by Vani Mahesh
‘But you promised that you will align with CBSE when we started here,’ said another not-so-gentle mother.
‘I had said I might consider,’ said the principal firmly. ‘But now we like the outcome of our system. Children are competent and stressfree.’
‘But kids do not develop a competitive spirit without exams.’ That was the rude one from the coffee-shop. ‘One of your teachers I met earlier said she doesn’t even believe in kids working hard.’
Anu was flabbergasted. How could her words be twisted like this? ‘I never said kids shouldn’t—’
Anu was cut off before she even completed by the same woman. ‘Quoting this teacher, she says we parents are silly to be even bothered about this. “Silly” was her word.’
Anu’s face burned; in anger or distress, she could not tell. ‘I did not say that to you. You overheard me over the phone.’ Great Anu, now you have stepped right into a trap.
‘But you said it!’
‘No, I did not mean—’ Anu was cut off again.
‘If this is how teachers feel about parents, then I don’t know what to say.’ The woman was now looking triumphantly at everyone setting off a murmur.
‘Madam, wait.’ That was Kavitha who had stood up shaking a finger at Madam Rude. ‘You are not even giving Ms Anu a chance to talk. I am also a parent and I think we should not attack the teachers. Ms Anu, you continue.’ Nobody dared defy Kavitha who looked murderous enough to throw punches.
Anu smiled nervously and looked at Sumitra aunty, who subtly nodded at her to continue. ‘Kids here are studying at their own pace, they are capable of answering questions based on that learning, and they complete projects that are again based on what is taught to them.’ Anu glanced around and everyone looked interested in her little speech. Warming up to her speech now, Anu smiled like an enlightened Guru at the audience.
But historically, Anu never stopped while ahead. ‘In fact, my own son studies here and so do most of the teachers’ kids. We as parents need not worry about the exam-preparedness of our young ones.’
Anu knew that she need not have added that bit about Vicky but words tumbled out when she spotted the kids lined up outside at the door. She beckoned to Vicky who came bounding to her. She picked him up and well, hoped that he would hug her and maybe kiss her lovingly. He did no such thing. He was in fact in such an urgency to run, he plucked a fistful of Anu’s hair out of the clasp and kicked her in the shin while sliding down her arms. It was all unintentional from his part, but Anu wished it had been a tad soberer.
‘He looks very well-adjusted.’ Madam Rude cocked a brow. ‘How old is your son?’
Anu was now growing rather uncomfortable. Why was she the target? Did she have a bull’s eye painted on her face?
‘Four,’ Anu answered briefly. She had to get out of the spotlight.
‘At that age, even we didn’t worry. Now my child is in fourth grade. I have to think about his education and his future.’ Another parent chimed in.
Seriously? Eight-year-olds need to get serious about their futures? But Anu with great difficulty waited for someone else to field the question.
Sumitra aunty did. ‘You need not worry is what I am saying. We are teaching them what they need to learn for their grade.’
But Madam Rude would not let it go. ‘How many teachers here have children studying in the third or fourth?’
‘How is it relevant?’ Sumitra aunty asked politely.
‘Ms Anu here claimed that most teachers have their kids studying here. If a restauranteur eats at his restaurant, then the patrons feel better about the quality. So I want to know how many of their kids are in higher classes.’
Was that woman a lawyer? Did she think this was some kind of family court? But the truth was, most of the teachers’ kids were kindergarteners. Then Anu’s eyes fell on Adi snuggling next to Kavitha.
‘I have an older son.’ Anu declared and signalled to Kavitha to send Adi over. She did not dare look at Sumitra aunty.
‘See, Adi is in fourth grade. But I am not worried.’
But Adi was not very cooperative. He stood next to Anu digging his nose for a moment and then asked loudly, ‘Anu aunty, can I go? I want to go to Mummy.’
The crowd burst into laughter before Kavitha stood up holding Adi’s hand up like a soldier holding a gun. ‘He is like a son to Anu Ma’am. We are neighbours and friends for decades.’ She said with a flourish. ‘We always say we have two sons.’
‘Thank God not two husbands!’ was Madam Rude’s crude reply. But the crowd did not burst into laughter. So the joke was on her.
