Babyji

by Abha Dawesar

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “My parents want to know if the school bus will drop us back.” She sounded cagey, as if her parents were listening.

  “Of course it’ll drop us back,” I said loudly for my mother’s benefit. I was not allowed to take public transportation, but if we stayed back we would have no choice. I decided both on Sheela’s behalf and my own that we would take the risk of catching a DTC bus.

  “See you tomorrow then,” she said.

  As I hung up the power came back. I blinked my eyes.

  “I guess we better clear the table. I want her in your room and the two of you asleep by the time Papa gets here. I don’t want to have to discuss this with him till the morning.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  Then I said in Hindi, so that Rani could understand, too, “I’ll be coming late from school tomorrow. Our Sports Day practices have started.”

  “Yes, Babyji,” Rani said.

  My mother turned to Rani and said, “Go and sleep in Baby’s room. I’ll give you one of my old saris and a blouse. First take a bath, and then wear them and go to sleep.”

  “Yes, Memsahib. Can I take a bath on the veranda?”

  Just like there was no question of servants eating from plates used by people of the house, there was no question of them using the same bathrooms. We didn’t have a spare servants’ quarter, but the veranda had a small toilet and also a water faucet. The toilet was closed off, but the water faucet was out in the open, exposed to neighbors and the people living upstairs.

  “Today you can use Baby’s bathroom,” my mother said. “Do you mind?” my mother asked, looking at me.

  “Not at all,” I said.

  “Good. Show her your bathroom, and I’ll lay my sari out on your bed.”

  I took Rani to my bathroom. I had seen jhuggi women clean themselves in the morning. Since they had to do it in public under a common tap, they never took off their saris.

  “Since you are alone here, take off all your clothes when you bathe,” I said.

  “In my village we had a bathroom inside the house, so I always used to bathe naked till I got married and came here,” Rani said.

  I told her how to shampoo her hair and also showed her my lotion.

  “All this is too fancy for me,” Rani said, using the English word fancy. I was surprised.

  After Rani had bathed and dressed, my mother came to my room.

  “You are so beautiful. You’ll never have trouble finding another man. They will kill one another for someone like you,” my mother said to her.

  “Who needs a man, Memsahib,” Rani said, looking at me. Then she added, “When there are people like you,” looking at my mom.

  “Just look at her, she’s so gorgeous,” my mother said.

  “Yes,” I said, feeling a steely, possessive madness creep in on me.

  “Even your friend Tripta Adhikari is quite sexy,” my mother said. I was afraid my mother would uncover my secrets right then as she vocalized my own thoughts about Rani and India. She showed every sign of knowing. She had referred to India first as Mrs. Adhikari and now by her full name. It was very emphatic.

  I did not say anything.

  “Good, Anamika, you are turning out well,” she said and patted my arm. Was she being sarcastic?

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have a good heart, most kids are brats. They treat their servants badly. You’ve shown kindness. And you’re talking to grown-ups and making a good impression. I always knew you were intelligent, but you are becoming mature. I’m proud to have a daughter like you.”

  “Mom,” I said, moving closer to her and hugging her.

  She rubbed my head and then said, “Go to bed now. I’ll tell Papa you are asleep.”

  I was sure, as I led Rani away, that my mother would find a way to keep her. She had become my accomplice in this. When a woman sets her mind to something, it happens. Rani and I bolted the door from the inside and then made a bed for her on the floor. After it was made I held her hand and brought her to my bed. I turned off the light and pulled her head to the crook of my arm where she slept until dawn.

  vi

  The Queen of My Heart

  I had set my alarm for fifteen minutes before my mother woke up. When it went off I shook Rani awake.

  “You need to get back on the floor, before my mother comes in.”

  She was not fully awake, but she got up and went to the floor. I unbolted the door and went to brush my teeth. My mother soon came in with my tea.

  “I just spoke to Papa. He says she can stay here for a few days till we think it through.”

