‘Tia, Simi, streetlights are on. Come back in.’
And she would scream back, from wherever she was ‘In half an hour, Mummy!’
Now she was standing in front of the same window. The building, her building, the flat, the grill on that window, it all looked so old, so weathered. She had resisted calling either Hari or Simi, or her mother to let them know she was coming. She wanted to surprise them.
Her hand was trembling when she pressed the doorbell. It was late at night, and she heard her mother’s voice.
‘Kaun hai itni raat?’ she heard her say, asking who it was so late at night.
She wanted to say ‘Tia, your daughter!’ but she didn’t. A moment later her mother opened the door and Tia saw her.
Oh my God. She has gotten so old.
The tears were rushing down her cheeks.
‘I don’t want anything!’ Her mother thought it was some sales girl trying to sell her something, but when she saw the face, the hair, the height, the eyes, the tears …
‘Tia?’ Her mother began shaking at the sight of her eldest daughter standing at her door after all these years.
They hugged like there was no history between at all, that everything was just a happy memory.
Tia dragged her several suitcases inside.
‘What have you all got?’ her mother asked, referring to the six suitcases she had lugged with her.
‘Three of those are Simi’s, two are mine and one is for Hari. Fresh clothes.’ Tia had answered.
Tia didn’t see either Simi or Hari at home.
Her mother was so shocked and surprised to see Tia she didn’t really know what to say.
‘Chai?’ she asked Tia.
‘I’ll make it!’ Tia said and went into the kitchen. Her mother noticed Tia looking at the bad condition of the house.
‘Simi and me are planning major renovations before the new year. Everything will be like new … the sugar is there, the chaipatti is …’ Mrs Galhotra was masking her happiness as well as her awkwardness by talking.
‘I know, Mummy. They have always been in the same place,’ Tia smiled at her. She had so much to make up to her.
‘With adrak, na?’ she asked her mother, recalling that she liked her tea with ginger in it. Her mother nodded.
When she took a bath it felt strange. She felt guilty that she had not one but two bathrooms — lavish ones — in her L.A. apartment, and you could barely stand up in this one. But at the same time this tiny one had a comforting familiarity; the old geyser, the ancient oval plastic shaving mirror, the broken tap that had each individual part in different shades of rust because it was never replaced in its entirety, the classic low-legged plastic stool. Everything was just like she remembered. Their bathroom never really evolved since her childhood. It was all familiar and yet strange to her.
She finally stopped thinking and had her bath. It was one of the most soothing baths she had taken in a long time.
That night, Tia and her mother talked all night and for the first time not like two adult women, which is how they had always communicated, but like a mother and a daughter.
Tia had resisted asking her about Simi and Hari right away, but her mother told her.
‘One day, just like you did, Simi showed up out of the blue from America. She was in bad shape, wouldn’t talk much, would go to sleep crying. I knew something had gone terribly wrong in America, but I didn’t know what. I didn’t push her. But, two days later, she told me everything; you, Hari, the engagement, the magician, all the fights and arguments, everything. I felt so unequipped to help her. But something had changed in that girl, she had grown up. She decided to go and help Xavier recover so that she could fix things. She blamed herself for the whole thing.’ Her mother wiped her tears as she told Tia what had happened.
Tia held steady, she wanted to feel everybody’s pain and only then, she figured, could she do something to soothe it.
‘Next morning she went to Pondicherry to Xavier’s ashram and that same night, Hari showed up. He was in worse shape than Simi; weak, bearded, barely eating or talking; he just sat here all night. Since I knew why he was here, I told him about Xavier’s ashram. Next morning he also left for Pondicherry. Both of them have been there for the last twelve days.’
Her mother had finished talking, or had she?
‘Do you know what you have done?’she asked Tia after a short pause. ‘Simi told me how you treated her in America. Why, Tia, why so much hatred?’
Tia took a deep breath. She would need all the courage in the world to have a discussion about that.
