I Didn't Expect to be Expecting (Ravinder Singh Presents)

by Richa S Mukherjee

  4:00 p.m.

  Mr Inspiration was nowhere in the vicinity. After looking through transcripts from multiple consumer groups, I decided to look for some informational nuggets online and got completely sidetracked. One thing led to another, as is always the case in online searches, and I was soon laughing my head off watching hilarious baby videos. I never knew babies farting and falling could make for such wonderful and gripping content.

  9:00 p.m.

  With no solutions in sight, I partially drew the blinds, dimmed the lights, put on some soft music and started doing yoga. I was in the middle of a weird squat that made me look like a hen about to lay an egg when there was a soft knock on my door.

  ‘Who is it?’ I called out.

  In walked Pamela.

  I straightened up, not very pleased at being caught in the middle of an asana with flushed cheeks and parted legs, but managed a small smile.

  ‘How can I help you?’ I asked in a clipped voice as I turned the lights back on before returning to my desk.

  ‘Heard from the guard that you’ve been here all day. You should really go home and get some rest.’

  ‘I intend to, once I’ve cracked this brief.’

  Just then the phone rang and I knew who it was without checking.

  ‘Why are you being so stubborn, Tara!’ came Abhi’s voice. ‘This is your seventh month. Are you nuts? Come home right now.’

  I switched on my someone’s-with-me-right-now voice.

  ‘Hi darling. I’ll be home soon.’

  ‘Oh man, don’t give me that voice. I don’t care who is with you. Coming home now will not be a dereliction of duty!’

  He hung up on me. I pretended to talk to myself and exchanged a sweet goodbye, ending the call with a big kiss and the promise that I would be home soon.

  ‘He hung up, huh?’ Pamela asked sympathetically.

  I was so furious I wanted to throw myself at her and crush her.

  ‘I can’t see how that’s any of your business. Actually I’m a bit tied up here so …’

  She leaned forward and rested her hands on the table. ‘Why do you dislike me so much?’

  The question caught me completely off guard.

  ‘What? What a ridiculous idea. Why? I mean, I don’t hate you. Why would I?’

  ‘I sensed it the first time we met and on every other occasion since’ she said, almost sadly.

  Aggression I could handle, but what was I to do with a sad puppy face?

  ‘You know, I was very happy at my last agency. But we lost some accounts after some global realignments, and due to some other personal factors, I had to move. I was hoping to meet some great people here, and there are plenty. But the hostility I get from your whole team’s very obvious.’

  I nodded my head sympathetically, but inwardly I was grinning.

  ‘That has nothing to do with me,’ I said.

  ‘It kind of does. You hate me. They hate me. But there is just no reason to. I haven’t come in with a plan to usurp your accounts while you are away. Your office loves you and your clients adore you, so where do I stand a chance even if I did want to take your place?’

  I looked at her, a bit chastened now.

  ‘Well, there has never been any such agenda, but I guess I got a bit hormonal and overreacted. Of course, I know I need a substitute in my absence, but when you arrived so much earlier and with such a competent record, I started thinking strange things,’ I confessed.

  ‘So can you stop hating me now?’ she smiled a hundred-watt smile.

  ‘Well, sure.’ I smiled back.

  She pumped my hand vigorously.

  ‘I gather you haven’t been able to arrive at the “big idea” and refuse to leave till you do? I would do exactly the same,’ she admitted with a smile.

  ‘Just not being able to crack it,’ I said, throwing my hands up in frustration.

  She settled back in the chair and announced, ‘Use me to run through your thought process. The answer will come.’

  11:00 p.m.

  I walked out a tired happy mess, finally having made the breakthrough, thanks to my arch nemesis from two hours ago. And parked right outside was a familiar black car. In it was a handsome man, looking as if he was sound asleep. My heart skipped many beats and a wave of emotions comprising guilt, happiness, tenderness and buckets of love washed over me.

  I had cracked a huge campaign, earned a friend and my Prince Charming was here atop his mechanical steed to rescue his fat, hungry and tired wife. In the thick fog of doubts, for a moment, I felt happy and at peace.

