by Vani Mahesh
Rushing out the door, Anu remembered to instruct Radha. ‘Vicky hasn’t eaten anything. Please give him something healthy when he wakes up. I will see you at six-thirty.’
Anu almost ran the small distance from her building to the next where the class was held. She was in her homewear, with the hair in a bun. She probably still had drool stains from the nap. And she felt disoriented without coffee. If only I had woken up half-an-hour early. Reprimanding herself, Anu hurried into Supriyaji’s house. Why was time so elusive? What some called time-management, Anu called punishment.
She entered that tranquil room as quietly as she could. Though the prayer had started, Supriyaji gave Anu a warm smile and beckoned her to a spot in the front. Anu reached the spot, hopping over some, stamping on someone’s hair, and stepping on someone’s toes. Only then it occurred to her that she had forgotten to bring her yoga mat. She had bought a top-of-the-line one as a first anniversary gift for herself. Now she had to borrow from the stash kept for slackers. Since the mats were at the back of the class, Anu again started the exercise of hopping, stamping, and stepping over people.
Deciding to stay at the back of the room, Anu spread the mat. Yuck! What was that large stain in the middle? She flipped the mat over where there was no stain but enough dust to instantly send Yashoda aunty next to her into a sneeze-fest. Sending a look of sincere apology, Anu settled down. The good thing was, neither Supriyaji nor Yashoda aunty threw any dirty glances at her. Rather, both of them smiled at her. Thank god for these godly women. That was how their apartment complex was. Mostly people from her parents’ generation who loved Anu and Vicky. They would have loved Sanju too, but he spent most of his time at work.
Anu decided to skip the chanting. It was already so off-key, one less person joining did not matter. Now that she was sitting without doing anything, her mind started going back to Sanju. She could not relax and unwind in that fabulous room like she always did.
Anu believed she had highly precise instincts and now they were on high alert, warning her that the situation with Sanju was not ordinary. Anu had mind-blowing epiphanies in two situations, one – when she had had a drink, and second – when she lied down in Shavasana in the Yoga class. She felt like a Yogin with great wisdom in both the situations. Recently, after a beer or two, she was struck by the thought of watching movie adaptations of all the books she had read. What a fabulous week that was! The time before that, when she had lied down in Shavasana, it had come to her in a flash where her next long vacation was going to be. The Himalayas! That was another fabulous week when she had put in a thousand-hours watching YouTubers trek the Leh, Ladakh and whatnot. Since she had terrible mountain sickness, watching the videos had taken care of her Himalayan cravings. But today, she was sensing something not so pleasant and there were no YouTube videos to solve her problem.
Anu tried to calm her nerves by taking a deep breath and looking around the room. Supriyaji had the same house as hers but it looked a billion times more beautiful. Maybe, she could do the same. How hard can doing up the interiors be? She must start by buying some brassware. And the colourful cushion covers, and then, of course, that deep rosewood table to host a brass lamp. That would show Sanju how great she was at interior decorating. With that determination, Anu began to feel calmer. Her next YouTube binge was in place.
Anu could hardly focus on the asanas. In her absent-mindedness, she tried the head-stand, toppled, and made three more ahead of her fall like dominoes.
Apologising to the people she had knocked off, Anu tried to relax. Why had she tied herself up in knots? Maybe Sanju was just overworked as he said.
When the class got over, Anu rolled her mat and stepped out. ‘Anu, that is not your mat.’ Yashoda aunty’s words sent a sliver of shame run down Anu’s spine. How crazy that she was about to take home the mat that was not hers!
But Yashoda aunty was the least judgemental person Anu had ever met. ‘Aunty, I have become so absent-minded!’ Anu said, embarrassed.
Yashoda aunty smiled kindly. ‘You are very busy, Anu. That is why small things skip your mind.’
Me? Busy? Is Yashoda aunty joking? Anu looked at Yashoda aunty quizzically.
‘You work, you take care of Vicky, you take care of the household. That is a lot.’
Thus far, nobody had pegged her job or her mothering as stressful. In fact, in Bangalore, if you were not a techie, or at least worked in a Tech company in the HR, PR or some such department, you were as good as jobless.
