This threat had the absolute opposite effect – Abhi burst out laughing.
‘I mean it!’ I said.
‘You’re just too cute, Tara. Even the hormonal version of you is cute!’
‘Abhi, you’re an ass!’ I said, flinging the pillow at him. As I waddled into the bathroom for my shower, Abhi was still guffawing.
Richard & Davis Advertising Agency. 1:30 p.m.
Just as I was heading for lunch, Mr Vohra caught me at the door.
‘If you could please meet me in my office in half an hour, Tara?’
‘Sure.’ I nodded.
2:15 p.m.
The smile on my face disappeared as soon as I entered Mr Vohra’s cabin. Inside, there was a very attractive woman in a business suit, who swivelled her chair around to face me. Her sleek black hair was pulled back in an austere bun, but her delicate features were a lovely contrast to its severity. I knew instantly whom I was looking at. The bimbo! I subconsciously soothed my hair and tried to suck in my tummy, but when nothing budged, I waddled forward as stylishly and confidently as I could.
Mr Vohra beamed at me as if he were showing off his newborn.
‘Pamela, meet Tara, the star of our office!’ He looked expectantly for a response to his pun. I gave away nothing, but he got a small smile from Pamela.
‘Tara, Pamela will be taking the reins from you until you are back.’
I could tell she was sizing me up. I bristled and replied as icily as possible, ‘Hi Pamela. Welcome aboard.’ I sounded like I was welcoming her on an Air India flight. ‘I mean, welcome on board. I mean, welcome to my accounts,’ I stuttered. This couldn’t get any worse. I couldn’t even utter one sensible sentence. Here I was, all fat and spluttering, and there she stood confidently and, I was so sure, writing me off as a fool. This had never ever happened to me before. I quickly gathered myself.
‘Mr Vohra speaks highly of you, so I’m sure you’ll fit right in. Let’s catch up over coffee tomorrow morning,’ I said, managing a smile.
‘Sure.’ She smiled sweetly.
I turned on my heel and waddled away. ‘Bitch!’ I muttered as soon as I was out the door.
Dham Dhaam. 15 July. 9:00 a.m.
I sipped my tea and slashed the omelette on my plate in irritation as Abhi listened to my rant sympathetically.
‘Welcome to my accounts?! What does that even mean?’ I moaned.
‘I have no idea, love. I do believe that’s grammatically incorrect,’ Abhi said mildly.
‘Thanks a ton, husband.’ I glared at him. ‘I never thought I was one of those people who would get tongue-tied, say something silly and then relive the moment, obsessing over what I ought to have said. She must think I’m a complete fool!’
‘How does it matter?’ Abhi asked.
‘Why don’t you try looking like a stuffed turkey and have your job taken? Then I’ll ask you all these intelligent questions.’
Abhi shook his head and returned to the email he was writing.
We ate quietly till Sania’s call broke the silence. Before I could even utter a hello, she screamed, ‘I’m getting married!’
I started screaming too. Questions could come later.
Abhi looked alarmed. ‘Baby, maybe we should check with Dr Peerbhoy about these fluctuating emotions.’
I was too busy screaming to respond.
44
Dham Dhaam. 13 July. 9:00 p.m.
In between mouthfuls of homemade chocolate marble cake to celebrate the happy engagement, I ribbed Kabir, ‘So, ring inside chicken tikka, huh?’
‘I had to be creative for you ad folks!’ he laughed. Abhi then asked him why Kabir’s mother knew nothing of the proposal. Kabir looked a little uncomfortable as he replied, ‘Well, Mom and Dad met Sania once when they all landed up at my workplace at the same time. I think they had a coffee while waiting for me and Sania shared her modern world views with them. She also chose to flash her beautiful but ample cleavage at them.’
There was a loud objection from Sania at this. ‘You love that dress, you hypocrite!’ she said.
‘This isn’t about me, baby,’ Kabir reasoned.
‘Well, this is the way I’ve always dressed and I’ve been brought up to be independent and vocal and assertive, and if that package doesn’t work for your parents then …’
‘Guys!’ boomed Abhi’s authoritative voice. ‘Your parents don’t have to get married. You do. Just remember to be neutral and calm.’
‘Jai Abhi Baba!’ said Sania, raising both her hands towards Abhi as we all laughed.
