by Esther David
Ruby knew the limits of her powers and refused. ‘I am sorry for Abigail, but it is better if you consult a doctor.’
‘I have already taken her for a check-up and the doctor says there is nothing wrong. It could be menopause. But we both feel that if you interpret the dream, it would be of great help.’
Ruby softened when she heard Lebana crying at the other end of the line.
‘Lebana, I really cannot help.’
Between sobs, Lebana said, ‘I am so frightened and will feel better if you help Abigail.’
To dissuade her, Ruby asked, ‘Have you checked for malaria? Sometimes, one gets such symptoms in malaria.’
‘Dr Gonzales from Block-B came this morning and we asked the laboratory down the street to collect her blood samples. The reports are normal. Maybe there is more to her delirium.’ Lebana lowered her voice. ‘This is the month when Abigail had lost her husband.’
Ruby said, ‘I am not a doctor, but if you insist, I will come.’
Lebana sounded relieved. ‘Thank you. When will you come?’
‘I can come today, at 3.30 in the afternoon.’
After playing the piano for an hour, Ruby meditated in her chair, ate a light lunch, had a short nap, woke up, dressed in a white pantsuit, brushed her hair, wore pale pink lipstick, dabbed a little perfume behind her ears, rang for the lift and braced herself to meet Lebana, hoping that she would not make any further obscene gestures.
When Ruby rang the bell of Lebana’s apartment, she could feel another headache beginning. A maid opened the door and led her to Abigail’s bedroom. The door was ajar and Ruby saw that Abigail was sleeping with a cold compress on her head. Lebana was reclining next to her, one hand on her head, the other on her stomach. Ruby had half a mind to turn back when the maid called out to Lebana.
Lebana jumped out of bed, apologizing. ‘Sorry, we had a sleepless night and were resting.’
Ruby tried to ease the tension by asking, ‘Where is Yael?’
Abigail’s face suddenly lit up. ‘Tuition,’ she whispered. ‘After the dream, she slept all night on my right and Lebana on my left. I was so frightened.’
Ruby was unsure of how to handle the situation. She had built up a reputation of divining dreams by reading some books. She cursed Salome under her breath for passing the word around that she had mystical powers. After Gershom’s death, when she started interpreting dreams, her main intention was to pass time by meeting people without giving the impression that she was lonely.
To escape from Lebana, Ruby explained, ‘I know very little about the meaning of dreams and am not a hundred per cent correct. I could not predict my own husband’s death.’ Saying this, she pulled out her lace-trimmed handkerchief, wiped her eyes and stood up to leave.
But she had misjudged Lebana’s perseverance. ‘We trust you,’ Lebana said, rubbing her sister’s soles, while the maid offered Ruby a glass of lemon juice.
Ruby smiled self-consciously and asked Abigail the details of the nightmare. Eyes closed, she listened, trying to understand the meaning of the dream.
Abigail said, ‘As a rule, we go to bed early and wake up early. When I return from work, we lock up the house by 7, change into our nightclothes, have dinner and then we all go to bed. But when there is an event at the synagogue, we leave the apartment by 6.30 and return before 10.
‘On Saturday afternoon and Sunday night, we watch something on TV. Sometimes Yael watches a film—she is crazy about The Mummy film series about Egypt. In fact, she brings home books on Egypt from the British Council Library. She also watches everything about Egypt on Discovery and National Geographic. Truthfully, Ruby, I do not like these films.’ Lebana smiled indulgently as Abigail continued, ‘Actually I like nothing better than a feel-good Hindi film. The other night, I went to bed at our usual time but around midnight, I woke up screaming when I had this dream…’
Ruby saw that Lebana’s hands were moving over Abigail’s head with the same sensuous movements as when she had offered her a massage on Hanukkah night.
Abigail looked helpless lying in Lebana’s arms, her head resting on her sister’s shoulder. She continued with her story, ‘Last night, Lebana told me that I was screaming in my sleep. I have never said this, but when Yael’s father died, I had a similar dream. I dreamt that I was running in a dark lane and a shapeless creature was chasing me. I kept running and screaming. I could see myself running till I realized that the street was a dead end. I stood with my back pressed against the wall as this enormous black, inky creature raced towards me with a funny gait. It was a two-headed scorpion, its two tail-stings raised like flags over its head, its double pincers opening and closing like a pair of scissors about to chop off my head. I had a similar dream last night.’
