other for almost two years now, and so far she had had no issues.
In the weeks to follow, the atmosphere at home had been cold, to say the least. Her mother stopped talking to her altogether; her father became the only source of communication between the two ladies in the household – a role that he swiftly came to resent. Not that Anupama minded the estrangement. In fact, she revelled in it. She felt bold, strong, liberated. She felt vindicated for all those times when her mother had forbidden her from enjoying the simple pleasures of life, when every advice had been a command and every rule, unquestionable. And here she was now, silenced finally.
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