‘Dekho, Mummy, I am not speaking from a place of anger or hatred now, OK, but you remember how many miscarriages you had after you had Simi?’
‘You remember those?’ Her mother was caught off guard.
‘Of course I do, Mummy. The last one you had, before your doctor told you no more, was when I was seven years old — old enough to understand that you and Papa wanted a boy, a son, desperately. You and Papa would argue and talk about it at night, whispering, but I knew. I felt that you were not happy with Simi and me. I felt like we had let you down somehow. I also felt like I had to do something about it and you know Mummy, today I understand, I have been trying to do just that all my life. I had been trying to be a boy, a man, a son; A son for you and Papa, and a brother for Simi. All my life, Mummy!’ She poured her heart out.
A lot of her behavior would certainly support her theory and her mother knew it, but it was difficult to hear it, or to accept it.
‘We never wanted you to be a boy, Tia, or a son to us. We wanted you to be you. Yes, there were family pressures to have a son, as you know my mother had me and your Mausi, both daughters … and … and everyone around us wanted us to keep trying one more time, one more time …’ Her mother went back into the days.
‘Mummy, can you imagine how I felt? Did you not know when you saw me getting into fights with boys at school or wearing jeans, pants, and cutting my hair short?’ Tia asked as she moved next to her mother.
‘I … I … never. I mean all girls go through that phase … I am so sorry, Tia …’ Her mother broke down.
‘Mummy, I am not angry any more, but unknowingly I carried that resentment in my heart for a number of years. I thought that you regretted having me!’ Tia also started crying, although it was more of an emotional reaction to seeing her mother cry.
‘Being born a girl was not in my control. I felt helpless, I felt as if I didn’t have any say in it, so whatever I could control since then, I had been doing just that, and … and … it is exhausting, Mummy. It is tiring. I felt you did not love me!’ Tia said as her mother took her head and laid it on her shoulder.
‘Don’t say that, beta. We loved you and we loved Simi like no other parent. I am so proud of you — you have no idea. At such a young age, you have achieved so much and your Papa, God bless his soul wherever he is, is also proud of you. I guarantee you that …’ She sat back so that Tia could see her face, see wanted her to see that she was telling the truth.
‘And it was not your father who kept insisting on trying, it was me, I too felt the same way as you, beta, now that I think back to my childhood, I also felt the same rejection from my parents, but it never occurred to me that you would also feel like that. In fact, your Papa would tell me “to hell with other people, we have two wonderful daughters and one day they’ll make us proud” but it was me who didn’t listen. Your Papa loved you so much, he searched and searched and came up with names for you two — Tia and Simi. They might be common now, but back then, over twenty years ago, Tia & Simi were very modern and unique names. He wanted the best for you. It … was … me who was lacking. I … I …’ her mother couldn’t finish what she wanted to say but whatever she had said was enough for Tia. She was satisfied.
‘Mummy, I didn’t bring it up to make you feel guilty, or to lay blame on you or anyone.’
‘Things were different back then, beta.’
‘I know, and I wanted to
share it with you because I want you to know that I don’t feel like that any more. I know where you were coming from and even understand you putting your body through so much pain and anguish, but I want you to know today, I have no complaints, Mummy, and I love you. And I am sorry I behaved with you with so much anger.’ Tia hugged her mother like she had never hugged her before.
There is freedom in purity and simplicity.
A mother’s hug — so simple and basic — is indescribable.
‘I love you too, beta, I always have.’
‘I feel much better now, Tia. All these years I did not understand why you had become so khadus!’
Her mother’s favorite word was ‘khadus’ which meant scrooge or stingy person and here she was referring to Tia’s inability to be affectionate. It lightened up the mood.
‘Like mother, like daughter,’ Tia joked, to which her mother playfully hit her on her shoulders.
‘You too think I am khadus?’
‘A little bit!’ Tia said with a squint in her eyes.
‘Well, I am not any more. And I know why you are here. I know you want to go to Pondicherry too.’ Her mother got up to go into the kitchen.
