by Isha Inamdar
Rudra realized that what he had witnessed was completely different from what he expected of Anjana. Staring at her retreating form, he asked the driver to get to her. She seemed to have set towards their home on foot.
As the car neared her, Rudra rolled his window down and called out to her. ‘Anjana!’
NJ jumped at being called by her full name in this town where she knew no one. Seeing Rudra brought a smile to her face. ‘Hey!’
‘Come on, jump in fast,’ said Rudra, opening the door.
NJ declined his invitation saying, ‘Nah, I am fine on the road. You go on…’
Rudra hadn’t expected her to turn him down, especially when he was offering her a luxurious ride back home.
Confused, he asked, ‘Errr … what?’
‘I am going to walk it up,’ said NJ as she waved goodbye and began walking.
Unsure of how to persuade her, Rudra got off the car and said, ‘This isn’t Mumbai, Anjana. You can’t walk on the road at this hour all by yourself.’
NJ smiled at him. She had had a brilliant evening all by herself, exploring Khichan’s famous Chugga Ghar and the migratory demoiselle cranes and was in no mood to end her day with a car ride.
Instead she said, ‘Then why don’t you walk with me?’
Rudra was surprised by her suggestion. He couldn’t remember the last time when he had taken a lazy walk around his town and the idea did have merit.
Turning around to address the driver, he said, ‘You go on.’
The driver nodded and zoomed past them as they began walking in silence. He looked at Anjana a few times, wondering if he should talk or keep quiet.
Noticing his unease, NJ asked him, ‘Is something bothering you?’
‘I was just wondering why we are walking … about why you wanted to walk,’ replied Rudra.
‘Isn’t this a beautiful place to walk?’ NJ asked. Not waiting for him to answer, she went on, ‘I am in a beautiful town at a beautiful time of the year. Why would I want to miss out on with a car ride when I can walk and soak it all up with every step and every breath?’
Rudra sighed, realizing that he liked the thought. He wondered why the thought of taking walks and soaking the beauty of Phalodi in hadn’t ever occurred to him. Anjana had this weird way of making him realize that he wasn’t living, merely existing. And she also had this way of making him want to live. Rudra looked at Anjana with new-found respect. Unlike the women he had come across all his life, Anjana was confident and knew what she wanted.
He liked how she was all about comfort and living happily without any complaints or tantrums. The other day when he had asked her about her family, she hadn’t chosen to give him a sob story. Instead, she had very practically dealt with her sadness and moved on. And to add to it, he hadn’t seen her use any make-up either and he liked the way she carried herself. She looked extremely comfortable in her jeans and kurta. She had casually propped her sunglasses on her head and had slung her jacket over her bag and her pink canvas shoes were incredibly cute! Suddenly Rudra realized that she was wearing two different coloured socks.
‘What’s with the socks?’ he smirked.
With no embarrassment, NJ looked at him and said, ‘Couldn’t find a pair! Who cares about the colour anyway?’
They covered the remaining distance home in complete silence, and when they walked in the gate, Rudra felt as if he’d just had the most stimulating conversation.
‘Hey!’ Harsh called out from across the garden. ‘About time,’ he said looking at both of them.
‘How was Khichan?’ Harsh asked NJ.
‘You went to Khichan?’ asked Rudra before Anjana could reply.
NJ nodded, looking at Rudra. Looking at Harsh, she said, ‘The sight of so many birds outside a TV screen is something I am never going to forget!’ Enthusiastically she added, ‘I don’t think I’ve turned into a bird watcher yet, but yeah, I certainly want to extend my rudimentary knowledge of the Indian bird world!’
Rudra, who was still trying to comprehend everything, asked, ‘You went to Khichan in the local bus?’
‘Uh huh,’ came NJ’s disinterested reply.
Rudra towered over Harsh and asked, ‘Why didn’t you offer her one of the cars?’
Harsh, who felt cornered under his elder brother’s angry gaze, looked at NJ for help. Even though were they grown up, Rudra could make him feel like a naughty child.
‘He did … but I didn’t want to go in the car. I wanted to earn the experience, fully, on my own.’ NJ answered for Harsh.