  48

  Dham Dhaam. 31 July. 12:30 p.m.

  ‘If he gets married to a boy, who is the wife and who is the husband?’

  ‘Do you think they return to liking girls after sometime?’

  ‘But this is a confusing emotion. Why describe it as “gay”?’

  Before Ritwick entered and exited our lives, Mom and Dad used to keep themselves very busy by consuming copious amounts of news, practising yoga and of course, socializing. After the shock of losing ‘such a good catch’, their strange new hobby was playing twenty questions on the topic of homosexuality with Mira and me. Since I’d taken the day off, we were in the middle of it again on the phone.

  Thankfully, after about half an hour, the conversation finally seemed to be heading elsewhere.

  ‘Beta, I’m coming next week. For your goad bharai,’ my mother announced.

  ‘My what?’ I exclaimed.

  ‘But why would you throw her a baby shower? I want to do that!’ protested Mira.

  ‘That’s some bewakoof modern concept. There was never any baby shower in our time. Just a goad bharai performed by the elders for the mother-to-be.’

  ‘But how boring, Mummy! It has to be fun. With music and games and friends!’ pleaded Mira.

  ‘You can do all that after the tika and puja. You can invite your friends. We will call Abhimanyu’s parents.’

  ‘Mom, let me check once with Auntie,’ I said. Instantly, my mother bristled.

  For some inexplicable reason, both the mothers in my life could not stand each other. ‘So I have to take permission from your in-laws before organising my own daughter’s goad bharai?’ Mom said indignantly.

  ‘All the best with that, Tadi,’ sang Mira and sauntered away towards the bar where Abhi was pouring beers for them and making a virgin mojito for me to enjoy with the delicious fish fry laid out on the table.

  My nostrils and mind were getting distracted by thoughts of the fish, but I knew I had to deal with this brewing storm before matters became worse.

  ‘Of course not, Mumma. I’m just saying this because we need to check dates for availability. And also to check about any Bengali rituals they might have.’

  ‘Hmmmm,’ said Mom, not sounding very impressed. ‘Then please check with them and let me know very soon. She is not the only one who is busy.’

  ‘Of course, Mom,’ I promised, making a mental note to immediately call my mother-in-law after this.

  Dad, possibly bored with this conversation, interjected, ‘What is going on with Mani and Shoma? What a fine chap that Mani is.’ Dad had always had a soft corner for him. ‘Doesn’t he he have a younger brother in the US?’

  ‘Yes, he does, Dad,’ I replied. ‘He got married last year. To a lovely boy called Raghav.’

  After a moment of silence, Dad asked softly, ‘Yeh bhi gaya?’

  Churchill Cafē. 7:30 p.m.

  We had eaten our way through most of the day but still found ourselves in Churchill Café. In the middle of a sip of coffee, Abhi’s phone rang.

  He answered the call with a smile which quickly disappeared. ‘Ki cholche, ma? Ki? Shaad? Aikhuni? But? Why does it…? Hain? Ami Tara ke bolchee. Theek ache.’

  ‘That sounded like an interesting exchange!’ I laughed. Abhi wasn’t smiling. ‘What happened?’ I enquired.

  ‘Ma is coming down next week and wants to host your shaad, what your mom calls goad bharai.’

  ‘Wh
at! But I was just going to call her to…’

  ‘Exactly!’

  I had suddenly lost my appetite.

  49

  Dham Dhaam. 7 August. 10:30 a.m.

  I had never seen Radha look so woebegone and out of sorts. She crept up to me like she was walking on eggshells and whispered ‘Didi, please save me. Mataji and Maji are driving me crazy. One says make kadi chaval. One says chingdi jhol. One says doodh ki chai. One says make chena for mithai. One says I use too much oil. One asks if I’m saving oil to use at my home. I’ll run away!’

  ‘Calm down. I’ll talk to them,’ I assured her.

  Truth be told, Radha’s concern, which I had airily waved away, was giving me a headache as well. Two days ago, the warring mothers had chosen the same day to arrive with their reluctant beaus.