Tia followed, and just like Simi use to do, she hugged her mother from behind.
‘Nope. I am not going to Pondicherry, at least not for a few days. I want to spend some time with you. Also, I want them both to have some freedom before I go there and piss on them!’
‘Of course, beta, why wouldn’t people want daughters? Especially when they bring so much drama into one’s life!’ her mother replied, now with a squint in her eyes.
‘Oh no, my mother has grown a sense of humor,’ Tia laughed.
‘Move, I am going to cook for you.’
And so it went on for the next few days. The mother and her ‘other’ daughter became best of friends again. The first night when Tia laid her bed on the floor in the living room, her mother joked that she was not used to sleeping on the floor and she should take the bed, but Tia wouldn’t listen.
‘If Simi can do this, so can I,’ she said.
But, when her mother woke up in the morning, Tia was sprawled next to her on the bed. Just how she used to sleep when she was a little girl.
Tia would make morning tea and lunch for her mother, even watch ‘stupendously regressive bullshit’ TV shows with her.
Her mother would say ‘We Indians are simple. We like these rona-dhona shows. We are like this only!’
Tia would make her mother go for an evening walk and would accompany her. She met her neighbors — some of whom might be gossiping about her behind her back, she knew, but they were all friendly in her presence. She would laugh about it ‘truly, we are like this only!’
There was a sudden increase in the number of bikers — college guys on bikes — doing the rounds outside her building.
‘The boys of Nagpur have whiffed the presence of a Nagpuri girl who lives in America and is now in this building,’ her friend Nalini would say.
Is this how, being rowdy, they plan to impress me? By being rowdy?
Truly, the boys of Nagpur didn’t know Tia.
Tia liked the pace of the city. It was so relaxed. People were in no hurry to come or go anywhere, at any time. All she had here was time and more time. She liked the fact that not everything and everyone was measured by virtue of their work. People were not as judgmental. It was OK to be a middle class housewife. It was acceptable and respectable. It was OK to take a nap after lunch, in the middle of the day, even on a weekday. There was no race. There was no need to prove anything to anyone. Generally, people were much more content and less hassled than in Los Angeles.
Of course, Nagpur had always been like this. Slow. But, having lived in a big city like Los Angeles, her appreciation for the relaxed pace had increased. It’s strange that she was now craving the very same things for which she had left this town years ago.
After a week, Tia decided she was ready to go to Pondicherry and asked her mother if she wanted to go along with her.
‘I think it’s best that the three of you resolve this on your own … and however you resolve it,’ she joked, ‘this time, it is going to be permanent, right?’
Tia nodded.
Her mother had some parting advice.
‘Tia, I am going to tell you what I told Hari before he left for Pondicherry and that is that I know my Tia is strong-willed and assertive, but my Simi is not. She is delicate and innocent, and not as worldly wise. She is a bholi-bhali ladki. And I told him that he has already broken Tia’s heart, but if he breaks Simi’s heart, he’ll have to answer to me!’
Tia knew that her mother was a very strong woman. Not in the way it’s depicted in movies, not a power suit wearing, drinking and smoking, cursing type of strong, but strong in her simple ways. This was resilient strong, and she also knew that she herself was like that, partly due to those genes she had inherited from her.There were certain things you didn’t mess with her mother about, and now it was Simi.
The message was loud and clear.
South India
When Hari landed at Chennai airport on his way to Pondicherry, he was accosted by taxi drivers offering their services. He had, like any normal person would have, picked a guy who was dressed decently and who looked the most hygienic.
Alas, his taxi, an old Padmini Fiat, was exactly the opposite of his appearance. It was old and dirty. The taxi driver’s name was Kutti and he was very happy to hear that he had gotten a long fare but what Hari didn’t know was that he had gotten into a shared cab.
Many short distance passengers were picked up and dropped off, and at one point, Hari was the one who had the least space in the backseat. There were ten fully-grown adult men plus Kutti at the wheel. The smell and the rubbing of bodies were too much for him and he told Kutti that he wanted to travel alone. What he didn’t know was that ‘going solo’ was expensive in these parts.