Rudra was completely bewildered by Anjana. It was really becoming difficult to get a read on this woman. Who was she? What was she made of?
Pithi Dastoor
5 November, 2010
The next morning NJ woke up early since Kaavya had asked for her help to get ready. Divya had her hands full with last-minute decoration issues and coordinating with the caterer and the musicians and the domestic help and the guests! Even though Harsh had gone over everything, the final touches and instructions were necessary. And since a few guests had already arrived for the all-ladies affair, Harsh couldn’t be a part of it any longer.
NJ knocked on Kaavya’s door excitedly. She had attended a few haldi ceremonies as a kid, but she was certain that the Maharashtrian haldi was different from what would occur today.
‘What do you guys call this haldi thing?’ she asked Kaavya while shutting the door.
‘Pithi dastoor,’ Kaavya replied, rolling her eyes. NJ must have asked her the name of the ritual a hundred times already, she thought.
‘Pithi dastoor, Pithi dastoor, Pithi dastoor,’ NJ chanted, trying to stash the information in some part of her brain so that she wouldn’t forget it again.
Kaavya giggled as she took her clothes off a hangar and laid them on the bed. She was feeling nervous, as if something was popping in her stomach. She looked at herself in the mirror and realized she had ended up a bigger nervous wreck that she had reckoned.
Reading the worry on her face, NJ looked at Kaavya intently in the mirror. She let some moments pass as she knew Kaavya would look at her once she was ready.
‘It will be perfect – the perfect Pithi Dastoor and the perfect Mehfil and the perfect every ritual you guys have between now and the wedding!’ NJ said to Kaavya. ‘And the perfect wedding to jumpstart your new life!’
Kaavya looked at NJ and smiled graciously. ‘So, you have finally managed to remember two names!’
NJ giggled, something she almost never did before meeting Kaavya. Clearly, she brought out the woman, or rather the girl, in NJ quite effortlessly.
‘You better understand all our traditions and rituals and be there for me through the wedding,’ Kaavya said. Seeing NJ’s cocked eyebrow, she explained, ‘It will all come in handy for your own wedding!’
NJ smiled, but she was sad thinking of all the hearts she would break when Harsh would cook up a story of their breakup. She really liked this family – Kaavya, Divya, Aunty, the retainers … And Rudra, she added grudgingly. She knew she wouldn’t be in touch with them forever but she wished she could. Kaavya was fun; she was the first girlfriend NJ had whom she didn’t get bored with. And Rudra … well, Rudra was something else. Rudra struck chords within her that moved her from deep within.
Kaavya was changing into her orange poshaak, the traditional outfit of Rajasthani women, and NJ sat staring at her, not really seeing anything. She started to dream of the day when she would be changing into a poshaak. Kaavya would be her aide, helping her with everything and making her giggle through her nervousness. She then imagined herself adorned in the yellow sari traditionally worn by Maharashtrians at the time of the pheras, walking towards the mandap. The thought of her wedding day brought a smile to her face. The thought was new to her. She had dreamt about making a career and then getting married someday, but she had never given the small details of the ceremony a thought.
NJ wondered what it would be like to fall head over heels in love with a man and then ma
rry him. Not wanting to clear her dreams just yet, she squeezed her eyes shut and imagined walking towards a mandap once again. There would be people looking at her with adoring smiles and appreciative looks. And just as she was about to reach her groom, she opened her eyes. No. She didn’t want to imagine Rudra there. She knew her heart and mind had been about to show her Rudra’s tall frame, waiting for her.
‘How do I look?’ Kaavya’s voice broke her reverie.
‘Like the perfect bride,’ NJ answered, smiling widely even though her heart was trying to jump out of her throat.
She began helping Kaavya with her jewellery as she tried to block out these unwanted ideas. Her imagination had a habit of running helter-skelter and usually, her thoughts didn’t bring pain. But she knew that this one would. And even though she knew it, a small part of her wished she had allowed her mind to wander into uncharted waters just a while longer.
NJ picked up her phone to snap back to reality. ‘Kaavya’s ready,’ she barked into the phone to Divya.