Abigail sat up and lent against the pillow, perspiring profusely. Tears running down her cheeks, she asked Ruby, ‘Do you think this is a bad omen?’
Ruby touched Abigail’s cold hands as she tried to gain time to choose her words. She moved uncomfortably in her chair, stood up, went to the window and looked out. Franco Fernandez, an ageing Christian musician who lived in Block-B, was walking his dog in the garden below. Flushed and nervous, Ruby returned to her chair as Abigail said, ‘I forgot to tell you that when I fell asleep again after Lebana gave me a sedative, the dream continued and I saw myself running under the scorpion’s legs.’
Ruby smiled. ‘Oh! That means the worst is over. You escaped the scorpion’s pincers! It ran over you and disappeared. I see no danger. Believe me, tonight you will sleep well.’
Abigail looked relieved, smiled and thanked Ruby.
At the door, Lebana hugged Ruby and kissed her. Taken aback, Ruby leaned backwards, walked away, pressed the buzzer for the lift and quickly stepped into it. She was angry with herself for not slapping Lebana. She hated scenes and nobody at Shalom India Housing Society would understand why she had slapped mousy little Lebana. As the lift descended, she heard Lebana calling out, ‘The perfume you gave Yael on Hanukkah was very good; I wear it every day…’
As the lift stopped at Ruby’s floor, she made a mental note to stay away from the kiss of the scorpion woman.
4
Ruby and Georgie
RUBY SWITCHED OFF the DVD player, which had been playing Chaim Topol’s Fiddler on the Roof. It was her favourite film and once a month, whenever she felt lonely, she would watch it and, to get back her good mood, play the theme song on her piano. But just as she opened the piano lid, the doorbell rang. Cautious by nature, she looked through the peephole. A stranger was standing there. She called out, ‘Who is it…?’
He answered, ‘Georgie, your old friend.’
She opened the door and looked at him. She did not think she knew him. Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her or her cataract was getting worse: the man at the door looked strangely like Topol in the film. He was a tall, sturdy man with a bristly beard and was wearing a lopsided beret, just like Topol. The only difference was that instead of crumpled overalls, he was wearing an open-necked red shirt, showing off his rough chest hair. His big, broad smile was also like the film hero’s.
The stranger laughed when he saw the suspicion in her eyes. As she was about to slam the door on his face, he held on to it, saying, ‘Ruby, look, it’s me, Georgie.’
It was then that her eyes fell on his beautiful, tapering musician’s fingers and she let him in, saying, ‘Sorry, I didn’t recognize you.’
Georgie smiled, removed his beret, threw it on the carpet, bowed and said, ‘Oh, my beautiful Ruby! How can you forget King George, your childhood sweetheart?’
Ruby burst out laughing. He stood in front of her with his lopsided smile brightening his face. She led him to the sofa chair and settled down in her straight-backed one. She remembered Georgie as a young man of eighteen but naturally, after so many years, he looked as old and scruffy as Topol, the patriarch in the film. Maybe he too was a father of five daughters.
As they chatted, the years seemed to slip away and Ruby f
elt as if she was falling in love with him all over again. He noticed her smile and teased, ‘Look, isn’t it amazing that after all these years, we are still in love…’
Ruby stiffened. In an effort to hide her feelings, she bent down, picked up his beret, put it on the table—she hated clutter—and went into the kitchen to get him a glass of water. He took the glass, brushing against her hand, looked at her, and asked, ‘You and me…?’
‘Come on, Georgie, no way … but good to see you after ages.’
Uncomfortable with his amorous gaze, Ruby tried to change the subject, asking, ‘You are in Ahmedabad…?’
Georgie made himself comfortable, swung a leg over the hand rest, looked at her indulgently and asked for a cup of tea. ‘Chai,’ he said loudly, ‘not your style of insipid Victorian British tea, but real tea, maybe with cardamom.’