Later, Anu walked into the principal’s chamber sheepishly. ‘Aunty, sorry. Didn’t mean to stir up so much controversy and bury your words.’
Sumitra aunty laughed. ‘Anu, you meant well and that was evident. But recognize when someone is attacking you personally. You don’t have to waste energy on them.’
When Anu bit into that Masale Dose later with Kavitha, sipping a hot cup of coffee, Kavitha spoke wistfully. ‘Anu, you called Adi your son, ya. I am so touched.’
Anu smiled. ‘You saved me from my lie! But he is like a son to me.’
‘And I am like a sister, no?’ Kavitha asked eagerly.
‘Of course.’ Anu patted Kavitha’s hand and surprisingly, she meant it. Anu began to feel better. She had made a fool out of herself but she hadn’t caused any damage.
Then there was a call from Sanju, sinking her mood like the Titanic. ‘Anu, we can go see some houses tomorrow. I am working from home.’
‘I can’t teach from home, can I?’ Anu snapped.
‘Okay, okay. We will go after you come back from school.’ Sanju backtracked quickly. If he fought, she could say no to him more easily. But Sanju was so gentle, Anu most often just gave in.
Anu looked longingly at everything in Jake’s club. The pool, the tennis court, the lawn, the rabbits that scurried around the lawn. She knew that place, she knew people who worked there. She knew exactly what to order there. She had come to meet Shwetha to tell her about Sanju’s fanciful idea.
‘Now, why are you so upset, Anu? You want to die in the greater Vijaynagar area?’ asked Shwetha working on the onion pakodas.
Anu took a swig of her beer. ‘Shewtha! I can’t move! My life is here. I married Sanju because he never had any ambition to move out of the greater Vijaynagar area.’
‘You are too low on ambition, Anu.’ Shwetha continued to eat, and Anu continued to drink.
‘Hey, that is called contentment. I am happy, Shwetha. I am happy with the way I look, the way I live, the people in my life. Everyone I know is unhappy about something or the other. Now, why does Sanju want to rob me of my happiness?’ Anu wailed more.
‘When you get married, it is the collective happiness that you sign up for. But Sanju is proposing an upgrade to your life. Give it a try. Go see some houses as a start.’
‘We see some houses and then we will settle for one. That is the end of me! I curated my life here. It didn’t just happen, okay? Left to my parents, I would be an engineer in a faraway country. Left to you, we would never be friends. Left to Sameer, I would just be some girl and not his best friend. Left to Sanju, I would be toiling living with Padzilla.’
Shwetha laughed. ‘I agree, Babe. You will do the same things all over again. Don’t act as if this is the end of the world. You will still be in Bangalore.’
‘You and I can’t just meet at the drop of a hat anymore.’
‘Yes. But we can still meet. If it makes you feel better, I will wear a hat and drop it for you.’
Anu laughed at that absurd thought but fell silent soon. She liked being close to her parents’ house. And her in-laws. Unlike many others, she did not hate them. They were nice people who hosted them every Sunday for lunch. Then they kept Vicky so that Anu and Sanju could catch a movie. Her parents, her grandmother … Anu held herself back from getting carried away. She was acting as though she was dying of some illness! She would only be moving a
few kilometres away. Then the thought began to panic her again.
‘Shwetha, I love working at the school. What will I do if I move?’ When Anu wanted to go back to work once Vicky turned two, her mother’s close friend Sumitra aunty had offered her a job at her school. Six months later, Anu had put Vicky to pre-school right there. He loved it, she loved it, and Sanju so far didn’t dislike it.
‘You can teach at a pre-school in Hennur too.’
‘Why are you pushing me to do this? You are my friend. You should support my loathing.’
‘I will hate it if you hate living there. Right now your loathing is only in your imagination.’ Shwetha finished her drink and patted Anu’s hand. ‘You are only thirty, Anu. Live a little.’
Sameer was the exact opposite of Shwetha when Anu met him. ‘Sanju has gone mad. Don’t encourage him.’ Anu wanted to hug Sameer.
‘He has gone mad. How can we replicate the US suburban life here? All he talks about is his boss and his splendid living. The scotch he drinks every night, the barbeque parties he throws, the Porsche convertible he drives.’