‘Are you scared?’ she asked as they waited for Divya to come up.
Kaavya shook her head.
‘Excited?’
‘A little,’ Kaavya answered.
‘Nervous?’
‘A helluva lot,’ Kaavya replied with an anxious smile.
NJ was feeling quite edgy herself. Not knowing what to say next, she sat quietly. Though she was restless, outwardly she remained calm.
‘I can see what Bhaiyya meant when he said you are like him,’ Kaavya said.
‘What?’ NJ asked, replaying the sentence in her head and trying to make sense of it.
Thinking that NJ hadn’t heard her, Kaavya said, ‘Bhaiyya told me last night that you are much like him. I thought Bhaiyya was mistaken. But I don’t think he is.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘You are so comfortable with silence. And it’s not something everyone can do,’ Kaavya explained.
NJ smiled. The fact that Rudra had also spotted this similarity in them made her happy. She had noticed it every time they had been alone. She didn’t feel the need to speak all the time and unlike most people she’d met, he was happy sharing the silence. She had experienced a strange sense of freedom in being quiet with him. Even though their lips didn’t utter a word, their souls spoke volumes and connected on a paranormal and mystical level.
At Divya’s sharp knock on the door, NJ looked up at Kaavya and Kaavya smiled. Kaavya was used to Rudra, and now that she had realized just how similar Rudra and NJ were, she understood her. As they walked down towards the ceremony, they could hear dholans singing traditional songs and livening up the Ranawat home and their spirits. Music always soothed Kaavya and her steps became more confident.
I wonder how Harsh and NJ get along, she thought as she walked under the silk canopy being held up by Divya, NJ and other women. Harsh has a loud personality and NJ doesn’t really complement him. NJ would have been a better fit for Rudra.
Frenemies
5 November, 2010
Weddings are so damn tiring, NJ thought as she stood in front of the mirror in her room, towel-drying her hair. She hadn’t had much time in the evening to scrub off the yellow of the turmeric since she had to rush for the Mehfil, the sangeet ceremony where women danced and made merry.
Since she had been inquisitive about the men’s Mehfil, Harsh had taken her to a corridor with a window to the men’s room. She had been utterly disappointed – a singer was singing traditional Rajasthani songs while the men were busy talking. It looked more like a boring cocktail party, just with no women. The only good part had been watching Rudra walk around looking magnanimous yet self-effacing. The women’s Mehfil had been way better! Women performing the ghoomar, a unique Rajasthani dance that had left NJ mesmerized. The group performance, though unpractised, was synchronised enough to put a professional dancing group to shame. Their swirls and the perfect thumkas on the beats were rhythmically the epitome of perfection.
After thinking that she could scrub the yellow off, she had pushed her tired muscles to scrub and scrub but in vain. It was as if her skin had taken in all of the yellow and now this was what she would have to live with! Argh.
Turning around in frustration, she threw the towel on the bed and went to the window. The night had set in and the twinkling stars looked peaceful and taunting at the same time. It was as if with every twinkle they changed their stance – once they would be smiling at her kindly and the next moment they would be tauntingly smiling at her with curled lips.
She saw Rudra sitting on his terrace below, all by himself, and before she could consciously decide on a sensible course ahead, she found herself walking towards his room.
‘NJ! Drive?’ she heard Harsh call out in the corridor.
She turned around to find Harsh and Divya at the other end of the corridor. ‘I’m going to drop Divya,’ he explained.
NJ shook her head and said, ‘Thanks, but I’m really tired. Divya, it’s quite late. Why don’t you stay back?’
‘Nah, I need to get all my stuff and I need a good night’s sleep before I can deal with Bhagchand Mamasa. He’ll be here before noon and then we’ll all be pulling our hair! Hell! Tomorrow is going to be completely chaotic!’ she explained as she pulled NJ into a hug.
NJ liked Divya. She was fun, had a big heart and really loved the Ranawat siblings. The warmth Divya emanated made NJ feel as if she had known Divya for a long time. ‘All right, see you tomorrow,’ NJ said as she headed to Rudra’s room once again.