‘So, where do you want to tie the knot?’ I asked, changing the subject.
‘In Goa!’ they replied in unison.
‘Wow!’
‘And the bachelor party is in Thailand!’ said Kabir and Abhi in unison.
I raised my eyebrows, looking at both the men who were smiling like baboons. ‘Don’t worry, Sania,’ I said, patting her hand. ‘We will throw you an awesome bachelorette in Thailand as well. We will drink like fish and get lap dances!’
‘Erm,’ said Sania, looking down at my stomach. ‘We might have to check with RJ about your plan.’
‘Oh,’ I said, my voice deflating as reality dawned.
‘We need to break the news to the parents and get them to meet sometime soon, because the venue needs to be booked and the invites need to be sent out,’ said Kabir.
‘But what’s the hurry?’ I asked.
‘Another two months and you won’t be able to travel. And then what’s the point in waiting indefinitely after an engagement? No Abhi and Tara equals no wedding,’ said Sania, shrugging.
A smile spread across my face. It came right from my heart. Before I knew it, tears started streaming down my cheeks.
‘Oh my Lord!’ I said, frustrated. ‘These bloody hormones should come with taps. At least then I’d be able to turn them off!’
‘I think she’s crying because she’s really sleepy.’ Sania said, winking, trying to get me to smile.
‘No way!’ interrupted Abhi. ‘Those are tears of remorse, because she is denying me sex!’
Kabir raised his hands and swept them across his body. ‘She is crying because she secretly wants this boday so bad!’
‘Oh shut up, all of you!’ I said, laughing and wiping my tears. Then I patted my stomach. ‘You hear that, RJ? We have a wedding to go to!’
45
Richard & Davis Advertising Agency. 19 July. 10:00 a.m.
I was sharing the lift with an uncomfortable lift boy and Ms Venugopal. Almost half the space was occupied by my tummy and the boy was struggling to keep some distance between us. Ms Venugopal meanwhile chatted away happily while it took all my restraint to not stare at the hideous dress she was wearing. She was on a downward spiral and I had no idea how to save her.
Most of the team had been away for two days as part of some research work, so I was surprised to see them all gathered in my office. The general air was sombre.
‘They didn’t give you food during the research, did they?’ I joked.
Pin-drop silence. I looked at Nakul quizzically.
‘You’re quitting and you didn’t even bother telling us?’ Nakul asked indignantly.
‘We don’t want a new boss!’
‘Not fair!’
I looked at them, perplexed. ‘Who told you I’m quitting?’
‘Mr Vohra introduced some woman to us as our new boss!’
That old fool! He just couldn’t wait for me to do it.
‘Now hold on. Mr Vohra might have skipped a few steps in his exhuberance. Pamela is going to be stepping in for a few months on my accounts while I am on leave. That’s all! I can’t possibly have my baby here now, can I?’
Smiles broke out all around and I couldn’t help breaking into a grin either. Their loyalty was pretty heart-warming. Eat that, Pamela!
11:30 a.m.
I was starving, so I walked towards the canteen for a muffin and juice. Just as I reached the counter, another voice demanded a
muffin at that exact moment. I turned and looked into a pair of kohl-lined eyes.
‘Madams,’ said a canteen boy sheepishly. ‘Last muffin left.’
We both stared at the muffin he’d placed between us on the counter. First my position and my team, and now my muffin! This woman would stop at nothing!
‘Hey Tara.’ She smiled at me. ‘Pregnant lady wins the last muffin.’ She slid the muffin towards me. That was a let-down! I had been prepared for some hand-to-hand combat and even hair-pulling in the battle.
‘Thanks,’ I said stiffly. ‘We can have a chat post lunch. Morning’s a bit full.’
‘Sure!’ she replied cheerily.
I turned around and bit into my muffin. Sure! I said to myself, mimicking her. Miss Goody-Two-Shoes! I had no intention of meeting her anytime soon.
Dham Dhaam. 23 July. 11:00 a.m.
Mom and Dad had arrived on Friday night and it was therapeutic just being around them. While Dad showered me with yoga CDs and books for pregnant women, Mom came armed with a TLC package of home food, desserts, laddoos and my favourite churan. Mira arrived Saturday night and all was okay. Then came Sunday morning, the day of Ritwick’s visit, and things changed.