‘What barbeque party does your pure-veg husband want to throw? He drinks a pint of beer once a week and curses everyone like crazy driving his XUV. So the Scotch and the Porsche don’t matter! Anu, don’t get me wrong. But Sanju is someone who can never be completely happy. Even if you move to a mansion and change your lifestyles, he will find some other reason to gripe about.’
Anu sighed. Suddenly, she did not like Sameer’s tirade against Sanju and decided to call it a night. ‘Hey, don’t badmouth Sanju. Let us see how it goes.’
‘Don’t be upset with me, Anu. I am a friend to both you and Sanju. Here, at least you are happy. If you move, I am afraid both of you won’t be.’
6
That Saturday was their first visit to Hennur. Anu hadn’t dared tell her parents. Surprisingly, Sanju had asked her not to tell his parents either. Surprising because Sanju told them everything. They were a very matter-of-fact type of family as opposed to Anu’s, where the emotions were hyperbolic!
Sanju had short-listed four houses to see and Anu had just found a nice place to have lunch. She had to make good of the situation somehow. If you are to tackle a dreaded task, there better be a good reward at the end of it.
‘Do we drop Vicky at your parents’ or mine?’ Sanju had asked the previous night.
‘Yours.’ Anu’s mom would dig dirt on where they were going, why, what time they were returning—so Sanju’s parents were a good choice.
Anu cranked up the music and lip-synced. It was only eight in the morning and Bangalore hadn’t yet gone into the Saturday tizzy. People woke up late on weekends so if you had beat the traffic, you had to beat people’s wake up time. They arrived at a gated villa in less than an hour.
But the problem was, their real estate agent was probably still sleeping too. Each time Sanju called him, he said he was ten minutes away. The hour-long wait in front of the gate started to get so irritating, Anu was sure she was soon going to pick a fight with Sanju. Because of the man who was ten minutes away for the tenth time, Sanju hadn’t let her go have a coffee either. Luckily, before she burst open like a floodgate, a pudgy man in his late thirties or fifties (was hard to tell from untidy beard and bloodshot eyes,) in night shorts showed up on his bike. Swinging the keys like it was Vishnu Chakra, the man gave them both a curt nod and walked to the guard at the gate talking on the phone. ‘That is only ten lakhs. I want at least double that, Macha.’
Big shot without a clean shirt, Anu gave a mental eye-roll. The word ‘Macha’, which was used like ‘dude’ by all the guys in Bangalore lately, totally got to her too. If this guy talking in lakhs used the word ‘Macha’, then he was only showing off.
When they entered inside the gate, Anu’s mood began to lift. Green lawns on the side, paved roads, kids on cycles—it was like from an old English town. The houses were two-storied, white, and with winding drive-ways and colourful bougainvillaeas spilling over the compound walls. If she could get some ideas for interiors from the houses they were seeing and redo their apartment, Sanju may not even want to move!
But the man did not stop at any of those pretty houses. He kept walking until they reached a stretch with a lone house in the distance. The manicured lawns and curbstones were now replaced by discarded bricks, mounds of mud, and a strong stench. The man kept waddling ahead with his phone, absolutely ignoring Anu and Sanju.
‘Where is he going? Is he selling us for organs?’ Anu whispered to Sanju. She was a bit scared.
‘Shh … don’t be silly. This lane is yet to be built that’s all.’ Sanju seemed to be convincing himself rather than her. ‘The house may be nice. All the houses thus far are.’
The agent stopped in front of that lone house which stopped Anu in the tracks. She could not imagine how someone had managed to turn such a good-looking house into a dump—dried up bushes in the garden, large black garbage bags filled with stuff strewn on the unwashed driveway, worn-out paint, mud-caked front porch.
‘Don’t you have any other house to show us? This looks like an abandoned godown.’ Anu expressed her sentiments to the agent without looking at Sanju.
The agent turned to her, still on the phone. ‘You can make it look like a house. The tenents still live here. So expect people inside.’
Anu felt incredulous. Who shows a house which is still inhabited? A lanky teenager answered the door and shouted. ‘Someone to see the house.’
A woman, who looked sort of old and haggard in a nightie, turned up carrying a toddler. Anu’s heart went out for her. So unfair that lately many working couples dumped their children on grandparents.