  “Thank you, Mom.” I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. I was not physically affectionate with my parents at all, but now after India and Rani it seemed natural to touch and kiss. My mother surprised me by kissing me back.

  On the school bus in the morning I felt a little starry-eyed. I had never thought of my mother as a person in her own right. As someone more than a woman who had given birth to me and catered to my needs. When I was in Class IV the art teacher had made us all draw cards for Mother’s Day. I had written on mine, “Mother, you are the queen of my heart.”

  When I was in kindergarten I would cry all the way to school till my mother hugged me and promised to be back in the afternoon. On the way home I would tell her how much fun I’d had. The next morning when I’d cry again at parting from her she’d remind me that I really did enjoy KG, but the grief of leaving my mother would outweigh all my memories of the previous day. In the afternoons I always told her, “I won’t cry tomorrow because now I’ve grown up.” Somewhere along the line I had stopped clinging to her. The full force of my love hit me today.

  I felt particularly efficient that morning. I went straight to the assembly ground and made hassling announcements over the PA system. Assembly was over and done with quickly. The kids had ten minutes to loiter before going to class. I got off the stage and made my way to where my classmates stood. Vidur, Sheela, and a few others were cracking jokes. Vidur looked at me and said, “What’s up today, Captain, you’ve been so crisp?”

  “I’m in a good mood, Vidur,” I said. I refused to let his ragging get to me.

  “Do tell,” he said.

  “Nothing, just looking forward to life,” I said, stealing a glance at Sheela.

  “Life is one big drag. You go to school. You get a job. You slog. You have kids. They turn around and leave you in your hour of need. You die,” Vidur said.

  “Life is short. Grab it and enjoy the moment. There is nothing else,” I said, hoping Sheela was listening. I did not want her to have any doubts in the afternoon.

  “Hear hear. Our very own Sufi philosopher,” Vidur said.

  “If anything I’m like Bhagwan Rajneesh,” I said.

  “Why? Do you believe in free love and sex?” Vidur asked.

  “If there is only the moment, only four things of value remain,” I said. Sheela was listening carefully, as if I were about to reveal the Truth. So I stopped.

  “What four things?” she asked impatiently.

  “Food, sleep, sex, and mathematics.”

  “That’s so pretentious,” Vidur said.

  “It’s true. They are all joys of the moment. And mathematics can be extended to mean physics or music or reading, whatever intellectual activity absorbs you,” I said.

  Sheela looked at Vidur to see if he thought I was right.

  “You have a point there,” Vidur said sagely.

  “But sex?” Sheela said softly, looking at Vidur and then at me.

  I didn’t want to be the one convincing her. I knew it would hold more weight if Vidur made the argument. She knew I had my own agenda.

  “Well, sex is the ultimate in-the-moment, you know.” Vidur spoke as if he knew.

  “I don’t know. Do you know, Vidur?” she asked him boldly. It made me jealous that she was curious about him.

  “I’m saving myself for my wife,” he said, blush
ing.

  The bell for the first period rang, and we walked to class. The morning passed uneventfully. After the break we had two periods of mathematics. Our teacher, Mrs. Pillai, was the only one who did not care whether we sat in our assigned seats. Vidur and I usually didn’t change our seats, but today he asked me if Mohit could sit next to him.

  “If I can sit with Sheela,” I negotiated.

  “But Mohit doesn’t sit next to Sheela. He sits next to Ashima.”

  “So you do the rearranging.”

  “You’re so difficult,” Vidur grumbled.

  Then he spoke to the boy who sat next to Sheela and got him to move next to Ashima. I took my pencil box, ruler, protractor, compass, and notebook and went over to Sheela’s desk. Mrs. Pillai was both the least and most strict teacher we had. She never insisted that we take notes or draw lines in our notebook. She didn’t care what we did as long as we knew our lessons. Whoever did badly on tests got a dressing down in public. Mrs. Pillai even cussed in public. One day someone heard her say the word “fuck” in class under her breath.

  “I hate that female,” Sheela said as soon as I sat next to her.

  “Why? She’s a good teacher.”