Mom and Mira were both on edge and looking for reasons to engage with each other. I held my head and murmured to Abhi, ‘I’m already getting a headache. How will we get through the day with these two warring factions?’
7:30 p.m.
All of us, with benign smiles on our faces, were staring at a platter full of biscuits and biscotti that had been laid out with the tea and coffee. Ritwick sat across from us, matching our smiles.
‘See the way he has combed his hair? And you say Raool uses too much product. Look at this idiot!’ Mira whispered to me. She had chosen to be dramatic and was wearing one of her shortest skirts for the occasion, much to my mom’s irritation.
‘Auntie, these laddoos are to die for!’ Ritwick said graciously.
‘Then die!’ muttered Mira again as I jabbed her in the stomach.
‘And thank you so much for your hospitality, Tara Didi. As kids, I remember you used to give me those yummy chocolate biscuits whenever I came over. Always the perfect host, and now an absolutely stunning mother-to-be.’
‘Aww! That’s so sweet of you, Ritwick,’ I said, beaming as Mira elbowed me, frowning. I shrugged innocently.
Ritwick then proceeded to charm the socks off each person present and didn’t stop talking till he had got himself a new fan club. After some more small talk, Dad cleared his throat and got to the point. I noted something odd throughout the evening, though – Ritwick more or less completely ignored Mira.
‘Beta, I have spoken to bhaisaheb already, but we wanted to know what you feel about Mira,’ Dad said with a nervous smile.
‘She was actually quite a cruel child. She went and told all the neighbourhood kids that I should be called “Diggykar” as I supposedly used to dig my nose,’ he said matter of factly. Dad’s smile disappeared.
‘That’s because you did dig your nose all the time,’ Mira piped up caustically.
I felt like this conversation was going downhill and intervened. ‘C’mon, Ritwick,’ I said with a laugh, ‘Mira was just being a naughty kid!’
‘Yes, yes!’ added Dad. ‘She will make a wonderful life partner for you.’ He flashed a Colgate smile and showed him a thumbs-up sign.
‘Even so, I’m really sorry, Uncle. I can’t marry Mira,’ Ritwick said in a small, sad voice. He looked around apologetically. ‘I’m gay.’
There was a mixture of horror, surprise and elation all around the room. Obviously, the elation was from Mira. The surprise googly came from Mom who asked very simply, ‘So what, beta?’ All eyes turned on her.
‘But I like men, Auntie,’ Ritwick tried to reason.
‘You like men but you don’t hate women, right?’ Mom said with maddening calm.
‘Mom! Stop it!’ shouted Mira.
‘Auntie, I’m really sorry. Even Mom and Dad don’t know, so I had to come and explain this to you in person. That was the decent thing to do. I have a boyfriend. Mira, I’m really sorry.’
‘No worries, mate,’ chirped the suddenly magnanimous Mira.
After some more apologies, Ritwick left.
Silence ensued as everyone scratched their heads. The only one talking continuously was Mira. ‘See? I met him just for your sake and he turned out to be gay. Now I’m done with this fixing-up business!’
‘What a waste,’ said Mom with a sigh.
‘He has a boyfriend?’ muttered Dad, still in shock.
‘I would have married him myself if this country allowed bigamy,’ said Abhi, walking away with the most dramatic line.
46
Dr Peerbhoy’s Clinic. 24 July. 12:30 p.m.
On the monitor, RJ was giving us a ballet performance. The arms kept swishing and the feet were pointed.
‘That’s it, guys!’ exclaimed Dr Peerbhoy after asking me to dress. ‘It’s time.’
Abhi and I almost hit the ceiling in shock and the doctor burst into peals of laughter.
‘I can never resist this. Always such a priceless reaction!’ she continued, tittering, and then after registering our unyielding, straight faces, she cleared her throat.
‘What I meant was, in the seventh month, the baby can technically be born. It would not be ideal, but you have to be mentally prepared, just in case. We run a small orientation course that you can sign up for at the reception.’
‘Another class?’ I muttered under my breath. ‘And I thought I took too many classes in school!’
‘You will also have to register at the hospital right away. There is always a space crunch,’ she cautioned us.
4:00 p.m.
Back in the car, I just kept shaking my head in wonder.