  No one knew when or why the animosity between them had originated, but it was like an unstoppable force of nature. The whole weekend had been spent trying to keep the confrontational triggers at bay so that a veneer of civility could be maintained. We were now debating a newly developing situation. They had both invited friends over for lunch and there was a mini cross-cultural Mahabharata brewing over the menu. I couldn’t even leave for work till matters were sorted, fearing a call from the cops in the middle of a meeting. The fathers had clearly recused themselves from action and were busy with a game of chess. Abhi had spent the morning hiding behind furniture and sometime in the afternoon, finding a lull, had dashed away to work with a triumphant grin on his face.

  Audible muttering from room one: ‘I can’t understand why some people had to arrive at the same time when we had planned a visit.’

  Audible muttering from room two: ‘It is so rude of other people to interfere when I was the first one to express my wish to organize the function.’

  Some more grunting and muttering from room one: ‘The house will smell like a fish market. How will my friends eat?’

  Rebuttal from room two: ‘Some people are not aware that cows are supposed to eat ghaas phoos and humans aren’t supposed to eat like cows.’

  I was getting horribly late for a meeting and had to put an end to this madness. So I stood in between both rooms and yelled, ‘Enough!’ and then paused for effect.

  ‘Is my child going to be born into a family with two loving grandmothers or two more babies?’ I then continued.

  This was followed by some low-pitched inaudible mumbling.

  I rallied on. ‘You think you have problems? I have office stress to deal with. My whole life has changed. I look like a cow. I walk like a penguin. I am hungry and confused and happy and sad all at once. I burp the whole day. My legs ache all the time. The last thing I need is you both quarrelling over my baby shower.’

  ‘Shaad,’ mumbled Auntie.

  ‘Goad bharai,’ muttered Mom.

  ‘I don’t care! You have to find a way of getting along. If you don’t want to do it for me, then do it for the baby. And no more arguments. No matter who is coming, whether fish is being cooked or an iguana, not one more altercation.’

  I heard slow claps and turned to see my father and father-in-law beaming their approval. And then another fresh burst of applause greeted my ear. Radha stood with a wide grin on her face, clapping like a happy schoolgirl.

  ‘I need to leave now. Radha, Auntie and Mom will give you the final menu. See you all in the evening.’

  As I turned and waddled away, I stifled a laugh. What would I use as a weapon once RJ was born? I wondered.

  Breathe Institute. 9 August. 8:00 p.m.

  We were in the midst of a blissful massage yet again.

  ‘Does Abhi even know that you’ve completely stopped taking those classes?’ enquired Shoma.

  I shrugged. And just then I had an idea. ‘Abhi is going to be late today and both sets of parents are being social. Do you want to take this evening to the next level and watch a movie next door? We can make the eight-thirty show if we hurry.’

  My enthusiasm was infectious and soon Shoma was tearing away her towel and helping me dress after giving our beefed-up masseurs a generous tip.

  8:25 p.m.

  ‘I will not waste my evening on chainsaw specials or a horror movie which, by the way, you aren’t allowed to watch at this stage of your pregnancy!’ said Shoma decisively, looking at the display board of listed movies.

  ‘You won’t listen to a pregnant woman?’ I pouted at her sadly.

  ‘Hey, hey, don’t play that card on me, buddy. It won’t work!’

  ‘Well, it was worth a shot anyway.’ I sighed, surrendering.

  ‘Unfortunately, it almost always works on me,’ boomed a familiar voice behind me.

  The ice cream in my hand splattered to the floor, frosting the tips of my shoes. I turned around slowly and peered into Abhi’s face.

  He watched me as I studied his expression. He almost looked like he was smiling through his eyes, but his mouth was set in a firm straight line.

  Shoma just stood there, munching on her cone noisily and punctuating our silent conversation.

  Finally, I found my voice. ‘Sorry. I was going to tell you. Those classes suck! But how did you get done so early?’

  Abhi burst out laughing and hugged me. ‘Deceptive little mouse! My meeting got cancelled and I wanted to pick you up. That’s when I saw you guys leaving the institute. So what movie are we watching?’