Ruby stood up, patted her hair in place, looked down at him and said with a snigger, ‘You haven’t changed a bit, even after living in America. You haven’t forgotten your Gujarati habits. The maid has left for the day and I am not brewing that local stuff for you. It’s my teatime and I will only make my type of tea.’
Georgie stood up suddenly with such agility that Ruby could not help admiring him. ‘For your age you are really fit.’
Georgie puffed out his chest, tapped his fist on his bicep and said, ‘That is because my heart is still young.’ Then he followed her into the kitchen, and asked, ‘Sweetheart, can I please make my own tea?’
Ruby gave him a strict look, saying, ‘Well, if I remember correctly, you were brought up like a good Jewish boy, but now you look like a tramp. Sure, you can make your own desi tea.’
They made tea together, carried it out on a tray and laid it on the dining table. Hers was brewed lightly in a preheated white porcelain teapot with sprigs of violets. She had it lukewarm, with a teaspoon of cold milk and no sugar. His was made with cardamom, which he had found on her kitchen shelf, and double boiled with large quantities of milk and sugar. Ruby opened a box of macarons for him, which he refused, asking, ‘Don’t you have something salty?’
She raised her eyebrows, and asked, ‘You mean Gujarati deep-fried snacks? Then you have knocked at the wrong door.’
Georgie raised his cup and asked, ‘Is that why you married Gershom? Good, square, dependable.’
‘You have a short memory. Before my parents could give an answer to the proposal sent by yours, you had left for America.’
‘That’s not entirely true. You knew I was waiting for you.’
‘Not really, for in a year we were told you had married an American girl, while I was still unmarried and working as a secretary. That was when Gershom, just returned from London, saw me at the synagogue in Mumbai and sent a proposal. I liked his neat, nice, distinguished looks and agreed…’
‘You mean I was shabby, dirty and not good enough for you.’
‘Well, you didn’t have Gershom’s class.’
‘Sure, how boring…’
Ruby’s hand, which sported a diamond wedding ring, trembled. ‘You are mean. How can you talk like that about my late husband?’
‘Sorry, Ruby, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I met both of you a year after you were married and except for the fact that he was mild-mannered, well-dressed and neat, as you said, I noticed he could pour whisky with style. And that was it. I assume you must have yawned through the years you were together. ‘
Ruby placed her cup on the table carefully, stood up and, pointing to the door, ordered Georgie to get out of her house, as she still respected her husband. Georgie sat frozen in the chair, then burst out laughing. ‘It was a joke,’ he said and falling on his knees, begged her forgiveness with folded hands.
He noticed Ruby’s face crumbling and although she stood in front of him like an army general, tears flowed down her cheeks. Astounded, Georgie stood up and sheepishly held her hands. To his surprise, she fell into his arms, whispering, ‘Georgie, why did you go away?’ He held her gently and kissed her passionately.
She led him to her bedroom. After a moment’s indecision, they made love awkwardly. Later, bathed and dressed, they avoided looking at each other, so Georgie suggested that they cook, something quick and simple. He said that they could make pasta in a cheese sauce. They ate from the same plate, sometimes feeding each other, and laughed over Georgie’s anecdotes about his first few years in America. Then he told her that he had separated from his wife Victoria and had been living in Auroville, Puducherry, for the last two years where he was a ceramist working in an American friend’s studio. Ruby was impressed that he had made a name for himself in the world of pottery. Before leaving, he opened his shoulder bag, pulled out a brown paper packet and handed it to her. To her delight, it was a coffee mug with a warm blue glaze. They kissed and with a heavy heart, Ruby let Georgie return to his hotel room.