‘It’ll be five thousand rupees and that is a discounted rate because you look like a shareef aadmi’, Kutti said. Of course he was bullshitting, but Hari didn’t have the energy to argue so he paid. Another mistake, he shouldn’t have paid in advance.
‘That is on top of the meter, huh. Telling you now. Don’t want any jhagda!’ Kutti saw how easily Hari took out his money and he figured why not fleece him completely.
It also occurred to Hari that maybe Kutti was going around in circles when he noticed that they passed the same temple for the third time. When he broached it with Kutti, he got a strange response.
‘That’s because you a foreigner, all temples look same to you. They are of all different Gods.’
But one hour later, when Hari started noticing the same beggar outside the temple, he stopped the taxi and got out. Kutti was happy to let him go. He had made five grand and was only about half a kilometer away from the airport. He drove away laughing.
Hari had wasted three hours and Chennai to Pondicherry was only a two and half hour drive. He remembered someone and dialed his number.
‘Suresh Reddy?’
Half an hour later, an air-conditioned Renault Duster picked him up. The chauffeur was dressed as a chauffeur should, complete with a cap. He opened all the doors and asked Hari ‘Is this vehicle OK, Saar?’ as if he was a server in a restaurant showing a wine bottle to the patron before uncorking it.
It was common for some people in South India to pronounce ‘sir’ as ‘saar’.
Knowing the Reddy brothers, they would have sent a Mercedez to pick him up if Hari hadn’t said that he didn’t want to arrive in a flashy car at the ashram.
The chauffeur, Ramanna, had also brought tiffen for Hari. He was hungry and gorged on mutton curry and rice and then topped it off with fresh coconut water, which Ramanna had sliced right in the car. In no time, Hari was dropped off in front of what looked like a vast farm. It was pretty inconspicuous and had a small sign which said X-Ashram.
Mr. Ayyangar was the first to receive him. He took him towards his accommodation an
d while walking Hari noticed that the farm was lush green with beautiful mountains in the distance, there were large trees left untouched, there were sporadic water bodies and then there were cottages situated small distances apart.
When he entered his cottage he realized that this was back to basics. It was so minimal there wasn’t a bathroom or even a ceiling fan.
‘I’ll inform Miss Simi that you are here?’ Mr. Ayyangar offered.
‘No, I want to surprise her,’ Hari insisted. ‘Where can I find her?’
He had walked almost for twenty minutes before coming across a riverbank. Such a beautiful river, so peaceful, he thought as he sat down.
This was so unlike Hari. He had overlooked oceans as blue as … a pristine ocean, he had not even blinked at the historic monuments in the good old U.S.A. — like the time he had yawned at the Grand Canyon thinking ‘big deal’ — and here he was, just breathing in the river, which could only be categorized as an ordinary river in India.
He heard some kids playing and followed the sound. Then he saw Simi was playing with a dozen children against the setting sun.
‘Hey,’ he said simply. She turned around and as she saw him, her face lit up.
She ran towards him and hugged him.
‘Hey! What are you doing here?’ she said, removing herself from the embrace.
‘Came here to see how Uncle Xavier was doing.’ Hari lied.
Simi told him all about the ashram, or as locals had named it the X-Ashram.
It was started by Xavier’s father; Xavier Sr. He was a priest at a local church and use to do charity work for destitute children. The vast land was donated by a rich industrialist after one of his factories had caught fire and lives were lost. Initially, the idea was to educate the kids of the laborers who had died in the accident. Later it was thrown open to all children in the area.
Xavier Jr., the magician was also a kid at the time and would entertain the other children at the ashram. Seeing his interest in magic, one of the donors sponsored him to go to China to learn magic. Albeit, against his father’s wishes. Xavier Senior thought that once kids go abroad, they never come back. But Xavier Junior came back and they ran the place together thereafter.
When Hari Met His Saali Page 27