Knowing that Rudra would not be able to hear her knocking while he was on the terrace, she opened the door and walked in.
Rudra heard the door open and shut and assumed it was his mother. He was pleasantly surprised to find NJ pulling up the chair next to him and asking him, ‘May I?’
Bracing himself, he nodded and looked straight ahead. This perplexing woman had the power to confuse the fuck out of him.
NJ turned the chair to face towards Rudra and sat staring at him. She didn’t know what gave her the courage to do what she was doing, but she allowed it to happen knowing that it was about time.
She needed Rudra to like her. Even though she could never tell him how she felt about him, she needed him to at least like her as Harsh’s girlfriend. His abhorring attitude towards her would not do.
She sat staring at him while he stared into the night sky, feeling hollower by the minute. Finally, he turned his attention towards Anjana and said, ‘Okay, let’s hear it.’
‘I don’t know why, but I know we started on the wrong foot. I have no idea how I managed to tick you off, but I know I did.’ She paused at Rudra shaking his head and said, ‘Don’t insult my intelligence.’ After another pause she asked, ‘Do you want me to call you Rudra or Bhaiyya?’
‘Rudra,’ he answered at once.
‘Good, I wouldn’t have wanted to call you Bhaiyya anyway. No point in saying it and not meaning it.’
Her matter-of-fact statement caught him off guard. Anjana was blunt, and he liked it. She spoke her mind, and was still considerate.
‘So… like I was saying, don’t insult my intelligence, Rudra,’ she repeated.
‘What if I had asked you to call me Bhaiyya?’ he cut in, the need to know her answer was overwhelming.
‘Dunno … maybe I would have called you Bhaiyya for your sake, or maybe I would have found a way to wriggle out of it.’
‘How do you wriggle out of something like that?’ he asked, intrigued at her answer. Without realizing it, he sat up straight and leaned towards her.
‘Have you heard me call you Bhaiyya yet?’ she asked instead of answering him.
He shook his head, realizing that she had never called him either Bhaiyya or Rudra.
‘No Bhaiyya, no Rudra,’ he said, realizing what she’d meant.
NJ smiled at Rudra. Talking to him was easy and her apprehensions had been in vain, she realized.
‘So you want to begin again?’ he asked, enjoying the idea as mu
ch as the conversation. He was grinning like a schoolboy but he didn’t care.
Suddenly, NJ got up and walked away. Without a backward glance, she left a confused Rudra gaping at her retreating form. Rudra wasn’t sure what had made Anjana leave and he turned around in his chair, trying to make sense of the situation.
Just as she reached the door, she halted and turned around. Her face slowly broke into a smile and she yelled, ‘Hi Rudra, this is NJ, Harsh’s girlfriend. May I come in?’
Rudra began guffawing. Anjana was full of drama he realized, but it all suited her personality. Though she was a curly-haired midget bombshell, there was something cute and enigmatic about the way she carried herself.
‘Sure, come in,’ he said, playing along.
He smiled at her as she sat down once again.
Mahira Dastoor
6 November, 2010
‘So what is this Bhagchand Mamasa all about?’ she asked Harsh as she reached the dining area the next morning and saw preparations in full swing.
She wasn’t sure what time Harsh and his mother had started their work. However early she managed to get ready and come down at, they would be there earlier. And the fact that NJ wasn’t a morning person at all didn’t help either.
‘He’s our mama and a pompous ass,’ Harsh explained. ‘Traditionally, Mahira Dastoor is a ritual marking how a brother helps his sister with her daughter’s wedding. However, my mother helps Mamasa survive, so… ’
‘Yeah, that I gathered from Rudra last night,’ she said. ‘What a lovely brother,’ she added, her voice with dripping sarcasm.
Harsh went completely still and said, ‘Wait, what do you mean by “gathered from Rudra” last night?’
‘Uh?’ she asked, unsure what the big deal was. ‘Rudra and I were chatting last night. I asked him about the Mahira Dastoor and he explained.’
‘Chatting?’ Harsh asked incredulously.
‘Yeah, why?’ she asked, bewildered at why Harsh was being so thick and asking the same thing again and again.