Georgie stayed in Ahmedabad for a week and they spent a euphoric seven days cooking, eating and making love. He would arrive every day at noon. Ruby cancelled all her appointments and asked her maid to come early in the morning, telling her that she was holding a music workshop in a school. Whenever her neighbours in Shalom India Housing Society asked her whether she had a guest, as they often saw Georgie going up to her apartment, she said that he was a distant cousin, who had been living in America and had returned after some forty years. He was in Ahmedabad on business, had traced her and they were catching up on old times. But if someone such as Salome wanted to know his family lineage, as she knew most Bene Israel Jews, Ruby snubbed her, saying that she had no idea about his village name, which would indicate his origins. Ruby was annoyed when Sippora, who was from Mumbai, saw Georgie at Ruby’s door and stopped to speak to him. ‘I think you are a Bombay Jew. I have a feeling we have met…’
That was when Ruby interrupted with a tight smile and said, ‘Let me introduce John, Gershom’s best friend when they were studying in London. He has come to see me.’ As Georgie entered her apartment, she did not invite Sippora to join them and quickly closed the door, almost on Sippora’s face. Annoyed by her behaviour, Georgie wanted to know why she had been impolite to her neighbour. Ruby told him that she could not take the risk of a scandal at Shalom India Housing Society. They respected her and she did not want to give the impression that she was a merry widow. He shrugged, saying, ‘I don’t understand you. Maybe someone will recognize me, as I belong to a well-known Jewish family of Mumbai. How long can you hide our affair? Maybe we will get married eventually.’
Ruby folded her arms, saying, ‘When it comes to that, we will see how to announce our wedding. It will not be easy, but leave it to me.’
Georgie was restless and, much to Ruby’s annoyance, left early without a hug or kiss. She was in tears and even though she tried, she could not stop him. She spent the day playing the piano and waiting for him to return. When he did not, she called him on his cell phone late in the evening. She was relieved when he answered cheerfully and told her that he was on his way to her place. They would have a candlelight dinner.
Ruby dressed in a short black skirt and a sleeveless silver-spangled blouse she had not worn in years, along with a diamond choker and heart-shaped diamond earrings. She painted her lips a bright red, dabbed perfume in her cleavage and slipped on a pair of red heels. When she opened the door, Georgie was standing there with his usual lopsided grin and beret falling over his left eye. He was carrying bags of food he had bought from the Old City—kebabs, tandoori chicken, samosas and roomali rotis. He told her what a great time he had had roaming the streets of Ahmedabad. He was famished.
She took one look at the packets of food and crinkled her nose. ‘This is unhygienic.’
He did not answer, went for a shower and asked her to heat the food. He also asked her to light a candle for Sabbath. Ruby was touched and set the table. Then they stood together and said the Sabbath prayers. Georgie ate all that he had bought while watching Ruby pick at a bowl of salad.
After his return to Puducherry, Georgie called Ruby a
lmost every day, often late at night, disturbing her sleep. They talked and giggled, exchanging sweet nothings like teenagers.
Ruby’s secret life continued for a year until Christmas, when Georgie proposed to her. On the last day of Hanukkah, he said, ‘This is my Hanukkah gift to you. Since my divorce, in fact much before it, I have been very lonely. I am sure you are also lonely since Gershom died. Now that we have met, let us start a new life. Since you are so worried about comments from our community, we could settle in America. I still have an apartment in California. We could get married soon and leave for America. You can keep your apartment in Ahmedabad and once we are married, people will accept us and we can live between both countries. I am sure you can convince your daughter to accept me. I will wait for your answer…’
The unexpected proposal frightened her. She pleaded for time. She had enjoyed the time they had spent together, but feared treading unknown terrain. Suddenly, she felt she did not know him.
Ruby asked Georgie for a week. Every day she sat at her piano, wondering if she was willing to give up the comfort and predictability of her life at A-104, Shalom India Housing Society.
That was when Ruby had another guest—cousin Irene from America. Irene was related to Georgie and her arrival was a godsend for Ruby. She was to stay for a week—almost the same amount of time that Ruby had asked for to tell Georgie her final decision.
Irene wanted to try Indian street food, which she missed in America. They spent long hours eating and shopping. Ruby did not know how to ask her about Georgie, as she did not want to tell Irene that she was in love with him.
Then one evening, Ruby ordered a special Bene Isaeli dinner made by Elisheba, wife of Cantor Saul Ezekiel and the community caterer, for Irene. Irene was pleased to see the green masala fish curry and, while passing the rice and chapattis to her, Ruby asked her casually if she had met Georgie in California.
