‘At home mostly. He’s given away only a few. Like today, Suma wanted the photo of the four of us so he gave it to her,’ Manoj says, looking tense.
I nod and then shake my head. ‘This is so confusing. I just want to go back home!’ Since he’s the only one who knows the truth, I can tell him how scared I am.
‘Where’s home?’ he asks curiously.
‘Bangalore, thankfully!’ I tell him.
‘What was our photo doing in your attic?’ he asks and then as though looking at me for the first time, he dips his head a little and then straightens up, as though trying to understand who I look like.
‘And who are you actually?’ he asks finally.
Just then Suma comes from the kitchen and she doesn’t look too happy to see me standing near the window whispering with Manoj. And she’s not even my mother yet. Then I realise it’s not about me at all. It’s about her.
‘Amma’s calling. Come for dinner,’ she says nodding in my direction and I hide a smile at how much she sounds like her present day self.
I almost say ‘Yes mom,’ but stop myself in time. Vidya looks around for a bookmark of sorts and finally tears off the top portion of a newspaper and uses it to mark the place where she’d been reading. She gets up and goes in the direction of the kitchen.
It’s only Suma, Manoj and I standing there, looking awkwardly at each other.
‘Come on! What are you waiting for?’ Suma asks, looking impatient. I get the feeling that she wants me to go to the kitchen first so she can say something to Manoj in private. The next time mom gives me grief over my crushes, I know exactly what to flaunt at her I think, as I make my way towards the kitchen.
Near the door, I turn briefly and look at Manoj and Suma standing by the same window talking softly. She looks earnest while he seems amused. If I’m not mistaken, that smirk is a permanent feature of his expression. As if he knows I’m looking at them, Manoj lifts his head and sees me and gives me a brief smile.
I nod and go inside the kitchen thinking of how I will get back and what has been happening in my absence. Has mom called dad and told him to take the next flight out to Bangalore because I’ve gone missing? Has Raina started gleefully making a mess of my side of the bedroom? At least I hope they’ve noticed I’m not at home.
Seven
IT’S THE UTTER STILLNESS and silence that wakes me up the following morning. For one, there are none of Raina’s soft snores seeping into my dreams making my dream characters do outrageous things. Also, the sounds of car doors banging as people make their way to offices is noticeably absent. In fact, it’s so quiet, I wonder if I’m still dreaming. But I’m not. I’m in 1982, in my Ajji’s house, watching my mom grow up.
Remembering that fact alone is enough to make me sit upright in bed in horror. I look around the unfamiliar room, at the sounds of soft breathing and realise that my mother and aunts are sleeping on the ground on mattresses. This must be the first time that I’m awake before my mother.
The air is cool and fresh and is that birdsong I hear? I just know that it’s 1982. I don’t know which month or day and how come my mother and her sisters aren’t yet getting up for school. It’s terrible not to know anything and yet, I seem to have accepted that I’m in the past without panicking any more. Maybe it’s because I’m in Ajji’s home. I push away the blanket and step towards the window, feeling disappointed that I haven’t woken up in my own house with Raina’s snores. But even so, this is quite nice.
There’s a tree outside the window and I can spot a couple of squirrels running up and down while a bird coos gently from somewhere above the dense branches. I don’t remember the last time I saw or heard these simple things with such clarity. It could also be that the moment my eyes are open, my hands stray towards my phone where I quickly check Facebook for updates. And now … I look at my abandoned cell phone on the side table which has only half its battery power left. It’s pretty useless here.
I think of Manoj at dinner last night and how Ajji had tried to draw me into the conversation. She kept asking me about Australia and I had to rely on my fundamental knowledge of the continent to reply to her. I spotted Manoj looking at me every time a question was directed at me and I knew he was amused. Thankfully he decided to help me out when Ajji wanted to know about my flight to India in detail.
‘Leave her alone Amma! She’s tired from all that travelling,’ he said, smiling at me. I nodded and quietly ate the food before me, thinking how this was the best part of having gone back in time. Eating Ajji’s home-cooked food. I loved how soft her chapatis were and the potato palya was just the way I liked it.