The woman looked too tired to even stop the child who was banging two plates together. Anu, to ease the situation, asked her with a bright smile. ‘What is your grandkid’s name? He is cute.’
The woman knitted her brows at Anu and snapped. ‘She is my daughter.’
Ooops. That did not go too well. The agent flashing a look of disgust at Anu beckoned them to see the house. The woman led the way.
‘We are moving to Mumbai next week. So in a hurry to find a tenant,’ said the woman as she walked up the stairs. Anu noticed that not an inch of the wall was left free of Crayon marks. Ha! The joke was on Sanju. He wanted a nicer house than theirs and look what he found! A hellhole!
The woman pushed open the door to a room where a man was snoring. Anu’s bedroom looked like Marie Condo’s compared to that! As they moved to the room next to it, Sanju hopped back in horror and screamed, ‘Poop on the floor! Anu, watch out!’
Anu had to stifle a giggle that bubbled up. Sanju was not in the mood to see the rest of the house. So walking out, Anu waylaid the agent who was still on the phone. ‘Are you showing us more houses?’
The man muffled the phone and looked at Anu like she was a flee. ‘What is wrong with this one?’
‘Nothing. It was extraordinary!’ Anu couldn’t help her sarcasm. ‘Just want to some ordinary ones.’
Sanju was trying desperately to bring in some peace but Anu ignored him and stared at the agent, challenging an answer. The man finally signed off of his phone. ‘The other houses are at fifty-thousand rent. But this one is at forty only because the house needs some repair. If you don’t want to take it, no problem.’
Anu, tired of the man’s insolence, turned to Sanju and said in a low voice, ‘I don’t want to see more houses with this guy. Let us go home, Sanju.’
The agent walked off in a huff blurting into the phone. ‘Time waste, Macha. They want a palace for cheap.’
Sanju grew silent as they walked to the car. When he headed home, Anu was surprised. ‘Aren’t we going to see the other houses?’
‘Anu,’ Sanju looked pained. ‘Unless you decide to move, you will not give this a fair try. Let us not waste our time.’
Anu couldn’t believe her ears. Wasn’t that an awful house and wasn’t that man a terrible agent? Why was Sanju blaming it on her? ‘You are being unf
air, Sanju. That man was so uninterested in showing us any house.’
When Sanju continued to drive silently, Anu began to feel irritated. ‘Sanju, you come back from the US after four months and decide that the life we built over decades is not good enough anymore. The people, the locality, the house—everything that is ours is not to your liking anymore. Then you expect me to embrace that idea and come on board immediately!’ Much to her chagrin, she began to grow emotional. ‘Give me time to digest the thought. Convince me why we need to move. And, get me some coffee for heaven’s sake.’
Sanju sobered and stopped the car before an eatery. ‘This move is only because it is my wish. You think, mull, digest, and if you are convinced, we will look at the houses.’
Anu hated it when Sanju was reasonable because it made harder for her to be unreasonable. Sanju had hardly demanded anything out of her in the six years of marriage or for that matter, even while they dated. Maybe she should cut him some slack. ‘I will try.’ She smiled weakly sipping coffee and eating a Vada absentmindedly. ‘I wish someone rewired my brain to love this idea!’
‘Hi Ajji, why this early?’ Anu yawned into the phone when her grandmother called at six in the morning.
‘Otherwise you will get busy to go to work.’ She continued. ‘Can we go to the Lakshmi temple today evening? You wear a saree.’
Anu had been the designated companion for her grandmother’s temple visits forever. And, she quite enjoyed it. ‘Will there be dinner?’ Her grandmother was an A-lister at temples and got invited to mouth-watering festive dinners.
‘There will be! Gowri’s family is hosting it at their house. Come in the pink saree. Gowri thinks her granddaughter is beautiful. I have to show you off.’
In the modern-day lingo, Anu’s grandmom and Gowri were frenemies for five decades. Anu never let her grandmom down when Gowri was involved. ‘I will come dressed like Aishwarya Rai. You dress in a pink saree too. We will go to twinning.’
After the call, Anu pondered whether to go back to bed or drink coffee and chose the latter. As she sipped her coffee in the tiny balcony, it suddenly hit her. She will no longer be a call away to take her grandmother to temples anymore. She shrugged off the thought before gloom started to spread through her.