  “She’s better than the rest, but she’s just such an awful B.”

  “She’s not. I’ve never heard her gossip.”

  “She thinks she’s too good for us. Her attitude is so arrogant and blunt.”

  “At least she’s not holier-than-thou like Mrs. Thaityallam, constantly making a show.”

  “That’s true.”

  Mrs. Pillai walked in. We all shuffled to our feet. “Please sit down, everyone. It’s just not a day when I can bear to hear you all wail, ‘Good morning, ma’am’ in those deathly singsong voices of yours,” she said to the class.

  Some children giggled. Sheela turned up her nose. Mrs. Pillai was wearing her pale yellow sari. It looked good on her. She was exceptionally fair for an Indian, especially a South Indian. I wondered if Sheela felt competitive with Mrs. Pillai because Sheela was also very fair. All the “Bride Wanted” ads in the Sunday papers sought “fair, domesticated women.”

  The pale lemon yellow made Mrs. Pillai look very delicate. She was the only teacher in the school with real guts. Her sternness and her fragility were a potent mix. She never minced words. One had to admire that.

  I loved mathematics. Unlike physics, which gave me a headache and then managed to screw up my life by putting ideas in my head, mathematics was abstract. I always got fully absorbed in problem solving and loved the challenge. I had a vision of myself at home solving numericals in the middle of the night and Rani trying to get me into bed. I knew I’d be able to resist her if I was doing probability theory. Mathematics felt very safe. If I ever wanted to run away from temptation and shield myself from getting hurt, I’d take up mathematics. We were into the second period with Mrs. Pillai when the school messenger, who worked for the principal, knocked on our door.

  “Yes, Bahadur?” Mrs. Pillai asked. Everyone called him by the generic name one used for Nepali and pahari people.

  “Principal Sahib and Counselor Madam are calling for Anamika baby,” he said. The Class IV employees of the school— like the bahadur and the ladies responsible for keeping the toilets clean—usually called the girls “baby” just like Rani did.

  “She’s hardly a baby, Bahadur,” Mrs. Pillai said with a serious face. Then she looked at me and said, “Go. They want you.”

  The way she said “they want you” made me feel febrile. I was embarrassed.

  “Yes,” I said, getting up. I walked to the princi’s office, wondering what might have happened. The school counselor and the principal were both chatting when I went in. My heart had started beating fast. I wondered if anyone could know what I had been up to.

  “Ah! There you are, Anamika,” the principal said, his face open and welcoming. “We were thinking it’s time to have a little chat with the senior class about sex,” he said.

  “Sir?” I said, shocked.

  “We’ll get a doctor in who will speak to the children and answer questions,” he elaborated.

  “That’s a good idea, sir,” I said.

  “We should have a male doctor for the boys and a female doctor for the girls, sir,” the counselor said.

  “But Mrs. Shah, the danger is of the boys and girls having sex together, not about learning together. Don’t you think they should all be in one room? We are a progressive school. We don’t want to be prudes in this matter. What do you think, Anamika?”

  I imagined sitting between Sheela and Vidur when the doctor spoke about sex. I liked the idea. I could trade notes with Vidur on it. I wanted to find out what kinds of things he thought about girls. Had he ever tried to sneak a look at Sheela’s panties?

  “I agree, sir. If the children are going to hear about it, they should be treated like adults and allowed to sit in the same room.” I had purposely used the word “children” to refer to my classmates.

  “Sir, I am very strongly against this. There will be a lot of parental opposition if they find out that this will happen in a coed environment,” the counselor said, looking at the princi.

  “But Mrs. Shah, the school is coed.”

  “Sir, the children will feel very embarrassed and inhibited about asking questions.”

  I wondered who would ask questions. I could sit quietly in the room and observe the girls as they were told about sex. I’d know how much they had known and done by the way their pupils dilated and the corners of their mouths turned into smirks. I’d have a permanent advantage over the boys: I’d be the only one to know what made the girls blush.