Ajji merely made a face at Manoj for berating her but she stopped the inquisition thankfully. But by then, Suma and the others had become curious. They wanted to know about my education, my lifestyle and why I wore such tight jeans. Seriously.
It had been an exhausting dinner and I was only glad when it was over. Manoj seemed torn between staying a little longer and going back. He probably wanted to know who I was but he was also desperate to tell his grandfather what had happened. He nodded at me and merely said, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow’ and went. After that, the girls helped Ajji and the other women clean the kitchen while I stood around like an intruder, wondering if I could help.
They insisted I change before sleeping. I look down at what I’m wearing and wince. It’s one of Suma’s outfits. Obviously they’ve never worn pyjamas or night dresses. So here I am with flapping sleeves and a dress that is a complete fashion disaster in the way only a pink and green combo can be.
When we settled down to sleep, Vidya wouldn’t let me shut my eyes until I explained some of the Harry Potter elementary stuff to her. She was wide-eyed when I finished telling her about Voldemort, and Harry’s friends and his parents.
‘Why hasn’t this book come to India yet?’ she asked me in wonder. How can I tell her that it’s more than a decade too early for that? Nevertheless, we finally manage to sleep although Reena wants to know which movie I’ve seen recently. Avengers obviously won’t make sense to her so I mumble something about being sleepy and nod off.
I’m worried and excited about today. Manoj said he would take me to meet his grandfather and there might be a chance that he may work out a way to send me back. I feel a chill on my arms and I rub it slightly. Which season is it anyway? I turn and see that the girls are covered with blankets and it is quite cold.
Will anyone believe this when I get back, I wonder. Especially mom?
I turn once more to see her and she’s woken up. We’re staring at each other for a few uncomfortable seconds and I finally pluck the courage to ask her, ‘How old are you?’
She looks surprised by my question. ‘Fifteen,’ she says. She’s a whole year younger than me. Ha.
‘You don’t have school?’ I ask her and she scowls.
‘We’re on Christmas leave,’ she says. Aah. So this must be December. That’s why it’s so cold. Knowing that this is the best chance I have to know her as she was a teenager, I start asking her questions. Well, nothing serious. Just like which her favourite subjects are. Now I’ll know for sure if Maths indeed was your favourite subject, mom, I think with glee.
‘Chemistry!’ she says with a sparkle in her eye. ‘And Physics.’
Well, she’s definitely Raina’s mom. ‘What about Maths?’ I ask her cautiously.
‘I love it!’ she says hugging her pillow and I’m actually disappointed. ‘But to be honest,’ she goes on and I’m all ears. ‘To be honest, I hated it all these years. It’s only for the past couple of years since Manoj moved in and started teaching me that I’ve started liking it.’ She looks down as she says this and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Ah. No wonder.
‘You really like him?’ I ask before even thinking that this is my mother. She turns completely red.
‘No!’ she protests loudly. ‘He’s just got a great way of explaining things. And he’s a lot of fun. Life can be pretty dull otherwise, you know?’
‘What does your mom think about him?’ I ask.
‘Amma? She thinks he’s the son she never had. She’s so happy when she sees him,’ Suma starts gabbling and I listen quietly. The other two wake up and Suma falls silent.
Listening to my mother talk about some guy she’s had a major crush on, who also didn’t end up being my father is surreal. To keep my mind off these disturbing thoughts, I fold my blanket and put it at the end of the bed neatly and then straighten the pillow. Giving in to some of my OCDs helps sometimes. When I look up, the girls are staring at me. Obviously I’m the only nutcase in this family who’s a neat freak.
Eight
‘WHEN EXACTLY DID YOU say you came from?’ Manoj asks me, the moment we’re out of the house. I don’t hear his question at first because I’ve stepped outside the house for the first time since yesterday and it feels wonderful. Bangalore in 1982 is simply beautiful. There’s no other word to describe it. I can understand what my mom means when she laments about how much this city has changed with all the concrete apartments coming up taking the place of all these lovely trees.