‘I feel so bad about all the mean things I’ve ever said about parents. I mean, the wretched blokes have to work and maintain a semblance of normalcy while they are being pummelled with courses and schemes and programmes and packages and nannies and ayahs and God knows what. It’s like everyone around has sniffed out the suckers and there’s nowhere to run.’
‘I know what you mean. You remember Akshay and Smita? We used to be so close, but once they had kids we just stopped meeting them,’ lamented Abhi.
‘Well, it’s not as if we did it deliberately, but we did not make an effort either,’ I said. ‘And that might have something to do with the fact that their kids are an absolute menace. Don’t you remember how one of them set fire to a bra of mine?’
Abhi chuckled. ‘And the other one drew all over our bedroom wall and dunked my phone in the toilet.’
‘Abhi, what if RJ is the Indian version of Dennis the Menace and runs around in restaurants screaming and hitting everyone and embarrasses us in front of all our friends?’ I asked, horrified. ‘Will we be socially ostracized as well?’
‘We’ll always have Radha and Mrs Dham and Deendayal. We pay all three of them so they have to be nice to us.’
‘Oh, and we must make a promise that we will not go to parties and talk about our baby eating, burping, posing cutely on the potty. That’s a people-repeller for sure.’
‘Absolutely! And if RJ misbehaves when we go out, we will pretend he’s not with us. I can tell we will be great parents already!’ Abhi laughed.
Richard & Davis Advertising Agency. 4 August. 1:30 p.m.
The mother of all pitches was coming up. Any agency would kill for a Pharmakind account, and now a rare opportunity had presented itself – we had been shortlisted for a new product launch – a condom called Ooomph. I had heard a rumour doing the rounds that the two people being considered to lead the pitch were Pamela and me.
‘Impossible!’ said Sania when I told her over lunch.
‘That’s what I thought!’
‘I know the pitch is a month away but who can say you can’t handle a pitch in your eighth month? Your pregnancy has to be the only reason they are even considering her.’
; ‘Or maybe they think that just because I’m pregnant, my hormones are going to block my brain,’ I grumbled.
‘Hey, hey, hey. There is no self-pity in Tara Roy’s world. Go stick out your bump, speak your mind to Vohra and nip Pamela’s insidious plans in the bud!’
2:40 p.m.
I marched into Vohra’s office, trying to look serious and intimidating. Unfortunately, the effect I think I produced was humorous at best. And then I saw that my arch enemy was already there.
I started off without any prompting.
‘Mr Vohra, Pamela is still learning the ropes around here and she should focus on getting acquainted with the clients and the accounts.’
‘But you see …’ interrupted Vohra.
‘Besides, I have worked on the category before and been through a lot of research groups, so I have a better chance at cracking the strategy,’ I continued confidently.
This time she piped in. ‘I think the decision has already been made, and you will be leading this…’
I cut her off. The nerve! ‘And who exactly … wait …what?’
‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Tara. You’re leading the pitch. Pamela’s in agreement that you are our best bet for this account,’ Mr Vohra said patiently.
I felt like an egg had been smashed on my face, but I managed to regain my composure with a clearing of the throat. ‘Well then, that settles it. Please send me the brief, Mr Vohra, and I’ll work on putting the team together.’ Then, with a polite smile, I walked out of the room.
What a philanthropist! Where did she come off, thinking she had any right or say in my leading the pitch? Stupid woman. I patted my stomach in grim determination.
C’mon, RJ, let’s show them what magic hormones can produce!
47
Richard & Davis Advertising Agency. 29 July. 2:00 p.m.
I was staring at ten different thought-starters, written on small colourful Post-its stuck to the board. They were ideas that my team and I had brainstormed. But now, each one looked worse than the other and I crumpled them all away in frustration. Their cheerful colours were in contrast to my dark mood and muddled brain. I felt the now very frequent and familiar sensation of fire travelling down my gut, and lunged for the lemonade bottle. Then I looked at the spread in front of me. Bananas, biscuits, muffins and multiple bottles of antacid. What an amazingly appetizing Saturday lunch buffet this was turning out to be. My phone rang. After patiently receiving an earful from Abhi about working too much and not eating on time, I hung up.
I Didn't Expect to be Expecting (Ravinder Singh Presents) Page 15