Anu smiled. ‘Do you want anything from the supermarket, aunty? I can drop them off before going to Vijaynagar.’ Yashoda aunty was a widow who lived alone, with both her kids settled in the US.
‘See, you are so kind, Anu. You help me despite being busy.’ Yashoda aunty’s praises that day were a tad too much. Probably, she was trying to make Anu feel better.
‘You send me the list. I will buy them for you.’ Anu offered. She had taught Yashoda aunty to take a photo of her grocery list and WhatsApp it to her.
Now Yashoda aunty got a bit emotional. ‘Anu, I thought I could never use a smartphone, but you helped me with it. Now I can even make video calls to my son!’ It was a different matter altogether that Yashoda aunty had now started making video calls to everyone. Most often she called when Anu had henna on the hair or a charcoal mask on the face.
‘You should learn how to order groceries online, aunty. I will teach you sometime.’ Anu smiled. ‘Did you try booking a cab?’ Anu had taught her to do so recently.
‘Not yet. I have not been going anywhere. But ordering groceries online will be such a great help, Anu. Let me know when you can teach. I will make your favourite poori and chhole. Now, enough about me. Tell me how is Sanjay?’
Anu hesitated and was almost tempted to pour out her woes to the kind elderly woman. That was how she was—when something bothered her, she had to tell everyone, get their advice, and finally end up with a severely messed up brain. This time around, Anu had decided to confine her confessions to Shwetha and Sameer.
‘He is fine, aunty. He will be back soon.’ Anu smiled a smile she did not feel.
‘You go with him next time, Anu. Not wise to leave men alone for long!’ Yashoda aunty gave a slightly naughty smile, which sunk Anu’s heart further. Oh boy, oh boy, that was the end of me. Yashoda aunty suspects foul play too? What would I do now?
Anu walked into the house that looked as messy as ever. Radha confessed sheepishly. ‘I could not tidy the house, akka. But I have fed Vicky chapatis, and I have made a mixed veg curry.’ With that, Radha handed Anu a hot cup of coffee. She had settled Vicky in front of the TV to watch Popeye.
‘I should have married you instead of my husband,’ said Anu sipping coffee and Radha laughed loudly. Well, another reason to marry her—Radha laughed at all of Anu’s jokes.
‘Are you okay, akka? You look a little dull.’ Radha asked with concern. Another reason to marry her. Anu again had an urge to pour her heart out to Radha but restrained herself.
‘Just a headache. Tomorrow you come at four-thirty sharp. I won’t be asleep.’
Radha hesitated. ‘Akka, I am not coming for a week from tomorrow. I had told you last month.’
‘Oh, right. You go and have a good time. The maid is not coming either for a week,’ said Anu wearily looking at the dirty dishes.
‘Akka, I would have washed these if you had told me about the maid. Now I have to run. My bus is in an hour,’ Radha sounded genuinely sorry.
‘It is okay. I will manage.’ Even as Anu said the words, she kicked herself mentally. Why couldn’t she be more organized? All she had to do was tell Radha to help with the dishes.
Then she decided that from then on, her life was going to be different. She would lead it with the precision of a military man. She would make a to-do list and remember everything. How nice it would be to get ready ten minutes early! Anu dreamed—she could drink coffee, wear fancy footwear, keep a water bottle, play catch with Vicky because they were ready too early.
>
Deciding to execute the plan of not being late or rushed, Anu resisted picking up the book she had just started. That would melt away hours like ice-cream. Instead, she went into the bedroom to pack an overnight bag to stay at her mother’s house. While she packed, trying to be mindful as Supriyaji always insisted, Vicky walked in looking dazed and plopped right on the clothes she had just folded.
‘Popeye the sailaaa man …’ he hummed sleepily. Well, kids his age watched Doraemon and Shinchan, but Vicky liked the old-world ones like Popeye and Tom & Jerry, thanks to his father. When Anu looked at him, he was trying to do the Popeye wink. He was so adorable—Anu kissed him and picked him up. Then her heart sank a bit—watching cartoons with Vicky was Sanju’s thing. If he was having an affair, what would happen to his equation with Vicky?