‘Tamanna?’ Manoj says and I turn to look at him and beam a smile in his direction. He looks taken aback.
‘What?’ I ask him, for the first time not feeling upset about having travelled back in time. The air is cool and sweet even at 10 am and I feel so fresh and clean. That’s also because Ajji has insisted I take a bath before leaving the house. Pouring mug after mug of hot water on my body after soaping it down with sweet smelling Cinthol soap is a lot different from taking a five minute shower which is what I normally do. I’m not even annoyed at the clothes I’ve been given to wear. A slightly tight maroon kurta that is paired with deep blue flared pants. I only mutter something about people being colour blind back in the 80s before donning them, and here I am walking with Manoj, going to meet his grandfather.
We haven’t discussed anything in the house and I wave a bye to the girls as I leave with him. If all goes well, I might be back in my own house and will have a lot of explaining to do to my mom about my clothes. I already feel slightly nostalgic about leaving these people and all the lives they have to lead ahead of them.
‘I asked you a question,’ Manoj says and I nod.
‘2012,’ I tell him and he gasps.
‘Thirty years! Oh my god!’ he almost looks as though he doesn’t believe me. I smile at him happily as we pass a park that is so lush and heavy with the fragrance of flowers that it takes my breath away.
‘So you know our future then?’ he says and my smile freezes. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to tell him what is going to happen in the world. And I sure hope he won’t ask me about what he’s doing back in 2012 because there’s absolutely no sign of him there.
I shrug and look down. We’ve walked past old style colonial bungalows, the kind that have given way to monstrous and ugly apartments—now. The traffic on the road is minimal. There are a few strange and huge cars serenely making their way and many bicycles. I spot a few funny looking scooters in interesting colours as well.
‘What’s that?’ I ask Manoj hoping that he won’t continue his line of questioning. He looks in the direction of a vibrant yellow scooter that is parked on the footpath and he looks at me in surprise.
‘That’s a Lambretta,’ he says. ‘They’re on their way out but don’t tell me there aren’t any scooters in the future!’
‘Oh there are! There are!’ I say quickly, hoping to veer him away from this line of questioning.
‘So, you never did tell me who you are and how you found that photo,’ he says, crossing his arms as he walks beside me. I think we’re almost near his house and so he’s slowed down a little.
I look at him uncomfortably. ‘I’m Suma’s daughter,’ I tell him and he looks at me disbelievingly. Then he grins so widely and gives a whoop of laughter that shocks me completely.
‘What’s so funny?’ I ask him, trying not to notice those dimples or how endearing he looks when he’s laughing.
He slaps his thigh and shakes his head at the same time. ‘Suma’s daughter! I cannot believe it. And she has no idea!’
I shake my head. ‘Obviously. I don’t want to freak her out!’ I tell him.
‘Suma keeps telling me very importantly that she never wants to get married. Good to know that she changes her mind in the future,’ he says and I look away uncomfortably. Clearly he has no idea about the humongous crushes all three girls have on him. Guys can be so totally dense.
‘Here we are!’ he says and we stop before a house that is smaller than my Ajji’s house.
‘What did you tell your grandfather?’ I ask Manoj out of curiosity.
‘I told him that we have proof his time travelling camera finally works,’ he says and smiles at me apologetically. I nod as he unlocks the door to his house.
‘You stay with your grandfather? No one else?’ I ask him. His face falls a little and he nods, his head bent.
‘My parents died a few years back. My grandfather and I have been living together since then. We moved to Bangalore recently. We’d been living in Mysore all these years,’ he says.
‘How old are you?’ I ask him, even though I feel sad about him not having parents. I just get tongue tied when faced with occasions where I have to offer condolences. I don’t know if the people receiving them really appreciate it or not.
He looks surprised and relieved at the change of topic. ‘I’m 18,’ he says with a smirk and then we walk into his house.