  “Fine, Mrs. Shah, you’re the counselor. This is your domain, and I don’t want to interfere. But you know what we think.” He looked at me when he said “we.”

  The teachers and the staff had more or less treated me like a grown-up ever since they had vested me with the authority of the Head Prefect. But every time something like this happened, when an adult opposed another adult and made a show of joining forces with me, I still gloated on the inside.

  “Sir, should I organize the auditorium for the activity period on Friday?” I asked.

  “For the girls. The boys can have it in the field outside,” Mrs. Shah said.

  I went back to class to catch the tail end of Mrs. Pillai’s class. I opened the door and walked in. With Mrs. Thaityallam it would have been necessary to ask, “Ma’am, can I come in?” When I was forced into niceties I got tired and felt as if I was playing a part, being something I wasn’t. I took my seat next to Sheela. When Mrs. Pillai finished her sentence, she looked at me and said, “All okay?”

  I nodded. Sheela gave her a dirty look.

  “What’s the deal?” I wrote in my notebook and pointed it to Sheela.

  “She wants to have an affair with you,” Sheela scribbled back.

  “You’re crazy. She doesn’t give a fig about me. You just want to have an affair with me. That’s why you’re so paranoid,” I wrote. When the period ended, Mrs. Pillai walked out, and several kids went to the watercooler or to the bathrooms. I slid my hand under the small wooden desk we were sitting at and squeezed Sheela’s thigh. She blushed.

  “I liked seeing under your skirt,” I said. She blushed some more.

  I got up and went to take my place next to Vidur. “Hey, don’t tell anyone, but they will talk to us about sex on Friday,” I said to him.

  “No way!”

  “The boys and girls will be separate.”

  “That’s no fun!”

  “Why did you want to sit next to Mohit?” I asked.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” he said, dropping his voice.

  “I promise I won’t.”

  “He has a German porn magazine.”

  “Vidur, I thought you were different,” I said.

  “I am. There’s no harm in seeing. It’s quite disgusting.”

  “Can I look?”

  “You’ll puke.”

  “Do yo
u have it?”

  “Yes. I am supposed to return it to him at the end of the day. You can see it if you want.”

  The next period was geography. There was no question of looking at a porn magazine in Mrs. Thaityallam’s class. But then we had physics. After the class test Mr. Garg was on everyone’s case but mine. So I opened the magazine inside my physics textbook, put them both on the shelf under my desk, and had a good look. There was a motorbike sequence with a naked man on a bike and some women in leather bending over him. All in all there were a lot of sex pictures that were revolting. I had expected the magazine to be filled with only pretty, naked chicks. There were only a few of those. Most of them had unnaturally large breasts and waxy complexions. Rani, India, and Sheela were all far superior to them. I wished the captions were in English. I didn’t know any foreign languages.

  Mr. Garg had turned his back to us and was drawing on the blackboard. He was trying to describe Schrödinger’s wave function yet again and was sketching a box with a cat in it. He got very involved drawing the cat. Vidur turned to look at me. I was still looking at the pictures, but I could feel his eyes on me. I felt my face get hot. Vidur looked away. I didn’t want Vidur to get any funny ideas about me. I looked at him for a second, to see if I could imagine it with him. The thought made my stomach turn. There was coarse black hair on the back of his hands.

  I rolled the magazine tightly and turned around to put it into my backpack. As I turned I saw Chakra Dev, the overdeveloped daily shaver, looking at me. From his eyes I could tell that he knew I had the magazine. The naked German man in the magazine suddenly had Chakra Dev’s face. Or maybe Chakra Dev had his body. I felt a shudder run through my being and wanted to throw up. He smirked.

  vii

  Cheapads

  After the bell for the last period rang, Sheela and I went to the large field in the back of the school where the assembly was held every morning. I didn’t want our friends to see us hanging around, not getting on the school bus.

  After fifteen minutes in the field we returned to the empty school building and sat at a desk in the back of our classroom. I bolted the classroom door from inside just in case sweepers or Class IV employees were still around.