Anu shrugged off the thoughts and walked to the kitchen, with Vicky trying to sleep on her shoulder. She had told her mother that she would be there by seven. Since it was already six-thirty, it was humanly impossible to keep that time; punctuality had to be postponed. But she was going to be efficient nonetheless. She took a small notebook and wrote.
1. Wash the dishes – 30 minutes
2. Get Vicky ready – 30 minutes to 300 minutes
3. Get ready – 30 minutes
‘Vicky, here. Chocolate Horlicks and Nutella toast. Eat and drink fast, okay?’ Anu made an offer to Vicky he could not refuse. Chocolate on chocolate was his thing. But not that day. Not on a day when she had made a firm resolution to be on time.
‘I want strawberry milk and cheese toast.’
‘You have this now. I will make what you want later.’ Later his eating would be her mother’s headache.
‘No … I don’t want this.’ Vicky crinkled his nose. For a moment Anu contemplated guzzling down the fare herself. She was no less a chocoholic than her son. But she was not in the mood to squander her calories burnt during yoga on Nutella. She had to save those for the dinner with Sameer.
Anu spent another ten minutes to serve her little kingpin what he wanted. Next, she had to tackle dressing him.
‘Vicky, you need to change. What do you want to wear?’ It was best to give him the choice.
‘I don’t want to change.’ He began to get more and more comfortable playing with his trucks. Though he looked adorable in his monster-truck nightshirt and jungle-print underwear, her mother severely disproved of such cuteness. She would say, ‘Not enough if you dress up, Anu. You must make Vicky ready too. If you don’t teach him now, he will turn into one of those boys with spiky hair and torn pants.’
The negotiation went on for five minutes before Vicky agreed to wear a Superman T-shirt with red shorts. Luckily, with the underwear inside. Then Anu got dressed and decided to leave the dishes as they were. What could happen in a day?
Finally on the road, Anu turned on the radio. ‘Mumma, no your songs. Play rhymes.’
Anu sighed turning on yet another rendition of wheels-of-the-bus. Lately, her bathroom singing started with Bits-of-Paper and ended with Twinkle-Twinkle. She spent most of her time with Vicky at home and twenty more Vickys at school.
Parking the car, Anu pushed the door open to her parents’ house. Seven-thirty, not bad at all. Anu felt very pleased with herself. Her parents never bolted the front door because they had a steady stream of visitors. Even if a thief walked in, her mom would automatically serve him coffee and snacks.
‘Did you park the car properly? Our street is a mess—every household has three cars and zero parking space. The corporation does nothing about this menace.’ Anu’s father greeted her from behind the newspaper.
‘Papa! Can’t you first say hello like all normal people? Then vent about parking and current politics?’ Anu went into the kitchen.
Her father had a spot bang in the middle of the living room—an oversized sofa chair right in front of the TV. All the other furniture stood awkwardly around the chair.
‘Veekuu! Come here to Tata!’ His tone changed to a silly singsong when he saw Vicky. The boy went running to his grandfather. Anu wondered what was wrong with Vicky! How can someone find her father entertaining enough to rush to?
‘Anu! My beautiful girl!’ Ah, that Anu liked. It was her maternal grandmother who lived with Anu’s parents. She had lost her husband ten years ago and had moved into that house soon after. Anu’s father was not too thrilled to have his mother-in-law live with them, but the good thing was that he too busy to remember that she existed.
‘Ajji! You find me beautiful in these track pants?’ Though Anu tried sounding nonchalant about the remark, she was pleased. They were no ordinary tracks, they were black Benetton ones, and they hugged her bottom better than any pair of jeans. And, she had worn her best-fitting Lee Cooper T-shirt too because she was planning to meet Sameer for a nightcap. He was just a friend, and she didn’t have to dress up for him, but Sameer was someone who noticed the finer things in life. Moreover, he styled himself like a movie star. Not in a gaudy, Ranvir Singh-way but in a very subtle and classy way. So, she had to dress up.
‘You look pretty in anything you wear.’ Her grandmother was generous with compliments. That made up for the lousy gifts she gave on all her birthdays. ‘You look eighteen. Who can say you are married with a child. Most girls become so fat after a child.’ Her grandma shuddered. She did not worry about body-shaming.