The house is a little bare of furniture but there are lots of books everywhere and plenty of newspapers. In fact, there’s a tall pile of newspapers near one of the doors. The hall has a couple of chairs and a radio. Once again, I notice there is no TV. Apparently, it hasn’t made its appearance in middle class Indian homes yet.
From the hall, I can see a narrow corridor leading towards two rooms. Manoj asks me to sit down and he goes towards one of the rooms to call his grandfather.
I sit down gingerly and look around with horrified interest. It’s obvious that Manoj and his grandfather are not too house proud. They’ve gotten used to living in all this dust. The part of me with cleanliness OCDs is almost desperate to take a cloth and show them what I can do with it. Then again, the room is so dreary and dull that mere cleaning up will not be enough. The room needs to be painted, windows need to be opened and they need to use more lights.
A man emerges from tone of the rooms followed by Manoj. I stand up instantly, wondering if I will recognise him. That just might solve the mystery of who Manoj is or why he’s so significantly absent from the present.
Nine
I DON’T KNOW THIS man at all. He’s old and his eyes seem to be permanently squinting and he regards me in a strange manner. He’s almost bald and the shape of his head is a little bit oblong. He’s wearing a checked shirt and grey trousers and doesn’t at all look like an eccentric inventor/photographer. An absent-minded professor maybe. Manoj is standing behind him and he gestures towards me.
‘Umm … this is Tamanna. She’s the girl I told you about,’ he says and his grandfather nods.
‘Sit,’ he says in a gravelly voice and I comply immediately. He doesn’t look very friendly and I’m glad Manoj is there.
‘So, how did you come here?’ he asks, scratching the side of his head absently as he makes his way slowly towards one of the other chairs and sits down. Manoj looks around a little uncomfortably before sitting down.
‘I don’t know. I was in my house on the second floor. We have this room where we store all our old things. I found the photo and I just looked at it.’
‘Go on. What happened after that?’ his grandfather says.
‘I came downstairs and realised everything was different,’ and I went on to describe all the changes I had come across.
‘And who did you say you were? What’s your connection with that photo?�
�� he asks. Manoj can’t resist a smile at this as I explain to the old man that I am Suma’s daughter.
He shakes his head in wonder and then turns to Manoj suddenly. ‘This isn’t some kind of trick you’re playing on me?’ he asks and Manoj turns red. It gives me the feeling that Manoj is renowned for pulling fast ones on everyone and he’s considered a trickster.
‘No no! How could I have made all that up?’ he says looking affronted now. His grandfather turns to face me again and I flush under his scrutiny.
‘What’s the future like?’ he asks and I feel dismayed. Do I really want to get into this? How do they expect me to give them a pre-cap of three decades? I’ve just about lived a little more than half those many years.
I decide to ignore his question because suddenly, thinking of the future is depressing. No, what I mean is that to them, it might seem depressing if I tell them everything that has happened since 1982.
‘How can I go back?’ I ask him instead. Manoj and he share a look and I get the feeling that this isn’t good news. My suspicion is confirmed when he shrugs and runs his hand behind his head as though he’s thinking.
‘Look, I had no idea my experiment was successful. I need to look into everything again,’ he says.
‘Have you taken more pictures? Will they also allow you to travel through time?’ I ask him. I note that Manoj is leaning forward eagerly.
The old man shakes his head. ‘I did take a few pictures with it but that was before I made the changes.’
‘How did you do it?’ I ask him out of curiosity.
‘It’s complicated. You need to have an understanding of Physics and light and shadows,’ he says and I grimace.
‘See. Now Manoj here is really into Physics but he didn’t believe me for a second when I told him what I was trying to accomplish. The only thing is that I was hoping to go into the future. Not have someone travel backwards in time.’
‘But you can figure out how to send me back into 2012 right?’ I ask him, almost desperately. Suddenly the thought of staying here any longer than I need to is making me feel claustrophobic and I realise to my horror that I’m on the verge of tears. Manoj is looking at me strangely and then without any precursor, he gets me a glass of water from a room beyond the corridor.
No Time for Goodbyes Page 3