  I clapped my hands with delight but Shoma announced that she would be making a move. ‘You guys carry on. Mani will be home soon, anyway. Besides, I don’t want to play third wheel!’

  ‘Well,’ I said as I dragged both of them towards the ice-cream counter, ‘we have permanent company arriving in a few months. Might as well get some practice!’

  50

  Nana-Nani Park. 12 August. 8:30 a.m.

  A few mischievous sunrays were streaming through the trees and resting on my swollen stomach as I sat wondering what was going on inside. I wondered if RJ was also feeling my lack of spirit. It had been a gruelling and tiring week at work, and the home turf was exuding a battlefield-like vibe, with the mother and mother-in-law managing to disagree on almost everything from toothpaste to masalas and of course, their mutual favourite, the goad bharai/shaad conundrum, scheduled towards the end of the day. How could two intelligent and loving women be reduced to such cantankerous toddlers? But as I lay on the bench, I tried to flush all these tedious musings from my mind. I just wished Abhi was with me, and as if on cue, the phone beeped.

  ‘Oh my God,’ was all his message said, but I knew exactly what he was having to handle back at home. I shut my eyes briefly but was compelled to open them for some unknown reason. I looked up and the reason stood over me – Abhi, holding a big basket and sporting a wide grin.

  ‘What are you doing here, baby? What if they get into another scrap at home?’ I enquired wearily, despite seeing the one person I felt happy meeting in this mood.

  ‘Shhh,’ he said, and then planted a big kiss on my lips. I smiled despite my mood.

  ‘I haven’t actually been kissed upside down. Ever.’

  ‘They don’t call me sexy pants for nothing, baby,’ Abhi said suggestively.

  ‘Someone calls you sexy pants?’ I giggled.

  ‘As long as you find my pants sexy, I’m happy.’

  ‘I love the contents as well,’ I whispered, kissing him back. After getting the usual looks of disapproval for our PDA from people passing by, I tapped the basket and looked at Abhi quizzically.

  The jute lid of the basket opened up to reveal a host of delicious breakfast items. Boiled eggs, muffins, croissants, juices, fruits, all packed carefully.

  ‘I was watching you all morning and knew you were going to explode. Thought I’d get you your breakfast, far from the madding crowd.’

  ‘You know, Abhi, the Mahabharat at home aside, sometimes my head is so crammed with questions and fears that I feel like it will explode! Do you think the baby will think I’m nuts?’

  ‘A really hot nut!’ Abhi winked.
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  I grinned. ‘How do you always know just what I need?’ I looked at him in awe.

  ‘Just like you do.’ He smiled. ‘After this, we will head out for a small drive and an early morning movie. There’s plenty of time till the function in the evening.’

  ‘Early morning movie!’ I clapped my hands. But then I suddenly remembered. ‘What about the geriatric society at home? We can’t just leave them. And all the preparations?’

  ‘Sania and Shoma are handling everything. Oh, and before I forget…’ He slipped his hand inside his trouser pocket and slid something onto my finger. It was a small, glittering diamond ring.

  ‘Thank you, T. For what you’re doing and how well you’re doing it. Happy baby shower.’

  My eyes welled up and blurred the vision of the sparkling diamond on my finger. As I walked out of the park with a muffin in one hand and Abhi’s hand in another, I realized that even the neurotic side of me had to take a break after such a heart-warming gesture!

  7:30 p.m.

  My stance has always been that most traditions were possibly started with a benevolent intent, only to be misconstrued, misinterpreted and rendered to their questionable modern versions. However, being dressed up in a pretty onion-coloured saree and sitting with dolls of a boy and a girl in my lap while all the married women performed an aarti around my stomach left me scratching my head in wonder.

  ‘Is Veena Auntie into dolls, or is this really part of the goad bharai function?’ whispered Shoma.

  ‘Well, I’m drawing a blank,’ I admitted to her.

  After all the available rice within five kilometres of the house had been thrown at me and I was ready to vomit out the whole kilo of mithai that I had been fed, Mom triumphantly announced that the ceremony was done. She then placed a beautiful ornate gold pendant around my neck.