‘Stop praising her, Amma. She already spends enough time preening herself.’ That was Anu’s mother. She was lousy with compliments but highly generous with money. Anu was okay with that too.
‘I am going out with Divya after dinner. At eight. Feed me soon.’ Anu had to lie about meeting Sameer. Her mother did not endorse friendships with old admirers.
‘You never spend more than ten minutes with us, Anu. Why didn’t you come at seven, as you had said?’ Her mother’s unhappiness was nothing Anu hadn’t expected.
‘I had my yoga class.’ Anu bit into a Kobbari Mithai her grandmother handed her fresh from the stove. Happy with that thousand-calorie-a-piece sugar and coconut mixture, Anu plonked herself on the gleaming part of the counter. That was always her place when her mother or grandmother was in the kitchen. That was where all the food tasting happened.
‘Then, why did you say you were coming at seven?’ Her mother remarked, mildly angry.
‘Because I didn’t want you telling me to skip the class.’
Her mother went silent. That was how she hid her irritation.
Then Anu’s phone pinged. ‘Will pick you up at eight-thirty.’ That was Sameer.
‘Street corner. Not from home.’ Anu typed back, feeling light and happy even before a drink. After Vicky was born, going out at night was a luxury. For the time being, she forgot to even worry about the Sanju situation, imaginary or otherwise. Staying at her parents’ house and meeting Sameer for a drink was her ideal night. Shwetha called it unambitious, Sameer called her easily pleased.
Anu’s friendship with Sameer was as old as her. They were neighbours who went to the same KLE school. Sameer being a year older than her had worked out quite well for Anu. True that she had followed him around and hero-worshipping him the first few years of her life, but that was a worthy investment. Sameer, when she was seven or eight, had not only noticed her but assigned himself as her guardian. He made her life easy in more ways than one—from making sure she got the window seat in the bus to nobody making fun of her when she had braces and bushy eyebrows.
By the time he was in tenth, being the bike-riding, long-haired, long-limbed, football captain, Sameer enjoyed a superstar-like popularity at school. And Anu made sure she hogged some of that limelight.
‘Sameer, ice cream today evening?’ She would purposely ask loudly and nonchalantly to flaunt her camaraderie with the school hero. For the record, he never missed his evening football practice to have ice cream with Anu but he humoured her nonetheless. ‘Yeah … be ready at six sharp. My bike.’ He would wave back. So the kids at school were extra nice to Anu because she knew Sameer. She got pl
um roles in plays even though she was as emotive as a piece of wood, and got selected into the throwball team even though the balls she threw never crossed the net. Everyone thought she was going to marry Sameer. Then why did she choose Sanju is a story for another time.
3
Like always, Sameer’s car smelled good and felt cool. His perfume, bodyspray and the dozens of things he used had come together charmingly well.
‘Your car is quite a babe magnet.’ Anu took a deep breath.
‘I thought I was the babe magnet.’ Sameer objected.
‘You are thirty-one. You can now attract only the babes’ mothers.’ Anu giggled.
‘You are jealous that I am still hot and available and you are a married aunty.’
‘Speaking of which, did you chat with Sanju recently?’ Anu was not the type to wait.
‘Chatted with him last night.’ Sameer cranked up the radio for Atif Aslam’s crooning.
Well, the topic of Sanju had to wait since Anu loved Atif Aslam. She listened quietly while Sameer managed his large car on the narrow Vijaynagar suburban streets without swearing at anyone. He knew better than to talk when Anu was mouthing to Atif. When several songs of Atif Aslam followed one after another, Anu realized Sameer was playing from a USB.
‘You made an Atif Aslam playlist for me!’ Anu touched her heart. ‘Touched, my friend.’
‘Don’t flatter yourself, I am a fan of Aslam too.’
‘Right. But I introduced you to him.’
‘You are my entertainment guru, Anuji. Now tell me what do I watch on Netflix? Done with Breaking Bad, loved it, so the drinks are on me.’
‘Glad you accept my superiority. And the drinks should forever be on you for the amount of gyaan I give you. Watch Better Call Saul, then watch Lethal Weapon on Prime. Both are your type.’
